Dunbar Woods

By Beth Hart

Tamlin is one of the Fairlies, a tribe of Fair Folk with magical powers and eternal youth. As Watcher for the Ettrick clan, Tam guards his family's home in Dunbar Woods. His orderly life descends into turmoil when his sister, the clan's Storyteller, runs away and elopes. Their mother, the cold and powerful Queen Morna, accuses Tam of negligence and threatens to throw him into the dark and mysterious Pit. To avoid this terrifying punishment, Tam makes a rash bargain: he will find a human girl to become the new Storyteller.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Peaks Island Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005726898

Beth Hart

Beth Woodbury Hart was raised in upstate New York in a house full of books. At an early age, she encountered the fantasies of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. She also loved to climb trees and hike in the woods near her family's home.Inspired by her mother's storytelling and a creative fifth grade teacher, Beth filled notebooks with poems, stories, novels, and plays. Later, while attending Brigham Young University, she made a foray into journalism, producing articles, reviews, and editorials for the school newspaper. She continues to write opinion pieces and letters to editors.Beth is the author of the award-winning short story "Reflections on Shadows" as well as the novel, A Blessing of Unicorns, and a musical, The Sultan's Daughter.Beth currently lives with her family in western Washington, where the trees, mountains, and lush green forests have renewed her love of nature. She enjoys cooking, gardening, writing Yelp reviews, playing word games with her grandkids, and watching K-dramas on Netflix with her husband.Beth has always loved fairy tales and folklore from different cultures. Like Keely, she was inspired by Celtic Myths and Legends, an excellent collection of stories retold by Peter Berresford Ellis.

Book preview

Prologue

A Tale of the Fairlies

A long time ago, when the Earth was young and green, the Creator gathered all his children together. He placed his gifts before them and invited each tribe to choose the thing they valued most. The Selkies chose the freedom of the sea, the Dragons the freedom of the air. The Dryads united with the Trees, while the Dwarves took up mining and metal work.

The Fairlies, who were known for their beauty, claimed the gift of eternal youth. The Humans considered doing the same. But after much debate, they decided that the greatest gift was wisdom, which could only be gained through age and experience. They boldly entered the State of Mortality and the result was Chaos.

To prevent the Chaos from destroying their magic, the Fairlies built another world, a fair and orderly place, for themselves and their allies. The High Queen hid this Otherworld behind an invisible Veil. The Fairlies often passed through the Veil to explore the mortal realm. Once in a while, one of them fell in love with a Human.

It was not forbidden.

But it was always dangerous.

Chapter 1

Tam

Tam’s sister Eithne fell in love with a Human on a balmy evening in August. The air was soft and warm. The light of the setting sun filled the sky with a rosy glow. Tantalizing strains of music floated through Dunbar Woods and drifted into the crannog of Glimmeridge. Eithne ran across the courtyard and grabbed Tam by the shoulders.

There’s an outdoor concert tonight! she exclaimed. Come with me, please?

Tam cast a wary glance at the end of the Western Bridge, where their parents stood in a cluster of laughing Fairlies. Their brother Lonan hurried to join the group.

We’re supposed to attend the Boat Festival at Seagirt, Tam said.

Bo–ring. Eithne rolled her eyes. Lonan will spend the whole time flirting with Gwyneth, and I’ll have to be their chaperone.

Seagirt was the home of the large and wealthy Madrona clan. Tam had been hoping to watch the boat races with Lark, Gwyneth’s younger sister. But he loved music as much as Eithne did. His sharp ears caught the sound of a fiddle playing beyond the woods, and his resistance melted away.

You’d better ask Mother’s permission.

Their mother, Queen Morna, was already walking toward them. Quit dawdling, she called. It’s time to leave.

With exaggerated concern, Eithne said, Mother, the Humans are holding a concert in the park. Tam needs to patrol the border, and I’d better go with him. You know what happened last year.

Last summer, a couple of rowdy teenagers had started a brush fire with contraband fireworks, putting Dunbar Woods in danger. Queen Morna frowned.

Very well. But you must stay in the protection of the trees. With an indulgent smile, she added, You may listen to the music while you watch the crowd.

Yes, my lady.

Eithne made a formal curtsy, but as soon as the partygoers crossed the bridge, she clapped her hands. She and Tam ran in the opposite direction, rowed across the lake, and climbed the wooded hill to the edge of Firbrook Park. They slipped through the Veil and crouched beneath the sweeping branches of a cedar tree.

Humans gathered in the baseball field, perching on the bleachers or lounging on blankets in the grass. With the ease of experience, Tam scanned the crowd. He was one of the official Watchers for the Ettrick clan; almost every night, he patrolled the human settlements, looking for signs of trouble. Eithne often joined him, just for fun, and they collected abandoned tools, books, and other interesting things. Tam had become adept at trading these artifacts in the marketplace or using them to make bargains with family members.

He nudged Eithne and pointed to a sweater someone had dropped on the grass. But her eyes were fixed on the platform at the end of the field, where a group of musicians was warming up. A piper raced up and down a few scales, the fiddler played a jaunty tune, and a young man plucked an acoustic guitar. Wavy dark hair hung to the guitar player’s shoulders. His blue eyes sparkled with humor. As he stepped up to the microphone, a few girls shrieked in excitement. The young man flashed a bright smile and addressed the audience with a Gaelic greeting.

Cead mile failte! A thousand welcomes.

Not bad for a Human, Tam thought.

The guitarist continued. I am Alan Breck, and this is my band, Riversong. We’ll start with some fiddle music. Here’s ‘Toss the Feathers.’

The drummer tapped the beat on his cymbals and shouted, One-two-three-four! The fiddler began to play, her bow flying. She was joined by the pipe and the guitar. The audience clapped in time, and Tam and Eithne joined in.

Eithne leaned toward him and whispered, They’re really good.

Tam grinned and nodded in agreement.

The first number was followed by more Irish and Scottish tunes. For an encore, Alan sang the Skye Boat Song.

Eithne clasped her hands and sighed. I love him.

Tam shrugged. The man’s voice had a raspy quality, and he was weak on the high notes.

That weekend, Riversong gave two more performances. Eithne insisted they go to each one. She also insisted on arriving early, so she could talk to Alan. As Tam hovered near the stage, he overheard snatches of their conversations.

What’s your favorite folk song? Alan asked Eithne.

The one about the boat. In her high, silvery voice, Eithne sang, Speed, bonny boat, like a bird on the wing. Onward! The sailors cry.

Wow, Alan exclaimed. You have a great set of pipes!

I wish I could learn more, she said shyly.

I can give you lessons. I have a studio in Tacoma—here’s the address.

He handed her a card, and Eithne tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. Tam thought his sister was being overly polite, pretending that this scruffy Human was good enough to teach a Fairlie.

In September, Eithne started making regular trips to Seagirt, which stood on Point Defiance at the north end of Tacoma. Lonan had pledged to marry Gwyneth, but before their betrothal could be formalized, he had to spend several weekends with his future in-laws. Queen Morna assigned Eithne to be his chaperone. She dropped obvious hints that Eithne was old enough to get serious about finding a husband.

Some fine young men are visiting Seagirt this season.

While rowing Eithne around the lake one Sunday, Tam teased her about her beaus. She gave him a sly smile and told him the truth; on Saturday afternoons, she was sneaking into the human town to take voice lessons.

Alan says I should follow my bliss and try for a singing career.

Tam gave her a blank stare. What are you talking about? You’re the Storyteller.

Eithne’s singing voice was pretty enough, but she had a remarkable talent for telling stories. She recited all the old Celtic tales, and she could make pictures appear in the air, a magical gift few others could claim. Tam couldn’t imagine her doing anything else.

Mother chose Rhoswen to be our Singer, he pointed out.

Humph. Eithne tossed her head. "In the human world, people can do whatever they like. Why can’t we have more choices? It’s not fair."

But— Tam sputtered. You’re sneaking into a human town—in the daytime.

She laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. Don’t worry so much, silly boy. I’m just having fun.

At the end of October, during the Samhain festival, Eithne played her usual role as the Storyteller for the Ettrick clan. She recited the Welsh tale about the Selkie who married a human farmer. Tam didn’t pay much attention; he was too busy flirting with Lark Madrona, a vivacious young woman with golden hair and dark brown eyes. He was thrilled when she accepted his invitation to dance.

As they skipped through a lively gavotte, Tam noticed Alan Breck standing in the Hall. He hovered among the guests near the windows, trying to blend in. But Tam recognized his long, wavy locks, and his green tunic and feathered cap looked like a Halloween costume. Only a Human would wear something like that. Tam gave the man an abrupt nod and danced on.

Alan’s presence was not unexpected. On Samhain, the gates between the Otherworld and the human world always stood open. Although Glimmeridge was hidden deep in Dunbar Woods, people from the town of Greenfield sometimes wandered into the crannog and joined the Ettricks’ celebration. They likely assumed it was a county fair of some kind. Queen Morna would have preferred to keep her family isolated, but she could not break the ancient traditions of the Fair Folk.

In the middle of a slow pavane, Tam saw Eithne teaching Alan the steps. As the music ended, she took his hand and pulled him into the shadows beneath the stairwell. After a whispered conversation, Alan kissed her cheek and slipped out the back door.

Tam sidled up to Eithne. Are you encouraging that man’s attentions?

Of course not. He’s my teacher.

But her laughter seemed forced. For the next two nights, Tam did frequent patrols of Glimmeridge and used his Watchfire to check on his family. He wasn’t supposed to spy on them, but it was his job to ensure their safety. He wanted to make sure Alan Breck didn’t try to get back into the crannog.

The borders were secure, and Tam relaxed his vigilance. Eithne seemed content with life in the Otherworld, and she cheerfully performed her duties. In mid-November, during Tam’s sixteenth birthday feast, she recited the tale of the Kelpie. He had heard it many times before, but the adventures of Donal and the chieftains’ sons always sent thrills up his spine. To escape the clutches of the man-horse from the sea, Donal cut off his own fingers. Tam wished he could be that brave.

Lonan and Gwyneth were planning a summer wedding, and Eithne agreed to be their Storyteller. She never mentioned Alan. She knows that Human has nothing to teach her, Tam decided.

On Arthan, the night of the Winter Solstice, Eithne entertained a crowd of Ettricks and Madronas with a dramatic rendition of The Princess of the Shining Star. As she spoke, streams of smoke rose from the fire and swirled in the air, creating images of the handsome miller and the ugly gremlins. The beautiful princess appeared in a glittering carriage created by a cloud of sparks. Everyone applauded enthusiastically, but Tam felt uneasy. For the second time in two months, Eithne had chosen a tale about a Human who fell in love with a woman of the Fair Folk.

It doesn’t mean anything, he told himself. Maybe she has a crush on Alan and admires his music, but Storytelling is her true calling.

The twelve days of Yuletide began. In the human developments of Heatherwood and Cedar Court, the houses were decorated with sparkling lights and colorful images of Saint Nicholas. In Glimmeridge, the Great Hall was decked with boughs of holly, and the Ettricks followed the Victorian custom of putting up a Christmas tree. Tam, Mungo, and Rubin, the gardener, cut down the tallest evergreen in the wood lot. The women adorned the tree with garlands of silk flowers, velvet ribbons, silver apples, and golden pears.

Throughout the holiday season, the Ettricks exchanged visits with friends and relatives. They were able to travel quickly through the Fairlie Portals to Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. They made a courtesy call to Ellan Vannen—the Isle of Man—and presented their respects to Banba, the High Queen.

Each clan provided its highest level of hospitality and entertainment. There were feasts, balls, hunting parties, and sporting competitions. Tam engaged in several middleweight wrestling matches and won most of them. He also showed off his skill with the Watchfire. Now that he was sixteen, he was old enough to start courting, and he was expected to display his talents to the eligible young ladies.

After so many loud and elaborate parties, it was a relief to finish Yuletide with a simple family celebration. On January sixth, the Ettricks gathered in the Great Hall to sing and play games. For refreshments, Morna transformed the Christmas tree ornaments into real fruit. Once the garlands and ribbons were removed, the men sawed off the boughs, split the trunk, and used the wood to start a bonfire in the courtyard. Morna watched them from the tower of the Hall, poised to send a shower of rain if the flames spread out of control.

The other clan members strolled around the courtyard, exchanging gifts and greetings for the new year. Eithne embraced Tam and presented him with a small gift wrapped in flowered cloth.

For my favorite brother, she murmured. It’s a secret—don’t open it until tomorrow.

She slipped the package into the pocket of his leather jacket. He handed her a book of Christmas music he’d salvaged from a recycle bin. The cover was missing, but the pages were clean, and the songs were illustrated with pretty drawings.

Eithne leafed through the book. What a nice collection! Whenever I use it, I’ll think of you.

She kissed him on both cheeks, and tears glimmered in her clear blue eyes. It wasn’t like her to be so sentimental. But the end of Yuletide always felt a little sad.

Inside the Hall, their aunts were covering the tables with leftovers from the twelve nights of feasting. Tam stuffed himself with pumpkin cakes, apple tarts, and slices of ham and smoked turkey. At midnight, full of food and happy memories, he stumbled to his cottage and fell asleep.

An hour later, he woke to the sounds of a gathering storm. Thunder growled overhead, and wind gusted through the trees. A sharp knock rattled the door, and his mother burst into the room. Her long, dark hair flew about her face, crackling with angry static.

Where is she? Queen Morna shrieked.

Tam sat up and rubbed his bleary eyes. Who?

Eithne! I don’t see her anywhere!

I don’t know where she is, he mumbled.

Use your Watchfire! Find her!

Tam slipped on his jacket, pushed his bare feet into his boots, and stepped out the door. He held up his right hand and flicked his fingers together as if striking a match. A blue flame sprang up near the base of his thumb. Cupping the flame with his left hand, Tam shaped it into a Watchfire, a shimmering sphere the size of a child’s ball. He moved the ball in a slow circle, facing each direction as he whispered the names of his siblings.

Brom. Niall. Rhoswen. Elestren. Lonan. Catríona. Eithne. For good measure, he added his father’s name. Mungo.

One by one, their images appeared in the center of the sphere. Brom and Niall were traveling homeward with their wives’ clans. Rhoswen sang a lullaby to her fussy baby while her husband, Gavin, rocked the cradle. Elestren and her husband, Tristan, were fast asleep in their feather bed, their three children piled around them like a litter of puppies. Lonan wandered through the fir trees near his cottage, humming a love song and sighing over Gwyneth, who had returned to Seagirt with the other Madronas.

Tam held the Watchfire higher and focused on the Great Hall and the buildings beyond. Mungo sat in his library, reading a book. Catríona supervised the servants in cleaning the kitchen. Quickly, Tam checked the area around the women’s bathhouse, but he did not see Eithne anywhere.

Peering over his shoulder, Morna demanded, Where is she?

I can’t tell. Tentatively, he suggested, We could see better from the battlements.

No! Morna snapped. No Watchfires in the tower!

The wind grew stronger, shaking the boughs of the fir trees. Tam knew the weather was responding to his mother’s distress, and if he did not find Eithne, it would get worse. He threw a cloak over his shoulders and hurried to the Western Bridge. His fingers stiffened with cold, and it took several tries to create a new Watchfire.

Hurry up! Morna cried.

Tam held the sphere high and turned to face each compass direction. He scanned the woods on the west side of the crannog; next, he studied the meadow, the gardens, the cedar forest, the barnyard, and the waterfall.

Eithne, he murmured. Nothing. He repeated, more urgently, Eithne!

Find her, his mother pleaded, and he felt a stab of fear. Slowly, he turned to the south and scanned the baseball field. Eithne’s face appeared in the center of the Watchfire, but it was veiled by a soft mist.

She’s in the park, Tam said.

Morna clicked her tongue. What is she doing there?

I don’t know. I have to get closer.

They crossed the empty courtyard and climbed the path to the Great Hall. At the far end was a stone terrace bordered by an herb garden. Tam held up the Watchfire and moved it slowly across the tree line. Finally, he spotted two shadowy figures walking along Silver Creek on the east side of Dunbar Woods.

There they are, he muttered.

"They?" Morna demanded.

Eithne and Alan Breck. He’s—uh—a singer she’s fond of.

Fond? she snapped. How fond?

Tam didn’t answer. He needed all his energy to keep the Watchfire steady as he followed his sister and her sweetheart. They stopped on the plank bridge that crossed the creek between the woods and the baseball field. Alan turned to face Eithne and clasped her hands. He spoke softly, and she replied. Her voice was faint, but Tam read her lips and repeated the words out loud. "I take ye as my wedded husband."

They are hand-fasting! Morna cried. No!

Her angry scream filled the air. Howling in response, the wind swept around her and lifted the edges of her cloak, making them flap like wings. Morna transformed into her owl shape and soared over the trees. But it was too late. Staring into the Watchfire, Tam saw the laughing couple race across the field to the parking lot. They jumped into a car, sped down the road, and disappeared into the human world. The only image left in the sphere was a blur of color and dazzling light. Even in her bird form, Morna could not catch up with them.

Her anguished cries echoed through the woods. All around the courtyard, lights flickered on, doors swung open, and voices called out in alarm. Mungo strode out of the Hall and joined Tam on the terrace.

What happened? he asked.

Eithne eloped, Tam said numbly. With a Human. The man dressed up like Robin Hood on Samhain.

I wondered if there was something between those two. Mungo shook his head and moaned in dismay. Ooh, this is not good.

Can’t we stop them? Tam cried.

Mungo set a hand on his shoulder. Nothing can stop the course of true love. But your mother is going to be furious. As soon as she comes home, I’ll try to calm her down.

He hurried back to his library and tuned his violin. Doors slammed shut as Morna flew screeching across the courtyard. Storm clouds billowed overhead, lightning flashed, thunder rumbled, and hail pelted down in a thick, white sheet.

Tam pulled his cloak over his head and ran back to his cottage. He tossed an armful of kindling into the fireplace and lit the wood with the last flame from the Watchfire. As he knelt there, rubbing his hands, his breath caught in a harsh sob.

How could Eithne do this to me? How could she leave without saying goodbye?

His stomach rolled, and for a moment, he felt like he might throw up. No use going back to bed. I’ll rest by the fire tonight.

He hung up his cloak and peeled off his damp jacket. As he draped it over a chair, his fingers felt the bundle in the left pocket. He pulled out the gift Eithne had given him after the feast. Inside, a piece of paper was folded around a small object. On the top flap, she had written in her slanting script, Don’t forget me.

He upended the packet, and a shimmering object fell into his hand. It was Eithne’s gold necklace, the one Queen Morna had given her on her sixteenth birthday. Tam lay down by the fire and clutched the necklace in his fist, rubbing the finely woven chain as if it were a talisman.

Chapter 2

The Gathering of the Clan

During the next three days, Morna paced around her parlor and shouted angrily at anyone who dared to approach. The rest of the week, she brooded in her bedchamber near the top of the tower. After a brief consultation with his wife, Mungo posted an announcement on the front door of the Hall. Tam read the scroll with a shiver of dread. The weekly Gathering on Sunday evening would be a council meeting. A formal Council did not bode well for Eithne, and Tam realized that he, too, was in trouble. He shuddered.

I hope Mother doesn’t throw me in the Pit.

The Pit was Queen Morna’s punishment for the most egregious infractions. The first time she sent Tam there, he had just discovered his ability to create the magic blue flame of the Watchfire. He was only six, and his new-found power made him giddy with excitement. He ran gleefully around the crannog, startling people by snapping his fingers in their faces.

Morna seized him by the ear, marched him to her parlor, and lectured him for ten minutes about courtesy, duty, and the responsible use of magic. The Watchfire is not a toy! It is only to be used for the protection of the clan.

With an innocent smile, Tam proclaimed, I was practicing!

Don’t be rude, she snapped. You need to learn some manners.

She pointed at him and recited the words of a spell. Swirling gray clouds trapped him inside a wall of thick, gray fog. He saw nothing, but his ears picked up a few faint sounds—the lapping of waves on a distant shore, the dripping of water on damp stone.

After a few minutes, Morna released Tam from his gray prison. He promised to act more responsibly, but his curiosity always overcame his better judgment. He could not resist the temptation to hide in Dunbar Woods and experiment with the Watchfire.

One sunny August day in his thirteenth year, he finally learned his lesson. Rubbing his hands to create greater friction, he transformed the cool, blue light into a blossom of yellow flames. To his alarm, the petals of fire grew hot. He