Jaxsi & the Beanstalks

Once Upon a Time Chapter 1

Spring 273 AG

Bark bites into my back and thighs, helping me resist the exquisite scent clogging my nose, and hope it fills me with. Vanilla and clove mix pleasantly with a rose scent that I know will change our lives. All coming from the small blue flower I hold between my thumb and finger. I study the strange blue blossom in my hand and then glance back at the open book on my lap. The Compendium of Plants of Linnaea and Viscaria was my mother's favorite reference book. She'd used it to plan her gardens; to gather useful plants from the woods. She'd read the tales of discovery, magic, and histories buried in it as stories to me and my little brother, Moss. With this book she taught us to read. For years she had added careful notes when she learned something new. Her pretty handwriting seemed to fit perfectly with beautiful illustrations. A book filled with memories and love, as well as knowledge.

The star-like sky blue flower in my hand didn't match the Linnaean Star bloom illustrated in the book. There are five petals to each bloom, rather than six like the illustration. When I had checked the whole cluster of plants I found, all the blooms had the same five tear-dropped, slender petals. The soft blue pales to near white towards the tips. In the book, the stamen of Linnaean Stars should be dark yellow or orange. The flower in my hand has tiny ovals of gold attached to the filament, forming the stamen.

My heart races as I flip to the Viscaria section. There is my captured blossom. A Goddess Star flower, a Fae flower! It shouldn't be growing near the tiny creek at the edge of Mr. Hackberry's orchards. It shouldn't be growing in the kingdom of Linnaea at all. Our kingdom is human and protected from the Faelands by the Shrouded Wall, a magical invisible shield. It requires a key or a portal created by the Fae to cross from either side. Many Fae plants die in our soil or never take root at all. Official sources, such as our Earl's proclamations, say none can survive here.

"How did you get here?" I ask the flower before gently pressing it between the pages of the book, saving it. Removing a scrap of paper from a pocket in the front cover and a coal stick from my pocket, I jot notes about my discovery. I think back to the discovery this morning. That spot is not up against the Shroud. Hmmm. Of course nowhere in the city of Coleus or its environs is terribly far from the Shroud. My newest discovery will be a mystery for me to solve. I finish my notes and tuck the paper in the book carefully.

Idly I watch a sparrow hopping up a branch above me. My feet kick freely in the air. My seat, fifteen feet off the ground, is a comfy fork between the large ash trunk and one of its thick reaching branches. I glance east and I can see the fuzziness of the Shroud, even above the treetops. It stretches far into the sky and underground. The fae really don't want us in their world. I can't hate them for it. I wouldn't want most humans trampling through my home either. We tend to not think beyond our own lives, and plenty ignore some important messages from nature or history.

A branch snaps in the woods nearby. Someone is coming! I quickly wrap my book in its wax cloth and shove it into a hole hidden in the trunk near my seat. My cache of books and samples are well hidden. None of it can be seen from the ground or lower branches. This side path is rarely used anymore. It veers from a rutted wagon track leading into Coleus from the southeast. This particular path winds past an old,abandoned shrine of Mastus, the buck god, and then wanders back to the road. Muscles tight, I quietly ease down a few branches. Out of reach but away from my treasures, just in case.

"I'm telling you, Sagely, and Cal, said Rose wants you to take her to the Spring Revel." A familiar and whiny male voice carries up to me. Burr Redstone's family has a successful gemstone trading business and he reminds everyone constantly. He is a sniveling idiot but family money affords him friends.

Please, don't let this particular friend be Stendal. Please, please, please. I hold my breath. Burr backs into view on the path below me. Quickly followed by the gorgeous blonde hair and tall form of Stendal, the apothecary's son. Burr's puggy short body and oily brown hair practically dances around the bigger, more muscular man. My nose wrinkles in disgust.

"Rose is pretty." Stendal's brash voice makes me want to climb higher up the tree. I remain frozen, barely breathing. "But she wants marriage not a roll in the straw."

"Bet you could talk her into giving you a go." Burr's nasty laugh rang around the trees. "If not, you can always find more willing birds at the party!"

Stendal shrugs his shoulders but I know he has a sly grin on his face. He is the handsome and "available young stud" of the merchant and guild society, and he knows it. "It's about time for me to start courting. I don't want to scare off a possible bride." His own laugh is strangely high. A laugh he leaks while kicking cats or punching weaker men. The same laugh from when he nearly drowned my friend Pol when we were kids. He adds, "Especially the skittish ones." Both men snicker. They have finally passed by me and head down the path to the south gate.

"Have a specific skittish girl in mind?" Burr snickered. They are moving away, but I heard a harsh laugh and Stendal saying something I couldn't make out. Burr brays like a donkey with laughter.

When their voices have faded, I release a deep breath. I climb quickly down, careful of my field bag, the canvas bag I use for foraging, harvesting, or trapping. Inside are the herbs, fruit, mushrooms, and the very precious bloom I have gathered today. Also a small woodsman kit is in my lovingly patched bag. The few coins I will get for my foraging are too important to damage the contents. my family. Back on solid ground I head into the trees, avoiding the paths. These woods are as familiar as my garden rows at home and I do not want to meet Burr and Stendal anywhere along the path home. Definitely don't want to meet them alone in the woods.

I'm glad I had a few moments to study my books before I was interrupted today. They remind me of my mother. My eyes grow moist. The two and a half years without her have been an eternity. Mother's garden and her books are my only inheritance. Moss got her exquisite bluebell eyes and thick red-brown hair. Our father drank Mother's tiny savings in his grief. The books are only safe because I hid them the night after she died. They would have been sold for father's fishing gear and more tavern visits. Too often I wish my father had died of the fever rather than mother and my baby sister.

A man steps onto the game trail ahead of me and I freeze. He wears a plain brown cloak with the hood up, his face mostly hidden. I notice a shiny golden pin holding the front of the cloak closed. It looks a bit like a star but he's too far away to tell for sure. When he glances my way more of his features are revealed, I can see his skin is a warm tan and his face is clean shaven. Hard as I try I cannot tell the color of his eyes or hair. I plainly see a chunk of his hair poking out of the hood but my eyes cannot distinguish the color. Some type of magic? Why? What really surprises me is that the boots peeking beneath his cloak are extremely nice. Supple brown leather with a shine to it, they are very expensive looking. Hardly any wear shows on them. I'm sure I've never seen this man before, even in passing. Somehow I doubt I would forget the handsome planes of this face. Sharp cheeks, firm chin, and a royally straight nose. Darkly fringed wide eyes tilt just slightly up and away from that nose. Full lips that draw my attention more than I am comfortable with, even though they are pulled down at the corners. Gods! I'm staring like a mute fool!

"Hello...?" I squeak out.

He nods and his lips turn up ever so slightly on his right side. What in the gods' twisted hearts? Is he grinning at me or smirking at me? Before I can decide if I am offended, he turns and crosses back into the trees on the other side of the trail, headed towards the main footpath. Almost immediately his cloak renders him nearly invisible between the tree trunks. The second he disappears fully, my heart slows again. Remaining still a few more moments, I listen for any return steps or breaking sticks. It's quiet enough a squirrel darts down a tree to my right and disappears behind some bushes. Finally, I can finish my homeward journey. With soft steps I make my way towards the only man I care about. My little brother Moss. And ignore all of these annoying men cluttering up my woods!