“You can unwrap us,” wheezed Kes.
Emma turned her head left and right, staring at the stone on which she lay. “Sorry. I’m still scared.”
He hummed the melody she had sung to him the other day, Far Away Home. Squeezed as tight as she was to him with her chin over his shoulder, she couldn’t see his face, but he had to be smiling. Soon, thoughts of home as well as her new friend eased her mind, and the ivy released them. The vines receded, sliding back off the edge to hang as they had done before Linganthas had sent his aid.
Emma remained flat on her back, out of breath and too terrified to move.
Neema landed standing on her chest, rattling in Faerie so fast she made no sense.
“I thought I was going to die.” Kes lifted her hand, kissed it, and clasped it firm. “You are both brave and beautiful.”
“I’m not sure panic counts as bravery.” She gasped for air.
Neema pounced on Emma’s cheek, hugging her, and burst into tears.
Kes smiled. “My father once told me that humans will always put themselves first, but you didn’t hesitate… you wouldn’t let me go.”
“No…” Emma sat up and cradled the sobbing faerie. “You’re my friend… even if you are careless. Where are your parents?”
Mawr ambled back and forth on solid ground near the start of the bridge, emitting a nervous moan.
Kes looked off into the sky. “I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?” Emma glanced at Mawr. No wonder he’s scared. He’s as wide as the whole bridge.
Neema said something too low to hear over the howling wind.
Mawr backed up a few steps.
Kes chuckled. “They decided I am old enough to be on my own, so I am on my own.”
She looked down at stone chips by her foot. “That’s sad. I’d be so lost without my family… I wouldn’t even know what to do.”
“Fauns are different.” He lifted her chin with one finger and made a silly face at her. “Don’t be sad for me. It is our way.”
“Too fast fall. Time in get to you not I could.” Neema sniffled. “Thought lost you were.”
Emma shivered and closed her eyes. So did I. Thank you, Linganthas. “We’re okay. Can you please take Mawr safely across before he is consumed with worry?”
“Yes. Do I will.” Neema hugged Emma’s face again before zipping over to the bear, leaving a long trail of silvery light.
With the faerie sitting on his head, Mawr pawed at the ground, pulling himself up to the speed of a run. When he reached the edge by the missing slab, he hooked his claws on the edge and hauled forward. Like a massive, furry balloon, he glided over the twenty-foot gap and kept on drifting.
“Going keep,” said Neema as they floated past. “Here stay Emma and Kes. Return Neema will time at one Mawr after across.”
“Yes. That is what I was going to say before.” Emma smiled at Neema before tilting her head at Kes. “When you grow up and find a faun woman, and have a baby, are you going to abandon them too when they’re still little?”
Mawr drifted off across the bridge, occasionally swiping at the stone to keep up his speed.
Kes showed all his teeth with a big grin. “I’m sure my parents made up their minds not to do that when I was born… but after living with me for two hundred years, they got tired of my pranks.”
“That’s sad.” She hugged him. “That you’re all alone.”
He tapped a fingertip on her nose. “Well… after you live with someone for two hundred years, you can tell me if you find them annoying.”
Emma stuck out her tongue at him.
He grinned, then frowned and rubbed his right hoof. “Not the best for walking on smooth stone. Much better on dirt.”
“Umm.” Emma pulled a foot up into her lap and brushed dust from her sole. “I don’t think it matters whether you have hooves or toes. This bridge is falling apart. You didn’t slip; the stone turned into dust.”
“When Neema returns, you go first.”
“I can catch myself on the ivy if it breaks. You go.”
Kes shook his head. “Nope. Don’t make me charm you.”
“You can’t.” She folded her arms.
“I know I can.”
Emma scowled. “What makes you so sure your charm will work on me?”
“I’m a faun. You’re a girl. That’s how it works.”
“It made me want to be your friend and trust you, not do what you tell me.” She held her nose in the air.
Kes scratched his head. “Hmm. Father said it would change when I got older.”
“Change? How?” asked Emma.
“I don’t know. When I asked, he laughed and said ‘you’ll see.’”
She rested her chin on her fist, thinking. The women always gave the pretend satyrs flowers during the Feast of Zaravex. Maybe flowers had something to do with it… “Are fauns and satyrs the same thing?”
“Not entirely.” He smiled. “I’m a faun now, but when I am grown, I’ll be a satyr.”
“Oh. Like ‘boy’ and ‘man.’”
He nodded.
Neema glided up to them. “Safe is Mawr.”
Emma pointed at Kes. “He’s next.”
He batted his eyes at her. “Oh, sweet faerie, how can you leave Emma all alone on this bridge?”
Neema grabbed his left horn. “Work on Neema don’t your charms. Come Neema with, Goat Boy.”
Emma covered her mouth and giggled.
He rolled his eyes. “All right… all right.”
As Kes skipped off to the other side, Emma scooted to the edge and grabbed an armful of ivy. She held as still as possible, barely even breathing until Neema landed on her shoulder almost ten minutes later.
“Time walking to.” Neema’s wings kicked off a faint puff of light and sparkles, and the tingle of faerie magic spread over Emma’s body.
She pulled herself upright using the ivy, and made her way across the bridge with Neema pushing at her back. As soon as she reached solid ground, Emma fell to her knees on the moss and allowed herself to shiver from all the fear she couldn’t let out on the bridge. Kes crouched at her side with an arm across her back.
“I’m sorry for scaring you,” said Kes.
Emma pulled her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ears. “I forgive you. I’ve been more scared than that before.”
“You have?” Kes raised an eyebrow. “Do you make a habit of crossing ancient bridges?”
“No.” She leaned her head back and took a few full breaths, trying to relax. “A Banderwigh took me.”
Kes scowled. “I hate those things.” He blinked. “Wait… Took you? And you’re not trapped?”
“I got away…”
He cringed. “Nasty things.”
“What?” She stared at him. “You’ve seen one? Did it try to put you in a cage?”
“No.” He clasped her hand and pulled her standing. “They wouldn’t be interested in collecting a faun since we’re too full of mirth.” He winked. “Alas, that makes them angry, so if one saw me, it would surely try to hurt me.”
Emma nodded. She’d seen firsthand how Banderwighs reacted to children who didn’t stay sad. “Yes. But you could outrun it easy.”
He walked with her to Mawr’s side. “Are you so sure? They are cursed creatures.”
“Yes.” She pulled herself up onto the bear. “I could outrun him, and you’re faster than me.”
Kes sprang up and landed behind her. “Oh, this I simply must hear. Tell me the story, Emma?”
She frowned at the forest, knowing a long trip awaited. “All right.”
rom the far end of the bridge, they followed a dirt path across a narrow grassy plain, which gave way to another forest of roperoot trees, much smaller than the others. Emma figured this to be a newer section of forest that had not been growing for as long. While still larger than any trees she had seen back in the world of humans, compared to the forest around the Elder Grove, they looked like babies.
> Along the way, she told her story of the Banderwigh. Kes cringed at the description of the false girl who tried to make Emma sad by convincing her she’d burned the town. He cheered at her escape, and clung to her with nervous anticipation as she described the creature chasing her with an ax. The way he hung on her every word made her think of Kimber and Nan’s stories… and that brought to mind the idea that she someday might be telling her children about the Banderwigh.
Should I do what Nan did and make it sound like it happened to someone else?
They stopped for a brief drink at a stream not far from the edge of the forest and continued on their way.
“Close now,” said the faerie, pointing. “Way that go.”
Mawr followed her directions for another few minutes. “I smell smoke.”
Emma sniffed at the air. “I don’t.”
“You are a human. He’s a bear, and his nose is as big as your whole head.” Kes gestured at the giant nose.
She sighed. Having nothing to say back to that, she folded her arms and fired an annoyed stare at the trees.
A short while later, the scent of burning wood reached her, and she perked up. Mawr curved to the right, following a hint of dirt path up the side of a hill. When they crested the top, a human-style house came into view in the distance, complete with a fenced-in yard, water pump, and a few chickens.
“Please stop here.” Emma patted the bear on the head. “He might be scared of you.”
Mawr lowered himself so she could climb down. “I will stay close in case you need me.”
Emma slid to the ground and adjusted her dress back into place before walking on. Neema floated along behind her.
She paused, eyeing the faerie. “Nymira said he hates faeries… you might not want to―”
Neema vanished. Seconds later, a giggle emanated from thin air.
“Right. I forgot you can do that.”
Emma marched up to the gate.
“Bwaaaaa!” screamed an enormous scarlet chicken, tall enough to be eye level with her. It charged straight at her, flapping its wings while screeching.
Emma let off a cry of surprise and scrambled into a backward run.
Rapid soft thumps came up behind her. Kes dove, tackling her to the side as the chicken leapt into the air and exploded in flames.
Emma hit the ground on her back. They bounced, rolled over each other twice, and came to stop with her flat on her chest and Kes upside down a few feet away. He’d knocked the wind out of her, but she had no great desire to stand up yet. She lay, arms and legs splayed, happy to breathe in and out.
“Was that a giant exploding chicken?” asked Emma a moment later.
“Not a chicken at all. Magic,” said Kes. “But yes, it appeared to be a giant exploding chicken.”
Emma caught her breath and stood, brushing forest mulch from her dress. “What is wrong with this place?”
“It’s not this place. It’s the conjurer.” Kes grasped at the air, and his bow appeared. “I think he may be as mad as your faerie queen says if he is making such strange creations.”
“Try not to shoot him, please.” She grabbed his hand in both of hers. “Unless you have to.”
“Of course.”
Again, she approached the gate. An equally huge orange chicken rotated to face her, a wild glint in its glowing red eyes. She leapt back and started to run, but hesitated when Kes’s arrow streaked by. His shot struck it in the center of its chest, and the oversized bird exploded in a fireball where it stood. A blast of warm air laden with the smell of cooked eggs washed over her.
She peered around in search of more fiery fowl. The rest of the chickens milling about the front yard appeared normal sized, and not the least bit interested in immolating themselves. With cautious steps, Emma advanced toward the gate. As soon as she pulled on it, the metal cried out with a rusty squeeeak that made her back muscles tighten.
Two large panthers burst from the branches of nearby trees, gliding out from a flurry of leaves on vast dragon-like wings. They landed in front of her, snarling. The air took on an electric quality that prickled at her tongue with the taste of copper.
Emma jumped back, gawking at the pair of great cats with glowing green eyes and lustrous black fur tinted dark violet. Their tails, longer than seemed natural for felines of that size, swished side to side with irritation. They growled at the same time, tiny snaps of lightning dancing over their lips. She got the sense they wanted to scare her off more than attack.
Emma raised her hands. “Hello.”
Their aggressive glowers faded. Small whitish tufts of eyebrows rose, and the one on the right tilted its head.
The one on the left looked at the other and spoke in a male voice. “This creature talks.”
“It does,” said the other, sounding female.
The male sniffed in her direction. “Go away.”
She risked taking a step closer. “I mean no harm. I must talk to the conjurer who lives here.”
“Another human… most unusual.” The female advanced, her sinewy body undulating with each stride. She folded her wings down from their threat display, tucking them against her sides. When she stopped close, the top of her head came up to Emma’s chin. Tingling spread over her cheeks as the cat’s nose neared her face. Small sparks lapped at her skin like the fingernails of a dozen faeries scratching.
“That tickles,” said Emma, unable to resist a grin.
“Indeed a human. And only a cub at that.” The female huffed. Hot breath scented like the air after a heavy rainstorm puffed in her face.
She raised her arm slow, and scratched under the female’s chin. Within seconds, a purr so deep her lungs felt like they rattled inside her came from the strange winged cat. The animal’s eyelids drooped half-closed, and her tail swished about in contentment.
“Oh… this one knows how to negotiate,” purred the female.
“Hmm.” The male also relaxed his wings and approached.
Emma offered her other hand, which he sniffed before tilting his head enough to grant access to his chin. She obliged, spending a few minutes skritching the pair while they purred.
At a faint snap, the male’s tail fluffed. He pulled his head away and stared into the trees behind her. “I hear something else.”
Emma looked back at where she’d last seen Kes, but he’d vanished. He’s gone invisible. Saying nothing probably wasn’t the same as lying, so she kept her mouth shut, hoping they didn’t ask if she came alone.
“How can you speak?” asked the male, still eyeing the woods.
“I’m a druid.” Emma brushed cat hair off her hands. “Almost.”
The cats backed to the side, making an opening between them.
“Thank you.” She smiled and walked in.
The male glanced back, his ears twitching.
“It sounds like a boar,” said the female. “A small one.”
He chuckled. “Now you’re making me hungry.”
“You wouldn’t be if you didn’t sleep all day.” The female raised her head.
The cats escorted her to the door of a burgundy house that appeared somewhat wrong, but she couldn’t quite place why. After staring at it for a moment, she realized the angles didn’t line up straight like they should. One end seemed wider than the other, and the second story tilted opposite from the first. None of the windows―or even the door―managed to be straight rectangles, all skewed or slanted. It didn’t seem possible for a house to remain standing with such strange lines, but stand it did.
It must be magic.
Emma stepped up onto a tiny doorstep with a plain brown welcome mat between a pair of potted plants, pink tulips a few inches taller than her. She cleared her throat, dusted a few stray bits of leaves and forest debris from her dress, trying to seem as regal and proper as she could.
And knocked three times.
mma clasped her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for someone to answer the door. At a sudden slimy sensation like a giant dog lickin
g the bottoms of her feet, she squealed, jumped, and stared down.
“Hello,” said the welcome mat.
Emma babbled. “What… what was that?” She took a step back and raised her right foot to examine her sole, finding it dry… and completely free of dirt.
“Your shoes are clean,” said the welcome mat.
“I’m not wearing shoes!” She cringed and wiped her feet on the grass. Despite appearing dry and ooze free, they felt… like a dog had drooled on them.
“Your feet are clean then,” said the welcome mat.
She grumbled, and raised her arm to knock again, but the door opened out from under her fist. A wizened man with wild white hair going in all directions spent a moment staring at the air above her head with an annoyed scowl. Right before he slammed the door, he glanced down and spotted her. His right eye seemed larger than the left, and both brows resembled wads of cotton glued to his head. A robe the same shade of burgundy as the house covered him from neck to shoes, blotched with stains.
“Humm,” said the man. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to talk to you.” She curtseyed. “I’m Emma.”
He leaned down, grasped her by the shoulders, and spun her to put her back to him. “No wings… not a faerie.”
“I’m not a faerie. I’m human.”
The man pulled her about to face him once more and lightly pinched the tops of her ears, giving a mild pull.
“Eee!” Emma squealed and grabbed the sides of her head.
“No points… you’re no Astari either.”
She fought the urge to scowl. “I’m Emma Dalen, a human girl from Widowswood, looking for the conjurer. Are you the conjurer?”
He grasped the shoulders of her dress and tugged at the fabric. “Hmm. Well made. You’ve not the look of a beggar about you.”
“I’m not a beggar. I must speak to the conjurer.” She sighed. “Are you the conjurer?”
The man gazed into the clouds, transfixed by something. He snapped out of it a short while later and smiled at her. “I don’t know if I could claim to be the conjurer… but I am a conjurer.”
Emma and the Silverbell Faeries Page 18