Away With The Fae

Chapter Two

Once there, they would find work and make their own way, unfettered by the strict conventions of Irish and English society and free to live as they chose. She clutched her bag close to her, fancying she could feel the precious weight of her rail ticket inside, the key to her future with Jack. A future without her father, or her best friend, by her side. Her heart plummeted to her boots when she thought of her father's inevitable distress when he discovered her missing. And then just when it seemed she'd drown in despair, the thought of Jack's loving smile and his passionate declarations of love would send her spirits soaring again.

And so Zylphia stepped along the path, her thoughts bouncing from hope to despair as her love for Jack warred with her regard for her father and friends. It was only when she realised that every time she thought of Jack, a merry tune sprang to her lips and her gait became as light as a schoolgirl's, that her choice became clear. Jack was her future, she was embarking on the right path, she was sure of it.

No sooner had she made this resolve when yet another memory of her father came to mind. The day of her mother's funeral, Matthew Flowers had held Zylphia close and tried to explain to a tearful, angry little girl why she'd never see her mother again. Somehow his kind words and patient explanation had comforted her and dried her tears. How could she leave him alone now in his old age when she was his only child? Sighing in an agony of indecision, Zylphia stopped for a moment and tried to compose herself.

Maybe once she and Jack were in America, she could write to him, maybe in time he would accept her choice of husband and let her return for a visit? All things were possible with time, that was a favourite saying of Mary's and Zylphia badly wanted it to be true. Hope made her heart lighter and she continued on the path.

Satisfied with the internal truce she'd called with her warring halves, Zylphia was humming happily when she heard a rich deep voice emanating from amongst the trees. It was humming along with her, matching her note for note. She stopped and pulled her thin cotton wrap tighter about her shoulders. Listening intently, she could discern nothing untoward so she pushed on, setting a faster pace, the sun was setting and she wanted to be home before dark. Her father would have awkward questions for her if she was not safe indoors by nightfall.

Hurrying on, she didn't see the figure step out into her path until she had collided with him.

'Oh,' she cried, 'I beg your pardon, sir, I was in a most precipitous hurry and did not see you.'

The man laughed with a musical tone to his voice and Zylphia knew immediately that this was the mysterious singer from the trees.

'Do not trouble yourself, fair maiden,' replied the man, 'the fault lay entirely with me.'

He possessed an extraordinary height, towering with ease over Zylphia. He wore no gentleman's suit or farm labourer's shirt and trews, instead he was clad in a loose tunic and simple hose, both fashioned from the finest black silk that Zylphia had ever seen. The clothes should have rendered him most inappropriate, even tawdry but instead he radiated an easy elegance that exuded both privilege and authority. In the glowing twilight, his odd raiment shimmered with bewildering, shifting colour. Long strands of dark hair flowed down either side of his angular, smooth-skinned face and jewel bright eyes glittered with hypnotic allure at her in the last light of the day.

Do not linger with the faerie folk.

Suppressing a superstitious shudder, Zylphia stepped around him.

'My thanks for your pardon, kind sir,' she said, as she moved onward, 'I wish you a good evening.'

A strong hand on her arm stopped Zylphia in her tracks.

'Excuse me sir,' she said, struggling against his grip, 'I beg your leave to go, my father is expecting me. I can brook no delay.'

She tried once again to pull her arm free but his grip was implacable.

'Hush, my pretty one,' said the man in soothing tones, 'this delay will be to your liking.'

Zylphia found herself pressed against the stranger, her chin forced up to meet his gaze. All breath left her body as she lost herself in his sparkling blue-green eyes. In that instant, the hand on her arm was a most pleasant connection, one she did not wish to lose.

'Ah, my sweet little mortal,' he crooned, looking deep into her eyes, laying her mind bare, 'you are between two paths, are you not? I see your heart is unsure.'

Smiling down upon her, the tall man led her through a gap in the fragrant hedgerow, taking her deeper into the forest. As they walked, he sang to her in a low voice, the words of the song were unintelligible but Zylphia kept listening, so enraptured was she with the sound of his voice. A delightful tingling sensation spread out over her scalp and neck, soothing and exciting at the same time. Her wrap slid unnoticed from her shoulders, caught in some brambles as they wended their way through the forest.

Her companion led them into a small glade, a grassy circle surrounded by trees now flooded by bright moonlight. There were colourful lights floating amidst the trees and a sweet musical tinkling as though the branches were hung with silver bells. A shimmering undulating wall of scintillating sparkles dazzled Zylphia's eyes. Her companion released her arm and Zylphia blinked in confusion. The ephemeral wall was gone, she stood on purest white marble, in a moonlit plaza reflecting the lunar glory like some glorious mirror. Trees of such magnificent, impossible size ringed the marble courtyard, they dwarfed the forest through which she'd come. In the light bathing her surroundings, Zylphia discerned graceful dwellings and arches carved from the massive trunks and sturdy branches of the trees.

Several delicate turrets spiralled upwards from the ground in opulent abundance, carved of what could only be polished crystal. Decorative ornate fountains ran musically with elegant falls of water, filling the air with a refreshing delicate mist. Everywhere Zylphia turned her gaze, she found something pleasing to the eye, almost as though she were in the very home of beauty itself. Even the air was alive with the delicate green scent of a forest in spring time.

Her heart beat with a frantic rhythm as Zylphia began to comprehend that she had travelled beyond the realm she called home.

Panicked thoughts raced through her mind. Where was this place? Why had she allowed herself to be led here with such docility? She should be home by now! Father would be furious!

'Hush, sweet mortal,' said the man, 'your cares have no meaning here.'

Zylphia blinked. Had she spoken her thoughts aloud?

'Who are you?' Zylphia stuttered, 'why have you brought me here? It is not fitting for us to be alone like this...'

'My name is Ruada and we are not alone, sweet one.'

Zylphia started in shock as a chorus of voices broke into wild song. Spinning round, she saw a number of slender figures emerge from the cover of the trees. Within seconds she was surrounded by a host of tall, long-limbed, beauteous beings. They were draped with bolts of marvellously coloured material, woven as if from gossamer and spider silk, so fine and weightless it drifted about their limbs.

'Rejoice, o mortal child, for you are received as a subject of the Fae Court,' said Ruada executing a graceful and courtly bow.