The Autumn Fairy of Ages

by Brittany Fichter

  Katy followed, but her heart was too far up her throat to say anything else the rest of the way.

  Katy sat straight up in bed. Her cheeks were wet and her heart was racing. Gray light of morning spilled in through the window, but it did little to ease the way her heart was seizing up in her chest.

  What had she done? She glanced at the window. She couldn’t have been more than a day’s walk from the palace, even less if one was riding a horse. Was Peter out there now looking for her? She wouldn’t be surprised. Peter always came for her. And she had shut him down.

  The truth she had been suppressing since the day before drowned her like a flood. Silent sobs racked her body as she hugged her knees to her chest and tried to breathe. But breathing was impossible as she choked on the pain that squeezed her chest and constricted her throat. Every plan, every discussion about the future came back to her like an echo in a canyon. What they would name the children. What they wouldn’t name the children. What the children would look like. If they would have more girls or boys.

  Every night, she imagined the day when she could race through the castle halls, shouting his name at the top of her lungs? She would press his hand against her belly and know that his child was growing inside her. Agreeing to marry him had undoubtedly been the best moment of her life. But they had shared an unspoken understanding that having a child would be the start of something new. The wounds they had carried since Sir Christopher’s death would no longer be simply scarred. They would begin to heal.

  As she tried to regulate her breathing, there was a knock at her door, but Katy couldn’t respond. She didn’t need to, though. The door opened on its own.

  “Good morning.” Aisling glided in carrying a tray of a tea and a plate of bread and berries. “I thought you might be hungry.” She prattled on as she put the tray down and began going through the chest at the bottom of the bed. “Sometimes I sneak into the markets in the village and buy what I need. Last time I was there, I picked up several little pieces of soap, and I think you might really like one of them. It smells like lavender and honey.” When she finally glanced up at Katy, however, her smile immediately changed to concern. “Whatever is wrong?” She closed the chest and hurried over to Katy.

  Katy swiped at the tears and hopped down from the bed. She tried to force a smile as she took the yellow chunk of soap.

  “Thank you,” she sniffled. “It’ll feel good to freshen up before the flight back.”

  “Where are you going? You only just got here.”

  “To get Peter.” Katy took a large piece of bread, but she couldn’t bring herself to eat it. “I have to apologize.”

  Aisling continued to frown, but she moved behind Katy to help unfasten the back of the fancy green dress Katy still wore from the day before. “What for?”

  Katy closed her eyes as she remembered the hurt on Peter’s face from the day before. “I was so unkind. Peter…the chancel told us we can’t have children. They told Peter, who told me, and I—” Her voice broke again. “I was so cruel. As if it was his fault!” She sobbed even harder. “He handed me his heartbreak and I threw it in his face.”

  Aisling watched as Katy cried until her tears ran dry. Finally, after what felt like a day in itself, she curled her legs up on Katy’s bed.

  “You do realize they’re just using him to lure you back,” she said softly.

  Katy paused and sniffled. “Lure me back?”

  Aisling nodded, her eyes wide.

  Katy played with a lock of her hair. “Peter wouldn’t let them use him like that.” Her throat sounded scratchy. “He’s probably out searching for me right now.” She looked out the little window, as though he would appear in it at any moment.

  “Katy.” Aisling pulled her to a stop as Katy bent to put on her shoes. “I’ve been watching you since you arrived. And I’ve been watching them for centuries. And believe me, Peter is strong. But he’s not going to survive them on his own.”

  Katy frowned. “How?” Aisling didn’t have wings.

  Aisling gave her a wry grin. “It’s amazing what one can do when others are convinced you’re a spirit. Besides, the wind is more effective than any messenger.”

  “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that.” Katy recalled then how Tearlach had used the wind to his advantage.

  “How do you think I knew who you were? And even what your nickname is?” Aisling let go of Katy’s arms and folded her arms. “But all that to say that I know how the chancels work, and that they are now at war with Peter.” She paused, her jaw taut. “And they’ll do anything in their power to get you away from him.”

  “Then I need to get him away from them.” Katy frowned.

  “I’ve seen enough over my lifetime to know that there is going to be a war.” Aisling knelt in front of Katy, her green eyes pleading. “Whether it’s now or in five years or ten, you and your isle and everyone else here will be in danger if you don’t understand how to use your power.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Peter and the chancels will spend every resource they have to keep you to themselves. The people will inevitably take sides, and to get your power, they’ll use all of their own.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have to be able to use your own power enough to stop that.”

  Katy took another bite of the bread, but it felt like sawdust in her mouth as she chewed slowly. “I don’t want to choose.” She looked back at Aisling. “I hurt Peter yesterday. All I want to do is make that right. Maybe if I go back and explain that I don’t want to choose just one side—”

  But Aisling was already shaking her head. “They won’t be satisfied with that now. They’ve seen too much. They want you.”

  Katy frowned. “Then I’ll resist them.”

  “Not unless you can control your powers. And I don’t just mean not burning things or people. I mean actually using your gift the way it was meant.”

  Katy stood taller. “I’m strong enough to overpower anyone who tries to stop me.”

  “Yes, you are. But you also take into account the worth of life.”

  Katy set her jaw and glowered at the floor, unwilling to answer.

  Aisling leaned in. “Unless you’re willing to destroy the lives of half the people in that palace, you’re not going to succeed with your current abilities. And from what I know of you, that’s not an option, is it?”

  “I have to try,” Katy whispered, not trusting her voice. “I can’t just leave him.” Her heart twisted again as she remembered the look on Peter’s face from her dream. The moment she’d begun to wonder if she might just love him in a new way.

  But Aisling shook her head again. She shoved Katy down on the bed and then put the tray of food on her lap. “I am going to reheat the tea. Please at least attempt to eat something, and when I come back, we can talk about this.”

  Katy grudgingly took a bite of the buttered bread as Aisling left the room. But as soon as she had been gone thirty seconds, Katy’s tray was on the bed, and Katy was out the door.

  She silently traced her steps back to the front room, tiptoeing past the where Aisling stood, ladling water from the pot over the fire, and then she was out the door as fast as she could manage. With a running start, Katy threw herself the air in what she hoped was the right direction. Not that it mattered. As soon as she was above the forest tops, she should be able to—

  Before she could finish the thought, her attention was stolen by a high-pitched squealing sound. She slowed her wings as she looked for the source, but she didn’t see it fast enough. A sharp pain bit her arm, as though someone had poked it with the tip of a knife. A large bead of blood rolled down her wrist and hand. Something small had attached itself to her elbow, but no matter how hard she brushed, swiped, slapped, or pulled, it held fast.

  In her attempt to desperately detach whatever it was that had latched onto her, Katy forgot about flying. She hardly realized she was falling when she hit the ground so hard the air was knocked from her lungs.

  With the fall, however, came a r
eturn of her senses, which seemed to have fled with her panic. As she lay gasping on the ground, Katy sent a wave of power down her arms. The creature, whatever it was, fell off with a hiss. But before Katy could rejoice, a familiar whining filled the air. Katy tried to sit up on her elbows, but breathing still hurt, and the sound felt like it came from everywhere, bouncing off the trees and rocks as it continued to grow louder.

  The whining turned into a hundred screams. Katy looked up just in time to see a gray cloud descend upon her.

  Bites covered nearly every part of her body. She attempted to send waves of power down her neck, arms, and legs, but rather than getting them off the way they had at first, the burning power just seemed to make them angry. What were these creatures? Blood rolled down her face, down her neck, down her arms and legs. As the pain continued to escalate, Katy felt her control slipping. One by one, they came, and for every one that landed on her, she would loose a burst of power. But every time she managed to shed a few, the others seemed to attack with even more vengeance. She was close to losing consciousness when she heard a voice over the inhuman screams.

  “…Age them!”

  Katy struggled to make sense of the distant voice. It sounded familiar.

  “Katy! Use your power of ages!”

  The power of ages. She knew the power of ages. She had the power of ages. But what did she do with it?

  “Age the gnats, Katy!”

  Something in her numb mind woke up as she considered these words. With her last bit of strength, Katy closed her eyes and laid back against the ground. In her mind’s eye, she felt around until she found the sources of power that were swarming her. For indeed, these creatures, whatever they were, had magic. Tracing that magic back to them, Katy imagined the sundial just as she had learned with Tearlach. Around and around she imagined the sun moving. A part of her, a very small voice mourned as she sped the swarm to its death, aging it months in seconds. But the pain she felt in every limb was far too great to let that unnatural aging slow. Within half a minute, half of the swarm had dropped to the ground, each body making a little thud as it hid the forest floor. Within a minute, all the screaming was gone.

  Katy collapsed back onto the ground. She barely felt the two arms lift her, and she had no idea of which direction they were going. All she could do was wish for sleep to come.

  30

  Far Too Many

  Going to prison was not something Peter had planned for during his time on the King’s Isle. And try as he might, he had difficulty even remembering what he was in prison for.

  After a day and a night of shuffling bits and shards of memory, he was rather sure he had pieced together what had happened.

  When the group of fairies in the inner courtyard had attacked him with their gifts, he had done his best, even under the influence of the monster, to escape without killing any. But even then, there had been bloodshed. They had come at him again and again with their gifts as they mocked him. His sword had glowed green and the monster inside had raged. And yet, he had held onto his own self by a thread. But every second of every minute he had spent fighting had threatened to snap that thread.

  If he was honest with himself, the scene had been incriminating enough. Jagan and whoever had helped him had thought the ploy up well. “For his own safety and everyone else’s,” he had been imprisoned somewhere below the hall where they held the sessions, a room with stronger, thicker bars than he’d ever seen. The gate had not one but three locks, each key held by a separate individual to ensure everyone knew when someone went in and out, and he was fed only what could fit through the bars, rolls of bread and pieces of fruit.

  He’d thought about escaping. He was reasonably sure that if he focused enough on their threats to take Katy from him, the monster would surface whenever he wanted it. But in addition to knowing what atrocities he would have to commit to get out, for that would have been reason enough to make him hesitate, he remembered what Karel had said. All he needed to do was challenge the chancels, and they would take care of the rest.

  He just hoped he had made a good decision in trusting them, and that they would take care of him soon. And take care of Firin Reaghan too, he prayed. And as if he needed another reason to feel guilty, he reflected upon how Malachi had betrayed him. For while the boy’s betrayal was his own, Peter knew that he had failed Malachi’s mother. Donella had to be behind Malachi’s actions. The tears in Malachi’s eyes were a testament to that.

  Think of something else.

  Part of him rather hoped Katy wouldn’t return. It might be better if she disappeared. Although, where she would go, he had no idea. It wasn’t as if her pursuers didn’t know where the Third Isle was. And Antony and his knights couldn’t rule the Third Isle alone forever. Especially when they were so ignorant of the turmoil of the world around them.

  The creak of the door interrupted his morbid musings, and Peter looked up to see a hulking fairy with bushy black eyebrows and a thick beard. Beneath his dark messy hair, Peter was rather sure the mark on his forehead was brown. And yet, as very little moonlight came though the small window high above his head, Peter strained in the weak light of the single candle to see who might have let him in. But to his surprise, the giant fairy spoke to no one as he closed the gate and turned to face Peter. Instead, he studied Peter, not even attempting to hide his stare. So Peter stared back.

  Finally, the man spoke. “Frankly, I expected more.”

  Peter frowned. “I’m sorry to disappoint. And you are?”

  “She acted like you were the High King himself.” The man scratched his chin. “And yet, here you sit like a dog tied to a fence. I’d have thought based on what that girl thinks of you, that you would have escaped this place before they even shut the door.”

  Peter swallowed his shock. “Maybe I could have if I didn’t have to slay the equivalent of a whole village to do so.” Who was this man?

  “So you don’t kill.” The man snorted. “Some warrior you make.”

  “I didn’t say I don’t kill.”

  “But you don't like to.” The mean leaned forward, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. “Why?”

  “Anyone who loves death shouldn’t be in the position to grant it.” Peter scowled at him.

  “Have you killed a man before? Or are you just too—”

  “Do you have a point to all of this?” Peter snapped.

  “I’m simply trying to decide whether or not you’re worth of my time and the possibility of getting thrown in here myself.”

  Peter knew better than to let his mouth get the better of him, but after two days of sitting and waiting for who knew what to happen, he was out of patience for niceties.

  “Then why don’t you just save yourself the trouble and leave?” he asked.

  “I would like nothing more. But something keeps nagging at me, and I can’t go until it’s answered.” The man dragged the little, uneven stool out of the corner and seated himself on it facing the bed. Though how long the little stool would bear the big man’s weight, Peter wasn’t sure.

  “My wife’s name was Patricia,” he said, not once taking his eyes off of Peter.

  “Was?”

  “It would be still if she were still my wife. But thanks to the wisdom of the Higher Chancel, she’s now residing somewhere on the Fifth Isle and has vowed to leave all memory of me behind.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” And Peter was sorry, though not nearly as sorry as he was confused. Who was this fairy and why was he telling him all of this?

  “She blames me for our marriage. She said the chancel warned her not to marry me, but I spoke of dreams and fantasies and led a young, naive girl into a marriage that was as doomed to fail as it was to be childless.”

  Peter, who had been fingering the sheet on his bed and wondering whether or not it might be made into a rope, froze. “You mean your wife was—”

  “Human? Yes.” The fairy let out a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. “She’s probably right. She di
d hesitate, and I told her we might just be different. After all, how often did humans and fairies fall in love? Perhaps there weren’t enough couples to really know. Normal and human couples and even more fairy couples failed to have children all the time.”

  He had Peter’s full attention now. Peter couldn’t have looked away if he had tried.

  “We tried to have children for fifteen years—”

  “And you never did,” Peter finished.

  The man shook his head. “We married young. Or at least, she did. She was only seventeen years, and I was twenty and three. But we were in love. I was in love. But fifteen years later, her years for bearing children were coming to a close. She knew it and I knew it. But I was on the Lower Chancel myself at that time, so the last thing I expected was to be approached by my own chancel members with their recommendation.” He said the word like a curse.

  “What did they want?” Peter asked, feeling foolishly breathless.

  The fairy was quiet for a long time. “They suggested I let her go. She was still young enough she might find a new mate and have a child with him,” the stranger said gruffly. “If I truly loved her, they said, I would let her leave.”

  “What did she think?” Peter asked.

  The stranger had finally taken his eyes off of Peter, and they were now fixed on the stone wall behind him, distant. “She was there one night and gone the next.” He shrugged. “She left a letter, saying she was going, and it was better to forget she had ever lived. That’s what she was going to do with me.”

  Peter swallowed to get the lump out of his throat. “I’m sorry to hear—”

  “I don’t want your pity,” the man snarled, standing and folding his arms across his chest. “What I want is to know is if you really plan to best them.”

  “You mean the Higher Chancel?”

  The man whirled around. “Would you like me to be candid, boy?”

  Had the man not been the one spinning tales? “Please,” Peter growled. “That would be nice.”