by Drea Damara
“Did you find something else to read?” Shelby looked up at him with a book in her hand that she’d obviously selected for him.
“No. This one’s for you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. I used to read this all the time when I was a kid.” Okay, that was kind of a lie. Aunt Sarah read it, he listened—same thing. He took the book Shelby had selected out of her hand and set The Lands of Farwin Wood in her lap.
Shelby ran her fingers gently across the cover. “It looks old, Ricky. Is this from the back room?”
“Don’t worry where I got it. Just do me a favor. Don’t read it in here.” He glanced out the window and then took the book back from her and shoved it into her book bag.
“Ricky, if this is one of Sarah’s antiques, I don’t want to take it out of the store without her permission,” Shelby said and grabbed his wrist. When he looked at her, she let go just as fast.
He let the book slide the rest of the way into Shelby’s backpack and said, “Listen. Do you take good care of books?”
“Yes, but—”
“Has she ever loaned you an antique book before?”
“Yes, Ricky, but—”
“Do you promise to bring it right back to me?”
“Sure! I’ll give it back right now, as a matter of fact!” Shelby started to reach for her bookbag, looking flustered by his peer pressure.
Ricky crossed his arms. “It’s not like you’re stealing a car. You’re only borrowing it. I just think it’s a shame that the only people who’ve probably ever read it have been my family. I wanted to return the favor and share a story with you that I think you’d like.”
Shelby stopped tugging on the book and looked at him. She sat back on the couch. “What if she finds out?”
“She won’t,” he said and shook his head. “I know this place like the back of my hand.” He rotated his hand and smirked. Shelby rolled her eyes and laughed. “Trust me, you’ll love it. It’s got these cool creatures in it that are like half bear, half dog.”
“Oh, all right, but just so you know,” she cinched her bag shut, “I don’t like being your accomplice.”
“You will once you’ve read about stroomphblutels!” he exclaimed confidently and followed her to the door.
“Stroomph-what?”
“Blutels. What’s the matter? Making your escape before she gets back?”
Shelby looked across the street, but Sarah was still nowhere to be seen. She exhaled and when she turned back, firmly smacked him in the center of his chest.
“You know, you’re pretty cute for a lawbreaker,” he teased.
SHELBY BLUSHED and descended the steps, laughing off the insult mixed with a compliment. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” she called over her shoulder, eyebrow raised. She gave a smile and a silly wave that she instantly regretted; it wasn’t consistent with her usual behavior toward boys.
As she walked the four blocks home to her house, she took each step with a chipper feeling inside. She had to admit, she was starting to warm up to Ricky. He wasn’t quite the knuckle-dragger she’d first assumed him to be. Sure, he tried to show off, but she kind of liked it now that he’d brought it down a notch and let his guard down. She never would have imagined such a good-looking, athletic guy like Ricky would be recommending a book to her. She was impressed.
“Stroom…stroomph…blutel.” Shelby sounded out the word and laughed. When she reached the fence gate to her house, she flung it open and ran to the door.
“Hi, Mom! Hi, Dad!” she yelled over her shoulder as she darted up the stairs to her room.
“Hi, sweetie! Did you have a nice day?” her mother called from below.
“Yeah! I’ve got a new book to read. Talk to you later.”
“Well, there’s a surprise!”
Once inside her room, Shelby took the book out and set it carefully on her pillow. She kicked off her sneakers and flung them across the room, then flopped down onto the bed. She smiled down at the title and traced her finger around an image of a golden flower.
“The Lands of Farwin Wood by Durley Allister.” She wondered if the author was a relative of Ricky and Sarah’s. She gently opened the book and the first protective page. She mumbled the words on the next, handwritten in dark green ink: To my beloved children—a place far beyond, but forever yours and near. She cooed at the sentiment and turned the page. Again, the words on the following page were all handwritten in the same ink. It was then that she realized that she was about to read her first ever handwritten book. What a rarity! “Cool,” she whispered and began the first line of the chapter.
DAUNDECORT HALL, FARWIN WOOD
18 YEARS EARLIER
AFTER SARAH finally noticed her brother’s laughter, she forced her eyes away from Vasimus and dismounted her stroomphblutel. She quickly smoothed the fabric of her dress and felt a hint of sweat on her palms. Hundreds of tiny pearls were carefully sewn up and down the front and sides of the skirt, across a lace section of her bodice, and throughout the billowy sleeves. They rustled with muted clacking noises, and she imagined the goose bumps on her arms coming out to meet the tiny orbs in her nervousness. She looked up at the back of her brother’s long green and gold vest to see if he was ready to take her arm. However, he was standing hands on hips admiring the view of the courtyard. She then realized she was once again the object of Vasimus’s rapt attention as he offered her his arm.
With hesitation, she clasped the inside of his bicep. His parted lips and intent stare, watching her minutest motion, made him appear to be wholly consumed with this simple action. Why was he looking at her so? Once her hand was in place, he brought his free hand down, pausing just for a second, before it clasped over hers.
Why did she feel so uncomfortable, almost nauseous, in his presence? Her bodice wasn’t too tight, and it wasn’t warm out, but she felt flush and feverish. Her knees trembled.
Vasimus gave a cursory glance to his hand over hers, then looked toward the hall door and began to walk without a further acknowledgment of her. In a rushed tone, he addressed Richard. “The festivities are waiting for your arrival. Shall we?”
“Lead on, my dear man,” Richard said, cheerfully following in step with them.
Sarah urged her feet onward to keep up with Vasimus’s long strides. The less she did, the more her little hand was forced to make more substantial contact with his rock-hard bicep. She’d never touched a man before—a boy or two but never a man. He most certainly had become one since her last visit. A glance at his profile revealed a tense jaw, his eyes straight ahead of him on the high wooden door they approached.
On the stone landing before the entrance door, they stopped. Sarah noticed rigidity in Vasimus’s movements as he briefly turned his head to look at Richard and raised her arm without even looking at her.
“Richard,” Vasimus whispered with a nod.
“Huh? Oh yeah, right.” Richard took Sarah’s hand from Vasimus and slapped it around his own much smaller bicep. “Ready, kid?” he whispered.
Vasimus stepped ahead of them, and with a lunge, he swiftly sent the heavy doors careening open. Revealed below them was the grand expanse of the Daundecort Hall great room. A light blue carpet runner lay across the entire stone floor before them. At the end of the room, Sarah saw an elderly but solid man dressed in similar clothing to Vasimus’s—Lord Clennon Daundecort. To Lord Clennon’s right stood the petite yet shapely figure of Deronda. Richard must have spotted her at the same time because she heard his breath catch. She looked more beautiful than ever in all her finery. Before Lord Clennon and Deronda sat a wooden table with three empty chairs awaiting the rest of the honored party. To the right and left of the carpet pathway were countless other tables, each filled with guests eagerly awaiting their arrival.
Vasimus descended the stairs into the great room and strode down the carpet toward his father and sister. Sarah jumped at the loud call of a man beside her as his voice echoed through the silent masses. “Lord Richard Allister and Lady
Sarah Allister of Allister Hall, Oedher Village and Blinney of the North.”
“I guess that’s us. Smile,” Richard whispered as he tugged her forward.
Sarah let out a nervous chuckle and did her best to smile. She made a conscious effort to cast glances back and forth to the expanse of guests. She felt herself finally breathe again when they reached the Daundecorts.
Lord Clennon, with his wrinkled but kind face, smiled at them from the head of the table. The salt-and-pepper hair he had on Sarah’s last trip was now much grayer, yet his blue eyes, handsome face, and the lively color of his skin still indicated years of life to come.
“Welcome, dear Allisters! Welcome back to Farwin Wood!” Lord Clennon outstretched both of his arms, palms open, to indicate the empty chairs on each side of the table.
Vasimus stood behind the chair immediately to Lord Clennon’s left, while Deronda stood behind the one to his right. Next to the siblings were the intended chairs of their guests: prime seating for viewing that evening’s festivities. Just as Sarah realized the chair before her was the one next to Vasimus, she let go of Richard’s arm and took a panicked step in an effort to snag the place next to Deronda. However, as soon as his arm was free from her grasp, Richard departed in the same direction. Vasimus pulled out the empty chair next to his and gazed at her with a questioning look.
Sarah felt her cheeks flush, yet as everyone was busy being seated, no one seemed to notice her blunder or flustered state. Except Vasimus. He backed slowly away from her intended chair, but his eyes remained on her as he took his own place. She quickly slid into the seat to avoid being the last person standing. Just as her backside touched the wood, she felt the seat slide forward. With an extended arm, eyes on Richard and Deronda, Vasimus slid both her and the heavy chair into place with one easy motion. She was mortified. He probably thought she knew nothing of etiquette or worse yet that she was awkward. Lord Clennon then gave a nod to an attendant who scurried away and disappeared through a side doorway.
The next hour passed with happy conversations full of inquiries from Lord Clennon on the welfare of the elder Allisters and stories of Farwin Wood since Richard and Sarah’s last visits. Richard was jovial and carefree, refilling everyone’s goblets with beetleburry ale, recounting childhood memories of his visits, as well as ad-libbing his studies and adventures from their far-off homeland.
The feast brought out to their table was nothing short of exquisite. A massive wickrit leg hock was placed in the center of the Daundecorts’s table, and the tender meat easily fell away from the giant bone. Servers continued on with muckas milk pudding, baked kierberts (which looked like lime green potatoes and had the taste of almonds), and tierumpt stew. Tierumpts were tiny birds that swooped up and down when they flew, making calls that sounded like their names.
Performers ran into the room with the onset of the meal and began to dance around and play kerryorts, triangular stringed instruments that created haunting chime melodies when strummed. Other players gaily followed amidst them with dillidumps—pairs of grated wooden sticks with large rectangular blocks on the ends that were used to make cricket noises or knocking, rhythmic sounds to add to the musical array.
A short stodgy man in colorful clothing threw daphne flowers about the room and enthusiastically recited a poem about the details of a hunt where Lord Vasimus killed a wickrit in honor of the Allisters’s return. When the man finished, the players started again, and Sarah took her first glance at Vasimus since being seated. He clasped his goblet in one hand, giving his attention to his father, Richard, and Deronda. His other hand sat clenched in a fist atop his leg closest to Sarah, his elbow out behind him. It made him look like he was ready to jump into battle at any moment.
Sarah could barely hear Richard or Deronda now as the players grew louder and the guests began to mill about the room. She couldn’t eat anymore and sat with her hands pressed against the textured base of her goblet. Lord Clennon excused himself to mingle amongst the crowd, and she instantly felt the void of the visual distraction. She shifted in her chair to watch the partygoers. Richard and Deronda were immersed in giggling conversation, which was now down to whispers. They seemed to enjoy being forced to lean in and speak directly into the other’s ear.
The view before Sarah could be a film set in medieval times. She could lose herself simply viewing everyone’s wardrobe and watching the way people danced. When she had an urge to share her mesmerized feelings with someone, she turned back to look at Deronda and Richard, but found that she’d clearly been forgotten. She noticed they probably had done the same to Vasimus and so she half turned her face toward him and nodded to acknowledge his presence. He hadn’t spoken two words to her since they sat down, but she didn’t want to be rude. It felt like his eyes were back on her.
“Have you enjoyed your time in Farwin Wood thus far Lady Sarah?” His deep voice eroded through the noise.
Sarah whipped her head back around. Her assumption had been correct. Vasimus’s intense expression was affixed on her. “I have always enjoyed my time here, thank you,” she said, trying to match the old-fashioned propriety of speaking that was common in Farwin Wood.
“Pardon?” Vasimus leaned forward. He grabbed the base of his chair between his legs and shifted it to angle toward her. “Forgive me, but the guests have grown loud.”
She repeated herself with more force but felt her voice come out in nearly a squeak, forcing Vasimus to lean in even closer. Heavens, it was getting warm. She took another sip of her ale and waited with eyes down on the brew. Surely he would soon be bored with entertaining her and leave. It was still surreal being back in Farwin Wood, speaking to fictional characters. She was no longer a child in a fairy tale. The fact that this story’s characters had grown up as she had made it all the more lifelike.
“I am pleased to hear this.” Vasimus watched her for a moment and then took a drink from his goblet.
He would likely get up soon to talk about hunting and fencing with some of the men. Just a few more minutes of awkwardness.
“What do you do to enjoy your time here?”
Sarah thought on the question for a moment. Her answers would likely sound silly to him. Would the things she’d amused herself with previously still hold enjoyment now that she was older?
“In the past I would often come to Farwin Wood with my family, and we would travel through Oedher Village, visiting the townsfolk. I enjoyed walking through the forest around the village, as well as my visits here to see Deronda. I suppose even without my parents, Richard and I will just continue to do the same.”
“Have you not seen beyond Oedher Village in your travels here?” Vasimus almost sounded appalled. The arm of his clenched fist came up, and he rested it across the back of her chair.
Her back went rigid, sensing his proximity. What was this feeling of discomfort that had come over her since their arrival? She sipped some more of her beetleburry and then stared at it wondering how much was too much. “No. I suppose I haven’t.”
“Perhaps you would let me escort you to see more of the countryside.” His features softened as he spoke. She felt her lips part as she tried to think of a polite protest, but she wasn’t quick enough because he continued. “There is much more to see than Oedher Village has likely afforded you, and I would hate for you to leave with an unenthused opinion of our land.”
“Oh, no!” She exclaimed and turned her eyes to him now with the courage from a building numbness from beetleburry ale. “I would never think that. Not with how much I enjoy riding stroomphblutels. Um,” she stumbled for a moment to think of an explanation, “you see we don’t have stroomphblutels in the North.” He watched her with an apparent fascination. “But there are other things I will treasure in Oedher Village, like all of the lively games of Knick Knack I’ve played.”
Vasimus canted his head. “Knick Knack?”
“Yes, it’s a game with these dice, or stones rather, that you grab depending upon how they land…”
“Yes,
I know Knick Knack,” Vasimus said through a thunderous laugh. “I’ve never met a lady, however, who played it.”
The embarrassment she felt over partaking in something she didn’t know was unladylike was diluted by the awe she felt over his smile. He was beautiful. His transformation from ominous to gorgeous with just one smile was something as magical to behold as how she’d come to Farwin Wood. “Oh. I’m sorry. No one ever told me I shouldn’t.”
Vasimus lowered his voice and leaned in closer. “I promise not to tell, as long as you promise to play a round with me.”
It was her turn to laugh now. She closed the half-inch of space that had kept her back from the chair and leaned into it now, taking another long draw of her ale. Smiling to herself, she ran a thumb over the patina on a daphne flower imprint at the goblet’s base.
“Do you know this flower, Lady Sarah?”
“Please, just Sarah. Lady Sarah sounds so—well, it makes me feel like my mother.”
“Sarah,” his husky voice said softly.
“Yes. Of course. The daphne flower. I think they’re beautiful. We…have something a little similar.” She remembered the much smaller pansies that grew behind Franci’s house.
“This is the flower of my family; they are said to symbolize strength and compassion.”
“One isn’t worthy without the other,” she added softly.
Vasimus cast her a thoughtful look. “How did the little girl who played dolls with my sister while I fought with her brother grow to be such a wise woman?”
