Chapter 38
Maylie
MAYLIE CUT ACROSS the mountainside, striding through gorse and straggly heather that snagged at the edges of her cloak.
A velvety darkness folded around her; all was hushed except for the echoing bleat of a roaming goat and the distant surge of the mountain streams. Behind her, Silicia slumbered.
The few speckles of candlelight that flickered at cottage windows faded one by one and as she moved further away, the village disappeared, swallowed into the night.
All day Maylie had waited. She had fulfilled her chores as morning became afternoon, then evening, knowing that tonight she would answer the call from the creature in the forest. Even bidding farewell to Gredie earlier and watching him leave for Tormale with his friend had not taken her mind off the task that lay ahead.
She was focused. That evening, she had cleared away dinner, tucked her two remaining boys into bed, and waited until she was sure Chrisanie had fallen asleep.
Then, slipping her feet into boots and fastening a cloak over her nightdress, she had crept out of the cottage and into the night.
Maylie squinted at the approaching line of trees.
She had walked away from Silicia, where she had a better chance of entering the forest unseen.
She felt calm for the first time in days.
Her decision to face the creature – however dangerous she knew the task to be – had brought with it a sense of peace.
She did not even hesitate as she reached the first smattering of trees.
Instead, she strode onwards, plunging herself into the gloom of the forest.
I am here, she called in that strange way she knew how. I have answered your call.
Maylie picked her way through the undergrowth, following the trodden paths of animals who had made trails between the bracken and bushes.
Around her, the trees were silent and still, standing tall, watching.
Occasionally, she could hear the soft thud of paws near by, perhaps from a lovetail or a bearded squirrel, and behind her she sometimes caught the snap of a twig or a scuffle, perhaps from a horned rabbit or a ridge-backed deer.
Or something else.
It might be one of those ancient creatures who lived in the mountains – one of the creatures only those with the Sight could see.
After several more paces, Maylie stopped. She was deep within the forest, and she felt a prickle of fear. If anything happened, no one would be able to find her. She would have vanished without a trace, as folk sometimes did.
I am here, she called again.
No one had taught her how to speak like this. It was a combination of thoughts, faint sounds and gestures. It was more than the Sight – it was part of her Gift.
Show yourself.
There was a pause. Then she saw it: a flicker of something at the corner of her eye.
Maylie’s chest tightened and, beneath her nightdress, her legs trembled. But she made herself stand tall and turned to stare at the shadow.
The creature took shape. As Maylie’s eyes adjusted to its form, it became a slight, lofty figure.
The fragments of pale moonlight that shattered through the canopy of leaves lit its pearly green body, glimmering across the gnarls and whorls in its skin.
It looked a little like a woman. Some might call it a type of treefolk, though Maylie knew its proper name to be a hamadryad.
Greetings, it said, its voice whispery like the rustle of leaves.
Maylie bent into a bow.
I have been waiting for you.
Roots veined the creature’s limbs and leaves adorned its hair.
It had been many winters since Maylie had seen the hamadryad fully, but it looked the same.
Though she had grown older – her dark hair threaded with silver, her skin slackened and wrinkled – the hamadryad appeared as it always had.
Like the tree it was tethered to, it had not changed.
But if the creature was surprised by her appearance, it did not show it.
It has been so long, Maylie replied. I thought I had lost my Gift. Forgive my impertinence.
All Mountain children were taught to mind their manners if ever faced with the Hidden People.
It was rare, but there were tales of those who had stumbled upon nixies or been led into danger by a will-o’-the-wisp.
It was thought that a little charm might incline such creatures towards mercy, but if the tales were to be believed, that could not be depended upon.
The Hidden People behaved however they pleased.
You should have come sooner. It might be too late.
Maylie stared into the creature’s small, round eyes, trying to decipher its intent. She was not naive enough to think that it necessarily wished to help her. The Hidden People were not known to be loyal.
I am truly sorry, she said. I can only ask for your forgiveness.
She dropped to her knees and lowered her head.
She knew she should stay there and wait for the creature’s invitation to rise, but something was prodding at her. An old hurt that had not been forgotten. Before she could stop herself, she raised her chin and added, Why did you abandon me when I returned to the mountains?
The creature drew back with a jolting, unnatural speed. For a moment, it looked as though it would disappear into the foliage.
Maylie had been too curious. She had not played along.
I have not seen any of your kind for so long, she added.
This seemed to have a placating effect. The hamadryad lingered.
When Maylie had returned to Silicia eighteen winters ago, the creatures she had grown up seeing around the village and surrounding mountainsides were gone. The brownies, kelpies and trolls had vanished. Or rather, they were there, but she could no longer see them. Her Sight had disappeared.
Why did you hide from me? she asked.
The hamadryad seemed to be considering its answer, watching her with hard, green-brown eyes. Finally it said, We told you not to leave the mountains.
So it had been a punishment.
Maylie bit back an angry retort. It would make no difference and would likely only offend. Instead, she asked, Why have you decided to show yourself to me now? Why have you been calling me?
The creature flexed its long, thin fingers. You should have come sooner.
Maylie sighed. She had forgotten the evasive speech of the Hidden People. She climbed back to her feet and brushed down her cloak.
The hamadryad inclined its head and a mane of sprout-like coils brushed its cheeks. A change is coming.
Maylie felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. She had assumed the unsettled feeling plaguing her recently was due to the impending Maiden Sacrifice, which always made her uneasy, but perhaps there was something else.
What is going to happen? she asked, though she knew it was too direct a question. What have you seen? She stepped forward and raised her hand, as if to grab hold of the hamadryad, but she managed to stop herself.
You lost a child. And you’ll lose another.
Panic surged. Maylie’s heartbeat roared in her ears. Involuntarily she touched her lower stomach. Which child?
But the hamadryad was beginning to fade into the surrounding forest, its outline becoming thin and undefined. You should have come sooner. You cannot stop it now.
Wait! Which child?
A change is coming.
In her desperation, Maylie slipped into Galasquese. ‘Stop!’ she cried. ‘You must tell me. You must explain!’
But the hamadryad had gone.