by JL Bryan
Chapter Thirty-Two
As the night came on, Aoide sat alone on a wooden staircase on the wide veranda outside the dancing hall in Caomhánach village. The stairs led down into empty space below the veranda. They were designed for fairies to land or take off. The staircase, like the veranda and most outdoor spaces in the village, had no railing, so non-flying Folk like Neus and Skezg had to be careful not to fall.
It had been a long but unproductive day. They’d eaten, they’d caught up on much-needed sleep in the row of guest hammocks that hung outside the dancing hall. They’d sung to entertain their hosts. Unfortunately, nobody mentioned their request for help again. It looked like they would go home empty-handed, with nothing to show for all the time they’d spent crossing the treacherous Hauntlands.
Garalt flew down from somewhere overhead and landed on the steps below Aoide. The handsome fairy had added a plain white wool shirt to his red wool trousers. It was a very country manner of dressing, clothes that were unadorned except for the buttons, which were hand-carved with images of flowers and animals. He would have to dress a bit differently if he visited the city, Aoide thought.
Aoide didn’t know why she was even thinking of cleaning him up and taking him back to Sidhe City with her. Those weren’t her plans. She pushed the thought away.
“Aoide,” he said, “You look so sad and lovely.”
“I’m not supposed to talk about being sad,” Aoide said. “It’s boring, remember?”
“That’s just table manners,” Garalt said. “I wish you weren’t so sad. Come on, I have to take you somewhere.” He held out a hand.
“Where?”
“Down.” Garalt pointed towards the deep shadows below them. Now that the sun had set, it was impossible to see anything down there. “There’s someone who wants to talk with you about your situation.”
“Oh, that’s lucky,” Aoide sighed, feeling a little relieved. “I thought nobody was sympathetic. Should I get the others?”
“No, just you,” Garalt said. “Take my hand.”
“I’m quite capable of flying on my own, thank you.” Aoide fluttered her wings and jumped off the steps.
Garalt folded his wings and jumped headfirst off the steps.
They dived through darkness, away from the bright winking fireflies that illuminated the village at night. They tumbled towards the thick mist that cloaked the ground below. The surface of the mist reflected the thin, pale glimmer of moonlight that leaked in through the thick willow leaves.
In the darkness, Aoide bumped her head against a low limb.
“Ready to take my hand yet?” Garalt asked, and Aoide reluctantly did. He had the rough, strong grasp of a farmer. Aoide tried not to enjoy holding his hand.
They continued downward, into the thick mist below, where Aoide could see nothing.
She began to wonder if Garalt was really taking her to meet anyone, or if this was a trick to get her away from the others so he could try kissing her. You had to watch out for boy-fairies who were less than a thousand years old. It seemed all they could think about was trying to steal a kiss.
They finally stopped somewhere low on the trunk of a massive old willow. Red and gold lights flared as Garalt released a few fireflies he’d caught in his hand. They faced a large knothole obscured by a curtain of mossy willow leaves, which Garalt had to draw aside.
Within the knothole, a simple circular door led into the tree. The door lacked any of the elaborate woodworking of the doors and windows in the village above, and it didn’t even have hinges that Aoide could see. Its only adornment was a brass hoop of a knocker beneath a single fairy rune, which was so old and faded Aoide couldn’t even read it.
Garalt rapped the knocker once. After a moment, the door split down the middle and both halves swung out like the shutters of a window.
“Come on,” Garalt whispered. He continued to hold Aoide’s hand as he led her inside.
The interior was mostly plain wood, the living wood of the tree. The walls were cluttered with bookshelves bent under the weight of the scrolls they held. A few firefly lanterns hung here and there for light.
A very old fairy, maybe the oldest fairy Aoide had ever seen, sat cross-legged on a cushioned platform in the center of the room. His wings were like thin old paper, with just the faintest traces of blue coloring. His silver hair and beard fell in heaps onto his shoulders and chest. His eyes glittered like diamonds.
In front of the old man was a round table carved to look like a sunflower. On top of this was a swatch of velvet, in which was nestled a crystal ball the color of blue quartz.
“Aoide the Lutist,” Garalt said, “This is Faelchan, Keeper of Wisdom, Counselor for Difficult Choices, and Knower of Things That Happened a Really Long Time Ago. He is the eldest member of Clan Caomhánach.”
“The eldest living member,” Faelchan corrected, in a soft voice. “I’m sure you can find ghosts older than me, if you know where to poke.”
“It is a great and lucky honor to meet you.” Aoide gave a deep curtsy, as if she’d just been presented to the Queen.
“The Council of Elders has told me that your instruments have fallen into the hands of humans,” Faelchan said. “None of us are safe when such objects of high magic are loose in man-world.”
Aoide nodded.
“And you wish for the help of a banshee wolf to track them down.” Faelchan gazed into his crystal ball, and it seemed to fill with smoke and tiny crackles of lightning.
The elder was silent for a long time. Aoide gave Garalt a questioning look, but he simply put a finger across his lips.
“Have you ever been to man-world?” Faelchan eventually asked, without raising his eyes from the crystal ball.
“I haven’t,” Aoide said. “But I’ve read some stories about it.”
“Are you aware that, in man-world, you must make yourself ridiculously tall? And you cannot fly? And you have to wear shoes everywhere?” the elder fairy asked.
“Shoes?” Aoide gasped. “Everywhere?”
“The humans are very strange,” Faelchan said. “Their world is different. Luck is less powerful than it is here. And cause and effect, logic, are more important.”
“It sounds so dull,” Garalt said.
“We are as reluctant as any to break the Supreme Law,” Faelchan said. “But for the good of all the Folk in the realm of Faerie, those instruments must be recovered. We cannot have humans remembering we exist.”
Aoide wanted to smile and hop around, but she made herself stay calm and cool.
“Then you will help us?” Aoide asked.
“In these circumstances, we have no choice but to get involved,” Faelchan said. “We will have a banshee wolf accompany you to man-world. They are good at slipping through the gates undetected by the Queen’s guardians.”
“Oh, happiness and luck!” Aoide said. “Thank you so much! I can’t wait to tell the rest of the band.”
“We cannot risk sending so many into man-world, when you do not know the goofy ways of humans,” Faelchan said. “You will go alone with the wolf, Aoide. You must leave your friends behind.”
Aoide gaped. She couldn’t imagine going to the dangerous world of humans with a snarling wolf as her only companion.
“Just me?” Aoide asked. “But—”
Garalt nudged her and shook his head.
“You must learn to change form to disguise yourself among humans,” Garalt said. “When you are ready, you will go.”
“Thank you!” Aoide said.
“We must act quickly,” Faelchan said. He finally looked up from his crystal ball. “You must be careful. We wish you the best of luck.”
Faelchan closed his eyes, and the crystal ball turned dark. Garalt took her arm and led her outside, and the door closed behind them.
“Thank you for your help,” Aoide said to Garalt.
The handsome young fairy looked worried.
“Man-world is a dangerous place,” he sai
d. “I will worry about you.”
“Can you come with me?” Aoide asked.
Garalt shook his head. “The decision has been made. You, a wolf, and no one else. But I will do all I can to help you.” Garalt took her hands.
“Thank you,” Aoide said.
He kissed her.
“I knew it!” Aoide said. She stepped back from him. “That was very sneaky of you.”
“I know!” Garalt grinned, and she tried not to return his heart-melting smile.
“Very sneaky indeed,” a cold voice echoed from the thick mist around them. Aoide gasped and looked around.
A pair of shiny silver eyes stared up at them from the ground below—Aoide hadn’t realized how close to the ground they were. A white wolf emerged from the mist. It might have been one of those who had chased them up the tree.
Aoide shivered and took Garalt’s hand again. She was barely aware of doing it.
The wolf shifted form, rearranging its body as if it, too, were made of nothing but mist. After a few seconds, the wolf looked like a tall, beautiful woman, taller than Aoide. Her skin was pale white, her hair and eyes a light shade of silver. She wore a long dress of white lace and white wolf fur.
“I am Liadan of the Baen’sí,” the wolf-woman said. “I will take you to man-world, Aoide.”
Aoide could have fainted.