“Another time,” he repeated a third time.
Without another word, she turned and drifted back into the dance.
HE led me a short distance, the swirling snowflakes closing in about us, until the dancers and their merry music seemed distant and muffled. It was as if we were alone in our own little world, insulated from everything else.
Astreus halted and leaned back, gazing straight up. Laughing, he squeezed my hand.
“Isn’t it beautiful?”
I craned my neck. Above, the sky was a vast and endless field of dancing snow. Countless tiny specks of white whirled along spiral paths and swirling eddies in their progression toward the ground.
“Yes!”
Astreus closed his eyes. Snowflakes fell upon his lashes. He spread his arms, pulling my hand along, as if we were about to dive into the sky.
Then we did.
The earth fell away beneath my feet, and we ascended, ever faster, into the twirling snow. Soft snowflakes swept against my face like birds’ wings, melting into cold wetness upon my skin. The wind tousled my hair, tugging at my hair combs until they came free and tumbled earthward. I caught one with my free hand, but the other comb fell away and was lost in the blizzard below. My silvery hair, now free, whipped about my face and shoulders.
Joy, for which I could not possibly find words, sang throughout me. We were flying!
Up, up we rose, until the clouds of the storm fell away beneath us, and I found myself in a clear night sky, beneath a field of stars. Below me, I could see a vast distance. Beyond the storm lay an ocean whose frozen waves sparkled violet. Above, a brilliant glow that was not quite Northern Lights and not quite a rainbow danced, shining purple, lavender, lilac, and magenta.
With a dawning sense of awe and alarm, I realized we were no longer on Earth!
The winds that had lifted us slackened, and we began to fall. Astreus whistled sharply. A trumpet-call answered. Above us, one of the starry constellations tore itself free from the unfamiliar sky and plummeted toward us. As it grew closer, I saw it was a giant black swan the size of a sloop, with stars for eyes. The graceful bird swooped beneath us and caught us, so that we spilled, laughing, onto the soft plumage of its back.
Righting myself, I stroked the silken feathers of the sinuous neck. The black swan spread her wide wings and soared upward. The dancing lights and the violet seas fell away, while all around us the constellations stirred to life. Many were new to me, yet a few were familiar. I recognized the River Eridanus—which flows through the Milky Way to eventually, cascade down beyond the World’s End—and Orion with his great belt, arrow nocked in his bow. He turned his head, regarding us as we flew past. Other giants, whom I did not recognize, watched us as well: a sleek star-eyed cat, a pack of lean hounds, a woman carrying a jar of oil, a ship with sails of starlight. As we glided past a giant seven-tailed steed, it tossed its head, striking the black swan with its long nose and sending us careening, but the great bird righted itself before Astreus and I were thrown from its back.
We flew past the Big Dipper, splashing through the milky liquid that flowed from it. Giddy with wonder, I licked the moisture from my lips. A sweet freshness dazzled my mouth, tasting part of milk and part of cool stardust. As I swallowed, I found I could now hear laughter and the baying of hounds . . . and music.
Entranced upon the black plumage, I listened to the Music of the Spheres. I had never heard the symphony of the fixed stars before, and yet I recognized it instantly. Its crystal perfection, so vast and marvelous and fine, rang like harmonic living bells, filling the Void, until there was no emptiness left. My heart swelled with the music, until I feared it would burst. Then, I was swept away, no longer aware of heart or limbs or “me”—only music.
When I came to myself again, I lay stretched out on the black swan, my head pillowed upon her down. Astreus leaned over me. His eyes were as violet as the sparkling seas below. There was a bitter taste in my mouth, and I saw he held in his other hand a black vial, which he returned to the folds of his cloak.
Gazing up at his slanted features which were illuminated by starlight, I was aware of several things at once. The first was that I had just done something extraordinarily foolhardy. Not only had I allowed myself to be drawn away and beguiled by an elf, but I had also ingested an unknown supernatural substance without thought for the consequences. If, assuming I ever returned home, I could still draw sustenance from earthly food, I should consider myself extraordinarily lucky, and offer thanks and blessings to my Lady immediately.
The second was that I lay on my back nestled in cushioning feathers, gazing up into the startling eyes of an elf. There was something dangerous about even being near elves; just breathing the air near them was enough to fill one’s head with strange dreams, as if they walked awake in a place we only visited in sleep—a place not meant for mortals. He was so near that I could not help but breathe this air, as crisp and sweet as a fresh wind. It was as if a secret wind blew wherever he went; a wind that threatened to sweep me away again, into a world of sky, stars, and madness.
The third was a sense of unshakable peace, a calm serenity left behind by the Music of the Spheres, as if I had—for a time—found my way to a lost home I had not known I was missing.
I sat up, dazed and blinking, still agog with wonder and awe, and scooted backwards, until I leaned against the graceful curve of the giant black swan’s neck. The bitter taste in my mouth caused me to grimace. Astreus leaned back on his haunches, laughing at me.
“What did you give me?”
“Just as mortal philosophers distill the essence of poppy in hopes that such droughts will give their thoughts wings, so we elves have draughts that do the reverse. Your soul had flown far from your body, joining the celestial choir. I summoned it back.”
“I thank you.”
“Do you?” He cocked his head, his eyes dark and starry. “ ’Tis unusual for a mortal to be transported so. I had thought merely to show you a glimpse of the glories of my realm. The magic you guard for your dread father must have seeped into your soul, transforming it and making you more like us.” His eyes narrowed, and he caught a stray lock of my hair. “Last time we met, your hair was as black as obsidian. Is it the mortal disease that has caused it to turn into spun silver?”
I shook my head and drew my hair out of his fingers.
“Family quarrel.”
Astreus smiled subtly. “Perhaps mortals are not so different from elves.” The living constellations were gone, as was the velvety midnight sky. Instead, the air glowed with a rosy hue.
“Where are we now?” I asked.
“At the back of the North Wind. Below lies my stronghold.” Hyperborea! A cold country, but so very beautiful, haunted by gryphons and one-eyed Arimaspians, where the sun lay always beyond the horizon. I wondered what Astreus’s home would be like, and what he might intend the two of us to do there, alone together. The thought both pleased and terrified me.
“I will not dally with you, Astreus,” I said, my heart beating quickly.
“Would a hawk woo a she-dove?” He laughed, mocking. As he tilted his head to regard me, his eyes were as yellow as any falcon’s. The analogy did nothing to soothe my mounting wariness. “No more an elf pursue a mortal maid.”
“Then what do you want?”
He stood, as surefooted atop the black swan as he had been upon the dance floor of ice. “Anon, there will be time enough for you to learn what I require of you when our feet are again planted upon the ground.” He peered downward. “Nor need you fear that I have spirited you away; a passage leads back from my home to Bromigos’s hall.”
A frisson of something akin to fear passed through me at the words “what I require of you,” and I found myself grudgingly admitting that maybe Mab had been right. It would have been wiser for us to have avoided the High Council. On the other hand, perhaps I was overreacting. He could have left me among the fixed stars, my soul fled. Shaking off my surge of panic, I let the joy and wonde
r of our flight again wash over me.
Wrapping my arms about the thick neck of the great black swan, I peered downward. Below us lay a palace shaped like a windrose. The domes and spires of the airy palace formed its center, the eight tall towers rising around it marking the cardinal directions, while the circular outer wall delineated the circumference. The eternal dawn-light gleamed off the silver roofs, dyeing them rose and cherry red, except for the spire of the palace dome, which glowed a peachy gold, as if it rose high enough to be struck by the first ray of the rising sun.
The beauty of it took my breath away.
Leaning over the side of the black swan, one hand upon the base of the wing, Astreus pointed toward one of the towers. “Rightfully, that belongs to Caekias. Before your father stole them from me, he, Caurus, and Boreas were my right hand, the weapon with which I smote my enemies.” It took me a moment to realize he was referring to Mab.
I had been here once before, I realized suddenly, during the early days of the Great Wind Hunt, the time we chased the North Wind across the Russian steppe and over the Rhipaean Mountains to Hyperborea. We had been within sight of this palace when we finally captured Boreas, by sneaking up on him from behind.
“What was he like?” I asked. “Caekias, I mean.”
“Wild and free and as fierce as the Northeast Wind should be,” he replied. “Come!”
Astreus offered me his hand. I did not know what he wanted, but I took it, rising unsteadily. As I did so, he yanked me toward him, caught me up into his arms as if I were a bride, and leapt from the black swan’s back.
Downward we plunged.
We fell through the rosy glow of the eternal early morning, the wind whistling around us. Astreus dropped feet-first, holding himself as calmly as if he were back in the feast hall. His silvery-gray eyes upon me, he leaned forward, until his face was only a little distance from mine.
“Mortal maid,” he said. I could hear him clearly despite the whistling of the wind. “I have but to release you now, and you will fall and break apart upon the spires, speeding your way to Heaven. Is this your desire?”
“No,” I cried, clinging to him with all my strength. His laughter rang out about me, both mocking and joyous.
As I clung to him, breathing his crisp cool scent, a heady sensation of dreaminess enveloped me. Though still awake, I dreamt I flew, surrounded by icy cutting winds. As we dove, screaming with joy, towers tumbled before our might; cities crashed into the sea; fleets of ships were blown against the rocks, splitting like kindling. Dead bodies washed up upon the shores until they lay in stacks. Somewhere nearby, Astreus laughed with glee, his eyes as dark as a tempest.
“All those people! Dead!” I cried, my throat dry.
“It is their fate to die. Does not an early death speed them to Heaven’s Gate?”
“Are you crazy?” I cried, not even finding it odd that he could see my dream.
His brows drew together, surprised, and I realized that his question had been serious. I struggled to find words that would convey to him the horror of what he was suggesting. Appeals to human sympathy would avail nothing. Elves had none.
Gritting my teeth, I said with what restraint I could muster, “Any man you kill who has not yet made his peace with his Maker goes straight to Hell!”
Astreus’s eyes turned white with shock. “Have I sent men to Hell?”
“Does it matter?” I asked, curious.
“All things regarding the Infernal are weighty. I would not, of my own doing, swell Hell’s ranks by a single soul, not again!” He glanced down at me with eyes that blazed with a scarlet fire. “What of you, Maid? Do you fear Hell? Is that why you cling to this mortal coil?”
“No,” I said truthfully. I had commended my soul to Heaven long ago.
“Then, why do you not wish to die? Why stay here, in these dreary Shadowlands, when the true beauty of Heaven could be yours?”
“I like it here!” I snapped, clinging to him harder, for I feared I felt his hands loosening about me.
Astreus stared at me, as if thunderstruck. “Do you? Can such a thing be? Are not all souls homesick for High Heaven? I saw how the celestial choir drew you. Why do you deny its lure?”
“Why do you?”
“It is denied to me.”
“Oh!” I whispered, biting my lip. “Oh . . . how sad.”
“Were I able, I would weep tears of blood.”
We fell in silence for a time. Now that my fear had ebbed, the exhilaration of our fall delighted me. I laid my head against his shoulder. The wolverine fur trimming his garments tickled my nose. I luxuriated in the wind and motion. As if in a daze, I dreamt the elf lord leaned over me, brushing his mouth across mine and licking the stardew from my lips. But it was a dream only. When I looked up, I saw Astreus gazed off into the distance, his eyes clouded.
We landed softly upon a high silvery balcony adrip with hoarfrost. He placed me upon my feet, and I stood shakily, trying to get my bearings. He laughed.
“Poor mortal maid, as shaky as a newborn fawn. Was it our fall that spooked you so?” His eyes gleamed a brilliant green with humor and mockery. “Or does your sudden weakness blow from another quarter? ’Tis said that mortal maids find elven lords captivating, and cannot but become enamored of our charms, weaving elaborate dreams in which we come unbidden to their marriage bowers. Have you such dreams, Miranda? If so, shake them from you, like old cobwebs, for they shall not come to pass. Mortal maids are puny things compared to our elven ladies, and hold no allure.”
“I am fine,” I snapped, steadying myself, but the memory of the stolen dream-kiss suffused my cheeks with heat.
Astreus led me into the tower, down a pearly spiral staircase, to a doorway made of ivory.
“Wait here,” he said. “I shall be back presently.”
He was gone but a moment, returning with a smile to lead me through the ivory door. Almost immediately, I recognized the pine-bedecked cedar halls of Father Christmas’s mansion. Turning a corner, we entered a small nook in the hallway, in which stood a silver samovar heated by a cheery blue flame. Silver goblets rested on a tray beside it. A Douglas fir decorated with lit candles stood to one side, and the pungent scent of its needles mingled with the cinnamon and clove of mulling spices. The garlands of pine boughs strung along the walls were hung with bells.
The elf lord stopped to pour us both goblets of mulled wine. He seemed so tall and elegant as he poured. I gazed at the enameled blue leather that covered his back and wondered whether he, too, had scars over his shoulder blades, where once wings had sprouted. Astreus handed me a cup, which I quaffed gratefully, relieved to see that I was still capable of drinking mortal draughts.
“What was this thing you said you required of me?” I asked presently.
“I have a gift for you,” Astreus said.
Unbidden, the thought came to wonder what he could possibly offer me that could improve upon this glorious ride, the like of which I had never experienced in all my long years, but I held my tongue. Admitting I had received a gift from an elf might give him power over me. Instead, I laughed aloud.
“Do you take me for a child, Lord Stormwind? I know better than to accept gifts from elves.”
Astreus’s eyes, now blue as sapphires, danced. “My heart tells me you will accept this one.”
“Mine tells me I shall not,” I replied firmly.
“We shall see. . . .”
“Is that so?” I murmured under my breath.
“Do you propose a wager, then?” Astreus laughed, delighted. “The promptings of my heart against those of yours? I accept!”
“I said nothing about a wager. . . .”
“But a wager has been proposed. You cannot back out now. What shall we wager? A boon, perhaps?
“No!” I cried, but he would not be dissuaded. Better to take the wager and define the terms, than to find myself trapped in the classic fairy-tale blunder of having offered an open-ended boon. That way lay only madness.
&nbs
p; “Very well,” I said, “but we must agree on something ahead of time. Something simple, and easy to accomplish.”
“If you insist. How about: if I triumph in our wager, you will . . .” Astreus leaned his head back, thinking, “make a coat of arms for me such as the one Mephisto once described that you made for your deadly brother in centuries past.”
“You mean the embroidered one?” I asked, amazed. “This is not some kind of trick, is it? Where I’ll find out too late your coat of arms is infinite? Or must include colors not found on Earth?”
“No trickery. It is a heraldic image such as any coat of arms.”
“Then why ask me?” I asked. “Surely you could have a much finer version if you asked some elven seamstress?”
“True, but such a piece would lack the quaint imperfections of a coat of arms made by mortal hands. Besides, what else could you offer me?” he asked, the inflection of his voice making clear I had little else of worth.
Great, I was to be the butt of elven jokes for all eternity. I sighed. At least, he had not asked me to kill a family member or eat the moon.
“And if you should win, which you will not,” he continued, “what will you ask of me? Shall I tie up a rainbow for you? Or, draw down a star from the night sky? Would you prefer I cast a befuddlement over some enemy? Or, shall I sing to you a song never heard by mortal ears? Mind that you choose something I can complete quickly, for I shall soon be away about the queen’s dread work again, and my time will not be my own.”
“What is it like in the Void?” I asked curiously.
Astreus’s eyes darkened. “ ’Tis not a fit subject for such a fair house.”
I nodded, chastened, and considered. Setting him upon the Three Shadowed Ones was tempting, but the trouble with elves was they tended to solve problems to their satisfaction—which would not necessarily be mine. No, I needed something simple and straightforward, something he could not turn awry.
Prospero Lost: Prospero's Daughter, Book I Page 41
