Emma and the Silverbell Faeries

by Matthew S. Cox

  Emma folded her arms. “How many conjurers are there in the Faerie Realm?”

  “Only me. I suppose that makes me the only conjurer here.” His eyes sparkled with sudden glee. “I am The Conjurer of the Faerie Realm!”

  She pursed her lips, stared down, and flexed her toes twice, letting irritation fade before opening her mouth. “Then I am here to see you.”

  He raked his hands through his beard, attempting (without success) to set it to order. “I have not had guests in some time.” He whirled to face the house and yelled, “We have a guest!”

  A chorus of voices rang out from inside:

  “Fresh the floors.”

  “Corral the clutter.”

  “Tidy the table.”

  “Wipe the windows.”

  “Tip the tea.”

  “Drat the dust,” moaned a voice like an old woman. “I shall never finish.”

  The man took a step in. Emma leaned forward to peer into the house, staring open-mouthed at brooms, rags, chairs, and plates flying around on their own. All the whispering came from objects rushing to clean up the most slovenly, messy, disorganized place she had ever seen. A disembodied pair of white gloves floated around, plucking clothing from the floor, while a feather duster zipped back and forth as if it couldn’t decide where to start. Two rags flitted about the furniture in a rush to wipe everything, and a broom worked itself about in front of a stove that grabbed wood from a nearby shelf and gobbled it up. The oven door slammed after three logs went in, the eye-shaped holes in the door made to resemble a pudgy human-like face glowing with fire. Its arms that it had been using to grab wood folded up into handles.

  Emma crept inside, blinking at the chaos.

  “Comb!” shouted the man.

  A hairbrush flew out of a drawer and attacked his unruly mane. With it still working, he faced her again with a smile. “Hello, child. Forgive the mess. It has been some time since I’ve had visitors.”

  Emma let off a yelp as a chair galloped over and swept her up before carrying her to the table. She grabbed the sides of the seat, holding on tight in case it moved again. A plate sailed over and landed in front of her, a teacup and saucer close behind.

  He cleared his throat and adopted a formal posture. “Greetings, young lass. I am Danithar, conjurer of no small talent.”

  “You made all of these things alive?”

  A teapot with four stubby legs galloped from one end of the table to hers, skidding to a halt hard enough to upend itself and pour steaming tea into her cup, which rattled and whispered, “Ow, ow, ow, ow. Oooooh, that’s warm.”

  Emma leaned back, staring wide-eyed at the cup, somewhat horrified.

  Danithar smiled. “Of course. How many other conjurers do you think dwell in this silly place?”

  “Not a moment ago, you said you were the only one here. Have you forgotten?” She blinked at him.

  “Forgotten? No, I quite remember that I am a conjurer.” He moved to the table and started to sit on nothing, but a chair rushed under him before he fell. “How have you come to be here?”

  “Someone asked me for help.” She paused, staring at a towel flying over like a stork with a baby. It dropped a freshly baked potpie on the plate in front of her.

  The plate vibrated. “Alas… that’s hot.”

  “Thank you for giving me food.” She picked up the fork.

  “Of course, child. What are you, nine? Why are you out here alone?”

  Her worry lessened. The man seemed friendlier than she’d expected. “I’m ten, but you are right. I shouldn’t be alone… A friend asked me to help her. Some of your magic animals are hurting people.”

  “I don’t think so.” Danithar tapped a finger to his chin. “There are no people here to hurt aside from yourself and me.”

  The teapot trotted over to fill the conjurer’s cup, which hissed and gasped.

  She took a bite of the potpie, and winced. “Mmm! It’s hot!”

  “Told you,” said the plate, sounding self-satisfied. “Be glad it’s not sitting in your lap.”

  “Let it rest a moment.” Danithar offered a grandfatherly smile. “Tell me… what makes you think my creations are causing harm?”

  “The Silverbell Faeries asked me to help them because strange animals were trying to kill them. They knew I could talk to the animals and hoped I could find out what had made them so angry, but the animals wouldn’t talk.”

  “A druid?” He blinked. “You?”

  “I said that not a moment ago as well.” Emma blew on a forkful of potpie. “I’m learning. Maybe I’m not a full druid yet.”

  “Ahh, grand. An apprentice! Pity you are trapped in this place, but at least we do not have to be alone.”

  “What about the faeries?” Emma tested the food with her tongue. Satisfied at the temperature, she ate.

  He waved her off. “Bah. Winged rats is all they are. Pests and vermin.”

  Faint grumbling came from a little behind her.

  “The Silverbells are really sweet and nice. Why would your creations want to harm them?”

  “Thieving rats!” he shouted. His eyes flared with a frightening anger, making her cower. The fear radiating from her seemed to surprise him, and he quieted. “Forgive me, child. I mean you no harm. Those horrible little sprites are a plague on this forest and ought to be wiped out.”

  A sniffle emanated from closer to her ear.

  Emma gasped. “Why? They’re people… just small. They didn’t even want to kill your creations after some of the faeries had died, because they hate hurting animals.”

  Danithar folded his arms and grumbled. “I bet they’ve charmed you into believing them. Oh, how did that go…?” He muttered nonsense words to himself.

  Emma ate a few more forkfuls of the chicken potpie after blowing on them a little, while watching him talk to himself.

  “Aha!” He raised his hands and muttered, “Ano mar dor vrakkun, inar orun keth.”

  Weak white energy flew from his hand, wrapped around her head, and dissipated.

  Emma froze, her toes curled in alarm. Nothing felt different. “W-what did you do to me?”

  Danithar smiled. “A curse removal spell. Do you still think of the faeries as friendly?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, and raised another forkful of potpie to her mouth.

  “Hmm. I suppose that’s why I didn’t feel the energy break.”

  “I’m not under a curse.” Emma took two more forkfuls. “This is quite good. Thank you again. It’s been days since I’ve had real food.”

  Neema let off a mildly offended “Hmmph!”

  “I mean human food,” said Emma.

  “Is food not real. Conjuration is,” whispered Neema. “Eating as same. Worry not do.”

  “You’re welcome, child.” He glanced around. “I suppose I can add a loft or something for you. Whip up a bed in an hour or so.”

  Emma bit her lip. “I’m not an orphan, sir. I did not come here hoping you would take me in. My family is waiting for me to come home, and the sooner you change your mind and stop trying to hurt the faeries, the sooner I can go home.”

  “If you’ve got a family… what are you doing here? Those faeries stole you, didn’t they? Just like they stole from me.”

  The hairbrush stopped grooming him and flew back to its drawer, landing in a pile of random junk.

  “A faerie brought me through a ring, because they needed help. They’re frightened of those magic animals. Can you please stop them from attacking the faeries?”

  “Why should I?” He set his fists on his hips. “Thieving winged rats they are.”

  “What did they steal from you?” asked Emma, nibbling on a bit of crust.

  Danithar waved his hand about. “A rare, rare crystal from the plane of Aether. That’s where the energy for magic comes from. Auracite… it’s quite difficult to obtain because it only exists in an alternate plane, you see. Only learned mages can hop between planes. It takes a lot of reagents, powders, power, time,
effort…” He sighed.

  “Auracite,” muttered Emma.

  “It’s quite rare.” He smiled. Something at the window in the back of the room caught his eye, and he stared at it.

  She bit off another hunk of crust, chewed, and swallowed. “You mentioned that.”

  Danithar snapped his head around to look at her. “From the plane of Aether.”

  That too. She overdid a smile. “Wow.”

  “Auracite is a crystal that is essentially solidified magical energy. It can be used as a focal point for powerful spells.” He gazed upward, raising his hand. After a second, he dropped his arm in his lap and grinned at her. “It’s also rather pretty.”

  “I don’t think…” Don’t call him wrong. He might get angry. “I mean, if I get your Aurcite back from―”

  “Auracite.”

  “Sorry. If I get your―”

  Danithar wagged his eyebrows. “It’s pronounced Aur-a-cite.”

  “Yes, I―”

  “Would you please say it properly?”

  Emma forced herself to keep a polite face. “Auracite.”

  Danithar bowed his head at her. “Thank you.”

  She sighed in silence. “If I get it back from the faeries, will you please stop trying to hurt them?”

  His expression melted into one of worry. “Oh, child. You shouldn’t go near faeries. They will keep you prisoner forever, like a pet.” A blue flash at the window got him staring again. “You know the blue-feathered hookbeak only lays eggs once every nine years? And only two at a time. They mate for life by the way.” He grinned. “A pair of those birds become so close, that if something happens to one, the others have been known to become so sad, they drop dead.”

  “That’s… umm wow…” She set the fork down on the plate next to the empty dish. “Sir, I don’t think you’ve seen the truth in the faeries. They’re sweet and innocent.”

  He continued smiling at the window. “Poor girl. They’ve charmed you and I can’t stop it. If you’re so foolish as to run off to them, I suppose the world would be better off with one less unintelligent person in it.” Danithar gave her a sad stare for a moment before glowering at the floor. “Damnable faeries. Winged rats.” He startled and gasped downward. “Why is the floor in here brown?”

  Emma peered down. “It’s made of wood.”

  “The house is wood, and it’s burgundy.”

  “Painted,” said Emma.

  He nodded. “Oh, yes… I suppose you have a point.”

  “Sir, I’ve already been to the faerie’s home. They aren’t keeping me. They have asked for my help and promised to send me home when I am finished or if I can’t help. Please consider it?”

  He stroked his beard. “I don’t know.”

  “You think the faeries want to trap me, but if I go to them and come back here… that will prove they don’t want to keep me forever, wouldn’t it?”

  Danithar blinked. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

  “So if I come back with your crystal will―”

  “What kind of crystal?”

  “The magic one.”

  His right eyebrow climbed. “What’s its name?”

  “Auracite,” said Emma, in a flat tone.

  He clapped and grinned. “Forgive me. I adore the sound of that word.”

  Nutters. “It’s pretty.”

  “So is the gem. Milky white with striations of pink, purple, and blue. It emits a little light as well and tingles if you touch it.” He held up his finger, staring at the tip. “I miss it. Of course, if you have no magic, it doesn’t tingle much, but if you’re a druid, maybe it would tingle for you.”

  “Mythandriel, please lend me some of your light.” Emma cupped her hands and summoned a glowing orb.

  The intense light sent long shadows crawling over the interior of the house. “Oohs” and “Ahhs” emanated from most of the furniture, plates, and animated tools. A curious broom handle peered out from behind a curtain.

  “Pretty.” Danithar stared at it.

  Mama, this man has lost his mind. “If I get your Auracite back from the faeries, will you tell your creations to leave them in peace?”

  Danithar bowed his head. “A pity you wish to leave. I fear you shall not return. The land is not safe for a child your age.”

  “I traveled from the Elder Grove to your house… and I’m not alone. I have friends waiting for me outside.”

  He squinted at her. “Did you bring a faerie to my home?”

  Emma took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slow. “A faerie is following me to keep me safe. I know you don’t like faeries, so I asked her to wait outside.”

  “Hmm.” He raised and lowered his eyebrows back and forth for a moment. “Very well. If you manage to steal back my Auracite from those faeries, I will agree to leave them be.”

  “Please stop sending magic animals to attack the faeries until I come back.” Emma stood and walked over to him, arm extended. “Deal?”

  After a suspicious squint, he took her hand and they shook. “I accept your terms. But, if you are not back in a month, I shall take revenge upon them for whatever they have done to you.”

  Emma forced a smile. “I won’t be that long. Thank you for the food and for your hospitality.” She curtseyed. “I shall come back as fast as I am able.”

  Danithar sprang from his seat and hurried to a cabinet. He took a sack of muffins, two loaves of bread, and a handful of salted meat out. He mumbled something inaudible and a child-sized backpack appeared in his hand, into which he stuffed the provisions. “I am being foolish allowing you to go out there, but you seem convinced.”

  Emma took the pack. “Thank you. The faeries are nice.”

  “Hmmph.” He put his fists on his hips. “I shall hope you are…” He gazed at the window, and all the annoyance in his expression faded to the wonder of a small boy. “Scarlet-tailed frostbelly… I haven’t seen one of those in decades.”

  Emma edged backward. “I’ll let myself out. Thanks.”

  Danithar scurried to the window, and proceeded to make bird noises while Emma headed for the door.

  She peered over her shoulder at him, whistled, and hurried outside to where Mawr waited.

  “Aurcite floorcite!” shouted Neema.

  Danithar wailed as if he’d been stabbed with a knife. “Who said that wrong?”

  Emma gasped, giggling despite it being a poor idea to antagonize the man. Neema, still invisible, flew into Emma’s back hard enough to knock her forward a step, and pushed her up to a jog in the direction of the bear. Leaving Danithar shouting demands to “say it right,” Emma hurried over out of the yard and into the woods. She scrambled up to sit on Mawr’s back. Neema appeared in a flash of silvery-white light, and flounced down in her lap, fuming.

  “Believe can’t I mean says things he did!” She glowered. “Talking why like about us that did he?”

  Emma reached to pat her on the head, but stopped. She’s not a pet rat. “I don’t know. He seems nutters.”

  “Oooh!” Neema balled her hands into fists. “Stop to if not didn’t I want attacks, I tricks playing years for on him!”

  Kes appeared from behind a tree and trotted over. Emma grinned at him as he bowed to her. He leapt up to sit behind her.

  “What then, Emma?” asked Mawr.

  “Please take us back to the grove.” She leaned forward and patted him.

  As the great bear rose to his feet and got underway, Emma stared down, filled with worry and sorrow. This is going to take forever. I’ll never get home. And what if the queen won’t give me the crystal? It seemed a poor idea to even ask about it. If she did, the faeries would think she accused them of stealing. There had to be a way to ask without asking. If nothing else, she had a few days’ time to think of something before they arrived.

  or the first four hours of the journey back to the Elder Grove, Neema fumed and ranted about what a rude, obstinate, smelly, ugly, wrinkly, disorganized, stupid, ungrateful, disheveled, nasty old man Da
nithar was. It helped her mood when Emma clarified by ‘real’ food she had meant the faerie cakes tasted so wonderful they reminded her of treats and desserts more than vegetables or meat. The faerie’s anger had mostly faded by the time they stopped to sleep for the night.

  Kes sat next to Emma, both of them leaning against Mawr, and asked her to tell him about her home.

  She got a little weepy while describing Widowswood to him, and all the people she knew there. He held her hand and kept smiling at her, which stopped her from breaking into crying. Soon, her rambling about home trailed off to a half-awake mumble, and the next thing she knew, morning had arrived.

  Mawr carried them back across Darbolg. Emma stayed low on his back the whole time, wary of more snakes. Neema crawled down the neck of her dress to hide from wasps, which she feared would mistake her for a lightmoth. Kes spent most of the second day playing his flute. When they stopped to sleep again, he perched at the base of a tree, crossed his legs, and played a low, haunting melody.

  “What are you doing?” asked Emma.

  He stopped, grinning. “My song tricks creatures and harmful things so they stumble right on by without noticing us.”

  “How could they not notice music?” Emma laughed. “You’re making more noise than we would sleeping.”

  He winked. “It’s magic.” And with that, he resumed playing.

  Emma shrugged and cuddled against the bear. Tomorrow, they would reach the terrifying bridge, but she would insist they allow Neema to ferry them across, weightless, one at a time. If Kes tried to run again, she’d wrap him in a ball of roots. The music lulled her into a daze, and soon, a fitful sleep. She dreamed of exploding chickens, giant floating bears, and rainbow-colored screaming goats.

  Three days after leaving the conjurer’s house, they arrived back at the Elder Grove. While Mawr headed for the patch of moss he used for a bed, Emma plucked Neema from her shoulder, holding her up like a doll.

  “Will you please ask the faeries to bring him food and water? He’s been so great to us. He needs our thanks.”

  “Do will yes.” Neema nodded and zipped off.