Ever After

I stared blankly at the aftermath of the spell. The clearing was deathly quiet. I felt my weapon fall from my hand and land softly on the ash-covered ground.

“Crispin, you—” I choked on my words. “Where are you?”

I struggled forward onto the hill, pushing my way through the dust and ash that reached as high as my knees. I bent over and ran my hands through the debris, searching for any sign of my friend.

To my left, Olive combed through the ash in the other direction. There was so much of it, and it was so cold, as if from a fire that had burned out many days ago. The Scorched Grove felt nothing like the furnace it had been only moments before.

Suddenly I bumped into something. Too soft to be a rock, too solid to be ashes. A body then. My heart leaped in my chest and I dug deeper to unearth my friend. But as I lifted the body to the surface I saw it was Dean Windsworth.

I brushed the ash from his closed eyes and beak and I lay him at the foot of the hill. His head rolled to the side and his eyes remained closed, but I saw his chest rising and falling as he took breath after fitful breath.

“Here, Plume!” said Olive as she almost tripped over something else buried in the ash.

Together we pulled Susan free as quickly as we could and brought her to rest beside the Dean. She kept trying to speak through weak coughs as she attempted to clear her throat and lungs.

“He must be further in,” I said to Olive. “Come on, what are you waiting for?”

“Plume,” Olive said gravely. “Susan and the Dean are barely alive. I have to help them first.”

I looked at the two mages. They were struggling to breathe and Susan’s coughing was turning to a rattling choking sound. Further away from the hill, I saw Riffin moving a wing matted with blood and soot as he tried to crawl towards us.

Olive was right, but I was furious.

“Fine,” I managed. “I’ll find him myself.”

I turned my back on them and resumed the search. With each passing minute I grew more desperate, sweeping wildly through piles of ash, trying to cover ground as quickly as I could. I reached the far side of the hill. Nothing. It couldn’t be.

A thought stopped me. I had set aside all pretense of a systematic search in order to move faster, but had I missed him in my haste? I started to double back, arms trembling as I retrod old ground.

“Unf.” A noise from beneath the ash.

I scrabbled frantically to uncover it, digging quickly, flinging dirt and fistfuls of ash to the side. It was him. It had to be him.

I scooped one final handful out the way to reveal a paw. I dug for the rest and pulled him free, Crispin finally above ground. His chest shook as he took a single shuddering breath.

“I’m a saint,” he murmured as if from a thousand miles away.

“That’s only if you die,” I said gently.

“So close,” he sighed. “Plume, I’m going back.”

I cradled him in my arms and cried.

---

Of all of those that Olive and I recovered from the Scorched Grove that day, Crispin recovered the fastest. Whether that was because of his hardy constitution, his unshakable faith, or his previous practice feigning death at the Avium, I could not say.

Olive and I were seated at his bedside in a healing house nestled in the upper branches of Alderheart. Susan, Dean Windsworth, and Riffin were resting in beds nearby. We heard the Dean had become much more civil with Crispin in recent days, but he usually slept when Crispin had visitors. Especially when Crispin was telling the story.

“…but the power of the Borealis alone was not enough,” said Crispin, raising his arms dramatically.

The group of young Humblefolk gathered at Crispin’s bed gasped in horror. Olive smiled.

“Of course, I knew what to do,” said Crispin. “I listened to my instinct and walked into the circle to give my life for the Wood.”

“Oh Mr Crispin,” one of the children piped up. “You’re a hero!”

“A saint,” Crispin corrected them kindly.

I hid my objections behind a sudden bought of coughing.

“Then suddenly I found myself in a place of pure white light. No trees or fires or anything. Just me and my bone buddy Odwald. I had passed into the Great Beyond.”

The Dean stirred in his sleep.

“He told me that he appreciated my sacrifice,” Crispin continued. “But that binding the Aspect of Fire was his responsibility. He asked me to let him go instead.”

One of the children sniffled back tears.

“And by some luck I had a little home-cooked food with me,” said Crispin. “So I gave it to him. For the road. He seemed grateful. Then the next thing I remember is being dug up by my trusty bodyguard, Plume.”

It was the kind of story that grew in the retelling.

“At least you were mentioned this time,” Olive whispered to me while the children applauded.

“I will now take questions,” Crispin announced.

There was barely a moment of silence and then a precocious young Cervan thrust up a hoof.

“If Plume is such a trusty bodyguard,” she asked, “why did he let you die?”

“What—?!” I spluttered.

But the floodgates had been opened and, before Crispin could reply, the children were talking over each other and asking questions all at once.

“What if the Aspect of Fire gets free again?”

“Why didn’t Babson come to rescue you?”

“What did it feel like when you died?”

“An excellent question,” said the Dean, now sitting up in bed. “Because Crispin’s first-hand account suggests he was not in fact dead at all.”

The children looked at him with open mouths. They were horrified that a mere university professor dared contradict their hero.

“In fact,” the Dean continued, “it sounds more like a first-order saddle point in interplanal hyperspace.” The children gawped. “I posit that at that moment, you and Odwald existed at a stationary point between planes. And as a corollary, I believe that is where Odwald remains.”

“Out of sight and out of reach,” said Susan. “But not dead.”

Crispin did not seem troubled by these ideas. He continued to answer the children’s questions patiently one by one until eventually a nurse came to usher them away.

---

A month passed and gradually life in Alderheart fell back into a comfortable rhythm. Winds from the west brought Autumn with them and the leaves of the great trees turned from green to glittering gold and shining red.

One morning, when I felt the timing was right, I gathered Olive and Crispin and I shouldered my pack once more. We set off from Alderheart to return to the Scorched Grove, to the center of it all.

Havel met us at the clearing, and it was good that he did because we almost didn’t recognise it.

Through the ashy remains of the battle, green stalks and shoots were poking up and luscious leaves stretched open to the sky. The air was warm again, but humid too. There was birdsong in the trees and, from time to time, rustling amid the ashes; the scurrying of small creatures across the ground.

“It’s recovering,” I said breathlessly.

“Nature always does,” said Havel. “As long as we give it a helping hand.”

He took us to the hill where the summoning circle used to be. There, in its very center, was a young sapling that had already grown as tall as Olive. It looked strong and full of vitality. It swayed gently in the breeze.

“Did you plant that?” asked Olive.

“No,” said Havel. “I think you did, in a sense.”

We stood together in companionable silence. After a while, Havel quietly slipped away and we were three once more.

“So what now?” asked Olive.

“There are Humblefolk who need me in Alderheart,” said Crispin, looking back in the direction of the great tree. “I think I can do some good there.”

I shifted the pack on my back, heavier laden than the others.

“I’ve been cooped up for long enough,” I said sadly. “I want to walk the roads again, see how the Wood has changed.”

Olive was silent for a while. We didn’t hurry her.

“I don’t know what I’m looking for,” said Olive finally. “But that’s alright. I think I’ll know it when I find it.”

Crispin took two small leaf-wrapped bundles from his bag and gave them to us. One for me, one for Olive. I made to open mine but Crispin put his paw on top of it and stopped me.

“For the journey,” he said. “Trust me, it will be delicious.”

We said our farewells, taking our time, not hurrying. The sun moved slowly overhead, the shadows lengthened, and the world was bathed in golden autumn light.

Back at the road, I turned my way and looked back at my friends.

“I’ll start with Meadowfen,” I said. “And from there, who knows?”

“I could consult the bones,” Crispin offered.

“We’ll meet again,” said Olive. “Sooner or later.”

“Of course,” I replied. “I’ll see you on the road.”

I took the path towards Meadowfen and settled in to a comfortable stride. I walked embraced by the warmth of the Wood, by the life and majesty of nature around me, and the thoughts of friends I was sure I would see again.

I smiled. The road called to me, and I followed.