by Amy Sumida
The rath we were using was one leading to Twilight, so its gate was gold. Emblazoned upon the double doors was a scene of a star shining down upon a forest-bordered castle, all done in silver. The gates were wide, and so was the path, expansive enough to allow carriages to pass through. But we were on foot, and this time Cat didn't need to be carried so she could access the In-Between. She would simply step off the path with the rest of us. Though I had a good grip on her fur to make sure she followed where I led.
We stepped off the path together. Darkness closed around us, and, for a moment, I was lost in the peace of it. Walking the In-Between was like traveling through space, cold and limitless. But the cold was familiar, and the expanse was exciting. Freedom and security all in one. Out there, I floated in my magic, and the tides of power would take me anywhere I wished to go. It was as comfortable as an old pair of shoes. You just slipped them on, sighed, and started walking.
But the comfort didn't last long. Too soon, we all stepped out of the Between, onto a cliff overlooking one of the smallest towns I'd ever seen. The most impressive building in the town appeared to be a church, pristine white walls crowned with a red steeple. The rest of the village knelt before the church in neat rows, parishioners waiting to worship. I had the briefest sense of Anu, and then it was gone. If God was there, he was remaining silent. Perhaps he didn't want to disturb the tranquility of the scene. Vik i Myrdal seemed to be sleeping, nestled into the curve of a cliff, and bordered by a blanket of gray sea. I inhaled the salty, fresh air deep into my lungs, and let out a happy sound. Cat fluffed her coat morosely.
“Okay, we're here,” I looked across the windswept cliff. “Now where's-”
Killian walked out of thin air, onto the cliff beside us.
“Killian,” I finished. “There you are.”
“You brought Cat?” Killian frowned at the giant canine-like puka. “Isn't she a bit conspicuous?”
“Cat,” I gave her a pointed look.
Her shaggy shape shimmered, shrinking into the more acceptable form of an Irish Wolfhound. Killian whistled in appreciation, then winced at the chill bite to the wind. He pulled his leather hoodie tighter around him, zipping the front, and bringing up the hood.
“You forgot your baklava,” I teased him.
“Balaclava,” he corrected me with a grin, “and it's in my pocket. But I don't want to scare the locals.”
“The locals believe in fairies,” Conri started walking away from us. “You actually have to pay a medium to inspect a piece of property and determine that it's fairy-free, before you can build in Iceland. And they don't just believe in the sidhe or elves either. They know about trolls, goblins, and even pukas. I don't think your little skeleton-painted handkerchief is going to frighten them.”
“It's called a baklava,” I told Conri with mock seriousness.
Killian rolled his eyes.
“Princess Seren?” A pale man waited on the curving road before us, beside a boxy, white van.
“Yes,” I headed towards him.
“I am Lord Hrafn,” he bowed, then lifted his sharp, dark gaze to mine. “The Lord of the Wild Hunt of Iceland sent me to assist you.”
“Thank you,” I motioned everyone forward. “Did he brief you?”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Hrafn opened the side panel of the van, motioning our group inside.
It was a good thing I hadn't brought the entire Star's Guard with me. I doubt we all would have fit. As I headed toward the passenger seat, Killian cut me off and opened the door for me. I chuckled as I slipped in, but it turned out to be more than just chivalry.
Killian leaned in and whispered, “Hrafn is Old Norse for 'raven'.”
“What?” I growled. I'd had some issues with ravens in the past. “God damn ravens are stalking me.”
Killian followed Cat into the back of the van, laughing.
“What was that, Your Highness?” Hrafn asked as he slid into the driver's seat.
“Nothing,” I smiled sweetly.
“I can take you straight to the elven enclave if you wish,” Hrafn started the van, “but I would recommend that you wait for an invitation.”
“An invitation?” I asked.
“They know you're here,” Hrafn said. “They know everything that happens in Iceland. If they want to speak with you, they'll contact you.”
“They want to kill her,” Conri growled. “This isn't going to be a polite conversation.”
“Yes, I heard of the attack,” Hrafn said, surprising me. “There's something you need to understand, Your Highness. I've worked closely with the elves for centuries, and there is one thing I can say for certain about them.”
“Yes?” I asked.
“Nothing is as it seems.”
Chapter Thirteen
After spending all day roaming the cold, but quaint, village of Vik i Myrdal, waiting for an invitation that never came, I was more than happy to retire to the lodgings Killian had booked for us. It was at a place called Hotel Katla, and it wasn't the most impressive hotel I've ever stayed in. But it was clean and sturdy. I was sure it had its positive aspects if we could just-
“This is bleak,” Conri noted as we pulled onto the asphalt drive.
“The whole damn island is bleak,” Killian grimaced. “It's fucking Iceland.”
“I thought Iceland was supposed to be green and Greenland was supposed to be icy,” I mused. “Like some big joke.”
“It is green,” Gradh noted. “It's also bleak.”
“Can we please stop calling Iceland bleak?” I sighed. “It's a beautiful country.”
“Bleakly beautiful,” Conri mumbled.
“Conri,” I growled.
“What? Even the beach was black, like it's in mourning,” he huffed. “Bleak, bleak, bleak. Danu damn it, now the word has lost all meaning for me.”
“It's a black sand beach,” Hrafn parked the van, and looked back at Conri. “It just takes some getting used to. Iceland's beauty is unique.”
“You can say that again,” Conri opened the side panel, and stepped out into the bleak... er... spartan setting.
“Hawaii has black sand beaches too,” I offered.
“This is not Hawaii, Princess,” Conri grimaced.
The hotel kept up the red roof theme. The bright tops were placed over long, white buildings which gathered together in an almost camp-like manner. I crunched my way over gray gravel to the main building and went to check us in with my dad's handy, Black American Express card. The atmosphere indoors mirrored that of outdoors, with clean tile floors and orderly furniture which was more functional than attractive. The desk clerk was a very nice lady, who handed over the keys to an entire building and instructed me on which building was ours.
I got a room for Hrafn too, so he wouldn't have to do so much driving, and then we all went to our building to freshen up before dinner. The hotel rooms continued the theme of the main building, with similar tiled floor, and wood slats covering the walls. Don't ask me what the correct term is for the wood strips lining the walls. It wasn't paneling, I can tell you that, just thin lengths of wood placed side-by-side. It seemed very Nordic in a grandparent way. Like we had just stepped into a Viking retirement home. The drapes and bedding looked as if they were from the sixties. The art was tiny and hung sporadically. The bathroom was a miniature version of the real thing.
“Tile floors?” Killian asked as he walked into my room. “In this weather? Getting out of bed in the morning is going to suck.”
“Wear socks to bed,” I suggested.
Cat whined and jumped onto the closest bed. There were two beds in my room, but they were pressed together. Oh, wait, no. It was one, full sized bed, with two, extra pillow/mattresses on top of it, each laid in front of a regular pillow. It had made the single bed appear to be two separate beds. Weird.
“What's with the beds on top of the bed?” I asked as I went over and prodded them. Squishy.
“I have no idea,” Killian shrugged, flopped onto one of t
he bed pillows in question, and started scratching Cat behind the ear. “Comfy, though.”
Cat looked as if she were tolerating Killian's attentions merely because she loved to be scratched, but she was not happy with who was doing the scratching.
“Why does she hate me?” Killian whined and gave up on trying to win Cat over.
“Because you're intrusive?” I hinted as I headed to the bathroom to shower.
“Oh, did you want to be alone?” Killian called after me.
“I'm getting naked now, Killian,” I shut the bathroom door on him. “Go away. And close the bedroom door on your way out.”
“Fine, I can take a hint,” I heard him mutter as he left. “Don't think this is over, puka. You and I are going to be friends, even if it kills me.”
“It just might,” I chuckled to myself.
The shower was nice and hot, reviving me and giving me a better outlook on the day. If I didn't receive an elf invitation by the next morning, I was going to insist that Hrafn show us where the enclave was. That being settled in my head, I got dressed and opened my bathroom door to find Cat asleep on the bed. She took up as much space as a person, which made me glad the bed was a full sized.
“Cat,” I called. “You want to come get food with us?”
The word “food” revived the puka like a red hot poker to the posterior. She leapt off the bed, and stood at my side like a soldier, in a matter of seconds. I laughed, and gave her a good scratch, before heading out into the entryway of the building. Everyone was already gathered there, waiting on us.
“You guys hungry?” I asked.
They all perked up as fast as Cat had.
There weren't a lot of choices in Vik, not for hotels or restaurants, but we found a pretty good place to eat. It was called Strondin, and it was a little bit of a drive to get to, but not so bad. The food portions were hearty, and there was a mix of cuisines available, so everyone was able to get something they liked. We were looking over dessert possibilities when a little voice came from the table on our left.
“Alfur!”
I glanced over to see a little girl pointing at Cat. She looked local, a perfect poster child for the Aryan race. Her parents were staring at Cat, eyes wide, and I realized the room had gone quiet.
“Alfur! Alfur!” The little girl was getting more excited. She bounced right out of her seat, and over to Cat.
My eyes went wide as the child threw her arms around Cat's neck, and hugged her like a long lost friend. Cat leaned into the affection and rubbed her face against the girl's. The child's parents stood slowly and came over to us like they were approaching celebrities, eyes blinking fast and mouths dropping open. The woman actually bowed her head deferentially. She started speaking to me in Icelandic.
“I'm sorry, I don't understand,” I gave her a confused smile.
“You are not from here?” the woman seemed surprised. Then she laid her hand on her daughter's shoulder. “Hella.” The little girl looked up, and her mother spoke to her in Icelandic before returning her attention to me. “I am sorry, she doesn't speak English.”
“We are honored to have the Fairy Folk here,” her husband said. “I haven't been in the presence of the Shining Ones since I was a child.”
We all gaped at him.
Hrafn said something in Icelandic. Half the room stood up and hurried over to us. The next thing I knew, I was being greeted like royalty. Cat was admired like she was a demi-god. The chef even came out of the kitchen to bring her a special plate of food. I have no idea how many hands I shook, but it was a lot.
“A princess of the Fair Folk,” Hella's mother, Svana, said in awe. “Will you give my daughter your blessing, Princess?”
I glanced at Hrafn, who widened his eyes at me pointedly, and gave me the barest, but somehow still emphatic, nod.
“Of course,” I held my hand out to the child, and she rushed forward to hug me. “Oh, okay,” I knelt down, smoothed her hair back, then kissed her forehead.
I did so with an air of ritual, just to satisfy the mother, but something sparked inside me in response. When I pulled away, there was a glow over Hella's head. It faded quickly, but it had been very evident. The room came alive with joyful murmurs.
“Thank you, Princess,” Svana's eyes were full of tears. “It has been a hard winter for us. Hella has been diagnosed with bone cancer. She'll start her treatments soon, and I'm certain your blessing will help her through it.”
“You're welcome,” I was completely baffled. I had no idea what I'd just done to the child or why it had even happened. “But I'm-”
“Have the child reexamined,” Conri interrupted me. “My lady is not just a fairy princess but is blessed by Danu herself. I would not be surprised if your daughter's disease disappears completely.”
“Thank you,” Svana sobbed. “Thank you, Princess. May the Goddess bless you as much as you have blessed us.”
“Thank you,” I stammered as I accepted a hug from Svana, and then a handshake from her teary-eyed husband.
When I was free again, I shot Conri a hostile look.
“I spoke the truth,” Conri defended himself. “A blessing from any fey carries a spark of magic within it, but a blessing from royalty is truly special. You are even more special than that. The magic within a fairy blessing is neutral, it can be used for anything. Usually, it responds to the receiver's desires or needs. In this case, Hella needs healing. I believe she'll be healed.”
“Just like that?” I asked. Thoughts of traveling around the world, blessing sick people back to health, filled my mind. I could save-
“The conditions must be perfect,” Torquil cut into my dreams of becoming a miracle healer. “The recipient must be worthy of the blessing, you must be willing to give it, and the magic must be powerful enough to meet the needs of the recipient. Even with all that in place, sometimes it will still not work. Magic can be fickle. The Princess is right, you should not have raised their hopes.”
I looked at Hella and prayed that my magic helped her. Even if we didn't meet a single elf during our stay in Iceland, I would still think the journey worth it, if that little girl lived. I'd spent most of my life protecting humans, but there were some things I couldn't save them from. To be able to move past those boundaries would transform me nearly as much as it would Hella. From warrior to healer. Death-bringer to life-giver.
Regardless of the results of my blessing, it was appreciated. Our meal was comped, and then drinks started arriving, courtesy of the other diners. In fact, our table became a sort of epicenter. The locals pulled their chairs in around us while the few tourists there watched on in astonishment. Some of the tourists tried to film us with their cell phones but were admonished by their waiters. Evidently. it was bad form to photograph a fairy.
“What does 'alfur' mean?” I asked Hrafn.
“Fairy,” he shrugged. “Alf.”
“Alf?” Killian asked. “Like that weird alien puppet?”
I snickered.
“No, as in 'elf',” Hrafn explained with a confused look.
“Yeah, I got it,” Killian chuckled. “I was just messing with you, man. So uh, was that your first blessing, Seren?”
“What clued you in?” I rolled my eyes. “was it my baffled expression or my complete lack of finesse?”
“You've never blessed a human before?” Hrafn gaped at me. “Then how did you manage to do it?”
“She just winged it,” Killian laughed. “Like she does with most princess stuff.”
I winced at the truth in his words.
“But I'm glad you did,” Killian looked over the joyous crowd. “Your little performance has turned us into rock stars.”
Killian was right. I'd never experienced anything like it in HR. I'd heard that Icelanders believed in the fey, but to be able to recognize us under our glamours? To be able to recognize Cat? They must have psychic abilities in their blood, like a lot of the Irish had. No wonder the elves loved Iceland. Not only did the locals have the abilit
y to recognize us, they held no grievances against us. The wars probably never reached Iceland.
“The elves kept Iceland a neutral zone during the Human-Fey wars,” Hrafn said, as if in response to my thoughts. He'd had four shots and three pints of beer, so he was slurring just a little, but he still managed to sound wise. “They've always had a kinship with the Icelanders.”
“That explains a lot,” I said. “Do the Icelanders know that they were saved by the elves?”
“I doubt it,” Hrafn shrugged. “They don't need to. They respect us and we respect them. Simple. I don't think they could be more loyal to us.”
“Yes, I heard how they make sure there are no elves in an area before they build.”
“Most Icelanders, especially in the larger cities, will tell you this is all folklore. They'll swear that they don't believe in us,” Hrafn grinned. “But bring them out here, into a small community, and they suddenly become superstitious. When the fire crackles and the wind licks at the windows, they'll start telling you stories of the Fair Folk. It's like a secret everyone knows.”
“An accepted deception,” Killian said. “It's kind of awesome.”
“It is, isn't it?” I looked around at the happy faces, and immediately changed my perspective on Iceland.
It may seem to be a bleak place, but the warmth was there, hidden just beneath the icy surface, in the hearts and traditions of its people.
Chapter Fourteen
It was still early when we got back to the hotel, so we decided to make use of the hot tub. An outdoor hot tub in Iceland. Yep. We didn't all fit, and it was so cold outside, we had to bring our coats to wear to and from the water. But it was surprisingly wonderful. The hot water eased tense muscles and squeezing into a hot tub made people loosen up in other ways. Even Torquil was having a good time.