The Færie Price

By K. Austin Krueger

Grandma always told me not to go into the forest alone. “Deep in the woods, where the trees are old as time, færies make their dwellings,” she would say. “And if you aren’t careful, they’ll snatch you and gobble you up!” That part always made me giggle when I was a kid.

Even as I grew older, she still told me the stories, and I still laughed all the way through. But eventually, something about her changed, as if her spark was growing dim. She didn’t tell anyone for the longest time, but she didn’t have to.

Cancer.

She didn’t want treatment.

She barely ate and refused to go out.

She even stopped telling me her færie stories.

One afternoon, on my way home, I passed by the woods Grandma had always told me about. I don’t know what it was, but something possessed me to go in there. My cousins and I had played in the woods as kids, so it wasn’t like I had never been there before.

Sometimes I was a princess with stick-wielding knights vying for my favor. Sometimes I was queen over all the færies who lived in the forest. Sometimes, we just played hide-and-seek.

Something drew me farther than I’d ever gone, past where we used to play, all the way to a dry creek bed. I hopped across without any trouble and continued weaving through the trees.

The woods grew thicker here. More undergrowth to slow me down. Branches and thorns seemed to reach out and pull at my clothes, like they didn’t want me to continue, or didn’t want me to leave. I tore myself free and fell.

From the soft, mossy earth, I looked up.

A huge tree towered before me, a hundred feet tall or more, with leaves of bright violet, turquoise, and rose. I couldn’t have missed it, and yet it seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Looking down, I saw the grass was vibrant green like emeralds.

A butterfly with ruby wings fluttered past me.

I stood and continued towards the magnificent tree, entranced. It bore fruit of so many colors I’d never before seen. One of grandma’s stories came to mind. She’d said that sometimes, the færies guarded magic fruit that could grant wishes if you did the færies a favor. But if you weren’t careful, eating the fruit could also have dire consequences. My hand moved on its own, reaching out to pluck a perfectly round, opalescent fruit.

Then a chill ran down my spine. I should not be here. I need to get home.

But when I turned to leave the tree, standing before me was a woman, hauntingly beautiful. Long, golden hair framed her face, and her thin, flowing dress seemed to join the air itself. Her eyes pierced my soul. I could not look away even if I wanted to.

“What have we here?” Her words wrapped around me like fog, everywhere all at once. “A lost little girl. May I have your name?”

My name was all I could muster.

“A lovely name,” the woman said, unblinking. “I think I shall like it quite a bit. Now tell me, little one, why have you come here?”

“I don’t know.” My words sounded like they came from so far away. “My grandma is sick, and I thought this might help.” The fruit grew heavy in my hand.

“How very brave of you, little one, coming here.” Her words sent me shivering. “Unfortunately, that fruit will not save her. I can, but I require something of you first. You love your grandmother because of her stories, so to make her well again, I will need the sound of your voice.”

“My voice?” I knew that couldn’t be all there was to it. If this woman truly were a færie, she could be trying to trick me. And færie tricks never end well.

“Storytellers need a voice. So, I will use your voice to make your favorite storyteller well. Agreed?” She smiled an enchanting smile, and looking into her eyes made me feel both anxious and at ease.

Heart pounding in my chest, I nodded.

“Excellent. Now, eat the fruit, and I will work my magic.”

The fruit in my hand was so plump, it had to be perfectly ripe. It looked delicious. Against my better judgment, I bit down, expecting something sweet. Instead, it tasted like ash. I spat it out and tried to complain about the foul taste, but nothing came out. I tried again and again, but I couldn’t speak.

“That’s okay, little one,” she sang. “I have everything I need. And your grandmother is feeling much better.”

I looked around in a panic. What had I just gotten myself into? When I turned back, the mysterious woman was gone. I dropped the horrible fruit and ran back the way I came.

I ran and ran, much farther than I had walked to get to the tree. All around me, birds chirped, and wind whispered, all of them taunting me and my stolen voice.

My legs felt ready to fall off when I saw a familiar patch of trees. The dry creek bed was just up ahead!

Except it wasn’t. In its place was a river of sapphire, far too wide to jump. Perhaps I could swim across it easily enough. The water looked calm, but as soon as I jumped in it sparked to life with raging rapids. I fought against the water as hard as I could, but I knew I couldn’t beat the current. It dragged me downstream, thrashing me back and forth, until I washed up on the bank somewhere utterly unfamiliar.

I pulled myself to my knees and wondered if it was all worth it. Was my grandma really better, or had I been tricked? Would I even see her again to find out?

I screamed from the bottom of my soul, a cry of desperation.

But I found that I could not.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

K. Austin Krueger is a mild-mannered librarian by day. By night, he is even more mild-mannered. He loves creating fantasy worlds for his writing and Dungeons & Dragons games. His other hobbies include Pokemon, inventing languages, quoting Lord of the Rings and Spongebob, and procrastinating on important tasks. He lives with his wife and son in St. Louis, Missouri.