“The sanctuary has been breached!” she snarled in a deep, gravelly voice. She lengthened that last word for several seconds and pointed at Lynnae with a bony finger that peeked out from her tattered sleeve. “Return to the sanctuary, Maiden, or you shall be—”
Before the creature could finish her sentence, she was blasted by a bolt of blue energy and propelled into the forest. Tashi had managed to crawl out from under the tree and was pointing her shekchen toward the creature.
“Go, quickly!” she ordered. “I will handle this!”
“Thank you!” Sam said, then turned to Lynnae. “Take us, please.”
The maiden nodded and headed back toward the council’s meeting place. The others followed closely as Lynnae led the three all the way to the shore. The maiden hung back and gestured for the others to continue on, while she took cover behind her favorite honeysuckle bushes. She could hear the gryphon speaking, but he instantly quieted when Vance, Sam, and Nerida stepped onto the sand. She was counting on their presence to distract the council enough to help her avoid detection. There was no way she was going to miss this historic event. The other maidens were not pleased by the arrival of the new strangers.
“These creatures were not permitted to enter the sanctuary!” Faye declared angrily. “You violated our trust…our code!”
“I did no such thing,” Phylassos replied.
“Now, hang on a hot minute. We came here on our own, Council,” Vance informed them. “The gryphon here had nothing to do with it, I assure you.”
“And the Baba Yaga?” Sibyl asked.
“She attacked, as is her duty,” Vance replied. “But she’s tusslin’ with a Guardian of the gryphon’s claw right now and is a little busy.”
Sam suddenly spotted his mother standing near a patch of trees.
“Mom!” he exclaimed. He tried to run to her, but the sand grabbed ahold of his feet, instantly immobilizing him. Lynnae had seen the council do this before with the sand, for fellow maidens who had violated the rules or defied them.
“She is not your mother any longer,” Caer told him. “She is a maiden who has returned home to her sanctuary. And she will be punished for her crimes.”
“What crimes?” Sam asked, bewildered. “Let me go!” He struggled against the hardened sand.
“Odette left her home, she fell in love, and she had a child,” answered Manto.
“And that is a crime?”
“It is in our world,” Melusine told the boy.
“When she escaped with your father, she violated our most sacred covenant,” said Palatina.
“My father…,” Sam whispered. He stopped struggling and felt the sands relax around his feet. He turned his attention to the council. “I know that the man in the photo my mom has isn’t my dad. The Salmon of Knowledge told me, but he said he couldn’t reveal my father’s identity. That it was a promise he made to you.” Sam shifted his gaze to Phylassos.
“It was necessary, Sam,” Phylassos answered. “For everyone’s protection.”
“I don’t understand….If that man in the photo isn’t him, then who is?”
“He is wasting our time with these questions,” Faye huffed.
“He is trying to distract us,” Caer added.
“We do not look kindly on being mocked,” said Palatina sternly.
“I’m not mocking anyone or distracting,” Sam argued. “I just want to know the truth. Who is my dad? Is he still alive? Is he even human?”
The maidens appeared confounded and looked to the gryphon for an explanation.
“Per our agreement, Odette’s memory was adjusted, as was the human’s,” Phylassos told the maidens.
“What human?” Sam asked, thoroughly exasperated.
“All right. Now, I don’t have the first clue as to what this is all about, but could we just stop the mind-numbin’ subterfuge and tell the kid who his father is?” Vantana declared. “He deserves to know.”
“You both do,” the gryphon replied.
“What?” the doctor said, confused.
“It’s you, Vance,” Phylassos revealed. “You’re Sam’s father.”
Vance Vantana was in his early twenties when he was writing his dissertation for his PhD at a cabin in Crater Lake National Park. He sat himself smack-dab in front of the only window because it offered a breathtaking view of Crater Lake, which is located in southern Oregon and is the deepest lake in the United States, having been formed by a collapsed volcano. He’d prefer being outside on a case, of course, but it was tranquil and relaxing here and was Vance’s all-time favorite spot to work. He happened to be taking a break from his studies and staring out onto the lake one late spring day when the cabin phone rang.
“Ranger Vantana?” A grim-sounding familiar voice could be heard on the other end. Vance recognized it as Orry Avskogen, his old friend, a park ranger at Great Smoky Mountains National Park.
“Orry? You sound about as cheery as a funeral march. What’s the trouble?”
“It’s Rupert. He is in his final days.”
Vance exhaled. Rupert the Bigfoot was the creature who had led Vance to discover the truth about mythical creatures, the DMW, and Dr. Knox. He was mighty special to Vance, and to hear this news was heartbreaking.
“He’s requesting to see Henry, Vance,” Orry added. “He says it’s very important. Says he has information for Phylassos. He won’t tell me what it is, and I tried reaching Dr. Knox directly but—”
“He’s in Russia,” Vantana quickly informed the ranger. Just two days earlier, Dr. Henry Knox had notified Vance that he would be traveling to Russia’s Lake Baikal for a meeting with the Maiden Council, the governing body of swan maidens whose sanctuary was critically important to maintaining a balance with nature. It had been theorized, though never confirmed, that the sanctuary was the magical lifeblood of all the beauty of Gaia. The swan maidens committed their entire lives to nurturing the sanctuary and were not allowed beyond its borders. The council had called the meeting after growing displeased with human encroachment on their habitat and was concerned the environmental poisons being introduced by humans could damage the sanctuary.
“Can you get a message to him?” Orry followed up.
“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Vantana answered. The Maiden Council was extremely protective, and no creatures were ever allowed inside the sanctuary’s boundaries without express permission, especially human males. Knox had secured passage due to his relationship with Phylassos, but he had been prohibited from bringing anyone else.
“I see,” Orry replied, disappointed. “I will let Rupert know and will hope that this errand of the doctor’s is completed before…” Orry didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t have to. Vance understood the implications.
When the young ranger hung up the phone, he thought at length about this sudden and unforeseen circumstance. Given Knox and Rupert’s longtime friendship, he felt an obligation to fulfill the bigfoot’s final wish, but to do so would be a clear violation of protocol. Vance had always tried to live his life by an old adage from his ancestor, American frontiersman Davy Crockett, which said: “Be always sure you’re right—then go ahead!” In this instance, Vantana reckoned he likely wasn’t right, but he went ahead anyway. He hopped a dvergen subway to Russia to retrieve the doctor before it was too late.
Vance approached Lake Baikal several hours later and treaded carefully toward the sanctuary. Through his studies, he had come to know of the Baba Yaga, the creature sworn to protect the sanctuary and the maidens from any trespassers. Though no one had confirmed the Baba Yaga’s existence, Vantana had learned in his line of work to always err on the side of assuming that myths were true. As such, he stopped at the boundary of the sanctuary and considered his options. If he ran as fast as he could through the sanctuary and found Knox before the creature found him, he might just be able to c
onvince the council to call off the creature in time for him to deliver his message. But that plan was risky and could potentially jeopardize any negotiations taking place between Knox and the council. Vance had to get the message to Knox without crossing the boundary and therefore quickly concluded that the only way to do so would be to recruit a maiden to help him. Of course, revealing his presence to a maiden might send her running off to inform the council of danger, or worse, to alert the Baba Yaga. This strategy was risky as well, but he believed it was significantly less so than his previous plan.
He had spent most of his young life in the wilderness, so camping out near the sanctuary was second nature. He watched and waited, remaining stone silent to avoid detection. After a few days, Vance determined the schedule of several maidens who left their nesting area to visit a small pond located near the boundary—the closest they came to the edge of the sanctuary. They visited this spot on a daily basis, and Vance found that the maidens were as beautiful as the legends claimed, but one maiden in particular caught his eye. Though Vantana knew he had a plan to stick to, he couldn’t help but become distracted when this auburn-haired maiden joined her sisters at the pond. There was something about her, he thought. Something that set her apart, beyond just her beauty. There was a gentleness and an energy that always—without fail—made him smile every time she entered his view.
Vance’s plan to attract the attention of a maiden was simple: he would throw a small rock from his hiding place into the sanctuary. He did this once for every time the maidens visited the pond. Most of the maidens became frightened by the sound and ran off. Yet one always remained—the auburn-haired maiden. Unafraid, she looked toward the sound with great interest, until her fellow maidens pulled her away. And then one day she visited the pond alone. Vantana tossed the stone as he had before, the maiden looked toward where the pebble had come from, and instead of running off, she walked toward it.
“Hello?” she called out in a soft, fearless voice. “You can come out and show yourself. I don’t bite.”
Vance peeked his head out from behind a tree. “You’re not scared I might?”
The maiden laughed at this. “I’m standing on the other side of the boundary,” she noted. “If you tried, you wouldn’t live long.”
“Right. The Baba Yaga,” Vance said. “So the stories are true?”
“Do you wish to find out for certain?” she asked with a smirk.
“Nah,” he replied playfully.
“Wise choice. So who are you? Besides someone who likes to throw stones and scare off maidens, of course.”
“The name’s Vance. And what do they call you?”
“Odette.”
“Pretty name,” he said.
“It’s all right,” she replied flatly.
Vance grinned. “Not a fan, huh?”
She shrugged.
“Okay. Then how about I call you…Ettie. That better?”
She smiled and nodded. “I like that.”
Given the nature of the meeting between Odette the swan maiden and Vance Vantana, the files in the DMW archives include few details regarding their interaction. For this reason, I have asked Dr. Vantana to provide a personal statement describing the events as he now remembers them. The following is in his own words.
—T.C.G.
Once I had established a rapport with Ettie, I explained what had brought me to the sanctuary. I asked if she’d be willing to tell Dr. Knox that I was there and needed to speak with him immediately. She agreed, but when she came back a few hours later she said she wasn’t able to get close to the council’s meeting place. They were apparently engaged in a secret discussion, and the area was protected by some sort of magical barrier. I decided to stick around a few more days until the meeting was completed or there was a break, during which she could possibly get a message to Knox. Although I have to admit that I would have probably given up on the whole thing if it hadn’t been for Ettie.
Nearly every minute of my time waiting was spent with her. The council was so caught up in their meeting they didn’t notice that she was sneaking away from her nesting place. And before I realized it, I began to have less and less interest in seeing Knox and delivering the news regarding Rupert. It no longer felt important to me….What was important now was seeing Ettie. It wasn’t long before I just stopped asking about the council and Knox, and Ettie stopped telling me what she saw or heard from her fellow maidens. We were both much too busy learning about each other. I wanted to know all about her life in the sanctuary, and Ettie wanted to know all about my life beyond it.
Ettie and I filled our days with conversation and laughter. There were no awkward silences, as we never ran out of things to talk about. At night, we’d lie on the ground as close as possible without crossing the boundary. Inches away yet worlds apart. With this invisible wall separating the two of us, we’d stare up at the stars and share our dreams. Ettie’s dream was pretty simple—she showed me a poster that had washed up on the lakeshore, which advertised a production of Swan Lake. She wanted to go to the place called London on the poster and see this ballet, which was clearly about her kind. I felt a little bad having to explain that the date on the play meant it had been performed quite a long time ago, so it could not be seen as advertised. But I suggested that there might be another version we could see together. Ettie liked that idea very much.
I had been so singularly focused on my studies and my work with the DMW under the guidance of Henry Knox that I rarely had any leisure time and never sought relationships. I prioritized work, and everything else fell by the wayside. Yet spending time with Ettie had become my new singular focus. I think we both realized our time together was fleeting and that made our interaction all the more intense. Every second that passed was one less second we had remaining. And then one day it all came crashing down.
She was showing me a few of the rare flowers that grew alongside the boundary within the sanctuary. I had never seen or smelled flowers like these before. One of them smelled like chocolate—honest to goodness—another like root beer, and the roses bloomed in colors that spanned the spectrum. Ettie was particularly fond of a rose that appeared to change color depending on the angle the sunlight hit it. She was going on and on about its beauty when I suggested she wear it in her hair. She just blushed and shook her head, but I insisted. She finally gave in and attempted to remove a rose from the vine but was pricked by a thorn. My protective instinct kicked in and I reached out to grab her hand; but the moment we touched, everything changed.
I had a sudden and swift realization about my feelings for Ettie: I was in love with her. And from the way she looked at me, I reckoned at the time the feeling was mutual. Unfortunately, the happiness we experienced by recognizing this love was short-lived. The wind howled and the trees swayed. The Baba Yaga had sensed the breach of the sanctuary’s boundary and came looking for a fight. I quickly took up a stance in front of Ettie, but the Baba Yaga paid her no mind—the creature set her sights on yours truly. She tossed me around like a rag doll while Ettie pleaded for her to stop. I was hurting something awful and barely conscious, but I could hear the Baba Yaga demand that Ettie return to her nesting place. She refused. Through swollen eyes, I could see her standing between the Baba Yaga and me, telling the creature that she would have to go through her. Of course, the monster simply pushed her aside and came at me once more.
I took one look at Ettie—a look I honestly believed would be my last. I smiled at her, as best I could. Fortunately for me, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye just yet. She stood up, spread her wings, and flew right toward me. She swooped down in front of the Baba Yaga, scooped me up, and took off. The Baba Yaga chased us for a good while, but Ettie never slowed or stopped. We flew for what must have been hours, possibly days, until the Baba Yaga finally stopped her pursuit. We collapsed somewhere in the Great Smoky Mountains. Ettie tended to my wounds and nursed me back to healt
h.
As I healed, we talked at length about our unusual circumstances. I realized this was beyond forbidden and would cost me my career with the DMW. Poor Ettie was too terrified to even think about the consequences of her actions. The only thing we were certain about was that we wanted to be together, despite the overwhelming odds against us. To make that happen we had to disappear…to go someplace where we couldn’t be found. But that seemed impossible. We needed help, and so I reached out to Rupert the Bigfoot. We went to meet with him and found that he was in his final hours.
Old Rupert begged us to return to the sanctuary, apologize, and ask for mercy, but he realized right quick this was not an option we were willing to consider. Rupert then suggested another possibility: Atlantis. After all, it was not under the gryphon’s law, nor did it fall under the authority of the Maiden Council. It was a neutral place that became a haven for displaced mythical creatures. The bigfoot believed the city could keep the two of us safe from punishment. I agreed and persuaded Ettie that Atlantis represented our best hope. Rupert contacted a ranger from the Everglades National Park who I did not know at the time. His name was Woodruff Sprite, and he could smuggle us to Atlantis and help secure us new identities. Sprite had been a trusted friend to Rupert for over a hundred years and, though surprised by the bigfoot’s request, even he could clearly see that the feelings Ettie and I shared were the real deal. He committed to helping us, despite the danger.
Reaching out to a Nuppeppo lounge singer named Squishy, Sprite arranged passage to the mysterious island. Once there, we were directed to meet with Squishy, and the singer managed to get us a place to stay, even finding me a job in the administrative offices of the island’s park service. Ettie and I took on different names and were married. Though everything seemed to be going well, Squishy was worried. She believed that as strangers on the island, we could not avoid being noticed, and this would draw unwanted scrutiny. But Sprite wanted us to wait it out while he contacted Knox to discuss how this might all be remedied. Unfortunately, Squishy’s instincts were correct and we never had a chance.
The Selkie of San Francisco Page 28