novelraw CHAPTER 139 – Happy Little Frogs
CHAPTER 139 – Happy Little Frogs
‘Twas brilliant, and the sylvan boughs did gyre and gambol in the day! White upon unending blue the empyrean, sage the swaying trees, cornucopian in colour the flowers twining underfoot. Alike the little clouds joying in the sky, children frolicked in the glade, carefree in their unruly laughter, beloved by forest fair and sun supremely kind.
Most beloved was Saphienne, the reverent young girl, ten years young. Summer was in her golden hair, for like all elves, her locks delighted in the seasons. She was sun-kissed, skin akin to hazel bark, and delicate in stature; yet no tenderfoot was she, going barelegged and mirthful in the vale, as all good children ought. Her eyes were wiser than her years, oft turned to the leaves they reflected, bright with coruscation when she shared her gladdening considerations.
Which were nourished then by her downturned gaze, planted in the book she held upon her lap. Seated apart from her friends, ever was the girl precocious in diction, given to reading tales of devotion and piety–
Saphienne set the book down, bored.
For she had read it thrice, and restless was she to join in the merriment, restrained by a pledge to hold fast until met by another.
Soon came the rallying cry, “Saphienne!”
See now a transformation: at the calling of her name, Saphienne shone like the daytime, her face unguarded and smiling as she stood. The book slid off her lap, yet she was attentive and dutiful, and swift did she correct her error. Her attention then returned to the girl who came bounding bonnily through the blossoms.
Laelansa was the leal companion of Saphienne, her match in height, and fain to ne’er tarry when games were afoot. She too won distinction though her comely conduct, hers an admirable devotion to honouring the gods in competition, quick with words of kindness in her jubilations. For this reason she was oft invited to play, and brought along Saphienne to share in her grand fun.
“Saphienne! Thank you for waiting.” Laelansa her hand besought. “We’re playing hunters and hiders. Come join us!”
Withal did the child assent. “Of course I’ll–”
Saphienne blinked; she drew away from the outstretched palm.
“…I was reading…”
“Your book can wait! Celaena wants us on her team.”
“This isn’t right…” Saphienne said, squinting at the religious treatise on the fallen trunk. “…I wasn’t reading this. I didn’t know about the gods until I was older.”
“What were you reading?”
“I don’t remember; the book wasn’t important.” She searched the shaded forest, straining to see what she couldn’t recollect. “There was something else–”
Giggling at her frivolous jest, Laelansa hugged the elf she so adored, and soon all thought was surrendered to tickling shrieks, then carried laughs that led to sunlit grasses where the boys and girls were wont to game.
And Saphienne was happy.
* * *
Anon, playtime was ended, and Saphienne strolled with her bosom friend to the west of the vale and the peaceful place therein. Too young to leave the village, ‘twas their rebellion to wander together to visit Our Lord of the Tranquil Garden, there to pray at His shrine and enjoy the flowers. Many priests opined–
“I don’t want to pray.” Saphienne stopped walking, folding her arms as she stared down Laelansa. “I’m not religious. Why are you dragging me along with you?”
Obedient before the gods, Laelansa duly held aloft a prayer devoutly penned. “You said you’d help me tie this to the tree!”
Satisfied that all was well, Saphienne–
Objected. “You don’t need my help for that.” She glanced around where she stood, her eyes narrowing at the tree belonging to the local wizard. “Anyway, shrines are boring! We should go up to the lake.”
Laelansa was afeared. “But it’s really far away, and we’re not grown enough to go on our own! We might get into trouble–”
“It’s just water.” Saphienne was unfazed. “Lots of water. It’s not dangerous–”
No more was said, for an imposing man made unexpected egress from the tall, towering tree, dressed in blue robes so glamouring they hushed both children.
“Master Almon,” Laelansa whispered, swift her withdrawal with Saphienne into an aegis of foliage. “We shouldn’t be seen.”
Unsuspecting that he was espied, the wizard–
“He can see us; we’re wearing white.” Saphienne smirked to herself. “He’s pretending not to notice.”
He walked away from the watching children, setting out into the village… only to pause, his back toward them.
“What’s he doing?” Saphienne’s friend was cheek-to-cheek with her.
With a wave of his hand, the wizard poured sapphire sparkles from his fingertips, flickering sparks that leapt on the air and coalesced into a bolt of lightning that staked the ground before him with a thunderous boom — there to shimmer and twitch as it hardened and cooled into fine, fire-blackened wood, still yet burning with tawny embers.
Stunned, the girls froze in place…
Only for the wizard to nonchalantly lift his walking stick, and casually stroll on.
“A hallucination.” Saphienne grinned. “He was showing off. I made a Conjuration spell inspired by the memory–”
Alas, on galloped the sun, and so too roamed the children westward, Laelansa leading Saphienne as they sported over their merry escape.
And Saphienne was happy.
* *
“Wait.”
Saphienne struggled free from Laelansa and strode back to the flowerbeds before the wizard’s home, ignoring her friend’s dismay as she stooped to carefully uproot a blooming hyacinth from its rightful place in the front garden.
The casual vandalism worried the younger girl. “Why’d you do that?”
“This is where Hyacinth met us.” Saphienne cradled the flower against her chest. “I’m sure of it now: she was here with us. But you were the one who–”
Wilful child! We shall go further back.
* * *
When Saphienne was in her ninth year, she did attend a puppet show at the festival of the summer solstice, splendid in her comely attire. She was seated afore the audience in the tented pavilion, beside Laelansa, who was always well mannered, nestled up against the godly exemplar as they did laugh and gasp at the shade of the puppets upon the screen.
She grasped a paper flower–
A red hyacinth. Saphienne clutched it like a talisman, but held it lightly, and it shook with her laughter every time the nimble puppets fell over.
…Indeed. This was a happy day–
And all the world was on the stage before them, where forest wardens shooed goblins and fought dragons to save maidens, and magic glimmered in the shadows to make the sounds that accompanied the actors’ exaggerated voices. Laelansa and Saphienne both joined in when the puppets asked the children whether the dragon should eat the maiden — “No!” And they cheered when the dragon was driven off, and laughed when the goblins crept back in once the elves were gone, bickering over the scales and broken arrows left behind.
Eventually, the tale was done, and the tent was full of cheers. The lamps were lit, and gentle music played as the harpist returned to her chair, and one of the forever energetic caretakers stood before the puppet stage and shouted an invitation that was not voluntary, “Who wants to play a game!”
–Withal did Laelansa upleap. “We do!” Aglow was her smile as she cried for reinforcements. “Faylar! Celaena! Come join our group!”
Saphienne–
Wrinkled her nose as her friends wandered over, dropping her gaze to the flower. “…I don’t want to play games.” She rose to her feet and turned toward the entrance, peering through into the festival grounds, her eyes unable to focus on the silhouette outside.
“Saphienne,” fine young Faylar sighed, betimes indecorous toward her fanciful custom, “do you have to be this way? Stay and have fun with us. Your reading can wait.”
“I don’t give a f–”
No; children do not so profane.
“I don’t want to read right now.” There was a figure in the distance, grinning, her hands held behind her back to conceal a precious gift. “I don’t want to play. No one ever wanted me to join in, anyway.” She set out for the doorway in determination.
Laelansa went afore Saphienne in protest, the way obscured and barred by arms outspread. “I want to play with you! Celaena and Faylar do, too!” Soft was the eye that begged of her friend, “Don’t you love us?”
Saphienne slowed. “…I do…”
“Then stay: come play with us.” Laelansa clasped her shoulders in gentle counsel. “There will be plenty of time to read later; we aren’t in any hurry.”
What had she been reading? She couldn’t remember… and surely no book could ever matter as much as Laelansa. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to be turned around, frowning all the while.
Play would in time her consternation dissolve.
And Saphienne was–
“I’m thirsty.” She stepped away from the gathering. “Would any of you like juice?”
“I would,” Celaena did confess.
“Me too.” Faylar was mindful to render aid. “I’ll come–”
Saphienne didn’t need their help. “Wait for me: I’ll fetch it for us.”
“Hurry back,” Laelansa urged, most plaintively.
Inclining her head, Saphienne left her friends and went over to the low table at the far side of the room, where wooden cups filled with blackcurrant juice had been laid out for the children. She sipped one, then screwed shut her eyes, unsure if she liked the tart and faintly bitter flavour until she drank a second, third, and then fourth time.
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She set down the half-full cup and looked around the room, to where the other children were dividing themselves into teams–
A caretaker did approach the lonesome girl. “Is something wrong, Saphienne? Have you lost your friends? Let’s go find them!”
Thirst quenched, Saphienne took her hand–
“My friends wanted me to bring juice.”
“But of course!” Beguiled by her consideration, the woman turned back to the table–
Which meant she wasn’t minding the door, and Saphienne ran for it as fast as she–
Faylar intercepted the flighty girl! “Saphienne, what are you–”
She kicked him between his legs, leapt over him as he slumped down–
Running straight into Lynnariel. “My darling! Whatever has come over you? Apologise to Faylar at–”
But Saphienne recognised her mother was but a shadow cast by a puppet, and ignored her as she continued out the door.
…As you like.
* * *
Laelansa began to braid Saphienne’s hair in the same high circle she wore, though the errant girl would have a longer tail, since her hair hung lower. “Wynalia said everyone should look their best.”
Enjoying the feeling of her hair being stroked through and lifted, Saphienne nodded, then blushed when Laelansa scolded her for moving, and sat unnaturally still for a few minutes more. No one paid them any mind — or at least, the ones who noticed them only smiled and cooed and waved, happy to see the picturesque scene of two girls at play.
“Where did all these people come from?” Saphienne asked.
“They’re from other villages.” Laelansa stuck her tongue back into the corner of her lips as she worked, then spoke again as she tried to remember the next steps. “Wynalia says a festival like this is held in a different village every year. Everyone sees who has the best festival. They compete.”
“You like competing…”
“I do!” She finished, and leant forward to hug her. “There!”
Saphienne enjoyed the hug, and let Laelansa half-lift her as she stood, giggling. “How do I look?”
“Like sunshine!” Laelansa twirled her around. “Like a sunflower, growing up! All thin and tall, and yellow at the top.”
They both laughed together, and then Laelansa took her hand again and they went out where they weren’t supposed to be, seeking adventure.
And Saphienne was happy.
* * *
Long did they play games, made welcome by the kindly elves who in sooth were gleeful accomplices to their meandering betwixt the high tables. Laelansa gave great account of herself with throwing, winning Saphienne’s esteem–
Despite failing to win the game; Saphienne won when they first competed, and Laelansa won thereafter.
…And so it was. From thence they forayed to seek refreshment, and so restored, went back to the games with great–
“I want to dance.” Saphienne changed direction, moving toward warring music that hovered above the throng, harmonious despite the differences.
Bemused was Laelansa. “What a silly notion! You don’t like to dance… and you know I don’t, either. Let’s go back to–”
The competing music grew louder as they left the stalls and approached the centre of the field, where several dance floors had been raised. Different musicians performed beside each, but all bands performed in the same key, and in tempos that were complementary, for all that they differed in pace. The effect was mesmerising to the two girls, who watched as a dozen paired elves swayed together in close embrace, their timing different from – but in synch with – the next stage, where two lines danced together at quicker pace, who were slower in turn than the elegant whirling of the dancers on the stage beyond.
“Saphienne, dancing is for grownups. Are you afraid I’ll keep winning? If you like, I’ll let you take more throws than–”
Yet Saphienne ignored Laelansa, staring in wonder at the stage where the elves were spinning together, beholding a smiling girl with short ears who awaited her in the calm centre. Her feet carried her up to the edge–
Saphienne, stop resisting.
I think not.
She counted the beat, then–
* * *
“… Gods’ sake, it isn’t working!”
Blood seeped from Saphienne’s nose, her mouth, from the corners of her eyes.
Tolduin was unperturbed as he cast another healing spell to repair the damage wrought upon his patient by the sculptor. “In sooth, we are making progress. Do not be unnerved by tribulations of flesh and bone.”
Where he restrained Saphienne, Sundamar was conflicted. “Elder Tolduin, this is killing her.”
“He isn’t.” Vestaele lurked close by, untroubled and detached in her observation of the procedure. “She’s hurting herself — her obstinate resistance to the transmutation is causing the haemorrhaging. The damage is easily healed.”
Danyn shook his head at his fellow warden. “Sundamar, stop distracting Elder Tolduin — he knows what he’s doing, let him work in peace.”
Sundamar remained in place… though he sought more reassurance. “Master Almon?”
Yet the wizard didn’t answer. He didn’t move from the window, staring out into the forest, his back turned to Saphienne, straining to shut out the scene, his shoulders shaking when her screams resumed.
* * *
Alack! ‘Twas inevitable that Saphienne and Laelansa were to part for a time.
“I’m going with Wynalia to the Vale of the White River.” Saddened, Laelansa embraced Saphienne by the lapping lake, draped in autumn’s rosy lament. “I’ll miss you… but I won’t be gone forever. I’ll come back to visit whenever I can.”
Sorrowful beyond words, Saphienne was consoled to–
Refuse. “You’re not leaving.”
“Saphienne, I have to go, but it’s not–”
“No.” The redheaded girl shivered with the effort to peel herself away. “No, you’re not going to leave.”
“Wynalia says–”
“You were never here.” She gritted her teeth against the throb in her temples. “You didn’t grow up in the Eastern Vale; you didn’t know your way around. Celaena had to go for Gaelyn when I was hurt.”
Such inconsistencies as Saphienne foresaw were easily remedied. “You’re confused… if you’ll just trust me, I can explain–”
“Go to hell.” She spun and bolted southward.
“Saphienne!” Laelansa gave chase. “Where are you going? You have to wish me goodbye! This is your last chance!”
Chastened–
Hastened, Saphienne sprinted through the trees, under the dancing, garish limbs that bled and swirled, outpacing her pursuer–
“Child, there is nowhere to run: you must confront the loss.”
–Who was no longer Laelansa, nor had he ever been, wearing her beloved’s skin like a costume to disguise his predation, now animating a woodkin to catch her–
“Apostate!”
–Only to falter at the unexpectedly familiar oak with which her mind clothed his imagining, giving her chance to slip the bonds of his false memory and arrive at the steps of the library on the most momentous morning.
Thither, matronly in her disfavour, Filaurel guarded the door. “Saphienne, you shouldn’t be here! You’re meant to be seeing off Laelansa. Are you going to let them deprive you of your parting?”
Thrown by her rebuke, Saphienne hesitated.
“Don’t disappoint me. Go back and apologise to her.”
She had transgressed, yet redemption was offered. All she need do was beshrew her pride and accept that she was beloved, that long-missed Laelansa would unto her be restored, thus mending her heart of the sickness that had infected her and festered into wild and unbecoming delusion. She belonged to the woodlands; in sooth, she was an elf keenly admired by many. Could she not see the compassion which surrounded her? Would she not but let go of her pains, and bask in the warmth of healing?
“I mean it. I’m not unlocking the door.”
Saphienne shut her eyes. “I’m not your apprentice yet. And if I am, I have a key.”
“It will avail you not: I changed the lock, and bolted fast the windows.”
How sharp her smile! “…That’s all? Just a locked door?”
Pardon? What jest dost thou–
Saphienne dashed up as though toward Filaurel — revealing at the last instant that she aimed elsewhere, when she hurled herself through a shattering window.
* * *
Kylantha crouched over her where she lay among the shards of glass, still clutching the red, paper hyacinth. “You really won’t let go of me, will you?”
“Never.” Saphienne grunted her reply as she climbed to her knees, willing the breakage to reverse direction and seal the window against the shouts that assailed her mind. “He wants to make me forget; he wants me to believe that Laelansa was my friend when I was little; he thinks that letting you go will ‘heal’ me.”
The mortal elf who was no elf at all giggled. “He doesn’t understand you.”
“Of course not.” Although she was in childish form, her claws and horns and scales and tail told well the truth of her being. “He thinks you’re a wound.”
Kylantha helped Saphienne to stand. “Aren’t I?”
“You’re me.” She sagged against her other self. “You’re my love for myself. You began as my love for Kylantha, and her love for me, but they really were one and the same, weren’t they? To love her was to love myself.”
“All love is self-love?”
“When we love purely, there is no distinction between self and other.” Saphienne kissed her cheek. “What was done to Kylantha was done to me. All that was good, and all that was vile.”
“Not selfless, then.”
“Kylantha wouldn’t want me to sacrifice myself.” Saphienne held herself taller, gazing resolutely on the immortal girl who’d outlasted the child whose likeness she bore. “To live for my loved ones demands that I live.”
Her unconscious mind grinned. “I’m happy you realise that. I love you, Saphienne.”
“I love us, too.”
Fists pounded on the door to the library, interrupting their communion.
“…He won’t stop.” Kylantha’s sadness was peaceful. “Ironic, isn’t it? You’ve come so far to know yourself, to accept yourself, and when you finally recognise that you love yourself, they won’t let you.”
Saphienne laughed scornfully. “They don’t love themselves, not one of them. I don’t think they understand what love entails.”
“Breaking your mind with dragons’ fire?”
They guffawed together.
Meanwhile, the pounding intensified.
“…He really isn’t going to stop,” Saphienne sighed. “I don’t know what to do… we can’t stay in here forever.”
“I wish we could.” Kylantha led her by the hand to one of the cushions on a windowsill, sitting with her as they listened to the growing din. “For once, you have no questions for me: you just want to be with me. The real me.”
Saphienne’s vision blurred as she leaned against the fair-haired spectre. “I see you as both: you’re myself and her, together. Being with you is the closest I’ll ever come to seeing her again.”
Her inner reflection rolled her eyes. “I’m not a spectre! I’m not even convinced she’s dead — you know divinations can be wrong.”
She wrapped her tail around Kylantha. “Don’t try to comfort me. I should have searched for her after my eighteenth birthday; I failed her. I’ve accepted she’s gone.”
“We’ll see…”
Cracks spread across the glass behind them.
“…Or maybe we won’t.” Her scowl smoothed over the glass as she stroked Saphienne’s back. “He’s persistent. Unless someone intervenes, trying the same thing but harder is all he knows how to do.”
“He’s evil.”
“He is.” Kylantha hummed. “He’s a little like what you would have been, if not for all the people who love you. I don’t know for sure, but I think Tolduin was orphaned when he was hurt.”
Saphienne squinted. “…Why?”
“Intuition? Mother Marigold cares for Laelansa; Mother Oak cares for him. His devotion to forgetting pain makes sense if that’s how he was soothed.”
“That doesn’t excuse him.”
“No.” Kylantha squeezed Saphienne tightly. “No, it doesn’t. He should burn. Him, and Vestaele, and Danyn, and Sundamar.”
“…And Almon.” Her chest was tight. “And Filaurel.”
“Is that what you want?” She kissed her brow. “If that is what you want, I won’t mind. You can burn whoever you want. You can burn them all, Saphienne.”
A shudder ran through the library, shaken to its roots by the worsening assault.
Saphienne sat up, staring into the brown gaze that captured her so perfectly. “He’s going to bring the building down on us, isn’t he? He’ll destroy my mind to get to you.”
“Yes. Every time he heals the damage, he’s tearing at your brain.”
“I’ll miss you.”
For the first time, Kylantha’s lips trembled. “I wish that were possible.”
Branches of the library crashed past the window; splinters of wood rained on them from the ceiling.
“Would you keep holding me?” Kylantha couldn’t hide her terror. “I’d like to feel wanted when I die.”
Fiercely, Saphienne pulled the girl who would have been a dragon onto her lap, guarding her with scaled arms as they both shed tears of bitter disappointment. This should not have been their end; they deserved better.
“I’m sorry.” Saphienne lay chin upon shoulder, wiping her eyes so that she might look upon her forthcoming doom. “I couldn’t be who you wanted. I tried.”
“You didn’t fail…” Kylantha sobbed into her ear. “…They failed you.”
And the library began to crumble.
“…Fuck them.” Her pupils were thin slits as she peered out across what had once been her truest home. “I hope they burn in hell.”
“Don’t think of them; think of me; think of Kylantha.”
But she couldn’t. In her final moments, Saphienne could only feel betrayal, simmering with growing rage at the hypocrisy that had damned her. She hated her priest; her master in sorcery; her master in wizardry. She hated Filaurel the most.
And to think: all it had taken to gull her was a key to share–
Saphienne studied the desk as the ceiling sagged.
Then she scrambled, grabbing Kylantha’s wrist, racing to the stacks.
“Saphienne?!”
“There’s no time!” She scanned the spines of the children’s books, reading aloud as she passed the simply ordered sections. “…Numbers, music, maps, language…” She hurried faster. “…Art, animals!”
Kylantha watched with awe as Saphienne wrenched a book from the shelf and held it open for her to read.
“This one!” Saphienne pressed the book forward as the walls bent inward. “Here! You have to remember that–”
The library fell.
End of Chapter 139