A Broken Arrow

A Story from the World of His Dark Materials

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Prologue: Aurora Borealis

She lay beneath the familiar pines that grew beside the lake, her daemon nestled at her feet. The moonlight filtered through the spiny branches in iridescent slivers of opal and pearl. Their cool fingers stroked her arms and face in a tranquil embrace. She heard the faint hum of the Aurora as the currents of reds, greens, and golds billowed and surged through a coal-black sky.

There was a movement beside her.

She watched his chest move gently beneath the thick fabric of his shirt. Up…and down…up…and down. The steady rhythm of his breathing reminded her of how fragile he was; how human. And though her body lived by the same rhythm, breathed the same air, they were truly, fundamentally, different. In the blink of an eye, he would wither and fade. And yet, she would live for centuries more, as strong and youthful as she was now. She loved him, she knew. But she also grieved and resented. Not him, but the fact that Yambe-Akka had taken her son, their son, even though his life had yet to begin.

And though she loved, feared, and mourned she knew these emotions to be irrational and human. Her love for this man was real enough. But it is nearly impossible for a witch to love truly; wholly. For how can one love a man so dearly, that even though she might outlive him by countless centuries, she would still cling to him as closely as though he lived?

The small fear that rooted in her heart was for the coming days. Days when she would rule the clan of Lake Enara in her sister's stead. Days when she would have to let this man go, and not look back. That small fear felt like the bottom-most pebble in a sinking fishing net. The piece that would weigh it down until it hit the river bottom; all sand and clay and seeping mud.

She grieved for her lost son and sister, and she prepared for the third loss which had yet to come.

The man beside her stirred, slowly waking as though pulled reluctantly from an appealing dream. She waited until his eyes focused and he smiled up at her. "Hullo." He said, his voice husky from sleep. Sophonax, his beautiful lynx daemon, stretched, her mouth opening in a wide yawn.

Serafina Pekkala did not reply. She simply looked at him, memorizing the contours and details of his face: the brown-gold of his eyes that was mirrored in his daemon's fur, the tanned, weathered texture of his skin, the faint lines between his brows and near his lips. "Esteri is gone." Even to her, her voice sounded hollow; lost.

Beside her, Kaisa rose and spread his great snowy wings in one fluid movement. Sophonax stepped hesitantly towards him as the man looked searchingly at the witch. When he didn't say anything, she spoke again. "I am Queen now." And those words held the inevitable condemnation.

He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "And I have no doubt you'll make a fine one." He sat up with a sigh. "But somehow I think there's something else."

Sophonax had curled against Kaisa's white body, comforting. But Kaisa remained upright, stiff, and detached. Serafina took a breath, and plunged. "You know why my sister is dead." She could see his eyes cloud. "You know what killed her."

He began to speak. "I would never –
"I know." She held up a hand to silence his protests. "But I swore to her that I would never have a husband as long as I was Queen." She looked at him levelly. "And I mean to honor that pledge."
"But –
"Please, Coram." Her composure was breaking. "I know you wouldn't betray us. But you are still human." She turned away and Kaisa flew from Sophonax's grip into the boughs of the pine above.

"But I'm not Pieter." He voice cracked like a whip. Then softer, gentler: "I love you."
She whirled around. "And Pieter loved Esteri!" She was shaking. "But that didn't stop him from betraying us to Reina Miti. And it was because of him, and his human ignorance, that an arrow found its way to my sister's heart. It is because of him that my sister is dead!"

She stood, shaking, black silk billowing about her. The northern lights blossomed and flowed through the sky behind her and the moon lit sparkling tears and they glided down her pale skin. He placed a rough, calloused hand against her smooth cheek. He smiled, and the smile held no blame or resentment; only acceptance and regret. "I guess I knew this would happen, one way or another." He chuckled. "Besides, you are a good few hundred years older than I am. Things never do work out with that kind of an generation gap." His smile faded when she didn't return it.

He looked at her seriously. "Sera," She attempted to look away, but he turned her head back to face him. "It's alright. We both knew it was going end soon. I'd have had to go back to John and the Gyptians, and you were going become a Witch Queen. I'll give you one good guess as to where I'd be the most help, and where I'd be the burden."

Her expression relaxed, and his grip loosened on her chin. Kaisa glided softly down to sit near Sophonax; not touching, but close. She smiled slightly and leaned her face into his palm, turning to place a light kiss in the center. His fingers stroked her cheek and then fell to his side as he waited. For what, in particular, he didn't know.

In one graceful movement, she pulled an arrow from her quiver that lay beside the pine. She looked him in the eye; calm and somber. The arrow snapped in half. "A witch's arrow is carved with a spell. A pledge that it will only pierce the flesh of an enemy. But each witch knows different foes; and so each arrow knows its maker as surely as its mark." She handed him half the arrow. The point was obsidian. "You half will find me one day, as you will." Her lips were cool on his; a snowflake's kiss. "But not for a long while, I think."

Sophonax rubbed her golden brown head against Kaisa's white feathers. Before Coram had time to blink, Serafina had her cloud pine branch in hand. Kaisa opened his great white wings and Serafina leapt into the air beside him.

His last memory of the witch was watching her glide towards the pulsing currents of the Aurora, her daemon by her side.

...

NOTE: Well, obviously this isn't really the beginning of the story. This scene is actually near the end of the story, though I'm using it as a prologue to peak interest.

Review please :)

Yours Truly,

Mel