The Stillness of the Sky: A Flipped Fairy Tale (Flipped Fairy Tales)

by Starla Huchton

  Leads were few, but some spoke of a woman passing through years before, and her description seemed close to what I remembered of my mother. Not many people could tell me about her, however, as the war had stolen so many of those who lived in the towns when she came through.

  By the sixth stop, I heard shouts from the town watch telling the rest about my approach. I can’t really explain how strange it is to go from completely disregarded to commanding crowds when I arrived anywhere. All of the attention made me uneasy, and I wondered when I’d attract the eye of someone I shouldn’t. We’d been heading steadily southeast, getting closer to the capital city every day. While I could say I had friends there now, I wasn’t keen on any royal entanglements after my extended stay with Oria and Aaron.

  The mayor met me inside the town gates, practically falling over himself to invite me to stay in his home. I stared at him, stunned both by the hospitality and his offer of payment if I stayed for two full days. Apparently, some impressive visitors were on their way, and he could think of nothing better than a Bard to please whoever was coming.

  “The spirits have smiled on me,” he said, smoothing long hairs across the top of his balding head. “With a Bard here, I’m sure to gain their favor. You’ve blessed Alonin with your presence, good lady. We’ve not had a Bard here in nearly seven years.”

  Immediately, I sat up straight in my chair. “You’ve had a Bard here before?”

  He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting his green doublet over his large belly. “We have. A woman perhaps twice your age. She stopped for a night around the time I took over as mayor here. Sang at a wedding, I believe. Hugo,” he waved at his assistant, hovering near the door, “do you remember whose wedding that was?”

  Hugo pushed his spectacles up his large nose, sniffing. “Wedding, ah, wasn’t it Greta and Ludwig Grouten?” He paused, thoughtful. “Yes, I believe it was those two. Named their first girl after that Bard. Little Lorelei Grouten.”

  My heart soared at hearing my mother’s name again. My father forbade me from ever saying it aloud, and I’d learned not to speak it the hard way. At least she’d made it this far. It wasn’t much, but it was more confirmation than I’d gotten anywhere else.

  “Do you know where she stayed when she was here, Mayor Trundell?” I asked, trying to contain my excitement. “I’ve been looking for any trace of her, and this is the first I’ve heard her name said.”

  The mayor’s expression soured. “Looking for her? That was years ago.”

  I nodded. “I’d like to know all the same, if you please.”

  He leaned forward on his elbows, his eyes intent on me. “If I give you a name, you’ll promise to stay to perform for the royal guests?”

  My blood rushed into my feet. Royal guests? My vision blurred around the edges, making it difficult to focus my thoughts.

  “Are you all right, child?”

  “I…” My words slipped away, but I grabbed for them. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Royal guests, you say?”

  He nodded. “An envoy from King Ivor, yes. I’ve not been told who, exactly, but they’re of great importance for certain.”

  A run-in with someone close to Prince Aaron in exchange for a single name. Was it worth the trouble it might bring?

  I sighed. It was the first break I’d caught since I started searching, and I’d be foolish to pass up the chance. If the spirits were with me, perhaps nothing would come of this brush with royalty.

  “Very well,” I said. “You have me for two days, on my word.”

  “The bond of a Bard,” he said, highly impressed for some reason. “Then a name you shall have.”

  The mayor reached for a scrap of parchment and a quill, scratching out a quick note. He passed the paper to me, though he seemed unhappy to do so. “The one you seek is Crilla, and she lives outside of town in the northwestern forest. These are the directions, but it’s the best I can do for you.”

  I stared at the paper, scanning his instructions. “The best you can do?”

  “I’d send someone with you, but I doubt there’d be any who’d do so voluntarily. You may not be able to find her at all, if she’s of a mind to be left alone.”

  I frowned, confused. “And why is that?”

  His face was devoid of any mirth, as serious as a funeral. “Because, Miss Jacqueline, Crilla is a witch.”

  Chapter 9

  “I cannot go there,” Ro said as I stroked the side of his neck.

  “I know. I’m not asking you to. This is my task, friend.”

  “Birds do not like that place.”

  I sighed. “I’m not overly fond of it, either, but I don’t have a choice. No one will come with me and I have to speak with Crilla.”

  “Her name is harsh. I do not like you going there.”

  Staring into the forest on the other side of the stream, the distinct lack of noises, either animal or insect, disturbed me. “I’m not keen on the idea myself, but I have to.” I gave him one last reassuring pat and hefted my pack. “Anyway, I promised the mayor I’d be back in the morning to perform for his guests tomorrow, so I have to do this now. I won’t be able to sleep tonight with this hanging over me anyway, so I might as well get it over with. Will you be nearby in case I need to leave quickly?”

  “Nearby, yes,” he said, his head tilting up and to the east.

  Putting on my best reassuring smile, I nodded. “Good. I’ll be off then. I want to use what light’s left. Be safe, Ro. Keep out of sight.”

  “Yes, Lady.”

  It always sounded strange to me when Ro called me that, but he’d done so since I’d been able to understand him. After two days of arguing with him to call me Jack, I gave up. He was a stubborn bird, but incredibly loyal.

  My goodbyes said, I hopped my way over the rocks in the stream and headed into the woods on the other side. I was instantly engulfed in a deafening silence, raising the hairs on my arms and neck. The stillness was an unnatural quiet, more like death than restful peace. Pushing it away, I turned my mind to searching for the abandoned deer run, per the mayor’s directions. After ten minutes of careful scrutiny, going deeper and deeper into the woods, I came up empty. A great boulder crouched between two trees, and I sat down on the stone to think. Mayor Trundell said that if Crilla didn’t want to be found, she wouldn’t be. Was she worried she might come to harm, or did she simply dislike company?

  As I sat, an old children’s tune popped into my head, and I hummed it, unable to resist the pull of it.

  Hidden in sight

  Obscured in the light

  I seek what cannot be found.

  It isn’t too far

  But right where you are

  Lurking deep underground.

  Memories of playing games of Shifted Soil tugged at my smile. My mother was still around then. When we’d visit neighbors, all the children would gather to see who could best hide an object in the ground so others couldn’t find it. We all had practice tilling and planting, and the goal was to shift so little of the surface that no one could tell anything had changed. I’d gotten so good at the game the others stopped playing it with me, tired of losing pretty rocks to the dirt it came from.

  The memory gave me an idea, however, and I stood again to examine my surroundings. It seemed odd to me that, if the forest was abandoned even by insects and birds, that a deer run would still be used often enough to keep it marked. Surely plants would’ve overtaken it, as the mayor said Crilla had lived there for decades. Then why would he direct me to a thing that wouldn’t exist anymore?

  If someone didn’t want to be found, what better way to do so than to give everyone wrong directions? My mother always told me the best way to hide a thing was by misdirection. And if my mother had found her, surely I could as well. After all, it was her who taught me the best tricks to win at Shifted Soil.

  I looked at my directions again, seeing them in a new light. The deer run supposedly went east, so, instead I turned west, marking my progress at the next boulder I came to. L
ike the first, it also rested between a pair of trees. Two boulders were only a coincidence, however, so I pressed on to the next instruction.

  Six boulders later, I was certain I was on the right path. A last cut north, and the sound of flowing water reached me. In the fading light of day, I stumbled out of the trees and into a small clearing. A little creek ran along the far right edge, disappearing around the back of a small, decrepit cabin. Smoke billowed from the vine-covered chimney, the stone structure giving way to a roof that was more moss than shingles. The air was heavy, weighed down by an unsettling feeling that I wasn’t wanted there.

  Still, I’d come that far. I wasn’t going to stop at the last fifty paces.

  Swallowing my nerves, I approached the door, pausing for a moment before I knocked. I wished I’d thought to ask the mayor a little more about Crilla. For all I knew, she stole girls like me from town and transformed them into frogs… Or dinner.

  But my mother had survived her encounter. So would I.

  Reaching up, I rapped three times on the old wooden door. I held my breath, but after a moment or two, nothing happened. I supposed it was entirely possible she wasn’t home, but the smoke from the chimney told me otherwise. After two more tries, there was still no answer.

  “Hello?” I called out. “I’m looking for Crilla. It’s important that I speak with her.”

  “What do you want, girl?” A scratchy voice behind me caused me to jump.

  I spun, coming face to face with an old woman in a dirty, dark brown dress with little more shape than a burlap sack. Her shoulders hunched, making her neck appear more horizontal than vertical, as though it were jutting out at me like the menace of a sword.

  “I… I…” I stammered, trying to find my tongue. Her eyes, likely once a dark brown, were turning milky white, and even her pupils were a smoky gray. “My name is Jacqueline Wallace. I came to ask you about my mother. Mayor Trundell said you knew her.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Your mother?”

  I bobbed my head, trying not to tremble, but the tingle in my scalp refused to let me relax. “She stayed with you about seven years ago. She was a Bard by the name of Lorelei.”

  At that, Crilla sucked in a breath and shrunk back. “Your mother?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I need to find her, and I thought you might know where she went. It’s very important. Please, is there anything you can tell me?”

  The old woman scanned the clearing, but I wasn’t very confident in her sense of sight. Her movements were hasty, jerky, as though she were scared.

  “Come inside, girl,” she said, pushing open the cabin door. “We’ll see what it is you need to know.”

  Hesitant, I followed behind her, finding myself engulfed in the sudden gloom of Crilla’s home. It smelled of the drying plants that hung from the rafters and the concoction that boiled over onto the hot coals of the fireplace. At least there weren’t any large cages or obvious weapons laying around, so that was a small comfort, but the itch of magic’s presence convinced me that any harm I suffered wouldn’t come to me from physical force.

  She pointed me to a small wooden chair near the fireplace, taking the larger rocking chair for herself. Keeping my mouth shut, I decided it was better to wait on speaking until I was given permission. Yet another lesson learned from my father’s hands.

  Crilla studied me for a long time, rocking back and forth in her creaky chair. “You have an instrument with you.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Play for me,” she said, more demand than request.

  Nervous, I unstrapped my lute from my pack, tuning it hastily. “What shall I play?”

  “You choose.”

  When I met her eyes, I knew the demand was a test. Perhaps she wanted to know if I’d inherited my mother’s gift as a way of proving myself. Someone who went to such lengths to keep others out must’ve had a great distrust of people. It seemed a lonely way to live.

  As such, the song I chose needed to reflect something happier, lighter. I needed her to remember the better parts of humanity that she might consider helping a stranger. My grandfather had a song like that, and I dug into my memory to find the words.

  My fingers found the strings as my mind drifted into the song. I told of a love lost to foolish pride, of a broken promise that grew into a cascade of trouble. One man’s journey to recover the person he loved above all others took him over mountains, through deserts, and across the wide plains of the world, at last giving him the courage to reclaim the woman he’d carelessly discarded. Finally reunited, they swore an oath to never again hide the truth from each other and lived out their days in simple happiness. It was a statement on mistakes and regret, and finding the courage to grant second chances to those who needed it most.

  As the last chords faded, I blinked to clear the haze of music from my eyes. It always took me a few moments to reclaim myself after a performance, a side effect I hoped would lessen with practice. At least it no longer exhausted me as much as it had the first time I played. Having to sleep for twelve hours or more after a few songs would’ve been incredibly inconvenient.

  “Clever girl,” Crilla said with a croaking chuckle. “Perhaps not what I’d want to hear, but needed to. She was much the same way as you, though not quite so blunt in her persuasion.”

  “You knew her then?” I said, immediately hopeful despite my wariness. “You knew Lorel—”

  “Hush, child,” she interrupted. “You mustn’t speak her name. Even the trees tell secrets.”

  I frowned. “Secrets? What secrets? She was my mother, and no one overly special as far as I know… Well, aside from the Bard thing I discovered recently.” I paused, an embarrassed blush creeping into my cheeks. “Which, now that I’ve said it, makes me think I didn’t really know her at all.”

  Crilla resumed her rocking. “You know the most important part, that she loved you. Still does.”

  “So, she is alive then? I wasn’t even sure of that much.” The thought of seeing my mother again thrilled me more than I’d expected. In all the years she’d been gone, I hadn’t let myself think about how much I missed her.

  “She lives, certain as the sun rises and sets every day.” Crilla stopped rocking and heaved herself out of her chair with a tired groan, shuffling over to shelves full of boxes and bottles. “May I ask what it is you need her for?”

  I blinked, unsure of how to answer. “Well… She’s my mother. That, and I’ve got a few questions I’d really like answers to.”

  She pushed aside a few glass vials, digging in a back corner of a shelf. “What sort of questions?”

  “Mostly about me. What I can do, how it works, what to expect, where I came from, that sort of thing.”

  As the words “where I came from” left my mouth, Crilla stopped. Her hand retracted back into her saggy sleeves, and she stared at me with intense scrutiny. “And why would you need to know that?”

  Magical talking tree aside, I had other reasons for wanting to know those things. “Doesn’t everyone want to know about themselves? I spent sixteen years of my life thinking I was nothing more than the daughter of a farmer too drunk to plant crops. Two weeks ago, I found out I was something beyond anything I’d ever imagined. So, yes, I have questions. Wouldn’t you?”

  Her gaze never left my face as she returned to her seat. She rocked slowly, the creak of her chair as rhythmic as breathing.

  “I suppose I would.”

  “Can you help me then?” I stopped and reconsidered my phrasing. “Will you help me?”

  Another five creaks passed before she answered, the last punctuating the silence with an extra loud grunt.

  “I will.”

  She leaned toward me, hand outstretched. Her bony fingers set something cool and smooth against my palm, the chill of her skin brushing against mine causing me to shiver. “But only because my promise demands it.”

  As she pulled away, I stared at the object she gave me. An oval of gold surrounded a flawless green gem, stealing my breat
h with its perfect beauty.

  “Your promise?” I asked, unable to look away from the item.

  “In return for a favor, your mother made me promise to guard this for her. I was to give it to you if you ever came asking for her. It will guide you to her, but be mindful. You may not like what you discover when you get your answers.”

  I looked up, confused. “Do you know about me?”

  “A bit,” she said. “Enough to know I want nothing more to do with you. I’ve spared your life only as repayment for my oath. The rest of your story is not mine to tell.” She stood and shuffled towards the door. “Now, it’s time for you to leave. Stay any longer and you’ll suffer for breaking your bond.”

  I collected my things and stood. “Wait,” I said, stopped a few feet before the exit. “What do you mean, I’ll suffer for breaking my bond?”

  Crilla scowled at me. “You carry the mark of a Bard’s bond on you, child. Do you know so little?”

  Looking down at myself, I scanned my skin for any visible marks. “What—”

  She ushered me out the door. “When a Bard makes a promise, their magic prevents them from breaking it. I see this magic on you. Take care that you aren’t caught for too long, or your misery will far outweigh the pain of anything I might do to you. Best hurry. The sun’s just rising now.”

  Shocked, I stared up into the sky, the hint of pink fading from the eastern sky. “How is such a thing… But it was only just…”

  “Time is different here, child,” she said with an impatient growl. “And I’ve no more of it for your questions.”

  With that, the door slammed behind me.

  A sudden panic overtook me, and my feet moved of their own accord. I sprinted through the woods, marking my progress by boulders as I dodged branches and undergrowth. When I reached the creek again, I fell to my knees, panting from my efforts. An ache bloomed inside my bones, but not from the strain of running. Something else twisted a knife inside my marrow.