Midsummer Night

by Charlie N. Holmberg

  “Which tells you where the fairy treasure is hidden.” Once more, Saara had finished his sentence.

  “Yes,” he said, trying to make sense of this young woman who was so different from others. “You know more about fairy treasure and singers and such than most people.”

  “My knowledge of fairy treasure is quite new. In fact, it’s why I’m here. I need to find a treasure too.” With her eyes shining with excitement, she leaned even closer and placed a hand on his knee. “Perhaps we can find the treasure together and each have a share.”

  As Timo looked into her face—so full of hope—opposing emotions warred inside him. He knew that the treasure hiding within the square of fairy stones was a single item: a knife made from a block of spectrolite, a gem found only in rare places, and almost always in small amounts—finding a gem any larger than a pea would be cause for celebration, because the finder would be rich for the rest of his life.

  The spectrolite knife was the single largest piece of the stone ever found. It couldn’t be cut into pieces without fairy magic. There was no way to split the treasure between them. It couldn’t very well be split in half like a bunch of coins could be. Finding a buyer for Voimakas wasn’t realistic either; the artifact was priceless. Bartering directly for his training with the blade would be far more likely to convince an aged master to take on an apprentice who’d passed his boyhood.

  Fairy treasure was worth far more than coins or silver; wizards wouldn’t have need for money, but they would certainly be tempted by a magical artifact they could use in practice.

  Either he or Saara could have the knife, but not both.

  Perhaps more than the knife is beneath the swamp, he thought hopefully. A second treasure, even a smaller one, would be enough to save her sister, surely.

  “Timo?” She pulled her hand away from his knee and leaned back, worry etched across her face and her brows drawn together. “What’s the matter? Is it your foot?”

  “My—” He cleared his throat to win himself a few seconds before needing to answer. Apparently his dismay had shown on his face, but she’d attributed it to his injured foot. And here he thought he’d hidden the limp and the pain. Better for her to think that any uneasiness on his face could be explained by the very real throbbing in his foot rather than anything else.

  Such as his own greed in wanting the treasure to himself. Was it so selfish to wish for an education, though? With training, he’d be able to help thousands of people with all kinds of problems, from leaky boats to serious illnesses. Would it be right to give up that future of doing so much good to save one girl’s life now?

  “My foot, yes,” he said.

  I am a despicable man.

  “I must have twisted it and stepped on it funny.” Now that they were focused on his foot, it did indeed throb and ache.

  “Goodness, it’s swelling,” Saara said, scooting toward his right foot, which was outstretched. He’d purposely rested his leg extended when he sat to avoid putting any strain on it. She reached out and touched his foot. He sucked air between his teeth and winced. She’d done hardly more than tap the skin, yet pain had shot through his foot and ankle, up his leg, and then throughout his entire body. He was shaky and breathed shallowly.

  No longer touching him or even coming close to doing so, Saara leaned over his foot to study it from all sides. “I think it’s broken. Look.” She pointed at one spot, and he braced himself for another stab of pain, but she didn’t touch him. “The shape is all wrong ... right ... there.” She indicated a spot on the outside of his foot.

  “Broken?” he said, dismayed.

  “I can’t be sure, but I think so.” She stood and held out both hands to help him up. “Here. Stand up.”

  He took her hands and was surprised when he had to lean against her so much; his foot couldn’t bear even a little weight anymore. The one time he tried, he nearly collapsed.

  “Good,” she said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She reached down for his sack, tied it, and slung it over her free arm. “Now lean on me, and we’ll walk back to Karhunen. They must have a healer.” Saara moved toward the trail going up the hill, but Timo held back, making her stop and look at him, curious.

  “I can’t make it up that hill—not quickly, anyway. It would take hours.”

  “You can’t stay down here forever. Come.” Once more, Saara attempted to walk.

  “I must stay until after the piru flash.”

  Saara backed up a step and looked at him, their faces much closer than before now. “The treasure is nearby?”

  Now he’d done it. She’d stay with him, find the knife, and then leave with it. She was kind, so she wouldn’t abandon him. He could picture it now: she’d stay until they found the knife, then help him to a healer in Karhunen. And then what? She’d leave to save her sister, taking the knife, and with it, his last hope of ever reaching his dream.

  I can’t condemn her sister to death, he thought. The fact that the idea had so much as flitted across his mind made him feel awash in shame.

  “Down here,” Timo confirmed, his mouth going dryer with each word. He sighed, then hopped on his good foot to rotate a bit, then pointed. “See that boulder?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s the second of four fairy stones outlining a swamp that contains ... fairy treasure.” He was telling her so much as it was; she’d find out that he was looking for the spectrolite knife, but he couldn’t get himself to reveal everything all at once.

  “I understand,” Saara said, and he knew she did. “We’ll stay here, and with both of us watching, surely one of us will see the flash and know where to dig for the treasure.” She craned her neck to peer around him, as if searching for the sun along the horizon. When she found it, her mouth pursed in thought. “Can you tell what time it is? I can’t tell time by the sun for a week on either side of Midsummer Eve. I need a sun that rises and sets for that.”

  As if on cue, a cheer rang out in the distance, marking the hour before midnight. That was the moment when the bonfire was lit, made of broken boats and other stacked woods collected in the lake over the last month. Soon they’d hear music—flutes, drums, and a few stringed lyre-like instruments, kanteles, accompanied by sounds of dancing and laughter as both young and old celebrated.

  Timo thought of home, of how his cousin Matti used to walk among the dancers on stilts he’d built himself, doing his own “dance” and impressing everybody so much that the gag had become a tradition in their town of Taivola. He sighed at the memory of having missed the last four Midsummer Eve celebrations. He’d missed seeing Matti dancing on stilts, missed the dancing and cheering, missed the bonfire going up in flames against the golden horizon, where the sun backlit the fire and never set.

  He’d been so focused on his goal, on making his dream a reality, that he’d kept himself from thinking of home during the solstice. Not until now, when his foot ached and he heard another town’s celebrations. He wasn’t alone, as he had been every Midsummer Eve for years. This time, Saara was at his side, reminding him of home, friendship, and the days when he could enjoy life rather than yearn for what he did not have.

  Saara’s attention had been drawn by the village sounds too, and her gaze was still trained in the direction of the hill.

  “Hey,” Timo said, wanting to break the sadness. “Let’s go find the best place to watch for the piru flash,” Timo said.

  “How do you know where to look for it?”

  He tilted his head. “I assumed you knew.”

  “I’d heard that a treasure is in this valley, and that to find it, I had to watch for the flash, but I don’t know much more than that.”

  “Ah. Well, in this case, three boulders mark the corners of a triangle, and somewhere inside it, a knife is buried. Piru fire will tell us where it’s located.”

  “Tonight, right? But how do you know when?”

  “At midnight.” He pointed at the boulder. “I found the second stone right before we, um, ran into each o
ther.”

  At that, she nudged his arm playfully. He pretended to flail and nearly fall, and she gasped out an apology.

  “Teasing,” Timo said, hopping to catch his balance. He’d nearly fallen over—not from her gentle bump but because the slightest weight on his foot nearly made him pass out.

  Saara looked at him carefully and then licked her lips as if mustering her inner strength and grit. “So we’re going to find the treasure together?”

  Guilt threatened to knock Timo over. He should tell her the truth: that only one of them would leave this forest with the spectrolite knife. He could hardly stand; he wouldn’t be able to wade through the mud of a swamp or dig about to seize Voimakas without her help.

  He knew more about fairy treasure than she did, and she seemed to be relying on his knowledge to find the treasure required to save her sister.

  Instead of explaining anything, he held out his free hand to shake hers. “Together.”

  “The baker in Karhunen told me about the fairy treasure in this valley,” Saara said as they picked their way from the second boulder toward where Timo believed the third to be. The overgrown path was narrow, not allowing them much space to maneuver. A squirrel skittered in front of them and then climbed a tree, circling the trunk as it went up. “I don’t suppose the baker could have meant another treasure ...”

  “Just the one, if the stories are to be trusted, and I have no reason to think they can’t be. Often it’s the stories passed down in bedtime songs that are the truest, and Karhunen has at least six songs about this treasure, but none hinting about other nearby treasures.”

  When they came to a narrow spring, figuring out how to get him over it became a several-minute process. Once they’d gotten across—both somewhat wet—Timo checked his bearings and nodded to their left. “There. I think that’s the boulder.” Off they went in that direction.

  “If the villagers in Karhunen know about the treasure,” Saara said, “why hasn’t anyone tried to claim it?”

  “That’s the best part,” Timo said with a laugh. “Most people think that bedtime songs are nothing but fanciful stories. They don’t believe that a magical relic could possibly be so near. And then there’s the fact that I’ve done a bit more searching than anyone else up there.”

  “How so?”

  “I’ve been looking for any magical relic, any fairy treasure, for years now. With each trip I’ve taken around Midsummer Eve, I’ve collected more songs and stories from all over. I heard about this treasure from other places too, including specific details about the three stones. The first two already match the lore. But most people think the stories are just that—stories.”

  She had another question. “What if someone else learned where it was last summer or a generation ago? What if it was here, but it’s gone now?”

  Timo stopped walking, which made Saara stop too, as they were practically attached, with her arm about his waist and his arm around her shoulders. She looked at him expectantly.

  “It was here last summer,” Timo said. “I saw the piru fire myself. It was ... glorious.” His voice sounded far away.

  “Why didn’t you claim the treasure?”

  With a sigh, Timo hopped forward on his good foot, toward the third boulder. “I was too far away to know exactly where to look. I’d climbed a tree on the far side of Karhunen, looking for the flash. As it happens, when you’re deep inside an unfamiliar forest, things look very different from how they did above the trees. I couldn’t find it.”

  They lapsed into silence, both of them focusing their strength on reaching the boulder. When they finally got there, Timo rested his back against it with a groan. After a moment, he straightened and looked all around the boulder. His hand ran over some weathered carvings, and he smiled. “This is it.”

  “It is?” The prospect of finding treasure so soon made her feel as if she could fly with the birds, so much of the weight of dread had lifted from her.

  “The other two boulders are there”—Timo pointed where they’d come from—“and there.”

  “We know where to look for the flash,” Saara said with amazement. Fia would be saved after all. Until that moment, she hadn’t let herself consider how near to impossible her quest had been, and only since meeting Timo did she comprehend that her quest had nearly been doomed to fail. If someone with the skills of Timo had needed years to locate one treasure, how could she possibly have done so in a matter of days?

  She leaned against the boulder too, feeling its steadiness and welcome coolness seep through her blouse. Their arms brushed each other, and a tingle shot through her body. When this was all over, when Fia was well and Timo was under the tutelage of a master, she wanted to get to know him better. She’d had friends who were boys, especially when she was young, but she’d never looked on any of them as anything other than brotherly neighbors.

  Timo was different. His kindness, humor, and tenacity drew her to him. His hair, which flopped to one side like a dog’s ear, and his broad shoulders only added to her attraction.

  As they rested in silence, she let herself release the worry over her sister for a moment and enjoy being with Timo.

  “Saara, there’s something you should know.”

  “Oh?” She said the single word with curiosity, but when she looked at Timo, who had an unexplained heaviness in his expression, her stomach dropped.

  “It’s about the treasure buried here.” He licked his lips, then looked away, across the swamp before them.

  “Is it not valuable enough to get enough money for both of us?”

  He let out a heavy breath as if each word was a stone he had to push to get out. “It’s beyond valuable enough. It’s priceless.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “The treasure is a relic—a knife made entirely of spectrolite.”

  “I didn’t know spectrolite could be found in large pieces.”

  “Usually it can’t. This is the biggest piece ever found. The knife is very old and very valuable.” His tone didn’t ease her worry.

  “But?” she said, wanting to hear everything all at once.

  “To secure an apprenticeship at my age, I’ll need something besides money. The best singers have no need of it, and no sum would be enough to convince any of them to train me.”

  A flicker of understanding, and worry, began at the corners of her mind. “So ... what would be enough?”

  “A magical relic, intact. Something a singer could use to focus and magnify his power.”

  Full comprehension fell onto her so hard that she practically heard a thud. “Then we can’t sell the treasure and split the profits.”

  “Not if I’m to be a singer, no.”

  Either Timo would be able to attain his dream at the last possible opportunity he had, or Fia would live. They couldn’t both have what they needed. She looked out over the swampland too, the weight of her sister’s life weighing on her even heavier than before.

  “Mightn’t something else be buried with the knife?”

  “We can’t know for sure until we find it, but relics were generally hidden alone.”

  Saara clenched her teeth, trying to keep her tears from falling. She had to think, to figure out what to do. With his injured foot, Timo was in no condition to wade into a swamp and dig up treasure. He’d need her help if he was to find the knife.

  But she didn’t necessarily need him. She knew where to look for the piru fire. She could watch for the flash, dig up the treasure for herself, and pay a shaman to save her sister.

  Stealing Timo’s treasure and abandoning him in the woods? What a horrible thing to consider, even for a moment.

  And yet.

  She didn’t know Timo, not really. They’d met by accident—quite literally—only an hour before. She owed him nothing. She would be perfectly justified in saving her sister—her blood, a life—before helping a stranger hobble to a healer and become a singer.

  He’s a good person, her heart argued. I’d be robbing hi
m of the only thing he cares about, the only thing he’s devoted his life to. And what if he couldn’t crawl to the village to get help? He might die in the woods, eaten by bears.

  Aside from those things, she’d begun to care for Timo. She still wanted to see if their friendship could continue and maybe become something more one day.

  She folded her arms and lowered her head, trying to muddle through the problem. No matter what angle she used, she couldn’t find a way that would give both of them what they needed. If she took the knife and he survived, he’d end up old and miserable, cursing the girl who stole his future from him. If he took the knife, Fia would die, and Saara would always know that he’d taken not just a relic, but her sister’s life.

  As she stared at her feet, thinking, Timo shifted his weight, bringing his bad foot into view. Her eyes widened, and she gaped at his foot, now swollen three times its original size. The skin was streaked with angry lines of black and purple that thickened before her eyes.

  “Timo,” she said under her breath, as if speaking too loudly would increase the pace of whatever evil was attacking him. “Look.”

  He didn’t look, instead nodding with a mask of pain. He had the same pinched eyes as Fia when her pains first hit her. “I must have been scratched by ... something.”

  The way he said the last word made Saara’s skin break out in gooseflesh. “By something evil?”

  He closed his eyes and gave two quick nods.

  Saara looked around frantically, as if she could somehow spot what had scratched him, though whatever it had been was surely out of sight and had been for some time. “Do you think it was when I landed on you, or was it on the way to this boulder?” As if the answer would help heal him.

  “No, when I fell, it twisted a little, but this is different. When I was gathering the berries just now, I felt ... something ... pierce it. Magically.” He pushed against the boulder, beads of sweat breaking across his hairline.