Whisper and Rise (2 page)

Maeia sensed trouble was coming. Restless during the past few weeks, she kept staring east, toward Taylor’s Ridge, as if tragedy loomed on the mountain. She was wrong; she had to be. Storms came from the west, and the worst season of my life had already passed. Summer life in Aisling had become ordinary and pleasant; filled with so much work that no discontent could find space between the sun and the moon.

“It’s all right, Maeia,” I said, patting the nose of my gentle mare. “There’s nothing out there.”

Maeia insisted on her mischief, pawing at the dirt, revealing the same hole I had covered over many times, and snorting at the mountain. Her white coat was frazzled and mangy, caked in dried mud and thorns that hurt when I removed them with my fingers. I wished I knew what bothered her, but there were some things even I didn’t understand about horses.

Offering the only support I could, I chose a small violet flower from the grass and wove its stem into Maeia’s mane. “If you promise to behave,” I whispered. “I’ll let you keep this.”

She didn’t answer, just chose to snort at me before galloping away, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

Muttering a frustrated curse, I wiped the dirt from my face with the bottom of my dress and returned to the stable. An unfamiliar scent in the warm breeze caught my attention. Something
was
wrong. I turned around, unsure of what to expect, and searched the meadow. Far in the distance, a man ran toward me. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t need to; his blue shirt gave him away. Darian.

My heart leapt a dozen paces. He was coming for me, the man who had ruined my life, the one responsible for the death of my beloved Sean.
Was he seeking revenge? How had he escaped?
I ran into the stable and grabbed a pitchfork to protect myself. Before turning back to look at him, I held my back against the wooden walls and collected my courage with a forced sigh. Rubbing the blue diamond on my necklace, a gift from my father, I took a deep breath before turning out to face my enemy.

“Father!” I yelled, hoping he could hear me from where he was working at the barn. “There’s trouble.”

The barn door slammed open.

“What is it?” Father’s steps shook the meadow fence with every step toward me.

As he came, I shot alternating glances between the villain racing toward me and the man who could protect me. Just as my father reached the stable, Darian dropped to the ground and disappeared from view, hidden by the tall meadow grass. I craned my neck for a better look.

“There.” I pointed across the grass. “Darian was coming. Then he vanished.”

“Vanished?”

I continued pointing. “I don’t know what happened. He was there.”

Two men appeared in the distance from where Darian had disappeared. I couldn’t tell who they were, but one held a bow.

“Get inside the house,” Father ordered. “Tell your mother and Leila to stay inside.”

I didn’t intend to protest, but Father darted across the field toward the men, removing any chance he’d hear me anyway. With shaking hands, I replaced the pitchfork to its place against the wall of the stable and ran to the house, bursting through the back door.

Mother dropped the porcelain platter she had been holding. “Rhiannon, what’s wrong?” Her cheeks changed from pale to red.

“There’s trouble,” I answered, pointing east. “Darian was coming. Now he’s gone and there are armed men out there. Father went to see.”

Mother ran to the dining room and stared through the glass. After a moment of searching, she tugged on my dress. “We should go upstairs. We’ll see better from your room.”

As we ran up the stairs, my sister’s singing echoed off the narrow hall. Leila was in the washroom. We ignored her music and scrambled into my room. The window gave us a clear view of the trouble; Father and two men stood over Darian’s crumpled form.

“I hope he’s dead,” I whispered, catching myself thinking aloud.

Mother bumped me and turned to glare. She didn’t have to speak; I understood her meaning. I was no longer a faerie, but I didn’t need to be so cruel.

Darian tried to stand but one of the men reached toward him and with a jerk, pulled out the arrow lodged in his upper arm. The sudden violence was a shock. Mother stifled a scream and an involuntary gasp escaped my lips. Darian fell to the ground. While Father stood watching, the other man leapt on top of Darian and struck him in the face and chest several times. I had to turn away. Even though he deserved to suffer for the pain and death he caused, it made my hands hurt to see such brutality.

Mother corralled me away from the window. “We don’t need to see this,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “The danger has passed.”

I tried to look once more, but Mother pulled me toward the hall. “There’s work we can do in the kitchen,” she said. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Leila’s singing still carried from the washroom. She hadn’t heard our commotion.

Mother put me to work, assigning a bowl full of carrots and onions to slice. I tried to concentrate on work, but the image of the man in the meadow running toward me didn’t leave my mind. The day had been broken and the peace of the new season taken from me. Darian was a villain, and though he never reached me, he had managed to bring back the fear I had tried to forget. I noticed my hands shaking and dropped the chopping knife on the counter. A small shadow crept into the room and my younger brother Ethan appeared in the doorway.

“What’s happening in the meadow?” he asked. He leaned a long hammer against the wall. “There are men with Father. I heard yelling.”

“Did you go and see for yourself?” asked Mother, prodding Ethan back with her own questions.

Ethan shook his head and muttered. “There’s too much work to do. I think Father’s giving me more on purpose.”

“Why don’t you talk to your father about the burden of your chores?” said Mother. She carried a stack of plates into the Dining Room. “I know he would love to hear your thoughts.”

Mother revealed a smile as the back door swung open. Father towered in the doorway, blocking the sunlight. We all turned and stared at him, waiting for news of what had happened. His face was flush red and he had twisted his beard in tiny strands, indicating his worry. Father didn’t speak, allowing silent dread to envelop the room. My heart beat louder. I realize my hands were still shaking.

“What happened, Neal?” Mother finally asked, saving us from the moment.

Father stared at me before turning to answer her. “Did Rhiannon tell you?”

“We watched from her window.” Mother set the plates down with uncharacteristic force. Their loud clank made Ethan and I jump. “Who were the men?”

“I’m sorry you had to see such things.” Father lowered his head and closed the door behind him. He wrapped Mother in his arms and kissed her on the head. “The men you saw were Cameron Barry and Rance Marin. They had been guarding Darian.”

“The bandit?” Ethan covered his mouth as his shrill response echoed in the rafters.

I smiled, not at his answer, but at the high-pitched change in his voice. It broke the tension in my hands and made the day feel a little less threatening. I turned away and resumed chopping an old onion. Suddenly, its fumes didn’t bother me and the work helped steady my hands.

Singing announced Leila’s arrival from upstairs. As she floated into the room, the strong scent of lavender soap whispered and curled around us. Her music ended.

“What is it?” she asked, stopping at the end of the hall. “What happened?”

Father shook his head. He must have seen the anxiety in her eyes because he lifted his chin and smiled. “Everyone is safe,” he said, softening his tone. “That’s what matters now. Come sit at the table, my little faerie daughter.”

My heart tightened in my chest. It felt strange to hear him say that—about Leila. I used to answer to that name. I had been the faerie he had always known. Now my sister had my place in the Fae. I dropped the knife on the counter and fought another round of emotion.

“Come join us, Rhiannon,” said Father. “I have a story to tell.”

I obliged him with a forced smile and a slow shuffle to the table while my sister watched me with intensity. Once we had chosen seats, Father slid forward in his chair and leaned toward us.

“This isn’t the first time,” he began, “that the bandit has escaped.”

Leila gasped and stared at me. I tried to look indifferent, though his words struck me like a blade.
He’s escaped before?

“But this is the closest he’s come to us.”

Mother reached across the table and grabbed my hands. Now hers were trembling.

“Owen’s men have bound his feet, his hands, gagged him, and tortured him, but still, he manages to slip away. And he won’t reveal where he’s hidden the scrolls.”

This time I gasped. I squeezed Mother’s hand for comfort. “Why did he come here?” I asked. “What is he looking for?”

Father glanced at each of us and then stared into my eyes, piercing them. “I have an idea.”

Understanding his meaning, I wiped my face and squeezed Mother’s hands harder. Darian was my nemesis. He had started it all; the chain of events that changed me from an innocent faerie to an outsider in my village. I had begged the Elders to hunt him down and had beaten him once they caught him. I was also the only person that man had known in Aisling. I glanced at Leila and watched the terror in her eyes expand.

“What are you saying, Neal?” asked Mother. “Are we in danger?”

Father nodded. “One of us is in danger, that much is certain.” He looked at me again. “I’ll call for a council in the morning, but I don’t see how this concerns the rest of the village.”

“Of course it concerns the village,” I said, releasing Mother’s hand. “They are at risk, too. If Darian—if the bandit escapes, then the trouble from last season will begin again. Fear and whispers will take over.”

Father’s voice turned low. “I’m not worried about possessions, Rhiannon. I’ll risk that the village would agree with me if they knew what just happened. I’m worried about your safety.”

“I will leave,” I told him, and though I fully meant my words, I felt a deep loneliness at the thought of being separated from my family.

“No, you won’t leave us.” Father slid his chair back and stood. He stared through the window glass before turning to speak again. “I need to find a way to protect you.”

“How?” asked Mother, straightening as she snapped her words. “Do you intend to keep your daughter at your side—all day, at every moment? How can that be living?”

Father’s hands started shaking and he quickly turned away. Instead of answering Mother’s question, he knelt down and lit a tiny fire in the hearth. He released a rumbling sigh before resuming his place at the table.

I didn’t have an answer, and it was obvious that he didn’t either. Mother ceased her attack and walked behind him. With masterful strokes of her fingers, she massaged Father’s neck until a faint smile appeared underneath his beard. Remembering the meal, I left them and resumed my work in the kitchen. Leila remained in her place, shivering from her own fears, until a loud pounding on the front door jolted her away. My young sister dashed toward the hall, but the door remained closed, and the pounding didn’t cease.

“Leila?” Father broke free from his trance.

“She’s gone upstairs, I think,” answered Mother. “She’s frightened.”

“I’ll get the door,” said Ethan, again revealing the crack in his voice. He scrambled from the bench near the window and saved us from another jolting pound.

As the door creaked open, I gripped the handle of the chopping knife tighter in my palm. This time, it seemed to offer comfort.

“Greetings.” A high-pitched voice echoed into the rafters and ushered a sigh of relief from everyone. This was the voice of our neighbor and the village’s Chief Elder, Colin. “Is your father near?”

“Come inside,” bellowed Father. He patted Mother on her backside and stood to greet our guest.

Mother rushed into the kitchen and pressed her hands over mine. “I think you should leave us,” she whispered. Then she turned to face Colin, who had followed her into the kitchen. “Hello, Colin.” Mother smiled and offered our neighbor a long hug. “Your visit is a welcome change to the day.”

“Thank you.” Colin nodded to me. “How are you, Rhiannon?”

“The trouble has shaken me,” I answered honestly, “but I’m in good spirits.”

“I’m both remorseful and relieved.”

Before Colin could say more, my father pulled him into the dining room and welcomed him. Mother turned me to face the stove.

“You should leave us,” she said again, this time pleading with her eyes, “and take your brother with you.”

“Why?” I asked, whispering loudly. “This might concern me.”

Mother smiled. “Just as you mentioned—the trouble has shaken you.” She gave me a hug. “I love you.”

I offered my warmth in return. “You can’t protect me forever.”

“No, I cannot. But I will try—every chance I find.”

As I turned to leave the room, Colin stopped speaking with Father and reached for my hand. “It is good to see you well,” he told me. His eyes were honest, but carried the same concern as my mother’s. “We care about you.”