He reached for the pouch that lay atop his drying clothes and opened it. One by one he removed the items, laying them out in a row.
He picked up the small packet of precious soil, emptying it into his palm, and let it speak to him one last time.
Earth am I, soil and sand, ever-changing and ever the same….
He listened to it narrate how he had first become the Spring-Bringer, then, taking a deep breath, turned over his hand, opened his fingers, and let the dirt fall into the water.
Other items followed; a stone, a leaf, the handful of dirt from the floor of his home that had so recently imparted such dreadful tidings. At last, there was only one item left. As he held it gently, its withered leaves and petals undulated and danced, reviving and brimming again with life.
Wildflower am I, stem and petal and leaf still here though torn from my roots, brief lived but beautiful….
Tears spilled down his cheeks as the flower spoke to him of love. He heaved no racking sobs, not this time; the tears came as naturally as summer rain or melting snow, and the pain, though deep, was also tinged with sweetness. He suspected this was not the last time he would weep for his lost family, and realized that it was all right.
He trailed the flower across his wet face as his wife had done years before. “Taya,” Jareth said, aloud, as if the flower could carry the words to the one who needed to hear them, “I don’t need this flower to remember you. I didn’t want to believe you were gone, but you are. I have to face that. You and Annu and Parvan….”
A sudden memory came to him of a boy holding on to a white piece of fabric that glowed like the moon and smelled of summer. He had wanted to keep the blessing cloth for himself, but even then at the young age of thirteen, he had understood.
It just wasn’t meant for keeping, he had told Larr. I can’t explain it any better than that.
Nor could he explain it now. But he knew what he had to do. Ilta, the Ice Maiden—they had clung on to something long after it was time to let go. And they had caused so much damage, not least to themselves, in that struggle to hang on.
I had to let it go.
Jareth pressed the flower to his lips, then opened his fingers and watched it fall into the swiftly moving water. He followed it with his gaze as the current took it, swirling it around the jutting tops of stones and bearing it farther and farther away until his tear-filled eyes could no longer see it.
“Goodbye, my love,” he whispered softly.
Mylikki and the Dragon were awake when Kevla returned. The girl had already finished skinning the hares that either the Tiger or the Dragon had caught to break their fasts, and looked up.
“There are wild herbs growing everywhere,” Mylikki said. “We will have a feast.”
She smiled, but Kevla saw past the brave expression to the hurt and almost unspeakable weariness in Mylikki’s blue eyes. The girl had seemed so very young to Kevla when they first set out; now, she seemed to have aged years.
Kevla went to her and hugged her. Mylikki was stiff in her embrace at first, then returned the embrace. When Kevla drew back, both women had tears in their eyes.
“You are so brave, Mylikki,” Kevla said.
Mylikki shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
The hares were fresh and cooked quickly, and both women were famished. They put some aside for Jareth, and ate hungrily.
A thought occurred to Kevla. “Dragon, what of the men? And the Lorekeepers?”
“We have been busy while you and Jareth…recovered,” the Dragon said, phrasing things tactfully. “The men have no memories of their months with the Ice Maiden, and they all want to go home. The Lorekeepers, of course, have no homes. All the men of the various villages have offered their own to the Lorekeepers. Soon families will be reunited, and Lamal will finally have part of its history returned to it.”
Kevla thought back to the surprise the Ice Maiden had expressed at the inherent decency of the human heart, male or female. But she was not at all surprised.
When they had finished eating, Kevla said to Mylikki, “Can you tell me what happened?”
Mylikki sighed. Then she nodded. “You should know,” she said quietly. She spoke in a low voice of manifesting in the Ice Maiden’s realm, of how Altan appeared to her as female. How he—she—had struck Mylikki, tied her to a tree, and left her there.
“She gave me something to drink that would drug me, so I wouldn’t feel the cold,” Mylikki said. Meeting Kevla’s eyes, she said with pride, “I didn’t drink it.”
Kevla thought of what the earth had said to Jareth. Ilta had drugged Taya and Annu before opening the windows and doors so they would freeze to death. A shiver ran down her spine as she realized how narrowly Mylikki had escaped.
“I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through,” she said.
Mylikki shrugged. “There’s one thing that I hold on to, through all of this madness,” she said. “And that’s the fact that Altan loved me. Ilta said so. That’s why she had to kill me. Because Altan would have fought her to stay with me—”
Tears started in her eyes but she angrily wiped them away. “What happened to Altan? Do you know?”
Kevla shook her head. “No. We only know that Ilta is in control of his body. Whether he’s dead or just…trapped somewhere inside, I do not know.” She hesitated, then said, “Mylikki, would you like to come with us?”
Mylikki shook her head. “No,” she said. “There’s much for me to do here. I’d like to help the Lorekeepers find their new homes, help the men find their families.”
Kevla now realized why the Lorekeepers in their selva forms had not chosen Mylikki that night that seemed so long ago now. The selva had selected Kevla and Jareth because they were Dancers, and Altan because his body housed Ilta, Jareth’s Lorekeeper. Beautiful and special as she was, Mylikki was merely a human, and they did not need to speak with her. She wondered what they had told Ilta.
“I don’t think I’m cut out for adventures, Kevla. I think I’ll be happiest in my own little village, singing about adventures by a fireside instead of living them.”
“I will miss you,” Kevla said honestly, “but I understand. I do not think I would be on this…adventure…if I did not need to be.”
“The Lorekeepers and the Maiden’s former captives will appreciate your presence, Mylikki,” the Dragon said. “You are kind to think of them. It will not be a long journey, as a Dragon flies. Whenever you are ready, I will bear you to them.”
“Now, I think,” said Mylikki, startling Kevla. Both women got to their feet.
“Do you not want to say farewell to Jareth?” Kevla asked. She realized she was not ready for Mylikki to go.
“No,” Mylikki said. “All I’d do is remind him of Altan. Goodbye, Kevla. There were…there were parts of all of this that were good.”
Kevla hugged her tightly. “Goodbye, Mylikki. Please give my best to your family.”
“I will.” Mylikki climbed aboard the Dragon with ease and familiarity. Kevla was vividly reminded of the first time Mylikki had scrambled atop that broad, red back; how fearful she had been, and how much courage it had taken to conquer that fear.
As the Dragon gathered himself, Mylikki called down with a hint of a smile, “Good luck on your journey, Kevla. Rest assured that there will be songs sung about you here in Lamal!”
Kevla waved as the Dragon rose into the air, her hair and rhia blowing in the wind created by the beating of his enormous, leathery wings. She watched as the Dragon hovered for a moment, then elongated his neck and tail, banked to the right, and flew off into the distance.
For a moment, Kevla simply stood, thinking about all that had happened. So much, in so short a time. It was hard to believe it was all over, and the next “adventure,” as Mylikki and Altan would have put it, would soon begin. Finally, sighing, she began to pack.
A soft brush of warm fur along her legs alerted her to the Tiger’s presence. Smiling, she reached to scratch the ears of the big cat. She turn
ed to greet Jareth, for she knew he would be with his Companion, but startlement stilled the friendly words.
Jareth was almost unrecognizable. His hair, cut now to shoulder length, and body had been scrubbed clean. His face was shaven, and for the first time Kevla saw the high cheekbones and strong jaw that had been hidden by his scraggly beard. His clothes were clean, if still damp and wrinkled, but most important, his eyes were clear and focused.
“There you are,” she said, and he smiled a little. He could not know what she was really saying. For here he was indeed—the Stone Dancer with the blue Tiger at his feet, as she had seen him in her visions. As Jashemi had seen him. A man with a good face, a kind face with laugh lines around the eyes and mouth, but who had clearly been through a great deal. This was the man she had imagined meeting, when she first entered this northerly realm. This was the man to whom she had thought to hand over her burdens.
Now she realized that while Jareth had accepted his destiny, there were some burdens he wasn’t supposed to carry, that were still hers and always would be. But for the first time, the thought didn’t distress her. Kevla knew that both she and Jareth Vasalen would be able to endure whatever they needed to. Fire and Earth, Flame and Stone. Strong and powerful; battered, both of them, but not broken.
As she gazed at him, she realized how dirty she herself was. “I think I need to clean up a bit, too,” she said.
“There’s a spring right over there,” Jareth said, reaching for the cooling haunch of rabbit they had saved for him. “Where’s Mylikki?”
“The Dragon is taking her to help the men and the Lorekeepers,” Kevla said. “She didn’t want to come with us.”
A shadow passed over Jareth’s features. “I don’t suppose she would,” he said. “She’s been through a great deal. If I could stay, I would.”
“As would I,” Kevla said. “The Dragon will not be long. I am aching for a bath.”
Kevla relished the feel of the water against her skin as she bathed. She had not realized she was quite so dirty. Little half-moons of grime were caked under her finger- and toenails, and she scrubbed at them diligently until her skin finally felt clean, if rubbed slightly raw in the process. She spied a cut piece of some kind of root lying on a rock, and when she picked it up, it lathered in her hand. Jareth had obviously used this for soap, and she eagerly did the same. She washed her long, thick hair, until it gleamed in the sunlight, and braided it while it was still wet. Emerging from the spring, she conjured fire in her palm, and from it wove a fresh red rhia.
When she returned, Jareth had finished packing for them. The Tiger was curled up, nose to tail, sleeping. Jareth’s eyebrows rose in appreciation as he regarded Kevla. She smiled, suddenly a bit shy.
“Well,” he said, jokingly, “you clean up nicely.”
“Thank you. I could say the same.”
His smile faded. “Kevla,” he said, looking away, “I want to thank you. For everything. You’ve been…well. I can only hope you haven’t been too disappointed in your Stone Dancer.”
She went to him, and moved so she was looking him right in his blue eyes. “I’m not disappointed at all.”
“I wanted to tell you,” said Jareth, “that I don’t have the…the items any more. The ones I would listen to at night. I gave them back to the earth.”
Admiration flooded Kevla. “That must have been difficult,” she said.
“Yes…and no. I need to make my own peace with what happened. Reliving everything every single night…it didn’t help. I have the memories here,” and he put his hand to his heart. “That needs to be enough.”
“I’m very proud of you. That took courage, Jareth.”
For a long moment, they gazed at one another. Jareth took a step closer to her, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Kevla,” Jareth said, softly, “I—”
The familiar sound of the Dragon’s wings interrupted him. The Tiger lifted her massive head, yawned, revealing a pink tongue and sharp white teeth, and stretched.
“How is Mylikki?” Jareth asked of the Dragon.
“She was welcomed and is in good company,” the Dragon said. “Her brother was there of course—and their father as well. He, too, had fallen under the Ice Maiden’s spell. Gelsan will be delighted to have her family whole again.”
“That is wonderful news!” said Kevla. “If only Altan…” Her voice trailed off.
“Yes,” said Jareth heavily. “If only.”
“There was one thing I was curious about,” Kevla said, trying to change the subject. “You were in the Ice Maiden’s very hall, and yet you never succumbed to her supposedly irresistible powers. Why not?”
Jareth shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe because I’m a Dancer, and we have the ability to resist her. Or maybe…maybe because at that moment, there was nothing she could turn cold, because I’d already done it myself.”
Kevla was surprised at the brutal honesty of Jareth’s self-assessment. And she supposed it was true. The man before her was nothing like the man who had stood, coldly raging, in the Ice Maiden’s hall. And she was so glad of the change.
“Where to now?” she asked the Dragon and the Tiger.
“Why don’t you two find out?” the Tiger replied.
Kevla looked at Jareth, and extended her hands. Slowly, awkwardly, he took them. Kevla braced herself for the rush of sensation that she had experienced before when they had deliberately joined their powers, but now she only felt a calm clarity. She closed her eyes, and they experienced the vision together.
A girl, standing beside a body of water so vast that Kevla could not even see where it ended. It stretched toward a sun that was sinking slowly down as if to submerge itself in its depths. The girl had long red hair and a pale face with large, green eyes. There was both a sorrow and a wildness about her, and beside her pranced a horse whose mercurial features were as changeable as any human’s.
“West,” breathed Jareth. Kevla opened her eyes. “She’s in the West. She’s the element of water. She’s the—the Sea Dancer.”
“What is ‘sea’?” Kevla asked.
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out,” Jareth stated firmly.
“You are not as prepared as you should have been,” the Dragon stated, uncharacteristically solemn. “You have found us, but neither of you has your Lorekeepers. Kevla’s lives inside her, but he is no longer flesh; Jareth’s is mad and an ally of the Emperor. You must proceed with care, Dancers.”
“I’m ready,” said Jareth. “Kevla?”
She looked at the three of them—her dearest Companion, the great blue Tiger, and the Stone Dancer who now was as steady and solid as the earth that was his element. Despite the Dragon’s words of caution, Kevla felt hope stir within her.
“Yes,” she said, firmly. “I’m ready.”
Epilogue
The exquisite creature, powerful beyond the advisor’s imagining and yet so delicate and beautiful, cowered in a corner. It had managed to yank the ever-present golden chain from the Emperor’s grip, spring forward and with its single horn knock the Tenacru to the floor where it shattered into glittering crimson pieces. But the mammoth doors had been closed, and there had been nowhere for the beast to flee.
Now the Emperor rose and stared at it. It shivered, blinking its large, soft eyes. Slowly, the Emperor advanced, and even the ad visor cringed, just a little. The Emperor’s wrath could be terrible.
“What have you done?” the Emperor said in a cold, flat voice. “I had them, right inside the Tenacru. The Maiden would have obeyed me if I’d just had a little more time. But you…you…”
Swift as a snake he struck, his boot landing with a sickening thud in the ki-lyn’s side. It made a soft, sad sound and trembled. The advisor winced, even though he knew that nothing the Emperor could do would truly injure the creature. The Emperor lunged for the chain, gripping it with long, strong fingers.
The simple movement exhausted him and he staggered. Quickly, the advisor was there, a supportive h
and under his lord’s arm. Recent events had taken their toll on the Emperor, who had neither slept nor eaten for far too long.
“I built the Maiden too well,” the Emperor murmured as the advisor helped him into his luxuriously upholstered chair. The ki-lyn followed, pulled inexorably by the chain the Emperor had retrieved. “I couldn’t watch her every minute, not with all the things I have to manage elsewhere. So I built her to be autonomous. She wouldn’t even know about me. And that was my undoing.”
He glared at the ki-lyn. “That, and this imprisoned wretch of a creature,” he added. “You keep trying to stop me. Eventually I will cease showing you mercy.”
The Mage had moved slowly to where the shattered fragments of the Tenacru lay on the floor. He knelt and began to pick up the pieces with his gloved hands. “Do not despair, Your Excellency. The Tenacru has been broken and remade ere now. It will take a little time, but I can do it.”
The Emperor closed his eyes in relief. To the ki-lyn, he said, “That’s awfully lucky for you, my little friend.”
“My lord,” said the advisor, feeling his way carefully, “There are easier ways to destroy the Dancers.”
The Emperor, eyes still closed, rubbed his temples with beringed hands. “Of course there are, if I wanted them dead. But if one of them dies too soon, everything is lost, you idiot.”
The advisor gaped. Then what did—
There came a knock on the door, and the Emperor seemed to perk up slightly. The advisor frowned. He and the unsettling Mage were the only ones admitted into this part of the Emperor’s castle. Who dared approach?
Strangely, the Emperor did not seem offended or concerned. “Ah, good. There’s someone you need to meet. You’ll be working with her in the future. I’ll need as much advice from all quarters as I can get to stop the Dancers.”
The advisor tried not to show his shock. The Emperor had appointed another advisor? But…he was the chief advisor, choosing his own council. Who was the Emperor going to foist upon him, and why?
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