Whisper and Rise

by Jamie Day

  I drank first; the sweet flow of heaven consumed me; no drink had ever filled me with such goodness. When the first sip was finished, I allowed the flavor to linger on my tongue before dipping the spout again. I offered the glass jug to Darian. “You need this,” I said, “more than I.”

  Darian’s eyes widened—I understood his apprehension—while he slowly knelt forward.

  “It’s okay,” I told him. I squeezed Father’s waist. “My father won’t hurt you.”

  Father was tense, but didn’t move. He watched Darian with caution as he stepped forward and took the jug. Darian chose a place near enough to reach, but far enough to scramble away, if needed. I smiled at his gesture; both he and my father shared the same distrust for one another. Distrust that I understood.

  We were an awkward trio, cautious and unsure of each other. Like thorns and roses, we belonged in the same space, each serving our own purposes.

  I grabbed the bread and tore it in two pieces. I held tight to one and handed the larger morsel to Darian. He was absorbing the cider—the curl on his lips revealed that he liked it—and held to the jar with both hands. With a loud sigh of acceptance, he lowered the jar and took the bread.

  “Thank you,” he said, wiping his mouth. He tore a bite with his teeth as I did the same.

  There was no need for manners in this drafty wet cave, but Darian tried to be polite.

  “Eleven homes were lost to the flames,” my father told us, “including ours. We’re staying in the barn, for now.”

  “Who started the fires, Father?” I leaned closer. “Has that been discovered?”

  Father shook his head. “Most people blame Morgan.” He nodded toward Darian. “Some blame you.” Then he took a long breath. “Everyone wants revenge.”

  For a moment, the crackle of the fire was the only sound in the cave. No one spoke, and all of us remained collected in our thoughts. Revenge. My entire life, I had been taught to fear the men from Morgan. Only this morning, I had been there. It wasn’t the men of Morgan I feared, it was the men of Aisling who had taken me captive. If revenge was brewing in the heart of Aisling, then war wasn’t far off.

  Father finally spoke again. “We thought the worst of it was over, but yesterday a messenger discovered one of the faeries had died.”

  “Dylia.” I choked on my breath.

  The march to Evermore is tomorrow.” Father looked up. His eyes had a meaning that demanded I attend the ceremony.

  “I won’t go.” I wiped tears from my face. “I want to, I need to, but I’m in danger in the village.”

  Father released his warmth and moved away from me. “Your game is over, Rhiannon,” he said, voicing his authority. “You didn’t find your horse. Come home and resume living.”

  “I think someone in Aisling is trying to kill me. Cameron Barry shot arrows at us. Tristan Olds was our guard. Why would those men be in Morgan? Why would someone take us there?”

  Father’s quick glance of terror toward the cave opening told me that I had upset the balance of our safety. He crouched low again and shook his head. “Don’t speak like that again,” he warned. “There’s danger in those words, and more than to you.”

  “Of course, there’s danger,” I replied. “Don’t you know what I’ve been through the last few days?” I glanced at Darian. “What we’ve been through?”

  Father’s face didn’t change. “You’re not the only one in the village with an axe over her head, child. Haven’t you been listening? Someone died.”

  I didn’t like arguing with Father, but I needed him to know what I felt. I wasn’t sure who was responsible for my kidnapping, but I knew he could help me, if he would listen. I decided to let him speak. “Then, tell us—what danger is there? What’s happening?”

  Father shook his head. “Not in front of the bandit.” He pointed at Darian. “I don’t trust you.”

  Darian lowered his head. “I’ll leave.”

  “No!” I grabbed the remaining Andelin leaves and shoved them toward Darian. “You need to heal. Stay here.” I turned to Father and grabbed one of his hands. “We’ll go for a walk. I’ll show you my land.”

  Father’s surprised expression was exactly the response I was looking for to break the stiffness of the moment. As we left the cave and entered the forest, I heard Darian shuffling behind us. I didn’t look back to watch what he was doing.

  “Your land?” Father finally asked the question I had been expecting.

  I released his hand and spun in a circle. “This is where Sean and I had planned to live,” I told him, waving my arms as if circling the trees. “I bought it from Earl.” I chuckled at the surprised look my father offered. “Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”

  While we cut through the underbrush, I told him about my visit at the Bauer well. Then I shared the details of my adventures at DarMattey. Hearing my own voice tell the story, made me realize how childish I had acted then. In comparison to the nightmare I had endured in Morgan, DarMattey seemed like a vacation. Still, I kept talking. I described my flight from the town. I told him how I had forgotten the satchel with the deed. I explained that Madeline had kept it and it was safely at her home, I still hoped. When we arrived at the meadow, I ran to the top of the small hill and called to the wind.

  “This is where I belong,” I chanted. “I’m in fate’s palace.” I closed my eyes and spun some more, imagining all the good things in life that could happen here. I missed Sean, and saw him in my mind, but at that moment, I knew I could be happy anyway. After all, I had survived a kidnapping. When I stopped my trance, I opened my eyes—I felt dizzy—and looked at Father; his face hadn’t changed.

  “I wish you good fortune,” he said. His voice sounded sincere, but bore a sense of warning.

  “What, Father?” I demanded. “What is wrong with being happy? After all I’ve lived through, aren’t I allowed the fortune of peace? Don’t I get to smile—sometime?”

  Father held out his arms to beckon me.

  I drifted close and accepted his embrace. “This was where we were going to live,” I told him. My eyes grew misty. “In this meadow, I was going to be happy forever.”

  “We were all meant to be happy, but something has changed.”

  I felt my father’s chest tremble and looked at his eyes.

  “I can’t protect you here,” he said quietly. “No one can.”

  I swallowed my guilt. “I know.”

  “Then come home with me. Your mother misses you. Leila cries at night. And people in the village question where you’ve gone. You belong in the heart of Aisling.”

  “I miss you, too,” I said. “Why does the village care about me now? Why didn’t they care when Sean was missing? Why am I the only one who does anything?”

  “We acted.” Father’s voice was low. “The honest way.”

  I stepped away, understanding his meaning. “So, that’s it—the scrolls? I’m supposed to go back and live as the example of misfortune?” I started yelling. I felt a rush of anger rising to my cheeks. In my younger, carefree days, I had always pictured myself as calm and serene. But numerous times since Moon Season, I had come to realize that I was more like my father than I knew, especially in how my sense of injustice became so quickly inflamed. “I’m to live in the shadows of the Fae, so that everyone in Aisling can point at me and tell their children, ‘that’s what happens when you don’t obey?’” I shook my head. “That isn’t a fate that I desire. It’s mocking justice.”

  Father stood firm. I had expected him to yell back an insult, but he stood there, watching me. After a passing breeze that carried the scent of wildflower, he spoke again.

  “I don’t know what part of our fates you feel responsible for,” he said,” but war is coming. It’s closer than I’ve ever seen. Morgan is stronger than Aisling and soon the peace you’ve grown up with will melt into the fires of the solstice.” He took my hand and led me toward the lake. “You suspect there’s someone in the village that can’t be trusted.” He w
hispered as we walked. “Don’t speak of them to anyone. Ethan told me who he saw the night you were taken. He told me about Tristan and Cameron. If they are a part of the fires, then Cael Bauer might be involved.” Father paused. “Owen Dorsey might be.”

  “Owen? That doesn’t make sense. Owen is Nia’s father. He’s an Elder.”

  “That’s why I won’t say it again,” said my father. “His words have equal say as mine. If this trouble leads to war, and I’m wrong, then I could be marked as a traitor. Our family would be in danger.”

  “I’m afraid of war,” I told him. “But if I don’t find the scrolls, I’ll forever be the traitor you fear to become. If I don’t do this, and peace returns, what is there to worship? What are we protecting? Memories will weaken, and all that the Fae have ever been—all that I ever was—will fade to legend.” I squeezed my father’s hand. “Darian promised to help me find the scrolls.” I continued before Father could react. “I don’t think he took them from Cael.”

  “Rhiannon—”

  I took a larger breath of courage and interrupted. “So, we intend to find out who did. In return for his help, I’m going to help Darian.”

  Father shook his head, telling me that I hadn’t convinced him that I was doing the right thing.

  “You told me once that there’s more to this than we could understand. I know what you meant, now. You were right. Men from Aisling held me captive, Father. Aisling. I don’t know why, or who’s leading them, but someone in the village wants me dead.” I stared at my father and offered my honesty with a straight gaze. “And you want me to return to that?”

  We stood on the lakeshore and quietly watched the shadows lengthen. When the pause of night began—the silence before the night creatures’ reign, Father broke its tranquility.

  “I don’t trust him,” he said. I knew he meant Darian. “And you have reason not to.”

  “He’s my only hope at redemption,” I replied. “I need Darian to find the scrolls. He’s not welcome in Aisling and I don’t feel safe there anymore. And if I ever hope to find Maeia, I need to search these mountains. I must find her.” I held my breath as the words I wanted to say reached me. “She’s the only connection to Sean that I have left.” I leaned close to Father and offered my warmth. “Don’t you see? This is where I’m supposed to be.”

  A small ripple disturbed the still water, followed by another. Then a small wave lifted the glassy surface as a distant boat crossed toward Morgan.

  I pulled my father toward the trees and fell to the ground. The ground was hard there, unlike the rest of the forest, and hurt my knees, but I didn’t dare move.

  While the men in the boat rowed slowly, part of my mind marveled at their efficiency while the rest stirred new questions. Who were they? Did they work for Owen? Were they the men who had captured me? Though I didn’t believe my father’s words about Owen, doubt crept into my mind.

  “Are those the men?” asked Father.

  “I don’t know.” My heart pounded so loudly that I felt its noise would alert the men to our presence. I ducked lower and pressed both hands to my chest. As Father placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, I answered the question he didn’t ask. “No,” I told him, “I’m not okay. I’m still afraid.”

  “Let’s leave this lake,” he whispered. “There’s nothing good here.”

  We walked quieter than before, staying near the edge of the grass as we ventured toward the mountain. Nature was alive, its night whistles and chirps filled the trees and brush around us. A couple fireflies danced against a warm breeze, spinning their careless designs in the dark. Father was the first to notice the doe. He nudged me to stop and pointed. She was marvelous, almost hidden against the far trees. She stood on the hill of my meadow, backlit by the colors of the setting sun.

  She looked at us, aware of our intrusion, but remained calm and motionless. I wanted to reach to her, to touch her innocence and majesty. Deer were rare in Aisling. I had only seen them a few times in my life.

  I was still staring, admiring her beauty, when the wind whistled and the arrow struck her neck.

  Taya Zhan

  We didn’t have a chance to react. As quickly as the doe fell, her hunter pounced from the forest and finished her kill with a silent flash of a short blade. Amazed at the hunter’s efficiency, I stood and watched. I was shocked by the sudden death, but it was too late to save the animal. Father nudged me to flee into the trees, but before I could respond, the hunter spoke.

  “I know you’re there,” she said. “You can help me if you wish.”

  She. The hunter was a woman. I stared at her, questioning my own understanding. The hunter was nothing more than a blur of shadows in the dark—covered in gray and black. If not for the grass around her, I never would have known she knelt there.

  “Name yourself,” yelled Father, “and we’ll approach you in peace.”

  “Come or go, if you want,” the woman replied. “I’ll find you.”

  I gasped. No woman spoke to a man like that, especially to an Elder of Aisling. I expected my father to curse and command her, but he didn’t. Instead, he chuckled and wandered toward the hill.

  “Come on, Rhiannon,” Father said to me. “I like her.”

  Blood and flesh lay strewn in the grass while the hunter cut chunks of meat and stuffed it into little bags. Her hands were covered in red; they sliced and turned the gentle creature I had adored—moments earlier—into pieces and squared morsels to consume. Father stared at the woman with interest.

  “I’m Neal Phillips,” he told her, “horse trader and an Elder of Aisling.”

  She started to speak and, from the way she stepped backward, her response must have been a curt reply of disinterest that she decided not to reveal. “You didn’t look as large from the forest,” she said. Her voice was rough, like the shadows on her face, and the way that she looked at my father, gave me the impression she wasn’t accustomed to people looking down at her.

  “Who are you?” my Father asked.

  “I’m Taya Zhan,” she answered, quickly resuming her work on the animal’s flesh with motions that hinted her moments with the deer were to be only brief. “What’s wrong with the tall girl?”

  Girl? I knew she meant me—I was the only one around, but I was seventeen, not a girl to be spoken of like a child needing scolding.

  Father stared at me and grabbed my arm. “Are you all right, Rhiannon?”

  I shook my head, though not on purpose. “I’m dizzy,” I told him.

  “I’ve seen that before.” The woman stopped slicing and held out her bloody hand and short knife. She pointed at me to menace. “Not used to the forest, dear?” She twisted her last word.

  “I grew up in the forest.” My voice was defensive. “I’ve seen an animal cleaned and prepared before.”

  The woman’s groan revealed everything. She didn’t believe me and didn’t like me.

  My father, however, seemed fascinated by the strange hunter. “That’s an odd knife,” he said. “What type of bone handle is it?”

  I had settled to the ground. I saw the woman spin the blade in her hand, displaying a practiced whir of skill, before handing the knife to my father.

  “Grizzly,” she told him. “Their bones are the hardest to break—and the meat is just as durable.” She smiled and revealed a mouth of crooked teeth, some of them dark and broken. The woman had almost been beautiful, until she smiled.

  “You’re a long way from home,” announced Father, twisting the knife in his hand and caressing the curved blade with his fingers. “From the outer lands?”

  “No,” she answered curtly. “It’s not as far as you’d think.”

  I had stopped looking at the blood, but the deer’s warm smell lingered around us. I remembered the bones from my first visit to the cave and suddenly feared any animal that might come to investigate the kill. “We should go to the cave,” I said, holding my face with the palm of my hand. “It’s not safe here.”

  “Who is she?” The w
oman’s words blasted me with spite.

  “My daughter,” said Father. He nudged me away from the pile of open flesh. “Go, Rhiannon. Go to the cave and rest. I’ll arrive shortly.”

  My face warmed, which didn’t help my urge to fall over. I was suddenly an outcast on my own land, on the same hill I had chosen to live forever with Sean. This was my place, I had once danced a blessing here.

  “You may stay with us,” I said, courageously offering my hand toward Taya. When she didn’t take it, I drew it back, thankful that she hadn’t. “In the cave,” I continued. “We have a fire. You may cook there if you wish.”

  “I know how to make a fire, girl,” the woman scolded me. “Go there and rest. I might join you when I’m finished.”

  “Thank you, Rhiannon.” Father’s voice was kinder this time.

  I knelt for a moment, breathing in the courage to stand, before slowly walking away. As their voices faded behind me, I caught a few words of their conversation. Nomad, hunter, and west for the season. An outburst of laughter from the woman sent me running back toward the cave.

  The cave was empty when I arrived.

  “Hello?” I yelled, ignoring the echo that answered.

  “Back here,” answered Darian, his voice faint.

  Everything was missing. All of the supplies my father had displayed by the fire were gone. The fire. It was gone. How does a fire disappear entirely? The answers met me beyond the creaking of the gate. I hadn’t been through the bars since last season, and stopped for a moment to look at a broken lock on the ground covered in dirt. I remembered breaking it with Nia to gain access when we discovered this place.

  Beyond the gate and deep into the cave, Darian sat against a wall smacking happily on one of the apples I had declined. He still held a leaf against his injured arm. There was color in his face against the orange of the fire, and his voice sounded welcoming and warm. I smiled at his greeting.

  “Why are you back here?” I asked. “Haven’t you had enough of prisons?” I sat next to him and lifted the container of cider to my lips; its cold sweet flavor made my neck shiver. I closed my eyes to accept the moment. When I opened them, I searched for the remnants of the bread Father brought.