Emma and the Silverbell Faeries

by Matthew S. Cox

  “What did this?”

  Neema bowed her head. “Attacked by bear. Faerie magic to protect. Hurt animal.” She scrunched up her face in thought for a few seconds before she raised her arms and wiggled her fingers. “Fighting magic. Like wizard. Why is Emma we helping need. Silverbells arcane magic. Meadow Faeries magic have like Emma, but far away live, and games play more than help. Act like child do more than Emma they.”

  “A… faerie did this?” Emma stared at the damage to the tree. For all their cuteness, perhaps these small people were dangerous―or able to protect her.

  “Yes. Pimlin maybe or Imril. Oldest being they are. Magic hit angry bear, out other side go it and burn tree.”

  Emma’s heart sank. “They killed the bear?”

  “No,” said Neema in a half-whisper while shaking her head. “Angrier it get. Chased into woods, hill down it fell. Take long to climb out, fled so we.”

  “A faerie threw magic at this bear, and the magic went in one side and out the other.” Emma gestured as if a bolt struck her back and emerged from her front. “Came out and hit the tree… and the bear was still alive?”

  Neema nodded.

  A hint of fear made Emma shiver. She squatted and looked around for signs of blood, but aside from the burn mark and a few more like it, found nothing. Maybe it’s like the way a ghost walks through walls. The image in her mind changed from a bloody mess to a streak of light that didn’t leave a mark on the bear.

  What am I doing? She walked a little more, stepping around roots and bright red flowers she didn’t recognize, and didn’t trust to touch. Nymira is right. I’m a little girl. What can I do? Emma folded her arms and tried not to think about the disappointed look that would take over Mama’s face when she found out Emma had gone off on her own again. The last time, she’d almost gotten her mother killed. She let out a silent sigh. The faeries don’t want to bring Mama here. Is she too big for this place? Oh, what would Mama do if she were here?

  She crouched again, looking for tracks of any kind. “Do the animals always attack from the same direction?”

  Neema pointed into the distance, past the grove. “From there.”

  “How do they attack?” Emma stood and walked where the faerie pointed, keeping her gaze on the ground and trees, searching for clues.

  “Claws or biting,” said Neema.

  Emma stopped, and hung her head. “No… I mean… do they hide and jump out at you? Do they rush out in the open? Many at once?”

  “Oh. Being I sorry am. Changes for animal. Runs in roaring the bear. Sneaking foxes from the dark. Dropping from trees the snakes.”

  Snakes? Emma froze statue still. After a second, she edged her head backward until she could peer up into the branches above. “There’s snakes?”

  “Yes. Were three. Pimlin, Raa, and Fila…” Neema hesitated, and whispered, “killed them.”

  “Oh.” Emma frowned.

  “Scared so much, too much magic used.” Neema shook her head. “Burst to itty bitties the snakes.”

  Emma shivered. A few steps later, she spotted a track. She squatted and studied what appeared to be a wolf print about the size of her palm. A series of burn marks on the ground nearby made her think the faeries tried to scare it off rather than hurt it. This is too much for me. She glanced off to her right at the Elder Grove, too far away for comfort. I should’ve listened to Mama.

  “Eated Glyn this wolf.” Neema sniffled, sparkling luminous tears rolled from her sapphire eyes.

  “What?” whispered Emma. “I’m sorry if I don’t understand you.”

  “Faerie. Glyn. He was Neema friend.” She reached up and grasped her right wing. “Bite on wing, rip. Glyn magic go back to forest magic.” The little woman bowed her head and sobbed into her hands.

  Emma scooped Neema off her shoulder and cradled her like a beloved doll. “I’m so sorry.” She tried to pat her on the back soft enough not to hurt. I want to help, but… what can I do?

  “Chased away the wolf.” Neema wiped her eyes, but couldn’t stop crying. “Wanted not to kill did Glyn, so did what he wanted the others.”

  Her throat tight with a lump, Emma found herself on the verge of tears as well. How full of love for animals must these faeries be that they would try not to kill a wolf who had just murdered one of their own? Neema’s sadness radiated from her, as contagious as a yawn. She wandered forward, lost in a swirl of sorrow, worry, and fear.

  Snap.

  Emma stopped and spun around, sweeping her gaze over the forest. “What was that?”

  Neema glided out of her hands, floating up to hover at the level of a man’s head. She scanned the woods in a slow turn for a few seconds before leaning forward to squint. Another loud snap came from the direction Neema faced. Emma stared into the trees. In seconds, she spotted a moving shadow.

  “There’s something over there.” Emma edged to her left, taking cover behind a tree.

  She peered around the side, watching the forest where the darkness had moved. A sudden chill ran down her back, numbing her fingers. She shivered, clinging tighter to the tree. For no reason she could understand, she knew something bad approached. A similar kind of malice to the Banderwigh’s presence drew near, but it didn’t have the same evil feeling. More an unnatural power… like magic.

  “Something’s com―”

  An immense reddish-brown bear trundled into view, emerging from a dense wall of branches that cracked and snapped out of his way. On all fours, he would’ve been eye to glowing red eye with a warhorse had there been one nearby. The size of his head, Emma could’ve crawled into his mouth and been swallowed whole. She sucked in a gasp, but forced herself not to make a sound.

  The bear, evidently hearing her sharp intake of breath, stared straight at her.

  Emma screamed.

  Red light within his eyes grew brighter. He faced her and let off a roar that shook leaves from the trees and echoed far into the woods. Tendrils of drool waved from fangs bigger than daggers, fluttering in the windblast of his bellow. Emma dove onto the nearest branch, pulling herself up as fast as she could move her arms and legs. Branch after branch, she climbed, refusing to look down.

  After an eternity, the tree shuddered from the force of an impact. Emma’s feet slipped off the next branch she stepped on, and for a second, she dangled by her hands. Two pastel-blue squirrel-like creatures fell past her, tumbling from higher up. They thrust their arms and legs out and glided on membranes, sailing to another nearby tree where they clung, chittering angrily at the bear. Wailing in fright, she kicked out and got her foot on another branch, shifted her weight, and pulled herself up.

  The bear roared again.

  Emma wrapped her arms and legs around a branch and held on, not a second before the monstrous creature slammed himself into the tree again. After screaming her lungs empty for the second time, she risked a peek toward the ground. The bear stood on his hind legs, claws falling short of reaching her by a good ways. From her perch, Emma had a great view straight down a terrifyingly large throat.

  Neema floated a few inches above her head. Though she seemed to be speaking, only a faint high-pitched warble reached Emma’s ability to think and understand.

  The bear raked his claws into the wood, growling. He leaned up tall, then let his weight crash against the tree, trying to knock Emma from her perch. Far weaker than the creature’s initial charge, the effort merely caused the great tree to sway a little. Given it had a trunk half again as big around as an outhouse, that the bear had moved it at all terrified her. Enraged, the creature gouged his shortsword-sized claws down the wood, peeling curly strands of bark away and lofting the strong smell of sap.

  Mama! Nan! Da!

  Emma screamed for help in her mind, too terrified to open her mouth.

  “Emma!” yelled the faerie. She tugged on Emma’s ear. “Try to talk to him!”

  She wailed in terror. The bear continued assaulting the tree, but the great plant stood firm. A moment later, she stopped crying.
Another moment later, she managed to get her breathing under control. Her first attempt to speak came out as a squeak.

  Neema landed on her back. A strange tingle swept over her from head to toe. “There. Falling won’t for you a little. Nothing weigh, but Neema touching have to stay.”

  Emma gradually relaxed her death grip on the branch. A light push upward caused her to float like a bubble. The utter oddity of that stole away the last of her fear. After a few rapid breaths, she found her voice. “Strixian, please grant me the Wildkin Whisper.”

  The orbs of light appeared as always, but larger and brighter than she’d grown accustomed to. They swirled around and sank into her body. She pushed herself upright and sat on the branch, watching the bear continue to attack the tree. With her magic cast, she understood him to be muttering, “kill” over and over.

  “Mr. Bear?” asked Emma. “Why are you angry?”

  “Hurt… need to kill… need to hurt.” The bear shredded more wood from the trunk.

  “Bear?” yelled Emma.

  He stopped ravaging the tree, and raised his massive head to stare at her. “Want. Hurt. Yummy.” He roared at her in anger.

  “Bear, why are you so angry?”

  The bear swatted at the tree with somewhat less energy, but continued to snarl and growl at her.

  Nymira said something is making them angry… and they shouldn’t be. Emma held her hands to her mouth so she could yell louder. “Bear, what is making you angry? Why do you want to hurt everything?”

  He continued snarling and clawing at the tree.

  “Slowed the bear. Speaking are you to him?” Neema smiled.

  “I think so… he’s confused. Really angry and doesn’t know why.” Emma rubbed her chin before raising her voice. “Bear. Stop being angry. Stop trying to hurt me.”

  He again gazed up at her, drooling. “Can not reach. Mmm. Tasty morsel. I must claw and bite and feed.”

  “You don’t have to,” said Emma.

  The bear grunted and resumed raking at the wood.

  Emma tapped her foot on air. He’s angry but doesn’t understand… She blinked. “Oh, I hope this works.”

  “What?” asked Neema.

  “Nan says that a druid’s magic is mostly asking the spirits for help… not like wizards who learn patterns and have to say the exact right words. Please don’t let me fall.”

  “Won’t.” Neema grabbed the back of her dress behind her neck.

  Emma leaned forward enough to extend both arms toward the ravening bear. “Great Strixian, please grant this bear some of your wisdom. Allow him to understand that he does not need to be angry for no reason.” She stared into the bear’s eyes, focusing on her desire for him to break free from whatever magic drove him to anger.

  Three thin wisps of green threaded away from each of her outstretched hands, creeping vines made of light rushing downward. They twined around each other, elongating toward the bear below. The animal paused to stare at them as if mesmerized. Her glowing vines spread wider when they reached him, cradling his head like a mother’s hands caressing an infant’s cheeks.

  Something tugged at her from within, and a modest sense of tiredness came over her. The crimson glow flickered and faded, the bear’s eyes returning to the normal black orbs a bear of enormous proportions ought to have.

  “Worked did it?” asked Neema at a whisper.

  Emma braced her left hand on the trunk for balance, feeling lightheaded. “I don’t know… Strixian did something. It made me tired.”

  The bear dropped down to all fours and shook his head as dizzy as if he’d just sneezed a dozen times.

  “Bear?” asked Emma. “Can you hear me?”

  “What?” He lifted his head to peer at her. “I am not ‘Bear.’ I am Mawr.”

  Emma whispered past the back of her hand to Neema, “He sounds smarter.”

  The faerie nodded with a big grin.

  “Why are you up there?” asked Mawr.

  “Because I don’t want to be eaten,” said Emma.

  Mawr tilted his great head to the side. “What would eat you?”

  Emma blinked. “Umm. You were just trying to eat me.”

  “Oh, I think not.” Mawr scoffed.

  “Look at the tree.” She held her right hand out in a claw-like pose. “I didn’t do that.”

  Mawr sniffed at the damaged bark. “Oh… perhaps I…” He looked left and right before standing again on his hind legs and scratching his head. “How did I get here?”

  “From over there.” Emma pointed. “You saw me and wanted to eat me.”

  “I…”―Mawr let his weight pull him down; he landed on his forelegs with a heavy thud that startled birds from their branches―”remember being so angry.”

  Emma swung her feet back and forth. “Are you still angry?”

  “I am confused,” said Mawr, sounding tired. “Something affected my thoughts. Twisted them.”

  “Saying what is he?” asked Neema. “Hear I all growling is.”

  Emma eyed the forest floor. Being more than three stories off the ground would’ve frightened her if not for still feeling weightless. “Do you still want to hurt me?”

  Mawr’s large eyes widened with regret. “No… little one. Please forgive me. The rage within my heart was not my own. The faeries…”

  “The faeries made you angry?” Emma squinted. “But they’re so… innocent.”

  “No.” Mawr swung his head side to side. “I wanted to hurt the faeries, but I do not know why. I… believe I did hurt them. Memories of falling.”

  Emma glanced at Neema, whispering, “Is that the same bear Pimlin zapped?”

  The faerie shrugged. “Same the looks, but bears are bears.”

  “Are all the bears here that big?” Emma blinked.

  Neema shook her head.

  “If I climb down, will you promise not to hurt me?”

  Mawr stood on two legs, and bowed. “I will not hurt you, tiny human. Forgive me for frightening you. I will”―he glanced toward the Elder Grove―”I must… help. Atone.”

  Emma stared at the bear. The strange aura that had surrounded him before no longer radiated. Aside from the enormity of his presence, he didn’t feel like anything more unusual than a bear. The Wildkin Whisper wears off after a time, but I don’t think Strixian gave Mawr a gift like that… I think he got rid of something bad. The bear isn’t gonna get mean again when my magic stops. She likened what Strixian did for Mawr to healing an injury instead of bestowing a temporary enchantment.

  After a few quick breaths to prepare herself, Emma tried to climb down. She stuck her leg out and stared past her stretching toes at the branch not getting any closer. With Neema’s magic making her weigh nothing, she hung in place. This is so strange. She grabbed the branch she’d been perching on and shoved herself down, sinking like a soap bubble. As soon as her toes made contact with the branch nearest the forest floor, Neema drifted off her shoulder. The instant the faerie no longer touched her, Emma’s weight returned to normal. The branch bowed and wobbled.

  Emma let out a cry of surprise and lost her balance. She landed draped over the branch like a towel for a second before it bobbed up, tossing her into the air. She fell a few feet and landed flat on her back in a cushion of forest mulch. Somewhere overhead, Neema giggled.

  “Funny.” Emma sat up out of the pile of leaves and moss, then huffed a scrap of leaf from her lip. Sprawled on her butt only a short distance in front of Mawr, he seemed the size of a house. Her breath caught in her throat.

  Mawr leaned close and sniffed her with a nose wider than her face, making her hair blow back. “You are smaller than I thought. Human, yes? Not faerie.”

  Emma managed a cheesy smile. “Yes. I’m Emma.”

  “What is an Emma? I have never heard of such creatures.”

  “I am Emma. That is my name like yours is Mawr. I am a human, but a child… uhh, cub.”

  “Are you trapped here too?”

  She pulled her legs in and sh
ifted her weight onto her feet, standing in a gradual motion she hoped wouldn’t spook him. “Trapped? No, I came to help the faeries. Why would you think I was trapped?”

  “I…” Mawr leaned back to sit. His rear end hit the ground with the force of a tiny earthquake. Emma waved her arms to keep from falling. “Something about humans and trapped. I do not remember.”

  She peered at the faerie. “Mawr asked if I am trapped here? Am I?”

  Neema landed on Emma’s left shoulder. “Trap Faerie Realm can humans if careless are. Neema making sure stuck are you not. Being afraid no need.”

  Emma peered at the little woman on her shoulder. “Can I do something wrong and wind up trapped here?”

  The faerie nodded.

  “What shouldn’t I do?”

  Neema smiled. “Would you nothing anyway. Being nice too much.”

  “That makes no sense,” muttered Emma. “Please, don’t play games. I have to go home when the faeries are safe. I don’t think this will take a few minutes… it’s already been hours.”

  “Worries have you shouldn’t.” Neema grinned. “Stuck becoming you if killing me you do… angry making Queen Nymira or.”

  Emma gasped. “I wouldn’t hurt you!”

  “Yes. Stuck becoming here why not you will.” Neema hugged her.

  “She is a child,” said Mawr.

  Neema peered at the bear, head tilted.

  “He said I’m a child.”

  “Yes.” Neema nodded.

  Mawr offered Emma a paw almost the size of the table back home. “You have banished the strange urges from my thoughts. I will protect you while you remain here. So I vow.”

  She grasped one claw, and they shook, hand to paw.

  “Do you know where the other animals are coming from?” asked Emma.

  Mawr bowed his head. “I do not remember much but being angry. This place does not feel familiar.”

  “Maybe we can find tracks.”