Twelve Dancing Witnesses

by Elizabeth A Reeves

  “The thing is,” I said, “I know you think I am bad at Magic. You have told me so enough times over the years to make that very clear. What I never told you is that I can speak to Magic and it can communicate with me.”

  My parents’ heads jerked up in near unison. They stared at me.

  “Yes,” I said. “Magic can understand far more than anyone believes. And Magic is unhappy at the way it has been manipulated. Magic is not happy with the idea of evil Fairy Godmothers. Magic loves good Godparents. Magic is like a child. It loves stories and beauty and love. It doesn’t like being taken advantage of or harnessed to the whims of the Godmothers and Godfathers. Because of you and others like you, Magic has tasted sorrow and been tainted with blood. You all have done that.”

  My mother began to weep, softly.

  “What can we do?” my father asked.

  “You can start by telling us everything you know,” Dallan said.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Life was so much easier when I took for granted that I was one of the good guys.

  There were nearly seven hundred active Fairy Godparents in the world. Of them, only a hundred had been cleared of wrongdoing. And, of those, only a handful were truly innocent, with no more awareness of the corruption in our ranks than I had had.

  The prison sky island, the council sky island, and my family’s compound were all being used as holding grounds while Astraea and Dallan sorted out just how to process the guilty.

  And that was just the fairies involved, not their families, their allies—both human and Magical—not the kings and queens they were racketeering.

  The rot was so deep, so widespread, I was desperately trying not to despair that anything could ever be set right again.

  The repercussions didn’t just affect our part of the world. With Godparents pulled out of their kingdoms, the human lands were also in turmoil. Whenever there was a vacancy in lines of power, others were always willing to rush in to take their place. There were clear signs of this being the case now.

  Kingdoms were invading other kingdoms. Tribes were being oppressed by new laws that stole their land from them and forced them into a fraction of their needed territories. Unrest was flaring up even in the most unlikely places.

  Chaos, in all its forms, was starting to descend.

  I felt like I was trying to bail out a sinking ship with a thimble. And I wasn’t even one of the beings in charge of this worldwide fiasco.

  Despite my best efforts, Magic was starting to be involved in the imbalance, too. How could it not be? Too many spells and traditions had been halted at random points or, in some cases, purposely set awry to cause as much mischief as possible.

  I found myself delegated into the role of fielding Magical woes while Dallan and Astraea started the never-ending process of interviewing every Fairy Godparent with even the slightest connection to the webs of corruption. There was no way I would ever be able to do it all myself. Instead, I had a small committee of twenty-odd fairies that we knew without a doubt had been as innocent and unaware as I was.

  As the only fairy, that I knew of, that spoke directly to Magic, I had to be the one in charge. And usually I was the one that had to fly to the troubled kingdom or stormfront to do my best to set things to rights.

  It was exhausting and I didn’t feel like I was making any progress at all.

  Without the help of the dragons, it would have been absolutely impossible.

  Robin, a green-haired, bark-brown skinned fairy with wings like an enormous dragonfly, stuck his head into my “office”, which was more or less my kitchen table. It was the only place in my house that I was comfortable with having open to even part of what could be considered the public.

  “Yes, Goodfellow?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. I’d been passing notes back and forth to Dallan and Astraea via lesser dragons, in an attempt to keep everyone on the same page. I’d read more pages today than I thought I’d ever done before in my life.

  And I liked to read, usually.

  “Another dragon,” he said, with a wide grin that seemed to occupy most of his face.

  Despite his appearances, which was that of a pubescent boy, Robin was one of the oldest Fairy Godparents in existence. My guess was that he’d been incorruptible because he was so connected with Magic and nature. It would have been contrary to his very nature to use his knowledge for self-gain.

  I immediately rose to my feet. I would have welcomed any distraction at this stage, but a dragon was probably the most helpful distraction of all.

  It turned out, and I had learned this because the dragons had deigned to inform me, that dragons were even more useful when it came to taming and controlling Magic than humans were.

  Before the humans entered this land, I’d been informed, rather tartly by one of my larger housemates, it was dragons that kept the Chaos from pulling the world to pieces. Some even say that the tears between our world and the others were made by the Greatest of all dragons.

  This information couldn’t have been more welcome. And, apparently, I was the chosen liaison between fairies and dragons because I already lived as part of a dragon clan! I hadn’t quite realized that, but retrospectively it made a lot of sense.

  I hurried out of my kitchen door, through the small half-enclosed kitchen garden, towards the stables. I didn’t need Robin to show me where to go because our latest guest was enormous.

  There was a kingdom I’d heard of that claimed that our world would end at the twitch of a dragon’s tail. If that was true, it would be from a dragon such as this one.

  Greater dragons never quite finished growing. By the size of this one, she was by far the most ancient dragon I had ever seen. It took all my will not to prostrate myself on the ground in front of her out of sheer awe and not just a touch of terror.

  Her head dwarfed my stables. She was a sort of shimmering black and purple color, with a scattering of green and lavender scales that made me feel like I was staring at the night sky through the still waters of a grand lake. She had two twisting black horns on the top of her head. If she held still, I suspected that they could be mistaken for mountains.

  If she had stood to her full height, I would have had to ride a longma into the clouds to speak to her. Politely, she had chosen to rest her head on her front arms and watch me arrive with an extremely mild expression in her shimmering, fathomless eyes.

  I curtsied as low as I could. I was at an utter loss for words just being in her presence.

  As seemed usual for me and dragons, I could feel her amusement reach out and embrace me.

  So, you are the blue fairy everyone has been telling me about. A soft puff of air escaped one of her nostrils and nearly knocked me off my feet. I hated to think what would happen if she intentionally tried to do… well, pretty much anything.

  “Yes, Great One,” I said, regaining my feet enough to curtsy again. “I am honored to stand before you. Is there someway I can be of service to you?”

  She chuckled. Her eyes flashed in rainbows of colors at her apparent amusement. The woods creaked and rumbled ominously under her weight.

  I have come to assist you, Little One, she said. I was awakened by the touch of Chaos. My little friends told me that you were the one fighting to regain balance and order.

  I thought she was speaking about Flit and his comrades for a moment, then I looked over my shoulder and saw that the Greater Dragons that lived in the caverns beneath my house and shared my space with me were all lined up reverently, watching us.

  Any one of them could have swallowed me whole without thinking. Little. Huh.

  What did that make me?

  “I’m sorry, Great One,” I said. “I’m not being rude, I promise. What can you do to help? For we are in desperate need. The storms keep getting worse and the humans are…”

  Losing their faith in Magic and devolving into the brutes they were in their own world, she finished for me.

  Not quite my thoughts, but they would serve.

  She
blinked slowly. I could feel calm and peace wash over me.

  This is what I do, she explained. My gift is Peace. I have worked in accord with Justice and Mercy in the past. Now I have come to see you. I am Shanti.

  “I am Grace,” I said.

  She laughed again, carefully so as not to destroy the stables or the woods around us. Are you, then?

  She tilted her head and I looked right into her great eye, which was larger than a tree was tall. I will do this for this world, but if I ask you for something in return, will you do it?

  I nodded immediately. “Yes, of course. If I can help bring balance and peace back to the world, how could I not agree?”

  She let out a long, soft breath.

  When the Magic takes you, remember who you are.

  Then, as I was watching, she drew in a great breath and let it out. As her breath left her body, I could see her sinking deeper and deeper into the ground. I couldn’t tell if she was becoming the earth or the earth was rising up to be part of her, but soon they became indistinguishable.

  All that was left was a green, grassy hill covered with trees and flowers.

  She’ll rise again when she is needed, the white dragon from my house told me. We are more closely tied to this land, to this world, than you ever knew. Remember this.

  I nodded, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing to remember. I wasn’t sure I understood anything that had happened since Robin came into the house for me.

  Shanti’s last admonition make the least amount of sense. Remember who I was?

  I might not have understood the dragon or what she’d done, but I could feel the change immediately. Magic had been swirling around me in a frenzied sort of way ever since we’d freed Orionis. That turmoil had only increased with every fairy dismissed from her station, every kingdom left without a Guardian.

  Now, soothed as if by a lullaby, it danced gently, still moving, with none of the agitation that had filled it for so long. Even the forest felt deeper, restful and tranquil. I could feel the sensation radiating from the hill where Shanti had vanished. Been absorbed? Turned to earth? Shifted to another form?

  Whatever the case, I would make sure nothing harmed her until she was needed to rise again.

  I whispered my gratitude and hurried to the house. I had more letters to write and a new query. Could they sense the new peace we had been given?

  Would it be enough?

  How long could peace last? I could only hope long enough to buy us time to set things in order and redesign our world.

  Or else we might be preparing for the end of our world.

  And Gloriana, in the human world, might very well turn out to be the last fairy alive.

  Something told me that this would be enough. We still had a long road ahead of us, but, if we took advantage of Shanti’s gift, we would be able to succeed in restoring balance and holding off Chaos.

  I had to believe that.

  If not, what were we fighting for?

  Chapter Twenty

  Peace didn’t solve everything in an instant, but it did allow us the time to address each fairy and each kingdom fairly and appropriately.

  It was still tedious, exhausting, and heartbreaking.

  After days, weeks, of questioning and trying to fit the pieces together, we were starting to get a real grasp of just how deep this ancient, ugly beast of an organization had been feeding right under our noses. And so many times sitting right next to us.

  Their crimes were shocking. Their lack of shame, in so many cases, devastating. There had been entire kingdoms destroyed, humans murdered as if they merited less than pests, Magic pulled out of the land until nothing could ever grow there again. Blood stained fields that were now so haunted it would take the Bellatrices and all their unicorns to heal them again.

  Orionis had been an example of the least cruel of their actions. That such a simple Magic factory had led to their downfall seemed to particularly annoy many of them.

  And what had they gained from all this blood and death and pain and theft?

  Magic they could control completely. Youth. Beauty. Control.

  Power.

  It came down to just that one thing.

  Power.

  They’d been given so much, we all had, and it only made them hungry for more and more and more.

  We managed to steal a few hours away to have a meal together and rest. Dallan looked particularly drained. This sort of situation always took so much out of him. Astraea wasn’t doing much better. They were both exhausted and driven to their absolute limits.

  “So, the fairy I spoke to today said that they would have had control of the entire world in just one more century,” Dallan said, picking at his dinner with disinterest, even though I knew his house had prepared his favorite for him.

  We were sitting in their dining room, just the three of us.

  “Every king in place would have been put there by them,” Astraea said, stabbing at a vegetable with unneeded fervor. “Every government there, every human, every Magical creature, everything… under their power and controlled.”

  “All dissenters made an example and executed,” Dallan added drearily.

  I shuddered at that image of the world. Even the human world wasn’t that bleak, and it was the closest we fairies had to hell.

  “What will happen now?” I asked. Fair or not, the fates of all these fairies, the fate of the world, lay in their hands. I did not envy them the task. I did try to make it lighter, but how could I? I wasn’t Justice. I wasn’t Mercy.

  I was just a novice Fairy Godmother who hadn’t even earned her wings.

  “Justice demands restitution,” Astraea said. “They cannot be let free again. They must be punished for their crimes. An eye for an eye. There must be recompense.”

  Dallan rubbed his face with his hands. “Mercy demands leniency. We must allow them the time and opportunity to change. We cannot know what they might accomplish if we are hasty to punish them.”

  “Can’t Justice and Mercy both be satisfied?” I asked.

  They sighed in unison.

  “Usually we can find the balance,” Astraea said. She pushed her plate away and set both of her elbows on the table so she could lean her head in her hands.

  “Usually we can satisfy Justice’s need for fairness and equity and Mercy’s need for clemency and forgiveness. This… there are too many fairies involved. It muddies the waters and makes it impossible to find one solution that… works.” Dallan struck at the table with a fist in an uncharacteristic motion of helplessness.

  “I wish I could help,” I said quietly.

  “We do, too,” Astraea said. “We will find our way. We have to. Maybe we will find it in the middle of all these testimonies and accusations. Maybe what we need will just appear in front of us, waving the answers like a flag.” She snorted softly. “I’m exhausted. I need to get a few hours of sleep, preferably without nightmares.”

  Dallan nodded in agreement and lumbered up to his feet. “What you did with the dragons has helped enormously,” he said, patting my shoulder in an absent sort of way. I didn’t let it offend me. I knew he was beyond exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally.

  “It was all Shanti,” I answered. “Just how many creatures like you, Astraea, and Shanti are out there?”

  Dallan yawned, his jaw making an ominous cracking sound. He shook his head. “Four,” he said. “I’m sorry, my love, but I can’t seem to stay awake.” He bent and kissed my forehead.

  I rode Agape back to my house, my mind jumbled and full of half-realized thoughts and ideas. If I could only find a way to make this all go away, I would. If I could face those fairies and make them good again, instead of contaminated and all twisted up inside… that would be…

  I shook my head. Answers in the real world were never that easy. Tyrants didn’t step down, they had to be overthrown. Narcissistic princes didn’t just become decent human beings, they had to see their inner selves reflected in an outer beast. It w
as the hardworking girls who were blessed with glass slippers. It was the clever and compassionate boys who listen to cats and foxes, who defeated the ogre and became kings.

  Magic never just fixed things. It could only draw things to their logical conclusion. Maybe it helped push the wicked to their just desserts and the hardworking and clever to their rewards. Maybe, in its own way, it tried to keep that delicate balance between Justice and Mercy.

  But Magic didn’t solve problems, it just rewarded those who came up with solutions. It hadn’t been able to warn us about the evil that walked among us. And it couldn’t tell us how to make things all right again.

  That was up to us.

  Well, up to Dallan and Astraea, but I wasn’t going to let them carry this burden on their own. That just wouldn’t be right. I might only be able to offer a little help, but maybe it would be enough.

  I spent the next few days as a recorder and assistant in the interviews that still dragged on. I found that I could focus on my writing and use that to not get sucked completely down into a bog of despair at what I was writing.

  I wondered if Dallan and Astraea kept their distance so as not to be overwhelmed by all they heard. Then I realized, they didn’t. They couldn’t make fair decisions and understand what needed to be done unless they fully understood, in a deep, meaningful way, what had happened.

  How terrible it would be for our world if our greatest Guardians didn’t feel enough? If they kept distant and untouched when faced with atrocities. What would happen if they became numb?

  If they didn’t feel what we heard, how could they ever hope to prevent it from happening again?

  The key here wasn’t distance and self-protection. It was to feel. It was to understand. It was to ache and bleed and mourn.

  How could someone numb to pain offer either Justice or Mercy?

  Impossible.

  Their ability to feel was what made them able to serve at all.

  Realizing that, I tried to listen more carefully. I tried to really understand and feel what it is that these fairies—most of whom I had known all my life—had done. They had twisted their lives of service to only serve themselves. They had plundered and murdered and manipulated. It was easier when I didn’t listen. Acknowledging the truth sort of… accumulated. The knowledge, the reality, all felt like an enormous weight pushing down on me.