Sylva and the Fairy Ball

by Margaret McNamara

  BRUMMMMM.

  And again.

  BRUMM. BRUMM.

  “Oh no!” said Sylva in a whisper. “Squeak, I’ve tried to think it was something else. But now we have to face it. It’s the trolls, Squeak. The trolls are coming. And we’re all alone!”

  Sylva peered out the window. She saw exactly what she was expecting: nothing at all. Trolls, as you know, travel underground, in tunnels, so their passage cannot be seen. But Sylva had spent enough time in Troll Tracking at Fairy School to know that trolls left clues as to where they were.

  “Oh, Squeak,” said Sylva. “Is that a crack in the grass?”

  It was.

  “And are those roots coming up a bit more than they should?”

  They were.

  “And—oh my!—has a whole branch snapped off the spruce tree?”

  It had.

  Sylva took Squeak in her arms. There had to be a lot of trolls to leave this many signs. “Don’t worry, little one. The trolls are meanies, but our magic is more powerful than theirs. They can’t get past our birch-twig door no matter how hard they try.”

  At least she hoped not. Sylva wasn’t actually sure what this many trolls could do. Trolls almost never pooled their magic together—unlike fairies, who often helped and shared. But if the trolls did join forces, if they wanted something so much they would put their differences aside—

  “Oh, Squeak! Who could say what such powerful ancient magic could do!”

  Sylva knelt down and put her hand on the soft moss just inside their door. She was listening and feeling for the trolls, not looking for them.

  Brrrruummmm. Brummm.

  The vibrations under the ground were getting fainter and farther away.

  “They’re not heading this way,” said Sylva. “But where are they heading?”

  She put her ear to the ground to listen harder. She had a suspicion she knew where the trolls were going to wreak their mischief and meanness. She hoped very much she was wrong.

  But she could feel it.

  The vibrations led past the Bell fairy house . . .

  . . . around Deepwater Spring . . .

  . . . alongside Cathedral Pines . . .

  . . . and deep into the Windswept Gardens.

  Which meant the trolls would soon be right under—

  “Queen Mab’s palace!” Sylva caught her breath. “But why so many of them? And why tonight?”

  Moonlight lit up Squeak’s fairy crib, and Squeak squeaked again.

  “Oh no!” cried Sylva. She could barely say the words. “The trolls want to steal the Narwhal’s Tusk!”

  sixteen

  Sylva did not know what to do. Queen Mab’s orchestra of hummingbirds and pumpkin drums and honeybees would be far too loud for the fairies to hear the trolls’ thrumming. And if they couldn’t hear the trolls coming, they might turn their backs on the Narwhal’s Tusk. Even a moment of inattention could spell disaster.

  “A-nan-na!” said Squeak.

  “You’re right!” said Sylva. “We’ve got to save the Narwhal’s Tusk. We have to tell Queen Mab. But how will we do it? All the older fairies are at the ball, and just the littlest sisters are left behind. Oh, Squeak, whatever will we do?”

  Even as far away as Sylva was, she could still feel the faint rumble of the trolls as they tunneled to the palace. She had to get there, and quickly.

  Just then there was a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” said Sylva. Everything seemed a bit scary now.

  “Sylva, it’s me. Poppy!” called a familiar voice.

  “Oh, Poppy! I’m so glad it’s you,” said Sylva as she opened the door. “Did you hear it, too?”

  “I did!” said Poppy. “That rumbling and brummmbling. Is it what I think it is?”

  “Yes, it must be the trolls,” said Sylva. “And they want—”

  “—the Narwhal’s Tusk!”

  The two best friends caught their breath for a moment. Then Sylva said, “We’ve got to stop them. And I think I know how.”

  seventeen

  When she thought back on it later, Sylva couldn’t have said how she had the courage to approach the copper wing table. She couldn’t tell how she put on all three extra sets of wings—Clara’s, Rosy’s, even Goldie’s—to give her the power she knew she’d need to get to the palace in time to stop the trolls. Somehow she did it. Would harm befall her doing precisely what she’d told her sisters she would not do? She couldn’t think about that now.

  She only thought about the fairies at the Fairy Ball. If the trolls got hold of the Narwhal’s Tusk, all its magic would go to them. Sylva shuddered as she pictured how the trolls would laugh as her sisters’ beautiful diamond wings transformed back to moonlight at the Chief Troll’s touch. The fairies would not be able to catch the trolls, as they’d be wingless! The ball would be ruined. And, worst of all, Queen Mab would lose her most powerful magic.

  “You look after Squeak, Poppy,” said Sylva. “I’m going out to save the ball.”

  “Do you really think you can do it, Sylva?” asked Poppy. But Sylva had already sped away. “Good luck, Sylva!” Poppy called after her. “Be careful!”

  Sylva had never flown so fast. She knew she’d have the force of four sets of wings to speed her journey, but there was something more. It was as if the spirits of her sisters were there on her shoulders—the wisdom of Clara, the kindness of Rosy, the confidence of Goldie—giving her more strength and power.

  The question was: Would it be enough?

  eighteen

  Sylva was at Queen Mab’s palace in an instant. The brummmbling of the trolls had stopped. All was quiet and calm. Could she have been wrong? What if she flew into the ball, in her sisters’ borrowed wings, and told Queen Mab there would be a troll attack—when it was perhaps nothing more than thunder all along? She didn’t dare. Not till she was perfectly sure.

  Sylva peeked in the window. “Oh my!” she said in a whisper.

  A long golden hall of gleaming glass and glowing candles, jewels, and polished stone opened up before her. Queen Mab’s orchestra played the most enchanting music. There was the petting zoo in one corner! And cupcakes piled high in another. There were loads of presents! And, oh, the fairies’ gowns!

  Every fairy on Sheepskerry was dressed in her greatest finery.

  “There are Poppy’s sisters!” said Sylva to herself. “I will have to tell Poppy how beautiful they look!” Iris Flower was in purple, of course; Susan was in wild orange, to show off her deep black eyes; and Daisy was in Swiss dot, looking like a summer meadow. The Oak sisters, Acorn and Seed, looked so elegant in their rustling brown gowns with their pretty caps. The Seaside sisters were there, too, in shades of blue, aqua, and gray-green. How lovely they all looked. But where were the Bell girls? Where were the Fairy Bell sisters?

  At last Sylva caught sight of them.

  If her sisters’ gowns had looked beautiful at the Bell fairy house, they looked absolutely breathtaking inside Queen Mab’s palace. Clara’s turquoise silk glistened in the candlelight, with Sylva’s chips of sea glass catching the most light of all. Rosy was beautiful in her sweet pink gingham, which matched the glow in her cheeks. And Golden was, of course, simply perfect, the most stylish young fairy there by far.

  Sylva cast her eye around the ballroom again. Something was missing, but what was it?

  Wings! None of the fairies had wings!

  Just then, the orchestra stopped playing. A single trumpet fanfare burst forth. Queen Mab was about to speak. Sylva thought she felt a tiny rumble, but she couldn’t be sure. Did she dare interrupt the ball at the most important moment of all?

  “Welcome to the Fairy Ball!” Queen Mab proclaimed, with a wide smile. “Tonight, you came to me wingless. Now I will reward your trust with the Gift of the Season. Beware: You will feel the chill of moonlight for a moment while I work my magic. Then you will dance with wings of diamonds.”

  Join your hands and hold your breath,

  Spirits come from deepes
t depth,

  By Narwhal’s Tusk and our own might,

  Wings: Transform from brightest light!

  Replace our wings of every day.

  Shine and sparkle! Wings away!

  Sylva held her breath. At that moment icy moonlight fell on the fairies’ shoulders and turned into wings of diamonds.

  There was a gasp as the fairies looked around at one another.

  “Oh, Queen Mab! Thank you!”

  “They’re incredible!”

  “I’ve never seen anything so amazing in my life!”

  “Can I keep them?” (Was that Goldie?)

  The new wings sparkled in the light and threw off rainbows of color on the windows and walls. Diamond wings moved differently from regular wings—slower, more gracefully—and they looked almost as glorious folded up as they did spread out for flight. Sylva could have watched all night.

  But even as the fairies spread their new wings, there was a very faint rumbling and a brummmbling from underneath the palace. It jolted Sylva back to attention. This time there was no mistake. The trolls had chosen their moment well!

  nineteen

  It all happened in an instant.

  One moment, the fairies were dancing the Dance of the Diamonds.

  The next moment: TROLLS!

  Big, nasty, hairy, smelly trolls tumbled into the delicate Fairy Ball. They trampled the satin ribbons. They smashed the mirrors. They broke the chairs and frightened the animals. And the Chief Troll had his grubby paw on the Narwhal’s Tusk.

  The fairies’ frightened voices rang through the ballroom.

  “Stop them!”

  But it was so hard to fly with the heavy diamond wings on their backs.

  “Tackle them!”

  But it was not easy to move in the elegant gowns.

  “Run them down!”

  But the fairies’ dancing slippers were not made for running.

  And even worse, the diamond wings were disappearing. They were turning back into moonlight, and the moonlight was fading away.

  This was Sylva’s moment.

  She flew in through the high window with the power of her four sets of wings.

  “I’ll save the Narwhal’s Tusk!” she cried.

  twenty

  Sylva swooped over the ballroom. She was tiny and she was young, but she had one great advantage: She was the only one in the whole assembly who could fly. The Narwhal’s Tusk was what the trolls wanted, and the fact that the Chief Troll had it in his warty hands meant that Queen Mab’s power was sorely depleted.

  “I’m coming!” cried Sylva.

  The fairies were doing their best to save the ball. It was most important to shield the animals in the petting zoo, so they gathered in a circle around the frightened pets and tried to calm their fears. The cupcake tower had of course been demolished by the greedy trolls, and the presents were all stolen. The ball was spoiled. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was to save Queen Mab’s magic.

  The one place the trolls were not looking was up. Suddenly Sylva heard a gasp.

  “Is that . . . Sylva?”

  “What is she doing here?”

  “She’s not old enough!”

  “She’s in danger!”

  Clara, Rosy, and Goldie had spotted their sister.

  “She has my wings!”

  “Hush,” said Clara. “She has our wings so she can save us all.”

  “Go, Sylva, go,” said Rosy under her breath.

  The Chief Troll was turning to address the crowd. He had the Narwhal’s Tusk grasped tightly in his damp hand. He laughed a very mean laugh.

  “Magic gone. Trolls take!”

  “Not so fast!” cried Sylva.

  She swooped down from her perch on the crystal chandelier. She hovered for an instant over the Chief Troll’s head. Then she made a grab for the Narwhal’s Tusk.

  “Give that to me!”

  “Huh?” said the chief. His reflexes were slow, as he was a troll, but he sensed enough danger to clutch the tusk to his chest. “Magic mine!”

  “That’s not yours—that’s Queen Mab’s!” And fiercely she grabbed onto the tusk. Would she wrest it free?

  Aha! For once it came in handy that trolls were such sweaty creatures, because the Narwhal’s Tusk was easy to slip out of the Chief Troll’s fist.

  “Wha?” said the Chief Troll.

  “I’ve got it!” she cried.

  But she didn’t need to say a word. The moment the tusk was back in fairy hands, Queen Mab’s magic began to surge back. The candles relit themselves. The mirrors gleamed once more.

  “Quick, Sylva! To Queen Mab!”

  Clara’s wise words were exactly what Sylva needed to hear to clear her mind. She darted to Queen Mab and put the tusk safely back in her hands.

  “I’ll speak with you later, my child,” said Queen Mab quickly. Then she turned her attention to the task at hand.

  “Trolls, begone!” she cried, and the room filled up with the sound of her voice. “Fairies, restore!” And with that, the fairies’ wings transformed into their diamond glory, and as Rosy told her later, their wings surged with power.

  As if they had planned it, the fairies moved all together to rout the trolls from Queen Mab’s palace. The Shepherd sisters herded the hairy creatures out the south door. The Flowers pushed them through the soft soil of the rose beds down to the tunnels where they belonged. And the Bell sisters crowded around Sylva.

  “Oh, Sylva! How did you know about the trolls?”

  “How brave you are!”

  “Is someone looking after Squeak?”

  “You’re at the Fairy Ball and you’re not even eight years old!”

  Sylva was panting and out of breath from her daring rescue. She was just about to speak when she heard Queen Mab’s commanding voice as the clock tower of the fairy palace began to toll the hour.

  “Sylva Bell. Come before the fairy throne at once.”

  twenty-one

  Sylva felt instinctively that a young fairy should never address the queen directly. But she couldn’t help herself. “Oh, great queen,” she said. “I would never have intruded on the ball if it hadn’t been for the tro—”

  “Hush!” said Queen Mab’s attendant, Lady Courtney. “Queen Mab speaks first.”

  “But I just—”

  “Quiet, I say!” said Lady Courtney. “Queen Mab speaks first always.”

  “Thank you, Lady Courtney,” said Queen Mab. “But we don’t use those rules so much anymore.” Then she turned to Sylva, whose four sets of wings quivered. How would the queen punish her for entering the ball without an invitation, and before she was old enough to be there?

  “Sylva Bell,” said Queen Mab gently. “You alone recognized the trolls’ danger. You alone came up with a plan. And you alone had the courage to save us all from great and lasting peril.”

  “She did beautifully!” came a whispered voice from the crowd. Sylva wasn’t sure, but she thought it might have been Goldie.

  “But I shouldn’t be here,” said Sylva sadly. “I’m not eight fairy years old.”

  The clock in the fairy palace tolled the last chime of midnight. Sylva had hardly ever been up so late. “I suppose I should go back home, my queen, and help my best friend, Poppy, look after little Squeak.”

  Queen Mab took Sylva Bell’s downcast face in her hands. She tilted her chin up so she could look straight into Sylva’s eyes.

  “Sylva Bell, sister of Tinker, Clara, Rosy, Golden, and Euphemia Bell”—for that was Squeak’s real name—“it is now past midnight, and you are eight fairy years old. Now you are welcome to stay at the Fairy Ball.”

  A great cheer went up from all the fairies. Queen Mab allowed the cheer to go for a full two minutes; then she said, “Quiet, fairies, please.

  “Sylva Bell taught us three lessons tonight,” she said. “She taught us that it is good to take risks. Sylva took a great risk in wearing her sisters’ wings and believing she could defeat a troop of trolls.”


  The fairies nodded in agreement, especially those who were still sweeping up after the trolls’ mess.

  “The second lesson Sylva taught us, including me,” said Queen Mab, “is that perhaps our love of shiny things has made us imprudent.”

  “Imprudent?” whispered Goldie.

  “It means,” said Queen Mab, “that we could be a bit more sensible at our next ball. We all love elegant dresses and dancing slippers, but we should always make sure we can run in our shoes and move in our gowns.”

  “Humph,” said Goldie, but very quietly.

  “And the final lesson I’ve learned from Sylva is that the Fairy Ball should be for all fairies, young and old. Next year, every fairy will be invited to the ball. The queen’s fairy palace belongs to all of us.”

  This time, the cheer was louder than ever.

  Queen Mab gently touched Sylva’s four sets of wings with the Narwhal’s Tusk. They transformed into diamonds, and Sylva felt power surge inside her. Then the queen waved the tusk over Sylva from head to toe. Sylva’s everyday clothes turned into a radiant ball gown, complete with comfortable shoes.

  “Go, my child. Enjoy the ball with my fairy blessing.”

  “Thank you, my queen!” said Sylva. And even Lady Courtney smiled.

  With that, the music started up again, the chandeliers sparkled, and the fairies took their places for the Farewell Dance, with Sylva at the center of them all.

  twenty-two

  Other than being wing-weary from all that flying, and a tiny bit footsore from all that dancing, Sylva woke up the next morning feeling happier than she’d ever been in her life. If she hadn’t seen her magnificent forest green gown in a corner of her room, she might have thought it had all been a dream.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead!” Sylva heard Clara’s voice calling her from downstairs. “We have a surprise for you.”

  Sylva sprang out of bed. Of course! It was her birthday. She pulled on her fairy slippers and hurried downstairs.