Autumngrove #1

In which Ava craves apples

Aveline, Oh Aveline, 
Don't wander in the wood,
There's fairies out to take your hand
And steal you if they could.

Aveline, Oh Aveline,
Don't open up the door,
The fairies knock and masquerade,
to take you to their torr.

Aveline, Oh Aveline,
Don't try and make a deal,
For fairies often play their tricks,
And it's your heart they'll steal.

---

It was early evening by the time Papa and I made it down the hillside. Trees rustled above us, and the wind tugged off gold and orange leaves, sending them spiraling down around us. Gyb the barn cat trotted several feet ahead, jumped up, and caught one. His striped tail slightly curled at the end as he held the leaf in between his tiny fangs.

I smiled and glanced at Papa, whose eyes were fixed on the road ahead. It was difficult not to do a double take. From the moment he had walked out of those woods a week ago, he had looked different than the father I knew. Gone was the gray peppering his thick hair and beard. Gone was the hunch of his burly shoulders. The corner of his eyes no longer had the deep wrinkles made from his deep belly laughter.

Now, his physique was more defined, almost sculpted, and his stance was straighter, his hands less weathered. And his tunic was tighter around the shoulders rather than his stomach. He had always been broad, but even the stone smith wanted to challenge him to a wrestling match.

He looked like what I had pictured him in his glory days- as a renowned mercenary, Charles the Champion. Though the townspeople didn’t know it, Aunt Dahlia did, and she told me stories of his swordsmanship and strength. And looking at him now, he was every bit as imposing. I could see him clothed and armed with his pike, ready for battle.

Getting lost in the woods during a storm would add years, not take them away, I thought. But he had certainly looked lost when he had appeared at the edge of the forest. He was bruised and battered; his arms scratched from thorns and thickets. His hazel eyes had looked at me as if I was a dream before he had tilted forward and passed out in the barley.

I readjusted my pack, mostly empty from Market Day. We had sold the goods we had, thanks to Papa’s return and the people’s interest, and I managed to spend a few groschens. It wasn’t much- some sage green cloth, new thread, some butter and cheese. They were necessities, and I thought back to Helga’s basket of freshly picked apples.

Oh, it would have been amazing to have made baked apples. Sticky sweet and soft, with raisins scattered in it. Our own apple trees hadn’t produced anything this year, and it wasn’t a good sign.

“It was kind of them to have us over,” I said to Papa, an attempt to distract myself. “They even brought out the mead.”

“They’re good folk,” Papa replied, pulling me out of my thoughts. “The village could use more people like them.'“

“I wish Aunt Dahlia and cousin Rori had come,” I replied, my eyes peering through the trees to see our house against the hillside. “It would be nice of them to get out every once and awhile. Sometimes I think they’re more forest than human, the way they spend their time.”

He snorted at that. “No doubt your aunt would have asked inappropriate questions, and Rori would have annoyed them to death with his riddles. It’s a mercy they didn’t come, child.”

He was probably right. Aunt Dahlia wasn’t known for her politeness, and she and Dev had butted heads several times while Papa had been gone. Dev got along well enough with Rori, at least. They both enjoyed foraging for mushrooms and discovering new beehives.

“Ava,” Papa said, his tone serious, “What do you think about Dev?”

My voice was clipped as I said, “He’s nice. Why?”

“I know you’re only eighteen,” he began, “but maybe in a few years-”

“Papa, there’s no need to think about that,” I replied, cutting him off. “I have plenty of time to find a husband, and you know Aunt Dahlia’s been priming me for some unfortunate soul for a while. Besides, how old was mother when she met you?”

He went quiet at that. I bit my lower lip and looked away, fiddling with my necklace. I shouldn’t have mentioned her. I didn’t remember Mama, along with my older siblings, and they had died traveling with Papa’s mercenary band during the war. Typhus and Camp Fever had spread throughout the families like wildfire, and I was the only child that had survived in mine.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I-“

“Don’t apologize,” he said, shaking his head. He forced a smile and added, “Just got caught up in a memory is all. She was older than you.”

I turned my head, tucking a strand of my auburn hair back into my kerchief. I doubted his memory was a good one. Though Papa was lighthearted around me, I saw the expression on his face every time he oiled and polished his katzbalger. Moments like that, I pictured him back on the battlefield, his pike broken, and sword in hand.

We passed the last of the tree line, and I could make out the small dots of homes down the lane that were built into the rising hills. Our thatched house stood a ways out, nestled against the base of another ridge. Its familiar steep roof swept down to almost the ground floor, and the brown thatch looked violet.

We had made good timing- if we had stayed another hour, the Sun would have already set, and we’d have to walk home in the dark. It was a splendid way to get eaten by wolves, and I doubt my hatchet could help in that circumstance.

Papa and I traversed the familiar path home, crossing the bridge over the creek and towards the front steps of our home. The sky was ablaze with orange and red, lighting up the fields and the forest like fire.

The wind blew again, and I looked up to see the branches of our willow tree sway back and forth. Gyb stopped in front of me, his ginger fur bristling. He hissed, and the wind caught hold of his leaf. I watched as it spiraled towards the forest, and my eyes darted to the trees, where little yellow lights emerged from the darkness.

My hand went to my hatchet. They certainly weren’t fireflies, I thought. The lights looked more like eyes.

Papa stiffened beside me, and he laid his hand on my arm. Quickly, we crossed to gap between us and the house. Our boots thudded against the wooden steps. Papa opened the door and tugged me inside. Gyb soon followed, and then the door was barred shut. In the distance, I heard our dog growl. Wolves weren’t uncommon, and the occasional brown bear could sometimes be seen following the creek.

Wolves then- it explained the glowing eyes I saw in the forest. We should be safe, and as long as my aunt and cousin were inside-

“Where’s Rori and Aunt Dahlia?” I whispered, glancing around the vacant room. Embers glowed in the hearth, and the room was cold and dim. Panic shot up my spine, and I took a shallow breath.

Gyb meowed and hopped up to the windowsill.

“They can handle themselves,” Papa said. He followed Gyb towards the window and cursed under his breath.

My jaw almost fell to the floor. “Handle themselves?” I said. “If they’re out in the forest, then they could have been attacked by wolves or whatever’s out there!”

“Avelina,” he said, turning to me. Our hazel eyes met, and his voice firm as he reasoned, “take a moment to think. We cannot protect ourselves if we leave the walls of this house. We are no good to your aunt and cousin dead.”

I glanced away and dropped my head. He was right, of course, and my hand went to my hatchet. “Then we wait it out,” I replied evenly. “The livestock are in their stalls, and if the wolves can’t get to them, they may move on.”

For a moment, Papa didn’t speak. When he did, his voice was low. “They aren’t wolves.”

This time, it was dread that sank into my skin. I took a deep breath and replied, “How do you know this? What else could they be?”

He strode past the kitchen. I followed him into the workroom, and he took down his sword that he kept hanging on the wall. Its guard was S-shaped, and he held it as if ready for battle.

This was serious then, if he was willing to take that up.

He turned to me and said, “I haven’t been honest with you. I didn’t get lost in the forest because of a storm. The forest swallowed me up and spit me back into…someplace else.”

The dog’s barking grew louder, and I followed Papa to the back of the house. His boots were silent against the wooden planks, and quickly, he lowered a wooden bar over the back door.

He wasn’t making sense, though his steps were sure as he walked silently through the house. Though many a strange story had been told about the forest, I had never heard one like this.

Papa muttered, “She shouldn’t have been able to find me so easily.”

“Find you?” I said. My hand went to my hatchet, still resting on my belt. “You best tell me what’s happening, father. What sort of evil lies at our doorstep?”

The dog went silent, and my eyes darted towards the window. Navy blue blanketed the sky, and shadows stretched far too quickly from the forest. The darkness spread like large clawed hands, grasping for the house.

No longer were there yellow eyes in the tree line. Now, they surrounded the house, and their large shadowy forms blended into the growing darkness. The only light came from the faint glow of the hearth.

Papa studied my gaze, and slowly, his expression softened. With his free hand, he cupped the back of my head and pulled me to him. His lips pressed against the top of my head, and his beard tickled my face.

He whispered, “Do you remember the stories Dahlia told you? About the forest?”

“The fairy stories?” I asked. Of course I remembered them. My aunt lectured me every time I ventured too far into the woods as a child, and it reached the point at which she made me translate folktales to Latin as consequence.

“I stepped into the Otherworld,” Papa said plainly, like he was talking of what he bought at the market. “Got taken by the Spring Court for their amusement, then…Well, my freedom came with a price.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “I’ve written out my will- it’s in the chest upstairs. Aunt Dahlia will take care-“

“You made a deal with a fairy,” I said. It felt silly coming from my lips, but my father wasn’t insane- which meant that I must follow his logic.

I had heard the stories, and as a child, has often imagined pixies fluttering throughout the forest like butterflies. I daydreamed of dancing with fairies and feeding them berries until Rori would find me and tug me back towards the house.

If these creatures were real, these fairies, then we were all in danger.

“I did,” he said, “but this fairy isn’t here for a bargain. She’s Nevinne, and she has come to hunt. If her party is here, then she won’t be far behind.”

“Then what can we do?”

His voice was steady and firm. “You will stay here. I will draw her away. When that happens, you must-”

“What can you do against creatures of power?” I asked, gesturing to the window. My voice rose as I said, “You will be slaughtered!”

“Child,” he said calmly. “We are not like other people. Our blood…Our ancestry is mixed with that of the Otherworld. It is why Dahlia avoids humans, and why Rori speaks in rhyme. It is why I can fight without fatigue, among…other things.”

I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his words. Fairies, I could fathom. But being related to them? That felt something akin to witchcraft, and I had no desire to be beheaded and burned at the stake.

I narrowed my eyes and rebuffed, “Now is not the time to jest-”

Papa pressed his calloused hand against my mouth. I froze, and slowly, Papa turned his head towards the front door.

A single knock sounded.

Then, a voice came from the other side. It was feminine in nature, but ancient in sound, and groaned like trees bent by the wind.

“These enchantments will do little to stop me, Charles the Champion. I smell you and your kin inside. Soon, you will both be taken to my master, and your offspring shall suffer for your alliance with The Autumn Lord.”

Father pulled away from me then. “Get Gyb,” he ordered.

This time I didn’t argue. My heart was in my stomach, and I quickly picked up the cat and held him against my chest. When I turned back to Papa, he had already pulled out something from his coat pocket.

It was difficult to see in the darkness. The sounds of the creatures outside began to take shape- they were screams as sharp as spears, and they struck at my ears. Gyb dug his claws into my shoulder and hissed. The stinging pain was mild compared to the shrieks around me, and I could barely think. Pots rattled, the floorboards creaked, and pieces of the ceiling fell around us. Our animals’ shouts turned into cries of alarm, and I hugged Gyb to me, who clung for dear life.

Papa pulled me to him with his free hand. Something cold and wet suddenly trickled over my head and down my face and shoulder, and Gyb tried to jump from my arm when it hit him. The liquid tasted salty, like tears.

But Papa held us both. He shoved the hilt of his sword into my free hand and said, “I’ll find you again. I promise you!”

I looked up at him, but the world was tilting around me, and my stomach was pulled like a loose thread, and I found myself unfurling at the seams and tumbling through the air. In the distance, I heard wood splinter, and animal shouts, and the unmistakable roar of a bear.

An ache suddenly pierced my skull, and I could no longer feel Papa around me, or hear the cries of animals. Wetness coated my throat, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

It was then that I heard the croaking of a frog. My eyes snapped open, and Gyb leapt out of my arms.

I was crouched, my skirts bunched over my boots, and slowly, I rose to my feet. Papa’s sword was still in my hand, and I raised it up as silver glinted off its short double-edged blade. The sky was midnight blue, and I didn’t recognize the stars gleaming overhead, and the moon was bright and full.

The moon above my home was certainly not a full moon.

“Papa, what did you do,” I breathed, lowering the sword.

This wasn’t my home. I wasn’t even inside of a building.

“Gyb?” I asked. The air was a cool kiss against my cheek, but it did little to relax me. No, my heart was a drum beat in my chest, and frantically, I spun around, searching for any sign of Papa, or the yellow-eyed creatures, or the ancient sounding Nevinne.

It was as if I had stepped into the Garden of Eve itself. All around me were fruit trees and flowers I had never seen before. Plant of all varieties spilled over the path, and ahead of me, a dark manor towered like mountain. This was a Lord’s estate, no doubt.

I was only answered with another cool breeze. Fireflies floated underneath the plum trees ahead of me, and I stepped forward, frowning at the glowing bugs. Some were large, and glowed blue like hungry flames, and I couldn’t see any insects in their center.

Something whizzed by me, and I stumbled back. It was large like a finch, and I thought it was a bat, but it was colorful. It flickered my way again, and I froze as the blur of color hovered in front of my face. It was human in form, with legs and arms and a face. But its wings were that of a bee, and its clothes consisted of yellow flower petals.

Before I could process this revelation, the thing shot away like an arrow.

“This is a dream,” I muttered, trying to convince myself. “This is a dream, and I’m going to awake any moment now and have Aunt Dahlia scold me for sleeping in. Or maybe I finally tripped on the bridge and hit my head.”

But I didn’t wake up, and I still felt the wind, so I stumbled down the path towards the manor, my knuckles white against the blade’s hilt.

I needed to clear my head, and I looked to and fro. There, close to a circle of trees, was an old cobblestone well. My footsteps were silent as I walked across the soft grass. Nausea coated my throat again, but I pressed on, shaking off the static that seemed to seep through my clothes and into my skin.

The trees that grew in a circle were nothing like I had seen before. Some of the fruit even glowed. It was strange, and wondrous, and I reached out my hand.

“No,” I said aloud. This wasn’t the time to be eating strange apples. And if I knew anything about gardens with fruit trees, it’s that you didn’t eat of it, or steal from its branches. And yet I couldn’t turn away from the sight. Golden in appearance, and shapely in form, even its sweet scent permeated the air like incense.

This is a dream, I thought to myself. Slowly, I lowered my sword.

My fingers grasped the apple, plucked from its branch, and brought it to my lips.

Then I sank my teeth into its flesh.

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For Chapter 2 click here