The Autumn Fairy (The Autumn Fairy Trilogy Book 1)

by Brittany Fichter

  “Your Highness,” the governor said, “I’m afraid your welcome to our village has been far more adventurous than we would have preferred.”

  Peter wasn’t sure about that, but he nodded his thanks anyway. “I am grateful for your welcome. I’ve just been informed of the...unusual circumstances regarding your existence here.” He glanced around once more. “Is there perhaps a place we might talk more privately after this?”

  “We do not speak in private here, you’ll find, sire. Everything we discuss is said in the open.”

  “Then,” Peter said, his voice hardening as annoyance bubbled up inside him, “when can we speak?”

  “After the funeral, which will take place in less than an hour.” The man turned and began to walk away, but he called over his shoulder. “Feel free to join us in the hall for supper. We’ll be eating as soon as the bodies are cleared out.”

  * * *

  The villagers had the common hall cleared, cleaned, and filled with the smell of porridge with surprising efficiency. The knights were shown to a table near the door, and once they were seated, bowls of porridge and vegetables were delivered to them, their servers dashing off as soon as the dishes had hit the table.

  “It’s almost as if they don’t want to talk to us,” Tomas said.

  Benjamin studied his bowl before poking its contents with his spoon. “This is the oddest mixture of food I’ve ever seen. Beans, carrots and porridge in the same dish?”

  “I get the distinct feeling they don’t,” Peter said. “Benjamin, stop sulking and eat your food.”

  “I’m not hungry,” came the sullen reply.

  “Stop acting like a child.” Domnhall thumped his fist on the table. “Good gracious, man! You’re nearly twenty years! By the time I was your age, I was married and had my first daughter on the way.”

  “Dom,” Peter said, “is it true? That they made a deal with the olcs?”

  Domnhall turned away from Benjamin, his expression heavy with disgust. “They never told us, but it would only make sense.” He shuddered. “All I know is that they swore they’d done what they must to save their people. And when we tried to help them, they outright refused.” He sighed and stared into his mug. “All except for one boy.”

  A woman came to stand beside their table without meeting their eyes. “Once we are finished eating, we’ll gather outside for the funeral.”

  Peter thanked her then turned back to his friends. “This ought to explain a few things.”

  The funeral, oddly enough, was the most familiar part of the entire day. As the townspeople mourned their loved ones who had tried to flee the confines of their eternal wooded prison, Peter and his men were able to mourn Briant. And though the people of Calmarid seemed as if they’d revoked all ties they might have ever had with the rest of the isle, they hadn’t been so long gone that their songs of grief or the traditions of the funeral ceremony had changed greatly.

  Peter tried desperately to focus on the weeping melody of the songs, the chants of goodbye, and even the lighting of the evening candles as they were set to float on the water of the city remembrance pool. One light for each soul, each left to float on its respective leaf until the winds chose to snuff it out in its due time. But without a body to bury or even the man’s sword to return to his widow, anger only continued to build in Peter’s chest. And when the funeral had finished and the people had reconvened in the main hall, he found that his usual trepidation of speaking in front of others or being the center of attention was gone. Peter was ready to do war.

  He and his men were seated at the front of the hall, which had been cleared of all food. The villagers sat around them at the tables as a few young boys scurried about with poles, trying to light the wooden chandeliers above them. The governor seated himself across from Peter. The patient way he folded his hands and tilted his head reminded Peter a little too much of Odhran.

  Finally, the governor stood and cleared his throat. “Before we begin,” he began in a deep voice, “let me introduce myself. I am Niall Moran, governor of Calmarid. I must say, Your Highness, it is an honor to have our crown remember us once more. But I must confess, I am curious as to the nature of your visit after more than twenty years of separation.”

  Peter stood. “According to one of my men,” he said, his voice hard, “it was you and your people who chose to have nothing to do with the crown. In fact, I hear you traded in your ties with humanity for an ally much more sinister than even that of the king’s.”

  “You are harsh on your line.”

  “I am harsh on everyone.”

  Niall nodded. “Fair enough.” He adjusted his robe. “We are a private people, but in this instance, I think we may make an exception.”

  “How generous of you.”

  The slight furrow in Niall’s brow told Peter he didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, but Peter was far beyond caring whom he offended. “My people,” the governor said, “have always been inextricably tied to our land. The original men and women who built Calmarid built it purposefully on the edge of the forest.”

  “Did you have large numbers of olcs living here at the time as well?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I am finding that much of the history I’ve been taught is utter rubbish. Now, did your home once keep olcs as well?”

  “Yes.” Niall’s reply was suddenly sharp. “And unlike the other villages of this wretched isle, we didn’t forget once the war was ended. We held on to our heritage until the king and his men came for us and flushed out every one of our magical brothers and sisters with the sword.” He leaned back and gazed at Peter with a somewhat satisfied smirk. “And even when they were gone, we mourned them. And we kept them in our hearts and songs and stories after they had faded from the memories of the rest of the isle.”

  As much as Peter wanted to shake the man for his insolence and refusal to speak plainly, for he was still most definitely hiding something, Peter couldn’t begrudge the people an ounce of respect. They had held on to what his ancestors had tried to snuff out. They had loved people like Katy. And it seems, they still did.

  “So what happened when the forest began to grow?” Peter asked.

  “As I said, we held on to the memory of our olc brothers and sisters, which meant we knew that only an olc of great power could do what was being done to the forest. And unlike the other villages, we also remembered how to contact that olc, even though we didn’t know him.”

  “How?”

  Niall gave him a sly smile. “When we contacted him, we found it wasn’t one olc, but two, a male and female. They were unhappy with us at first that we had summoned them, but upon learning of our history and our desire to stay within the forest, they offered us a deal.”

  Peter turned and glanced at the rest of the hall. Some listened, enraptured. But there were many whose eyes were cast upon the ground or on the ceiling, their faces blank. “And what was this deal?” He turned back to the governor.

  The governor smoothed his robe. “They would allow us to remain in the forest if we all stayed, meaning we would suffer punishment for trying to leave. In return for their allowance, we would supply them with food from our gardens.”

  “So no one had the chance to leave?”

  “No one wanted to.”

  “Sir Domnhall,” Peter called back, keeping his eyes locked on the governor’s, “tell the rest of us what happened when you came here over twenty years ago with my father.”

  Domnhall stood. “We offered to escort any who wished to leave along with us. No one moved. Then, just as we were leaving, a boy, no older than ten or eleven, rushed after us.” His voice cracked. “His parents shouted out to him, but no one moved a muscle to chase him down. They simply stood there and watched. And as soon as he crossed the town threshold, he cried out and collapsed on the ground.” Domnhall’s voice hardened. “Before writhing on the ground and turning to one of those beasts. When he was fully changed, he attacked the prince. And I
,” he paused, his voice breaking again, “was the one to slay him.”

  “It would seem after all,” Peter turned back to the governor, “that not all wished to stay. In fact, judging by the great number of creatures we saw here today, I would guess that even more wish to leave now.”

  “Leave now?” The governor scoffed. “That’s impossible. Especially now that the olcs are back! Not only are we incapable of leaving, for the curse is still in effect, but we would lose our livelihoods! Our heritage! And where would we be then?” He leaned forward, his eyes glittering. “We will not stand by and lose who we are, like all the others!”

  “How many children are you willing to lose for such a cause?” Peter realized he was shouting. “How many brothers and sisters? Wolf’s crat! How many more must die?”

  In an instant, the governor was out of his seat, his face no longer in its neutral smirk. “If you don’t approve of our way of life, then just what is it that you are here for, sire?”

  Peter stood as well. “I want to find these olcs you speak of!”

  “The crown wanting to speak with an olc? I shall believe that when I see it. Don’t you mean slay?”

  “I mean I am trying to prevent the wrath of Atharo!”

  “Oh, so the crown now believes in a myth, does it? Well, let me tell you something, young man. You may have some bright, shining future imagined up in that head of yours, but I have lived long enough to know there is no Atharo. Just the deep magic of the woods!”

  Before Peter could respond, Tomas had stood and was suddenly between them. “You will treat your crown prince with some respect,” he growled, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re lucky he doesn’t have me take you now for your contempt of his position.”

  A long silence ensued as Tomas and the governor stared one another down.

  Finally, the governor stepped back and gave a mock bow. “Very well, then. You should know, though, that we don’t actually speak to them now, let alone know where they live. We simply supply the food and get on with our lives the way people of the forest were intended to do.”

  “Then what do you know?” Peter was getting impatient.

  “All we know is that when the forest began to grow once more, we began leaving food out once again as we’d agreed to, and that it continues to disappear to this day. And just like it always has, anyone who tries to escape the city’s boundaries transforms.”

  “Where do you leave the food out?” If Niall didn’t answer soon this time, Peter was going to shake him.

  The man lifted his thick chin and glared at Peter down the length of his nose. “To the east.”

  “And you don’t know where they live any more than that?”

  “No.”

  Peter took a step closer again. “You’re lying.”

  The man only gave him a mean smile, so Peter turned to the people. “I have come in search of the olc, but I will gladly bring your plight to my uncle’s attention upon my return, should I be successful. All I ask now is that you help me. Help me find this olc so that I may spare the kingdom from the dangerous curse threatening to fall on it.”

  Sorrow covered many of the faces before him, but everyone remained silent. Not even the children spoke, most staring at the floor as though afraid to look anywhere else.

  “I’m sure there’s a way to get you out of here,” he said, taking another step toward them. “The magic that holds you here is strong, but Atharo is stronger. Perhaps if we ask Him, He will remove it from you.” He paused, racking his mind for something that might convince them. “If you will give me time, I will consult with a firin from the village I used to live—”

  “They’re not going to help you, Highness. They know their places. They also know the folly of trusting in a god of any sort. Lot of good that’s done us.”

  Peter looked back to see the smug smile back on the governor’s wide face, and it took all of Peter’s self-control not to slap it off. Instead, he turned to the people once more. “Help me, and I will strive to help you. But if you ignore my call and refuse, know that I will not forget this. Not now, and not when I am king.”

  After a long moment of waiting in silence, Peter stomped toward the door. His men followed silently as they went out into the night. But just as they reached their horses the sound of running footsteps made them pause. In the dark, however, they couldn’t tell who it was until he was standing in front of them, the light of the moon peeking through the trees just enough to light the young man’s face.

  “Please, Your Highness.” He gave a stilted bow. Though it was dark, he looked to be just old enough for his voice to squeak. “Forgive me for speaking up so late, but...” He glanced back at the hall. “If my father knew I had come out here—”

  “I understand.” Peter had to work to soften his voice. “What is it you wish to say?”

  “The olcs live to the east. Now, none of us know exactly where, but I know you can reach them by passing through a cavern about a day’s walk from here.”

  “How do you know it’s there if you can’t go yourself?” Domnhall asked.

  “The town elders leave the food there.”

  “What is your name, boy?” Tomas asked.

  “Lennon. Lennon Brack.”

  “Lennon?” A woman’s voice cried out from the door of the common hall.

  The young man glanced back. “I need to go. My mum’s worried. But please...” he paused. “If you do find the olcs, please don’t forget us here. There are many that are scared and don’t want it this way. But we know nothing else.”

  “We are in your debt,” Peter said to the young man. “Now go, before your mother worries to death.”

  The boy gave another uneven bow before running back to the town.

  “How old do you suppose he is?” Domnhall asked.

  “Does it matter?” For the first time that day, Peter contemplated a smile. “We have a heading!”

  41

  What Then

  Katy screamed as she bolted upright. But as her heart hammered in her chest and her hands threatened to catch fire on their own accord, she realized it was just a dream. Or was it?

  She tried to sort out nightmare from reality as she looked around the wide, unfamiliar room that she occupied. Unlike the night of darkness and danger that she’d just escaped, this room was like something out of one of Sir Christopher’s stories. The bed she sat in was nearly as large as the one she’d stayed at in the palace. And though the bed coverings weren’t as fine as Lady Fiona’s had been, they were clean and softer than anything Katy had ever touched. The walls themselves were crumbling, leaving little holes where drafts of air whistled through, and three of the five windows were crooked. And yet, the imperfections somehow only managed to make the rest of the room more fantastic as the morning’s golden light spilled through every hole like beams of gold. A dozen little tables were scattered about the length of the room, and each one was covered in some sort of finery. Tea sets, jewelry, shoes, figurines, intricate woodcarvings of forest animals, even little collections of sparkly rocks and pretty shells. A large pile of gowns was draped over the back of the high-backed chair that sat before the fireplace, and a long mirror stood beside them.

  Where was she?

  And more importantly, how had she got there?

  Katy closed her eyes and rubbed her palms against them, trying to dredge up details from the night before, but it was still difficult to tell what was nightmare and what had truly happened.

  Running. She recalled running. Sir Antony had been after her for some reason, though she wasn’t sure why. She’d taken a horse and ridden it out onto the moor. Yes, that much she remembered. But after that...

  A knock at the door startled her, and though she was still wearing the same dress Lady Muirin had given her the day before, Katy pulled the covers up over her clothes the best she could, as though that might offer any sort of real protection. “Yes?” she called out tentatively.

  “I have your breakfast,” a man’s muffl
ed voice called out just as cautiously. “Would you like me to bring it in?”

  As if it had ears of its own, Katy’s stomach rumbled. Still, she hesitated. Not even Peter had ever been in her bedchamber before. How could she trust a strange man? Then she looked down at her clothes once more. Whoever it was could very well have done whatever he wanted with her the night before while she was asleep. But here she was, waking up in the same clothes and a room full of the most beautiful objects she’d ever seen. It seemed that whoever her host was, he had some sense of decorum. Or at least she hoped he did.

  “Would you rather I come back later?” he called out again.

  “No,” Katy pulled more of the blankets up against her chest. “You may come in.”

  The door opened, and a young man walked in holding a plate piled with food. He was of average height and a stocky build, and he walked as though each step might be his last. Even at first glance, he was handsome enough to catch any girl’s eye with his intense green eyes and square jaw, but neither of those were what made Katy stare.

  Perched on his back were two wings that reached nearly the length of his entire body. Wisps of black and green curled in and out like smoke within the transparent substance of the wings, catching the light that came through the windows, throwing their colors about the room like the stained glass in the castle.

  Katy had the insane urge to reach out and touch them.

  “I hope you like eggs,” the young man said, hardly daring to meet her eyes as he carefully laid the plate of food on a little table beside her bed. The sound of his voice snapped Katy from her reverie.

  “It’s you!” She gripped the blankets even harder. “The one from the forest!”

  “Aye, well.” He laughed as he stared at his feet. “I’m not sure who else you were expecting when you blew the whistle I gave you.”

  “I blew the whistle?” Katy frowned. How could she remember so little?

  “That you did.” His smile disappeared, and he looked at her directly for the first time. “When those saighdurs were chasing you down from the castle like an animal.”