Fractured Fairy Tales (5 page)

“And I’m not going to leave you here!” Ellie told him, and then did something she hadn’t done in years.

She pulled her dear brother into her arms and placed a kiss on his forehead. The warm touch, just that small spark of heat, flowed down his body like hot oil to melt the frost from his heart. Pain throbbed in his chest, and her brother let a single tear roll from his eye. The sharp prick in his gaze disappeared, and so did the ice that had once encased his heart.

“I love you, Ayden,” Ellie smiled at him. “You were the best brother ever.”

“Ellie, don’t!”

But it was too late.

The young girl, who had once cried about everything and hated her life, flung herself at the ice witch. Ayden lost sight of her as the storm of snow fell on top of him. Cold surrounded him completely. Ice above, ice below, ice within. Ayden tried to calm his breathing as silence shut him away from his sister, the one thing in the world he truly cared about.

He couldn’t hear her voice anywhere. Was she still alive? It was so quiet; he feared that he was dead already. But then his clothes became damp from the pile of snow, and he struggled to breathe. He was still alive…for now.

A burning rage entered his body, the feel of Ellie’s kiss still on his skin, and he started to dig. Up and up he went, not even knowing if he was going in the right direction. All he knew was that his sister needed him. His arms strained against the thick cold and his lungs burned as the air disappeared.

Just one more push
, he thought,
just one more…

His fist went through the snow and struck air. Heart in his throat and ears ringing, Ayden pulled himself out of the snow and shook flakes from his hair as he searched for Ellie. He gaped when he finally opened his eyes. The entire grand hall was filled with snow. White lay in piles in the corners and clung to the crystals of the chandeliers. But there was no sign of a yellow haired girl.

“Ellie!” he called out, pulling his legs free and shrugging off the wet coat of fur from his burning shoulders. “Ellie, where are you?”

Stepping down the hill of snow, Ayden went to where he had last seen her with the witch and started digging feverishly. His back ached and his fingers were numb, but he kept on digging; kept on searching and praying and pleading.

“Don’t you dare be dead.” He felt his eyes grow wet. “Don’t do this to me, El.”

White snow gave way to blue ice, then black hail, and then red. Red smeared across the floor and red stained in the cold. Ayden stared at it breathless and numb, vision blurring. There was no body. No footprint or piece of clothing. Only redness across white.

“Ellie!” his voice echoed through the room, muffled and sounding like a small child. His wail joined that of the wind swirling outside, which touched the cooling tears on his cheeks and chin. “Ellie…Ellie…”

Ayden bowed to the snow and pressed his forehead against the blood. His sister’s kiss still burned on his skin, and he hoped to never lose that as well. The wind hummed to him, seeming to comfort his broken heart, and touched cold fingers against his back.

“Ellie?” Ayden glanced up at the touch.

The wind picked up the snowflakes bathed in red and let them dance in front of his eyes and sway back and forth. Ayden followed their little dance, his gaze moving up to the stage where the throne of the witch sat empty and covered in frost. But then he blinked…

The flakes of red picked up the patterns of frost and danced around them, persuading them to form a shape…the shape of a young girl.

Ayden didn’t hesitate. He ran toward the snow being picked up and gathering together. The girl was made of ice, with skin a blush pink and hair so blue. But she looked the same. She looked so beautiful. In that moment, when she smiled at him with lips of silver, Ayden thought she was perfect.

“El,” he reached out for her.

“Looks like there is a new queen around here,” she laughed and reached out to his outstretched hand. She was icy cold, but Ayden didn’t mind. He sank against her cut glass skin and held her, even though his body heat made her hair melt. “I’m never letting you go, Brother.”

She pulled away from him and he noticed something as she spoke.

He frowned. Did his sister always have such sharp teeth?

Silver lips parted and his blue eyes widened.

“Together forever,”

The Snow Queen smiled wickedly.

Luvia

Stephen T. De Marino

The children did their best not to sneeze as the dust flew by them in their hiding place. The little giggles that escaped were beyond the notice of the woman wielding the broom; her focus so intensely involved in her sweeping that the breathy laughter coming from the balcony railing was of little consequence.

Melisan swayed as though to hidden music, each step artfully placed as if she were dancing to the outside viewer. Her bunched skirts, the precise angles of her ankles, and how she held her broom in such a way, that it was away from her body, yet part of it, maneuvering and flowing with it, all led the children to believe she was dancing with a lord in her somewhat broken mind.

“Do you think it was Lord, or some handsome Servitor?” whispered Lanai.

“Probably just an ugly pig farmer who was nice to her, I should think” retorted Lucas. He was all of seven turns of the Orrery, yet he felt himself to be the champion of propriety and maturity in the face of his younger sisters’ giggles and games.

“Oh, go on with you, pig farmer indeed,” interjected Luvia, looking down at the maid as she swept the floor, her broom handle moving back and forth. “There is no pig farmer, no matter how nice, going to make her dance like that. That’s something else…something bigger.” She poked her twin sister, who was holding back another snort of laughter, in the ribs.

As the children watched, Melisan worked the room, always starting in the North Corner, and working her way through the points of the compass. Her feet would always follow the grain of the wooden planks in the floor, stepping one parallel and the next perpendicular. First pass was right hand leading, her elbow up, the next was left hand leading, elbow down. Step, step, sweep, sweep, all along the walls she went, her body bending with the grace of long years of practice as she came to each obstacle, a dresser, an armoire, the linen closet. Each time, the broom would move, its axis changing as it removed the cobwebs and dust from around each piece of furniture.

Luvia could hear Melisan muttering in a gentle sing-song, though she didn’t understand the words.

“Traitor’s gate, Balun’s gate, there’s your fate. Move the dust we say, or there will be night to pay, crows are on their way. Leave the bit by the door, but clean every floor. Water gate, Fire gate, set your guards or they will hate. Crows will come in the night, and then it will be too late to fight. Traitor’s Gate, Balun’s gate, there’s your fate…” On and on it went.

Luvia wondered at it, what the song meant to the broken little maid. She sang it gently under her breath as she cleaned, her broom removing everything that hid under the furniture, leaving no place upon the floor untouched. Despite her odd way of walking, Melisan never missed a spot. The entire floor was touched by her broom, every square inch was swept in a precise, distinct fashion, the pattern etched into her steps.

As the children watched, Melisan finished her sweeping, bringing all the dust into a neat little pile in the South corner of the room, where she took it outside, and with words not heard by the little spies, cast it onto the rubbish pile out back. She returned shortly, her echoing steps warning the children of her arrival, carrying a rag and bottle of oil.

As Luvia watched intently, Melisan would again, start in the North corner, and in a pattern that the children couldn’t quite make out, would begin to wipe down every piece of furniture. Some she would start on the top, moving everything off, wiping down the whole piece, the oil picking up the dust and removing it all. Others, she would start low, and work her way up, her fingers moving into every crevice and crenellation, rooting out the offensive bits of air-travelled earth that had hidden there.

“I’m bored,” grumped Lucas, and Lanai nodded affirmatively with him.

Luvia shushed them. “I want to figure out why she does it, what it means.”

“What
what
means, Luvy?” whispered Lanai.

“Yeah, what do you mean, what it means?” added Lucas. “She is just a broken old doll. Papa only keeps her around because she cleans so well. I mean her whole thing about any bird statue facing the window is weird. How she gets stressed if Papa or Mama move a room around, keening in that creepy voice of hers about how she has to ‘change the pattern’. How can you think there is anything in that head of hers but dust?” Lucas scoffed and turned his back to his sisters, figuring that was the last word, since he was the oldest.

Luvia mused over Melisan. She had watched her for many days, and the obsessive way she did things, the patterns, the ritual to it all fascinated her. It was like the priests on Torsday morning service. They, too, prayed to the four corners, and had a pattern to everything they did. Maybe this was Melisan’s way to pray. Somehow, it didn’t seem right to Luvia, but still she kept watch, thinking it over.

Once Melisan had moved on from the parlor where the children were hiding, Luvia, Lanai and Lucas emerged from their lair, and proceeded to play throughout the house. Their favorite game, of course, was avoiding Miss Alaina, the nanny. As they played though, Luvia would see Melisan working, and each time she would pause to watch for just a minute or so, trying to tease the pattern from her movements. Luvia knew something was there, just out of reach, just out of sight. It might be a product of a broken mind, she knew; but it was more than that. It was important for some reason, Luvia knew that as well. Soon after, she was deep into a game with a ball, some straw men, and her siblings. For the rest of that day, Melisan and her patterns slipped from Luvia’s mind.

A few days later, Lucas, Luvia and Lanai were in with their tutor, sweating through the various tense forms of high Eldar. Lucas kept struggling with the glottal stops, making Lanai giggle. Finally, seeing the frustration building in his young pupil, Tutor Hamman stopped him.

“Why don’t we try something different? Do you know why we learn Eldar, even though there are no longer any Elves in the West? Why do I make you learn this difficult, impermeable language with all its contextual rules?”

Lanai piped up, “Because Papa pays you to?” Sniggers from Lucas and Luvia erupted behind their hands.

Hamman gave a patient smile. “No, though that is a good reason for it. We do not torture you with Eldar just because, child. There is a purpose to it. Do you know what it is?”

All three heads shook side to side. “No, Tutor, we don’t,” came from the trio of mouths nearly simultaneously.

“The reasons for it are twofold. One, Eldar is one of the oldest languages, and many of the forms and constructions of its syntax and vocabulary are inherent in our modern tongues. If you understand Eldar, for instance, you can pick out the meanings in Gruish, Jamoni, and our own Frashavian. Second, there is great history involved. Many of the things in the world are named in Eldar, and their purpose given in Eldar. One of the great examples is in the Treaty of Vinitisia, which divided up the nations of the West amongst the various Kings of Men. Arrayed like spokes from the
Panai Eloh’im Cuiati…
”

Lanai raised her hand, “Oh, I know this one, I know it. It means the Palace of Elves….umm Center?”

Hamman smiled at her, his eyes wrinkling up like parchment in the corners. “Yes, Mistress Lanai, very close. It means the People’s Palace at the Center of All.”

Lanai beamed; her pride at having gotten something right showing in the grin that went from ear to ear. Luvia smiled back at her, justifiably proud of her twin. Lucas looked slightly miffed he had not gotten it first, but they all looked back at Tutor Hamman, waiting for more.

“As I was saying, arrayed like spokes from the
Panai Eloh’im Cuiati,
there
are the roads that act as borders between the Central Kingdoms, each with its own gate and name. As you go around they are
Dhaerow Andon, Aluvia Andon, Balundi Andon, Nauri Andon, and Kallo’hi Andon.
Luvia, can you tell me what the names are in Frashavian?

Luvia furrowed her little brow, unconsciously twisting her braid as she thought.

“Tutor, I think it is Bad Man Gate, Water Gate, I don’t know
Balundi
, Fire Gate…and Good Man Gate?”

Tutor Hamman gave a little clap. “Very good, Luvia. There were some words in there that I did not expect you to know. But you did quite well.”

Lanai looked at her sister as if she had grown another head. It had always been Lanai or Lucas that excelled in the Elvish lessons, Luvia usually only spoke up in math. It was quite out of character for Luvy to be the one with the answer.

Hamman turned to the slate behind him, and from one of his many pockets produced a piece of chalk. He drew a pentagonal figure with a line transecting each side, coming together like a five pointed star in the middle. He pointed to each in turn reciting their names, “In Frashavian, they would be as thus, Traitor’s Gate, Water Gate, Balun’s Gate, later on known as
Aranai Ando
, or King’s Gate. Then you have Fire Gate, and lastly, Hero’s Gate. These are the five gates, leading to the five main roads from the Palace of the Elves. Though now in ruins, at the time, it was the very hub of commerce and travel.”

Luvia looked at the pattern on the wall, thinking of Melisan and her little ditty. How could a broken down maid know of the roads from the Elven Palace? Why did she chant their names? The puzzle of it rolled over and over in Luvia’s mind. She was only awakened from her reverie by a tapping on the window. She looked to her left, and through the thick leaded glass she could see a crow. Through a clear spot in the murky glass, it looked at her, its dark eyes shining brightly. For no reason she could explain, she felt a shiver, and the day seemed to darken.

Tap, tap, tap. The crow pecked at the lead holding the window in place. Tap, tap, tap. Luvia felt something from deep inside come to the surface. She held out her hand, fingers split, with the middle one cocked, and the words came to her. “
Autari wanwa Korko, Autari wanwa mor dulin, Autari wanwa Rakinna.”

Tutor Hamman looked startled. He looked from Luvia to the now empty window and back again. “Luvia, what did you say? Did you say what I think you said?”

“I don’t quite know, Tutor. I know I wanted the crow to go away, and they seemed like the right words.”

“Did you say…crow?”

“Yes, Tutor Hamman, there was a big black bird, pecking at the window. For some reason, I wanted it to go away, so I said the words. Did I say them right?”

Tutor Hamman went pale, his skin becoming nearly the same color as the grey in his hair.

“Lessons are over for today, children. Go and…just go. I need to speak with Lord Hondon.” He spoke the last quietly, nearly to himself, as he turned and left the room.

The children all looked at each other. Lucas shrugged, thinking that you could never tell with adults. They acted so strange sometimes. He vowed not to be weird when he grew up. Luvia and Lanai mugged at each other, making bug eyes and grinning at the chance to play, when normally their whole morning would have been taken up with lessons. As they left the room to go execute their plan of pursuing grass house construction for fairies, Luvia looked one last time at the window. No crows, but something not quite a voice, told her they would be back.

The remaining days of the week were hot, stiflingly so. The children retreated from the main house to hide out in the barn lofts at the back of the property, where, with the bay doors open, they could at least catch any little breeze that came by. Luvia and Lanai were busy making little straw men and women, acting out plays, while Lucas sprawled on his back on a nearby bale, head looking out the doorway upside down.

“Hey, Luvy, didn’t you say you had seen a crow?”

“Yes, brother, I did.”

“Hmmm. Why are there no crows around here, do you know?”

Lanai looked over her shoulder at her brother, then back to Luvia, making a face that said what an idiot she thought her brother was sometimes.

“Don’t you ever listen to the histories? Tutor Hamman told us about the crows last season, when we were covering the legends of the Elves,” Lanai responded, her voice full of superiority at having remembered something before Lucas. Her brother, full of his own maturity, always tried to lord over his sisters that he was going to be the man of the house, and that he was the smartest one of the three of them. He was never very mean about it, just convinced of his own dominance.

Lucas spun around on his back, until his head was pointing, still upside down, towards his sisters.

“Well, since you are so smart, Lanai, why don’t you tell me what it is about the crows?” He chucked a straw ball at his sisters, but it fell far short, crashing to the floor and breaking apart, a forgotten little construct.

“Crows used to be white, did you know? They were friends to the Elves, they worked in the Kingdoms, and were messengers and helpers and did stuff. What’s the word Tutor used, Luvy?” Lanai’s faced scrunched with effort of remembrance.

“Familiars? Is that it, Lanny?”

Lanai’s face brightened, “Yes, familiars, that was it. They helped the Elves with their magic and stuff. They used to sit in on councils and things.”

Lucas’s upside down face garnered an expression of concentration as well, his dark brow furrowed as he realized he did remember the legend.

“That’s right, and then in the War, between the Elves and the Chaos, the crows turned traitor, they spied on the Elves and gave away their plans to the enemy. Was it Bla’duin or Balun who cursed them and made them black once he found out?”