On Fallen Wings (6 page)

“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 casement. 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.

Heather, the most emotional of all the faeries, stepped before us and wiped her eyes using the sleeve of her gown. She traced a long finger on the edge of the scrolls. “This is our heritage,” she said, sniffling. Tears rolled down her face. “We must protect it. I cannot imagine a day when our grandchildren will not know about our past. When our customs and sacred rites melt into the river and wash away like forgotten stories.” She wiped her eyes again. “We can’t let that happen. We must banish the danger from our door.”

Several of the Fae nodded. I heard someone clap.

“I don’t agree,” said Cecilia, shaking her head while speaking. “We should strengthen our families by showing them that tradition is stronger than the passing threat of a single, mysterious bandit—whom no one has seen clearly. Let the faith in ourselves determine our strength.”

A few whispers filled the air.

Then Madeline spoke. “My dear sisters in faith, I trust you, and I love you all. I also love our village. While it is true that the dangerous villain remains unseen, I am aware of his crimes in the village. Tales of the lost have filled my home, firsthand accounts of the lives around you that have been affected by the danger. Possessions have been taken. Children are afraid of the night—worried that they might disappear. Our brothers and sisters in Aisling are suffering, and many of you know of whom I speak. Don’t let their loss be final. Help us protect each other, and—” She paused and lifted the edge of the scrolls. “Show prudence and caution to danger.” She bowed and stepped away.

Several more of the Fae stepped forward to share stories of stolen gold, and lost possessions. Evelynne described hearing several whispers on the night her home was robbed. Her amethyst ring had been stolen. It was a gift from her grandfather when she was a child. I listened attentively. Gaelle stood.

“I have seen someone,” she said.

The immediate silence in the temple was so overpowering that my ears hurt.

“It was a few nights past.”

Gasps echoed off the trees.

Gaelle pointed at me. “When you are allowed to speak, Rhiannon, please tell us about the stranger. The one you were with just a few nights ago.”

An icy chill flooded from my fingertips to my toes. “What?” I covered my mouth. I had spoken out of turn.

While all the Fae turned to look, I stared back at them with growing dismay as I realized that the golden-voiced stranger must have been the bandit.

Sadia spoke loudly. “I give my moment to Rhiannon. I want to hear her speak.”

I coughed, still terrified of the accusation. I took a deep breath and stepped toward the center of the temple. “I did meet a man,” I told the Fae.

Startled words and gasps rose around me like the rustling of leaves.

“The other night, I was walking home from the Bauer Well—after spending the day with Sean.” I paused and took another deep breath. “He isn’t from here, and spoke differently.” The memory of his voice belied my fears. I stood straighter; each word gave me courage. “But it was dark, I couldn’t see him well.”

“What did he say?” whispered Gaelle. She nudged me gently on the back with the palm of her hand.

“He didn’t say much,” I answered, loud enough to carry. “He was looking for something.”

Again, loud murmurs filled the crowd. Heather wailed and someone screamed.

“Was he cruel?” Abigail asked. “Did he threaten you?”

This was a breach in etiquette; however, no one objected.

“No,” I answered. “He was alone and he was kind.” I stood waiting. I had answered honestly, but as I recalled the night when I had met Darian, I realized the danger of our meeting. I groaned inwardly at the revelation. With nothing else to offer, I waited for another question. No clear voice spoke, so I stepped aside from the center of the circle and wiped my eyes.

It was Fawn’s turn to speak, by protocol. Fawn shook her head, saying nothing.

Raisa raised her hands to the group. “Many of you have not spoken,” she said. “I feel that you should, if you want. With this knowledge, I want to afford anyone of you the opportunity to address us. We will mark our decision.” She stepped away from the altar.

Heads turned in every direction, but no one stepped forward. I looked around and caught many stares. I lowered my head in an attempt to hide my tangled emotions.

After a long series of pounding heartbeats, Raisa stepped forward. “We will decide.”

All of us took a step away from each other. Then we knelt on the soft soil and bowed our heads. I closed my eyes and listened as my breath reminded me of my fear.

“If you wish for the terms presented, please say the words.”

I spoke, joining my voice with the other whispers that twisted through the temple. Like wind, our answers continued their rise. Something touched my cheek and lifted my hair. I felt weightless and clenched my fists to hold tight, though there was nothing to grab.

A tear trickled down my cheek. I was terrified. I had met the bandit. I told him I was going home. What if he had followed me? Where was he now? I wanted to yell to my mother, to warn her. My mind shouted as if by will alone I could warn my family of the danger.
“He’s there! Don’t let him inside.”

“Thank you.” Raisa’s voice brought me back.

I swallowed a needed breath.

“If you wish against the terms as presented, please say the words.”

I heard nothing.