“Oh. It’s only that Norgie said there were fairies in the cellar and...” Elora brought up her arms and caught Bray’s upper body as he collapsed. She couldn’t hold his weight but eased his falling body to the floor, shifting a hand under his head to prevent it striking the concrete.
“Bray?” she said, urgently placing a hand on his chest and feeling relief when she felt it rise and fall. “Bray, can you hear me?” He didn’t reply, as she guessed, he had lost too much blood.
She shifted her hand to his forehead and found that it was hot. He needed help soon if he was going to live.
“Prince Dylap?” she shouted at the fairy circle, hoping that he could hear her. Her heart felt heavy in her chest, this boy needed to live if she was to get her uncle back. “Prince Dylap?” she shouted once again and was sure she heard a caw in answer. Then she watched as a dark dot appeared in the blurring air within the dais. It grew before breaking through the flowers.
Prince Dylap banked around before landing beside them, his face glaring up at her as if he thought this was her doing.
“He collapsed. He’s lost too much blood. Please, can you help him?” she said but it was clear that the fairy couldn’t understand. He shouted something at her and pointed his javelin towards the fairy circle.
“You want me to take him in there?” she asked, but it was obvious that was what he was trying to explain. “Ok. I’ll try.”
Gently, she lowered Bray’s head to the ground and grasped his hands in each of hers. Her back muscles strained as she fought to pull him into a sitting position. He was a dead weight, head flopping forward and upper torso teetering over on the side.
Jamming her feet in front of his to prevent his body from sliding, she yanked him up, hissing through her teeth with the effort. She held him up in an awkward embrace, gripping him around his waist, his head against her shoulder as she half dragged him towards the fairy circle, taking a shuffling step one at a time.
When she reached the dais, she carefully pushed one leg through the moon daisies, her foot treading on something soft but strong enough for her to transfer her weight.
With her attention focused on not dropping Bray, she caught her heel behind his foot and fell backwards through the crackling flowers.
She landed on her back, the wind driven from her lungs as Bray landed on top of her. He mumbled something incoherently as she wriggled out from under him.
Rising to her knees she glanced about and saw that she was no longer in the cellar but on a circular glade that would struggle to fit in a tennis court. Wild flowers lay in abundance and covered the majority of the grass bed that gently sloped towards a turquoise stream. The bottom half of a dark tree, its roots as thick as human limbs, clung to the side of the bank, the upper half disappearing where the ceiling of the cellar would have been, into a light blue haze that surrounded the entire circle forming a dome. It was like being inside a large snow globe, without the cheap plastic snowman, or indeed the snow. And even though she couldn’t see any sky she got the impression she was outside, with the sun touching her face and her hair being tussled by a breeze.
Butterflies danced upon the exotic wild plants that floated on the water, sipping liquid from lilac petals. Others flapped about the many different flowers before her, fluttering from golden buttercups to blue crocuses and weaving between tall blades of grass to the strange magnolia coloured fruit that hung from the trees branches.
Prince Dylap emerged through the oscillating air at the fringe of the circle, his bird glistening in the sunlight as he landed on a low tree branch. He shouted at the glade in general and the butterflies paused what they were doing and flew to him. That’s when Elora realised they were not butterflies.
Fairies circled towards the Prince, landing deftly before him, their tiny cherub faces seeming eager to please. Prince Dylap gave them orders in a language she didn’t understand before directing his attention to her. He first pointed his javelin at Bray and then directed its point towards the stream. She understood and keeping on her knees rolled the unconscious Shaigun onto his back. The gentle slope made dragging him towards the water’s edge easier than she thought it would. In no time at all she had him positioned how the fairy wanted him. His body an inch from the turquoise water, his head resting on her lap as the fairies danced about him, their little faces an emotional mix of worry and concern before setting about different tasks, delegated by another fairy that had arrived.
The newcomer was female, dressed in a white silk slip and appeared different to the others. Where they had large wings with fine rib bones to allow them more movement, she had two sets of thinner wings like those of a dragonfly.
Once she had finished speaking to the others, she flew towards Elora, hovering for a moment in front of her face before gently landing on Bray’s injured arm. She bent low to the wound, sniffing the torn flesh and recoiling in disgust. Then, she began to pace up and down the length of the arm, her own slender arms crossed in front of her, dark hair hanging to the side and catching the sun. Elora wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
A group of fairies returned carrying what appeared to be a white cotton handkerchief but to the small fairies it was more like a huge blanket; one fairy to each corner. They lowered it upon Bray’s leg and under the double-winged fairy’s orders, gathered lily petals and lay them upon the blanket. Then two corners were folded over trapping the golden petals within.
The white-slip fairy turned to face Elora once again and held her hands towards her. She pointed at the blanket containing the petals then made a dipping motion with her hands and pointed towards the stream. Elora nodded that she understood and gently picked up the blanket - careful not to let any petals fall out - and dipped it once in the cool water. The fairy then pointed at Bray’s wound and made a stroking motion with one hand over her arm. Elora nodded once more and placed the wet cloth over Bray’s wound and carefully wiped away the blood. The fairy, who Elora took to be a healer of some kind, smiled encouragingly.
It took several wipes and the cloth needed dipping in the stream twice more before the healer held up her hand; satisfied that it was as clean as it was going to get. She then pointed to the cloth once more and lay her palm against her forehead, tilting her face to the side and pointing once again at Bray. Elora soaked the cloth and held it to his brow. A murmur escaped his lips as she did so, yet he remained unconscious.
More fairies returned carrying red bundles which they dropped into the gaping wound. Elora watched as the bundles turned out to be fat-bodied spiders which began to weave a silvery web inside the gash, halting the escaping blood. Once the inside of the wound was mostly silver the healer stepped closer and staring at Elora pointed at the wound and pinched her fingers together.
Elora left the cloth against Bray’s brow and laying her hands either side of the gash, pushed her thumbs towards each other, closing the wound. The spiders set to work, weaving intricate webs up the length of the dark line, the skin puckering like a long thin mouth. In no time at all the spiders had finished and scurried away leaving the nurse to inspect their work. She smiled at Elora and spread her arms out indicating for her to move her thumbs away. Elora was reluctant at first but as she released her grip she was relieved to see that the binding weave held.
The healer’s wings began to buzz, moving with such speed that they appeared as a blur, propelling the fairy as she flew to Prince Dylap who watched everything from the back of his bird. He nodded towards her and spoke several words that were unintelligible to Elora. The healer smiled as she nodded then flew away, disappearing through the oscillating dome wall and vanishing from view. The other fairies also vanished through the vale until only the Prince remained.
With his silver javelin, he pointed at her and then at Bray before pointing at the dome in general. Elora got the message. She was to stay here until Bray awoke. If he awoke. She nodded that she understood and watched as he followed the other fairies out of the glade.
Alone, Elora absorbed her situation: Bray breathing gently, his face looking peaceful on her lap. Something which his face rarely did. The half-elf was handsome. Beautiful even, she mused as she withdrew the cloth, so she could re-soak it in the stream.
Elora let out a laugh. Here she was, resting inside a fairy circle, a half-elf resting on her lap and making her feel like a princess in a fairy tale. At some point she would surely wake. She didn’t know why the moment grasped her, maybe it was the scene she had just witnessed or the longing for somebody to share it with, but she began to sing. It was an old song that Nat used to sing to her in the early years on the Molly.
When her singing trailed off to a gentle hum, she gazed down and saw that she had mindlessly twirled Bray’s dark hair between her fingers. Her humming stopped when she noticed his green eyes staring up at her, full of wonder.
She unpicked his hair from her fingers. “Sorry,” she said, feeling a blush coming to her cheeks. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Beautiful,” he whispered, eyes staring unblinking into hers.
“Err...thanks,” she replied, not knowing whether he meant her or the song. She decided on the latter. “Do you want a drink?”
“Yeah.” His voice came out croaked and dry as he tried to sit up. Elora placed her hand on his chest to still him, then leaned over to the stream and plucked one of the brightly coloured heads from a floating lily. She put the petal to his lips and slowly tipped the water into his mouth.
“Thank you,” he said, after taking a swallow.
Elora couldn’t decide what to say next so remained silent. Biting her lower lip and gazing up at the blue haze above which she noticed had gone a few shades darker. How long had they been in the glade? Maybe it was time they headed back although she thought she could stay here all night if the need arose. This private little glade was so peaceful.
“Do you think you can stand?” Elora asked. Bray shifted, then stopped. Wincing at the movement.
“I’m still weak. I think I’ve been poisoned.” He raised his damaged arm, a thin line of red glistened along the wound. “It should have closed up by itself by now and be no more than scar tissue. When I was attacked I’m sure that the blades they used were laced with knoll sap.” He struggled into a sitting position and stretched his neck. “Will you take my sword from me. It’ll make me lighter. I don’t think I’d get to my feet otherwise.”
“You haven’t got a sword,” Elora replied.
Bray grinned. “It’s in my smuggler’s pouch. Out of sight.”
Elora watched as he turned his hand on its side, so his palm faced the ground, then touched the pad of his thumb to the tip of his middle finger and slid it part way down to the inside of the knuckle joint. When he pulled his thumb away it seemed that he ripped the very air between, causing a black oval hole to open. “Reach inside.”
Gingerly, Elora pressed her finger into the blackness and found no resistance yet watched unbelieving as first her finger then her hand disappeared. She could feel an object inside the pocket, it felt solid, like cold metal. The handle of Bray’s sword. She grasped it and pulled it free from the hole, needing her other hand to aid her as the weight took her by surprise. No wonder she struggled to lift him into the circle. It was the same weapon she had seen Bray produce from thin air in the garage yesterday. She lay the sword on the ground next to him, a smile playing on her lips. She now knew how he did that seemingly impossible trick.
