Emma and the Silverbell Faeries

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Aww. Tis nary a thing to worry over, lass.” Widow Poole ruffled the boy’s hair while smiling at Emma. “M’grandson got ambushed by a pig ’fore he could close the gate.”

  Emma offered the large bag. “Mr. Cooper sent this for you.”

  “Oh, that man’s so kind.” Widow Poole took the bag. “Thank you, Emma.”

  “Are you hurt?” Emma squatted in front of the boy. “I heard you yell.”

  He didn’t move.

  “G’won, Davin.” Widow Poole nudged his shoulder.

  Emma summoned her most innocent smile.

  The boy reluctantly uncovered his hand; his right index finger bent left toward the thumb at an impossible angle, clearly broken.

  Kimber whined out her nose and clutched her hand to her chest, squirming with sympathetic pain. Tam’s eyes widened in awe.

  Emma winced. “Hold still.” She cradled his broken hand between hers and closed her eyes, muttering, “Great Uruleth, please lend me the gift of life.” She called out with the desire to mend his injury, and the warmth of life energy filled the air in front of her.

  “Wow,” whispered Davin.

  She opened her eyes, and gazed at a fist-sized cloud of green light hovering between her hands. “I’m sorry if this hurts a little.”

  Davin tensed.

  As gingerly as she could, Emma grasped his finger and moved it straight while concentrating on her want to have the life energy go into him. He started to cry out in pain, but the yell faded to a surprised stare of confusion. The glowing mist seeped into his hand and a faint crunch, like stepping on a twig, came from his finger.

  Emma wiggled and squeezed at his hand. “Does it still hurt?”

  “No,” whispered the boy. He kept his head down. “I’m sorry for letting the pigs out, Grandma.”

  Widow Poole sighed, shaking her head. “Tis not your fault, lad. Those pigs are a might unruly.”

  Tam nudged Emma. “Tell ’em pigs ta get back inna yard.”

  “Umm.” She looked around at the scattering of relatively small pigs with mixed feelings. On one hand, Widow Poole and her grandson needed them to survive. On the other, that meant the pigs would eventually wind up as ham. “It doesn’t feel right asking them to go back inside so they can be killed someday.”

  Widow Poole lifted the broken gate and re-hung it on its pegs. “Fetch me a few nails and the hammer from the shed, Davin.”

  “Yes, Grandma.” The boy gave Emma a thankful smile before jogging into the muddy yard and disappearing behind their home.

  “Em,” said Kimber, “wolves eat rabbits. I donnae ’fink they’as feel bad ’bout it. An’ Nan say ’at spirts jes go back an’ be part of every’fing again.” She held her arms out to the sides. “An dem pigs is farm pigs, nae wild. ’Ey not be okay inna wild.”

  “Oh, if only it were that easy,” muttered Widow Poole to herself. “Asking them to come back.” She chuckled. “I suppose we’ll make do.”

  Strixian, please grant me the Wildkin Whisper. Emma smiled at the little points of light gliding around her arms and chest. It felt so good to be off punishment and able to use her magic whenever she wanted again. Her smile faded as she thought back to how much she’d worried her family by running off into the woods after thieves.

  Seconds later, the random grunts and squeals from the pigs became speech to her.

  “Oh wow!” Sniff. Sniff. “What’s this?”

  “Can I eat it?”

  “Mmm. Taste good.”

  “What’cha got?”

  “Can I eat that?”

  “I dunno, but taste good.”

  “Lemme have some.”

  “I found it. It’s mine.”

  “I want some too.”

  Emma turned at the pair of pigs butting heads over a rotting squash. “Hi. Will you please go back home?” She pointed at the gate.

  Kimber burst into giggles.

  Emma moved only her eyes, shifting her gaze to Kimber while continuing to point at the fence. “What?”

  “You’as makin’ noises like a pig.” Kimber giggled again. “Funny.”

  Tam grinned. “She’s animal talking.”

  Widow Poole smiled at her.

  “Too fun here.” Pig One shook its head hard. “Not going.”

  “Eeeee!” yelled Pig Two as it ran off.

  Emma walked up to a third pig rutting around some wildflowers one house south. “Hello. You need to go home before you get hurt out here.”

  “What’s that?” The pig leapt up, whirled to face her, and started sniffing at her legs. “Food?”

  “I’m not food.”

  The pig kept sniffing at her. “Not food.” It trotted to the right a few steps and sniffed at a giant horse dropping. “Food?”

  “Eww!” yelled Emma as she ran up to the animal. “Most certainly not. You should go back into your yard.”

  “Food?” It sniffed at her again. “Not food.”

  She sighed at the sky.

  A fourth pig ran by cheering.

  “Are you tellin’ ’em to go back?” asked Tam.

  “They’re not listening.” She set her hands on her hips. “They’re just running around yelling or looking for something to eat.”

  “Like Tam?” asked Kimber.

  Emma covered her mouth to stop from laughing as her little brother scowled. His angry look changed to a silly smile after a few seconds of him glowering at Kimber’s grin. Davin emerged from behind the house carrying a hammer and a small cloth sack. He ran to the gate and handed the items to Widow Poole.

  “We kin ’elp catch ’em,” said Kimber.

  “They’re not listening.” Emma folded her arms and turned her attention back to the pig in front of her. “G’won. Get back in the yard.”

  “I not in the yard,” said the pig.

  “Yes. I know you’re not.” Emma patted him on the side. “Go that way.”

  “I not in the yard.” The pig rooted at the ground, digging up a cluster of roots. “Smells like eat.”

  Tam pulled the wooden sword out of his rope belt and leaned it against the fence. He took off running when another pig trotted by. After a brief chase, he leapt upon its back and wound up riding the animal for a few seconds before it threw him off and he went sliding over the mud. When he skidded to a halt, he emitted an odd moaning noise.

  Emma gasped. “Tam?”

  The strange sound coming out of him became laughter.

  She exhaled a sigh of relief.

  Kimber tried to sneak up on a pig, which ignored her until she grabbed it. She, too, got dragged for a little ways, but managed to trip it. After the pair slid to a stop, she grunted and lifted the tiny animal. Hooves flailing, the pig squealed as she carried it back to the gate. She deposited him over the fence and jogged up behind a somewhat larger pig that kept muttering “eat?” repeatedly.

  “Come on then,” said Emma.

  She wrapped her arms around the food-obsessed pig. As soon as she attempted to lift him, he bolted. Emma held on tight, yelling, “Stop!” over and over, but the animal kept running in a frantic side-to-side swerve. Her chin bounced off its head a few times; the street, grass, fence posts, and another few pigs raced by in a blur. She kicked at the ground behind her trying to find traction, but succeeded only in causing sprays of mud.

  Emma yelled, “Stop runn―”

  The pig jammed to a halt, catapulting her forward. Emma screamed and thrust her arms out as she flew. Her mouth wide open, she landed in a gloopy patch of mud so deep she went under, and gagged at the taste of soupy dirt she nearly swallowed. Frantic for air, she pushed her fingers deeper into spongy muck, trying to right herself. Her head broke the surface of the mud puddle, which came up to her middle when she shifted to kneel. Gagging, she scooped mud off her eyes and face, spitting dirt and pebbles.

  “Yay mud!” cheered the food-obsessed pig, right before diving in next to her.

  Emma shrieked and covered her face as a brown wave fell over her.

 
She scraped mud away from her eyes for a second time and stared at the pig.

  “Mud mud mud mud mud,” said the pig, wiggling its butt as it settled itself deeper. “Mud mud mud mud.”

  Somewhere behind her, Tam’s laughter went by too fast for him to be running. A wooden crash like a stack of broomsticks going down preceded the rattle of a metal bucket and Kimber squealing with glee.

  Emma hugged the pig and tried to lift him out of the wallow, but her feet plunged deeper rather than the pig going upward. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “Mud!” cheered the pig. “Wonderful!”

  “There’s nicer mud in your yard,” said Emma, deadpan.

  “No. That mud is not same mud. This mud is soft and deep and… ahhhhh.” Its eyes half-closed as it shimmied.

  She frowned at the puddle, now up to her armpits, the consistency of pudding. “Great Uruleth, please grant me the strength of the Bear Spirit.”

  Faint green light materialized around her, fading as the roar of a distant bear seemed to come from the forest in the west. Emma grunted and pulled her legs out of the bog while keeping her arms around the pig, which continued to repeat the word “mud” over and over again in varying pitch, singing a song where every word was “mud.”

  Emma grunted and heaved, lifting the pig out of the mire. It went from singing about mud to waving its legs and screaming.

  “I’m falling up! Aaaah! Help!”

  She didn’t think much of carrying a pig almost as long as her height until Widow Poole gawked at her. Mama had said the spell she’d used, the one she gave to Da in potions, wouldn’t make her stronger than a grown man, but she might’ve been as strong as a man. Either way, not until the old woman’s reaction did she realize a slight girl her age should not have been able to carry a pig of that size.

  The Widow, jaw hanging open, pulled the gate aside.

  Emma slipped into the yard and set the pig down. “Your mud is over there.” She pointed.

  “Oh boy!” The food-obsessed pig pranced over to a wallow at the corner where another three pigs relaxed.

  “My, my, Emma…” Widow Poole fanned herself. “You’re quite full of surprises.”

  Davin carried one of the piglets back, as did Kimber―who had gotten her nice white dress filthy. Of course, neither of them came close to Emma’s level of dirty. She felt like a candied apple that had been dipped in mud, completely covered except for her eyes.

  Kimber blinked at her, then giggled.

  For the better part of the next hour, Emma, Kimber, and Tam chased errant pigs, while cheering and laughing. It turned into a game, and they spent more time sliding into mud and rolling around after missing grabs than actually catching pigs. Tam wound up on his back laughing too hard to move for a good ten minutes after a pig threw Kimber headfirst into the soupy mud like an arrow, her feet sticking straight up. Emma didn’t bother keeping the Wildkin Whisper going, since the pigs’ silly rambling only made it frustrating. By the time they’d gathered the last pig, all three of them looked like child statues made from mud.

  “That’s the last one.” Emma lowered a little pig to its feet within the yard, and walked out as Widow Poole secured the gate.

  At the sight of her siblings, Emma couldn’t help but laugh, and held them in a squidgy hug while they tried to catch their breath.

  “Why thank you, children.” Widow Poole shed a tear of joy. “That was very kind of you.”

  Tam, out of breath, managed a grin before leaning forward with his hands on his knees to breathe.

  Emma curtseyed at the old woman. “You’re welcome.”

  “Uh oh.” Kimber held her arms out and looked down at herself. “I’as got ae smudge on me dress.”

  Emma stared at her sister for a few seconds. Her fluffy red hair had matted against her head and back, the formerly colorful pink ribbons had the same shade of mud brown as everything else. The only bit of her not covered in dirt consisted of small spots around her eyes and mouth. “That’s a bit more than a smudge.”

  Kimber stuck out her tongue. “I’as know. I’as bein’ silly.”

  “We gonna get in bads?” asked Tam.

  Emma bit her lip, regretted it, and spat dirt. “I don’t think so. We were helping Widow Poole. We didn’t just jump in mud for no reason.”

  Tam collected his wooden sword, but didn’t try to put it in his belt.

  After picking up the bag Eoghn had given her to take home with a two-fingered pinch, Emma led the way back along the dirt road until it became cobblestones again, and followed it for another few cross-streets to the town square. Tam and Kimber giggled while talking about the pig chase and how fun it had been. People stared at them with a mixture of confusion and amusement. Evidently, the layer of mud made them unrecognizable, as no one said hello or waved.

  Near the western exit of the town square, Ambril yelled, “Emma? Is that you?”

  She stopped and looked to her left. “Yes?”

  The wealthy girl emerged from behind a merchant cart and approached, her dress gathered in both hands. “By the gods, what has happened to you?”

  “Widow Poole’s pigs got loose. We helped catch them.”

  Ambril covered her mouth and gasped. “You’re… covered in dirt.” She writhed. “Oh, that’s horrible! How are you not screaming?”

  “It’s earth. It’s not bad.” Emma grinned. Chasing those pigs around, while tiring, had been a lot of fun. Fun this rich girl would never know. Ambril couldn’t bear to wander Hadrath’s field picking up Firefruit; she’d never chase pigs. “It only means we need to have a bath. It’s a lot more fun than having to stay clean and perfect all the time.”

  “Aren’t your parents going to be furious at you for getting so dirty?” Ambril took a step back as if afraid the mud might spray on her.

  Tam shrugged.

  Kimber shook her head. Emma giggled. Her younger sister looked so strange without her fluffy hair swooshing around.

  “No. But your family’s different,” said Emma. “You’ve got to worry about what people think of you. About being proper and pretty and everything. What people think of me doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Oh.” Ambril glanced down, looking thoughtful. “So you… had fun getting so dirty? That sounds like a book I read where this man is all alone in the forest, hiding, swimming, and hunting fish.”

  Emma grinned. “Yes. It was tiring, but a lot of fun.”

  A genteel man in a fine black suit cleared his throat, frowning at Emma, Kimber, and Tam.

  Ambril looked over her shoulder for a second and back to Emma. “I’m sorry. I must go.”

  “Bye.” Emma waved.

  While Ambril scurried back to the well-dressed man, Emma headed toward home. Curious looks and a few laughs followed them out the western edge of the village proper, thinning to the sunny quiet of a late afternoon on the long trail between town and home. A little while later, their house came into view as the road curved up and over a small hill. Mama stood on the porch with the broom, whistling to herself as she swept.

  Oh, no. Why is she sweeping? I’m supposed to do that. Emma walked faster, almost at a jog.

  Mama looked up for a second, pushed the broom once, and snapped her head up to stare. “Children? By Ralithir’s feathers… what’s happened to you?”

  Since she seemed more surprised than angry, Emma held up the bag. “Mr. Cooper sent this to you. He says thank you for the spices.”

  Mama took the bag, folded her arms, and tapped her foot.

  “He asked me to take some food to Widow Poole. We went there and all her pigs had gotten out. We helped her catch them.”

  “Oh.” Mama’s lips twitched as if fighting hard not to smile. “I don’t think you could’ve gotten filthier if you’d jumped into the mud on purpose.” She leaned the broom against the railing. “Go around back. The three of you aren’t setting foot inside the house until you’re no longer head to toe in mud. Wait by the pump. I’ll be right there.”

  “Yes
, Mama,” said Emma.

  Mama went in the front door with Eoghn’s bag while Emma wandered around the house to the backyard and headed for the water pump. Tam left his sword on the porch before running to catch up. Assuming what Mama would soon instruct, Emma grabbed the handle and started filling the bucket.

  A bare wood scaffold formed a rough outline of the space Da had decided to add to the house to the left of the back porch. The small hallway that led from the main room to Nan’s bedroom would be extended past the kids’ new room to end at the door to a new bedchamber for Mama and Da. The workmen were nowhere to be seen, likely off having lunch.

  The back door opened, and Mama carried the bathtub outside, setting it on the ground a short distance from the porch steps. Tam peeled off his tunic and shoved his breeches to the ground, his middle stark pale against the dark mud covering most of his arms, legs, and head. He stuck his face into the pump flow, prompting Emma to pick up the bucket and dump it over him.

  Tam shrieked with glee and shivered where he stood.

  Mama approached and took over pumping. Emma pulled her dress off and held it out to examine. Mud everywhere. She sighed and swatted at it. Mud, both wet and dried parts, fell off in patches, leaving it clean underneath.

  What? She blinked. On sudden inspiration, she snapped the dress like a towel, and an explosion of dirt filled the air. When the dust cloud fell to the grass, Emma gasped.

  The dress looked spotless.

  “Wow,” said Kimber.

  “Mama?” Emma looked back at her mother, who carried two buckets of water to the tub. “Did Nan put magic in this dress?”

  “What do you think?” Mama winked.

  Emma grinned.

  “You still need a bath, Em. Your dress might be clean, but you are still quite the opposite.”

  Emma showed off her dirt-covered body; she may as well not have even had the dress on since mud got all over her.

  Kimber took her dress off and snapped it as well, but the garment remained a damp, muddy mess. She frowned.

  “Nan will make you one too.” Emma put an arm around Kimber.

  “Oh, will I now?” Nan walked onto the porch with a cauldron of steaming water, which she tipped into the tub.