The Rainbow Weaver's Apprentice: The Fairy Tunnels Series, #1

By Elena Jagar

2023 BookFest Awards Gold Medal WINNER

 

"Take care you don't miss the sunset, Addie.

Remember what happened the last time an apprentice forgot to water the Urns?"

 

Addie knows perfectly well the disaster that can occur when you forget to water the rainbow seedlings at sunset. Everyone in the village knows it. But the wild wood calls with adventure, and friends are waiting to play. She can leave for just a while and be back in time to tend to her apprentice duties, right?

 

Right.

 

Now the whole village is enveloped in a strange fog spreading from the mysterious Fairy Tunnel that lies between Addie's home and the other villages. People are falling ill, and it's all Addie's fault.

 

The only way to fix what she's done is to go on a perilous journey through the Fairy Tunnel and find the healing magic that will save her people.

 

But to enter the Tunnel is to risk eternal imprisonment with the fairies.

 

The Rainbow Weaver's Apprentice will thrill middle-grade readers with danger, magic, and adventure at every turn of the page.

 

Get this book and start the adventure now!

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elena Jagar
• Release date: Feb 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201531423

Elena Jagar

Elena is the award-winning author of THE RAINBOW WEAVER'S APPRENTICE, book I in the Fairy Tunnels fantasy series for middle-grade readers.  Elena's writing spans several genres, and she believes that a good story is made up first and foremost of great characters, ones that are relatable and interesting enough to stay with the reader long after the book is closed. She hopes her young readers come away from her books feeling that nothing is impossible. When not writing, Elena enjoys horseback riding, tai chi, smelling the flowers, and petting bumblebees. Currently living overseas teaching English, Elena looks forward to having a garden and a menagerie of pets when she finally settles down in one place. Visit www.willowwrenbooks.com to get a free story and stay updated about Elena's writing.

Book preview

1.

IN WHICH ADDIE STALKS A RAINBOW

The wait was over. The day of the Harvest finally came.

Addie kneeled in the grass and opened the lid on Verna’s old wicker basket. Giddy with anticipation, she rummaged through its contents, counting to make sure she had everything they needed: seven clay jars, three glass decanters, seven wooden bowls, one yellow umbrella. Everything was here. Everything was ready.

Addie sat back on her heels and grinned at a curious willow wren who had landed on a feather reed to peek into the basket.

All around her, bees hummed and butterflies fluttered among the daisies, the foamy cow parsley, and the delicate purple columbines. The sun in the clear sky warmed Addie’s forehead, and a light breeze rustled in the leaves of the ash trees surrounding the meadow.

Nothing in the air predicted imminent rainfall, but Addie had no doubt that it would come, because Verna had said so. And Verna was never wrong.

Addie squinted up at the old Weaver. How much longer? Now?

Verna gave a sigh. Not yet, child. Be patient and it’ll come. Have you got everything ready?

Uh...no. Addie returned her attention to the basket. I started, and then I forgot.

Oh, Addie. Verna shook her head. Always getting distracted. When will you get some sense into you?

Don’t worry, I’ll get it done in no time, Addie said brightly.

She took out the wooden bowls and stacked them one on top of the other, then removed the stoppers from the glass decanters and laid them down in the grass. The clay jars came out last. Addie put them in a row, from red to purple according to their colors. She looked up at Verna.

See? All done!

Verna gave her a stern look that told Addie another speech was coming. They’d come at least once a week ever since Addie started her apprenticeship. Addie made a patient face and kept her eyes from rolling.

Getting distracted won’t do, Verna told her. I gave you a simple task to unpack the basket, and look how long it took you. You’ve been my apprentice for almost a year, Addie. I don’t regret taking you on, but your scatterbrain ways trouble me. Being the Rainbow Weaver isn’t all fun and games. It’s a great responsibility, one not to be taken lightly.

Addie nodded, only half-listening. I’ll be responsible. I promise.

She did her best to look solemn as she crossed her fingers behind her back, but her face refused to obey.

Serious and responsible were Addie’s least favorite words. They were against the rule, one she’d made for herself when she became Verna’s apprentice. Verna was not to know about it, of course.

Well, now. Is that taking things seriously?

With a huff, the old Weaver stuck her hands on her hips, and her bushy eyebrows bristled. Some of her white hair escaped from its bun and stood on ends like giant exclamation marks.

Addie knew she’d gone too far. A bristly Verna meant sure and swift punishment. Like being made to study twice as much, or having to do an extra heap of chores.

Addie wiped the smile off her face. Everything’s ready. Look! I got the colors all sorted and everything. She pointed to the seven jars and counted them out loud. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and purple. Just like the rainbow. She followed her recitation with a sweet smile that always worked like magic on Ma and got Addie out of doing chores at home.

Verna wagged her finger at her. Reciting rainbow colors won’t impress me. Anyone who can’t recite the colors after their first day of apprenticeship isn’t fit to be a Weaver. And no point smiling at me like that. I told you before that trick won’t work with me.

I bet this will work! Addie jumped to her feet and threw her hands up. She pitched forward to do a cartwheel, but lost her balance and rolled in the grass, giggling as her braid came undone and her flaxen curls tumbled every which way. Rolling in the grass was such fun! 

Stop that, Verna admonished. You’ll ruin your clothes.

But the corners of her mouth lifted and her eyebrows unbristled. She pulled Addie up by the hand and examined the fresh grass stains on the blue-green cardigan she'd knitted her only that spring. She’d taken special care to weave lavender flowers into the yarn, hoping their calming influence would quiet Addie down somewhat. But the flowers were having no effect, and the cardigan already had several torn threads in it. 

Verna clicked her tongue. Oh, dear. What am I going to do with you?

Her question trailed off on the warm breeze, unanswered and forgotten because, at that moment, the first drop of rain fell splat on Addie’s nose.

Addie stopped giggling and wiped off the drop with her finger. She stared at the sky where the sun was still shining. A grin lit her face. This was what she and Verna had been waiting for—the Sun Rain, most special of all rains.

Addie dashed to the wicker basket, snatched the wooden bowls from the grass, and thrust one into Verna’s hands. 

It’s starting, it’s starting! Verna, the Sun Rain is here! 

Shush, child. There’s no need to make a ruckus. Despite her reprimand, Verna smiled. Oh, I know. It’s natural to be eager about your first Harvest. I’ve done so many over the years, I barely remember them all. But the first one is never forgotten. 

More raindrops fell on the meadow, some sinking into the dark, rich earth, others landing on the clover leaves and glistening in the sun. Then the rain started in earnest, freshening the air with a new zing.

Verna picked up her yellow umbrella from the grass and held it unopened. She and Addie stood still, letting the rain patter on their uncovered heads, and waited. 

Look carefully, Verna reminded. It’ll be faint, barely noticeable when it first shows itself, so you’ve got to be quick about it.

Addie nodded and didn’t grin this time but searched the meadow with concentration while her heart beat in excitement.

The swash of color appeared near the tree line, the faintest of red, yellow, and blue. An easy thing to miss, if you didn’t know to look for it. But it couldn’t hide from Addie’s sharp eyes. She craned forward, like a cat who’d seen a mouse.

There it is, she whispered.

Verna hid her umbrella behind her back. She gave Addie her wooden bowl to hold and tiptoed toward the swash of the budding rainbow.

Addie stalked after her, holding the bowls securely with her chin and making sure to keep her shadow from running ahead and ruining everything.

They took a roundabout way. Coming straight at the rainbow would not do. The rainbow would simply disappear and spring up again in another part of the meadow. A novice might spend a whole day chasing rainbows and never catch a single one. But the Weaver knew it was crucial to approach a rainbow from the right angle.

Never come at it from the wrong angle, Verna often told Addie. And never, ever approach it from the left side. When you do it right, the sunray will hold the rainbow in place until you’re close enough to tether it.

Addie poked Verna in the small of her back. Can I do it? Can I?

Not on your first Harvest, dear. I’ll tether, and you watch.

Addie pouted but forgot her disappointment when Verna stopped before the swash. It had grown to a long curving shaft that stretched upward into the sky and continued on in a bright, graceful arch. Its end hadn’t reached the ground yet.

In one fluid motion, Verna brought her umbrella from behind her back, opened it, and dropped it upside down under the rainbow. 

Now? Addie whispered, fidgeting from foot to foot.

Patience, Verna said in a hushed voice and took her bowl back from Addie.

By now, the drizzle had tapered off to a few straggling raindrops. Refreshed and clean, the trees and flowers glistened in the warm sun. The rainbow colors deepened until each one, from red to purple, was clearly visible.

Then a shimmer went through the arch, starting at the far end beyond the horizon. Up, up, up it went, becoming brightest at the top where the sunrays hit it the strongest, and down the slide to the end that was caught in the umbrella.

The air burst with light as translucent, multicolored seeds sprayed from the rainbow. Where they fell in the grass, the seeds melted and disappeared, but the ones that landed in the umbrella collected in a nice, big pile. Addie and Verna scooped them up into the bowls.

More? Addie asked when half of the bowls had been filled.

Verna nodded. We’ll keep gathering until they’re all full. You lose a lot when you start sorting, so it’s always better to have more than you need.

The last bowl was nearly full when the rainbow began to fade. One by one, the colors dissolved and the seedfall stopped. Addie crawled on her knees around the umbrella, gathering the few remaining green and orange seeds from the bottom.

Then the Harvest was done. Addie showed Verna her bowl and grinned proudly. There was a nice mound of seeds there.

Verna smiled. Well done, child. She picked up her umbrella from the grass and closed it. She’d have no need of it until the next summer, the next Harvest.

Taking care not to spill a single seed, Addie and Verna made several trips carrying the laden bowls back to the wicker basket, where the clay jars stood waiting. The sun was getting hot overhead, now that the rain had gone, and the grass was drying fast. But the three glass decanters Addie had set out at the start of the Harvest brimmed with the Sun Rain. Addie stoppered them and put them away into the basket for later. Then she and Verna set about sorting the seeds into jars.

Much as she loved learning about rainbow magic, Addie didn’t care for this part. The seeds were small and slick and difficult to handle. She had to be extra careful not to drop any. When she lost them, the seeds fell in the grass, disappearing like colorful rain.

Why is this so hard? Addie complained when another handful slipped through her fingers.

Verna smiled. Hard for you, yes. But impossible for others. Only the person possessing rainbow magic can tether a rainbow or handle its seeds. They would simply vanish for anyone else.

This wasn’t a great consolation. Addie lost half a bowl before she got the knack for scooping the seeds up with the side of her palm, the way Verna did, and carefully lifting each seed between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand.

It was slow and intricate work that required much patience and hours of sitting still in one place. Meanwhile, all around them, dragonflies buzzed, birds stalked insects, and tiny animals scurried to and fro. The grass rose and fell in the breeze, and Addie’s feet itched to run around and explore. Twice, she tried abandoning her work to hunt after a large butterfly, but Verna’s stern gaze brought her back each time. 

At long last, the seeds had all been sorted by color into the jars.

Now, bring the corks from the basket, Verna instructed.

Addie found the seven wooden corks and placed each one in its jar, also according to color. They packed the jars, the glass decanters, and the empty bowls into the basket. Addie hugged it to herself possessively.

What happens now, Verna?

Now, we take it to the cottage and plant the seeds into the magic Urns, Verna told her. Time is short. If the seeds aren’t planted right away, they fade and disappear. Then there’s no more to be had until the next season.

Then we have to hurry! Addie sprang to her feet and dragged the heavy basket toward the forest path.

A year without the rainbow seeds would be bad indeed. 

2.

IN WHICH ADDIE IS LEFT WITH ALL THE RESPONSIBILITY

The path they followed led to Verna’s cottage, tucked against the forest at the edge of Woodlander village. As they neared the low wooden gate, Addie let go of the basket and ran ahead to open it.

They carried the basket down the rose path to the back of the cottage where seven large earth-filled Urns stood near the white-washed wall.

The new crescent moon appeared faint in the daytime sky, indicating the time was right for planting the seeds. Verna nodded with appreciation.

Let’s get to work.

With their bare hands, she and Addie dug narrow trenches in the soft earth of each Urn, going from the center out in careful spirals. Then Addie took the stopper out of the red jar and dropped the precious seeds into the trench, while Verna watered them with the sun rain they’d collected into the glass decanters. They did this with the remaining colors, planting each one in its separate Urn, then closed the trenches with the earth.

A few seeds of each color remained in the jars. Addie looked up at Verna eagerly. Can I plant them in the clay pots on the windowsill?

Verna shook her head. Only the seven Urns in this garden can grow rainbow seeds. Anything that’s left in the jars will simply fade by tonight.

Okay. Addie shrugged. What shall we do now?

Now, we do our daily work, Verna said patiently. I must go out for the rest of the afternoon and take a healing scarf to the wood maker’s wife who’s been ill. I won’t be back until nightfall.

She put the decanter with the remaining Sun Rain in the basket and went into the cottage.

Addie followed sourly on her heels. The day had started out so fun, only to end in boring old chores. How was this fair?

Why can’t I go with you? she whined.

She loved visiting the wood maker’s house, always full of laughter and activity. The wood maker gave Addie lovely toys and knickknacks to play with, and his wife filled Addie’s pockets with delicious treats she baked daily.

You must stay at the cottage today, Verna said and put the wicker basket under the window seat in the kitchen. I leave you the responsibility of looking after the Urns. They must be watered again with the sun rain at sunset. No later, no earlier. But there’s plenty of time until sunset to get all the work done. She took down a lavender bunch drying over the hearth. Start by separating these flowers from the stems, I’ll need them for later. Then you can tend to the garden.

Addie pouted, then a sly idea came to her and she looked earnestly at the old Weaver. Let me go to the wood maker’s and you can stay here and rest your legs. I know you’re tired from the Harvest.

Verna sighed, not a bit fooled. You’re to be the Rainbow Weaver one day, Addie. It’s time you learned some responsibility. I’m going. Take care you don’t fall asleep and miss the sunset. Do you remember what happened the last time someone forgot to water the Urns?

Addie nodded. That someone had been a young apprentice of old Roland’s, the Rainbow Weaver before Verna. Impatient to sit around and wait for sunset, the apprentice left his duties and missed the sunset watering. As a result, the rainbow seeds didn’t grow to maturity and, lacking their protection, many in Woodlander fell ill that winter.

To protect his people, Roland had to travel