“Is it all right to take this?” asked Emma. “Can I eat it and will it harm the tree to pick?”
The dragon raised its head toward her. “You may eat it, and the tree will not miss it.”
Emma wrapped her arms around the fruit and gave a tug. It snapped free and sent her swaying with its weight. She caught herself as easily as if she’d taken a step back. Gradually, she willed the roots to recede, lowering herself to the ground. Once her feet met the smooth interwoven floor of the grove, she sent the root back where it had come from.
A bit tired from the use of this new magic, she sat in place with the fruit between her knees. “Thank you for teaching me.”
The dragon smiled. “I sense that it is not within your nature to cause harm, but there are times when such actions are inevitable. The magic you know as ‘thornvine’ or a ‘whipthorn’ is somewhat different. In that regard, you do not touch its essence, but concentrate on a single instant of need to defend yourself.”
Emma nodded.
Kes sat next to her, produced a small knife from apparent thin air, and cut the rind of the fruit open. He divided it into sections: a tiny one for Neema, a small part for Emma, a similar-sized one for himself, and the bulk of it for Mawr.
The fruit’s insides had an iridescent purple-blue color with stringy threads that got stuck between her teeth. Sweet and tart in equal measure, the fruit burst with flavor inside her mouth, making her cough.
“Are you all right?” asked Kes, nibbling.
“It’s like eating blueberries and lemons together.” She cleared her throat and coughed once more. “Strong.”
“Neema like.” The faerie took great chomping bites of her piece.
The dragon settled himself like a cat curling up for a nap, though he didn’t close his eyes.
He’s a giant… Emma stared. Shrub Dragon. Tam would come apart at the seams if he saw him.
Mawr appeared to like the fruit as well, and continued licking the rind well after any trace of its flesh had gone.
“Dragon, do you know where all the crazy false animals are coming from?” asked Emma.
“Yes.” The dragon pointed with his tail in about the same direction Neema had been going. “There is a small house some distance that way, on the far side of a canyon. A bridge lies nearby, but it is old. Be careful when crossing.”
She sucked at fruit bits in her teeth, smacking her lips.
Kes laughed. “Your lips and tongue are dark blue.”
Emma glanced at him. “So are yours.”
He stuck his tongue out at her.
She responded in kind.
Neema raspberried them both.
Emma giggled. Her moment of levity faded fast, and she let out a long sigh. “Do you think the conjurer will want to hurt me?”
“Hmm. I believe this man has lost his mind. He is not… oh, what is the word in the human language…” The dragon waved a clawed hand about in the air for a second. “Sane. Yes. I believe he has become not sane.”
“Is he dangerous?” Emma drew her knees together at her chin.
The dragon scratched at his chin. “Erm… most likely not to you, since you are a child, and human as is he. No… I do not believe he would be a threat to you, but be wary. Those who are not sane may become angry at the slightest offense.”
“All right.” She looked at his wings, folded against the length of his back. “Can you leave the faerie realm?”
“Of course.” The dragon smiled.
“Were you… maybe flying around the other day in my world? Really high up?”
His grin turned whimsical, thin roots like whiskers around his chin perked up. “Perhaps.”
Emma twisted her big toe at the ground. “Great Child of Linganthas, might I ask of you a small favor?”
He tilted his hand toward her, palm up. “That would depend entirely on what it is you ask.”
“Oh…” Emma clasped her hands together. “I was hoping you would be willing to say hello to someone.”
“Hmm.” The dragon settled into a napping posture and closed his eyes, resting his chin upon a great paw. “Perhaps I can do that.”
awr resumed his walk across the dark forest, leaving behind the clearing in which they’d met the wood dragon. She grinned with anticipation at how Tam would react to seeing a real dragon up close. He’ll either be thrilled, or need clean breeches. She hoped for the former. Balancing surprise with not wanting to scare him to death, she decided to arrange the meeting where Tam could see the dragon from a distance first.
After a few miles, sunlight strengthened among the trees. A clear line between dark and light approached, as if they left an area where magic had shaped the woods as a deliberate shelter. The oddity of it brought Emma’s thoughts back to the matter at hand, rather than daydreaming of how happy her little brother would be. Perhaps the dragon had done that? Of course… a dragon made of wood lairing in the forest would want some privacy. He wouldn’t crawl under some stuffy mountain.
Past the edge of the heavy shade, the trees resembled those of Widowswood, only many times the size and covered in white bark. Leaves of green and gold concealed the source of musical birdcalls with melodies that made Emma imagine faeries playing flutes. Mawr trekked onward, an unstoppable titan crossing ground at a dizzying pace. Emma stroked the fur at his neck, grateful for his help. Walking to this place on her own would’ve taken ten times as long… and required she swim that awful swamp. The bear seemed to sense her gratitude and affection, and hummed contentedly.
A few hours after entering the well-lit forest, the ruins of white stone structures came into view among the trees. A scattering of large blocks on the left, overgrown with moss and shrubs, appeared to be the ruins of a long-ago collapsed building. Farther ahead on both sides, crumbling spires reminded her of the Elder Grove, only much larger, as if built by faeries as tall as humans.
“This must have been an elf city,” said Emma.
“I’ve not been here before, but it does look like that.” Kes gazed about, his awestruck grin contagious. “’Tis a magnificent sight to behold, is it not?”
“Yes.” Emma leaned back against him, momentarily overcome by a strong belief that nothing could go wrong if she stayed close to him. She tilted her head, gazing at him with an adoring expression.
He looked from the spires to her, noticed the way she stared at him, and made a face like she’d caught him stealing cookies. The need to lean on him disappeared. “Sorry about that. I lost my concentration while admiring the ruins.”
Emma sat up straight, realizing she’d been charmed. He hadn’t meant anything bad by it, so she kept smiling, though nowhere near as adoringly. “It’s all right. This place is quite a sight.”
She glanced up at a seven-story tower made of decorative stone swirls. Whoever had built it had possessed such skill that the walls appeared to be a single piece of stone rather than individual bricks, even after sitting in ruin so long. A strong sense of melancholy hung over the place, like a home the day after a holiday meal when all the guests had gone away.
“Live here not do anymore the Astari.” Neema glided back and forth, studying some carvings on the stone. “Gone other place have to the tall fey. Much long ago.”
“The forest is taking over again,” said Kes. “I wonder why they abandoned this place.”
Neema shook her head. “Know I do not.”
“I hear water.” Mawr nosed to the right. “I believe there is a chasm ahead, with a river at the bottom.”
“Cross must we,” said Neema.
They followed a path of glimmering chromatic stones set in the earth to form a road. Grass and spongy moss had mostly overtaken the path, but it connected to similar paths all throughout the ruin. Much like the faerie’s city, the Astari had made their buildings open and airy, using nearby trees without uprooting or cutting into them. She figured they had druids who could guide the trees around the structures, but since the Astari had abandoned the place, nature grew as it desire
d. Without their influence, branches had broken or pushed aside many walls, floors, and roofs.
Emma’s roaming gaze stalled on a twin set of tall white stone spires gleaming in the distance, beyond a star-shaped courtyard and a crumbling fountain. A series of pointed arches in two rows rose high over the greenery, hinting at the shape of a decorative bridge hidden behind a sloping hill. To her left, the elven buildings continued for a fair ways. Perhaps a mile to the south, a huge white dome peeked above closer buildings. Lines formed from green gemstone traced the shapes of leaves down the walls from the top of the dome, and a watery shimmer flickered along the bottom suggesting a pool of water at its base.
I wonder what’s in there… it looks important.
At Neema’s urging, Mawr headed for the bridge, following the ancient stone path to avoid rubble as best he could. The roar of distant water grew louder as they approached, and within a few minutes, they came to a halt few paces from the bridge.
The spires towered five stories overhead, great beams supporting hundreds of thin white roots that held up the walkway. She had a feeling the beams had been made of stone, but couldn’t tell if the ‘roots’ had been actual roots or more stone worked by a master artisan. Dense ivy covered both sides of the bridge, hanging down in wavering trails into the chasm. Cracks and holes covered the entire span, filling Emma’s belly with a sick, worried weight.
“Uhh… That doesn’t look at all safe.” She gulped.
Mawr paused. “I do not think I should set foot upon it.”
“Make lighter.” Neema hugged the top of Mawr’s head.
He wobbled, emitting an uneasy groan. “I… what have you done?”
“As leaves weigh the bear does,” sang Neema.
Emma threw her leg up and over his head and slid to the ground. “She can only make one of us light at a time. We shouldn’t ride him across.”
Kes slipped off. For an instant, he seemed in the throes of a clumsy fall he didn’t expect, but he recovered in midair and landed with grace. “Come, Emma. We’re light enough already.”
He darted out onto the bridge, hooves tapping with a gleeful prance upon the stone slabs.
“Wait! No… one at a time with Neema making…” She sighed and hurried after him.
Hundreds of tiny rocks scattered across the bridge surface, likely debris from all the holes. Emma gasped at the coldness of the stone beneath her feet and almost decided to turn back when she spotted a sharp thorn that had no doubt broken off one of the supporting cables. Much to her dismay, the wind made the entire bridge sway and wobble. The click, click, click of Kes’s hooves got faint enough to be alarming. Emma snapped her gaze up and almost gasped at how far away he’d gotten. She kept looking between him and where she stepped, terrified of putting her foot in a crack or hole.
“I feel like I’m flying,” yelled Kes, his voice echoing.
Emma stopped short at what she thought to be a pit in the bridge surface, but her toes curled over the edge of a hole big enough to swallow her. Paralyzed, she stared at a perfect view of churning whitewater a long… long… way down.
And screamed.
Kes stopped and spun to face her. “What’s wrong?”
Emma backed away from the hole, her legs refusing to bend more than a little bit. “I don’t like this bridge. We need to find another way.”
“The canyon goes for miles. It would take a week to go around.” He walked backwards three steps, arms wide to the sides, grinning. “Come on.”
Emma forced herself to keep going around the hole. I’m a small girl. I don’t weigh much. Everyone says I’m little for my age. I’m not going to break the bridge. A sharp gust of wind flipped her hair to the side and made her clutch her toes at the smooth stone. Nan isn’t scared of heights. She smirked at herself. Nan is a raven. Birds can fly. The odd thought of a bird being afraid of heights made her giggle.
Kes laughed and pivoted around to trot. “Someone’s sloooow.”
“Stop it.” Emma avoided another deep crack and crept around a wide pockmark. “Don’t be careless.”
“I’m not being careless.” He whistled. “I’m being adventurous.”
Emma yelled, “Adventurous and foolish are often the same thing. Da says that.”
He laughed.
She looked up again and wanted to scream at him for getting so far away, almost to the middle of the span. Ooh! He’s just like Tam. What is it with boys!? Part of her wanted to move faster, part of her wanted to curl up into a ball and sit tight.
He spun to face her again, walking backward. “Hurry up. It’s―”
Kes’ hoof came down on a chip of rock that shot out from under him. His legs flashed into a blur of motion, his hooves making a clickety clickety clickety noise as he careened to the left, kicking small stones around in a spray, unable to find traction. Screaming and stumbling, he slipped over the side, barely managing to catch the edge.
“Kes!” shrieked Emma.
She bolted to a sprint, trying to run as light as possible on the balls of her feet. When she came within two steps of where his hands clung to the edge, the whole slab shifted downward. Shrieking, she flailed her arms and skidded to a stop. Massive root cables on both sides creaked and groaned, stone flaking from them in chips. Emma stared up at the narrow cords, shivering as hundreds of tiny cracks spread all over them. They seemed ready to snap from even a mouse’s weight.
With a nervous groan, Mawr pulled himself onto the bridge. “I am coming. Hold on, boy.”
Emma almost shouted for him to stop, but remembered he didn’t weigh anything as long as Neema stayed touching him. She whirled back to Kes, and cupped her mouth with both hands. “Kes! It’s okay. Mawr’s almost here.” Wait. No! “Neema! Make Kes weigh nothing! He’s going to fall.”
Mawr stopped, groaned, and ambled backward to get off the bridge so the faerie could let go of him.
“I… I’m sorry, Emma.” Kes struggled to pull himself up, but slipped back farther than he’d climbed. “You’re right. I suppose I was reckless.”
His fingers continued to slip.
“No!” screamed Emma. She leapt into a dive, sliding on her chest, and grabbed his wrists.
The twenty-foot-long slab of bridge beneath her broke apart from the rest of the walkway, bobbed, and dropped two inches. The support cables cracked, puffs of dust raining from above as a creaking groan made the entire bridge shudder. She stared down at him, goat legs futilely trying to step on ivy and snapping it. Hundreds of feet below, rocky water churned white and deadly. Cold wind whipped her hair into her face.
Tiny, distant shouting came from Neema, but Emma’s brain didn’t make sense of any words.
Kes, bright amber eyes wide with fear, tried to put on a brave face. “Let go… Let me fall. I don’t want you to die too.” He grunted and tried to get a better grip, but his fingers slipped on the disintegrating stone.
Emma squeezed his wrists with all her strength. The slab upon which she lay lurched down another inch and jerked to a stop. It wouldn’t matter if she let go. Their section of bridge was about to break and send them both falling. Even if Neema got there fast enough, she could only make one of them weightless.
“Linganthas!” shouted Emma “I need your aid. Lend your power to the ivy.”
She stared intently at the spread of vines all over the side of the bridge. At her urging, they came to life. Slender runners coiled around Kes’s legs. Leafy tendrils of ivy came up over the bridge and wrapped around her whole body, drawing them up in a cocoon of leafy cords, the vines embracing and lifting them. Neema zoomed into her chest, clinging. Concentrating on the plant’s essence, Emma opened herself to the vines, making them an extension of her body. A sense of having grown wings lessened her fear of falling―somewhat.
The support cables broke with a great rippling series of cracks, revealing the ‘thorny stems’ to be artistic stonework. The slab of walkway swung downward like an opening door, hanging vertically. Emma shrieked as she fell, swinging
into Kes and colliding chest to chest.
Neema squeaked.
They swayed in the nest of still-moving ivy that tightened in response to her fear. The twenty-foot-long piece of bridge hung for the span of two breaths before it snapped from the other side and plummeted, tumbling, into the abyss below. Chunks of stone rods from the disintegrating cables tumbled end over end on their way into the churning rapids.
Faint muttering came from between them, Neema struggling to wriggle upward. She disappeared in a puff of silver-white energy, and shouted at her from a short distance above and behind.
Emma’s terror urged the ivy to keep grasping at them. Moving plants lashed her and Kes together in such a firm weave that it became difficult to breathe. Their clasped hands dug into her chest, his chin rested on her shoulder, their cheeks touching. The ivy gripped them so securely, she couldn’t move any part of her body except for wiggling her toes.
“Emma! Kes!” bellowed Mawr.
Neema shrieked something she couldn’t understand, part scream of horror, part faerie language.
“We’re alive,” wheezed Kes, his voice vibrating her chest.
A tremendous boom echoed up from the river below as the slab crashed into the water. Emma startled, and the ivy cocoon clenched for an instant in response.
Wrapped in vines, dangling like a bees’ nest over a fatal drop, Emma couldn’t think. Every ounce of her concentration went toward keeping the ivy holding them secure. Kes squirmed.
“You are getting quite good at that vine magic, but perhaps it is a bit too tight. We must breathe.”
She whined.
“Can you move us back to the bridge?”
Emma gulped. She loosened the upper part of the vine so she could pull her head away from his shoulder and look to her right at the next section of bridge. One by one, idle strands of ivy came to life and reached out to join the snarl on that side, while others to her left released. Their bundle migrated sideways, gliding to the west to reach the next slab of walkway. Emma directed the ivy to lift them up onto the surface and set them flat upon solid stone. Shivering with fear, she lay motionless while Kes squirmed and wriggled.
Emma and the Silverbell Faeries Page 17