The Mysterious Disappearance of Contessa Willoughby: Part Twelve
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Part Twelve
Reread Part Eleven if you wish to recall where we last left Contessa or continue reading.
All eyes fell on Ferand. Gallagher hopped off of his back as Phoebe slid down after him.
“How could you do this to us?” She pleaded, tears welling up in the corner of her eyes.
Gallagher squared off in front of Ferand, his paws on his hips, bearing his razor-sharp teeth.
“Enough!” Arianrhod stepped forward towards Contessa and her grandfather. “I see enemies are among us. Mine too. Effont, you are dismissed. If you wish to see another day, I suggest you leave us now. I will deal with you later.”
Effont began to protest, but Arianrhod extended her hand and a yellow orb surrounded him, then lifted him up and away from the group.
“Would anyone else like to protest?”
Contessa stepped in front of her grandfather. “I would.”
“Of course, you do, my darling child. Just like Sylvia. A fiery spirit to match hers. Sadly, I haven’t yet found Sylvia, but the two of you are enough for now.”
“We won’t let you take them,” Gallagher directed his glaring teeth towards Arianrhod now.
“Is that so? What exactly do you think you will do?”
The truth was, Gallagher, nor Phoebe, nor Contessa or her grandfather could do anything. Most likely Arianrhod would let the squirrels go peacefully so long as they didn’t interfere, but Gallagher swore an oath to protect the oak trees, and that included the Willoughbys, their chief protectors.
Just as Gallagher was dividing a distraction, the screech of an owl filled the air, and a shiny, gilded object fell from the sky. Gallagher recognized the object immediately. It was the blade of Bloudewedd. He had never seen it before, only heard of it from bedtime stories his mother told him. The blade was forged when the Order of the Quercus was formed. It was an additional failsafe, in the event the trees needed additional protection against magical creatures, people like Arianrhod.
Everyone saw the object fall from the sky, but Gallagher moved like lightning towards the blade. Seeing him from the corner of her eye, Arianrhod sent a flash of light towards him, knocking him to the ground.
Contessa screamed and knelt by him, “Noooooooooo.” Gallagher lay still. His chest neither rose nor fell. Contessa leaned her head close to his body. “Gallagher,’ she said, shaking him gentling with her finger. “Gallagher,” she began to wail.
“Girl, you will have to be stronger than this if you plan to protect the trees,” Arianrhod walked to stand beside her.
“Now, here is the plan. Ferand, you will stay with me and stand guard. You, squirrel, do what you will with this creature who dares to defy me and has paid the price. I suggest you do not try the same. Honestly, I don’t know why you can not see how what I am planning will help everybody. Access to the trees should not be limited to a few — and certainly not only humans. To think the Willoughbys are worthy of such power.”
“They are,” Phoebe yelled, “and they are more worthy than you. The trees picked the Willoughby family a long time ago as they protector because of their wisdom. They have shown generation after generation they are worthy of the duty and honor.”
“And yet, they keep company with unwise little squirrels. Silence. I need not be educated by you about the importance of the trees. I was there when they were created. It is my right to rule over them, to use them as I see fit.”
“It is not!” Phoebe stomped her foot and clenched her fists.
“Will you come at me too, then. Must this end in two tragedies?” Arianrhod laughed wickedly, throwing her head back in utter delight. Contessa's fingers were inches away from the blade. Ferand was in her line of sight, watching her every move.
“This is your fault, Ferand! You betrayed us.”
Her grandfather and Phoebe remained still.
Just then, Ferand launched towards Contessa. She jerked forward, closer to down to the ground. No, he was aiming for Arianrhod who glowered above her. Ferand leaped onto her back and sprung up towards Arianrhod. With the distraction, Contessa reached for the blade and drove its point into Arianrhod’s foot who tumbled backward to the ground.
“You fool, do you know what you have done?” Arianrhod writhed and grasped at Contessa near her feet.
Contessa gently scooped up Gallagher, and Ferand pulled the blade from Arianrhod’s foot with his teeth. Arianrhod’s shimmer began to fade. She remained immobilized on the ground.
“Her powers are temporarily gone,” Grandfather Willoughby yelled, “Come! We must hurry!" Contessa’s grandfather took Gallagher from Contessa and placed him gently in a satchel he wore.
The destination wasn’t far, just a few meters, but the distance felt like an eternity. Each ran, the fear of Arianrhod descending upon them again like an icicle dangling from a roof. At last, they stood in front of the tree. By all appearances, it was an ordinary tree, but Contessa knew it was special. She felt it.
“Contessa,” her papa lowered down to her eye level, “You must continue on without me. I will stay back to make sure Arianrhod stays behind. Ferand and Phoebe will join you.”
“But I can’t go on without you, Papa.”
“I was never meant to retrieve the acorn, Contessa. It was always you. My time is nearly over. I promise, when you return home with the acorn, I will be there, but the Order spoke of your coming. I just didn’t realize it would be so soon.”
“I want to say goodbye to Gallagher,” tears poured forth from Contessa’s solemn face. Papa retrieved Gallagher’s still warm body and presented it to her. Contessa took him in her hands. Phoebe and Ferand kneeled and bowed their heads. “What will I ever do without you, friend?” She kissed him on his damp, cold nose.
“You must hurry, all of you.”
“How do we do this?”
“The same as always. Imagine your destination, Druantia. You will need the blade to open a door. Ferand, protect it, and Contessa and Phoebe with your life. I know you stopped working for Arianrhod, Ferand. I know Gallagher knew it in his heart too. You will forever honor him by doing this for the Order of the Quercus. Now go, all of you!”
“Where will you go, Papa?”
He leaned down to kiss his granddaughter on her cheek. “To Wales. Our home. To wait for Sylvia and for your return. Be brave, my sweet girl.”
Contessa and Phoebe and Ferand assembled themselves in the tree. She reached lowered herself and reached out her hands to her friends and closed her eyes. She imagined Druantia, the way she had heard of her, tall-growing up towards the sky and took in a deep breath. ”Ready?” she asked, squeezing her palms. Both Ferand and Phoebe squeezed back in affirmation. The roots came and whisked past her ears, the sinking feeling rushed over her, and pithing what felt like years, but was really only seconds, Contessa exhaled and opened her eyes.
“Here we are, I think.” They were in a tree nearly the same size as the one they had departed from. Contessa was about to step out first when the cry of a child stopped her. It sounded familiar. She peeked her head out from the tree. It was a small girl, frolicking around a sandpit. Hers was a cry of joy playing in the sand. Contessa stepped out. Phoebe followed behind her. Ferand, being a fox and not wanting to attract attention waiting until Contessa signaled him out. People were dressed in funny clothes, but not so different than her own. There were grown-ups and children of varying sizes, not too different from herself. However, many seemed preoccupied with whatever was in their hands. A small object that lit up whenever their finger touched it. Perhaps, They were in a new magical land, Contessa surmised until she glanced to her right and saw a sign posted near the entrance of the park. “Tree Park” it read.
Contessa spoke just above a whisper. “Where are we?”
Phoebe nodded in the direction in front of them. A long path led to a stately white building with Greek columns. A sign was planted in a neatly manicured lawn: Society of Storytelling
Contessa didn’t know why, but something about the place beckoned her. “Let’s go,” she said to Phoebe and Ferand. Together, the trio walked down a path, away from the park, toward the building ahead of them. None of the adults seemed to notice them.
“It’s open,” Contessa said as she began pulling the door towards her. “Perhaps you both should wait outside. We don’t want to draw any attention.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Ferand said. “I promised your grandfather.”
“This sign here says dogs aren’t allowed, I am sure that includes talking foxes Ferand. I’ll bring Phoebe. You can keep a watch from that tree over there.” A tall plane tree rose beside the building casting a short, noonday shadow across the lawn.
“Fine,” Ferand grumbled and skulked away. Phoebe hopped into Contessa’s hands and was deposited into her pocket.
Contessa pulled open the door and walked inside. The air was cool and smelled of cookies baking. Contessa’s tummy growled like an angry dog. She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror she walked by. Her hair was miraculously tame, but a streak of dirt framed her brow. She dabbed her finger on her tongue and wiped it across her forehead. Halfway to the reception desk, there was a small table that explained the scent. It held a pile of cookies and a pitcher of red liquid.
“Don’t stop!” Phoebe whisper-yelled. But Contessa could resist them. Her last meal felt like a century ago. She took the cookie closest to the edge of the plate and popped it into her tiny mouth. Butter and chocolate melted on her tongue, filling her mouth as she gobbled down more of the treat. She poured a glass of the red liquid to wash it down. She grabbed two more cookies and deposited one into her empty pocket and the other she slipped towards Phoebe who refused it. “Suit yourself,” Contessa said, “Taking a bit into it.”
“I don’t think it is a good idea to eat —“
“You don’t —,” Contessa began to whisper back to her when she felt eyes on her. She looked up. The woman at the reception desk at the end of the grand hallway was staring at her.
“Excuse me,” she called down to Contessa, “May I help you?”
Since Contessa was quite small, she had trouble seeing. She never told her mother because she didn’t want to be like Susan Ledbetter, the girl in her class who everyone made fun of because of her four eyes. It was bad enough that she didn’t have a father, and everyone knew it. Contessa squinted towards the voice. It sounded vaguely familiar to her. Contessa continued towards the desk. The woman was nowhere to be seen when she arrived at the desk. “One minute,” came a dislocated trill from behind the counter.
Then the woman popped up in front of them. Contessa did not need glasses to see that her Aunt Vie was standing directly in front of her.
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