Nevermore: A Novel of Love, Loss, & Edgar Allan Poe (24 page)

"Easy," he said.
 
"That was quite an explosion – or – something like an explosion.
 
Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so," she said.
 
"My head hurts, and I'm dizzy."

The deer stepped forward then.
 
Edgar turned, and it lowered its head.
 
He shied away, nearly toppling Anita, who still lay across his arm.
 
Ignoring him, the animal leaned even closer and softly nuzzled Anita's cheek.
 
She stared up at it in wonder, then reached up and ran her hand over its muzzle.

"You're free…" she said.

Something passed between the two at that point, some shiver of energy and light.
 
Anita sat up, shook her head, and then rose to her feet.
 
She stepped close and wrapped her arms around the deer's neck, laying her head on his shoulder.
 
Edgar could only sit, and stare stupidly.

"Don't you see?" Anita said after a moment.
 
"The lady sent me to him.
 
She knew he was trapped, knew that she would not get a chance to help him.
 
She helped me – somehow she helped me set him free."

Edgar tried to stand, but before he got fully to his feet, dizziness swept over him, and he fell back to his knees.
 
He was about to try a second time when he heard another voice, nearby, and behind.
 
Nettie stepped out of the trees, crossed the sand, and laid her hands on his shoulders.
 
She gripped him tightly, and the sickness drained away.
 
He remembered how the ground had supported him on his run across the swamp, and that power and energy returned.
 
When she stepped away, he rose, and the three of them stood on the shoreline in silence.

Sudden awareness widened Edgar's eyes.

"Tom!" he said.
 
"The boy!
 
Where is he?
 
With everything that happened…"

"He is here," Nettie said.
 
"He has been here all along.
 
When the dark one burst from the tree, he ran.
 
He is – after all – only a boy.
 
He hid in the swamp, and he stayed there, afraid for his life – but unwilling to leave you here alone.
 
I found him on my way in, sleeping.
 
He will be fine."

"Grimm?" Edgar asked.
 
He scanned the sky over the lake, checked the trees, but saw no sign of his feathered companion.

"I do not know," Nettie said.
 
"I can tell you that your bond would tell you if he'd been harmed.
 
I did not see his part in what took place, and though I sense he was here, and that he acted, I do not sense him now.
 
He will return."

Edgar turned to the lake and stared out over it.
 
He knew that what she said was probably true.
 
Grimm had left at other times, and returned, but somehow this felt different.
 
There was a dark, empty void in the hollow of his chest.
 
He did not believe it could all be attributed to Lenore – he needed his companion.

"Lenore," he said.
 
"You know what happened?"

Nettie nodded.
 
They all walked toward the tree that, for so long, had trapped Estrella on the banks of the lake.
 
The shape of the tree had not changed so much, just the lines, and the features of the woman trapped inside.
 
They were much clearer than they had been, less crude.
 
The tree had the aspect of a great sculpture – an uncanny, unbelievable likeness.

Edgar laid his hand on one of the branches, then pulled it back suddenly – his eyes wide.

"I felt…"

"Her," Nettie said.
 
"She is there.
 
She knows we are here – senses us.
 
She cannot reach out to you, but she knows that we are near."

"What is this?" Anita asked.
 

She knelt beside the tree and ran her finger down the trunk.
 
A jagged crack ran from deep beneath the ground up into the trunk.
 
It fell just short of where Lenore's knee began.
 
The girl turned her face up to meet Nettie's gaze.

"I'm not sure, child," the old woman said.

She squatted and stared at the crack intently.

"There was no such crack before," she said.
 
"Something caused this – something interfered at the last moment.
 
The dark one would not have left anything to chance.
 
This …opens possibilities.
 
I do not believe that I can free her.
 
This tree – it is not my tree.
 
That one burst asunder.
 
But the roots will not be as strong – because it's my land.
 
I will keep it safe, and I will study it.
 
If I can – I will free her."

Anita turned back to the tree.

"She showed me how," she said.
 
"I could draw her…I could set her free…"

"No!" Edgar said.
 
He didn't know why this thought frightened him, but it did.
 
"It's not the same.
 
This is not one of her spirits trapped on the way to the next life – it is a trap.
 
You see what happened when she freed the sorceress.
 
Lenore became trapped, and the same, I'm afraid, would happen to you.
 
She would not want that – she would be horrified.
 
We have to find another way."

Nettie was still staring at the crack, lost in thought.

She turned to Edgar.

"I think your bird will know," she said.
 
"At least, I think he had a hand in…this."

She bent and ran her hand over the crack, probing.

"What about the princess?" Edgar asked.
 
"The girl Grimm carried so far.
 
Where is she?"

"Gone," Nettie said.

Edgar wanted to push her for details, but her humor seemed to be slipping, and he did not want to push his luck.
 
He did not want to be on her bad side.
 
He glanced up the shore and saw Tom climbing out from behind a log.
 
The boy was rubbing the sleep from his eye, trying not to look directly into the sun rising over the treetops.

"We can't just leave her," Anita said.

Edgar's expression darkened, all humor draining from him in the span of an instant.

"We cannot stay here," he said.
 
"There is nothing we can do.
 
We will try to find a way, but for now…"

"You must leave." Nettie concluded.
 
"There has been too much darkness here.
 
The lake – the land – the swamp – we must all heal.
 
She is safe," she laid a hand on a branch of the tree.
 
"I, or one of mine, will come here daily.
 
We will sit with her.
 
She will feel our presence.
 
I will not leave her alone."

"I will come, as well," Anita said.
 
"I can sense her as well.
 
I will learn what I can — the drawing.
 
If I cannot free her, there are others.
 
So many…"

Nettie stared at the girl, as if weighing her against some inner standard, then nodded.
 
"You will be welcome," she said.
 
"There are things I can teach, as well.
 
There are other worlds than these and in some – the walls are thinner.
 
Perhaps you and the one you call Lenore shall meet again on a different shore."

Tom stumbled up to them in time to hear these last words.
 
He looked at each of them in turn, confused.
 
After a moment, Edgar smiled – though it was a thin, pallid attempt at it, and reached out to ruffle the boy's hair.

"Did you sleep well, then?" he asked.
 
"It seems a lot has happened since we tried to kill ourselves running through the swamp."

Tom looked sheepish.

"The last thing I remember is following you as you ran to the deer tree.
 
Something happened then, like the earth just exploded.
 
I turned tail and got out.
 
Guess I fell, and … well… that's the last thing I remember."

"I think," Edgar said, "that this one time you can be glad to have lost a few hours.
 
They were not good ones for any of us.
 
Well…not for most."

He turned to where the deer still stood nearby.
 
Tom followed his gaze and the boy's eyes widened.
 
Amazed, he took a step toward the animal.

"It's okay boy," Nettie said.
 
"He won't hurt you.
 
Fact is, I sense you've spent more than a few days in his company.
 
He seems to know you."

Tom walked slowly up to the deer and held out his hand.
 
The animal leaned down and rested the side of its head on his palm.
 
Tom shivered, and when he turned back to the group, his eyes danced with wonder.

"I…I feel him… in my head.
 
He's…"

"Wonderful." Nettie said.
 
"He has been my companion for so many years the world has lost count.
 
He is – similar – to the raven.
 
Older, I think, and a bit more powerful."

"Lenore called them – familiars," Edgar said. "I had thought the term only applied to witches…"

"And what are you then?" Nettie asked, turning to him and raising an eyebrow. "What would you call a man who dreams and then, when he records those dreams on paper, changes the world? What would you call a man who sees events so far away in time and miles that he unravels the secrets behind fairy tales?
 
You are a writer – you have a magic of your own.
 
Never forget that words, and names, have power."

"I have never doubted the magic," Edgar said. "For all the good it has done me.
 
I came to this place to write, to try and forget the world, where my wife lies dying, and instead of solace, I have lost another – perhaps two – and gained nothing but a new story, should I choose to write it.
 
You'll forgive me, lady, if I am underwhelmed by my gifts that, while able to grant me peace in small quantity, seem absolutely unable to help those that matter to me."

"You have helped
me
, Edgar Allan Poe," Nettie said.
 
"It is a debt I will not soon forget, and worth more – I think – than the story.
 
You must learn patience."

"If I had the years to learn that lesson that you have had, lady," Edgar said, "I believe I would be quite mad.
 
It was my pleasure, and my honor, to have helped in any small way."

"Remember what I said about worlds," Nettie said, "and time.
 
You have said it yourself – I heard it like a whisper on the wind.
 
It is all dreams within dreams.
 
That is the real secret.
 
Time is not made up of one long string, but of layers."

"You didn't say that," he said softly.
 
"Lenore did.
 
I pray that she was right.
 
Of course, more than ever I'm uncertain in which direction to aim that prayer, or if I should expect an answer, or create my own."

He turned to Tom.
 
"I don't suppose you know where we dropped our bags?
 
I'm suddenly quite hungry, and we will need to start on our way back soon.
 
We'll have to have a story – they will want to know what happened to Lenore.
 
They are unlikely to believe the truth."

"One thing," Nettie said. "Before I go – there is something.
 
Before the princess was taken, the girl heard the dark one say something. A single word.
 
I believe it's a place, an old world place, but it may also be a clue.
 
She said 'Rathburg.'"

"Rathburg," Edgar repeated.
 
"I'm not familiar with the name, but it sounds as though it might be a German name.
 
For some reason – it makes me think of mountains."

"It is all that I have," Nettie said.
 
"Now, the sun is up, and I am very, very weary.
 
I must go, and you must leave as well.
 
If it will help, I can arrange for evidence to support an attack by a bear.
 
There will not be much to go on, but if you tell the story well – and something tells me that is not a problem for one such as yourself – they will believe.
 
They will want to believe, because it's a story that does not threaten their world.
 
They may notice that the tree seems different – but they won't know in what way.
 
I will regrow the deer tree, in my companion's honor.
 
There will be nothing trapped within it, or in any other part of my domain as long as I can prevent it."