FOREVER BEYOND A TIME, she waited.
She did not wait while doing nothing;
indeed, she kept herself busy tending the gardens and those she found in the
garden, singing with the stars, exploring more and more new beauties to share
with him, and fulfilling herself in ways beyond her dreams. Nor did she wait in
sorrow, for she had learned that self-pity and wishful thinking did nothing to
hurry the Outside Time. Sorrow was not even to be found within her.
But she did pray. Prayed that he would
be strong as he struggled on. And that one day, no matter when, he would
return.
chapter
1
Torrents of rain poured mercilessly
down, tearing the turf and branches alike. Eddies of water swirled through the
mud and stone, washing away any firm ground.
The girl struggled on, wrapping her
sodden cloak around her. Every few steps she would straighten and call out a
name, but even as her voice left her lips the wind ripped it away and carried
it up howling to the dark rumbling clouds. Night shrouded the land, and she had
no light at all to see, so she fell many times. Shivering with cold, caked with
mud, she paused under a slight rock ledge to catch her breath.
The
calf had bolted through the rickety fence when the thunder first cracked
overhead, running to the forest beyond as fast as its newborn legs would carry
it. She had managed to herd the cow into the stable where it had bawled loudly
for its child, before grabbing her cloak and rushing off after the calf just as
the rain had first began to fall.
She regretted it now. If the calf
survived this storm it would most certainly be picked off by predators; but she
couldn’t pity the senseless creature now, not with the fear of her own safety
crushing in all around. She was lost and freezing. It was so dark she could
easily walk off a cliff. It was best, she knew, if she found a place to shelter
out of the rain and wait for the storm to pass.
But she couldn’t, not with her father,
sick in bed at home. What if he needed her and she wasn’t there?
Gritting her teeth, she forced herself
into the elements, which seemed like faerie monsters the way they harried her.
She had gone no more than a few paces when the ground gave way under her feet,
and she was sliding out of control down a muddy slope. She hit the ground hard,
the breath rushing out of her body, her cheek lying in water. Drawing in deep
breaths, she lifted herself up with trembling limbs, but as she took a step,
her leg sank up to the knee in mud. Gasping, she collapsed back on her rump,
scooting back till the mud released her leg with an agonizing squelch.
Her face tilted up to the roiling sky,
the rain striking her brow, the lightning flashing in her eyes. “Please, Lumil
Eliasul!” she cried. “Please, help
me!” She buried her face in her arms, all strength bled out of her. The night
seemed ready to swallow her up, leaving no trace of Klara, a mere farmer’s
daughter.
A hand touched her shoulder. She jumped and
twisted around to see a tall dark figure bending over her. With a gasp, for she
was too exhausted to even cry out, she shrank back. But the figure seemed to
take no notice of her protestations. As she tried to scramble away, she felt
herself swooped up from the ground, nestled in the large arms of the stranger.
She was terrified. Whoever this was, he
was far too strong for her to do anything to resist, even if she hadn’t been
spent. What men in the village nearby matched the size of this figure, and what
was their reputation? Where was he taking her? Here her mind failed, for her
body began to shake uncontrollably, and she faded in and out of consciousness.
They were at the door of her house. The
sudden realization of this cleared her senses for a moment. Surely she could
not have faded off that long? Surely she hadn’t been so near the house?
Wouldn’t she have seen the lights in the window?
The stranger pushed the door open with
his shoulder, stepping into the simple home built of wood, furnished with
curtains and rugs, a bright fire crackling in a hole in the wall, the smoke
drifting up through a chimney.
How
did he know where my home was? Klara wondered
vaguely. He must be one of the men of the village. But she couldn’t imagine
which one would be kind enough to carry her home.
The stranger laid her before the fire,
pulling her sodden cloak off her.
“P-p-please,” she stammered out from her
numb lips. “P-please, you need t-to go.” Mind reeling, she searched for the
words to explain that he needed to step out, because she needed to change out
of these wet clothes before she caught her death. She wondered if she even had
the strength to stand and find another dress without fainting. Shuddering, the
possibility crossed her mind that he would see her dilemma and feel the need to
disrobe her himself. Not that. But she needed to dry off. For a moment, she
wished she was unconscious and completely unaware of everything.
“Don’t be afraid,” said the stranger’s
voice, and she caught a blurry glimpse of his face, ever so briefly. Were eyes
supposed to be that blue? It must an effect of her oncoming fever. His hand
cupped around her head, and she flinched as he began murmuring words under his
breath that she could not understand. Summoning the last of her strength, she
reached up and pushed his hand off her head, but as she moved, it struck her
with the force of lightning that she was no longer wet. Indeed, her shivering
had stopped, her dress folded around her, and her hair softly brushed her face.
She went still, staring at the fire flickering before her, knowing that its
heat could not have dried her so quickly. Was it a hallucination?
“What were you doing out?” asked the man,
but she didn’t dare turn around to face him.
“My calf,” she whispered. “It was lost
in the storm. I had to find it or else Butterbell would be upset, and if she
stopped giving milk, then we would—” She broke off, mortified to be babbling.
She heard no footsteps, but she realized
he had left her side, and the next moment the door shut behind him. She bolted
up, surprised to find renewed life in her. But other than that, she wasn’t sure
what to do.
“Klara?” a weak, crusty voice called out
from the only other small room. “Klara, child, is that you?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, the girl ran
to the call, dropping down beside the cot and the withered man who lay upon it.
“Dada.” She took his hand, once so strong, now so frail. “Do you need me?”
“I thought you were out in this storm,”
he muttered. “The house was so quiet. I was about to go search for you.”
Klara blinked back a few tears, knowing
he couldn’t even leave his bed. “I’m safe, Dada,” she whispered. At least, she
thought she was. Who had been that stranger, and why had he left so quickly?
None of it made sense. Kissing the top of her father’s forehead, she said,
“I’ll get you supper.” And she wouldn’t try to wonder how she dried so quickly.
She feared she already knew and wondered what demands such a creature would
make if it felt payment for the deed was due.
The wind continued to howl like a wolf,
and she wondered how the stable and fence would fare. She bent over the stew
hanging above the fire and began to ladle the soup into a wooden bowl—
The door burst open, the wind and rain
screaming as it rushed in, carrying with it a tall, multi-armed creature.
Klara screamed, dropping the bowl; the
soup splattering across the ground.
With his heel, the creature flicked the
door shut, despite the protesting shoves of the gale, and stood a moment in
silence.
She then realized that the extra,
horrific arms coming out of the man were in fact the ungainly legs of the lost
calf. Heart hammering, she straightened. “How did you…”
He came towards her, adjusting the calf
to settle in one arm as he reached up to undo his cloak and sweep it off him. Crouching,
the calf calmly splayed across his knees, the stranger bundled the large cloak
into a sort of bed before the fire.
Speechless, Klara took several steps
back, her mind vaguely noticing that though he had been soaking wet when he
first entered, the stranger was dry now, and so was the floor. Mewing a soft
cry, the calf craned its head back to lip the man’s caressing fingers. “I’m
sorry,” the man apologized. “I know I should have asked if I could bring it in
here, but I thought that you would want to care for it.” He stood and turned,
and Klara’s breath fled in a sickening rush even as confirmation of her
suspicions strode in with still more sickening force.
Faerie.
There could be no denying it. Though he
wore the body of a man, no man glowed with that inner eternity or stood with
such overwhelming presence.
Klara reached out a hand to steady
herself on a chair. Faerie. She’d seen them before, but always Faerie beasts
that were animal-savage, though far more intelligent. Not this kind.
He saw the fear greying her face and
frowned. “Do I frighten you?” he asked in concern as he took a step back.
Yes.
Yes, you do. Instead, she said, “What…do I…” She swallowed
hard and forced it out. “Owe you?” It was best to get it over with now, instead
of dreading a demand. Faerie folk were well-known for their greed and cunning.
They never let a deed, no matter how minute, pass without demanding tribute.
He raised an eyebrow and smiled, and her
heart gave an unexplained twist. “You owe me nothing.”
Her mouth opened and closed. Faerie or
not, she knew it was common courtesy to offer him food and shelter in this
horrible storm. But how could she? She was alone or very nearly so, for her
father was bed-ridden. There wasn’t any way to pretend that she had a brother
or able father. By now he might have already realized this, as no girl should
have been out in the storm looking for a lost calf. But if she did nothing, he
might become very offended, no matter his pretty claims of no debt.
She could offer him food. At least that.
And the stable. Yes, the stable. “I’ll get you some soup,” she said.
“Klara?”
Her father’s feeble voice was just heard
above the storm. Ladling the soup into the bowl, she froze. “I’m
sorry,” she murmured. “My sick grandfather…”
“Go and see to him,” the stranger said.
“I assure you, I need nothing.” He bowed deeply, and without another word,
turned and disappeared into the storm.
The calf bawled at his passing, and
Klara jumped, for it had been laying quietly the entire time the man had been
in the room. The bowl shaking in her hand so that the soup almost sloshed over
the side, she crept back to her father.
“I thought I heard something,” her
father sighed. “Are you all right, my dear?”
“Of course, Dada,” Klara replied, and
she was glad that the dark room could not reveal how she trembled.
chapter
2
The storm passed on in the night,
leaving behind a muddied, wrecked world. But for all the broken branches, for
all the squelch of mud under her feet, the beaten down brush, Klara still found
beauty as she stepped out into the morning air. Water-drops sparkled on the
trees like jewels, the full stream could be heard singing merrily, and a
rainbow arched against a wall of distant dark clouds.
She breathed in deep, smiling at the
scent of wet earth and morning mist. Taking the rope collar around the calf’s
neck, she coaxed it forward towards the stable. It was adamant, and it took all
her effort to drag it on. So great was her concentration that she didn’t even
look at the stable until she had come quite near it. Only then did she look up,
dreading what the storm might have done to the already weak wood.
And she screamed.
She bit it off before it was quite
finished and stumbled back, dragging the calf with her.
Kneeling atop the roof was the same
Faerie man she had met the night before. He seemed to have been very caught up
in whatever he was doing on the roof for he looked startled to find her there,
or maybe he was only startled by her cry.
Klara stared up at him, mouth open.
Unexpectedly, her dismay turned into anger. “What are you doing up there?” she shouted.
He glanced from her to the hammer in his
hand to the freshly cut boards he was nailing into place. “Fixing the roof,” he
said at last, almost puzzled.
No breath came to her for a matter of
moments, and then she finally sucked in air. But why… Where had he acquired the
boards, the nails, the hammer? Fixing the roof indeed! From what she could see,
he had replaced the entire roof, somehow without her hearing, though the work
should have certainly reached her ear.
You’re
forgetting, Klara, she scolded herself. This is a Faerie. Faeries can do strange
things.
Strange things, yes, but when had anyone
ever heard of one fixing a roof? And it occurred to her as she stared at him in
astonishment, that he didn’t look like a faerie either. Oh, he was certainly of
fey blood, but even she knew that the Faeire did not suffer any slight on their
appearance. And he, sitting in wood dust on the roof, had hair and shirt damp
from the morning mist and a large dirty smudge down his cheek that somehow made
him look…endearing.
Endearing?
Blinking in surprise, Klara stumbled
forward, pushing the calf into the corral with its frantic mother. “Th-thank
you,” she stammered, but she didn’t dare look at him again. Gathering up her
skirts, she hurried back to her house, forcing herself not to glance over her
shoulder like a hunted animal. Once inside, she braced herself against the door
and took a deep breath.
Had he been trying to cast a spell on
her?
What sort of game did Faeries play
anyway? Was he trying to come across mortal as a way to deceive her? And the
roof! Why bother with the roof?
She peeked out the window, where she
could see him set the last board in place. She’d heard their kind drove strange
bargains, even asking for strands of hair. Well, he would have not a strand of
her hair nor anything else! At the same time, she knew it was very unwise to
offend a Faerie. Suppose…an odd thought…he was just doing this out of
kindness....or out of boredom…or perhaps he’d lost a bet with another and this
was the punishment. Whatever the reason, he might expect some sort of civility.
And father had always taught her to be kind to strangers.
And there was her
dream. If she acted this way around one stranger, where would she ever find the
courage to make her dream become reality? There was at least something she
could do for him.
Stepping out the back door with a wooden
bucket and ladle, she hurried a little distance into the trees behind the house.
A pure, bright stream ran there, beckoning with sweet song, a song
that always seemed familiar, though she didn’t know the tune. Many times she
came here to listen to the song, and it always eluded her. But this morning, as
she dipped the bucket into the water, she almost thought she heard
voices—voices in a reflection of something sung above.
*****
The Faerie, nailing the last board into
place, sat upon the edge of the roof and surveyed the farm with a critical eye.
What a strange place for the Lumil Eliasul to send him! He smiled and shook his
head. How very like his Lord to send him to fix a roof at a farm, after all his
great conquests. But yet—and here he frowned--yet fixing a roof didn’t seem to
be all that was in mind, for he was done, and there was no sign of any Path
leading away. Perhaps there was more work to be done? The fence, clumsily
repaired where the calf had broken through, would take a matter of moments to
fix. A mere blink of the eye if he wished, but he preferred working with his
hands. What else then? What else about this farm was he missing?
Was the girl all alone here with her
ailing grandfather? No wonder she was so frightened of him. He’d have to be
extra careful of what he said or did, so that he did not intimidate her.
Another smile tilted the corner of his mouth as he considered her outrage on
discovering him on the roof. Poor little thing. He’d hoped to have been done
before she came out. But despite her obvious fear, she was able to keep an
assured dignity. Admirable, that. He’d seen many grown men act far less
courageously in his presence.
He sensed her approach.
The first time she had come, he had been
listening to the Songs of the Spheres, and somehow her presence hadn’t
distracted him until she screamed.
Now here she came from behind the house,
carrying a wooden bucket. She stepped up to the side of the barn and glanced up
at him. “I was wondering…” She took a deep breath. “I was wondering if you’d
like some water.”
She was a slight girl, but she held the
heavy bucket of water with ease. “Thank you.” He wasn’t particularly thirsty,
but it would have been rude to refuse since she brought it all the way out.
Catching the side of the roof with his hand, he dropped down to the ground.
Stiffly, she scooped up some of the crystalline water with the wooden ladle and
handed it to him. He drank it slowly as he contemplated what he would do next.
There was still no sign of any Path leading away. The girl was beginning to
look nervous.
*****
Klara eyed him. What was taking him so long
to swallow and be done? Yet she was afraid for him to continue, afraid of what
he might do next. She glanced down at her feet as he handed the ladle back to
her.
“I was wondering…” the Faerie said
slowly. “Might I fix your fence?”
She blinked. Clutching the bucket
against her in a crushing embrace, she stepped back. “Why?” she demanded. “Why
would you do that?”
“Well…” He rubbed the back of his head.
“I’m a pretty good builder.”
She couldn’t stop staring. She looked
from his face to the roof and then to his sword. She’d noticed that he wore it
all the time, even now, though it was slung across his back so its great length
couldn’t hamper him. On its pommel she could faintly see something that looked
like a moon and stars. Then a terrible suspicion began growing in her mind, one
that she could not believe she hadn’t considered before, but then, it was so
unbelievable, so unexpected. And as soon as the possibility entered her mind,
she knew it was true.
“You are the Brothers Ashiun…” she
breathed.
“Half of them,” he said with a smile and
a bow. “Etanun Ashiun.”
Again, she stepped back. Her heart
pounded so fast and hard in her throat, she didn’t think she could get any
words past. Etanun Ashiun. How could she have been such a fool? One of the
legendary Faeries who traveled her mortal world doing the will of…of the Lumil
Eliasul. Yet having him standing here was too hard to believe. This Etanun
Ashiun was a renowned hero, worshiped by some, famed for slaying terrible
monsters. And when he was not battling with his great sword, he and his brother
were building spectacular Houses of Lights that were said to allow the mortals
to hear…hear what Klara always strove to listen for, always wondered if she
heard in silent times of the night or in quiet meadows of the forest—the Sphere
Songs.
“My Lord,” she gasped. “For-for-give
me.”
He shook his head. “I’m not your lord. And
there is nothing to forgive; you have done me nothing but kindness.” He glanced
back to the fence again, where one log creaked dangerously in a breeze. “So if
I may, shall I repair your fence?”
“Whatever you please,” she faltered,
unable to tear her gaze away, yet unable to stay near him for a moment longer.
Etanun Ashiun! The powers he was rumored to possess made him perhaps the most
dangerous Faerie of all! She spun and hurried for the house, keeping her stride
at a walk, albeit a fast one.
She was locked back in the house in a matter
of moments, yet the wooden bar across the door seemed the flimsiest of guards.
Pacing back and forth, she tried to recall every legend of the Brothers Ashiun
she had heard. Since Ma and the baby had died, and Dada had come down ill, such
stories were no longer carried from the nearby village,and Klara stayed no
longer in the village than her trips required.
The Brothers Ashiun had come soon after
the world had begun, and they had driven away the strange monsters that
terrorized the people, one with a sword and strength and the other with a
lantern and insight. And they served the Lumil Eliasul.
Klara had never heard of any legend in
which they had harmed the innocent.
So why was she so afraid?
The Lumil Eliasul…
The Giver of Songs…He Who Names Them…
When she heard the stories of his love that
he offered to all no matter who you were, how infinitely great he was, how he
cared for the weak and poor, that his grace could forgive anything…she always
dreamed that such impossible love might be for her.
And what if it wasn’t?
chapter
3
The farm hardly needed as elaborate a
fence as the one the knight was building, Klara thought to herself as she
peeked around the curtain at the outside. It even looked like he’d carved
designs into the wood! He was also constructing it extremely fast. Every time
she’d look, he’d just be laboring by hand and tool, but whenever she was gone
for a little while he accomplished far more than was physically possible. What
exactly was his reason to be here? Did he even know?
“Klara?” Her father’s voice commanded
her attention, and she hurried back to his room. “You seem very distracted…is
something wrong?”
It broke her heart each time she saw him
lying there on the straw cot. He was always looking dirty and ragged no matter
how many times she bathed and dressed him. He could hardly even move anymore.
She didn’t know what sickness ravaged him, but she feared he was losing the
battle. No! If he couldn’t fight it, she would fight it for him. She would not
lose him.
“We have a visitor,” she said
hesitantly, kneeling beside him and taking his bony hand in hers.
A spark of anger lit behind the foggy
film over his eyes. “Is it the Valexson boys?”
He tried to push himself up, and his breath rattled recklessly. “You
tell them to leave my farm at once!”
With a gentle shush, she pressed him
back down, reassuring, “No, no, no one like that. It’s a faerie…Etanun Ashiun
of the Farthest Shore.” The words were impossible. Him. Here. She wouldn’t
blame Dada if he scoffed at her.
But
his eyes widened. “Farthestshore…The Song Giver has heard my plea…” He reached
out and grabbed her hand. “Bring him in, Klara, bring him in!” His excitement
elicited a spasm of coughing, and after Klara had calmed him, she slipped out.
It didn’t seem likely that Etanun would
care much about the wishes of a sickly mortal, but Klara couldn’t refuse to
ask. After all, he was only building a fence, not fighting monsters. As a
matter of fact, if he didn’t come in, she might get mad at him, legendary faerie
knight or not.
The fence appeared to be finished as she
stepped outside, and Etanun was sitting underneath a tree talking softly to
himself or someone she couldn’t see. Swallowing hard, she approached. “It’s my
father,” she said when he looked up. “He wants to see you…if you’re
not…preoccupied.”
“I’m on your father’s farm; I’m sure he
wants an explanation,” Etanun replied a touch of amusement in his tone. “Of
course.”
He followed her inside, and she was
suddenly aware of the bareness and simplicity of the house. Well, what of it?
He’d seen it already. She would not be ashamed. When she led him into her
father’s room, she was shocked to see her Dada sitting up against the wall,
though he hadn’t had the strength to do so in days. The effort seemed to have
exhausted him though as he’d broken into a sweat. But when she tried to fret
over him, he waved her away, his attention fixed on the faerie. “Etanun
Ashiun,” he said.
Bowing his head in respect, the knight
stepped forward and knelt alongside the bed, the surprise in his eyes at the
old man’s condition fading to concern.
“Where is it?” her Dada rasped. “Where
is Halisa?”
“Here,” Etanun replied, drawing his
sword and laying it upon the blankets. The room lit up in the blade’s glow,
softening every edge in the presence of the sharpest edge of all. Klara
couldn’t take her eyes off it, stunned at how one sword could represent such
power.
“The Blade of the Lumil Eliasul’s
righteous wrath and judgment,” the old man murmured. “Forged within Lumé
himself.” His watery eyes rose to the faerie’s face. “Where is your brother,
the bearer of Asha?”
“Our Paths have been separate these past
few days,” Etanun answered.
Her father sighed. “Ah, well. I shall
see the light in full soon enough then, shan’t I?” With another cough, his eyes
fluttered shut, and his breath rattled in uneven swells.
Etanun stood and stepped back, drawing
Klara with him. “How long has he been like this?” he inquired softly.
“His health has been failing for the
past several months, but only recently has he been confined to the bed.” Her
mouth trembled. “I don’t know what illness it is that plagues him…do you?”
A line creased his brow. “I confess my
brother knows more of the diseases that manifest in mortals…but it seems to me
that he is dying.”
Heart grinding to a halt, she stepped
away from him. “No. No, you’re wrong. You don’t know; you faeries always think
we’re dying!” Her voice began to shake and she spun around so he couldn’t see
the tears beginning to pool in her eyes.
His reply was gentle, not at all
offended as his kind could have been. “I shall go find my brother and see if he
can come. Perhaps there is something he will able to do.”
Before she could turn around, he had
already vanished, though the door hadn’t opened or shut. Shivering, she wrapped
her arms around herself and sat alongside her father’s bedside, waiting and
hoping for some intervention of what she secretly admitted was inevitable.
*****
After dusk’s shadows had wreathed the
woods, the door to her home opened once again, but before she could be alarmed,
all fear was driven out by the light that flooded the room. Unlike the glare of
Halisa which had demanded sole attention, this light hallowed everything in the
room with a gracious touch. She could not see its source yet, so bright it was
against the outside darkness. Two figures stepped inside with it; one she
recognized as Etanun and the other was a smaller and slimmer man, somehow
humble despite being fay. As the light
drew back into itself, no less potent, but less far-reaching, she saw it shone
from a small silver lantern, delicately wrought.
“Klara,” Etanun said, though she
afterwards realized she’d never given him her name. “This is my brother,
Akilun.”
“May I see your father, Klara?” Akilun
asked, his amber voice soft.
She nodded mutely, overwhelmed by both
Brothers Ashiun and their amazing gifts being in such close proximity with her.
Akilun slipped into the small room, the
lantern lighting up every corner of the room, driving away all shadows,
cobwebs, and dust. Her father’s eyes flickered open at once, and he gazed long
and full at the light. “Asha,” he murmured. “Have you come to guide me to the
Final Water?”
With a quiet smile, Akilun knelt
alongside him, taking his hands. “Do you know who you will meet at the Water’s
edge?”
His eyes took a while to focus on the
knight’s face, but his words did not falter. “I have been a proud and stubborn
man….I don’t deny. But I’ve heard the Wood Thrush’s call, and I should like to
meet him there. The Lumil Eliasul. I would call him Lord…”
“Then meet him you shall,” Akilun
replied. “Walk the path with peace and the hope that shines brighter even than
Asha.”
Throughout the conversation, Klara
watched them with mesmerized awe. But as she watched her father’s eyes close
again, dread clutched her, forcing her forward. “You—you will help him, won’t
you?”
Ever so slightly, her Dada opened his
eyes and looked at her. “That….that was all I needed, my little…my little
Klara.” His shaking hand reached out for hers and she caught it to her lips as
his eyelids dropped again and his chest collapsed in a gasping exhale.
And the light of Asha shone its
brightest.
chapter
4
A song always seemed to lilt through the
stream in the forest, perhaps reflecting the Songs of the Spheres as much as
the sparkling water reflected their light.
But Klara heard nothing that morning as
she sat amongst the ferns. Her feet dangling in the icy water had long since
gone numb, but she refused to remove them. Somewhere in the distance, or perhaps
not as far as her mind was from it, she heard a songbird trill.
Why notice anything?
Her Dada had died.
The knights had buried him behind the
barn amongst a host of wildflowers.
How could he? So soon and without any
warning? If she was fair, she knew that it had been a long time in coming, that
he had simply been hanging on and only just let go. But why? How could he just
leave her…alone?
She didn’t notice the person coming up
alongside her, until he’d sat down. A vague corner of her mind recognized him
as Etanun, but she didn’t bother to acknowledge him.
“It’s very beautiful,” he said.
With a slow blink, she looked over at
him. “What is?”
“The Farthest Shore,” he answered. “My
brother and I were taken there when we were trained as Knights. I look forward
to returning one day, whenever my task in this world is done.” He met her eyes,
his blue eyes deep with compassion. “There is no better place for your father
to be.”
Her throat knotted. “What about with
me?” she pleaded. “It would have been better for him to stay with me.”
With a heavy sigh, Etanun propped his
arm up on his knee. “As an immortal it was strange for me to understand death
when I first came here. Since then I have seen thousands die, even my own kind,
many at my own hand. I’ve never lost anyone I’ve been close to, so I do not
know that pain. But I do know of the assurance the Lumil Eliasul gives us.
Death doesn’t have to bring despair. You will be with him again…that is…” He
trailed off and looked at her earnestly. “What do you know of the Lumil
Eliasul?”
Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her
face and straightened. “I’ve heard the tales of him. And…I’ve heard the songs
he gives.”
“You’ve heard the Sphere Songs?” His
eyes lit up. “Where?”
“Here mostly,” she answered. “In the
stream, the trees, the wood thrush’s call.” She looked up at him, her mouth
trembling. “I want to believe in the Lumil Eliasul. I do believe. I know I’ll
see Dada again. But what am I to do? I can’t keep up this farm just by myself.”
“Do you have any family you can go to?”
“No one. My parents had no siblings and
my grandparents died long ago. I’m alone.” She sighed.
Frowning, Etanun stared off into the
distance. “I shall speak with my Lord and see what is to be done. Our path
brought us here, and it is not leading away yet. Do you know of anything that
we might do for you?”
She began to shake her head, but then a
thought occurred to her, and she burst into sobbing laughter. “I don’t
suppose—you know how to build—an inn,” she moaned.
“I suppose we could,” he said, confused.
“But what will that avail?”
“It was our dream,” she replied, pulling
herself back under control. “Dada and I always wanted to build an inn for the
passing travelers, but there was never time with the farm...” As she trailed
off, a sparkle of life finally entered her eyes. “But…now…if I can’t keep the
farm up, perhaps an inn would work better for me. I could keep a small garden
to provide food and earn money from lodging. All I need is a building, and I
can do the rest! I—”
“Half
a moment,” Etanun said, raising his hand to halt her outburst. “You’d be
inviting strangers to your farm. What about your safety?”
“Dad
and I talked about that before.” Excitement began to tingle in her voice. “Any
ill-meaning traveler already could force themselves into our house, and no
would really care. But as an inn, we would be a place of public safety,
recognized as a haven. That would be some protection, more than I have now. And
having the possibility of good people coming through regularly would also serve
as safety. I—” She trailed off, uncertain of how to interpret the strange
expression that had entered the knight’s face. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’m not
thinking clearly. Of course, the inn is not necessary; I didn’t mean to
overstep.”
“No,” Etanun replied. “No, you weren’t
overstepping at all.” He chewed his lip in concentration as he stared off into
the trees, leaving Klara to wonder if faerie’s normally had this habit, or if
he’d picked it up from mortals. “Yes,” he said at last. “You’re right, that
would be better for you.” He leapt to his feet and bowed. “I shall speak with
my brother over this. For now, farewell.” He disappeared into the woods, with
scarcely a step, leaving her alone again by the stream.
But this time she was surrounded by the
water’s sweet song and the trilling of a thrush hovering always nearby.
*****
However the discussion between the two
brothers went, the conclusion was apparent enough when Klara wandered outside
to feed the animals. In the dim morning light it took her a moment to recognize
the sight before her as felled logs being sawed into fine boards.
The knights paused as she approached
them, staring at the smooth wood with awe. “You’re building it?” she gasped,
her wide eyes rising to theirs.
“Where will you want it?” Akilun asked,
a pleased smile faintly hovering on his lips.
“Close to the road,” she stammered. “Over
there. So that the trees create a sort of wall between it and the farm.”
“An ideal location,” Etanun agreed.
“We’ll begin work on it at once.”
She finished her outside tasks, watering
the plants and beasts, visiting the freshly covered grave, before retreating
back into the cabin for indoor cleaning. It was strange not to hear her Dada’s
crackling breath in the next room. Strange to hear everything so silent.
A rumble of voices caught her attention,
and she darted to the window. The faeries were nowhere to be seen, presumably
gone into the forest for some new logs, though she hadn’t seen an axe with them.
Instead, the figures of three men came swaggering up the growing path that led
from her farm to the village.
“Lights above us,” Klara whispered. Inhaling
deeply, she moved out of sight from the window. Let the men think she was gone
for the day. She waited for their muffled voices to fade.
But their voices came closer and closer;
then the door swung open and knocked back against the wall with startling
force. Her heart leapt, jolting her body with it, and she swung around to face
the intruders, her hands clutching the rim of the table.
The Valexson brothers swaggered in,
three she’d known and feared since they were all children. Though she didn’t
linger in the village often, she knew that their behavior had never improved
with their age.
“What are you doing here?” she shouted.
“Get out of my house this instant!”
“Easy there, Klar,” one by the name of
Grale chuckled. “Didn’t think there needed to be an invitation for neighbors.
We just wanted to see how your ol’ Da was getting along, and see if we could
offer any help on the farm.”
“I appreciate it, and so will he,” she
said, her pulse pounding so that she could barely squeeze words past it.
“However, everything’s just fine. We don’t need anything, thank you.”
“Then how about a little picnic?” he
intoned, his fellows smirking behind him. “If you’re working so hard, surely
you could use a little break.” His hand reached out to catch hers, but she
jerked it back.
“No, I don’t!” she snapped. “I—I’m
perfectly well, and you need to leave. Now.”
“Oh, come on, pretty. You need to spend
more time—”
“I believe the lady has made her wishes
quite clear.”
Everyone, Klara included, jumped at the
sound of Etanun’s voice and turned to see his imposing form filling the open
doorway.
Grale squinted and then flashed Klara a
look of utter disgust. “And here I thought you were shy of men. Who’s
Handsome?”
Her mouth too dry to respond, she could
only shake her head, but the faerie spoke, his voice pleasant.
“I am Etanun Ashiun. If that means
anything to you.”
How it could not? Grale and his two
friends took a horrified step back, one of them breaking out into an instant
sweat. “What have you been doing, you wretch?” Grale snarled at Klara. His wild
gaze darted back to Etanun “We don’t want your kind, you hear? You get off this
farm and—” His hand raised as if intended to shove past the knight or perhaps
hit him, but he did neither, for Etanun caught and held it fast. Growling,
Grale tried to break his hold, but at the faerie’s flick of the wrist, the
mortal’s arm twisted completely over.
Grale’s scream sent his companions
rushing forward, but another strange voice stopped them just as quick. “Surely
you know that interfering would be foolish?” Akilun warned leisurely, leaning
against the door frame behind his brother. “I advise you to just watch and
listen for once in your lives.”
Etanun’s eyes, turned icy cold, remained
fixed on Grale’s face until the miserable man finally met his gaze. “I believe
you misunderstood,” the knight said. “It is you who will leave this farm for it
is under the protection of the Lumil Eliasul. If we ever find you on it again,
you will receive far more than a broken arm as a warning.”
“Lumil Eliasul?” Grale stuttered in
disbelief and anger, but he went no further for Etanun turned and sent him out
the door with a slight push, then pulled the other two forward and sent them
out as well. They staggered to keep their balance, and then turned eyes,
blood-shot with wounded pride, upon the knights.
“Leave,” Akilun said quietly. “Leave and
consider your path. You will not last long following it.”
At his words, the youths turned and fled
for the safety of their village.
*****
Etanun turned back to see how Klara was
faring and found her still up against the back of the table, her face white and
her eyes fixed on where Grale had stood. “I do not believe they will bother you
again,” he assured.
With a hard blink, her eyes refocused.
“I-I don’t think they will e-either.”
I’ve
frightened her, he thought with a sigh. She was such a
delicate mortal, as timid and small as a mouse. In this circumstance she had
every right to be afraid. But he couldn’t help but wonder if her anxiety would
improve with the future she was undertaking. “Are you sure you want that inn?”
he asked.
She nodded, unable to look at him.
With a deep breath, he nodded as well.
“So be it.”
chapter
5
During that day and then the next, Klara
kept a close eye on the progress of the inn, marveling over how quickly the
frame was raised. When they’d asked her exactly how she wanted it built, she
admitted she hadn’t really thought about it before, so they had gone ahead with
their own design. From what she could see looking out the window with discreet
scrutiny it was going to be magnificent.
“Wish you could see it, Dada,” she
whispered.
She watched in fascination as the
faeries worked, walking across beams and swinging from support to support with
no tether or anything to protect themselves from a two-story fall. Etanun
especially intrigued her as he seemed to have no concept of gravity or height
at all, once even hanging upside down to grab something instead of hopping
down—
You
certainly have better things to do with your time than watching him,
she chided herself in exasperation. Pushing away from the window, she returned
to her work; any work, so long as she was busy.
But despite remaining busy, the day crawled
by. Every sound she caused reminded her of the absence in the house. Throughout
her work, she abruptly broke into tears, wondering if she would ever be able to
feel truly happy again.
But when night fell, a knock at the door
interrupted her bereavement. Running a
damp cloth over her soiled face, she peeked through the window then cracked the
door open. “Yes, Sir Etanun?” she asked, her voice cracking a little from its
crust of tears.
The candlelight within the house
illuminated the sympathy in his eyes as he beheld her. “You can wait till
tomorrow to see it, if you wish, but it might do you good to look at it now.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The inn. It’s finished.”
Her mouth fell open, and she gripped the
door to keep from stumbling. “Already? But you hadn’t even put up the roof
yet…”
He simply held out his hand in
invitation, and she took it with trembling fingers. A thin cloud cover skimmed
the sky, the starlight faintly glowing through to brush the tips of the trees,
while the shadows beneath ever darkened. Gleaming in the night, beyond the
dusky forest, she could see a light. Several lights. As her heart rose, she
pulled ahead of Etanun and darted through the last few trees to see her inn.
The light of Asha shone through the
door. Akilun stood inside, the lantern’s beams sanctifying the building from
the inside out. She stood still, her gaze smoothing over the perfect
proportions, the gabled windows on the second story. Through the open door she
could see all the way across a golden wood floor to an open door on the other
side—opening east and west—just like the House of Lights these brothers built.
Slowly, she stepped inside, staring up at the burnished supporting beams, the
rail on the stair. She could imagine it all already, muslin curtains at the
windows, a braided rug on the floor, a pert fire dancing in the hearth. Her knees
weakened, and she knelt to the ground. “Dada,” she whispered. “It’s so
perfect.”
She didn’t notice Akilun quietly leave
the house and pull Etanun away with a subtle tug at the sleeve. She never saw
the Path open before their feet, beckoning them onwards. She didn’t see them
vanish into the night, leaving no trace but their work behind them.
All that she knew, and all that she
cared was that she breathed in the light of hope, and around her she could
hear, like never before, the Songs of the Spheres glorifying the purity and
strength of He Who Named Them.
*****
Stars danced overhead, chanting stories
of all that was, is, and to be. Their sparkling light reflected in Akilun’s
brown eyes as he lay back in the heather deep in a mortal wood. With the
chirrup of the crickets and the zephyrs stirring nearby, everything was almost
perfectly peaceful. Almost, except Etanun seemed to be having difficulty
settling, as apparent by the constant rustle of grass beneath him and his occasional
sighs.
“What is on your mind?” Akilun asked.
“I wish he hadn’t called us off like
that,” Etanun muttered. “With no farewell or explanation…what will she think?”
“What she thinks of us does not really
matter,” his brother replied. “We have done our duty to the Lumil Eliasul, and
he called us on.”
“Yes, yes.” There was a few moments of
silence before he began again, “Still, I’m not convinced those cads of men
would really stay away. And her inn is now a welcome invitation to anyone. I
would rest better if I was assured of her safety—”
“Etanun.” Amusement softened Akilun’s
voice. “She is in the care of the Lumil Eliasul. He would not have sent us away
if he did not have an express reason for it. Live or die, she is his, and he
will keep her safe.”
“I know this, brother,” he said with a
regretful sigh. “Forgive me for my blathering. I suppose I am just sorry we had
no chance to say goodbye.”
*****
Leaves of light flicked on the floor.
Klara blinked, the edge of her lashes skimming the wood. A moment later, she
bolted upright after finding herself curled up on the smooth floor of the inn.
The door and windows were still flung open, cool morning sunshine whisking
inside. A fresh scent of cut wood dusted the air. She’d fallen asleep? She must
have! How humiliating! Yes, she’d been tired throughout the day, but really.
Brushing off a powder of wood shavings, she scrambled to her feet and looked
around the empty room. Aside from the twitter of sparrows, all was still.
Last night seemed like dream, so surreal
in its perfection and peacefulness. Little wonder she’d fallen asleep, come to
think of it. She’d rarely felt so content and safe.
But where had the knights gone?
Hesitantly, she called their names, but
only the awakening woods chattered back at her. Well. Maybe they had gone off
to fetch some final furnishing of the inn. Or they’d left.
Sore from sleeping on the hard wood, she
tottered down the dirt path back to the house. The door creaked on its hinges
as she opened it, and though light streamed in, it did little to help the drab
bleakness of her cabin. The walls were still grey, the wood was still
splintering. Compared to the inn, glorious even in its bareness, her house was
very dull indeed. And empty. Just as the inn was empty. Just as she was empty.
Her hand caught a nearby stool and she
sank into it, the ecstasy of the lovely night quickly fading. Here she
sat—alone. “Dada,” she whimpered, a quivering finger touching to her lips. “Oh,
Dada…” She didn’t want to be alone. Perhaps the knights were not too far away.
“Akilun? Etanun?” She knew her voice was too small to even carry out of the
room, but she knew somehow for them that it didn’t matter. They would not hear
for they were far away.
But scarce had the tears began to fall
when a silvery voice sang, “Never alone.”
Startled, she jerked upright, her
tangled hair springing around her. Though she scanned the room thoroughly,
there was no sign of anyone nearby. Finally, a movement on the windowsill
caught her attention, and she stared as a wood thrush hopped down onto the
table beside her. Its head cocked to the side, its bright eye gentle and
considerate. “You’re not alone,” he said again.
She vaguely wondered if she should feel
more surprise and decided she shouldn’t. “Are you another faerie?” she asked.
“Not I.”
“Then you’re a figment of my
imagination.” Folding her arms, she glanced away. Some people were said to have
gone mad during grief. She hadn’t known she was that far along yet, but then
they said the true sign of madness was oblivion.
With a twitter very much like a chuckle,
the bird said, “Not that either.” He bounced forward, trying to catch her gaze.
Shyly, she looked back at him, observing
his speckled breast and delicate little feet. It was then that she recognized
him. He could have been any wood thrush. But she knew this one. She’d heard him
many times before. Even the Sun, the Moon, and all their children could not
sing the Sphere Songs as lovely as he. “I know who you,” she whispered.
“Yes, you do. You’ve heard me many times
before. But not till now have you stopped to understand what I say.”
No heart could feel as heavy as hers;
like a weight, it wished to drag her down into the ground, away from him. “Why
me?” Her words were weak and hushed, barely able to escape her lips. “I’m just
a farmer’s daughter.”
“You are one of mine,” he promised. “And
that makes you a child of the King. You are never alone.” He fluttered to her
shoulder and his downy head nuzzled her cheek.
“I will always be here for you, no matter what may come.”
And as she listened, her heart began to
lift as if chains broke, leaving her spirit to fly as if on the wings of the
wood thrush himself.
chapter
6
One
Year Later…
“Miss Klara, Miss Klara!”
The panicked cries of children brought
Klara scrambling up from the slick wooden floor, as she was in the midst of
scrubbing it. Tossing the soiled rag aside, she darted out on bare feet. Only
two out of the three children in the family staying at her inn were running
towards her. Their parents had gone into the village for some supplies, and
Klara had given the children permission to play in the gardens, so long as they
didn’t wander. She’d seem them all playing together only minutes before. What
could have happened?
“Calm down, calm down,” she soothed as
they ran into her arms. “Samuel, tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s Eima,” the boy gulped, his usually
stalwart face gaunt with fear. “We were playing by the stream, and a monster
came! It has her cornered and won’t let her past! It’s scary, Miss Klara; it’s
an awful green woman!”
Faerie
beast.
The realization sunk in her like a rock
in water. Taking the children by the shoulders, she pulled them inside the inn.
“Just stay in here, and don’t leave,” she said calmly. Desperate not to show
them how frightened she was, she swept to the kitchen and quickly selected a
few items. A sweet bread she’d made for after dinner. Food usually appealed to
faeries. And after a moment’s hesitation, she concealed a knife in the apron
wrapped around her waist. Not an iron one; though it might be more effective, a
faerie would smell it on her before she left the house.
Please
let Eima be safe, she prayed as she closed the inn door
behind her. If anything happened to that little girl…
A distinctive humming vibrated her ears
as soon as she stepped out. She followed it back into the trees towards the
stream, and as she got closer, she could hear Eima whimpering. At least the
child was still alive then. Finally, she reached them and slowed to a stop.
Eima hunkered against a tree, her little
face scrunched up in a strange mixture of fear and fury. Before her a slender
green woman rose from the stream, her equally green hair dissolving into a
green cloud in the water along with the rest of her body. She beckoned to the girl
with long claws, her hum matching the sway of her body. At Klara’s approach she
whirled around, and any visage of beauty that she might have suggested was
ruined by her pinched and vicious face. She snarled, clenching spine-like teeth.
“Greetings, fairest,” Klara said,
keeping her voice steady and unafraid. “Please, will you take this cake in
return for the child?”
Hissing,
the creature slid around towards her, its body dissolving and solidifying as it
dipped up and down through the water. At the bank it studied her, slit nostrils
flaring to smell the extended cake. For a moment Klara felt her breath unknot; felt
confidence that she had won.
Then the faerie’s eyes widened, and with
a garbled cry of “Halisa!” it swirled
around and lunged at Eima. Without thinking, Klara lunged after the faerie,
instinct warning her that the child would never be seen again if it entered the
water. She caught the faerie’s hair, but
the coils slid out of her hand like waterweeds. Her touch was all it took for
the monster to twist around and slash at her throat. Falling back into the
water, Klara reached for the knife, but she had not yet pulled it out when a
shout broke through the chaos.
“Enough!”
Through her watery eyes, Klara watched
in disbelief as Etanun Ashiun lunged out of thin air towards the creature. With
a shriek the monster dove for the water, instantly dissolving into the green
fog to sweep away in the current. But before its spindly legs could liquefy
with its body, Etanun caught it around the ankle and jerked it out, throwing
its thrashing form onto the grassy bank.
Klara darted to Eima and scooped the
girl in her arms.
The foul immortal writhed in the grass,
slashing out murderous talons to catch the knight’s leg, but Etanun stepped to
the side. A moment later, Halisa flashed in his hand, curving in brilliant
light and plunged into the monster’s breast. Shrieking again, the creature
shuddered and then was finally still.
“Enough,” Etanun said again, softer.
Weak-kneed, Klara knelt in the stream, Eima
squirming and squalling in an attempt to escape her tight embrace.
Etanun turned with a slight bow and
almost looked as if he was going to disappear the very next moment, but then he
saw them, and his mouth dropped open into a perfect “O.” “Klara?”
She nodded, unable to take her eyes
away. Where had he come from? After a whole year what had caused him to appear
at such a crucial moment! And he remembered her name, not that that really
mattered, but still!
The frantic calls of Eima’s parents
drifted across the stunned silence. “I have to get her back,” Klara stammered.
“They’re worried and…will you be here when I get back?”
Taking the bow of his head as
confirmation, she staggered out of the water, giving the lifeless coils of the
faerie plenty of room. When she broke out of the trees, she saw the parent’s
hurrying towards her. They gasped with relief when they saw their daughter and
took her from Klara’s arms, exclaiming over her drenched clothes and asking if
she’d almost drowned.
Klara herself wasn’t sure she’d not
imagined everything that happened and didn’t trust herself to have a coherent
answer. “She’s fine…you should take her back inside…I’ll join you in a moment.”
Once they’d carried the furious child
into the inn, she hurried back into the forest, hoping the knight had not
already left. When she saw the grass empty where the dead faerie had lain, she
feared he’d gone, but then she saw him standing in the stream, lowering the
body into the current. As soon as it submerged, the creature melted into its
green fog, but instead of staying cohesive, it swept apart and away.
He
looked up as she approached and smiled. “I was so intent on this villain’s
trail, I did not even notice where it was leading me.” He stepped out of the
stream, instantly dry. “I was hoping my path would lead me past your inn
again.” For a moment, he almost appeared shy. “You…you are doing well, aren’t
you? How much time has passed?”
“I am well,” she said, feeling like
someone other than her was answering. “And it has been about a year.” After an awkward
silence, she asked, “Where’s Akilun?”
“Once again, you find me in a rare
occurrence where our Paths are separate. But we shall be back together soon.”
Her gaze dropped down to the stream
where every trace of the monster had flowed away. “What—” She swallowed past a
lump in her throat. “What was that? Were you hunting it?”
“All of her kind have a predatory
nature,” Etanun explained. “But she left her realm and started hunting mortals.
She had to be stopped.” He glanced at her furrowed face and added, “I’m sorry
that I slew her in front of you.”
“You saved us.” She shrugged and tried
to laugh. “It’s just…just a pity…I know I’m a farmer’s daughter and have seen
my share of death, but I’ve always been sensitive to it, especially after Dada.
It’s just…so final.”
“How did you fare after we left?” he
asked as they began to walk along the stream away from the scene of death.
“It was hard,” she admitted. “No one
bothered me on the farm, or when I went into the village, but I felt like I was
drowning in isolation, yet too afraid to swim out.”
“I’m sorry. I wish we could have stayed
longer to help you adjust.”
“No, it was good that you left.” She
smiled at his look of surprise. “You see, in those dark days, I heard songs
like I never have heard before. As if the light of Asha had cleansed my sight,
I began to see the truth of Lumil Eliasul. And he came. He came to me. Sweetly,
gently. As a word thrush winging away my sorrow.” She glimpsed a large smile
spreading across Etanun’s face as she continued. “So yes, it was hard, but it
turned into the most beautiful time of my life. I wasn’t alone. And with the
knowledge of He Who Loved Me, my fear began to melt away. He gave me strength
when travelers came to the inn and now…I feel so different.” She sighed. “So
new. Reborn.”
“Yes,” he said, his voice sounding
distant as if he himself had gone far away. “I know that feeling.”
When she gave him an askance look, he
continued, “My brother and I experienced something similar when we became
Knights. It was as if our past lives were dead, our connection to them severed.
We moved on from those who were our friends but now treated us like we were
foreign. It was startling, but rewarding.” He took a deep breath of
satisfaction. “Now we build Houses of Light, and mortals learn of truth, and
truth casts out fear. I do believe this world might rise to become even more in
tune with the voice of the Song Giver than the Far World.”
She cleared her throat. “I would like to
hear more of your service, but I understand you must be constantly busy…”
“As a matter of fact,” he said. “Akilun
and I will be serving in this part of the world for a while. There is a House
of Lights we shall raise over Gaheris. Perhaps I can visit from time to time? I
also wish to hear how your service has progressed.”
“Oh!” She blinked. “Yes, that would be
lovely.”
“Then I shall see you then.” He bowed
and kissed her hand; the next moment he disappeared on his chosen Path.
chapter
7
As the next months passed, the Brothers Ashiun
did indeed come and visit her often, regaling her with the tales of their
conquests when she asked. She was thrilled to show them the progress of her
work, thrilled that she, a simple mortal, could work side by side with them in
the service to the Lumil Eliasul. Her shyness around them gradually began to
fade as they found common ground in the Song Giver, and she was not ashamed to
ask them to accompany her on some of her morning calls to the village. Such a
humble thing she would never have dared ask of them at first, but she knew now
that they did not deem it unworthy of their prestige.
She had overcome her fear of the village
some months back and had become something of an angel of mercy to the poor and
sick therein. Though she didn’t bring the Brothers Ashiun into the more crowded
part of town for the sake of the more superstitious people, she brought them to
some of the outer shacks where ailing people had lost fear of all save their
desperation.
Somehow, even knowing the knights
character did nothing to diminish the amazement she’d feel when she watched how
tenderly Akilun could wash a frail grandmother’s face or Etanun bandage a
child’s scraped knee.
Both of the brothers she came to admire
and adore, almost as if they were brothers of her own, except—
She had to be careful that her thoughts
were never unnecessary about Etanun. In her opinion, he was more handsome than
anyone had a right to be, and his glowing nobility only illuminated it. No
matter how often she spoke with him, she could still become tongue-tied in his
presence. It was foolish. He was a Faerie knight, and she was a mortal girl.
She had to remember that.
*****
One morning Akilun had been called off
on a mission of his own, so Etanun had accompanied Klara on her calls
himself. After a morning in a house full
of grubby children and wailing babies, they agreed to take the longer path home
through the idyllic forest. The path was pillared by gracille aspens, every
flower seeming to tilt its head towards the pair in curiosity. The blooms’
bright scent kept a spring in their step, and soft sunbeams twirled down
through the leaves to dance on the ground before their feet.
“How many Knights of Farthesthore are
there anyway?” Klara was in the midst of asking. “I have only ever heard of you
and Akilun.”
“Verily. There are no others.”
“None?” She blinked in surprise. “I
would have thought the Far World is more in tune with the Lumil Eliasul. Is his
touch not even more well-known there?”
His lips turned down in a scowl. “Most
faeries become so caught up in their own grandness, they learn to ignore the
call of their Master. It seems like more and more of the Faerie are forsaking
the Sphere Songs and setting upon the mortals in jealousy. I must always be on
the alert to stop them.”
“That must be difficult,” she said, her
eyes turning to watch a bee skim past her nose into a clump of heather.
“No, not really.”
She halted in surprise. “But it must be.
Killing them…sending them to the Netherworld…it does not bother you?”
“No,” he replied. “They’ve turned into
vicious animals set on becoming their own gods. They deserve to die.”
“That may be so,” she admitted,
continuing her pace slower. “But nevertheless, don’t you wonder what brought
them to their state? Whether it was just arrogant pride or some bitter hurt?”
“That is more of Akilun’s business,”
Etanun said with a laugh. “I rarely bother myself with it.”
“It should bother you!” she snapped and
her tone brought him to a pause this time. Taking a deep breath, she forced her
voice to calm. “It’s just…the Lumil Eliasul strikes with justice, yes, but he
is a Prince of mercy and compassion. He wishes these monsters to be what they
were meant for. You cannot brush aside that incredible love…if ever one day
comes in which you need as much grace as the monsters you slay.”
The shadows of leaves flickered across
his face, but could not dim the sparkle in his eye. “Klara,” he said with a
smile. “You are the sweetest creature ever born in this world.”
It was her turn to scowl. She hadn’t
been fishing for compliments. Picking up stride, she pulled away. “Did you even
hear me or do I just amuse you—”
He sprang after her and caught her arm,
saying, “Klara, be still!”
Wrenching her arm back, she snapped,
“Don’t tell me to—”
“No, I mean it,” he hissed, raising a
finger to his lips. “Another faerie is nearby.”
She froze, instinctively drawing closer
to him. “Hostile?” she whispered, but he didn’t respond. He stared into the
trees, his eyes intense enough to burn down the forest. And then a moment
later, his fierce expression faded, replaced by an amused smile.
“I see you in there,” he called. “Come
out this instant!”
A childish giggle chimed through the air,
and the bushes next to them rustled. Out of the branches tumbled a child, her mass
of brown hair tossing every which way. “I scared you!” she exclaimed, throwing
back her head to reveal a chubby-cheeked face alive with zest and satisfaction.
“I don’t scare, I react,” Etanun replied,
his smile turning into a smirk.
She sniffed, rolling back on her
haunches. “That’s what you always say.”
Klara, releasing her reflexive grip on
the knight’s arm, stared in amazement at the faerie before her. The girl only
appeared to be about eight years old, and she was covered in dirt from head to
toe, though that didn’t hide the green of her outfit or the crumbled flowers in
her ringlets. “Who is this?” she asked.
The child, in the midst of tackling
Etanun’s knee in some futile attempt to push him over, paused and spun around
to stare bright-eyed at Klara. Despite her seeming youth, there was that
terrifying potency in her eyes that bespoke her kind.
“This is Spring Sprig,” Etanun
introduced. “Spring Sprig, this is Klara.”
The child padded over to her, continuing
to stare. When she’d stopped with her toes a few inches from the Klara’s own,
she suddenly burst out, “You’re pretty!”
Laughing in surprise, Klara curtsied.
“That is an honor coming from one such as you.” The compliment was most
sincere, for despite her grubbiness, beauty lit the little girl. Who had ever
heard of a female faerie calling a mortal woman pretty? They were notorious for
vanity. Clearly, this vision of innocence had no such qualms.
As quick as a hummingbird, Spring Sprig
darted back over to Etanun, tugging on his hands. “Don’t you think she’s pretty?”
she demanded.
At her insistent pull, he scooped her up
to perch in one arm. “I’d be a fool if I thought not!” he said with a chuckle.
“Do you love her?” The child quirked her
head to the side, delight quivering through her small body.
Klara’s heart thudded to a stop. Oh
dear. It seemed faerie children were just as embarrassingly inquisitive as
mortals. She waited for him to deny it.
He only said, “Oh, Spring, always
thinking about love this time of year, aren’t you?”
She reached up, planted her hands on either
of his cheeks, and swiveled his head around to face her. “You’re blushing,
Etanun Ashiun,” she said, smugness in every syllable.
With another laugh, he kissed her
lightly on her button nose, and she squirmed, squealing in glee. “So are you,”
he bantered.
She wiggled back down to the ground and
raced back over to Klara, grabbing her hand and tugging her forward. “Come,
come,” she prattled. “You must meet Ferdinand!”
“Who—oh my.” Her query after this
unknown was swiftly answered as the enormous head of a great green frog rose
out of the bushes and regarded her with bulbous yellow eyes. Swinging astride
the frog’s back, Spring happily patted its head. “This is Ferdinand. Ferdinand,
this is Klara.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, sir,” Klara
said, unable to be certain whether it understood her not, but wise enough not
to take chances. Its head bobbed forward and up under her hand, obviously
asking for attention. At Spring’s urging, she scratched him between the eyes,
laughing as his wide face wrinkled with pleasure. Smiling, she glanced up at
Etanun and he returned it, but he seemed to be caught up in his own thoughts as
he gazed upon them. Only Spring, glancing slyly at him amongst her prattle to
Klara, knew the truth.
* * *
Within the Wood Between there are perils
beyond the fancy of nightmares for foul things wander underneath the boughs,
dangerous gates hunker in waiting for their prey, and the very Wood itself
ensnares and enslaves, twisting all thought into madness. Through this wood
many Paths twine, and though most lead to jeopardy, there are those lain down
by the power of the Farthestshore, and while they might lead through danger,
they never fail.
At the crossroads of these Paths, there
rose a dwelling neither forest nor building but both—a Haven, crafted by the
Brothers Ashiun. In that breath of time, there were many such Havens throughout
the Between, offering shelter and rest from the shadow of the Wood. And when
not questing through the mortal realm, the Brothers Ashiun abided there.
Akilun paused in writing to glance up
again at Etanun as his brother continued to herald him with every detail of the
latest visit with Klara. He pondered the sparkle in Etanun’s eyes and the unusual
hesitations in his speech. As the elder brother, Akilun was the only person in
the worlds that could look upon the mighty knight with the fondness one might
look upon a child.
When there was a moment of silence,
Akilun decided to broach the subject he knew must come. “You know that as soon
as we are finished with the House of Lights in Gaheris we will move onto
another part of the this world…perhaps even as far as Corrilond.”
With a heavy sigh, Etanun sat down
beside his brother. “I know. I have mentioned as much to her. But we will
surely come back time to time.”
Taking a deep breath, Akilun began,
“Etanun, I know your interest in her well-being and work is sincere, but do I
have to once again remind you how she might take your interest? Your innocent
attentions may cause more harm than good.” He didn’t need to bring up the last
time Etanun’s chivalry had accidently won a heart—a faerie queen’s heart at
that. His brother’s wince showed he remembered all too well.
“Klara’s not like Ytotia,” Etanun
replied, but before he could be reminded that the individual woman was not the
issue, he continued, “And my interest in Klara is not just in that of a damsel
under our guard…I…I…” He looked down, his fingers whitening as he clenched his
sword hilt.
It was as he suspected. “You have
feelings for her?” Akilun prodded gently.
Blue eyes bright with something akin to
anxiety, Etanun tried to explain. “She’s special, Akilun. In all our travels,
I’ve never met anyone so in love with our Lord. She is a true knight if there
ever was one! I know the time we’ve spent has been small, but her heart is so
clear…Akilun…I love her.”
Before he could even began to respond, a
shrill squeal of glee followed by a hearty croak broke the silence. Akilun
closed his eyes in resignation. “Oh no,” Etanun said with a little sigh. “She
did it again.”
“I knew it!” Spring Sprig yelped as she burst
from the bushes and hurtled onto Etanun’s lap. “I knew you were in love with
her!”
“Really, Spring,” Akilun chided, not
even trying to hide the smile on his face. “You
must cease eavesdropping on
conversations.”
Giggling uncontrollably, she rocked back
and forth, her face alight. “Did I really hear you right?” she demanded.
“Yes, yes,” Etanun said, ruffling her
curls.
“When’s the wedding?” she demanded. “I
can come, yes? Say I can!”
“Lumé’s crown, Spring Sprig,” he gasped,
only able to laugh. “Your mind leaps as far as Ferdinand. I haven’t even spoken
to her yet, and I’m still not sure if I even should…”
“You must. You two were made for each
other,” she assured, throwing her arms wide then hugging them tight.
“We’ll see,” Etanun replied.
She rolled out of his lap and darted
back into the bushes, where her head soon rose from the leaves as she mounted
her frog.
“Already off?” Akilun inquired.
“I must!” Her smile stretched from ear
to ear. “I’ve had a bet with ChuMana, and Nidawi, and Vartera, and the
Mer-maids, and ever so many as to whether or not Etanun would ever fall in
love! I must collect my dues! Oh, wait until I see their faces!”
“Stars save us,” Etanun groaned as she
leapt joyfully away. With a sigh, he leaned back against a tree and retreated
into a thoughtful quiet. After the sprite’s boundless energy, the forest seemed
perfectly still.
“Perhaps we should have told her to keep
quiet about you and Klara for now,” Akilun said suddenly.
“Let the Far World gossip,” his brother
replied in irritation. “I hardly care.”
“Even so,” Akilun stared off into the
distance, a perturbed crease in his brow. “Even so I have never felt a shadow
of foreboding around Spring Sprig before.”
“Akilun, she is harmless and innocent as
they come,” he said in exasperation.
“There is no doubt of that,” the other
mused. “Whatever may come, she is certainly innocent.”
*****
Rarely had the Wood Between tingled with
more excitement. The trees themselves were rather indifferent to the whole
affair besides deep-rooted wishes of malice as was in their nature. But upon
the wind itself, or rather by the wind (for there is little sylphs love more
than gossip), the news of Etanun’s love flew through the Wood and into other
worlds. There was no corner that did not know.
So it was that this news blew into
Etapalli and touched the ears of a Faerie Queen. Still fresh was the pain of
the rejection of her love. And the whispers she overheard burned like fire in
her heart.
chapter
8
“Where are we going?” Klara asked again,
her words stumbling over her laughter. She followed Etanun deeper into the
wood, arching her eyebrows as they continued past the waterfall in the stream,
the glade bursting with flowers—all their favorite areas to talk and all of
which he was passing.
At last he paused and turned to face
her, his eyes dancing with some delightful secret and the nervousness that
usually accompanies one. “As you know, my brother and I are nearly finished
with the House of Lights in Gaheris.”
She nodded, trying to ignore the stab of
pain at the inevitable.
“My brother and I wanted to thank you
for your friendship and comradery. I thought perhaps…you might like to see one
of our Havens?”
Breath left her. “In the Between?” she
whispered, color draining from her face.
Concern sprang into his eyes at her
reaction. “If you are afraid, you do not have to come, but I swear no harm will
befall us on the Path I take you.”
“No, you misunderstand,” she gasped. “I
just never dreamed, never imagined…I would love to see it, Etanun!”
His smile returned, and gently taking
her hand he took a few steps closer towards a small patch of ground riddled
with rocks. “It will feel strange at first, even threatening, for the Wood is
no friend of mortals. But you will be safe.”
“I know.” She took the last few steps
with him, her fingers entwining a little more tightly as they stepped onto the
bare earth.
The world changed.
Vibrant light wove around them, and when
the colors from her vision cleared, she found herself standing in a forest
flawless with perfection, no rot or death marring its eerie beauty. But even as
she stared in admiration, she felt the uncomfortable headiness one feels when
they are surrounded by superiors looking down their nose at them, which the
trees were very close to doing if they had noses. Let them glare, she thought defiantly. I am a child of the Lumil Eliasul. Taking a deep breath, she felt
the seizing fear slide away, and she turned to Etanun with a smile.
His admiration was so undisguised, she
had to look away. “Never have I seen a mortal enter the Between for the first
time with such confidence,” he told her.
“You must remember I’ve had preparation.
I didn’t react nearly so well to you at our first meeting.”
He chuckled and offered his arm. A Path
appeared before them, almost sweeping aside the shadowing trees. If the
branches reached out to snag them or if things whispered amongst the leaves or
if the wind concealed prying hands, none of it dared cross the Path or the
knight who walked on it.
As they traveled, the world blurring
around them, the daylight grew steadily cooler, fading to hues of lavender and
indigo. “I thought I heard there was no Time in the Wood Between,” Klara said
in surprise.
“Time is not dependable here,” Etanun
replied. “It does what it wants. And it seems as if it wants to be evening.” He
paused abruptly, and the world and sound went perfectly still.
Klara stepped softly forward, her heart
rising in the thrill of anticipation. The trees around them rose like pillars,
long vines trailing throughout. A slight wind stirred the branches, petals of
starflowers flickering in its wake. Before her eyes the forest glade
transformed, the bark of the trees turning smooth, windows and walls melting
into view. All around her the Haven ascended, always present but not always
seen. Built of brick and wood it was not, for it was the forest while it was a
room. Her lips parting, she slipped her hand out of Etanun’s and stepped
further in, staring overhead at the high roof, so like arching branches of
trees and so like painted marble. The
tiles of the floor, or perhaps the texture of the moss, told stories she did
not yet know. A subtle sweetness hung on the air, the aroma of the trailing
starflowers perhaps, but also something beyond the sense of mortals. As the
light continued to fade from the outside Wood, the starflowers, still rosy from
the last daylight, turned pure white, glowing with light like Asha, twinkling
like stars around the chamber.
“Oh, Etanun,” she breathed, unable to
say more. She turned to see him beside
her, and her smile could not express enough her enchantment, so her eyes told
the rest. Her fingers traced over script scrolled around the pillars, watching
as the faerie words transformed before her eyes into the lyrics of the Sphere
Songs. “Do mortals gladly lose themselves in the Between if it means refuge
here?” she asked, a teasing turn to her lips.
He laughed, but didn’t answer as he drew
into room where a spring bubbled up from lush heather. As she dipped her hands
in the water, the coolness caressing her entire body at the mere touch of her
fingertips, a thought suddenly occurred to her. “Is Akilun not here?” She
glanced around curiously, wondering how far the Haven spanned.
“Ah, he called himself elsewhere,”
Etanun replied, glad the gathering shadows hid the slight color in his cheeks
as he recalled his awkward request if perhaps he could have the Haven alone
with Klara and Akilun’s knowing smile in response. He had spoken with the Lumil
Eliasul many times about her, and whether or not he should even acknowledge his
feelings. Any answer was neither yes or no, but a subconscious reminder of
everything he already knew, both the consequences and rewards. It seemed the
decision was entirely up to him, and there wouldn’t be some great revelation.
Or perhaps the revelation was now. For
looking at Klara, illuminated by the beauty of Faerie, it seemed there was no
other answer. How could he hope to hide his heart? No, he had to tell her and
leave the rest to her. Strange that he who faced savage battle with monsters
and realms without tremor should now be so paralyzed.
Klara settled herself in the grass,
leaning back on her hands to gaze up at the stars peering through the entwined
branches. “I can almost see them as they really are,” she murmured. “Children,
creatures…not just spheres of light. Their singing is so clear here. They’re
dancing. Almost as if they’re coming closer.”
Sitting beside her, he followed her
gaze. Then slowly his eyes widened. She was right, they were coming closer.
Whether she realized it yet or not, Hymlumé’s children were spiraling further
down, as curious of her as she was of them. But had they ever shown themselves
to a mortal before? Would she be able to bear their staggering presence? But as
they drew nearer, he saw that they presented themselves small, so small three
could have fit on his hand.
“Klara.” Her whispered name drew her
attention back to Etanun, and she was startled to see such intensity shining in
his eyes. “Klara, I love you.”
All sound faded from her hearing at
those words. She stared, unable to move, unable to believe what she had heard.
But as his gaze did not waver, she was compelled to respond. “I don’t
understand…we are of the Lumil Eliasul…you speak of the love all in him have for
each other?”
“No…yes, of course…but no…” He closed
his eyes and took a deep breath as his fingers wrapped around hers. “I’ve never
met a woman who loves my Lord so dearly, whose desires parallel my own or
balance them with such perfection. I am not one to be swayed by appearances,
but as that light grows in your eyes day by day, you are the loveliest maid to
have drawn breath.”
There was nothing to say. Nothing she
could say. She could only stare into his eyes. And as she watched, the deep intensity
there wavered in her silence. His fingers loosened, and his gaze lowered.
“But…I speak selfishly…forgive me for—“
“Wait.” The word gasped out, breaking
the other barriers like water burst from a dam. “But Etanun, what about your
work and quests?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, I have
considered that many times. You are right, it would be wrong for me to expect
you face the perils of my calling. You would not be able to come to many of the
demesnes where I’m called. Your life…is in the mortal world…and I shouldn’t
have…” His hand slipped away, and he made as if to stand up.
In that moment, she darted forward and
caught his straying hand. “I could bear it,” she gasped.
Startled, he sat back down, his eyes
widening. “But you do not understand. I would be gone for long periods, and for
you to lead such a lonely life—”
“Lonely?” She laughed. “The Lumil Eliasul
is my life, and the inn is the service he has given me. But for our hearts and
lives to be one would complete my joy…for…I never could love any other man but
you.”
His eyes shone brighter than the stars,
but she would not look away. “Then you would be my wife?” he asked, his voice
low and hushed.
“Yes,” she breathed. “Lights above,
yes.”
His other hand gently cupped the back of
her head and drew forward as he gifted her with a light kiss on the cheek. She
rested her brow on his shoulder, barely able to keep shivering from delight.
How could this be? How could she, Klara,
mere farmer’s daughter, have the won the love of the most renowned and honored
faeries, the heroic Knight of Farthest Shore? Grace, she knew to be the answer.
Grace through the love of He Who Names Them. That he should have given her this
was beyond her understanding.
For a long while more, though Time is
unmeasured in the Wood Between, they spoke of their future and plans, as yet
not intimidated by the mysterious unknown. They only knew that had chosen each
other, and that their love was eternal.
chapter
9
The morning began like any other.
It was some time after their betrothal,
but the bliss of it still shone fresh in Klara’s heart. Soft dirt crusted her
fingers as she dug in the garden outside her cabin, a cool grey sky resting
over the green land below. No one was at the inn this morning, but she refused
to pine away in wish of company, namely Etanun’s company. After all she was not
lonely! Song breathed through all of creation. As time had passed, she had
become so in tune with the Sphere Songs, she could compose songs of her own in reverent
reflection. She sang one now, her voice as vibrant as the songbirds around her.
So caught up she was in her singing that she didn’t notice when the birds
stilled their voices or that even the trees ceased rustling.
Finally as she paused for breath, she
noticed the uneasy tension in the air. Leaning back on her heels, she brushed
the braid out of her face to glance around. Instantly, her gaze fixed on the
lone figure standing amongst the shadows in the trees not too far away. That
was odd. It looked like she had come from the forest, not the road by the inn.
“Klara,” the stranger said.
Klara’s breath hitched. A Faerie. She
was surprised she hadn’t recognized its presence at once. It appeared to be a
woman, but it was shrouded in a heavy cloak. How had it come across her name?
Perhaps Etanun had sent it? “Good morrow! Do I know you?” she asked, keeping
her voice friendly.
“No,” it said. Something was strange
about its voice. Raspy. Burnt.
“May I help you? Are you lost?” She
pushed back the feelings of unease which she knew any faerie could smell as she
walked closer. Something hot glowed in the faerie’s eyes, and her face was
stretched taunt across her bones. Her beauty was haunting and tragic as if it
knew that its time was fleeting. Pity filled Klara’s heart. Poor thing. Although
she’d never hosted a faerie at her inn before, there was no time like the
present. “I will share my supper and give you a place to lay your head, for you
look weary…”
She paused as she watched the stranger’s
eyes flare orange. Her heart stopped, and her mind breathed one word. Etanun.
Then fire exploded from the stranger’s
mouth, engulfing the woods, engulfing the farm, engulfing everything. There was
no time for pain. There was barely time for realization.
And then there was darkness.
*****
But darkness is not an entity; it is an
absence, a void, the removal of light. In the same way, death is the departure
of life. With both, light and life can be restored. And the light that shone in
Klara’s opening eyes was everlasting.
Rays of light flickered like glass
before her eyes, a wavering starburst above her. A coolness surrounded her
body, bathing her in a weightless sensation. She was floating; no, she was
being pulled forward. Either way she was in water, such an opposite and
thrilling relief after the heat of the inferno. She felt herself rushing up
towards the surface, and as her head broke clear, she gasped in air as if it
was new to her. Perhaps it was. She had never breathed in air so pristine.
Almost with a gentle hand, the river
pushed her to the shallows where she scrambled upright, water cascading from
her. She stared in disbelief at the lone
figure waiting for her on the shore. Her Wood Thrush. But also a Hound. The
Prince. And many things she saw all at once in a way she never could have with
mortal eyes. She was eternal now. She could see him clearly. The Song Giver.
Lumil Eliasul.
And they stood upon the Farthest Shore.
*****
There are some things that cannot be
expressed in this world. Paper runs out. Ink fades. Words are limited, unable
to catch some things that even the mind cannot understand.
It is suffice to say that the
Farthestshore fulfilled all of Klara’s being. Not just her wishes or desires,
but everything she was made to be. Here she found her father and her mother and
legends of whom she had heard, and made friends with those she had never known.
Here the Songs lived, not only in the
gardens of the moon and the vistas of the sun, but in every breath of eternity.
Still, there was something yet missing.
She wondered if she was foolish to feel this slight pain when she was so
surrounded by perfection and beauty. But when she inquired of this to the
Prince, he assured her that the loss she felt was right. “I too feel it,” he
told her. “For now my people are yet sundered. My heart is always with them; so
if they are far, there I am also.” He cupped her cheek, smiling into her eyes.
“As it is the same for you.”
She blushed, and afterwards felt no
shame in her longing for Etanun’s time to join her.
But it was Akilun who arrived first.
He told her of all that had transpired.
The Lumil Eliasul found her at the shore
of the Final Water, crying as if her heart would break. She felt her fears wash
away in the empathy of his embrace. “Will he be redeemed? Please tell me he’s
coming back!” she begged.
“The poison within him was withdrawn
with Akilun’s love and the light of Asha, my child. He has already seen how the
Dragon corrupted him and repented.”
“But he is alone now! And how will he
deal with the pain and loss? He told me himself, he never lost anyone he truly
loved; and for both of us to be gone and his brother at his own hand, how can
he bear it? And—”
“Klara.” Her rambling ceased at the
sight of his smile. “Never alone.”
So she waited. Waited for the day that
he would return.
*****
Ever flowed the Final Water. In its
currents it carried the dead to where they belonged, whether in restored life
or living death. Two it carried now, one of which it gently pulled from the
arms of the other and into darkness; for the soul of that one had rejected
grace and chosen itself. But the other drifted on into a land of light.
Klara felt him as soon as he arrived.
Dropping the trail of vines she was weaving into a tapestry, she scrambled down
the branches onto the ground. Swiftly, she raced through the gardens and
beyond, making straight for the shore of the Final Water. As she crested the
last hill obscuring her view, she paused.
Etanun and Akilun embraced in the midst
of the river. Her heart melted to see how ragged and worn he was, to see how he
feared facing his brother whom he had betrayed at the last. And she saw how all
his fears and failures were washed away.
As they stepped from the water and began
hurrying up the hills, arm in arm, Klara began to step back, knowing how deep
the brothers’ love ran for each other. Perhaps she shouldn’t intrude on their
reunion. Though it ached, surely she could wait just a little longer.
The Wood Thrush’s voice whispered in her
ear. Go to him.
She flew down the slope, slipping
through trees and skipping across streams, the final distance seeming longer
than any before.
Akilun saw her coming first and tilted
Etanun’s chin in the right direction. Immediately Etanun’s eyes widened with
joy, and he sprang forward as she reached him, catching her up in his arms and
spinning her around. When he paused, she caught his face between her hands and
stared there in wonderment. Every person she had once known that she met here,
she saw complete and perfected. But he, whom she had once ignorantly thought
perfect, surpassed them all in his restoration.
And he loved her. As she loved him. As
they were loved by the Lumil Elisaul.
Forever beyond a time…they lived.
VOTING: If
you would like to vote on this or any of the other fan fiction
submissions, email your top three titles to me at aestengl@gmail.com. Voting is for fans of the Goldstone Wood series only.
30 comments:
Oh, Klara! :') Great job, Hannah!
Oh my, Hannah. Thank you for this marvelous story. I've always been curious about Klara, and I love that you told this story about her. Terrific job!
THIS.
Seriously, Hannah, this is awesome. You had me enthralled the whole way through. Klara, Etanun,Akilun... Spring Sprig! I was so happy to see her in there. Soo very happy. xD I love this.
When I saw how long this was, I thought, "I'm not sure if I'm going to finish this."
I did.
Once I started, I didn't stop until I'd finished it.
It was fantabulous--to say the least. ;)
Thank you all so much! Your comments have made me extremely happy! :)
That was great! I like the artworks, Spring has sprung!
Jemma
Hannah.... I'm Clara darling's Mom! This is a great story! You have outdone yourself this time for sure....and I love Spring Sprig's return!
Klara.
Etanun.
Spring Sprig (whom, by the way, I must keep reminding myself is NOT a canon character).
This story was wonderful. I'm so glad you chose to tell it, Hannah, and you told it very well.
Thank you all!!!
Clara Darling's Mom: It's such a delight to hear you enjoyed my story so much! :D
Hannah...you know how wonderful I think this story is. It made me misty-eyed once again! And that drawing of Klara and Etanun in the Wood together...oh, so beautiful! Such a special, perfect story! (And I forgot to mention that I was so happy about Spring Sprig's return as well!)
I just realized the title fits in with the others of Goldstone Wood. : D
Yeah, more like Heartless than any of the others. And I tried to make the cover look Goldstone Wood authentic. :)
My heart soars when I read this story! I adored meeting again with Etanun, Akilun, and Spring Sprig, and coming to know and love Klara so much better. Oh the wisdom and heart! I'm so blessed that you wrote it.
"Only Spring, glancing slyly at him amongst her prattle to Klara, knew the truth." Here my mind flashes to the all-knowing and wise eyes of Galadriel in the movie Fellowship of the Ring. So fey...so Spring Sprig! <3
Other favorite excerpts:
“I was wondering…” the Faerie said slowly. “Might I fix your fence?”
She blinked. Clutching the bucket against her in a crushing embrace, she stepped back. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would you do that?”
“Well…” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m a pretty good builder.”
“I don’t scare, I react,” Etanun replied, his smile turning into a smirk.
I know, I know...but may I share one more?
It’s just…the Lumil Eliasul strikes with justice, yes, but he is a Prince of mercy and compassion. He wishes these monsters to be what they were meant for. You cannot brush aside that incredible love…if ever one day comes in which you need as much grace as the monsters you slay.
Okay. I'll stop there. :)
Oh my. Hannah, that was lovely. I still have tears trickling down my cheeks. I'm so glad I decided to start reading this. And once I started I couldn't stop. Very well done.
Confession, my recollection of Etanun's story is failing me. Did Anne Elisabeth hint at/mention him falling in love with a mortal or did you make Klara up?
Oh thank you, Rina! I'm so glad my story touched you so!
And yes, in Dragonwitch the mortal girl, Klara, farmer's daughter, is mentioned. She pretty much served to infuriate the Dragonwitch and die...poor girl. I had to make a happy story of it!
I just read Chloe's A Call to Love, so I retract my last question. Now I need to go look up where Klara is mentioned.
Oh, my heart! My heart! This story was beautiful! Klara and Etanun's love story deserved to be told, and you did such a wonderful way to telling it!
Christa!!! I haven't seen you around for a while! Thank you so much!
The song "When God Made You," by NewSong just came on, and it immediately made me think of this, and brought tears to my eyes... Again.
"It's always been a mystery to me,
How two hearts can come together
And love can last forever.
But now that I have found you,
I believe, that a miracle has come
When God sends a perfect one,
Now gone are all my questions about why
And I've never been so sure of anything
In my life.
I wonder what God was thinking
When He created you
I wonder if He knew everything I would need
Because He made all my dreams come true.
When God made you, He must have been thinking about me.
//
He made the sun, He made the moon,
To harmonize in perfect tune,
One can't move without the other,
They just have to be together.
And that is why I know it's true--
You're for me, and I'm for you
'Cause my world just can't be right
Without you in my life.
I wonder what God was thinking,
When He created you.
I wonder if He knew everything I would need,
Because He made all my dreams come true.
He must have heard every prayer,
I've been praying
I guess He knew everything I would need.
When God made you
(I thank God He made you!)
When Dreams come true
(You are my love, my love)
When God made you, He must have been thinking...
About me."
Thank you so much for letting me know about this song, Athelas! It's beautiful! And it absolutely delights me that it made you think of my story!
Partway into the story, just after Klara bought Etanun (though that was before I knew that it was Etanun) the water, I stopped. And I said out loud, "Of course! Klara, the girl Etanun loved! How could I have missed it? It's spelled the same and everything!"
And ooh.... Oh, that was good that was really, really, good. I got giddy laughs as I was reading it. And I'm with most everyone else! I'm so happy that you brought Spring Sprig into it!
And, yes, the first picture was very Tales of Goldstone Wood-ish. I love how you foreshadowed what was going to happen with Etanun by what Klara said, the one that Becky quoted. That was so good!
Thank you, Natasha!!!! XD
I'm actually quite pleased to hear you didn't catch on at first. I was hoping it might be a bit of a surprise for some! :)
Oh, Hannah! This is incredible! When I was writing "A Call to Love" I thought about the love story of Etanun and Klara and wondered how it might have been. Your story captured it perfectly!
I shall never again be read Etanun's name without thinking of this wonderful story. Well done!
Thank you, Chole! I really wanted to create a story that belonged to Etanun, so that really, really means a lot! :)
This is beautiful and amazing and wonderful. I almost forgot I was reading fanfiction- it could've been one of the official Tales! Amazing job, Hannah!
Honey, you already know how much I love your stuff. Must you make it so stinking SAD? (<<as if I have room to talk). ;) The story was so well characterized and so well constructed. And I adored the "Never Alone" bit...it gave me so many The Door Within feels (one of my absolute favorite Christian fantasy series). So naturally, it really warmed my heart, even if it was unintentional. :)
The whole thing was absolutely fantastic, my dear. Wonderful job!
Blessings!
Melanie
Hannah, I can't even tell you how much I adore this story! It brought tears to my eyes several times. It is enchanting, romantic, tragic, moving, and ultimately joyful.
Also...Spring Sprig! I didn't realize at first that she is a character of your own creation. She's so wonderful and fits in so well with all the other Fae characters that I thought she was from the books and I drove myself nuts trying to remember which book she was from :)
Also also...your pictures are lovely!
Thank youuuuuuuuu so much, girls! These comments really mean the world to me! Thank you, thank you!
@Sara: In Heartless, at Una's wedding, there is a mention of a little girl on a green frog. That is where Spring Spring came from! :D
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