Everafter Song

by Emily R. King

  Nothor steps back, satisfied. “We have a bargain, Elf King.”

  The wind blows past me and continues their direction. Nothor’s

  head turns my way. I press myself lower to the ground.

  “I smell humans,” the giant snarls.

  Markham points. “Yes, the village is that way.”

  Nothor sniffs the air once more, then slams his battle-axe into the

  ground three times. “Soldiers, move out!”

  By now, his army must be in the hundreds, all of them gathered

  behind him in the wreckage of the forest.

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  The giants march east, their footsteps vibrating across the land. I

  stay low as the rumbles from their departure fade, then pull myself up.

  Markham and Harlow have gone, swept away by the infinity sandglass.

  They left a disaster. The field is littered with debris from the forest—

  branches, bushes, leaves, sticks. I scale the largest tree trunk I can find near me to look out. As far as I can see, the Black Forest has been felled.

  Jamison limps over and stares up at me from below.

  “It’s gone,” I say. “The whole forest is in tatters.”

  “I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but I have to tell

  you why I gave Killian the song.” Jamison peers up at me, begging me to listen. “Muriel told me that for you and me to survive this together, I had to give Killian what he asked for. At first, I didn’t know what that would be. Then the string quartet performed the everafter song, and something turned on inside my mind. I heard voices singing from

  the sky, like a divine choir serenading me from the heavens. My heart burned upon hearing the full piece of music, memorizing it forever, and I knew that as long as I gave Killian what he wanted, everything would be all right. Because, you see, the question I asked Muriel to show me, the one I had her look into the future to answer, was whether you and I would have a long, happy life together.”

  I slide back down the tree and land beside him. “How does this

  destruction help us? Wouldn’t Markham waking the giants be detri-

  mental to our future?”

  “Sometimes to win, first you have to lose. That’s what Muriel said

  when I asked her what Markham would want from me. I know this

  looks bleak—it is bleak—but this was a chance I had to take for us.”

  He rests against the tree, shifting off his bad leg to give it a rest. “Muriel showed me how wonderful our future could be. As I told you, I saw

  the two of us together in the clock shop, but that isn’t all. I left out the biggest part. Everley, we weren’t alone. The city was celebrating the summer growing season in the streets. People were openly worshiping

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  Mother Madrona. Everything was different. Our whole lives were bet-

  ter; everyone was happier.”

  This is all well and good for the future, but what about right now?

  I pull away from Jamison. “We have to warn the villagers.”

  “We’ll never get there ahead of the giants.”

  I pull off my torn glove and shove it into my pocket, leaving the

  other one on. “What would you have us do? The giants are out there.

  We cannot put them back to sleep. Nightingale was crushed.”

  “Then we fight and win. We end this war.”

  My belly pangs at the thought of the defenseless villagers. We can-

  not stand up to the giants on our own, but we can enlist help. “We need to speak with Queen Aislinn.”

  “You’re a wanted criminal, Evie. The palace guards will have orders

  to kill you on the spot.”

  “We have to warn the army those giants are loose in Wyeth.”

  Jamison gives a panicked look.

  “What?” I ask.

  “One of the visions Muriel showed me was of a giant smashing

  apart Elderwood Manor. The image was so fleeting I’d forgotten.”

  The Fox and the Cat are watching over the manor still, and Osric

  is supposed to meet us there.

  I lift my sword and slice a hole in the sky. “We need to get home.”

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  Chapter Twenty-Three

  We emerge from the portal into Jamison’s study. No fire is burning in the hearth. Northern Wyeth is chilly even in the summer. The absence of flame-covered logs in the fireplace first thing in the morning sets me on edge.

  I listen at the door while Jamison goes to the firearm cabinet. His

  small arsenal has been raided. He grabs a candlestick for light, and we creep into the corridor.

  No sound comes from anywhere, and there’s not a servant in sight.

  I start up the stairway. At the top, the echo of a door shutting sounds from down the corridor, from Jamison’s room.

  We tiptoe over squeaky floorboards and pause outside. Jamison

  twists the doorknob, pushing in, and we’re greeted by the end of a

  musket.

  “Everley?” Claret breathes, lowering the firearm.

  Laverick sits in a chair by the window, another musket laid across

  her lap. She rushes over and grabs me up in a hug. “How did you get

  in the house?” she asks. “Did the soldiers see you?”

  I look around. “Soldiers?”

  Claret whistles toward the door. “Vevina, Alick, and Quinn are

  here. They came in from the coast earlier this morning. Forgive us being in your room, Jamison. We have the best view of the soldiers’ blockade from up here.”

  Everafter Song

  “No need to apologize.” Jamison peers out the window at the sol-

  diers positioned at the far end of the carriageway.

  “More soldiers are stationed out back and on each end of the

  manor,” says Claret.

  Jamison closes the curtains tight. “How long have they been here?”

  “Since soon after Osric left us to go to the Land of Promise,”

  Laverick replies. “We had to sneak the others in through the hidden

  passageway. All the servants left because they didn’t feel safe.”

  Footfalls sound down the hallway. Quinn dashes into the room

  with her cat, Prince, in her arms. She sets down the feline and hugs Jamison. Alick comes in after her, a bandage around his head. He settles for patting my shoulder when he sees my filthy appearance.

  Vevina enters and looks me up and down. “Hard day?”

  “I’d rather not discuss it.” I sink down on the bed to rest my feet.

  “Why aren’t the three of you at the coast?”

  “The merrows came. Those damn water vixens were singing off

  our shoreline last night. I thought I was dreaming until this one”—

  Vevina thumbs at Alick—“got out of bed. I had to knock him out so

  he couldn’t go to them.”

  “The merrows?” I ask. “But Queen Imelda told them not to—”

  “The queen is dead, Evie,” Jamison says gently. “King Dorian must

  have known Killian intended to dethrone her, or he gambled and infiltrated our seas anyhow.”

  “We packed up our belongings and left for here,” Vevina says.

  “Quinn tied Alick to the wagon until first light.”

  “Good thinking, Quinn,” Jamison replies. Her cat rubs against his

  leg and purrs. He picks up Prince, pets his head, and passes him to the lass.

  I go to the desk and jot down a few names on a piece of paper, then

  I pul off my filthy cloak. “I’m going to Dorestand. When Osric arrives, tell him to get to the Silver-Clouded Plain. He has to find Captain

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  Redmond and tell him to bring as many giants as he can by tomorrow

  morning.”

/>   Jamison fetches me a clean cloak. “You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I’m making a stop on the way for help. I’ll return as quickly as

  possible.”

  Claret peeks out the window at the soldiers again. “How will you

  leave?”

  I flourish my sword, cutting a portal into the air. Everyone except

  Jamison gasps. I wish I could stay behind to listen to him explain to our friends what I’m doing, but I step through the gossamer opening.

  Seconds later, I arrive in the Everwoods. A gnome sees me and ducks

  into his hollow under the tree. Sheathing my sword, I glance around at the sprites and pixies whizzing about.

  “Radella?”

  A blue light flies at me. Radella spins around and trills excitedly.

  “I’m glad to see you too. I need your help. Will you come with me?”

  She starts to nod, then stops and frowns.

  “You’re not allowed to leave?”

  She nods once slowly.

  “We’ll see about that. Where’s Father Time?”

  She waves for me to follow her. I dash after her, in between trees,

  past a gurgling brook, and through a curtain of flowering vines into a thicket I have never been to before.

  The elderwood trees are so massive they would dwarf the warrior

  giants. Father Time kneels among the roots of the largest tree of them all. The base of her trunk is wider than one of the giants’ train cars, and some of the knobs on her exposed roots are taller than me. Immense

  branches, dense with satiny leaves, fill the sky. Around the base, the elderwood’s velvety russet bark has begun to peel off in thick chunks.

  “I gave them life,” a woman whispers, “you gave them time, and

  Eiocha gave them worlds. Why are they discontent?”

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  “That’s the way of mortality,” Father Time answers. “Mortals rarely

  appreciate what they are given. They seek more. This is their greatest strength, and their greatest weakness.”

  “I am weary.” The woman’s croaky voice doesn’t come from a per-

  son. She isn’t a woman at all. She’s the tree Father Time is kneeling before.

  Radella flies ahead of me and perches on his top hat. I shuffle into his view.

  Father Time pushes himself up with his cane. “Madrona, our

  knight has come.”

  I walk to the ancient elderwood and rest my hand on her trunk.

  Her anguish throbs up my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s wounded. She has seven main root systems that extend to the

  worlds. The collapse of the Land of Youth has hurt her.”

  Another feeling emanates from the tree. “She’s sad.”

  “And heartsick. The loss of the Black Forest pains her. Many of

  those trees were her friends.” Father Time sits on a lower root. He looks so young yet moves like a frail old man.

  “Are you sick too?” I ask.

  He releases a measured breath. “The fracture in the timeline grows

  worse. It must be repaired.”

  “Bring the prince to the Everwoods,” whispers Madrona. “End his

  life with the sword here, where all creation was born, and all the wrongs he committed will be righted and Avelyn will be whole again.”

  Her promises are unfathomable. “How?”

  “‘Should they die where they are born, they will die forever,’”

  Mother Madrona replies, reciting a decree I don’t recognize. “This is not a fate a mother wishes for her child, but my son does not have a penitent heart. His life must be taken to spare others.”

  Radella flies to me and perches on my shoulder. Her closeness is

  the comfort I need to see this conversation out. “What will happen to him?” I ask.

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  “It would be as though he had never been born,” replies Father

  Time. “His soul would go to the farthest part of the eternities. All that he did would no longer exist. His entire life would be erased. You would have the life that was meant for you, Everley.”

  My ticker spins, a continuous loop turning me around. “But you

  said I wouldn’t have met Jamison and my friends without Markham.”

  “Killian’s actions rippled throughout the worlds,” Father Time

  answers. “His choices have touched everyone in your life. They would all benefit from this restoration. Deaths will be reversed, sorrows will be healed, pains will be forgotten. We would not recommend something

  so drastic if we saw another way.”

  I want to help Madrona and Father Time, but to give up Jamison

  and my friends? This choice is impossible. Either option is too painful to consider. “Markham says he’s restoring the worlds to help humans

  fulfill our purpose as helpmates. Is that all we are? All we were made to be?”

  “‘Helpmate’ is another name for human,” Madrona rasps. “Humans

  are powerful leaders and protectors. You will only be beneath another if they convince you that’s where you belong.”

  Father Time’s solemn gaze pushes into mine. “You and Centurion

  can finish this. Your hearts are tied together. What becomes of you

  becomes of her.”

  “I want Radella at my side.”

  “Soon, we will send defenders of the Everwoods to aid you,” he

  says. “She will lead their way.”

  Radella darts into the air, her wings fluttering eagerly to fly out.

  I rest my hand upon Mother Madrona’s velvet bark again. “Can

  you reopen the entry portals to the Silver-Clouded Plain? The giants have done remarkable things in seclusion, but they’re running out of hope and feel forsaken.”

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  “You have your father’s heart,” whispers Madrona. “Brogan vis-

  ited me when he came to the Everwoods. He was everything I hoped

  humans would be.”

  I shut my eyes to collect myself. “I miss him.”

  “His spirit and the spirits of your family members rest with me.

  They are with you.”

  Father Time ambles to my side. He looks even more fragile than last

  time we met, alarmingly so. What will happen to my clock heart—to

  time everywhere—if his power continues to decline? He holds out a

  daisy, then tucks it behind my ear. “We will speak with Eiocha about reopening the exit portals from the Silver-Clouded Plain. Go. Prepare for war.”

  The portal drops me outside the palace into the middle of Dorestand

  within view of the onyx river reflecting the late-day sun. Cool, damp air pours off the water and presses upon me. I climb the front steps to the door and approach the two entry guards.

  “Tell Queen Aislinn that Everley Donovan is here to see her.”

  “The queen doesn’t take visitors,” answers the first.

  I open the top two buttons of my shirt. My shirt slides to the side, sunshine reflecting off the glass face of my ticker. I draw my sword from under my cloak. “Tell the queen the sorceress with the clock heart requests an audience.”

  The second guard pushes open the door. Leaving my blade aimed

  at the first, we pass through the entry hall.

  I have not been to the palace since I was a little girl. My father

  brought me once when he was delivering maps of his most recent exploration. He was proud to serve his homeland. His success as an explorer was due in part to his loyalty to the realm. For all the queen’s faults, she appreciated his service, which is probably why she dislikes me. My 229

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  clock heart represents everything she stands against—the existence of power beyond her own.

  The throne room is empty. Another guard sees u
s and rushes off the

  other way, presumably to sound the alarm.

  “Where is the queen?” I demand of the one I hold at knifepoint.

  “Her Omnipotence is in a council meeting.”

  “Take me to her. Quickly!”

  I prod my sword at him. He leads me through an antechamber off

  the throne room, then down a corridor to a set of double doors. More guards run toward us from down the corridor. I kick the double doors open and enter the hall.

  People rise from their chairs around the long table. The heads of

  the navy and the army are present, along with the treasurer, Secretary Winters, and the queen. Her Omnipotence has lost weight since I last saw her, when I decided against shooting her. Her thin face ages her. At the sight of me, her eyes flash in fury.

  “Someone should teach your men to pay better attention to your

  wanted criminals,” I say.

  Secretary Winters sits back down in his chair. “We’ll take that into consideration. Lady Callahan, please come in.”

  The palace guards burst into the room and aim their swords and

  crossbows at me.

  “I mean no harm,” I say, lowering my blade. “I bring urgent news

  from the north.”

  “Is Lord Callahan all right?” Winters asks.

  “He’s safe, for now.”

  Winters gestures at the guards. “Leave us.”

  “But, Secretary,” the queen blusters, “she’s a dangerous criminal.”

  “Yet she came into our hall and disturbed our meeting, risking

  herself to deliver news. We’ll hear her out, and then we can arrest her.”

  Winters leans back, too relaxed for someone who thinks I’m a sorceress.

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  Most of his comrades have yet to move. I seize this moment to address them.

  “The prince of the Land of Promise—better known to you as

  Governor Killian Markham—has slayed his sister, Queen Imelda, and

  awakened the warrior giants that were sleeping under the Black Forest.”

  I must sound insane. Humans think the Otherworlds are a leg-

  end, just like the giants and elves and merrows. I thought the same

  for most of my life. Only recently did I come to believe in the Creator or Mother Madrona, and belief in the latter could get one hanged in

  Wyeth, thanks to our queen and her inability to share attention with more than one god.

  “The army of giants has set upon an eastern village,” I say. “They’re man-eaters. The prince wants them to defeat our kind so he can enslave those of us who surrender, starting with our realm. You must deploy