Darkling Green

by Kim Thompson

  “On your mark, get set, GO!” Thrusting her finger into the sky, Mab shot a spray of sparks that snapped and popped overhead as the bobsleds plummeted down the icy slope. An excited cheer went up. A sudden warm breeze tickled around Willa’s ears and neck, and as she watched, the ice surface at the bottom of the run glistened and shone, melting instantly. The carefully groomed slope began to run with water, and the bobsledders found themselves riding a river. Every time they banked for a turn, a spray of water went up. It was looking more like a water skiing competition than a bobsled race, and they hit the bottom with a huge splash. The bobsleds sank immediately, and sputtering fairies staggered out of the water, throwing off their helmets in disgust.

  The crowd hushed and looked around in surprise. Snowbanks were shrinking away. Great clumps of snow fell from the trees, splattering onto the ground, and there was a sudden chitter of birdsong. Above them the last wisps of cloud slipped out of sight, leaving nothing but bright blue sky. Squinting in the sunshine, Willa turned questioningly to Belle, who shrugged. Horace, too, was speechless.

  Sarah let out a gasp. Willa turned to see two large brown hares sitting at the corner of the house. They were identical to the one she had seen before, and they wore the same golden sun pendants.

  The air grew warmer still. Everyone stared as the hares stepped aside to make way for four more hares carrying two long poles that supported a fairy-sized carriage, ornately carved in gold. They were followed by a dozen fairies walking behind. The Eldritch fairies, all females, were very woodsy, with garments roughly fashioned from leaves, twigs, and moss. This group, on the other hand, was made up entirely of male fairies, all in glittering medieval dress, and dripping with jewels.

  The rabbits set the carriage on the ground, and they and the fairies all bowed low as a curtain drew aside and a glittering figure stepped out of the carriage.

  It was a fairy. His long golden hair flowed in the warm breeze as he revealed his noble profile. He was brilliantly attired in yellow silk, with precious gems sparkling at his throat, and he held a fresh green fiddlehead staff. He seemed to glow from within. The noble figure stepped forward, leaving green, grassy footprints in the snow. He paused at the edge of the pool.

  “Hello, Mab,” he cooed.

  All heads turned from the golden apparition to the other end of the pool, to Mab in her dryer lint cloak. She was scowling.

  “Hello … Oberon,” she hissed.

  “I love your outfit,” he crooned. “It brings out the grey in your hair.”

  Mab flung a fireball at him, but with a scooping motion Oberon countered it with a column of water from the melted puddle below. As the fireball hit it, both fire and water arched back and around. The shape of a heart hung in the air, half fire and half water. There was a smattering of applause as it slowly disintegrated and fell away.

  With a loving look, Oberon held out his arms. “Dearest Mab!”

  Silence. Willa held her breath, as did everyone else. Mab looked back coldly, not answering.

  Willa heard Sarah whisper in her ear, “Isn’t he dreamy?”

  “Who is he?” Willa asked.

  “Just the King of the Fairies, that’s all,” sighed Sarah. “Mab’s husband!”

  Chapter Six

  The course of true love never did run smooth

  “I didn’t know Mab was married!” Willa exclaimed. “She never mentioned him before!”

  Belle made a face. “Can’t say as I blame her for not talking about that bubblehead.”

  They were sitting on the front porch. Tengu sat on the steps, his head in his hands as he watched the snow disappear. The sun beat down, and streams of water sparkled in the street. Willa took off her coat. “Where has he been?”

  Belle let out a sudden laugh. “He’s been everywhere … looking for her!”

  “She ran away?”

  “She decided to live elsewhere and left no forwarding address.”

  Willa gave Belle a sidelong glance before continuing. “I’m guessing they had a fight.” An easy assumption to make, judging by Mab’s reaction, and the fact that she refused to come out of her wasp nest to talk to him, no matter how lovey-dovey he acted. “He’s still trying to talk her into coming out. Do you know why she’s mad at him?”

  “Who knows. They’ve been married for six hundred years, about five hundred of which they’ve spent bickering over one thing or another. I heard the latest argument was over a changeling….” Belle suddenly turned to Tengu. “Oh, stop your whimpering! It’s driving me batty!”

  “Beautiful snow! Gone! Gone forever!” he groaned.

  “Tengu! It’ll come back next winter! It always does!” Willa pointed out.

  Tengu shook his head gloomily, and with one last heart-wrenching sigh, he shuffled into the house. Just then a group of fairies flew around the corner, chattering excitedly to each other.

  “That hair! Did you see his hair?”

  “And those eyes!”

  “Gorgeous!”

  “I know, right?”

  Belle snorted, and the fairies finally noticed them there. They floated back the way they came, disappearing around the corner in a tinkle of laughter.

  Belle rolled her eyes. “Fairies are idiots.”

  As Willa rolled Belle’s chair inside, she was startled by a whoosh of wings in her face. Roshni was flapping awkwardly around the hall, landing finally on the chandelier, which swung crazily under her weight.

  “Roshni! What’s wrong?”

  Horace came out of the parlour, stepping around Miss Trang. “There is some concern about the welfare of the rabbits with Roshni around. Apparently there was an incident?” He raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “Oh,” answered Willa, remembering. “About a week ago Roshni kind of … picked one of them up. But she dropped him, and he was okay! It was an honest mistake. She thought he was just a regular bunny.”

  Horace hushed her, glancing nervously over his shoulder. “One does not call the Royal Guard of the King of the Fairies bunnies!”

  “Rubbish!” Belle grumbled. “Bunnies are bunnies.”

  “Now, Belle,” sighed Willa. “We should treat our guests with respect.” She turned back to Horace. “Roshni won’t go after them again, I promise.”

  On the chandelier, Roshni bobbed her head in agreement.

  “You don’t need to convince me — you need to convince them.” Horace gestured back over his shoulder.

  The parlour was crowded and noisy. Dwarves milled about, and fairies filled the air. Baz was wedged in with six rabbits on the sofa and did not look pleased. Robert sat in a corner throwing in his two cents every once in a while, and Tengu had his fingers in his ears.

  “Oberon’s crowd have lost no time in insulting the dwarves,” reported Robert. “We’re in for a donnybrook!”

  Willa grimaced. The centuries-old animosity between fairies and dwarves had been extremely difficult to overcome, and she didn’t want that feud to start up again. The dwarves glowered, the fairies tittered nervously, and everyone was talking at once.

  Willa found a spot to park Belle and then made her way to the fireplace, trying not to step on anybody. The mantle was lined with fairies, the visiting fairies mingling with their own fairies, and all of them flirting and giggling.

  Oberon floated beside the hanging wasp nest, speaking to Mab inside.

  “Let me in, dearest doll,” he crooned, smoothing his locks. “I yearn tragically for your love, my creampuff.”

  Mab responded with something unrepeatable.

  Over Willa’s head there was a sudden rush of air as Roshni swooped into the room. Shrieks went up from the visiting fairies.

  “Savage monster! You shall taste my blade!” Oberon bellowed, drawing his sword from its jewelled sheath.

  Roshni landed on Willa’s head, and she staggered under the weight. “She’s
not a savage monster!” she protested, but Oberon charged at the bird, swinging his sword. There were screams, and fainting fairies littered the mantle. Willa threw up her hands to protect her face from the sword thrusts, as Oberon seemed more concerned with putting on a good show than aiming carefully. The rabbits hopped off the sofa and circled them. Roshni launched from Willa’s head, sending her stumbling into rabbits, who in turn stumbled into dwarves. There was a lot of shouting.

  Roshni flapped out into the hall. As Willa struggled to regain her balance, she saw Mab peeking out at the mayhem. Oberon flew after Roshni, but just then a crocheted pillow sailed through the air, taking him out completely. Cushion and fairy king crashed into the wall and dropped out of sight behind the sofa.

  “Bravo!” cheered Robert, and Tengu took a bow.

  The fairies who hadn’t fainted before fainted now, and the rabbits drew their swords.

  “Wait! Hold on!” yelped Willa, but she was cut off by a roar and a burst of flames overhead. Everyone fell into a shocked silence.

  A large, scowling figure leaned in the doorway, smoke still curling from her nostrils.

  “Can you keep it down?” snapped Miss Trang. “I’m trying to sleep here!”

  Willa started to fill her in on recent events, but Miss Trang was not interested in anything other than going back to sleep and shuffled wearily into her room, slamming the door behind her.

  Everyone seemed to regain their senses after this. The rabbits put away their weapons and the parlour was tidied up. Oberon was rescued from behind the sofa. He was sneezing from the dust and trying to ignore Mab’s laughter. Willa attempted to convince him that Roshni was not a threat to anyone, but Oberon was so peeved and the rabbits looked so stern that she finally agreed the bird would be kept far away from the visitors. She dug out the birdcage, but Roshni wouldn’t go near it. After further consultation, Fjalarr suggested putting Roshni in the attic.

  “The attic?” asked Willa, confused. “You mean the second floor?”

  “No, we’ll whip up an attic right away, before we do the second and third floors.”

  That one left Willa scratching her head, but a couple of days later Fjalarr delivered on his promise. Willa and Roshni joined him up on top of the finished first floor, where they found a rope tied to a crossbeam with the other end extending up into a small white cloud. Fjalarr pulled the rope, and down from the cloud descended the attic: a small square room with a window in each of its four sides, floating in the air like a balloon.

  Willa gasped in astonishment.

  “The wind pushes it around a little, but it’s perfectly safe,” explained Fjalarr as he drew the room down to them. Willa opened the door and set Roshni inside before climbing in herself.

  The attic was empty save for a fixed wooden perch in the centre of the room. Roshni hopped onto it and looked around approvingly. The windows provided a breathtaking view of the town and the ocean beyond.

  “It’s absolutely amazing,” exclaimed Willa, jumping back down to join the dwarf and nervously scanning the street. “But we’d better keep it out of sight.”

  Fjalarr let go of the rope, and the attic bobbed up again, disappearing into the cloud.

  “That’s why we made the cloud.” He gazed up at it in admiration. “Especially puffy, that is. Fine craftsmanship.”

  “Oh yes, it’s really lovely,” admitted Willa, though deep down she thought it still looked pretty suspicious floating there all by itself.

  Chapter Seven

  In which everyone loses their minds

  When Willa entered the house the next day, she found what looked like a long, crumpled piece of mottled tissue paper lying in the hall.

  “What is this?” She leaned down for a closer look. Baz appeared at her elbow, very interested.

  “Ooh, I can’t believe she just left it here!” Baz lifted it carefully and began rolling it up.

  “Who?”

  “Miss Trang.”

  “I thought she was still sleeping.”

  “She was up this morning, just long enough to get a cup of tea …” Baz held up the roll. “And shed this.”

  Willa recoiled. “Wait, that’s her skin? Eww!”

  Baz rolled her eyes. “Dragons shed their skin. Fact of life, get over it.” She gave the rolled bundle a little pat. “She was so sleepy that she forgot to burn it. Dragons always burn their skin after shedding it.”

  “Why?”

  “To keep it from falling into the wrong hands. There’s a lot of magic in this baby, and if the wrong person picked it up …” Baz shook her head. “Let’s just say it would not be a good thing. I’ll take very good care of this.” Baz hurried off down the hall with her treasure cradled in her arms, muttering excitedly. “And only thirty-eight days until Walpurgis Night…”

  “What is Walpurgis Night?” Willa called after her but got no answer.

  Because Mab had laughed at him during the parlour mishap, Oberon now refused to speak to her. All day long, fairies flew back and forth between the wasp nest and the carriage on the mantle, delivering grievances and insults between husband and wife. As the squabble became more pronounced, the weather grew gloomier. Dark clouds hung low in the sky, blocking the especially puffy attic cloud from sight, to Willa’s great relief.

  One afternoon, Willa and Belle were sitting in the parlour with Everett in his carriage. Mab was floating over him, jabbering away in baby talk, and Oberon flew over to take a look. He had never shown any interest in the baby before, and as he leaned in at Mab’s elbow, she turned on him in a fury.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’m just looking,” Oberon huffed.

  “Well, I saw him first!” spat Mab. “Back off!” The two fairies glared at each other, forehead to forehead, eyeball to eyeball.

  “How dare you—” started Oberon.

  “How dare I?” sputtered Mab, so angry that sparks shot out of her hair. Oberon jumped back.

  “Watch it, sweetie. You never could control your temper.”

  With a growl, Mab flew at him, shooting deep red sparks out on all sides. Oberon returned the fire, and the two fairies zapped wildly at each other, hovering in the centre of the room about two feet apart.

  “Not so close to the baby!” shouted Willa, wheeling him out of range of the fireworks. Everett clapped his hands and giggled.

  A crash of thunder drew Willa’s attention to the window. Outside, the dark clouds flashed with lightning. Willa looked thoughtfully from the clouds to the fairies and back again.

  “Belle,” she whispered, “Do you suppose…”

  Just then Oberon shot a very large yellow bolt at Mab. There was a blinding flash outside at the exact same moment.

  Willa clutched Belle’s arm. “They’re doing it, aren’t they? They’re making it storm!”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. Troublemakers.”

  Flashes ricocheted around the room. One hit the wasp nest and burned a small hole in it. Mab let out a shriek and flew over to blow out the sparks. Oberon began to follow, but Willa thrust a tea tray between him and the nest and corralled him back to his carriage.

  “Time out! Time out!”

  Oberon harumphed but withdrew inside and pulled the curtain shut. Willa breathed a sigh of relief. Outside, the lightning died away and rain poured down in sheets.

  On the mantle, Willa caught sight of the knitting bowl, which had been shoved back behind Oberon’s carriage. She pulled it closer and peeked inside. A mere inch or two of scarf remained in the bottom of the bowl. As Willa stared, the stitches unravelled … one … by one … by one …

  “Mab! Mab!” Willa grabbed the bowl. “The knitting! Don’t forget to keep knitting!”

  Mab sat in the doorway of the wasp nest, angrily cracking her knuckles. At the sight of the scarf, she shook her head. “Don’t feel like it,” she growled.

 
“But Mab!” pleaded Willa. “You have to! It’s nearly all gone!”

  The fairy snarled and retreated into the nest, slamming the door. Willa turned and gave Belle a wide-eyed look.

  “How can we keep her knitting?”

  “You can’t force Mab to do anything she doesn’t want to do,” answered Belle.

  “Yes, but if the scarf runs out …” Willa’s words died away. If the scarf ran out, the house, with them in it, would drop out of time. They’d drop right out of the human world, and they’d be lost in that awful grey void again. She shivered.

  “Sarah!” she yelped. The little fairy jumped up from where she was sitting in the hibiscus with one of Oberon’s minstrels, a fair-haired fellow with a lute.

  “Is there anyone else who can knit?” Willa asked. “Any other fairy, I mean? It’s too small for normal sized fingers. Sarah … Sarah?”

  Sarah was peeking over her shoulder, blowing kisses at the lute player. Willa snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Earth to Sarah!”

  Sarah blinked. “Sorry, um … this is Hubert. Have you heard him play the lute? He’s so talented—”

  “I haven’t heard him, and I don’t want to!” snapped Willa, and then she dropped her voice. “I’m getting a little tired of Oberon and his fairies. They’ve cast a spell over all of you.”

  Sarah straightened and gripped her clipboard. “All I said was that he could play the lute,” she muttered.

  “Just go and see if you can find a fairy who can knit. Please?”

  Belle shook her head as Sarah flew off. “You can’t depend on fairies. They’ve got the attention span of addled gnats. All it would take is a smile from King Hairdo and they’d forget all about knitting.”

  “Are you telling me Mab is the most responsible one of the lot?” marvelled Willa. “We’re in more trouble than I thought.” She began to pace. “They weren’t always this useless. What’s come over everybody?”

  Belle chuckled. “Love is in the air….”