On Fallen Wings

by Jamie McHenry

  “Rhiannon,” said Owen, walking briskly toward me. “How are you, child?”

  “I’m okay,” I lied. “I’ve come to help Cael.”

  “Thank you. His face was cut. It’s bad.”

  Nia ran to her father. “You should see the Bauer home,” she said, hugging him. “It’s awful!”

  “Did he say who attacked them?” I asked, kneeling in front of Cael. “Does he know where Sean is?”

  Owen shook his head. “No, he’s been sleeping.”

  As I carefully peeled one layer of blanket away from his face, Cael shifted his arm. Startled, I pulled back my hand, waiting for him to say something. I looked up at Nia. She leaned over the back of the couch and didn’t speak. I took a long breath, dreading what I might see, before reaching back down to remove the blanket. I pulled it away slowly, until I had removed the final blood soaked layer. My stomach rolled over. Nia collapsed on the floor. Cael’s face was covered in so much blood that I couldn’t tell what was intact.

  “Warm water,” I said, quickly turning to Nia. “I need a pot of warm water. Do you have any towels or clean fabric?”

  Nia nodded, her face as pale as mine must have been. She hurried in the direction of her kitchen.

  Owen leaned close. “I covered him the best I could,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do. He’s been cut.”

  I nodded. “You did fine. I’ll clean him up. Do you have Aurelia leaves?”

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  “Owen,” I said, firmly. “I can help him, but I’m going to need some things. Do you store any herbs?”

  He shook his head.

  I looked down and closed my eyes. I felt helpless to aid Cael. The healing arts were a part of me; they were a part of every faerie. Nevertheless, I was away from the comfort of my home, away from the bottles of plants and berries I had collected as part of my devotion. I had never expected this—but the moment was upon me. Cael needed my help.

  I rubbed the diamond on my necklace, accepting its offering of courage.

  Nia returned to the room, carrying a small black cauldron and several towels draped over her arm. She handed me the kettle. It was cold.

  I grabbed two of the towels from her arm and dipped them into the water. I tossed a third towel over the edge of the couch. “Nia, I need you to help me. Warm this kettle in the fireplace.”

  Nia still looked terrified, but nodded and took the kettle. Cael moaned.

  I wrung most of the water from one of the towels and dabbed Cael’s forehead. “Nia?” I asked. “Do you know what Aurelias look like?”

  She mumbled a no.

  I kept dabbing, wiping as much blood away as I dared. “Near the smokehouse, on the tree side, where we used to hide as children,” I called to her without looking up, “you’ll find golden flowers. Those are Aurelias. I need their leaves. Will you collect some for me? Please hurry.”

  I didn’t look up to see if she heard, as Cael’s needs occupied my attention. I cleaned his face, exposing several deep cuts, but thankfully, nothing worse. As I worked under his chin, I exposed the wound that had released so much blood.

  “Ai!” Cael twisted and screamed, opening his eyes for the first time since I had arrived. “What are you doing?”

  I placed my hand on his forehead and held him down. “Be calm, Cael,” I said, gently. “I’m helping you. You must remain still.”

  He stopped moving and stared at me. I stared back, trying to calm him with my eyes. Owen stood behind me and leaned closer.

  “You’re going to be all right,” I told Cael, whispering. “You have a deep cut on your neck. I’m going to treat it.”

  “I can’t be calm,” he said, lifting his head, despite my efforts to hold it down. “You don’t know what’s happened.” He immediately fell back.

  “Shush.” I placed my finger against his lips. “Don’t speak,” I said. “Close your eyes. Think of a good memory.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have any good memories.”

  I looked back at Owen, silently asking him for help.

  He shook his head and shrugged. “I can hold him down if you need.”

  I turned back toward Cael, fighting the urge to panic. “Imagine me dancing,” I said, desperate for an answer. “Close your eyes and dream. I need you to dream.”

  He watched me look at him for several moments, then closed his eyes and was still. I finished cleaning his neck, taking extra gentle swipes each time he flinched. He wasn’t cut as badly as I had feared. Apart from the few slices on his face, a couple deep cuts had exposed his flesh under his chin, and a long slice had reached his ear.

  Soon Nia arrived with a handful of Aurelia leaves. She arranged them on a narrow table next to the wall. I motioned for her to join me and handed her the dry towel. I showed her how to hold it against Cael’s neck to prevent bleeding.

  After retrieving the small kettle from the fireplace, I started on the healing soup; enough leaves to cover the palm, warm water—not hot enough to scald, and salt; then soak the leaves until the sweet fumes come. Perfect.

  I grabbed another towel and placed my brew on the ground below Cael. “Thank you, dear,” I nudged Nia aside. I dipped the tip of the towel into the kettle and held it near Cael’s face. The pungent smell tickled my nose. “Cael,” I asked, “are you asleep?”

  He didn’t move.

  “Can you hear my voice?”

  He smiled before wincing.

  “Good,” I said. “I’m going to seal your cut. This will hurt, but you must try to hold still. Otherwise, this won’t work.”

  “Should I hold him down?” asked Owen, quietly.

  I nodded. Once Owen had a firm grip on Cael’s shoulders, I dabbed the towel under his neck.

  “No!” Cael’s scream filled the room. He thrashed on the couch, but Owen held him.

  I dipped the towel again and repeated the dressing, covering the open flesh with dripping green liquid. Cael moaned, but didn’t speak or open his eyes. When I touched his ear with the towel, he screamed again and twisted.

  “Stop it!” he yelled. “Stop.”

  I leaned back to avoid a striking blow from his head. “I need to finish,” I ordered. “Otherwise the cut won’t heal, and you’ll scar.”

  Cael glared. “I don’t care. Don’t touch me with that again.”

  I looked at Owen for support; he shook his head, warning me silently that he couldn’t keep holding Cael. Cael was a strong young man. I groaned, stepped back, and grabbed the kettle. Owen released Cael’s shoulders and stood from the couch. Cael reached for his neck.

  “Don’t touch it,” I said, warning him. “Otherwise, I’ll need to start over.”

  My words affected him and he lowered his arm and slumped back on the cushions. “Is there something to drink?” he asked, holding his forehead.

  Owen nodded toward Nia. She left the room and returned with a brass goblet. Nia held it in front of Cael.

  “Thank you,” he told her, rolling to one side and sitting on the couch. Cael took a long, slow drink and then placed the goblet on the floor. He rubbed his forehead and stared at his hands before looking around the room, focusing first on Owen, then on Nia, and finally, he looked at me.

  “I suppose you want to know what happened.” He wiped blood from his hair with his fingers.

  “Yes,” I said, suddenly weakened by the subject. I stepped back and chose a chair from the table in the center of the room.

  Nia flopped down on the couch next to Cael while her father stood with his arms folded.

  Cael shifted his legs before speaking again. “At first light, men forced their way into the house,” he said, “men from Morgan.”

  Nia and I gasped together. A quick memory of Sean’s house in shambles flashed through my mind.

  “They told us they were looking for something,” said Cael. He winced and took a deep breath.

  “What?” Nia prodded him as she leaned forward. “What were they looking for?”

  Cael
covered his throat with his hand and shook his head. “I don’t—I don’t know. It was something Sean had.”

  “What happened to Sean?” I asked. “Where’s your father?”

  Cael held up his hand as if to block my question and then leaned over and took a loud breath. I held mine, hoping he would answer.

  “Sean wouldn’t give them what they wanted,” said Cael, continuing. “He told them to leave.” He shook his head. “Two of the men grabbed his arms.”

  I covered my mouth with both hands to hold back a scream.

  “My father is trading grain in DarMattey. He won’t be back until tomorrow.” Cael looked up. His eyes were red. “Sean fought back,” he said. “He shoved both men against the wall. As I ran across the room to help, another man pulled a knife.” As he spoke, Cael’s hands trembled. He clenched his fingers together.

  “Then—what happened?” Nia placed a hand on Cael’s shoulder. He shuddered, and she quickly removed her hand.

  Owen walked around the room and tossed a pair of short logs into the fireplace. Their addition to the fire made it crackle and spew a cloud of angry embers. He returned to his original spot next to me.

  “I fought them,” said Cael. “I was unarmed, but I did my best. I broke one of their noses.”

  I smiled grimly.

  “Sean also fought them.” Cael stared at me, and nodded. “You would have been proud,” he said. “They were big men. He threw one of the men against the table.”

  “He’s stronger than he looks,” I said.

  Cael nodded. “Yes, he is. Then the other man knocked him to the floor. Sean scrambled outside, and I ran to follow him, but someone swiped at my face with their blade and I fell down.” He shook his head and covered his face with his hands. “Another man grabbed me and kicked me in the stomach.”

  Burning tears rolled down my cheeks and into my mouth as I pictured his home, the destruction I had seen, and the images of Sean fighting to escape. I wiped my eyes and nose with the sleeve of my cloak.

  “Then what happened, Cael?” said Owen. “What happened to Sean?”

  Cael shook his head. “I don’t know, exactly. I passed out.” He rubbed his eyes. “When I came to, Sean was gone. That’s when I came here.”

  “What about Eldon?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why did they hurt him?”

  Cael shrugged. “I don’t know.” He raised his voice. “I don’t know. If I had been stronger, I could have stopped them. I should have been stronger, or ready.”

  Nia touched his shoulder again. “You were strong, Cael. How could you know that would happen? How could anyone?”

  Cael shook his head. “I’ll find him.” He looked at me. “I promise you, Rhiannon. I’ll find the men who took Sean.”

  As he stared, another flood of emotion overtook me. I sobbed. “What do we do?” I said, directing the question at anyone who would answer.” I covered my face and cried. “Where is he?”

  I felt Nia’s arm around my shoulder. “We’ll find where he is. The Elders will investigate.”

  “Are you certain the men were from Morgan?” asked Owen, his voice louder. “Did you recognize them?”

  I looked up and saw Cael shake his head.

  “I know they were from Morgan,” said Cael. “I’ve never seen them, but I saw their markings.” He motioned to his arm; men from Morgan tattooed circles on each arm to identify themselves. “I’m certain that’s where they’ve taken him.” Cael stood, winced, and then fell backward onto the couch.

  I glanced at the kettle between my feet. The sweet aroma was fading. “Cael,” I said, lifting the pot by its handle. “I need to apply this to your ear.” I stepped toward him.

  “No, Rhiannon,” He said, cowering back and touching his head. “I’ll be okay.

  “It will scar,” I told him, dipping the tip of the towel.

  Cael smirked. “If it does, it will remind me of what happened.” He winced as he rocked forward and pulled himself to stand. “I promise you, the man who did this to me will suffer. That is my new purpose.”

  “Your purpose should be to lie down and rest,” said Owen, nudging Cael on the shoulder. “You’ll stay here until we can find out what happened, and until you recover. I’ll send a messenger to your father.” He prodded Nia, and together, they left the room and walked down the hall toward the kitchen.

  “I must be going as well,” I said, getting on my feet to follow Nia and her father.

  “Rhiannon?”

  I stopped walking.

  “I meant what I said.”

  “I know you did. Get some rest.” I left Cael alone.

  In the kitchen, Nia and her father were having a hushed discussion that ended when I entered. Nia came and took the kettle from my hands. After setting it onto the stone counter, she hugged me tight. I accepted her warmth and squeezed her while releasing another wave of tears.

  Owen put both arms around us. “I’ll send a messenger to tell the other Elders what has happened. We’ll hold council and discuss the situation.”

  “Will they go after Sean?” I asked, turning my head to wipe my eyes on Nia’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Most men don’t want trouble with Morgan, and no one wants war.”

  I rubbed the diamond on my necklace that only the night before had been touched by my beloved. “I wonder what Morgan wants.”

  An unfamiliar emotion was welling in me. Hate. I hated the men across the lake. They were villainous and poisoned. They were barbaric men with marks of evil on their arms. Everything my father had said about them was true—and worse.

  “I know what I want,” I said, clenching my fist.

  Nia pulled away at my fierce tone and Owen patted my shoulder in an avuncular fashion.

  “You don’t want that,” he said. “I know you’re upset, and I’ll talk to the Elders, but don’t give up hope.” He turned me and stared firmly into my eyes. “We’ll get Sean back.”

  I sniffled and shuddered—the cold had found me again. “I’m going home.” I tightened my cloak. After declining Nia’s requests to walk with me, I left the warmth of her home and wandered slowly across the field back to mine.

  The Oaths of Men

  Dawn hadn’t arrived when I heard Father leave through the front door. I remained in bed, pulling the thickest of my blankets over me for extra warmth, and stared absently out the window. There was no reason to get up; all of my hope had drained from me during the night. I shifted to my side and coughed as my necklace choked me. I twisted its silver chord and rubbed the diamond briolette between my fingers and my thumb. The cold darkness had been cruel to me. I yawned, hoping to let it pass, yet still unwilling to accept the new day. I closed my eyes and wept until I slept again.

  “Rhiannon?” Mother’s voice was faint. “Rhiannon, please wake up.”

  My eyes didn’t want to open. I covered my head and moaned.

  Mother removed my blanket. “Please, wake up.”

  “No,” I said, reaching for the fur. “Leave me alone.” I shifted as the chill of the morning met my arms.

  “Please.”

  I opened my eyes. Although she was near my face, I could barely see her. My room was blurry and faded. She was kneeling.

  “If I sleep, it will all go away,” I told her, trying to convince myself. Tears clouded my vision; mother was also crying. I sat up. “Mother?”

  She embraced my hands in hers and spoke softly. “This isn’t good for you,” she told me. “You need to be brave.” She pulled my hands close to her. “We need your strength.”

  I looked down at my feet. “Who cares what I do or feel?” I said. “I’m not strong. Why should it matter?”

  Mother stared at me. “Because you are a faerie, Rhiannon. You represent all of us. When you are happy, you lift us up. And when you are sad—the hearts of our village crash down with you.”

  I shifted my feet in the sheets, suddenly ashamed. Guilt was an art my mother had mastered long before that day.

 
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I can’t help what I feel.” I looked away. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You avoid lingering in sorrow. That’s what you do. You keep your mind fresh, so that hope has a chance to grow.” She squeezed my hands tight. “Don’t hide from the day and allow the sunlight to pass you by.”

  I smiled at her and shuddered from the cold. “I miss him already.”

  “I miss him, too.”

  “What will the Elders do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” Mother released my hands and stood. “You won’t know until your father returns from council.” She reached out her hand. “Why don’t you come downstairs and eat something.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I said, shuddering again from the weather attacking my room from the window.

  “You need to eat.”

  I rolled to the floor and crawled to the closet. I grabbed my work dress. “I’ll come down in a moment.”

  Mother took the dress from my hand. “Don’t worry about your chores. Leila and Ethan can manage. Take a long ride and clear your mind. It will do you, and us, some good.”

  After a warm morning meal, that I hardly touched, I wandered to the stable. Leila and Ethan ignored me while they worked. Soon, I was free of their stares and riding alone on the back of Maeia. As we galloped in the direction she wished, I held her reins loose in my hands and leaned back, allowing the cold air to graze my face. The chill was a shock that broke me from my doldrums. It offered me a chance to feel again. When Maeia stopped running near a tiny grove of trees at the center of the field, my thoughts returned to Sean.

  I slumped in the saddle and then let myself fall to the yellow, matted grass. There I sat, with my face in my hands, and allowed the tragedy to control my emotions. Maeia tried to console me by nudging me with her nose, which I rubbed affectionately, but her efforts were wasted; I was too far lost in my own misery to smile. I rolled to my stomach and tried to dream my fears away.

  When I awoke, my face felt flat against the cold ground and my eyes were dry of any tears. I lifted my head and looked around. It was midday and I was alone. Even Maeia had left my side. She had wandered to the edge of the grove and was digging in the brush for greens. My head was heavy, but I felt better; I couldn’t remember having cried that much before. I shuddered as another breath of sorrow escaped me.