by Amy Wilson
‘But you remembered her, when I talked to you before. You remembered the dark-haired woman who is my mother!’
‘She was a dream, sent to fill one lonely day of many, many millions,’ he says, shaking his head, not meeting my eye. ‘All creatures may have their dreams, even if they have nothing else.’ He turns from me and strides into the darkness. ‘Follow your own dreams, little Owl . . .’
‘Isolde!’ I call out after him, through a mist of last hopes. ‘Her name is Isolde!’
He hesitates then. But he does not turn. The eyes of all the court are on him as he pauses for just a moment. Then he breaks out into a run, and in another moment he is gone.
They’re all looking at me, now. I’m trying not to notice but I can feel dozens of eyes on me, watching every move. I raise my head eventually and focus on the Lady of the Lake. I will not look at the Earl, though I can’t help but notice how proudly he sits on the stone bench, now that he has won. The Queen beside him is even more full with it. She seems to glow with satisfaction.
‘What shall we do with thee, child?’ the Lady asks, her voice gentle.
‘She is no child to be pitied and coddled,’ the Earl says impatiently. ‘She is the daughter of mischief and mayhem. She is capable of things that make her most dangerous.’
‘And yet she is a child, Sorbus,’ the Lady replies. ‘I do not know that there is an easy decision here. What do you want to do, Owl?’
What do I want to do? I want to go after my father and drag him back. I want him to fight for me. I want to go back to school and forget any of this ever happened. I know I don’t want to be here any more, with Alberic stealing guilty glances at me.
‘I want to go home.’
‘And yet it isn’t so simple.’ She shakes her head. ‘You cannot just go about your own people as you did before . . .’
‘Impossible for her to remain here!’ the Earl exclaims, standing.
‘Will you find her too challenging?’ the Lady demands. ‘Are you so weak in your own power that you will not allow an innocent child to remain with us?’
‘How about a challenge?’ asks the Queen in her soft, melodic voice, soothing the Earl with a hand on his arm. ‘We shall give the girl a choice.’ She looks at me, and for a split second her full mouth twists with a hatred that makes my spine curl. ‘My dear,’ she says, covering it with a smile that is somehow even more chilling. ‘You may, of course, stay here. Your friend Alberic has known the comfort of the court for most of his life; why shouldn’t you too know the magic of our existence? He has told you stories already, I expect, of our family. We are many and varied. We live by the sun and the moon and are masters of all that surrounds us here. Life, death, every decision made for the common good; games, and trials, enough to turn your head so that you may never think of home again . . .’ She pauses for a moment and looks up at the fairies, who are spellbound by her words. ‘Or . . . if that doesn’t suit you . . .’ She turns back to me, her eyes suddenly gleaming. ‘Go back out into your world and do your father’s work for him! Show us that you can control your power, that even out there you are loyal to us, and a part of the work we do.’
‘But . . .’ Alberic steps forward, flinching as his father looks at him. ‘But she cannot!’
‘Why not?’ the Queen demands with another hideous smile. ‘She is Jack’s daughter. She has already shown us she has his skills. You said as much yourself, dear Alberic. If she doesn’t want to turn away from humanity, she may do this thing for us all, for humanity itself – may she not?’
‘It would change her. She is already—’ Alberic begins.
‘Enough!’ the Earl spits. ‘Alberic, you forget yourself! This is court business! Get out of my sight. I will deal with you later!’
Alberic stands against him for just a moment, moonlight breaking through the clouds and casting him in silver, his jaw working, then he steps back into the darkness.
‘What do you say, Owl?’ the Lady asks, looking at me. Her grey eyes are steady but the water around her bubbles and surges, as though she’s trying to hide her anger. Is she on my side? Will she let them do this to me? What choice is it really? I can’t stay here, they can all see that much, the very ground seems to writhe beneath me. ‘It is not what you will have expected, but the Queen is right. You are a part of this world now. If you are to leave it you will still have to live as one of us, and prove that you can be true to this court. Your father’s work will suit you . . .’ Her voice trails off and she sighs. ‘It is up to you, Owl. None can make you do it.’
‘I’ll do it,’ I hear myself saying as if from very far away. ‘I can do it.’ I have a quick, impulsive thought. ‘If I do it well, will you let him come back?’
‘You are in no position to strike bargains,’ sneers the Earl.
‘We’ll see,’ says the Lady. ‘If you can prove yourself an asset to us we may be able to reconsider things . . . but do not count on it, Owl. If you choose it, you choose it for yourself. Not in hope for others.’
I nod, my head spinning. Suddenly it feels as though all my blood has frozen in my veins, as if I cannot move, cannot speak. I look around me and everything is black and white, light and shade. Globe-like eyes peer at me from all sides and I want nothing more than to run.
‘Alberic,’ the Lady says, her voice faint. ‘See that she gets home safely.’
‘Yes, go,’ rumbles the Earl. ‘Continue at the human school, and report back to us regularly. Take her now and be sure she does not act, does not move, without your knowledge. It is on your head, boy. If you want to earn a place in this court, perhaps here is your chance . . .’
‘Yes, Father.’ Alberic dips his head and I hate him for it. More than anything else, I hate the way he stoops and bends before his cruel father, who seems to see him as nothing more than a tool for his own ambitions.
I stumble up the bank back towards the ranks of trees, Alberic just behind me, and the Green Man stoops to sweep me up on to even ground.
‘Careful how you go, little Owl,’ he says in a creaking whisper. ‘We will be wishing you success.’ I turn to see that there is sympathy in the eyes of some of the court.
‘But do not bring your human friend here again. I have kept her safe this time but she does not belong . . .’
The owl swoops down to me as I head into the darkness, and lands on my shoulder. ‘Your way. Your way, little Owl,’ she says in her soft hoot of a voice. ‘Do it your way . . .’ And then she’s off, and Alberic catches up with me, and I have to concentrate just to keep my breathing level, my footsteps sure.
‘What did you do with Mallory?’ he asks as we skirt through the trees. He steps over bracken with no sound at all, while I am an elephant careering through, my feet picking fights with all the roots. I cannot find my voice to answer him; I’m not sure what I’d say if I could. His presence cuts into me, so that I have to charge on faster, faster, just to get away from the sickening smell of woodsmoke that I always thought I liked. I’m almost running by the time I feel the kiss of the barrier against my skin and there, in the shadows, her face blue-lit by the screen of her phone, is Mallory.
‘Mall!’ I whisper, hurrying to her, a sudden lump in my throat.
‘Owl! But are you not going to go to the Royal Court? Did he stop you?’ She scrambles up and looks askance at Alberic, which I could hug her for.
‘It’s all over,’ I whisper. ‘Maybe time’s different in there; it feels like I’ve been gone for ages. I’m so glad you’re safe.’
She frowns and steps forward, giving me a quick, tight hug.
‘Are you OK?’ she asks in a low voice, pulling me away from Alberic, who shifts his feet and gazes at the ground. He looks utterly miserable but he’s still here, doing as his father bid, and as we move on towards the edge of the woodland he dogs our steps.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so betrayed by another person. I trusted him with everything; he knew who I really was before I did. I thought we were the same, but I hardly knew him a
t all. Mallory keeps her eyes on me as we tread over dark, twisted roots, arm in arm. I’m so glad she’s here, I feel like if she weren’t I’d just be in a heap by the trees. She holds tight to me, even though my skin is cold with ice, and when she speaks her voice is soft.
‘Tell me, what happened?’
‘He got banished, for being my father! Even though he was determined he wasn’t. They could all see it, more easily than he could.’
‘He’s gone?’
‘Yup.’
‘Oh, Owl.’
‘And now Alberic will be “watching over me” while I try to do what Jack normally does. He spied on me, Mallory, for his father . . .’ I tell her in a halting voice about the Earl and the Queen, and the bargain I’ve struck, and the silence in the woodland gets thicker and darker, and always, always, Alberic’s light steps follow ours.
‘But how is that going to work?’ Mallory demands after she’s listened. ‘You’re a girl, Owl. You’re not Jack Frost!’
‘But I’m not a normal girl either.’
‘Nobody’s normal,’ she says. ‘You’re just extra, that’s all.’
I smile at her determined tone, but I still feel small and tight with foreboding. How can I take over from him? Does he travel the world, putting the frost on everything? It’s always winter somewhere. How am I going to do all that?
Alberic moves forward as we emerge on to the common. The moon is a small bright disc in the sky now, throwing silver outlines over everything. Skeletal trees loom over the terraced houses and the shadows are deeper than they seemed before. A breeze spins up and whips over my face and I think it might be Alberic’s work and so I hate that it’s welcome, almost soothing, against my skin.
‘They’re looking for a gesture,’ he says, his eyes on the cluttered suburban horizon. ‘Jack’s not responsible for winter, or even for all of the frost and ice. He’s the one who hangs icicles, puts fern patterns on windows . . . warns people across the world that winter is on its way and reminds them that it’s beautiful, even while it’s treacherous.’
‘How will I get to all those places?’ I demand, refusing to look at him.
Alberic shakes his head. ‘You can’t. They won’t expect you to. The Queen knows it as well as anyone. Just do the bare minimum, any more than that is dangerous for you.’
‘Dangerous?’ asks Mallory.
‘The more you do, the more you could lose yourself to the magic. It’s tricky for a half-human, Owl, I told you.’
‘So that’s the Queen’s plan? To ruin me by making me do Jack’s work?’
‘Probably,’ he whispers.
‘And you knew, didn’t you? You knew what they were plotting. You helped them! All this time . . . you were spying on me! Reporting back to your father!’
He flinches. ‘I did try to—’
‘What is his problem anyway?’ I interrupt. ‘What does he even get out of this?’
‘He craves power,’ Alberic says. ‘And he has a grudge against Jack.’
‘A grudge?’ my voice sounds unstable now, even to me. ‘All of this over a grudge?’
‘They’re powerful things, grudges, when you live forever . . .’
‘What is it? What did Jack do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Alberic replies. ‘My . . . The Earl would never say. Something happened, a long time ago. I’m sorry, Owl, let me—’
‘No,’ I say through my clenched teeth. ‘Don’t pretend like you care now. Just go!’ My voice becomes a howl and frost zips towards him over the grass.
He steps back, suddenly clumsy. ‘You need to let me help you!’
‘I thought that was what you were doing before! I’ll never trust you again, Alberic!’
I grab Mallory and we charge off towards the dark lane, and to her credit she doesn’t complain, though I’m breathing in flurries of ice and my hand must be freezing her arm.
‘We’ll work it out,’ she says as we part. ‘I promise, Owl. I’ll help. We’ll sort it.’ She gives me a hug and I try to return it, but I feel like something has shifted. Like something on the inside is frozen solid, so that I can’t. I can’t even hug my best friend properly.
The feeling stays with me all the way home, and I’m dimly aware that it’s lucky Mum hasn’t woken while I was out, but I don’t really care. I’m back in my room, and even here everything feels different. I’m surrounded by all my pictures of owls, and I’ve already managed to freeze the entire room, so it almost feels like I’m back in that clearing once more, only all the fay – the sprites and fairies and creepy goblins – are now the owls, all of them watching me, demanding in hoarse whispers that I ‘open my eyes’ and ‘see the truth’ in it all.
‘What do you mean?’ I demand, looking from one to the next as they blink their crazy eyes and shuffle their charcoal feathers. ‘Tell me!’
They say nothing more. They just watch as the ice spreads to the ceiling in great spears that sparkle in the dim light of my bedside lamp. I sit, exhausted, and the room seems to darken and I am lost, lost, lost in the middle, marooned on my frozen bed.
He rejected me.
In front of the whole court, he refused to acknowledge that he was my father. Even though they could all see it.
Hadn’t I expected that? Hadn’t I known he would never really be a father? I look in the mirror, and see how small I am, and I realize that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that I already knew it, it doesn’t matter what he is – he is my father, and he would rather be banished from this world than to accept it. Ice slides down my cheeks and I don’t wipe it away; I close my eyes and let it fall.
‘Little Owl,’ says the wooden owl on the bedpost with a clatter and snap of its wooden beak. ‘Hush, now. Not so much is different. Not so much that you cannot handle it.’
I reach up and stroke the wood, shocked to find it warm, and too tired and heartsore to question it any longer.
‘You are real.’
‘As real as you. As real as this room.’ The owl looks around, wooden feathers shuffling with a sound like dominoes falling. ‘Sleep, little Owl. None can get to you here . . .’
FABLES & EARTH SPIRITS
The Green Man
It was something that came to her, that she could never quite explain. Perhaps it was a dream, perhaps some fay magic was on the loose and found her quite by accident. However it had transpired, there it was, the words were in her head, and though she tried to let them rest there, they were not content. They demanded, that night, by the light of the candle, to be spoken out loud.
She knew not what she did. Her breath grew heavy, her very mind seemed to fracture, mirror-like shards that splintered silver in the darkness, and then she was out in a new world, where the stars shone brighter and the earth smelt richer and all that was there was the most enormous, ancient oak tree, tangled branches filling the horizon.
‘By, and what do we have here?’ came a great, rumbling voice. She fell to her knees and gaped as the tree turned, with a groundshaking twist of root and limb, and formed the body of a most enormous oaken giant with a beaming, delighted expression upon his creviced face. ‘What creature are you, child, to chance upon an old man in his rest? Have you come to play?’
She shook her head, dumbfounded, and he chuckled, lowering his head, the branches that made his hair reaching down to tickle at her feet. She squirmed, and shuffled away from him, and he grew quite still, until she began to be afraid of him.
‘You are not of the fay at all,’ he said in wonderment, standing tall once more and casting out all light. ‘How then do you appear thus? Do you seek trouble?’
‘No!’ she managed. ‘I am only – only lost. Where is this place?’
‘You wander, and have found the fay world quite by accident? How extraordinary.’ He thought for a moment, and then reached out to her with a massive, gnarled hand. ‘Come, that I may keep you warm, and I shall tell you of our hidden world, for you are here now, and there are things you should know.’
She vent
ured forth and climbed into his hand, entranced by his otherness and too befuddled to refuse. And he told her countless tales of sprites and fairies, strange woodland creatures and even stranger water-dwellers, of adventure, and danger, and she thought she dreamed as she sat and listened to the gentle rumble of his voice, and the wind through his leaves, but she had never had a sweeter dream, not for all that she found in future times that it was no dream at all.
‘You look tired, Owl,’ Mum says in the morning. ‘Are you feeling OK?’ She comes up and puts a hand on my forehead.
‘Ach, get off,’ I mumble, moving away from her, pretending not to see the frown on her face. I’m stiff with tiredness, trying not to let last night replay in my mind as it did throughout my dreams. When I woke, the room looked normal again, the sun casting rays of white light through the gap in the curtains on to piles of books and dusty shelves and I looked at all my owls and wondered if I’d dreamed that bit, but the wooden owl winked at me when I stared at her, so I know it was real.
‘You feel a bit cold,’ Mum says, sticking the kettle on. ‘Why don’t you put a jumper on?’
‘Why don’t you put a jumper on?’ I retort absently.
She gives me an arch look. ‘I have a jumper on,’ she says, gesturing at the fuchsia pink mohair thing I remember her buying at a jumble sale. ‘I’m talking about you.’
‘Well, I’m the daughter of Jack Frost so I don’t feel the cold particularly, thank you,’ I say, sitting at the table, splaying my legs out and leaning my head back against the wall.
Mum shakes her head.
‘Porridge?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘What are you thinking?’ she asks, putting a mug of tea in front of me.
‘About how we’ve always lived here, and nothing really changes . . .’
‘Is that a good thing?’
‘I s’pose so,’ I say, sitting up and putting my hands around the mug. A little mist of condensation forms on the china.
‘Lots of things change,’ she says, turning to the porridge. ‘You change, all the time. Sometimes it’s nice to have something familiar to return to, no?’