Under the Crab-Apple Trees
The Road Ahead

PART II

“Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.” - Rumi

The morning was new when Erin woke. The sun was shining as it did in the world above, and Tyrannel was gone from his side. He gazed up into the blue sky, and let the earth comfort him. He could feel the mossy earth of the clearing below the snow on his back, cooling the now ceasing pain. He closed his eyes and felt the restlessness inside him, the voice in his head saying go, go, go. He opened his weary eyes. No one was watching him. Stretching, he felt the numbness inside of him. He pulled himself up and off the snow-covered ground. While he was sleeping, more snow had fallen, covering the bloody red, ground with a snowy white, cloth.

Wren, Aria, Ardrieth, and Fox were huddled up by the edge of the clearing. Erin walked over to them, his legs feeling as numb as ice.

“Erin!” Wren happily exclaimed as he walked over.

“You’re not supposed to be walking yet…” Aria said in an accusing tone. Fox grunted.

“She won’t talk at all!” Ardrieth said, pointing to Fox.

“Her name is Fox,” Erin said, unnerved that Ardrieth would not call Fox by her name.

“I won’t talk if I don’t want to,” Fox said grumpily.

“That’s the first sentence she’s said all morning!” Wren exclaimed. Fox grunted. Erin cleared his throat. Everyone became silent, except for Fox, who continued her grunting.

“I don’t know about you,” Erin began. “But I want to go and stop whoever sent the Un Dalen. Ysterra cannot stand another attack like that.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

“I want to go free the kingdom of monstrosities, one village at a time,” Erin said.

“I think that’s a good idea, more will be on the way, since Lark and Inyelen got away,” Wren said darkly.

“What?” Erin said in a shocked tone. “They let them get away?” Wren looked at his feet.

“I can’t believe my own sister was part of the conspiracy that killed hundreds of elves,” he mumbled. Erin patted him on the back.

“It’s ok, Wren,” he said reassuringly. “Now where can we replace horses?”

Half an hour later, the party of five was sitting on the backs of five beautiful horses loaded with saddle bags of supplies for the trip ahead.

“We have to leave quickly before anyone notices the missing supplies and horses,” Erin said. They had been very lucky to be able to sneak the supplies without any questions, for the elven city was in disorder, and no one noticed the missing supplies, yet soon their luck would run out and the absent horses would be noticed.

The party boldly set off into the woods, Erin was at the head, with his bow slung over his back and Zelynda proudly strapped at his belt. Then came Aria on the Lady’s horse of pure white, her blue robes flying in the wind. After Aria came Ardrieth on a black horse with a wavy mane, talking to the hawk on her shoulder. Wren was awkwardly perched atop a palomino, who kept frolicking away from the pack. Fox took up the rear, sulkily slouched on her chestnut horse, Owl.

The day passed slowly, for the trees grew close together in that part of the forest, and occasionally Ardrieth had to sing to them with magic so they would bend their trunks. The phoenixes flew above them, though the small party could not see them through the thick canopy of intertwining branches. It was as if the forest served as a wall to keep the elves in and their enemies out. Even though they made very to little progress, gradually the trees bowed their branches to them.

They stopped for lunch at a small clearing and ate some of the dried mushrooms that were packed in the saddlebags. Erin listened to the birds who were chirping without a care in the world. They knew nothing of the peril Erin would have to face or the fear and pain that was dwelling within him. 
 They mounted their steeds and started off again on the long plod through the snowy forest. They were surrounded by birch trees, dogwoods, oaks, and redwoods. Sometimes they saw glass ornaments hanging on the trees like icicles. Colorful wind chimes were also hung on the trees. Since a cold breeze was blowing, they made the most haunting music Erin had heard, like echoes from a long lost past.

They were walking next to a large stream when they heard a roaring sound, like the deep purr of a lion. It grew louder as they continued along the fast-flowing stream, which Ardrieth called Fresten’s Deyal, Mother’s blood.

Finally, they reached the source of the noise; a roaring waterfall tumbling over rocks, reflecting rainbows over the stream.

“Fresten’s Yenga, Mother’s mouth,” Ardrieth translated the name of the waterfall for Fox. That night they slept under Arletem’s wings, as Erin and Aria had on the long journey to the elven land.

They woke to the sound of the purring waterfall and crickets singing. Erin was reluctant to step out of the warmth of the phoenix’s wings, but he knew that they must be on their way. He was sure that elven searchers had been dispatched after them.

The horses were reluctant to get going, for the morning was bitter and cold. Erin drank from the clear water of the river, and like magic, he felt alive and alert as the cold drink slipped down his throat. He mounted Sky, and the caravan was off through the greenery. It snowed in flurries as they set off, and grey clouds loomed over the elven forest.

Ela poked out her long tongue to taste the cold of the snowflakes. Far below, the flurries became storms, and the air was filled with the white of snow. The wind howled, and the horses whined. Erin could feel the pain of losing the Lady gnawing away at him with every step his horse took. Unable to go any further, he feared his friends risking their lives. He did not want to lose them or anything else. He did not them to suffer or be lost in the storm of battle. Feeling the weight of his responsibility, fear consumed him. When they stopped for lunch, he slipped away into the woods when no one was watching. 
 During the trip from the falls, Aria had felt Erin’s pain. It washed through their connection like a fast rising tide. It overwhelmed her too, yet she did not let it flow, she blocked it up with a dam and focused on the moment. The flooding connection made it hard for her to sense when Erin left and crept unnoticed into the woods.

The only person, or rather thing, that did notice was a traveling wisp commander. On his way to a meeting with the Dark King, he sensed Erin’s discomfort and grief. The wisp was early anyway, so he decided to have a midday snack. He swooped down from the clouds, waiting in the mist of the forest for the right moment.

Aender Albrock was sitting in the great hall of his people, cut into the rock of the great mountain Gükonük of the Dwarves. It was lit dimly by lava, which flowed down from the cavernous roof, and into small controlled pools fenced by iron, which gave off the only light that lit the hall.

Long stone feasting tables lined with spruce benches adorned the cavern. At the very end of the tables was a throne of all the gems that could be found in the world, glowing in all their radiance. On the throne sat the great queen of dwarves: Brœnwyn Wisp-Slayer. She wore gold-plated armor, her brown hair fell in braids to her chest, and a diamond crown fit for the gods sat on her head.

“Finally. You’re back,” she said in a deep voice.

“He is in danger, your most high and fabulous majesty,” Aender said. The queen clicked her fingers. Two dwarven women appeared one with curly cinnamon hair and soft brown eyes. The second, Aender knew.

“No! Don’t send Adrianna!” he said, hugging his daughter to his side. “Saving Erindel can’t be worth her life!”

“I will do what I must, governor. Let my maiden go. Now!” she said in a commanding voice. With the Queen’s word said, a dwarf with skin like obsidian led Aender out of the room with a forceful shove.

Erin! Aria called out. Her voice echoed into the darkness of thought. Erin! Erin! the echo said. She could not replace Erin, yet she could feel his fear. They had been searching for hours now, and the sun was setting over the leafy forest.

Occasionally, Aria thought she heard a footstep, or a twig snap, but then, silence. She glared into the flurries of snow, cutting at her cheek like the wind’s teeth. Aria squinted. She thought she had seen Erin’s tan face and blue eyes, but now it was gone. Aria could barely see her feet in front of her as she trudged through the fast falling snow. A tear dropped down from her eye and quickly froze. For a moment she had had everything— she was reunited with her twin, she had started a new life in Ysterra— but as quickly as it had come, it left.

The convoy met at the clearing where they had eaten lunch, and with solemn faces, they set up camp. The magical fire flickered blue as the snow fell harder and faster until they could barely see the edge of the clearing.

Fox sat at the edge of the party, watching the falling snow. She was thinking about her mother. She had snuck away from her father in the middle of the night and left Fox at the age of nine. Fox closed her eyes. She remembered the night her mother had left her as clear as day. It was raining, and the dark mist that surrounded the black castle was thick and swirling tendrils of the mist crept through the castle gates and filled the courtyard like a flash flood. Her mother came into the room, her black hair puffed up from worry.

“I have to go,” she had whispered. Then she hugged Fox and climbed out the window.

Fox blinked. That was a long time ago, she told herself. Don’t worry about it. She shivered. Hopefully, that large blue bird would land and brush off the ground so Fox could finally rest. She didn’t know why she was continuing with this campaign to kill the king—her father. She was alone. Aria kept giving her looks that shot daggers. What had she done wrong? Fox wondered as she stood up and started pacing.

Arletem landed in the clearing and shook all of the snow that had gathered in his feathers on top of Fox.

“Hey! Would someone get this ghastly bird away from me?” she whined. Aria just rolled her eyes in disgust.

Arletem was not having a good day. Aria was crabby, so he was crabby. He halfheartedly brushed a foot of snow off the ground with his powerful wings and sat down to rest.

Fox scooted herself under Arletem’s wings and sighed with comfort. It was nice and warm beneath the feathers. She had stopped running away, and she was glad.

Erin was trapped in the snow. The voices were back, yet he knew there would be no Lady to save him this time. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable. The next thing he knew, he was lying in a stone hall lit by lava flows. Someone was staring at him.

“Erindel Finn, you are under arrest,” she said. Then Erin blacked out.

Fox woke. She had been dreaming the most peculiar dreams. She had seen Erin in a large stone hall lit by lava, lying unconscious, surrounded by dwarves. She shook off the fog of sleep and told herself it was just a dream.

“Erindel Finn! I command you to awake!” a voice said to Erin. He opened his eyes and saw a dark face staring at him, with glittering brown eyes piercing his mind.

“Finally,” she said annoyed. “State your crime.”

“What crime?” Erin asked. He was very bewildered. One moment he had been cloaked by the forests that surrounded Ysterra, and now he was— where? He looked up at the cavernous ceiling, ending far beyond his vision. The hall was made up of what seemed like well-polished stone dining tables and stools, where thousands of dwarves sat, eating. They were like the ones that had first carried him into the Lady’s home, yet they seemed somehow different. They wore their hair in plated braids and the men had twisted colorful threads into their beards. The queen’s deep, cunning, brown eyes were identical to her subject’s. They ate like wild animals, with their hands, and they used no utensils.

Erin sat up. Immediately, five dwarves rushed over to him and pointed their spears at his throat.

“I’m sorry!” Erin said, slowly lying back down. “I don’t know what I’ve done!” The dwarf wearing the quickly communicated with one of the guards in a harsh language that Erin could not understand.

“Bring him to the trial platform!” the leading dwarf said in common, projecting her voice into the cavern so that it echoed menacingly. All the dwarves turned to Erin in unison, and he found himself looking at a sea of beady brown eyes staring accusingly at him.

“What have I done?” Erin asked meekly, but there was no one that answered him.

Fox was kicking at a stone. She had not slept well. The dreams kept haunting her; Erin alone in a sea of faces, being carried to a large platform, calling for help. The glow of lava gave his face a haunting yellow tinge. She angrily kicked the stone so far, that it landed right next to Aria. Aria glared at her. Fox smirked. Aria shot more daggers at Fox with her eyes. Fox smirked like a cat. Aria looked away. Fox had won.

“Erindel Finn, you have committed the following crime,” the voice of the dwarf Queen rang through the hall. “You have disobeyed the Tri-Agreement.” Erin was tied to a tall pole of stone on a platform of stone, while a dwarf with a heart of stone read his wrongdoings that he did not know about. Erin sighed as he watched the lava flow down into the pools.

The dwarve cleared her throat, bringing Erin back to her voice.

“The Tri-Agreement, as you well know states that the One of Destiny, or whatever you like to be called, must come first to the dwarven hall of Gükonük, then to the elven city of Ysterra, and then finally to the gnomon plains of Hysta. You first traveled to Ysterra, and therefore, the agreement is broken,” she sighed dramatically. “You, Erindel Finn of the clan of Whisperers, are sentenced to death.”

“Any objections?” she asked the crowd. One dwarf raised his hand. “Yes, Bri?” she asked, irritably.

“Shouldn’t we verify that Erindel the great one knows the Tri Agreement?” he asked. A roar of outrage came from the crowd.

“Of course he knows the agreement!” one dwarve shouted.

“QUIET!” the queen yelled. The crowd went silent.

“Bri’s concern is valid,” she said, turning to Erin. “Did you know the Tri Agreement when you made the decision to go to Ysterra?”

“No,” Erin said. Another roar arose from the crowd.

“He’s lying!” a dwarven child said, shaking her small fists.

“I believe Erindel,” the queen said quietly, through the din of the dwarven voices.