Chapter 8: The Fay
19 December, 2007 – 4:45 pm
Rosemary led Scarlet and Thomas deeper and deeper into the heart of Bracken Wood.
Something strange was happening. The canopy above them had changed subtly over the course of their journey to become intricately woven arches of knotted branches that spanned the air overhead.
Sunlight streamed through the lofty boughs like light through stained glass, illuminating the mayflies and gnats like floating motes of incandescent dust. To Scarlet, the overall effect created the impression that she was walking through an open-air cathedral.
But now she couldn’t shake off the creepy notion that they were being watched. The feeling came from all directions, and as she walked on she took time to look about slowly, half expecting herself to come face to face with eyes in the undergrowth. She shuddered, and quickened her step to try to catch up to Rosemary.
As they passed by, the branches knocked together in the wind, making strange creaking noises, almost as if they were alive. Scarlet knew it was impossible, but it was almost as if she could hear the trees chattering to each other.
‘Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?’ she asked, squeezing Thomas’ hand tighter.
Rosemary smiled to herself.
‘Oh yes, very sure…’ she said, without turning around.
Scarlet squinted, trying to block the dazzling sunshine with a hand as she tried to make out Rosemary in the distance. The sun silhouetted her and it was difficult to make her out precisely. Her figure was ablaze, almost as if it were radiating an aura, but when Scarlet blinked and tried to look again, Rosemary had moved on, and the sunlight didn’t seem quite so strong.
Eventually, the old trees began to thin out, and - much to the Scarlet’s relief - the whole area took on a more airy and inviting nature, instantly lifting the feeling of unease from before.
Ahead was a small clearing with a babbling brook running through it. It was such a change from the dark, noisome places that Rosemary had led them through earlier. Those sorts of places had frightened her, but everywhere that they looked now seemed to teem with life, and she allowed herself a little sigh of relief.
‘Look!’ cried Thomas, pointing over the stream towards the glade.
Scarlet turned to look.
Something in the distance flickered through the air towards them. Was it a butterfly? She couldn’t be sure.
Although it didn’t become apparent to Thomas what it was until it got much nearer. He took a sharp intake of breath as he realised that it wasn’t a butterfly at all, but rather the miniature figure of a man with wings?
The delicate gossamer wings shimmered and shone with reflected sunlight as they fluttered. The little man couldn’t have been much bigger than the size of a sparrow.
The little figure nodded and waved back, beckoning them to come closer with delicate hands as he hovered in the air in front of them.
Scarlet could scarcely believe her eyes.
The little winged man wore a tiny suit of the finest silver armour and carried a miniature needle-like sword in his hand. It gave the impression that it could give quite a sting if used in anger. Scarlet stared hard at him: his ears were small and pointed, with big black eyes that - rather disconcertingly - had no pupils.
They hadn’t really noticed before, but the little winged man shone brightly, with intricate armour radiating a brilliance that at first the children mistook for reflected sunlight. The armour was covered in the most minutely delicate swirls and decorations.
‘Is this a faerie?’ she asked, looking around for Rosemary for an answer.
But Rosemary wasn’t there. It was almost as if she’d vanished into thin air.
The faerie was leading them to a large oak tree in the middle of the glade. They followed silently. Thomas looked up at the tree and almost strained his neck to see the top. It was by far the biggest and oldest tree he’d seen so far, and to him it was almost as wide as it was tall, with broad boughs and a thick trunk.
The faerie knight flittered up to the uppermost bough of the old oak leaving Scarlet and Thomas waiting patiently below staring up at the canopy.
‘What do we do now?’ whispered Thomas.
Scarlet shrugged, and then they heard a voice. It was almost inaudible.
‘Please come closer.’
Scarlet and Thomas both looked down slowly towards the source of the words.
There between the roots and toadstools surrounding the oak, was a hole burrowed into the tree trunk covered by long grass.
They knelt down, slowly brushed the grass aside and peered inside. Unbelievably, there was a tiny throne room complete with a congregation of faeries inside.
One faerie, who wore a delicate filigree crown of silver upon her head, fluttered up into the air and hovered in front of Scarlet, her wings made an audible thrum as they vibrated, like a humming bird’s.
‘You are the children from the cottage?’
Scarlet nodded slowly.’Uh huh.’ she mumbled.
‘We have heard about you since you arrived. We have missed the sound of children’s laughter in Bracken Wood.’
Scarlet said nothing.
‘There has been no children in the wood for a hundred years or so. Did you realise that the village people forbid their children to play in Bracken Wood?’
She sat there with Thomas, in disbelief. The faerie continued.
‘For many years no-one has ventured into the wood for fear of upsetting the woodland spirits. But your innocence has have brought us joy and happiness. It has lifted the gloom and despondency that had covered the area. Did you know that?’
Thomas shook his head and turned to Scarlet.
‘Is this a faerie queen?’ he whispered, out of the corner of his mouth.
The faerie spoke again.
‘Yes child, I am Eolande, and this is our kingdom. It has been such a long time since last we heard children playing and laughing here. It is indeed something to treasure - we have missed it greatly. There has been a great sadness here for many years. ’
Scarlet’s eyes fell downwards and she was suddenly aware of the empty throne beside Eolande’s.
‘Is there a faerie king too?’ she asked.
Eolande suddenly looked very sad and fluttered back to sit on her throne.
‘Yes. His name is Woodruff. We are still waiting for him to return. He did not appear last night, and we fear for him.’
Her faerie light seemed to fade from her as she spoke.
‘Things are happening, forces that have made their way from beyond.’
Thomas frowned.
‘But what does that mean?’ he asked.
The little faerie went on.
‘There are other forces in this wood,’ she said mysteriously, ‘and they are not always good and kind. There is another king who considers this his kingdom too.’
‘Who?’ asked Thomas.
‘I can barely say the name…’ she muttered.
Her eyes narrowed in contempt as she looked at the children.
‘Toadflax.’ she said finally.
The children looked at her with puzzled expressions.
‘He is the king of the Goblins and takes great pride in his ability as a hunter. When he rides out at night no woodland folk are safe. We must all be wary of him.’
For a few seconds there was silence, and then Thomas knelt down and looked at Eolande.
Deep down inside, Thomas suspected he knew the answer to the question he was about to ask even before he’d asked it.
‘What does he hunt?’ he asked.
With deeply sorrowful eyes the queen looked into his eyes.
‘He hates and despises all the woodland spirits. And so he hunts what he detests. Whilst we sleep, he roams the forest with his goblin brood. That is all we know. He has taken many of us in the past.’
‘It is only recently that he has taken to doing this though. Before, we kept ourselves to ourselves and we never bothered the goblins and they never bothered us.’
‘You must be very careful. It is dangerous to venture out in the wood at dusk. Beware.’
