The Kinvara
by Sarah, age 11

Once there was a land far, far away, at the otherend of the Earth, the land where cypress and plam trees grow, where succulent fruits and tasty sweetmeats are abundant, where the inhabitants dress in fine garments woven by midnight by the skillful leprechauns with their gold gossamer thread, where everything is simple and there is no complications, where they hardly ever experience sorrow or pain, or searches to make trouble between one's companions, where everyone is free and happy. The land had no name. Nowadays some may call it the land of Joy, perhaps the land of Peace.

I shall tell you the story of what happened to everyone in that faraway island.

One glorious, summer day during a golden summer, fluffy clouds skidded across the beautiful azure heavens and the golden sun shone down joyfully upon the men playing board games underneath the cool, harmonious shelter of the trees, the women in small groups chattering while peacefully embroidering beautiful images of the island with ivory needles and thread coloured with dye made from exotic, sweet smelling plants ground with a mortar and pestle. There was a small, resolute young girl of some ten summers called Tegen, with a determined mouth, an interesting, intelligent if not pretty face, calm, grey eyes, and straw coloured but also mousy, shoulder length hair instead of her mother's flowing auburn waves, and she had noticed something. Tegen's sharp eyes had perceived footprints being made in the sand which was the colour of newly picked honey. The peculiar thing was that there was no visible creature or person making them. She frowned as she heard the steady steps and rubbed her eyes, blaming the fact that she was imagining things, on the fierce sun. The footsteps ceased, after a few moments during which Tegen began to doubt her sanity, and she went back to playing a very interesting game of chess with her father. Unlike the other girls, she didn't find pleasure in dolls and such like. She preferred swimming and climbing, reading and chess and other board games, things to challenge her both physically and mentally. She didn't mind being lonely. She was a peculiar child, though intelligent, and enjoyed her own company, as her father did not always have time for her, hunting and fishing with his own companions.

Later that night in Tegen's parents' hut, as she lay with drowsy eyes in her comfortable resting place, a pile of soft hay and moss and heather, with a case sewn up at both ends and stuffed with sheep's fleece for her head, gazing up at the stars through the special star-gazing hole in the grass roof, she heard a soft rustle of the night cloth covering the entrance of Tegen's room that was pinned up at daytime. (All the rooms in the hut led outside.) It must be a breeze, Tegen thought sleepily. Just a gentle breeze ... She drifted off to sleep again, but was awoken a second time by a more distinct sound, someone entering her room. She panicked. Mother and Father wouldn't know, Tegen thought, hers was the only room that had an entrance leading out directly onto the beach; the other entrances to her parents' rooms led out to opposite the forest. But then she heard the thing crouching in the corner and weeping. Tegen felt sorry immediately for the intruder when she heard that melancholy, grieving sound. She arose, and tiptoed over to the source of the sobbing. The person making it was invisible, but after what had happened in the afternoon, Tegen wasn't surprised.

"Pray tell me," she whispered, "Why do you cry so?"

"Oh...oh," said... he? she? it?... "I grieve because... becaues I am imprisoned."

"Imprisoned? Oh no, that's impossible, no-one is imprisoned here."

"But... but I am not from here. You know who I am. I am the Kinvara, the musician."

"You? The Kinvara...Oh!" Tegen gasped;a shocked look appeared on her face. A few weeks ago the druid of the island had journeyed to the mainland, swimming all the way with his powerful arms. He had come back with the Kinvara, a kind of spirit clad in flowing silk the colour of emeralds, whose music was exquisite. Each night, at about seven, around the campfire, at supper, when everyone made merry and and danced, since she had arrived, she would sit cross legged in the centre and play with her lyre and wonderful melodies she would sing, with a sweet, rich voice. Where she went at other times no-one ever saw her when she was not playing.

"So... why are you not visible, musical spirit?"

"Oh... oh!" And the Kinvara started crying again. "Oh, it is truly truly dreadful. When the wicked" - Here Tegen frowned - "the wicked druid bruid brought me here, he had promised before taking me to this island that he would find a way to get me back to my beautiful mainland. But no. He gave me fruit, fruit, off a tree in the centre of this island, in a secret, shadowy glade. Once I Had eaten it, I suddenly felt heavy. He had given me fruit which held me captive here, meaning that I am never able to leave the island, as if I were chained here. He wanted to hear my music. I think it gives him strength, greatens his evil powers. During the day, and when I am not playing for the inhabitants, I turn invisible. 'Tis the curse that the druid put on me, with his evil sorcery. And now... now I can never go back. I am condemned to stay here...forever...oh...oh!" The rest of her sentence was muffled by sobs.

"Wait!" said Tegen. "I know how you can escape! Follow me. There isn't much time."

And then Tegen, followed by the invisible spirit, set out into the deep, dark forest, that none of the inhabitants except the druid ever ventured into, except perhaps to hunt, not very deep inside it. They walked for a long time, and Tegen Explained everything. There was a cure to the spell. The victim would have to drink water from the tiny, bubbling creek by the imprisoning fruit tree. But she would have to drink from a possesion of whoever had put the curse upon her, in this case, the druid. Tegen knew where he kept his goblet. It was a magic one, with many powers; only the druid knew what they were; and it was made from beautful, dark rosewood, carved with symbols and spells. He kept it close by him, inside his cloak. The druid lived just by the fruit tree, which he had planted himself, and the lake, and Tegen was probably the only one who knew all this, as she was notorious for eavesdopping and investigating. Finally, the two got to his abode, a golden embroidered tent. " Right," whispered Tegen, "You're going to have to obtain the goblet, being invisible, but I'll direct you."

Her foot made a dry leaf crackle, and they both jumped, edgy and nervous. They tiptoed round the side of the tent, and Tegen tried to pull open the flap, to let the spirit enter, but she could not. The druid probably had some spell that made it impossible to open. Tegen slapped her forehead with her palm. "Oh! I knew something like this would happen. Oh!"

"Why not try to cut an entrance in the tent?" whispered the spirit Kinvara.

"No, no, I thought of that at first, but everyone knows his tent cannot be cut. It isn't woven by the leprechauns, like most poeple's clothes and materials, but by... by...actually, I don't know. Mabye demons. He deals with some strange force...oh! We should have known from the start he was wicked. He's older then anyone here. He must have been here long before anyone, even our ancestors form a million years ago. He must be immortal"

"Wait!" said the Kinvara. She started to explain how she, too, had a few magical powers, not very strong, but she could try and use them to help. She reached inside her cloak (not that Tegen could see her), and then Tegen saw her lyre. It was weird seeing it float in the air, without anyone visible holding it. The Kinvara explained that when she played her lyre, it could make the molecules and atoms composing an object part for just a second, leaving a hole in the object, for so great was her music it could melt things down.

The Kinvara started playing and singing, and Tegen jumped when she heard the druid turn over in his sleep, terrified he would wake up. Gradually, a hole started to appear in the tent. Soon, it was big enough for the spirit to go through. She placed the lyre in Tegen's trembling hands and deftly hopped into the tent, a split second before the hole closed up. After a few moments of waiting nervously, Tegen heard playing, then footsteps coming out of the tent. She could see the goblet. She smiled, mouthed, "Well done!", and watched the sprit eagerly fill the goblet with fresh water from the rivulet, then pour it into her mouth. Then, slowly, a shimmer started to appear, with the form of a body, then the slight shimmer became more pronounced, then, gradually, the spirit's lithe body began to appear. The goblet fell from her slim fingers and rolled on the grass, and the Kinvara started to dance about joyfully, but Tegen grabbed her arm covered in sleek, almost transparent jade-coloured silk urgently. "No time for rejoicing now, we've got to get you off the island.

Tegen pulled at the slender arm again,and led her through the forest, back to the beach, glancing wistfully before they started running at the Kinvara's shiny, ebony locks and deep, brilliant blue eyes, sighing, once or twice. When they finally got to the beach, Tegen was dismayed to see the faint figure of the druid appear. He had discovered the two. Quickly, Tegen's strong, able fingers reached onto the stack of kindling outside her hut and pulled off a sturdy log. The druid was coming nearer and nearer... Tegen had never really experienced anything to do with evil... The log was hollow... Wonderful! Tegen wouldn't have to scrape all the insides out, there certainly wasn't enough time. With the Kinvara's help, she lugged it down the beach to the shore, right before the waves,cool because it was nighttime, lashing at her ankles, sending a chill through her body. The druid was almost beside them. "Get inside the log!" hissed Tegen. "Don't let your head or feet poke out... no, they won't, you're too small. I'll swim with you inside, pushing the log. you'll need the momentum."

The Kinvara looked concerned and reluctant to let Tegen do it, and fingered the strings of her lyre nervously. "Are you sure...?"

"Yes...yes. I...I'm a strong swimmer. I can get back. " But Tegen herself looked worried and unsure.

"But the druid..."

"I don't think he 'll do anything to me. No inhabitants have ever hurt each other before." Tegen doubted this even more, but knew she had to save the spirit. Before she could protest, Tegen had pushed the Kinvara inside the log. Tegen pushed it in with a mighty heave, and jumped into the water. She gasped at its coldness. The druid was right beside her. He raised his hand, and...too late. Tegen was off, riding on the breast of the freezing waves. A few waves swept over her face and she shrieked. Her hand and feet were numb, dead. But she had to push. PUSH!she told herself. Tegen swam alongside the log, driving it along, against the wind now. Suddenly, something sharp hit the log, but it didn't pierce a hole in it, just bounced off. It was an arrow. The Kinvara must be making magic, fighting against the druid. He was firing at them. The Kinvara was safe, but...Tegen was vunerable!

Tegen swallowed. She would do this. she wouldn't back out. Her father would be proud of her. Her mother would grieve forever if she died, but... Sharp,sharp pain in her arm. Tegen screamed, but it was muffled by the water. The arrow was in her arm. The salty water was stinging it, making it worse. It felt like her arm was on fire. Unyielding Tegen clenched her teeth and yanked it out. She had to. It was poisonous. Now her arm was weak, hurting unbelievably. She pushed, and pushed at the log, with the last of her perseverance, and...Her neck! The arrow was in her neck. She wouldn't survive. But she had to help the spirit escape. with the last bit of her strength, Tegen gave one last heave at the log. It drifted off, fast because of the wind and the impetus. The druid collapsed upon the sand- he had become so dependent on the spirit's music that now the Kinvara had escaped, he would die, for a druid without magical powers is no more. Tegen was only aive long enough to see the log containing the spirit Kinvara disappear over the horizon, highlighted by the flaming sunrise with its radiant colours, warming Tegen's heart - morning had come, the dark powers of night had been conquered. The slightest shadow of a smile flickered over Tegen's face for a moment, then disappeared like a candle that had been pinched as she sank underneath the cooling, azure depths of the ocean.

By Sarah Murphy, age 11