The Autumn Fairy of Ages

by Brittany Fichter

  “So,” Katy squeaked, “there are others like me?”

  At this, Aisling’s smile fell. “I’m afraid just the one, and she’s long gone.”

  “But there was an autumn fairy.” Katy swallowed.

  Aisling wore a strange small smile as she studied Katy once again, playing with her earring as she watched. “Her name was Lavena.” She looked a little peeved. “History might have forgotten her name, but I never did.”

  Katy sucked in a fast breath. “So that would make you—”

  “I am one thousand and forty-two years old.”

  Katy frowned, trying to remember all Donella had told her when she’d first arrived. “So…how did you know her? You said she your mother?”

  “Aye. Well,” Aisling’s smile faltered a little, “she was my adoptive mother, I should clarify.”

  Katy’s heart fell. For one glorious moment, she had hoped. If a fairy could sire a human…but it wasn’t to be. Katy swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to focus on what her hostess was telling her.

  “I was a little one. My parents…my real parents died or abandoned me or something.” She waved a hand. “I don’t remember. All I recall is Levena taking me in. She found me one morning trying to pick blossoms from the Tree of Diadems.” Aisling laughed and leaned back in her chair, slipping her shoes off and pulling her feet up underneath her. “It wasn’t called the Tree of Diadems back then. Lavena lived nearby with her family, and her children liked to play under the tree. So when they went out one day to find me stealing flowers, they were more than a little surprised. But…anyhow, she liked to say that she took one look at me and knew the world would suffer my mischief if someone didn’t intervene.”

  “How so?”

  “I have magic.” Aisling shrugged. “No one knew why or how. I still don’t. But Mother didn’t care.” Even as she laughed, Katy could see tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “She kept me when no living relatives could be found. She and her husband raised me alongside their children as if I were one of her own.” Then Aisling stood and walked over to Katy. She held out her hand. “Walk with me. It’s too lovely an evening to miss.”

  Katy took her hand and let Aisling help her stand. When they were outside, Aisling folded her hands behind her back and talked as they started down a well-worn path that wound into a grove of red and orange maples. She pointed out her favorite places to harvest nuts and berries, and explained how she’d discovered her cavern home beneath the tree when she’d first realized how snug an underground home might be.

  “Of course,” she said with a laugh, “it might also have had something to do with the fact that I had no idea how to build a house. So when I found this gaping hole in the ground, I decided it would be much easier to build a door than to build a house.”

  They eventually made their way to an open field dotted all over with groves of brilliant orange and red clusters. The only tall trees were those in the distance, most likely close to the edges of Winter and Summer.

  “Before we go on,” Aisling said, coming to a stop, “there’s something I must confess.”

  “Oh?” Katy couldn’t imagine being the right one for any person to confess to, but she said nothing.

  “I hope I’m not too forward with you. So please tell me if I ever am.” She gave Katy a sad smile. “It’s only…I haven’t had a companion with whom to talk over a thousand years.”

  “That must be very lonely.”

  Aisling nodded and swallowed before turning and walking again. “I was never shy, but a thousand years is a long time.”

  “How did it happen?”

  “Pardon me?”

  Katy paused for a moment before answering. “If you don’t mind…” she cleared her throat. “How did she die?” It was a terrible question to ask, but so often, Katy had wondered about her own parents’ deaths. Not even Peter knew much about them, despite being two years older than her. All they knew was that Sir Christopher had seen them. Just before they died. “And how did you survive all this time?”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Aisling said. “Actually, that’s not true I suppose. I might have minded if I knew what happened.”

  “You don’t know?” Katy turned to look at her in confusion, but Aisling just frowned out at the valley before them.

  “To be perfectly honest, I don’t remember,” Aisling said. “All I know is that there’s a gap in my memory. I remember the day before the incident as though it were yesterday. A young man was supposed to call on me the next day. I’d picked a basket of apples, and Mother and I had made it into a pie for my father.” Aisling laughed again. “He disliked any boy that came calling. But this one was different. I liked him, so my mother chose to try and talk my father into being nice.”

  “Was he?”

  Aisling shrugged again. “I don’t know. After we made the pie, I went to sleep. The next thing I remember is waking up alone after that.” She sighed. “Several hundred years later.” She looked at Katy again, her green eyes shining. “But of the actual event? Nothing.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Katy said. And she was. Her whole life she had wanted a family to love her. Losing Sir Christopher had ripped a whole in her heart that had never fully healed, and, she hoped, never would. The thought of having an entire family ripped away without a reason or even an inkling as to why was horribly painful to even contemplate.”

  “I got much more than many ever did.” Aisling smiled softly. “I was a young woman when it happened, so I’d at least lived a full childhood of love with two of the kindest parents the world has ever seen.” Her jaw twitched. “A little too kind perhaps in some ways. But,” she drew a deep breath, “I’ve had more than enough time to think about it, and I’ve come to the conclusion that Atharo still has work for me to do here.”

  Katy looked at her in surprise.

  Aisling only nodded. “It’s the only reason I can imagine that he would have left me here for so long.” She grinned at Katy, wiping the corners of her eyes. “Work like you, for instance.”

  Katy stopped as they crossed a field of flowers. These flowers had large yellow petals, small orange petals, and round red petals in the center around a blue ball of seeds. Katy remembered the incident with the wand and the wisp buds, and old curiosity flared up within her.

  “What was your mother’s gift?”

  “It’s the same as yours,” Aisling said. She showed no sign of humor or teasing.

  “Which would be?” Katy asked breathlessly.

  “You and my mother have the power of destruction. But she called it the power of ages.”

  Katy felt the air leave her chest in a whoosh, and she couldn’t’ seem to fill it again. The power of destruction sounded right. So she had been right.

  “Before you go assuming the worst—” Aisling said.

  “I don’t have to assume.” Katy put her head in her hands. “Now I know.”

  “Before you go assuming the worst, consider the nature of your season.”

  Katy looked at her miserably, but her hostess simply picked a flower and smelled it before gesturing for them to continue.

  “Autumn is a time of death,” she said matter-of-factly as they walked.

  If her hostess was trying to make Katy feel better about herself, she was failing miserably. And yet, she went on.

  “Tell me,” Aisling said, pointing to the evergreens in the distance. “How did those fir trees begin?”

  “From seeds?”

  “But where did the seed begin?”

  Katy picked at her cloak. “From pinecones?” Thinking of pinecones reminded her of her disastrous attempt at harnessing the winter gifts.

  “Pinecones that refuse to open unless they’re burned by fire,” Aisling said in the same patient tone. “Which means what?”

  Katy inwardly groaned. She was not in the mood for riddles. “They don’t reproduce often?”

  “They only reproduce,” Aisling fixed her with a studious gaze, “when the rest of the forest ha
s been burned.”

  Katy watched her, unsure of what she was trying to say.

  Aisling knelt down and picked up a handful of acorns. Her golden curls spilling over her shoulders, and she fixed her sharp eyes on Katy as she stood again. “No new trees can grow unless death first occurs. It’s a cycle in this world, or at least on these isles, that is repeated time and time again.” She leaned back and ran a hand through her hair. “Believe me, I wish it were otherwise. Perhaps if man and fae didn’t have such a propensity to disobey Atharo at every turn it would be different. But whether we like it or not, death must occur for new life to begin. And in the cycle of the seasons, that’s Autumn.” She nodded at Katy’s arms. “It’s why your marks change color when you advance one object or place to the next season. In a sense, when you slow down and act deliberately, you have power over all the seasons. You push them toward their end, no matter what stage they’re at.”

  “You saw my marks change?”

  Aisling smiled. “I see a lot more than most people could imagine.”

  Katy fingered the fine stitching on the cloak Aisling had given her. Whatever she had expected to hear, that certainly wasn’t it. And as much as Aisling’s words made sense, she still was rather sure she didn’t like it.

  “Come. It’s getting late. Let’s start back.”

  Katy followed Aisling’s lead as they began back down the path. They walked quietly for quite a while, retracing their steps back to the cavern. As they walked, Aisling looked thoughtful. “Let me try to put it another way,” she finally said, tapping her chin for a moment before her eyes lit up. “Your people bring the harvest in during autumn, correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, if we want to enjoy the bounty of the harvest, we must cut the fruit off from the vine. It must die in order for us to live. And if we are to enjoy any harvest during the next year, winter, spring, and summer must take place again. Autumn delivers the fruits of our labor from summer and leads us to winter. Winter, though it looks dead, is preparing both the ground and the sleeping trees for spring. Then we plant in spring, we grow into summer, and once again, we need autumn to make way for our efforts to pay off all over again the next year.” She tilted her head. “Is that less reprehensible?”

  Katy took a deep breath. “I…I think so. But I still don’t understand why I hurt people. Or what happened to Peter at my manifestation.” A stab of guilt hit Katy at the thought of Peter, and she fought it as she wanted to hear Aisling’s answer. He was safe. He could wait while she got this sorted out. Perhaps Aisling could even help her sort their troubles out.

  “Peter’s is a good story but a long one,” Aisling said as they walked back into the cavern, “but it’s growing dreadfully late.” She looked up into the deep purple sky above the trees. “Before you go off to bed, though, let me tell you what my mother told me about her gift.”

  Katy’s heart pounded, and she felt as though her ears were ringing. Was she really going to find out? After all these years of wondering.

  “The power of ages is what my mother called it because in her head, she saw time. She could never reverse it and change past events, of course.” Aisling’s voice dropped to a whisper, and her eyes were bright and she leaned in toward Katy. “My mother said she could see time passing in her mind whenever she closed her eyes. If she wished to speed along some process, all she had to do was to imagine it. For instance, if the harvest refused to come in or was being threatened by a storm, she could ripen it in time to save the crops. In other words, she would age them.”

  “So…” Katy thought for a moment. “Is that what I’m doing when I destroy things?” She recalled the way she’d destroyed Tearlach’s clouds during her manifestation. “Or burn them?” The way she had Peter.

  Aisling nodded. “Everything has an end. Some items last longer than others, though. A soldier’s lance, for example, would take much longer to fall to pieces than a dandelion would take to wilt or even a wild boar would take to grow old. And as for fire, if your power is moving too fast, sometimes burning is simply the easier way for an object to meet its end.”

  Katy folded her hands and put her chin on them. Her mind was spinning faster than she knew how to keep up with, and for every answer Aisling gave her, new questions were bred. But before she could ask anything else, weariness overtook her, and a yawn escaped without her permission.

  “I think that is our signal to finish this discussion tomorrow.” Aisling grinned and took Katy by the arm and ushered her through a door at the back of the room. “I have a room for guests that’s been empty for far too many years and some bedclothes that need wearing as well.”

  “But I have so many questions,” Katy protested as she followed her hostess out of the front room and into passage that looked much like a hallway. It was even tall enough for them to stand in without bending. There were fewer crystals on its ceiling than in the main room. Instead, several roots stuck out of the ceiling. They paused here.

  “And you will get answers. I promise. But tonight, you need to rest.”

  “But Peter…”

  “I will keep an eye on Peter.”

  “But I—”

  “I know about your fight,” Aisling said gently.

  Katy wanted to hide, but Aisling only smiled softly. “I also know that the sessions will not continue without you. Perhaps that’s a good thing. Maybe all you both need is some time to yourselves.” Her smile grew. “Sometimes a little room to breathe is just what a couple needs. Believe me.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’ve seen a thousand years’ worth.

  Katy was about to protest again when Aisling led her from the hallway into another, smaller room. Katy stopped, speechless, in the doorway and only moved when Aisling pushed her in.

  Slowly, she walked forward and laid a hand on the bed. Though small, it was the most comfortable she’d ever touched. It was covered by a canopy of gauze and its brown sheets were as soft as silk. Unlike the main room they’d just come from, this little round room looked as though it was made from the root system of some giant sentinel, with thick twists of wood branching out from the ceiling and covering the whole room like a crown that reached to the floor. A large wooden chest with rusting ties sat at the foot of her bed, and a bowl and pitcher of water lay beside it. On the other side a little shelf hung on the wall, holding a glass vase, a short, fat candle, a wooden comb, and what looked like a silhouette carved into a thick slab of wood.

  In no time at all, Katy was sitting in bed, clutching a soft blanket to her chest. As Aisling blew the candle out and began to close the door, however, Katy called, “Wait!”

  “Yes?” Aisling stopped, her hand on the door.

  “I…I hope you don’t think me rude, but could you help me and Peter?”

  Aisling’s smile was gone now, but in its place was what Katy guessed to be something akin to motherly affection. “I want you and Peter to have everything you ever dreamed. You deserve it. So my advice for now is…give it time. These things have a way of coming into perspective with a good night’s rest.”

  “But—”

  “If for only tonight.”

  Katy finally nodded and laid back into her covers. “Very well. In the morning.”

  “Good night, Katy.”

  But Katy was already drifting to sleep.

  29

  Never Doubt

  Katy touched the necklace longingly. Its lavender ribbon was simple enough, but the pendant sparkled like nothing Katy had seen in all her twelve years. The harsh sunlight of the late summer day made the little white stone nearly blinding. She looked at the cart’s owner, who had been watching her with obvious suspicion since she’d turned his way.

  “How much is this one?” she asked.

  “How much do you have?” the merchant asked gruffly.

  Katy held up two coins.

  “Katy, hurry up,” Peter grumbled.

  “It’s three,” the merchant said.

  Katy sighed and put her coins back in he
r purse. “Do you have anything for two?”

  “Let’s go home!” Peter tugged on her arm.

  Katy turned to Peter and stuck her tongue out. It wasn’t a mature thing to do, particularly for a girl of nearly twelve, but she was not about to tolerate one of his adolescent moods. Today was too special.

  “I mean it, hurry up!”

  “Your father told me to find a birthday present for myself, so that’s exactly—”

  “Katy.” He took her arms in his and turned her to face him. He spoke in a low hiss. “There is a sailor on the docks fixing a sail, and I don’t like the way he’s looking at you. So I will buy you whatever you want on another day. But please, let’s just go!”

  Katy peeked over his shoulder at the docks. Sure enough, there was a young sailor staring right at her. Though much of his face was hidden by a blond scraggly beard, he looked young, probably no more than eighteen or nineteen years.

  “See?” Peter asked.

  Katy rolled her eyes. “Everyone gives me odd looks.” But she let him tug her toward home, saying a silent wistful goodbye to the necklace.

  “Not like that one.” Peter continued to pull her along even when they were out of sight of the harbor.

  “Peter,” Katy yanked her arm out of his grasp and stopped walking. “What is wrong with you? Everyone stares at me. They always have.”

  Peter glared at her. Twice he opened his mouth, and twice he closed it.

  “Well?” She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, which only made him scowl harder.

  “The way he was looking at you…” He ran a hand through his hair and put his hands behind his head, turning in a circle the way he always did when he was searching for words. “It was the way…”

  “As if something’s wrong with me?”

  “The way a man looks at a woman!”

  Katy rolled her eyes. “I don’t look like a woman!”

  But Peter didn’t laugh.

  “I don’t look like a woman.” She paused. “Do I?”

  Peter’s eyes moved up and down her figure in two quick movements. Then he turned and resumed stomping back up the path toward home.