Chapter 9
How the Song Ends
As she ran over the hills and fields, Daphne could feel the two spirits growing restless, growing ever more anxious and frightened and angry.
“What are you doing now?” Ophion demanded.
“We haven’t much time left,” Serafina reminded.
“Time enough,” Daphne said. She could feel the numbing cold creeping up her arms and legs, making her just a little slower and clumsier. Visions of a warm bed and soft pillow tempted her to turn toward home again and again, but she ignored them as best she could. She leapt up onto the outer wall of Trevell and set out across the rooftops once more. “Time enough to give you what you want.”
“Which one?” both spirits asked.
“Both of you,” she said.
“But I want to live!” the phoenix cried.
“And I want to die,” the serpent hissed.
“I know what you both want!” Daphne stopped to rest beside a cracked and dusty brick chimney. Her muscles were aching and her lungs were heaving, gasping for air.
Why is the air so thin? Why am I so tired?
But she knew why she was tired. She closed her eyes.
Just a little longer. Almost done now.
She set out again, slower this time and less certain of her footing. Her sharp eyes were growing dim and bleary at the edges, and she couldn’t risk a fall.
There isn’t time to stumble.
At a small stone cottage, much like all the others around it, Daphne dropped down to the street and knocked on the door. A handful of people at the far end of the lane saw her and quickly vanished into their homes.
The cottage door opened and Justin’s mother stared out. “Daphne? Is that you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, there isn’t time to talk.” Daphne staggered inside on weak knees and glanced around. “Where is she?”
Her mother-in-law pointed to the far corner and Daphne’s heart calmed for a brief moment. For a moment, everything was fine. There in the corner, fast asleep on a pile of blankets and surrounded by little walls of pillows, was Violet. Daphne walked over and stared down at her tiny daughter. Violet lay on her back, a tiny snore whistling through her nose, a tiny puddle of drool beside her mouth.
So perfect.
Daphne knelt down to kiss her baby, and to stroke her hair, and to kiss her again. She whispered, “I love you.” Then she straightened up, pressing her lips tightly, blinking hard. She swallowed, nodded, and turned away. As she passed back out through the door, she glanced at her mother-in-law and said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right soon. I promise.” And she left.
Outside the sky seemed too bright and the rooftops seemed too far away, but Daphne leapt up to her private road of shingles and thatching and ran as fast as she dared back to the jail where she had left Justin just a short while ago. She jumped down and walked back inside through the same hole she had left in her cell’s wall, and there, standing by the door in his faded red coat with his dented sword and rusty musket, was her husband.
Daphne fell into his arms, letting him hold her up. Her legs were trembling and her vision was fading darker and darker. She smiled. “You waited.”
“Of course I did.”
They kissed. And there, leaning against him, she almost gave in to the weariness, to the pain, to the fear, to the weakness. Instead she opened her eyes and put her feet down under her again, but they would barely hold her up.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
“I think I need a little help,” she said.
“Anything. Just tell me.”
“Take me to the tree.”
That was all she needed to say and all he needed to hear. Justin swept his wife up in all her gold and ruby glory and carried her out into the street. Daphne held onto him tightly as he jostled up the hill toward the park. Though the hour was still very early, the streets were thronged with bodies and faces and when they saw the young soldier carrying his golden wife toward the Silver Ash, the people of Trevell stopped what they were doing and followed him.
Daphne winced, afraid of what the crowd might say or do, but they did nothing. They followed, always at least a few paces away, and though they murmured to each other it was only to ask what might be happening, only to share their curiosity and nothing more. Free of yet another fear, Daphne let herself lean against her husband to stare up past his handsome, serious face at the gloomy sky above. The dark clouds were shifting and rolling on the wind, and a distant growl of thunder echoed from the north.
All too soon, her view of the sky was interrupted by a canopy of silver leaves and Daphne heard the soft sounds of Justin walking on grass instead of stone. “We’re here,” he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered as he set her down on her feet. She kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he said.
Daphne slowly turned her back to him so she could face the tree. “Bryn? It’s time.”
The little white nymph emerged from behind the tree looking sad and timid, as though ready to run away at the slightest breath of bad news. “Time?”
“Time to heal the Silver Ash, and the city too.” Deep in her heart, Daphne felt Ophion groaning and gnashing his fangs, but there wasn’t time to argue with him.
Bryn’s eyes widened and brightened a bit. “Our rebirth?”
Daphne shook her head. “No.” All across the square, Serafina’s shriek of dismay sent the people of Trevell clasping at their ears and wincing in pain. Daphne stepped forward on cold wobbling legs, her heart beat now just a faint whisper in her chest. “No more rebirths. No more cycles. No more playing with life and fate. Ophion told me that our world and the spirit world are bound together by these trees. By you and the Silver Ash. This mortal world with all its endless cycles and seasons of change, and your immortal world with all its strength and permanence. Different and separate, but united and intertwined. Ophion was wrong to try to destroy the trees, just as you were wrong to make your pact with Serafina to be reborn each century, to grow and wither, to change yourselves and the fates of those around you. We need to put it right again. All of it.”
“How?” the tree spirit asked.
“Together.” Daphne looked up into the high branches of the Silver Ash. “The phoenix is the warm sky and the serpent is the cool earth, and you, Bryn, you are the pin that holds entire worlds together. At least, that’s what you’re meant to be. If you come together, as one, I believe you three can heal the tree, restore it to what it was and what it should always be. Immortal and unchanging for all eternity.”
“No,” Ophion moaned, his voice booming across the square. “Eternity is a torment!”
“Shhh. No. It won’t be,” Daphne said softly. It was getting harder to breathe. “No more wandering. No more talking. You’ll sleep. You can all…we can all sleep. At peace.”
“Forever?” Justin touched her arm.
Daphne shivered. She didn’t dare look back at him. “Yes.”
“How do you know this will work?” Bryn asked.
Daphne held out her trembling arms. “Just look at me. The spirit of the phoenix, light and fire, joined with the spirit of the serpent, earth and darkness. I married their spirits within me. I molded earth and fire in my hands to halt an entire army. I’ve quieted their rage and fear so much in just the last few hours, pulled them back from a madness that almost tore me apart. Let me do the same for you. Please, we have to try. If we don’t, well,” she shrugged and a tired smile curled her lip, “it’s the end of everything.”
Bryn nodded. “Wait here a moment.” She stepped around the back of the tree and vanished.
“How did you ever think of such an idea?” the phoenix asked.
Daphne sighed and shivered. “Do you remember the song I sang for you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how it ends?”
“No.”
Daphne took the deepest breath she could, closed her eyes, and sang,
<
br /> My laughter is over, my step loses lightness,
old countryside verses fall soft on my ears;
I only remember the past and its brightness,
the dear ones I long for again gather here.
From out of the shadows their loving eyes greet me,
and wistfully searching the leafy white dome,
I find other faces are turning to greet me,
the ash tree, the ash tree alone is my home.
Daphne felt the warm tears rolling down her cheeks. “It’s such an old song. I learned it when I was a little girl. So, I guess I’ve always known how this would end, even before it began. Are you all right with this, Serafina? This will change everything, change all of us. No more rebirths, no more soaring through the sky.”
“It’s a small price to pay for immortality,” the phoenix said.
“And you, Ophion? What do you say to all this? Living forever, but no longer alone, and no longer forced to wander the wide world?”
“As if I had any choice!” But then the serpent muttered, “But perhaps this is better, for now. Very well, little girl. I accept.”
“Good. Thank you.”
A sharp wooden creaking and cracking erupted from the Silver Ash and Daphne looked up to see the enormous trunk of the ancient tree splitting and stretching and opening to reveal a narrow chamber deep in its heart. There, Bryn stood waiting with an outstretched hand. “I’m ready.”
Daphne nodded and straightened her back. She walked slowly and carefully over the roots and stepped up into the tree, feeling the soft smoothness of the wood under her bare feet. The little white nymph smiled at her one last time before fading back into the grain of the ash and Daphne turned to settle into her seat inside the tree. She gazed out through the opening at the young soldier standing on the grass. Justin stared back, his eyes dark and haunted, his jaw clenched tight, his lips pressed together in a silent line.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“So am I,” he whispered back.
“I wish it wasn’t me.” Daphne swallowed. “I wish…a lot of things.”
“So do I,” he said.
Then the tree folded itself back together again, knitting its wood and bark back into a seamless whole, sealing out the world, sealing out the light. Daphne let the warm darkness of the Silver Ash’s heartwood cloak her and embrace her. She closed her eyes and rested her head, and slipped away into a perfect dreamless sleep.
Daphne and the Silver Ash: A Fairy Tale Page 9