Whisper and Rise (9 page)

As she spoke, a woman holding the green flag grabbed a muscular boy near Ethan. With his head lowered, the boy handed her his red band and left the field while dozens of spectators around us cheered. Then the woman tossed her flag into the air. Ethan rushed closer and touched Michael, who was about to retrieve the flag. An even louder explosion of cheers.

“Great move!” Leila thrust her fists into the air. “There you go, Ethan.”

I cheered, too, though not as loud. My brother was a great Sticks player, as good as anyone at the game. Still, it was hard to gloat at Michael’s dejected face as he surrendered his green band to my brother.

“Once the champion is successful,” said Leila, louder than she needed to, “their victim must leave the game, and the Champion must surrender the Stick to another member of their clan. At that moment, they are vulnerable to attack.”

Michael left the field while Ethan handed his red flag to a woman. Another man snatched the green flag and reached for Ethan, but my wiry brother sprinted away to safety.

The game made more sense as the player count dwindled; it was easier to anticipate their strategy with only a handful of them left to watch. Sticks was easier than I had remembered and—as was its intention—looked like a battle.

Three green clansmen remained, then two, and finally, after a thrilling chase, only the green Champion remained to play. Realizing his defeat, he held his Stick above his head and knelt in the grass, offering his flag to the victorious red team.

Leila jumped from the boulder—the train of her dress and the ends of her shawl floated down slowly after her like a blossom in the wind—and helped Sam to the grass. “Wasn’t that exciting?” she yelled. She grabbed my waist and danced some more. “Come with me, Sam. I want you to meet Michael.”

I decided to intervene again. I didn’t want Michael to blame our new friend for Leila’s foolish affections.

“Go visit your boyfriend,” I told my sister. I weighed the last word, allowing it to settle for effect. “I’ll show Sam around. Besides, I need him to guide me to where Nia is.”

Leila grabbed Sam around the waist and hugged him before disappearing into the crowd.

“Come with me,” I said, pulling Sam away. “There’s plenty more to watch.”

Sam followed me as I led him around the meadow and introduced him to obscure relatives and friendly neighbors. He created an easy distraction, and helped me avoid persistent questions about the missing Fae scrolls or my life outside of the Fae.

“I didn’t realize there were this many people in Aisling,” he told me, after a long visit with one of my cousins. “I’d always heard it was a tiny village. Where do you all live?”

“Our homes are nestled in the trees,” I told him. I stopped at another large group of villagers. “Hey, there’s my uncle Bradan. We have to watch him.”

At a glance, anyone could tell he was my father’s brother, simply by his height and bulky strength. He stood in the center of the crowd and flexed his arms. Bending down, he grabbed an enormous log, balancing it in the air with his giant hands positioned on one end. With a heave, and a gasp from everyone, he tossed the log across an open portion of the meadow. Grass and dirt exploded into the air when the log landed with a thump that shook the ground under us. Bradan beat his chest with his fists, tugged on his curly beard, and challenged anyone watching to best him.

“He’s fantastic,” I told Sam. “He’s the best log thrower around—even better than my father.”

The villagers cheered and applauded when a man wearing a leather hat with a wide brim stepped forward.

“I know him,” said Sam. “He’s from DarMattey. That’s Wayne Anderly.”

When he removed his hat, I recognized the gray haired man who had pounded steel in the open shop.

“I saw him there,” I said, nodding my agreement with Sam. “He was building wagons.”

The man grunted and tossed a second log, which fell short of Bradan’s throw. He picked up his hat, bowed to the villagers, and raised his arms to thank them. Everyone offered him sympathetic applause. Sam and I joined in the praise. Bradan laughed—he sounded exactly like Father—and offered the man a large metal goblet. The men shook hands, with smiles, then tipped their beverages and drank heartily while everyone dispersed.

Sun Season was a chance to mingle, relax, boast, and celebrate life. I stood in one spot, thinking about Nia’s wedding. I wondered if Thomas had waited and had seen our celebrations, if he would have still insisted on the drab ceremony I had witnessed in DarMattey. While searching the many faces for my best friend, I realized that Sam wasn’t with me. I found him watching a young bard who played a flute.

“He’s impressive,” said Sam, turning toward me when I touched his shoulder.

“He’s a bard,” I said, “like the rest of his family. He’s been playing at the celebrations since before he could talk.”

The bard’s taller brother joined the song with words that caressed my consciousness. I listened to the melody as it whistled and twisted, and imagined my life was free of worry.

“My father doesn’t care much for bards,” I told Sam. “He says the music hurts his ears.” I caught the volume of my words as the song suddenly ended and lowered my voice to whisper. “But I enjoy them.”

Sam and I searched—it felt like whole afternoon—for Nia and Thomas, but never found them. Sam was gracious enough to oblige my wanderings and didn’t say much while I grumbled about missing my friend. As the sun courted the tips of the western trees, I realized I wouldn’t find her, and turned us both back to my family’s camp.

Leila was in full preparation for the dances. Mother straightened my sister’s gown and shawl, while Tara Dunn brushed her hair. Michael was there, watching my sister with eager intent.

“You’re not welcome at our camp,” said Michael coldly, after staring down Sam for a moment.

“Sam’s my guest,” I told Michael, sternly. I turned to Tara Dunn, who was listening to us argue. “I’ll invite who I wish to any camp I set.” I pulled Sam closer to me and gave his hair a friendly tousle.

“Rhiannon!” Mother stopped helping Leila, just to scold me.

I glared back, refusing to allow my friend the grief of a verbal onslaught from my family. “If he’s not welcome here, I’ll take him away. We’ll watch Leila dance from another camp.” I started to step away, but Father intervened.

“You’ll stay there,” he said, shaking the fabric of my dress with his voice. “It’s almost sundown. I don’t want to chase after you in the dark.”

I knew what Father meant. After the dances, the men of Aisling enjoyed a night of drinking and frivolous storytelling. It was truly the only reason Father enjoyed the celebrations, although no one would say that in his company. Obviously, he didn’t want to miss a moment of drinking.

With the matter settled, I chose a spot on a blanket and motioned for Sam to sit next to me. Leila hugged Mother around the waist and then kissed Tara Dunn on the cheek. She smiled politely at me before drifting into the crowd, Michael’s hand clamped tight around hers.

“Where is she going?” asked Sam. He kept glancing nervously around him, as if expecting someone to beat him in the head when he wasn’t looking.

“It’s the dance of the Fae,” I said. I leaned back, allowing my head to matt the grass. “Leila will be joining them. You’ll enjoy this.”

~ O ~

Whoosh!

Tall flames erupted from the center of the tall stones and aimed toward the stars. I ducked and covered my face as a wave of heat crossed the meadow. It blew my hair back like a scorching wind. The noisy mix of conversation and music ended while the roar of the flames engulfed us. I shielded my eyes and managed a quick glimpse of Colin rushing from the circle, carrying a large torch.

Stone Meadow turned silent.

The faeries, women in white gowns and golden shawls, walked slowly around the tall stones, one following another, in a line. Each covered their head with a golden hood while a low flute cried above the flames in matching rhythm to their footsteps. They completed their circuit around the ring and stopped.

A deep penetrating drum sounded from the forest trees. The Fae raised their arms. Another drumbeat sounded. They lowered their arms to their waists.

“This is great,” said Sam to me, in a low whisper. “What are they doing?”

I hushed the boy and realized I had been moving with the Fae, out of habit. I lowered my arms. “They are calling for the Sun Season. This is Leila’s first dance.”

The faeries stood motionless while the drum sequence slowed to an end. Then a chorus of high-pitched flutes bounced off the sky. Every faerie glided and danced between the stones and toward the flames of the center fire. They moved with grace and elegance while their long white gowns floated above the ground. I strained to see clearly in the dark, but found watching my sister easy; she was the smallest.

Only the sound of the flutes, the loud crackle of burning wood, and roaring of flames filled the meadow air. Everyone, our faces painted gold by the brightness of the center fire, watched in silence. The shadowed shapes of the Fae crossed the stone monoliths and stretched across my family and Sam.

More than seven years had passed since I had last watched a celebration dance. Tonight offered new a perspective of the ceremony; I felt the longing of the crowd to accept the peace offered by the dancers. Each face, bright and shadowed from the heart of Stone Meadow, reflected the purity and the healing emanating from the faeries. I couldn’t be with them, but I could feel them, love them. I was connected by the dance.

The music continued into the night, changing in speed, and pitch, matching the beauty of the steps they chorused. I leaned back on my hands and imagined that the faeries were creating the world around me, leaving their blessing on its beauty.

The quick rhythm of the flutes faded, and a lone fiddle wailed a sorrowful tone. The dancers crouched low to the ground; they were almost crawling on the grass while weaving around the large circle. Then the drumbeat returned, announcing its hollow voice with a deep roll across the open space. I held my breath and thought of the last time I had heard this rhythm—the march to Evermore to bury Sean. I didn’t want to look but couldn’t turn away from the faeries.

The fiddle carried on, rising and lowering while the white and gold dancers stood and bowed into a small ring around the fire and the Season Stone. Its notes lengthened and slowed while, one by one, the faeries stepped through and around the hole. After each completed a turn, they skipped to the outer circle with their arms raised. When the final faerie, the smallest of the dancers, passed through the Season Stone, more drums shook the air with a single, succinct beat. My heart leapt at the effect. Leila was the climax of the dance.

Gasps erupted around me. Flames rose higher than before. They grabbed the night and covered it with light. The flutes returned and the fiddles rejoiced, accompanied again by animated drumbeats. The dancers leapt into the air, stretching their arms and toes, nearly reaching each other while they continued to circle the stones.

As if by cue, the fire dimmed and the music softened while the faeries spread into the crowd. I stared, lost in memory. When I finally gasped for air, I wondered when I had stopped breathing. The ceremony had been flawless.

“You were wonderful, dear.” Mother greeted Leila as soon as she returned to our camp.

“I was so nervous,” giggled Leila. She turned to me. “You didn’t see my mistakes, did you? I almost leapt into a stone. Did you like my dancing?”

“You were perfect,” I told her. I grabbed her and pulled her tight, refusing to let her go. I didn’t know why, but I had to hold her. Perhaps I was releasing my pain or simply taking her warmth. I held on to Leila and smiled.

When I finally released her from my arms, the meadow had brightened from the rekindled cooking fires. Villagers had already gathered near ours, waiting for some of my mother’s stew. I could see their faces, all of them. They stared at me, some with sorrow, some with anger, and none with indifference. I ducked my head, hoping to disappear into the dark, but noticed Sam. He sat on a rolled log, entertaining himself with the burning end of a small branch from the fire. I chuckled as I watched him; he was so much like my brother. I moved to his side and knelt in the long meadow grass.

“Did you enjoy the celebration?” I asked, wiping my eyes as if my crying had been intentional.

Sam tossed his stick into the fire. “You miss it, don’t you?” He turned to stare at me, piercing the space between us with his curious eyes.

“I miss dancing,” I told him. “I never get to dance anymore.”

“You miss more than that. I can tell.”

I shook my head, not only to escape his revelation, but also to catch any probing face that dared to watch us. No one was looking. The villagers who had come to our camp watched my mother while she filled their bowls with stew.

“How do you know anything?” I scolded Sam with a whisper. “You’ve only just arrived. This is your first Sun Season.” I hesitated before speaking again. I hadn’t meant to sound rude, but his accuracy was annoying. “It’s probably best if you go find Jake and Sianna.”

“And Nia?”

“Yes.” I glanced again at the visiting faces. Nia wasn’t one of them.
Where was she?
My family always camped at the same location. She knew where to find me. When I looked back toward the fire, Sam was brushing dirt of the front of his pant legs, preparing to leave. Guilt welled up in me. Would my bitterness drive every potential friend away? “Wait,” I grabbed his shirt. “Don’t leave, yet.”

“You’re right,” said Sam, smiling at me as if I had said nothing to offend him. “I’m sure Thomas is worrying.”

“He’s probably at the well,” I blurted. “The men gather to drink after the dancing. He won’t miss you.”

Sam shook his head and tipped the front brim of his hat. “Thomas doesn’t drink like that. Thank you for your kindness. It’s been a fun day.”

Sam’s words pierced me. Every man I had ever known drank heavily, except for two. Colin and Sean. Sean was dead.

Suddenly, I wanted Sean there, not because I missed him, but because I wanted him to meet Thomas. They would get along so well. I remembered when I first met Nia’s husband, at the Moon Season Celebration. He was scared and timid. He was so much like Sean, only I didn’t grasp it at the time. I had been too worried about Cael.

Cael.

I remembered how he greeted Thomas. He had treated Nia’s friend, now her husband, as a threat. I had seen the same action today, with my family.
How could people act so cruel?
Harsh thoughts entered my mind and twisted my memories. I opened my eyes to escape.

“Take me with you,” I told Sam, focusing on the boy to forget the wanderings of my mind. “I want to find Nia.”

Across the meadow, near a stubby walnut tree, we finally found Nia and her family. We gathered in the darkness, giggling and laughing by the firelight. My friends reminded me of how much I had missed them.

Madeline, I learned, had the satchel I had left in DarMattey. I would have forgotten it entirely, but she made a gentle point in reminding me. “I’ll bring it to you tomorrow,” she said with a smile. “And we’ll talk some more.”

While the night tarried and the energy of the celebration faded, my eyes told me that I needed rest. With reluctant goodbyes, I excused myself from the company of friends to wander back to my camp. I didn’t want to go there, but I knew that Father would have found me had I stayed, and I feared his drunken anger. Part of me wanted one of my friends to come with me, but no one offered, leaving me to a groggy walk across the meadow.

A familiar voice hailed me. “Rhiannon?”

I stopped walking and turned to face Cael Bauer. “I wondered when you would come to the celebration.” I grinned at my friend. “Are you going to the well?”

“No.” Cael laughed. “There’s no drinking allowed. I’m on patrol tonight. He stood straight and mimicked Colin Druce’s voice. “The village needs protection. Otherwise we’ll be forced to hold a council.” He smiled and seemed to take too much pleasure in mocking the Chief Elder.

“I was wrong,” I told him. “You sound like you’ve been to the well.”

“I’m not drunk.”

I shifted my stance. The moment was turning uncomfortable. “What do you want, Cael?”

He grinned. “Must I answer that question?”

“I’m tired. It has been a long day. Shouldn’t you be out guarding the bandit or something?”

“You haven’t heard?” Cael’s voice turned low.

I skipped a breath. “What’s happened?”

“The bandit isn’t in Aisling anymore.”

Suddenly, the night became clear and my friend’s words brought new meaning to the moment. “He—he’s gone?” I asked.

Cael smiled again, this time stretching his face and hiding the terrible scar than lined his neck and ear. “The Elders made us release him a few days ago. Rance chased him up the mountain.”

I heaved a giant sigh that seemed to lift the worry of the season from my chest. The bandit, the man responsible for all the pain in my life was gone forever. With a step that felt as if it could carry me to the top, I moved toward the stones for which the meadow was named. This was a special moment, a sacred day. A new season and a new life.

“You need to find him,” I said, turning back to look at Cael.

He questioned me with his eyes, not understanding.

“He’ll lead you to the scrolls.” My voice lifted in excitement. I grabbed Cael’s hand. “If we find the Fae Scrolls, we can clear our names.”

“Our names?”

“Yes,” I answered. “Where are you assigned to patrol? I’ll come with you and we can talk about the scrolls.” I spoke in quick bursts. “We can figure out where the bandit might have hidden them. Maybe you can send someone to track down Darian and follow him.”

“That’s not why I came to the meadow.”

“Cael, come on,” I pleaded. “You promised to help me. Let’s finish this. It’s our chance.”

With strength that surprised me, Cael grabbed my hand and pulled me close to him. “I came to see you, Rhiannon.”

“I’m here,” I said, wriggling from his grip. “You know how much this means to me.” I stepped back and stared at Cael; firelight from around the meadow danced across his face. 

“I was—” Cael paused. “I was just—”

“What, Cael?”

“My expectations were obviously different than yours,” he said, puffing a disappointed sigh.

I shook my head. “I don’t understand. What expectations? I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“No,” he said, “you don’t.” With a glare, Cael stomped away, leaving me in darkness and confusion.

~ O ~

Is it morning?
I opened my eyes and stared at the darkness. The pre-dawn world was alive and bustling; whispers and clanging pots created a hum that floated in the dark, like fog. Illuminated by their source fires, curly trails of smoke rose into the air, sharing scents of hickory and apple. Nearby, Mother helped Leila adjust the fit of her gown.

I lay quietly, attempting to recall falling asleep, but no memory came. I watched my sister prepare for the dawn dances. The angel flowers weaved into her braids complimented her innocent glow.

“Goodbye, Mother,” she said, offering her a large embrace. She glanced at me and smiled before skipping toward the dark.

Low horns hummed, accompanying the pale violet murmur of pre-dawn light. The Fae circled the tall stones. Their golden hoods concealed their faces. This was the solstice, the morning of Sun Season.

The horns faded to silence while the faeries fell to the ground and stretched their arms toward the center of the circle. Fiddles played low, wearisome notes that mourned the passing of the moon and called for the sun. The music matched how I felt with perfect interpretation. Drums beat softly in unison and fiddles played louder.

The Fae stood with their arms extended, completing the circle around the stones. They stepped left and then right. They marched around the giant monuments while swinging their arms toward the lightening sky.

The sun appeared over Taylor’s Ridge. Its rays cleared the tallest standing stone and reached the Season Stone. An explosion of tangerine and gold instantly covered Leila; she crouched motionless in the round portal of light. I refused to make a sound, even to fill my lungs, while staring in awe. Blinding brilliance and quiet peace beat with my heart, marking the sunrise. Though I had witnessed every solstice since my birth, each new Sun Season always seemed to eclipse the previous one.

As the sun stretched higher, its rays of light escaped the confines of the stone circle. My sister emerged from the hole and raised her arms in an arc, allowing her golden sleeves to fall. Then a thousand cheers overwhelmed the banging drums. Villagers stood and yelled praises to Sun Season.

“Hooey, hooey!” Father yelled louder than anyone did. He stood tall, aimed his fists at the air, and continued his shouts.

Mother wiped her eyes.

The music played louder and faster, matching the rhythm of the faeries. While they danced, children sitting close to the stones tossed flowers at their feet. I embraced the sounds and closed my eyes. I could remember my place among them. In my mind, I saw the stones in their brilliance; I felt the warmth of the new season. I was there, I was moving; I was a part of it all. The drums beat louder and faster. I forgot myself, swaying to the rhythm. This was my calling, my place in the village. The drums stopped and jolted me back to awareness.

I opened my eyes, mortified of the looks I would probably receive. I wasn’t a part of the Fae. I had lost my right to dance. But no one stared back; everyone’s eyes stayed fixed on the stones, lost in the same magic of celebration that I felt. I longed to share my love, but there was no one close to hug. 

~ O ~

Stone Meadow began returning to its quiet origins now that the celebration was over. Some of the villagers started leaving, but most of us stayed, absorbing the warmth of a peaceful day. My family always remained at the meadow as long as possible, a tradition I enjoyed. The following morning meant work at home, and I never liked that much. Leila and I danced circles around the flowers while Ethan chased butterflies with a stick.

Father stuffed our cart with cooking supplies until it overflowed and tossed a large armful of blankets on top. Then he slapped Ethan on his shoulders. “There you go, boy,” he said. “Haul that home.” He stomped across the grass, waving for us to follow.

Without an argument, Ethan climbed under the long handles of the cart and heaved it forward. It creaked and groaned, refusing to budge at first. Compassion urged me to help my brother, but my father’s menacing glances back at us warned us that he intended that Ethan push the cart alone. The last few years, Father was embarked on a quest to make sure that Ethan grew up strong enough to face any adversary, even hard work. We kept him company, though, Leila and I. Ethan’s smile—as we chatted—announced his gratitude for our gestures. Mother looked tired; she sighed while stumbling through the grass. I saw her lower her head a few times.

As we entered the trees, villagers ahead of us started running and scattering down the thin trail. One woman screamed and handed her infant to a young girl before dashing into the forest.

Father rushed back to us and grabbed Mother’s shoulders. “There’s trouble,” he told her. His eyes were wide. “I’ll see you at home.” After a worried glance toward the rest of us, he ran after the other villagers. It was the fastest I had ever seen him move.

“What’s happening?” asked Leila.

Mother pulled her close. “I don’t know, dear. I don’t know.”

Then I saw it. With a gasp that rivaled a scream, I pointed at the sky. Black smoke curled and boiled above the trees, turning the sun crimson. Aisling was on fire.