Under the Crab-Apple Trees

“You have to believe it and you hate it. I don’t have to and I think it’s beautiful.”-Katherine Paterson

Erin woke to the sound of rain. The soft light of a rainy morning seeped under the door. He was still in the strange place, and he wanted to leave. But it seemed that the rain had washed away all of his anger, so he decided to stay only long enough to hear the rubbish about his mother. He went out of his room full of books, and there waiting outside in the hall was the Lady.

“I want to hear about my mother,” Erin said decidedly. The Lady smiled.

“I thought you would,” she said. They walked back into Erin’s room and sat down on the bed.

“Where to start?” pondered the Lady as she closed the door. “I think it must be when your mother received her phoenix. You see, in the elven custom… Yes, there are elves.” She said, catching Erin’s questioning look. “Your mother is one, she has elven ears, blue elven eyes, and elven grace. Well, when an elf turns thirteen, they receive their phoenix. Your phoenix is like your protector, your source of magic. They come in all colors and sizes—“

“But how do I know that phoenixes exist?” asked Erin, interrupting the Lady. The Lady whistled, and a most magnificent bird the size of a Labrador Retriever soared in through the door, which the Lady hastily flung open again. The creature had emerald green feathers covered with sparkling raindrops, which looked like jewels. Erin stared in wonder at the bird for he could hear it. It was speaking in his mind. He had trouble believing what was happening, it seemed like he was in a fairytale.

You are the boy, it said in a melodic tone that Erin at once knew was unique to this phoenix. The Lady says I am to show you some of your mother’s story. Come into my mind. Erin found the phoenix’s mind when he closed his eyes. It gave off the warmth of happy thoughts, and he grabbed for it. At first, he missed, but then his mind reached it. He plunged into the mind of the phoenix as he would Gwendolyn Lake at home. It was refreshing. He knew that this was a memory, a scene that had happened long ago. He found himself floating above a clearing surround by gigantic trees, the size of skyscrapers. Streets made of wooden platforms wound their way around the trees like a screw’s spiraling edges. He swooped closer to the clearing. There, was a group of young people— elves, he realized with thrilling exhilaration! In the middle of the crowd stood his mother. She looked healthier and happier than Erin had ever seen her. She looked no more than his age, a carefree look adorned her face. Her golden hair sparkled in the sunlight. She was talking with what looked like a younger Lady, who had already received her phoenix. It was sitting faithfully at her side, green feathers shining.

An old elf entered the clearing and whistled. A group of phoenixes of all sizes and colors swooped down from the large branches of the trees, singing songs like Erin had never heard before. They were beautiful, full of sorrow and joy. The old elf called out the names of the young elves, and one by one, he assigned them living quarters, an apprenticeship, and a phoenix, and one by one, the elves left the clearing until only Erin’s mother remained. Her phoenix was bigger than three horses and had shocking red feathers and blue eyes.

“His name is Firloc,” the old elf said. Somehow, Erin knew that meant bravery. Then he was back from the memory, standing in his room with the Lady. He was full of wonder, for he knew that this magical world was no lie.

“I believe you,” Erin said. The realization that this world was not a dream flooded through him. The Lady smiled, clearly pleased. The Lady continued his mother’s story in a more confident voice,

“The queen, Hydel, had not seen a phoenix like the one that chose your mother for a very long time. You see, that kind of phoenix used to be very common, but when the dark King seized control of the field of Erindel, he hunted phoenixes for sport. Most fled to the forests where the elves live, but the kind your mother received wanted to stay and fight.”

“Why are you here, in the middle of the plains, if elves live in the forests?” interrupted Erin. “Who is the dark King?” he asked as an afterthought. The Lady looked unsettled.

“Those are stories for another day, Young One,” she said and then continued, “The queen became a close mentor to your mother, and soon the queen decided that your mother should be the heir to her throne. The queen had no children, so your mother was treated as her child. Your mother was unhappy about the queen’s choice. She wanted a life of her own that was not entirely controlled by politics. So when she turned twenty, the queen gave your mother ten years to do as she pleased before she had to come back and assume the throne. Your mother went off to a human country to escape her looming fate. The separatist human country was not controlled by the dark King, who was known as the Blerast, or in human—"

“I know,” said Erin. “It means, the Most Powerful.” He didn’t know how he could understand elvish, but it came to him instinctively.

“So you do know Elvish,” the Lady said. “Well, your mother went to a small fishing village named Kital. It’s not far from here. She fell in love with your human father. I only met him once, very briefly, when I came and visited you as a child, and tried to plead with your mother to come home. By the time of my visit, her ten years of freedom were over. So in the middle of that night, she picked the December apple and fled to your world forever. She was never seen again. The queen has been searching for thirteen years, but she has not found your mother. All of Gernada assumed that your mother had fled to the human world.”

“She’s dead,” Erin said quietly.

“No! She can’t be!” the Lady said, a tear cascading down her face. “Where is your father?”

“I do not know,” Erin said. “I never knew him. My mother never spoke of him.”

“Your mother must have left him behind. Humans born of the magical world are very vulnerable to travel between worlds.”

“I would like to go and tell my father of my mother’s death,” said Erin.

“Yes, I think we should do that,” the Lady said. And with that, the Lady rushed out of the room. A few minutes later, the Lady returned with a long golden case, about five feet long. She opened it and inside was the most beautiful bow that Erin had ever seen. It was encrusted with emeralds that twirled around the golden wood of the bow in the shape of a vine. Erin was captivated by the beauty of the bow.

“This was your mother’s when she was young,” said the Lady. “You should have it in case we meet any wisps on the way to Kital.”

“Wisps?” asked Erin, wondering what in the world wisps were. 
 “Oh, you don’t know,” said the Lady. “It’s just easier to have Feony show you.”

Come to me, young one, the phoenix whispered in his mind. This time, Erin found the phoenix’s mind more easily.

He was standing in a dimly lit courtyard of stone. It was quite large, and soon Erin could see some figures approaching. They had the outline of a human, but the black mist of their insides seemed to bleed out of their borders like curling fingers. They carried no weapons, but all the same, Erin could somehow sense that they were dangerous. Erin emerged from the memory shivering with fear and with one important question. How do you defeat them? he asked Feony. Almost immediately he was plunged into another memory. A wide field stretched out before Erin’s eyes. Frost covered all of the grass. It was night, and a woman in shining armor was walking towards something behind Erin. Erin turned around, and he saw a wisp. He hoped with all his heart that the woman would defeat the wisp. Then she charged on the wisp. The wisp produced from its misty depths a transparent black sword. The two dueled. Across the clearing they fenced using footwork like a dancer’s. They flew through the night, stabbing and parrying, striking and blocking until when Erin could stand the suspense no longer, the wisp drew back its mysterious hood and Erin could see its face. It was rotting flesh with one blank milky white eye in the center of its forehead. The woman stabbed the eye, and the wisp fell to the ground. It lives on eyes. Eating the eyes of those it defeats, Feony explained as the memory faded away. Erin came back to the room in a daze.

“Thank you, Feony,” said the Lady, stroking the emerald green phoenix’s feathers. “Now I must show you something of my magic so that you will be prepared in case I need to use it along the way,” the Lady said. “You need a phoenix to wield magic. So, mainly elves have magic. Most anything is possible through magic. I’ll demonstrate.” The Lady closed her eyes, and so did Feony. Suddenly a book floated from the shelf and did flips in the air like some odd butterfly. It lit itself on fire, yet none of the book’s matter was consumed. Then, it was quickly extinguished, and it floated back to the shelf unchanged. The Lady opened her eyes. “Now I have expended the energy of lifting and twirling a book, and lighting and extinguishing a fire,” said the Lady. “These simple tricks only require a small amount of energy whereas battle magic is very taxing. Magic can kill you if you’re not careful. For instance, you need a good deal of energy to smash a brick wall in its entirety, but you could smash a few bricks that would destabilize the wall, and the whole thing would tumble, and you have used less energy.” She saw the longing in Erin’s eyes. The desire to perform his own magic. She added, “We might go to the elven land after we visit your father so you can receive your phoenix and be trained. We’re leaving after lunch so that we can get to Kital before dark. Lunch is in the dining hall." Erin walked out of his room, and into the hallway. He traveled through many corridors before he reached the dining hall. Erin was more hungry than he had ever been in his entire life. The lunch of pheasant and spring grass hardly quenched his appetite. He walked back to his room and found a silver tunic, green trousers, and a brown cloak, lying next to a leather quiver on his bed. He put on the clothes, slung his mother’s bow and quiver over his shoulder, and went to wait for the Lady on the open plain. When the Lady arrived she was singing to two horses in elvish as they followed her. They were laden with saddlebags for the journey. After Kital, where that journey would take them, Erin did not know. The Lady mounted the white horse, and Erin mounted the dappled grey horse. “Her name is Sky Full of Stars,” the Lady told Erin while pointing to his horse. Erin patted Sky’s mane fondly. He loved horses. Soon they started south, following no path. It seemed like every minute was an hour to Erin, and the beautiful scenery of the rolling hills and the ocean did little to quench Erin’s boredom. Soon Feony joined them, and they were comforted by his never-ceasing music. Slowly, they covered ground. The mountains came into view when the sun started sinking from its perch high in the sky. They spurred their horses onward along the coast, staying at the stony bases of the mountains. “The Gardanel Mountains run along the coast for quiet a while. Kital is nestled around a gentle bay, it should be only a few leagues from here,” said the Lady. “We must avoid the mountains at night. They have a foul temper.” Soon the sparkling bay of Kitallion came into view. Small fortified walls of sandstone surrounded the city. The gates were just about to close as the Lady and Erin rode up. The Lady tossed the guard a coin, and they were let in. The streets of cobblestone were empty in the fading light. They rode for a time past the diversely colored houses. Finally, after they had passed many a crossing, they came to the West Gate. The gate had no barrier. A bridge led out to a small island from the West Gate. They traveled across the old bridge and came to the island. Houses were cluttered on it like a child’s cast aside toys. In the middle of the houses was a rickety structure built taller than the rest. It had different sized levels, so that it looked like someone had stacked up a bunch of different sized boxes in a hurry. They trotted up to the building, where a sign of old driftwood hung. It read; The Sailor’s Rest in faded golden writing. “It’s an inn I stayed in after your mother left,” explained the Lady as they hitched up the horses. They pushed open the oak doors. A comforting hubbub greeted them as they stepped inside. Several fishermen were sitting at the bar, talking quietly over cups of some foreign purple ale.There was a small desk in the middle of the square room, to the right of which sat the bar, and to the left sat several worn out velvet chairs. A ferrety man with hardly any auburn hair left on his head sat at the desk. “How may I help you, ma’am?” he asked the Lady in a loping accent.

“We are looking for lodging,” said the Lady.

“For how long?” asked the Ferret Man.

“One night, I think,” answered the Lady.

“That will be six Wyvens and a Kern,” said the Ferret Man. The Lady raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry miss—“ said the man. Then suddenly, his eyes went blank.

“That will be two Wyvens,” he said, in a faraway tone. “Fifth floor, second room on the right, all yours.” The Lady handed him two brass coins and walked up the stairs behind the desk. Erin followed. They walked up and up, spiraling higher and higher on the squeaking steps.

“You used magic!” burst out Erin in an accusing tone.

“Yes, I did,” said the Lady. “Sometimes, Erin, it is necessary if your reason is true.”

“What was your reason?” demanded Erin.

“For this mission to succeed, that was necessary,” said the Lady smoothly. Erin still thought using magic to reduce the fee of their room for the night was wrong, but he was too tired to argue any longer.

They finally reached the fifth floor and opened the door to their room. Erin flung himself upon the cot, and was too sleepy to notice the atrocious condition of his bed. He fell asleep almost immediately, for the day had been long.