by Jamie Day
“Goodbye, Mother,” she said, offering her a large embrace. She glanced at me and smiled before skipping toward the dark.
Low horns hummed, accompanying the pale violet murmur of pre-dawn light. The Fae circled the tall stones. Their golden hoods concealed their faces. This was the solstice, the morning of Sun Season.
The horns faded to silence while the faeries fell to the ground and stretched their arms toward the center of the circle. Fiddles played low, wearisome notes that mourned the passing of the moon and called for the sun. The music matched how I felt with perfect interpretation. Drums beat softly in unison and fiddles played louder.
The Fae stood with their arms extended, completing the circle around the stones. They stepped left and then right. They marched around the giant monuments while swinging their arms toward the lightening sky.
The sun appeared over Taylor’s Ridge. Its rays cleared the tallest standing stone and reached the Season Stone. An explosion of tangerine and gold instantly covered Leila; she crouched motionless in the round portal of light. I refused to make a sound, even to fill my lungs, while staring in awe. Blinding brilliance and quiet peace beat with my heart, marking the sunrise. Though I had witnessed every solstice since my birth, each new Sun Season always seemed to eclipse the previous one.
As the sun stretched higher, its rays of light escaped the confines of the stone circle. My sister emerged from the hole and raised her arms in an arc, allowing her golden sleeves to fall. Then a thousand cheers overwhelmed the banging drums. Villagers stood and yelled praises to Sun Season.
“Hooey, hooey!” Father yelled louder than anyone did. He stood tall, aimed his fists at the air, and continued his shouts.
Mother wiped her eyes.
The music played louder and faster, matching the rhythm of the faeries. While they danced, children sitting close to the stones tossed flowers at their feet. I embraced the sounds and closed my eyes. I could remember my place among them. In my mind, I saw the stones in their brilliance; I felt the warmth of the new season. I was there, I was moving; I was a part of it all. The drums beat louder and faster. I forgot myself, swaying to the rhythm. This was my calling, my place in the village. The drums stopped and jolted me back to awareness.
I opened my eyes, mortified of the looks I would probably receive. I wasn’t a part of the Fae. I had lost my right to dance. But no one stared back; everyone’s eyes stayed fixed on the stones, lost in the same magic of celebration that I felt. I longed to share my love, but there was no one close to hug.
~ O ~
Stone Meadow began returning to its quiet origins now that the celebration was over. Some of the villagers started leaving, but most of us stayed, absorbing the warmth of a peaceful day. My family always remained at the meadow as long as possible, a tradition I enjoyed. The following morning meant work at home, and I never liked that much. Leila and I danced circles around the flowers while Ethan chased butterflies with a stick.
Father stuffed our cart with cooking supplies until it overflowed and tossed a large armful of blankets on top. Then he slapped Ethan on his shoulders. “There you go, boy,” he said. “Haul that home.” He stomped across the grass, waving for us to follow.
Without an argument, Ethan climbed under the long handles of the cart and heaved it forward. It creaked and groaned, refusing to budge at first. Compassion urged me to help my brother, but my father’s menacing glances back at us warned us that he intended that Ethan push the cart alone. The last few years, Father was embarked on a quest to make sure that Ethan grew up strong enough to face any adversary, even hard work. We kept him company, though, Leila and I. Ethan’s smile—as we chatted—announced his gratitude for our gestures. Mother looked tired; she sighed while stumbling through the grass. I saw her lower her head a few times.
As we entered the trees, villagers ahead of us started running and scattering down the thin trail. One woman screamed and handed her infant to a young girl before dashing into the forest.
Father rushed back to us and grabbed Mother’s shoulders. “There’s trouble,” he told her. His eyes were wide. “I’ll see you at home.” After a worried glance toward the rest of us, he ran after the other villagers. It was the fastest I had ever seen him move.
“What’s happening?” asked Leila.
Mother pulled her close. “I don’t know, dear. I don’t know.”
Then I saw it. With a gasp that rivaled a scream, I pointed at the sky. Black smoke curled and boiled above the trees, turning the sun crimson. Aisling was on fire.
Escape from Aisling
I covered my face with my apron; it was all I had for protection from the smoke that burned my eyes, scorched my throat and clawed at my lungs. Mother held us close to her and we all helped Ethan push the cart home. We rolled slowly, struggling to navigate in the chaos. Around us, villagers scrambled through the trees. Their yells and sobs mixed with the roar of nearby flames. Somewhere, a tree fell, causing a louder wave of terrorizing screams. Glowing orange flickered against the black belly of the lowered sky. Our sunny day had turned dark and brutal.
Mother quietly led us through the smoke. The look in her eyes spoke of her terror, but she kept urging us toward home. When we reached Father, it was still difficult to see, but his silhouette stood in dark contrast to the gray smoke covering everything. Then Mother ran past him, flailing her arms and shrieking with unnerving terror.
I closed my eyes, trying to flush out the stinging and to see what had bothered her. When I opened them, the cause of my mother’s outburst exploded in a blaze of fire behind our stone fence. The smoke stole my breath. I fell to the ground and sobbed into my dress. Leila did the same. Ethan ran to Father’s side. Mother remained in front of us, cursing at the fire. I had never heard her swear before, but her words seemed right—they shared the pain that we all felt. Our house was burning.
I didn’t know what to do; I stood frozen, staring in disbelief. How had this happened? Through the veil of smoke, I saw outlines of our way of life scattering from the meadow. “The horses!” I screamed as I ran toward them. “Maeia!” I tried to get closer, but the heat—I had never felt such heat before—blocked me from going closer. The horses ran frantically out of the meadow and were free in an instant.
“What are you doing?” shouted Mother. She grabbed my dress and pulled me back. The burning branch of an oak crashed to the ground near our feet.
“I have to help the horses. Can’t you see them?”
Mother shook me so hard that my head whipped forward and knocked her back. “Our home is burning, and you’re worried about the animals?”
“Yes!” I yelled as loud as my burning lungs would let me. It hurt to yell, but Mother made me angry. “They’re frightened,” I told her. “I need to find Maeia.”
“You’ll stay back,” Mother screamed back at me. I could barely hear her voice, though she stood at my chest. “I’ll not lose another love today.”
Father stepped toward us, but Mother cursed him and shoved him back. I had never seen her act this way. She pointed at me and thrust her finger at my chest.
“You did this.” Mother’s lips curled as she snarled her blame. “You’ve cursed us, Rhiannon. You made this happen.”
“Mother, you’re wrong!” Leila stepped forward, sobbing; I couldn’t tell if it was the fire or the anger. “Leave Rhiannon alone.”
I raised my fist, threatening to strike. I wanted to hit her; I wanted to stop her from saying such things; I wanted to cry. “I’m going to find Maeia,” I said, aiming my arm to show my anger. I felt like a cornered animal, but the attack on me didn’t come from an enemy, it came from my family. I didn’t know what to do. “I’m leaving,” I screamed.
“Rhiannon, stop!” Father’s voice boomed over the rage.
I didn’t obey. Instead, I challenged the heat, leapt over a flaming log and ran into the gray abyss.
I should have stayed. The smoke was defeating and I couldn’t see anything. Still, I knew where I needed to go.
While I scrambled toward the horse meadow, I heard someone behind me.
“I’m going to find Maeia,” I yelled, without turning back. “You can’t stop me.”
“I’m coming with you,” said my brother. “Wait for me.”
I stopped. “No. Go back, Ethan. You don’t need to come.”
Ethan choked his words. “I’m coming,” he insisted. “Father told me to come.”
I wanted to hug him, not only to thank him for his kindness, but also to somehow send my father a message of love. My father understood my need to save the horses. Sending Ethan after me said more than any words could.
“Come on.” I grabbed Ethan’s sleeve. “Let’s go someplace where we can breathe.”
It was the most difficult walk I had ever taken. I couldn’t breathe, or see, or run back to my parents for help. I knew that I couldn’t return to them without Maeia. In the argument, I had proclaimed to my mother that my love for the horses meant more to me than her wishes. In an instant of rage, I had changed how I felt about her, and affected what she thought of me. Why did she say such things? Why did she accuse me of this?
I wanted to solve the problem, but I couldn’t focus. My head hurt and my eyes burned. As we stumbled farther from the flames, the air thinned, allowing me to breathe easier. I looked back—a few times—only to see the black billowing reminder that the village I loved was burning to the ground. If I cried, I couldn’t tell—the smoke hurt my eyes more than tears.
When we arrived at the lake, I dove into the water and wiped my eyes and my lips with my hands. The lake was cold, but safe. I felt the grime of reality wash from my face. Then I stood to look back once more, dripping and waist deep.
Ethan put a hand on my shoulders. He seemed taller at the moment. “What happened?” he asked. His voice was low and quiet.
“I don’t know.”
The emotion from the day crashed around me. I grabbed my young brother and squeezed him. All that I possessed in the world—everything that I had known and loved—was somewhere in the smoke, burning, missing, dead, or hating me. I held tight, refusing to release him.
“Where do you want to look for Maeia?” he asked. “Where do you think she went?”
I wanted to hug him again, but this time, he stepped away from me. “I’m not sure,” I answered.
My last glimpse had been of them heading out of the meadow. Our horses were smart; they wouldn’t go near the smoke unless they needed to. They would have come to the lake for water and fresh air, unless something forced them away. I glanced down the shoreline and shook my head.
“Is she gone?” he asked.
I nodded. “I think most of the horses escaped.”
“What should we do?”
I thought about returning home. It was only a thought—our home was destroyed. “Come with me,” I said, “I know a place we can go.”
The more we walked toward Taylor’s Ridge, the better perspective I gained of the fires. Not all of Aisling was burning. Despite a thick layer of gray and black smoke between the trees, I saw the outlines of distant homes. Ours was one of several across the landscape that had caught fire. No natural thing burned like that, attacking one home and then skipping over several more before raining down on another. These fires were intentionally set. I began wondering if Mother had been right.
“Do you believe her?” I asked Ethan.
“Huh?”
“Mother. Do you believe what she said? Did I cause this?”
Ethan shrugged. He was hiding something or deliberately trying to look uncaring. I stopped walking and stared at him.
“I need to know what you’re thinking,” I told him. “If you’re going to help me, you must be honest.”
“I believe her.”
I didn’t like his honesty and stopped asking him to tell me more. I had planned to go to Owen’s home, but quickly realized the danger we could be in. If someone started the fires, they chose our home among the others. I was the only one in my family who gave reason for that sort of terrible reaction. I was the villain. The scrolls, the bandit. Each of those things was cause enough for someone to hate me. We weren’t safe anywhere.
I thought of a cave I knew and decided to take Ethan there. It would be a good place to make a camp; it was safe, and I felt certain that there wouldn’t be smoke inside. I kept walking, ignoring the urge to tell my brother precisely where I was leading him, even when he asked.
When we reached Owen’s boat dock, Ethan stopped walking. He leaned against a post and folded his arms. “Where are we going?”
It wasn’t like him to confront anyone, so I knew he was only curious. “I’m taking you to my land,” I finally told him. “There’s a place where we can camp.”
“Your land?”
I nodded and turned away from him. I was smiling, but I didn’t think he saw it. “We’ll be safe there.”
Ethan leapt from the dock—I heard his feet land skillfully in the dirt—and ran in front of me. “Why do you say we’re going to your land?”
“Because I bought it.”
When I reached the creek marking the end of Owen’s property, a sense of relief filled me. In a strange way, I was home. Every step forward was into a place all my own. No one could tell me what to do. I was my own master on this land, and keeper of the forest. A dozen birds flashed into the air from the trees, as if acknowledging my arrival. I stopped to absorb the moment.
“What are you doing?”
I placed a lone finger to my lips to hush my brother. Yes, this was where I belonged. Sean was only a memory, but in this place, he could be a part of me. I suddenly had a sense that he was there, watching me. I heard his voice between the trees. His breath was in the wind. His smell was in the flowers. I ran into the forest, toward the last place we had stood alone together.
“Sean.” I called his name a dozen times as I lunged forward. I was weak, my legs wouldn’t carry me as fast as I intended, but I kept running, despite the burning in my lungs. “Sean.”
The small hilled meadow didn’t great me as I had remembered. It was dark and overgrown with weeds. The lake was visible, but it looked black from this scene. I had entered a place where living things die. The air tried to steal my breath.
“Rhiannon?” It was Ethan’s voice, not my lover’s welcoming call.
“I came for Sean,” I whispered. My lips cracked every time they touched. I was suddenly thirsty.
“Sean’s dead,” Ethan whispered.
He didn’t understand. “No,” I said. “I heard his voice. I know he’s here. He’s alive.” I turned to my brother and stared at him. I had never been so certain of anything. My heart pounded with every thought, revealing my confidence. “I only saw him once.” I was smiling. “He wasn’t dead. I was panicked, but I wasn’t sure.” I stared at the treetops, remembering the worst day of my life, allowing the memory to flash as brief images. I saw the lake, I saw the crumpled man. I saw his face. Did I? Suddenly, I wasn’t certain.
I grabbed Ethan’s shoulders and pleaded to him with my eyes. “You never saw him, did you? You don’t know it was Sean.”
My brother lunged back to avoid my touch. Then his nod ruined my hope. “Yes,” he said, “I saw him. He was dead.”
I was reliving the day all over again, only this time, I saw things I didn’t remember; things that were blocked from me. Mother was in my room, so was Father. I was in my bed. My eyes were mostly closed, but I could see their shadows in the light. I heard their voices whispering.
“Arrows,” my father had said. “The man didn’t drown.”
Father held something in his hand, but I couldn’t see it. Then there was a flash of light. I strained to see it better, but my head wouldn’t turn; I couldn’t control a memory. I wanted to yell and tell him to show me what he held, but Mother’s words interrupted me.
“Was it Morgan?” she had asked. “I don’t know the nature of such things.”
Father’s answer was muffled. I must have been blacking out. There wa
s a lot of that, I remembered. The rest of their words molded together like a handful of mud. I couldn’t tell who was speaking. Their voices were so slow. I saw the arrow. It was unmistakable. Red feathers fletched onto one end and an obsidian point latched to a blood stained shaft. The memory and my day went black.
~ O ~
When I woke, everything was still dark. I heard the forest. It was filled with unfamiliar sounds that made me shudder. I lay on my side and tried to deflect the smoke that lingered in the air. Slowly, my memories returned along with questions that twisted my consciousness. I didn’t know how long I had been sleeping or where I was. Why am I alone? Hadn’t Ethan come with me?
The longer I lay, the stranger the night became. I knew it was night because high above the wood, tiny stars tried to illuminate the treetops. My head felt warm and comfortable. Ethan must have stayed with me; there was a pile of soft leaves to cushion my head. My eyes felt scorched and stench of smoke in my hair made me desperate to wash. Wherever I was, this was no place for me to be. I wondered if I was still on my own land, the last place I remembered standing.
While struggling to orient myself, a light patter of footsteps disturbed the underbrush nearby. They weren’t loud, and I could tell that someone was deliberately trying to remain unnoticed. As they approached, I covered my mouth to quell my breath, nearly gagging on the stench of my hands—they smelled worse than my hair. The forest went silent.
“Rhiannon, are you there?”
I coughed, grateful for the chance to swallow air again. “Ethan,” I answered, although daring only a whisper between breaths. “I’m here.”
I couldn’t see him clearly, but his eyes reflected the starlight. My brother knelt in front of me. “Here, take some of these.” He placed something in my palms and pushed my hands toward me.
I started lifting my arms, when the smell reached me. “Thank you, Ethan,” I said, louder than I had planned. I shoved the bread into my mouth for instant relief. How long had it been since I had eaten? Too soon, the bread was gone, but it had tasted incredible. “Where did you get the bread?” I asked, licking my fingers in search of stray crumbs. “Where are we?”
