by H C Storrer
“But we converse with Tigerlily?” Jack aimed at the obvious.
“Oh, well. I guess, yes Hukupapa is different.” Tristan sighed.
“Huku…” Jack’s eyes squinted.
“It’s another name for her, those who are her friends—”
“A nickname?” Jack asked.
“If you say so.” Tristan focused back on the question. “Hukupapa in their tongue means frost. Because of her white hair.” Reacting to the look on Jack’s face, he conceded, “Well, understanding the words that come out of one’s mouth is much different than knowing what it all means. The wild ones are hard to understand by their ways.”
“So, this is… the isle of… Pan? He brought you lot with the wild men?” Jack tried to understand.
“Yes, Master Peter. He knew that all the wild places would be lost to man, so he brought them here to keep this island pure and untouched. The council tried to teach them, but he forbade them. As a guardian I keep it safe, they keep it alive.”
“What do you mean by it?”
“Umm, well, the wild of course. If there is no wild on the earth, then there is no more Pan, and he will truly be dead.”
Jack wasn’t entirely sure what Tristan meant or how to even respond to that. “Why did he call it the Island of Never?” Jack asked.
“Why of all… you… Master Peter, you are at once the wisest person I know and the most ignorant!” Tristan huffed in his odd, jovial way. “Every day you ask me about time. You say things like you cannot stay here forever.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Yes?”
“Well then, what is time?” Tristan queried.
“You know, when the sun is high overhead it is noon, and when the sun is rising, that is morning. In London men carry a device that counts the seconds of every day so that they can tell what minute of every hour is passing.” Jack was proud of his explanation.
“Why count the seconds and minutes?” Tristan asked, the idea completely odd.
Jack smiled back knowingly. “So that a man can keep his schedule. There is much to do every day.”
“Why?” Tristan asked again. “Why worry about doing anything? Why not just wait or do things when it suits you best?”
“Men need to eat. In order to eat they must work. No one lives forever. You have to get things done,” Jack tried to explain.
“Ha!” Tristan aimed a condemning finger. “But if a man were to never grow old, but live longer than the rocks and trees, if you stayed the size and vigor you are today, would there be time?”
Jack scrunched his forehead over his eyes. “Yes, of course there… would—” As his mind caught up with his words, he stopped. He had never thought of it that way before. “Well, I suppose the hours and days would be there and would pass for other men, but… for the man who never grew older, there would be no time. Or at least it would lose its meaning.”
“Exactly! There would NEVER be another day,” Tristan emphasizing the word with a flourish of his arm. “He would NEVER die, and he would NEVER think about when a council was to return with his fate.”
“The Island of Never. Never Land.” Jack was in awe.
“Fairies do not worry about days and seconds and hours, Master Peter. Not here on Nisí Poté. In fact, there are only two times for us. Light time and dark time. Even that is hardly noticed,” Tristan replied.
“Then the council could return in years?” Jack asked.
“Or longer.” Tristan smiled, a wash of confusion on his face. It was obvious he didn’t quite understand what a year was. “This is HIS Isle. We are to enjoy the wild! Play games. We do not worry about time or death or, well, anything else. You need not worry.”
“Then why hold a council at all? Why not just let me live?” Jack had to ask.
Tristan’s smile drooped. “After the days of the Roman and all of the trouble he brought, it was decided that only the guardian of the prophecy could stay on Nisí Poté. Only he and those he invited. Like the first guardian, he would have to control the power of the island. That way we would know who the guardian was and who was just another greedy man.”
“But I thought you were the guardian?” Jack asked.
“Oh, no, I am the guardian of the tomb. It is forbidden for a fairy to be the guardian of the power of the wild,” Tristan explained.
“The power of the wild, it is not the island itself, then?” Jack pressed.
“This is just an island. It is Pan who makes it Nisí Poté.”
“Wait, Pan? You mean the old Greek legend?” Jack scoffed with a laugh through his nose. His mind had finally made the connection to a forgotten lesson from his childhood.
Tristan’s fairy wings danced behind him, his sparkling face cocked in confusion towards Jack’s reaction.
“That’s just a story, isn’t it?” Jack spoke lamely, afraid he had offended the fairy.
“When the old gods were at their peak, that’s when Pan first came to this island.” For the first time, Tristan’s voice became melancholy as he spoke, “He was the god of the wild and his kingdom was the first to diminish as man began to explore and tame the earth. The other gods thought him foolish and mocked him. They were unprepared when man came for their kingdoms too. Pan could feel his power being drained from him. As he scoured the seas, he needed both a place untouched by the thieves of his kingdom and a refuge for those whose worship would save and preserve his power. He brought with him the wild men who now live here, placing them as keepers of the last refuge of what he cherished most.”
“The wild,” Jack found himself whispering.
“Yes. The wild.”
“But Pan is gone. He lost his power, how can there be power in the island?” Jack was confused and surprised that he was buying into this nonsense.
“By protecting the wild on this island, Pan ensured that his power would never fully disappear. I said this is the last refuge of the wild. It is also the final resting place of Pan himself.”
Real excitement blossomed in Jack’s chest at the chance to see evidence of a legend. “Really? Could I see his grave?”
“You already have, Master Peter!” Tristan seemed just as excited. “There is the shadow of his power. The power you must overcome to become the one of legend. Because the wild is still here, a piece of him never left. The shadow—”
“Fering forbids it! If he is to face the trials he must face them on his own. You have already said too much!” Just then, Belle’s silvery ball darted into their little camp so quickly that the leaves on the ground were disturbed in her wake. Standing between them, she huffed with her hands on her hips.
Tristan balked. “Fering is an old moth! He is just jealous that he is no longer the guardian of the tomb.”
Belle shouted something else beyond Jack’s hearing, then darted off back the way she came.
Leaping from his stump, Tristan disappeared in a flash of golden dust. Jack froze at the sight as Tristan hovered in a tiny golden ball just the size of all the other fairies “Nothing to worry about, Master Peter, I’ll sort this out. Don’t leave the camp!”
In a streak of gold, he was gone.
Chapter 26
“Y ou called me highness before, what is highness?” Tigerlily asked innocently.
“Not you too,” Jack groaned. He worked at the little bowl of fish Tigerlily had brought him with his fingers, the afternoon sun eating the surrounding shade inch by inch. Beside them, a small fire smoldered as another fish roasted slowly over the coals. “Your father is the king, so that makes you royalty, does it not?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“I thought so. You carry yourself like a queen,” Jack replied with a smile.
“What is queen?” Tigerlily asked.
“Umm, chieftainess. I suppose that’s the one you would understand.”
“Ahh. No. My father is chief. Chief Rata. I am pirinihi.”
“Hmm. Pirinihi, pirinihi… princess.” Jack was pleased with himself.
“If you say so,” Tigerlily
replied with a coy smile. After a moment of awkward silence, she aimed a slender finger at three plates of French pastries sitting in the sand, untouched. “Why do you let it spoil?”
“I…well…” Jack hesitated. He didn’t trust what he couldn’t explain. One plate crawled with flies and maggots—they seemed quite content to feast upon the food. The one from that morning looked delectable and perfectly matched his dream from the night before. “I don’t know, it’s just hard to believe this is all real.”
“May I try one?” Tigerlily reached for the newest platter.
“I suppose.” Jack shrugged.
Taking the flaking crust between her fingers, she sniffed at it and paused, asking, “Is it good?”
Jack set his bowl down. His own reticence seemed comical as he found she had much more to fear from the unknown. Reaching out, he took one as well. “I will check.” As the buttery crust tickled his tongue, sweet memories of his mother nearly brought a tear to his eye.
“Is it good?” Tigerlily asked again.
“Yes, yes.” Jack nodded. “Just like home.”
“Hukupapa, I didn’t expect to see you on this side of the island.” Tristan’s gold ball of light flew into the clearing followed closely by Belle’s silver orb. Without hesitation, Tigerlily kicked dirt over the small little fire and then covered the stranded smoke with a wet cloth.
“Flame and fairies do not mix well,” she replied to Jack’s look of confusion. When it was safe, Belle flew to Tigerlily, lit upon her shoulder, and whispered something in her ear. Tigerlily threw her head back in laughter as Belle chuckled along with her like a tinkling cymbal.
Jack scrunched his face, querying Tristan for an answer.
Tristan’s shrug proved his ignorance in the matter. “How are you feeling, friend?”
“Better, now that Tigerlily has brought me a real meal.” Jack smiled.
Tristan’s nose lifted in disapproval at the roasting flesh. In a flash, he was back to his larger size, his hands clearing out the old pastries into the brush. “I don’t know why you eat the wild men food. You can create such wonderful things.”
“I enjoy the company.” Jack smiled at his guest. “Besides, she cooks well too.”
Feeling a little less welcome, Tigerlily rocked forward onto her knees, “I will be back tomorrow, Whiriwhiria Tetahi.”
“You don’t have to go.” Jack looked on, confused as she started to gather her things. “Tristan tell her she can stay.”
“It would be best if we talked alone,” Tristan replied as Tigerlily gathered a small pouch and started away into the brush with Bell in tow.
As she disappeared into the green of the jungle his focus returned to Tristan. “How do you do that?”
Tristan scowled back in contemplation, his mind obviously occupied. “Do what?”
“Grow and shrink? Why doesn’t Belle do it as well?” Jack asked.
“Oh, well, she is a young fairy, she can’t do many—” Tristan stopped. “Actually, I am the only fairy who can; it is a power granted to the one who wears the lion of Pan’s tomb.” Tristan pointed to his tunic, shafts of light poking through the humid canopy glimmered from the golden thread that danced through the purple fabric.
“I guess that explains it.” Jack smiled sarcastically.
“Umm, hmm.” Tristan nearly ignored his words, his right hand worrying the bottom of his chin as he paced.
“I hope your news is not too troubling,” Jack pressed.
“You are to face the trials as soon as you feel well,” Tristan blurted out.
Jack’s mouth sat open; he didn’t know what to say.
“The council said I could train you, but as soon as you are well enough you are to face the trials. I… Master Peter… this is troubling. They have made this decision much too soon.” Tristan kicked a stick from his way as he paced.
Jack was unsure of how he felt. It had been many weeks, or so he thought, since his bout with the creature Moremore. The fact was, Jack had stopped keeping track of time altogether. He was the only one who seemed to care about it anyway, so it all seemed foolish. “How well do I need to be?”
“The order from Silete...” Tristan sighed. “Silete is… well it is like Fering has control of her tongue.”
Jack at once realized there was more to this island than he had supposed. Instantly, he tried to get a bearing on the politics. “How many are on this council?”
“Seventy-three, that was the order of the great Pan. Many who serve are only there by command. Some do good, and others, well...” Tristan shrugged his shoulders.
“You don’t trust this Fering?” Jack asked.
“Many follow him, even those who have higher seats,” Tristan explained. “They say his words. This is no secret. What I don’t understand is why he wants to destroy you.”
“I would prefer not being destroyed.” Jack grinned nervously. “So how much time do I have?”
Tristan looked back, perplexed. “I don’t know what that means?”
“How many settings of the—” Jack stopped. He realized he was getting nowhere with the whole concept. “How well must I be? Before I face the trials, that is?”
“Only you can say, Master Peter. That was the order, when you are well. When you have recovered from your hurt.”
“I still hurt.” Jack smiled, gripping his shoulder.
“But for how long?” Tristan asked in a worried voice.
“As long as I need to while you train me. As long as we need so that we can find out what Fering is up to.” Jack’s smile grew wider.
Tristan’s face was blank; it was obvious he didn’t understand.
Jack put his hands to his hips and sighed. He was going to have to explain it another way. “You do not trust Fering, do you think he is lying?”
“What does that mean? Fering tells others what to do, is that a lie?” Tristan asked.
Jack couldn’t hold back his laughter as he said, “No, that makes him a dictator. A lie is when you say one thing, but you mean something else.”
“Why would you say what you do not mean?” Tristan was awash with confusion.
“Well, let’s say Belle is covered in mud, and she is worried everyone will laugh at her, so you say she doesn’t look that dirty,” Jack explained. “You are telling her something to make her feel better, even if it is not entirely the truth.”
“But that would be foolish. She would be dirty and smell. Why would I not tell her she is filthy, why would I want to… lie? That would only hurt her,” Tristan said it as if it were ash in his mouth.
“No.” Jack reformulated his thoughts. It was obvious that Tristan’s innocence was playing into Fering’s hands. It seemed not all fairies were like children. Jack pulled words from his memory slowly. “You said Fering was mad because he was no longer a guardian. Was he a guardian once, like you?”
“Yes, in the days of Latavius, the one from Rome.” Tristan sighed.
Like lightning, Jack thoughts illuminated. “Were they friends?”
“Yes, yes. Inseparable,” Tristan replied.
“The Roman changed this island,” Jack said flatly.
“But he is gone,” Tristan argued, “and Fering is no longer the guardian. We are made safe by the council.”
Jack sighed, shaking his head. “So Fering lost his position. The council blamed him for the Roman?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t matter. We have rules now. You can make things with magic.” Tristan was upbeat. “I am not wrong about you.”
“Mark my words, Tristan. Fering is saying one thing and means another. He doesn’t want me to succeed in the trials. This will hurt his plans,” Jack thought out loud.
“What plans?” the fairy asked.
“I don’t know.” Jack shrugged. “There is something not right with what he is doing. I will tell you this, friend: if I know anything, I know men. Fering is thinking like a man, you are thinking like a fairy.” As Tristan turned, confused, Jack added, “I will let you know just as s
oon as I feel healthy.”
Chapter 27
T ristan flew from leaf to leaf, his mind worrying over Peter’s last words. He had initially dismissed them, but like the rising sun, they heated the top of his head in doubt. Fering did say words that refused to agree with his eyes, that was sure. As the sun set in a ruby band of light on the horizon, Tristan’s bones tingled with this new adventure. Before Peter had come, he was a guardian of virtually nothing. It was now that he started to reflect on what Peter meant about time. He had spent eons outside of Pan’s tomb without so much as a butterfly to chat with. He doubted anyone besides Tink and himself even knew where the tomb was anymore.
The large council tree loomed out of the deep greenery as Tristan approached the cliff side. Not only did it serve as the council chamber, but it also housed the entire council, each member residing within the limbs of the old tree. Carved and molded, upon closer inspection, the grand wooden boughs looked more like the trappings of a great home than a simple tree. Tristan held his breath as he slowly landed in the darkened central hub above the council chamber. As he had hoped, all fairy-kind were off preparing for the usual celebrations. The celebrations, Tristan mused. They used to hold them outside the great Pan’s tomb, in honor of the god. Under Fering’s insistence, many settings of the sun ago, they were now held far away nearer the coast, another mark of suspicion that Tristan added to his mental list.
In the dark, every sense was wound tight. For a moment, he had even thought there was a noise from the roots, an inclination that forced him to peer back at the forbidden door that led below the council chamber. Every fairy knew of the vaults down there. He had even seen the grand spiral staircase once as a sprite. It was a well-known fact, only the council was allowed into the passage or even knew for sure what was down there, although Tristan and Tink often played a game and guessed. His curiosity soothed, he returned to his plan.
Focusing inward, Tristan pulled his gold orb of light towards his body as beads of sweat collected on his brow. It had taken him ages of practice to master this particular trick, one he suspected only he knew how to do. He learned the skill for his games of blind seeking with Tink, but never thought it would have any other applications.