A Fairy's Tale

By Heather Wielding

Once upon a time, fairy dust plays its tricks on a mortal woman. As a result, a child of mixed blood is born.
That child grows up among her winged kin, and embarks upon a mission to return magic to the Universe. Her journey takes her to faraway worlds, beyond the borders of mortal realms. As magic is unleashed from its prison, the world around her changes. Rules that once applied, exist no more, and the interest of creatures she never expected to meet, are piqued.
How will her journey end? Will magic prove to be an ally, or enemy? And how does a girl with purple eyes fit into her world?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heather Wielding
• Release date: Dec 11, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463223482

Book preview

Prologue

G et a move on, Sara ! You know the Elders want the wheat by sunrise!

Sara nodded. She knew well what Tilda meant: the fall Equinox -feast wouldn’t prepare itself. The wheat gathered by two virgins during the darkest hours of the night would be ground to flour as the sun reached its blinding arms over the mountains behind their village, and baked into soft bread served at the feast come midday. The bread was believed to have special powers: whoever ate it, would gather many blessings during the coming year. Wishes made while chewing were believed to come true, and everyone wanted a slice of the bread.

If the wheat wasn’t delivered on time, the bread couldn’t be made. Still, Sara paused at the sight.

Have you ever seen anything like that? Her voice was soft, full of wonder, but Tilda would have none of it. The hour was growing late, and they were needed.

What’s so special about a dewy meadow? she snapped, worn from a night of hard work. Let’s just go and get some sleep before the sun comes up.

Sara hesitated, but only for a moment. You go. I’ll catch up, and meet you along the way. The village gates at the latest.

Tilda rolled her eyes, and flung a heavy sack over her shoulder. Fine then, but make sure you get there before dawn.

I will.

As Tilda turned to walk down the narrow footpath, Sara lay her sack down. She stepped off the path. The meadow glistened in the moonlight, but not with dew. It looked as though it was powdered with fine dust that turned soft light into rainbows. It was the most beautiful, enchanting thing she had ever witnessed, the loveliest sight she could even hope to imagine. The desire to touch the colours, to breathe them in, to become one with them, was overwhelming.

Conscious thought fled from her mind as she stepped into the meadow and reached out to touch the rainbows.

The night was still dark as reason returned to her, but the horizon was turning lighter. Daybreak was near. Light would soon flood the world. The village was still many steps away. Sara felt her scalp tingling, like her hair was trying to stand on end. If she was late, the ceremony, along with the feast that followed it, would be ruined.

She gathered her skirts, and rushed to the footpath. The meadow had lost its magic: it was cold and damp, and everything that grew there tried to make its way around her ankle, to pull her down and stop her.

The sack was where she’d left it. Sara picked it up without bothering to arrange her hems, and set out to beat the sun.

Tilda was waiting for her at the main gate. Sara could see her red hair in the soft glow of the light posts, and though there was a sting in her chest and a burning in her throat from running the entire way, she picked up the pace. She was almost there, and the sun still hadn’t risen. The village slept, there was time still, and Tilda -

Where have you been! I have waited all night for you!

Breathless, unable to reply or explain, Sara took Tilda’s arm, rushing toward the dome in the middle of the village. There would be plenty of time to explain later, after the wheat was delivered and proper words exchanged, after the sweat had dried on her back and made her dress crispy, after her breathing had slowed down, and the pin in her side left her painless and able to speak.

The Elders were waiting in darkness, as was custom, and as the girls entered their circle, one of them, the eldest, stood, and spoke the words that would complete the rite.

The Innocents return. With plunder, I hope?

The girls knelt, one more heavily than the other, offering sacks of grain.

We return, oh esteemed one, our purses rich with wheat.

They were supposed to speak in unison, with one voice, but Sara’s came out in wheezes and gasps. The eldest looked at her with a twinkle of laughter in his eye. He remembered well what it was like to be young, and knew the fall Equinox wouldn’t be ruined by a few missing words. The wheat was delivered in time, and that was all that mattered.

Then let us grind it as the sun rises, and thank nature for its generous blessings. His voice was full and powerful despite his frail appearance, and kindness coloured it like the dust that had coloured the meadow for Sara.

W here were you? Tilda asked, her plate full of food, dark shadows under her eyes. Sara’s adventure had robbed her of a night’s sleep, and despite her youth, it showed. Lack of rest hadn’t affected her appetite, though, Sara was happy to see. The dome above them echoed with voices and laughter, and in the middle of it, the Elders sat in silent harmony, benevolent rulers of a happy village, listening to every word that was spoken. No-one remembered who had built the dome: it had been there longer than the Elders had lived. Its acoustic traits were well known to them, but not the villagers. At each gathering, the Elders sat in the middle of the dome while the shape of the ceiling carried the voices of villagers to their ears. It was how they knew everything, and maintained an image of all-powerful beings possessing magical abilities.

I didn’t go anywhere, Sara said. I was in the meadow. After a pause, she added, I think. It’s all a bit unclear. But it was beautiful. The meadow was glistening with light and colour, and...

And we almost missed sunrise. It was a matter of moments!

I know, I know, Tilda, but we did make it. And it was the most exiting thing I’ve ever experienced!

The most exiting thing, and still it’s a bit unclear?

There was a hostile tone in Tilda’s voice, but Sara was used to it. Tilda was full of fire, just like her hair. Most things she said sounded like she was picking a fight. Sara’s mother liked to say that Tilda wasn’t too likely to get a husband, but Sara disagreed. She’d seen the way boys looked at her, like they enjoyed her fire, like they wanted to play with it. Tilda was smart, too, and pretty in a way Sara envied. Her own hair was brown like the earth, her features plump and homely. She suspected Tilda to marry far earlier, while she held her hand through weddings and childbirth, remaining a spinster herself.

Well it was lovely, and that’s it.

Tilda ate in silence for a while, carefully chewing on the soft bread baked from the grain they had collected. Whether or not she was making wishes, Sara couldn’t tell. The way her eyes were fixed on the Collins’ boy, though, suggested she was.

Do you feel any... different? Tilda asked after a while.

Sara paused to think. She didn’t pay that much attention to how she felt. She was rarely nauseous, rarely sick. Feeling nothing but fine was unfamiliar to her. Tilda sounded serious, so she took the time to consider.

No, not really, she said after a moment of careful introspection. I mean, I’m tired, but that’s because we haven’t slept, and my legs feel funny, but that because I ran all the way back, but other than that...

Or was there something? A touch of nausea in the pit of her stomach? A headache maybe?

Sara smiled bravely and confirmed her own words. I feel just fine.

Neither of them noticed that the eldest of the Elders was watching them with concerned wrinkles on his forehead, like he didn’t like what the dome carried to his ears.

Sara dropped her basket of dirty laundry, and ran around the corner. Nausea hit with no warning, with an intensity she hadn’t experienced before. She closed her eyes as everything she’d eaten after waking up left her, bitter tears welling behind her lids. Sara struggled to keep them in, but the battle was quickly lost.

The vomiting spells had lasted for two weeks now. She had tried to keep them a secret, but knew she wasn’t doing a very good job. It was difficult to conceal things in a small, tightly knit community, especially if you were a young girl waiting to marry. She was a treasured asset, her value greater than she could imagine. The village saw it as its right to keep her safe under its ever-watching eye. She, like all he girls in the village, was on display. Everything they did was known to all, and Sara knew her illness would soon be public knowledge.

The plague she had contracted would mean exile.

A life alone, in the woods with a deadly sickness was no appealing fate, so Sara tried her best to keep her condition a secret. Little did she know that spying eyes had already noticed, and news was being delivered to the Elders.

I t’s my girl, Sara , Lucy said, touching her apron to the corner of her eye. I suspect she is with child.

The council of Elders didn’t gasp in disgust. Instead, sounds of disgruntlement escaped them.

In their community, girls entered marriage untouched. It was an unwritten law, a custom they had followed for centuries.

Accidents, though, happened. Every once in a while, a girl met a boy, gave in to his advances, and ended up pregnant. In these situations, the happy couple usually wed with the blessings of the Elders, but Sara hadn’t been seen with anyone. The lack of a suitor made the situation all the more challenging.

We wish to speak with the girl, the eldest of the Elders said. Bring her to us.

Lucy bobbed her knees in an attempt to curtsey, and escaped the audience hall. The Eldest were the law of the village, and though they were a kind, compassionate law, the simple villagers feared them.

B ut I haven’t done anything, Sara protested.

You know what you’ve done, her mother snapped, ushering her into a clean apron. The entire village knows. And now you’ll have to pay the price.

Sara’s stomach was in cold, tight knots. She’d known this day would come. This was the day she would be driven from the village, left alone to die. But I don’t want to go, she sobbed, trying desperately to keep tears in check.

Her mother wasn’t moved. You’ll have to. The council is waiting.

I was told to...

Yes, yes, go on in. They’re expecting you.

The man whose duty it was to announce visitors to the council waved his hand, and turned back to his book. His eyes were poor, so he had to hold the book so close it almost touched his nose.

I thought that...

Go on in, dear.

This wasn’t what Sara had expected. She had prepared herself to meet armed guards who would drag her in kicking and screaming. She’d expected to meet disapproval and accusations, and all she got was this.

Complete lack of interest.

She nodded her head, like she had been taught, and entered the audience hall.

The Elders sat in a semi-circle around the chamber. Their faces were pale and bearded and grey, and for the first time, Sara noted how old they looked. She wanted to go to them, to touch their hands and comfort them, like it was they who were in pain, not her.

Sara, the eldest of the Elders spoke. We understand you haven’t been feeling well.

Tears burned her eyes, stifled her throat. It was a sensation she’d grown used to during the past fortnight. You understand correct, she answered. There was no point in hiding now. The truth was out.

The eldest nodded. You are a sweet and innocent girl, but we have to ask: have you laid with anyone?

The shock roused by the question drove tears away. What... no. I haven’t.

"As I assumed.

And tell me, child, have you seen anything... unusual in the past month?

Sara struggled to form coherent words. Thoughts were a jumbled mess in her head as she tried desperately to remember what she’d seen and done during the past weeks. She swallowed and stuttered, and as a clear thought struck her like a lightning bolt, she fell quiet. Her eyes were big and round and scared, and the eldest stood to walk to her.

His hands were warm and dry, like she imagined ancient silk to be, comforting around hers. What did you remember, child?

The meadow, she said. When I returned from gathering the wheat, I saw the meadow full of stars and rainbows.

The grip the eldest had on her hands grew tighter. Fairy magic, he uttered.

Fairies? Sara repeated. It was starting to become clear that she hadn’t contracted a deadly plague, but something else.

That’s how they breed. They sprinkle dust on meadows, and inhale it. The elder’s words were dry and curt, like he was upset about something. I did not know it could affect humans as well.

What do you mean?

The eldest looked back at her, his eyes gaining light and joy. You are with child, Sara.

Child?

She didn’t want to seem silly, but the idea of having conceived a child by inhaling fairy dust seemed absurd to her. Everyone knew a man and a woman were to lay together in order for a new life to begin. Still, she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t want to upset the Elders by arguing against their better judgement. After all, she was only a girl, and knew little of the ways of the world.

"Every child is a blessing, no matter their origin.

Every child must also be born in wedlock.

Sara felt the cold, tight knots in the pit of her stomach again. Surely they would exile her now, drive her off into the woods to die alone, not of a deadly plague, but of childbirth.

But the Elders smiled.

"We must find you a husband, and act quickly.

And the way the child was conceived must remain our secret.

Later, she could remember little of the wedding ceremony. It was like a dream, and gone as quickly as a dream fades. Tilda was there, all smiles for once, and her mother, touching her best apron to the corner of her eye, her aunts and uncles, the entire village, and the boy they had decided should wed her.

It wasn’t a bad match, she later noted. Sam was kind and hard-working. He liked to kiss her forehead and call her missus. He wasn’t upset, either, when he learned they were blessed with a child. Now, as she was screaming her pain out in labour, she would have liked his hand on her head, calming, soothing. Instead, she had a midwife between her legs, her mother squeezing her hand so tight Sara feared her bones would break, and pain that was blinding her, pain unlike anything she’d ever even imagined.

For the longest time, pain was all that existed. Pain that tore her in half, ground her to cinder, and left her wheezing until it returned once more. And just as she thought she couldn’t take more, it ended.

Where is it? she managed. Her voice wouldn’t carry over the murmur of worried