by Drea Damara
The unfortunate mishap gave him an idea. He wrote of a world full of kind and generous people, wondrous creatures, and extraordinary scenery. A place of peace and tranquility—Farwin Wood. He had tested his theory by falling asleep with the book open and woken up in the very glen where Sarah sat now.
Traveling to Farwin Wood had become a family tradition of the Allisters’s. She, Richard, and their parents used to run excitedly around their apartment, getting ready in medieval costumes that they’d specially ordered from Mathers’s Dress Shop down the street. Then they would sit down at the kitchen table with some special sleeping tea from Spices and Stems with The Lands of Farwin Wood open on the center of the table in front of them. Gradually, each of them would drift off to sleep, and the next time they awoke they were in Farwin Wood.
She missed those days. She’d stopped coming when Richard moved away to attend college and her father had first become ill. She didn’t miss the unfortunate way she’d have to get back home. However, practically drowning herself seemed worth it now that she had gotten the scars of Agatha Blinney on her wrists.
“I can’t believe you haven’t been back here in four years! If I still lived at home, I’d come here every weekend!” Richard looked around and adjusted the leather belt on his waist that held a sword in a holster. He was practically brimming with excitement as he reached down and helped her up. She still couldn’t believe their parents let them come unsupervised, let alone for the whole summer!
“It wasn’t the same without you,” she replied. “We always came here together, and after you left for college, it didn’t seem right to go alone.”
“Ah, you could’ve gone without me. I would have!”
“Gee, thanks.” She gave him a good smack, but then her mood turned serious. “Richard? You know Dad hasn’t come since his heart attack. Mom’s afraid the trip back home would kill him, or that the sleeping tea would be just as dangerous.”
Richard’s carefree expression dissolved. “I know. How’s he doing?”
“I think he’s getting worse. He’s always tired and he has to take a lot of pills. I feel guilty for coming here. I’m still shocked they let me go for the whole summer.”
“Hey, we talked about this already. They wanted you to go. It’s your graduation present. Besides, I don’t know when I’ll see you next, once I start my internship in the fall.”
Richard had promised her “the best damned summer vacation ever” to Farwin Wood while he was home visiting after his college graduation. He’d said it was her belated eighteenth birthday present, but she really knew he was trying to cheer her up. She’d gotten the scars and he hadn’t. He was probably feeling guilty. It was strange how kind everyone had been to her lately. Their parents had practically encouraged her to go. They’d set The Lands of Farwin Wood on the workbench in the basement where she and Richard wouldn’t be disturbed as they slept next to it all summer.
Sarah grimaced upon seeing she’d caused her brother to feel badly. She checked to make sure the sleeves of her dress still covered the marks that had started to form on her wrists that spring. She didn’t want him to keep being reminded that she’d been chosen. Frankly, she didn’t want to be reminded either.
She smiled, determined to make sure they enjoyed themselves. Remembering the old-fashioned way of speaking in Farwin Wood, she asked, “Well, shall we go?”
Richard grinned and held out his arm. “Lady Allister, House of Allister awaits us.”
She shook her head and took his arm but found herself laughing as he strutted forward with a noble gait. “Just behave yourself, Richard. You’re twenty-two now. Our little childhood friends here might look at you differently this time.”
“What do you mean? Everyone’s always ridiculously friendly and welcoming here, no matter what we say or do.”
She furrowed her brows as he steered them out of the woods. They came to a dirt road under the canopy of an endless expanse of forest.
“I mean, you’re a man now. Come on, I know what goes on at college!”
He laughed and waved a hand in the air. “Oh, I’m a big scary man! Don’t worry. I won’t throw any beetleburry keggers at the house, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He referred to the stone villa to which they were en route, the one Durley Allister had built there years ago. It had come to be known in the land as House of Allister.
“Just don’t go getting cocky if the girls start looking at you silly and the boys start getting jealous. I don’t want any trouble, kindhearted locals or not. I assume jealousy exists in every world.”
Richard tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. “You worry too much, squirt.”
Half an hour later, they reached the edge of Oedher Village. It was one of several in Farwin Wood, but particularly the one they called their home away from home.
People milled around the widening expanse of the dirt street as she and Richard continued. Some stopped what they were doing to stare. People leaned toward each other and whispered. Sarah hated being a spectacle. Would they be treated differently without their parents with them this time? She hadn’t considered that.
People began to move closer to them when it seemed the villagers realized these were the Allister children returning to Oedher Village. They were soon flooded by greetings and warm wishes to the “North.”
She’d once heard her father explain to someone from Oedher Village that Blinney was so far to the north and such an arduous journey that it was the reason they did not often visit. The explanation had sufficed, as no one ever questioned how to get there.
They reached the edge of the village and passed the high walls that surrounded House of Allister. Dergus, the faithful House of Allister watchman, gave them a warm greeting as they approached the gate.
It amazed her that, although they had been gone for so long, Dergus still kept watch. He manned the gate and oversaw the few stable workers and groundskeepers who maintained the villa. The gardens in the small courtyard looked as impeccable as they had on her last visit there.
Dergus escorted them to the front door and thrust it open without any grace. He was diligent but rough around the edges—something she had long found entertaining.
The wooden wagon wheel chandeliers in the great room still hung but remained unlit. Dergus’s voice echoed when he bellowed out for Miss Netta French. The stout woman ran toward them with her beefy arms extended, squealing in excitement. Sarah thought her heart would burst in delight as she raced to meet the woman halfway.
Netta, the cook and housekeeper, encompassed both her and Richard in a tight embrace. “Oh, my little dears! How you’ve both grown!”
The little rosy-cheeked, white-haired woman beamed from ear to ear. She wiped her hands on her apron. Her sky-blue eyes were still vibrant in spite of the crow’s feet at their corners.
“Look at you, Master Richard! What a fine young man you’ve become! And Sarah,” Netta’s tone softened and she gingerly took one of Sarah’s hands in her own sweaty calloused one. “Sarah, if you’re not now one of the most beautiful maidens in all of Farwin Wood, then I don’t know beetleburry from muckas milk.”
Sarah glanced at Richard. She knew he was chuckling at the references to Farwin Wood beverages. Their family had come to be known somewhat as nobility there and Richard had always loved the royal treatment they received. The rascal. This trip was probably as much a gift to himself as it was a gift for her. He seemed to think of Oedher Village and the rest of Farwin Wood as his playland and not what it actually was: a real world with real people who had real emotions. She was quickly reminded of reality when Netta asked after their parents. Richard stood there like a mute as Netta looked at them for an update on her dear old friends. He was older than her. Why did she have to be the responsible one?
Sarah broke the sad news of her father’s recent health problems to Dergus and Netta. The difficult part was that she had to tell them her parents were not likely to ever make the “long trek from the North” anymore because of it. It
broke her heart. Her father and Dergus enjoyed each other’s company. They’d used to spend their days drinking, hunting, and working in the stables. Netta took the news even harder.
The old woman had been like a second mother to Mrs. Allister. Their mother had told her that Netta was the one who’d taught her to sew and embroider, as well as how to cook Farwin Wood fare.
Over the next few days, they received local visitors and feasted with them at the massive dining table that ran the length of the great room. There was a fireplace at the end of the room where she and Richard liked to sit at night after all the guests had gone. She listened to his stories about college and updated him on the silly happenings of Blinney Lane. After a few days of catching up, Richard suggested they saddle up some stroomphblutels and take a ride through the other villages in Farwin Wood.
The beasts, when full-grown, stood about six feet high. They had heads like giant Saint Bernard dogs with grizzly bear bodies—wide, without tails. At the bottom of their girthy legs were thick paws with dull claws.
The beasts lumbered along down the dirt roadway through the forest, their wide-hipped backsides shifting with each step. Richard reached down to scratch behind the furry, floppy ears of the one he rode. It purred a deep throaty howl. Sarah laughed with her brother as the stroomphblutel’s slimy pink tongue came out to lick its black nose.
Hers was all white with chocolate brown spots over its eyes. Richard’s was a calico mix of grays, browns, and black.
Richard beamed as he held onto his reins. “God, I love these things.”
They steered their beasts off the path toward a stream to let them drink. Sarah’s popped its slobbery mouth up from the water and let out a low growl when a crackling sound came from the woods ahead of them. Richard looked at Sarah, telling her he had also heard it.
Farwin Wood was peaceful, but there were some dangerous creatures in the woods that were better left undisturbed. Hopefully they hadn’t stumbled across one. Just then, a musical sound of feminine laughter floated through the air.
“Hello?” Richard called out.
More sticks cracked. Between the trees of the opposite shore, two young women carrying baskets appeared.
Sarah couldn’t believe her eyes—it was Deronda Daundecort. She’d always been a pretty girl, but that was an understatement now. Girl had clearly been replaced by woman. She wore a smoky gray dress that conformed to her svelte figure. Her long, wavy blonde hair cascaded down a light blue cloak, which matched her sparkling eyes. She could have been Medieval Barbie, if there was such a thing. The much shorter and stockier brunette beside her was probably more beautiful than she appeared in the shadow of Deronda’s beauty.
“Deronda?” Sarah called.
Deronda turned, and her face lit up upon seeing them. “Sarah! Richard!”
Sarah was surprised to see Deronda bound down the opposite bank. The brunette hurried after her, trying to gather up the train of Deronda’s elegant gown. Sarah cringed as some the white embroidered trim dipped into the stream when her friend began to cross.
“Careful, Lady Deronda!” the brunette called from behind her, holding the end of the lady’s cloak.
Richard barreled off his stroomphblutel like it was a bomb about to explode and hurried into the stream. He hopped from one rock to another until he was one stone away from Deronda. Sarah practically fell off her stroomphblutel, trying to get down on her own. She watched, flabbergasted as her brother outstretched his arm for Deronda. What was she—chopped liver?
Richard had a peculiar joy on his face as Deronda smiled and took the arm he offered. “Richard…I hardly would have known you.”
“Nor I you,” Richard replied.
Oh, brother. Wipe up the drool. Deronda was her friend, not his! On their last trip to Farwin Wood, he’d spent most of his time horsing around with the Wortwart brothers in Oedher Village, playing a drinking game called Knick Knack. When they had traveled to see the Daundecorts, he’d disappeared with Deronda’s brother for the entire visit.
Once Deronda reached the bank, they ran toward each other so fast that the impact of their embrace was almost painful. At least Richard had the courtesy to help the less attractive handmaiden across while Sarah was reuniting with her old friend.
It made sense for Deronda to have a handmaiden now that she had come of age. Durley Allister had penned two simple social classes in Farwin Wood: nobles and everyone else. The Daundecort family was of the upper-class minority. Deronda’s ancestors had been the leading characters in Durley’s original tale. As time passed and the characters aged, the book added to its pages on its own. Deronda had been destined to be a noblewoman. It seemed dishonest that Sarah knew this about her and she did not. She didn’t like that, no matter what world she was in, there were always secrets to keep.
Deronda and the handmaiden followed Sarah and Richard to a glade where they settled down on the grass. Sarah, once again, had to be the bearer of bad news and explain that her parents would never return to Farwin Wood. Deronda shared her own sorrows: her mother, Lady Rella, had passed away shortly after the Allisters’s last visit.
Was it possible to feel older in a single minute? What happened to Deronda could one day happen to her. Sarah gave her sympathies. She noticed Deronda’s maturity then by how she smoothly transitioned conversation to more lighthearted news.
They reminisced and laughed, recalling the fun they had as children. Deronda told her and Richard humorous stories of life in Daundecort Town. She lived an hour’s ride to the east in a great hall that was practically a fortress. It sat on the top of a hill overlooking the many homes that comprised the town named after her family, all safely nestled inside a stone wall perimeter. Because the Daundecorts were the ruling noble family in that part of Farwin Wood, the town looked to them for management of everyday life’s necessities. There wasn’t much that required governance anywhere in Farwin Wood from what Sarah could deduce. Most of Deronda’s accounts of her new duties as a Lady of Daundecort Hall involved teaching etiquette to young ladies of the town or organizing feasts and festivals. There was always a feast or festival going on in Farwin Wood.
Sarah had attended one on her first trip to Farwin Wood with her parents when she was only six. They’d taken her and Richard to Daundecort Hall to meet their friends the Daundecorts. Lord Clennon and Lady Rella had hosted a feast simply because the Allisters had come to visit. She remembered finding the fancy yet simple toys in Deronda’s playroom so much more peculiar than her own things. Deronda was only two years older, and in spite of their foreign ways, they’d become fast friends. They ran through the elaborate garden maze of flowers and shrubs that filled the expanse behind Daundecort Hall. What fun it had been to get lost amongst the colorful insects and flowers for hours at a time, so unlike the museum-esque surroundings she had been accustomed to at the bookstore.
Sitting and reminiscing in the middle of the forest, it was odd how she felt like she was home. Deronda had been like a sister. She would have loved a sister, but she supposed if she had one, she would eventually leave Blinney Lane like Richard had. She didn’t blame him for planning not to come back to Salem. No one who stayed on Blinney Lane actually wanted to stay there after all. Well, unless they loved someone there who couldn’t leave, like her parents. She’d better enjoy Richard’s company while she still had it.
She listened as he recounted the many jousting sessions he’d had with Vasimus, Deronda’s older brother by four years. She vaguely remembered him. He and Richard had used to spend most of their time trying to beat the tar out of each other in the fencing area at Daundecort Hall. She’d had no interest in ever watching them, preoccupied with Deronda and their own amusements.
“Vasimus was a good half foot taller than me the last time I saw him, and the advantage left me on my backside quite a few times,” Richard explained, which caused the girls to laugh.
“Well, I believe he still is, if not more,” Deronda added proudly.
“From what I remember,
dear Brother, I think Vasimus was equipped with much larger muscles than yours,” Sarah added.
“Hey,” Richard whined and looked down at his arms.
“He always looked so serious, having to stand next to your father at the court and when they went out to hunt or patrol. I have to admit Deronda, I was a bit intimidated by him,” she said.
“Oh, Sarah. Vasimus would never harm a soul unless provoked. And never a woman,” Deronda said, patting her hand. The handmaiden giggled but made no further comment. Sarah looked to Deronda for an explanation.
Deronda gave a mischievous smile and said, “And as our Richard here so gloriously recounted, Vasimus, as you can imagine, has only grown in size. This has made him a sight to be seen by the ladies of the land.”
“Quite,” the handmaiden added.
Sarah laughed. “How is that less intimidating?”
Deronda placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Well, my sweet friend, while my brother still bounds off to hunt wickrits every chance he can get, he is nothing to be feared. He merely takes his role as future lord quite seriously. He’d never be one to disappoint our father. He doesn’t disappoint anyone for that matter and is as dear a friend to me as he is my brother, so fear not.”
“Maybe he could teach Richard a few things then.”
“Hey, I’m not hunting wickrits all day if that’s what you want,” Richard chimed in.
Sarah could never forget the look of a wickrit. They were powerful four-legged beasts with long, sharp talons on each foot. Their dark leathery skin made them look like oversized horses from a horror movie. A sharp horn jutted out from the top of their snouts and even sharper fangs protruded from their mouths. Their vocals were between a snort and a growl and they emitted shrill squeals. Most of the time they left people alone, but when startled or in herds, everyone knew to stay away. Their ferocity, physical prowess, and unpredictable nature made them worthwhile hunting targets for the men in the land.
