The Road's End

by Daniel Kirk

  “How do you know what a bear smells like, Matt?” Tomtar asked. “Have you ever seen one?”

  “In the zoo, I guess.”

  Tomtar shuddered. “Bears, they’re pretty dangerous, right?”

  “It’s just an expression,” Matt said, looking down at his chest and arms. “Wait, is that another green man? Like the one I had back in Pittsburgh?”

  “Aye,” Tuava-Li said. “’Tis Khidr, like before. But there’s not just one. This time there are three!”

  “It’s weird,” Matt said. “When I was skiing today, sometimes I’d look back and get the feeling I saw trees in the distance.”

  “Trees, or Khidr?”

  “Trees, I guess,” Matt said, “but I never thought about them being green men. I thought it was an illusion, like a mirage or something. I wish your goddess could just write her messages in the sky. I’m no good at interpreting things.”

  “The Goddess does speak to us with signs in the sky,” Tuava-Li said as Matt pulled his undershirt back on. “Don’t you remember the way the lights in the heavens change at night? Telling us stories, guiding our way with parables and the legends of our heroes? You can’t have forgotten the colored lights we saw just last night. The Goddess is at work in every aspect of our lives, every moment. She’s in the food we eat, the air we breathe. She’s in the ice, and the snow, and in the dark waters below us.”

  “Don’t remind me about the dark waters,” Matt said. “You didn’t have to look down into those ice crevasses like I did today, and see the water underneath. If there’s anything good about that, I can’t imagine what it could be.”

  Tuava-Li nodded. “’Tis not up to us to decide what the Goddess considers good or bad. The value we place on things is our own, and the wisdom of the Great Ones is not for us to understand.”

  “Do you think there are Green Men in the tattoos because of the quest we’re on?” Tomtar asked. “Are they a symbol, because we’re going to save the tree?”

  “Green Men used to roam the world,” Tuava-Li said. “’Tis hard to imagine they could survive up here, though, in all the ice and cold. So maybe the images are a symbol; maybe we’re not meant to think of them literally.”

  “Whatever,” Matt groused, reaching for his sleeping bag. “We’ll be on the lookout for green men, while we’re thinking about the quest to plant the seed. Maybe we’ll figure out what it all means, clear as day! Or maybe the tattoos will change again before I can wrap my mind around what it means. Look, will you guys be able to stay awake long enough for the stars and lights to come out tonight, so you can see if there are any messages we need to know about? I have to get some sleep. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

  Tuava-Li shook her head. “You must stay awake, Matt. We need you to help, to give us your interpretation of the signs. We can’t afford to miss anything.”

  “Great,” Matt grumbled. He sat up cross-legged on one of the pads. “In that case, why don’t we pretend we’re sitting around a campfire, just like back in Cub Scouts. Anybody know any songs we can sing?”

  “I do!” Tomtar said brightly. He didn’t realize that Matt was trying to make a joke. He reached into his pack and found his wooden flute. “I can play Becky’s song!”

  “Just what I’ve been waiting for,” Matt said with a sigh.

  Tomtar played “The Bonnie Banks of Loch Lomond” a few times, as Tuava-Li hummed along to the music and Matt tried desperately to keep his eyelids from closing. He was so tired of the song that when the chorus came around for the fourth time he said, “Guys, I just remembered, I read somewhere that music attracts polar bears. Maybe you shouldn’t play the flute out here. They say that bears have pretty good hearing.”

  Tomtar dropped the flute. “Oh,” he said and stared at his lap.

  Matt felt guilty as the Troll pressed his lips together and fidgeted with his fingers. He was obviously frightened of the idea of bears. The walls of the tent flapped in the wind, as if someone were outside, drumming restless fingers. “I’m sorry, Tomtar,” Matt said softly. “Maybe we can play a game or something. If only we had some cards.”

  “A game of words?” Tuava-Li asked.

  “I know a game,” Tomtar said cheerfully. “’Tis called Aebler!” His eyes glittered in the lamplight. “Usually we play with crab apples, but since we don’t have any of those, we can use …”

  The Troll glanced around for a substitute. “Peanut butter cups!” he exclaimed. “Here’s how it’s done. First each of us puts one of the snacks in front of us, then we clap our hands together, like this.”

  All three clapped their hands, and Matt was reminded of the preschoolers sitting around and playing games in Mary Suluk’s living room. “Now,” Tomtar explained, “after we clap our own hands two times, each of us reaches out with our left hand to grab the apple—or the peanut butter cup—of the person on your right. Then you quickly place it in front of the person on your left, like that!”

  “What?” Matt said.

  “We’ll start slowly,” Tomtar said with a smile. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

  Within a few minutes the three of them were clapping and laughing and moving peanut butter cups back and forth, and keeping up a simple rhythm that let the game continue until Matt said, “Let me teach you one. It’s called Rock, Paper, Scissors.”

  Tuava-Li knew a few children’s games, as well, and they took turns thinking of clapping and rhythm games and giving each of them a try. Matt forgot about his sore muscles and felt some of his strength returning as the games went on. But a loud popping sound outside the tent made them all sit up. “Bears?” Tomtar whispered.

  Matt shook his head. “No. I’ll take a look. I think it was just the ice.”

  He pulled on his coat and mittens, and tugged the zipper down from the side of the vestibule. He crept out onto the ice on his hands and knees and saw what had made the popping sound: the ice had cracked, twenty feet beyond the tent, and there was a fissure as wide as his little finger. It was close, though, too close for comfort. It zigzagged into the distance, like someone had drawn a lightning bolt on the ice with a fat black pen. Matt wondered if it made sense to move the tent. It would be hard work, and it was dark, and windy, and what would the chances be that another crack might open up right beneath their tent? If he moved the tent, a crack might just as easily open up in the new place. Better, he thought, to stay put.

  When he glanced up at the sky, Matt saw the northern lights swirling and pulsing, putting on their nightly show. It might as well have been an enormous green rainbow, stretching from one end of the sky to the other, dancing in the darkness. The way the light flicked and turned he could almost imagine the great green smears and blobs were waltzing to some celestial music that only they could hear. Stars flickered in the distance, knowing they couldn’t hold a candle to the northern lights. “It’s time to look at the sky, you guys,” Matt called. “Put on your coats and boots and get out here. We’ve got to decide which way is north!”

  A few moments later Tuava-Li and Tomtar stood next to Matt, shivering in the frigid arctic air. Their eyes turned toward the heavens, and just like the night before, their faces beamed with an almost religious awe. “North is that way,” Tuava-Li said, pointing. “The green ribbon of light points directly there. You see, Matt, the Goddess is speaking as clearly to us as if she’d chosen to use words!”

  “Okay,” Matt said. “That’s one good thing that happened to us today—those jerks pointed us in the right direction, after all. I wish there were some landmarks out there that I could use for reference. The wind led us this far, but it’s too risky to depend on that, and nothing else. Maybe we can just imagine a line running through the opposite corners of the tent, and that’ll be pointing, let’s see, northeast. As long as we’re not on an ice floe that’s drifting south, in the morning we’ll be able to tell which way’s north.”

  “Look,” Tomtar shouted. “Khidr! There, behind the green ribbon!”

  Matt almost thought he could mak
e out the shape of one of the Tree Faeries there in the sky; the stars had arranged themselves to resemble a figure made of a dotted white line, its great arms extended into the heavens. “What do you think it’s trying to tell us, Tuava-Li?” he asked.

  Tomtar squinted into the sky, his eyes burning from the cold, dry wind. He waited, too, for Tuava-Li’s response. “’Tis hard to interpret,” she said, after studying the constellations. “The green ribbons of light resemble snakes to me, and snakes can be a good sign or a bad one. Khidr has many foes and much work to do before the night is through. The stars confirm we’ve been traveling north, and we’ve made good progress, so we should be content with that knowledge. Perhaps more wisdom will come to us beyond the Gates of Vattar tonight.”

  The three climbed back into the tent and peeled off their outer garments. Matt turned off the lamp, and each of them crawled into a sleeping bag and pulled the zipper tight. Still dressed in hats, mittens, and several layers of clothing, they would stay warm throughout the long night … if the flapping of the tent, the popping ice, and groaning wind didn’t keep them awake. “I’ve been thinking,” Matt said in the darkness, “about this business of planting the seed, and all.”

  He was feeling uneasy, and he couldn’t put his finger on the source of his discomfort. “I know you told me the story before, Tuava-Li, about the three people—I mean, the elf and the troll and the human, but there are things that don’t make much sense to me about what we’re supposed to do.”

  “Perhaps the story would be better told in the morning, when we’re all refreshed,” Tuava-Li said. She wondered if Matt had been trying to think the whole thing through, and found a hole in the story that a lie wouldn’t fill.

  “I just want to get it clear in my mind,” Matt said. “Maybe now would be a good time.”

  Tuava-Li turned over in her sleeping bag and propped her chin on her mittens. “All right, Matthew. The old tales are meant to be told, and retold. This is the legend, the way I learned it.” She chose her words carefully. “Long, long ago, when the Human and Faerie realms were undivided, there was much strife in the world.”

  Tomtar lay on his back and stared into the darkness. He held Mary’s carving in his hand, turning it over and over. He didn’t object to hearing the old story again, either, for, in a way, it was a story about him, and Matt, and Tuava-Li. Tuava-Li said, “There was an Elfin Prince named Fada, who lived in a land that no longer exists; ’twas called Gvikud. All the Faerie Folk were suffering when the Adri at the top of the world began to wither and die. Since the legendary tree was bound to all the Cords that encircle the earth, the Cords, like the Adri, were dying, too. None could travel anymore without walking on the Human roads, and those were no longer safe for Faerie Folk.”

  “Like now,” Tomtar said.

  “Indeed,” answered Tuava-Li, “like now. The Goddess spoke to Fada and told him that all the Great Ones were terribly disappointed that the beings of Earth couldn’t find a way to live in peace. That’s why they were allowing the world to die. No longer were they breathing life into the world, and without the breath of the Gods and Goddesses, all life would soon perish. Fada spoke boldly. He told the Goddess that all the strife in the world was the fault of Humans, and that Faeries weren’t to blame. The Goddess took pity on him. She told Fada that the earth was the responsibility of all living creatures—Faerie or Human. If he wished to see his world survive, he must find two companions, a Human and a Troll, who also wished to save the earth. They must travel to the hidden land at the North Pole, where the great tree grew. There they must pluck a Sacred Fruit from the Adri, and journey to the center of the earth to plant the Seed. Fada found his companions and set off for Hunaland, and the tree, Yggdrasil. The three travelers did as the Goddess instructed them and saved our world. Afterwards, the Human realm and the Elf realm were divided by an impenetrable veil, a border only Mages are able to cross.”

  “All right,” Matt said. He sat up, and pulled the sleeping bag around his shoulders. “I remember all that. But what doesn’t make sense is how we’re going to save the world by doing what those guys did, way back in time. Especially since there’s no goddess or anybody telling us exactly what to do, or how to do it. This is like a big puzzle, as far as I can see, and we don’t really know what the whole picture looks like, or if we have all the pieces, or anything. I know I’m tired, and maybe I’m not thinking straight, but I just don’t get it.”

  “The Mage and I had a vision,” Tuava-Li said. “The Goddess spoke to both of us, and told us what had to be done. I’m sure there’ve been times in your life, Matt, when you did something a certain way because you’d done it before in the same way, and you achieved certain results.”

  “Like when you find a place where there’s good fungus growing,” Tomtar volunteered, “and you go back there again to look for more!”

  “’Tis very simple,” Tuava-Li said. “Life is a circle. The seasons of the year, the seasons of a life, go around and around. There is birth, and there is death, in an endless cycle. What happens once happens again and again; though the faces may change, the pattern remains the same. That is why the legend of Fada must be lived anew. There’s a key for opening every lock, and when you wish to open a particular door, you always use the same key.”

  “Whoa,” Matt said. “If I answer a bunch of questions on a math quiz one way, I don’t put the same answers down on the next quiz, because it’s not the same quiz the second time around, and the old answers will be wrong if I try to use them again. Life is more like a road than a circle, Tuava-Li. We’re born, and we walk down the road, and things happen that have never happened before. We meet people, we do stuff, and then we die, and we’re gone. We don’t start over again. Our world isn’t the same as it used to be. It’s the twenty-first century. People aren’t fighting with elves anymore, and if gods and goddesses ever spoke to people, they’re sure not doing it now.”

  Tuava-Li shook her head. “Matt, you’re not listening to me! I told you, I had a vision. The Goddess speaks to us, whispers of her love, she breathes life into us every minute of every day. She wants us to be happy, and whole, and to love her like she loves us. She speaks to us in the movement of the lights in the sky, in the passage of seasons, in the scent of the flowers, and the hum of the bees, in the song of birds, in everything that exists.”

  “And what about the bad stuff?” Matt asked. “What does the goddess have to say about winter, and hunger, and when things get old and die, or when accidents happen and there’s pain and suffering?”

  Tuava-Li sighed. “The Goddess knows better than we do, Matt, why things happen the way they do. We’re like children, you know, and we just have to have faith in her.”

  “I don’t have faith in anyone,” Matt said. “I only believe in what I can see.”

  “Then you must not believe in very much,” Tuava-Li said, “because you intentionally close your eyes to almost everything!”

  She was glad Matt couldn’t read her thoughts. If he knew what the legend foretold about his fate at the center of the earth, perhaps he’d be more inclined to believe, or at least to fear, what the Goddess had in store. But that truth, as far as Tuava-Li understood it, could never be shared. “We told you that we’d rescue your parents from Jardaine, once the Seed was planted. You have faith that we’ll live up to our word. We have faith that you’ll stand by us on this journey, and we’ll all honor the trust we have in one another. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know,” Matt said skeptically. “Tell me more about what happened when they got to the city at the North Pole. What does this fruit look like? How did they get down inside the earth? What’s it like there? How did they know where to plant the seed? One of the things that bothers me most is how they got back out of the earth when they were done. If there are Cords running down there, do Cords run back out, too? If we end up back in the ice and snow and cold, once we plant that seed, how are we going to get back to civilization? We can’t really call Joe and
Charlie to come get us. How are we ever going to find Helfratheim and get in there?”

  Matt’s questions had been piling up all day, as he skied across the frozen ocean. They’d been piling up since he got tattooed outside the Elfin kingdom of Ljosalfar, back when he’d first heard of the quest. And no matter how much Tuava-Li explained, it still didn’t make any sense. He didn’t want to face up to it, but with so many unanswered questions, there wasn’t much room in his mind for faith or hope that it would all come out okay in the end. He was just about to say something else when a loud crack, like a rifle shot, split the air. One side of the tent lurched downward. “Out!” Matt yelled. “Out of the tent, now!”

  They all grabbed their boots, mittens, and coats, and Matt yanked down the vestibule zipper. He knew his worst fear had come true as soon as he exited the tent. A crevice had opened up beneath them, like the mouth of some hungry beast. Tomtar lunged at the corner of the tent, to try to drag it away from the abyss, but the corners were anchored to the ice. No matter how hard he pulled, it wasn’t going to budge.

  Matt hollered, “Get the skis!”

  Too late, Matt saw them slip into the void as the ice groaned and split. Then the crack sent inky fingers across the surface of the entire ice sheet. Matt felt the ground lurch, and he landed hard on his back. He managed to flip over and get up on his hands and knees. A gulf was opening between him and his friends. He was trapped on a small floe, quickly slipping away. “Nooooo!” he screamed and dashed to the edge of the ice. Tomtar and Tuava-Li reached for him helplessly.

  Matt leapt, as the corner of the floe dipped into the frigid water. He landed with a thud on the other side of the ice where Tomtar and Tuava-Li were waiting. He grabbed for the kayak, which was still tethered to the corner of the tent. Everything they had was either on the sled or in the tent—food, clothes, everything they’d need to survive. If it all went into the water they wouldn’t last the night. The three of them crouched at the corner of the tent, pulling and pulling on the tether to the last aluminum screw as the ice gave way. The far side of the tent was in the water, and the weight of the stove, lamp, and other gear still inside was pulling it down. Suddenly the long screw came loose, and the kayak shot into the dark water, out of their reach. The submerged side of the tent flew up, caught by the wind, and landed on the ice. “Grab it!” Matt yelled. The three of them tugged the tent away from the crevice, but there was nowhere safe to haul it. “Get onto the back of the sled,” he commanded.