Under the Crab-Apple Trees

“You may shoot me with your words, you may cut me with your eyes, you may kill me with your hatefulness, but still, like air, I’ll rise.” - Maya Angelou

The sky grew dark as magical storm clouds swiftly enclosed the small city. The mist swirled around the dark ship in the sky. Wisps poured out of the ship in groups of ten, though the speed of their descent made it seem as if a grey waterfall was descending from the ship’s hull. The rebel troops were lined in orderly squads, some on rearing horses, frightening by the unnatural storm. Snow and hail pelted down on them like teeth, sinking cold through layers of armor and cotton.

The first regiments sprung forth into battle, waving their swords. On the crest of the wave of soldiers rode Fox in all her glory, wearing the phoenix helm that she had stolen on the night of her escape. She brandished her sword with bravery, stabbing wisps in the eyes as she went.

There were only a few hundred of wisps, but it took a precise stab in the pupil to ensure the wisp’s defeat. Erin released arrow after arrow, he was a good shot, yet so few struck true in the middle of the gaping black pupil.

In this manner, the battle raged with no indefinite advantage on either side, for many had fallen. Suddenly, the wisps began to pick up the bows of the dead and fire upon the archers lining the walls.

Erin ducked as arrows whizzed dangerously close to his head.The phoenixes breathed fire on the wisps, but it seemed to have little effect. Erin poked his head up an instant too late and an arrow lodged itself into his shoulder. He let out a cry of pain, for it felt as if hornets were stinging his arm, over and over. He could barely see the scene unfold before him on the field.

A black phoenix with midnight feathers and bright red eyes swooped over the field. Erin saw the man wearing the obsidian crown riding him. The black phoenix swooped down and swept Aria off of Arletem’s back, plucking her out of the sky. Erin could hear her scream echo in his mind and her fear flooded their link. Erin fought to keep conscious as he cried out for her, the black ship withdrew, the wisps dematerialized, and then the world went black. In his mind, he saw Aria, screaming at the man with skin as pale as bones, kicking out, and trying to summon her magic.

Around her circled wisps chanting a deadly song. Erin writhed and screamed. He was immobile, he could not save her! He watched helpless, as the king drew a knife— and… Erin closed his eyes, tears running down his face like twin waterfalls.

“Erin,” he could hear his name being called. It all seemed far away, in a different world. He did not want to open his eyes and see the terror— the beast that had consumed the world he had once loved so much. What was his meaning? Why was life so cruel? Someone was shaking him now, asking him urgently to wake, to open his blue eyes.

“Erin…” It called faintly. Erin fluttered his eyelashes. He saw momentary flashes of color and light, illuminating his darkened mind.

“That’s it,” the voice said to him. “Just open your eyes.” Yet to Erin, that felt like lifting five tons. Wearily, he opened his eyes. Wren was staring at them, clearly worrying about Erin.

“Wren!” Erin said, grateful that he was alive. “How are the others?”

“Fox got pretty whacked up. Ardrieth’s healing her right now, but we’re all safe.”

Except for Aria. Wren gave him a look that confirmed his suspicions and he groaned. He stared up at the familiar marble roof of the town hall. He could see Ardrieth tending to a battle-worn Fox, who lay unconscious with so many others on the crowded floor.

Many injured lay groaning and few healers were available. The spacious town hall was filled to the brim with the dying and the injured.

“Erin!” Ardrieth wove her way through the cots and makeshift hammocks.“Your alive!” she sobbed, brimmed over with joy. “That was a poisoned arrow, you know, you’re lucky to have survived!”

No one mentioned Aria. He could tell that sadness washed over all of them like a never-ceasing tide. Erin examined his sword and armor laid by his bed. They sparkled in the little sunlight that was allowed by the small windows.

“I want to go walk,” Erin said, but as he tried to assume a sitting position, spikes of pain shot up his arm. He grimaced. The pain was so unbearable, that he had started seeing stars. Wren offered him a hand, and with extreme effort, he got up. “Thank you,” he gasped. Ardrieth had gone back to Fox now and was applying more disinfectant to her wounds.

“Let’s walk,” Wren said, tolerating Erin who was leaning on his shoulder.

“Why did they retreat?” Erin asked. This question had been haunting his dreams, following him wherever he went. There was silence as Wren thought of how to answer this. Erin knew that he had the answer within, but he allowed Wren to take time to phrase his response

“They had Aria,” Wren said, finally. “They didn’t want to risk losing her, for they knew of how people would react to her capture.” Erin knew that there was something else. This wasn’t the full answer.

“Wren,” Erin said, panting with the effort of walking. “I know that there’s something else.”

“Yes, there is,” he said this as if he was talking to a persistent child. “It’s you. He wants you to come to him so that he can destroy his only opposition. I hope you’re not thinking of going after him.” But that was exactly what Erin was thinking. He would escape tonight— but no, he couldn’t with his injured arm.

“Could you show me the stable?” he asked, changing the subject. “I want to see Sky Full of Stars again.” Wren led him to the stable, which was made out of stone walls and wooden poles to support the thatched roof. Sky was munching on some hay in her stall and she whinnied when she saw Erin. He stroked her nose absent-mindedly, pondering whether he would be up for a ride or not. “I’m going for a ride.”

“I’ll come with you,” Wren said, saddling up Owl. Erin sighed. He had hoped for some time alone, but he should’ve known that he would be watched everywhere he went. He saddled up Sky, and with an astronomical amount of effort, he climbed up into the saddle. “Ardrieth’s not going to be happy that you were out and about,” Wren commented as they rode out of the stable.

“I know,” Erin said. “I just needed some fresh air.”

“I know you want to run away from all of this…” Erin didn’t respond. “I just wanted you to know that we are all here for you.” Erin nodded. He felt like a child being lectured for his disrespect. They trotted down the streets in silence, listening to the birds sing a mournful song.

“You know I will go,” Erin said, after a while. Wren nodded.

“I know. I’m just going to try to stop you,” he said. “I don’t want you to be captured as well.” The horses’ hooves clacked on the cobbles through the abandoned streets. 
 “Where is everyone?” Erin asked. Wren shrugged.

“Mourning, either that or practicing for the next battle,” he said, in a faraway voice. “We took Futra and Feyhel, you know. Their people were almost willing to welcome freedom.” By freedom, Wren meant the army. Erin had come to hate the army. It had risked everything and everyone that he loved for some greater good. He had thought it was the right path, yet found that the bridge had fallen. They rode back to the stable, and Erin dismounted Sky with double the effort that it had taken him to mount. He slowly limped back to the town hall with Wren. Above, someone was playing the grand piano. It was melancholy, singing of sorrows and the questions of life.

He could see nimble hands touching the keys like fluttering butterflies, yet he knew not who it was. Ardrieth rushed over to him, making disapproving noises and muttering about how much he strained himself.

“Who’s playing the piano?” Erin asked.

“You would never believe this, but it is Fox,” Ardrieth said.

“Really?” Erin asked in disbelief. Ardrieth smiled, making her earth-brown face light up.

“She’s making quite a recovery.”

“I’m glad,” Erin said, listening to the beautiful music, which tickled his ears in the most satisfying manner.

“How’s Sky?” Ardrieth asked.

“She’s good,” Erin said absent-mindedly. He had a plan to save Aria if she could be saved. “Here,” Ardrieth said, dabbed some golden liquid onto his wound. “This should make it feel a bit better.” But Erin was paying no attention whatsoever to what Ardrieth was doing. His eyes were caught on a small service door, spotted with cobwebs and dust. It looked as if it hadn’t been used in years, but he knew somehow, that it would work.

“I’m going to try to catch some sleep,” he told Ardrieth, as he lay down on his cot. He rolled over and after a few minutes, he shut off the world and fell into a vast dreamless sleep, only broken by the occasional call of his name.

Erin…… it said. Erin……… It echoed in a long faraway voice. He woke suddenly just as the moon came up. Everyone was asleep and even Ardrieth dozed, slumped by a wall. He got up, careful not to antagonize his wound and crept through the sleeping bodies. Once, a woman cried out in her sleep, and Erin froze like a statue. Luckily, no one awoke, and he crept on through the cots and hammocks towards the service door.

He reached the door unnoticed and was confronted with the problem of opening it soundlessly. It was likely to squeak, he thought, for it looked like it had not been used for at least a century. He carefully examined the small silver nob. It was smooth and sleek, although it was tarnished by dust. What he didn’t notice were the fingerprints on the silver nob, that belonged to Aria.

He carefully opened the door. It did not creak, and he was careful to firmly close it. Now he was left in the dark. He felt his way down the small tunnel. It seemed as if an infinity had passed, but the time he took to get to the end of the tunnel was exactly 5 minutes and 56 seconds. He felt around for the nob on the other door and found it quite quickly. He turned it and stepped outside.