by Carol Browne
***
When at last Godwin found the Elwardain, she was sitting beneath an ancient yew tree, deep in the forest. She didn’t stir at the sound of his movement through the underwood, and he suspected there was no longer room for fear in her heart.
His joy at being once more in her presence narrowed his vision to the point where his surroundings were of no interest, until he noticed all of the headstones that filled the clearing, and he felt like an intruder. Elgiva glanced up at him.
“Godwin,” she said, “come and sit beside me. It’s peaceful here.” Her voice was deeper than he remembered.
He sat and leaned against the tree. He was gladdened by the nearness of his friend, and the day’s frustrations were forgotten.
“You’re paying your respects?” he asked.
She pointed at the nearest headstones; two had fresh flowers at their base. “Those two are my parents, King Ner and Queen Erlina.” Beside these stones was a smaller one. “That’s me. Do you remember? I died when I was a baby. They called me Princess Elfreyan. The grave is empty, of course.”
For a moment, Godwin went back in time to Kendra’s lonely little house. “Yes, I remember,” he said. He tried not to fidget and waited for her to speak again.
“Not a name I’d have chosen myself.” She looked at him and smiled.
Godwin relaxed. “It’s so long since I’ve seen you.”
Elgiva looked away. When she spoke, there was tension in her voice. “Less than a week, my friend. I’m sorry it’s seemed so long to you. I’ve been extremely busy. Godwin, you must understand, I’m not merely a wardain, but the Elwardain, as well. I’m ruler of all Elvendom, its guide and its protector.”
Godwin nodded, as if he understood, or even cared, but all that really concerned him was Elgiva’s translucent beauty.
“This is the oldest tree in the forest,” she said.
Godwin wasn’t listening. Deep in his heart, he nurtured a hope: that she could remove all of the obstacles with just one wave of her hand; that she could somehow make everything right, and he wouldn’t have to leave her.
She was watching him, and in her eyes he saw his thoughts, captured and naked.
“Wh-what?” He blushed and cursed his weakness.
“This tree is perhaps a thousand years old. It grew here long before we were born, and it will still be here when we’re dead. Some things never change. I used to sit here as a child, when life was too grim to bear. It taught me how to endure.” She touched the flaky bark with her fingers, as though the tree were a sacred relic. “He sleeps. The last time I sat beneath these boughs, I was clad in servant’s rags.”
“It’s a fine old tree indeed,” said Godwin, but to him, it was still just a tree.
With a sharp pang of sadness, he realised that Elgiva was no longer childlike and frail and in need of his protection, but independent and powerful. She had come to her inheritance.
They sat awhile in silence. The sun had started to sink in the west, staining the clouds with crimson.
Elgiva toyed with a strand of her hair. “I still find it all so hard to believe,” she said at length. “Do you?”
He looked at her. She seemed more relaxed, and there was something in her tone that made him think of the old Elgiva. “Yes,” he said. “When we first met, I was the slave of a warlord, a nothing. Now look at me: a Gododdin chief, the son of an elf-queen, and elfryth.”
“I, too, began as nothing,” she said. “Now I rule the Eldrakin. Their welfare is in my keeping. I’m waited upon by servants. Elders ask my advice. So many decisions and duties. It’s strange—ironic, even. By gaining my freedom, I seem to have lost it.”
Her wistful tone wrenched Godwin’s heart. “A pity we can’t go back,” he said. “Return to our first meeting. To the days when life was simple.”
“Was it?” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Godwin, we can never go back. What’s happened to us has been for the best. It was all part of destiny’s plan. You always believed in destiny, and you were right; destiny is mapped out for us, but we have the means to alter it by being true, or not, to ourselves. Destiny is like a great wheel, and we stand at the hub, and it’s up to us which way we turn. It’s the choices we make that cause events to happen as they do. Each spoke is a different lesson, but the destination’s the same.”
“And what is the destination?” he asked.
“We find out who we are.” She paused. “The yew hasn’t changed, but everything else has, and for that change, the Eldrakin owe you a debt of gratitude that can never be repaid. Had you not found the Lorestone—”
“But not without Trystin’s help.”
“If you hadn’t found a way to cure me of Vieldrin’s spell—”
“Faine cured you, not me,” he said, suffused with panic at the thought that their conversation was heading away from what he had intended.
“As you wish.” She shrugged and stared at the evening sky.
Godwin waited as long as he could before subjecting Elgiva to the severity of his need. “If your people are so indebted to me, then why am I kept at arm’s length? It doesn’t matter how grateful they are; they still don’t trust me, do they?”
Elgiva lowered her eyes. The sky darkened, the clouds were edged with gold, and in the branches above them, an owl hooted at the coming night.
“Faine spoke to me through the Lorestone,” she said. “He put things into my mind. He has a kind voice, but his words are cruel. The wilthkin are spreading over this land. They encroach upon our domains and will continue to do so. Conflict is unavoidable, but Faine opposes war, so the Eldrakin will retreat. We must draw deeper into ourselves, like Misterell, but more so. Do you understand? I alone have the power to do this. Elvendom must be removed to another place entirely. To another dimension.”
“Another what?”
“You couldn’t understand,” she said, “nor do you need to, Godwin. This power I have is given to me for a short time only, and I have things to do. I see what I could never see before, and I know the magic of the Eldrakin will fade at some future time, but perhaps I can forestall it by taking my people away.”
“But surely that’s a long way off.”
“Perhaps, but what is time? A circle. An illusion.”
Godwin hugged his chest. “I feel this is the end of everything.”
She gave him a sympathetic look. “No, this is the beginning, Godwin, as each new day is another beginning. The old day is dead, but its lessons will never be forgotten. For the Eldrakin, another era begins, and I’m to build a new shrine to Lord Faine to reaffirm our faith. When that has been done, then each of us must face the dawn of another age, and my friends must all go back to their homes. That’s where their—your— destinies lie.”
“Must I?”
She lowered her gaze and nodded. “I’ve kept you away from your people for far too long.”
“But how can I leave,” he said, “knowing I may never see you again?”
“You will forget.”
“Forget you?”
“We’ve talked enough,” she said, “and I have many things to do.”
“Talked? We haven’t talked at all. There are things I need to say to you!”
She looked at him, sighed, and then anger glimmered in her eyes. “Godwin, can’t you accept the fact that we can’t always have what we want?”
She rose abruptly to her feet, and Godwin’s heart was in his throat at the thought he was going to lose her. He jumped up and clasped her cool white hands.
“Elgiva, I just can’t imagine my life without you!”
She thrust him away, as though he had offended her, and for a moment, she glared at him. Her face was grey in the twilight, and she was trembling.
“Godwin, we have responsibilities, people who depend upon us. We must take different paths.” She smiled at him and took his hands in her own. “You must go back to your family. For my part, I must marry a wardain to secure my line and protect the magic that must be passed
to my heirs. I must lead the Eldrakin out of this world to begin another life. You see, Godwin, I am condemned to the loneliness of absolute power.”
“By Frigg, it’s too cruel!”
“Do you think I’ll find it easy to send you away from me?” she pleaded. “That’s why I kept you at a distance. I’d hoped it would make our parting easier, that I . . . ” She swallowed, and tears sprang to her eyes. “Godwin, you’re under a kind of enchantment still, but it’s one you created yourself.”
With a shuddering sigh, she released his hands. The weight of her words left Godwin speechless.
“You have a good heart and a good brain, Godwin, and now you also have the chance to put them both to good use. At last you can be your own master. Don’t be false to yourself. The future is yours to make of it, whatever you want it to be. How many of us can say that?”
She was right. It had been a selfish hope that they could stay together. He had helped her gain this victory, but that didn’t mean she belonged to him, like some prized possession. She belonged to the Eldrakin. She was their gift, not his.
Elgiva stepped forwards and hugged him, and Godwin was too taken aback to return her warm embrace.
“In the end, all things are one, and you and I are one,” she said. “The physical world is an illusion.” Her voice was as mellow as the dusk, and her smile filled his heart with peace. “Can you and I ever really be parted? We will always be together. Always.”
She turned and walked away.
Godwin sat down and stared at the sky, trying to make sense of it all.
And perhaps he understood.
While he and Elgiva breathed the same air, trod the same earth, saw the same moon and stars, they could never be apart. But what of this other dimension? His pulse raced with a sudden panic, and then he remembered what she had said. In the end, all things are one. A feeling of peace washed over him.
Yes, he and Elgiva must go their separate ways, and he was being unreasonable if he thought his problems could all be solved by the intervention of magic. This is the real world, Godwin. You’ve been a dreamer too long.
So what was he going to do?
He looked at the mark on the palm of his hand. He could go to Queen Gilda, but he wouldn’t be wanted there and what of his family? The dragon ring glinted on his finger. Could he see himself as the leader of his tribe, freeing his family from Othere and bringing them back to live with him? How could he expect Rowena to leave the only life she knew and live with the enemies of her people? And what would become of the Britons when the Saxons tired of peace?
No. He was going to return to Rowena, to the wife with whom he had shared so much, the wife he had loved and forsaken. Running away was all part of the dream. But it left too many loose ends in his life. He must go back to Othere’s. But he wouldn’t be, couldn’t be a slave. He would rather die. Yet, his place was with the wilthkin, and his marriage seemed to be a symbol of the future. Perhaps one day, opposing sides would see that their strength lay in being one.
So, better to see it all as a dream, an adventure, a lesson learned. Better for him to start afresh with everything behind him, with all of his experiences on his back, neatly bound like baggage.
At least he now knew who he was, his life had a solid foundation, and there was one freedom he had gained: the freedom to be himself.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
A hundred torches illuminated the night and outside the forest’s perimeter, beyond the trees that dripped with streamers, tables stood ranked upon the grass, laden with food and wine. Music wafted through the air, laced with the perfume of flowers, and the elves and their guests danced in celebration.
Among the crowd stood Godwin, resolved to be cheerful in spite of his heartache. At least he was in the company of friends, and it was good to see them again.
“Bless me!” Joskin was saying. “Never thought to see Elgiva dressed in all that finery. Looks a bit drowned in it all, eh, Shredwing?”
From Joskin’s shoulder, Shredwing agreed.
“She looks wonderful,” said Kendra. “By the stars, every inch a queen!”
Greyflanks and Blacktail appeared and renewed their acquaintance with Godwin, and lost in the face of their conversation, Joskin strode off to the nearest table to sample a tray of cakes.
***
On a flat-topped hummock sat Elgiva, looking down on the celebration, her great-uncle at her side. Garlands of flowers were strewn at her feet. She was dressed in green and gold, and the crown of Elindel sat upon her head. In the folds of her sumptuous robe, Briar, an elderly wild cat reclined, lazily washing its paws.
From the tail of her eye, Elgiva could see her great-uncle smiling at the revelry below, and she would have smiled too, but for the ache in her heart. Thoughts of Godwin were pushed aside, however, as her uncle leaned towards her.
“You have yet to decide about Tarkinell.”
“Tarkinell? Did you expect me to kill him? Under elven law, he must have a fair trial, the outcome of which will determine his punishment.”
“You will be a merciful ruler, I think.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I was well taught.”
She got to her feet, raised her right hand, and addressed the crowd below her. “My friends and fellow Eldrakin!”
The crowd turned towards her and fell silent. For a while, nothing stirred under the moon’s cold gaze, and even that pallid sphere seemed to be listening.
“Now for a spell long awaited!” she declared. She paused for a moment, drew a deep breath, and then spoke in a loud, clear voice.
“From every spinney, tract and height,
“Evanish, stalkers of the night.
“From wood and forest, tor and dell,
“Arise and harken to my spell.
“Expire, demented shendkin foul;
“Dissolve and die, no longer prowl.
“You things of magic, flesh and bone,
“The Earth no longer is your home.
“You must attend my potent spell
“No matter whereabouts you dwell.
“I charge thee, perish, be no more.
“I bring what you have waited for:
“For your fell bodies death is best,
“But for your souls eternal rest.”
A flash of lightning ripped through the sky. From the distance, a dreadful wail carried on the air.
Lord Bellic was on his feet, clutching her arm. “A shendkin!” he exclaimed. “And so close to our home!”
The horror of this information rippled through the crowd below.
“It’s dead,” said Elgiva, and she called out so everyone could hear. “The shendkin are all dead!”
There was a moment while this declaration sank in, and then a great cheer went up.
“Congratulations, Elwardain,” said Bellic. “That was indeed well done, but the last line you spoke . . . you have a kind heart, my dear.”
Elgiva looked at him. “I met a shendkin once. It had the most beautiful eyes. I saw a plea there. I think at last I’ve answered that plea.” She turned back to the crowd. “My next duty is to choose a new ruler for Misterell, as it would appear its present monarch is permanently indisposed.” The crowd chuckled. “I think there’s only one possible candidate. I intend to establish a precedent by offering the crown of that kingdom to one who is not of royal blood, but whose love for Misterell and for Faine gives him every right to claim kingship. Trystin of Misterell, stand forth!”
Upon hearing his name and seeing all eyes turn towards him, the elfling hurried to Godwin’s side and clutched at his sleeve. His surprised expression made Elgiva smile.
“Will you accept the crown?” she asked.
Trystin chewed his finger and looked up at his friend. “Oh, Master Godwin, what shall I do?”
“It’s your decision, lad,” said Godwin. “What is in your heart?”
Trystin’s brow creased. “My heart says that Misterell is poor and sick, and it needs help to be beautiful again,
but I . . . ”
“You know how Misterell used to be, what it ought to be,” said Godwin, putting his arm around the young elf’s shoulders. “And no one loves Misterell more than you. You know how to put things right. Misterell deserves such a king.”
Trystin appeared to struggle with his indecision for a few tense moments, and then he stepped forwards, his head held high. “I accept, Elwardain, with all my heart!”
The assembly voiced their approval.
“This pleases me greatly. You’re very young to be king, but I’ll send all the help I can, and when you’re ready to rule unaided, I’m sure you’ll be an admirable king and Misterell will once again be the jewel of all Elvendom. Don’t regret your lack of magic, Trystin. Misterell has more than enough of its own.” Elgiva gave him a mischievous smile. “Some of it may rub off on you.”
More cheering greeted her words.
“I have other rewards to bestow,” she went on. “Kendra, you will move to Elindel, and you’re assured of a safe haven here until the end of your days. You, I call elfryth, and no one may offer you insult or injury in this land. Furthermore, as a keeper of knowledge, I entrust you with the archives. The preservation of our lore will be solely in your charge. Greyflanks, you and your family may dwell in my fields and woodland. You will always be under my protection, and you may hunt wherever you please. Never again will you need to wander in search of food or shelter. Now, Joskin, what would you ask of me?”
The giant looked up with astonishment. “Bless me! Could do with some thread and some tools, I suppose, and a bigger perch for Shredwing.”
“And that’s all you require?”
“I have all I want,” replied Joskin.
“What you’ve asked for is nothing and yet, it shall be done. However, there’s more that I can do, though it’s much less than you deserve.” She pointed at the crippled bird still perched on the giant’s shoulder. “Fly to me, skyfarer!”
The hawk flapped his damaged wings, took off from Joskin’s shoulder, and in an instant, his wings became whole—strong, full-feathered, and sleek. In ecstasy, he soared above the crowd’s astonished faces, swooping and climbing joyfully, and then he returned to the towering Saxon.