Lia stopped at several curious blood-red mushrooms growing at the base of one of the trees. Without missing a beat, Granda Luis turned to her. “Fly agarics. They’re highly poisonous.”
A toad hopped up, swiping an inebriated fly from the top of one of the white-speckled mushrooms. The toad’s eyes bulged in delight as it swallowed its drugged prey. Lia wondered how long until the toad fell victim to its meal.
They mounted their horses and continued for another hour to the edge of the birch grove. They came to the crest of a hill where an unexpected sight stretched before them.
“Whoa!” Wynn’s surprised voice carried across the great expanse.
Beneath an oddly green sky sprawled a massive meadow, a verdant carpet speckled with colors. The trio gaped in awe while Granda smiled.
“Stay to the path,” Granda instructed.
So this was where they’d wildcrafted, Lia mused.
She always marveled at the variety of plant cuttings and rootstocks she knew her grandparents had gathered from Brume. Granda Luis used his skills to transform their gathered treasures into gardens of healing magic that flourished year after year.
They ambled down the pathway and Lia heard giggling. It came from a variety of locations that kept changing. Flashes of light blinked all around, flickering across the vast expanse of the meadowland.
“Does anyone else hear laughter?” she asked.
“Yeah, where’s it coming from?” Wynn jerked his head around.
“The laughter comes from those playful lights,” Granda Luis said. “Those are the geancanach, a breed of tiny fae.”
Fae? Lia’s heart skipped. “They’re faeries!”
“Aye, faeries, or fae folk as I call them. This is their meadow; they’re protected here, free to care for the plants. And just look at their garden,” Granda Luis said, sweeping out his hand.
They dismounted their horses, and Lia’s eyes roved over the many blooms. Herbs of every sort, many she’d never seen, spread before her. A few puffy clouds inched into sight, pink and yellow like the flowers beneath them.
“The sky … it’s like a reflection of the meadow itself,” Lia said. She wished Ma could see it. She wished Ma could see all the beauty that surrounded them. Maybe then she’d understand why Grandma loved it so much.
“Lovely, isn’t it?” Granda said.
Dobbin whinnied and tossed his head as a geancanach faery fluttered around his muzzle. They laughed at the befuddled horse and Kelven put a soothing hand on Dobbin’s mane. The animal nuzzled his nose against him.
“We’ll let the horses graze as they please for a bit. The fae have welcomed them,” Granda said.
The animals cropped the lush grass and Kelven planted himself close by them. He tossed aside his cloak and unbuckled his leather jerkin, revealing the creamy undertunic stretched over his chest. Heat ran up Lia’s neck and she averted her eyes. Giddiness aside, Kelven’s easy manner calmed her. She’d seen him a half a dozen times over the past couple of years, and each visit he impressed her with his horse skills. He broke in stallions, helped the mares foal, and groomed even the plow horses to royal standards. He exuded loyalty and trust, and she imagined he could quiet even the most unruly of people or beasts.
“Hey, whoa, stop that! How’dya get away from these gan-con-ahk, anyway?” Wynn jumped from place to place, fleeing the lights repeatedly bouncing against him. Lia shook her head at her frenzied cousin.
“Follow me, you two,” Granda Luis said with a grin. Lia threw off her cloak and followed him.
With the amber-tipped staff catching sunbeams at his side, Granda led them into a glade carpeted with lilac and pink heather. The bell-shaped blossoms that covered the shrubs exuded a sweet aroma and hummed with bees.
“Is it always this warm and the flowers in bloom?” Lia asked, drinking in the paradise with her eyes.
“’Tis a kind o’perpetual spring here, at least in this meadow. As you can see, the fae folk are mighty clever.” Granda Luis grimaced as he bent his legs to sit.
The blinking geancanach faeries surrounded them and Lia tried to get a closer glimpse of one lighting on the flowers. She stared at a cluster of pink blooms and flinched. What came into view was nothing like the fae of her imaginings. The creature resembled a mantis with bulbous eyes and jagged arms. It wore a cloak of green belted with a blade of grass, and she thought sure it winked at her before it vanished in a flash of light.
Another one landed closer, all hairy legs and fangs, and Lia nearly came out of her boots. The spidery creature wore a cloak of purple, rippling like a flag from its body. “Why are they so dreadful?”
“Train your eye upon them a bit longer,” Granda said.
She did what he said, though her insides were coiled like a spring. When another faery landed resembling a toad wearing a blue scarf, she held her gaze on it. Just before it flashed out of view, her eyes captured the truth. The toad changed into a sprite standing a few inches tall with a bronzed face and the same blue scarf wrapped around him. The tops of his pointed ears poked through black hair and his large slanted eyes gleamed viridian.
They’re shapeshifters! The fae were clever, indeed.
Just then, several fae of a prettier sort fluttered toward them. They landed on the flowers like tiny human butterflies, complete with antennae and large multi-colored wings. They shimmered in mantles of yellow and orange, and unlike the shapeshifting geancanach, they were true to their form. They didn’t blink in and out of sight, but rested with ease on the blossoms.
Excitement filled Lia as she remembered another verse from Grandma’s Grimoire:
When the flowers do bloom, shiny and bright,
With the colorful tidings of spring,
Here they will come, in a buzz of flight,
Magical pillywiggins.
“These are pillywiggins,” she said, prompting a raised brow from Granda.
Several of the diminutive faeries covered their mouths, muffling high-pitched giggles while they flew alongside the honeybees gathering nectar from the blossoms. A few vexed Wynn by ruffling his hair, pulling his tunic, and fluttering against his face.
“Pilly … what?” Wynn tried to cover his nose from the enamored creatures.
An unusually large bumblebee with a rider astride it came into view and landed in front of Granda. Everyone took pause as a regal pillywiggin floated off her buzzing mount. Her translucent wings flickered and antennae poked through waves of sable-colored hair. Her skin shone like honey and she wore silk that glimmered like stardust.
“Greetings, Luis. Has it been so long?” The faery’s voice came surprisingly loud.
Granda Luis bowed his head in reverence. “Aye, Lady Ebrill, time moves quickly for humankind. You’ve not changed a bit, as vibrant as ever.”
“And these are your kin,” she said, her violet eyes shifting to Lia.
Lia drew back. Those eyes, she thought, where have I seen those eyes?
“Aye, Wynn and Lia are my grandchildren. We’ve come seeking your help.”
“Go on.” Her vivid gaze fixed on Lia, as if the faery could reach out and brush the edges of Lia’s mind. Lia didn’t look away, though her heart thudded.
“My son-in-law and several other villagers have been attacked near Brume’s eastern border. A kind o’wild plant bound and poisoned them. They’re suffering horribly, our remedies barely helping.”
Sadness washed over Ebrill’s face and her wings lowered. “The dark power grows stronger as the enchantment weakens; this power is a plague upon your world and ours.”
Tears welled up in the faery’s eyes. Lia wanted to say something, reach out to her, but Ebrill turned away and fluttered back up to the fuzzy thorax of the bumblebee. “Vile bane, this poison is dark, requiring magic beyond our garden cures. We fae must keep to the protection of our meadow while we still can, but there are those beyond here that may assist you.”
“Where?” Granda Luis persisted.
“Start with the tree of your name
, good man, the Luis tree at the eastern edge of our meadow.” Ebrill bowed her head before the bee buzzed her away, followed by a train of colorful attendants.
The Luis trees were Granda’s namesake, Lia recalled. His birth name was Rowand, taken from the common name of the rowan tree, but his bride preferred the ancient tree names, and he’d gone by Luis ever since.
Lia nibbled on her bottom lip and looked off to the distance, a slow and methodical scan of the wooded horizon. Streaks of gray bled into the fae’s green sky where the meadow met with the trees. Her search moved east to a blaze of orange-red, and she knew she’d spotted their destination. Granda Luis stood nearby, his somber face also aimed at the rich fruits of the Luis trees.
Their horses munched on the array of plants and even Dobbin seemed to have relaxed, grazing amid the flashes of light. At Kelven’s command, all four horses came to attention. The small band mounted them and moved along the trail again.
They crossed a small brook that fed into the meadow, bubbling and foaming over moss-covered rocks. The horses stopped to drink and something shimmery swam beneath the water. It moved like a fish, but it had appendages. Lia peered into the stream and noticed a creature resembling a small woman with green hair and silvery skin that glistened when she moved.
With a splash, Wynn fell from his horse, landing flat on his back in the shallow brook. “Spades! What is it about this place? I feel like a clumsy fool.”
Wynn fumbled in the water and the creature swam like a ribbon of silk around him. He struggled to stand up, and she reached out and wrapped her arms about his legs, nearly tumbling him over again.
“Undines, charming water fae.” Granda chuckled. “Aye, Wynn, the fae folk do seem to like you. This one appears quite smitten.”
Kelven laughed at his befuddled friend, his eyes dancing with amusement. Lia was giggling so hard that when Kelven turned his gaze onto her, a gasp slipped through her lips. But she didn’t look away. Their eyes locked and her stomach fluttered like a thousand bees.
“We’ll enter the woods on foot,” Granda said, snapping them back to attention. “The horses can roam in that patch of clover ahead. Let’s just hope we receive the same hospitality in the grove as we have here in the meadowland.”
“What do you mean; what’s in the grove?” Lia veered Merrie closer to Granda.
Granda Luis looked straight at her and paused, a technique he had often used to claim her full attention, and then he replied, “Trees.”
Taken by his solitary word, Lia looked upon the flourish of Luis trees. Feathery green leaves and clusters of ripe berries covered their upward-reaching branches. Twitters, twills, and a variety of other birdsong resounded from the woodland, and another memorized verse from Grandma’s book sang inside her head:
I know that when I’m under
Your crown of sunny wonder,
Sacred Luis, luster of my eye,
I’ll find sleeping green serpents
Dreaming of starry fortunes,
And giving courage to those who try.
Lia slipped off Merrie while she reflected deeper on the Grimoire’s written wisdom. The book abounded with tree lore, entwined within its riddles, recipes, and tales. The leather cover was embellished with one, its crown and roots an image of golden majesty, and drawings of all sorts of trees covered the pages within the book. Of course, trees. So what answers could they find from these autumn-bright Luis trees?
It took Wynn’s grumbling to break into Lia’s thoughts. She smirked in amusement as he secured his sword to sodden breeches. Though he looked a mess, his blade was encased in the most beautifully engraved scabbard—a creation of Kelven’s.
It was pointless to tote her crossbow into such a dense thicket, so she decided to leave it behind. She wove her hair into two long braids to keep it from snagging in the branches. Her knapsack remained flung over her back, numerous pouches hung from her wrap belt, and she kept her seax—her working knife—at her side.
Kelven released a dirk from another glorious scabbard. Lia’s eyes flickered from his blade up to his chiseled face. “Where’d you get such a beautiful blade?”
He grinned at her. “I, uh, traded for it.” He held back a few branches for Lia to go ahead of him. She smiled and brushed by him ever so softly. He sucked in his breath and then cleared his throat, and Lia’s smile broadened.
“The village swordsmith’s a good friend. He liked my saddlebags and I liked his knife, though I think I came out ahead on the bargain.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.” She ducked beneath the tangled trees. “The saddlebags you’ve brought with you are the finest I’ve seen, and so are the scabbards. Have you always been so crafty with leather?”
They followed her limping granda slowly through the grove, and though Lia listened for Kelven’s reply, her eyes stayed keen on the trees. The air grew cool, as if spring had turned its back, and she knew with growing wariness that they’d left the warm cradle of the fae.
“Well, my uncle taught me some basics when I was young and I just kept going from there. I like working the material; it relaxes me, almost as much as training horses.”
They maneuvered through the copse of entwined trees and Lia was sure everything dimmed in color. She shivered and regretted not bringing her cloak.
“I know what you mean. It’s like working with the herbs for me.” She hunkered through the dense foliage. The woods took on a musky scent, like fresh-turned soil, though the leaves and undergrowth blanketing the ground appeared dry and untouched. “I love working with the plants, love making up tea blends and oils.”
Kelven’s footsteps crunched close behind her. “Yours is a rare craft these days, thanks to our blundering rulers, and one that should always be kept alive.”
Lia warmed at his words. “Guess it helps being so far north, keeps the king’s men from nosing around too much.”
She followed the rough trail Granda and Wynn had blazed. A strange sensation pricked at her senses, and she paused in her steps.
“What is it?” Kelven whispered behind her.
Lia eyed the surrounding woods for movement or sound, but found only the chilled breeze and birds flitting about. “I, uh, guess it’s nothing.”
Her mood turned edgy and she hurried her steps through the tangled grove. Kelven kept with her pace and quiet concentration. She shivered, more than eager for their trek through the woods to end. Then she stopped short when she plunged into a clearing.
Lia’s eyes widened on the unusually large Luis tree growing alone in the middle of the open area. A resonant caw called from one of the branches. The black bird took flight, swooping low before it shot into the gray sky.
At Granda’s prompting, they drew closer to the tree. Granda Luis placed his hand on the smooth, silvery bark. Lia’s insides buzzed with wonder. After a few moments of silence, there came a rustling among the dried leaves at the base of the tree. Lia’s breath caught as a yellow-green creature with the body of a snake and the head of a dragon emerged from the leaves and slithered up the trunk.
Wynn and Kelven both jumped forward with brandished blades.
“Stand back,” Granda Luis called out. “The tree wyrm is here to help us.”
Tree wyrm? Lia planted her eyes on the mysterious creature. Wynn and Kelven reluctantly lowered their weapons and took a few steps back.
The creature moved easily, and its luminous scales glistened as it wrapped around the trunk of the tree. Several teeth poked out from its long snout and a row of spines ran down its forehead between sparkling green eyes. Ear frills fanned out like veined leaves on each side, and above them, a pair of horns branched back from his brow. Granda Luis leaned against his staff as the creature raised his head.
“Friend to the fae,” a voice uttered.
It speaks! Lia’s heart raced. But wait, its mouth didn’t open. How … ?
Granda Luis replied, “Greetings. Lady Ebrill sent us to seek your wisdom about a creature breaking through the eastern border.
Barbed roots are attacking and poisoning our people.”
“Ah, yes, the Straif. She creeps underground, finds her way through,” the smooth voice carried through Lia’s mind.
Ohhh, it’s using mindspeak!
She turned wide eyes on Granda and he gave her a glance and quick nod of confirmation. Then she jerked her head around to Wynn and Kelven. Their hands remained on the hilts of their blades and confusion lined their brows. Neither were apparently privy to the creature’s silken replies.
“What must be done? How do we find a cure for her poison?” Granda Luis continued.
The creature paused and turned its iridescent eyes to Lia. She stumbled back and nearly lost her footing, but remained focused on the tree wyrm. Its huge mouth remained clamped shut, only the heat from its nostrils pouring forth, as its voice crooned on, “The guardians are losing power. Darkness devours the veil. The Great Nion is where you must go.”
Granda Luis stood quiet, as if waiting for more, but the creature remained silent. Finally, Granda let out a sigh and replied, “Many thanks, Wise One. Lia girl, fetch some dragonwort for our friend.”
“Uh, yes.” She swung around her pack and reached into it. After some searching, she brought out a black, knobby, S-shaped root. Carefully, she held it out to the tree wyrm who took it into its mouth.
“The fruits are yours,” the tree wyrm imparted, before slithering down the tree and out of sight.
“Wynn, cut some of those berry clusters down,” Granda Luis said before he limped back toward the thicket. Kelven gave Lia a nod and jogged to her granda’s side, helping to move branches out of the elder’s path.
Wynn hacked down several clusters of Luis berries, handing them to Lia. She packed them up and hurried after Granda and Kelven.
“What in ruddy spades was that all about?” Wynn said, following her.
“You didn’t hear it, did you? That tree wyrm spoke in our heads.”
“Wait, that snake-creature used mindspeak?” Wynn plowed through the undergrowth to walk beside her.