Emma cuddled up in her mother’s lap.
Nan and Mama exchanged a quick look and the old one nodded. “Very well.” She settled in her chair before clearing her throat. “Now where was I? Oh… yes. The room flashed with a bright stroke of lightning, but even that did not pierce the darkness lurking in the corners. Sir Aemon grunted and fell to one knee. Princess Isabelle leapt to her feet and drew her shortsword, but a chainmail-clad man grabbed her from behind, pinning her arms to her sides.”
“Oh no,” whispered Kimber.
Emma shivered, clutching her hands together at her chin and whispered, “Advisor Gerath…”
Mama kept stroking her hair.
Tam raspberried. “He’s mean. He made Em cry.”
Nan nodded. “Yes… he is mean. The wicked Advisor Gerath waved his knife at Princess Isabelle, walking closer. ‘You couldn’t just be a nice, sweet princess, could you?’ Strong light from the potion in her hands cast his face in deep shadows that made him seem older. The closer he got, the deeper his lips curled into a sneer. ‘You had to go and make everything difficult. Do you not wish to be queen? You could have been a docile little puppet, comfortable on the throne… but I’m afraid you’ve gone and made yourself an obstacle.’” Nan reached out and put a finger to Kimber’s throat, making her lean back, eyes wide. “Gerath touched his cold knife to her chin. She froze, no longer struggling with the guard lest it cut her. ‘And obstacles need to be removed.’”
Emma sniveled. Kimber climbed into Mama’s lap with her.
Nan leaned forward, looming. “A scrape of metal to the left broke the silence as the second guard approached Aemon, drawing his blade.”
Tam’s eyes widened, but he didn’t make a sound.
Emma snuggled into Mama’s arms.
Nan gestured as if pulling a broadsword from her belt. “Sir Aemon roared and jumped to his feet. He drew his blade and stalled the ensorcelled guardsman’s strike. Advisor Gerath scowled, and whispered a magical incantation. Princess Isabelle couldn’t move her arm enough to swing her sword, but as soon as the advisor’s attention shifted to Aemon, she dropped it and yanked a dagger from her belt―the dagger Sir Aemon told her never to be without.”
“Yes!” whispered Tam.
Kimber squealed out her nose with anticipation.
Emma smiled.
The old one brought her fist down. “Princess Isabelle drove the blade into the leg of the man holding her. Magical darkness formed around Gerath’s arm, collecting into a mass of netherworld power. The guard screamed and released Isabelle, falling to the side. She flipped her dagger about and hurled it as hard as she could”―Nan made a throwing gesture―”piercing Gerath’s heart.”
Emma bounced in Mama’s lap, grinning.
“The magic around his arm dissipated before it could fly to Sir Aemon. Advisor Gerath let out a harsh wheeze and collapsed dead on the floor. Both guardsmen fell asleep once the spell released their minds. Princess Isabelle rushed to the bed. She forced her father’s mouth open and poured the glowing liquid past his teeth, as fast as she could without spilling it all over him.”
All three children stared at Nan in rapt silence.
Nan smiled. “After she fed him the whole potion, she stepped back, clutching the bottle to her heart. At first, nothing happened”―The children drooped with disappointment―”but after a little while, the king’s lips returned to their normal color. Warmth radiated outward from his face, spreading over his body until the grey, and the wrinkles, had vanished. A sound like a thousand windows breaking filled the air, and all the ice turned to fog.”
“Yay!” Kimber clapped.
Emma beamed up at Mama, thrilled the king survived.
“But the necromancer wasn’t done.” Nan raised an eyebrow. “Advisor Gerath flew to his feet, Princess Isabelle’s knife still in his breast. He raised a lifeless arm to point at the king and spoke in a voice that came from everywhere at once, too deep to belong to a simple man. ‘This vessel was but a mere tool. I shall return, and my wrath will be most dire!’ Sir Aemon leapt forward with a cry of ‘foul wretch!’ He took off the demon’s head with one swing, and the Advisor fell, dead once more.’ The king sat up, his strength returned, and embraced his daughter.”
Tam tilted his head. “Is Sir Aemon and Isabelle gonna married?” He stuck his tongue out.
“No, silly,” said Emma. “Sir Aemon is too old to marry her.”
Tam looked at her. “She’s fifteen; that’s old.”
Nan chuckled. “No, Tam… Sir Aemon doesn’t marry the princess. He’s only a knight, not a royal. Besides, Isabelle thinks of him more as an older brother… the way Emma looks after you. You wouldn’t want to marry Emma, would you?”
Tam shook his head furiously. “No.”
Emma laughed, as did Mama and Nan.
“’Cause all she knows how ta cook is bread an’ cookies.” The earnest seriousness on his face got Nan cackling.
Emma scowled and poked him. “There’s more to getting married than knowing how to make food.”
“Food’s most important.” Tam folded his arms.
“The boy’s got a point,” said Da from over by the fireplace.
Mama scoffed, fighting not to smile. “Oh, does he now?”
Emma laughed.
“All right, you three.” Mama lifted Emma and set her on the bed. “Time to go to sleep.”
“Yes, Mama.” Emma crawled back into her spot by the wall and snuggled into the blankets.
Kimber huddled up next to her while Tam sprawled out where Mama and Da would eventually be.
Thrilled that Princess Isabelle had saved the king’s life, Emma closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
mma held her breakfast, a long piece of toasted bread slathered in berry jam, in both hands and munched. Mama had cut Tam’s piece into little bite-sized bits, which he popped in his mouth as fast as he could chew. Kimber had asked to have hers cut only in half. Over the past few days, she had at last slowed down, no longer eating as if she expected someone to take her food away before she could finish it. Mama and Da picked at an assortment of apple slices, cheese, and cold sausage, while Nan enjoyed jammed bread.
Eww. Emma made a face at the idea of tasting apples and cheese at the same time.
“I’ll be making a stew today for dinner,” said Nan.
Da grinned. “The sun will take forever to recede then.”
“Hah.” Nan chuckled.
“Liam always did fancy your stew, Mother.” Mama studied a bit of cheese.
“Bah, yours is just as good.” Nan winked. “Em, you’ll be helping. We’ll start soon.”
Emma blinked. “We’re eating now…”
“Aye, but it takes all day to cook.” Nan finished the last of her bread and dusted her hands off.
“Pity I won’t be home to enjoy the wonderful smell all day,” said Da. “I’m sure you’ll drive the workers to frenzy.”
“You may as well invite them to stay for dinner.” Nan stood. “There’ll be more than enough for everyone.”
“A grand idea.” Da put a piece of cheese atop a piece of apple, and ate it.
Emma looked away. Nan retrieved the large cauldron from the fireplace hook and lugged it out back to rinse. Tam finished his breakfast and flopped on the floor by the bed, Stick Knight and Shrub Dragon once again locked in their endless battle. A few minutes later, Nan brought the cauldron back in and set it upon the hook, swung out into the room.
Soon, Da left to attend to his duties with the Watch. Mama decided to keep Tam out of the workers’ way by bringing him with her on her daily rounds while Emma and Kimber stayed behind to help Nan cook.
“Kimber, be a dear and count out ten potatoes, five onions, a dozen carrots, five turnips, and ten mushrooms,” said Nan.
“Aye.” Kimber darted over to the cabinets.
Nan shuffled over to the table and readied a cutting board. “Em, fetch two buckets of water. We’ll likely need more, but two will get us start
ed.”
“Yes, Nan.” Emma grinned and ran out the back door.
She plucked a pail from the porch and hurried over to the water pump. After setting it under the spigot, she grasped the lever with both hands and worked it up and down, grunting. Water gushed into the bucket, a bit spraying her legs.
“Emma!” cried a faint voice. A trail of white glow shot out of the grass and zipped up to hover in front of her face. “Emma!”
She blinked at a tiny woman floating before her, wearing a short-skirted dress of leaf-shaped pieces of light that made her dark tan skin seem even darker. Silver butterfly wings fluttered, dripping flecks of energy. Melodic tones like muted bells filled the air around her. Long, straight silver-white hair hung down to the little woman’s knees, and her eyes resembled glimmering sapphires. Emma blinked, realizing she stared at the faerie she’d freed from the lantern.
“Neema?”
“Is Neema, yes!” she chirped and pointed into the woods. “Helps we need you from.”
Emma pulled the pump handle down again, sending a surge of water into the bucket and all over her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Faeries help needing you. Trouble finding us. Queen talk to please.”
“Neema…” Emma bit her lip, worry growing heavy in her gut. “I promised my parents I wouldn’t run off alone again. I shouldn’t go without telling them.”
The faerie zipped closer, grabbed her left thumb, and pulled. “Please going with. You not alone be with Neema. Neema adult. Few minutes back in be.”
Emma blinked. “Umm. What?”
“Dying and danger. Faeries pain having. Protect can Emma the faeries. Not alone.” Neema patted herself on the chest. “Adult. Protecting Emma. Return minutes in few.”
She let the pump handle go up. “You’re saying that something is hurting the faeries, but you think it will only take a few minutes?”
Neema nodded. “Yes!”
“How can I fix something that’s hurting faeries in only a few minutes?” Emma took a step toward the house. “Nan will know what to do.”
“Wait.” Neema tugged on her shoulder until she made eye contact. “Emma druid is bigger much than faerie. Magic we have like different. Emma danger the stop. Faerie queen happy be.” Neema’s pleading expression picked at her heart. “Minutes, a few. Promise. Saving the lives.”
Concern crashed headlong into guilt. The little woman’s gemstone eyes seemed to grow enormous with a look of pleading. Emma couldn’t bear the thought of anything wanting to hurt someone so cute. The idea that maybe she didn’t need to bother Nan with this became stronger. It’ll only take a few minutes. “I…” She looked back at the house. “Let me tell Nan that―”
“Time there no is. Death and dying.” Neema burst into tears, and her wings rained specks of glimmering energy. “Return minutes few. Walk from house far is not. Minutes few. Promise.”
All of a sudden, Emma’s heart grew heavy with sorrow. If she waited too long, faeries could die. Her desire to run to Nan faded. She could help them herself. Hands on her hips, she whispered, “You promise? I’m going to count. If we go too far away for me to see the house, I’m going to go back to get Nan.”
Neema nodded. “Helping, please.”
Not telling Nan made her uneasy, but concern for the little faerie overpowered her hesitation. She might only be seven inches tall, but Neema had the shape of a grown woman. She had to be an adult. I’m not running off alone. I’ll stay with her. It’s probably nothing, but if it’s serious, I’m going to get Nan. Emma walked in the direction the small woman tried to pull her. With each step, her worry about getting in trouble lessened as a building need to protect the faeries took over. She tried to figure out if going would be ‘foolish,’ but her mind could only seem to settle on worry over the adorable faeries.
Neema rolled over in midair, flying forward while continuing to tug her along by one finger. Energy streaming from her wings sent tingles up Emma’s left arm, causing an involuntary shiver. The faerie led her across the meadow to the nearer grove that held the giant cherry tree. Neema continued past it, heading deeper into the forest.
Emma glanced over her shoulder at the house, a little too small for comfort. “I’m going too far from home. I should get Nan.”
“Being here is.” Neema pointed at a huge pine.
“You live in that?” Emma followed her, approaching the massive tree.
Rather than stopping, Neema went around to the left toward a circular arrangement of bright colors. A rainbow of shin-high flowers formed a ring large enough for Da to lay down inside. Most of them had metallic-looking silver teardrop beads hanging from bundles of white petals. Various smaller flowers of pink, blue, and yellow weaved among them, creating a quite obvious ring.
Neema closed her eyes and emitted a puff of yellow energy that burst outward from her tiny body in a sparkling cloud. The glimmering dust blew like smoke upon the wind, settling on the flowers, which wavered as if in response.
Emma stepped over the ring, and let out a gasp of surprise when the air went from autumn chill to a warm summer breeze in an instant. A wash of strong floral fragrance mixed with a trace of mint fell over her―and the woods changed.
She blinked in awe at the forest ahead: lichen-covered trees with ropey roots towered into the sky, making her feel as if she’d shrank to the size of a faerie. The distant roar of a waterfall came from the left, and all around her, the trill of musical birds echoed. Soft emerald moss covered almost every inch of ground except for the dirt within the circle at her feet. Emma had to squint at the overwhelming green of this forest, so bright it hurt her eyes. It looked nothing like Widowswood.
She turned to peer back over her shoulder.
Where her home had been, miles and miles of verdant woodland continued without end. The strange feeling that she didn’t need to bother Nan weakened. It seemed as though she’d done something she shouldn’t have. Fear and guilt got her legs quivering.
Oh, no… What did I do?
mma spun around, gazing in awe at the strange forest. The smallest tree in sight could’ve had a peasant’s hovel carved into its trunk and still had enough width left over that it wouldn’t have died. Rather than sit upon the ground like normal oaks or pines, they split apart into bundles of round roots about six feet above the forest floor, all the trees woven together in a dense carpet. Some of the root domes had enough space beneath the trucks for a person to live in, others bundled too dense to find entry. Roots ranged from as thin as her wrist to six- or seven-feet thick. Without being able to fly, travelling any distance from the circle would require quite a bit of climbing and crawling.
“Where are we?” whispered Emma. “I have to go home. I promised my parents…”
“Worrying not.” Neema tugged on her hand. “Knowing you are gone they won’t. Return minutes few you will.” A puff of white-silver light burst from her wings with a trio of melodic bell-tones.
The faerie seemed so sure that whatever she needed to do would only take minutes… Emma cast a worried glance about at the strange forest, but nothing about Neema’s demeanor suggested she lied. As Emma stared back in the direction they’d come, it seemed all of a sudden like a good idea to go. She glanced again at Neema, who flashed a pleading smile with huge, teary eyes. Of course Mama and Nan would want her to help the faeries. Her worry about leaving home shrank to near nothing. Though she knew it should bother her, it didn’t at all. A growing need to protect Neema and her people took its place.
That’s what she would―no, must―do… as a druid. She had to protect the forest and everything in it, even if this place wasn’t quite her forest. Mama wouldn’t be upset with her. She didn’t run off alone. She had an adult with her, even if that adult happened to be seven inches tall.
“All right…” Emma balled her fists at her sides. “But we have to hurry up. I don’t want to make my family scared.”
Neema glided ahead. Emma hurried for a few steps before reaching a root so thick it c
ame up to her chest. She jumped up onto pale green lichen that felt like velvet, and scrambled over the top. On the other side, a hollow formed where three huge roots touched held a pool. The faerie glided over the water, which looked only waist-deep to Emma, the bottom crisscrossed with much smaller roots coated in dark-green algae.
She lowered herself into the water, not caring if her dress got wet. Warm, slippery, slime mushed under her steps and oozed between her toes as she crossed the pool. Emma pulled herself up on the opposite side and jumped to the dry forest floor. The dress Nan had made her dried in seconds, the water dripping off the hem. She gawked down at the blue fabric, amazed at Nan’s magic. When she looked up, the faerie had vanished.
“Where are you?” asked Emma.
Neema popped up from behind a dense root cluster a short distance ahead.
I don’t think I’m going to be back in a few minutes. She swallowed a lump of guilt and trudged over, peering up at the rounded underside of a root as big as a normal tree trunk. Having no way to climb it, she got down and belly crawled under it.
“Ugh.” Emma dragged herself past a tight spot, shimmied on her hands and knees for a few feet, then stood. “What is putting the faeries in danger?”
Neema flitted over and sat on her left shoulder. “Attacking are animals. Having rage not natural. Eating try they do. Have to, but killing want we don’t. Being not their fault.”
While climbing and ducking roots, Emma’s brain ground on the faerie’s words like a millstone. She found a long, straight root that ran in the same direction, so she climbed up on top of it and held her arms out to the sides while walking heel-to-toe along a soft carpet of velvety moss flecked with tiny flowers. The elevated path made travel easier for a little while, skipping over other roots. Eventually, Neema pointed off to the side, so Emma jumped down.
The faerie’s wings fluttered during the brief fall, tickling Emma’s neck and cheek, and making her laugh.
“Being funny is not.” Neema pouted.
“You tickled me…” Emma offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry. So… animals are attacking you? What kind?”
Emma and the Silverbell Faeries Page 7