The Island of Two Trees

by Brian Kennelly

  The girls turned to Connor as the boy’s brow furrowed. “Why me?” he asked, shifting in his seat.

  “In the old books there are laws written that govern the bond between our two worlds,” the queen explained. “They speak of a love so powerful it can defeat the greatest of evils – this is the love of a parent and a child. These laws guide me to summon the firstborn of the storyteller, who represents and leads all the offspring, in order that he or she may wield the power of this love. This power lives inside you, Connor, flowing through your heart from a wellspring of love for your parents. Therefore, it is only you who have the ability to defeat Radicle and bring down the Shadow Tree to save your father.”

  “What about us?” Lucy asked. “Why are me and Maggie here?”

  The queen turned to the girls and smiled. “You, too, will have a role to play, to offer vital support and protection to Connor as he completes what is asked of him. Your role is of no less importance than his, for he could not be victorious without you. The greatest victories come when there is harmony between the family and each member fulfills their given role.”

  The children had long since stopped eating. This was all too scary to be thinking about food.

  “Has this ever happened before?” Connor asked. “People in this realm summoning the children of storytellers, I mean?”

  “Yes, of course. Adults are the storytellers of your world, but they often allow evil to grow and fester inside their imaginations. It is only their children, through their innocence and purity of heart, who can then save them. But not all children are worthy of coming. I was not sure you were capable, so before I asked the Counselor to bring you here, I asked him to send some of my subjects to watch you and report back to me. From all accounts, I heard that you were smart and courageous enough to carry out this mission. So here you are.”

  “You had people spying on us?” Lucy asked.

  “Not people,” the queen said, smiling.

  The children reflected back on the critters who had been watching them play, as well as the hawk that had been following them around the neighborhood.

  “I don’t care what anyone, or anything, told you about us,” Maggie said. “We can’t go fight those creatures and these horrible roots. We’re just kids!”

  “Never underestimate yourself, especially not in this realm. I told you that children’s imaginations are the most powerful. While in this realm, that power can be channeled to do many things that you would not be able to do back home. Here in this realm, you have the potential to be stronger, faster, and smarter. I will not claim this mission is free of danger, but The Giver of All Things always gives us enough grace to outweigh our challenges. He would not give you a task you could not be victorious in. You must trust.”

  “I don’t understand why Daddy had to come up with this horrible story!” Lucy whined. “If he had not thought up the Shadow Tree, we wouldn’t have to save him from it. I’m so mad at him!”

  The queen reached out and caressed Lucy’s hand.

  “Do not think this way, child. We do not know the design of our days until they pass us by. I think one day you will find this story to be a blessing.”

  “I don’t see how this will ever feel like a blessing,” Lucy said, shaking her head.

  “Great battles never do, but without participating in the battle we cannot share in the glory of victory. I understand how all this seems to you, but you must not blame your father. He is not entirely at fault. As I told you, everyone has this darkness within their imagination; this is why evil exists in your stories. Even children have this darkness, though it is not yet fully grown. We call this the Great Sadness, and there is only one way to defeat it.”

  “How?” Maggie asked.

  “By telling stories. This is how your kind must root out the evil within. Many choose to give in to the Great Sadness or pretend as though it doesn’t exist, refusing to become storytellers. Your father has at least entered the battlefield by being brave enough to tell his story. But things have changed. As he continued to develop his story, the Shadow Tree and the character of Radicle naturally came about because of his Great Sadness—these things infiltrated his imagination without his control. If he had continued to tell the story, perhaps he could’ve found a storyline that led to the defeat of this darkness. But weakness overcame him as he feared what sinister things might lurk in his imagination. He refused to acknowledge what lies on the other side of the island, letting it fester. By refusing to tell this part of the story, he let Radicle grow stronger, and now here we are. Now, he must rely on you to root out the darkness of his story, quite literally. You cannot merely cut off a limb of the Shadow Tree or destroy some of its army. You must journey down into the mud and rip apart the First Root to remove his hold on this island. Your victory here will dispel what festers within your father’s imagination.”

  “When will we do this?” Connor asked.

  “Sir George and I will soon disclose our plan for how you will march east toward the Shadow Tree and bring about its destruction. But until then, you will need to train with him.”

  “What will our parents think with us gone for so long?” Maggie asked.

  “It will not seem so long to them. Time does not equal itself in each realm of the universe.”

  “But do they even know we’re here?” Connor asked. “Do they know we’re gone?”

  The queen looked at Lucy and smiled.

  “Daddy does know we’re here! He’s going to see the lantern!”

  12

  A FAINT LIGHT

  Daddy raced into the garage with Mommy following on his heels (and baby Mary still on her hip). If he were being perfectly honest, he wasn’t sure what he was looking for when he came and stood directly over the island. But he knew he needed to prove to Mommy that the kids were actually on the island.

  “What are we doing in here? What are you looking for?”

  “Just hold on,” Daddy answered. “And be as quiet as you can. I might not be looking for anything…I might be listening.”

  Mommy knew she could be quiet but could do little to silence the cooing of Mary in her arms. All she could hope to do was bounce the baby on her hip. As Daddy began to slowly circle the table, he stepped into the puddles of water—the saltwater—still gathered on the floor, dampening his slippers.

  He figured his search should begin with the castle since the last time he had seen the children in his mind’s eye they were marching up through the mountain. Perhaps now they were somewhere in the queen’s castle. But seeing nothing, he began to scan the rest of the island, as if he were a master sculptor surveying his latest work for tiny cracks and bumps. With his eyes hovering directly over the terrain, he narrowed his vision across the stone of the mountain, the blue of the lake and the green of the pastures and forest. When he neared the east edge and approached the Shadow Tree, his head began to ache. He closed his eyes and grimaced.

  “Are you okay?” Mommy asked. “Step back!”

  “I’m fine,” Daddy said, continuing with his scan of the island.

  Mommy then had an idea. She raced into the house and dug into a kitchen drawer, returning a moment later with a small magnifying glass. It was originally a toy Connor had played with, one that came in a magic set he received for Christmas years ago. But Mommy had been using it when she sewed and occasionally needed to see things up close.

  She burst back into the garage, holding it up. “Here, use this!”

  “Good idea,” Daddy said, taking it from her.

  As she backed away, Mommy realized she was suddenly buying in to this theory Daddy had about the children being on the island. The whole thing had seemed crazy just minutes ago, but here she was offering him a magnifying glass so he could find… well, she didn’t know what he thought he would find. But a part of her wanted some glimmer of hope—some bit of news—that would explain where her babies had gone.

  Daddy continued to search the island, circling a few more times, now with the magnifyin
g glass. Finally, he stopped and sighed.

  “Are you trying to find…them?” Mommy asked.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe. Or just some sign. But…”

  “But what?”

  “Well, think about it. What if they’re inside somewhere?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if they’re inside the castle, or the cave, or in one of the huts in the village? I wouldn’t be able to see them, right? I can only see certain things here.” He rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair. “This is crazy. I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”

  He took a step back and sat on the cold, wet floor, his back leaning against the wall in a posture of defeat.

  “You said you saw them before, not on here, I mean, but in your head. You closed your eyes and saw them going to shore. You can’t see them now?”

  Daddy closed his eyes and searched, as much as that was possible with closed eyes. But his head began to hurt too much.

  “No,” he said, reopening his eyes. “I can’t see them. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should call the police. I might be losing my mind to think they’re somewhere on that island.”

  There was a part of Mommy that wanted him to find something, anything, that gave them a clue as to where the children were. But if he did, what would that mean exactly? How would they get the children back from the island? Maybe it was better to call the police and get them searching the city.

  But just as she was about to head back inside to grab the phone, a faint light, no bigger than the tip of a pencil, glimmered across her eyes. It came from several feet away, atop the castle. She was positive it was not there just seconds ago.

  “What is that?” she asked, walking closer.

  “What is what?” Daddy asked, rising to his feet.

  “There, on top of the castle…that light.”

  Daddy came forward and lifted the magnifying glass to his right eye, closing his left. He examined the little dot, assuming it was probably a drop of orange or yellow paint they had accidentally dripped on the castle months ago. And yet, it was flickering, as if it were a tiny flame, much like the top of a birthday candle, though much smaller. A drop of paint would not flicker. It rested over a balcony beside one of the highest regions of the castle. Daddy lowered his finger above it; sure enough, it was giving off just the slightest bit of warmth.

  Then Daddy saw! A vision came to him. “It’s Lucy!”

  “What?” Mommy screamed.

  “She lit this flame! They’re there! I know it now!”

  In all the excitement, Daddy fell to the ground as the throbbing in his head became too strong for him to stand.

  13

  A NIGHT IN THE CASTLE

  “So my dad, he’s going to be able to see that lantern I lit?” Lucy asked.

  The queen nodded.

  “But can he see us? We were standing right next to the lantern.”

  “Yeah,” Maggie said. “Are we like the little figurines on the island back in our garage?”

  The children all considered that for a moment, that they might be like the little figurines they had bought and placed on the island back home, and their parents would be like giants looking down upon them. That was enough to make them dizzy.

  “Not quite,” the queen answered. “He and your mother will never be able to look down at the island in their home and see you moving about. But that island, the manifestation you created, it is connected to this place. There are small signs that can be sent through it, little miracles that give proof of what happens here. We know what worry and stress it causes people like your parents when their children are whisked away to this realm, so the Counselor allows these signs to be seen as a way to comfort them. But he must be careful in what he allows to pass through. There are laws that govern such things and they are in place for the good of all. So very little of what happens to you here will be seen back in your home. That lantern was a special gift to let your parents know you are here and safe.”

  “But how do we know my mom and dad will see the flame of the lantern?” Connor asked. “What if they aren’t looking at the island? They don’t even know where we are.”

  “When a storyteller crafts a tale, he does not see it as his eyes see things, but in his mind, he receives images of the story. He pictures things, just as you picture things as children when you listen to a story. Remember this story began in your father’s imagination, where you have entered. He will see you here. Not clearly, of course, but he will have glimpses.”

  “Does he understand everything you’ve told us tonight?” Maggie asked.

  “No, far from it. Much of this story still remains a mystery to him, and he will not understand the need I had to call upon the Counselor to bring you here. Your father and your mother will suffer from great doubt, confusion, and worry while you are here. But this is the price that must be paid to defeat the great evil lurking across this island.”

  The queen realized she had unloaded quite a bit on the children in the last few hours. They wanted to know more—they wanted to ask many more questions, as I’m sure you would have as well—but she said there was a given time for all things to be revealed, and she had told them enough for tonight.

  They finished dinner moments later and were able to enjoy the desserts sitting at the far end of the table. But soon the queen advised the children that they needed their rest. As if on cue, Lucy let out a big yawn, for she was only seven years old and it had been a very long day.

  The queen sent for Anastasia to escort them to their rooms.

  “Rest well, little children,” the queen said. “You have much that awaits you and you will need your strength. I will see you in three days time after your training with George.”

  Lucy wasn’t sure why, but without hesitating she walked forward and hugged Lady Mysteria’s leg. Connor suspected that she missed Mommy and the thought of going to bed without a hug made the little girl sad. The queen very much felt like a mommy herself, so it was a natural thing for Lucy to do.

  The queen smiled and bent down to return the hug, saying softly, “Do not be afraid, sweet child. Be strong and trust. You will never be alone.”

  Minutes later, the children were descending the stairwell they had climbed earlier that day, departing from the top part of the castle to a center level. Anastasia led them down a new hallway they had not yet seen, though it looked similar to the rest of the castle, with stone walls lined in decorative statues and banners, and the flames of lit candles blending together to give off a soft glow. Since the hour was late, the halls were mostly empty, though a few knights were stationed beside doors keeping watch.

  At the end of a rather long hallway, Anastasia turned before a wooden door and pulled a pair of keys from her pocket. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, then held out her hand, prompting the children inside. They could see nothing at first, for it was very dark. Only a faint glimpse of starlight seeped in through a window on the far wall. But Anastasia grabbed a torch hanging on the wall of the hallway and followed the children in, using it to light a few candles on a nearby table. Once the flames began to dance in the air, the children were able to take in their room.

  It was much bigger than their rooms back home, about twice the size. Though the walls and floor were made of the same gray stone as the rest of the castle, there was still a warmth and homely feel to it. A fury brown rug that looked as though it had been pulled off a bear blanketed much of the ground, and colorful tapestries hung on the walls, most of them depicting scenes of the Mysteria Tree. The girls were excited about curling up in the fluffy beds draped in white canopies (since as you probably know all girls feel like a princess sleeping beneath a canopy). Wooden wardrobes rested in the two corners beside the beds, and a desk with an old, wooden chair before it was wedged in the other corner where a door led into a washroom. Directly next to the desk stood a white canvas and easel, with paints, brushes and a palette on top of the desk.

  “I hope you find these acc
ommodations acceptable,” Anastasia said.

  “Oh, yes,” Maggie replied. “This is perfect. Thank you. What is this for?” she asked, approaching the easel.

  “That is actually for you, Maggie. The queen knows how much you like art. She thought it might set you at ease to be able to paint during your stay here.”

  Maggie was surprised the queen knew this about her. But then she remembered the queen had sent those little animals to watch them. They must have seen her painting through the back window of her room.

  “Oh, thank you,” she said. “That’s very nice.”

  “Of course. Now in these wardrobes you will find some clothes,” Anastasia said, walking across the room and opening the wardrobe doors. “Even something to sleep in, if you wish.”

  The children glanced down to their pajamas.

  “I think we’ll be okay to sleep in this,” Connor said. “But maybe we’ll look for something to wear in the morning.”

  “Of course. And through that door,” she said, pointing, “you will find a bathroom to wash up in. Please take a warm bath if you like. Well, do get some sleep. I will come to wake you for breakfast soon after the sun rises and then take you to Sir George.”

  She curtseyed and left the room, closing the door behind her. The children stood in silence, peering into each other’s eyes as the soft whisper of the candle flames flickered around them. This was the first time they had been alone since they found themselves below the deck of Kristoff’s ship and they weren’t sure what to say to each other. The girls both raced over and hugged their brother, burying their faces in his chest.

  “Connor,” Lucy said, “what’s going to happen? Will we be able to save Daddy?”

  “Of course we will,” he replied, rubbing both their backs. “Everything will be alright.”

  When the girls stepped back, Connor walked over to the window and the girls followed. Their view looked out over the sea and the stars dotting the sky.

  “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s get some sleep.”