by Daniel Kirk
Prashta risked a nod. “Is what we offer so bad? The Faerie Folk of the realm need to know that the stories of the past remain consistent today, and that the future invariably reflects the safety of the past. That is what makes their lives secure and brings them peace. Who are we to confuse them, to redraw the lines that make up our world so that they are forced to believe that anything is possible? Don’t we owe it to them to confirm their beliefs and bring them happiness? The people want a real hero, and Macta is the hero they deserve.”
The Mage looked grim. She exchanged glances with the Queen, then turned to Asra. “You’re the one whom the Goddess graced with the honor of sharing the tale of your journey. You’re the Princess of Alfheim, and it’s ultimately your decision as to the nature of the story that’s told.”
Asra swallowed, then smiled broadly at her hosts. “Then I must have time to consider the generous offer of the gentle Elves of Helfratheim. Prashta and Lehtinen, rest assured you shall hear my answer tonight!”
Megala, Delfina, and Mitelle were waiting for Tomtar outside the tent. The three of them took their cousin in their rough embrace, kissing and punching him playfully in equal measure. “I—I’m glad to see you!” Tomtar managed to squeak.
“Well, you’ll be seeing plenty more of us from now on,” Megala said. “Once you planted that infernal Seed, and the boundary between the worlds came down hard and solid, that was the end of Argant! The Human building we was livin’ in, all the places where we hung out, everything was gone for good, lost back in the Human realm. We were left stranded in the woods, just like all the other Faerie Folk who’d called that place their home. Elves and Trolls and Pixies spread out like a spilled sack o’ corn, from one end of the realm to the other.”
“That’s when we decided to come here and see if we could find you,” Mitelle explained. “Since you weren’t back from your quest, we figured we’d make ourselves at home and wait!”
“We’re farmers now,” Delfina said, and ran her calloused fingers through Tomtar’s curls. “We’re planting crops and pullin’ weeds.”
“And we’re glad you’re back,” said Megala, “because we hear you’re good at planting seeds, and we need your help!”
Tomtar shook his head and groaned. “I can’t wait!”
As everyone filed from the tent, Matt lingered until the Mage of Alfheim passed him, her eyes averted. She acknowledged him only with a nod as she hurried into the sun. “In the name of the mother and her Cord,” Matt called after her, “greetings, my mage!”
“There’s no call to be sarcastic,” she murmured, her back still turned to him.
Matt followed her. “You always talked about love, and peace, and honor, and duty, and the will of the goddess, and everything, like it was all sweetness and light. But you were going to send me to my death, and I would never have known it was your doing, all along.”
The Mage stopped and turned around. “My doing? Believe me, I’m glad you didn’t have to sacrifice your life. But it was never my doing. It was for the Goddess, and it was for the good of all. Try to put things in perspective, if you can. Put your life on one side of the scales, and the lives of everyone else on the other. Which is more important?”
“There had to have been some other way,” Matt said. “What kind of gods ask—no, tell somebody that he has to die so that others can live? What gives your gods the right? What gives you the right to make that call? Or are you just like the obedient soldier, doing what you’re ordered to do, so you don’t have to accept responsibility?”
The Mage seemed to sag at Matt’s accusations. He was surprised to see how old she’d grown, how lined her face had become, how sunken her cheeks. Her eyes were her only features that still seemed to have life and passion left in them. “I had a vision,” she said, “the same one that Tuava-Li had. Our vision was a gift, but a gift can be a mixed blessing … it often comes with an obligation. Do you understand? Tuava-Li risked her life to lead the quest to the center of the earth. For the good of all, I took on an obligation, a weight I would have had to bear for the rest of my days—the burden of offering your life.”
“But that’s just it,” Matt said, shaking his head. “It wasn’t yours to offer!”
“Precisely,” the Mage called to Matt as he turned and walked away. “That is my burden. Sometimes there’s no other way, Matthew. One must do the wrong thing, for the right reasons. If you were in my place, you would have done the same thing I did—for the good of all! What if the Human realm was in danger, and you were given the choice to trade my life in order to save it? Would you do it?”
Matt slowed his step. Then he turned around. “In a heartbeat.”
“You don’t like me,” the Mage said, “and ’tis plain that I never cared much for you, either. But what if it were a choice between the Human race and Tomtar? Would you trade his life for your kind, then?”
Matt took a deep breath. “If there were no other way, maybe I would. I don’t know. It would be a rotten decision to have to make.”
“But you would do it, because you would have to. And you would live with the consequences. Nothing of value comes without a cost. Let us walk away from each other, free to live our lives, according to our own beliefs. Maybe one day you will remember what I said.”
“You think I could ever forget?”
Later that afternoon, Neaca took Matt, Becky, Tomtar, and Asra on a stroll through the Sacred Grove of Alfheim. Matt looked at the small saplings rising from the ashes of the fire, and remembered how the woods had looked when he’d first seen it. Neaca gave a blessing at the foot of every new tree. The old Elf was kind; Becky, in particular, had always regarded her as a friend.
Becky asked, “What are the names of the trees?”
Neaca pointed to each sapling. “This one is Valika. This one is Bethok. This one is Vemora, Childi is over there, and Xylia is there, near the old stream of Arnon.”
“Did you climb the trees, when you were young?”
“Of course I did,” Neaca said with a chuckle, “though my climbing days are behind me, now. These Sacred Trees will one day be the treasure of the forest!”
“Ah,” Tomtar said, “treasure! I almost forgot.”
He reached into his pocket and withdrew two pouches. He gave them a shake and offered them to Neaca. “Take a look,” he said.
Neaca untied the drawstring at the top of a pouch, peeked inside, and took a deep breath. “The Jewels of Alfheim,” she cried. “I didn’t know there were any of them left!”
“Just these,” Tomtar said. “The Mage gave ’em to us in case we needed ’em. We traded some for cash, but we were pretty careful, and there are quite a few of the ancient stones left. Should be enough to start a new collection, eh?”
“Thank you, Tomtar,” Neaca said. “The Mage will be delighted! No, that’s not it … she’ll be moved, beyond measure.”
“Neaca,” Becky said, “I have a question I was hoping you could answer for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, Jardaine and Macta both died for the Seed. They were both evil characters; neither of them ever did anything nice in their whole lives. How can the Seed be good, how can the new tree be good, if the Blood it needed to grow was bad Blood?”
“Macta wasn’t all bad,” Asra said. “He was very nice to me, most of the time!”
Neaca nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a very good question, Becky. I suppose all I can say is that each of us may make mistakes in our lives, and bad judgments, but although we may at times behave badly, our essential spirit is untouched by our actions. The Blood we shed is neither good nor bad, ’tis just … Blood. What the Seed required was never really Blood, anyway, but sacrifice—willing or not. That was the important thing.”
“So what are you going to tell those Elves from Helfratheim?” Tomtar asked Asra. “Do you think we need their help enough to give ’em control over the truth? It doesn’t seem to me that the story they want to tell is much like what really happened.”
Asra shook her head as Powcca limped ahead of her. “I just don’t know. It would be nice to have someone truly take care of us. But the story belongs to us, Tomtar. We lived it. It doesn’t seem right to let it belong to somebody who wasn’t even there!”
“The story belongs to us all,” Neaca said. “’Tis our story, whether we were there or not. Keep that in mind when you make your decision!”
The moon hung in a blue velvet sky, dotted with glittering constellations. Against the backdrop of night, all the ancient Gods and Goddesses, and heroes of Elf Realm, acted out their heroic feats and epic battles among the stars. The air was full of joyful music and the singing of crickets. Fireflies drifted through the cool air, as the guests arrived at the great twelve-sided tent. When all were gathered inside, and the poet laureate of Ljosalfar had read the invocation, the Mage of Alfheim stepped onto a circular platform. There, lit from above by a dozen flickering Fire Sprites, she said a prayer and introduced Asra to the crowd. The Princess came to the platform wearing a floor-length white gown. Her hair was washed and trimmed and pulled behind her pointed ears, and on her head she wore a crown of ivy. She looked elegant, calm, and focused, the picture of an Elfin Princess, as she spoke.
“Greetings to the people of the realm,” she said. “I am proud to be here tonight in the company of Tomtar, Rebecca, and Matthew, who were with me when the Seed of the Adri was placed at the heart of the world, and the Sacred Tree that grows from the North Pole was reborn. I am also pleased to say that Helfratheim’s Council of Seven has generously provided us with everything you see tonight, from the chairs upon which we sit, to this tent, to the food and drink we’ve been blessed to enjoy this evening. My heartfelt thanks go out to the Council members, who are sitting in our midst. At this time, I’d like to say a few words regarding the quest from which I’ve just returned.”
Matt and Becky sat cross-legged at both ends of a long table, flanking Tomtar, the Mage, and Neaca, as well as many of the most important Kings and Queens of the Elfin world. Prashta and Lehtinen sat at the center of the group, looking proud and relaxed. They were certain that Asra’s address would be brief and supportive of the official tale they were about to present.
“I would like to speak first about Tuava-Li, whose vision of the Seed was the first step on a journey of discovery and sacrifice. Though Tuava-Li can no longer be with us, she will enter into the world of myth and legend, as she performs a very valuable function at the heart of the world, keeping watch over the Seed. Perhaps, if we’re blessed by the Goddess, we may one night chance to see her when we pass beyond the Gates of Vattar. We should all give thanks to Tuava-Li for what she sacrificed on our behalf.
“I would also like to say a few words about King Macta. Many had opinions about Macta’s character, and many are the tales of his exploits. I am sure you’ve all heard the stories. Tonight I want you to know that Macta was a brave and valiant soul who ended up giving his life so that the Faerie world might live in peace. If Macta were here tonight, I am sure he would stand with me in urging everyone to listen for the quiet voice of the Goddess, to seek her wisdom, and to be always ready and glad to make sacrifices at her request, for the good of all.
“Once upon a time, a Human died so that the Seed could live. This time, it was an Elf who made the ultimate sacrifice. I would like to suggest that our legends are not fixed in stone, meant to repeat themselves exactly, but are always being reborn in new ways for future generations. Perhaps our attempt to recreate the old stories, and to seek truth in them alone, is a notion whose time has passed. I believe the Goddess wants us each to travel the road toward becoming our own hero, in ways both large and small. One of the ways we can do this, I’ve discovered, is in transforming our enemies into our friends.”
Asra gestured toward Becky, and then Matt. “Come, my friends,” she said, and they approached the spotlight. Asra reached up, took their hands, and they bowed. Then Tomtar joined them. There was no applause, but gasps and cries of dismay. Many Faerie Folk were not yet willing to accept that Humans and Faeries could care for each other. This is the reason why the veil between the worlds had to come down between us again, after all, Asra thought as she gazed out over the audience. The time for unity has not yet come … but the Seed has been planted. There were many in the audience that night who failed to understand Asra’s meaning; but for a few, the words, as well as the spirit behind the words, lingered long after her speech ended.
“And now,” the Princess said, “’tis time to dance, and to sing, and to celebrate. Those of us who call this land our home have a long road ahead, and the reconstruction will be slow, for we are proud, and we will do the work ourselves, to claim the rewards of our labor. Every step we take will be filled with love, and pride, and devotion to our homeland, Alfheim!”
Asra glanced at Prashta and Lehtinen. She had given them a gift in keeping the tale simple, and leaving out more than a few of the details. But it was clear that she had no intention of letting them tell her story—as well as those of her friends, the ones still with her, and the ones who were not. The words she had spoken were, essentially, true. And they were the stuff of which legends are made.
Prashta and Lehtinen hurried to their Arvada and departed for Helfratheim, where they believed they might have more success in controlling Macta’s legacy. The party at Alfheim went on until the wee hours of the morning; there was song and dance, prayers and poetry, laughter as well as tears over all that had transpired. Matt and Becky lingered with Tomtar and the Princess until dawn. Then they faced the sun, and said the morning prayers, as they’d seen Tuava-Li do, so many times. Neaca came to them and asked Matt and Becky if they were ready to return to the Human realm. Weary from their adventure, and anxious to see their parents and sister, they agreed that it was time to go.
The five of them wandered through the scrub and over the trunks of many fallen trees, now half-buried in fresh growth. Tomtar played his flute, improvising a new tune he’d made up. He wasn’t sure whether he should call it “When the Seed Is in the Ground” or “Coming Home.” Either way, the tune was sweet and a little sad. Birds warbled as the sun climbed up over distant hills. Asra held Powcca’s leash and reined him in, as he lunged after every squirrel, chipmunk, and dragonfly. As a Mage, Neaca’s senses were focused on finding the place where Matt and Becky could leave Elf Realm and return home. When her intuition told her the border was near, she held out a hand to her companions. “The veil between the worlds is far stronger now. Once you pass over, there’ll be no turning back!”
Tomtar threw his arms around Matt’s legs and hugged him hard. Then he stepped away and held out his flute. “Something to remember me by,” he said.
“I can’t take your flute,” Matt said. “I can’t even play it!”
Tomtar shook his head. “You can learn!”
“But I haven’t got anything to give you,” Matt said, searching his pockets.
Tomtar held out his forearm so that Matt could see his tattoo, with Matt and Becky spelled out for all the world to see. “You gave me this!”
Becky got down on her knees and hugged Asra. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” she said.
“And I’ve never known anyone like you!” Asra replied, her voice trembling.
“Now,” Neaca said. She swept her hand through the air, like she was drawing back an invisible curtain. “You must go, now, children! Hurry!”
Matt and Becky crept through the veil and were gone. Neaca stood up with a sigh, pressing her fingers together in a peak.
“That is how it ends?” Asra said. “Just like that?” She clutched the front of her dress as her eyes welled up. “I shall never see my friend again?”
Tomtar touched Asra’s shoulder, hoping to reassure her, to reassure himself. He didn’t know what to do or to say, and he felt foolish for his words even before they left his mouth. “Well, at least we’ll … we’ll never forget them, Asra!”
“No, you won’t,” Neaca said. “And they won’t
forget you, either.”
Asra picked up Powcca and held him close. She cried, “I feel so … so empty!”
Neaca nodded. “Matt and Becky will feel it, too. But maybe the emptiness isn’t such a bad thing! With the grace of the Goddess, the longing they feel will be the fire that makes them work to heal their world. That’s the most important thing, after all.”
“What if the longing just makes them sad?” Asra asked, feeling her own emptiness gnaw at her. “What if it just makes them feel helpless?”
“Perhaps it will,” Neaca said. “But whenever they feel lost, or that something in their world is unjust, they’ll have the choice to continue the journey they’ve begun here. They’ll remember the feeling of satisfaction that comes from being needed, from helping others. In everything they do, they’ll strive to recapture those feelings, for the struggles that lie ahead.”
Tomtar frowned. “Struggles? What struggles?”
Neaca shook her head. “Elf Realm may be out of danger, but the Human realm is not! ’Twill be up to Matt and Becky, and others like them, to do what’s required to secure what’s good in their world, and to change what is bad. Their road will be long, and hard, but I’m certain they shall travel it.”
“It isn’t fair,” Asra said.
Neaca shook her head. “Their struggle belongs to them now, Asra. Now come and celebrate, you two! Alfheim is reborn!”
Matt climbed over another blackened branch. The burnt limbs of fallen trees were nestled in among fresh green stalks, some of which would become giant trees in a hundred years’ time. “Come on, Becky,” he said, breathing hard. He was feeling dizzy, but he held out his hand to his sister. “You must be getting tired. Let me help you over this one.”
They came to the top of a ridge. Because all the old trees had been burned, there was little to block their view of the panorama stretching ahead. The sky was a brilliant peacock blue, and billowy clouds hung motionless over the tops of distant trees. An airplane hummed above. Highway 256 wound through the landscape like a gray ribbon, and telephone wires stretched between the wooden poles that dotted the roadside at regular intervals, disappearing in the green distance. “Look,” Matt said. “Down there. It’s our house. Wait, that can’t be our house—it burned to the ground!”