by Daniel Kirk
“I want to know how you navigate,” Jardaine grumbled. “I’m not sure I can trust you to take me where I command, when these maps reveal nothing of our progress.”
“Well,” said the captain, “we navigate by the passage of the sun through the sky, by the stars at night, by the landmarks we pinpoint on maps like the one there in your hand, by compass and sexton, and by intuition. Our training makes us specialists in many exalted arts. There is no single method by which we determine the proper course, but we make our way. Such are the skills of the Aeronaut.”
Jardaine struggled to contain her fury. The captain was speaking far too casually with her, as he might to someone of his own station. He made no attempt to show the proper respect. She thought he ought to realize what it meant to speak to a Mage, one of the most important and powerful figures in all the land, and yet he did not. “Then you claim to have magickal skills,” she said. “Perhaps you think that your gifts are like those of a Mage,” she said. “But did you see how I controlled the actions of the Sprites that attacked us? The force of my will brought the Arvada down, killed its crew, and allowed us to sail freely again. Can you honestly say your skills compare with mine?”
“I didn’t realize this was a contest,” the captain said, pride overshadowing his caution. “All Aeronauts are experts at a high level of Etheric Perception, even those who are our enemies. Those pilots from Helfratheim who followed us, for instance, sensed our heartbeats, even at some distance. They felt the tension in our hurry to depart, not to mention the heat generated by our Air Sprite. They knew our location long before our cab was visible in the sky. We felt their approach, though we didn’t sense the danger immediately. Do you wonder why?”
Jardaine lifted an eyebrow.
“We didn’t sense the danger,” he said, “because you gave us no reason to believe we had anything to fear from anyone, Jardaine. ’Twas your secrecy that almost cost us our lives. And as for your great powers, I can’t help but wonder, if you can so readily control the behavior of an Air Sprite, why didn’t you stop the attackers in midair? Surely you didn’t mean to put all our lives at risk … did you?”
Jardaine stiffened with rage. She leaned into the captain’s face, her eyes like coals. “How dare you question me? I’m your Mage, don’t forget, and your life is in my hands! I’ve had enough of your casual familiarity. When you address me, don’t call me by my given name. I am my Mage, or Your Highness. You’ll speak only when spoken to, and you’ll treat me and my companion with the respect we deserve!”
“Astrid,” the worried voice boomed from the aft of the Arvada. “Astrid, I need you!”
“Now what,” Jardaine growled. “How long must I endure her incessant whining?”
Nick and the captain exchanged glances. Jardaine struggled to keep her balance as she descended portside, headed into the hold. “I’m coming, child,” she soothed.
Becky was doing her best to remain calm as she stared up at the ceiling. It was a blank screen for her to project her thoughts and worries upon, and her worries were many. She thought of her parents, and prayed they’d made it back home with her baby sister, Emily. Of course they’d be worried sick about Becky, and probably with good reason. She considered how absurd it was for a girl, not yet ten years old, to attempt to save her brother’s life. The Elves and Trolls were the grown-ups here, and though they were as small as dolls, Becky knew how powerful they were. Among them were her allies, and her enemies. They were her world now, and she would have to deal with their promises and their threats. She would have to deal with the facts, no matter how she might feel about her chances for success.
Outside of the captain’s quarters and the steering deck, the Arvada was not so well appointed. Becky lay on a cold metal sheet, where her body constantly bounced against the hard, unyielding surface. The air was thin, and cold, and it was difficult to breathe. Columns of sunlight shot intermittently through the round porthole windows as the Arvada made its way through clear sky and cloud. The air outside rumbled with the nauseating movements of the Sprite, and it made Becky afraid that she was going to vomit. At the same time, she was sick with hunger. “Astrid,” she called again.
“I’m right here, child,” Jardaine said, and gave Becky a reassuring pat on her sleeve. “You look unhappy. Tell me what’s wrong!”
At the sight of the Elf’s concerned face, a tear rolled down Becky’s cheek. Jardaine stepped back. She was repulsed and wary at her proximity to the girl’s bodily fluids. “I’m hungry,” Becky said. “I think I’ve got to get something in my stomach, or I’m going to be sick.”
“Then I’ll see if I can find something for you to eat, my dear,” Jardaine said. “Stay right here.”
As she turned away Jardaine winced at the absurdity of her remark. Of course the girl wasn’t going anywhere; she was completely under her control. To have to cater to the girl’s needs like this, however, was loathsome. “What have I become,” she muttered to herself, “a serving maid?”
Jardaine went to the galley and found a crewmember that could help her carry a sack of vegetables and fungus back to the hold. Becky found it difficult to eat, lying down, but she had no other choice. She chewed and swallowed the bitter paste of roots and herbs. “Astrid,” she said, grimacing with the astringent taste in her mouth, “tell me how we’re going to do it.”
“Do what?”
“You know,” Becky said, “save Matt. I know we’re going to the North Pole to find him, and save him from Tuava-Li, but how are we going to do it? I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Tuava-Li has powers, you know. She can stop Matt from coming with us, when we tell him the truth. She’s not going to let him go too easily. Shouldn’t we be planning what we’re going to say, what we’re going to do to stop her, and get Matt back? And since we only have this one Arvada, how are we going to get Matt home?”
Jardaine smiled, masking her irritation. “You think too much, child. I didn’t tell you, but I trained as a monk, just like Tuava-Li did. I have powers of my own, and Nick is strong, too. Once we confront Tuava-Li and tell your brother the truth, she won’t be able to stop him from returning with us. And it will be easy for the pilots to send back a message that we need another Arvada. Don’t worry, child, this is a job for the adults to handle. You’ll be there, when the time comes, to help convince your brother that he’s been deceived by Tuava-Li and Tomtar. Until then, you should rest and try to be calm. I know ’tis not comfortable to travel like this. You’ve been a brave girl; very, very brave. Now I want you to repeat after me, all will be well.”
“All will be well,” Becky said.
“That’s right, all will be well. I am strong, I am capable, I choose the path of truth.”
Becky repeated the lines, trying to find solace in them. “Now,” said Jardaine, “whenever you’re feeling tense, or worried, and you can’t stop your mind from thinking too much about the task that lies before us, just say those words. ’Twill help to calm you down and bring you peace.”
“Can you tell me again where we’re going, when we get to the North Pole?” Becky asked.
Jardaine stole a quick glance out one of the porthole windows. She couldn’t wait to get back to the steering deck, and the stack of maps, spells, and incantations she’d left on the floor. She was worried what Nick might be learning, if he dared to read through the papers given to her by the Techmagician. “Hunaland,” she said. “We’re going to Hunaland, where the great tree, Yggdrasil, grows. Under normal circumstances, strangers aren’t welcome there. The monks there use their magick to shield the place within a wall of mist. Though the branches of the tree reach into the heavens, ’tis not easy to spot them, even from the air.”
“Then how will we find it?” Becky asked.
“We will find it because it is right that we find it,” Jardaine said. “The Great Goddess is good, and wise, and as long as she is watching us, our efforts will succeed. Trust me, child. All will be well.”
“All will be well,” Becky repeated.
Jardaine turned to leave.
“Astrid,” Becky said, “there’s one other thing. I’m sorry, but I have to go to the bathroom.”
Jardaine caught her breath. “My child,” she said, wild-eyed with fury, “I’m so sorry, but what can we do? You’ll simply have to wait until we reach our destination. It can’t be too much longer now. The Arvada is a fast-moving craft, and the winds are at our backs. Please be patient.”
Becky sighed and shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t wait!”
“In that case,” Jardaine said, sucking in her cheeks, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Back on the steering deck Jardaine rifled through her stack of spells and incantations. “There must be something here,” she muttered. “Some bit of magick, something. I don’t want to hurt the Human, but she can’t make a mess of the Arvada. If we have to make a special stop, ’twill set us back again. I don’t want to lose any more time.”
Nick contemplated the wisdom of saying anything to Jardaine in her current agitated state, and chose his words carefully. “Is there anything I can do to help, my Mage?”
The thought had already crossed Jardaine’s mind that if Nick were to look at her catalog of magick, he might memorize some bit of information he could use to hurt her, should the opportunity arise. But the thought of what would happen in the hold if she didn’t find a quick solution made her risk it. “All right,” she said, handing him a fistful of papers. “The girl has to relieve herself. Find something to stop it.”
The pair of them searched the reams of documents in frantic desperation. “I’ve got something,” Nick finally said. “If you give the girl a pinch of bitter elm mixed with horse root and the juices of three Death’s-head moths beneath the light of a new moon, she’ll lose the power to move her own extremities.”
“Where would I get Death’s-head moths this time of year?” Jardaine snapped. “And what good would it do if she couldn’t move? She could still make a mess out of the Arvada, and then what?”
“Here’s another,” Nick said. “It has magick words and everything! It’s for turning any solid into a gas.”
“Let me see that,” Jardaine demanded, grabbing the papers from Nick’s hands. Her lips silently mouthed the words of the spell as she read. Then she scowled and shook her head. “Noooo, ’twould not be good to fill the girl with vapors.”
She threw the papers onto the floor and leapt from her seat when Becky’s voice rose from the hold. “Astrid, we need to stop! You have to take me down to the ground!”
“Well,” she cried to the Aeronauts sitting in the warm glow of the bow window. “Didn’t you hear her? We’ve got to land, now. Make your command to the Air Sprite. We’ll all be taking a little break.”
“But, Jardaine,” said the captain. “Look below! There’s nothing but trees for miles around us. There’s no place to land!”
“Then make a place,” Jardaine said. “And do not address me by that name. Haven’t I already warned you once? Have your Air Sprite burn a spot for us to land!”
The captain clenched his teeth and reluctantly sent the message to the trio of Telekeneticists, who then translated the message to the Sprite. Becky squirmed uncomfortably in the hold as the great Air Sprite lowered its head, unhinged its translucent jaw, and spewed forth a torrent of flame. A broad swath of forest was instantly vaporized. Trees surrounding the smoldering patch of scorched earth burst into flames, as their leaves leapt up in a withering dance. The Sprite circled the tract of land, then came around and opened its mouth again. This time it let out a fearsome gust of hot air. The noxious wind blew through the clearing and swept away every bit of seared debris and blackened woodland detritus. “Nothing’s too good for our Becky,” Jardaine said, staring out the window. “Bring us down!”
for Tomtar and Tuava-Li to hide. There was no time to chew on the Trans that would have rendered them invisible to all eyes, so they had to take their chances and assume that the approaching children, like most Humans, wouldn’t even see them. They stood shivering behind Matt as the strangers drew closer. There were five of them, and none looked old enough to go to school. They were dressed in colorful parkas with fur-lined hoods, mittens, and boots. Their laughter was sharp in the freezing air; Matt was taken aback at the sound, now that he’d been spending more time with Faerie Folk than Humans. Still, he knew that these kids were his ticket out of the danger and the cold, so he smiled and waved as they hurried to meet him. “Just stay behind me,” he said to his companions.
The children spread out as they drew closer and surrounded Matt, Tuava-Li, and Tomtar. Then they reached out and took one another’s hands, closing the circle. They were speaking a language Matt didn’t understand. He introduced himself awkwardly, then asked, “Can you take me to your parents?”
The children’s wide, dark faces were wreathed in smiles as they began to move, forcing Matt, Tomtar, and Tuava-Li to move along with them. “They’re leading us someplace,” Matt said. “Do you think they understand what I’m saying?”
“Clear as day,” Tomtar said, “or … not!”
“I think they can see us,” Tuava-Li murmured, as she made fleeting eye contact with one of the children. “They don’t look frightened. Maybe this isn’t the first time they’ve seen Faerie Folk!”
When it was plain that Matt and the others were headed in the right direction, the children let go of one another’s hands and raced ahead. They were still laughing and shouting and pointing over their shoulders at Tomtar and Tuava-Li. Matt’s teeth were chattering by the time they reached the village. It wasn’t much to look at, but the sight of the trailers, aluminum sheds, and barracks-style cinder-block buildings was paradise. On one side of the village was a long, sandy beach leading to the ocean. Looming in the distance on the other side were snow-covered mountains. In between there were steel-roofed sheds on wooden stilts, water towers, trucks and ATVs in various states of disrepair, and chain-link fences. Telephone and light poles dotted the landscape.
The children led Matt and his companions to a small shingled house built on a platform of plywood and 4x4s. They hurried up the steps, gesturing for their guests to follow, and flung open the door. In a flash they were all jostling to be the first inside, tugging on Matt’s sleeve to drag him in, too. The children were laughing and shouting. Though they didn’t touch Tomtar or Tuava-Li, they made it clear that they wanted the trio to enter the little house together. Tomtar always preferred being outdoors. He looked alarmed as he was swept toward the door. Since his pants and shoes were still soaked with oil, he slipped off his shoes and left them on the deck before stepping into the house. He looked around for any signs of danger; it was risky to leave personal belongings where someone could use them to cast spells or curses on their owner. It was risky, too, however, to be rude to a host when one was in desperate need of help.
The house was dingy and cramped. Plastic toys littered the worn carpet, and the furniture was a hodgepodge of overstuffed sofas and straight-backed chairs that all faced a large flat-screen TV at the corner of the living room. In the opposite corner there was an outdated computer perched on a desk, and sitting at the computer was an elderly, overweight woman. Her snowy hair was pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head. She heaved herself out of her chair and hobbled past the mob of children, reaching out her hand to greet Matt. “Welcome,” she said, “welcome to the end of the world. I’m Mary Suluk.”
Matt held out his hand, wondering why she behaved almost as if she’d expected his arrival. And what did she mean by the end of the world? Did she mean the top of the world? When he shook her hand it felt small and hard, like a block of wood. “I’m Matt,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“What brings you here, son?”
Matt didn’t know where to begin. “Well, I’m—I guess I’m kind of lost. What’s the name of this …village?”
The children were peeling off their gloves, coats, and hats. They hurried to hang them on a rack by the door, t
hen returned to wrap their arms around Mary, clinging to her flowered dress, burying their faces in her soft belly, and shyly peeking out at their visitors. “We call it Aujuittuq. That means ‘the place that never thaws out.’ That used to be true, but now I’m not so sure we’re not going to have to change our name. Where you from, son?”
“Uh, I live—or, at least, I lived, in Pennsylvania. That’s in the United States.”
“I know where Pennsylvania is,” Mary said with a humorless smile. “You’re a long way from home. Maybe you should get your friends over here for a proper introduction, and tell me how you managed to get so far north!”
It was the first time that the woman had acknowledged the presence of Tomtar and Tuava-Li. Obviously, just like the children, she could see them perfectly well. Obviously, too, the sight of Faerie Folk was neither strange nor alarming to her. The children were staring, wide-eyed. They weren’t surprised, though; they were mimicking their guests. One of them tugged at the tips of his ears and pranced around, which made the others giggle. “Stop that,” said Mary. “Don’t be rude.”
“Do they speak English, too?” Matt asked. “They were all talking in some other language when they brought me here.”
“They speak Inuktitut. Then English in school, as a second language.”
“Wow,” Matt said, then nodded toward his friends, who still hovered behind his legs. “This is Tomtar, and this is Tuava-Li. I didn’t know for sure if you’d be able to see them, you know? We’re trying to get to the North Pole. I’m not really sure what to say. This is all really strange. The kids found us out by the beach, and they seemed to want to bring us here to meet you. Do they understand what we’re talking about?”