On Fallen Wings

by Jamie McHenry

I smiled. Madeline had a peace about her that always made me happier. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll see her in the morning.”

  I gave Father a hug. He pulled me close with one arm. I accepted his warmth and tobacco smell, and released a comfortable sigh.

  “I love you, Father.”

  “You’re a blessing,” he said, patting the back of my head, “a true faerie. If you need me, I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” I said, releasing my pain into his chest and hoping that he understood. “Goodnight.”

  After waving a short goodnight to my siblings, I drudged my feet upstairs to my room. The sheets on my bed were cold and unwelcoming, so I grabbed my thick fur blanket for extra warmth. I slid underneath and buried myself up to my neck.

  Staring at the dismal gray sky outside my window, I tried to think about Sean, but my memory betrayed me and reminded me of Cael’s stolen kiss. I recalled the events of the day, wondering if I had done anything to invite Cael’s advances. I knew I was blameless, but couldn’t help feeling as if I had betrayed my love. “Where are you, Sean?” I asked. “I need you so much. Come back to me.” I rubbed the diamond on my necklace until the night absorbed my grief and made me sleep.

  ~ O ~

  Determination arrived on fading rays of moonlight. I had woken early, planning my day and waiting for a reason to leave the comfort of my covers. There wasn’t one. Still, I inhaled a chilly breath of bravery, chose a warm woolen dress and slippers, and crept downstairs. I had been fortunate yesterday—Mother and Father rarely let me escape my chores. To complete my day’s plan, I needed a second offering of fortune to avoid working in the field.

  I sparked a flame in the fireplace, and then in the oven, before scrambling outside to fill my apron with fresh warm eggs from the henhouse. I chose a round salted roast from the pantry. I was slicing it into thick strips when Mother arrived at the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” she said, looking at me with wide eyes. She was wrapped in a long robe. “Are you feeling better?”

  I smiled an answer while arranging the pork on a baking sheet. “I want to get an early start,” I said. “I would like to visit Madeline before midday.”

  Without speaking, Mother lifted a bottle of cider from the floor and placed it onto the counter. As she pulled a kettle from the ceiling, the back door opened. Father appeared with a glowing lantern in his hand.

  “Hello, Neal,” said Mother, abandoning the kitchen to embrace him.

  I looked away while they doted noisily. When Mother returned to the counter, I glanced back at the dining room. Father was placing his coat on the wall and warming his hands in front of the fire I had started.

  “You’re awake early, Father,” I said, approaching him. I gave him a large hug. Prepared to offer plenty of affection, I hoped he would release me from my morning duties.

  “Yes,” he said, groaning while I squeezed him. “I started before dawn so that all the work gets done. I want you to visit Madeline.”

  I hadn’t expected this. “Are you certain?”

  He nodded and flopped into his chair at the end of the table. “This thing that happened,” he said, “has given you plenty to worry about. I won’t trouble your mind with your work here.”

  “My work here?”

  He nodded. “Hard work clears the mind,” he said, “but unfinished work is a burden to a worried soul.” He lifted his beard with a wide grin. “Your soul has enough to carry right now. Take care of that. Your chores will always be here.”

  “Thank you, Father,” I said, feeling guilty for my plotting. “That was kind of you.” As I looked at him, a part of me wondered what he wasn’t revealing.

  “I’m your father,” he said, absently waving a hand at me. He looked at Mother. “And a husband. I’ve learned that a happy woman makes a peaceful home.” He slapped the table. “Now, where’s my morning meal?”

  I was happy to oblige and hastily finished preparing breakfast. When the food was ready, I served everyone, even Mother. The delightful smells helped me discover that despite my reluctance to eat, my stomach was longing for nourishment. While gorging down the eggs, which were not as tasty as Mother made them, I realized I hadn’t eaten in a day. I wondered if my hunger was adding to my melancholy. Perhaps it was. I finished my meal without saying much, and scrambled upstairs to bathe.

  ~ O~

  Although I had known Madeline and Colin my entire life, I always treated visits to them as a special occasion. Madeline kept a tidy home and her influence was addicting. I made my bed, scooped up my soiled socks, and arranged my sandals and boots. I dusted my dresser and even scraped the old wax from my windowsill. Feeling prepared and proper, I chose my cream-colored dress, the one that Sean adored, then brushed and twisted my hair to perfection. I examined myself in my small mirror before going downstairs.

  “How long do you plan to visit?” Mother questioned, as I offered her a goodbye embrace.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “I hadn’t planned that far.”

  “Please come home well before dusk. I don’t want to send Ethan after you, and I still worry about the bandit.”

  “Don’t worry, Mother,” I said, chuckling softly. The bandit was the least of my troubles, lately. “I’ll return soon.”

  A soft breeze tickled the wind charms in Madeline’s apple trees, and their low hum carried a soothing hymn across her yard. The day was warmer and helped me feel at ease while walking the uneven stone walkway to her home.

  “Good morning, dear,” said Madeline, opening her front door as I approached. She held her arms wide to welcome me.

  I accepted her embrace.

  I was thankful that I had prepared myself to look proper. She was exceptionally dressed. She wore a white dress with a green bodice and angel flowers braided neatly in her hair. She carried the same minty rose scent that never left her.

  After she welcomed me inside, we wandered to the small sitting room and chatted with Colin, who was leaving to organize the search for Sean. While he discussed the planned journey in detail, a part of me strained to pry open and tell him what Cael had told me, but I held my peace and gave no sign of the secret knowledge I carried. Still, it hurt me to know that men were risking their lives for no reason to search for Sean; I believed what Cael had told me, but could not yet see what action I should take. Every possible move seemed to end badly for someone. I was relieved when Colin left and Madeline and I were alone.

  “How is Cael?” she asked, drifting back to her seat across from me.

  I swallowed a breath of guilt—wondering how much she knew—and stared back at her. As I watched her eyes, which seemed to penetrate my thoughts, I answered. “He’s feeling better. He was cut under the chin and across the ear.” I motioned with my hand, tracing his injuries on my face. “I gave him some Aurelia leaf paste.”

  Madeline smiled. “I’m certain he didn’t like that.”

  “No,” I said, relieved at the light response. “He wouldn’t let me finish.” I shifted on the bench. “How is Eldon?”

  “He’ll never speak again.” Madeline’s words had a horrible finality.

  I had witnessed his agony at the well, and her words pained my memory. “Where is he now?”

  “Home,” she answered. “He refuses to leave the well. Dylia is looking after him.”

  “How is Sean’s father?” I asked. “Did he return from DarMattey?”

  Madeline nodded. “Colin visited him yesterday. Earl volunteered to take Cael’s place.”

  “Cael’s place?” I asked. “Doing what?”

  “Searching for Sean,” said Madeline, plainly. “Cael was chosen by the Elders to go, but he refused. He won’t even return home.”

  My head hurt. I rubbed my temple. Why would Cael refuse to look for his brother?

  “Are you all right?” asked Madeline.

  I shook my head. “I don’t think so,” I told her. Then, as I remembered the scrolls, a small cry escaped me.

  “Rhiannon, what’s the matter?” Madel
ine stood over me.

  “No,” I said, wishing for my world to stop its motion. My eyes burned and my head ached.

  “Rhiannon?” Madeline put a hand on my shoulder.

  I didn’t know what to do. I felt helpless. If I told her, I risked exposing the secret that Cael had trusted with me. Cael. Why was I protecting him? What was his honor worth? “Sean,” I whispered.

  “What is it, Rhiannon?” Madeline pulled me to my feet with barely any effort, it seemed. “What about Sean?”

  I looked at my friend, searching for the right words, but none came. “Madeline?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need to visit Raisa Bannon.”

  “Does it have something to do with Sean?”

  I nodded, hoping that Madeline wouldn’t pry.

  “Okay,” she said, “do you want to go now?”

  I nodded again, thankful for her answer. Madeline directed me to sit on the couch. I fell back, landing on the soft cushions. At once, I felt numb, as if I was floating, and couldn’t feel my arms or legs.

  “I’ll take you,” she said. “Before we go, I’ll make you something for your nerves. You don’t look well.”

  I relaxed on the small sitting couch, contemplating what I needed to say to Raisa. Somewhere Madeline was humming a celebration melody. Her words floated through her home like a whispering wind. It was soothing, and I fell asleep while imagining words to the music. When I awoke, a sweet ginger aroma filtered into the small room—Long Flower Potion. I smiled. Few of the Fae knew how to make it, and it was too complicated for me to try. I had tasted it before—once, and the memory of how I felt afterward lightened my spirits.

  “Here you are, dear,” said Madeline, handing me a porcelain cup. I didn’t know how long I had slept.

  I looked down at the mysterious liquid. The ingredients never fully blended. Instead, they swirled in a constant motion, like the energy the drink presented.

  I murmured my thanks and took a small sip.

  The cold liquid tickled my throat. It opened me, allowing deeper breaths and a heightened sense of smell. I felt the flavor of the air inside of me. Roses and lavender enveloped me in an invisible cloud. I drank again, fascinated by the reaction my body gave. When the potion reached my stomach, a surge of peace rushed to my fingers and toes. I forgot where I lay, the reason for being there, and the troubles of the past. My awareness enlightened, and every part of my body tingled as the room twisted around me. I drank the entire offering and stared at the gold-spiraled lines left in the bottom of the cup. I was new for the day.

  “I think you are ready to leave now,” said Madeline, prying the cup from my hand. “I’ll return in a moment.”

  Her potion had worked. I felt better. In fact, the dilemmas of the past two days seemed trivial. I missed Sean, and my heart tugged at me to mourn his absence, however, my mind was organized and orderly. I understood what everyone had been trying to tell me: worrying wouldn’t bring Sean home. I stood with renewed determination, and a plan.

  Our conversation during the walk across Aisling was lighthearted and friendly. For that, I was thankful. I wondered how much of it was purposeful on the part of Madeline, since my body still tingled from her offering. We walked west and away from the center of the village. As we neared the western fork of the main road, I stared at the distant aspen trees that surrounded the faerie temple. I was certain that Cael intended to follow through with his plan. Madeline turned south and kept walking, without noticing I had stopped.

  I looked around, and examined the nearby trees for signs of anyone watching. Even the forest was still. I left the open road and ran to catch Madeline on the small trail.

  “Have you been to Raisa’s home before?” she asked, apparently oblivious that I had lingered behind.

  “Yes,” I said, nodding.

  Madeline looked at me with questioning persistence.

  “When I was a small child,” I told her, completing my answer. “Mother brought me here after Yallom Bannon’s funeral. Mother was assigned to look after Raisa.”

  “That was many years ago,” said Madeline. “Do you remember much?”

  I shrugged. “I remember the smell of her home. It was like exotic lemons.”

  Madeline laughed. “You have a good memory.” She motioned toward a thin gap in the trees. “She’s at the end of this trail.”

  As we entered the trail, I looked around, marveling at the welcoming the path presented. Not one tree branch hung over the walk and the dirt was undisturbed. The leaves—still colorful and bright from the autumn turn—clung to the trees as if they had refused to fall and damage the perfection of this forest. Beyond the trail, every rock and shrub lay in perfect order, as if hand chosen by a master and set in place on purpose.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, inhaling a large breath of clean, chilling air. “It’s hard to believe we’re still in Aisling.”

  “People don’t visit here much,” said Madeline. She waved to a passing robin. “Raisa prefers it that way.”

  “Will we be intruding,” I asked, “without an invitation?”

  Madeline shook her head. “No dear, I’ve never been turned away.”

  The trail opened to a small verdant meadow framing a wide stone house. There wasn’t a wall, a gate, or a walkway—just fine yellow grass and a single oak tree in the front. Colorful red leaves clung to its branches. The home’s windows reflected the forest like magnificent mirrors. A winterberry vine covered most of the old stones and appeared to hold them together.

  I expected the door to open when we arrived—it was a long walk across the grass, but silence was our only welcome. Madeline smiled and knocked on the faded wooden door. There was no answer.

  “Do you think she’s home?” I surveyed the yard. “Maybe she’s out in the forest.”

  Madeline didn’t turn or answer, but simply waited patiently. Finally, the door opened. The familiar scent of lemons filled me with an instant memory of my childhood.

  “Hello Madeline,” said Raisa. She wore a finely stitched violet dress with matching flowers weaved through her dark hair. She looked ready to receive guests. She turned to me. “Welcome to our home, Rhiannon. You look beautiful.”

  “Thank you, Raisa,” I said. My face was warm.

  “May we visit with you for a while?” asked Madeline, singing her words.

  “Please enter our home,” said Raisa. “You may stay as long as you wish.”

  Her choice of words puzzled me; I had understood that Raisa lived alone since her husband died. As I followed both women, I glanced around, searching for someone else inside. An empty hall covered in flowered art was all I saw.

  She led us into an open room that included a small kitchen, a tiny round table with two chairs, and a low silk sofa. “Won’t you please sit down,” she said, motioning to the sofa.

  Madeline and I accepted her request and sat on the delicate couch. I sighed as I sat; it seemed to pull and hold me in comfort. I silently continued my examination of Raisa’s strange residence. Long shelves on one windowless wall held assorted crystals, and potted green plants occupied every corner of the room. A leather-bound book leaned against the sofa. The wooden floor beneath was polished and smooth.

  Raisa fussed for a while at a cupboard and hobbled back to us with a plate between both hands. Madeline stood to help her, but Raisa waved a decline for assistance.

  “Here is something to eat, Ladies of the Fae,” she said, placing the porcelain plate in Madeline’s hand.

  “Thank you,” said Madeline, turning to me with a surprised look. “These look wonderful.” She offered me the plate, and I accepted one small almond cookie.

  Raisa hobbled to the table and pushed a wooden chair noisily across the floor toward us; its screeching hanging in the stillness of her home. “How is the village faring this season?” she asked. She turned to me. “Have you seen the bandit again?”

  “No, Raisa.” I wiped tiny crumbs from the edge of my mouth. “Thankfully, I haven’t seen
him.”

  “That’s good.” She nodded and faced Madeline. “And the village? Are there any new requests from the Elders?” she asked. “Or has the trouble subsided?”

  Madeline blushed. “No, Raisa, the trouble is still real.” She looked at me.

  “Then, why have you come?” asked Raisa. “Something has happened, otherwise, you would be occupied with your own lives, back with the living and Aisling.”

  I shifted in my chair, surprised at her aggressive tone as well as her peculiar choice of words. Madeline set the plate onto the floor and touched my arm to calm me.

  “Have you heard about the Bauer Family?” she asked Raisa. “Do you know about the attack?”

  “Please tell me the details, Madeline?” Raisa’s voice was plain and calm, as if she was discussing gossip, or a new recipe. “Then Rhiannon may advise me of her visit.”

  I watched both women intently while Madeline told Raisa about the attack. Her version was less destructive than I had witnessed, though the story was accurate. Raisa’s face changed from a pale yellow to amber orange. Her smile faded to a poignant scowl.

  “Oh.” Raisa stood from her chair and ambled to the window behind us. She turned to me with a stern look. “Why have you come to see me?”

  “I—I need your help,” I told her, gripping my fingers tight.

  Aside from Fae gatherings, I rarely saw Raisa and, for this reason, I was glad not to. Her perfection intimidated me. Every movement she made, every word she shared, was fraught with mystery and an out-of-reach meaning. Still, I needed her help, and she needed mine—more than she knew. Of that, I was certain.

  Madeline sat poised next to me. She was so silent that I couldn’t hear her breathing.

  “You may tell me, child,” said Raisa, still staring.

  “The matter I wish to discuss is delicate,” I said, my fingers trembling in my grasp. For the first time since waking that morning, I doubted my plan. I turned to Madeline. “I’m sorry, I need to discuss this privately.”

  Madeline smiled graciously.

  “Madeline, I apologize for the rudeness of our sister,” said Raisa. She was almost yelling. “Will you please excuse us for a moment? It seems the matter is too delicate to share.” Raisa twisted the last word, making me cringe.