Tris & Izzie

by Mette Ivie Harrison

His body had been incinerated. The flakes of it swirled around us, adding to the ashy smell and the gritty residue covering the whole island.

  I guided Tristan toward the place where the serpent’s head would have been.

  “Is this the right place?” I asked.

  He closed his eyes, trying to feel for it, I guess. I didn’t know if it would work, but suddenly, he stabbed forward, and I could feel that things had changed, that there was something missing that had been there before.

  Tristan held up his arm, shaking with the weight of the sword.

  “I think you can let go of me now,” I said.

  He shook his head. “I don’t think I can. Not now, nor ever after.”

  We kissed then, and it was a kiss full of fire and magic. But mostly, it was a kiss full of love, because when magic is gone, love still lives on.

  Chapter 27

  There was nothing near us but the sound of the waves sliding gently back and forth against the shore. The horizon was just beginning to turn pink with sunset. The sand was still warm, but I wanted nothing more than to go home, take another bath, and go to bed in my own room, where Mom could watch over me.

  Only I had no idea how we were going to get there.

  Our skiff was in splinters. Whatever other ships had once been here were gone now, or in pieces. And I saw no sign of people. Tristan had grown up here, so they had to be some-where. I didn’t blame them for not coming out. Gurmun must have kept them terrified all these years, and even if they could feel his magic gone, how could they be sure? He had died at least once that I knew of, and then come back.

  “Tristan? Can you hear me?” I asked.

  He was breathing shallowly, and his face was pale. I put my hand to his throat to feel for his pulse. It was there, but it wasn’t strong. Every time it skipped a beat, I held my breath. I had to get him back to my mom. I didn’t know if she could heal his blindness, but I knew that he had no chance otherwise. I could live with him being blind if I had to, but I didn’t know if he could. The warrior thing and all that.

  I stood up and shouted, “Help! Is anyone out there?”

  There was no response.

  I looked up at the rocks, and I realized that I was only a few feet from the cave where I had been hidden by my father. I had a flash of memory that was my own. I had been standing over there when Gurmun rose up against my father. I had screamed and put my hands over my eyes. It had been different then. The smell, the sounds, the whole feeling of the place. It had seemed alive to me then, and now it seemed deserted, very close to death.

  Gurmun had brought it to this, and I did not know if it would ever recover. But there was magic here. Other elemental sorcerers, perhaps, and those with metal magic like Tristan and witches like my mother, and maybe some with other kinds of magic I had not even heard about yet. If I had not been so tired, I would have been curious.

  But for now, I was worried about Tristan. I had to get him help, and I had to do it immediately. I crouched down, knees bent, back straight. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed Tristan’s arms and tucked myself under his body. I lifted him and staggered around for a few seconds. Then I felt the burn in my legs. It was a good thing Tristan wasn’t as heavy as Mark.

  I tried to use my magic for help, but the fire just made us both hotter, and once I was carrying Tristan’s weight, I was plenty hot and dripping sweat. On the other hand, I liked the feeling that I was capable of carrying my boyfriend.

  At least, until I tripped on a seashell, got it embedded in my heel, and almost dropped Tristan on his head.

  But I didn’t, and that’s the important part.

  I got past the old buildings and the rocks, where I could smell the last ashes of Gurmun in the air. Just beyond that, I stopped and took a rest. I was afraid of letting go of Tristan, because I wasn’t sure that once I did, I would ever be able to get him up again. But I was also afraid that my heart was going to beat out of my chest, so I let him fall slowly and made sure there were no rocks under him when he hit the sand.

  He opened his eyes for a second when he thunked down. “Oof,” he said, and then he was unconscious again.

  I sat and rested. The sun was setting, and it was getting colder. I knew I could build a fire when I needed to, but for now, I just sat down, put my head on Tristan’s chest, and listened to the beautiful sound of him breathing. Living.

  “Tantris, Tantris!” I heard voices shouting.

  It took me a moment to remember that was Tristan’s real name.

  Then I sat up as a dozen people approached us. A woman came forward and offered Tristan a water bottle. She was dressed in worn polyester hip-huggers that might once have had flowers embroidered onto them. Her top was loose and flowy, more gray than white. I wondered how long it had been since anyone in Curvenal had had contact with the non-magical world.

  “I’m Isolde,” I said.

  The woman’s eyes went wide. “You give us your name?” she said. “Your true name?”

  Whoops. I’d forgotten that might be dangerous. But I hadn’t said it the way my dad and Tristan had. I’d used the two-syllable pronunciation that I was used to being called by everyone at home who didn’t know me well enough to call me Izzie. It was strange that I had two names, one that people knew me by, and one that I knew myself by, but I guess it was that way for Tristan and everyone else in Curvenal.

  “There is no more need to worry about Gurmun, the serpent,” I said. “I have killed him, permanently this time, using the magic of his name. With Tristan’s, help, of course. I mean, Tantris. You’re all safe now.” At least, they were safe from Gurmun. I didn’t know if there were other slurgs or giants around, but Gurmun must have kept a lot of them away while he was here. Curvenal might have to deal with them in following days but the magic they had here would probably be sufficient to deal with the smaller dangers that might come into the vacuum the serpent had left.

  The woman started to cry. “Tantris did it. He did what he said he would do!” she said. “We all thought he would never return, but we should have known he had honor, like his father before him.”

  A man dressed in an old jean jacket kissed my hand over and over again. “Isolde,” he said. His accent, like the woman’s, was similar to Tristan’s. Maybe it was an older kind of English, closer to the true language of magic. Other people started to close in, patting me on the back, touching my hair, saying things I only half understood. Then a little girl came running up and handed me a doll. It was a homemade doll, crocheted from yarn, with a crooked face and ragged hair.

  “For you,” she said precisely.

  I tried to give it back to her. I looked up and could see more of the town. The houses were small and looked like they hadn’t been painted in ages. Maybe they had depended on magic to keep things nice, until the serpent came and took that, too. The doll must be the nicest thing the girl owned. How could I take that from her? I looked up at the woman, and she had her arm around the girl. “Take it,” the woman said. “I will make her another one.”

  So I took it. I’d never been a hero before. It felt good, and also a little scary. I wondered what else they might think I could do. Make it summer all year round? Turn rain into money falling from the sky?

  It sure looked like they could use money here.

  I searched through my pockets and tried to take out some cash to hand to the mother, but she shook her head. “The serpent took much of our wealth,” she said, “and many people have left Curvenal. Now he is gone, we will have no problems. With our magic, we can build new homes, new schools, and people will come back.”

  I nodded. They were on their way, then. I could think about Tristan now. “I need to get Tristan home to my mother. She’s a witch, and I think she might be able to cure his blindness,” I said. “Or do you have witches here? There was magic everywhere here, wasn’t there?”

  “Witches, yes. But witches who can cure blindness from a serpent’s poison, no. Your mother was always the best witch in Curvenal. We were very sad
when she left us,” said the woman.

  So Mom was the only one who could help Tristan. “We came here on a skiff, but it’s ruined. Are there any other ships? Or planes? Or … something else?” I didn’t know what, but I was hoping for something fast. I only knew we were far from home, and Mom always said her magic worked best if it was started as soon as possible.

  “Isolde?” Tristan whispered.

  I knelt beside him.

  “You should go back,” he said. “With a black sail.”

  “Why? What difference does it make if the ship has a black sail?” I asked.

  “Not that kind of black sail. The people of Curvenal will help you.” Tristan insisted on getting to his feet, but he was still blind and weak. One of the men put an arm around him and helped him move farther up the hillside. I followed.

  Now I could see dozens of smaller houses that had not been destroyed and the ruins of larger ones. It looked like a place that might have been a vacation community in the summer, so close to the shore and far away from the rest of the world. Maybe it would be like that again, and those people who had left would come back. I saw only a couple of hundred people. There might be more who were hanging back, but if all the ruined buildings had been inhabited at one time, the town had to have been twenty times larger than it looked now.

  We passed a fenced-in area, and I expected to see animals in it, but there weren’t any. It smelled of Gurmun, and I realized with a sick sensation that it had been a cage for his victims. Everyone else looked away from it as they passed, but Tristan, in spite of his blindness, seemed to realize that it was there and turned his face toward it.

  His parents had died here, I thought. And he had not been able to save them.

  It was too dark for them to show me the black sails, so we went home with the woman whose daughter had given me the doll. We ate lentil stew for supper. The woman apologized, saying that they didn’t have anything better, because all the farm animals had been eaten by Gurmun long before.

  I told her the stew was the most delicious thing I had ever had, and I wasn’t exaggerating. Maybe it tasted better because I was so tired, or because there was magic all around us.

  The woman set up an old pull-out couch for us, and my dreams were strange that night—about me doing lots of heroic things with my magical powers—but when I woke up, I didn’t know if any of them were possible. I’d find out, I guessed, once we got home and I had a chance to think of something besides bare survival.

  The dream made me understand better why people would want to live in Curvenal, though. With all this magic around, the air felt lighter, brighter, and, well, more magical. Like there were more possibilities in life. I didn’t know how it would be for people who didn’t have magic. They might not feel any difference at all. But for people who did, like me and Tristan, Curvenal would call to them now that Gurmun was gone. I was sure of that.

  In the morning, Tristan came out with me and limped toward a cliff that looked over the water. I could see a lot of magical creatures out there now: mermaids in the water, just peeking their heads out, and centaurs on the shore. There were fairies with gossamer wings and what looked like trolls. Those were the ones I recognized from my old dream of Gurmun devouring magic.

  But there were also creatures I didn’t remember, ones that I thought were one thing when I looked from one angle, but then they moved and seemed like something else. Goats that were also snakes, giant butterflies that could blink in and out of existence (or just my vision), what looked like a baby dragon about four feet tall, and the black sails.

  There was a whole flock of them, in the air above the water. Huge birds with delicate, billowing wings, they looked like black ship sails while they were in flight.

  Tristan must have sensed they were there, because he put his fingers to his lips and whistled to one.

  It floated down beside him and spread its wings on the ground, stretching out some hundred feet. I was cautious, wondering if these things were really tame.

  “This is how I got to Tintagel,” he said. “Now you can return.” He waved and seemed pretty cold toward me.

  “Wait a minute. You’re sending me back without you?” What had happened? I thought we were in love and all that. True love, burning forever, nothing could stop it, not even Gurmun.

  “I can be of no use to you now,” said Tristan. “I will live out my days here, and my people will pity me, but honor me for my sacrifice.”

  “You mean because you’re blind?”

  He would not answer, but he pressed his lips so hard they went white.

  “No way. You are coming with me. My mom can heal you, and you have to finish high school, anyway.” What chance did he have of getting a good job if he didn’t even have a high-school diploma? And he needed a good job, because the whole magic thing didn’t seem like it was going to pay very well for either of us.

  “But what if she cannot heal me?” he asked.

  “Then we’ll both learn to live with it. Love conquers all, didn’t you know that?” I tugged on his arm and guided him to the waiting black sail. There was just enough room for the two of us on its back.

  “I do not want your pity,” said Tristan.

  “I don’t pity you. I pity anyone who has to deal with you if you ever get sick again. Talk about a bad patient,” I said, teasing him.

  Tristan hesitated for a moment, then gave me his big smile again. How I loved that smile. “I love this island. I think a part of me will always be at home here.”

  “Maybe we’ll come back someday,” I said.

  “When the pain has healed,” said Tristan.

  “When my mom has—” I started, but then realized that wasn’t the kind of pain he meant. He meant the pain of having his parents die for him.

  I guess I understood that pretty well. My dad had died for me. It wasn’t something you got over easily. I thought I could handle it now, most of the time. But for me, it wasn’t as fresh.

  “There are things for us to do in the regular world,” I said. “Important things.” Like opening the non-magical world back to magic, if Mom said it was okay now that Gurmun was dead. It would have to be done carefully, and only to those who were trustworthy enough not to misuse magic.

  Whether the world was ready for magic was another question. Maybe Mom and I would have to talk about that later.

  Chapter 28

  Together, Tristan and I rode on the black sail toward the rising sun. It was less scary than the ride in the skiff, because we didn’t go as fast, and I could relax with the rhythm of the sail’s beating wings.

  It was still morning when we circled over Tintagel, and the black sail landed a few blocks away from my house, in an open field.

  I helped Tristan off and guided him home. Outside the house, there was a faint smell of magic still in the air, but the bodies of all the animals Gurmun had sent against us had disappeared. I didn’t know if that was because the animals had never been real—just magical—or because Mom and Mark had taken care of disposing them.

  I opened the door and called for Mom. She came running, along with Mark, and together we got Tristan to the couch.

  “Izzie, what happened?” asked Mark. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, but Tristan’s blind. Serpent poison,” I said, more for Mom’s sake than for Mark’s.

  When we’d left the house two nights ago, Branna had been lying on the couch, still injured, but she walked into the room a few minutes later. She seemed mostly recovered from the giant’s attack. In fact, she looked better than ever. There was a glow about her that I had never seen before. I didn’t think I’d ever had that glow with Mark—but I had it now. Even with Tristan’s being blind, he was mine and I was his, and that made all the difference in the world.

  “Izzie, I need your help,” said Mom. She had a vial in her hand. “Keep him calm,” she added, because Tristan was turning his head to the side, refusing the potion.

  I sat down next to him and rubbed his arm. “Trista
n, it’s okay. It’s Mom’s potion. It will help you feel better.” He immediately went still.

  “If you need any more help, I can sit on him,” Mark offered.

  I waved him off.

  Mom poured the potion gently into Tristan’s mouth. He made a face, but he swallowed it.

  She went into the kitchen and brought back another potion, which she made him drink, too. Later that night, she brought a third.

  “Is it that bad?” I asked, not wanting to hear her tell me that he wouldn’t see again.

  Mom smiled. “That one is to make sure he keeps his hair when he gets older. Just a little thing from me to you.”

  “Isolde,” said Tristan after a long moment. His hands were over his eyes.

  I moved to his side eagerly. “Yes? Do you need something?”

  He looked into my eyes, and I could tell that he saw me, that his sight had come back. “No, not anymore. I think I will never need anything else, for the rest of my life, but the sight of your beautiful, loving face.” I had never been so happy before.

  Mom pushed me out of the way so she could check him. “He looks fine,” she said at last.

  “So that means he won’t have any problems with his sight, ever again?” I asked.

  “Well, I can’t guarantee he won’t lose sight when he gets older, but it will be the same as any other age-related sight loss, I think.”

  “Will you let me stick around with you long enough to see you need glasses for old age?” I asked Tristan.

  Tristan answered me with a kiss so long and passionate that Mom had to walk away.

  “You know, I would have loved you even if you had been blind forever,” I told Tristan.

  “And I would have loved you if you had not come back and killed Gurmun,” said Tristan. “But luckily, we don’t have to.”

  “Luckily,” I agreed.

  Later, Mom came back in to remind me I should let Tristan rest.

  “Tristan is still weak,” said Mom. “And he needs time to recover.” She told Tristan he could stay with us, since he didn’t have anywhere else to go. Or, she said, he could go to the hospital again.