Emma and the Silverbell Faeries

by Matthew S. Cox

  “Oh, my…” She stretched.

  Kes walked out from a tree by her side. “Good morning.”

  “It’s morning?” She shivered with anticipation. I’ve been gone another day? “What happened to the faeries?”

  “They danced and drank until they could no longer stand. Most are asleep where they fell when the drink got the better of them.” He grinned.

  Neema pushed a twig and leaf off her face, grunting. After yawning, she got up and walked over, dragging her limp wings along the ground like a frumpled bedsheet wrapped about her shoulders. She yawned again, stretched, and sneezed, her wings snapping out straight with a puff of glowing white dust.

  “Morning good!” she chirped.

  “Mafindwel,” said Emma. “May I return home now?”

  “Course of!” Neema yawned again. “Need waking up. Give moment.”

  She flew a little, landed into a stumble, took wing again, and crashed headfirst into the water within the crystal fountain. After a second of blowing bubbles, Neema sprang out into the air, squealing.

  “Wake!” The dripping faerie flew over and grinned. “Being ready.”

  Emma stood. “Me too.”

  Neema glided into the woods. Emma followed, holding Kes’s hand while Mawr trailed along behind them. Once the roperoot trees became too thick for her to get by without climbing, she perched once again upon the bear’s back. He stepped over roots without breaking stride, making the journey out to the circle, what had taken Emma over an hour, in perhaps twenty minutes. Neema flew ahead and landed upon the ground by a circle of flowers.

  Mawr stopped nearby, and Emma slid from his back for the last time.

  It hit her at that moment that he couldn’t go with her. Danithar had made him with the enchanted water. Emma spun, wrapped her arms around him, and cried.

  “Thank you for all your help.” She sniffled. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “I will always be here,” said Mawr. “And always your friend.”

  She cried harder. “You’re my friend. The best kind of friend.”

  He emitted a warm rumble from deep in his throat, and nuzzled her.

  “Well, I suppose it’s time for you to go home to your family.” Kes smiled, though his expression held a hint of sorrow. “It was wonderful to know you, Emma. Maybe I’ll pop in to visit.”

  Emma hugged him. “You must.” She leaned back and wiped tears. “You’re my friend too, and you simply must visit.”

  He brushed his fingers down her cheek. “I could not suffer the torment of a month without seeing your exquisite face.”

  She giggled. “Why do you talk like that?”

  “Like what?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Always calling me pretty and talking like a storybook.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know… I just do. It’s true you know. You are pretty.”

  Her face grew warm. “I’m not old enough to get flowers from satyrs.”

  “What?”

  Emma squinted at him. “You don’t know? Every year on the Feast of Zaravex, all the girls sixteen or older who haven’t been married get flowers from boys dressed up like satyrs.”

  Kes scratched his head. “I’ve not a clue about that. Sounds strange.”

  “Hmm.” She folded her arms. “Mama and Da won’t explain it to me either.”

  “I’m sure they will someday.” Kes removed his fang necklace and offered it to her. “To remember me. Take it.”

  “Oh, Kes, I couldn’t.” She stared at it.

  “I insist.” He reached out and draped it over her head. “I shall talk about you to the trees and the air, and you will be with me.”

  Emma ground her big toe into the spongy green. “I will talk of you as well.”

  He smiled.

  “Promise you’ll visit?” asked Emma.

  Kes bowed with a sweep of his arm. “But of course.”

  “Ready?” asked Neema.

  “I’m going to miss you.” Emma hugged Mawr. “And you too.” She hugged Kes.

  “Ask Queen Nymira Mawr guard Elder Grove the will. Honorary sentinel.” Neema clapped. “Remain us with will he. Magic doing the queen Mawr to let talk the faeries.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Emma sniffled. “Protect them well, Mawr.”

  “Be safe, Emma.” Mawr rubbed his massive head against her, as gentle as can be, and took a step back. “Return to your family where you belong.”

  Emma sniffled, nodded, and faced the faerie circle.

  Neema took her by one finger, radiated a puff of silver faerie dust, and tried to pull her forward.

  Grinning at the futile effort, Emma walked into the ring, still looking back at Kes and Mawr standing beside each other. Soft petals brushed her ankles, and the next time she blinked, her friends had vanished. The forest changed in a flash, less vibrant green, filled with much, much smaller trees. She recognized the woods a mere two minutes’ walk from home. Neema floated behind her, waving.

  “Will you?”

  Neema nodded. “Will we.”

  The faerie disappeared in a wink of light and a tone like the soft peal of a bell.

  Emma put a hand over her heart, breathless from momentary sorrow at leaving Mawr and Kes. She took a deep breath, let it out, and ran across the meadow to home. The bucket remained by the water pump as she had left it. Workers continued putting up spars for the new rooms, no further along than she remembered. She stopped halfway between the pump and the porch, looking back and forth.

  “Goodness, Emma,” said Nan from inside. “What’s taking so long with the water?”

  “Coming, Nan,” yelled Emma.

  She pumped the handle a few more times to fill the bucket and hauled it into the house.

  Kimber hovered close by Nan, watching her slice up vegetables for the stew. The cauldron, empty, hung on the hook by the fireplace. Mama and Tam had not yet returned from her rounds.

  Emma blinked. It’s like I’ve only been gone a few minutes… Tears welled in her eyes. Relief, guilt, and exhaustion filled her. A lump caught in her throat, but she lugged the water to the cauldron and poured it in.

  “One more for now, Em. Pour two in and fill a third for later.” Nan smiled.

  “Yes, Nan.”

  She hurried out the door to the pump, and got to working the lever. Did that really even happen? She eyed the woods, looked at the house, and sighed. Reaching up, she found a line of animal fangs across her chest, hanging from Kes’s necklace.

  It did…

  Grunting, Emma pumped the bucket full a second time and carried it inside. The sorrow of wishing her friends farewell crashed into the joy of being home and left her unsure how to feel.

  fter pouring the second bucketful of water into the cauldron, Emma ran out to fill it a third time and carted it back inside. She set the filled bucket on the ground by the fireplace and darted across the room, plowing into Kimber and Nan, gripping them both in a fierce hug.

  “Gah!” yelled Nan. “Be mindful, Em. I’m holding a knife.”

  “Urgh,” muttered Kimber. “Squeezin’ tae much.”

  Emma let go, a sheepish smile on her face.

  “What’s gotten into you, child? Did something give you a scare?”

  They would never know what I did if I didn’t tell them. She gazed down at her toes, dreading how much trouble she’d get in so soon after promising not to run off on her own. Guilt filled her stomach, making the idea of eating even Nan’s amazing stew feel unwelcome.

  “Something in the woods, yes.” Emma took her position at Nan’s right, and cut the potatoes and turnips into chunks.

  Nan stroked her hair. “You’ve had quite the scare as of late. No shame in it.”

  She cringed. If she said nothing, she wouldn’t get in trouble. They’d never find out.

  Soon, Nan left Emma to the task of cutting up the remaining vegetables, and taught Kimber the spices to use (and how much) for the stew. Her sister doled out the seasonings and put them in the cauldr
on before carrying over bowls of ingredients. Nan went outside for a minute, and returned with a large eggplant-shaped piece of meat, with white leaves at one end.

  Emma blinked. “Nan?”

  The old one chuckled. “You’ve been feeling sad at the idea of eating what you can talk to, so I just made this.” She waved the meat at her. “’Tis a simple food spell. It is like beef, but never talked to anyone.”

  “Meatplants?” asked Kimber.

  Emma smiled, though the guilt refused to let go of her insides. “Nan… I have to tell you something… when Mama is home.”

  “Now I know something isn’t right.” Nan looked over, one eye wider than the other. “The last time you used that tone, you’d dropped the chamber pot in the privy.”

  Emma bowed her head.

  “Very well.” Nan tossed the meat into the pot. “I suppose it can wait for Beth.”

  “You’as do bad?” asked Kimber.

  Emma ground her toe into the floor. “I’m not sure. Feels like it.”

  Nan guided Kimber back to the table. “She will tell us in due time.”

  Ingredients went into the cauldron one by one. Nan sent Emma to get wood from the pile out back, and soon, the beginnings of wonderful stew simmered in the fireplace. Nan added a little water from the bucket, stirring, adding a little more, stirring, and nodding.

  Eventually, Mama returned and hung her cloak on the peg by the door. Tam rushed across the room, heading for where he’d left Stick Knight and Shrub Dragon. Emma caught him into a hug, sniffling with joy. It felt as though she hadn’t seen him in a month. He hugged her back for a few seconds before the squirming started. She released him to his toys and walked up to where Mama discussed Hadrath’s old sow with Nan, wondering if anything could be done for an unusual malady that had affected the old pig. Evidently, the animal had taken to belching constantly, and its tongue had turned berry pink.

  “Mama? Nan?” asked Emma in a timid voice.

  “Yes?” Mama smiled at her.

  Emma cried and hugged her mother.

  “Oh dear.” Nan clucked. “She believes she’s done something. I can’t imagine what. She’s been underfoot all day.”

  “What’s wrong, Emma?” Mama grasped her shoulders.

  Emma leaned back. “I did something foolish.”

  “What this time?” muttered Nan. “More thieves?”

  “No.” Emma shook her head. “Remember the faerie lantern?”

  Mama nodded.

  Nan scratched at herself as if taken by a sudden coating of fleas. “Faeries…”

  “When I went out to get the water for the stew, Neema flew up to me and asked for help. She said something was killing faeries and they needed me.”

  Nan raised an eyebrow. “You went through a circle.”

  “Yes.” Emma looked down.

  “Well that explains why she’s been so emotional…” Nan puffed a lock of hair away from her eye. “Like she’s been away for a long time.”

  Mama patted Emma’s shoulder. “What? Why?”

  “Because she has been away.” Nan set her hands on her hips. “How long?”

  “It felt like about two weeks.” Emma clasped her hands in front, and stared at the floor while telling them everything that happened. She took care to refer to the wood dragon as a ‘Child of Linganthas’ and avoid the ‘d word’ to keep Tam calm.

  Kimber couldn’t seem to decide if she should be thrilled, worried, or jealous. She swished side to side, chewing on her knuckle.

  Mama pulled Emma across the room, sat in one of the cushioned chairs, and drew her up into her lap, holding her tight.

  “I’m sorry, Mama. I promised not to run off and be foolish. I wanted to tell Nan that the faeries needed help, but Neema looked so scared. She said she was an adult, so I wasn’t alone, and I felt so sorry for her and―” She buried her face against her mother’s shoulder and cried. “I’m sorry.”

  “Well, Beth.” Nan clucked. “Faeries can be rather persuasive after all. Perhaps she isn’t entirely at fault here. And… she was only gone for a few minutes.”

  “Mother…” Mama stared at her. “She should have run right inside and told you.”

  “Yes, Mama. I should have. I wanted to.”

  “And what would I have done? At my age? If I’d crossed, I’d be stuck there.” Nan winked.

  Mama smirked.

  Emma looked between them, confused by Nan’s sarcastic tone. “You wouldn’t be trapped?”

  “Hardly,” said Mama, in a flat tone.

  “Because we’re druids, or because we have elf blood?” asked Emma.

  “Elf blood?” Nan cackled. “Where did you hear that?”

  “The faerie queen.”

  “You’as saw ’a faeries queen?” Kimber’s voice rose to a shrill; her whole body shook with excitement. The girl stared at her, wide-eyed. “Wha’s she look like?”

  “Like a faerie… with a crown. She had fire-red hair longer than her legs. Her wings glowed red too.”

  “Well.” Nan whistled. “I suppose that’s close enough. There is some fey magic in our family, but a druid with Linganthas’ respect can traverse the rings regardless of age. Now, that conjurer fellow… he’s stuck.”

  Emma squeezed her mother. “I wanted to get Nan. I wanted to stay, but I just felt so worried about the faeries, I went with her.”

  Mama sighed. “Sounds like you were charmed.”

  “Neema wouldn’t…”

  Nan chuckled. “Faeries are tricky, Em. They’ll often do anything to get what they want. I bet she gave you her best wide-eyed pleading stare. Though, the Silverbells are not malicious. She probably believed that the only chance they had of surviving was for you to go with them.”

  “I’m not angry with her for charming me.” Emma looked down. It did seem strange how she had decided to follow Neema so easily. “I’m sorry for disobeying you, Mama.”

  Heavy tromping on the porch preceded Da walking in fast. He leaned over to kiss Mama, gave Emma a quick hug, and headed to the cabinet. “I’ve got to head out to the north for a time. With any luck, I’ll be back in time to enjoy that wonderful stew with everyone.” He took some bread and cured meat from the larder.

  “What’s the rush, Liam?” asked Nan.

  He collected Kimber in a one-armed hug while taking a bite of his lunch. “Some addled farmers from Imbril came running into town, prattling on about an entire village appearing out of thin air in the forest to the west.”

  Emma gasped, shaking.

  “Em?” Da took a step toward her, raising an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

  She clung to him and hurried through a retelling of going into a faerie circle, the queen, the conjurer, and the strange village that wanted her to stay forever. “I… think they called it Brynshire. Everyone there was half a ghost, and they all wanted to feed me. They thought I was an orphan, and it looked like they were going to fight each other to see who took me in. They chased me into the village circle, and I saw magic lines going from all the people into the well. I found a bad talisman at the bottom. When I broke it, the village disappeared.”

  Da gawked at her.

  “That was not my doing.” Nan shook her head. “I was but a young girl when the curse befell Brynshire.”

  “There’s no such town as Brynshire,” said Da. “Never has been, though… I swear one of those villagers said that exact name.”

  “It’s been gone quite a long time. From the sound of it, they made something quite angry.” Nan looked at Emma. “What did this talisman look like?”

  “It was wood and grass, moldy. Shaped like a man in a skirt holding a staff. I think it had a face drawn on it, but it faded in the water. It felt dark. Scary. When I touched it, my hands burned. It didn’t want me touching it. All the ghost villagers’ energy lines went into it. When you made the talisman for the spider queen, you told her not to break it or the magic would stop… so I broke it.”

  Nan patted her on the head. “Could have bee
n an orc shaman. Perhaps a dark druid.”

  “There haven’t been orcs in this area for three hundred years,” said Da. “Humans pushed them out to the east a long time ago.”

  “Yes. I remember.” Nan winked.

  Da laughed. “You’re wizened, but you’re not that old.”

  As he turned to kiss Mama, Nan shot an innocent look at the ceiling, and wandered over to check on the stew.

  Emma gawked at her, mouth agape.

  “I’ll be back. Off to check on this phantom town.” Da started for the door, but stopped when Nan cleared her throat.

  “The village is likely real, Liam. Tread with caution. Those people will have no idea of how much time has passed.”

  He gave her that look he always did whenever he didn’t want to believe. Rather than sigh and walk off as he often did when magic came up, he bowed his head. “Do you think they will be cursed? Dangerous?”

  Wow. Emma blinked. Da believed me!

  Nan scratched at her chin. “Without feeling that talisman for myself, I cannot say. Though, if the magic were that dark, it would’ve terrified Emma straight into running away from it. You should expect confused people, but they may believe you are the one who is addled.” She dribbled spices into the stew pot from a bowl.

  “Indeed.” He patted Tam on the head, then Kimber, and stopped in front of Emma. “And what are we to do with you, then?”

  “I went with the faerie and I shouldn’t have. Whatever you decide, I will accept.” Emma looked down.

  “Well, according to her story, she prevented the slaughter of an entire cove of faeries, saved the life of a faun, broke a centuries-old curse on a hundred villagers, and restored the sanity of an old mage.” Nan raised both hands and waved them down. “All before lunch.”

  “That faerie charmed her.” Mama waved her over. “She didn’t have much of a choice.”

  Emma scurried into a hug. “I was homesick every day.”

  “All right.” Da shook his head. He scooped her up and held her for a moment. “My parents told me that having a daughter would be quite the handful… They had no idea.”

  Emma risked a smile.