Under the Crab-Apple Trees
Ysterra

“Don’t you know yet? It is your light that lights the worlds.” - Rumi

Shafts of light found their ways through the tightly knit vines and woke Erin. He had slept more soundly than ever before, dreaming of the beautiful lilt of the elven music. Someone was shaking him. It was a boy, about his age.

“Erindel!” he said. “It is time to rise! We must fit you with our best armor!”

“What’s you name?” Erin asked. The curly blonde boy blushed.

“Wren, Wren Starr,” he said, sounding downcast. “It’a girl’s name.”

“I like it!” said Erin. “It reminds me of the magical birds of this forest. You can call me Erin, by the way.” They walked out of the house, and a thought crossed Erin’s mind.

“Where is Aria?” he asked Wren.

“She is with Lark, my older sister, going to magic class,” he replied. The two climbed down the ladder in silence, observing each other.

Wren had a mop of curly blonde hair tied back into a small ponytail fastened by a golden circlet shaped like a vine. Now that it was day, all the workshops were full and elven children were in the treetop schools.

“Don’t you go to school?” Erin asked Wren.

“No,” Wren said. “One of our parents teaches us until we are thirteen, which is when we start our magical learning.”

They turned onto the fifth level, where blacksmiths, potters, goldsmiths, glassworkers, and stonecutters were working in their shops. They passed windows of enchanted sculptures that could talk, minuscule intricate golden gardens with miniature people and animals walking around inside, stands of bronze plated armor, and sparkling glass vases that were enchanted so that the pictures painted on them came alive.

Erin saw a boy of only about five chasing after a golden butterfly that was fluttering delicately in the air. Erin put out his hand.

I am a friend. He grasped the butterfly’s mind. It fluttered down onto his palm and he returned it to the boy. The large treetop path was crowded with all kinds of elves, Erin even thought he saw a fluttering humanoid the size of his hand.

A fairy! he thought with glee.

Quite right, Erindel, the fairy said, fluttering its silver and bronze wings. I am Virden, your fairy guide.

Virden perched on his ear, his leaf-clad legs swinging in the breeze. Once they reached the last of the many bustling shops, Wren stopped. He checked to make sure that no one was watching, then he leaned on a knot on the silver bark of the great tree. Immediately, to Erin’s great surprise, a small doorway in the bark revealed itself, and the door swung open.

Inside the tree was a natural hollow, for the elves would never do anything to hurt the tree. There were pairs of shining armor of the finest silver and bronze that Erin had ever seen standing in rows across the room. Spirals of gems painted scenes of luster, a shining sunset, a hawk in flight, an elf casting magic. Erin gazed in wonder as the door closed behind him at the hidden armory.

“Choose whichever pair you like,” Wren said. “The royal armory is beautiful, and each armor is different. Choose a set with care, this is a gift of the queen.” Erin walked along the aisles of chest plates, and finally, he picked a silver one with the sun glowing on its chest, the rays entwining the shoulder plates. It came with a chain shirt. He picked a silver helm shaped like a phoenix’s head, with golden feathers at the top. His leggings were of chain with a few plates, and his boots were of silver, with metal wings on their sides.

“Take care of those,” Wren said when he saw Erin pick the boots up. “My father made them. They are enchanted to fly when the owner commands them to.” Erin looked up in awe at Wren.

“Your father’s work is phenomenal!” he exclamed, gazing in wonder at the boots.

They ate brunch at a small restaurant on the third floor, Erin had a delicacy of mushrooms and some eggs that he was unfamiliar with, while Wren told him about his joy of fencing.

“I always miss the archery target though,” he said, sheepishly.

“It looks like we could teach each other something, then,” Erin said. “I’m terrible at fencing, but I love archery. Do you know a place to practice?” Wren smiled and nodded.

After they finished the excellent brunch, they climbed down the ladder. Now the ladder was crowded with elves going up and down the great entwining structure. The fairy, Virden, had eaten the leftovers of Erin’s brunch and was now hovering near Erin’s ear, making an annoying buzzing sound with its wings.

The elves’ language was like the song of a bird, and all around them, elves were calling to each other, so that the whole air was filled with the unusual music. The elves often wore hats of leaves, Erin noticed. Their clothes were of the greens, silvers, browns, and golds of the forest. When they reached the great clearing, Wren turned onto a mossy footpath that led through the many tree neighborhoods.

“Where is the Lady?” Erin asked Wren, who was kicking a stone to Erin. Wren gave him a puzzled look as he kicked the stone back.

“What about Inyelen? Do you know where he is?” asked Erin, with mounting fear.

“I don’t know. I heard that they were going to meet with the Queen,” said Wren hurriedly. “Come on! We need to get to the fencing clearing before—“ Wren stopped in mid-sentence.

“What is it, Wren?” Erin asked. “Is there something I should know?” Wren shook his head.

“It’s really nothing. Just, well, my father doesn’t like when I fence. He prefers when I am in the workshop, which is where I have to be soon,” he said, looking ashamed of himself. “He and I have a really rough relationship.”

“It’s okay,” Erin said, trying to comfort his friend. “I never even knew my own father. He was missing for my whole life.” The silence seemed to span for a while as the two boys walked along the path, kicking the stone back and forth in quiet companionship.

“So,” Erin broke the silence as they found themselves winding around the bases of the city trees. “Do you receive your phoenix tomorrow?”

“Yes, I do!” Wren said, brightening up. “I heard that your phoenix was impatient, and found you last night. What is she like?” So Erin described Ela to Wren, from her pointed beak to her magnificent golden tail.

“Do you know what her name means?” Wren asked.

“No, I don’t speak that dialect,” Erin answered. “Well, what does it mean?”

“Joy of Life,” Wren said, smiling.

“I like it,” said Erin.

They walked into a clearing. Wren tossed him a stick and they started fencing. They whirled around the clearing, parrying and striking. Through his observations during his time in Ysterra, Erin had noticed the grace of the elves. They never tripped or stumbled. They just danced through the landscape, like nature’s best success. He had some of the elven grace, yet an occasional root would still trip him. The boys were not evenly matched fencing partners, Wren was faster than Erin, and had more experience. But as they fenced, Erin wordlessly learned the many sequences of moves that Wren used and took advantage by making his own. When they stopped, they were both panting, bruised, and smiling. They had attracted a small crowd of elves, sitting under an oak sapling, their eyes wide.

They went and fetched bows and quivers from a small armory and met at the archery clearing, which lay beside the fencing field. There were ladders going up some of the smaller trees that led to platforms where they could shoot. The targets were things of incredible craftsmanship, shaped like monsters with large horns sticking out of their oversized heads.

“Wren, what are they?” he asked, as he crept up a ladder to the highest platform.

“Un Dalen,” Wren said in a dark tone.

“Where have I heard that name before?” Erin pondered. He swore he had heard it, and it seemed important, but alas, it was out of his mind’s reach. Erin fitted an arrow to his bow. He eyed one of the monstrosities, its piggish face foaming. Its body that was of a man’s, was in a lunge for an enemy that wasn’t there. Erin aimed for its heart, took a deep breath, and let the arrow loose. It hit, and the monsters around it sprung into life. Erin looked shocked, but Wren did not. He fitted an arrow, and then quickly let it loose. It skittered to the ground, barely missing the thigh of one of the monsters.

Erin fit his second arrow, and let loose. It stuck in one of the Un Dalen’s shoulder. It cursed and got back up. He examined the arrows in his pack. They were of different colors, some of purple, some of orange. Erin had been using the normal arrows, unpainted. He carefully drew a purple arrow and fitted its dark feathers to his bow. He fired. It let out a roar like a lion and curved of its own will to the throat of the biggest Un Dalen. It hit strong, and the large monster crashed to the ground. Erin then took an orange arrow. When he let it loose, a whole folly of arrows appeared out of thin air and hit four Un Dalen. Erin grinned.

When all of the dummies had been slain, Erin fetched the precious arrows.

“They were enchanted, the dummies, weren’t they?” Erin asked Wren. Wren nodded.

“You taught me something,” Wren said. Erin looked surprised. He had not taught him at all. “You helped me realize that archery isn’t for me,” he said. “I’ve pretty much known that all my life, but you helped me realize it. Thank you.” The two friends jubilantly walked down the mossy path as the sun started to set. Wren veered off the trail to a small hut, simply labeled: Messenger, in faded writing.

“I’ve got to send something to my father saying that I’m not going to be at the workshop,” he said in a glum tone. Erin waited outside as he opened the door and recited his message.

They decided to eat dinner at the same treetop diner where they had had brunch. The ladder was particularly crowded, for elves were getting out of work and were rushing up and down to their homes. Virden had flown away as they practiced, but now was sitting on Erin’s ear again. Erin loved the smell of spices and baking potatoes on the air of the beautiful forest, fresh and foreign with its spicy fragrance. As they walked into the vine constructed diner, they spotted Aria chatting at a table with an elven girl with beautiful tawny skin, rich dark hair, and grayish-blue sparkling eyes.

“Is that Lark?” Erin asked.

“Yes, that’s her,” Wren said, in a foul tone, which siblings will use when speaking to each other.

Did you have a good day? Erin asked Aria, replaceing her mind.

Yes, Aria said. It was simply charming! I learned so much magic.

Erin smiled. He was glad Aria was happy. They sat down at the table and enjoyed a feast of mushrooms and berries.

When they walked out after dinner, the moon had come out, and the treetop streets were mostly deserted. Wren and Lark climbed down the ladder, for they lived in another tree, and Aria and Erin climbed up, up, up, and into their treetop home. Erin immediately fell asleep as he rested his head in the hammock.