by J. Conrad
“Oh yes, I would very much like to leave, if only I had a means to come and go,” I said. “I’m trapped here, but I must depart and return in the future. My mother is being held prisoner here.”
“Your troubles don’t concern me,” he said. He started to turn his back on me.
“Wait! Please, perhaps you’d be willing to help me? I only want to know how to come and go from this world. Can you show me where I might find the means?” I said.
The Fae slowly turned his head, frowning as he glanced at me. “Why should I have any dealings with you?”
I wondered if a dislike of humans was the problem or if his disdain for me was due to some other reason. There was a way I could check. “I’m Lysidia’s granddaughter, and I’m part Fae. I grew up in the human world because my mother was taken when I was young.”
He frowned, and I wondered if Lysidia’s name was familiar. He didn’t give any indication. The strange man folded his arms while he continued to glare at me. He put a hand to his chin, studying me further. “I’m not able to help you. Continue through the meadow and perhaps you may find someone who can.”
“Can you at least tell me where I might find Lysidia? She may also go by the name Eiriana,” I added.
“No,” he said, not bothering to clarify whether he didn’t know her whereabouts or simply wouldn’t tell me.
I opened my mouth to protest, but the man turned his back. He shifted into a large bird with sleek, silvery feathers who hovered in midair. As he beat his wings and ascended, I felt the currents of air from his massive wingspan. It blew my hair back from my face. Seren had told me that Fae were odd creatures. She wasn’t lying.
As the starry, cobalt sky gradually yielded to a glittering, lilac dusk, I combed the valley for whatever, or whomever, could help me. Besides trying to locate Eiriana, part of the difficulty lay in not really knowing what I was looking for. I only knew that ultimately, I needed the power to come and go as I wished. When I explored the flora, I kept my distance from large plants. When I came across a new Fae, I attempted to speak with him or her. The Fae varied in form and appearance, though I saw no others who resembled the man who wouldn’t give his name. Mostly they were small, winged, and flitting among tree branches or flowers. Each time my attempt at communication was unsuccessful. I was met with distrust, suspicion, or fear.
By the time the pale sun had dipped below the horizon, a huge, blue moon had risen between smoky clouds. Needing shelter for the night, I found a small alcove at the foot of the hills beneath an overhang. I crawled inside and ate the last of the cheese and a hunk of hard bread. I was still hungry and was starting to feel weak, but I’d have to try and get some rest. I tucked myself back against the wall and pulled my coat tighter around me, even though I wasn’t cold. I toyed with the idea of sleeping sitting up. There was no reason to think I’d be safe while I slept.
From my slightly elevated hiding place, I surveyed the valley. Now I was at the opposite side from where I had left the cave. The heavens were swirled with cobalt and lilac, sprinkled throughout with a thick scattering of glittering, white stars. Beneath the blue moon, everything in the valley was bathed in luminous sapphire. I could see over the lower trees, and sometimes creatures within them produced a burst of light or rustled the leaves. Sometimes fairies, fireflies or other glowing insects would dart out from the branches as a group, moving like a small cloud of pixie dust.
On the valley floor, where tall stalks crowned with seed pods clinked together in the gentle breeze, something larger ambled through the grass. I sat up straighter, trying to catch a glimpse of it. A snout emerged as the animal snuffled at the ground, and I saw its head was like that of a small boar. He had two tusks and his ears were placed slightly to the side of his skull. As he stepped out from the foliage which had partially concealed him, I noticed the rows of spots along his back were glowing blue. I leaned forward on my hands and knees and peered down at him. The animal was only about twenty feet from me.
Hello, I thought to him.
The boar snorted, whirling around and looking behind him, then to each side and back in front again. He thrashed his tusks at the tall grasses.
Up here, I thought. I mean you no harm. Can you understand me? I waved a hand, hoping he could see me.
The boar started to back away. He tossed his head defiantly.
Can you hear my thoughts? I asked. I won’t hurt you. I only wish to ask a few questions. Please, will you speak with me?
If he did hear, he gave no sign. I scrambled out from the alcove and carefully headed his direction. He grunted and kept backing into the grass. I reached in my pocket for the oyster. As I pried it open, I watched the black pearl begin to illuminate in the moonlight. A smile crept onto my face. It was a relief to see it glow again.
Please. Can you help me? I asked.
The small boar stopped, seeming mesmerized by the shining pearl within the shell. He gave a short squeal, jerking his head to the side as he regarded me. Have you taken that from the dreaming pool?
My heart started pounding. He could understand my thought-speak and he was communicating back.
No, it was given to me in the spirit world as a gift. I’m trying to leave… I paused, trying to remember the word the nameless man used for the Fae Realm—Imurgura. Do you know how I can do so?
That is from the dreaming pool. You will go nowhere until you return it, he thought.
Where is the dreaming pool? I asked.
Under the fomesian tree. I lost sight of the boar as he turned and plunged into the tall grass and foliage. He was rapidly slipping away from me, far enough that I had to strain to pick up his answer.
Where is the tree? I asked. I jogged to try and catch up with him, but he was disappearing farther into the dense growth of the valley. I could no longer see his glowing spots. I barely heard him reply, There.
I pulled to a halt, searching the surrounding trees for the one he named. I didn’t know what a fomesian tree was, if in fact I had even understood correctly, but he said the dreaming pool was beneath it. He told me it was “there.” Was I near it?
I walked carefully near the alcove where I had been hiding, but the nearby trees had no water at their bases. A little way off, near the hillside, I saw another tree off by itself. As I pushed through the grass and flowers whose pollen glowed firefly-yellow in the moonlight, I thought I heard running water. It was a slight trickling, like a spring. Nearing the tree, it looked to me like any other small fruit tree that I might find in the human world. It had smooth, silver bark and small, shiny, green leaves. But as I pushed the foliage aside near its roots, I noticed that some of the tall stalks were reeds, more like cattails.
Kneeling, I peered down and saw that on the other side of the tree was indeed a small pool. It shimmered with iridescent colors of pink and blue, and its source seemed to flow from a small outcropping of stones behind it. Within the pool swam tiny fish. In this light they appeared green, but as they moved, and the moonlight touched them, their scales appeared to shine in every color. I scooted closer on the ground, holding up the open oyster.
I was about to drop it in, when a rustling in the grass to my left made me start. The small boar with his glowing, blue spots sprang toward me. I put my hand out, thinking he was going to attack me with his sharp, little tusks.
Keep the pearl, he thought. Leave only the shell.
I nodded. How strange that he had run off only to come back and instruct me. Regardless, I was grateful for the help and I thanked him.
Peering down at the lustrous spring, my dry mouth and throat cried out in a parched ache. This wasn’t ordinary water, but my thirst pushed my face to the pool. I drank until I couldn’t take another swallow, the colorful fish darting around below. I sat up and waited. Nothing happened, good or bad.
With my free hand I took the black pearl between two fingers and slowly drew it away from the living flesh of the oyster. I lowered the shell into the iridescent water, letting go and watching it drift to th
e bottom of the shallow pool. When it settled on the sand, it snapped shut and changed appearance from the dull grey, rough coating to glimmering sage green, and then to shining cobalt.
Do not lose the pearl, the boar told me. Now you may go where you wish.
I stared at him, listening to the sound of my own breathing and the night birds, insects, and Fae creatures all around me. I didn’t want to go home, not really, but Eiriana said I must for some reason, if I was to marry the prince. So, I suppose I did wish it in a way, or if not, I’d have to make myself.
“I wish to go home,” I said out loud. I shut my eyes and closed my fist around the pearl.
Chapter 18
Acold silence surrounded me. Slowly, with dread weighing upon me like a wet blanket, I forced my eyelids to open. A blast of frigid air blew in from somewhere and made me wince. Blinking, I let my vision adjust to the dim lighting. Wooden walls surrounded me on all sides. I knelt on a dusty, wooden floor, and a small, octagonal window had been left open and was letting in a nasty, winter draft. I was in the attic at Blaenwood.
I stood up and sighed. The glowing, ethereal splendor of the Fae Realm was gone. That place had made no sense, was dangerous, and my mother was still trapped there, but a strange pining lingered with me after leaving it for this prison. I tucked the black pearl inside the pouch holding the seed of the sacred tree and cinched it tightly. It was my only way back to the Fae Realm and I would guard it with my life.
Checking the pile of bread crumbs and dried meat I had left for the birds, I saw that all the treats I had set out for them were gone. I wondered if Cirros had come, or if it had only been the ravens. Had they found Eiriana or sent someone else to help me? Maybe they hadn’t come across any humans or Fae who would (or could) understand their message and had returned to let me know?
My heart hammered as I walked quietly across the floor boards to check the door. What would Gwyneth do when she saw me? Beat me again? Carve me up with the enchanted, iron sword that had frightened Eiriana? No, it would probably be something else, something I wouldn’t anticipate. Either way, I had to go downstairs and announce my return. There was no getting around it.
My stomach swooped and dived as I placed my hand on the door. I pushed against it gently and it creaked on its hinges. It was unlocked. The pounding of my pulse made me dizzy as I swung it open, revealing the small staircase. The air outside the attic didn’t feel much warmer than that within.
I hadn’t bathed in days or brushed my hair, and underneath my thick clothing I probably smelled bad. As I quietly descended the stairs to the second floor, I didn’t see Gwyneth or her daughters, nor did I hear them. I made my way down the silent hallway to my room.
That door was unlocked as well. When I pushed it open, I stopped dead, freezing as I stared at my old chamber. The bed had been returned, along with most of the blankets and pillows. The deep green rug was once again covering the hardwood floor. My bookcase rested along the wall and it seemed that most of my books and trinkets had been placed back on its shelves. And there were other familiar things as well: the wooden chest at the foot of the bed, a stuffed doll I had kept from childhood, and even my jewelry box.
I frowned, walking into the room with my back and arms tense. I wondered what sort of trap this was. Padding across the rug, I stepped over to the wardrobe and opened it. The ratty, servant’s dresses had been removed and all my nice clothes hung in their place, including the one of Mother’s that I had worn to Gwyneth’s wedding. The only articles missing were my two ball gowns. Pulling open the drawers below, I found my underthings, an extra pair of riding breeches, and my nightclothes.
“Strange,” I whispered out loud, and I saw my breath in the air. Why was it so cold in here?
I checked my washing table and there was clean water in both the basin and the ewer—not warm water, of course, but I had endured worse. Clean towels had even been set upon on the stool. Pushing out my bottom lip at these oddities, I locked the door and stripped. I gave myself a quick bath and changed into a clean shift and a casual day dress, ensuring the pouch holding the pearl was underneath in the pocket. I brushed my long hair, watching hairs fall on the vanity as I worked through the knots. Then I braided it, pinning it in a coil behind my head.
I took the back way into the kitchen, still finding it bizarre that I hadn’t seen Gwyneth or her daughters. They must be waiting for me, keeping quiet until they could spring for the attack. I clenched my teeth as my wide eyes darted around, hunting for them everywhere, but I made it to the kitchen without incident. The back door, which had a large pane in the center and opened to the patio near the gardens, had a sheet nailed over it. I felt a draft and determined the glass had been broken.
Inside the kitchen itself, it seemed that the place had been scoured of nearly every food item. I checked the baskets, shelves and drawers, but there was nothing, not even a crust. The only edibles that remained were the jars of dried spices and heavy bags of flour. I didn’t understand how this could have happened in the time I had been gone. There had been cheese, roots, preserved vegetables and other things which should have lasted months. And there were winter vegetables still growing in the garden. Dirty plates and utensils were piled on the counter, but the three women couldn’t have eaten all the food.
Taking an apron from its hook, I went out to the meat shed where I had hung the pig. It was still there; the cold kept it preserved. I saw the sloppy knife marks from where more meat had been cut since I had left, but it was a large boar and there was plenty left for more meals. I sliced off an ample amount and returned to the kitchen. Only one small problem. There was no wood to make a fire in the hearth—probably because the resident wood cutter had recently escaped Blaenwood instead of stocking the wood shed like she was supposed to.
Despite all the reasons I shouldn’t, I smiled. It seemed that times had been hard in my absence. After making a trip to the tree I had felled and cutting some logs, I got a good fire going in the kitchen and roasted several cuts of meat. I got a cabbage from the garden and stewed it in a pot. The warmth from the hearth felt wonderful on my chaffed hands, and the aroma of sage and pork was guaranteed to bring my stepmother and stepsisters out of hiding.
Annest was the first to stick her head around the main kitchen door. She glared at me with a knitted brow, her wide eyes locking on the roasting meat. I had taken four plates down from the cupboard and was placing them on the table. Annest opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. Her bodice sagged at her chest and her face looked thinner. A pink flush crept onto her cheeks. I awaited her insults patiently, until it occurred to me that she was too embarrassed to say anything.
“Would you like some roast?” I asked.
She blinked, her eyes shining with a glossy, rabid sheen. She nodded. “Yes.” Annest clasped her hands together like a stricken child and I wondered if she was afraid I would refuse her out of spite.
I removed the meat from the spit over the flames and set it on the cutting board where I sliced it into thin pieces. I plated the roast, added a helping of steaming cabbage, and held it out to her. She grasped it with trembling hands. I handed her a clean knife and fork. Annest glanced up at me with red eyes as she took my offerings. Maybe the decent part of her, if there was one, wanted to thank me, but she fled the kitchen so quickly her hip brushed the doorway.
Dafina appeared next, and since she had already been on the slender side when I left, her cheekbones were even more prominent than her sister’s. She slowly edged her way toward the table, her boots clicking on the stone floor. Her eyes devoured the smoking meat. She came near enough that I noticed one of her hands was sloppily bandaged with a soiled strip of cloth. Whether it was stained from dirt or dried blood I couldn’t tell.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said, dropping her eyes and pausing a moment before raising them again. “I burned myself when attempting to cook for us. It was the hot grease. And I forgot to use the pot holder when grasping the hand
le of the pan.” Her face flushed as her gaze fell to the floor again.
“That needs attention. Even from here I can see how swollen it is. Sit,” I said, setting down my knife and motioning to one of the stools. I walked past her, toward the alcove in the hallway where our medicine cabinet stood. Dafina didn’t move but stared at me while her bottom lip hung down.
“Sit,” I repeated. “This won’t take long, and then you can eat.” As I left the kitchen, I didn’t turn around to see whether she complied or not.
Inside the cinnamon-colored, walnut cupboard with a glass door, I clinked bottles around until I found the silver ointment. Grabbing it along with two metal clips, I got a clean piece of the cloth from the sewing room and a pair of scissors. I returned to find Dafina sitting on the stool as ordered. She had unwrapped the bandage and lain it on her lap. She rested her arm across her leg, with her injured hand suspended above it. It was red, festering, and crowned with a glistening blister.
I washed Dafina’s wounds, lanced the abscess, and applied the silver ointment. I wrapped the new cloth around snugly, secured it with the fasteners.
Dafina frowned slightly, tilting her head as she peered up at me. “Why are you doing this?”
“The silver will help it heal faster, and it’s less likely to become so swollen again,” I said.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, why are you doing this? You came back to Blaenwood of your own will. You’ve cooked for us. You treated my injury. Why? We’ve been nothing but hateful toward you.”
I contemplated, seeing more than cynicism in her expression. There was something else. Wonder? A fleeting spark of awe? I smiled weakly. “Well, it seemed the right thing to do. It was time.”
