by Liara Woo
Drorin peered at her solemnly for several moments before he flew away without warning. Katie shrugged and began climbing back down the tree.
Her weekend was fairly normal. She spent most of her time at Nora's house, helping her pack for Hawaii. With the two of them working together, they managed get everything tucked away in a suitcase in little more than a day, even things that Nora would have forgotten without Katie—extra sunscreen, chap-stick, beach towels… As they worked, she realized how much she'd miss her only human friend all summer. Drorin is nice, but he's hard to talk to, she thought as she put Nora's shirts in a suitcase on Sunday.
"We leave tomorrow morning," Nora announced. "I'll miss you, Ash. Don't worry; I'll bring you back a souvenir."
"You don't have to," Katie said as they embraced. "And I'll miss you, too. A whole summer with only the twins for company!" She grimaced. The twins were her seventeen-year-old sisters, her seniors by two years. Both had strawberry blond hair, grayish-green eyes, and smug attitudes. But they were kind and protective of Katie. Unfortunately, just like all siblings, they could be extremely annoying.
"Well, you've got that summer camp to look forward to," Nora reminded her. "I almost wish I was going with you."
Katie smiled. "I do, too. I hope you love Hawaii!"
Nora grinned. "I will."
On Wednesday, Katie was on the roof, watching the sun rise. Drorin landed next to her. "Stronger, stronger, stronger! The presence becomes stronger! Still the exact location I cannot find. The source of the tingling, the tickling, I cannot find."
Katie nodded. The buzzing in her mind had been increasing, too. But now she had a logical explanation. "I think we're just feeling the moon. It'll be full next week. And it'll be the summer solstice, too. I think that's all it is—maybe because of my powers and because you're an animal we're extra sensitive to it."
"The presence is nothing that I nor any other bird, no, not any other bird, has ever felt before, no, never before. Tis not of this world!"
Katie shook her head. "You're imagining things again. Come on; how would someone not from Earth even get here?"
"Magic," Drorin hissed.
"I'm fifteen years old as of last week, Drorin. Old enough to know that magic isn't real."
Drorin gave her a woeful look. He flew away unhappily.
Katie sighed, feeling guilty for offending her friend. She hadn't meant to, but…magic wasn't real. As much as she wanted to believe in Santa Claus, and the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny, they just couldn't exist. It wasn't possible.
She climbed halfway down a tree and swung from one branch into her open bedroom window.
At breakfast, as her father sat down to his eggs and bacon, he said, "Did the moon keep anyone up last night? I've never seen it get so bright before."
Katie shook her head, but her sisters groaned almost simultaneously.
"It's like, trying to sleep in like the middle of the day," Alexis grumbled, running a hand across her forehead. "Can we get, like, a blanket to like pull over the window and like hide the moonlight?"
Amber nodded vigorously in agreement, nearly shaking her glasses loose. "Yeah, Dad. Do you think Mom would be alright with that?"
Her father nodded, scooping up a forkful of scrambled eggs. "I'll ask her when she's out of the shower."
The conversation turned to other things, but Katie wasn't paying attention—not really.
The moon was glowing too bright.
Drorin was talking about ethereal visitors.
And she, with her strange abilities, felt a strange tingling in her head that was growing with every day.
"Alright, Ash," her father said after breakfast. "I have the day off from work; want to go with me to get some firewood?"
Katie nodded and climbed the staircase back to her room, where she dressed in thick jeans, hiking boots, and a gray t-shirt. She smeared sunscreen all over her face and arms and followed her father outside, to the family's pickup truck. Mr. Smalls drove for several minutes on a main road through the town, before eventually turning onto the interstate. Soon he left the highway and went on a long, winding dirt road that led deep into the woods. Katie smiled, feeling some of her worries float away as she rolled down her window so that she could hear over the growl of the truck's engine the many conversations taking place between squirrels, chipmunks, and hundreds of birds.
Mr. Smalls stopped the truck at the top of a tall hill. Then he handed Katie a small red whistle. "You know the drill, Ash. Don't wander too far, and if you find dead oak or pine, blow once every five seconds. If you're lost or injured, blow twice every five seconds. Got it?"
Katie grinned. "Got it." They walked off in opposite directions, Mr. Smalls heading north and Katie walking south. She wasn't afraid of wild animals, and she knew what plants to watch out for: devil's claw, poison oak, poison ivy, and cactus. Even better, she knew exactly what those plants looked like and where they would most likely grow. She didn't know how she knew—like her knowledge about rocks, it was something instinctive, engraved in her mind.
Katie walked through the sunny woods, admiring the oak trees. There were pines in the area, too, along with tall, yellow-brown grass. Unfortunately, on this side of the forest, there weren't many aspens or even a stand of birch, which were her favorites. She loved the smooth, white bark and the way the leaves were shaped—almost like circles.
She kept walking, somewhat annoyed when small brambles snagged on her socks and shoes. Even more annoying was the fact that oak and pine trees seemed ubiquitous in this forest, but none of them were dead. Which is good, of course, but we need the wood for our fireplace in the winter.
Eventually she decided to ask for help. She sensed a deer nearby and coaxed him out of his hiding place by sinking to her knees and reaching out for him. When he was close enough, she asked, "I'm sorry to bother you, but can you take me to a fallen oak, please?"
The deer said nothing; he only dipped his head in agreement. He turned and walked away, looking back every once in a while to make sure she was following. Never once did she worry about getting lost or attacked. She was more at home in the wilderness than at her actual home.
Every time she spoke with animals she was left with a sense of awe and wonderment. Was she the only one able to do these things? It went beyond animal training or even things like horse whispering. How could it be possible?
Magic.
Drorin' voice echoed through her mind. Could it be magic? She hadn't believed in such a thing for years. It couldn't be real. It just…couldn't.
And yet…
Perhaps it was. But how could she know for sure? She sighed. That was the problem: there was no way she could ever know for certain. So she decided that, at least for now, she'd forget about magic, if she could.
The deer stopped at a huge oak tree that had been uprooted. It was leaning on several other oaks in a glade with soft, light-green grass growing among the trunks of the trees. The sun, which was nearing its peak, cast dappled shadows on the ground. Katie smiled at the peaceful scene, and then she frowned when she realized that the near-silence would soon be shattered by the angry roars of a chainsaw.
"Thank you," she said to the deer, who bounded away. Then she took out her whistle and blew hard. The shrill, piercing cry echoed through the forest, sending wildlife fleeing from the spot in every direction. Sorry, she thought guiltily. Ten seconds later she blew again. By then, there weren't any animals for a mile around.
After a few more blasts, she heard the engine of the pickup truck as her father drove towards her. She blew on the whistle one last time, and the red vehicle soon came into view. Then she waved her arms above her head, hoping that her father would pick up the motion. He changed direction and drove towards her, carefully navigating between the trees and around bushes, skirting the occasional boulder.
"Excellent work, Ash," he said proudly, exiting the truck and lifting his chainsaw out of the bed. "A whole oak tree! What a gem. We'll have to come back tomorrow w
ith the trailer."
He paused for a moment, regarding her with a curious smile. "You have a way with the woods, Ash. Every time—every time we go out into the woods you always bring back the best pieces."
Katie grinned. She could tell when her father was genuinely pleased and when he was just being nice. "I saw a deer," she told him. And since her dad loved nature, she always knew what his reply would be.
"Really? How close did you get?"
"Pretty close. He ran away when you came in the truck."
"Ah. Well, be careful, Ash—wild animals can be dangerous. You need to be cautious and respectful around them."
Her grin shrank a bit. If only he knew just how much time she really spent with animals, and how close she got to them! But even if she told him, he wouldn't believe her. Grownups believed in magic even less than teens did.
Suddenly she realized what she'd just thought. It isn't magic, she told herself firmly. It can't be magic. I just have …a special talent.
But that is magic, a voice in her head argued. She frowned.
Orphan
Orphan
After losing consciousness, Halthren began to dream. His mind wandered over the events of his life, going back to the morning after he'd been cursed. He'd jumped at every sudden noise and tensed with every sudden movement, his eyes perpetually wide with fear. He remembered thinking that at any second the twisting black shadow would appear again and once again catch his throat in hands so cold that they burned. He couldn't stop trembling all day, and after a squirrel, trying to cheer him up, had jumped out of a tree right in front of him he'd jumped back, burst into tears, and raced back to his room, where he threw his blankets over himself and spent the evening weeping out of terror and misery.
It was understandable. After all, he was only a child—hardly twenty-five years old (elves live considerably longer lives than humans and stop aging after a hundred years; a twenty-five-year old elf is about the same as a human five-year-old), and he'd been through something no one else his age could ever have imagined.
The second day had gone slightly better. He managed to eat some food, though not much, and when the warrior maiden had asked him his name he'd managed to squeak it out. She'd smiled warmly at him and told him, "Then you should try to live up to your name's meaning. 'He who hopes for peace'… Never lose hope, Halthren. Be brave; hold on to the hope that the demons will be destroyed once and for all. You know, there's an old legend about that…a prophecy…"
And with those words his fascination with old legends and prophecies had begun. He didn't talk much to anyone, but he spent long hours in the castle's library, reading and memorizing everything about the first elves, the Great Elves, who'd had the power of foresight. He saw how many of their prophecies had come true already, but there were still hundreds left to be fulfilled. He memorized all of them, but his favorite had been about another world called Earth and the downfall of Darkness. Every day his wish was that the prophecy would come true and evil would no longer haunt his life and the lives of everyone he cared about.
Then came what was probably his least favorite day at the castle. A tall elf with haunted eyes and scars over every inch of his flesh was assigned by King Treemoon to teach him to fight.
"So how much do you know about combat already?" the elf, whose name was Tirgon, had asked. "I know how much you young folk like to have mock-battles. Have you fought before?"
Halthren gave a tiny shake of his head. "N-no, sir. I-I don't join in those mock-battles. I like to read."
Tirgon's eyes narrowed. "And when demons attack you, reading will get you killed." Halthren flinched. "If you want to live, learn to fight. Didn't your parents teach you that?"
Halthren felt dangerously close to tears. Even now, at age forty-five, he was shy and mentioning his parents made him feel the raw pain of their death all over again. "Th-they were killed," he whispered in a trembling voice.
"Killed. Were they reading, too?"
"No! They knew how to fight better than anyone! But it's hard to win a battle in a small bedroom full of obstacles against monsters armed to the teeth that outnumber you!" It was the most he'd spoken in months. Nelaara, leaning casually against a tree nearby, watched with interest.
Tirgon laughed. "So you can talk if you want to. Well…my goal is to train you good enough so that even if you are in a confined space fighting monsters armed to the teeth you can win."
Halthren swallowed nervously. "But I don't want to kill. It's wrong."
"We're not doing it because we like it, lad. That's what demons do. We're doing it because if we didn't, we would all die and Darkness and evil would rule. Think about that for a moment. If we fall, the world ends. Dragons will turn completely evil; they will burn the forests and kill without mercy simply to gain more territory and valuables for their hoards. Dwarfs will fight amongst themselves; their land will be so ravaged with civil war that they will be unable to do what they need in order to survive in the desert. The griffins will be caught in between and they'll have to fight as well. The whole world will be covered in Darkness, corruption, and violence. Without the influence of Light, the other creatures cannot have peace. Is this what you want? Because if you don't fight, that's what'll happen."
Halthren looked up into the older elf's eyes. He imagined what it would be like without peace and joy and shuddered as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped on his head. "That isn't what I want," he said quietly.
Tirgon clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Then let's get started."
/|\
Halthren soon rose above average competence with every weapon he was taught to wield. Bows, spears, swords, axes, hammers, and maces…before a year had passed he could use all of them with ease. His arms, legs, chest and back became solid and firm, finely muscled, and he developed his reflexes until they were faster and more accurate than both Nelaara's and Tirgon's. He trained with them both as Treemoon looked on whenever he could, his face alight with pride and joy as he watched the fluid movements of the elf who'd become his son in everything but blood. Beside him, his true son Joran peered out from behind his father's legs, awed by the grace and quiet ferocity of the young warrior in training.
After the training sessions, Nelaara would take Halthren into her arms and hold him tightly, whispering into his ears, "You've done well, little one. Your parents would be proud." Treemoon would embrace him as well, but no words were needed between them. Halthren felt the king's firm arms around him, protectively holding him close; he felt safe and cared for. Devotion welled within his soul—devotion and iron-firm love. This is pure happiness, he thought. I wish for it to be mine forever. And if that is to be the case, then I must work hard for it.
In the month that followed, his curse reminded him of its presence. For a month he was flat in bed and delirious, his forehead burning with fever, too weak to move and barely strong enough to breath. He couldn't stop trembling; from fear or cold or pain he couldn't tell. Treemoon was often by his side, pressing cool wet cloths to his fiery forehead and murmuring words of encouragement and strength. Halthren was told afterward that he'd whispered Father over and over again whenever Treemoon was near, although he couldn't remember it.
When he recovered he spent long hours alone in the forest, enjoying the peace and serenity of the harmony between trees, animals, and light. It was then that Joran sought him out.
"Are you my brother?" the little prince asked in a squeaky voice. Halthren smiled.
"No, but I wish I was," he responded honestly. "I mean…I love my real parents, but I also love the king and I'm certain I'd love your mother, the queen, if I'd gotten the chance to meet her before she left for the skies. Madam Nelaara has sort of become my mother and of course I love her as well, and Tirgon feels like my uncle—I love him, too. And of course I love you, Joran, because you're so kind and considerate and always trying to be like your father. It's a great goal to have—he's an amazing elf."
"You love everyone," Joran piped in amazement. "Is y
our heart this big?" He spread his arms as wide as they would go.
Halthren laughed. It was one of the few times he'd actually laughed since his parents had died. "I don't think so. I'm pretty certain that everyone's heart is the same size."
Joran shook his head vehemently. "No, yours is biggest. Daddy says yours is the biggest he's ever seen. Can he actually see your heart? I don't see it anywhere, but Daddy also says you know lots of stories. Will you tell me a story?"
"Of course I will," Halthren grinned, feeling his soul lift higher than it had been since he'd been cursed.
/|\
Joran was right. Halthren did love just about everyone. Not demons, of course, but everyone else held a special place within his heart: Fairies, naiads, dryads, elves…even Reidur, a grumpy and mischievous young stag who seemed to want nothing but trouble for him.
