Chapter 14
Sariel’s family tree
Annika woke up the next morning blinded by the sun. Her hair was stuck to her cheek with dried tears and she combed her fingers through it, washed her face and stepped over to the window. The Samodivi were outside, back at their target practice. Annika opened the door and looked around. There was no sign of anyone, which wasn’t that odd considering the labyrinth nature of the house. She walked along the hall, padding along silently on her bare feet. She knew there were libraries somewhere, and a good story about someone else’s bad ideas sounded like a wonderful distraction. She followed the hallway down another corridor until she finally came to a set of tall arched doors that were propped open. She peered through the vertical crack and her jaw dropped.
Bookshelves lined the walls from the floor all the way up to the three-story ceiling, holding what must have been tens of thousands of books. She boldly stepped into the round room, where she looked up to see the domed ceiling had been painted with ancient mythological figures. A golden chariot leapt over a giant orange and yellow sun painted in the center. Pegasus was chasing Cupid through the air while Zeus watched, surrounded by his many beautiful lovers. She turned in a full circle and saw that the bookshelves had been arranged to line up with the rays of the painted sun, leaving a circle on the floor where there was a great long table piled high with books, almost as long as the dining room table. The room wasn’t too dark, thanks to long vertical windows cut into the stone. They looked like slits of light that let the dust sparkle in the sunbeams.
Annika walked towards the center of the library towards this table and picked up the book on the highest stack. It was in a language she couldn’t read. She guessed it was Greek, recognizing some of the letters from attending frat parties in her college days. She flipped through the pages and found only two pictures. One illustration was very odd, showing a pentacle and strange symbols drawn around its five points. In the center of the star was an eye staring back at her. The other depicted two men, one looking cautiously through a door and the other standing outside under a crescent moon. His arm was outstretched, and he held his palm up to reveal this symbol drawn inside of it.
“Oh dear,” a weary voice sighed. She lowered her book and gave a yelp. A hand without a body was resting on the stack of books. Then the owner of the hand stood up, and Ambrose was there, smiling at her.
“Thank the gods! I thought I’d lost my favorite pen,” he remarked, and tossed a cobweb-covered fountain pen onto a pile of papers.
“I’m glad you found it,” she replied, and held up the book in her hands. She pointed to the illustration of the two men. “I can’t remember where, but I’ve seen this image before.”
“Have you now?” Ambrose asked. “That’s a secret meeting between Pythagoras and his order. Did you know they had to remain silent for five years before they could contribute their ideas at those meetings?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said, looking around in awe. “Your library’s beautiful. Who painted the ceiling?”
“Why, Talvi began working on that when he was only eighty-four. Can you believe that?”
“Well, no, not really,” Annika admitted and craned her neck to look up at the mythological creatures again. When she glanced at Ambrose, she saw his kind eyes twinkling with familiar glints of blue and green.
“He painted most of the ballroom too. I almost wish he found himself in trouble more often.” Annika gave him a questioning look, but he just smiled at her. “I could use the help around the house.”
He motioned for her to join him at the other side of the table, and peered into her eyes for a moment, raising a curious brow now and again.
“I heard a rumor that you are a descendant of the samodivi. I’m very interested to learn more. Are you?”
“I guess,” she shrugged. “They seem pretty convinced, but I don’t know what to believe.”
“You do have a startling resemblance to Magda. Shall we find out if the rumor is true?” he asked, stroking his neatly clipped beard. Annika had her doubts, but she saw no harm in humoring him.
“How can you tell? Do I need to take a DNA test or something?”
“No, nothing of the sort. Come this way.” He walked in between a set of shelves separated by a sweeping archway and led her into a second library, not quite as majestic but very elegant nonetheless. There was a large globe off to one side, and a long blackboard mounted on wheels displayed the longest mathematical formula Annika had ever seen written out. There was a desk positioned almost exactly where Finn’s desk was positioned in his own room, as well as an overstuffed chair identical to the one upstairs. The room had numerous built-in shelves that ran up to the ceiling, and a spiral staircase in the corner led to a balcony that wrapped around the upper level. A wheeled ladder was mounted on a track for easy access to the lower shelves, which were still higher than any of the elves could reach on their own. In this library Annika found more than a few familiar books, and she wandered around freely. Plato, Shakespeare, Emily Bronte and Mark Twain were just a few of the names she knew.
Just like Finn’s bedroom, one wall was almost entirely dedicated to an enormous window and a set of French doors which led out to a private patio, with a view of the barn and pastures in the distance. There was a large potted tree near the window where Cazadora was perched, preening her feathers. The two walls on either side of the first were lined with books, but it was the wall opposite of the window that was the most striking. It was made of the largest piece of black granite that Annika had ever seen, and buffed so smooth that it reflected the light from the huge windows like a dark mirror. There were countless deep, fine lines carved into this wall that resembled an extensive road map, which spread out from the center of the wall like a disjointed starburst.
“Finn? Where are you?” Ambrose called out, walking closer to the polished black wall.
“Over here,” a deep voice answered from among the rows of bookshelves.
“Bring the ladder over here. Best get the black quill while you’re at it.”
“The black quill?” he repeated. “Annika must be with you then. Hello Annika!” he called out from the other side of the room. Annika meant to return his greeting, but she was distracted by the apparent connection she had to this black quill. She looked closer at the granite wall Ambrose was standing beside and saw that it was no road map at all but an enormous family tree. There were thousands of names written in multiple languages and branching out in every direction. She looked towards the center, where there was one name surrounded by three others. These four names were larger and cut deeper into the stone than any of the others.
“What does this say?” she asked him, pointing to the center name.
“That’s Sariel’s name in her ancient tongue.” Annika squinted hard and stepped back, stunned by the myriad of names before her. She recalled something Sariel had mentioned the first time they met back in the cave; “How is it that I managed to not keep track of you?” Could this family tree be what she was referring to?
“Here you are, Father,” Finn announced, carrying a ladder in one hand and a long black box in the other. He handed it to Ambrose and leaned the ladder carefully on the wall, so as not to scratch it, before cracking his back in a few places.
“I wasn’t expecting you to leave us unannounced last night,” he said to Annika, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well? I would have happily taken you home.” She shook her head and mumbled a brief apology, but she didn’t want to discuss her mysterious illness with him. She also didn’t want to admit that she would’ve liked him to take her home, but didn’t want to give Hilda a reason not to like her. After her experiences with Talvi, Yuri, and Sevan, she was pretty sure she needed all the friends she could get.
“If it happens again, will you please promise to let me know so I don’t worry myself to pieces looking for you?” he asked, gazing down at her with those big, soft, infinite brown
eyes. Annika could only smile back at him and nod in response.
“Shall we start searching, young lady?” Ambrose asked as Finn let his hand fall from her shoulder.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” she said, wrinkling her forehead in confusion.
“Of course you don’t, dear. Forgive me.” He took her shoulder and scooted her two large steps closer to the wall. “First thing’s first; you need the black quill.” He opened the long black box and inside lay an exotic black plume on a bed of black satin. An exquisite, slender handle of solid gold came to a graceful point at the tip.
“Go on then; take it out and write your name on the wall.”
“Does it matter where?”
“Preferably in a blank area.”
“Um, Ambrose? Don’t I need ink?”
“No, just write your entire given name,” he replied. She shrugged and wrote it just as he’d asked. The three of them stood back and waited for something to happen, but nothing did. There was no mark left where the gold tip had touched the marble.
“Hmm. Perhaps your father’s name?”
She wrote her dad’s full given name, but the same thing happened. Nothing.
“What about your mother?” Finn suggested. “The blood characteristics of the nymphs tend to be passed down through females.” She slowly spelled out her mother’s full name, feeling slightly ridiculous for writing on polished stone with an inkless pen. He and his father stood back, looking around the chart.
“Aha, look!” Finn cried, pointing to the upper left corner. Annika looked up and was startled to see a small name in her mother’s handwriting glowing reddish gold. “Badra’s beard—there she is!” He moved the ladder to the side of the illuminated name. The other names next to it also began to faintly glow, and then it snaked slowly to the center until it reached Sariel’s name.
“Now draw a small line from your mother’s name, like the others, see? Then write your name at the end of that line.” She climbed up the ladder and did as Finn instructed. This time the place where she wrote glowed as well, but it was in her own handwriting. Right as she dotted the last ‘i’ in her name, the softly glowing tree of names suddenly lit up as if set on fire, sending out rays of radiant white light. It was so sudden and intense that Annika squeezed her eyes shut and leaned away, blocking the light with her hands. She groped blindly for the ladder and grabbed empty space as she lost her footing. She braced herself to hit the hard stone floor, but tumbled into Finn’s arms instead.
“It appears that the rumor is true after all,” Ambrose said after the light had dimmed down, but he didn’t sound very surprised. He seemed only to be confirming something he already knew. From the safety of his embrace, Annika felt Finn’s body stiffen abruptly.
“That means Dragana’s prophecy is true as well.”
“There’s a time and a place for that discussion, Finn, and the present is not it,” Ambrose said so sharply that Annika did not dare question him about what it meant. Finn carefully set her to the ground and rested his hands on her shoulders. She couldn’t see the sad expression he wore, but she could sense it. Whatever it meant, her name was permanently and magically etched in the stone, still glowing red like the embers of a latent fire.
She looked again at the center, barely comprehending that she and her mother were Sariel’s relatives. The illuminated trail came back to one of the three names connected to Sariel’s. One of the other two names had no names stemming from it, and the third name had only a few in comparison to the one Annika’s branched out from.
“Who is this?” she said, pointing to the most prolific of the three names. “Is this Magda?”
“Yes,” Ambrose said. “And here’s Hilda, and here’s Runa.”
“But it looks like they’re all Sariel’s daughters.”
“That’s because they are,” Finn informed her. She turned around and looked up at him, feeling mystified. There was so much she didn’t know, so many old mysteries to learn, and now a strange prophecy of that was tied into her being part samodiva.
“Interesting. Very interesting. Well, I must return to my research. I have a lot more preparation to do before I meet with Konstantin next week.” Ambrose excused himself and ambled back through the corridor to his wing of the library. Finn appeared deeply disturbed, and seemed to be searching the wall of names for an answer to his troubles.
“Where did this thing come from? Did you make it?” she asked Finn regarding the unique wall. She didn’t like seeing him so glum.
“Yes, it was a research project of Sariel’s,” he explained. “Together we etched her records on this wall. It appears she’s grown slightly lax in her efforts to track her offspring, but don’t mention it to her. Sariel is incapable of making mistakes, you know,” he said, and winked at her.
“Can I ask you something?” Annika turned to him. He towered over her with his arms crossed over his chest, but the expression in his eyes was anything except intimidating.
“Anything you wish.”
“Where am I?”
“Ah…” Finn said, raising his brows with interest. “I’m surprised you waited this long to ask such a question, and I’m even more embarrassed that I never thought to tell you.” He led her over to the globe near his desk and gave it a slight spin, then planted his finger on a specific spot on the northern hemisphere, which looked a lot like the northern hemisphere of Earth. “You’re in Derbedrossivic, in Srebra Gora, on Earth’s twin, Eritähti. But I’m sure you wish to know more. My father and I have studied extensively, and I’ve traveled far and wide seeking such answers. That’s how I became a polyglot.”
“A what?”
“A polyglot,” he repeated with a modest smile. “It’s someone who speaks multiple languages, and does so quite well. Now there are gates or bridges between your world and ours, although I believe you’ve referred to them as portals. Regardless of what you call them, they all lead to corresponding locations between the two planets. Typically they’re located inside or at least somewhat near older cities.” He pointed to a scattering of seven blue stones embedded into the globe, and put his fingertip on one of them. “For example, this is London, and here’s Paris. Those are the gates we pass through most frequently. Sometimes we use the ones in Prague or Jerusalem. It all depends on the reason for the visit.”
“What about the portal in Sariel’s cave? I don’t see it on your globe.”
“That one’s undisclosed, as are many others,” he said with a grin. “The seven you see here are the only ones officially known the public. They’re regulated by our government to keep things in order.”
“I thought that was just stuff you read about in sci-fi books,” she sighed in wonder. “And now the portals are closing between the different worlds, right?”
“As far as I’m aware, they’re all inaccessible. It’s very troubling because they’re closing without warning, and you and Asbjorn aren’t the only travelers who’re missing. We have yet to find out who’s responsible, so hopefully Konstantin will have some useful information that will bring both of you back home.”
“Wow,” she sighed, trying to comprehend all he’d told her. She returned to gaze at the granite wall, and stared at her name burned into the stone. The glowing had faded, but the permanence was impossible to ignore. Finn came to stand beside her, studying her name on the wall the way one studies a Rembrandt at the Louvre.
“You really are between two worlds, aren’t you?”
“It seems that way,” she agreed.
“I have something you’ll be interested to see.”
He walked over to the ladder mounted to the track along the bookshelves and climbed halfway up, pushing from shelf to shelf with his foot. Finally he stopped at a row of books that he pulled down, revealing that it was only a façade for a secret drawer, from which he withdrew a glass case. He climbed down carefully and set it on his desk, and as Annika came to have a look, she saw a very tattered thing lying under the dusty glass cover. Finn sat on the co
rner and patted the space next to him before opening the case.
“You’re going to love this,” he said as Annika hopped up and scooted closer to him. The book hiding inside the case looked like it would disintegrate at any moment. As if he’d read her thoughts, he remarked, “I really need to preserve this better. I keep thinking it will last forever, but its age is definitely starting to show.” He opened the cover gingerly, revealing a text in a forgotten language on one page and a beautiful drawing of a young boy on the other.
“Already it is Gudrun’s tenth birthday,” Finn read in his soft, deep voice. “I mistakenly thought he would take his time growing as Althea’s firstborn is, but he is sprouting like a weed. He will be a man in just a few short years. I fear the mortal life I have chosen for myself and for him, but I must remain strong. I can feel this body dying all around me, but my son should know who his mother is. He should know what his mother was.”
He glanced over at Annika, and then carefully turned another page. Her image was staring right back at her, immortalized in fading charcoal. There was something sad and mysterious about her expression. At first Annika thought it was some kind of elaborate joke, but Finn wasn’t laughing. His expression was far away, even though he was gazing right at her.
“What was it that your dad didn’t want you to tell me?” she softly implored. “What’s this prophecy about?”
Finn looked into her eyes, at a loss for words. It seemed bittersweet, whatever it was, because even though he tried to smile, she could see that behind his large curls his eyes were watering up. His hand reached out to hold her face, because he unable to believe how much she resembled the drawing lying in front of them. The likeness was real; his hand did indeed rest on something tangible. He leaned in closer, reading her soul, studying it closely with his scholar’s eyes. He lifted one hand to stroke her hair and cradle her cheek.
“Annika, you mustn’t tell anyone about this…” he implored, to which she nodded. He moistened his lips and took a soft, hesitant breath, but it was a venomous voice that broke the silence.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Annika jerked her head around and smacked it hard against Finn’s jawbone. Her eyes immediately began to sting as she clutched her forehead.
“Oh you poor thing…that had to hurt,” Finn winced, and gently brushed her hair back to see the damage he’d done.
She peeked through her fingers to see Talvi standing there, stewing and steaming, with an incredulous look on his face.
“Apparently you’re too busy to help me with dinner,” he spat.
“Actually we are. Give us a moment, would you?” Finn countered with more than a hint of agitation in his voice. Ignoring his brother, he turned to Annika and placed his hand lightly on her forehead.
“Take all the time you need!” his brother snapped. “I’ll personally see to it that no one disturbs you!” He turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy doors behind him.
“Shit,” Annika muttered and looked up at Finn. “That must have looked pretty bad.” Finn simply shook his head.
“Pay him no mind. He can be so astonishingly melodramatic that it’s become rather expected. How does your head feel?”
“It’s better. It’s actually a lot better! Elves must have a magic touch,” she said with a grin.
“You could call it that.” A tender smile sat on his lips. “Now where were we? Ah yes…your greatest grandmother had a flair for capturing likenesses.” They looked back at the book and Finn turned the page again. There were the faces of Hilda, Runa and Sariel.
“I can’t believe she kept a journal just like I do,” she remarked.
“She had others, but this is all we have left of her.”
“Why do you have it here? Why not give it to Sariel?”
“She brought it to us a long time ago, thinking it would be safer here. She was reading it so often that the pages were beginning to disintegrate. She felt that having limited access would force her to preserve it longer. It’s quite miraculous that it’s survived all this time.”
They took their time looking through the book, and Finn translated all of the old writings and shared what stories he could tell about Magda and her life. Annika was taken away to a harsh world of raising a family among raucous men, with husbands away on long journeys at sea and cruel winters when there was little to eat. It was difficult for her to see why Magda had willingly entered into such a life, except for the moments where she doted on her beautiful and beloved children.
And as much as she enjoyed the family history lesson with Finn, there was still that unanswered question that Talvi had stopped Finn from answering. Out of respect she didn’t ask him again, and out of feigned forgetfulness, he conveniently didn’t mention it again.