On Fallen Wings

by Jamie McHenry

  “I don’t know,” I answered, shaking my head. “I’ve heard stories. He’ll need to leave the village to find one.”

  “You are worth the search, Rhiannon,” Eldon said. He stood and patted my knee lightly. “What did Sean demand?”

  “Armor. He asked for some armor.”

  “Oh, how exciting.” Eldon hopped up and down like a rabbit. “Will you have it made new for him? Are you going to search for something old?”

  I wanted to laugh after watching him dance. “I don’t know,” I said, covering my mouth to avoid rudeness. I sighed and leaned back. “I haven’t thought about it.”

  Eldon retook his place on the well ledge and leaned toward me. “Listen to me,” he said, quietly. “The gift of the bride should equal the gift of the groom. If you want the bindings of your marriage to last, you will put as much work into pleasing Sean with your offering, as he will for you.”

  “I want to.” I agreed with Eldon, although I hadn’t expected such advice from an old man. Especially, since he was right. Since the ceremony, I had offered less than a moment of thought about my gift for Sean. “What do you suggest?” I asked.

  “Find him something from the ancient days,” he answered. “A relic from the wars with Morgan.” Eldon’s eyes were bulging and eager. “For certain, shiny silver will sparkle in the light. How telling is that?” He was whispering again. “I know of a place where you might find a rare piece of history.” He owned my attention; this little man had a gift for that.

  I leaned toward him, curious. “Please tell me,” I said. “Where is it?”

  “Do you know the forest north of the mountain, next to the lake?”

  “Yes,” I answered. “It’s your family land. Sean and I plan to live there when we marry.”

  Eldon grinned. “Good for you, Rhiannon. Good for you. Go there and find the cave.” He hobbled back toward his small home.

  I fell out of the chair. “Wait!” I yelled. “Don’t leave.” I scrambled to my feet. “What cave? Where is it? Tell me more.”

  Eldon shook his head and pointed at Sean before disappearing behind his door.

  “I’m ready,” announced Sean. “Where would you like to eat?”

  I was piecing together the conversation I had experienced with Eldon when I caught myself ignoring my fiancé. “What?” I asked, blankly.

  “Are you okay?” asked Sean. He picked up the metal cup from the dirt and offered it to me. “I asked where you would like to eat.”

  “Let’s eat outside,” I said, taking the cup; it was empty. “I need the fresh air.”

  Sean was a polite host, and did his best to offer me the conveniences of a home meal while sitting at the well. The day had darkened, and he built a small fire near us that I appreciated for its warmth—I was still wet under my dress. He covered a wooden plate with more vegetables and bread than I was comfortable eating, and was kind enough to remember a cloth napkin with my knife and fork. His hands trembled as he arranged them neatly on the edge of the well.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, before I had taken a bite. He leaned close to my face and stared.

  The flames from the small fire highlighted his features, and made it impossible to watch the dark forest surrounding us. I shifted my legs nervously while swallowing a soggy beet. He had been eager to impress me and I didn’t want to hurt him, but this food could kill a person.

  “I don’t care for it,” I answered, honestly. “I must be used to Mother’s cooking.”

  Sean lowered his head. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “I understand.”

  Tiny logs in the fire cracked and sputtered, sending red sparks into the air.

  I lifted his chin to stare into his eyes. “No, you don’t.” I kissed him, and continued. “I’m marrying you, not my mother.” I shoved my plate aside. “Let me do the cooking when we marry—okay?”

  Sean stood and offered both hands to me. “That’s why I love you,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “You’re honest.” Then he stepped back and stared at me. “Plus, you’re beautiful by firelight. The flames add to the color of your hair.”

  Blood warmed my cheeks; I knew I was blushing. “Are those the only reasons you want to marry me?”

  “No,” Sean answered. “I love everything about you. I couldn’t dream of a better woman. You’re perfect.”

  I shrugged. “Leila was right.” I traced a circle in the dirt with one foot.

  “About what?”

  “I talk in my sleep,” I whispered. “That’s what my family tells me.” I looked at him. “Do you still want to marry me?”

  Sean chuckled. “I’m looking forward to finding out.” He stared at my eyes; I loved the way he looked at me. He kissed me on the forehead. “As much as I would like to sit with you forever, we should get you home.”

  I smiled and entertained a quick dream of the future, when I wouldn’t have to leave him at the end of an evening. “Yes, my parents will wonder what’s keeping us,” I answered, groaning with disappointment. “I need to rest. The last few days have been exceptionally long.”

  Sean draped an arm over me and we left his flickering courtyard, walking casually along the trail toward the village. I sifted his fingers through mine while swinging my arm between us. When we reached the main road, I stopped walking.

  “Goodnight,” I whispered, once again imagining the day when I wouldn’t have to leave Sean.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, pulling on my arm and stepping forward. “Don’t you want an escort?”

  I released his hand. “I want to walk alone and reflect on my thoughts.” At that moment, I allowed my love to shine through a wide smile. “I’ll be okay,” I told him. “I’m in love with you.”

  Sean pulled me close, and caressed my hair in long strokes down my back while we embraced.

  When he reached the end, I released him. “Have a good night.” I turned toward the village.

  “Dream of the future,” he said. “That’s where I’ll be.”

  ~ O ~

  The night was dark and the trees loomed over me as I walked through Aisling. A few homes had light in their windows. The air was thin and cool, while the smell of hickory smoke lingered everywhere. Aside from a few barking dogs in the distance, the village was quiet.

  Something moved in the bushes next to the road ahead of me and startled a gasp out of me. The back of my neck pricked, and I sensed that I was not alone in the night. I searched the darkness while proceeding cautiously.

  I heard the noise again.

  I stopped walking and stared at the night, catching mere shadows and distant flickers of light. Something was there.

  A man rose from the bushes, closer than I had expected anything to be. He walked toward me. His dark, curly hair twisted over his eyes. His smile revealed straight white teeth.

  “Are you in need of help?” I asked, taking a cautious step back.

  “I appreciate your offer, miss,” said the man, “but I am fine.” His voice was deep and polite, and unusual. This man was a foreigner. “May I ask your name?”

  At the calm manner of his voice, some of the tension left my shoulders. The man didn’t seem to be an enemy, although strangers were rare in Aisling, especially at night. I answered cautiously. “Rhiannon. My father is Neal Phillips, the horse trader.”

  The man waved an arm, catching moonlight on his sleeve that sparkled in blue. “I’m Darian.” His voice was wonderful. “It’s good to meet you.”

  “Are you staying in the village?” I caught myself smiling.

  “No,” said Darian. He brushed his hair away from his eyes. “I’m only visiting.”

  Curious, I peered around his shoulders at the forest behind him. “What were you doing in the bushes?”

  “Oh, I fell. I couldn’t see in the dark.”

  His answer made me laugh. “I understand that,” I said to him. “Aisling can be horribly dark at night. You should walk at the center of the road where the moonlight can reach you.”

  “Aisling
? Is that the name of this place?”

  Such a polite manner. Brilliance and wonder, this man was exceptionally strange. How did he not know the name of our village?

  “Yes,” I told him. I started walking again and waved goodbye. “I need to return home, now. Enjoy your visit.”

  “Thank you,” said Darian.

  I left him standing in the road, but when I turned back for a final look, Darian had already disappeared. The man was strange, and his voice lingered in my head the rest of my journey home.

  Tree Council

  The Elders held council every week. Father had always claimed its importance to village affairs, while Mother called it an excuse to drink. By contrast, a Fae gathering—outside of a celebration—was a rarity. For two days at each turning of the season, we would gather at Stone Meadow to mingle, dance, learn, or write; otherwise, the twenty-seven of us lived as village life demanded.

  Traditions made the Fae strong, just as the changing of the leaves marked every season. We honored nature with our dances and kept the history of Aisling in our stories and words. That was our calling. The Elders gave leadership while the Fae offered blessings, for only faeries could heal. But no rule came to pass in Aisling without consent of the Fae.

  A visit to the temple was the most cherished moment that I knew. When invited there, an occasion demanded our attention. Three days after my Day of Promise, I walked across the road between our houses and along the flat stones leading to Madeline’s front door. We were going to the temple for a gathering.

  A chilly wind blew past, carrying colorful leaves through the forest. I pulled my shawl tight. Although no warmth came from it, it brought familiar comfort. Her door opened when I arrived and Madeline stood facing me. She was also dressed in her white gown, covered with her golden shawl and hood. Tiny white angel flowers weaved through her braided hair.

  “Come inside,” she said, smiling, “you look cold.” Her voice was warm and soft. It reminded me of a songbird on a summer day.

  Madeline held out her arms in greeting. With thanks, I accepted her embrace and followed my friend inside. In the warm sitting room at the end of the hall, I chose a seat on her plush pink couch.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Madeline. She sat next to me and folded her arms.

  “No, thank you.”

  While we chatted about the day, Colin entered the little room. He wore a cream tunic and short pants that exposed his pale bare feet. He reclined on the wooden bench across from us and crossed his legs.

  “Do you know what’s happening?” I finally asked Madeline, distracted by Colin’s wiggling toes. “Why have they called for a Tree Council?”

  She patted my leg. “Your father didn’t tell you?”

  “No,” I answered, shaking my head. “He’s been quiet the last few days.”

  “The weather is turning,” said Colin. “With trouble in the village and a new season upon us, we must prepare.” He switched legs.

  I tried to look straight at him, but kept glancing down at his feet. Dangling toes wasn’t the impression I expected from the Chief Elder. I wondered if Sean would display the same bold behavior, once we were married, and cringed at the thought.

  Colin continued. “We need a village security review. The Elders asked the Fae for help, in preparation for the Moon Season Celebration.”

  “Oh.” I reflected back to the trouble at Stone Meadow; it already seemed long ago. I didn’t want to dwell on that, so I turned to Madeline. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, dear.” Madeline leaned across the room to kiss her husband.

  I left them and walked down the hall toward the front door. Madeline followed, pulling Colin in hand behind her. I allowed them to open the door for me, and wished Colin good day, before daring myself to venture back into the cold.

  Madeline pulled her shawl tight around her shoulders and reached around me. Then side-by-side, we left her yard and hurried down the road. As we walked, huddled together to block the wind, we joined more faeries, all properly dressed for the gathering. Most of them nodded silent greetings. A few offered me brief wishes of good fortune. It was too cold to mingle much, and we were all in a rush.

  Our group grew to two dozen beautiful women, all bundled close and tight while scurrying toward the western edge of Aisling. Overhead, gray clouds swirled and twisted as they challenged the biting wind, and all around, colorful leaves spiraled past and painted the landscape. When we arrived at the grove of white aspens surrounding the faerie temple, the wind ceased. Grown naturally tight together, these trees provided excellent shelter from the tiny gales of nature. They also only allowed us single file passage. We covered our heads with golden reverence and entered the dark thicket, quietly following one another until deep in the forest center.

  Always twenty-seven in number, the Fae alone held privileged access to this sacred shrine; the Aspen Grove had held its secret forever. Access to the grove was forbidden, except by invitation from the Faerie Queen. I had only been there twice. The first time was seven years ago, when I was chosen to enter the Sisterhood. The second was the previous Moon Season, when we welcomed my friend Abigail Bree into the order, after the passing of Ophelie Tanner, her Giver.

  No one spoke, and we walked swift and steadfast between the trees, taking silent steps and angled turns too numerous to count. When we reached the temple’s entrance, I stared at the nine trees that formed its walls. Their wide trunks reached high into the heavens—much higher than the surrounding aspens. Thin leaves, suspended high above by the trees’ short branches, remained forever green, and tiny angel vines sprouted from the soil and wrapped around each trunk until reaching the leaves, where they blossomed into tiny white flowers. In the center clearing between the trees, nestled in clover, stood a short stone altar that angled toward the ground. Hidden beneath, lay the sacred record of Aisling, the Fae Scrolls.

  Like a whispering breeze that touched nothing, save our consciousness, the moment opened before me. I knelt as an overwhelming feeling of peace surrounded me. The other faeries must have felt the same; they also fell in reverence. Some of the women wept.

  This was the temple.

  When the moment passed, I stood and approached the center of the meadow, choosing a position among the women around the altar. I glanced shyly at their faces; they were all pale from the cold and curious, as I was, of the occasion. Everyone was present—all twenty-seven. We were women connected by the sacred order of healing and love.

  Raisa Bannon, the Faerie Queen, spoke first. “Ladies of the Fae,” she said, “a dark cloud is passing over Aisling, and we must take action to preserve the nature of our being.”

  Her words filled me with sudden foreboding.

  Raisa continued. “I have requested this council because there is a danger among us, and we must protect all who live in the boundaries of our lands. Such is our duty and our calling.”

  Whispers filled the small clearing like a stream passing over small stones. It gathered speed as it continued.

  Raisa raised her arms to quiet us. “Please bring the altar key.”

  We gasped, realizing what was about to happen.

  Gaelle Jenners slipped gracefully between the Fae and presented a palm-sized ruby star. After several women moved aside, she knelt in front of the altar and placed the crystal on a matching depression in the rock. It glowed for a moment, showering her face with brilliant red and shimmering gold. She twisted the star, allowing the stone to turn and open. Everyone stood silently. I tried to remember to breathe. Gaelle reached under the altar and retrieved a leather-covered parchment—the Fae Scrolls.

  I stared, awestruck, as Gaelle placed the scrolls upon the altar. I had only seen the scrolls at one other gathering. They were our most sacred possession; they held the secrets of Aisling. Within them lay a thousand years of records, or more.

  All of us leaned forward, protecting the record with our reverence and eagerness to watch. Gaelle retrieved a pouch of ink and a swan quill from inside the stone case
ment. She unwound the scrolls, revealing centuries of their secret record, and wrote as directed.

  “Please note,” said Raisa, “with twenty-one nights until peak of the Moon Season. We require each person in Aisling, away from their home after dusk, to travel with a host.”

  I held my breath. Soft gasps filled the space of the temple; however, no one spoke.

  Raisa continued. “During these nights, a stranger—an unknown bandit—visits our village and steals from our homes. Until the veil of danger has passed us, the Elders have decided that all strangers will be forbidden in Aisling.” She waited until Gaelle stopped inscribing, and then placed a hand on her arm. “Thank you,” she whispered. Raisa turned toward the rest of us. “These are the terms presented and noted in the scrolls. I open the council for discussion and approval.”

  So many questions rushed into me that I felt like I would burst. I stayed silent; however, knowing that I would be the second to last to talk. The Fae were given authority to speak at a council by age, and I was almost the youngest. I smiled at Abigail.

  Dylia spoke first. She walked to the altar next to Raisa and stared at us. Her eyes were wide and her hands trembled. “Faeries, I’ve seen many shadows in our village. I remember the floods of years past, the earthquake of darkness, and I was a young child during the wars with Morgan. I tell you this, because the fear that encircles Aisling is a dark shadow. We have a duty—each of us—as Faeries of Aisling, to ensure the health of our family and our friends. This is a good council and these are wise decisions.” She bowed before stepping back into the crowd.

  I took a breath, amazed at Dylia’s speech. I had never heard her speak so much at one time. At eighty, Dylia was the eldest faerie.

  “How long will the terms last?” Kiera stepped forward. She was a relative, a cousin to my mother. Her black hair trailed in dark contrast to the stitched golden weave of her shawl and hood. “That is my question. I think each one of you must decide how long you will live in fear. Thank you.” She disappeared into the crowd.