Under the Crab-Apple Trees

“I don’t know where I’m going from here, but I promise it won’t be boring.” - David Bowie

Erin slipped out onto the moonlit street, which was deserted except for the distant call of the nightingale. The crescent moon was rising in the sky, and he jumped from shadow to shadow down the darkened street. He reached the stable within minutes and mounted Sky with excruciating difficulty. They galloped off down the streets, away past the walls, and out of the city. He heard a shout behind him from the night guard, but he did not turn back.

He pulled up the black hood of his tunic. He had left most of his armor with Wren, but he had pulled on the boots and chain shirt before he had left. He also had strapped Zelynda to his belt, and his bow and quiver were on his back.

Erin! Ela said. Erin sighed. He had overlooked his phoenix, which he now saw as a grave mistake.

You know I have to go, he said. Don’t follow me. Don’t come searching.

He withdrew his mind, hoping that the phoenix would obey. The wide well-beaten snow path was a straight line all the way to Feyhel, yet it split in a few places where it led south and to the small river-towns of Futra and Elgar, and another place it split north to the dwarvish mountains.

Erin could see none of this, for the dark had swallowed up the land and the night was only penetrated by the small light of the crescent moon. Erin only caught sight of a few people, all of whom were sleeping in their canvas wagons when he passed.

As the moon sank and the stars dimmed, Erin contemplated what to do. Feyhel was taken by the rebels, he would be noticed there. He decided that he would sleep out the day in a nearby glen of trees. The sun was just emerging above the horizon when he dropped off to sleep, leaving Sky to wader in the snow-covered meadow.

Back in Croner, messengers had set out to alert the rebel towns of Erin’s escape. It was a time of confusion for the rebellion; some thought Erin had defected, others thought he was on a secret mission, but none knew the complete truth.

Ardrieth was desperate.

“But his arm!” she kept saying. “He’s injured!” Wren became cloudy and sulky. He had believed in Erin and he felt that this was a betrayal of trust. He stormed about and refused to answer Ardrieth’s questions.

Stories whispered in neighbors’ ears got more wild as they were passed along. Once, Fox got wind that Erin had been accidentally hung by the rebels. Upset, she refused to eat or drink. She had seen him in her dreams that night, riding away, farther and farther from Croner.

Erin slept through that day, not aware of the rapidly passing messengers and searchers, looking but not finding him. He soundly slept through the phoenix flybys, which did not spot him through the foliage of the trees.

When the moon started rising, he abruptly woke. Mounting Sky, he rode through the sleeping outskirts and ramblings of Feyhel. He could not see the posters plastered over walls boasting a large sketch of his face that Fox had drawn.

The slowly fading crescent moon lit his path, and he rode on. At about midnight, winds from the North blew in snow clouds, and snowflakes started falling quickly. Erin pulled on the coat that Aria had made him. He had packed it, along with food from the rebels kitchens, and some golden disinfectant that Ardrieth used on his arm.

He ate a loaf of fresh bread as he rode through the snow. He had to concentrate his magic on heating Sky, draining his energy. He felt like a weight had been set on his head, and it constantly got heavier. Erin could barely see a few feet in front of him, for the thick white sheets of snow covered everything. He could not see the moon, but it was getting lighter, and Sky was tiring fast. Erin slowed her to a walk, as they journeyed on the packed track of snow that led to the dark castle from Feyhel. They could not stop, for Erin would get cold fast, and the new falling snow would bury him.

The snow finally stopped, yet the clouds still hovered above. Erin gasped. He could see Udal’Dan looming forbiddingly on the horizon, only a few leagues away, how the crow flies. He drew Sky to a halt. His gaze followed the Elf’s Demise hovering above the castle like a persistent vulture. He could see why Fox had wanted to escape, but he couldn’t see how she had passed through the forbidding iron gate in the walls. Erin wondered how he himself would get out of those dark walls, yet he reminded himself that there probably wouldn’t be an escape out of them. Yet alone he must face the last… The words of the prophecy echoed in his head.

He could feel his heart pounding as if trying to free itself from its cage. It was almost as if it knew that its beats were numbered. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Aria, he called.

Erin! she almost sobbed. Why did you come?

You know, he said.

You shouldn’t have, she replied. You’re just falling into his trap.

Abruptly their communications stopped. Erin gasped. Pain flowed through their connection. He galloped forward to the black iron gate and summoned all of his energy. Suddenly, he felt claws around his waist.

Ela! he complained. Don’t take me home. There was silence for a moment.

Don’t worry, young one, she said. She flew him towards the forbidding wall, clasping her talons around his waist. Up over they went, and into the courtyard. Screams echoed from down below, the wisps flew up, and Erin stabbed them in the eyes.

He flew up towards the tallest tower, over Fox’s room, and he crashed through the open window. A wicked laugh crackled through the room.

“So you have come, Erindel, boy of destiny,” the Dark King’s voice echoed around the room. Erin looked around the circular room. There was Aria, tied to a pole by the wall, all of her magic stripped from her. Erin knew that he would have to act now, or never. He unsheathed Zelynda, who glowed more brightly than ever.

“You know that only my kin can defeat me,” the King said. “I am invincible!” He cackled madly, and his terrifying voice echoed through the stone tower. Erin took a step back. He had not known of the Dark Kung’s invincibility, and it chilled him to think of it. If only he had brought Fox with him, he thought with a pang of longing.

Why was the Dark King not attacking him? Erin wondered. But then another thought struck him. Why am I not attacking him? he asked himself. Yet the answer was so simple for both questions. They could not overcome their fear for each other.

Erin knew that whoever could overcome that fear first would win the battle. He concentrated on Zelynda’s blade, even though he realized that striking the King would do nothing in his favor, for the blade would come away bloodless, and the King would laugh and then strike him down. Yet Erin was determined that he would strike first, even though he could not defeat his enemy, he would at least be trying. Focusing on the pulsing diamond stars on Zelynda’s blade, he summoned a happy memory.

He smiled as he thought of it. They were in the cathedral of Kital, just after the storm had blown away in the first hours of the morning. He had touched Aria’s mind for the first time, and the realization had come upon him that he did have family left who cared for him.

He struck out with Zelynda, flashing her blade at the King’s dark robes. Time seemed to slow as Erin’s blade hit the King. A dreadful howl echoed through the room as the Dark King crumpled to the floor, evaporating so that only his robes were left, lying empty on the floor.

But then, something dreadful happened. A dark wave of magic, the only remnants of the King, flooded the room and Erin was knocked out, into a sleep filled with terrors and pain. He saw his mother as a child, screaming at her mysterious father as he rode away on a black horse. He saw the Lady as a girl rush over to help her crying younger sister, calming her and stroking her hair as they walked back to Ysterra.

Then he was watching Fox as a very young girl, playing with toy soldiers, and fencing her older brother with a small wooden sword in the dark hallways of a dreaded castle. Then he watched the dark king yell at a woman with grey-blue eyes and black hair, wearing a velvety blue dress lined with gold, and a golden crown atop her head. Then he was watching as the dark King magically reconstructed the Elve’s Demise, fallen timbers zoomed through the air, and back into their rightful places.

He saw Gükonük in ruins, the mountain smashed in half, steaming. Then he saw Ingrid screaming as she ran with her family from a burning meadow. Everything went black as a voice entered his head.

Erin…… the voice droned, sobbing. Erin…… Now Erin realized that it was a boy’s voice, about his age. It sounded oddly familiar. A scream echoed in his head as he struggled, trying to find the boy. He thrashed, trying to reach him, but it was too late. A single tear ran down Erin’s face.