The Faeries' Harp

7: First Steps

“You’re sure you wouldn’t rather ride?” Saoirse asks Rhys again as they set off down a narrow dirt trail leading out of the forest clearing and away from the wall of vines.

“I’m sure Bergljot would hate it if I did,” Rhys answers resolutely. To his surprise, she has chosen to walk on the ground alongside him, one hand resting on Bergljot’s withers. “Doesn’t mean you can’t ride, though.”

“We can only travel as quickly as you can walk, anyway, if you won’t ride. I might as well get the exercise. No sense making Bergljot do all the work.”

Bergljot snorts appreciatively and Saoirse giggles a little. The horse and the young woman have a sense of camaraderie that Rhys envies. He cannot focus on that for long, however; concern about his mother and frustration with the wall of vines that prevents him from returning to her are all his mind seems to have room for.

“I hope whatever we need to get back home isn’t too far away. I didn’t tell her I was going out for a walk.” He curses silently, berating himself for not leaving her some sign he’d be back. She’ll think I walked out on her, just like Pa did, he worries.

“You and your mom are close.” She says it somewhere between a statement and a question, leaving him the option of ignoring it if he wants to.

“You could say that. It’s just the two of us, or was until this morning. Now she’s alone. She’s never been alone, not like this, and…I’m worried.”

“What worries you?”

“Her health has never been good, and when she gets upset…. She won’t be able to take in any sewing or laundry, and I’m not there to work. The apothecary took all the money we had yestereve, what I’d just earned during the day, to pay part of the debt she owes him.”

“I’m so sorry.” Saoirse isn’t sure what else to say. If she’d known this about him when she first met him, she would have just given him some of the coins she stole from her father and continued on her way. That would have helped him more than friendship, more than an adventure. I’ve been a fool, she chastises herself. But if we find a way back, I will help them somehow.

“We’ve always been able to scrape by, the two of us together. But now….” He lets his voice trail off, knowing he can’t finish verbalizing his thoughts without at least a chance of a few tears slipping out. As worried as he is about his mom, he won’t have Saoirse seeing him as weak.

“We’ll get you back to her before you know it,” Saoirse assures him with partially feigned confidence. “No need to fret. I’m sure whatever’s needed to get back isn’t too far.”

“How can you be so sure? What are you basing that on? We might just be trapped here.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way. You can’t just give up. Maybe we’ll happen upon a town or a traveler or someone who can point us in the right direction.”

Rhys shakes his head, not convinced. His usual optimism has fled in the face of their seemingly impossible circumstances. Then, much to his embarrassment, his stomach growls loudly. Saoirse bites her lip hard to avoid laughing.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, already knowing the answer.

“It doesn’t matter. There’s nothing to be done about it,” Rhys mutters. His stomach argues to the contrary with another, quite emphatic rumble.

Saoirse giggles. “I packed for a long journey, and I’m willing to share. I haven’t had breakfast yet, either. Here, Bergljot, let’s stop for a second. Pick your patch of edibles.” Bergljot immediately steps off the path to munch on some juicy-looking grasses and flowers, which she seems to thoroughly enjoy. Saoirse rummages in her saddlebags and provides Rhys with some bread, jerky, and dried fruit, then serves herself some of the same.

“Thank you, but…why are you sharing with me? Don’t you need to save your resources for the journey you have planned?”

“I don’t expect to be in the wilderness for all of it. I should be able to get more. And anyway, more to the point, it’s the right thing to do. It’s my fault you’re in this mess to begin with. The least I can do is make sure that you eat while we’re…wherever we are, until we get you home.”

“No one forced me to follow you, and—”

“Just eat. Please. We’ll both feel better if you do.”

The gnawing emptiness in Rhys’s stomach overpowers his lingering protests and he begins to eat the food he’s been given. Immediately he’s impressed; the bread is surprisingly fresh, and definitely made from finer flour than what he’s usually had access to. It’s been a long time since he’s had any kind of meat, or fruit aside from what he’s taken fresh from the forest near his home. She’s either a talented thief, or she comes from money, he muses; neither possibility is particularly pleasing to him. He wouldn’t want to be eating stolen goods, but if she comes from money, then the two of them are far from social equals.

“This is good. Really good. Where did you get it?” he asks, feigning innocent curiosity.

Saoirse immediately turns guarded. “A friend got it for me, when I told her I was planning to leave. As a parting gift.”

“Must be a very well-off friend.”

“Well-connected, I’d say, more than well off.”

“An interesting distinction.”

Saoirse raises an eyebrow but says nothing, preferring to focus on her breakfast.

Undeterred, Rhys tries another tactic. “Will you miss this friend, do you think?”

“Yes. I’ll miss my friends, of course. But I’m not going back. I’ll make sure you get back home, but…I think I might as well stay here, or keep traveling until we can’t anymore.”

“You mean you don’t have a specific destination in mind?”

“I didn’t plan any further than finding freedom.” She looks around for a moment, appreciating their surroundings. “It came a lot sooner than I expected it to.”

“Freedom from what?”

Saoirse doesn’t answer; her eyes are closed, and she’s listening intently to the lilting, ethereal voices in the trees. They’ve never really stopped, since she and Rhys arrived in this strange place, but now they seem closer, more articulate, than they have before.

“Do you hear them?” she asks softly, eyes still closed, leaning against Bergljot’s flank.

“Hear what?”

“The voices.”

“Yeah, I’ve been hearing them, but they’re not saying anything I can understand, so…. What’s the big deal?”

“They’re closer than they have been. Or louder.”

“Maybe it’s some of the locals, and we can ask them for help.”

“Maybe.” Saoirse doesn’t seem convinced; she’s suddenly on high alert, scanning the trees around them.

“You’re sure you would want to stay here?”

“I mean, I don’t know. It’s beautiful, but I don’t know anything about it, not even how we got here. But that means it’s not likely that he would be able to find me if I stay, so….”

“He?”

Saoirse’s face hardens. “Not important.”

A suitor? A debt collector? “Who’s after you?” Rhys insists. “I told you about my mother. The least you could do—”

“Lord Rioghnan. Maybe. Probably, once he realizes I’m gone.”

This is not what Rhys expected. He stares at her, struggling to find the words for his questions.

Seeing his reaction, Saoirse sighs heavily. “I’m his daughter,” she admits reluctantly.