AS A YOUNG ELF the Mage of Alfheim was called Kalevala Van Frier. Now, centuries later, she was the spiritual leader of her own Clan, and she had given up her name for the title of Mage. High in her home amid the branches of an oak tree called Bethok, she stood before a wall of dusty, bark-paper books. Sunlight streamed in through the curtained doorway. Sticks of incense smoldered in ornate holders, as part of the cleansing ritual that had brought the Mage and her monks back to Alfheim. The Mage sighed and dragged a finger along the edge of the books. Next to her were crumbling baskets of scrolls and a tall stack of leaf-wrapped packages. In the packages were the most valued books and manuscripts, returned from hiding places in vaults beneath the roots of massive trees.
Beside the Mage a pair of crickets crouched in an ornate wooden cage. Slowly they scraped their back legs together, making music that the Mage found soothing in times of stress. And this was, indeed, such a time. During the exile from Alfheim scouts had been sent on a regular basis to make sure the realm was undisturbed, and to search for the shoe that Princess Asra had lost on the day of the great disaster. Without the shoe, the Princess could not be married. The elders of Ljosalfar and their governing body, the Synod, were eager to have the royal family of Alfheim joined to another realm by marriage, to consolidate resources, to create harmony among the Clans. For this reason the missing shoe was a constant source of anxiety. During the latest expedition the scouts had discovered that the woods bordering Alfheim were endangered. They had sped back to Ljosalfar to tell the Mage that the forest was being ravaged. Precious trees were cut down, and Humans were erecting their houses on Elfin soil. In all likelihood it was only a matter of time until the Sacred Grove itself was destroyed. Just thirty years before, two Humans had stumbled across a gap in the border between the worlds. Now the gap was growing ever wider, and it appeared there was no way to stop it.
This was not the end of the bad news. The Alfheim Clan Jewels, a treasure of unfathomable wealth, were gone. Stored away over untold thousands of years, Clan Jewels were never spent, traded, or exchanged. Now even the trees under which the treasure had been buried had disappeared. When the Elves fled this place, the Mage knew that the best protection for the Jewels would be to leave them in one of their secret vaults, deep in the earth. With a strong spell of distraction woven around the site the Jewels should have been safe. But when it was needed most, the spell over the Clan Jewels seemed to have afforded no protection at all. The loss of the treasure was terrible; but the Mage knew that the real wealth of the Elf Folk was the forest, and the trees of the Sacred Grove. The loss of these would be a tragedy too great to comprehend. So as the thirty-year exile came to its end, the Mage of Alfheim and her monks traveled the Cord from Ljosalfar back to their ancestral home.
Seven long days of cleansing and purifying rituals prepared the ground of Alfheim. Then a hundred more Elves traveled the Cord to help the monks clean, repair, and refurbish dwellings, to till the fields, sow the seed, and stock the larder. Soon the thousands of Elves who had once made Alfheim their home would return. The Mage had assured the Synod that since she was now fully aware of the danger, she would be prepared to defend her little realm. But the way promised to be hard. The Elves of Alfheim were gentle folk, untrained in the ways of war. Their tools were made of stone and wood, and not suited for combat. The few who owned bows and arrows used them only for games and sport. Most Elves refrained from eating flesh, and were bound by a deep respect for other living creatures. Not all Faerie Folk were pacifists, however. In the northern Kingdom of Helfratheim the Elves relished conflict and warfare, and favored weapons fashioned from iron and steel. They loved the power that metal implements gave them, and their Techmagicians developed potions to fend off the nausea and sickness that metal caused their kind. Now they were bargaining at the Synod of Ljosalfar for the authority to go to Alfheim and kill the Humans who threatened the sacred land. Their own Prince Macta had been present at the ill-fated wedding of Udos and Asra, thirty years before. He and his father made a convincing case for the use of violence. But so far, the Synod was willing to give the Mage a chance to protect her own homeland, using the tools at her disposal.
One of the tools she chose to use was the Elfin capacity for magick. The Mage and her monks used the concentrated power of their minds to affect the world of matter. On a late summer's eve they had marched through the woodlands until they found the place where the earth had been defiled by the digging machines. Disgust and terror filled the hearts of the Mage and her monks at the site of the bare soil, stripped of life. They surrounded the awful machines and set to work. Hours of intense, concentrated chanting finally did their job. Though the Elves were nauseated from their exposure to the steel, their magic finally disabled the machines. Never again would these metal monsters tear up the earth, never again would they cut down another tree. But that did not mean that Alfheim was safe.
Outside the door to the Mage's quarters a clay bell clattered, and the gears and pulleys that operated the lift began to turn. On a wooden axle a circular cage spun, and inside it a trio of silky rats raced around and around.
The pulleys hoisted an elevator cage up the side of the tree. The Elfmaid standing inside yanked a cord, ringing the bell again, the signal for the rats to stop. "Mistress," said Tuava-Li, stepping onto the branch, "here are the last of the packages. Shall I put them with the others?"
Tuava-Li was dressed in a burlap smock, belted with a green dandelion stem. Blue tattoos, depicting the wildflowers and insects of the forest, covered her arms and shoulders. Like all of the Elves, Tuava-Li had large, luminous eyes. Her straight brown hair was pulled back from a face that could not hide its weariness. "'Twill be fine," the Mage answered. She lifted three large kernels of corn, the rats' reward, over her head. Poking their noses down from an opening in the ceiling, the rats snatched the corn and retreated. "Tuava-Li," said the Mage, "I have some sweeping for you to do. Dust and dirt have settled o'er everything in this place."
Tuava-Li sighed, and dropped her bundle on the pile. She was tired of feeding the crickets, bringing corn for the rats, and hauling heavy packages of books up by the elevator to the Mage's study. At the age of seventy-three she was really still an adolescent, and all of this hard work put her in a bad mood. The Mage cast her a glance. "Be gentle with my books, Tuava-Li. An Apprentice shows respect for the collected wisdom of the ages. Actions speak volumes, which is why I'm inclined to think there's something you wish to say."
The Elfmaid's ears quivered in frustration. "Well, aye, perhaps there is, but only because you mentioned it, Mistress. I can't help but wonder if there isn't a spell that could be used to clean up the dust? There are so many important things I could help you with. Organizing the library books on their shelves, for one. I've been your Apprentice for so long, and yet I've had so little opportunity to study spells! You could give me time to study the magick in the books, and I could help you find ways to stop the Humans. 'Twould be a better job for an Apprentice than just … just sweeping."
Tuava-Li bit her lip, knowing she had said too much. The Mage's silence let her know just how much. Finally the old Elf spoke. "Tuava-Li, have you been practicing your Discipline?"
Tuava-Li frowned. She had been too busy with her chores to practice the meditations the Mage had taught her. "The Discipline will bring spirit into your body," the Mage said. "'T will teach you patience, which will help you temper your tongue with wisdom. Now, I could answer you with a lash from my switch, like I sometimes do with the monks, but we both know that would teach you nothing."
Tuava-Li tingled with shame and looked away. "Chop wood, carry water," the Mage said. "'Tis how I learned. Hard work for the body builds strength in the Soul. You'll need to be strong to follow in my footsteps. Not to mention knowing when to speak and when to simply do as you're told! I chose you for my Apprentice because you have natural talent, Tuava-Li. My monks work hard and study long, but not one of them has the spark that lives in you."
Tuava-Li was embarrassed to be singled out for praise and criticism at the same time. She pictured the other monks, and wished that she could dissolve back into the ranks. "Ebba is quite gifted," she murmured, "and Parslaine, too. And Jardaine, she stands head and shoulders over the others!"
"Jardaine is very important to us," the Mage confided, "but even she must look up to you, Tuava-Li. 'Tis you who will be my successor, when the time comes."
"Mistress, I pray that day never comes," Tuava-Li admitted, wishing she had gone ahead and swept the floor without a word of protest.
"'Tis not my intention to make you uncomfortable, Tuava-Li," said the Mage. "Each of us has a role to play. Our Asra, for instance, was born a Princess. One day she'll become a Queen. But leadership here is not Asra's destiny. Your fate, on the other hand, is a different matter. The highest level of responsibility awaits you here in Alfheim. In a spiritual community like ours, the Mage is both the head and heart of her Clan. But here's the truth of it. All leaders start their training by following the orders of their superiors, and not complaining about it."
The Mage took the broom from a cobweb-filled corner and handed it to Tuava-Li. She began to sweep, and soon clouds of dust filled the air. The Mage covered her face with her hands. "'Tis foul to breathe it into the lungs," the Mage coughed. "Perhaps this is a problem that a little magick can solve, after all. Watch, Tuava-Li!"
The Mage pulled a strand of beads and animal bones from the pocket of her robe and held the amulet high over her head. She closed her eyes and began waving her hands in a circle, rocking her head and chanting words that Tuava-Li struggled to understand. Then suddenly the Mage froze. At the very same moment the dust in the air stopped moving. The clouds had become solid shapes, hanging in the air like gray cotton candy. Carefully the Mage stepped forward, gathered the amorphous forms into a clump, and heaved them out through the open door. "Watch out below!" she cried, as a doe and two young fawns stood nibbling leaves from the bushes at the base of the tree.
Tuava-Li peered over the branch to see the strange shapes breaking into pieces as they struck the ground. "There's more than one kind of magick," the Mage instructed. "There's the kind that comes from soliciting the favors of supernatural beings, invisible forces willing to do your bidding for a price. A good Mage would never practice that kind of magick. But then there's the kind of magick that comes from the strength of will you build inside you through prayer, meditation, and practice. That's the kind of magick I'm here to teach. The words we speak aren't meant to draw the attention of outside powers, they're a way to focus the power we have inside. Now 'tis your turn, Tuava-Li."
She handed her Apprentice the amulet, then took the broom in her own frail hands and began sweeping up a fresh cloud of dust.
"A Vitriol torero, ah … Ellyn b-b-beyla," stuttered Tuava-Li, waving her hands like she had seen the Mage do. "I'm sorry. Is that right?"
"Focus your mind," said the Mage, "bring solidity to your thoughts, feel the power grow. Don't forget to turn your head, like this!"
The Mage twisted her head a little too sharply to the side, and then she winced in pain. "You may be replacing me sooner than I thought!" she groaned, holding her neck. "Magick is a little hard on these tired bones!"
The Mage shuffled over to the old hammock in the corner of her chamber. She collapsed into it with a sigh, but the fragile fibers tore loose beneath her, and she tumbled to the floor. "Oooh!" she cried, coughing amid a cloud of dust. Tuava-Li hurried to offer the Mage her hand. The aged Sorceress, more embarrassed than hurt, regarded her Apprentice with a stern look. She would not choose to have anyone see her in this position. Still, she readily took Tuava-Li's hand and got to her feet. Tuava-Li stood back, her gaze averted through modesty and respect. She coughed once, then covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
"I'm glad to know that I can so readily amuse you," the Mage muttered. "Now help me tie the hammock back up where it belongs!"
Just then a cry came from below. With a clatter of the bell, the lift was drawn up into the tree. Tuava-Li put down the broom and brushed the dust from her apron as the Mage turned toward the door. "We're comin' up!" a voice hollered. "'Tis Byggvir, from the kitchens. I have important news for the Mage!"
Byggvir stepped from the elevator cage and scurried along the branch, doing his best to avoid the view of the ground far below. The Elf was accompanied by his own master, the Chef, and a cluster of cooks and dishwashers from the kitchen. At the sight of their leader Byggvir and his fellows fell to their knees, bowing their heads. "In the name of the Mother, and her Cord," they mumbled together.
The Mage nodded. "In the name of the Mother, and her Cord, you may rise. Now what troubles you, friends? Tell me what news you bring."
Barely able to control themselves, the Elves began talking at once. "Your Mage, the Elf—"
"Mistress, Byggvir was walkin' in the—"
"That was when he saw the—"
A withering look from their Mage silenced them. "Please. Now, who saw what?"
"'Twas Byggvir, my Mage," said the Chef. "He saw it all."
"If Byggvir has something important to share, then let him do so without interruption."
"'Tis the shoe, my Mage," the Elf said. "Princess Asra's wedding shoe. The one that went missing after Prince Udos was — well, I saw the shoe in the forest when I was — well, it wasn't in the forest, it was in a clearing, out at the edge of Alfheim, and I saw a Human, well, 'twas a Human boy, and the earth was torn apart, and the boy had an accident, and I saw it. The shoe was jammed in the flesh of his foot. There was Blood, and I ran. But I saw it! I saw the shoe, my Mage!"
"The shoe was lost somewhere near the Sacred Grove," the Mage replied. "You say that you saw the Human on the outskirts of Alfheim?"
"Aye, Mistress, that's where I saw him with the shoe, poking out of the heel of his own foot."
"How do you suppose that the shoe found its way to the edge of Alfheim?"
"I d-don't know, Mistress," the Elf stammered. "All I know is what I saw."
"Did the Human touch you?" asked the Mage.
"Nooo," answered Byggvir. "I don't believe he even saw me."
"Good. Now you say you saw the Human take an object that is precious to the Alfheim Clan. Are you telling us that you did nothing to retrieve the shoe and bring it back?"
Byggvir stared hard at the branch, shuffling his feet. "Nooo, Mistress. I was too frightened to do anything but run back to tell you what I saw."
The Mage nodded her head. "All right, Byggvir. That was the appropriate response. Fear is a wise teacher, you know. A direct confrontation with the Human would have been far too risky, especially since you were alone. 'Tis wise not to chance it, especially without a Mage's protection. Now, this is what we shall do. Tonight we will meet in the Glen, every one of us, and I will lead us across the border into their world. We'll go to the place where the Humans live. We'll chant together, beneath the light of the moon, and I will enter the boy's dreams. I'll wrest control of his will, and command him to bring the shoe to the edge of the woods. 'Twill be the safest way of retrieving it. Then the shoe must be cleansed and purified, to free it from contamination. Once we've performed the rituals, and are certain that the shoe is untainted, I will deliver it to Ljosalfar. Once again it will be possible for Princess Asra to marry. This discovery is a gift from the Gods!"
The Mage's smile was a look of pure happiness, and Tuava-Li knew what a rare expression that was. "Thank you, Byggvir, thank you," said the Mage. "You've done well."
The Elves bowed, and bowed again, then turned and bumbled their way to the elevator cage. Tuava-Li gave one of the cords a sharp yank. When the bell rang, the rats scampered into their wheel. "Tuava-Li," said the Mage, "I want you to go to the chapel and tell Jardaine and the other monks that I wish to see them here. We have much to prepare before tonight!"
