LOST

By the time Zachary’s plane came to a halt and the boarding tunnel was connected to the exit door, passengers were already filling up the aisles and getting their carry-on luggage from the overhead compartments. Samal stood up and, after getting a sharp elbow in the back from Zachary, tried to wedge himself into the river of people. In his way, was a man who looked to be of Norwegian descent. Large, very blonde and very muscular, he could have been kin to Thor himself. Seeing that Samal was not making any headway, Zachary took over.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said to the Norwegian. “My friend has no manners. We have a connecting flight that leaves in twenty minutes. Would you mind letting us get in ahead of you?”

“Not at all,” the Norwegian said, stopping the flow of passengers by himself. “Be my guest.” As the aisle cleared in front of him, he motioned for the three of them to come out.

Zachary thanked him and nodded appreciatively as he assisted Astrid, who was walking, now, by herself, though, she was not cognizant enough to neither be aware of her surroundings nor make her own decisions as to which way to walk. He knew that they probably had a good head start on Modeos and Xamn but wasn’t sure how much longer the Wolfsbane would last on Astrid, so he had to do something. He figured a lie about a connecting flight would be better than saying his semi-catatonic friend was going to be sick, risking attention from medical staff, which would surely void his plans.

A few minutes later, they were off the plane and walking very quickly down the terminal. Zachary noticed a moving sidewalk ahead and pulled on Samal’s jacket sleeve to follow him and Astrid onto it. This was Samal’s first trip across the ocean and, though he was dealing with it pretty well, he was not at all comfortable with walking on a floor that moved. With some prodding from Zachary, who had to get Astrid on without Samal’s help and was now well on his way down the corridor, Samal finally stepped onto the belt, however, he was unprepared for the speed at which the step would progress. His back foot was still on the stationary floor and he found himself on his back side, but moving nonetheless.

In his scuffle with the moving sidewalk, his hat had fallen off and before he could place it back on his head, a little girl, going in the opposite direction, had seen the protruding, curly knobs on his forehead.

“Mommy!” the girl exclaimed. “That man has horns!”

“Don’t be silly,” her mother scolded. “People do not have horns.” The girl looked back once more at Samal but not before his cap was again on his head, covering the evidence.

Samal ran to catch up with Zachary so he could help with Astrid as they stepped off the moving sidewalk.

“Methinks thy horns doth protrudeth too much. Let’s not make a habit of that. Okay?” Zachary said as he and Samal guided Astrid off the belt. “We don’t need a chin strap for your hat, do we?”

“No,” Samal returned with quiet resentment.

“Okay. Let’s just find the exit, get a cab and get the frecking hell out of here.”

“She’s dead. No?” the cab driver asked suspiciously and with a brooding Russian accent as Zachary and Samal got in the car on either side of Astrid, who’s eyes still looked lifeless.

“No,” Zachary replied, annoyed by his prying. “She just doesn’t talk much or move on her own very well.”

“Okay, but she crap on my seat… you clean up. Okay?”

“Fine. Just move it.”

“Where we go?

“Mørkfuglsparken.” Zachary felt very strange uttering that name, having worn it himself a mere hundred years ago.

“Oh, little bang-bang in park with dead girl, eh?” the cab driver asked, turning his head toward the back seat and winking.

“No. No bang-bang and I told you—she’s not dead.”

“Right. Right. Not dead. No talk. No move. Okay,” he said, his voice losing the playful tone as he faced forward again. “You win. We go.”

“Will one thousand Kroners get us there quietly?”

“I am quiet as Mickey Mouse.”

Shaking his head, Zachary hoped that the driver did not really mean that and that he actually meant ‘quiet as a mouse’. Either way, the remainder of the trip to the park was silent.

“Here is park,” the driver announced, pulling into the entrance.

As Zachary stepped out and tried to get Astrid out, she started to come to. “Stew. No. Where’s Stew,” she said, still dazed.

“She does talk, I see,” the driver commented. “It sound like she’s hungry.”

Zachary handed him the fare plus a large tip and then nodded to his assistant, “Samal, help me get her out of here.”

The satyr pushed her from behind as she continued to babble. A moment later, the cab sped away as the three of them stood in the middle of the parking lot. It was empty except for one vehicle—a white SUV with some type of government insignia on the door. A woman with a dark-grey uniform stepped out of the driver’s side and walked toward them.

“God morgen.”

“Good morning,” Zachary said in his best American accent.

“Americans. Ah. Good morning. I’m sorry, but the park is closed in preparations for the celebration.”

“What celebration is that?” Zachary wondered, curious.

“The Viðr Brenna. Twelve hundred and fiftieth anniversary. They’re also renaming the park.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yes,” the ranger continued, not noticing that Zachary’s face had turned red. “The museum is open just down the street. You can learn all about it and then you can come to the festivities tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Zachary said, forcing a grin. “We will have to do that. Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said as she turned around and walked back to her vehicle.

Zachary took Astrid by the arm and looked at Samal, “Come on. I have an idea.”

Samal took Astrid’s other arm and they started down the road in the direction the park ranger indicated. When they made it far enough to not be seen, they slowed down and waited until there was no traffic, then hopped the fence that lined the road and surrounded the park. They put as much distance and as many trees between them and the road as quickly as they could and on the way, Astrid regained her senses.

“What… where the hell am I?” she said, looking around. “Who the hell are you guys?” she asked as she tried to wrestle her arms free. “You… you killed my grandmother, you bastard!” Alex continued to struggle all the way to the clearing. In the middle stood the memorial to what happened more than a millennium before.

Zachary conjured a rope and handed it to Samal. “Tie her up to that…,” Zachary stood frozen as he looked with contempt at what had been, so long ago, a burning stake and was now a stone reminder of his failure.

“Astrid…,” Zachary said quietly, turning to her as Samal tied her to the petrified stake, “I know you have no idea what’s going on.”

“Astrid? My name’s Alex. Not Astrid. You’ve got the wrong girl. I have heard that name before, though.” She turned white as the realization washed over her face. “Wiz.”

“What did he tell you?

“Let me go! He didn’t say anything,” she said, struggling to free herself. “Just the name.”

“That’s a shame. You should know.” He held out his hand in front of her and a white handkerchief appeared in his palm.

“What the hell?” Alex exclaimed.

Zachary balled it up and put it in her mouth. “I can’t afford to let the park ranger hear you, now, can I?” Zachary looked into Alex’s eyes—scared, angry, untrusting, as he was himself—and twelve hundred years of longing, regret and jealousy came flooding back. “You have no idea of the pain that I’ve felt because of you.”

A confused look came over her face and she mumbled something through the handkerchief.

“I know you don’t understand. Your soul has been separated from your mind for all this time, just as Xamn’s has, I suppose. He does not understand, either. But he will. You both will. I lack the time to explain everything. I sense them coming to save you as I speak.” He turned to Samal, “Gather up some dried wood and place it at her feet.”

“If you plan to burn her,” Samal said as he looked down, “I am sorry. I cannot assist you in this.”

“Fine,” Zachary said coldly. “Why not? I’ve had to do everything else myself.” As he went to the edge of the grove and began to pick up some downed branches, Samal’s muscles tensed. He squared himself toward Zachary, lowered his head and charged. Zachary was crouched, loading his arm up with wood, when he saw the satyr out of the corner of his eye. He timed a sidestep perfectly and shoved Samal to the ground.

“It seems chivalry is not dead, after all. But chivalry cannot defeat destiny.” Alex began to sob as he brought the wood over and spread it around her feet. He looked into her eyes once more before conjuring a match. Alex’s sobs turned into muffled screams as he struck it on the petrified wood behind her and bent down to light the kindling. When he stood up again and said, “I love you, Astrid. And as the saying goes, this is me setting you free. This will either… bring us together forever… or make it so that no one can have you.”

He closed his eyes and listened to the popping of the pine needles. They began to catch and he could feel the heat touch his face. He stepped back to avoid singeing his eyebrows, though, he wasn’t sure which was hotter—the flames growing quickly around her or the fire inside her heart. He felt the heat from that, too, and he was scorched by it. He hoped that one day that fire would become love—one fire between them, turning the ground beneath into burnt cinders.

Zachary found himself lost in thought for a moment, but it passed quickly as Alex’s screams pierced through the handkerchief and rose with the flames. Zachary closed his eyes and raised his hands, encouraging the flames higher. Without warning, he was knocked off his feet, tackled from the side, again by Samal.