by Daniel Kirk
Tuava-Li rushed to Matt’s side. Was this how it was meant to be, had the boy given his life like this, for the sake of the Seed? Blood ran from a deep cut on his forehead. But his eyes sprang open, and he turned his head to see Jardaine struggling with Macta. He rolled onto his side, then struggled to his knees. He was in no condition to fight, but he pushed Tuava-Li away and tried to get up. Wait, Tuava-Li said in thoughtspeak. Things are happening as they must. You must bear witness; ’tis not our place to interfere with fate!
Tomtar pummeled Macta with his fists. He grabbed his flute and used it like a bludgeon, but it only seemed to strengthen the King’s terrible resolve. Asra pulled helplessly on Macta’s good arm. She tugged at his sleeve, she yanked at his hair, but it was no use. “If you love me,” she cried, “stop this, now! Macta! I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be whoever you want me to be, just stop it! Stop!”
In the back of his mind, Macta heard Asra’s pleas, and he couldn’t believe his great good fortune. He had won her; he had the heart of his beloved, and all he had to do was let go of Jardaine. All he had to do was let go of his plan for revenge, of his crushing desire for murder. And he could not do it. While his fingers forced the Seed so deeply into Jardaine’s throat that she gulped the scorching, incandescent mass, he wondered for a moment what his life would have been like if he had been like any other Elflad—if he had been born with a kinder disposition, if he’d been thoughtful, and gentle, and free of artifice and duplicity. He wondered how his life would have fared if he’d stayed to rule his father’s kingdom with reason and justice, instead of stubbornly traversing the planet to get even with someone who had wronged him. What were the odds of that? he wondered ruefully. But Macta knew; none of it had ever been even a remote possibility. If he’d placed a wager on the odds that he was free to be whatever he chose, he would have lost. He was simply who he was, and there was nothing he could have done to change. Or … was there?
He took a step back from Jardaine as she choked and gasped for breath. He turned to the Princess, who had collapsed, sobbing, to the floor. “Asra,” he said, “I don’t know what came over me. I’ll do whatever you ask. I—”
But there was a flash of light and he spun back to see a blazing white tendril burst through Jardaine’s belly. It was followed by another twisting, coiling tendril, like the head of a snake, pausing to taste the damp, sweet air. Then, moving as fast as lightning, the thing shot toward Macta’s chest. It burrowed through him and exploded from his back. A thousand new shoots sprouted from the tendril and began pushing their way into every cavity of Macta’s body. As the final vestiges of consciousness left him, he managed to say two words to Asra that he had never uttered to another living soul before. “I’m sorry!” he whispered, and then he died.
Fresh white tendrils were sprouting by the score from Jardaine’s and Macta’s arms, legs, and torsos, weaving through their bodies and binding them together more tightly than if they’d died in each other’s embrace. As the force of the growing Seed consumed them, their bodies disappeared in a white ball of incandescence. For a moment there seemed to be two suns hovering in the air; the flickering energy of the old Seed and the radiant power of the new Seed were moving inexorably toward each other. And then there was one. Tendrils of light shot forth.
“It is finished,” Desir cried, stepping back. “The legend is fulfilled. The two are now one! The King has given his life, so that the Mother may live.”
Roaring and scraping sounds filled the air. Yggdrasil, far, far above, was pulling irrevocably on its deepest roots and drawing them from the earth. “What do you mean, the king?” Matt cried. He tugged at his sister Becky, who was waking from Jardaine’s spell, now broken as the Mage died. Matt helped his sister to her feet. Yawning black holes began to appear in the pale green walls all around them. The illusion of a field and a forest was fading fast. “I thought that a human had to die!” Matt said. “I thought I had to die!”
“Noooo,” Desir said. “A King had to die. That is what the sacrifice demands. The King, in my time, was a Human. This time, the King was an Elf—and he sacrificed his life that all may live!”
Tuava-Li nodded. “I misunderstood. We all misunderstood. Our ancestors had such arrogance and disrespect for Humanity, that they failed to even consider the possibility that a Faerie might be sacrificed. We never needed an Elf, a Troll, and a Human to complete the quest. We just needed a King!”
“I’ve much to explain,” Desir said, “and not much time. Close your eyes, all of you.”
Tuava-Li trembled. With her eyes squeezed shut, she found herself far from the sounds of groaning, tearing, and burning that were transforming the Underworld. Tuava-Li, Desir said in thoughtspeak, ’tis your turn, now, to keep watch over the life of the new Seed, as it grows into a Sacred Tree. ’Tis your turn to stay here at the heart of the world, to express and radiate the love of the Goddess to all things.
I—I’m to stay here, all by myself? Tuava-Li asked, shivering.
Indeed you are.
But I’m not a Mage, I’m just a monk!
You underestimate yourself. You are indeed a Mage, and a very special one, at that.
Tuava-Li thought about the prospect of this imprisonment, this isolation, of being condemned to an eternity of solitary confinement. “It isn’t fair,” she cried. “Even if I were a Mage, what evil did I do to deserve this fate?”
’Tis not punishment! The endless hours at the heart of the world will be as mere heartbeats to you; I have lived here, watching over the Seed, and the womb, for countless moons, and to me the entire time has passed like a quiet afternoon. So it will be for you, Tuava-Li. Someday the old Seed will grow tired, and the cycle will need to be started once again. Then, when the Goddess wills it, another hero will come to replace you, as you are about to do for me.
Tuava-Li was stunned. She’d had no inkling that this was to be her fate. But—where will you go now, what will you do? What will I do, when—
I will return to the surface of the earth, and live out the rest of my life traveling and exploring this great world, as you will do when your service has ended. Do not be sad or afraid! You are blessed to remain here. You will be as close to the world of the Gods as an Elf may ever come!
Tuava-Li found herself crying. She’d spent so much time, so much of her energy, striving to reach this place; she felt as if her life’s purpose had been fulfilled. But here she was, with a new purpose, and a new role to fulfill. And she knew that when she was finished with the next chapter of her life, everyone she’d ever known and loved would be long, long dead. Desir’s voice was soothing, healing, and strong. I must go now. Your friends must go, too. They will know your love, and your sacrifice, all the days of their lives, and they will thank you for it. You will also feel the love of all the Faerie Folk, yet unborn, who will learn of your quest, and cherish the gift you will make of your life, Tuava-Li. Good-bye! In the name of the Mother and her undying Cord, good-bye!
Tuava-Li opened her eyes. She was standing on a plain of soft green grass, and the sun shone down, sending warmth to every cell in her body. Far away, standing by the edge of the woods, were Matt and Becky, Tomtar and Asra, and Desir, too. A gentle breeze caressed her hair as she waved good-bye to her friends. Birds were singing, and distant clouds moved in a stately procession across the skies.
“Where am I?” Becky cried, still coming to her senses. “What’s going on? What happened to your head, Matt? You’re bleeding!”
“I’m not sure,” Matt said. “Maybe somebody hit me, but it feels like … like a dream. Did Desir talk to you?”
“Of course! She thanked me for what I did, and she said it couldn’t have happened without me. Didn’t you hear, Matt?”
“I heard what she said to me! I think she must have spoken to each of us, somehow. She told me that I’d shown real courage, and that everything I did was for a good purpose. Not bad, huh?”
“Why is Tuava-Li out there in the field, Matt?”
“
She’s going to stay here,” Matt said. He waved to Tuava-Li, standing alone in the blazing sunlight. “But it’s time for us to go!”
He heard the screech of wood and stone and felt something slip around his waist. He panicked for a second, thinking of the snakelike creatures, but when he looked down he realized that tendrils of wood, the last roots of the Adri, were enfolding him, and Becky, as well. Matt looked to his side and blinked at the flickering image of Tomtar and Asra, standing with Desir. The limbs of trees seemed to reach out like arms, gently taking the Faerie Folk in their embrace. The world was a womb, the earth and sky warm and sheltering. Matt and Tuava-Li waved a final good-bye. The monk’s voice appeared in his mind as Matt looked back. You taught me so much, Tuava-Li said. You were braver, stronger, wiser than I could have known. I am glad this turned out to be our destiny. The world is not done with you, Matt. I feel honored, blessed that we met, when our realms touched.
Matt smiled, and spoke one last time in thoughtspeak. Remember when the tunnel collapsed, Tuava-Li, and we were trapped together in the darkness? Just you and me? I think I would have given up hope if it weren’t for you. You never gave up, never!
And neither did you, Matthew!
Matt tapped his chest with his fist. You’re in here, Tuava-Li. Forever. I won’t forget.
Tuava-Li’s smile was tender but brave. May the Goddess guide you!
The light in the sky seemed to flare, an all-enveloping orb of power and love. “Is it real?” Becky cried. “Is it all real?” Then the world slipped into darkness once again.
Becky and Tomtar were kneeling over him. He held up his hand to block the brilliance of the sun. The air was warm and humid, and his throat felt parched when he tried to speak. “Where—where are we?”
“We’re back in Hunaland,” Becky said with a grin.
“And look,” said Tomtar, holding his arms out at his sides, “it’s summer!”
“We were underground for almost a year,” Becky said. “Do I look ten?”
“Whoa,” Matt cried, struggling to get up on one elbow. He’d heard repeatedly about how time passed differently in the Faerie world. But nearly a year? And how could there be green fields, and mountains covered in forests, just beyond the walls? This was the North Pole, after all.
“Careful, friend,” Tomtar said. “There’s no hurry to get up! Macta gave you quite a knock on the noggin, down in the Underworld!”
Matt touched his forehead and found it was covered with a poultice of leaves and salve.
“The monks put that on,” Becky said. “It was pretty bad. They think you’ll probably have a scar.”
“How long have we been out here?”
“Not long! They wanted to take us right into the palace, but since we’d been underground for so long, and the sun is shining …”
“We decided the sunlight would be good for you,” Tomtar said. Then he added, “And for me, too!”
“But what happened to the ice and snow? We were sitting on a frozen ocean before!”
Tomtar furrowed his brow. “Once the new Seed took root at the center of the earth, it changed things. The Mage always said that would happen! The veil between our worlds closed, and Elf Realm went back to the way it had always been, before the things that the Humans did … well, the things that some Humans did, messed up everything for us. Human world and Faerie world, they’re not the same, Matt!”
“And they’ll never be again,” he answered.
Becky touched Matt’s wrist, where the tattoos had pulled away from his skin. “Does it hurt?”
“Not much,” Matt said.
“Look at my wrist,” Tomtar said. “Your tattoos are mine, now! I think they must be fading, though. I guess there’s no need for them anymore.”
“Wow,” Matt said, looking at the Troll’s forearm. “They’re not fading, Tomtar. They’re changing. Look, the black lines are starting to spell something!”
Becky traced the elegant letterforms with her finger. “It says … Matt and Becky! Now we’ll always be a part of you, Tomtar!”
Tomtar grinned as he gently stroked his forearm. “I like it!”
“I’m just thinking,” Matt said. “We sort of did what we set out to do, didn’t we? Elf realm’s safe from humans!”
Becky laughed. “Now if only the Human world was safe from Humans!”
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Tomtar said, “once you get home. But don’t worry, you two are heroes! You can do anything.”
“Oh, yeah,” Matt said, pressing a hand to his forehead. “I’m a hero who can’t even stand up!”
He lay on his back and squinted into the sun. Then he remembered that the last time he’d seen Hunaland, everything had been shrouded in smoke and shadows from the branches of the great tree. “Where is it?” he asked. “Yggdrasil, where did it go?”
Becky pointed. “Over there! We came up out of the earth with the ends of some roots twisted all around us, to protect us. Once we were back on top, they let us go, safe and sound. Well, mostly safe and sound, except for your head!”
“Then … the tree’s still alive?”
“Noooo,” said Tomtar. “Not anymore. It pulled out its own roots, don’t you remember?”
“I guess I remember,” Matt said, thinking of Tuava-Li standing alone in the field and waving. “But I’m not really sure what happened!”
Tomtar and Becky laughed. “You are confused,” the Troll said. “’Twas a rough ride, and we tore through some nasty patches of dirt and rock. But everything came out all right. If you can turn your head, take a gander at the old tree! It’s right there!”
Matt looked over in amazement. A massive, black ball of roots reached nearly to the clouds. Like gnarled, knobby fingers caked in dirt, the roots stretched to the left and right, almost as far as the eye could see. Elves and Trolls clung to high scaffolds, ladders, and rope nets. They worked away at the roots with obsidianbladed saws. Chunks fell to the ground below, where they were quickly piled onto carts and hauled away. Matt saw that one of the walls of Hunaland had been utterly crushed when the gigantic tree pulled up its roots and toppled over. Stonemasons worked around the massive root-ball to rebuild the wall. “Wow!” Matt exclaimed. “So … the trunk must be out there on the other side. And the branches, too, I guess. That tree must reach for miles!”
“So they tell us,” Tomtar said. “They plan to saw up all the wood and put it to good use. Elf Realm will be full of furniture and dwellings made from the Sacred Tree!”
“And check that out over there,” Becky said.
Matt forced himself to sit up. He saw a circle of monks standing around the edge of an enormous pit, their arms raised before them. Matt could hear them chanting, and he shook his head. “They have a long wait ahead of them if they want to see the new tree. Four thousand miles to the center of the earth? It’ll be years before that seed grows into something that sticks out of that hole—centuries, maybe!”
“No,” Becky said, “it’s growing already. It’s magick, Matt! When the old roots pulled out, all the monks were waiting. They chanted, and did all kinds of Faerie stuff, and the dirt and rocks tumbled back into the hole and nearly filled it up. Grass grew over it right away. So far, the new Yggdrasil just looks like any other little tree, poking up out of a valley. But it’s not any other tree! It’s special, and it’s growing like crazy. If you stand up, you can see it!”
Matt slowly got to his feet. His head was killing him, but he could indeed see that there was a small, fragile-looking tree rising from the hole. “What about the Cords that were down there? All the tunnels, the maze? What about Tuava-Li? Did we really leave her down there?”
“Aye,” said Tomtar sadly. “They told us that they’re going to start all over, build the tunnels again, once the trunk of the tree gets as big as it’s going to grow. The Cords will grow back, too, all over the world! And down at the center of it all, Tuava-Li’s restin’ in that magickal field, keepin’ watch. She’ll still be there, a lo
ng, long time after all of us are gone and forgotten.”
“You won’t be forgotten, Tomtar,” Asra said, as she approached with a group of monks, and Powcca trotting at her side. “None of us will be forgotten, you don’t have to worry about that. Now come on, all of you—we’ve got to get changed! They have fresh clothes for all of us. Then we must say our good-byes to Queen Geror and her Mage, because the Arvada have arrived to take us back to Alfheim!”
“What?” Matt cried. “But how—”
“Macta’s Arvada ran low on supplies while waiting for us to return from the center of the earth. The captain took the ship back to home port. But the Queen of Ljosalfar, at my mother’s insistence, bought more Arvada from the council in Helfratheim. She sent them here to wait for us! Apparently my mother’s feeling much better now, and she’s planned a celebration for us in Alfheim to celebrate our success.”
“But there isn’t any Alfheim,” Matt said. “You were there, Asra, you saw the forest burn!”
Asra shook her head. “They’re rebuilding it, now that the Sacred Trees are growing again. Everything is growing again, now that the veil between the worlds has been restored. Life is a circle, Matt, not a straight line. What once was, will be again! Now come, we must pay our respects to the Queen, as she wants to pay her respects to us.”
Asra took Becky’s hand, and together they led the way to the palace of Hunaland. The square was now a makeshift camp for hundreds of Elves whose homes were destroyed when the great tree fell. But there was no more smoke, and no more crying or running around in confusion. Everyone seemed to be busy at some task or other, and it was obvious to Matt and his friends that there was an overwhelming amount of work to be done. But the work didn’t stop the Faerie Folk from putting down all their baskets and tools, and bowing low before the heroes as they passed. “I guess we are a big deal around here,” Matt whispered to his sister.