On Fallen Wings

by Jamie McHenry

  She winced as I released her. “This is a fantastic day. Guess what I brought for you?”

  I had no time to answer before Shayla lifted a satchel from her feet and retrieved a wrapped package. “Open it,” she told me, watching with wide eyes while I unwrapped layers of soft silk that tickled my fingers.

  I lifted one shiny fork and held it high. “Wow,” I said. “Thank you.”

  “There’s a matching set. You two will have the best meals with silver in your hands.” Shayla beamed. She had always insisted on extravagance, so I knew the wares had been fashioned with quality. “There’s more,” she said, refusing to wait. She held an apron in front of me.

  “It’s beautiful, Shayla,” said my mother, caressing it with her fingers.

  Mother was right. Weaved of thick cotton, the apron had magnificent angel vines of gold and white embroidered along its edges.

  “The cook makes the kitchen,” said Shayla, equally proud of the apron. “You’ll make a wonderful wife.”

  I held my arms out so she could tie the apron around my waist. “It’s the Promise Ceremony,” I told her. “Sean and I can’t get married, yet.”

  Shayla tugged on me, examining my look until she appeared satisfied. “You will,” she insisted. “It’s only a matter of tradition. You’ll give your gifts and marry before the season passes. I want to be the first to congratulate you.”

  The room felt warm. At least, my face felt warm. “You’re very kind,” I told her. “Thank you for these.”

  She waved an acceptance and rushed my mother into the kitchen to cook.

  The day was wonderful. I felt like a queen. Shayla’s offerings were only the beginning. Family and neighbors brought gifts and wishes of good fortune. I was gracious and shy, joyfully beaming while accepting everything. My cousin gave me a blanket, and the ironsmith’s wife brought candles. All were fine things, but of all the gifts I received that day, my father’s was my favorite. I told everyone about my necklace and made certain he heard my voice.

  Mother stayed busy in the kitchen, filling the rooms with sweet smells of apple and cobble berries. Insisting on protocol, she waved away offers to help from everyone except her sister. Her pies looked delicious and their flavors were perfect; Mother was the best cook in Aisling. More than a few of our guests spent the day filling themselves with gossip and dessert.

  Father offered his own greeting to the men who came to call. Always willing to share a drink, he did just that, loudly exclaiming his pride with a goblet, and his love for me with a strong shoulder hug. I absorbed too many squeezes to count, but appreciated his effort.

  “What will your requirement be?” Tara Dunn finally asked the question of the day.

  I smiled back without answering. She must have known I wouldn’t—not before the Ceremony.

  The tradition of requesting a gift from your betrothed had always been a custom in our village. Many moments of thought went into these requests. The gifts were more than mere baubles. They revealed the needs of the suitor and were symbolic of the marriage that would follow; the marriage wouldn’t happen until the requirement was fulfilled. Accepting the requirement was an oath, a promise. Promises in Aisling were eternal.

  Still, Tara pried. It was her personal obligation. When gossip filled the air in Aisling, her voice usually carried the message. When I didn’t speak, silence hung in the room, like the smoke from my father’s pipe. It quickly ended as she launched a barrage of new questions.

  “When is the wedding? Where will you live? How many children do you want? Will you still care for the horses? What do the Fae think of Sean?”

  Mother saved me from the attack. “Let the engagement happen first, Tara.” She handed Tara a goblet of warm cider and corralled her toward the kitchen. “The ceremony is enough to think about, don’t you agree?”

  As the afternoon lingered, the visits ended and my stomach started dancing. The Promise Ceremony, my Promise Ceremony, would begin at nightfall. I left Father and Ethan to their chores and took Leila upstairs to help me prepare. When long shadows darkened the day, we still weren’t ready.

  “Rhiannon, Leila, we need to leave. Come downstairs,” called Mother from the hall.

  Leila peered over my shoulder and studied our reflections in the mirror on my dresser. She stood behind me, holding a long clump of my hair in one hand and a bone handled brush in the other. “You’re perfect.”

  I smirked and turned for a better view. “It looks the same as before you started.”

  “I know,” she answered. “That’s why it’s beautiful. I love the way your hair curls below your shoulders and wraps around your waist. The brushing only makes it shine.”

  I leaned back on my wooden stool and lifted my arms, allowing the wide sleeves of my golden shawl to drape like a glittering curtain in the candlelight. I searched for flaws. I needed to be perfect…for Sean.

  “Rhiannon, Leila?” Mother yelled louder.

  “We better go,” said Leila, tossing the brush into the woven basket on my dresser. “Mother sounds annoyed.”

  I took a deep breath and gazed around my room; the room that I would soon abandon, that Leila would claim once I was gone; the room with a perfect view of our horse meadow, and of Taylor’s Ridge in the distance. I exhaled and walked to the window. Apricot rays of sunlight highlighted the top of the eastern trees and the ridge above it. The sun was close to setting.

  “I’m ready,” I said, confidently. I followed Leila down the narrow wooden steps.

  When we arrived at the front door, Father was stomping a straight path between opposite ends of the hall. He started to yell something, but then he really looked at me and dropped his fist. “Just like your mother,” he said, widening his beard with a grin that made me smile back, “beautiful.”

  Mother stood behind him, beaming from around his waist. “You are gorgeous, dear,” she said. She turned to Leila. “Both of you.”

  “My gown feels tight at the shoulders,” I said, twisting my back to show her.

  “That’s because you’re growing.” Mother tugged at the stitching under my shawl. “Poor Sean will always have to look up to admire your eyes.”

  A young woman never wants to hear that she’s growing, but I had become used to it. By age fifteen, I was as tall as my mother; by sixteen, I stood above every woman in Aisling—a gift from my father, no doubt. I gave her a weak smile and rubbed my new necklace.

  Outside, my breath curled in the chilling air. It was colder than the night before. Moon Season was coming fast. Father slammed the door closed behind us while we scurried across the yard to begin our journey to Stone Meadow.

  Aisling was quiet. Long white trails of smoke escaped from the chimneys of candlelit homes and clouded the low forest. No one else occupied the road. While we walked through the village, my stomach tightened and my breath started to escape in short wisps. I was nervous for the ceremony, and memories of the prior night’s dangers lingered in my mind. Leila’s passionate description to Father earlier in the day had been unsettling.

  As I looked around, I noticed Leila glancing cautiously around us. Like me, she must have been apprehensive.

  “Father?” she asked. “Has the bandit frightened everyone?”

  He grumbled—the way he always did when worried. “No, he hasn’t.” He pulled her close, smothering her hair in his tunic. “Let’s leave him to the shadows and enjoy the evening. This is Rhiannon’s day.”

  Mention of the bandit quelled our conversation for a while. Even Ethan seemed afraid; he jumped and turned at every snap and whisper in the forest around us. As we neared the end of the trail, the sun left its last traces of daylight and disappeared below the surrounding trees, allowing highlights of a large fire to bounce with the mumblings of an unseen crowd ahead. Normally surefooted, I tripped several times, possibly from my nervousness.

  Father held my arm and looked down at me. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “I can help you.”

  I smiled. Father had rougher manners
than anyone I knew, but these kind words reminded me of his endearment. He would never let anything hurt me.

  “I’m tense,” I admitted, twisting his gift between my fingers. “Were you nervous on your Day of Promise?”

  Father glanced around before whispering into my ear. “Don’t tell your mother,” he said. “I lost my breakfast—twice.”

  I chuckled. Then I gasped when we entered Stone Meadow. A crowd of villagers, more than I had expected, huddled close to the standing stones. In the center, a tall fire flickered against the darkness. While we walked toward the flames, a hush filled the crowd. A hundred faces turned to look.

  Mother grabbed the hood of my shawl and lifted it over my head. “They are here to celebrate you,” she said, widening her eyes. “Enjoy the moment.”

  When we reached them, familiar faces smiled and friends stepped aside, allowing me to pass between them. Three faerie friends—Abigail, Sadie, and Fawn—stood in the crowd, dressed like me, wearing their ceremonial white gown and golden shawl. Nia stood next to her father, closest to the stones. I wanted to run to her, however, tradition demanded elegance for the ceremony. When I was near enough, though, I reached toward my best friend and embraced her tight.

  “Good fortune, Rhia,” she whispered.

  I smiled. Over Nia’s shoulder, I spotted Sean.

  He stood tall and proper, dressed in a dark tunic with his arms extended towards me. Thin, honest arms of a farmer that had held me close more than a hundred times. He had eyes that stole the night and a smile that had always welcomed my kisses. “You’re beautiful at sunset,” he said intimately, as if we were the only two people there. The flames behind him silhouetted his neatly brushed hair.

  There were bolder young men in Aisling, rich with words and promises of an easy life—there was only one Sean Bauer. He stood in front of me, warming my heart.

  I let go of my father’s arm and rushed to Sean, gripping him tight in a warm embrace. He spun me for a moment and then released me, keeping tight hold of my hands.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, staring at me and smiling.

  Before I could answer, Colin, our neighbor and Chief Elder, waved his arms and commanded everyone to approach the stones. While he gave instructions about the ceremony, I caught a glimpse of his wife, Madeline. She stood calm and elegant, and close to the stones where she belonged. The braids in her blonde hair were perfect and tight, as always, and her faerie gown looked perfect. When Sean left me to take his place near the Season Stone, I walked toward her.

  “You look beautiful,” said Madeline. Her voice was soft and carried like a song. “Sean is a lucky man.”

  I grinned back. Madeline was a good friend.

  “Thank you,” I answered. I pulled her close and squeezed. “This is a wonderful moment.”

  While Madeline held the embrace, I felt her warmth pass through me. She had a gift for warming others with kindness. I had always wanted to be like her.

  “Turn around,” she whispered. “There is your future.”

  Sean’s father and his brother led a procession of relatives in a circle, while Sean stood near the Season Stone next to Colin. When the crowd’s chatter settled to a low whisper, Colin raised his arms.

  Village bards—wearing brilliant violet tunics—marched from the trees toward the pillared circle, playing fiddles and flutes in intricate counterpoint. A few carried drums that pulsated low and deep across the grass. Mother placed her hand on my shoulder while Leila and Nia settled next to me.

  The music grew, and while the drums beat louder, Sean fed the fire with dead branches covered in brown leaves. The flames erupted into a roar. The fiddles strung short bursts of lively hymns from around the stone circle. My heart surged with emotion, carried deep inside my body by the pulse of the moment. At Colin’s direction, Sean walked through the hole in the Season Stone and stopped to face me.

  Silence overtook the meadow. The giant flames melted toward the ground while a breeze sifted through the hushed crowd. My heart still pounded the rhythm of the drums as Colin motioned for me to approach. I held my breath and glanced at Nia. She smiled back.

  I stepped forward.

  Colin’s smile was soothing. I sighed when he took my hands and placed them onto Sean’s open palms. Colin spoke, but I didn’t hear his words. I focused on the beautiful eyes in front of me. My fingers trembled.

  Sean clasped them and mouthed the words, “I love you.”

  I turned and saw my family. Father looked stoic and firm, Mother wiped her face with the sleeve of her dress, Leila’s tears flowed down her cheeks, and Ethan shifted from one foot to another. I waited for Mother to nod before turning back to face Sean and Colin.

  “I’m ready,” I whispered.

  Once again, Colin raised his arms and called to the crowd to join closer. “This circle—” he said. His voice reminded me of a high arcing goose call. “—containing friends and family, is the binding force for the pairing of these two in marriage.” He looked at Sean and me. “If you both accept the terms.” Colin stepped closer to Sean. “Sean, what gift do you require?”

  I held my breath while waiting for him to speak.

  Sean answered loudly and with sudden authority. “Armor,” he said to the crowd. He stared at me. “I require armor, so that I may always protect you from harm.”

  Applause erupted, mingled with a few yells from my relatives. I sighed with relief—his demand wasn’t impossible. That was something I could get. Silence filled the meadow again. I felt the eyes of the village watching me, waiting for my answer.

  “I accept,” I said, smiling. I gripped Sean’s hand and turned toward the meadow. “I accept Sean’s requirement for marriage.”

  Once again, clapping and a few cheers.

  Colin turned to me and repeated his question. “Rhiannon, what gift you do require?”

  I barely heard the question. Seventeen years of memories flooded my consciousness. This was my moment; the one every young village daughter dreamed of since youth. My next words would summarize a life of wishes and define my future. I had planned this gift long before courting Sean, and longer before my acceptance into the Fae. It was a quest, a daring chase for my future husband, to prove his love and provide me with the one thing that life in Aisling couldn’t.

  “A white horse,” I whispered, without another thought. I repeated my words louder to the eager faces watching us. “I require a white horse.” I smiled at Sean. “The purity of love and life defined.”

  Shallow gasps filled the air and whispered murmurs carried in the soft breeze. Their reaction was expected. Despite my years of horse raising and trading, I had never seen a white horse; no one had, although many stories of their existence had found their way to us. They were fascinating, and their mystery had become my price. I stared at Sean’s dark eyes and searched for his answer.

  “With honor, I accept Rhiannon’s terms for marriage.”

  A surge of cheers erupted around us. I exhaled, relieved that Sean had accepted. While drumbeats pounded out the sealing of our engagement, I grabbed my fiancé in a tight hug and emptied my love into his chest. My Day of Promise was complete.

  The Man with the Wonderful Voice

  The house shuddered as two large knocks banged the front door.

  “He’s here!” With a gigantic smile, Leila rushed from her perch on the long table bench, and before I could protest, disappeared down the hall.

  Ethan laughed. “You’re blushing! Look, Mother, Rhiannon’s face is berry red.”

  “It’s impolite to tease,” scolded Mother.

  I ignored my brother and listened attentively toward the front door. Leila’s muffled voice carried back to our large dining room, where the rest of us sat waiting.

  “What are you saying?” I yelled, leaning toward the hall. “Mother, find out what she’s telling Sean.” I glanced at Father, but he was no support; he gnawed quietly on a large slice of cedar pork. “Mother! She’s still speaking to him.”

  “Let
your sister talk.” Mother stood from her chair and wiped her face clean with her apron. “She’s probably telling Sean what a fine woman you are.”

  “Or telling him that I snore!”

  “He’ll find out soon enough,” said Father. Those were his first words of the morning. He took a drink from his goblet and pounded it onto the table.

  “You’re beautiful in the morning.” Sean stood at the end of the hall, smiling at me. “Hello.” He turned to the rest of my family and nodded. “Good morning, Ethan.” Sean walked to the end of the table and offered his hand to my father. “Good morning, Neal.”

  While shaking Sean’s hand, Father pulled him close and squeezed. Sean patted Father firmly on the back, sending an echo into the rafters.

  “It’s my turn, dear.” Mother held her arms wide.

  Sean escaped my father and grabbed my mother’s waist. Then he lifted her off her feet.

  Ethan jumped onto his seat and cheered. “Look, now Mother’s face is red.”

  “Sean!” My mother protested. “You may put me down now.”

  “I’m hugging for two,” he answered, smiling. “If my mother were alive, she would thank you for raising a beautiful family.” He set her down and then grabbed my goblet and raised it. “To the Phillips family.”

  Leila rushed to claim hers as everyone lifted a metal cup. With nothing to offer, I smiled and held Sean’s empty hand.

  “To our family,” we announced.

  “And to Sean,” added Mother.

  Sean took a drink from my goblet and placed it on the table. He slid onto the bench next to me. I reached around his back and pulled him closer.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  Sean made a soft growl. I loved that sound. Then he grabbed a plate and filled it with fruit.

  “What are your plans, today?” asked Mother, reclaiming her chair, nearest to the kitchen.

  Sean had a mouthful of dawnberries, so I spoke for him. “We’ll take a walk,” I said, “after Sean helps with the chores.” I grinned at him while he cleared his throat and started eating a biscuit.