Emma and the Silverbell Faeries

by Matthew S. Cox

  Mawr kept walking, and soon the continuous manic laughter and screaming of goats faded to silence. Pine trees appeared every so often among the more unusual faerie-world trees, and after perhaps another hour of travel, became the majority.

  At a distant thump, Emma jumped. “What was that?”

  “What?” asked Neema.

  “I heard it too,” said Kes. “A heavy sound, like someone dropping a rock.”

  Every few seconds came a thump… thump… thump.

  “Or something big walking.” Emma huddled down low to Mawr’s back, pulling Kes forward such that he almost lay on top of her. “Maybe we don’t want to let it see us.”

  “Mawr is huge.” Kes chuckled. “I don’t think he can hide.”

  “There,” whispered Neema.

  Emma looked at where the little woman pointed. A man-shaped being, seemingly made of bronze, approached from ahead and a bit off to the right. The right arm ended in a blade the size of a broadsword, while its left arm had a human-shaped hand clutching a shield. Its head resembled a knight’s helm with a T-shaped opening. It had no mouth, and two amethyst-colored spots glowed where eyes should be.

  “What is that?” asked Emma.

  “It looks like a golem,” said Kes.

  “What is a golem?” Emma blinked.

  Kes let go of her with one arm and pointed at it. “That is a golem.”

  She sighed. “I mean is it going to hurt―”

  Its helmet rotated to face them as a bright glow welled up inside it. Kes leapt off Mawr’s back, dragging Emma with him. Before they hit the ground, a beam of pale purple energy shot forth from the golem’s eyes, singeing the fur where they had been sitting. Emma landed into a somersault, and bounced up to her feet.

  Mawr grumbled. “Ouch.”

  “Run!” she yelled, taking a few hesitant strides to the left.

  The golem raised its blade arm and lumbered toward Mawr. While it did not move alarmingly fast, Emma had a feeling it would never get tired… and would follow them until they dropped from exhaustion.

  “Golem,” said Emma. “We don’t want to fight.”

  It ignored her, continuing to tromp after them.

  Kes stretched his left arm out and made a gripping motion at empty air. In a flash of green-yellow light, a fancy recurve bow appeared in his hand. Dark polished wood engraved with elven patterns gleamed in the light of an arrow forming from the same magical light. He raised the bow, barely seeming to aim before firing. The arrow streaked for the large bronze helmet, striking the metal a mere half-inch from one of the glowing eye spots.

  The golem shifted direction and tromped toward Kes.

  “Linganthas, lend me your strength.” Emma gestured with both arms toward the golem, imagining a tangle of vines as thick as her arms rising up and ensnaring its legs.

  The roots erupted from the ground as she had pictured them, winding around the bronze boots and dragging the false metal man to a halt. It strained against the bonds toward Kes, evidently unaware of why it couldn’t move forward. He raised another arrow, but the helmet rotated to the side, protecting the eyes.

  Kes darted to the right, circling about.

  Mawr charged at it.

  The golem raised its blade and shield.

  “Mawr, stop!” yelled Emma.

  Roaring, the great bear lunged into a downward paw whomp that caught the golem square in the shield, knocking the towering monstrosity to the ground and sending it sliding backward, snapping free from the ensnaring roots around its thick metal legs. Fortunately, the bear hit the bronze man so hard, he knocked it away before the sword swiping for his head came around.

  Kes, a ways off on the right side, fired again. Alas, the golem got its shield up, deflecting the arrow with a dull clank. He readied another arrow, but before he could loose, the golem projected a beam of purple energy from its eyes, forcing him to dive to the side as the magical ray seared a long streak of fire on the ground.

  Emma sprinted away from the clearing into the brush, darting around a tree for protection from the energy beam. She clung to the trunk, peering around the side at the golem chasing Kes about in circles. The faun ran in long, bounding strides, jumping whenever the golem let off a blast from its eye gems. Mawr lumbered after them, but didn’t appear to be working too hard to catch up.

  Kes jumped into a twist, shooting an arrow backward at the pursuing golem, but again, it deflected off the shield.

  “Linganthas, please send forth your strength.” Emma gestured upward with both hands.

  Roots lanced up from the ground and tangled the golem’s legs, tripping it flat on its front with a resounding clank. Kes skidded to a halt, his hooves spraying moss, and raised his bow with an arrow at the ready. Emitting an eldritch buzzing, the golem’s upper body rose up like a trapdoor, bending at the knees. Kes fired, but again, the shield got in the way. Mawr traipsed up behind the golem.

  A brilliant yellow-white bolt zipped out from among the trees, bounced off the golem’s back with little visible effect, and careened into the brush. Neema blurted a loud, single word in the faerie language that sounded like “Nyzbix!” Her apparent anger faded in an instant.

  She stared at Emma, blushed, and covered her mouth. “Telling the queen I said that not please be don’t.”

  The bronze man pushed itself standing, tearing the writhing roots from the ground.

  Emma focused her attention on the largest of the strands she’d called, about as thick as her leg. She reached out with her mind, feeling for a sense of control. Her thoughts touched the essence of the magic within, and she willed it to grow longer.

  The root shot upward at her direction, wrapping around the golem’s shield arm and yanking it down to the side.

  Kes let off a short laugh of delight, and fired.

  His arrow struck the golem in the helmet, setting off an explosion of purple energy with the twinkling crunch of smashing glass. The golem flailed its blade arm and staggered back, tugged to a halt by the root around its shield arm.

  Emma growled, pushing her hands down in the air. The root creaked, straining to drag the metal construct to the ground. She shook from the effort, straining and grunting as trying to lift a weight too heavy for her to bear. Her vine mirrored her gesture, struggling against the golem’s might.

  Mawr reared up on his hind legs and bashed the golem in the back. The strike knocked the bronze contraption off its feet. It swung around on the root like a tetherball, careening into the side of a tree and bouncing away with a great clamor before crashing to the ground. Emma directed the root to keep pulling on its shield arm. Kes darted to the left and leapt clear over Mawr, his legs tucked up tight, letting an arrow fly while he sailed through the air.

  The shot struck true, smashing the second amethyst eye into a burst of crystalline fragments. Twitching and buzzing, the golem lurched to its feet, violet lightning sparking from its joints. It slashed downward, stepped forward, slashed sideways, pivoted, thrust the blade forward, and took a step back while executing a wild upswing. A second later, it repeated the same sequence of attacks.

  It looks like one of the Watch in training, doing the same moves over and over.

  Mawr watched for three repetitions of its routine. As it slashed downward for the fourth time, he reared up on two legs and swatted the golem with a double-paw slap that bashed it flat. He lurched forward and bounced his full weight on it, crushing the chest like a poorly made cauldron.

  A dazzling orb of violet lightning swelled up from the golem, growing brighter and larger.

  “Uhh…” Mawr scrambled backward as fast as he could move.

  With a brilliant flash of purple light, the golem blasted apart into loose pieces. A wave of energy rolled over Mawr, making his fur stand on end and turning him into an enormous brown puffball.

  Emma let off a nervous giggle, but screamed and ducked when a fragment of smoking metal shot over her head.

  “Ouch,” said Mawr. He sat back on his haunches and huff
ed.

  Her mirth flashed to concern. She sprinted out from her hiding place and hurried past twisted scraps of bronze littering the soft green moss-carpet, many of them still smoking. Glittering spots flickered here and there from scattered shards of its smashed eye gems. As soon as her hand touched his fur, her hair fluffed out. A faint metallic scent lingered around him like the air after a thunderstorm.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Mawr sneezed. “I do not believe so, but that did not feel pleasant.”

  Emma exhaled in relief. She stooped to grasp a small piece of metal, but yelped, dropped it, and stuck her finger in her mouth, whimpering. The fragment had been as hot as a pan from the stove. Once the pain faded, she wandered around the wreckage, both curious and horrified at such a thing. She kept her gaze downward to avoid stepping on anything sharp or hot. Sunlight glinting in the moss drew her to where the creature’s broadsword blade landed, still attached to a length of forearm.

  Dried blood caked around the hilt.

  She shivered. “Oh, no… it’s hurt someone.”

  Kes walked up and put an arm around her. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Are you?”

  He smiled. “I’m too fast for such a clumsy thing.”

  “You’re quite a shot.” She smiled.

  “I’m okay. My parents were much better… I’ve only had this bow for forty years or so.”

  She stared at him and folded her arms. “Oh. Only.”

  He used the tip of the bow to scratch the side of his head next to a horn. “What?”

  “I keep forgetting how old you are. You look like you’re maybe ten or eleven.”

  “Well.” He shrugged. The bow disappeared in a flash of magic. “If I were human, I probably would be. We don’t grow up as fast as humans. You may think I am old, but I’m really not so different from you.”

  She crouched over the broken metal arm. “Who do you think it hurt?”

  Kes squatted at her side. “I don’t think anyone lives here but animals.”

  That thought didn’t cheer her up at all. “Do you think the conjurer will try to hurt me?”

  “I cannot say until we see him.” He took her hand. “As soon as I look into his eyes, I will know what sort of man he is. If I think he would hurt you, I will distract him so you can get away.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t want you to get hurt either!”

  “He won’t catch me.” Kes flashed his rogue’s grin, and disappeared.

  Emma stared at her hand, which still felt as he held it. “Kes?”

  “Right here,” he said, sounding no farther away. “I’m invisible.”

  “That’s amazing,” whispered Emma.

  “Pff.” Neema scoffed, and turned invisible. “Turn can’t who invisible?”

  “Umm. I can’t,” said Emma.

  Kes reappeared. “That’s why I’ll distract him so you can hide.” He stood and tugged her upright. “But we don’t know if he’s going to be mean yet. There are not many humans here, so he will probably at least want to talk to you first.”

  Emma nodded. “I hope so.”

  “Is far not,” said Neema, also reappearing.

  Mawr ambled over. “Shall we continue?”

  “Yes. Before he hurts anyone else.” Emma climbed onto Mawr’s back.

  Kes followed, again encircling her with his arms. Neema stood upon Mawr’s brow in the pose of a captain commanding a warship, and pointed west.

  With a soft grunt, Mawr lurched into motion. Emma gripped his fur, staring ahead into the trees, hoping that this man would not be anything at all like the last mage she’d run into.

  erhaps an hour later, the forest grew dim despite it being the middle of the day. Emma gazed upward at the abundant canopy, which blocked most of the sunlight and left the woods cool and dark. No longer pines, the trees in this place had gnarled trunks as wide as houses at the base, but tapered narrower near the top some fifty or sixty feet overhead. Most of their branches clustered at the upper reaches, with only a few jutting out farther down. Glowing pale-blue lichen clung to the furrows in the wood, seeming to thrive in the dark conditions nearer the ground.

  The mossy undergrowth she’d become so accustomed to did not continue into this shrouded wood, rather the ground appeared made of roots, smoothed and flattened by weather and the passage of creatures. Wavy patterns reminded her of noodles packed tight together. Gouges in the roots every so often put her on edge. Whatever creature had claws big enough to create furrows she could stick her entire arm into seemed like the sort of creature she should probably avoid.

  Mawr lumbered onward. Neema pointed to the right and seemed satisfied after he turned a little in that direction. A few minutes later, they entered a clearing around a most unusual large hill, covered in moss and brambles. It swelled up from the ground quite all of a sudden, in the middle of an otherwise flat area. The rounded shape stood three or four Mawrs tall, and appeared made of the same mushed-together roots as the forest floor.

  “How odd,” said Emma.

  “What?” Kes leaned his chin over her right shoulder.

  “That hill. It’s quite fat and round.” She traced a pumpkin shape in the air with her hands. “It looks like a ball of roots. Maybe it’s a strange kind of tree?”

  “Fat and round?” said a voice so deep it made the very air shake.

  The hill moved, uncurling. A long tail covered in green leaves and moss stretched out to the right, while the left end extended into a neck. Four powerful legs pushed the entire mass off the ground, and a dragon’s head made of intertwined roots with trails of hanging plant matter for whiskers swung around to face her. Patches of ‘hill’ slid apart, evident as folded wings. Eyes of solid green light regarded her with a curious expression; bushy moss eyebrows climbed. The dragon’s whiskers twitched, and he huffed a chuckle that carried the fragrance of mint and herbs.

  Emma’s jaw hung open. Run! Don’t stare at it. Run!

  “Well. Hmm. I’d return your most ungracious comment, but there is nothing to you.” The dragon leaned his nose in close. Roots creaked as his lips peeled back into a grin. “Fat and round indeed.”

  “Umm.” Emma trembled. “Please forgive me for calling you fat. I didn’t realize you were a… dragon?”

  “Hmm.” The dragon scratched at its jaw with a single claw of dark, polished wood. His eyes flared, and he offered a quick nod. “Apology accepted.”

  That’s a dragon. A real… dragon. And he’s looking. At. Me.

  Kes squeezed her.

  “I sense the spirit’s favor within you.” The dragon smiled. “Your fear is needless.”

  Emma swallowed. “What spirit?”

  “Why, Linganthas of course.” The dragon’s eyes widened, glowing brighter. “I am an embodiment of his essence. Your kind often refer to my kind as his children.”

  “Are you a dragon? Or a tree? Or…”

  “I am a Child of Linganthas.” The dragon bowed his head in reverence. “My body is that of wood and leaf, my soul that of a dragon. You have called to him for aid many times. He knows you.”

  Emma nodded. Her trembles stilled as awe and wonder filled her. “I was in trouble and asked him for help. He was kind enough to hear me.”

  “Mmm. Yes, I can feel that you are unaccustomed to his gift.” The dragon lowered himself to the ground in a rather catlike posture. “The Spirit is within everything that grows from seed or spore. In this place, he is around you, beside you, under your feet. Respect him and he shall always favor you. Indulge me, human child. How have you called upon him?”

  She grinned and told the dragon of getting stuck in the bog, and of calling a thornvine as Mama had, and of tripping up the golem. All the while, the dragon nodded.

  “You are starting to see. You call upon his favor, but do not allow the essence into your thoughts. Too much like a wizard. They beckon fire and throw it, no longer caring what it does once they’ve made it.” A root emerged from the ground beneath her, coiled around he
r waist, and lifted her up. Smaller roots branched away from it, seeking her feet, which they supported like steps.

  Emma waved her arms for balance, grinning with delight as the roots carried her up into the air.

  “You asked for a root and tried to pull yourself from the bog, but you could have done this and been lifted free. The roots of the spirit are more than common branches for climbing.”

  Emma nodded. “I’m sorry. I did not know.”

  Twisting and creaking, the writhing root lowered her to the ground and receded out of sight.

  “Learn. Now, you try.” The dragon pointed at a raindrop-shaped pod some thirty feet high in a nearby tree. “Do as I have demonstrated, and retrieve the fruit.”

  Emma walked over to stand below the branch. Kes followed, as did Neema. Mawr flopped on his side, figuring it a prime opportunity for a nap.

  “When you diverted that walking junk heap’s shield, you started to learn.” The dragon offered a sagely nod. “Do the same now. Allow the life energy of Linganthas’ growth to touch your own. Share with it your thoughts and actions. The roots shall become as another limb.”

  “Linganthas, please send forth your energy.” She focused on the desire to create a long, winding root, thick enough to support her weight.

  As it took shape in her mind, she sensed living material sprout from the ground between her feet. It coiled around her leg, winding higher until it wrapped around her hips and chest. Emma concentrated on the living presence within the magic, exploring the energy until it no longer felt like a root grasping her, but another part of her body that had grown down into the earth. Scratchy wood embraced the bottoms of her feet, supporting her weight. She swayed forward, then overcorrected to the right, waving her arms while a whine of alarm leaked from her nose.

  The dragon’s whispers at the back of her mind nudged her along, shaping how she perceived the magic and teaching her how to guide her thoughts to merge with the essence of the life energy in the root. Emma opened her thoughts to Linganthas, and within a moment, the point where her toes ended and roots began blurred in her mind. The roots themselves took on the sense of being extensions of her legs, carrying her upward, no longer an outside force. Gliding upward became almost as natural as walking. Higher and higher she stretched, raising her arms to grasp the dark purple fruit. When she reached it, she gawked at its size―larger than her head.