Thoughts on where to go next might be useful. I got stuck halfway through chapter eleven, where they learn more about what the bad guy is doing.
Chapter Eight
Into the Woods
“Emily,” whispered a voice. “Emily . . .”
“Is she asleep?” said a deeper voice.
“I think so,” replied the first.
There was a light thump. The owner of the second voice reached into the window. “Emily,” it said shaking her, his sense of urgency apparent.
“Charles,” the first voice said. “Are you certain that this is the right think to do? Such a small child . . .” It spoke with genuine love and concern.
“After was I observed at dinner, and all the wretched things you said she spoke of, I cannot allow her to remain for one minute longer.”
“But is she ready?”
“Pastello, you heard all of the horrible tales of her home, and how she is able to speak to birds. She spoke to you, knowing that you understood every word. When I told her of my ability to speak with horses, she did not question it! She knows we exist, and she belongs with us, in the Forest. Besides, I believe she might be able to help us.”
Pastello sighed. “Very well, Charles.”
At the sound of the name Pastello, Emily opened her eyes. She had heard the entire conversation, but had thought she was dreaming. The Forest? What were they talking about?”
“Emily, whispered Charles, again. “Awake, Emily.”
Emily pushed the blanket away from her face. “Huh? What’s that?” she said, still a little groggy, though now she knew that she was not dreaming.
“Are you awake?” Pastello asked.
“Yeah.” Emily sat up and faced the window. She gasped when she saw Charles, who was really Charlie, the Horse Wisperer. But he looked different. His face was now clean-shaven, and his hair was now combed and tied back. His clothes were different as well: close-fitting leather pants and boots, the sort of loose white shirt princes wore when they were rescuing princesses or dueling a villain, with laces instead of buttons, and a great big, weather-beaten, green cloak.
Before Emily could say anything else, Charlie covered her mouth with his left hand. With his other hand, he indicated that she should come out the window. She leaned forward, and Charlie hoisted her up through the window.
She gasped again when she saw Pastello. “Unicorn.” It was the same horse she had met in the stable that afternoon, save for one difference: the pale blue horn that glimmered in the moonlight. Unicorn was not his name, it was what he was!
Pastello bowed slightly. Greetings, he said, though he did not speak the way people do. It was almost like listening to your own thoughts, knowing what the words are, but not having any sound to them.
Emily was at a loss for words. A real unicorn, not just a horse that looked like a unicorn. Her head was swimming with so many possibilities that she felt dizzy with excitement. She was right all the time. All this time, when people told her that everything, from fairies to the Easter Bunny, were not real, they were the ones imagining things.
Tears began to well in her eyes. Everything she had believed in for so long was coming to life before her eyes. A man who could talk to horses. A horse named Unicorn. Then a real unicorn. Not only could she see and hear it inside her head, but for real, and also feel the Horse Wisperer’s hands as he lifted her through the window, and spell the unicorn’s breath in the hair. It wasn’t pretend anymore, and it was all so overwhelming.
“What is wrong, Emily?” Charlie--Charles--asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“Y-you’re here, and I . . . I didn’t think of it first. Before, when anything happened . . . it was all what I thought of.”
Charles nodded. “And you are wondering why we, or others like us, have never revealed ourselves to you? Why you have only ever met cats and bird who could talk to you?” Emily shrugged. “It is not so simple as believing that what you read in storybooks is real. Our two worlds have been separate for hundreds of years, and it is best that is remains just so.”
“Then why did you . . . ?”
“Pastello told me the things you told him. I could not bear to allow you to return to such a place.”
So we have decided that we would invite you to live with us.
“What?”
A child such as yourself was not meant to live in the world you have been living in. One who has enough faith, and a pure heart, may sometimes be able to cross over into one of the Invisible Realms.
“Like Faere?”
Charles laughed. “Faerie is one of these Realms. The people of England and Ireland were not unlike yourself until about fifteen hundred years ago. They communicated with fairies all the time. Then new people came, and they were taught to believe in different things. Some still believe in fairies, but that number is shrinking.”
We must return quickly, though. It is dangerous for us to appear in our true forms. If one of the other children were to wake up, I do not know what will happen.
“But where will we go, exactly?” Emily asked.
“Into the woods. Magic is always more concentrated among the trees. Do you remember how I said I looked forward to riding with you and Unicorn?” Emily nodded. “What would you say to riding Pastello? We will reach my home far faster if he carries us.”
Emily’s eyes went wide with excitement, and a broad smile formed on her face. “Really? I get to ride him!”
“Yes,” Charles said with a nod. He picked her up, and helped her onto Pastello’s back.
“Woah!” Momentary worry replaced her excitement. “There’s no reins. What do I hold on to?”
Pastello neighed, sounding a bit offended. None have ever fallen off my back unless I desired it. You are quite safe. If you must hold something, take hold of my mane.
Pastello sounded so confident, Emily didn’t feel that she needed to hang on to anything. Behind her, Charles mounted Pastello. He put his arms around Emily, placing his hand on Pastello’s neck. Emily placed her hands between Charles’. In a few seconds, they were on their way, galloping towards the Invisible Realm within the Forest.
Chapter Nine
Samantar
A storybook come to life. That’s what this was. The kids in The Chronicles of Faerie had also grown up learning about Faerie, and got the chance to see it for real. In The Chronicles of Faerie, there were also characters who lived lives on both sides: one in Faerie, and the other in the “real” world. Most people, even kids, would have trouble accepting this as real. Which was why Emily was allowed to see it. It was, to be sure, surprizing. But from the moment Emily sat on Pastello’s back, it felt as normal to her as getting up in the morning.
It only took a few minutes for Pastello to reach the Forest. The second they passed the trees, they were surrounded by a white glow. It was so bright that Emily had to close her eyes. How could Pastello continue running like this? But he had done it many times before, and must be used to this light. Why couldn’t it be like in the book, where the girl only needed a simple spell to be able to see both worlds. Every world in the invisible Realms was different, though, so there must be different ways of entering them.
When the glow went away, Emily opened her eyes. At first glance, this forest looked just like any ordinary forest, with dirt roads, tall grass, and only a few different kinds of trees. When Pastello slowed down to a steady trot, Emily began to feel something magical about it. It was a feeling she had never known before, but knew that it must be coming from the Forest. It was one of those feelings that few are capable of putting into words, and most people who try tend to go on longer than they should. To put it simply, the Forest was telling Emily, “This is where you should be.”
They walked for a few minutes longer until they reached Charles’ log cabin.
“Welcome,” Charles said as he dismounted, “to my home. I spend much of my time tending to the horses you met earlier, but this is where I come to bed every night. It is small, but it serves me. I could not bare to kill any more trees than I did to construct it.”
“I think it’s great,” Emily said with a smile. “If all you do here is eat and sleep, you don’t need a bigger place.”
Charles nodded. “That is very true,” he said, helping Emily off Pastello.
As Charles set Emily on the ground, a large beaver waddled up to them. Good morning, Charles, he said, in the same manner as Pastello. How goes it? Haven’t seen much of you these last few weeks.
“Very well, Hershel,” Charles answered. “I have been working at the children’s camp outside the Forest. How are Bella and the little ones? Growing strong, I hope?”
Oh, yes, they have become quite skilled at maintaining the dam, and the oldest will be building his own very soon.
“That is good to know.”
Emily was fascinated by this conversation. They sounded just like grown-ups talking about one’s kids. Just two people, not a crazy man talking to an animal who would not talk back.
Suddenly, though, the conversation took an unpleasant turn when Hershel said, But all is not well.
Charles nodded, his expression grave, as if he knew what Hershel was going to say next. “Come inside. We can discuss it with this girl.” He tilted his head toward Emily.
Charles, Hershel, and Emily settled down in the small cabin while Pastello ran off to take care of other business. He was so big, he’d never be able to fit comfortably, anyway. Charles prepared some tea as Hershel told them what he was so concerned about.
It is my youngest, Anna. She is five months old now, and yet unable to speak. She has proven herself intellegent, and seems to understand us well enough. The beaver sighed heavily. Yet it often seems that her understanding of us is more instinctive, rather than intellectual. We have taken her to see the mages, and they have found nothing amiss with her health. In all appearances, she is an ordinary beaver of outside the Forest.
Charles sat down, handing Emily a mug, and Hershel a bowl with a straw in it. “An ordinary beaver?” he said. “Do you know what might have caused this?”
I do not know for certain, but there is one likely possibility: Samantar.
Emily took a large gulp of her tea. “Who’s that?”
“A sorceress,” Charles explained. “A malevolent witch.”
She arrived here shortly before Anna was born, Hershel added. She is determined to rid thr Forest of everything she considers magical. Our ability to speak is one of these.
This reminded Emily too much of the White Witch, a witch whose only desire was to destroy everything that made a place beautiful and happy. Not an unusual plot, but that was because it worked so well.
Charles turned to Emily, seeming to have forgotten his tea. “This is where you, my dear, must become a part of this tale,” he said.
“What are you talking about?” Emily asked. “I thought . . .”
“Yes, one of the reasons we brought you here was to take you away from all the horrible things you told Pastello about, but also because you have always had a powerful belief in things that you had no proof existed. Those not born into this realm must often earn his or her right to live here. You must do this by helping us stop Samantar, and drive her away. Your belief may prove a strong ally in this.”
“But what do I have to do?”
Charles sighed mournfully. “I regret to say that we have no plan. Samantar rarely leaves her lair, and we have yet to be able to locate it.”
This was it. This was Emily’s big chance to be in an adventure and be a hero, like in all her favourite books. “I’ll find it.”
Hershel and Charles stared at her in disbelief. “You cannot be serious!” Charles cried. “We have been searching for months. All attempts to find her have failed.”
“So! You said I have to do something to prove I can live here. Maybe this is what I have to do.” She was excited and frightened at the same time. Barely above a whisper, she added, “I don’t wanna go back home.”
She speaks truly, Charles. The reason you chose her is because she believes in everything so strongly. ‘Tis possible that this quality will aid her in her search.
Charles pursed his lips. His eyes were heavy with worry. It seemed as though he was suddenly regretting his decision to ask for her help, as though he hadn’t properly thought his decision through, and was now realizing that perhaps Emily was the wrong person for the job.
Charles, Hershel said, you may feel that you have made a hasty decision, and perhaps you have, but what’s done is done. Emily is here now. It no longer matters whether you made the correct decision or not.
Charles sighed. “You are right, my friend,” he said, stroking the beaver’s coarse fur. “I cannot take back what I have done. Very well. This afternoon, after Emily has had a proper rest, we will set out.”
“Yes!” Emily shouted, jumping out of her seat. “But I can’t sleep now. It’s too exciting!”
“I suppose it does seem that way.” Charles stood up and pushed in the chairs. “While much of what you will see and experience may remind you of storybook adventures, it will not be as much fun.”
“I don’t care!” Emily said, hands on her hips. “I’m gonna have a real adventure, and not just read it. So what if bad stuff happens. That’s what having an adventure is about!”
Suddenly, she was hit by a massive yawn. She stumbled backwards and fell on the bed. Charles got up from his chair and laid her down, covering her with a huge quilt. “Yes, that is what having an adventure is about, but I think that this adventure is going to have to wait for now. Sleep, Emily. You will begin your adventure soon enough.”
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