The Fairies of Sadieville

by Alex Bledsoe

  “So which one is the real you?” Veronica asked. “Or does everybody here look like you?”

  “I’m the real one,” the royal Tucker said.

  “He is,” the other Tucker agreed.

  “Excuse me a moment,” royal Tucker said. “You two get reacquainted.” He began to undo the clasps on the big, heavy cloak. “Pay no attention to this man wearing the curtain.”

  He handed first the cape, then the crown to the “other” Tucker. Then both men quickly undressed, passing clothes back and forth. In moments the “other” was now dressed like a king, and the “real” Tucker was back to normal.

  “King” Tucker climbed onto the horse, gave a jaunty wave, and rode off into the night. “Their” Tucker joined them in the cave, clearly proud of himself.

  “Well, that was easier than I expected,” he said. “Shall we go?”

  “Who was that?” Veronica said.

  “My twin. Not brother, but we’re identical. In appearance, at least.”

  “You’re an identical twin of the King of Fairyland?” Veronica said in wry disbelief.

  “No,” Tucker said. “He is.”

  He waited for that to register on her. A moment later, her eyes widened.

  “I told you nobody would miss me,” he said.

  “Shit,” Veronica said.

  “Pithy but accurate. But we should go. If the Queen notices I’m gone before my double gets back—”

  “Don’t let the stalactite hit you on the way out,” Veronica said, and pulled Justin into the dark passageway, switching on her phone’s flashlight. With a last look behind him, Tucker followed.

  * * *

  Veronica wasn’t sure how far they’d gone before she noticed the rumble behind them. An instant later, she felt the tremors under her feet.

  She stopped. “What’s that?”

  “Something we don’t want to catch up with us,” Tucker said, his flippant tone underlaid with concern. “Come on, we’re burning daylight.”

  “It was dark back there.”

  “Back there, yes. Can we discuss it later, please?”

  He shoved them forward as dust shook free from the roof. No matter how fast they traveled, the rumbling drew closer. Veronica began to fear that the collapse, or flooding, or whatever was behind them would catch up before they got out, and this all would’ve been for nothing.

  And then she saw light ahead. At the other end, it was still blessed daylight.

  She coughed; the air was now filled with dust, and she felt wind behind them, building with every moment. They practically ran the last few yards, and as they burst onto the ridge outside the cave, Veronica glanced back.

  She couldn’t swear to what she saw. It was an impression, really, more than a memory. But it seemed like, inside the dust, possible even made from the dust, stood an unmistakably feminine silhouette, one that radiated fury and power and terrible, terrible beauty.

  And then the tunnel collapsed in a tumble of rocks, gravel, and dust.

  They didn’t have to throw themselves ahead, like action stars before an explosion. They simply stepped to either side of the cave, out of the path of debris. Rocks and gravel burst out like buckshot from a giant’s gun, propelled by the ferocious wind that had almost overtaken them. When it finished, when all that remained moving was the dust that filled the air, the three of them regrouped in front of the now-closed passage.

  From the dust rolled a shiny, round metal object that landed at Tucker’s feet. He picked it up; it was the crown he’d given to his double, only instead of gold, it now appeared to be made of old, rusted pieces of metal crudely welded together, a thing that might exist in this world, not the other.

  “I think,” he said slowly, “I’ve just been divorced.”

  41

  The next morning, Veronica and Justin left Cloud County and headed west. She stared straight ahead and tightly gripped the steering wheel, her arms straight and her elbows locked. She barely glanced at the forest on either side of the highway, and took the curves faster than was probably prudent. She was more than ready to be gone.

  After their narrow escape, Tucker drove Justin and Veronica back to the Catamount Corner. If everything they’d seen was true, if their experiences weren’t some hallucination or dream, then he took his separation from the Queen of Fairyland with surprising equanimity.

  “Too bad he’s dead,” Tucker mused as he drove. “Jerry Reed would plumb be tickled about the way things turned out.”

  “How so?” Veronica asked.

  “He wrote this divorce song called ‘She Got the Gold Mine, I Got the Shaft.’ And damned if that wasn’t literally what I just got.”

  After he left them at the motel, Veronica wanted to do anything except talk about what happened. She began to pack at once, but before she got very far, Justin pulled her into a kiss. Despite her anger at him, or maybe because of it, she melted with desire, and they spent the afternoon reuniting in the most intimate way.

  Later, simultaneously exhausted and wired, twined around each other in the motel bed, Justin said, “Are we agreeing not to talk about what happened?”

  “Would you say anything that would make it better?”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then yes, we’re agreeing to that.”

  “I should probably not mention it in my thesis, either.”

  “That seems sensible.”

  They fell silent. Outside, birds sang in the trees, audible over the subtle hum of the air conditioner. Veronica recalled the tarot reading she got from Dr. Tully before the trip, just days ago. The reverse five of cups meant forgiveness and moving on. Could she do that, after all this? She was too tired and sated to say.

  Now, though, as she drove, she had time to really think it over. As they merged onto I-40, she finally asked the only question that mattered. “Justin?”

  “Yeah?” he said, staring out the passenger window.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  Her mouth grew dry, and her words ragged. “Do you even remember what happened to you?”

  “No, not really. I remember music, and dancing, but the rest is all a little … blurry.”

  She waited to see if he would continue. When he didn’t, she asked, “Is that true?”

  He sighed. “No. I do remember it all, Veronica. I can’t explain why I ran off, or why I didn’t want to go back with the first people who came to get me. I was just…” He sought the right word. “Happy.”

  Veronica said nothing. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

  But then he put his hand on her leg. “But you know what? I mean this sincerely: I’m happier now. Right here.”

  A wave of relief she’d never thought possible swept over her, and for the first time in what seemed like years, she felt hope. She dropped one hand from the steering wheel and threaded her fingers through his. “Me, too,” she said. “And your thesis will be awesome.”

  “That it will,” he agreed. He still sounded distant, but she knew he was closer than he had been, and eventually he’d come all the way back.

  Just before they left the motel, as she’d waited for the air conditioner to cool off the car while Justin settled the bill, Veronica drew one card from her tarot deck. Her question was simple: What will happen between Justin and me?

  It was the three of pentacles, drawn upright, which showed an apprentice directing the actions of two architects.

  That had puzzled her; was she the apprentice, or was Justin? And if so, who were the two architects in this situation? She’d worked it over in her mind, pairing off the people they’d met, standing them up in front of both herself and Justin, but none of the combinations made any sense. She considered calling Tanna for advice, but knew that would grow into a long conversation she might not want to have with Justin around.

  Then suddenly, as they threaded through the traffic that grew thicker the closer they got to Nashville, she understood: she and Justin were the architec
ts. And the apprentice, the one who directed everything, including themselves, was.…

  “You know what I just realized, Justin?”

  “What?”

  “We thought this was all about us. I mean, we found the film, we found Sadieville, we found the cave. But we were wrong. This wasn’t our story at all.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Then whose was it?”

  “The man,” she said wryly, “who once was King.”

  * * *

  “I thought I’d find you here,” Mandalay said, walking down the little pier outside Bliss’s house. “Have you been here all night?”

  Bliss gestured with the wine bottle in her hand, at the empties around her. A few had fallen into the lake and floated against the pilings. “Figured why the fuck not,” Bliss said, her words slurred from alcohol. “It’s not like I’ll be going home … ever.”

  Mandalay sat beside her. “Was it that bad, being back there?”

  “No, it was perfect,” Bliss said sarcastically. “If it’d been bad, then I wouldn’t feel like this right now.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like that first day when we were exiled, when we came out into this world without anything, even our names.”

  “I’m sorry, I should’ve gone myself. Honestly, I was afraid to go. I worried that I wasn’t strong enough to come back.”

  “We saw her. Well, kind of glimpsed her. In the clouds.”

  “And she was angry?”

  “She was furious.”

  “Even after all this time.” Mandalay shook her head. “How can anyone stay so angry, for so long?”

  “Time doesn’t work the same for everybody,” Bliss said, and they both burst into giggles. But it didn’t last, and soon they were back in morose silence.

  “Word will get around,” the girl said. “People will know. A lot of them might…”

  “What?”

  “A lot of the old-timers might not be able to stand it, knowing there’s no hope.”

  “You can count this old-timer with them. What’s the point of going on? Why struggle, and fight, and claw with all your strength at a hope that doesn’t exist?”

  “‘I was living in a world of childish dreams,’” Mandalay quoted.

  “What’s that?”

  “A line from a Springsteen song. ‘Two Hearts.’”

  “Two hearts?”

  “Are better than one.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Oh, that’s just the chorus. In the second verse, though, he says something like, he used to have childish dreams, and they never came true, but now it’s time to grow up and have new dreams. Maybe that’s us. We need to let go of that old hope, grow up and find something new.”

  “Like what?”

  Mandalay said nothing. They looked out at the lake, and the mountains beyond, and the sunrise beyond that.

  * * *

  Tucker stood before the now-sealed cave. The landslide had been thorough in the way only a guided event could be. Its finality should have angered him, or at least upset him, but like Veronica, he just felt numb. He hadn’t felt like fully a part of either world in a very long time, and knew someday there would be a reckoning. He just assumed it would be a choice, not a decree.

  Still, it could be worse. There was still the music.

  He was so distracted that he didn’t hear the other person approach until a voice said, “Kinda figured I’d find you here.”

  He turned. Bronwyn Chess came out of the woods and into the open.

  “Oh. Hey, Bronwyn.”

  She nodded at the now-blocked cave. “Your doing?”

  “No. I was just the inspiration.”

  “It looks pretty final.”

  “It is that.”

  She patted the rock and dirt that sealed the cave. “So, Tucker. I’ve been doing some figuring. When Miss Azure sang us that Sadieville song, we all got back memories, even ones like me who weren’t even born yet. And I think since I wasn’t there when the Sadieville disaster happened, I might’ve noticed some things the rest of ’em missed.”

  He was both worried and intrigued. “That a fact?”

  “Oh, that’s a fact. Now, tell me how close I am to the truth. You’ve always known about this cave, and you’ve been able to use it to go back and forth between this world and the other one, haven’t you?”

  He did his best to sound neutral. “Yes.”

  “And the reason no one’s noticed is that when you go, you take all the memories of your time here with you. And when you come back, they come back, and it’s like you never left.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And that’s why you knew how to take away the memory of Sadieville.”

  “It’s where I got the idea, yes.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have to be a mighty powerful, important gentleman to be able to do that. You’re not that here. Are you over there?”

  “I was,” he admitted. “Now I’m just what you see.”

  She studied him, and finally said, “Well. Ain’t that a thing.”

  “It’s a thing,” he agreed. “Is that what you came here to ask me?”

  “Partly. But after I finished thinking about you, I started thinking about Sadieville.”

  “What about it?”

  “The Queen lost her temper when she sent us here. You did the same thing with Sadieville, didn’t you?”

  “That’s harsh.”

  “Only if it’s true.”

  He gazed into her calm, intelligent eyes. This girl had seen horrors, possibly perpetuated a few, and was content with herself and her place. She understood exactly who she faced, and yet she was neither afraid nor defiant. She stood before him, he realized, as an equal.

  Which, now, she was. He was certainly no king.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I did. I buried Sadieville without giving anybody a chance to explain or ask for mercy. Good people died along with the bad because I was blinded by rage. Just like she was.” He shook his head. “Guess I’m no better than her, am I?”

  “Are you seriously asking me?”

  “Yes. Yes,” he added with an emphasis that surprised even him.

  “Sorry. That’s way above my pay grade. You might try Mandalay.”

  His laugh echoed off the slopes around them, and prompted an irate call from a disturbed crow. Then he realized something he’d overlooked. “You said you figured you’d find me here. Why were you looking for me?”

  She kicked at the gravel outside the cave. “You know, this time yesterday, I was standing in Tír na nÓg. The place where all the Tufa want to return. I’ve been hearing about it since I was born, about how magical and amazing it is, how the Tufa are part of that world in a way they never will be here, no matter how many generations go by. But you know what?”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t feel it. I’m a pureblood, on both sides all the way back, so basically I’m the same as you. I think Bliss felt it, and even Snowy, but me? Nothing. So why is that?”

  “Are you seriously asking me?” he said, imitating her earlier tone.

  “If you have an answer.”

  “Now that you mention it, I might. I’ve been here from the beginning. I fathered an entire clan, the Conlins, Miss Azure’s people.” He gestured at the Sadieville valley below them. “It was one of them, in fact, who sold all this land to the coal company during one of those times I was back there.” He nodded at the cave.

  “Bad timing,” she observed.

  “When I heard about it, and especially when Sophronie was killed, I realized how much this world, this place meant to me. I was no longer a tourist here, or even a guest. After all that time, I had at least one foot in both worlds. But that’s a balancing act, and it can’t last. Sooner or later, you have to put both feet down in the same place.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “It’s like this: if someone like me, free to go back and forth, realizes he’s as tied to this pl
ace as the other one, then what must it be like for the Tufa, who have been here forever? Of course you didn’t feel at home there. No matter what your blood, what your family or heritage, this is your home. Not just this town, or this valley. This world.”

  “So we’ve been wrong all this time,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yeah, well, join the club.”

  The winds stirred the trees around them. Even though it was broad daylight, Bronwyn felt the unmistakable hum of the night winds, and the shiver of the spirits that gave them their guidance and wisdom. “That explains why we can ride the night winds, then.”

  “Exactly. They didn’t come with the Tufa from over there; they were already here, and embraced you when you arrived. I mean, hell, Bronwyn, you have your own gods here now; how much more at home can you be?”

  She smiled wryly. “Don’t you mean ‘we’ have our own gods here?”

  “Point taken.”

  She thought over all he’d said. “It’ll take a while for that idea to take hold. And some likely won’t ever accept it.”

  “I know.”

  She looked out at the valley. “And there’s one question none of this really answers.” She paused. “Why?”

  “‘Why?’” he repeated.

  “Yes. Why did you make that stupid bet? Why did we end up here, of all places? Why did any of this happen?”

  He moved to stand beside her, the two of them embodying the past and future of the Tufa. They gazed out at the treetops and meadows, and the blue rolling mountains beyond. He swore he almost heard Sophronie’s voice in the wind, with the echo of the Drummer playing along:

  Can never go back, don’t have the will …

  “Did you ever see Chinatown?” he asked.

  “The Jack Nicholson movie?” Bronwyn said.

  “Yeah. Remember the last line?”

  “‘Forget it, Jake, it’s Chinatown’?”

  “Yeah. In the movie, it means that some things just happen, and that we can’t dwell on wondering why, because we’ll never find out anyway.”

  Bronwyn said, “I understand that, actually.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled, then chuckled a little. She wasn’t so much amused as she was awed by the scale of what she’d learned, and what it meant for the future. Nothing had changed, and everything had; laughter was the only possible response. “And I guess there’s only one thing to say to it.”