Under the Crab-Apple Trees
Ingrid's Tale

“It’s amazing the difference a little sky can make.” - Shel Silverstein

“Why didn’t the Queen take you out of the mountain?” Erin asked.

“She was afraid I would run away,” Ingrid said. “Back to my family.”

“I thought you said that you have no family!” Erin exclaimed.

“I lied,” Ingrid said. “The Queen wants me to think that my only family is her, but I always have remembered my real family.” Erin noticed something about Ingrid that he hadn’t before.

“You are half human!” he exclaimed. Ingrid was the same height as him, not the usual four-foot height of a dwarf. She nodded.

“I think it is time I told you what happened,” she said. “I was born in a mountain village, my mother was a human and my father was a dwarf. We were hunter-gatherer nomads. In the spring we camped in the highest meadows, and in the fall we moved down to the valleys. In the summer we traded the wool of the sheep we raised, and in the remaining seasons we lived off the land.”

“On my ninth cycle, I was entitled my first nine sheep. My own flock. But one day when I was in the upper meadows, on my first day of herding, the Queen appeared.

‘You, Ingrid, are going to be my heir. I am the mighty Queen Bronwyn of all dwarves. I shall come back for you in a month, ’ she said. Of course, I had heard tales of the great hall of Gükonük and its mighty Queen. Everyone believed they were just fairy tales, but I had always thought they were real. I ran back to camp and told my mother and father that we had to go, we had to hide. They did not believe me.

‘Go back to your sheep Ingrid, tomorrow is shearing day,’ they said. But I was still watchful. Even while I wasn’t tending to my flock, while I was weaving, and while I was shearing I watched. And so the month passed and the Queen came for me,” she finished. “I have been in the mountain for two years.”

“Could you locate the winter valley from the air?” Erin asked. Ingrid thought for a second.

“Maybe I could,” she said. “Are you offering to take me home?” she asked hopefully. Erin smiled.

”Yes.”

They flew down through the clouds, and small fields of green sweetgrass came into sight. Ingrid swept her gaze around the mountain range. She spotted a smoke line coming from a distant valley, “There!” she said, pointing to the smoke, winding its way into the blue of the sky.

They swooped toward it and spiraled down towards the valley. Tents of colorful fabric came into sight, and sheep grazed on the green grass spotted with snow. Dwarves and Humans went around their duties, weaving and skinning today’s catch of rabbits. They could see the Eagle Hunters going out on their horses with hunting eagles perched on their wrists.

Ingrid smiled with glee. She began pointing out family members to Erin with excitement in her voice. People had begun noticing Ela, and Erin decided it was better that they landed farther away. Ela swooped away from the village to an open space of field, spotted only by the occasional sheep.

They landed in a spray of dew and frost. Sheep started bleating their loudest and Elaminla’s riders quickly dismounted. Erin spotted a shepherd cloaked in navy blue rushing towards them. “Halvard!” Ingrid exclaimed, running over to the shepherd.

“Ingrid!” he exclaimed, tears streaming down his eyes in joy. They ran down the field to the village, in spite of the sheep they were leaving behind.

“Mother! Mother!” Ingrid said, meeting a human woman had a striking resemblance to Ingrid. Erin watched the happy family in bittersweet joy, for he knew this would be the last time he would see Ingrid for a long time. He knew goodbyes would be in order, but for now, he stood to the side and watched Ingrid’s joy unfold.

“How in the world are we going to get across?” Aria asked pacing in front of a large, fast-flowing river. It was bloated from snowmelt and was at least a quarter mile long. They had scouted farther downstream, but the river had rapidly grown. The convoy sat in silence, deep in thought. Aria noticed the sound of the rushing water, a chorus of water sprite voices, quite unlike the storm sprites back home.

Aria missed the rain pattering on her cabin roof, the sound of crashing waves, and all of the sea-storm sounds that had formed her lullaby. Most of all, though, Aria missed the storm sprites who lived in the heart of the storm. She remembered the first day she was out at sea in reverence. She was only five, yet she could feel the magic inside her reaching out for her first storm. Arletem had arrived when she was seven, strengthening her growing magic. Arletem had told her that she had reached magical maturity when she was ten, which was also when she first touched a storm sprite’s mind. 
 Aria found that sprites were not like the tame fairies of storybooks, they were quite the opposite. Sprites had a wild spirit- they often shot lightening right where it was least welcome. They had seen something in Aria, that was like none of the other sorcerers that tried to control them. Somehow, they found that her intentions were harmless- she was just a girl exploring the sea. They opened their minds to her magic and allowed her to lull them to sleep.

“Aria!” Ardrieth was shaking her.

“Sorry,” she said. “Do you have an idea?”

“Arletem could carry the horses, and we could ride on him.” Ardrieth suggested.

“I don’t know,” Aria said. “He might drop something or someone.”

“You should let Arletem decide,” Ardrieth said. “He’s the one who’s going to be carrying the weight.”

Arletem? Aria asked.

Sure, I’ll be fine, he said. Aria took a deep breath as he placed his large talons around Sky Full of Stars. Sky did not struggle, for she could sense the protection within the phoenix.

All the other elven horses were fine, yet when it came to Owl, the circumstances were different. She squirmed when it was her turn to be carried, and whinnied with fear. She got across eventually, but it did scare Aria to see the writhing horse above the swiftly flowing river.

The remaining human passengers mounted Arletem and they flew across. Wren took out a map he had smuggled from Ysterra, pondering over their destination.

“We should overtake Croner first. It is a small city,” he said. “I think it is prudent that we set up a militia there.” Everyone agreed, and so they set off on the snow-covered track that led from the river. At midday they reached Croner. The village came as a shock to the group, orderly gray cobbled houses numbered in black print. Everything was identical, every house had a black door on the left of its cobbled front. One small window peaked from every wire bordered house, and every child rolled a small black yo-yo in sync. One wild-haired child dropped his yo-yo, and immediately a guard appeared and dragged the tearful child away.

The other children did not flinch for a second. They continued yo-yoing until a bell rung and they all turned on their heels and stepped into the houses.

“So, what’s the plan?” Wren asked Aria.

“Hide,” Aria replied, grinning. “I have something in mind.”

They retreated into the surrounding woods, and Aria told them the plan. When they were dispatched, Aria ran through the woods and to a small alley, where she would wait until Wren’s signal. Suddenly, she could see a bright light in the sky. It was heading for her. Aria caught the flash of magical light in the air, cupped her hands around it, and fled.

She could hear a commotion, but she did not head in its direction. Instead, she headed for the town hall. She skipped from shadow to shadow, unnoticed by the goose-stepping sentries. She scaled a tree close to the hall made of a black marble. She could see guards everywhere, haunting the town like cursed ravens. Aria opened her bag and found what she was looking for. She smiled as she picked up a glass ball, and inserted the flash of light.

Then, with a skilled hand, she threw the orb into the middle of the plaza in front of the hall. It exploded in a million flashes of red light, blowing a huge hole in the clearing as planned. Guards rushed to see what had happened, and soon her path was clear.

Aria slipped from the tree and like a lynx, she crept into a utility door that looked like hadn’t been used for sentries, and suddenly found herself face to face with a rushing sentry. She kicked him in the face, trying not to cringe. He crumbled to the floor and Aria stepped around him.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “You’re going to have a very bad headache when you wake up.”

Wren was slicing his way through the streets of Croner. Guards fell below his blade and finally, he reached the courtyard. It was remarkable that he had come all this way without incident. Just as Wren’s thought entered his head, ten guards jumped down from the roofs of the houses and surrounded him.

They jabbed their swords at his chest, tightening the circle.

“Hands up,” one of them said. Wren put his hands on his head and dropped his sword. It clattered to the ground, echoing around the empty streets. All of the sudden, a boom went off, seemingly close to the street.

Wren could see flashes of light, and the guards around him scattered.

“Thank you, Aria,” Wren muttered, as he ran into the courtyard, stabbing guards as he went.

Fox was jumping from roof to roof. She had seen the guards surround Wren, she almost had gotten captured herself, had it not been for the fire escape she had quickly slid down. Now she was on top of the town hall.

She spotted a skylight, skillfully picked its latch, and slipped down. The fall took the breath out her, but she landed on her feet. She glanced around at the spiral stair that bordered the hallways and led down to the first floor, checking for enemies.

Suddenly, someone kicked her in the back, and clamped their hand over her mouth, so that she had no time to scream for help. She acted quickly, for her hands were still free. She slipped her hidden dagger out of her pocket in her studded leather pants, and slit her attacker’s neck. Casually, she wiped the blood off the blade and put it back in the pocket. She turned around and saw in horror who her attacker was. She knelt to his side, shaking him, but she knew it was too late for her brother, the Prince Arlan. Fox cried for the first time in her life, tears slipping down her freckled cheeks.

Aria was clearing the halls of guards. A maid ran past her, confused.

“It’s a revolution,” Aria told the girl. “Do you want to have a taste of freedom?” The girl nodded, smiling, as she ran, yelling the good word.

Soon the town hall was clear of guards, yet Aria had five deep cuts and a broken leg. Her magic was drained, so she could not heal herself. She was limping as she walked back to camp. The villagers were burning the dead bodies of the sentries, some were chasing the last guards out, cleansing the town. They sang around the fires, relishing their new found freedom. Aria saw the boy who dropped the yo-yo with his parents and younger sister, flustered but happy. Tomorrow, they would form the militia to defend the town. She still felt the weight of killing deep down inside her, she longed to get away from it, yet it followed her like a shadow.

The people of Croner greeted her with joy, and she smiled wistfully, for she knew they thought she had done the right thing. She was not sure herself, she knew it had been good for the people, yet doubt trickled into her mind. When she reached the camp, Ardrieth was tending over Wren. Aria stumbled into the clearing, and Ardrieth immediately rushed to her side. “What happened to you?” she asked, but Aria had no time to reply before she started treating her leg.

Ardrieth grimaced. “Broken leg,” she said.

“That’s going to be in a splint for a few weeks at least,” Ardrieth said. Aria groaned.

“How’s Wren and Fox?”

“Wren is fine, just a few scratches and whatnot. He should be ready for tomorrow.”

“And Fox?” Aria asked.

“She’s not physically hurt—“

“Good,” Aria snapped.

“But she’s grieving.”

“Why?” Aria asked, confused.

“Didn’t you know? She killed her brother.”

“Oh, no… she won’t be at the militia gathering tomorrow?” Ardrieth shook her head. Aria put up with Ardrieth dabbing at her wounds and splinting her leg, then she painfully scooted herself under Arletem’s wing and fell fast asleep.

Erin was sleeping in a dark blue tent covered with hand-painted golden stars. This was Ingrid’s family’s tent, snores filled the space as the faintest glimmer of golden sun rose over the mountains. Erin quietly tip-toed out of the tent and onto the snow-covered grass of the valley.

The snow was new, and not a whisper of sound could be heard, except for the soft crunch of Erin’s footsteps. He walked through the small village of tents, and watching the birds wake up, he realized what he must do.

He crept over to Elaminila, who was sleeping.

It is time to go, he told her in a soft voice, careful not to startle her.

Already? she complained. In the end, she agreed to fly, but it took a lot of coaxing and promises of mutton when they landed. He mounted her and watched the first dwarves emerge from their tents as he took off into the clouds.

Can you fly to Aria? he asked. Ela shivered.

We might have company, she said. But I think that I can.

They flew through the fresh morning sky, ducking and zooming around the lowest clouds. As the sun rose, the clouds were tinted with a beautiful gold like the color of summer wheat or Ela’s feathers. Erin sniffed the new morning air, grateful to be out in the sky.

He wondered what Aria was doing if they had attacked their first town if they were free… A sudden wave of fear consumed Erin. What if they were captured? Were they injured? What if—? He shook himself from the momentary worries, but they still occupied the backspace of his mind.

Erin, is that you?

Aria! Are you safe? How are the others?

We’re all fine, even though I have a broken leg.

Did you free the town?

Yes, Croner is free. Wren is forming a militia right now.

I’m glad that you are safe.

Erin could not wait to see Aria again. Suddenly, a shadow passed over the sun. Erin wheeled around, but all was well.

What was that? he asked Ela.

I don’t know, Ela said. Nothing good.

The shadow passed over the sun again, like a persistent child. Erin shivered. A familiar prickling ran down his back. Mist flooded through the sky, blotting out the sun. Elaminla reared up and roared as a ship emerged, flying through the mist. It was old and had cannons sticking out its sides. It had grey tattered sails, like fog tendrils, swirling in the wind and mist.

At its helm stood a man dressed in black, wearing a crown of darkness. Evil filled the air, and the man roared to his crew of wisps. Erin unsheathed Zelynda, who’s starry diamonds glowed in the misty sky. Ela flung back her head, and spit fire left and right, engulfing the sky and everything riding it into roaring flame. They dived past the fireballs, only to replace that the black ship had survived, and was giving chase. Ela flew like she had never before, as the sky was engulfed with flickering phoenix flame.