Mixing Magic [Draft 2]: Chapter 8.1

Madeline didn’t return until that evening, and she went straight to her room, exhausted, leaving Cinder to tell Ayda that Madeline had succeeded in making a portal, and that they had all the supplies ready for the attempt to reach Earth in two days. Ayda only nodded, a lump thick in her throat.

The next morning dawned unseasonably warm. The festival would run all day and go until long after sundown. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hot. Ayda went down to Madeline’s room after she got dressed and found a very dryad-like Madeline, with long wispy hair and and near-translucent skin. Even the color of her magic had changed.

“How on earth did you do that?”

“It’s an illusion,” Madeline said, showing Ayda a bracelet she wore, which glowed with pink light in the magical spectrum. “It was really easy, actually, because it doesn’t change anything physical. It just affects people’s perception. The only difficult part was the details.”

Ayda looked up at her friend. Despite her pointed ears, her face was still the same. “Are you going to miss it? Back on Earth?”

“More than anything,” Madeline admitted softly. “Having magic is the best part of being here. I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you, and Cinder, and Xaniphe.” Madeline touched her necklace. “But seeing my dad again is more important. I’m sorry, Ayda.”

“It’s okay,” said Ayda, but she wasn’t sure she meant it.

Madeline shook her head violently. “Let’s just have a fun day, okay? Let’s forget about — everything.” She swept her hand out in a wild gesture.

Ayda straightened up. Madeline was right. She didn’t want to spend her only chance to see the equinox festival moping.

Cinder arrived shortly after, and they left History Oak and walked to the main road, where the festival was just beginning. A few distrustful glances were flung at Cinder, and Ayda made sure to glare back at each one she saw. They were not going to ruin his day. If they hadn’t finally found the way to get Madeline home, Ayda didn’t think he would have even agreed to come.

An enormous platform loomed over the central courtyard. To the side, the Lord and Lady sat in two ornately carved chairs underneath a pavilion, overseeing the event. Stalls dotted the paths, airing their goods. Dozens of delicacies filled the air with a cacophony of smells, and trinkets of every size hung in rows, sparkling in the sun.

Ayda, Madeline, and Cinder plunged into the crowd, weaving around centaurs and dryads that moved in large packs, munching on food and laughing loudly. Ayda suspected some of them were already rather tipsy, though most of the stalls wouldn’t start selling wine until later in the evening. Everywhere she looked there was another cry:

“Get your fresh nensoon berries here! Picked under the full light of the Lady Moon.“

“Don’t forget to grab your own firemoss sparklers for the show tonight!”

“Hey — ma’am, would you want some chilled blackfruit juice?” came the voice of a leprechaun, dressed in a flamboyant shade of orange and somehow managing to balance a tray of cups and avoid being trampled by the Big Folk, who were at least three feet taller than him.

Madeline glanced up at Ayda, a question in her eyes. Ayda shooed her on, mouthing the word “Leprechaun.”But she eyed the glasses with longing — there were a few there her size, and the sun was warm on her back.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any money,” said Madeline politely.

“That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said, waving his hand. “What about you, ma’am?” he asked Ayda.

“Same as my friend,” Ayda said.

“I’ll buy for them,” Cinder spoke up, reaching for the pouch around his neck.

The leprechaun shook his head. “It’s free of charge. I insist. It’s the least I can do for a fairy and a Shade in these times.”

Ayda realized he was referring to the attacks sweeping Little Folk towns, and swallowed. She accepted a cup from the leprachaun. “Thank you.”

“Not at all, ma’am, not at all.” He handed one to Madeline, too. “We need a few good deeds going round these days.”

And he was off, pushing his way through the crowds with a call of “Chilled blackfruit juice! Finest this side of Chivan!”

Ayda stared into her cup of juice, unexpectedly morose. In addition to ignoring Madeline’s departure, she had been determined to forget about Nikka today. She still hadn’t received an answer from the refugee camp.

Cinder noticed her expression and frowned. “Don’t like the juice?”

Ayda smiled and took a sip. “No, it’s delicious.” And it was. Most people made blackfruit juice too sweet, trying to cover up the tang. If you wanted sweet, you might as well have cherry cider.

“Come on,” she said. “I see a skyswimmer over there. Trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve watched their act.”

They spent the morning looking at exhibits and eating various delicacies. Madeline was captivated by a wooden sculpture that was an exact replica of the Great Willow, down to each window in its top branches. In turn, it took a long time for Madeline to pull Ayda away from a gorgeous copy of Nights in the River. It was her father’s favorite book, and he had passed on the love to Ayda.

Noon came and went, and the speeches and plays began. Smart of them, Ayda thought, to schedule them for late afternoon, when everybody needed to sit down and take a break from the excitement if they wanted energy to dances.

At three, Lady Elerian gave a speech on the main stage in the square. Ten minutes before, the courtyard was packed, but as soon as she set foot on the platform, utter silence fell. Her clear voice rang through the trees, magically amplified. She gave thanks for the mild winter, and she spoke of the accomplishments since the fall festival. Then she grew sober.

“Hard times are ahead of us,” she said. “The Three Kingdoms have lived in peace for centuries, but now we have to stand together and fight. These attacks will only increase. Nadra, the woman controlling the Shades, is an old enemy and she will not rest until we are destroyed. But do not despair. We will fight, and we will win.

“But it is not any Shade’s fault. They are being magically controlled. We must not hate our brothers and sisters of Neleluna. Instead, we must rally for them, to protect all that we have worked for. Do not fear, and do not hate. Hysteria will only serve our enemy’s purpose.

“I am confident that if we do this, the spring equinox will find us gathered here again, safely, with the towns we’ve lost rebuilt and new, stronger friendships forged. The Lady Moon willing, I will stand here again and we will celebrate in safety.”

Lady Elerian stood there, her long hair flowing down past her waist and framed her strong, confident face. Then she turned and took her seat next to her husband. How can she be so sure? Ayda wondered.

She glanced at Cinder, who sat beside her, but she couldn’t read his expression.

The crowd seemed to share Ayda’s sentiment. A rumbling swept the crowd, and she couldn’t help but think that most of them were like her — they would rather not be reminded of what was going on today. Inspiring words did little to comfort those with friends or family in the towns that had been destroyed.

But the stage was quickly cleared and set up for a play, and the crowd quieted again, happy to return to the festival. The play featured a bumbling centaur and a rather rude dryad petitioning the king of Erinore for help. Ayda thought it was kind of dumb, but the illusion of the dragon king, worked by a centaur in the back, was very well done. Madeline seemed to enjoy it.

Before Ayda knew it, the sun was hovering a little above the treetops, the benches in front of the stage had been cleared away, and a group of musicians were tuning their instruments. When Ayda saw who they were, she landed on Madeline’s shoulder, heedless of the way it jarred the illusion, and tugged on Madeline’s ear.

“It’s the Fifth Dimension!” she said. “They’re amazing, they can play any style you want. I think they’ve even invented a few of their own. I’ve been in before town while they’re playing, but tickets sell out so fast.”

The music started, a fast, light tune. Everyone formed up into lines to start the dance.

Madeline looked up at Ayda, panicking. “What do I do?” she asked. “I don’t know the dances. They’re all going to think I do.”

“It’s fine,” Ayda said reassuringly. “They’re not hard. Just watch for a couple and you’ll get the hang of it.”

Ayda grinned as she watched Madeline make her way into the dancing crowd. Beyond the edge of the courtyard, Cinder stretched lazily out on the lowest branch of an oak, his eyes half-lidded.

High above the dancing group, Ayda and the few other fairies were free to dance with three dimensions at their disposal. She rode the winds, spinning and diving, using her wings instead of her arms and legs to move to the music. The beat pulsed through her, and time seemed to blur into a succession of spins and songs, blending air currents and music into art. Ayda laughed breathlessly as she flew.