Emma and the Silverbell Faeries

by Matthew S. Cox

  Is that Mythandriel?

  Emma gulped. It felt wrong for her to be in the elves’ sacred place. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She expected someone to show up out of nowhere and scream at her for daring to enter.

  “You’re shaking,” whispered Kes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I…” She looked up at the huge elven statues, terrified one of them might come to life and glare at her. “Feel like I’m doing something wrong. Like I’m going to get in a lot of trouble for being in here.”

  “You don’t usually do mischief, do you?” He grinned.

  “No.” Emma shook her head.

  “Well, you’re not here to do anything bad. You’re trying to help a sick old man.”

  She breathed in her mouth and out her nose. “Yes.”

  Emma shrugged her backpack off and took out the glass bottle Nymira had given her. She left the pack on the floor by Kes and approached the pool of glowing water, careful not to step on any of the ancient cushions on her way across the room.

  Nymira told me to ask… It’s wrong to steal, but there’s no one here.

  She stopped at the pool and gazed up at the huge statue, unable to see its face past the body. After a moment of thought, she knelt, set the bottle on the stone in front of her knees, and bowed her head.

  “Lady Mythandriel, I have come here seeking a way to heal the thoughts of an old man. He wants to hurt the faeries because he believes they stole something from him, but they did not take the stone he prizes. Please show me a sign if I am allowed to collect some of your magical water.”

  Emma closed her eyes, opening her thoughts the way she’d done when trying to reach out to Ylithir. Minutes passed in silence with no spectral wolf or elf appearing inside her daydreams. She repeated her plea, and continued her effort to touch the spirits, concentrating on the image of the light orb, the way the inner core of it, darker green, resembled like a tiny faerie.

  Kes gasped.

  Emma opened her eyes a split second before something cold and metal touched the ridge of her jaw. She froze, shifting her gaze to the left. A woman’s bare foot appeared at the limit of where she could see without turning her head. The sharp edge of a blade tickled at her neck.

  “Eee!” shouted Neema.

  “Human,” said a melodic voice. “I should slay you for trespassing here, but since you are a child, I will allow you to return the way you came. Your kind has no business here.”

  The blade retreated from her throat.

  Emma gulped. After two breaths and a hand to the chest to make sure her heart hadn’t stopped, she peered up.

  A stunningly beautiful woman with long lemon-yellow hair, pale skin, and eyes like dark emeralds stood over her. Leaves of brown, burgundy, and green clung to her skin in the shape of an airy robe that left most of her stomach bare. The delicate silver longsword she held seemed too thin to be a real weapon, but the edge had not felt fake when touched to her neck. Smaller than Mama, the top of her head might’ve come up only to her mother’s chin.

  Emma bowed deep. “A-are you Mythandriel?”

  The woman chuckled. “No, child. My name is Lorandrien. I was chosen to guard this temple when my people embarked upon the great crossing. I am timeless, but I am bound to her shrine. You needn’t bow to me.”

  Emma sat back on her heels. “Do you know Queen Nymira of the Silverbell Faeries?”

  “I do,” said Lorandrien.

  Neema glided over and chattered away in faerie. Lorandrien replied in the same language, albeit slower, and smiled.

  “She has sent me here to ask for some of the lifespring water. The faeries are in danger. A conjurer has gone nutters and believes they stole a gem from him, so he is summoning false animals to harm them.” Emma paused to catch her breath. “Queen Nymira believes this water can restore his mind and stop him from killing all the faeries.”

  Lorandrien’s weapon glowed until it became a sword-shaped outline of light and faded away. “You do not seek this water for your own use?”

  “No.” Emma shook her head. “I don’t want to drink it. It’s not for me. I only ask for it so the faeries can be safe.”

  Neema blurted a few words, pointing emphatically at Emma while flashing the same pleading face that convinced Emma to follow her to the faerie circle in the first place.

  The Astari guardian took a knee and brushed a hand over Emma’s head. “You are so small, yet your heart is so large. Spirits speak of humans, but seldom of anything other than greed and desire for power.” She smiled. “I do not sense these traits within you.”

  Emma bowed her head. “I’m sorry for trespassing here. Nan has taught me a little of Mythandriel’s light, and my Mama calls upon her often. I am not like most of my kind. This is her temple and it is an honor that you have let me visit.”

  Lorandrien took the glass bottle and dipped it into the pool. After filling it, she closed the stopper and set the glowing vessel on the floor beside Emma. “Mythandriel has granted you her favor. She knows you are capable of protecting the Silverbell Faeries. Take this water with her blessing.”

  “Thank you.” She bowed.

  The Astari woman stood and gestured at the door. “Your path from this place is clear, child. May Mythandriel guide you.”

  Emma cradled the bottle in two hands, surprised to find it as cold as snow. She shifted her weight off her knees onto her feet and got up, then curtseyed at Lorandrien, bowed deep at the statue of Mythandriel, and hurried over to where Kes waited. She eased the bottle down among the remaining provisions, careful to seat it at the bottom of the pack.

  “Thank―” Emma glanced back toward the pool, but the woman had vanished. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You.”

  Kes tugged on her arm, hurrying her out onto the grass. Emma pushed the doors closed as she had found them. When she faced the reflecting pool, a line of bubbles appeared, stretching from the near shore across the pool in a line to the other side. Amid a froth of mist and splashing water, a mass of living vines emerged, knitting together to form a footpath straight away from the entrance.

  “Well, that was nice of her,” said Kes.

  Emma glowered at him. “Be respectful.”

  She pulled the backpack on and scurried across the bridge. Neema flew at her side, Kes running a step behind. Within a second of their reaching the far end, the bridge unraveled to separate vines that sank below the murky water. Emma closed her eyes. Thank you for the bridge, and for allowing me to bring some of your water to Danithar. Please let it grant reason to his mind.

  Emma grabbed Kes’s hand and ran to Mawr.

  “It is good to see you,” said Mawr. “Were you able to find the water? Do we return to the faeries or to that strange man?”

  “To Danithar, please.” Emma climbed up atop the bear. “Mythandriel allowed me to take some of the water… I hope it works.”

  “Too me,” chirped Neema.

  Kes nodded. “To the crazy man who makes his plates talk and his chairs prance about, and says unkind things about faeries.”

  “Did why remind me him of you?” Neema fumed. “Messy, rude, clumsy, smelly, old, wrinkly, mean…” She continued spouting off random insults for the next few minutes.

  Emma laughed and settled in for a long trip, hopeful she would soon be able to return home.

  mma curled up atop Mawr’s back, but the great bear’s gentle snoring would not lull her to sleep. Everything she had seen in the days since following Neema into the woods replayed in her thoughts. The fear of being attacked by the not-foxes, the awe of seeing the wood dragon, the horror of almost falling from the bridge, and the majesty of Mythandriel’s temple overwhelmed her. More than anything in the world, she wanted to have her family around her.

  The faeries had kept assuring her she would only be gone for a few minutes, but many days had passed. It didn’t seem as though they had been lying to her, but what they said didn’t make sense. What if the conjurer is right? He was friendly, but a little nutters. Em
ma shivered as she argued with herself. A five-hundred-year-old mage who specialized in studying creatures telling her that the faeries would keep her forever on one side, and innocent-faced tiny people on the other. Tiny people who would play pranks and tricks on someone who didn’t thank them for thanking them. That did feel like a mean thing to do.

  Neema had done nothing to make her think she’d been lied to, but… what if the man was right?

  She covered her face and cried, terrified of never going home again. Her body shuddered with sobs she tried to keep quieter than the faint notes of Kes’s flute. Tomorrow, they would reach Danithar’s house and she would find out if the lifewater would do as Nymira said. Tomorrow, she might go home―well, after a three-day trip back to the Elder Grove.

  Unless the faeries kept her forever.

  The music stopped.

  Emma went still, holding her breath to keep from making sound. Fur shifted under her a second or two before Kes tugged on her arm.

  “Why are you crying?”

  She didn’t want to let him see her in tears, but he sounded close. He had to have seen her wet face already. “I miss my family.”

  Kes climbed up to sit next to her. “Tell me about them.”

  Emma opened her eyes and rolled flat on her back, squinting up at him. “What?”

  He smiled. “Tell me about them. Sometimes, when I get lonely, I talk about my parents even if there’s no one there to hear me.”

  She scrunched up her nose. “Why?”

  “When you think about someone, they’re with you.” He grinned. “Whenever I talk about them to myself, I remember them, and it’s like they are still there.”

  Emma sniffled and waved her feet absentmindedly back and forth. “My Da is brave. He’s in charge of the Watch, and has to protect everyone in Widowswood Village. He’s strict, but fair, and I know he loves me a lot. I used to think he didn’t believe in magic, but he only pretended not to. His mother and family are stuck up and snotty, and they think our magic is ‘for peasants.’ I love my Da, even if he does eat cheese and apple together. Bleh.”

  Kes laughed. “How is that a bad thing?”

  “I don’t like mixing them. I don’t know how he can stand to.” She shivered at the thought of it. “Tam, my little brother, can make him angry sometimes.” She grinned. “Tam’s a handful. He’s got so much energy, and he doesn’t listen. He’s only six, but he’s not afraid of anything… except this older boy, Rydh.”

  Kes grinned. “I hope that older boy didn’t hurt him.”

  “No, he stepped on his toy and laughed at him.” Emma scowled. “I thumped him for it, but I think he’s sorry for doing it. Tam wants to be a knight when he grows up. He’s always playing with his wooden sword, or Stick Knight and Shrub Dragon.”

  “When I was little, I had a lump of wood I pretended was an Eldritch Walker,” said Kes. “They are living trees who guard the forest against darkness.”

  “I have a sister too.” Emma grinned. “Her name is Kimber and she’s eight. She’s got thick red hair that’s so long she sits on it sometimes. Mama didn’t have her, but that doesn’t matter. She’s my sister.”

  Kes nodded.

  “Her other dad… at least she thinks he was. I don’t know if I believe it. The man was so mean to her. Hit her a lot and made her hunt for apples all day and beg so he could get Faeberry wine. Sometimes I don’t think he was really her da, ’cause a da wouldn’t be that cruel to his daughter.”

  “Bah. Pity my father never saw him. A man who strikes a woman, especially a little one, ought to be put to the knife.” Kes draped his arm across his knee. “My father would’ve been happy to do it.”

  Emma picked at her fingernails. “He hit me too when I told him to stop hittin’ Kimber. It made Mama angry. She put something in his wine that… umm.”

  “Sounds like he deserved it. My mum and your mama would probably be friends.” He gazed at the sky for a few seconds. “What’s Kimber like?”

  The gloom around Emma’s heart faded. “She’s as pale as me, but maybe a little more pink. And she talks a little funny too, but I can understand her. Da said it’s the umm… district she came from in Calebrin. Poor people live there and they all talk like that. She likes fancy things and faeries and tea parties and dolls. She loves having a family, and I’m glad she’s with us. I hope she’s not scared since I’m missing. Mama’s going to be upset too.”

  “I bet your mother is pretty.” He winked.

  “My Mama is really good at making potions. Everyone says I look just like her, only small. She’s a druid too. So’s Nan. She’s my grandmother. She can turn into a raven and fly around.”

  His eyes went wide. “I’d love to see that. Can your mama turn into an animal too?”

  Emma folded her hands over her stomach and gazed at the stars. “No. Mama doesn’t have an animal spirit. Nan says not every druid can do it. It depends on if the spirits favor you. I’m pretty sure Ylithir likes me. If I can ever turn into an animal, I bet it’s going to be a wolf.”

  “You’d make a good wolf,” said Kes. “Brave and fearsome. I bet you’d have black fur like your hair, and sparkling blue eyes. Sapphires worthy of a king’s crown.”

  She grinned, a wash of warmth spread over her cheeks. “Nan makes the best pies in the whole town. She loves telling us stories. I used to think they were silly, but now I want to know how it ends.”

  “How what ends?” asked Kes.

  Emma explained the story of Princess Isabelle that Nan had been reading to them for the past several weeks. She almost felt the warmth of Tam and Kimber at her side under the blanket, safe in their bed listening to Nan. “What are your parents like?”

  “Oh, they’re nothing like what you’d expect.” He grinned. “They’re satyrs. They both love to drink wine and dance. Mother plays the mandolin and father has a big flute. When I was smaller, they used to play music together and I’d dance. Sometimes we’d find travelers in the forest and entertain them for a night.”

  “Travelers? Here?” Emma looked around.

  “No, not in the Faerie Realm.”

  Emma blinked at him. “Fauns can go through the faerie circles too?”

  “Yes. A few notes to open the gateway.”

  “Oh.” She stifled a yawn. “What do your parents look like?”

  Kes reclined. “Well, like me I suppose, only taller. Father has a long, pointy beard. He says I’ll have one someday. Mother likes jewelry, but nothing made of metal, and only things given to her in gratitude or when nothing is expected in return. If someone gave her something, she’d be their friend forever.”

  “I still think it’s sad that they’ve left you.” Emma rolled on her side, one arm tucked beneath her head. “Don’t you miss them?”

  “I do, but that’s why I talk about them. Satyrs are different from humans. They find each other, and stay together only until a child is old enough, then they part ways… my parents will likely never cross paths again.”

  Emma gasped. “Don’t they love each other?”

  “I suppose they had enough love to let each other go to find happiness.”

  “Wouldn’t they be happy together?” Emma felt queasy at the idea of Mama and Da not being with each other.

  “Satyrs are different from humans, in more ways than our legs. Most humans don’t understand.”

  Emma chuckled quietly. “You’re right. I don’t understand. I think it’s sad. What about you?”

  “Don’t look at me,” said Mawr. “I’m merely a bear.”

  Kes threw back his head and howled with laughter.

  “Mama and Da love each other a lot and would never run off. They wouldn’t leave me alone at ten years old either.”

  “I’m not ten years old.” He stuck out his tongue. “I’m 204.”

  “You look like you’re ten, so maybe that’s faun years for ten.”

  He shrugged, grinning. “Maybe. It’s beautiful how your family is. I can feel the strong love you have for them. It g
lows from your dark-blue eyes.” Kes leaned over and grasped her hand. “I am happy for you that you have such a family waiting for you. I’m sure you’ll be with them soon. We have the healing water. Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow,” whispered Emma.

  “Mmm,” mumbled Mawr. “You should both sleep so you have strength.”

  She sat up and pulled the glowing bottle out of the backpack, staring at it. Though the lifewater had possessed a weak glow in the day, in the dead of night, its brightness made her squint. Emma traced her thumb back and forth across the bottle, still as icy cold as it had been when she’d first touched it hours ago.

  Lady Mythandriel, please watch over me. I beg thee let this water heal Danithar’s mind.

  Emma tucked the bottle into the pack once more, lay on her side, and snuggled into the fur.

  “You toss quite a lot in your sleep,” said Kes.

  “I sleep in a bed with my entire family. My spot is against the wall. Tam used to sleep behind me with Mama behind him and Da closest to the door, but now Kimber’s usually between me and Tam. She sleeps so hard. I don’t know how she can do that. A dragon could tear the roof off our home and she wouldn’t wake up.” Emma brushed her hand back and forth over Mawr’s fur. “It’s strange not having my brother squishing me into the wall.”

  Kes stretched out at her back and reached an arm around her. “It would do my heart a wondrous boon to make your rest feel safe.”

  Emma grasped his arm, taken by a sudden feeling of safe contentment. “Are you charming me?”

  “Perhaps a little. You will need your strength and wits tomorrow.”

  Grinning, Emma closed her eyes and let the slow rise and fall of Mawr’s breathing lull her to sleep.

  round noon the following day, Mawr carried them up to the conjurer’s house and stepped over the fence. The winged panthers leapt from their treetop homes, snarling in their guard poses.

  They took one look at him and zoomed straight back into the branches out of sight.

  A hint of cinnamon and spice hung in the air, mixed with the scent of burning wood. From inside the house, many tiny voices chattered back and forth. Some discussed chores, others complained of not having enough time, one cried “too hot, too hot” over and over, while a feminine voice professed it a beautiful day.