Chapter XVI - The Aldorian Waterfall
The Legend of Leanna Page: Vol. I
You’re reading The Legend of Leanna Page, the page-turning mythopoetic queer literary fantasy. *Click here for the Table of Contents and start of Volume I*
Previously: Leanna snuck into the castle of Pavoline and inadvertently began a series of events which allowed Guiomar to retrieve the Jewel of Nebulous, destroy massive numbers of Masorian soldiers, and even kill his own father, Petrenair Ranzentine. The drought in Masor now goes on, Madrick is lost to depressive drinking, Byrdon is trapped in now-King Guiomar’s dungeon. It seems all hope is lost. Will Leanna be able to find a way to fix it?
“How could I have been so foolish!” Leanna paced circles around Kennedy in their dreamscape as she mercilessly hounded herself for the events in Pavoline. “I was told I was specifically forbidden; why could I not have simply obeyed my mother? She could see into what madness I had fallen, and yet I pressed on.” It had been over a week past the double fortnight it took Leanna to pursue her fruitless undertaking since Kennedy had shared a dream with her, for until now, after returning to Masor, Leanna had still resisted sleep, sitting up, staring all through the nights, taking herself to wakeful vision after vision of the destruction across her world that she had worsened. Seeing her now, Kennedy could only be silent as she observed Leanna’s hatred of her own actions. “I thought myself so mighty,” she said. “What, in truth, could I ever have done? I have no warrior training, no skill! These powers; I fear they mean to destroy me.”
Leanna stood, giving her eyes at last to Kennedy, pausing briefly for a breath, and received a countenance of great care and concern, but even her beloved friend was too much in shock to yet have words that might console her. Leanna began to speak on, but did so now slowly, choosing her words with caution. “The vision of Guiomar first donning the Jewel was so deeply unnerving, and the thought of Isolda taking it on was no improvement, such that, if it could be helped no other way, I was near determined to take it on myself in their place. That alone should have dissuaded me. Couldst thou imagine? Me, colluding with so wicked a power. For weeks, during the journey, the vague idea of it did not so much as concern me in the slightest. Worse, when I stood there directly in its presence, knowing it without even seeing it, I had the horrible realization that, all this time, all this magic swirling around my life, it had all been the Jewel. It had been reaching for me. The Jewel wants me. This weapon, this object of evil, I could swear has intention, and it desires me to be its wielder! How abhorrent a thing might I be?” Kennedy rushed to her side and placed a stable, sure, comforting hand on her arm. With the most stern countenance and the slightest shake of her head, she conveyed enough to prevent Leanna’s collapse into tears. “I was too terribly afraid,” Leanna went on, “if I took the Jewel in hand, even enclosed within its box, I would succumb to its call; so, after throwing the castle into disarray, in the only moment of consequence, I did nothing, and the Jewel has fallen again to Guiomar, now King!, three-quarter of all Masor’s knights have perished, and the Sky is only more dreadful above Masor than before.”
“Such an intention as thine can never be faulted. Thou meant to protect the lives of the countless,” Kennedy reminded her.
“Instead I may as well have murdered them myself.”
“No.” Dark violet sparked off Kennedy’s wings in a brief flash. “That was Guiomar’s doing. Guiomar alone.”
“Guiomar would not have escaped his chambers if I had not infiltrated the castle.”
“And thou wouldst not have infiltrated the castle if Isolda had not decided, against thy pleas, to begin a needless war! Leanna, if thou wishest to despise thyself for these actions, I will not pretend they were free of irresponsibility and shortsightedness, but such are small delinquencies when set beside the true crimes.”
“And what of the Jewel?” Leanna asked. “What am I to do if it means to corrupt me?”
Kennedy shook her head with a sad but certain smile. “Thou art good, Leanna. There is nothing of evil that can change that.”
Leanna wished so to accept these words as truth but before she was entirely convinced, Kennedy faded away, awakening, returning to her faraway land. The dreamer fell to her knees upon the face of her endless sky and curled so that the palms of her hands pressed upon her eyes, swaying and aching for some method of redemption to reveal itself. Her eyes strained against the pressure which, in waking times, would have brought an array of speckles to the darkness, but now, as she pressed only further, she fell helplessly into a new dream.
A great blue heron flew up from her perch on a river rock as a stream flowing through the Infinite Wood picked up momentary speed. Her grand wings spread and took her from the Forest floor to the Treetops within seconds where she again found stillness on a branch. Hither, however, a great horned owl stood in a stealthy stalk, and when his prey had found an ignorant peace, he pounced and clawed at her wings. The heron darted away but was not swift enough to avoid injury. With one wing now clipped, she fell to the Forest floor and, upon dropping to it, pushed herself up onto her tall legs and ran, disregarding the pain. The owl maintained a rapid pursuit, but just as the heron looked back to her predator and thought she might have reached her end, a sudden wind blew harsh and swept the owl away. Startled, the heron stopped and searched for the source of the lucky wind, but none presented themselves. She walked on, tending to her wing as she followed a familiar path. At length, once passing through a particular density of foliage, she arrived at the edge of a pool, a graceful fall trickling into it from a wooded precipice above. Slowly, the heron waded into the water, first only feet, then breast, then finally sank all her feathered body into the water, up until the middle of her long neck. The water around her rippled and glowed, and even her small inexpressive eyes exuded a sense of peace as she lifted her beak to the Treetops. Stepping back to more shallow waters, the great heron again spread her beauteous wings, now each as powerful as the other, and flew off, returning to her rock.
Leanna awoke with the heron’s image in her eye and relief in the corner of her smile, pleased at the bird’s recovery. Reorienting herself to the darkness of the morning in her mother’s Masor cottage, she wondered if the dream was only that, a pleasing distraction from her distress, or something more. She closed again her eyes and was returned to the picture of the waterfall, cascading gracefully to the reflective pool below. In the pool swam schools of mature fish, each older than any being had a right to be. Leanna unclosed her eyes and lost the image, but its memory sang a name into her ears, The Aldorian Waterfall, and she knew asudden not only of its reality but its precise location in the Wood far to the North beside the western boarder of Pavoline. She wondered if there was a way in which this far away pool was the answer to her plea for redemption, if there was some pragmatic way it could be utilized to aid the kingdom, but concluded it was not to be. Perhaps it was only that the heron in need had called her to the vision. Thinking so made her evermore thankful for the wind that could be of assistance when she could be of naught. Lying in her bedding a moment more, Leanna sent good wishes to the heron and thought for certain she felt the sentiments of thank you arrive in response. She was grateful the drought was at least contained in Masor’s borders.
Leanna sighed and readied herself for another day. Having long trained herself to awaken before dawn – and before her mother – the truehearted daughter carried out her newly established routine of removing a plate from the cupboard, washing it with a small reserve of soapy water they had maintained in the home, and placing it out to dry as though it had recently been eaten upon. It might have deceived Esta the first time or two that the child had consumed at least a parcel, but by now it was merely a tacit agreement between the two that the mother would eat from their small supply, and the daughter would supposedly munch on some of the king’s breakfast. This became especially plausible as, in his state of intensifying depression, infinitely worsened after (as the castle understood) his friend and page brought about their unthinkable defeat on the plains of Pavoline, the king had been unwilling to eat even a morsel for near a week since Leanna’s return. She tried to put his disappointment in her out of her mind, along with her new reality that those who used to exchange friendly greetings with her in the castle halls now averted their gaze and hurried away. She kept mostly to herself, serving her duties as page as best she could.
Fastening a kerchief around her nose and mouth to protect against the indefatigable layer of smoke that refused to lift from the city, Leanna glanced quickly to her sleeping mother, then snuck out the cottage door into the hot, dry, vexatious air of the thirsting Masor dawn. An ashen Sky overlooked the city and the air was unnervingly still. Out of habit, Leanna stopped by the central well of Masor citadel on her way to the castle stables but, as she’d come to expect, not a drop was to be found within. She continued on toward the back of the castle, walking through what had been hedges of yellow roses and now housed naught but browning, fragile petals that cracked and fell from their stem at the slightest provocation.
Seeing Leif working at the stables, she decided to turn toward her other duties. She had yet to speak with them since returning from Pavoline, and was too afraid of their reproach to risk interaction although she knew they must be hurting. With Madrick resisting any gentleness or aid, Leif had returned to sleeping in their own apartment in the city. Leanna knew it would be good of her to speak with them, express sympathy at least. Perhaps she would gather the courage on the morrow.
She approached the castle and stopped at the sight of a well-dressed lagif exiting the palace from the servants’ door at the back, carrying a sack of grain like none that had been released to any in the kingdom save knights and royals for several weeks. Squinting in curiosity, she approached him.
“Good morn, my lagif. May I ask your business at the castle?”
He hesitated, held his parcel closer, then straightened and announced with pride, “Well, surely those who can pay for the food ought to have it.”
“Have you stolen it?” Leanna asked, appalled.
“No, indeed! I have been rewarded by the vice-crown for my loyalty to this kingdom.”
Keeping a curious fury at bay, the servant inquired, “Does the princess give out a great many of these rewards?” The lagif simply huffed and stormed away, as the storm in Leanna grew all the stronger.
The sturdy doors to Princess Isolda’s chambers were near downed by the girl’s assault on their hinges, and Isolda – still in nightdress – lurched to attention at their sound.
“Do you know your people starve?” Leanna stood steadfast and bore daggers into the princess with her stare.
“Out, page. This instant.”
“If there is food to be spared, wherefore do you not provide it to the hungry?”
Isolda snarled at the insolence. “Thou, of all, hast no place of righteousness to stand upon, and thou dost dare to speak so?”
“My own errors have no relevance to your wrongs, Isolda, those remain unchanged.”
“Out. I want thee out! Remove thyself from this castle and never return.”
Leanna shook her head. “The king will not stand for this,” and she barged out the princess’s chambers, hurrying down the hall.
She entered the king’s apartment and found him languishing in a stupor, laying atop the puckered mass of comforter on his bed. His eyes were open, but he did not see.
“Sire,” she began.
“Leave me, Leanna. I do not need thee now,” Madrick said, staring solemnly ahead.
Keeping her nerve, Leanna answered, “But your people need you, my king.” His silence told her to cease, but she continued nonetheless. “You cannot hide away while your peasant folk starve.”
“We are all starving, Leanna, in more ways than one, and there is nothing to be done of it now. Guiomar controls our Skies, and we have no force to fight him with.”
“But Isolda has rations for those who will pay. Peasants starve, while the gentry survive.”
At this the king was curious. “Dost thou mean the royal rations?”
“There is more than she informed us of, my liege. I am beginning to think she secretly maintained what was thought lost in the tower fire.”
“I see,” he said. “I should have expected so.”
Leanna waited for his next order, but none came.
“We must act, your highness,” she said.
“Then thou may act!” He bellowed. “Such is a talent of thine, of late.”
Leanna winced. “Please believe, sire, I despise myself for recent events sufficiently for the both of us, but dwelling on it will not help the people.”
“I no longer have care for such things.”
“It cannot be that you have lost all your passion,” she demanded.
He held back a rageful sob. “I am full of fatigue, Leanna. My very mind feels ill, and I have done naught but ingest liquor since it began so that I might forget and dream of better times. My own love can no longer bear to look at me. I am in no state to be a king.”
A remembrance of the injured bird from her dream came again to Leanna’s mind and she knew at once that the vision had in fact been the answer to her midnight pleas. She sought out a reason the king might accompany her to the place.
“If you cannot be King entire, might it be in you at least to aid one wretched friend?”
He sighed. “No, Leanna. Leave me.”
“But I am dreadfully thirsty.”
“Yes—” he scoffed, “—as are we all. There is no fresh water in Masor.”
“No—” she agreed, “—but there is fresh water in the Infinite Wood.”
The king froze, investigating Leanna’s sincerity, then reminded her, “There are fairies there as well.”
She smirked. “Would you rather then that I go alone?”
“I forbid thee to travel there.”
Her smile grew. “And if I disobey?”
“Thou wilt die in the Wood.”
“I do not believe so. I am not afraid of fairies.”
“Thou art a fool.”
“Perhaps.”
He paused, pensively, then shook with disbelief. “It is out of the question!”
“Alas,” she sighed. “I must then request an extended leave to venture it on my own. No knowing when I’ll return.”
“Tell me thou dost jest.”
“Do I appear in jest, your highness?”
He studied her. “Damn,” he said, realizing she was entirely serious. “I cannot very well let thee from my sight then look thy mother in the eye after thy death. Ready my armor and my best sword. I shall ready my largest flask. If we go to the Infinite Wood, we go prepared.”
In half a moment, the servant had rushed from the chamber to make all the preparations. King Madrick fell back on his bed and stared at his canopy. Fear crept into his throat and, rising again, he washed it down with wine. It would be fitting, he supposed, if he died in the Woods. It would at least be suited to the tradition of his name.
*****
Madrick halted upon his first step into the Infinite Wood. If there had been any uncertainty around the drought’s magical nature, this first step swept it away, for the air at once was clear and had the touch of fresh dew, so unlike the heavy aridity that remained just a step behind in the kingdom. Forgetting himself, the king reached out and placed a hand upon the massive trunk of an infinite Tree and was overcome with the energy of the Wood. He let his eyelids fall at the peace. Unclosing them again, he saw Leanna kindly smile, watching his emotion, and he urgently returned his hand to his sword and a prideful glare to his countenance.
“You needn’t be fearful, your highness,” Leanna said.
“I’ll decide that.” He took a swallow from his flask. “Come, let us find thy water, then we may leave this place.”
“Indeed, your highness…” she trailed off in hesitation.
“What is it?” He growled.
“Only, our destination,” she explained, “is a waterfall and pool that I have heard tales of. The place exists outside the western bound Pavoline. It will take several weeks to reach it and return.”
He laughed, presuming she spoke in jest. She did not. “West of Pavoline? Surely there is water nearer.”
“None potable for humans, your highness,” she claimed. “Stories say the waterfall refines the liquid from the Wood’s various streams and transforms it to something remarkable. It is our only hope.”
“That is absurd. I have never heard of any such thing.”
“It is all peasant talk, your highness. You wouldn’t have heard it.”
“By the River and Sky, dost thou sincerely expect I shall follow thee for weeks on end while we blindly tramp through the Infinite Wood on an impossible task?”
She stood tall and raised her chin. “I intend to travel there, your highness. Whether or not you accompany me is entirely your choice.”
He gaped at her, astonished. “Leanna, we left without notice.”
“Not so! I explained everything to my mother.” In truth, she had not, but she intended to that very night when they made camp.
The king flustered his speech, amazed, then settled on the objection: “We brought with us no food!”
“Oh, forgive me, sire, I thought you had forsaken food. Moreover, there is hardly any in the kingdom reserved for one of my station.” She shrugged contentedly. “We shall live off the Wood, and dare I say be far more comfortable doing so than were we walking through the kingdom.”
Madrick blinked for a long moment, then threw up his arms, his dissenting energy being entirely spent. “So be it,” he said, and he followed the page further under the cover of the infinite Trees.
The odd pair walked on in silence, the girl skipping ahead, balancing on unearthed roots or large rocks, and the king keeping a frantic, watching eye, with hand to sheath, ready to slash at any pair of wings which crossed their path, but when hour after hour passed with no confrontation he began to fall again into his rigid despondency. He made all attempts to shield his spirit from appreciating the wonder of the Wood, but certain breathtaking images he could not implore his mind to successfully disregard. He had maintained a downcast glare as they climbed an incline, closing his view to all but the needles and downed leaves which blanked the ground, but, when they reached a summit, they came to face a clearing of wildflowers like none the king had yet seen. Stopping asudden at the grandeur, he noted how otherworldly it seemed. He thought of the rose bushes of the castle garden in better times, so carefully kept. This meadow kept itself a beauty, with none to prevent the golden buttercup from intermingling with the tall violet lupines, or the small white yarrow blossoms from gracing the ground beneath. If there was fairy magic hither, for but a moment, Madrick was glad of it, but he denied the thought, certain no wicked creature could have a hand in such splendor.
He turned now from the meadow to recover his mind but lost it once more to feeling upon finding two Trees bending apart and leaving view of all Masor between them. He could see little of the citadel save for the towers of the castle peeking above the smoke, but he looked now to the outlying towns and saw that upon those rolling hills the smoke began to clear. From so far and high, he could not see the suffering thither and near forgot it. The amber hills appeared to glisten in the sun, and the villages, all connected by interweaving paths, stood so still and quiet the king could imagine they were even at peace.
Leanna waited with indefatigable patience for the king to breathe in the sight. Gazing over his shoulder to the branches above, Leanna saw now a shrunken fairy warrior camouflaged in the verdant brush. Her eyes darted to the king, then to the soldier who stalked the potential predator from the Leaves.
Pray, do not be seen, Warrior. Leanna directed her thought at the soldier who started, searched the ground, then locked eyes with the girl. No harm will be done to the Wood, you have my oath.
Whether assured at her message or merely befogged by its method of deliverance, the fairy warrior let them alone, flying off.
Leanna looked again to the king.
“Shall we continue, sire?” She asked.
He paused, then uttered, “They will all die. Won’t they, Leanna?”
With a sharp breath, she replied, “Not if we can help them, your highness.”
“I can help no one.”
“You are helping me.”
“Thou revoked my choice in the matter!” Leanna laughed, admitting the truth of it. “But regardless, thou art different. Thou knowest I am no king.”
Leanna squinted her disapproval but released it with a smirk. “Well, not a good one, perhaps,” she said. Madrick laughed and turned to face her.
“Whence comes thy spirit? Thou must be starved.”
Maintaining her saddened smile, she implored, “Come, King. Let us go on.”
He nodded, “Yes. On.”
They continued two full fortnights, then half another, until they reached the top of a new hill and, beginning to trod some steps down, suddenly heard the ambient rush of a steady rapid. Despite himself, King Madrick all but cried for joy and continued on to follow Leanna with alacrity as she picked up an eager pace. Gleeful now, each, the king and page allowed the downward slope to make them fly as they ran until reaching level ground, the water now roaring in their ears though they could see nothing of its source. Leanna then led the king through a curtain of ivy vines, and they both froze in breathtaking wonder at the sight they now beheld. Madrick saw only the waterfall’s shine and the glory of white sparkles from the sun intermingling with a likeness of the viridescent canopy of the Trees above, all painted with light on the pool beneath the gracefully falling torrent. Leanna saw all the king did and more, recognizing precisely where the injured heron had entered the pool in her vision and recovered its flight. As the king continued to stare in awe, Leanna returned to the ivy curtain and plucked the largest leaf from the vine.
“Take this, sire. It will help you drink,” she said, handing him the leaf.
He shook his head with furrowed brow. “We journeyed hither for thee, Leanna. Worry not, I have my flask.”
She continued to hold out the ivy to him. “I will not drink before the king,” she declared.
He looked at the girl’s steady countenance and could not find it within him to oppose her. Gazing upon the leaf of ivy, he accepted it into his grasp and saw more life in its veins than he had felt in himself for some time. At Leanna’s repeated encouragement, he at last knelt before the pool and cupped the leaf beneath the water’s surface. Raising it now to his lips, he sipped at the magic drink. Instantly upon a swallow, his expression grew wide and breast full of air as he felt every hint of pain, every drunken ache, every inch of despondency, fade away, at last seeing life again true. His eyes fell upon Leanna who stood staring expectantly.
“What is this place?” He asked.
She smiled. “Only a waterfall, my liege.”
The king studied her, making all attempts to decipher how the young page might have led him safely to a magical pool in the Infinite Wood, but failing in all efforts.
“All I thought I knew of thee, of late, is all uncertainty. I see naught but a mystery before me.”
Leanna became grave and spoke in earnest. “See no mystery, sire. See but a poor friend, and a loyal servant to Masor, both in desperate need of a king.”
Madrick stood, holding the ivy leaf which now sparkled with mystical droplets of water.
“Wilt thou not drink?” He inquired.
“I will drink in our home when the drought is ended,” she replied.
“Yes. As will all.” King and servant, a glint of hope returned to each eye, both let loose a smile. “Go, Leanna. Start up the hill. I shall follow thee.”
Leanna gazed once more around the home of the Aldorian Waterfall, then, nodding to the king, passed through the ivy vines. Now in solitude, King Madrick glowed, grateful again to find himself, spirit intact, returned to his bodily encasement. He removed his flask from its holding, only a drop of the liquor left inside, and spilled the remainder into the pool, watching it dissolve and disappear. Kneeling again, he placed the flask within the water and watched the ripples dance amongst the Leaves’ reflection until the vessel was filled and the ripples ceased. Closing its lid, he returned the flask to its place and looked now to the ivy leaf he still held in the opposite hand. He thought to toss it away but found himself now unable. Instead, he placed the leaf under his chainmail, directly above his heart.
They managed their return far more swiftly than the outgoing journey and, in three simple weeks, they were returned. Upon arriving at the castle, Leanna hurried off to complete the grossly overdue chores she had forgone for the excursion. Madrick, instead, strolled pensively around the grounds, and even into town, before restoring himself to his chambers. When Leanna, at length, completed her duties late that eve, she approached him to ensure all was well and to see if there was anything else he might require before she left for home. She asked from the entryway, finding him at his desk, and held the door ajar.
“Yes, all is quite well, but do come in a moment, Leanna.”
She did, turning to softly close the door behind her. Facing the king, she now saw he held a small decorative vial – translucent night-blue glass with silver embellishments – which was filled with a clear liquid and fastened to the end of a lengthy necklace chain.
“I filled my flask with water from the pool,” he explained, “and took the vial from dear Albain’s offices. I know not precisely what power it holds, but I thought: it was offered to me in my darkest hour only due to thy goodwill; so, in thy darkest hour, I would like my gratitude to be what offers it to thee, Leanna. Please, take it.” He eagerly held out the vial of magic water to the page.
“Thank you, your highness,” she said, accepting the gift.
“And,” the king continued, a slight smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, “if thou art to continue bursting in upon an already angry Princess Isolda, I would suggest thou wearest the vial of healing water often.”
Leanna laughed. “I shall wear it always,” she swore.
“Good.”
The youth looked to him with some kind of anticipatory curiosity and, guessing its cause but wishing not to speak of it, Madrick merely gave a small smile and offered a nod to indicate the page could be excused, but she could never be dismissed so simply.
“Have you seen them since we returned, your highness?”
“Not yet, Leanna.”
“Wherefore?”
The king sighed. “There are issues of state that must occupy my entire mind and I wish not to bother them with thought of it.”
“They love you.”
“I have given them no cause for it of late.”
“Leif will always love you, sire.”
Madrick dropped his brow into his palm and pressed upon his temples, willing his eyes to remain dry. “I have acted monstrously, reverted to everything I swore to never again be. I know that Leif’s love is stronger than my shame, but until I feel worthy of a gift like that from one so good as they, I cannot allow myself to lean upon it. I must serve my people, and once I have done so I may tend to my own heart.”
She paused a breath, unblinking. “Tomorrow, then?”
Madrick scoffed. “There is work to be done tomorrow.”
“Then the day following?”
“Leanna—”
“The third day, then, surely? Sire, you must not let three whole days pass before addressing the pain between your hearts.”
He sighed once more. “Very well, Leanna. Three days hence, I will speak to them.”
“Good.”
She began to start out the door, looking once more to the vial he had given her. “This cannot be nearly all from the flask, sire,” she said, turning back to him. “May I ask what you did with the rest?”
He shrugged sadly. “I poured the remainder down the well in town. It is empty now, but perhaps if the water returns it shall do for the villagers all it did for me.”
“I think, so diluted, it is unlikely to have such an effect,” she said with regret.
“I know. Still, a king must dream.”
“Indeed.” Leanna beamed. “You are a good king, Madrick Oxbien, and a good man. I have always known so.”
Madrick looked to her, speechless from his vast emotion. He did all he could to express his gratefulness without a word. The serving girl understood well. She slid the chain around her neck, bowed, and slipped out the door. Madrick sat there, pensive, at his writing desk, then, lurching to action, stole some parchment from his drawer and took immediately to writing. Upon completion, he near upset his chair as he bounded from the chamber towards the home of the royal scribe. In his urgency, he forgot apologies for the hour and handed Margot Clark the scribbled page directly upon her opening the door.
“Scribe, copy this, and send one to every lagif of Masor before dawn.”
“Every lagif! Sire, are you certain?”
“Most definitely. They must be informed.”
“Of what, your majesty?” Margot examined the page before her but looked up to Madrick’s swift and impassioned response.
“Their king has returned.”
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