by Karlik, Mary
Finn took a hard swing, knocking Tormed from Layla’s hands. “It’s a dream. Nothing more.” He pointed to her leather bracelet with the tip of his sword. “You are protected from magic. And you have Tormed.”
“The sword winked at me again.” She gathered Tormed and repositioned the targe.
“It’s a trick of the light. It did the same when I was a lad.”
She circled him in a defensive stance. “Tell me again the meaning of the words on the blade.”
He raised his sword. “It’s nonsense, Layla. The words don’t translate directly, just something about a singing cave. As I’ve said a thousand times before, there’s no spell. I repeated the words enough as a lad to know. The sword has no magic.”
Finn swung low.
Layla’s wings lifted her high enough to clear the blade, but then the world shifted clockwise. The left side of the ground swelled like a wave rippling across the earth, bringing with it a veiled image of two human males.
The taller one pointed directly at them. “What the—?”
And then they were gone and the ground settled.
Layla’s pulse thrummed at the base of her throat as she rolled from her side and sat up. She stared at Finn and heaved air into her chest. “That should not have happened.”
Finn stood and helped her up. “Maybe the humans tried to breach a protection spell.”
Layla raised her fist, exposing the bracelet on her wrist. “I’ve lived with one my entire life. Believe me, that was no protection spell.”
Finn dropped his sword and held out his hands as though he was trying to feel the wall between the human and magic dimensions. Then he stomped the ground where it had swelled. “Whatever it was, it’s over now.”
“Aye.” Layla sheathed Tormed and craned her neck to peer into the high branches of the trees. “The world has gone mad, Finn. Fairies are disappearing from all over. Could they have fallen into the human world?”
“No. The human world was sealed years ago. Besides, whatever caused that shift didn’t breach the wall.”
Layla shook her head. “Then where have the fairies gone?”
Finn worked his jaw. “I can’t say. But I do know the fête is safe. Powerful protection spells cover the place. No dragon or ogre or any other dangerous creature can get in.”
Layla wanted to agree, but she couldn’t. Now more than ever, she worried about Esme.
Finn retrieved his sword and slung the sack of berries over his shoulder. “I’d better get these back.” He smiled as if to say there was nothing to worry about, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth told another story. “Want me to walk you?”
She shook her head. “I’m not ready to go to an empty cottage.”
“Esme’s fine, you know. She’ll find her way.” Then he kissed her cheek. “No sister could have done a better job of raising her. Just give her a little room.”
“Aye.” Give her room. A tiny part of her felt betrayed that he’d taken Esme’s side. After all, he knew how the memory of the massacre plagued her. She’d told him every detail of that day, even cried to him.
Finn started on the path to his village and turned back. “And don’t go spying on her. Let her have her freedom.”
Let her have her freedom. The words fell from his lips casually, but their meaning stung. In her soul she knew he was right. It was true that Esme’s magic was strong and she used it well. Layla was the one wearing a protection bracelet. Layla was the one who couldn’t magic her way out of a sack. Still, she’d always watched over Esme. She could no more turn it off than a mum could stop loving her bairn.
She could have just a wee check on her sister. It wasn’t spying, necessarily, just making sure everything was okay—from a distance—without being seen.
Layla flew around the deeply veined trunks of cottonwood trees and inhaled the sweet smell of rosebay willows as she skimmed the tops of their bright pink blossoms. She blew out a satisfied breath as the hum of bees succumbing to the cajoling lavender heads of the thistles played in her ears like a finely tuned symphony sustaining a single note.
But as she neared the fête, uneasiness slowed her flight. She’d always avoided the fair. To her it was sacred ground and should have been left to cradle the souls of those who had been lost that day. Her belief that the fallen should be honored was another way in which she differed from her clan.
They claimed that to dance and celebrate in the very spot of the the attack was to show strength. It was considered a bold statement that the fairies of clan Thistle would not shrink away in fear. But she could never bring herself to dance upon the souls of the lost.
Layla landed and scouted for a place to hide her sword and dagger. She wasn’t keen on the idea of leaving them behind, but was even less keen on sickening every fey at the fête by bringing them in.
She found a blackened stump with shards of brittle bark jutting from one side of the rim like decaying stalagmites. The center was deep enough and hollow enough to hold her weapons and if she covered them with dried leaves they would be completely hidden. She unfastened the belt that held Tormed and pulled the sgian-dubh from her boot. But as she prepared to conceal them in the stump, she hesitated.
Was it worth returning to the very spot where her parents had been murdered just to check on her sister? The spells protecting the fair were surely strong enough to keep predators away.
It wasn’t just about the dragon attack from so many years ago, was it? Fairies had been disappearing for months. Maybe there was some beast snatching them from the forest. But what if there wasn’t?
What if it had something to do with the weird shift she and Finn had experienced? The ground had swelled like a rogue wave, bringing the human realm with it. Afterward, the barrier between the worlds had seemed intact. But how could they know? Those missing fairies could’ve been victims of whatever force had brought the worlds together—and whatever that force was, it was more powerful than a fairy-conjured protection spell.
She placed the weapons in the stump and heaped loads of leaves on top. After adjusting the bow and quiver on her back, she flew to the fairgrounds. She had to be sure Esme was safe. Just a quick peek and then she’d let her be.
Protection spells shimmied against her skin as Layla joined the line at the entrance. She drew a calming breath. Aye, safe from dragons. But her stomach knotted with each beat of the fête music, and sweat trickled between her wings as her muscles went on high alert. It wasn’t just the memory of the carnage. It was the throngs of people. It was the smells from the food vendors. It was the children running around—so carefree and vulnerable—so easily snatched.
Layla entered behind a family from the Primrose clan— known for their over-friendly demeanor and loud mouths. The mum turned to her and with a giggle said, “We don’t see your kind where we’re from. Does it hurt?”
“Sorry?” But Layla knew what she meant—she’d been asked the question often. It gave her a prick of satisfaction to make the woman explain anyway.
The woman leaned close to Layla as if she were sharing a secret. “I’ve heard that your kind can grow to a full human size.” Her eyes widened and she gave a conspiratorial nod. “I hear that it’s extremely painful and sometimes uncontrollable.”
Changing size was a common skill among fairies, but growing human-sized was unique to the few half-caste in existence. At least, that was what Layla had been taught. She’d never seen another fairy change human-sized, but then, she had never seen another half-human fey either.
The woman’s lips pursed, as sour as the intent behind the question as she waited or the answer.
Layla would have loved to have human-sized and slapped the condescending smirk off the lady’s face. But then she’d cause a commotion. And if she was going to check on Esme without being seen, the one thing she could not do was cause a commotion.
Instead, she chose a more subtle approach. “Is it painful to have one’s body grow over one hundred times its normal size all at once? Aye, an
d just the thought makes me disagreeable, especially with rude people.” She pulled her bow over her shoulder so that the woman could see it.
The lady skidded sideways so fast she bumped into her husband. Gathering her children close, she twittered, “Come on. What shall we eat first?”
Layla wanted to shout, How about your overinflated sense of importance, you cow? But that would not help her keep a low profile. Instead, she slowed her stride to increase the distance between herself and the family, and scanned the festivities for Esme.
The grounds were crowded. Clans from all over had gathered to celebrate. To ensure good luck in the coming year, bannocks were baked with the first grain of the harvest. Ale made from the previous year’s hops was drunk to make way for the new brews, and whisky and wine flowed in abundance. It was a time of celebration and cheer for the fairies.
But as Layla wove through the mass of people, searching for Esme, she felt stares wash over her from every direction. And as much as she wanted to ignore their scrutiny, heat filled her face as she struggled to keep her gaze off the ground.
Hoping for a wee respite from the leers she entered a barn that sold arts, crafts, and pastries. But as she passed the stalls, the merchants stood guard in front of their wares and eyed her as if they feared she’d taint their goods just by her nearness. She was sorely tempted to drag a casual hand along their tables, but again, she wasn’t there to cause trouble.
Outside the barn, she rounded the corner of a stall that sold carved flutes and came to a full stop. Across a straw-covered path to her left, Esme stood at an archery stand with Isla. Esme was trying to hit a bull’s eye for a giant stuffed toy. Her sister was a horrible shot. Twice she missed the target completely. Layla could’ve won the toy for her from where she stood three booths away.
Esme paid for another quiver of arrows and a boy from her school sidled up next to her. Layla had heard Esme and Isla fash about a lad called Robbie. They’d all but swooned as they described his forest-green wings and black hair. Watching her sister smile at the lad with bright eyes, Layla knew he was one and the same.
He stood behind Esme and helped her aim the arrow. It was sweet and Layla was happy for her sister. She’d seen enough. Esme was safe. Time to back away and let her have her freedom.
But as Layla turned, a shadow darkened the fête as though a casket pall had been draped across it and a chill ripped up her spine.
The shadow was more than just a cloud covering the sun.
It can’t be. There are protection spells.
Her pulse drummed in her ears and like a wound-down clockwork toy, her senses stalled. Her muscles stiffened, her eyes refused to focus, her lungs ceased to take in air, and her voice was unable to scream.
Then she heard that horrible, deafening screech and one thought wound her system into action.
Save Esme.
In a single, well-practiced move, she slipped her bow off her shoulder with one hand and nocked an arrow with the other. She cast her eyes to the sky, fearing what she knew was there.
Fauth.
Somehow he’d returned from exile and breached the spells. But nobody was running away. Nobody was screaming. They simply stared, eyes trained on the dragon soaring above. They were frozen just as Layla had been. It was up to her to save them.
A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned and saw Esme. Her sister wasn’t looking at Fauth. She was staring at Layla and there was murder in her face.
Layla swallowed hard. Esme could yell at her later. Right now she had to save the fairies. She had to save Esme. She took aim.
The creature circled low over the crowd.
Esme screamed, “No!”
Layla let the arrow fly just as Esme knocked her off balance. The shot went wild, but she hit the dragon’s wing.
A gasp erupted from the crowd.
The dragon teetered.
Layla reached for another arrow, but Esme pushed her into the dirt.
The dragon spiraled toward the ground. Esme screamed like a banshee. “You idiot!”
The creature landed and—
—and a boy named Fergus crawled from a dragon costume. “What was that? You nearly killed me.”
A crowd gathered around and blood rushed to Layla’s face. “Sorry. You—you looked—so real.”
Fergus pulled dragon-claw gloves from his hands and tossed them on the ground. “It’s called magic. You should get you some.”
Esme crossed her arms and glared at her sister. “You ruined everything.”
Layla stammered “I’m sorry. I—I just meant to keep you safe.”
“Keep me safe. The only thing I need saving from is you.” She all but spat the words at Layla.
Layla’s heart shattered. “Esme.” But she’d embarrassed her sister in front of her friends. In front of Robbie.
The arrow fell from the dragon costume into the dirt. Layla scooped it up and opened her mouth to begin the litany of apologies she owed her sister.
Before she uttered a single word, Esme shot her a venomous scowl and shouted, “One day away from you. It’s all I asked. One day, and you couldn’t do it.”
“Es—he looked so real.”
“Please, just leave.” Her words were barely audible, as if their bluster had been worn down passing through tense, angry vocal cords.
There was nothing else to say. Heat filled Layla’s face as she made her way through the crowd, dodging their gibes and laughter. All she’d wanted to do was keep Esme safe, to keep everyone safe. Instead, she’d embarrassed her sister and confirmed in the minds of the other fey that she was an outsider not to be trusted.
By the time Layla had retrieved her weapons from the stump, the Cràdh was glowing in the splendor of her failure. It shouted into her mind that if she’d listened to Finn, if she’d trusted Esme, she wouldn’t have made such a fool of herself. It called her stubborn and stupid and it was all Layla could do to push the spirit back into its corner of her soul.
Let the beast feast on my failures in silence. It’s time to let Esme have her freedom. It’s time to go home.
Home. Even their cottage was an outcast. Situated well outside the village, the gnarled roots that offered it protection from the weather also kept it hidden from the casual observer. It was dark, cold, lonely—and at that moment, the last place Layla wanted to be.
But there was another place that was bright and warm and would give her solace. A place she’d longed to visit, except that it was reserved for full-blood fey. She turned away from the distant music of the fête and lifted off the ground. A slow smile played across her lips. All of the full fey were at the fête. Today, there would be nobody to shoo her away.
She flew north, to Gleann na Sìthe, the valley of peace. It was a narrow strip of land surrounded by steep, forested slopes that offered protection from wind, weather, and intruders. The very center of the valley was her destination—An Linne Ruadh—the red pond, known not only for its beauty but also for its magical healing powers.
Not that Layla would know. Even if she could’ve felt the magic, as a half-caste, she had never been allowed to enter the water.
Pale pink granite formed banks from the eastern side of the pond all the way around to the southern edge. Layla landed on the western shore, where green, leggy grass stretched north to meet a thicket of alder trees. This wasn’t the first time she’d visited the pond. When she was young, she’d often hid in the high branches of the trees and watched her sister play with the other fairies. She’d ached to be a whole fairy—splashing, laughing, and feeling the magic of the water. When she was older, she had tried to swim in the pond, but had always been chased off before she’d got her big toe wet.
But today, nobody was around to stop her.
Excitement mixed with the uneasiness of breaking rules charged her system as she tugged off her boots and dropped them to the ground. The cool, wet grass soothed her bare feet as her heels sank in the mud.
Still smarting from
the bite of Esme’s words, she stretched her arms wide, tilted her face to the sun, and blew out a long, slow breath. Relaxation seeped through her muscles as she released the anger and frustration of the morning.
Peace at last—until a rustling among the trees caused her to jerk her head so hard toward the sound that pain shot from her neck into her skull. Her wings snapped wide and her heart crashed into her throat, and she didn’t dare breathe, much less move as she waited for what was to come.
A fox trotted to the bank, lapped the water, and wandered back into the woods. Relief rushed from her in a big sigh as her heart staggered back to its rightful place in her chest.
“Silly fairy. Nobody’s around to bother you.” Her words shook and her fingers trembled
as she pulled on the end of the belt holding her sword. As the buckle gave way, the belt slipped through her hands and plopped onto the wet grass. Tormed slid partway from its sheath as it hit the ground. She left it where it landed and dropped her bow, quiver, and targe alongside it.
Free of her weapons, she squished her toes into the mud and ruffled the last of the worry from her wings. Then, as if her desire could alter the spell woven into the bracelet, she whispered into the air, “Just this once, let me feel the magic of the pond.”
But she knew she wouldn’t feel it. The protection spell in the bracelet would deactivate any magic before it reached her.
Still, she couldn’t restrain the smile that formed on her lips or the little flutters of excitement that spun in her belly. She was about to swim in the pond she had waited her whole life to enter.
After a final scan of the area, she stripped off her dress, folded it atop her boots, and laid her sword across the pile. She pulled her sgian-dubh from its special sheath in her right boot and placed the dirk next to the sword. Just in case.
At the water’s edge, cool waves lapped over her calves, staining them red with the healing resin that had leached from the trees. Bracing for the cold, she sucked in a breath and waded in until her feet no longer touched the bottom.