The Heartwood Crown

by Matt Mikalatos

  Madeline smiled at her. The old woman wore that same big hat with the flowers around the brim, her grey hair sticking out like the straws of an ancient broom. “There is . . . happy . . . and there is . . . acceptance.”

  “Acceptance. Well, dear, that’s a good word. You found it quicker than me, I’ll say that much. Take my arm, Madeline, let me give you some of my strength. Hold on, girl, we’re almost there.”

  They came to an old tree, its whole middle part rotted away. A throne was carved into one side, and the skeleton of someone long since dead sat on it. On the skeleton’s brow was the crown she had seen in her dream with Patra Koja. A simple weaving of branches that looked like they had been alive once, growing taller, higher, curling in on themselves and forming something like gems. It was taller than she would expect a crown to be. “Must have been . . . tired,” Madeline said. “To die . . . on the . . . chair.”

  The Garden Lady looked at the corpse fondly. “Allison was her name.”

  Allison. Wasn’t that a name her mother had said? “She was . . . one of my . . . mother’s friends?”

  The Garden Lady smiled. “Oh yes. Thick as thieves, those two. Never one in trouble without the other, ha!” She looked at Madeline, as if remembering something from long ago. “These woods are named for her, you know. ‘Aluvorea’—Allison Woods. Sweet girl, she was. Didn’t deserve what happened to her, or how it came about that she wore the Heartwood Crown.”

  “Who does?” Madeline asked. “Deserve it . . . I mean.” She pointed at Allison’s remains. “I need . . . to sit.”

  “Of course, dear,” the Garden Lady said. She took the crown first and pulled on the base, which came free from the upper part of the crown with the cracking of dead branches. What remained was a simple oaken circlet of woven branches. She placed that on one of the arms of the throne and then, somehow, lifted the skeleton away in one piece. She laid the bones reverently on the ground, and they collapsed into dust. The Garden Lady closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, she smiled at Madeline and brushed the dust from the seat of the throne. Madeline picked up the crown and sat in the chair, breathing heavily.

  “So tell me . . . how it works.”

  The Garden Lady’s eyes were twinkling. “You get to make everything new at last. You put on that crown, and the woods will stop being Allison’s woods and become yours. Magic will drain away and restart, be redistributed, be made fresh and new. You can make three new magical plants, to get the magic moving in the new direction. Your direction. You can keep the old magic too, if you like—there are no rules.”

  Madeline smiled. “Then I . . . put on the . . . crown.”

  “Yes, dear, oh my, yes. You will be queen then. These woods will remake themselves to be like you. For a hundred years at least, whatever blessings and curses you lay down in this land will echo forward into the Sunlit Lands.”

  “Where will . . . I be? In a . . . tree?”

  The Garden Lady’s face fell. “You’ll be dead, dear. Did no one explain this to you? I thought Arakam had—Arakam!” She was shouting now. “Arakam, where are you?”

  “I’m here, lady, never shout. I am not far, what’s this about?”

  An enormous salamander came around the side of the tree. He was easily the size of an alligator but with soft, smooth skin and a wet look to him. He had wide yellow eyes the size of softballs that were surprisingly cute, like a cartoon drawing of a salamander.

  “Did you tell Madeline what you were meant to?” the Garden Lady asked him.

  “I had the words all lined up plain. All was prepared, but she never came.”

  “What?” The Garden Lady looked at Madeline.

  “Jason,” she said. “And something about . . . a cat.”

  “A cat?” The Garden Lady looked perplexed for a moment. “Who, Remi?” She laughed. “Our Jason tamed the Guardian of the Wind and sent her to do his bidding? Oh, he is full of surprises, that one.”

  “Would you like to hear my poem now? I worked upon it for many an hour.”

  “Oh, I hardly think that necessary, Arakam. Go on back to your waterfall. If all goes right, the forest will be burning soon, and you can take a long nap before she grows back.”

  “So begins another age, and poor Arakam cheated of his time onstage.”

  “Oh, you old ham. Go back to your cave.”

  The salamander closed its eyes once, slowly, then opened them again. To Madeline he said, “Lady, be generous to us.” He moved away, lifting his feet carefully, and slipped into the lake.

  “What does . . . he mean?”

  The Garden Lady settled onto the ground, arranging her skirts. A hummingbird zipped around her face, and she swatted at it impatiently. “I know the time, I know. Get on with you! Go!” She smiled at Madeline. “Three new plants,” she said. “Allison chose the stone flowers. She was angry at the people of the forest. She wanted to punish them. She felt helpless, and she wanted them to feel helpless too. She made the firethorns. Wanted to make sure the forest burned down faster than usual. She didn’t want Aluvorea to last beyond its hundred years, though the Elenil made sure it did. And she made Queen’s Breath, a plant to let the Aluvoreans breathe underwater. That one was almost a passing thought. Suggested by someone else, and she couldn’t think of another curse against the people, so she took that. Thought it mostly useless, you know.” The old woman looked sad, as if she were remembering something from long ago.

  “Were you . . . there?”

  The Garden Lady looked at her, surprised. “Of course, dear! Of course!”

  “So I get . . . three plants?”

  “Three to choose now. A farewell gift to the people, really. The rest of the forest will grow up alongside you, as the people say. It will be infused with you, with your character. I daresay, dear child, the forest will be a better place with you as the seed. We don’t have much time, child, but think for a moment of what you want to leave, and we’ll have done.”

  Madeline didn’t understand all of that. “Okay,” she said. “Ready.”

  “So quickly? What’s your first plant, dear?”

  “For myself,” she said. “A plant . . . whose leaves unbind . . . undeserved . . . curses.”

  The Garden Lady beamed at her. “A beautiful gift, Madeline. Would that one had been here for you these many years.” She held her hands over the ground, and a shoot of a plant came up. The leaves unfurled, and it looked like ivy almost, but with heart-shaped leaves. “Like this?”

  “Yes,” Madeline said, pleased. “The second. For Jason.”

  “Ah. And what shall it be like?”

  “The fruit . . . tastes like . . . chocolate.”

  “He’ll like that.”

  “Needs a . . . ridiculous . . . name.”

  “Like?”

  “Pudding fruit.”

  The Garden Lady chortled. “Sounds suitably disgusting.”

  “Jason will . . . love it.” She smiled. Tears were brimming in her eyes. “And . . . it grows . . . easily. Always stays . . . with you.” She wiped a tear away. “When you . . . eat it . . . you can only . . . speak truth . . . the rest of the day.”

  “Ah,” the Garden Lady said, and a small tree grew up between them, with beautiful, smooth fruit that caught the light. A bold red color, like a ripe strawberry dripping with juice. “Like this?”

  Madeline nodded. “Last. For my . . . mother.” She realized here and now that she was not angry at her mother. Her resentment had fallen away. She was thankful for her, and sad. Sad that her mother had lived so many years captive to her own past, working so hard to forget what had been done to her. And what she had done in response. She wished her mother happiness. She wished her joy. She had forgiven her at last, and she felt regret for the way she had spoken to her and treated her in their final days together.

  “Yes?”

  This last gift for her mother. She wanted it to be a healing one. “Fruit of . . . remembrance. When you drink . . . the juice . . . you rememb
er.”

  “Remember what, child?”

  “Whatever you have . . . forgotten,” she said.

  The Garden Lady nodded, and a bush grew, with wide yellow berries on it. “A remedy for addleberries,” she said. “A wise gift to the Sunlit Lands.”

  Madeline’s breathing was coming harder. It was almost time. Her body felt hot. So hot. Her mind was going slower, and it was getting harder to think. “Birds,” she said. “Birds, come to me.”

  The Garden Lady’s hummingbirds flocked around her, like a cloud of shining jewels. “Will you do . . . a favor for me?” she asked. The hummingbirds dipped and hummed around her, as if they were trying to come closer, trying to hear whatever word might fall from her mouth. “Find them. All the ones . . . I love. Tell them.”

  “Tell them what, child?”

  “I want them to know . . . how much . . . I loved them. I didn’t . . . I didn’t say it . . . enough.” The thought of not being able to say it again to them, to not tell them, to not be able to remind them . . . her eyes burned.

  The Garden Lady put her hand over Madeline’s. “You said it all the time, child.”

  “Not . . . enough.”

  Madeline’s eyes flew open. The birds had started to disperse, but she called them back. “Darius,” she said. “Darius especially.” She searched among the birds, found the brightest green one. “You. You tell Darius. No matter how far away he is, no matter how hard you have to work to tell him. Make sure he knows.” The bird dipped in the air, a small hummingbird bow, and then they were gone.

  The Garden Lady watched them go. Madeline had slumped down in the throne, her strength all but gone. The old lady put her hands on Madeline’s arms. “Sit up straight, dear. It’s time for the coronation.” She took the crown from Madeline and stood in front of her, holding it in both hands.

  “Will it . . . hurt?”

  “For a moment only, and after this, no more pain, dear.”

  She lowered the crown, and Madeline took one last, deep breath and let it out, let it all out, and was still, and then came the pain, followed by complete immersion in an ocean of peace.

  The Peasant King took Madeline’s hand and helped her stand. When she saw him now, for the first time in person, she could understand how the Scim would see him as a kind and accessible presence, and the Elenil as the powerful Majestic One. He was both these things and more. She looked back and saw her body, slumped against the tree, the crown on her head. Small tendrils of growth had already begun to sprout at the top of the crown. The seed glowed green in her chest. “Hello, Your Majesty,” she said.

  “Hello, Madeline.” He nodded to the Garden Lady. “Allison.”

  “Your Majesty.”

  Madeline took a deep breath of the sweet air. She felt a lightness. A giddiness. Her fears and worries were falling away. She saw the hummingbirds scattering to the four corners of the world, carrying her message.

  “Is there a white ship?” she asked, “Like in The Return of the King?”

  “If you should like a white ship, I shall certainly bring one for you,” he said, giving her a brilliant smile. “As it is, I have a door. A door in the side of the world.”

  “Where does it go?”

  He squeezed her hand. “Where do you want to go, my friend?”

  And she told him. And they went.

  EPILOGUE

  If one day you desire to leave all and learn from the desert, come and seek what you may find among the sands.

  MOTHER CROW

  The last few miles, Jason walked alone. Break Bones hadn’t left his side in weeks, but this was something he needed to do alone. They said their farewells, and Break Bones headed back to the Wasted Lands, to see what had become of his people and to look for Darius. A hummingbird zipped around Jason’s head, and laughing, he swatted at it. There had been a veritable plague of the things since they had left the forest, and they seemed to be attracted to Jason in particular. They were always nearby, and even when he made camp, one would perch in a branch and shout out its high-pitched chirp, often through the night. He hadn’t seen any faeries, just the hummingbirds. He didn’t know why, but the tiny birds made him think of Madeline.

  Jason walked to the place that, as near as he could tell, was where the desert started. He stepped off the path and into the sand. He set aside his provisions. He put down his water flask. He took off his shirt and shoes. He was unbuttoning his jeans when he heard a familiar cackling laugh. He looked up and saw her, the Kakri elder who had told him once, at the Meeting of the Spheres, to come and learn from the desert. She wore the same outfit she had then, a sort of costume with a long cape made of crow feathers.

  “Mother Crow!” he said.

  “Why are you taking off your clothes?”

  “You said I had to leave everything to come learn from the desert.”

  “Not your clothes.”

  “You said, and I quote, ‘Leave all and learn from the desert.’”

  Mother Crow laughed and laughed. “This is called a metaphor, Wu Song. Always wear clothes in the desert. Otherwise you’ll be burned in the day and freeze in the night.”

  Jason frowned. This was not going the way he expected. He debated explaining to the old woman that this was not a metaphor. It was more like hyperbole or something. But this seemed like a bad way to start off when he was going to be following her into the desert. Instead he said, “So . . . I can put my shirt back on?”

  “Please!”

  He put on his shirt, then his shoes. “The water flask?”

  “Unless you’re a camel, you better bring it.”

  “I am not a camel,” he said, slinging it back on. He picked up the bag of provisions.

  “Not those,” Mother Crow snapped. “You’ll live upon food from the desert.”

  “Oh,” Jason said, lowering it back to the ground, disappointed. “Okay, sorry.”

  Mother Crow laughed until tears squeezed out of her eyes. “I am joking, Wu Song—bring the food. Why feed the hyenas? Or worse yet, the wylnas.”

  He looked at the old lady to make sure she wasn’t joking again and slowly put the food back over his shoulder. “I am going to bring this,” he said. Some ash floated from the sky and landed on his shoulder. He brushed it off, and a shining spark fell onto the sand. Where it touched the ground, a small tendril of green grew. He bent to look at it. This had been happening for weeks now. Ash falling, and new plants growing where it landed. He put his finger under the tender young leaves.

  Mother Crow had already started walking into the desert. She stopped and looked back at him. “Are you coming?”

  The hummingbird chirped. Jason said, “Oh yeah. Also, I can’t get rid of this hummingbird.”

  “And why would you want to? To befriend a bird is a great honor.”

  “Yeah,” Jason said. “I guess it is.”

  “Come along then, both of you,” Mother Crow said, and she trudged up a dune. Jason stopped at the crest of the sand to look back on everything and everyone he was leaving behind. Then he turned toward the desert and hurried down the side of the dune. Mother Crow walked with steady purpose, and Jason followed.

  THE END

  ABOUT MARY PATRICIA WALL’S TALES OF MESELIA

  * * *

  The Tales of Meselia is a series of six fantasy novels (with a seventh promised) by Mary Patricia Wall. It is considered a cult classic of children’s literature, with many pointing to the missing seventh novel as the reason it has not risen in popularity to the level of other well-loved children’s fantasies. Originally published in London between 1974 and 1979, the Tales of Meselia have been adapted several times, complete or in part, for radio, television, and the stage (Ms. Wall has refused to part with film rights).

  The series follows a rotating cast of children who are called into the magical land of Meselia by Kartal, the Eagle King (he is, in fact, the “gryphon” of the first novel—he can appear as eagle, lion, human, or any combination thereof).

  The published
novels are:

  The Gryphon under the Stairs (1974): Lily and her brother, Samuel, are approached by a gryphon and invited to come to Meselia, where adventure and danger await!

  The Winter Rogue (1975): The beloved adventurer Karu appeals to the children of Earth to join him on a quest to foil the evil plot of the wizard king Kotuluk.

  The Gold Firethorns (1976): Firethorns have begun to bloom across the land of Meselia, and in the ashes lies a fateful message: among the Family there will be a traitor, a hero, a queen, and a corpse. (In this book, famously, Lily is exiled from Meselia, and Prince Ian disappears soon afterward.)

  The Skull and the Rose (1977): Kartal, the Eagle King, turns to Prince Fantok, the young son of an evil necromancer, and sends him to discover why the source of magic is faltering. Fantok is joined by one of Kartal’s servants, Rose Bragan of Earth. But will Fantok use what they discover to overthrow the Eagle King and take Meselia for his own?

  The Kingdom by the Sea (published in the US as Graceful Lily’s Kingdom) (1978): Graceful Lily finds her way back to the court of Kartal, the Eagle King, where she becomes a queen in the kingdom by the sea.

  The Azure World (1979): The final defeat of Kotuluk is at hand as the Eagle King and Okuz the ox call together adventurers from across the ages for a final battle. The novel ends on a cliff-hanger (often altered in adaptations, with varying degrees of success).

  The promised seventh and final novel, Shelter at Eternity, was due to be released in 1980. Wall had said this would be the last of the Meselia novels and promised it would include the return of several reader favorites such as Okuz the ox and the charming swashbuckler Karu and the conclusion of several dangling plot threads from other volumes, including the final battle with the evil Kotuluk and the final installment of the romance between Lily and the mysterious Prince Ian, who had disappeared in book 3 only to be revealed to have been married for political reasons in book 5. But Mary Patricia Wall disappeared, and her manuscript with her, shortly after the release of The Azure World.