The Mysterious Disappearance of Contessa Willoughby: Part Eleven
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Part Eleven
Reread Part Ten if you wish to recall where we last left Contessa or continue reading.
Contessa soon forgot the prickles of the gorse or the fact that Arianrhod had so easily commanded them to surround her when she felt the embrace of her grandfather. He smelled the same, of sharp ginger and fresh bread, however long he'd been detained in the tangled shrub.
“Papa, I’ve missed you. I’ve been so frightened. I don’t know where to begin, but first, where are we?”
“Oh Contessa, I’m sure you have so many questions. I can answer only a few. We have little time, my dear.”
“Then at least tell me where we are and how we will get out of here.” She grasped her arms more tightly around his neck. Her grandfather released her and plopped down to the ground. Contessa followed him.
“I suppose I will start from the beginning—“
“Before the fire, Papa” It seemed a lifetime ago that Contessa knelt in her box window, watching the great oak tree burn before her.
“Aye, the fire,” he continued wearily. “I think that was Arianrhod too. She hasn’t taken responsibility, but it is the only thing that explains everything. I went after the shadow I saw dashing across the moor after the tree was set ablaze. That it would lead me to this…” His voice trailed off. He looked up at the gorse that rose and swayed above them, moving with a wind they could not hear. "The shadow disappeared into one of the oaks, and I followed it. Arianrhod greeted me, promised she would help me find the culprit, and when I followed her, she led me here. Just like you, I suppose."
“But why did you trust her, Papa?”
“Because we always had,” he sighed.
“Who is ‘we’?”
“That’s another bit of the puzzle, Contessa. You see, I am a member of the Council of the Quercus. The Council was formed long ago to protect a special tree.”
Contessa reached into her pocket and presented the tattered paper she found on the ground to him, “This Council?”
“Yes,” he said, taking it into his hand and holding it at a distance to read. “Where did you find this?”
“Near the tree I traveled through to come here.”
“Generys,” he said aloud to himself.
“Generous?”
“No, Contessa. G-E-N-E-R-Y-S. Means ‘the white lady’ and it is the name of the tree that piece of paper belongs to.”
“The tree has a name?”
“All trees do. Maybe you don’t know them yet, but you will, my love. It’s in your blood.” He winked at her.
“Gallagher said that too.”
“So you met the great Gallagher?”
“I did Papa! I should have told you right away and I should have listened to him. I don’t know where he is, but he was helping me until I followed a fox named Ferand. Do you know him?”
“I don’t Contessa, but my dealings in this realm are entirely related to the Council of the Quercus. I think Arianrhod plans to make a spell with one of the cuttings from the mother tree.”
“Druantia?”
“Why yes. You seem to know much more than I thought. It’s the only thing that makes sense. So all can have access to the trees like we do.”
“Ferand has a cutting too, Papa. I saw it. He wanted me to hold his hand while he grasped it. Why?”
“So that he could travel with you. He must have been trying to bring you to Arianrhod. Which means, your Aunt Vie would do well to stay hiding.”
“Arianrhod mentioned her.” Continue paused, looking around the gorse dome to make sure she wasn’t missing anyone, though Aunt Vie with her flaming locks and equally vibrant spirit could not be missed.
“I suspect she needs all of the remaining Willoughbys for the spell to work.”
Fear crept into Contessa's voice. “What does she plan to do with us then?”
There was a moment of silence.
“I don’t know.”
∆
A flaming sunset darkened the silhouettes of two squirrels, a fox, and a hooded woman. The trio of animals didn’t need to scurry to keep up with the woman's slow and solemn pace. At last, they arrived at an embankment along a stream that gurgled and bubbled in harmony with the evening birdsong. Dôn stood on a narrow patch of grass and sand that sunk under her feet. The animals gathered quietly at her feet. She dipped the staff gently into the water and began to move it in a rhythmic clockwise circle. Her lips parted, but the animals could not make out any of what she said above the babble of the brook. Soon, the water surrendered to her stirring, and a vortex appeared, growing in size until it was large enough for small animals, like a fox or squirrels, to enter.
“Go! Quickly!" Dôn commanded. "I have located my daughter, and this vortex will send you to the realm she is in.”
One by one, Ferand, then Phoebe, and finally Gallagher, hopped into the crystal funnel and vanished.
Unlike their travel through the wave, this time, the animals tumbled to life on the soft grass. Phoebe was the first to stand up.
“Where are we?”
“I don’t know,” Ferand sniffed. “But I can smell her, so we are in the right place.”
“Smell who?” Gallagher was rubbing his rump. Dôn didn’t prepare him for what felt like a sift kick through time.
“Arianrhod, of course. Her sweet almond scent is unmistakable.” He pointed his snout to the sky. “And Contessa. Yes, dirt and catkin nectar. She is here too.”
“Well,” Gallagher spoke, at last, reoriented, “Since you seem to have honed in on their scents, why don’t you lead?”
“Of course. I’ll do my best. Hop on?”
Ferand knelt down to his forepaws this time, and once the two squirrels positioned themselves at his nape, he set off towards the scents.
After a few hours, Ferand stopped at a creek adjacent to a holt. The squirrels alighted and followed him to the bank to dip their faces in the water for a drink.
“I’m afraid we have a problem,” Ferand said, stepping back from the water to sit down.
“But we can’t stop. It will be dark soon,” said Gallagher. Phoebe backed him up.
“He’s right, Ferand. What’s the problem?”
“Their scent ends here. She must have masked it at some point. They’re both gone.”
Suddenly, they all heard a twig snap. The squirrels and fox became silent, eyes darting back and forth to one another.
From behind a fallen tree, covered with bright green moss, a light flickered then darted towards them. This was no firefly. For one, it was too early in the day for the nocturnal beetle. A trail of light remained as the tiny oval shape grew until the shimmer faded to reveal the shape of an adult-sized human. The animals shifted into attack positions.
“Wait,” came a sonorous voice. “I can help you.”
Gallagher stepped forward first. “Help us do what? You know not why we journey here. Who are you?”
“I am Effont. A friend of yours, I can assure you. I am a woodland fairy—“
“But you’re so big,” Phoebe blurted out.
“I am whatever size I need to be. In this case, the size to match the humans you seek. Arianrhod has them, and I can bring you to them. She has bewitched the land to deceive you, but I know the way. Come!”
Ferand, Gallagher, and Phoebe looked at one another. They had come this far, and if Fernand could no longer help them, this was their only chance to find Contessa and stop Arianrhod.
“Alright,” Phoebe said, “We will follow you, but you must swear you mean us no harm.”
“On my life,” said Effont, placing long fingers to his heart. Ferand knelt again, and Gallagher and Phoebe assumed their positions, gripping his fur tighter than before. Together, they followed Effont, who had returned to firefly size, through the woods, and across the open moor.
At last, they arrived at a hedge. Ferand’s ears perked up. “We’re here,” he said, stopping to let Gallagher and Phoebe down. This time, Phoebe and Gallagher could smell Contessa too. But all three could also smell someone else. Sensing their thoughts, Effont replied.
“It’s her grandfather, the one she has been seeking. He is also here. Now, I must warn you, when Arianrhod bewitched the land, it also bewitched her garden. The holly around it has been transformed into a labyrinth. I will guide you to them in its center.”
“I don’t understand. Why help us?” Like foxes, Gallagher never knew fairies to be helpful creatures.
“In the future, there are no fairies. I know this because before you arrived, I saw Contessa’s father. There was a moment when I could have helped him, but I didn’t. That’s when Arianrhod took him. Before she did, however, he told me that in his time there are no fairies because people no longer believed in them. But now I think it is because we stopped helping other creatures. I’m doing this so my species can survive. Contessa and her grandfather will tell others of my deed so that I and my kind will live on.”
“Well, it sounds like a noble a reason if ever there was one. As a fox, I very sincerely can understand.” Ferand shot Gallagher a dark eye.
“Follow me,” Effont called down to them as he rose above the hedge.
Ferand darted through the labyrinth, turn after turn until he arrived at its center where the yellow gorse grew.
“I’m confused,” he said with bated breath. “Where are they?”
Effont shimmered into human-size again and extended his hand to the gorse. “In there."
Gallagher and Phoebe, now on the ground, dashed to the gorse to peer inside it.
“They are! I see them!” Phoebe squeaked.
Contessa was sitting on the ground in front of her grandfather. He seemed to be speaking to her, but she couldn’t hear them, and it was also clear that they could neither see nor hear them either.
“How will open it?” The cogs in Ferand’s brain were turning.
“You have the twig do you not?” Effont asked.
“How did you know?” Ferand looked at him suspiciously.
“I know your family, Ferand. You would not be on this mission were you not also carrying the twig of Druantia. This twig has other powers. You may need a Willoughby to travel through time with it, but with it alone you can tame this gorse.”
Phoebe moved towards Ferand’s saddle pouch to retrieve the twig for him.
“You do it, Phoebe. You’ve earned the honor as the one who has continued to demonstrate their trust for me. It’s alright if she does it, Effont?”
He nodded. Then Phoebe took the twig, and tapped it gently on the gorse, then wiggled it between the twisted branches until a small gap appeared. She shook it more, and the gap grew larger. The commotion of the moving gorse caught the attention of Contessa and her grandfather, and the two jumped up and ran to the small opening. Within a moment, the branches parted enough for the pair to step trough.
Gallagher and Phoebe dropped to their knees, then Ferand, reluctantly followed.
“Please, get up. I do not warrant that kind of reverence. We are all equals here,” he paused, noticing Effont, “And I hope friends.”
“Gallagher, oh, Gallagher!“ Contessa dropped to the ground. “I am so sorry that I left you. Will you ever forgive me?”
“Apologies unnecessary, Contessa," Gallagher tutted. "Here you are, and we are all safe, but we must not linger.”
“No, we mustn’t. Arianrhod will be back soon. I suspect she has continued the hunt for Sylvia,” Effont pronounced wearily.
“Slyvia can take care of herself. Do you know what she has in mind Effont?” Contessa’s grandfather stepped towards the fairy, “And might I add, I do forgive you for abandoning me with the witch.”
“I am sorry, Sir. It is my honor I wish to restore. Arianrhod can do nothing without all three of you — Contessa, you, and your daughter Sylvia. You see the spell requires it.”
“Requires what?” Contessa's interest in magic had grown with each moment of whatever world they were in.”
“Blood, I’m afraid. But just a drop. A pinprick really. I fear that wouldn’t be enough. Everyone knows what she did with Blodeuwedd turning her into an owl and all —“
“Yes, yes,” Grandfather Willoughby sighed, “All the more reason for us to leave.”
“Then let us. I will guide you back through the labyrinth.”
Contessa and her grandfather followed closely behind the animals, with Effont guiding them from above. At last, they reached the outer wall of holly to catch their breath.
“Where to next?” Effont called down to them.
“Well, Contessa and I can travel through the nearest Council tree,” said Grandfather Willoughy, “but you all will have to travel with us to return home.”
“But Papa, what of Druantia. Is she safe? Were you not on your way to see her?”
In the chaos of his capture, he nearly forgot his most important task: to retrieve an acorn from Druantia.”
“Contessa’s right. I must retrieve a seed from Druantia. Back home, we lost Generys’ sister.”
Gallagher gasped. “Not Brigit!”
“Brigit,” Contessa whispered under her breath, realizing the name of the now dead tree in her grandfather’s back garden.
“Aye, burned no doubt by someone sent by Arianrhod. That’s who I was after when I ended up here. Contessa and I must continue on to Druantia to reset the balance of trees in our world.”
“We will come with you,” it was Ferand’s turn to prove his loyalty, “and I know another tree to get us there.”
Ferand took the lead, and together they headed towards a grove of trees that crowned a hill on the horizon.
The sun hovered above them, ready to kiss the earth by the time they reached it. The woods were still, save for the crunch of the ground beneath the travelers' feet.
“Over there,” Effont called out, moving ahead in a shot of white light, then suddenly he stopped. Warm, gold light engulfed his white glow.
“Ferand,” a saccharine voice hummed, “How very pleased I am that you brought them here.” Arianrhod stepped out from behind the tree.
∆