The Last Pear Tree

It was said that a fairy named Malinah had ventured from the fae world – known as Corphim – and had stolen the last pear tree. Malinah was very beautiful; so much so that King Eldan had taken her to be his consort the moment he’d met her, and yet, as if to say she wasn’t good enough, he had chosen to marry another. Nissa was lovely, with her flaming red hair and emerald green eyes. But why should she deserve to be queen over Malinah?

“You are undoubtedly the most beautiful lady my eyes have had the pleasure to behold,” Eldan had crooned, trying to assuage her sadness. “But you are too wild. You would never be content tied to a throne, forced to do as she must, not what she wanted.”

Malinah knew he sought to compliment her. She was wild; passionate and fierce too. And she did value freedom. Yet how could he not understand that as queen, she could still do whatever she wanted because no one would be able to tell her otherwise. With control over the entire kingdom, she could bend the court to her will. But no. He believed a queen needed to be responsible and respectable. Enraged, Malinah swore revenge upon the happy couple and began to plan and plot, though outwardly she continued to play her part as a lady of the king’s court.

Corphim kept tabs on the human world – they called it Farrago – just to stay up to date. It was always a fear that one day humanity would discover the fae world and try to stake their claim on it. Humans loved to think they were superior. Those of Corphim had magic, of course, but human weaponry was still dangerous to them. A bullet would kill them just as easily as a curse if it got through their defenses. But one thing the fae noticed about humanity – they were a self-destructive race. They had destroyed so much of their home, so much of the life that made up their world; hence the dying out of the pear trees.

By this time, the queen had fallen pregnant, due to give birth in three cycles. Malinah knew her moment had come. The last pear tree of Farrago would make a truly remarkable gift to honour the birth of a remarkable infant. So Malinah crossed the threshold into the world of mortals, unseen and unhindered, where she sought and found the pear tree. She’d then woven her dark magic into its roots and taken it to the King and Queen as a gift to honour the birth of the fairy princess. She told them it was a rare treasure from Farrago, the last of its kind, and that because she’d rescued it from extinction and imbued it with magic, it would thrive here in Corphim, bringing blessings upon the land. Delighted, the Queen had it planted – already heavy with fruit – at the heart of the royal gardens.

Malinah picked one of the juicy pears and offered it to the queen with a bow. “You will find it most refreshing, your highness. I have tasted from the tree myself. Who knew something from Farrago could be so sweet, so satisfying?”

Queen Nissa smiled obligingly and bit into the fruit. Her eyes widened in delight. “Why, it is magnificent!”

Malinah grinned. Now all she had to do was wait while overnight, her curse did its work.

King Eldan found Queen Nissa the next morning, a stone statue standing by the pear tree with hands outstretched. And from the tree, black rivulets of dark magic spread like roots, blighting the land. Realising what had happened, he ordered Nissa’s maidservant to take his daughter Ivy and flee, for he feared Malinah would come after her next. He stood mourning beside his stone wife, brushed his fingers over her once soft face. As he did, a glowing ball appeared, floating out of Nissa’s slightly open mouth.

“I cannot undo what was done,” came Nissa’s voice, electrified with the magic of a spell, “for it was done to me and has already begun. So all the power I possess, I release into the light to seek the one who will save us from this blight. This she must choose, or we will lose.”

The ball glowed brighter and shot up into the air, disappearing from view as it went higher and higher into the sky. As Queen of Corphim, Nissa was granted the power of the lands to amplify and add to her own magic. She must have managed to do this just before she turned fully into stone.

King Eldan stroked her cheek once more. “The will of the Queen be fulfilled,” he murmured. “And now, we wait.”

******

“Chosen by the true Queen, we wait for you in between. Come seek us in the land of fae, for we cannot hold this blight at bay. We need the one bequeathed the power to save us in this desperate hour.”

The voice was a whisper, weaving among images of beautiful creatures who looked human, but weren’t. Ivy stirred in her sleep.

“Come sing the song, we do not have long. Break the curse of evil hand and save our home, reclaim our land.” Then, with more urgency, “Come now!”

Ivy’s eyes flew open and she bolted upright, still blinded by the dream as her heart thundered and the very air seemed to buzz with power. A sound like the rushing water filled her ears and with it, a tinkling tune that resonated right to her core.

Ivy had always been different, a little off kilter; a “free spirit,” her single, adoptive mother Morgan called her with a loving smile. Drawn to nature, she would often lose track of time walking through the woods, singing to the trees, the birds, the squirrels – singing to life itself. For Ivy, singing was life. She made up her own songs, pulling words from her heart and soul. This time, as the beautiful tune played through her mind, the words were given to her, sang in a language she both knew and didn’t know. How long she sat there in bed, mesmerized and overwhelmed, she hadn’t a clue. But when everything settled, the sun was just beginning to rise and cheeky sunbeams shone through the gaps in her curtains, playing across her bedspread and turning the diamantes scattered upon it into mini, shining rainbows. It took her a moment to orientate herself and when she did, she grinned. Today was her eighteenth birthday. No dream, no matter how intense or powerful, could make her forget that. Feeling energized, she began to get ready for the day, absent mindedly humming the tune from the dream. She wanted to start her birthday in her favourite place; a sunlit clearing in the woods where wildflowers bloomed in bright colours, and where she sometimes had the joy of spotting a deer. Choosing a pretty, white summer dress embroidered with flowers, she dressed and headed downstairs. A pink box, tied with a white bow, sat on the dining table along with a card.

“Happy birthday, mo stόr. You bring joy and light to my heart, princess, and I know you will achieve wonderful things whatever path you choose. All lands are blessed by your presence, as am I.

Love you forever xxxx”

What an odd thing to say, Ivy thought. Odd, but beautiful. She hugged the card to her chest, smiling. Maybe it’s a Celtic thing, she mused. Morgan had Celtic heritage some ways back and still held onto the old beliefs. Ivy loved learning about the Celts. She could feel the ancient power flowing through the Celtic inscriptions she read, as she could feel the power weaved within the words written here in her mother’s elegant script. Morgan had taught her about the Fae Folk, had told her the story of the last pear tree and how a jealous fairy had used it to curse the King and Queen. As Ivy held the card, she could see the human-like creatures from her dream and knew them for what they were; fairies. Deciding to mull over it later, she opened the box to discover Morgan had packed her a breakfast of croissants and fruit. Ivy was touched. Morgan must have gotten up earlier and arranged this, knowing Ivy would want to venture into the woods. Ivy placed the box carefully into a wicker basket with a flask of water and a picnic rug. Summer perfume filled the air and the grass was coated in droplets of shimmering dew. She walked slowly, savouring the feel of the sun on her skin, but still the dream plagued her, begging her to follow where it was leading. Part of her was curious. She also felt that this feeling wouldn’t let up until she gave in to it. Sighing, she kept walking past her favourite clearing. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but now that she had made the choice to follow, the path became crystal clear. Then she heard it; the sound of a waterfall, just like her dream. Incredulous, Ivy began to run until she broke into another small clearing.

A bubbling creek weaved its way through the trees towards a large hollow in the ground. She inched her way closer to the edge and looked down, drawing a sharp breath at the sight. The creek poured over the edge of the hollow into a pond about five metres down, and on the other side of the hollow were a set of steps carved into the earth. Without hesitation, she ran around and down the stairs, surprised laughter bursting from her lips. The surprise turned to shock as, just when she reached the bottom, the waterfall parted and from behind it stepped Morgan.

“Mum?!”

Morgan smiled. “No. I am merely your guardian, set the task of hiding you until the moment came.”

The pulling sensation that had drawn her here was gone and Ivy dropped onto a boulder, stunned. “I don’t understand.”

Morgan came to her and knelt down, took her hands. “Do you remember the story of the last pear tree?” When Ivy nodded, she continued. “It is not just a story, mo stόr. It is your story.”

“I thought I was named after the fairy princess.”

“Darling, you are the princess. And now your mother’s power has come to you. It is time you choose your path. You can hear Corphim calling, can’t you?”

Ivy nodded again. Somewhere in her heart she’d always known this to be true. Only the spell from her mother had cushioned the knowledge until she was old enough to claim her birthright; a birthright she could either accept or reject. But she’d already made her decision. She’d made it the first time she’d heard the story as a child. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Even as she spoke, she heard once more the tinkling tune from her dream. The song swelled in her chest, longing to break free.

“Sing the song and it will right what is wrong.” Morgan touched a gentle hand to Ivy’s cheek.

Ivy stood and squared her shoulders. “I will go.”

Morgan pulled Ivy into an embrace. “Corphim is your home, mo stόr. But should you wish to return, you will always have a home with me.”

With tears in her eyes, Ivy thanked the only mother she had ever known. “I love you.”

Tears in her own eyes, Morgan held on tight. “I love you, too. And I’m so proud of you.”

Drawing a steadying breath, Ivy pulled away. It was time; time to go home. She stepped up to the waterfall, spared a backwards glance at Morgan, and disappeared through the barrier between worlds, the song rising up in her with burning urgency. She raised her hands, welcoming it. “The song is ready to be sung,” she cried, beginning the spell. “Corphim, your healing has begun!”