Something more was in this sea, as well. Light. It belonged to every drop of every wave, as much as the water itself. Tiny specks of phosphorescence sparkled throughout, ringing Elli’s body like thousands of shimmering stars.
Of course, she said to herself, remembering the gleaming water that flowed from the White Geyser of Crystillia. That water had been, for a time, trapped behind the dam built by Kulwych’s slaves. But now it ran free again, just as it had for all the ages of Avalon—passing through Prism Gorge, splitting into the spectrum, and flowing southward through the Seven Rivers of Color all the way to the Rainbow Seas.
In time, Elli and Brionna swam back to shore. They stood on the sand for a moment, letting the soft wind dry their skin, as the elf maiden combed her wet hair with her fingers and retied her braid. Then, with grateful smiles at the sea, they quickly dressed and woke the others. It was time to set sail.
It took all of them to lift the little boat onto its hull, since so much sand had settled around its sides. With a combined shove, and a string of curses from Nuic, they pushed off. Each of them found a spot to sit: Brionna in the stern, Elli in the bow, and the others on the sides—except for old Shim, who decided to stand. Then, as soon as the craft started to rock upon the waves, he lost his balance and fell on his bulbous nose.
Minutes later, Brionna had put up the grayish green sail. Woven from sturdy fronds of elbrankelp, it had probably outlasted many a storm at sea. It fluttered in the briny breeze, bearing the ancient symbol of the water elves in its center: a rainbow-colored wave on a background of blue. All this was encircled in forest green, a reminder to all of their origins, the days when Serella brought the first elves here from Woodroot and established a settlement at Caer Serella.
With Brionna’s steady hand at the tiller, the boat started to slide over the colorful waves. Elli, leaning against the bow, felt again the freedom of floating in the water. A few drops from her wet hair rolled down her brow and then her nose. One fell onto her outstretched tongue. It tasted of sea salt . . . and a hint of apples.
Wind gusted suddenly, jolting the sail and tilting the boat drastically. Shim screeched and Nuic roared as they both slipped and rolled together in a heap. Quickly, Brionna twisted the tiller, and told Lleu to yank on the elbrankelp rope, dumping some air from the sail. With a splash, the craft settled back to a safer angle. It coursed along, skimming the surface, leaving behind a glittering wake.
As Elli watched, they sped past dozens of islands. Most were as small and flat as the one where they’d landed, but some stretched for great distances. One heavily forested island rose high out of the waves, finally disappearing into the clouds. At one point she caught a glimpse of a thin, vertical shape rising in the distance. Almost as soon as she’d seen it, though, it vanished behind a swell, leaving her to wonder whether it was the mast of an elven ship—or the neck of a water dragon.
Abruptly, her attention turned to the waters close to the boat. Bubbles—thousands upon thousands of them—were popping incessantly on the surface. The water seemed to be boiling madly, more froth than waves. But when she tested it with her hand, it felt quite chilly. All around the bubbles, an oily film had formed, streaking the water with still more colors.
“What’s going on?” she asked Brionna. “Is there some kind of giant fish down there?”
The elf maiden smiled. “Fish, yes. But not a giant one. These are bubblefish! They swim here, in the upper reaches of the Rainbow Seas, by the billions. And they have the shortest life span of any creature in Avalon—no longer than a single heartbeat.”
She dipped one hand into the water, scooping up a bubblefish just as it popped. All that remained in her hand was the oily film, swirling with translucent shades of orange, red, and green. Examining the remains, she nodded.
“Here’s the real surprise, though—something Granda taught me. Despite how brief their lives are, bubblefish are intensely happy. So happy that sailors who mix their breakfast with the oil of a few bubblefish are blessed with buoyant moods all day long.” She gave a sidelong look at Nuic, who was still grumbling at Shim. “For someone like your maryth, though, it would take a few hundred.”
Elli’s laugh sounded like a lark of the sea. “I’d like to taste some,” she announced. “It must be wonderful.”
“Wait,” warned Brionna, her face now serious. “Sailors who spend too much time in these waters become giddy—or crazed with greed—and lose control of the helm. That’s why there are so many shipwrecks in this region, and why the elves call these the isles of joyful death.”
Lleu nodded. “I remember when we sent a delegation of priestesses and priests to Waterroot—oh, ten or twelve years ago. Their boat was blown off course by a storm, straight into the cauldron of bubblefish. Only one of them survived, old Abcahn. He said the others were so intoxicated by the oil, and so greedy for more, they leaped overboard to devour as much as they could. And then drowned.”
“How did he ever resist?” asked Brionna.
“He didn’t. Abcahn told me he was just as crazed as the rest. The only reason he survived was that, before he could jump in, he slipped and clonked his head on the side of the boat. When he woke up, the boat had drifted into safer waters, and he was all alone on board. So he had a lump on his skull, but he also had his life.”
Lleu licked the salty spray from his lips, then glanced over at Elli. “At the memorial service, our friend Coerria tried to make sense of this whole tragedy by using it to remind us of our own weaknesses. Quite useful, since I’m afraid humanity is very skilled at ignoring them! She quoted that famous passage by Pwyll the Younger:
“Beware all ye mortals,
This warning to heed:
When faith turns to arrogance, or
Joy turns to greed—
“Belief becomes shackles,
Not wings of the freed.
Then hard be thy heart,
Corrupt be thy creed.”
“Be glad we’re just crossing the outer edge of this region,” muttered Brionna. She wiped her hand, still shimmering with color, on her robe. Then she pointed past the bow. “Over there, look.”
Indeed, they saw the clear border of the frothing waters. In a few seconds, they had passed beyond them. There were several sighs on the boat—of relief, but also, perhaps, of longing.
They sailed on in silence, skimming past island after island. Abruptly, the silence ended when lightning seared the sky and a great boom of thunder echoed overhead. This was followed by several sharp gusts of wind that tossed the little craft to and fro, and then a hazy drizzle that grew swiftly into a downpour. Before long, sheets and sheets of rain poured down on the sea and on the sailboat. More lightning and thunder exploded as rain pummeled the companions.
Huddled together in their drenched robes, they lost any feeling of contentment at sea. Brionna grimaced as she gripped the tiller. It wasn’t just the cold rain that troubled her, but the difficulty of keeping on course. She could barely see past the sailboat’s bow, let alone keep track of the Willow Lands. And there was a real risk they’d run aground.
Brionna finally released the tiller and, with help from Elli and Lleu, took down the sail. Instead of furling it, though, they unhooked it from the mast and spread it like a roof of cloth above their heads. Now, at least, they were somewhat drier, if just as cold. Crouching close together, the companions shivered constantly as the small boat pitched on the swells, tossed by water from below and pounded by water from above.
15 • The Willow Lands
The rain continued, unabated, hour after hour. Starset came and went unnoticed. Under the dark blanket of the sail, the companions lost all track of time. All they knew was the ceaseless sway of waves and the endless howl of wind, along with the relentless drumbeat of rain.
And they also knew cold—a swelling, creeping cold that chilled their deepest veins. Fingers ached painfully; toes went numb. Shim’s nose turned nearly as blue as Nuic’s skin.
“Me b-b-bones is fr-freezing,
” moaned the little giant.
“Mine, too,” grumbled Lleu. “I’m worried we’ll all turn to ice.”
More worried that they were losing precious time, Elli cursed, “Vilrat’s venom! Are we just going to drift around on this sea forever?”
“Until the rain stops, at least,” answered Brionna with a shiver. “If I can’t see, I can’t steer.”
All through the night they drifted on the stormy sea. Not until the hour before dawn did the elf maiden finally notice some slackening in the rain. She squeezed Elli’s wrist, and they both listened for several moments as the world beyond the boat gradually quieted.
Slowly, with numb hands, they pulled away part of the sail. Through the opening came a rush of crisp, moist air, rich with the salty smell of the sea—but very little rain. Seconds later, the rain stopped completely. A few isolated stars even shimmered through the gaps in the clouds. By the time they had hoisted the sail once more, dawn’s light had brightened both sky and sea, throwing a net of golden light across the waves.
And there, just to the west, sat the deep green band of the Willow Lands. To everyone’s relief, the storm had blown them toward their goal rather than away from it. Skillfully, Brionna turned the boat just enough to billow the sail, and tacked westward. Apart from Shim’s inane comments that nobody understood, and Nuic’s incessant grumbling that reassured Elli he was alive and well, the companions remained quiet. For their attention had turned to the strange place they were fast approaching.
Lleu joined Elli, kneeling at the bow. At last, he said, “It’s a whole lot more willow than lands, isn’t it? Those trees seem to sprout right up from the water.”
“Mmm,” she agreed. “And look at their lowest branches. They sprout from the trunk but then they go down, not up. Why are those branches all bending down to the sea?”
“Because,” answered Brionna from the stern, “they’re not branches at all. They’re roots. Aerial roots.” She paused, adjusting the tiller slightly. “That’s what makes these willows so remarkable. Unlike their cousins in El Urien, they do grow right from the water, in shallows such as these.”
“But how will we get past them?” asked Elli. “There’s no place to walk.”
The elf grinned knowingly. “We won’t need to walk.”
Elli turned uncertainly back to the trees. Before long, though, her doubts receded in a rising sense of awe. This was more than a forest they were nearing. This was a whole new world.
The swelling light of dawn traced the graceful lines of the willows’ roots, trunks, and branches, making the rain-washed wood gleam and glitter. As the companions drew near, they heard the first whispers of wind in the long, flowing tresses of the leaves that hung from every limb, swishing the surface of the water, swaying gently. Burly roots rose upward, higher than the top of the boat’s mast, and curved to join the trunks, forming great archways above the lapping waves.
Through those archways, Brionna steered them. There was just enough wind to make the boat glide slowly and serenely ahead. And Elli soon realized that much more than willows grew here. She saw golden-boughed mangroves, rising out of the shallows; pink and purple aquaferns, looping around the willows’ tresses like bright ribbons tied in someone’s hair; Lorilanda’s moss, impossibly rich and velvety, draping down from the boughs; and some translucent branwenna trees, swelling with liquid heartwood that cannot burn. She even saw a pair of yellow-finned fish leap straight out of the water and bite off some berries before plunging back into the water with a double splash.
Yet most beautiful of all, she thought, were the willows. Sailing through the flowing tresses, she felt as if she’d left her cramped, cold body behind. Instead, she was floating, free as a bubblefish, within a wondrous waterfall. Leaves rustled softly as they rippled and swayed, immersing her in a cascade of silvery green. Could there be ballads, she wondered, in the whispers of willows?
The thought of other words, other languages, made her glance at her bracelet of astral flowers. Brightly it glowed in the growing light. And for the first time, she felt a genuine pang of regret about Tamwyn.
I hope he’s all right . . . Then, just as abruptly, her old anger returned. And I also hope he’s tripped on his own feet and fallen down a deep crevasse.
A trail of willow leaves brushed against her cheek, and her thoughts returned to the present. She gazed up into the starlit boughs. I could stay here forever, she mused. Right here, in this world of willows.
Onward through the arching roots they sailed, gliding over the water. The golden light warmed the colors all around—as well as the companions’ hands and feet. As the morning light swelled, Elli remembered her favorite Drumadian prayer, written by Rhia herself:
Listen to Creation’s morning,
Waking all around you.
Feel the spark of dawn within,
Breaking day has found you.
She caught Brionna’s eye. “You were right about this place.” Stroking the amulet, she sighed. “I only wish we had more time to explore it.”
“Just wait. There’s something more to see, before we get to the dragons’ lair.”
“What?”
The elf maiden tossed her braid over her shoulder and said no more.
Elli dropped her hand over the side and let her finger slide through the phosphorescent water. Then she felt something nudge her thigh. It was Nuic, a decidedly chilly shade of blue.
“Thought I might see how this works,” he said, pointing at the radiant jewel on his chest. “Rhia’s had plenty of time to get herself into trouble by now.”
As Elli watched with interest, he closed his liquid purple eyes, concentrating hard. Nothing happened for a minute or two—then a sudden flash of green exploded in the Galator. Light and color swirled within, as if it were a glowing drop of the Rainbow Seas.
Nuic reopened his eyes, just as an image started to form in the center of the jewel. Like Elli, he watched the colors coalesce until they showed an elderly woman walking briskly through deep woods. When she stepped into a shaft of light that had pierced the canopy of leaves, her silver curls glowed with the new day’s light.
“Rhia,” said Elli softly. She chewed her lower lip. “How I love her.”
“That’s the only reason you can see her, you silly wretch.” Nuic’s voice sounded as gruff as ever, but his colors told a different story. As he viewed the old woman, streaks of warm reds and yellows vibrated in his skin.
Shifting his gaze to Elli, he asked, “Want to check on that fool Tamwyn, while we’re at it?”
Surprised, she caught her breath. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Hmmmpff, I don’t know. Boredom, maybe.”
Just then Brionna yanked the tiller hard, bringing the boat around so sharply she threw everyone against the side. Bodies jostled and Nuic howled as Shim rolled on top of him. But as they regained their balance (and in Nuic’s case, composure), nobody berated her. They simply stood in awe. For now they could tell just why she had swerved—not to avoid something, but to see something.
“Stars,” said Elli, her voice full of wonder. “Stars upon the sea.”
There, before them, the willows opened into a great circle. Within the ringing boughs, and the shimmering curtain of green, was a pool of perfectly still water that reflected the stars above. And more: Somehow this water held the stars’ light, captured it, and intensified it.
Slowly their boat drifted into the center of the pool, sending out gentle ripples that rolled across the reflected stars. As the ripples passed, they caught the light, becoming luminous rings that expanded ever outward, finally disappearing into the encircling willows.
Elli glanced up at the morning sky, then back at the waters surrounding them. “The sky’s so bright now, it’s hard to see any stars at all. But this pool is like a crystal clear night.”
“With stars so near you could almost touch them,” added Lleu. “And even brighter than usual.”
“It’s like Merlin’s Stargazing Stone,” sa
id Brionna, viewing the stars all around the boat. “But different, too. At the Stone you see everything in the sky, even the tiniest points of light. Here, you see just the brightest stars, but as if you were closer somehow.”
“Hmmmpff,” grumbled the pinnacle sprite. “Which is why the water elves call this place the Pool of Stars. A most unoriginal name, if you ask me.”
“No one asked you, Nuic.” Brionna flashed him a smile almost as radiant as the stars themselves. “Right, Elli?”
But Elli didn’t hear her. Struck by the mention of the Stargazing Stone, she’d been thinking of her blissful moment there with Tamwyn. And his journey, his quest to find the stars. To get, as Brionna had said, closer somehow.
She turned to Nuic. “Maybe I would like to . . .”
He understood without another word. “Just touch the Galator and think about him. That should do it.”
She stretched out her hand and placed a fingertip on top of the green jewel. Closing her eyes, she thought about Tamwyn: his determination, veering into stubbornness; his gentle nature, capable of surprising wisdom now and then; and his clumsiness, more endearing than he knew. And also his fears—about his feelings for her, she was sure.
You madden me, Tamwyn. Drive me crazy some of the time. Much of the time! But you do intrigue me. I’m still not sure why.
She opened her eyes. Like Nuic, she gazed into the glowing green jewel. Bright colors swirled, then started to coalesce. She thought, for an instant, she could make out Tamwyn—reading something, a letter perhaps. But the image suddenly turned smoky, blurry, impossible to recognize. The jewel flashed once more, deep in its center, then returned to its normal color.
Elli twirled one of her curls, staring at the pendant. “That’s all?”
“Hmmmpff. Your feelings, I suspect, aren’t exactly clear on this subject.”
She frowned, saying no more.
They reached the far side of the Pool of Stars. Silently, the boat glided through the swaying tresses. Elli, like the others in the boat, took one last look at the bright lights in the water, wishing she could touch them. Then the pool, and the stars, vanished behind the greenery.