Trix & the Faerie Queen

by Alethea Kontis

  Trix lifted the tooth high in the air. Two steps below was a solid floor, and beyond that a large opening in the wall that led to an enormous ballroom. Tentatively, Trix and Lizinia stepped inside.

  The ornate ceiling was so high that it almost disappeared into the darkness beyond the tooth’s light. It was arched throughout, supported by a myriad of ornate pillars scattered about the room like festooned dancers. Each was more unique and elaborate than the ladies’ dresses at the palace in Arilland.

  “How is this entrance any kind of secret?” asked Lizinia.

  Trix turned around. Behind them was no longer a stair but a gilded mirror at least twenty feet high.

  “A magic mirror!” Trix was giddy at the thought. His sister Monday had a magic mirror, though he’d never seen it work. Trix was excited to finally have experienced a magic mirror firsthand, even if its only purpose was to hide the secret entrance to the Hill.

  Now that he stood in front of a mirror, he could not help but notice his appearance. A young man stared back at him with wide, boyish eyes. Trix still wasn’t used to that face. Being covered in filth from messy hair to dirty boots felt far more familiar. He didn’t mind a bit, but it did look incredibly out of place in a majestic room like this. Lizinia wouldn’t, though…where was Lizinia?

  Trix looked for his companion in the mirror, but she wasn’t there. He spun a slow circle with the tooth-light and found her crouched further down the wall.

  “Trix, this woman needs help.”

  He raced to Lizinia’s side. A woman sat on the floor like a rag doll, as if she’d slid down the wall from exhaustion and fallen asleep there. She wore a gossamer lilac ballgown…or what had at one point been a ballgown. It was in tatters now, torn to shreds and dotted with rust-colored streaks. Her long, dark hair was dotted with wilted wildflowers. Her arms and legs and neck and face were covered in bite marks.

  “Not good,” Trebald said from his perch on Lizinia’s shoulder. “No, no.”

  Vick appeared out of the darkness. He knelt on the other side of the woman and lifted her wrist. When he released it, it fell limply to the floor. “This woman is beyond anyone’s help.”

  “Those aren’t animal bites,” said Trix. “They’re human. Many humans, by the look of it.”

  Lizinia raised a golden hand to her mouth. “Who would do such a thing?”

  “The Blood Court,” said Vick. Trix nodded, but Lizinia looked at him blankly, so the leprechaun went on. “There is a host of humans—mostly royalty—who live off the Faerie Court. They leave their kingdoms and castles and families behind so that they can stay here, under the Hill, forever.”

  “What’s forever?” asked Lizinia. It was a fair question. She’d lived an enchanted life while the cats were alive, and they’d prolonged it further by trapping her in that house until Trix had come along and released her.

  “Fairies and people with fey blood outlive humans,” explained Trix. “Twice, sometimes five times as long. It’s in their blood.”

  Vick held up the dead woman’s bite-riddled arm. “Certain fairies are willing to trade their blood for gold and trinkets, and certain humans will pay whatever it takes for immortality.”

  Papa had only told Trix one story of the Blood Court that he could remember. Velius, the Duke of Cauchemar, was cousin and advisor to King Rumbold of Arilland, and one of Saturday’s sword fighting trainers. He was also riddled with fey magic, none of which he’d inherited from his human father. The older Veluis’s father grew, the more jealous he became of his son that never seemed to age. Papa’s story said that, on his death bed, Velius’s father had disappeared under the Hill to join other humans like him, willing to drink fairy blood so that they might live a life far longer than nature intended.

  Until he’d met Peregrine, Velius was the longest living person Trix had ever known. “And what is gold compared to everlasting life?”

  “I’m certainly not the person to ask,” said Lizinia. “But if fey magic is bound, is fairy blood still…effective?”

  “No,” said Vick.

  “Wait,” said Trix. “So, somewhere down here there’s an army of bloodthirsty human royals?”

  “I’d rather not wait, if it’s all the same,” said Vick. “I’d like to get out of here before they find us.”

  “I agree,” said Lizinia.

  “After you,” Trix said to the leprechaun. As soon as he’d spoken the words, Wisdom’s tooth brightened. It burned like a star, blinding them with its brilliance.

  “Can’t you douse that thing?” asked Vick.

  Even if he knew of a way, he wasn’t sure it would be particularly wise to stop anything the tooth advised. As Trix stepped away from his companions, the light caught the mirror they had passed through and reflected it back tenfold, illuminating the space from floor to ceiling. Trix now had a much clearer picture of the ballroom…and its occupants.

  They were all well dressed, like the dead woman at their feet. Their suits and gowns were also torn and covered in the same rusty streaks that Trix knew now could only be blood. Their limbs were pale, their faces gaunt, and they moved listlessly, as if they had little energy left. Until they saw the party of hale, healthy young people, and then their vigor seemed to renew.

  A hum began to fill the air around them. “Mmmmmmm….”

  “Wasps?” whispered Trix.

  “No, no,” Trebald mumbled from the safety of Lizinia’s hair.

  The Blood Court moved in closer. Their eyes burned like red rubies in hollow sockets. A few of them had begun to drool.

  “That is the sound hungry people make the moment that dessert is served.” Vick began moving his hand along the wall, presumably looking for another exit, and muttering all the while. “Need to get out of here. We’ve stayed too long already. Gods, why did I come back underground…”

  The leprechaun was concentrating so hard on finding a way out that he didn’t notice when he bumped right into one of the Blood Court. Luckily, Vick was quicker and stronger than the woman, and he slipped out of her grasp. But there were more behind her. The ways out of this room were becoming increasingly blocked.

  Trix pulled an arrow out of its quiver and had a thought. “Do you think you can do what you did to the spriggan?” he asked Lizinia.

  The golden girl had already drawn her bow, but the golden star on her brow was furrowed. “Those were ghosts, Trix. I don’t know if I can shoot a human. Even if we knew the same thing would happen that happened in the forest. Which we don’t.”

  “Mmmmmmmm….”

  The humming grew louder. Vick pulled the hammer from his belt and lifted it high. They were surrounded now—fighting their way out seemed to be the only choice. Trix selected a member of the court, a tall man with several stars of office, aimed for one of his broad shoulders…and then the music started.

  At the far end of the room, Trix made out a lithe shadow bent over what must have been a music box, for that’s what the music sounded like, airy and tin. Amplified as it was by the shape of the ballroom, the song remained simple and understated. But it was enough.

  The humming stopped. Compelled by the music, the members of the Blood Court broke into pairs and began to dance. They spun about the room with wild abandon, lost in the elementary strains. But for the smell of unwashed souls, dried blood, and impending death, it might have been beautiful.

  The lithe shadow spun through the ragged dancers, weaving in and out among them, unnoticed by those lost in the melody. But not unrecognized by Trix.

  “Wednesday!” he cried, for it was indeed his third-oldest sister. Wednesday, with her raven hair and deep indigo eyes, had left for Faerie only a few months ago to be apprenticed to their Aunt Joy. Wednesday had more magic in her than anyone Trix knew. Except Aunt Joy and her twin Sorrow. And maybe Velius. And possibly Mama.

  “Come quickly,” whispered his shadow sister. “They will stop when the music stops.”

  “Did you cast a spell?” asked Trix. If anyone could summon magic when there
was none to be had, it would be Wednesday.

  “Muscle memory,” she said, waving them down a dark corridor. “Eating, sleeping, and dancing are all these people have ever done. And for some, even sleep is optional.”

  Wisdom’s light waned as they sped down hallways and through doorways that reminded Trix of the Palace in Arilland, if the palace had been built in the bowels of the earth. The tooth extinguished itself altogether as Wednesday reached for an ornate door handle. For the first time in many days, Trix’s soul felt at peace. They had come to the end of their journey.

  “Thank you,” he said to the tooth as he replaced it beneath his shirt.

  Wednesday pulled open the door.

  The snarling bear behind it had been waiting for them.

  9

  The Bear Prince and the Magic Sister

  The bear went straight for Vick. It leapt upon him, both beast and leprechaun tumbling into the hall in a blur of snowy fur and hair. Lizinia stepped in and used her considerable strength to push the bear back into the room. The bear snapped; the leprechaun shrieked. Vick raised his hammer for the attack.

  “Don’t hurt him!” Wednesday cried.

  Trix grabbed at the hammer until he wrenched it out of Vick’s hand.

  “You fool! He’s going to kill me!”

  The bear shoved Lizinia aside and came at the leprechaun again, knocking Vick backward onto the floor. The beast pinned the leprechaun’s arms down with his enormous clawed feet, trapping the rest of the small man’s body with his own.

  “I told you these rabid beasts were out of their minds!” cried Vick. “Get him off of me before he swallows me whole!”

  The bear stuck his nose into Vick’s face and growled, low and unceasingly. If the bear truly had intended to kill Vick, the little man would be dead already.

  Trix put his hands on his hips and assessed the situation. “I don’t know, Vick. I’m familiar with bears and I have to say…this seems personal.”

  Brave Wednesday walked around to face the bear. She reached out a slender finger and stroked the animal between the eyes until it stopped growling and looked up at her.

  “Uncle Bear, that’s enough,” she said.

  The bear snorted at her like a petulant horse. Less impressively, Wednesday snorted back.

  “What are you doing?” yelled Vick. “Don’t goad him! He’s going to eat me!”

  Wednesday pointed to Vick with her free hand. “Hush!” The bear was easing into her petting now. She gently persuaded the bear off of Vick, who let out an exaggerated grunt once the weight left him. Lizinia went to help him up.

  “Trix,” Wednesday said as she directed the great animal to the other side of the room, “I would like you to meet our uncle, the Bear Prince.”

  “Family,” Vick said as he stood up and brushed himself off. “Of course. Madness thrives in the blood.”

  “Hello, Uncle Bear,” Trix said cheerfully. “I’m Trix Woodcutter. These are my companions, Lizinia and Trebald.”

  Uncle Bear snorted, but said nothing.

  “Did he say anything to you?” asked Lizinia.

  “No words that I could make out so far,” said Trix. He didn’t think it too terribly odd. They had just arrived, after all, and it was possible his uncle was still processing everything. On top of that, some animals were just naturally reticent.

  Trix and Lizinia both greeted Uncle Bear with a pat. Trebald scurried down Lizinia’s arm to nuzzle his whiskers in the bear’s soft fur—quite the recommendation from the timid brownie. “Good man,” said Trebald. “Yes, yes.” Then he hopped from his perch to the floor and fled into the dark corners of the room.

  “I want to try something, if that’s all right?” he asked his sister. Wednesday, who could still read his mind without magic, nodded.

  Trix took a deep breath in, and then slowly exhaled. He hadn’t been able to get this chance with Wolf—if he managed to communicate with his uncle, then perhaps they could get to the bottom of this spell. Perhaps they hadn’t lost Wolf forever.

  Trix knelt before the bear, making himself as small as he could and putting his entire body in the animal’s line of sight. He called upon the knack he used to speak to animals every day, as well as the annoyingly dormant animal magic inside him. “I am Trix,” he said, slowly. “Your nephew. Can you understand me?”

  Normally, when animals responded to Trix, their voices came to him as clearly as if he were speaking to another person. Uncle Bear’s voice seemed…trapped. Trix read the subtle shift in his expression—the bear had understood him, but seemed unable to respond.

  Trix stared deeper into his uncle’s black eyes and tried again. This time, flashes appeared before him: scenes from another life. Roses. Fire. A young woman’s smile. A whip. Blood. Gold. Trees. The images shot through him like a rain of arrows, but he could make no sense of them. With his next breath, he could hear the fire. He could smell the Wood. He felt something wrap around his body like a second skin, surrounding him, comforting him…and then suffocating him.

  Uncle Bear growled and bucked away, breaking the contact. Trix gasped for air. Bear moved his jaws to make words, but they all came out in moan-speak and nonsensical barks. Trix moved his arm quickly out of the way of his uncle’s excellent teeth.

  “I can’t…” Trix shook his head. He wasn’t even sure how to explain what had just happened. “I can’t hear him,” he said finally, for lack of better words.

  “So much for that gods-given talent,” said Vick. “Let’s go find you the Faerie Queen already.”

  The bear snapped in Vick’s direction, but made no move to attack the leprechaun further. Regardless, it was enough to send Vick cowering into the corner, well out of claws’ reach.

  Trix tried to soothe his uncle with calm words. “I don’t know if you can hear what I’m saying, but I think I understand your frustration.”

  Wednesday moved to stand beside them. She reached out and scratched their uncle gently behind one ear. “He’s been fey for so long.”

  “His body took fey form because he fell in love with Aunt Snow, didn’t it?” asked Trix.

  “Love is a powerful thing,” Wednesday cooed, more to the bear than to her brother.

  “I’m sure his bear-self is just out of practice,” said Trix. “After we’ve spent more time together we’ll be able to communicate better.”

  “Jolly,” Trix heard Vick murmur from behind a curtain. His opinion was followed by an “Ow!” that sounded very much like someone being bitten by a brownie. Trix made a mental note to thank Trebald later.

  “No, no. Don’t hurt the bear.” Trix turned to see Aunt Joy emerge from a room in the back where, presumably, she had been lying down. Her clothes were a rumpled mess. The black hair that was typically tied up in a neat coif sagged limply about her shoulders and the cameo at her throat hung from a ripped collar. Aunt Joy was a less gaunt, slightly older version of Wednesday…but the last time Trix had seen her she looked considerably more put together.

  “Our Bear.” Aunt Joy turned in circles across the room before wrapping her arms around the bear’s large head. “Little Bear. Pretty Bear.” She repeated the words over and over until they became a song.

  “Little Bear?” Trix said wryly. “Wednesday, what’s going on?”

  “She’s been like this since the magic was bound. Snow White fell into a sleep we could not wake her from, and Uncle Bear went mad.”

  Where Aunt Joy’s indigo eyes were dreamily unfocused, Wednesday’s eyes were clear. Trix found this highly unusual in itself—Wednesday was the sister who wandered away with her sentences half-finished, reciting poetry that may or may not have ever been written, and speaking in languages from no country on any known map. On her best days, Wednesday was typically as coherent as a cat.

  “She’s been like this,” said Trix, “but what happened to you?”

  Wednesday cast her eyes to the floor, but Trix could make out a half-smile on her lips. “Aunt Joy is pure fey,” she answered. “You and
I are tainted with other blood.”

  With the fey magic bound, Trix had assumed the human in his blood was what kept him from becoming as muddled as Bear. But what other blood did Wednesday have? God blood? Demon blood? Trix would have believed either. Or both. How many types of magic were there in the world? “So…the fey magic was making you mad this whole time?”

  “Many magics call my head a home,” she said cryptically, sounding much more like the Wednesday he knew. “They’re constantly fighting, screaming… I lose myself in their war.” She closed her eyes; put a hand to her temple. “Without the fey magic, my soul’s voice is louder, and I can fight. For the first time, I can fight back.”

  Before this journey, Trix couldn’t have imagined the powers at work in Wednesday’s mind. But all the voices, the visions, the strange compulsions, the crawling skin, the sense that his magic was broken even though he knew for a fact that an outside force was to blame… Yes, now he had a pretty good idea of what it was like to be Wednesday Woodcutter. And as soon as they freed the fey magic, she would be trapped again in her own mind. The thought broke his heart.

  But there was no time to waste. The Blood Court could find them at any moment, and who knew what other animals, crazed with wild magic, might come clawing at their door.

  “Did Aunt Snow fall asleep first, or was the magic bound first?” Trix asked Wednesday. “Can you remember?”

  “It was Aunt Snow. Her condition put Uncle Bear in a furious state long before he even changed into a bear. And then when he did I couldn’t change him back by myself, so I looked for Aunt Joy and found her…like that.” Joy was still petting the bear as if he were a tiny puppy. The bear didn’t seem to mind. “I’ve kept them separated for fear that they might hurt each other without meaning to.”

  “I’ll put her back to bed,” offered Lizinia. She approached Joy and the bear slowly, so as not to startle them. Once Aunt Joy caught sight of the golden girl, she was enraptured.