by Drew Hayes
“Ah, I see.” Flora leaned in and whispered conspiratorially. “So you’re in love with him but have yet to win his heart. Don’t worry dear, he’s a stubborn lad but eventually he can be brought around. Although it wouldn’t hurt you to don a proper dress and perhaps put in some effort with your hair.”
Marie was lost for how to respond, and thankfully another voice interrupted the awkward discussion before things could progress further. This voice was lighter than any of the others, with a musical quality even though it wasn’t singing outright. At just the sound of it, Marie felt some of her tension ease, as though she’d just slid into a warm bath.
“Jack Spriggins. From across lands and seas and kingdoms unknown, you return to us at last. What an honor we have been bestowed with.” The voice’s owner entered the room, held by Benjamin. It was a harp speaking, golden and lovely with the carving of a woman on one side. Her metal eyes took in all of them, lingering on Frank and Marie particularly, before settling on Jack himself. “And you brought vagrants, what a thoughtful present.”
“Be kind, Goldie. These are my friends you insult, and I’ve grown no more patient of that than I was when I left.” Jack’s grin was wider now, and for first time since they’d arrived some of the usual ruffian was poking through the happy facade.
The harp looked at them once more, then managed a half bow. “My apologies. When I saw you both, I assumed you were bandits who’d waylaid Jack and forced him to lead you here so you could rob us. Clearly I was mistaken, and I meant no ill intent.”
While it was technically an apology, both Frank and Marie noted that Goldie had managed to insult them more during it. This was Jack’s home, though, so rather than making an issue of it they both nodded acceptance.
“Goldie, my mother seems a bit flustered at the suddenness of my arrival. Perhaps you should take her into the parlor and play for her before dinner.” Jack suggested. “My friends and I haven’t come to Summerly by accident. We’re on the trail of someone we think might have passed through here, and I’d like to go speak with the townsfolk more before evening.”
“Well, that sounds like a glorious waste of time,” Goldie replied. “But before you go off accepting the accolades of the town for your great deed, perhaps you could be bothered to go out to the site of The Fall. Something strange has been on the wind from that direction for the last few weeks. Something…magical.”
Frank and Marie exchanged a brief glance; this certainly seemed like the sort of breadcrumb the Blue Fairy would leave on their trail. Near enough to Jack’s home that he wouldn’t miss it, yet insubstantial enough that the risk of others finding whatever she’d left behind was minimal. As they contemplated the idea, Benjamin began to walk both Flora and Goldie out to the other room. The harp craned its neck to yell one last parting greeting before she was gone.
“And even if it turns out to be nothing, you should still go. Paying your respects is the least you can bother with after what you did.”
Then she was gone, leaving the trio alone for the first time in hours. Jack stared at the doorway for several seconds before shaking his head. “That harp is rude and petty, but she’s not a liar. We should head that way now, before the sun starts to set. I don’t want to find anything the Blue Fairy may have left after dark.”
“What is this ‘site of The Fall’?” Marie asked.
Jack hesitated, a rare action for him, before responding. “Trust me; you’ll know it when you see it.”
* * *
The ride was brief, though solitary. No more houses or farms awaited them. Gone were the smiling crowds and cheerful waves. From the moment they left Jack’s house, there was nothing but more empty hills, all covered with the same soft grass that coated the land like a rug. It was strange, at first, since despite the inclines this land looked perfectly suitable for farming. Then they crested a small series of hills and Jack’s words were proven true: they did indeed know that they’d arrived at the site. And both Marie and Frank understood instantly why these lands were deserted. Villagers were, as a whole, a superstitious lot. They spit in their shoes to ward off rain, spun around three times if a crop wasn’t growing, and spoke only in whispers when passing near a graveyard. So of course they wouldn’t set up farms or homes in this area.
It would mean a lifetime of whispers.
While the dirt piled atop the massive mound had grown grass—albeit a yellower, less lush variety than what surrounded them—it was still unmistakable as anything other than a grave. Assuming one could call it a grave when the land around had been dug up to toss onto a corpse rather than to lower the dead into the ground. It was an understandable compromise; the size of the hole needed for such a ceremony would have taken weeks to dig. Even the fact that the giant was properly covered spoke to a monumental task.
Jack rode slowly, his smile taking on a distant, wistful quality. As they made their way around the mound, toward what could only be assumed was its front, he turned his eyes up to the fluffy white clouds dotting the sky. “These lands used to be barren. Just hard dirt with a few spots that barely managed to grow even a single sack of potatoes. The villagers make a big deal out of the bag of gold I came back with, and Goldie, and the goose more than anything, but it was actually the beanstalk that did the most good. When I chopped it down, it released some manner of seeds or spores into the air, and the stalk was so tall they spread for miles. The new grass took root and revitalized the soil. Within a year, you could throw away an apple and come back to find a tree sprouting from the seeds. No surprise, really; the beanstalk was magical after all.”
“Beanstalk…giant… I’ve heard this tale.” Giants were not entirely uncommon across the magical kingdoms; however, there were only so many that were also tethered to skyward stalks. Marie had heard of such a foe on their journey, though the details had apparently been lost in the gossip process. “You’re the boy who climbed a beanstalk, lured down the evil giant that was terrorizing his people, and then chopped it out from under him so that he fell to his death.”
“Is that how it goes these days?” Jack looked to the sky once more. “I am that boy, yes, in that I killed the giant we’re walking past. But he wasn’t terrorizing us; we didn’t even know he was up there. I’ll spare you the long version; suffice it to say I came into possession of some magical beans, planted them, and the beanstalk grew into the clouds. Of course I climbed it, you both know me well enough by now to assume that, and when I arrived I found a castle large enough for a giant, which was a good fit for the one already living there. I snuck in, saw some gold, and being both poor and me, I took it. Then I went back for more and found Goldie. She asked to be taken down too, wanting to see the world below the clouds, and even instructed me on where to find a goose that laid golden eggs and a…well, the goose was enough to sell me on it. I took them both, but the goose made a racket and the giant gave chase. When I hit the ground, he climbed after me, so I took an axe and chopped the magical beanstalk down. As you can see, the fall was a bit much even for a giant.”
“That makes you sound more like a thief and a killer than the hero of a town,” Frank noted. It wasn’t exactly a kind response, but it was honest, and Frank often took the latter route over the former.
“I was,” Jack agreed. “Any way you look at it, I was the villain in that tale. Yet because of my selfish actions, I was able to reinvigorate my village. The goose eggs were sold off and the funds used for necessities like town repairs and food until the land started growing once more. We also bred the goose as much as possible. Its children didn’t consistently give the same huge, golden eggs, but they’ll lay a gold egg in about every ten. Enough to pad our coffers, just in case. You’re still right, Frank; this was theft and murder, outright. But it also was the day I realized that sometimes doing bad things can lead to good ends.”
If the Bastard Champions had bothered with a motto, that likely would have been the best choice. All of them had done things that, perhaps while not outright evil, certainly dance
d along the edges more closely than any moral person should. Neither Marie nor Frank felt qualified to judge Jack for what he’d done to this giant, especially knowing he was merely a poor farm boy when it happened. It didn’t redeem him or exonerate him, but then again Jack had never seemed to care about either of those concepts. He was what he was, he did what he did, and the Narrative was welcome to stop him, if it could manage.
Silence fell as they continued their ride, making their way around the huge hill that was the giant’s corpse until Jack motioned for them to slow. Dismounting, they walked near the edge of the mound, where several stones could be seen sticking up from the ground.
“Robbing and killing him was bad enough. It felt like I at least owed him a proper burial.” Jack pointed to the first headstone, where a short inscription was clearly visible.
“Here lies Fee-Fi, a giant.” Frank lifted an eyebrow as he read, and turned to Jack. “Fee-fi?”
“I didn’t know his name, neither did Goldie, and the goose couldn’t talk. So I went with something he said a few times. If the scarcity of words didn’t give it away, I was working with limited information.”
Marie had wandered over to the next headstone, this one much smaller. “Here lies Hortense, a good friend and a savior of Summerly. Who was Hortense?”
“The goose,” Jack replied. “Geese can live for a while, but Hortense was already an adult when I stole her, so she eventually passed away. No one wanted to eat a creature that had given us so much, and the town decided to bury her out here with her original owner. I think they might have been trying to appease the giant’s spirit by returning one of his possessions.”
Frank ran his hand along the goose’s headstone, his left eye examining it carefully. “I can understand the sentimentality, but why the name?”
That question earned him a shrug from Jack. “We let my mother name the goose. She can be…peculiar, at times.”
After their first meeting with Flora, neither Frank nor Marie was going to contradict Jack. Instead, they continued examining the area, searching for a clue the Blue Fairy might have left behind. There was nothing on the headstones, but when Frank turned his attention to the goose’s grave he noticed something with his dragon eye.
“Strange. There’s movement here.” Pale hands pressed on the top of the grave, touching the grass without disturbing it. “Something is forming, rising, from within the soil.”
“She wouldn’t…raise the goose, would she?” Marie asked. “I didn’t think fairies could work magic on the dead; only witches and wizards can.”
“It’s imprudent to assume someone as powerful as the Blue Fairy has any domain that is out of her grasp, but I don’t think the magic at work is as deep as the corpse.” Frank was barely inches from the ground now, in danger of taking a blade of grass to the iris. “What I can see is close, and it’s growing upward, not down.”
A breeze whipped across the grasslands, causing the blades to ripple in an emerald wave. Jack hunkered down next to Frank, resting a gentle hand on Hortense’s headstone. “How long until it forms?”
“Not very,” Frank said. “Given the rate of movement and the time of day, plus what we know about fairies and theatrics, I’d wager we’ll see whatever this is by sunset. Fairies love dusk and dawn.”
“Magic coming from an area I’d know, near enough for Goldie to notice it, and tucked away in a spot only someone like Frank could see. I’m getting a little uncomfortable with how well the Blue Fairy seems to know us and what we can do.”
“We knew the risks when we started chasing her,” Marie reminded him. “At least so far she hasn’t left a trap for us, although if she were going to, this is the perfect time. We’re out here alone, no cover, no plan, only our wits and skills to keep us alive if she tries something.”
“Good point.” Jack’s smile brightened as he leaned back and took a seat in the grass. “I was starting to get bored, but this does bring up the potential for some fun. Very well, I suppose we’ve got no other choice. We wait for sunset and go from there.”
In the hour that followed, they got comfortable and spent time distracting themselves from the ticking clock that was the setting sun. Jack polished his blades, Frank read, and Marie paced about sniffing the air to make sure an ambush wasn’t approaching. It was a rare moment of forced quiet, and while none of them would have elected to have it, they all appreciated the downtime.
Finally, as the sun was half-obscured by the horizon, movement came from Hortense’s grave. The dirt rippled, and from among the soil something new began to grow. It was crisp green, with a soft glow, as it stretched up from the grass until it was two feet high. Then a red tip appeared, expanding rapidly until it was clear what they were seeing. A rose was blooming, tall and soft and bright as blood. Marie let out a barely muffled gasp, but said nothing. The rose was still changing, shifting, as it reached full maturity. A petal fell, vanishing into light when it hit the ground, then another, and another. Within a minute the rose was down to its final petal, and when that too broke away the stem withered instantly, turning back to the dirt from which it had come. The petal drifted down slowly, wafting on the breeze until it hit the ground and vanished in a final flash of red.
“If that was some sort of death threat, it may very well be the third most lovely one I’ve ever received,” Jack said, breaking the spell of silence they’d cast upon themselves.
Frank shook his head. “I’m not sure if it was a threat at all. It seemed more like a message, though as to what it was meant to convey I confess I’m at a loss.”
“It was a message.” Marie’s voice was thick, her eyes blazing yellow as she visibly worked to push away her inner beast. “Directions, in a way. The Blue Fairy is telling us that we need to head further north, to Villeneuve. Or, as it’s commonly called, the Kingdom of the Roses.”
“Where do I know that name from?” Realization hit moments after, and Jack looked back at Marie. “Right…that’s your kingdom, isn’t it?” She gave merely a nod in reply, perhaps because her tongue was in a state of shift, or because she simply didn’t have words to offer.
While Jack hunkered down to see if there were any tangible signs left behind in the soil, Frank walked over and put a careful hand on Marie’s shoulder. “If you’re not ready, we needn’t go. There are other leads to follow, other fairies to chase, other jobs to take. With more time and effort, it’s possible that we could manage to meet her on our terms, rather than hers.”
It was tempting, oh so very tempting, to let Frank talk her into turning away from the path before them. He was right; there wasn’t technically any rush to follow her. They had things well in control at the moment. Marie could nod, and they would ride off to another town with more jobs to take. More adventures to be had. More time to learn, grow, and prepare for how to deal with the Blue Fairy. They could go back to the way things were, the fun and frantic pace of their lives with little more to worry about than how they’d survive the next task. All she had to do was nod.
“No.” Marie spat the word, forcing her tongue back into action. “Look at how these messages were sent, Frank. We end up on a job that just happens to have a lead to the Blue Fairy, following the trail of a rider I’m not sure ever even existed until we’re far enough north to reach her bread crumbs. The first one was left with a creature brought to life and turned human, which involved saving children in need. The second is in Jack’s literal backyard, tied to a piece of his past, and it’s sending us to my kingdom. She knows us. She knows what we want, what we care about, and what we wouldn’t want to lose. These are more than messages; they’re warnings. Everything we love, she knows about. Do you really imagine that to be a coincidence?”
There was no reply from Frank, but as Jack stood he chimed in. “Marie is right. We either go to Villeneuve, or we ready ourselves for consequences. Fairies have pulled innocent people into their schemes before, and no one ever knows what the Blue Fairy is going to do from one moment to the next. We started this, we
were the ones hunting her, and she may not have cared for that. Either way, it’s on us to finish this. The Bastard Champions never back down from a job, especially one that we’ve given ourselves.”
“Very well,” Frank said. “In the morning then?”
Marie and Jack both agreed. This was the sort of journey that demanded rest before undertaking. Together, the three walked back to their horses, then mounted up and rode for Jack’s house.
* * *
“But you just got here!” Flora’s eyes flashed as she dropped her ladle into the pot where she’d been cooking a thick stew. Jack’s news that he would be leaving in the morning had not gone over well, to say the least. While Benjamin had seemed saddened, Jack’s mother went in another direction, turning to anger like a spin of her heel. “Surely there can’t be anything so pressing that you need to go already. Stay a week, catch up with everyone, spend some time with your mother. There’s no telling how many years I have left, you know.”
“Mother, I told you when we arrived I was just passing through. We’re on a trail right now, and every day we lose here means it grows colder.” It didn’t escape Marie’s or Frank’s notice that Jack’s explanation had neatly darted over whether or not he actually wanted to stay. “I’m sorry, but we have to ride on in the morning.”
Flora stared at her son, then turned to the stew pot on the stove. “So be it.” With a single strike, she knocked the pot to the ground, sending brown liquid and chunks of partly cooked meat spreading across the floor. “I wanted to make a meal for my son and his friends, not travelers treating my home as a way station. Feed yourselves, vagrants.”
Jack looked at the slop that was sloshing onto his boots and let out a tired sigh. “Goldie, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” The harp’s melody started up without warning, sharp and brisk and lovely all at once. As it played, everyone save for Frank felt themselves grow more at ease, tension falling out of them as the strains filled the air. Flora was affected strongest of all, the rage in her face shifting to confusion as she looked at the mess around them.
