Tabitha shook her head, embarrassed.
“I'm sure that's not true,” she mumbled.
Lysander didn't reply, but continued to look thoughtful.
They carried on walking through the light-and-dark landscape, Tabitha still musing on what Lysander had told her, and Lysander evidently still musing on something too, for he remained quiet.
Did hearing about these new landscapes change anything for her, Tabitha wondered? She couldn't even imagine what some of the things Lysander had described must look like. Did she want to see mountains? Would she spend the rest of her life wondering what they were like if she never went to see them? She wondered whether she would rather he hadn't mentioned them to begin with – but she was excited to hear about them, she realised. She would like to see these places... it was just that perhaps she would like to go home even more than that.
They continued in silence for some time, thoughtful but not uncomfortable, until they neared an expanse of woodland which was just beginning to turn crisp and yellow at the edges, brilliantly lit up where the sun had dipped lower in the golden sky. Tabitha felt her attention drawn to it, and when she glanced sideways she saw that Lysander was staring at it too.
“Can you hear that?” he murmured, not taking his attention from the woods.
Tabitha looked back over towards them. The woods were formed of a strange crop of trees growing in a perfect circle, which rose up on a slight incline and then dropped down lower again in the middle. In the middle of the almost completely flat landscape around them, it stuck out like a sore thumb, and the evening light made it look like a golden crown. Shadows stretched away to the east, a black smudge across the fields. Tabitha listened hard.
There was a very soft sound drifting through the air. If Lysander hadn't said anything, Tabitha would never have noticed it. But now that she was paying attention, she could hear it; a strange, long sound, almost like singing; a sound that was low and beautiful and
“The trees are waking up,” Lysander whispered from beside her, making Tabitha jump.
She shot him a frightened look.
“How could you possibly know that?”
At her voice, Lysander seemed to wake from whatever stupor the singing had sent him into. He frowned down at Tabitha.
“I don't know,” he said, sounding confused. “But I do know that's what it is, somehow.”
They both looked at each other nervously. Tabitha was sure she should have been more scared than she was, and yet somehow overriding her fear was a sense of awe – of gratitude that they should be so privileged as to hear the trees speaking.
The sprites scurried up then, hastening to catch up with Tabitha and Lysander from where they had been lagging behind.
“Where are you going, sister?” they asked anxiously. “You're walking away from the river.”
“There are voices...” she said, “Well not voices, exactly... but there's a strange sort of sound coming from those woods.”
She gestured to the patch of trees, and the sprites looked over.
“The trees are singing,” they shrugged. “Nothing special compared to the river.”
“Come on, Tab.” Ani started tugging at her clothes. “Come back to the river.”
“What's the hurry?,” Lysander asked sharply. “We want to listen to them singing.”
“You can hear it?” the sprites asked in surprise. “How can
“Why shouldn't I hear it – why should you be so surprised when Tabitha just said that she could hear it too?”
“She's the
Lysander gave Tabitha another confused look.
“The sprites have called me river witch since we first met,” Tabitha said hurriedly. “I don't know what it means.”
“No time for that now,” the sprites said. “Come on Tab, back down to the river.”
“What's the hurry?” Lysander asked again.
“No time for listening to boring trees chattering,” Bellat said. “What can they possibly have to say? They've never even been out of that wood!”
Tabitha watched as Lysander's mouth set into a mutinous line across his face.
“We're not in a rush,” he said firmly. “There's no reason why we shouldn't go and take a closer look.”
The sprites turned away from him and back to Tabitha.
“Come on, sister,” they said, “what is there to see in the woods? Let's hurry on back to the river.”
“I don't know why you're so adamant that we shouldn't go and listen to the trees,” Lysander said, “but I for one am going to go.”
Scowling down at the sprites, he turned about heel and strode off in the direction of the woods. Tabitha anxiously watched him go. She hated that he and the sprites bickered over absolutely everything, but, truthfully, she was longing to go with him. Now that the conversation had stopped, the low, soft melody was just audible again.
“There isn't any harm just in going to look quickly, is there?” Tabitha wheedled, knowing that the sprites weren't going to like her taking Lysander's side. “We can head straight back to the river afterwards?”
The sprites scowled and stamped their feet, but Tabitha was eager to see the trees singing too, and Lysander was getting farther and farther away.
“I promise, we'll come straight back to the river,” she gabbled, “you can wait here if you like, I don't mind!”
She raced off after Lysander, shouting at him to wait, and when she glanced back she saw that the sprites were reluctantly following too. She caught up with Lysander at the edge of the woods, where he had paused to wait for her. He gave her a wide grin when she arrived, and she saw again the openness she had seen in his face when she had attacked him with the
“It's incredible, isn't it?” he said excitedly.
The song was much clearer here, and Tabitha nodded her agreement. She had never heard anything quite like it. She glanced back to see whether the sprites were looking any happier, optimistic that they couldn't possibly keep sulking when the music was so beautiful, but they were still lingering a short way behind, kicking their feet about and clearly still quite unhappy with her.
“Don't worry about them,” Lysander said as he caught her looking back. “They'll forget all about this as soon as we're back at the river. They're a bit like children, in the way that they behave.”
“I'm not worrying,” Tabitha lied.
Lysander gave her a sceptical look, but wandered on into the woods anyway. Tabitha followed.
The woods were beautiful. Mist was rising from the floor, the dim evening light filtering in through the tree trunks and illuminating patches that were aglow against the dark floor. They walked slowly through the trees, the singing perfectly clear now, in no rush to hasten through such an ethereal setting. When they reached the middle of the woods, the earth suddenly dipped down into a hollow. Lysander halted in his tracks and dropped down to crouch at the edge, pulling Tabitha down beside him. The sprites ran to catch up with them again and gathered around her, placing themselves firmly in between her and Lysander. But Lysander didn't seem to have noticed.
“What is it?” Tabitha whispered.
He didn't reply, but gestured down to the middle of the hollow. Something was stirring in the trees, where the golden light was hitting the leaves. The trees here were much older than the others in these woods, Tabitha thought. They were all great oak trees, with giant trunks that twisted around and up towards the sky. She watched, fascinated, as the trees all swayed together, without any breeze moving them. The singing was coming from them, Tabitha realised. It was enchanting, and she felt as if they were speaking to her soul about terribly old things, that she couldn't quite understand.
“It's like they're speaking to me,” Lysander said softly beside her. “I almost think I can understand, but it's like I can't quite remember...”
“It's like a different language,” Tabitha whispered back. She felt herself grow a little tearful. She couldn't tell Lysander, of course, but the tree song was reminding her o
f the way in which the river used to speak to her. But whereas the sound of the river had required no effort at all to understand, the tree song sounded completely foreign to her. She wondered whether the sprites had been right that she belonged in the river; it was like her soul couldn't interpret this woodland language.
Tabitha and Lysander continued to watch the oak trees, completely transfixed, as they moved in time with the strange singing. Tabitha's vision began to blur, her eyelids drooping. It seemed to her that she was no longer looking at a clump of trees, but that it was a group of elegant women gathered in the glade, swaying and singing together, with beautiful faces and voices. They were not unlike the river mermaid, in some ways, Tabitha thought dreamily, with their green skin and their bright eyes; but these faeries seemed gentle, kind. If Tabitha thought of herself as the river-daughter, she could almost believe that these might be her tree-daughter cousins.
“I never imagined fae could be as beautiful as this...” Lysander was murmuring at her side. “They're not... they don't
He seemed to be struggling for words. Tabitha glanced sideways at him, and even with his face hidden by shadows she could tell that this sight had unsettled him for a reason that he could not articulate to her. She looked back to the clearing, but hearing Lysander speak had brought Tabitha back out of her dream, and now she could only see oak trees again, not women. She looked back at Lysander, who was still staring wide-eyed into the hollow.
“They almost seem more tree than faery,” he said, “and yet...”
“Faeries who got too closely involved with earth magic,” the sprites said dismissively. “Probably wood sprites at one time. Not clear what they are now exactly.”
“They're happy,” Lysander said, apparently not registering that the sprites had spoken at all. “It's the first time that they've stopped thinking about being trees and started thinking about being people in a long time. The air is fresher, the water in the earth purer, the human threat gone.” He frowned. “But they're sad, too. So many of their sisters are long-gone. They never even got to say goodbye.”
Tabitha looked at him, frightened. How could he know that? He still seemed almost in a trance. Perhaps he had been enchanted by these woodland spirits – perhaps the sprites were right and they shouldn't have come here, after all.
But he didn't have much longer to gaze into the clearing, for Corida slipped off Tabitha's shoulder, fluttered up to Lysander and swiped him across the face. His sharp faery fingers left twin scratches running across his cheek, and Lysander wheeled around, furious. But Corida and the sprites were looking even angrier.
“You shouldn't be talking to them,” Corida hissed.
“
He turned back to face the hollow, but Tabitha could see from the look in his eyes that he too could now only see the oak trees. He stared, mouthing hopelessly.
“See?” Corida said. “They've gone again already. Trees don't talk to humans.”
“Well they did talk to me,” Lysander said.
Tab
“Not anymore,” Ani giggled.
Lysander stood up quickly, breathing heavily. He looked as if he might say something more, but then he turned and stormed off back into the depths of the wood, not caring about the snap of twigs and rustle of dry leaves underfoot as he went. The singing stopped abruptly.
“Oh dear, he did take that very personally,” Tabitha fretted to the sprites. “Must yo
“We told you we shouldn't have come here,” Corida said.
“And how does he know how to talk to the hamadryads?” Bellat asked crossly. “He shouldn't know how.”
“We keep telling you, you shouldn't trust him, sister,” Ani said. “He's not like us. He doesn't have water in his soul.”
“Well, I do trust him,” Tabitha said. “And I'm going to go and talk to him to make sure he's okay. I'll see you back at the river –
Giving the sprites her sternest look, Tabitha raced off after Lysander.
18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tabitha hastened through the woods. She could still hear Lysander ahead of her, crashing through the trees, and she hurried in that direction. The light grew brighter as she neared the edge of the trees, and then the sound of stamping feet finally slowed down before stopping altogether.
Tabitha found Lysander just outside the edge of the woods. He had slumped down on the ground, facing back down towards the river. Tabitha padded slowly over and sat herself down beside him. She was tense, preparing to defend herself and the sprites, expecting him to be angry at the way they had forced his conversation with the hamadryads to a halt. But when she looked nervously across at him, to her surprise Lysander just looked a bit sad and confused. Tabitha sat quietly for a while, unsure how to begin a conversation or make him feel any better but hopeful that he might talk to her if he wanted to. But he didn't
“What do you know about the fae?” she asked eventually.
She wasn't really sure that this was the best question to ask. But it was the first question that had popped into her head, and Tabitha hoped that talking about something might cheer Lysander up. Not to mention that she was curious about what he would say. He had seemed to know something about them when they had first met, and the sprites had seemed genuinely surprised to find that he could understand the hamadryads. She hoped that if she could get him to talk, she might learn a bit more about her mysterious new companion as well as the fae.
“I don't know how I knew any of the things I just said,” Lysander said glumly, and then relapsed into silence.
“We're travelling through a strange new world,” Tabitha said gently. She glanced at him again, but Lysander remained quiet. So she carried on talking.
“I feel as if I don't know anything,” she sighed. “I barely know how to survive out here – it's only because of the sprites, and now you, that I'm even able to feed myself. And then when it comes to the fae... the sprites call me river witch, but I don't know why. They've helped me, but really I don't know anything about them. We've seen all sorts of strange creatures along the way, but I still feel as if there's this whole world that I don't know anything about. And then even in the woods just now, it seems like you and the sprites both know things that I don't...”
Lysander gave her a canny look, and Tabitha didn't think that she'd fooled him for a minute with her exaggerated sob story. But either he felt a bit sorry for her anyway, or he had just grown tired of her chattering, for then Lysander reluctantly offered some information of his own.
“I've read quite extensively about the history of the fae,” he said. “Most of what I know, I know from books. Although I have to say, I feel quite unprepared having met them in the flesh, so I'm not sure how much of what I know is very useful.”
He paused, looking a bit uncertain.
“Tell me anyway,” Tabitha pressed, trying her hardest not to seem too excited. “What books have you read? How did you learn to read them? Was there an old library in any of the places where you lived, too?”
Lysander gave her a weary look, and Tabitha hastily stopped asking questions.
“There are many different stories about the fae, as I'm sure you've read about in that book you carry around with you.” Lysander ignored Tabitha's questions about where he had learnt this information, but he did at least begin to share what he knew with her. “I have always been particularly interested in reading about their history. There are lots of different versions of the story, but, roughly speaking, I think we can safely say that a very long time ago the fae disappeared off into their own world. And that it's possible they went underground – a lot of the stories tell it that way at least.
“In Eirland, an island to the west of Bretan, the scholars said that the
“In all of these accounts, we find the same reference to them going underground. But
“But that must have been a very long time ago,” Tabitha said in surprise, “the world hasn't been that way for hundreds of years now. Why wouldn't they have come back befo
re now?”
Lysander shrugged. “Perhaps they didn't know that time had ended.”
Tabitha considered this for a moment. What could possibly have let the fae know that they were able to return to the human world again now? She thought uncomfortably about the dance she had interrupted. Perhaps it had been more significant than she'd realised.
“What else do you know about the fae?” she asked hurriedly, trying to distract herself from where that uncomfortable line of thought was taking her.
“Well, the rest is a more varied collection of rumours and theories,” Lysander said, “but again we find some similarities across the different tales. There were said to be many entrances to Faerie – faery hills, rings on the grass, trees, lakes and woods. The boundaries between worlds were supposed to be weaker at dawn and dusk, and on the days of some ancient festivals, most of which are still celebrated in some form or another. For instance, many villages still celebrate the harvest, often around the time of the old festival Mabon.”
Tabitha again thought guiltily of the dance she had interrupted. That had been around the harvest...
“The
Tabitha shuddered.
“What is the faery world like?” she asked.
“There are conflicting stories. Some people described a magical golden wood, rich with fruit and music, where people danced and celebrated eternally. Others spoke of darkness and shadows, of terrible visions that haunted them long after returning to the human world. But whatever the description, one thing was always consistent: that humans could not return from Faerie unchanged. Something about the faery world always altered them in some way.”
An odd look came over Lysander's face.
“I suppose that some of them couldn't return under the mounds because they were tied to the trees, so they just became more and more tree-like when they were left here,” he said, and a wistful tone came back into his voice. He went silent for a moment again.
“I don't know why I'm so upset,” he said quietly. “I stand by what I've said already: the fae aren't to be trusted. The trees shouldn't be any different just because they spoke to me...”
The River Witch Page 14
