by Daniel Kirk
Matt grabbed the padded strap and tugged. His feet slipped on the ice as the crack suddenly yawned open, and the back of the sled dropped into the churning water. Tomtar shimmied up the top of the sled as it lifted into the air like a flagpole, but Tuava-Li, behind him, lost her grip. With a cry of surprise she tumbled backwards and splashed into the black arctic waters. “Noooo!” Tomtar yelled. He leapt from the top of the sled and landed safely on his feet, as the sled disappeared in the waves. He spun around and raced to the place where Tuava-Li had vanished. The groaning, splintering ice was so loud that Tomtar barely heard the Elf’s cries for help.
“There she is,” Matt hollered and pointed into the void between two jagged floes. If the wind and the water washed the ice floes back against each other, Tuava-Li would be crushed. If the space between the floes widened, she’d drown. Tomtar was reaching out a hand, hollering, “Here, Tuava-Li, I’m right here,” but there was no way that she could reach him.
Matt didn’t hesitate. He tore off his boots and coat and plunged into the water. He disappeared beneath the crashing waves. Then with a splash he sprang up, his face white as a ghost. His ears heard nothing. His eyes saw nothing. The shock of the freezing water was too much; he was senseless, numb, unable to tell if his churning feet and hands were going to keep him afloat, even for a minute. As he sank into blackness he saw Tuava-Li paddling helplessly toward him. Tomtar was reaching for them both, his hoarse cries carried away in the wind. Tuava-Li stretched out her arm and touched Tomtar’s fingertips, but her own hand was too cold and numb to grip. She sank back into the water.
As he slipped into unconsciousness Matt felt something moving below him. It wasn’t just ice, or the shifting waves; his feet touched something solid. Awareness came hurtling back as he realized, with shock and wonder, that something was scooping him out of the water. It was a tree branch. He turned to see a wooden face, with a massive, knobby nose; thin, hard lips; and two deeply set eyes, like black pits carved into the trunk. The creature was kneeling on the ice, drawing its boughs from the frigid water. Matt’s teeth chattered so hard he thought they would break. His fingers and toes felt like they were on fire. A groan escaped from his mouth, part panic, part fear, part exhilaration that he’d been saved. Another bough dipped into the black sea and came up clutching the limp figure of Tuava-Li.
It was one of the Green Men. It hadn’t been just a trick of the eye, earlier that day! He’d really seen them. The Green Men had been following them, keeping their distance, watching out for trouble. Tomtar stood on the ice, his mouth open, his eyes agleam. Matt looked out toward the dark horizon. There were two more of the Green Men coming toward them, scuttling over the ice. Their legs were short and bowed, like tree roots, and their arms were stretched out, their smallest limbs resting on the ice before them, so that their massive weight was distributed over all of their branches. “More Green Men,” Tomtar said, jumping up and down. “Khidr has come to save us!”
“Stop it, Tomtar,” Matt cried. “You’ll break the ice!”
The Green Man lowered his branches so that Matt and Tomtar could move Tuava-Li to safety. Tomtar lifted her face in his hands. “She’s alive!”
Matt moved tendrils of limp, half-frozen hair from Tuava-Li’s forehead. “Tuava-Li!” he shouted. “Can you hear me?”
The Elf turned her head and began coughing up water. She hacked and choked, but managed to get enough water out of her lungs that she could suck in a gasp of frigid air. Matt heard a voice in his head. Place her in the hollow of my trunk—there is moss, soft and warm, to blanket her until we reach Hunaland.
The other two Green Men approached and stood facing Matt. You must climb inside, where you can rest. You will be safe and warm.
“The G-G-Green Men,” Tuava-Li gasped. “In the name of the Mother and her Cord, you’re here! The Goddess wants us to reach our g-g-goal, ’tis plain to see.” Tuava-Li was crying. Matt had never seen the Elf so overcome with emotion. “Thank you, thank you, with all of our hearts and souls! In the name of the Mother and her Cord, praise be! Praise be!”
The three Green Men nodded and bent low, so that Matt and Tomtar could lift their shivering friend into a thick gray bed of moss in the hollow of the tree. Matt, too, was soaked to the skin with ice water, and the cold wind whipped away his strength and resolve with every step. Tomtar took his hand and guided Matt toward the open belly of the next tree. With his arms and legs shaking uncontrollably, he managed to creep into the mossy cocoon that awaited him. He let himself fall into the soft warmth, and a moment later, in a space so secure, so sheltered it might as well have been his own mother’s womb, he fell into a deep sleep.
himself faceup on a sagging tarp, hauled across a courtyard by a group of scared-looking Elves. His eyes fluttered open to see massive tree limbs hovering overhead in the gray, smoky air. What’s going on? he thought, lifting his head.
The courtyard of Hunaland was in chaos. Some Faerie Folk pushed through the crowd with their belongings strapped to their backs, as if they were planning to leave. Some scurried aimlessly about, with misery on their faces. By the high walls ahead Matt saw a pair of gilded cages. Inside, immense black crickets were hunched over and rubbing their serrated legs. The music they made was forlorn and sorrowful. This is too weird, Matt thought. My whole life is weird. At least I’m still alive, I think!
He fell back against the tarp, pressing his hands over his ears. To make matters worse, his eyes were burning from the smoke and incense. There was a rank smell in the air. It reminded him of scorched meat at a barbecue and the tang of vinegar. He tried to sit up a little more but only succeeded in straining his neck. A dozen Elves hauled Matt’s tarp toward the fortress; each had a large withered leaf tied around his or her mouth and nose. So we’re still doing this, he thought, realizing that the Elves were afraid of contamination. He tried to let his resentment go. It didn’t really matter anymore. All that mattered now was that the Green Men had saved him and his friends. Where are you? Matt called out to Tuava-Li in thoughtspeak.
We’re here, came the reply. They’re taking us into their palace, to meet the Queen and the Mage.
Matt tried to sit up once again. He recognized Tomtar’s cap and realized that his friends were being carried ahead of him, surrounded by crowds who wanted to get close to the new Faerie visitors. Black-robed monks formed a wall in front of the palace. Each of them wore a mask with a long, beaked nose. Tomtar and Tuava-Li disappeared inside the building as the Elves carrying Matt drew closer. The eldest of the monks stepped from the line and pointed a bony finger. “Do not try any of your Human tricks!”
The Elves lowered the boy to the ground, then dropped the corners of the tarp and hurried away. On unsteady feet Matt got up and faced the monks. His hair, still damp with salt water, hung over his eyes. He flicked it away and glared down at them. “Tricks?” he said. “Human tricks? I’m here to help you save your magic tree. You think I came all the way here just so you could insult me?”
Stone-faced, the monk turned toward her subordinates. “Show him to his room.”
A group of monks surrounded Matt. At a safe distance they led him into the palace. Becky’s head had just brushed the ceilings, which were high for Elves, but they forced Matt to walk hunched over. Somewhere along the line he’d lost his boots. His wet socks squished on the polished wooden floors. He barely registered the intricate carvings and fine woodwork that decorated the corridors; his eyes were on the monks, and their eyes were on him. In their hands they clutched ceramic eggs, smoldering with foul-smelling incense. “I didn’t do anything,” Matt said, coughing. “I’m not going to do anything. Can’t you just show me where you took Tomtar and Tuava-Li? I want to be with my friends.”
They rounded a corner and one of them flung open a small, oblong door. Matt crouched to enter the room and gazed quickly around. There was a thin mattress in the corner, made up with a pillow and flimsy blankets. A dim light filtered in from smoky glass windows. Matt had no idea that this was th
e same room where his sister Becky had slept the night before. “What am I—”
“Get undressed,” ordered one of the monks, stepping past Matt and entering an adjoining room. “There is a bath waiting. You must be cleansed of contamination, as much as possible, before you see the Queen.”
Matt climbed into the big ceramic tub without complaint. The dried salt water in his clothing had been rubbing against his chapped skin, and the hot, steaming bath soothed his nerves. But when he gazed down at his chest, he saw that his tattoos had changed once again, and it made him flinch. There was an image of a face embedded there; even from upside down he recognized the likeness. Becky? Matt’s mind was racing. Why is she here, on my skin? Is she in danger, back in Ljosalfar? Does she need my help?
Matt realized that no matter what was going on, he was in no position to come to his sister’s aid. Wherever she was, whatever was going on, there was nothing he could do. She would have to solve her problems on her own. That wouldn’t stop him, though, from asking Tomtar and Tuava-Li what they thought of the change. He couldn’t wait to see them again. After being in close quarters for so long, it felt strange to be separated.
Matt bathed and scrubbed his hair, and dabbed himself with the scented oils provided by the monks. Then he picked up the pants and robe they’d left for him to wear. Like Becky’s had been, the clothes were cut from several smaller garments and hastily stitched together to fit someone much larger than an Elf. They were clean, though, so Matt tugged them on. He looked at the wooden shoes they’d left for him and couldn’t help but smile ruefully. There was no way they’d ever fit; though they were large by Elfin standards, they were still far too small. Matt met the monks in the hallway and plodded along barefoot behind them. He met Tuava-Li and Tomtar at an intersection of two narrow corridors. They were similarly clad in white, and reeked of oil and incense. “You smell good, Matt,” Tomtar said, sniffing the air.
“Yeah, like a rose in swamp water. Listen, how did we get here? Did those green men bring us all the way?”
“They did,” Tomtar said. “They brought us through some gates at the back wall of the city. As soon as they dropped us off here, they went back out into the ice and snow. All the Elves are saying it’s a very good sign, that the Goddess is protecting us from harm, that it shows we’re the Chosen Ones!”
“Maybe you and Tuava-Li,” Matt said, “but they’re not making me feel so special.”
Tomtar shook his head. “It’s crazy here. You were still sound asleep when the Elves pulled you out of the tree. You should have seen what was going on in the courtyard! They were cleaning up the biggest mess you’ve ever—”
“Shhhhh,” whispered Tuava-Li. “We must show reverence for our hosts!”
“Got it,” Matt said with a sigh. “I’d better tell you about my tattoos, though. They’ve changed again.”
She gazed up at Matt, and thought of how he had leapt into the ocean to save her life. He’d done it so readily, without a thought for his own safety. She would have drowned, she knew it. That would have been the end of the quest, the end of them all. Of course it was the Green Men who had saved them, but what was most important was that Matt had risked his life to save her. He was preparing to make the ultimate sacrifice, to be the hero he would need to be when they reached the Underworld. How did the tattoos change? she asked in thoughtspeak.
There’s a picture of my sister Becky on my chest!
Tuava-Li looked up at Matt, perplexed. We’ll talk about it when we’re finished here.
The monks led the trio down the hallway, holding their Kollis before them to light the way. They filed along shadowy passages until they came to a peaked wooden door. When the monks inside the room opened it, Matt could see dusty blue light spilling from tall, stained glass windows. They illuminated an altar along the far wall. Since Jardaine’s theft of the Sacred Seed, the Queen had moved her chambers to the chapel facing the great tree, Yggdrasil. Here she prayed, and fasted, and listened as the Mage of Hunaland recited passages from the Scriptures. “Finally,” said Queen Geror, as a pair of monks helped her from her knees. She was wearing one of the hook-nosed masks, and Matt thought it made her look like an old bird in a velvet robe and crown.
“Stay outside the door,” one of the monks said to Matt. “The others, come in.”
“You may leave the door open,” called the Queen. “The masks will protect us from contagion, and the Mage will be better able to sense that one’s intentions.”
The Mage lay propped up on a flax-husk mattress, resting her two masked heads on soft pillows. She had been carried from her quarters deep in the palace to the chapel, where she had better access to the Queen. The monks surrounding their Mage drew back in disgust at the sight of the Human boy standing in the open doorway. The old blind Mage sniffed the air. “Who’s there?” one of her heads called. Matt gazed in disbelief.
“Tell us your name,” said the Queen.
Matt’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.
“I said, tell us your name!”
“I—I’m Matt,” he stammered. He couldn’t believe that the strange, two-headed thing was real, until it lifted one hideous clawed hand and gestured at him. “I’m M-Matthew McCormack. I come from—”
“Silence,” the Mage commanded in a muffled voice.
One of the heads, straining on a frail neck, rose from its pillow. “Thirteen, four,” it said. “One and three, four. Not a pure four, or a twenty-two four, or a thirty-one four. Not a forty, forty-nine, fifty-eight, sixty-seven, seventy-six, eighty-five, or ninety-four four. Thirteen, four, that is all.”
When the head dropped back against the pillow, the beaked mask fell slightly away from the face. Matt was shocked to discover that she seemed to have no features at all, except for a slit mouth. He was dumbstruck. He’d seen many strange things since his journey began, but nothing like this. He stood transfixed as the other head began to speak. “The cornerstone is four, the letter M, not the physical D, or the spiritual V.”
This head’s voice was stronger, purer, clearer, but what was she talking about? Was it some kind of code? Nothing made any sense. The monstrous Mage seemed to be making some kind of analysis, or some evaluation of Matt’s character, based on nothing more than the first letter of his name. It was preposterous, ludicrous. “This four is the emotional four,” she continued. “It longs for order and stability. It lays foundations that are purposeful and contained. This four has limitations, but within those limitations is great strength, great sense of purpose. The shadow side is rigidity and inflexibility. It is the inability to express itself, the unwillingness to accept change. This four will apply itself tirelessly for what it desires and believes in, but I regret that I do not see greatness in its future.”
“It?” Matt said aloud. “You’re calling me an it?” He felt stung by the Mage’s words, even as he sensed that they were nonsense. “You’re telling my fortune, like some kind of birthday party gag. You can’t be serious.”
Matt, be still! Tuava-Li said in thoughtspeak. If we expect any help from these Elves, we must show respect.
“Hush,” the Queen said to Matt, and turned toward Tuava-Li. “We are running out of time. What is your name?”
“I am Tuava-Li.”
“Very well.” The Queen turned her anxious gaze toward the Mage, sprawled on her mattress.
“Two,” came the voice from the head with indistinct features. “Two, from twenty. Not nineteen, thirty-eight, forty-seven, fifty-six, sixty-five, seventy-four, eighty-three, or ninety-two. Two.”
The head fell back on its pillow as the other one lifted slightly and turned toward Tuava-Li. “Two as the cornerstone, from the letter T, reveals one who is gentle, receptive, tactful, and sensitive. Two is not a leader but a follower. Two is there to aid, to assist, to support. Two represents the law of opposites, of duality. The two can blend opposing views into a single vision. Two from twenty shows spiritual subservience, patience, and devotion.”
“Very good,”
the Queen said, barely hiding her impatience. “And you, Troll, what is your name?”
“I’m Tomtar!”
“Another two,” said the masked head, nodding. “Very interesting, very interesting!”
The Queen let out a weary sigh. Though she wanted to make sure her Mage approved of these three strangers, and gave her blessing, she was doubtful that in the end it would make any difference. “Please, my Mage, if these three are the ones we’ve been waiting for, we must send them on their way as soon as possible.”
“I know that,” the Mage snapped. “And if they are not the ones, then we must stop them here, before this goes any further. The damage done by the last three was incalculable.”
“The last three?” Matt asked.
“Silence,” hissed the Mage. She turned her sightless eyes on the Queen and whispered, “I told you it was wrong to bring the Human into my presence. He is vulgar and shows no respect. The purity of my reading is polluted with his every breath!”
The Queen blanched. “But you said—”
“I’m standing right here,” Matt said. “I can hear you!”
“Silence!” repeated the Mage and Queen.
The featureless head, obviously stressed by Matt’s intrusion, began reciting a seemingly meaningless sequence of numbers. “Nine is one and eight, or eight and one, not seventy-two, or twenty-seven, not sixty-three or thirty-six, not fifty-four or forty-five. Eight is one and seven, two and six, three and five, four and four …”