The Rapha And The Firefly

By GeAnn Powers

In a world of elven tribes and mythical creatures, Ariel challenges the dogmatic laws and norms of her kin and begins a transformative journey, learning various skills from the compassionate Rapha.

In her adventures with different elves, like Rosie the gnome and Sage the tree sprite, Ariel is exposed to a world where care, knowledge, and community are paramount. But because of his haunting memories and biases, Keeper still struggles to trust Ariel.

Soon, the Rapha begin to reconsider their own stories and beliefs, and Keeper has to face his own troubled past.

An enlightening and heartwarming fantasy adventure, THE RAPHA AND THE FIREFLY is the third book in The Year Of The Firefly series by GeAnn Powers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Nov 11, 2023
• ISBN: 9798890080370

Book preview

Chapter 1

Another Sunday

1ST WEEK OF JUNE

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

Ariel fumed. She should have expected this. It was Sunday, and she had been left all alone. Keeper had told her she wasn’t allowed to come, but she’d started for Basil's place extra early that morning. She hoped to be allowed to go to the mysterious assembly with him. But when she arrived, Basil was already gone.

Stupid Keeper! This is all his fault!

The fairy princess sat her 5½" frame down in a chair to wait for her friend.

It had been two months now since she’d rescued Basil from the spider’s web. So much had happened since then. So many secrets! So many rules had been broken!

Basil was a hopper—a type of pixie. Ariel was a flyer—a winged fairy. Flyers were not allowed to talk to other elves. She’d talked to him.

Broken rule number 1.

Soon after meeting Basil, Ariel had gotten caught in a spider’s web. The hopper had come to her rescue and been bitten in her place. So, Ariel killed the spider and found a place for the poisoned elf to recover. She’d never heard it in a rule before, but since she wasn’t allowed to talk to other elves, she was sure rescuing them was also forbidden.

Broken rule number 2.

She hadn’t known it at the time, but Basil was a Rapha—a healer. He had potions and medicines in his backpack that kept him from dying from the spider’s venom. Ariel brought Basil food and water while he healed. In exchange, he’d taught her how to read. Books and reading were forbidden in her colony.

Broken rule number 3.

When she got Basil home, she met his friends. Unlike her barbaric tribe, the elves on Basil’s side of the valley were friendly to one another. Tree sprites, water nymphs, hoppers and gnomes worked together for the good of the whole community. Keepers of the Plains they called themselves. And together they worked to keep their valley safe. The tiny elves lived there among the groves and in the fields, careful to keep hidden from the humans farming the land, but doing what they could to build a thriving community. In contrast, Ariel’s tribe lived in a broken-down abandoned barn, freezing in the winter and fighting over roadkill animals and garbage pickings just to survive. The Keepers of the Plains were more than willing to feed the filthy hungry young flyer who wandered around with the Rapha. The first rule was broken even farther.

That made broken rule number 4.

Basil felt sorry for the girl. Filthy and hungry, she only had the clothes on her back as possessions. He gave her a pocket knife for her very own. But she was a girl. Girls in her colony were not allowed to own anything. Ariel kept the treasure hidden in her sash.

Broken rule number 5.

And then Ariel met Keeper. Horrible, wicked Keeper! He was the leader of the Rapha, and he was a flyer too! His crippled wings were kept hidden under his clothes, yet he’d shown them to her the first time they’d met. She saw the scars where he’d been tortured and felt under his hair where his antenna had been uprooted. It had been a warning to her of what awaited her if her people ever found out about her time here on the other side of the valley with the Keepers of the Plains. She’d sped home, terrified. When she’d built up enough courage, she dared to ask her father if he knew this flyer she’d happened to meet.

His name isn’t Keeper, it’s Thunder, he’d hissed at her. And he killed your mother.

Her father asked if she knew where he lived.

No.

But that was a lie.

Ariel gathered up her courage and returned to the Plains’ Keepers’ side of the valley to confront Keeper.

I didn’t kill your mother, he insisted.

Ariel wasn’t sure what she believed. But she did know one thing: the Rapha thought Keeper was an elf. Only she knew he was a flyer.

A tense agreement was settled upon: she would keep his secret safe. In exchange, he couldn’t drive her away. She would continue coming so she could learn about the Plains’ Keepers.

How many rules was she breaking with that one? She wasn’t sure.

Don’t let your colony know where you go.

Don’t let the Rapha know about Keeper.

Don’t slip up or you can never come back.

Don’t slip up or you could die.

That summed up Ariel’s life right now.

She stared around the room, wondering where Basil was. He was at assembly, but what was that? Where was that? She didn’t know. Keeper had forbidden her from going.

That was one rule she hadn’t been able to break. Yet.

Ariel sighed.

There were still two pieces of pie left from the night before. She had one for breakfast. When she was done, Basil still had not come home, so she helped herself to the other one, too. But Basil was still not home.

The princess wandered around the room, looking into all the crannies and nooks, hoping to find something of interest that she hadn't noticed during previous visits. Basil proved to be an orderly and tidy housekeeper. Other than a deck of cards she found in his sock drawer, the girl found very little she hadn't already questioned the homeowner over before. Delicate handwriting had scrawled a note across the plain box housing the cards:

To Stevie, Merry Christmas!

Hugs and Kisses,

Beth

Ariel could figure out that Stevie must have been Steven Basil, but who was Beth? And why was she giving him hugs and kisses? The princess hated to admit that she felt a tinge of jealousy that Basil might have a lady in his life. She pushed the thought aside. What a silly idea! Jealous of a hopper? The girl emptied the little box and spread the cards out on the table.

There were no games in the flyer colony, so Ariel had never seen anything like the little papers. She couldn't understand the numbers and symbols that were hand-inked in black or red on each one. But then, there was something more. Some had pictures—more specifically, pictures of people. And they were people she knew! Well, most of them, anyway.

The J pieces—each had a drawing of a male Rapha: Basil, Thyme, Sage, and Dill. The Qs were girls: Grandma, Rosie, and two others she didn’t recognize at all. Then there were four others, the Ks: Keeper and then three others she didn't know. One was a water nymph; she could tell by the gills. The others may have been gnomes. She wasn't sure.

Ariel rearranged the pictures by their symbols. The hearts were the male gnome, Rosie, and Sage. The funny red square things were an unknown sprite male, Basil, and one of the unknown girls—a hopper. The upside-down black heart was for the water nymphs: the unknown male, Thyme, and the other unknown girl. The last symbol—a black cloverleaf—was used for Keeper, Grandma, and Dill. Other than the water nymphs sharing a common symbol, the princess couldn't figure out any rhyme or reason for the groups. She tried to rearrange all the gnomes together, but that meant two Qs with a K and left Keeper's K card with Basil and Dill, both Js. Hopeless, she gave up her sorting game. She stacked the papers back together and re-boxed them, wishing she knew what they were really for.

With nothing to do, the room seemed quieter than before. She considered trying to bake some cookies, remembered her previous disaster the last time Basil was at assembly, and decided to find something else to occupy the time.

She settled on trying out Basil's dulcimer. Putting the removable leg in place was easy; she had watched Thyme do it the evening before. Getting the bulky instrument into her lap was a little tougher. Twice, she nearly dropped it before she got it balanced across her knees. Then, she realized she’d forgotten the hammers and had to ease the dulcimer back onto the floor as she went to fetch them. In a few more minutes, she was ready to try her musical début.

She closed her eyes as she'd seen Basil do the day before. What to play, what to play? How about that rain song? It seemed easy enough. Her mind made up, Ariel opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and brought down the hammers.

The sound was anything but melodious. It was awful! It took only a few seconds for Ariel to come to a halt. Music must be harder than it looked. She tried again, but the results were still horrid. Perhaps the keys needed turning. She turned one too much and the tight metal string snapped. She heard a high-pitched ping and then felt a sting on her cheek. Her hand came up and she stared at the blood on her fingers left from touching her face. The string had cut a gash across her cheek where it hit her. Ariel was horrified. The dulcimer was pushed off her lap with a thud. It didn't break, but Ariel wouldn't have cared if it had, she was so angry at it.

The princess decided not to even try out the guitar, so disgusted was she with the results of her dulcimer playing. Instead, she tried on one of Basil's shirts. It was only a tad big on her. The girl cuffed up the sleeves one turn each and regarded herself in the pocket mirror hanging in the bathroom. The shoulders were a little baggy, but it still fit her ok. The cotton cloth felt wonderfully soft on her skin— unlike the coarse mouse skin tunic she was wearing under it—and smelled of Basil's soap. Ariel had become very used to the smell in the last two months and had even decided she liked it. She took in a big whiff of the cloth's aroma as she looked herself over with satisfaction. The princess decided she looked good in hopper clothes.

Her hair was the next thing noticed in the reflection: matted and tangled as always. A small twig was caught among the snarls, and mud was caked on some of the ends. So unlike Basil's short, well-kept strands. Why, Rosie's hair was as long as hers and even the lady Rapha had beautifully tamed hair. Ariel frowned at herself. Why couldn't she look like that? But perhaps she could …

Opening the little cabinet in the bathroom wall, the flyer quickly found Basil's brush and comb. She snatched them, knocking over a bottle of shampoo, which clattered to the floor and spilled its liquid on the ground at her feet. She ignored it for the time being and turned back to the mirror. She’d watched Basil use a brush and comb a time or two and thought it seemed simple enough. Time for her own quick grooming.

Ouch!

The first time she put the comb to her scalp, it caught instantly and pulled her hair. She tried again, farther from the roots, but with the same results. The comb was replaced with the brush. It went through a little easier, but still did some pulling. Slowly, the brush made its way from her scalp to the end of a stroke, in starts and stops, taking a good amount of hair out along the way. The girl stopped. Her eyes stung against the pain the one brush stroke had caused. She looked down at the object. Chunks of long hairs, mud, and tiny bits of leaf were all caught among the bristles. Ariel put the comb and brush back into the cabinet and angrily slammed the door.

Poor stupid, idiot flyer Ariel. She couldn't even comb her hair right! In frustration, she slid down the wall to the floor and sat right in the puddle of shampoo. Up she was again in an instant, bottle in hand; ready to throw it against the wall. But she stopped herself just in time. It would only make more of a mess. Instead, she put the bottle back in the cabinet, got out a towel and wiped up the bathroom floor. Cleaning helped her cool off her anger. By the time the floor was finished, her rage had simmered to mild annoyance.

Where was Basil? When was he coming home? The watch on the mantel read 1:00. Ariel couldn't tell time, but she decided it must be lunchtime since her stomach was growling and she hoped Basil would be home soon. Even so, she figured it would be safest not to wait for him, in case he never came home at all, and the princess began rummaging through the kitchen for something to eat. The ice room held plenty of leftovers. Ariel polished off two grains of rice, each as long as a finger, and a pea the size of her palm. She didn’t bother with the yucky-tasting fish she’d found. Basil could have that when he got home. She also helped herself to a handful of Basil’s sugar cookies from the tin, and a cup of milk.

Tummy full, it was time to find something else to do. The flyer wandered into the sunny workroom. In the times Ariel wasn’t there, Basil, full time Rapha / part time potter, had been glazing the pottery she'd watched him create in the afternoons of the weeks prior. Platters were decorated with birds and flowers. A cup held a silhouette of a deer, another of a rabbit. Some items were painted in a solid color with trim around the rim. Ariel looked around to find the pot she’d made. It was there, standing out from the rest because of its plainness. The girl took it down and looked at it. Basil had talked her through how to make it, but it wasn't nearly as refined as his works. The rim was wavy, not smooth and even. It was lopsided, too. And there were dimples in the side where her fingers had pressed too hard when picking it up from the wheel. Altogether, compared to her teacher's, hers was quite pitiful looking. And she had been so proud of it before. Why hadn't Basil painted it? Maybe he felt it wasn't as good as anything he had made himself. It definitely wasn't, but no. That didn't sound like Basil. There must have been some other reason. She put the pot back on the shelf. Her questions would have to go unanswered for now.

I wonder if I could make a better one now? she asked aloud. Or maybe even a teapot? She eyed the wonderful example nestled on the top shelf: sleek and elegant, as if made for royalty. Ariel decided she was going to make a teapot. After all, she knew how to work the potter's wheel, and if she made a mess, she could just smash it together and start all over again.

The girl seated herself at the wheel, got back up when she remembered she would need water to help make the clay malleable, filled the little water jar, and resituated herself on the seat. The clay jar was in easy reach, and she removed a sizable chunk.

Knead it for about five minutes, like I showed you, Basil's voice rang in her memory. That gets out the air bubbles.

I can’t tell time! she reminded him.

Then sing the Elyon song a few times through as you knead it.

Why do I have to knead it anyway?

Air pockets will cause it to explode when it's baked.

"You're going to cook it?"

Just work out the air, will you?

She remembered the conversation as she kneaded the clay, thinking she still didn't have an explanation about the cooking part. But she kneaded anyway. Basil would be proud that she remembered. Finished, she splatted the chunk down in the center of the platform and started the wheel spinning.

Now, center it up, Basil's voice in her head reminded her, as clear as the first pottery lesson a few weeks back. She centered the clay.

Thumbs in, now pull the center out, and build the walls.

The steps clicked off in her mind as she worked, and the pot took form. Too thin. The walls caved in, and the pot crumbled. With a sigh, Ariel cut the pot free, and threw the wasted clay back into the clay jar. Plenty of clay was left on the chunk.

That's why you always start with a good size lump, Basil had informed her. When you make a mistake, just cut it off and go on. You don't have to waste time between pots with a new ball of clay to be kneaded.

That had been a good rule of thumb, and she was glad she followed it now. She could get right to trying again. The rules ticked off in her mind as be9o.

Thumbs in, pull out the center …

Her first attempt at a pot two weeks ago had taken nearly twenty minutes. This time, she had a pot finished in about fifteen. She carefully cut it free and held it up to examine. The rim was a little wavy, but not nearly as bad as her first. In her concentration to get it right though, she’d forgotten her goal was a teapot, not another pot.

I'll make a teapot this time! she told herself. Yes, and it would be a wonderful teapot, too! Encouraged, she gingerly sat the pot aside and started on the clay again.

And so, the afternoon quickly passed, with the creation of one art project after another, pot after pot, coming off the wheel. She became so engrossed in her work, she didn't hear the thump of Basil's crutches when he came into the room, followed by the lighter thunk of Dill's leather boots. The two young men had heard Ariel humming to herself when they first entered and had stolen silently into the room to see what she was doing. They exchanged glances and watched the girl for a few moments more before Basil finally broke the silence.

Is that one of my good shirts you're wearing?

Ariel