Autumn

by Lisa Ann Brown

  Arabel felt tears prick her eyelids, immediately. She nodded.

  The Elemental reached out his long tree arm and enclosed Arabel’s form within it.

  “Be at peace, daughter of Vio-letta,” the Elemental murmured and Arabel felt the last vestiges of her lingering sadness disperse into droplets of acceptance. The disturbed edges of her heart smoothed out, levelled off, and Arabel felt a long awaited serenity enclose her in a softly humming nest of comfort. The Elemental released her and Arabel sipped her tea slowly, grounding herself in the new contentment.

  Zander watched the exchange intently. He was determined they must help the Elemental.

  “You have seen many of the skirmishes between our forces and those of the Dorojenja, have you not, sir?” he asked.

  The Elemental nodded ruefully. “I have witnesses many battles, seen many slain, and the visions of what is imminent speak to me of further such instances.”

  “More war is to come, then?” Arabel asked quietly.

  “The time has not yet come when peace will be restored. Although fractions of previously trapped light are making themselves now known, will it be enough? Well, that is what we shall soon see!” the Elemental answered implacably.

  Arabel finished her tea and set the cup down on a small table that magically appeared at her elbow exactly when she needed it. She laughed in delight. “I would that I could manifest physical objects with such ease!” she enthused and the Elemental smiled at her easily.

  “Return when the darkness has gone and I shall teach you this small magic,” he offered.

  “That would please me, sir!” Arabel replied earnestly. She let her eyes travel upward, to the endless white sky, the vast dome of light overhead. She sighed in sweet relief. The peace was palpable in this realm and Arabel could almost feel the essence of her mother here. She revelled in the soft delicate energy of Violetta; it was as if she could feel the beat of her generous heart and the warmth of her loving arms.

  Zander felt the drowsy contentment of the tea saturating his system and he breathed in deeply of the enchanted air. The gleeful sound of nearby birds was the only noise his ears detected and he felt the heavy stresses of his mind give way to the free-flowing ease of the Elemental’s white sky realm.

  “It will be hard to leave this enchanted place,” Zander reflected with a small sigh. “I dare say, I could fall asleep, I am so relaxed!”

  Arabel laughed. “Dear Elemental, you will think us rude, to be falling asleep during our visit!”

  The Elemental smiled back. “You might rest awhile, small humans. The tea is a calming blend; it does tend to make one sleepy. I will turn back the hands of time so you will lose no part of your day.”

  “Turn the time back?” Arabel inquired sharply, her attention focused once more.

  The Elemental nodded. “I possess the gift of bending time,” he replied. “Rest now, daughter of Vio-letta, and I shall show you upon your waking.” The Elemental clapped his hands and both Arabel and Zander were instantly asleep.

  Arabel knew she was sleeping and yet she was conscious of her physical location. The quality of the slumber was unlike anything she had ever experienced prior. This sleep felt glorious, somehow limitless, it felt nourishing and delicious. Arabel felt herself smiling and she was certain she laughed out loud, at least once, in sheer delight.

  And then she went deeper, into a cotton-wrapped world of muffled purple and white energy, a soft bouncing dimension of light and reflected color. Joy coursed throughout Arabel’s veins and her head and body were imbued with a blissful, twisting cord of sensory well-being.

  The slumber seemed to go on forever. Arabel gave herself to it entirely; she held nothing back as she revelled in the ease of surrender. She thought she heard Zander laughing and she smiled and lost herself in the moment.

  And then, it changed.

  Arabel saw herself standing outside of a small, faded blue cottage. The cottage was dark and hidden deeply within the foreboding and gloomy forest of monstrous and ancient trees. Which haunted forest this was, Arabel couldn’t be quite sure. But everywhere she looked, tall, green giants crowded up to the reach the sky; they groped and competed with each other for the highest peak, the bushiest of branches and the most extensive of root canals. The massive trees had been there long before the first settlers landed in The Corvids, Arabel would wager.

  The forest was indeed old and the cottage not much its junior, judging by the drab and peeling paint and the neglected air its shabby exterior exuded. Arabel walked toward the cottage on a long row of stone steps laid within the grassy carpet of the forest floor. The scarce view of the sun began to sink into the sky; the hazy glare of the white-yellow orb descended quickly, leaving darkness in its wake.

  The cabin was a one-story structure with a smoking, stout chimney stack protruding out of the matted roof. There were large bushels of numerous and varied flower offerings at the front door and what also looked like candles, foodstuffs and knitted blankets. Arabel approached curiously.

  Should she have brought a token of respect, she wondered? There were no windows that Arabel could see but the door magically swung open at precisely the moment Arabel’s light step reached the cottage entrance.

  The old Gypsy woman with the gnarled hands who’d read Arabel’s palm stood there. Her sharp black eyes surveyed Arabel with interest but no surprise.

  “Hello, Paloma,” Arabel said easily, brushing past the old Gypsy and stepping into the cottage briskly. Inside the room, Arabel marched up to the figure standing pensively in front of the peat fire.

  “Hello, Grandmother,” Arabel said.

  Amelia Bodean smiled briefly at her granddaughter. “I knew it was only a matter of time before you would locate me here.”

  “What is going on?” Arabel demanded.

  “Paloma and I have been trying to reason with Saul’s forces. It has not gone well. He won’t see her, his own mother, and most folk are too frightened to go up against the Dorojenja.”

  Paloma broke in. “We have tried to balance the old fortunes,” she said sadly. She shrugged philosophically. “There is much resistance.”

  “Did you know my father was a spy for the Gypsies? That he risked his life infiltrating the Dorojenja?” Arabel questioned, eyeing her grandmother thoughtfully.

  Amelia Bodean did not answer Arabel’s question either directly, or immediately. She stared, instead, at images she viewed beyond her granddaughter’s physical form, as she delved into a past where the stubborn ghosts that would not die haunted her as surely as the sordid old tale itself. Her voice sounded far away and Arabel moved in closer to better hear her.

  “My world ended when Raoul Porchetto told me my husband was the lover of his wife,” Amelia Bodean began softly. “He swore to destroy my family as he said his had been compromised. He gave me one chance to avenge my name; one opportunity to keep the life of my unborn child safe from his wrath. If I wanted my family to remain untouched, I must poison my husband to punish him for his actions. Porchetto would, of course, supply me with the necessary fatal potion, but I must be the one to administer it to Markus Leon. I was forced to watch him suffer, compelled blindly to bring upon the end his life, if I wanted to protect my unborn child.”

  Amelia Bodean bowed her head; she shut her eyes as she paused. The room was eerily silent as Arabel waited intently for her grandmother to resume speaking. After a tense moment, Amelia Bodean appeared to collect herself; she steadied her voice and continued with her sad disclosure.

  Arabel said nothing, but held her breath tightly in her chest, utterly transfixed by the dark tale of her grandmother’s murderous activities and the horrific disclosure of her grandfather’s subsequent disposal.

  Amelia Bodean continued slowly, her eyes focused once more upon the fateful shadows that had governed her life for so very many tormented years.

  “I loved your mother, already, more than anything. I vowed I would murder my deceitful husband to keep my unborn and innocent baby safe.
There was no choice to be made! One world ended with my husband’s adultery and another one began with the birth of my daughter. We were safe from the evil! I had destroyed the man I loved to appease the terrible rage of Raoul Porchetto! Our debt had been more than fully paid to the Dorojenja!”

  Amelia Bodean’s voice changed subtly as old notes of stale and long-held bitterness crept in. “And then, years later, your mother dared fall in love with a man who had danger trailing his very coat-tails and charm dripping off of him like rain.”

  Amelia Bodean laughed sharply, but it was a hollow and humourless sound, as if she was fully resigned to her place in the shadows.

  “My sacrifice…reduced to nothing. My very soul, for her life! And your father dared to risk her – and he lost…”

  Arabel felt the well of her grandmother’s sorrow slam into her with an insistence and a weight that fairly bowled her over. Her grandmother stood, looking directly at Arabel now and Paloma crossed over to stand with them as well.

  “Your father’s ‘infiltration’ cost me my only child.”

  “We all do what we must,” Paloma remarked impassively with another philosophical shrug.

  The sky was white and Arabel realized she was staring at it.

  Slowly, Arabel’s conscious thought processes allowed her to rise to the waking level once more and she realized that her entire body was being flooded with light. Arabel felt herself being filled with delectable, buoyant, all-pervasive waves of love, alongside the knowing and unspoken intention that she was to carry this beautiful energy forward into the world of The Corvids.

  The cottage, her grandmother, Paloma, all faded from view, and Arabel was once again fully within the dreamscape of the Elemental’s realm. Arabel clutched at the last wisps of her grandmother’s visage, but the vision had gone. Arabel felt the light flooding her body, easing her sorrow and confusion.

  Grateful and restored, Arabel smiled at the Elemental. “Thank you,” she said, holding out her hand.

  The Elemental took her hand graciously and Arabel saw that Zander had also just awakened from the glorious, restorative and magical slumber.

  “Seek to end the madness, small humans, and return again,” the Elemental ordered them, as the golden rope appeared, uncoiling itself into two long, slithering pieces.

  “Thank you, sir,” Zander said, grasping the rope firmly as Arabel did the same.

  “We will help to restore your line, dear Elemental,” Arabel whispered her solemn promise.

  The great tree creature smiled at them. “Until we meet again, be well, daughter of Vio-letta!”

  The blinding, heatless light burst into the sky and Arabel and Zander were thrust unceremoniously through the tree-root sphere and spat out into the forest a short distance away.

  Ira, squawking loudly, flew over to join them immediately. The crow landed upon Arabel’s shoulder and Arabel surveyed her dirt-streaked gown with a small smirk.

  “Another gown, ruined!” she exclaimed, stroking Ira’s dark feathers lovingly.

  Zander afforded Arabel a mischievous grin. “Small price to pay for a visit to an enchanted realm,” he retorted sassily.

  “Absolutely!” Arabel agreed as Ira cawed in quick succession, telling her that she had just left and almost instantly, had reappeared.

  Apparently the Elemental had turned the hand of time backward, as promised, and no time had been lost while they were visiting within the white sky realm. Arabel sent the crow’s insight to Zander, who quite enjoyed the idea that they had time-travelled.

  The two companions prepared their mounts for the ride back to Ravenswood Glen and the Gypsy camp within the Copse. By now, Arabel knew the way without hesitation and this small fact pleased her an inordinate amount. She loved the Glen, she loved the forest, and she loved the Gypsies.

  A peaceful smile adorned Arabel’s beautiful face, and upon seeing it, Zander grinned widely in response.

  “Race you back!” he challenged her, and with a good natured laugh, the competition began.

  The two friends urged their horses to a gallop as they embarked upon the winding trail back to camp. Ira flew overhead and the saucy corvid informed Arabel in no uncertain terms that he was determined to win the race.

  Arabel didn’t doubt it. The crow was her hero and she wasn’t likely to forget it.

  A Dance And A Distraction

  “How incredibly beautiful!” Arabel exclaimed to Eli as they peered out the carriage window at the myriad twinkling lights as the grand vista of Murphy Estates came into view.

  “You are eminently more beautiful, my love,” Eli replied, kissing Arabel’s cheek softly, his hand trailing up her arm slowly to rest upon her shoulder. Arabel turned into Eli’s kiss and brought her lips to his. For a long moment neither paid any attention to the beauty of the scene unfolding in front of them as their attention was focused solely on each other.

  Arabel broke away with a small sigh of contentment. She traced Eli’s cheekbone with her hand as he ran his fingers lightly over her shiny black hair, which was currently swept up into a sophisticated braid, highlighting her own stunning cheekbones. Arabel grasped Eli’s hand and their fingers laced together. She smiled beatifically at him and they resumed their visual discovery of Murphy Estates through the carriage window.

  The scene which greeted their eyes was surreal and enchanting. The long, winding drive of Murphy Estates swung ahead of them in a profusion of glorious golden-yellow light and they surveyed row upon row of gaily decorated lanterns strung across the wide, frost-covered lawns. A multitude of torches stood gallantly in the chill breeze as they shared their light and faint warmth with the revellers coming up the drive.

  Arabel and Eli gazed at the transformed landscape in wonder. Murphy Estates was as finely decorated as Arabel herself and the effect was breathtaking. The estate had been re-made into a veritable palace of light and it was a stunning display of both ingenuity and beauty in action. The long line of carriages ahead of Arabel and Eli’s gave them plenty of time to fully appreciate the vast reach of the party decorations, and the opportunity to discover the intricately designed pattern of light and shadow.

  “See there!” Arabel exclaimed in delight. “They’ve fashioned a swan out of candles!” She pointed to a floating display of candles set upon a wide, flat raft on the large pond to the right of the drive. The raft was stationary as the pond had frozen over and it gave the candlelit ‘swan’ a haunting, ethereal effect.

  “I have noticed the workers rushing back and forth for days now,” Eli remarked, “but I never fathomed they would create anything as glorious as this! Look, over there!”

  Eli pointed to a large ice sculpture of two dancing figures just past the candlelit swan. Both stared in astonishment as other ice sculptures came into view. There were several deer, a few children throwing snowballs and another finely sculpted pair of dancing figures. All were life-sized and intricate in their execution. The weather had accommodated the ice sculptures by freezing and snow seemed most likely imminent over the course of the evening.

  Arabel spotted a wandering musician playing a violin, the haunting strains of his performance floated to her upon the wind, and she also noted what looked like Chief Constable Bartlin’s officers stationed all around the perimeter of the mansion.

  “See there,” Arabel pointed out to Eli. “Is that – do you think the Chief is here with his men?”

  Eli perused the solemn line of men guarding the house and he also noticed that the long, tree-lined drive had been coated in some sort of magic. Eli shut his eyes to aid his concentration as he began to suss out what sort of magic it could be and Arabel placed her hand on his arm immediately.

  “Are you alright?” she asked concernedly.

  Eli nodded. “Just attempting to ascertain what magic the grounds have been doused in. It is Gypsy magic, that much I can tell straight off.”

  Arabel paused in her appreciation of the party decorations to stop her mind and open herself to finding the answer to E
li’s quest as well. Arabel could sense the flavour of the Gypsy magic too, but other than the sense of protection she could feel, it was not a spell she had learnt, so she was rendered unable to identify it.

  “It’s an old fashioned Party Charm Spell mixed with a Boundary Spell,” Eli declared triumphantly, opening up his warm, expressive brown eyes and kissing Arabel’s pert nose.

  “A Party Charm Spell?” Arabel laughed. “Is that much as it sounds?”

  “Yes, I imagine so. It ensures a rollicking evening for all, and creates an atmosphere of balance and enjoyment.”

  Arabel smiled and cuddled in closer to Eli, tucking her arm in with his.

  “I am already having the best time I have ever had at a party,” she confided contentedly.

  “We are going to dance all night,” Eli declared determinedly. He looked askance at Arabel.

  “I must prove my dancing skills to you, as you have expressed doubt in my abilities in the recent past,” he continued, playfully teasing her.

  Arabel pretended hurt. “I was only asking if you danced; I did not say I thought you could not dance,” she defended herself, smirking, just a little.

  Eli laughed and kissed her soundly, leaving them both a bit breathless. “Oh, I will most certainly show you my impressive dancing moves tonight,” he promised with an engaging grin and a tight, quick squeeze.

  They were nearing the roundabout at the top of the drive where all of the carriages halted; their occupants could descend here and enter the mansion. There were currently only three carriages in front of theirs and Arabel was interested to view who was alighting from the other coaches.

  “Look, there’s Mayor Aldritch,” she announced as the stout, whisker faced man stepped out with his very new and much younger wife. Behind them, Chief Constable Bartlin appeared, solo, and the three party-goers were whisked inside of the mansion by waiting servants, all of whom wore the Murphy Estates colours of gold and yellow, presumably outfitted as such so as to match the decor.

  The second carriage emptied and a group of young men stepped out, all dressed very well in fancy suits. They were a noisy, boisterous bunch and Arabel couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm, as it mirrored her own keen interest. Arabel was excited to see Shelaine and meet her newest beau, Abelard Van Heusen, and the anticipation of a delightfully romantic evening with Eli made Arabel hurry to alight from the coach when it was finally their turn.