TUAVA–LI WAS PANIC–STRICKEN. The Mage should have arrived home before the others. With each passing hour, Tuava-Li waited, her anxiety growing. Just before daybreak she had awakened Jardaine and the monks. Then she had roused the other sleeping Elves, organized them into search parties, and sent them back into the woods, along the path that led to the home of the boy. Tuava-Li had stood on the branch outside the Mage's quarters, praying for her safe return, feeling her worry turn to despair. This was a complete catastrophe. When the search parties returned wet but empty-handed, Tuava-Li was at a loss for what to do. She met Jardaine at the base of the great old oak, Bethok. "'Tis bad, Tuava-Li," Jardaine muttered. "The Elves are coming to me to say that they want to go back to Ljosalfar. Everyone's frightened. With the Mage dead, they're sure Alfheim is finished."
Tuava-Li stiffened. "We don't know that she's dead. We don't know anything. 'Til we can gather more information, we need to stay calm. We can get through this. I know all the routines, the schedules, the plans. I know how things are organized. The Mage has been telling me for years about how one day I would have to take her place."
Jardaine snorted. "I don't think that matters. Nobody trusts you to lead us, Tuava-Li. You haven't lived with us for all that long. You're not from around here. No one's ever understood why the Mage chose you to be her Apprentice. I'm sorry, I'm not saying I agree with them, but they think you're too young, too inexperienced. They don't feel safe."
Tuava-Li turned away from the monk, her face a mask of doubt and confusion. No matter what the others might say, she was indeed their leader unless, or until, the Mage was found. So they all wanted to leave Alfheim, did they? Tuava-Li would have to convince the Elf Folk that everything would be all right, that even if the Mage didn't return, she was ready to take on the role of their leader. And if they didn't trust her ability to lead, she would go to the Synod in Ljosalfar and ask for help.
In the distance, Tuava-Li could hear the monks wailing. The world was a more stable place, a more predictable place, when the Mage was in command. Even though the trees of the forest were being cut. Even though the Alfheim Jewels were missing. But now that their leader, their teacher, their guide, their Mage was gone, so was the faith of the Elves that everything would work out all right. What might disappear next? The future of Alfheim rested in Tuava-Li's hands, if only until the Mage returned … if only. Tuava-Li rode the lift to the top of the mighty tree. She stepped past the curtain into the Mage's private study, and wept. It did not feel right to be here without the Mage's invitation. All of these books, the personal belongings, the corner shrine, the hammock suspended between heaven and earth, all of it now passed to Tuava-Li, Mage of Alfheim. How could it be? A shiver ran through her body. No, she thought, 'tis not time for me to take her place. Something must have delayed her return, but she'll be back. She will, I know it.
Tuava-Li pulled on a cloak and climbed higher in the branches of Bethok. The Elfin world, overlapping the world of the Humans, was a more fragile, a more beautiful thing than what the Humans ever saw. And its beauty extended all the way to the center of the Faerie Earth, where the Great Seed lay. This was the true heart of their world. From the Great Seed, the source of life, grew the Cords. From the Cords grew the trees. And high atop this tree, among its dense branches, Tuava-Li stood. Practicing the exercise taught to her by the Mage, she held her arms out straight from the shoulders. The Mage had said that strength, clarity, and spiritual power, the foundation of a Mage's character, would accumulate through the practice. With her attention directed toward the eternal, her eyes fixed in the distance, she thrust out her chest and concentrated on her breath. She cleared her mind and waited for the sensation to begin. It started as a tingling in her fingertips, then spread through her arms, and finally into her jaw. Her lips trembled as she began her song, her prayer. The longer Tuava-Li was able to hold out her arms, the more the tingling became a burning, the more her body cried out to her brain that she should let her arms drop to her sides, that she should stop. The longer she held out her arms, the more a part of her began to draw strength from her persistence, and with each breath she began to accumulate energy. Paradoxically, the more pain she experienced, the less it mattered. Her prayer acquired power; her words flowed freely from the cauldron of her heart. She prayed for understanding, she prayed for strength. Finally, Tuava-Li's self took on a radiance that was larger than her physical body. She was crackling with energy. Gently she lowered her arms to her side. She was trembling and drenched in sweat, yet she felt power flowing from her fingertips and her eyes. Slowly she descended the tree to the Mage's quarters, then slipped into the dark room to lie in the hammock and consider what must be done.
Before long a commotion arose from the ground below. Tuava-Li heard the voices coming closer, and felt their excited, chaotic energy from a hundred feet away. She leapt from the sling and brushed past the curtain to the branch outside. Peering down, she could see that a stranger had come into their midst. He was a Troll, no older than she was, and he wore the rough, plain clothes of a country dweller. A score of Elves stood in a circle around him, interested, yet keeping their distance. Tuava-Li rode the elevator cage to the ground and the crowd parted for her to pass. "In the name of the Mother and her Cord," Tomtar said, making an awkward bow.
"In the name of the Mother and her Cord, welcome, traveler," Tuava-Li replied. It took an effort of will for her to appear calm and in control. "What brings you to Alfheim?"
"I — I wanted to talk to the Silver-Cloaked Mage," the Troll stammered. "I was headed for Ljosalfar when I saw lights gleamin' through the trees and realized the Elves had returned to Alfheim. I had business to discuss with the Mage, so I came here first, hopin' to find her."
"I'm the acting Mage of Alfheim," Tuava-Li answered. "Please tell me your name, sir."
"I'm called Tomtar, but the others just told me the Mage is gone. Have you taken her place, ma'am?"
Tuava-Li swallowed, trying to keep down the panic. She hadn't anticipated having to answer a question like this, not yet. She tried to conjure up the dignity and reserve that her Master had always exhibited. "The Mage is attending to Clan business. As I said, I'm the acting Mage of Alfheim, during her absence. Long live the Mage."
Long live the Mage. The words were a formality, meant to signify that there would always be a continuity of leadership within the Clan. Yet Tuava-Li shivered as she said the words. There was no doubt that she was next in command. But she was far from convinced that she was prepared to lead her Elves. Where was the Mage? And how could the Elves of Alfheim ever hope to find her?
Tomtar bowed again. "Long live the Mage."
Tuava-Li forced a smile. "I believe I've heard your name before, Tomtar. Would you follow me into the Great Hall, please? We'll speak there."
Tomtar furrowed his brow. "I'd feel more comfortable outside, ma'am. I've been livin' in the open for a long time. Maybe we could take a little walk?"
"Very well." Tuava-Li nodded.
Tomtar was much taller than Tuava-Li. With his long legs he was forced to shuffle along behind, as they made their way through the Sacred Grove. They passed a low ditch and a circle of standing stones that lay beyond the trees. Finally, shielded behind a stone tall enough to hide Tomtar from view, Tuava-Li and the Troll came to a stop. "Ma'am, I'd never break my promise," Tomtar exclaimed. "The spell of the Mage was supposed to hold that Human lass in the stream 'til the water ceased to flow over her eyes. That was what the Mage told everyone, three hundred and sixty moons ago. I was supposed to stay there and see that nothin' disturbed the girl in her punishment. I thought the Mage would send someone to take my place — I waited and waited, but no one came. I didn't know what else to do, so I stayed by the stream. And then, just yesterday, some Tems with machines cut through the stream, and the water stopped flowin'. The lass is buried in the mud, you can barely see her anymore. I think she's dead. That's why I'm here, and not beside the stream with the body."
"I understand," Tuava-Li soothed. "And now I remember where I heard your name. I should have recalled it before, but I was a stranger to Alfheim when Prince Udos came to marry Princess Asra. The Mage demanded a harsh punishment for the Human after the disaster that happened here. You went well beyond the call of duty, Tomtar, to stay by the stream for so long. I wonder if the Mage even remembered you were there, after all that's come to pass. Thankfully a Human's life is short. All of the Elves of Alfheim are grateful for what you've done. It seems your promise has been fulfilled."
Tuava-Li paused, and she heard the Tomtar's stomach rumble. She looked into his face and saw that his expression was innocent and trusting beyond measure. "If you like," she said, "you're welcome to stay with us tonight and share our company. Our cook feeds us well, and I certainly think you deserve a good meal."
Tomtar glanced around, unsure how this invitation would help him in his quest, a quest with an unknown goal. He was, after all, on his Wandering, a rite of passage for all young Trolls, and he had been on his quest since before the Mage had asked him to watch over the Human in the stream. One of the rules of the Wandering was that a Troll was obliged to accept any invitation offered to him. An invitation was a sign pointing to the next turn in the path of his journey. And as long as the request did not violate any other rule of Troll behavior, he was required to say yes. "Thank you, ma'am," Tomtar said. "I'll stay. But aren't you worried about the Tems and their machines? They've come so close. Are you safe, here?"
"We've been holding the Humans at bay perfectly well," Tuava-Li said, her boldness hiding terrible uncertainty. "If you show us where you saw the machine that cut the stream, we'll destroy it, like we've destroyed the others. Elves were in these woods before the Humans arrived; we'll be here after they're gone. Now come with me. I'll see to it that you have something decent to eat. If you'd like to sleep indoors we'll prepare a bed for you. If not, you're welcome to make yourself at home anywhere in the forest of Alfheim that you please!"
"Out of doors is just fine for me, ma'am," Tomtar smiled.
Tuava-Li led the Troll to the dining hall. When they got to the door, he once again hesitated. "In truth I'm sorry, ma'am," he apologized, "but it makes me feel uncomfortable to have a roof like this over my head. If you have somethin' brought to me here, I'll eat outside."
"As you wish," Tuava-Li smiled. She entered the dining hall and strode across the earthen floor to the kitchen in the back. The Elves of Alfheim were accustomed to seeing Tuava-Li bringing trays of food to her Mage. They certainly knew her, and liked her well enough. But now they avoided her gaze, and as she crossed the room, beneath high ceilings crisscrossed with twisting roots, Tuava-Li felt that the Elves were talking about her behind her back. By the racks in the kitchen she bumped into Nebiros, the assistant to the Chef. Lately Nebiros always seemed to be underfoot. "Good evening, ma'am," he smiled. "Is there something special I can offer you tonight?"
"No thank you," answered Tuava-Li, "I'll help myself."
On each of two plates, she spread a row of dandelion leaves, then piled on a heap of crusty oat cakes. Over these she ladled a creamy chestnut sauce. Walking back through the doorway into the dining hall, Tuava-Li held her head high. She kept her gaze steady on the door, and the gangly Troll who waited, like a lost child, for her to return. The two of them took their trays to sit on the trunk of a fallen sycamore tree. "You never told me your name," mumbled Tomtar, his mouth full of food, "or where you're from."
Tuava-Li raised her eyebrows, a little taken aback. "You want to know who I am. And all this time I've been wondering about who you might be!" She chose her words carefully. "Very well. I'm called Tuava-Li. Before I came here I was a traveler, making my way from the West, out to see the world."
She picked up an oat cake and took a bite, chewing it slowly. "'Twas nearly three hundred moons ago that I met the Mage of Alfheim, during her stay in Ljosalfar. I had no intention of becoming a monk, or to undertake a spiritual life. But when a Mage chooses you, it … changes things. Now here I am. For a long while I've been her Apprentice, and second-in-command."
"We have somethin' in common, ma'am," Tomtar said. "I was a traveler, too, on my Wanderin' from the city of Argant. I was makin' my way through the woods when I was set upon by a fox, and the Mage saved my life. She was in her owl form, then." Tomtar paused, and eyed Tuava-Li carefully. "Can you turn into an owl, too?"
"Nooo," Tuava-Li sighed. "Not yet."
The Troll sat, chewing with his mouth open, so Tuava-Li went on.
"'Tis part of the Mage's training, to find the right animal form, and the transformation hasn't happened to me, yet. I could be an owl, or a ferret, or a badger, or a hawk. The power to change will come when the time is right, but not before. Tell me, Tomtar, do you sense something of the owl about me?"
The Troll chuckled, and wiped crumbs from his lips. "I don't know why you'd think I could see such things. All I know is that your Mage had a yellow beak and eyes the size of saucers, and she came flyin' out of the night when she heard my cries. She killed the vermin, and the Elves of Alfheim brought me back across the border of the Human realm into your forest, where it was safe. They nursed my wounds and the Mage used her magick to heal me. That's why I spent this time by the stream. The Mage was kind to me, and I owed her my life."
Tuava-Li nodded, thinking of her Mage's face, and of her generosity, and she blinked back tears. Then she and Tomtar finished their meal in a silence that masked as many regrets as it did hopes.
That night, Tuava-Li tossed restlessly in the hammock in the Mage's study. She debated the merits of having taken a stranger into her confidence. The Troll was used to a life of wandering, both within the Cord and on solid earth. What if he found out that the Mage of Alfheim was truly missing, under mysterious circumstances, and that leadership had fallen into Tuava-Li's inexperienced hands? What was to stop the Troll from telling Elves or Faeries in other realms? What was to stop the Synod from taking over leadership of Alfheim? What was to stop them from listening to the Elves of Helfratheim, and driving them all into war with the Humans? The Mage would not have wanted that to happen. It was critical that Tuava-Li find the Mage, and bring her back home. If she was still alive. If she was dead, then everything would change. But that, so far, was unthinkable.
Beneath a troubled sky, the forest held its breath. At the bottom of a muddy streambed, a pair of eyes opened in the darkness and stared blankly into the treetops. The eyes blinked. Then they blinked again. Mud-caked fingers twitched. Then, without warning, the girl shifted laboriously onto her side, propping herself up with one pale, trembling hand. Anna McCormack got up out of the mud and coughed away the sediment that blocked her throat. She rocked back and forth, like a baby preparing to crawl, and whimpered. Her body was unchanged — still just twelve years old. Yet her mind was fearfully altered from all the seasons of grief, despair, and solitude. She rolled into a sitting position and looked down at her muddy clothes, her hands, and her boots. She shook her head and her filthy hair tangled around her face. Then the tears that had been trapped inside for thirty years began to flow, and they would not stop.
