Chapter Twenty-Two
White Stag
When I opened my eyes I was no longer on the fire-scorched land where the battle took place. Instead, the scorched ground was covered in a light dusting of snow and the cold air was crisp and clear. The sweetness of it filled my aching lungs. My clothes were ruined and my weapons long gone, but there was no coldness or panic as I stood in the clearing, wide open for anyone to see.
Stalks of grass sprung up despite the snow, the trees were thick and alive, holding up the snow with strong arm-like branches. From somewhere behind me there was birdsong and from somewhere in front of me a stream bubbled.
I walked through the snow until I saw him. The Stag stood without a hint of the wounds Lydian gave him. I raced forward. He was alive; the world would be alright. Soren would be alright. He was alive. I stopped running when I met his large, somber eyes.
He looked down at the snowy grass and I followed his gaze, amazed that I was looking down at myself and the burnt field below. Soren was breathing heavily, fighting his wounds while the power of the Permafrost began to regenerate his body. Seppo knelt over my limp body, shaking it desperately and screaming. I couldn't hear the words, but pain was written over his face. I ached to reach out and let him know I was okay, but there was nothing I could do as he screamed and cried. Soren, who was gathering his strength, finally managed to drag himself over to the Stag and I. He joined in the shaking and pled for me to wake.
Warm breath blew against my cheek as the Stag came beside me. You have come far, young one. Thank you.
"I don't understand," I said, my hands brushing the place on his flank where the wounds were supposed to be. The giant animal didn't flinch, but gazed levelly at me. "You're okay. You're not hurt. Why aren't you waking up? Don't you realize without you everything will fall apart? I saw it."
He blinked at me slowly, eyelashes full of falling snow. You will see.
A rush of images flashed inside my head. In an empty hollow surrounded by trees, a tawny doe grunted as she gave birth to a male fawn whiter than the snow. She nuzzled him as he wailed, the coldness of the world hitting his thin, soft skin for the first time, until he stood on shaky legs. He followed after his mother until they were out of the hollow and into the newly created world.
Then the years sped up, the fawn now a young buck with fuzz on his antlers. His fur was brighter than the sun and with each step life sprang from his hooves, climbing out into the earth. His leaping rhythm was the heartbeat of the earth.
Time passed and more creatures came from the hollow; right from the spot the Stag was born. Humans with their feeble bodies and intelligent brains, normal animals with their fur and claws, and the Folk: lindworms and giants, svartelves and goblins all climbed out of the hollow. They were good and bad and everything in between. The normal animals, the humans, they all went south of the place where the Stag was born, while the Folk, the gods, and every other monster went north. As they trekked, one by one, the land to the south grew warm and teemed with life while the northern land froze with deadly beauty. The line between the north and the south grew and grew until they became two separate worlds, distinct of one another, but only a step away.
The young Stag raced across the Permafrost, the ground turning to ice wherever his hooves touched as goblins chased after it; it died and was reborn again and again, the cycle continuing without its end. Until now.
I looked at the animal. His breath turned to frost in the snowy air. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me."
The Stag huffed and closed his dark eyes before sinking to his knees. I went down with it. "Listen, you can't die! You just can't. Not now, not yet!"
The border between the worlds was where I was born. The ancient voice spoke again. It is where I must die. My body is fading away. We know this; this is how it began and how it will end.
The gleam of Donnar's black, pitying eyes and the shine of the silver moss came back to me and I found myself repeating the svartelf's words. "For thousands upon thousands of years you have sat beside your throne, firmly rooted into the earth. After thousands upon thousands of years the roots are devoured and torn away. A thousand wars have been fought for you, a thousand deaths offered to you. Each time you have been ripped away from the earth and each time you regrow stronger than before. One day, your roots will spread across the worlds and when they do, they will be all there is to anchor it in place."
The Stag lifted his head to gaze into my eyes. Can you accept that burden?
I blinked as slowly, slowly, what he was asking me to do sunk in. I do not envy you, child. Donnar had said as I left him. Maybe it wasn't just the rambling of an insane creature who never saw the light.
The eight seeds sat hard in my pocket as I closed my eyes; trying to think, trying to block out the swirls of memories creating a whirlpool inside me. Not my memories. Memories of being captured and killed and risen again, memories of long years beside the Goblin King, the bond that grew between the two creatures, almost like the love one would had for a family member, the pain as the Erlking's power was drained away and died. The search for someone worthy as a thousand worth nothing chased him through the bracken.
He is worthy, the Stag said. As are you. Do you think just anyone born between worlds could do this?
My hands were shaking and I didn't try to stop it. "How am I worthy of...of this? How could I possibly...?"
You are balance and chaos. You are light and dark. It churns inside you, forcing you to choose yet you never do. You will walk between the worlds throughout your life and know innately which being deserves your respect, your mantle.
"I won't be...subjugated," I spat the word out. "Not to anyone. Not even to Soren."
The Stag made a sound similar to a snort. You think I am the one who is subjugated? You think I lack the power? I have all the power. The Erlking draws from me, not the other way around. And when I deem him unworthy of what I possess, I leave him with nothing but his own death. I am more powerful than anything.
I swallowed. It made sense; the way the power was exchanged. I knew that, but I hadn't thought of it in the way the Stag described. Still, become the Stag? To Soren and...whoever else long after Soren was dead and gone? To live forever and ever until I found my death at the border and something or someone came to take my place? And if they never did, continue to live and watch and run. To judge the beings who believe they are gods by the standards of men; to prove to them all that before you they are as weak as a newborn fawn.
"Is it worth it?" I asked. It was a stupid question. The balance of the world, the subtle control over all living things; my life was nothing compared to that.
Before in the Erlking's palace the Stag was just a symbol of subjugation. That was so long ago it could've been another lifetime. No, it wasn't demeaning but it was frightening. Even now in the calmness of the snowy hollow, I was close to hyperventilating, shivering with the choice before me. The power to choose the rulers of the most feared species in the Permafrost; the power to decide who and what deserved the strength that seeped from every inch of my being; the power to make a king and also take away his crown.
There was a strange feeling in my chest, as if my heart was frozen and only now beginning to thaw. I was meant to do this, wasn't I?
I didn't expect the Stag to respond to my thoughts. Only you can know that, young one. The future is frightening, I know. The choice is the hardest of all. But it is a choice; who rules and who lives and who dies; who hunts and who mends and who heals. It is your power to choose.
"Then why did you let Lydian kill you?" I shouted, voice echoing into the empty sky. "Why let such a monster drive his blade into your chest?"
He was worthy in a different way. But he is dead as am I—and if you had not come, the mantle of my power would remain so. The Erlking and Stag would cease to exist. Perhaps that is the kinder path But you have come and that is what was written. The Norns are hardly kind. The world that bowed to me is the before, as you are the after. And the remaining life on the border grows stronger with your every breath; his power is hard to deny.
I smiled a little. His power was hard to deny and, so, I found, was mine. If I'd given him the strength he needed to be the Erlking, I could continue to do it. And when his time came, in thousands of thousands of years, I would be able to deal with that too and I knew he would accept his death as I accepted a new life. This was the way the hunt worked; the weak weeded from the strong; as the old died to make way for the new. Like a fire burning away a field and the land growing back twice as strong. I remembered the sunken in eyes of the last Erlking; when his throat finally was slit somehow I knew those eyes closed peacefully.
This was what I was meant to be. Not a human, not a goblin. A being that straddled both worlds, that chose the best and worst from them and decided which she would follow. I was meant to run in the wind and fight in the fire, I was meant to be as calm as water and as cool as earth. I was chaos and darkness and balance and light. I was not human, not goblin, not halfling, not a mixed creature meant to die in a mercy kill.
From the time that my body had slid out onto the earth, I'd been a survivor. Now I would choose from the pools of the strong who the survivors would be; not out of vengeance or spite, but because I was the only one who could see past the outside of a monster and see a person who cared and see through the harmless face of a human to the murderous beast within.
I had to do this; if not for the world, if not for me, then because there was no one else who could.
"Tell me what I have to do."
The Stag rested his head in my lap and let out a long sigh. He breathed out silver light that rose high into the sky and mixed with the stars until it was a swirl of the black night and the white starlight; then the two swirls of mist engulfed me in their embrace, so much like another creature's power would.
Blinding agony hit me full force until slowly a mixture of coldness and warmth spread through my body in a delicate balance. The power I'd absorbed in the fights before mingled with the dark and light, coloring it with its touch until the Stag's spirit was the color of the rainbow.
The Stag rose from where he lay at my feet and dipped his head toward me. Then he walked out of the hollow and as he did, his figure shrunk from an adult stag, to a young buck, until he was a fawn that disappeared on the horizon.
###
The world rushed back to me in a flood of sound and color. The first thing I noticed was the weights that pressed down around my collarbone, reminding me of the collar I wore a hundred years ago. The second thing was the lack of pain and the smell of goblin blood in the air. The third thing was I lay where the Stag had been, the pressure on my neck a torc of white antler bones.
I stood, slowly, ignoring the hands that reached out to help me. I couldn't even tell who they were or even focus on them. The world was an explosion of new colors and sounds and smells. The bright lights that filtered through the treetops reflecting off leaves in golden and brown and silver waves; the stark greyness of the Permafrost gave away to a million different shades of greens and blues and purples. In my ears, pounding like blood, were the heartbeats of every living being. I closed my eyes, focusing on one in particular. It beat stronger than the rest; as noticeable as if he'd said my name out loud.
Soren stared at me, clutching his wounds. They would heal, I knew, as the power from the lindworm and young lordling and Helka fought within me. I let it seep out slowly, wrap him in its warm light, and watched, amazed as the power healed the broken, bloody flesh.
Soren stepped toward me and knelt by my feet. His strength was my strength; his pain my pain, and I could feel his muscles quivering with a strange type of joy, his mind racing in a way that I was so sure a goblin's never would. With curiosity and questions and emotions ready to spill out to anyone who heard.
I could feel everything about him.
Soren looked at me, his lilac eyes shining and I knew, yes, he felt the same with me.
From the distance, covered with the blood of enemies, Seppo came out of the trees. The spirits of the dead goblins rose behind him to kneel besides their king. To kneel for me. In the distance wolves howled and three furry faces peered from the ashes, bowing their heads. My vision rose beyond the trees and into the sky where I watched the hunt slow and stop as if the goblins knew instinctively that their leader was found and that the Stag was reborn.
For a long second, all we did was look at each other and take in our ruined clothes, burnt hair, and ash-smeared skin. I couldn't help but laugh as pieces of Soren's tunic fluttered away into the breeze. At that he cocked his head to the side and smiled his ridiculous smile.
"You know, your hair has white specks in it. You're like a little fawn. Your skin isn't all splotchy or white though. That's good, I like you brown." He struggled to keep his face straight.
"I am your Stag." I kept a straight face but the seriousness of my words were lost with my blush. I didn't know Soren preferred my darker skin to his lighter skinned counterparts. That made me sort of happy. "Or well, female, human-bodied alternative. Somehow I feel the title is a lot more honorary than literal now."
From somewhere in the crowd of dead goblins there was a snicker. Obviously they found it just as ironic as I did. Maybe whoever was laughing also knew how to use sarcasm.
"You've come a long way, Janneka," he said, a small smile on his face. Looking down on himself, he added, "I guess I have too."
The ancient wisdom of the Stag flowed through me, the past and future and fate, yet surprisingly I was calmer than I'd ever been. "We have even further to go." Then I smiled. "And I look forward to it."
###
The spirits of the dead pooled at my feet as I walked side-by-side with the Erlking. With each step, another creature joined in behind us and many more bowed as we passed. The spirits of deceased goblins whispered as they began to rise into the air, to the afterlife despite no proper burial. So many were dead and this was a mercy only I found I could give. Some of them glared at the new Erlking, while some looked on with pride. Their eyes never left me nor the torc of antlers around my neck.
The spirit of a small goblin girl stood out, trailing by my side. Her hair was darker than raven's wings and her eyes gleamed with happiness. She held the hand of a man who shared her looks and he gazed down at her with the gentle fondness a parent had for their child. He said something and the girl laughed a birdlike laugh, her eyes resting on me with a wordless thank you, before accompanying her father as they rose into the air.
From far and wide the surviving goblins were coming close to greet their new King and the Stag that matched him step-for-step. But they could wait as Soren stopped on a spot near the border. On one side there was a yew tree and on the other, a skeleton birch, both branches rose high into the sky until they entangled as one.
"This is the place," Soren said, his eyes flickering warily at the crowd around me. "I never thought being the Erlking would require feeling so self-conscious," he said to himself. Most of his tunic was ash, fluttering away in the wind. What was left of his bearskin pants left little to the imagination.
"Hush," I said. "You've no right to talk about self-conscious. I'm the one who everyone was expecting on four legs."
Soren snorted, but said nothing.
I bent down on the border on the spot where I was born, taking out the eight little seeds I was given. I knew what they were now as I scooped holes into the earth and one-by-one placed the ash seeds into the dirt. Standing on the human side of the border, I could almost imagine them. The shimmering, smiling spirits of my sisters, the gentle warm gaze of my mother, and my father with a look both stern and approving on his face.
One day I would see them again and remember the old life I lived, hunting with the men, playing games with my sisters, and the gentle lullabies my mother sang by the fireside. But until then I would plant their seeds on the border of the worlds and watch as the leaves touches the sky and their trunks entwined. They would be struck by lightning and battered by storms, their leaves would die and their branches would break. The earth would shift beneath them but they would stand through it all. Their roots would sink deeply into the earth, just as mine had.
AN: How did you like the ending--did you expect her to become the Stag?
AN #2: If you guys liked the novel (or loved it or hated it or thought it was funny or really any emotional response) you can review and rate it on Goodreads at this link: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33288275-white-stag?ac=1&from_search=true
I really appreciate hearing your thoughts! I mean, most of the time. As long as you're not being an asshole. Y'know.
Alternatively you could go to Goodreads.com and search for WHITE STAG (PERMAFROST #1) if the link doesn't help!
Also if you want a story where the ending does not involve the main character gaining the role of a sacred animal, check out ASHES COME DAWN