by Sean Cullen
59 Saint Christopher is a Catholic saint who is the patron of travellers. Medals are worn by those who hope that he’ll look out for them on long journeys.
SOLSTICE
“What’s going on here?” Delia asked. “Some kind of hippie festival, or what?”
“Keep your voice down,” Harold begged. “We’re trying not to attract attention.”
Though they didn’t know it, they were following in Brendan’s footsteps along the path. Since Chester had managed to open their eyes back on the wharf, they could now see the Beautiful People, as he called them.60 The people had a vibrancy and a glow that normal Humans didn’t, and their clothing was more outlandish and exuberant. The little troop waited until the last of the strange people had made their way along the path and then dashed in, darting from tent to tent for cover.
“Do you hear that?” Chester said suddenly. They all listened as a clear, high tone rang out across the island. As soon as the sound began, the Beautiful Ones hurried up the path.
“Let’s go!” Delia cried, heading off in pursuit. The boys hesitated a moment before setting off after her.
They followed the crowd and soon found themselves in the clearing where the Community Centre was. They stopped short in astonishment at the impossible village of tents.
“Holy crap!” Harold breathed.
The bell changed in tone, rising slightly.
“Come on,” Delia said. “We’ll be late.”
“For what?” Dmitri asked.
“I intend to find out.” Delia smiled fiercely and moved forward. The three boys shared a look and then started after her.
Brendan stood in the midst of the hushed, breathless throng. The reverberation of the bell overwhelmed all other sounds, cutting through the din of voices and instruments with insistent clarity. All who heard the bell turned their heads toward the source of the chime. A hush fell over the Gathering. Even the Lesser Faeries, normally prone to constant nattering, had fallen into a respectful silence. All stood (or fluttered, in the case of the Lesser Faeries) facing west toward the red wash of the sunset sky and the fiery orb of the sun hanging just above the frozen lake. Brendan held his breath. The bell continued to chime, and presently a procession approached.
They seemed to emerge out of the dying sun. Brendan was relieved to see a familiar face in front. His aunt Deirdre led the way, dressed in a shimmering silken gown of the purest white. In her hand she held a long pole. From the top of the pole dangled a bell that reflected the torchlight in its polished golden surface. As Deirdre walked into the Gathering place among the silent Faeries, she gently swung the pole so that the bell tolled with each step.
Ariel followed her. He was dressed in an exquisitely tailored suit sewn from golden cloth. His pale face and hair glowed softly, whether from the sun, the torchlight, or some inner illumination, Brendan couldn’t tell. He was the most senior of the Faeries in this part of the world, and so he was the host of the Gathering. The entire crowd ducked their heads in respectful greeting. Ariel raised a hand in response.
Behind Ariel, Pûkh smirked at the crowd as if he were a king among peasants, mildly amused by their quaint behaviour and customs. Pûkh had discarded the Armani suit in favour of a more traditional costume: a cloak encrusted with minute pearls and a plain white tunic with hose.
Walking behind him was a creature that made Brendan want to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. She looked as if she’d just stepped out of a Japanese anime cartoon. She wore what looked like a white sailor suit that had been splattered with green paint applied via shotgun blast. Her makeup was stark white with one black tear drawn at the corner of her right eye. Her hair was dyed a vibrant red and stood up like a cock’s comb. She was tiny in stature, almost childlike, and yet the look in her eyes was anything but innocent. The eyes in question were shaded by pink sunglasses. She was chewing a pink wad of bubble gum. The most bizarre aspect of her appearance had nothing to do with what she wore. A rich and glossy foxtail swished behind her as she walked.
“Kitsune Kai and her bodyguards,” Charlie whispered in his ear. He started. He’d forgotten she was there at his side.
Walking in attendance close behind Kitsune Kai was a pair of stout, dark-haired Japanese men. Their heads were oddly flat and the tops of their scalps glittered in the torchlight.
“What’s on their heads?” Brendan asked.
“They’re Kappa. They are tremendously strong. They wrestle their opponents to the ground and snap their limbs with powerful arms. However, they are vulnerable. They have to carry water from their home lake in a hollow at the top of their heads. If the water spills, they lose their strength and may even die.”
Brendan watched in silence as Kitsune Kai and her odd bodyguards came to a halt in the centre of the Faerground with Pûkh and Deirdre.
The bell tolled one last time and fell silent. The crowd held its collective breath. Ariel stepped forward and raised his hands, the dying sun tinting his pale skin crimson.
The four Faeries formed a circle and raised their hands so that their palms faced downwards. They opened their mouths and sang out a single, achingly beautiful note. They sustained the chord and it grew in depth and power. Harmonics quivered in the air, making the sound more elaborate and complex. The air in the centre of their circle thickened and curdled into a glowing fog that seeped into the ground. The sound of their voices was joined by a deep rumbling.
The ground heaved and crumbled as a massive stone, a chunk of the island’s bedrock, emerged like the back of some long-buried, petrified beast. The stone rose, shedding crumbling earth, until it stood two metres high, a flat slab that could serve as a platform or stage.
The small circle of Faeries stopped singing and dropped their hands. The crowd cheered. Ariel stepped up onto the rock and addressed the assembly, calling for silence.
“O Mother Sun! On this the Solstice night, we beg you to return,” he cried. “The time is come to turn your face upon us once more.”
“Return!” the crowd exclaimed in response.
“Renew the Earth and bless the world with your power and warmth!”
“Return!”
“We await the kiss of spring, the spread of leaf, the burst of blossom!”
“Return!” Brendan shouted with the rest. He felt the magic of the incantation. He felt the tingle of power seeping into the cold ground beneath his feet. He felt the power of the promise of rebirth in the coming spring.
Ariel dropped his arms and swept his grey eyes back across the crowd. “Welcome all the Clans from near and far, Greater and Lesser, Silkies, Trolls, Kappa, and any others who gather to celebrate the death of the old year and the dawn of the new. All those who seek fellowship and kinship, we welcome you.”
He bowed his head and stepped back. This was Deirdre’s cue to hand the pole and the bell to Greenleaf, who stepped out of the throng to accept it. Another attendant handed Deirdre her harp with a deferential bow. Thus equipped, she stepped up onto the stone platform. She stood for a moment, her head bowed, lightly plucking the strings as though to confirm they were in tune. Satisfied, she raised her face, eyes closed, and strummed a chord.
The crowd sighed as one. Brendan felt his heart lift on the resonating sound of the harp. All at once, Deirdre’s fingers exploded in a flurry of movement. She was joined by instruments of every description played here and there throughout the gathered crowd. The sound was overwhelming, consuming. It drove deep inside Brendan, taking control of his body. He began to dance with abandon, flailing his limbs like a maniac. It felt good!
He was aware that others were dancing, spinning, and whirling around him. He paid no attention to individuals. A particle in a hurricane, a dust speck in a tornado, he lost himself in a gyre of pure joy. All his worries melted away. He was aware of only the pulse of the music and the beat of his heart.
The music swelled and sped up. He was a spinning top, a planet rotating, the slowly turning galaxy. Everything was moving like a giant clock, and he was a part
of that vast timepiece, tiny but still important. He belonged.
Then the music stopped dead.
He staggered to a halt, streaming with sweat. All around him Faeries were panting and laughing, utterly spent. Lesser Faeries littered the ground like fallen leaves. Exhausted laughter wafted up from all over the Faerground as people caught their breath.
Brendan felt elated. It was as though all the tension in his body had been burned away. He looked around at the Faeries as they clasped hands and laughed, sharing the experience, and he felt joy at being a part of this world. There were good things in it if he let himself enjoy them. In this new state of mind he felt unafraid, even of the Proving, whatever that should turn out to entail. He felt happy.
He looked around to find Charlie to share the feeling but she was nowhere near. He cast his gaze wider. Where did she go? He spun around slowly, trying to pick her out of the crowd.
That’s when he saw Delia.
She was standing at the very edge of the Faerground in the shadow of a tent. The sun was down now so she was partially obscured by darkness, but there was no mistaking her blond hair. She was wearing the pink ski jacket she’d had on back at the house when she’d gone out. She wasn’t even trying to hide herself. Obviously, from the disbelieving look on her face, she’d been watching the ceremony. Hundreds of people in a dancing frenzy was probably a pretty weird thing to walk in on.
Any peace that had existed in Brendan’s soul was replaced with terror. What happened to Humans who walked in on Faerie rituals? He didn’t know but it couldn’t be good.61
“That was amazing, wasn’t it?”
Brendan turned to find Kim beside him. She was flushed from dancing and her hair was dishevelled. In spite of his terror, some part of his mind was aware that she looked very beautiful. She was smiling brightly and her eyes danced. When she saw his eyes, however, her smile vanished.
“What’s wrong?”
“My sister’s here,” Brendan whispered.
“Your sister!” Kim practically shouted.
Brendan grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the closest Faeries. “Quiet!” he hissed urgently. “She’s over by the tent with the red stripes. See her?”
Kim scanned the area and nodded. “How?” Kim asked. “How did she get to the island?”
“If I knew, I’d tell you. I’ve got to get her out of here before someone else sees her.”
“You can’t leave. They’re about to call you forward for the Proving.”
Brendan groaned. “What am I gonna do?”
At that moment, three boys joined his sister. Brendan recognized Harold and Dmitri. He took an instant longer to recognize the third boy as Chester Dallaire. “What is he doing here?”
Brendan’s thought was interrupted by Ariel’s voice.
“Brendan, Son of Briach Morn. Step forward.”
Brendan froze. He didn’t know what to do.
Kim took his face in her hands. “Go. I’ll take care of this. Good luck.”
She whirled away, weaving through the crowd to where Delia and the boys stood.
Dazed, filled with worry, Brendan tore his eyes away from her progress and turned to face the judges. He took a deep breath and walked through the crowd. The Faeries parted to let him pass.
Delia couldn’t believe what she was seeing. It was like a scene from a movie or an insane dream. She had run ahead of the others through the maze of fluttering tents, following the eerie, throbbing music until she arrived on the edge of an open space filled with these bizarre people, all in the throes of a frenzied dance. A woman in white stood on a large stone. She played a harp with furious passion. Other instruments accompanied her from here and there in the crowd. A DJ at a table supplemented the sound. The scene reminded Delia of a rave, only the music was so much more hypnotic and compelling. She felt the urge to leap out among the dancers and join them in their state of abandon. She was on the verge of doing exactly that when the music suddenly stopped.
Delia felt bereft, as if someone had torn a part of her soul away. She longed to hear the music again, but the woman in white was stepping down from the stone. Delia tried to focus. She scanned the crowd, looking for Brendan. Chester, Harold, and Dmitri arrived.
“Holy crap,” Harold whispered.
“What’s going up?” Dmitri asked in wonder.
Chester didn’t say anything. He just took in the whole sight, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.
Delia ignored them, searching for Brendan. At last, she picked him out. To her chagrin, he was staring straight at her. Kim was with him. She swung her head and locked eyes with Delia.
“Uh-oh,” Delia breathed.
At that moment, someone called out Brendan’s name. Delia’s adopted brother reluctantly turned away to answer the summons of the pale guy who now stood on the rock. Kim, on the other hand, started weaving her way through the crowd. She wore a look of grim determination. She was heading straight for the little group of spies.
“Run!” Delia cried. Turning on her heel, she followed her own advice.
She didn’t have a plan. She was just trying to get away. Harold, Dmitri, and Chester set off after her. They wound their way through the maze, walls of silk funnelling them along.
“Stop!” Kim’s voice called to them. “Guys, wait!”
They paid no attention. All of them were driven by a desire to be far away from this place as soon as possible. They were on the verge of panic.
Suddenly, a young girl stood in their path. She wore a hoodie and jeans. She was Human. One of them!
“Come,” the girl said urgently. “Hide in here.” She held open the flap of a tent and motioned them inside. Something about her inspired trust. Delia made a decision. She didn’t want to be caught. It was hard to think. Something was keeping her from concentrating.
“In here, guys,” the girl cried and led the boys into the tent. Delia ducked in after her.
Kim pelted around a corner to find the way empty. She had been gaining on the little group of interlopers. All she wanted to do was get them away from the Faerground and off the island before they were discovered. Now they were nowhere to be seen.
Puzzled, she stood in the alleyway between the tents, wondering how she could have missed them. Without any other options, she decided to retrace her steps. Slowly, listening hard, she jogged back toward the Faerground, passing the closed flap of the tent where the group was huddled, waiting for her to leave.
When they were confident Kim was gone, the group of Humans let out a collective sigh of relief. In the gloom of the tent’s interior they allowed themselves to relax.
“That was close,” Delia said.
“She almost caught us,” Harold added.
Dmitri frowned. “Would that have been so bad?” They all looked at him, confused. In response, he shrugged and continued. “I mean, why did we get so panicked? We just ran. Doesn’t that strike you as an odd thing to do? There was no reason to assume that Kim meant to hurt us.”
Harold thought about that. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. I just felt this total panic. I had to run.”
Delia realized they were right. “I don’t know.”
“Something made us do it,” Chester said heavily. “Or someone. Where is she?”
“Who?” Delia asked, confused.
“The girl,” Chester said. “The one who told us to hide here.”
“Uh … ” Delia couldn’t concentrate.
“Here I am!” came a playful voice from the gloom. A girl danced out into the light of the single lamp that hung from a tent pole. In the golden light, all pretense of Humanity was gone. As she came out of the shadows, she cast aside the hoodie. Beneath it she wore a ragged black dress, and her hair stood out in a wild tangle around her pale, childlike face. Her eyes had a mad gleam. She grinned, displaying glittering pointed teeth. “Who wants to play with me?”
Instinctively, the group backed toward the tent flap. They turned to flee but found the opening filled with the bulk of a
tall, silver-haired man with cold grey eyes.
Chester stepped in front of the others and raised his hands in a defensive stance.
“Let us go,” he demanded.
The silver-haired man tilted his head to one side and stared at the boy as if considering the challenge, then said a single word.
“No.”
60 Most Humans see what they want to see, what is easiest to believe. We explain away the amazing by convincing ourselves that magical, bizarre, or impossible events have mundane causes. UFOs are weather disturbances. Ghosts are hallucinations brought on by indigestion. Faeries use our willingness to disbelieve our eyes to help their glamours work. Brendan, an untried Faerie with little control of his powers, seems to have left an unconscious suggestion in Chester’s mind that allowed Chester to see the Faerie world. Now Chester has transferred his power of Sight to his friends, not because he has any Faerie abilities himself, but because he has made them want to see. No amount of will can turn me into a cat, however. Believe me. I’ve tried. A lot.
61 Indeed, it is not good, as we will soon discover.
PROVING
Delia! Always manages to be annoying. Now she’s annoying in two different worlds! I’ll kill her if somebody hasn’t already. So it was Harold and Dmitri who’d been spying on me, but Chester? How did he get involved? And how could my sister possibly stand dealing with my friends? She wouldn’t normally be caught dead with such nerds.
With effort, Brendan pushed the questions from his mind as he made his way through the crowd of silent Faeries. He had to have a clear head if he was going to succeed. The crowd watched him pass with watchful, appraising eyes. Here and there he saw someone he recognized.
Leonard stood with his massive arm around Saskia’s waist. He flashed his gold teeth in a smile and Saskia winked.
Og patted Brendan on the back, almost knocking him off his feet. “Good on ya, lad.”
BLT flitted out of the crowd. She didn’t speak. She merely tugged on his earlobe with both hands and zipped away.