Shadows on the Stars

by T.A. Barron

  “Forgive me,” she whispered hoarsely. “I didn’t mean to . . .”

  Oh, but you did, came the stern voice in her mind. You heard my plea, through the valiant Sapphire Unicorn. Then you ignored it, by your own choice. Elliryanna Lailoken, you have put Coerria, as well as the rest of us, in danger. Great danger.

  Elli bowed her head. “I am sorry, Rh—er, I mean, Lady. So sorry.”

  The Lady approached, tongues of mist licking the hem of her green gown, until at last she stood before them. Elli bowed, more stiffly than Brionna, whose honey-toned braid swept through the cloud at her feet. Lleu bowed as well, very low, and as he rose, the hawk Catha floated down and landed on his shoulder. Even Shim did his best to be polite, although his bow looked more like a clumsy curtsy.

  Then, to everyone’s surprise, the Lady herself bent low. Not in greeting, though, for she was actually bending to gaze into the eyes of Shim. “My old friend,” she said wistfully. “You are just as small as you were when we first met. And, I suspect, just as big in other ways.”

  Perhaps because of her magic, the little fellow seemed to have no trouble at all understanding. Even so, he looked confused. “Didly you know me, Lady, all that long ago?”

  She didn’t answer, though. She merely turned to Brionna and said gently, “Welcome, daughter of the wood elves. What is your name?”

  “Brionna, good Lady.” She lowered her head gracefully. “I am honored by this meeting.”

  “As am I.” The Lady observed her thoughtfully. “All the more since I perceive you come from the family of my dear friend, Tressimir.”

  At the mention of her grandfather, Brionna stiffened.

  With a sympathetic nod, the Lady whispered, “I miss him, as well.”

  The elf maiden said nothing.

  Facing Lleu, the enchantress said, “You and I have already met, haven’t we? In your dream?”

  “Yes, Lady. Though as lovely as you were then, you are still lovelier now.”

  “Quiet, Lleu,” snapped Nuic. “You’ll just give her a big head.”

  Amused, the Lady of the Lake bent to pick up the sprite. And as she lifted him in her arms, he sparkled as much as the surrounding mist.

  “Hmmmpff,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to sound gruff. “Terrible trick, that dragon. But I knew it was you all the time.”

  Elli started. “You mean—”

  “That’s right,” the Lady replied, waving her hand through a rising shred of mist. “It was all just an illusion. The roar, the rampage, and of course those terrible teeth. But no creatures were harmed, not even a twig.”

  “Just my backside,” muttered Lleu, rubbing his spine.

  “I hope you enjoyed yourself,” grumbled Nuic. “Scared me yellow, you did.”

  The Lady’s eyes twinkled. “I thought you said you knew it was me the whole time.”

  Nuic turned a deep shade of crimson. “Er, well, ah . . .” he sputtered. “I did, really. But I just forgot how formidable your sense of humor can be.”

  She studied him, her eyes now melancholy. “My dear Nuic. If you must know, that had nothing to do with humor. I did it partly to let loose of my anger.”

  “At me,” said Elli ruefully.

  “At you, my dear.” She peered at the young priestess. “Now, though, I forgive you. After all, your rash behavior reminds me of no one more than myself.”

  Elli’s lips quivered, but she said nothing.

  Nuic swatted the Lady’s sleeve with his little hand. “You said partly. So there was another reason?”

  The enchantress nodded. “I also did it to frighten off the person I sensed was following you.”

  Everyone tensed. Brionna’s hand went to her longbow. But the Lady shook her silvery head. “He or she is gone. For now, at least. And it might have been someone innocent . . . though I doubt it. Even after your success in foiling Kulwych’s plans at the White Geyser of Crystillia, there is evil now in Avalon, such as I have not felt in many years.”

  She blew a long, steady breath of air into a shred of mist floating by her face. Bight away, the mist transformed into a gleaming circle. Within it, another circle formed, and another, and another, until the rings grew so small they could no longer be seen. Elli gazed at this infinity of circles, wondering how many mysteries—and how many worlds—they might hold.

  Watching Elli, the Lady almost smiled. Then, all at once, her face hardened. “I cannot be sure, but I sense a new shadow in our midst, a shadow that lengthens every day. Already it is long enough to blot out the stars of the Wizard’s Staff—and also the brighter sides of human beings, so they act like mindless trolls.”

  Lleu’s brow furrowed deeply. Catha, on his shoulder, piped a shrill whistle.

  “I’ve felt it, too,” Nuic said, his color going gray. “It is a shadow we have felt before, you and I. Long ago.”

  The Lady of the Lake lifted him a bit higher, so their faces nearly touched. “Yes, my old friend. The shadow of Rhita Gawr.”

  At the mention of that name, a chill wind blew over the mist, stirring the white waves, scattering them as a squall would the sea. The wind, or the name itself, made Elli shiver. Even the Lady drew her shawl a bit higher on her shoulders, covering the amulet of leaves she wore around her neck.

  “We saw him,” began Elli, but she had to stop to clear her throat. “In a vision.”

  “I know,” said the Lady. “For the vision came to me, as well.”

  “Still, I’ve been hoping that it wasn’t really true. That he wasn’t really here.”

  Mist curled about the Lady’s slender wrists. Gravely, she declared, “He is here, child. As surely as the Sapphire Unicorn is not.”

  The enchantress drew a deep, slow breath. “There is still a chance to stop him, and to save our world—though it is slimmer than a spider’s thread.”

  “What is it?” asked Elli. “What must we do?”

  “Many things, I fear. But two most of all. First, we must somehow relight the stars of the Wizard’s Staff. And soon! Since your friend Tamwyn is not here, I assume that he has already embarked on that quest.”

  Elli nodded stiffly.

  “I only wish I had spoken to him first,” the Lady said ruefully. “There was much I could have told him about the Tree, the stars, and also his foe. But now he must discover all that on his own.”

  Elli asked, “So you don’t even know if he’s still . . .”

  “Alive? Yes, I believe he is. And beyond that, just knowing him, I also feel hopeful. And so can you.”

  Gratefully, Elli peered at her. “And what is the second thing we must do? Bring the elixir to Coerria?”

  “No, my dear. The fate of Avalon is not bound to the fate of Coerria. The second quest is something else.”

  Elli ran a hand through her curly brown hair. “Then I’ll have to bring her the elixir first. Before starting the quest.”

  “No.” The Lady shifted Nuic so she could hold him in one arm, then placed her free hand on Elli’s shoulder. “You do not have time for both. That might have been possible, if you had come here first, but now that chance is lost to us.”

  Elli bit her lip. “Then I must go to Coerria. Whatever it means for Avalon, I just can’t abandon her.”

  “You love her that much?”

  “That much.”

  The Lady regarded her with a mixture of admiration and affection. “I expected you would feel that way. Which is why I have decided, if you take the larger quest, to go to Coerria myself.”

  “But,” objected Elli, “you never leave the forest, except in visions.”

  “I will now,” she declared. “Whether to help my world or my old friend, I must. For I love them both dearly. And I would take the quest for Avalon, if I could. But now, I fear, I am too old and worn down to succeed in the larger quest. So I shall leave these woods, and my lair in New Arbassa, to go to the High Priestess.”

  Lleu and Brionna both started to speak, but the Lady raised her hand to silence them. “I know, dear ones,
that you would go in my place. But you are much more needed by Elli’s side. If, that is, she takes the quest.”

  Elli straightened her back. “I’ll take it, if you’ll promise to save Coerria.”

  “I promise to try. In this time, that is all anyone can do.” She pursed her lips. “If only my brother were still here! He’d be as old and frail as I am now, but at least he’d have some ideas.”

  “Stupid ones, most likely,” said Nuic.

  The Lady smiled at him. “Most likely. Even so, I do miss him, gone from Avalon all these years.”

  She turned back to Elli, her expression again grim. “Your quest, my child, involves the crystal of pure élano that Kulwych made from the magical waters of Crystillia.”

  Brionna started, feeling the sting of the whip across her back. And the greater sting of the memory of her days as the sorcerer’s slave.

  “So he still has the crystal?” pressed Elli.

  “Yes. But that is not all.” The Elder drew a ragged breath. “With the help of the wicked spirit lord, no doubt, he has changed it somehow—corrupted its power. I can feel it. The crystal has gone from a source of great good to a thing of great evil.”

  “Exactly what sort of evil?” asked Elli.

  “That isn’t clear to me. But I suspect that it could be just as destructive as pure élano is creative. Instead of spawning new life, it could destroy whatever it touches.”

  Elli gasped. “Like that flower! The one that killed the unicorn, and almost Scree, as well.”

  The eyes of the Lady filled with mist of their own. “The Sapphire Unicorn, the only one of her kind. What a loss! To Avalon . . . and to her unborn filly.”

  “Filly?” repeated Elli. “She was going to have a child?”

  “A magical child. There is never more than one Sapphire Unicorn in Avalon, with this exception: Near the end of that unicorn’s days, she always gives birth. And I knew my friend well enough to know that her time was approaching.” She pinched her lips. “I just didn’t think that her death would happen so soon.”

  “Nor did she,” said Elli bitterly. “That evil flower. I’m sure it must have come from the crystal.” She tapped the side of her water gourd. “Even these healing waters couldn’t stop it.”

  Nuic’s color darkened still further. “Where is this corrupted crystal now?”

  “I don’t know. I cannot see it, no matter how hard I try. Yet I feel it, most definitely. Somewhere in the Seven Realms.” She squeezed Elli’s shoulder. “You must find it, wherever it is. And then destroy it.”

  “But how?”

  “With this.” The Lady set Nuic down in the meadow of mist, then reached under her shawl to remove her amulet of oak, ash, and hawthorn. As she peeled back some leaves, there was a sudden flash, dazzlingly bright.

  Shim, who was leaning close to the Lady, fell back in surprise, scattering mist in all directions as he landed.

  “Élano!” exclaimed Lleu. “So you, too, made a crystal.”

  “No,” replied the Lady. “Someone else made this, long ago.”

  “Wait,” said Brionna. She gazed in wonder, remembering the tales she’d learned from her grandfather. “I’ll wager this is the crystal that saved Woodroot from a terrible blight centuries ago. Why, that crystal was made by Merlin himself.”

  Lleu’s eyes widened. “Of course! And on that journey, he was joined by just two people. One was his beloved sister, Rhia.”

  Only Elli caught the glint that appeared in the Lady’s eye.

  “And the other,” the priest went on, “was my great-grandfather, Lleu of the One Ear.” At this, Catha strutted proudly across his shoulder.

  The Lady nodded at them. “Right you are, my dears. This is that very crystal. Merlin later gave it to me.” She touched the radiant crystal, scattering its rays—white, blue, and green—across the rolling clouds at their feet. Tufts of mist caught the light, shimmering like vaporous prisms.

  “Now, though, I give it to you.” She pulled the amulet’s cord over her head, drawing it through her silver curls, before placing it around Elli’s neck. With the tip of her finger, she touched the crystal one last time, feeling its facets, then covered it again with the leaves.

  Elli herself patted the leaves, and the crystal beneath them. Was she really wearing it? Did she deserve that power, that responsibility? Then her gaze met the Lady’s, and for a long moment they shared something even more precious than the amulet.

  Yet still some doubts remained. She tapped the amulet and asked, “How can this crystal ever destroy the other one? I thought élano can only heal things, or create new ones.”

  Sadly, the Lady shook her head. “I don’t really know, my dear. It’s only a guess. Yet I feel sure that the crystal you are wearing is the only power in all of Avalon that could possibly defeat the corrupted one. They are opposites, after all, so perhaps you can find the way. Before it’s too late.”

  She studied the amulet a moment longer, as if she could still see what lay hidden under the leaves. “I shall miss that crystal—its beauty, as well as its power. More than I can say. But if it can somehow save Avalon from this threat, then it will have achieved its highest purpose. Nothing it has ever done, in all the years I have worn it around my neck, is nearly as important.”

  Suddenly Elli blanched. “The crystal . . . it has given you strength, hasn’t it? And power?”

  The Lady didn’t respond.

  “And more,” pressed Elli, following her intuition. “It’s given you life. Without it, you will—”

  “Die,” finished the enchantress. “You are right, my dear. But my life has been long already, perhaps too long. And always remember this: The crystal itself came from Avalon, which sustains us all. When at last it is my time to die, my body and blood will return to its soil, my breath to its breath, my life to its life. So who can say that I have gone anywhere but home?”

  She almost smiled, as shreds of mist rose up and touched her face, caressing her cheeks. “When I join with Avalon, you see, I shall join the world I have loved. And all the people I have loved, as well. Such as my mother, Elen.”

  Everyone but Elli and Nuic gasped in surprise.

  “It is time,” declared the Lady, “to end all secrets. Know me now for who I truly am.”

  In one swift motion, she tore off her shawl and tossed it into the rolling mist. Up from her back rose wings—as luminous as the loveliest star. They glistened in the moist air, spreading with grace and beauty.

  “Rhia,” said Brionna, thoroughly amazed. “With your wings from Lost Fincayra.”

  “It’s you,” said Lleu, blinking in disbelief. Catha, on his shoulder, whistled in admiration.

  Shim slapped the side of his head. “I didly suspect it was you! But neverly, everly could I believe it.”

  “Hmmmpff,” grumbled Nuic. “You always were a show-off.”

  For the first time since they’d all met, the Lady of the Lake—Rhia—burst out laughing. The bright, bell-like sound flowed across the field of mist, making the vapors rise and dance in merriment. Silvery tufts cavorted in the air, leaping and twirling. And as she laughed, her wings opened wide, flashing with light of their own.

  At last, she reached into the pocket of her gown, which was made entirely of woven vines. “I have one more gift,” she announced. “For you, Nuic, my faithful maryth.”

  Even the crusty old sprite could find no words. His color shifted to deep purple, much like his eyes.

  From her pocket Rhia drew a jeweled pendant with a deep green stone in its center. A rich, mysterious light shone within the stone, which was wrapped with a tracery of gold and attached to a simple leather cord. Rhia doubled the cord to make it smaller, then bent down and placed it on Nuic. Since he was so small and round, with no discernable neck, it slid down to his middle and hung there like a belt.

  With his tiny hands, Nuic touched the gleaming stone, feeling its contours. Then, without a trace of mockery in his voice, he looked at her and said, “You will always b
e my Lady.” And he bowed, so low that the mist completely covered him for a moment.

  When he stood again, he looked at Rhia and asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, my friend. The Galator is now yours.”

  As one, the others gasped—including Shim, who had recognized not just the word, but the stone itself.

  The Galator! Here it was, the magical green stone that Elen of the Sapphire Eyes had given to Merlin long ago—something he’d fought hard to protect, since it was even more valuable than the Treasures of Lost Fincayra. Elli stooped down to look more closely, and saw lines of red, violet, and blue flowing like blood vessels under the surface of the stone. That was when she remembered the phrase that Merlin had, in legend, used to describe it: a living eye.

  She stood up, her gaze still fixed on the stone. But what, I wonder, can it see?

  As if in answer, Rhia mused aloud, “It has the power to look across time and space—to see someone you love. So in the centuries after Merlin gave it to me, I used it often to watch him, even after he’d left our world for mortal Earth.”

  “And so I will use it,” Nuic declared, “to watch you.” He added gruffly, “To see what new trouble you’ve gotten yourself into.”

  Rhia grinned at him. “No doubt. Too bad for you that you can only use it to see me, not talk to me. You’d be giving me an earful a day, if you could!”

  “Twice a day,” he retorted. “And who knows? Maybe I’ll find a way to make this stone talk after all.”

  “If you can, my dear pinnacle sprite, you have more skill than I. Or more passion in your heart. For in all the years that I’ve used it, I’ve only been able to watch those I care for in silence. Something that you will find difficult, indeed.”

  “Hmmmpff. Indeed.”

  Elli’s hand brushed against her amulet of leaves. Reminded of the new weight she bore, around her neck and elsewhere, her doubts resurfaced. “But Lady, how are we supposed to find the other crystal?” she demanded. “We don’t have any idea where to start.”