On Fallen Wings

by Jamie McHenry

  “Wow,” said Leila, staring at Cael behind me. “Your cut was dreadful.”

  As she reached a hand out to touch his face, I pulled her away.

  “Rhiannon!” Leila wrestled free.

  “That’s rude,” I said, reached back for her sleeve. “I thought we needed to leave.”

  “We do,” said Leila, twisting and fighting my grip. “What’s going on? Why weren’t you by the stones?”

  “Nothing is going on,” said Cael. He stepped back a few steps. “I was hoping that Rhiannon had word about my brother.”

  “Oh.” Leila’s voice lowered. She turned to me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay, Leila,” I said, relieved at Cael’s discretion. “Goodbye, Cael.” I waved in his direction, but he was already hidden by the darkness. I followed Leila to the north entrance of the meadow where Father and Mother stood waiting. I tried to act as if nothing had happened, but knew that from this moment on, nothing would ever be the same.

  The Other Side of Goodness

  My stomach twisted with malaise and anticipation while I worked the following morning. I had started early, and had loaded the troughs prior to the sun’s complete arrival to the day. The air was chilly, although not as cold as it had been. The season’s grip on our little village was weakening; I could feel it. I hummed soft songs and whistled in an attempt to keep my mind from thinking, but somehow, memories from the night before drifted inside.

  I had missed Nia’s Promise Ceremony.

  Curiosity tugged at my thoughts. What was her asking gift? Did Thomas require anything? During the rush to leave, I hadn’t seen either of them following the ceremony, and the thought of revealing the reason for my absence to my best friend was terrifying.

  My mind repeated the meeting with Cael. Every word, every image flashed through my memories. I pulled at the sleeves of my work dress and shifted from the fit. It felt uncomfortable. The other side of goodness was an unfamiliar sensation. I didn’t feel guilty for promising to help Cael, for the alternative was unbearable, but something inside twisted my breath. I tried humming again, but my mouth went dry, leaving me alone with the horses and my thoughts.

  “What’s going to happen?” I asked Maeia, as she ate heartily from the trough.

  She didn’t look up. I brushed a dry leaf from her mane and rubbed one of her ears. She made a sound of acceptance and lifted her head. I didn’t know what to say, or what to do. My stomach continued its grasp on my peace. I patted her softly on the neck and went back to the house for a warm meal and some human company.

  “Good morning,” said Mother, as I walked through the door. She stood near the fireplace with a black kettle in her hand. She watched me enter and lowered the pot onto the hook above the tiny flames.

  “Is Father awake?” I asked, seeking mindless patter to distract my thinking.

  “Of course, I am.” Father thundered into the room from the hall and placed a large hand on my shoulder. “What do you want?”

  I smiled. “Nothing in particular. Did you enjoy the celebration?”

  Unless drinking was involved, Father tried to avoid gatherings with the village; he had always said they were a waste of good light. I was hoping for an announced annoyance with the celebration.

  My plan worked.

  Father snorted and ranted an unhappy excuse for missing his peaceful evening. His grumbling dominated the room and carried us through the morning meal. Leila had tried to interrupt him on several occasions, with snippets about the Dunn boy and the cute things he did or said, but Father wasn’t listening. I smiled at the distraction, and my anxiety rose like thin trails of smoke into the rafters.

  After the meal, Father marched Ethan outside, leaving the women alone to gossip in the kitchen.

  “Did you notice Michael?” said Leila, looking as if her face was about to burst. “He was wearing a new tunic. He said his mother made it for him.”

  “Yes, dear,” said Mother, diplomatically. She placed a stack of plates on the counter and turned to me. “Why did you miss the ceremony?”

  My stomach resumed its grip. I dropped the forks in my hand; they clattered onto the floor. “Sorry,” I said, stooping down to collect them. “I was there, Mother.”

  Leila glanced at me and then scrambled to the dining room, before disappearing down the hall. Mother watched her leave and turned to face me.

  “You should have been in the front, watching and supporting your friend,” said Mother. She took the forks from my hand and placed them on the counter. “When we arrived, you weren’t there. I was worried.”

  “I’m sorry, Mother,” I said, shaken by her sudden reprimand. The pain in my stomach wrenched into sharp stabs. “When the gathering began,” I continued, “I was shuffled to the back. There were so many people that I couldn’t get to the stones.” I took a deep breath and wiped sweat from my forehead with my apron.

  Mother nodded. “Nia invited a lot of guests. It seemed like the entire village had come.”

  “Yes, it did.” I smiled nervously.

  Chores were pulling me toward the dining room table, but I didn’t dare step away, fearing another scolding.

  “Did you visit with Nia?” Mother asked.

  The room was getting warmer.

  “Yes,” I answered, “for a moment. Everyone wanted her attention.” I fidgeted with my hands before courage found me an escape. “I wanted to visit her this afternoon.”

  Mother hustled to the dining room table and grabbed the goblets, piling them in her arms. “Is that why you woke early?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I lied, turning back toward the kitchen. I was afraid to allow Mother to see my face.

  “It should be a pleasant day for a ride.” She placed the goblets onto the counter; their heavy metal clanked noisily as they struck the stone, making me jump. Mother put a hand on my shoulder. “Did Cael have any word from his father?” she asked.

  My heart beat faster until I was certain my mother could hear it. Does she suspect anything? How could she? What did Mother know? My guilt was distorting everything, making me read suspicion into the most innocent actions.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. I pulled away from her and walked into the dining room. “He hasn’t heard from his father.”

  I stared at the table with nothing left to say, hoping that Mother’s interrogation would end soon. There were no more soiled dishes to keep me from casual occupation, and nothing to block me from her but the air between us. I shuffled back into the kitchen and pulled a dry towel from a rack.

  “I’ll clean the table,” I said, rushing my words. I brushed past Mother.

  “I’ll finish in here. Why don’t you go outside,” she said. “And take this.”

  I turned at the right moment, and caught a small kettle that she tossed at me.

  “I’ll need more water for the dishes.”

  “Yes, Mother.” I flung the towel at the table and scrambled out the back door, kettle in hand, before my emotions could get the best of me and really make Mother inquisitive. I ran to the well, swinging the little pot in one hand, rubbing the diamond on my necklace with the other. I was a breath short of panic. “Be strong,” I said aloud, hoping that my words would reflect off the trees and find their way back to me. “Be strong.”

  After filling the kettle, I quietly returned to the kitchen, and managed to escape another round of questioning from Mother. She was obviously upset, and it bothered me that she might know more than she was revealing. I left the house as quickly as I had entered, and resumed my work at the stable.

  I enjoyed working alone, but dreaded the new thoughts that entered my mind. The Fae symbol of deceit flashed across my vision while I worked. I saw it everywhere—in the grain of the boards on the stable wall, in the thin clouds drifting overhead, and in Mother’s face when I closed my eyes. I had told Mother lies before; harmless fibs that children try, but never before had I deliberately deceived her. My mind revisited our talk in the kitchen repeatedly,
and I tried to imagine saying something else. Each time, the memory didn’t feel right.

  Soon Leila joined me, and I found a new occupation for my thoughts: Michael. Watching her blush was amusing, and I prodded her with every question that I knew would embarrass her. She liked him, but wouldn’t admit it openly, and pleaded for me to stop teasing. I found pleasure in retaliation; she had given me grief for so many years. While I teased Leila, it was easy to pretend that all was right in my world. Finally, when the work was done, and I had exhausted my mockery, I grabbed a satchel from the wall of the stable and called for my horse.

  “Where are you going?” Leila was attempting to hang a broom on a broken wall hook.

  I pounded thick dust and hay from a blanket, forcing her to turn away. “I’m going for a ride,” I said. “Have a good afternoon.”

  “May I come?” She dropped the broom and pulled her saddle from the bench. “I’ll race you.”

  “I’m going alone.” I waited for my beautiful white mare to canter over to me. “I need a moment to think.” I climbed under the top rail of the fence and coaxed the blanket onto Maeia’s back.

  Leila grumbled as she replaced her saddle onto the bench. I didn’t look at her, fearing she’d think I’d changed my mind. Instead, I inspected Maeia’s hooves, stroked the back of her legs, and pretended not to notice when Leila left the stable, slamming its door shut behind her.

  “Good,” I whispered to Maeia. “She doesn’t need to know where we’re going.” I quickly darted back under the fence and collected my saddle and bridle.

  Once Maeia was saddled and ready, I leapt onto her and—without looking back—prodded her northeast toward the lake. I suspected Leila was watching from somewhere, and didn’t want to reveal my actual direction. Once I was certain that we were out of view from the house, I patted Maeia firmly on the side of her neck and pulled her reins sharply, leading her south.

  The day was pleasant and the smell of grass trying to grow filled the open air of the meadow. We traveled steady and swift, but not fast enough to attract the curiosity of the surrounding horses; I didn’t want attention. Soon we arrived at the southern fence that bordered the road to Taylor’s Ridge—the road Sean had taken over the mountain. His journey seemed so long ago.

  He was the reason for my actions. I wanted to see his face, I wanted him to hold me, and I would do anything to hear his voice. What value was any record compared to a life. My father had been right. The Fae Scrolls mean nothing to Morgan, but Sean meant everything to me. I sat in my saddle, staring at the twisting road, convincing myself that I was doing the right thing. I wasn’t certain what I was waiting for, but as I heard galloping hooves approach me, I knew I had waited too long.

  “Leila!” I yelled at my sister, annoyed at her arrival on the back of Liam, a three-year-old colt Father had broken last summer. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going for a ride,” she said, with a poor effort to look innocent.

  “I said that you couldn’t come with me.” I shifted in my saddle and threw an arm down helplessly. “Why did you follow me?”

  Liam slowed to a stop next to me. I glared at Leila, who grinned back.

  “I didn’t follow you,” she said. “You rode toward the lake. I decided to ride down here, closer to the village.”

  I reached out and tried to pull her loose reins, but Leila was fast and whipped the bight toward her. With a steady turn, she steered Liam aside and out of my reach. I struggled to keep my balance.

  “Go back home,” I said, annoyed at her indignation. “Does Mother know that you’re here?”

  “Yes, Mother knows,” said Leila, continuing her turn on Liam and watching me cautiously.

  I prodded Maeia in the ribs and she stepped forward. “Well, enjoy yourself,” I said. “I’m going to keep riding.” I steered her north and away from the fence.

  “Okay,” said Leila. “Good fortune. I’m going to relax here for a while. She stepped down from Liam, gripping his reins tight, and leaned on the fence.

  I allowed Maeia to continue stepping north, hoping that Leila would accept my bait. She never moved. She stood at the fence, staring at the road.

  “Leila, what are you doing?” I asked, turning back to yell. “Please, won’t you leave me alone?”

  “Go on your ride,” she said, without turning to look at me. “I’m occupied.”

  I thought for a moment, plotting how I could reach the trail to Nia’s without Leila noticing. I thought about riding north to the lake and crossing over onto Nia’s family land. From there, I could ride to her house. I shook my head at the thought. If her father’s men were working at the dock, they would see me, and I would risk revealing Cael’s plan to them. In addition, if Rance were there, he might suspect something. I pulled Maeia to a stop.

  “Leila?” I asked, grinning at the brilliance of my instant plan. “Would you like to race?”

  I could make her chase me across the field, on the opposite side of the grove, and lose her among the horses. She couldn’t catch me—she never had before. I would quickly return, jump the fence with Maeia, and then dash to Nia’s house without her knowing where I had gone. I closed my eyes and tried imagining my success.

  When I looked again, Leila was watching the trees across the road. “Come on. What are you staring at?” I asked. “Let’s race.”

  “A man,” she said, plainly.

  I stopped leaning down and stood straight, hoping for a better view from my elevation. “Who is it?” I asked, straining to see past the bare trees.

  “I don’t know,” she said, “he’s wearing a colorful blue shirt.”

  A thousand drums pounded my heart to a sudden stop. “Leila,” I whispered, as loud as I dared. “That’s the bandit.” I stared again, searching for a sign of blue. “Where is he?”

  Leila shuddered and gripped the fence rail, but she didn’t move from her spot. “He’s over there,” she said, her voice shaking.

  I saw him. Dark hair above a blue shirt, the bluest I had ever seen. He was crouching in the brush, watching the road up the hill and away from us. I leaned down, closer to Leila.

  “Did he see you?” I whispered.

  Leila shook her head.

  A surge of emotion, a combination of fear and anger, rushed from my stomach to my face. Hiding in the brush was the reason for suffering in my village. Darian. He had brazenly taken from others, he had filled our nights with fear, and he had occupied the whispers of Aisling. The emotion overtook me; I leapt from Maeia’s back and ducked under the fence.

  “You!” I yelled, running toward him. “Come here.”

  Darian turned, fear reflecting in his wide eyes. He stumbled in the dirt and tried to scramble toward the road. I was too fast.

  “Halt!” I yelled. I fanned my anger for the courage it gave me. “Don’t go anywhere.” Behind me, Leila was shouting, but I ignored her cries, determined to confront the man who had terrorized our peaceful village. I was almost up to him. With one hand, I reached out to grab his shirt, but he twisted away and out of arm’s length.

  “Rhiannon!” Leila was screaming louder and chasing me.

  My feet slipped in the dirt and I landed heavily on one knee. Darian continued running without a backwards glance, up the road towards Taylor’s Ridge.

  I followed him, resolved that he wouldn’t escape. I could hear Leila’s shouts falling behind as I pursued Darian up the mountain.

  Ahead, I could see the trail leading to the left toward Nia’s home. As Darian arrived at the opening in the trees, I lunged for him. At the same moment, he turned back and looked at me, but tripped on something. He fell to the dirt and I fell on top of him, smothering his face with my knee.

  He grunted, I groaned, and together, we rolled in the dirt. I covered my face with my arms and closed my eyes. When I stopped rolling, I felt his weight on my stomach, pressing me into the ground. I opened my eyes, too infuriated to be scared. Darian was sitting on me, looking down at my face.

  “A
re you all right, Rhiannon?” he asked, rolling off me.

  “I—I’m okay,” I said, watching him while he sat on my stomach.

  I couldn’t help staring; the man was handsome, but distinctly filthy. His mangled black hair curled down to his brown eyes. His face was worn and dirty, and his brilliant blue shirt was faded and torn at the sleeves. I had expected him to hurt me, or to run and escape, but he sat casually next to me, studying me with the same intensity as I watched him.

  “You remembered my name,” I said, brushing my hair from my face with my fingers.

  “Of course.” He smiled. “Do you remember mine?”

  This man beside me didn’t match the terrifying descriptions that filtered through the village. He was kind. He seemed friendly. And despite his unkempt appearance, he had the strangest dignity about him.

  I smiled. “Of course, It—”

  Leila interrupted me. “Rhiannon, are you okay?” Her face was red and sweaty. She held a hand to her side and was panting for breath.

  “It’s Darian,” I said to him, panting my answer. I leaned forward and accepted his hand, pulling myself to stand with his support. “Thank you.”

  As I stood and brushed leaves and dirt from my dress, Cael dashed through the trees. “What’s going on?” he yelled.

  Leila answered him. “Cael, come help. Rhiannon has captured the bandit.”

  “No—” I looked at both of them in horror.

  Cael charged toward Darian and pulled a short sword from his waist pouch. “Stay there, thief,” he yelled.

  I turned to Darian, but he had already started running up the road. I turned back to look at Cael. “Stop!” I shouted, to no avail.

  Cael didn’t slow down, and Leila was close behind him. I glanced back at Darian. He would never make it.

  “Don’t,” I said, grabbing the only part of Cael that I could reach as he ran past me.

  Cael screamed and fell to ground, clutching his ear with both hands. His short sword dropped to the dirt. “What are you doing?”

  I searched for an excuse for what I had done. “I’m sorry,” I said, absently. I told him the first thing that came to my mind. “I didn’t want him to hurt you.”