The Springborn

SABELLA

JUNE 7, 1886

LATE AFTERNOON

C alder sits on the moss beside me in the shadow of the giant plant. I’m trying to make sense of what just happened, but of course there is no sense in any of it. How can this be the same world in which I lived before? How can it be that only a few miles away, people are mining coal, or baking bread, or laughing? Laughing, and not fretting over loved ones stolen by a vegetation-wielding witch.

“Your hands are bleeding,” Calder says. He pulls a crumpled, formerly white handkerchief from his pocket. “It looks ugly, but it’s clean. May I?”

I hold out my wounded hands, beyond caring about anything but the plight of Sparrow and Branna. He dabs gently, staining his handkerchief with red blood and brown dirt.

Robbie sits on the ground, facing me, with his arms full of Rhys. “What can we do? There must be something. We cannot leave them up there with that madwoman.”

Rhys lifts his head from Robbie’s shoulder. “Calder has wings,” he says. “He can fly up and save them, then we can all go home.”

Calder grimaces and continues blotting my cuts.

I picture Calder’s wings in my mind, their delicate, almost translucent beauty, and I wonder if they can bear his weight for longer than a few seconds. “Can you fly far, or are your wings mostly decorative?” I ask him.

Head lowered, shamefaced, he meets my gaze. “I don’t know. I’ve rarely flown, and never more than a few yards.”

“How could you not know?” I blurt. “You’ve had wings for well over half your life and you’ve never once tested their strength?” I do not know why this angers me, but it does.

“My wings and I have a complicated relationship,” he says.

“What he means is he’s always been afraid to use them,” Robbie says. “He doesn’t trust his gift.”

Calder scowls and throws his hands up. “Oh, that’s nice, Robbie. A true show of loyalty. Shall we tell all our personal secrets now and be done with it?”

“Boys, please,” I say. “You can bicker later. Let’s focus now on how we can help Branna and Sparrow.”

“Sorry,” Robbie says. “Maybe Yonaz will think of something up there. Unless Delphine has him tied up, or worse.”

“He’s probably fine,” Calder says. “But we don’t know for sure whose side he’s on anymore.”

Robbie’s eyes widen with surprise. “What?”

“We’ll explain later,” I say. “Calder, will you try to fly? For Branna and Sparrow?”

He blows out a breath before acquiescing with a grim nod.

I lay a hand on his forearm. “Thank you.”

Calder stands and walks away from us. We follow him into a small meadow. With his back to us, he slips the buttons of his shirt through their holes one by one. In silence, he shrugs his way out of the garment. He shuts his eyes and inhales until it seems his chest could expand no farther. And then, slowly, his wings unfold behind him, fern-green edged with bright gold. They look both insubstantial and strong. They look like a miracle.

The wings begin to move, a measured opening and closing that stirs the air ever so slightly. I hold my breath, captivated by their beauty, and I pray they will be strong enough to lift him high above the earth—and strong enough to the bear his weight combined with that of our friends.

His face is full of determination as he takes one step forward and then another. He breaks into a run and pushes off the ground with both feet. His wings catch the breeze like a pair of sails and he rises above the ground. He leans forward so his body is parallel to the grass, expertly, as if he has done this a thousand times before. The wings beat against the air, holding him aloft. And then he swoops back and forth above our heads.

Calder Hadrian is flying.

Robbie cheers and Rhys lets loose a peal of laughter. I am almost too full of wonder and hope to breathe.

After a minute, Calder descends in slow circles. His feet brush over a patch of daisies before he touches earth and stumbles to a stop. Tears streak down his beaming face. “I had no idea,” he says. “It felt like… I can’t even say what. But it was amazing.”

I step toward him, possessed by a sudden determination. “Carry me up to the house. Please. Sparrow needs me.”

“No, Sabella. It would be too risky.”

“You might not trust your wings, but I do.”

A pained look erases his smile. “Sabella, please. I just can’t. How could I live with myself if?—”

“No, Calder. It isn’t your job to protect me, but it is my job to protect Sparrow. She is my child. I have missed decades of her life in the last few days; if there is anything I can do to buy one more day with her, I must do it.”

With a sigh of resignation, Calder opens his arms. “Far be it from me to keep one of the world’s rare good mothers apart from her child.”

I step into his embrace. He lifts me, supporting my knees with one hand and encircling my waist with the other. He has never held me as tightly as he holds me now. My heart beats wildly as he takes a few running steps. His feet leave the ground and my belly lurches. The heat of his bare torso seeps through the fabric of my dress and I am all too aware that my hand is clutching his unclad collarbone. Mother would be mortified—but I do not want to think of her. This marvelous moment belongs to me—and to this moth-winged boy who chose to trust his gift for the sake of his friends.

I hold my head still, afraid that in moving, my antlers might wound him. We rise higher and higher, circling the huge green stalk that undergirds Delphine’s house. I glance down at Robbie and Rhys. They look like dolls waving.

Dizziness makes me clench my eyes shut. I’ve never been so far above the ground. Too many feelings crowd my breast: the sheer joy of flying, fear for Sparrow’s safety and Branna’s life, gratitude for Calder’s kindness, and a reckless, brazen longing to never again leave his arms.

Calder lands gently this time, hardly jarring me as his feet settle onto a strip of grass on the windowless side of Delphine’s house.

“You can let go now,” he whispers. “Not that I object to having you cling to me like a barnacle.”

I push away from him and attempt to ignore both my embarrassment and his smirk. He lifts a finger to his lips as if I need to be reminded to keep silent. Together, we creep around the perimeter of the house.

We crouch in the tall grass under the kitchen window and listen.

“I will never change my mind,” Yonaz says. “I am sorry to have to make the choice, but I must choose the children over you.”

“I could force you, you know. I could make you love me again.” Delphine’s voice sounds taut, as if her temper is a mean dog straining at an overstretched leash.

“You could try,” Yonaz replies calmly. “But I know enough of magic and my own strength of will to be sure you would fail.”

“Now, now,” Delphine says soothingly. “Let us both take a moment to regain our composures. Perhaps a cup of tea?”

Calder whispers into my ear, “We should sneak in the back door and surprise them.”

“Is that the entirety of your plan?” I had hoped he had some secret, infallible scheme in mind.

“At the moment.”

I bite my lip and say no more. Fussing and fretting will not improve our odds of success. I try to think of a better plan as we crawl to the other side of the house. There, we stand to walk along the wall.

“Have you thought of another approach?” Calder says when we stop.

“Not yet,” I reply.

“My plan it is, then. Follow me. Stay low when we get inside. It sounds like they’ll be at the table in a moment, so we’ll each hide behind one of the big chairs near the fireplace. We’ll wait there until…well, until the right opportunity presents itself.”

“Which would be…?”

He shrugs. “We’ll know when it happens. Trust me.”

I envision my headstone: Here lies Sabella Jenkins, age seventeen. Died of trusting Calder Hadrian.

Calder darts through the door and ducks behind the bigger chair. My knees quake as I follow in his footsteps. On my way, I catch a glimpse of Delphine sitting at the round table, her back to the hearth. She’s watching Yonaz pour steaming water into the teapot. Sparrow is seated beside her on a stool, with Branna curled up at her feet. They appear to be untethered, and for this I am thankful.

I crouch behind the chair and peek around its edge. My eyes fix on Sparrow. She is an old, old woman, snowy-haired and wrinkled of face—but she is alive, my daughter.

“Shall I pour you a cup now?” Yonaz asks Delphine in his everyday, polite voice. I can only hope he’s trying to buy time by playing along with her. Maybe he has a plan better than Calder’s current “wait and see” strategy.

“Yes,” Delphine says. “And do sit beside me when you’re done serving. Remember how you used to entertain us in the evenings long ago, the children and me? The tales you made up. The shadow plays…”

“I have not forgotten.”

“And do you remember the day we met, Yonaz, my love?”

Yonaz sets the tea pot on the table and sits across from her. “It was high summer, and you were at the height of your seasonal beauty, as glorious and full as a well-tended garden.”

“You were emaciated and sunburned. Hardly more than a child. And so replete with sadness those first weeks that it hurt my heart to look at you. But then, little by little, I brought you to blossom.”

“For this I will always be grateful.”

“Show it, then. Help me to always be that woman you fell in love with, young and strong and unblemished by age. Help me stave off the winter crone forever.”

“Your obsession with youth poisons you. I would have loved you through all seasons, no matter the face you wore.”

“It is fate, not a mere obsession. This curse was made to be broken. Remember how many nights we spent puzzling over the words the fairy woman spoke when she gave me my gifts and charge of the spring? ‘To break the hold of winter’s curse, these three ‘til death you must immerse: One with horns and eyes of gold, an antlered girl both brave and bold, a child who is both young and old.’”

“She was a fairy, Delphine. Full of trickery and absurd beyond any human understanding. Do you truly believe she gave you the riddle to help you?”

“You have not endured what I have every winter: the indignities of age, the pains, the ugliness. I will suffer it no more. I have waited too long for Springborn with the needed gifts to appear. You failed to deliver them to me as you’d promised. Now two of them linger below, and one is here in this room. You must convince Sabella and the goat-horned boy to meet me and the old woman at the spring before death claims her. Just bring them, my love. I’m not asking you to do the drowning. You owe me this much.”

The cold, queenly gaze she casts upon Yonaz sends a shudder through me. He sits still and makes no answer.

“Do not complicate things, my darling,” she says sweetly. “If it is more Springborn children you want, I will bring you more. A dozen, if you wish. We’ll raise them together this time, all the year ‘round.”

Calder sneaks a look from behind his chair. He retreats and meets my gaze. Be ready , he mouths. I’m going for Delphine.

There is no time for me to ask him to explain his intentions, for he launches himself from his hiding place and barrels across the room. He tackles Delphine, knocking her off her chair and onto the wooden floor. Yonaz stands, pales, and drops to the floor in a faint. Was there something in that tea?

I cannot help everyone. I choose Sparrow and Branna. I hurry to Sparrow’s side. “Come,” I say as I pull her onto her feet. “We must go.”

Sparrow gasps in pain. “My knees,” she says. Branna nudges her skirt with her black nose. “The tunnel did some damage to them.”

I turn around and crouch. “Get onto my back. I’ll carry you.” She can weigh no more than a child, frail as she is. As she climbs on, Calder and Delphine struggle on the floor. He’s trying to pin her down, but she fights like a wild animal.

They roll apart and get to their feet. Panting and bedraggled, they stare at one another.

“Stupid boy,” Delphine says. She raises her hands and shouts, “Root and stem, vine and tendril, come now to my aid!”

A vine snakes in the window and whips toward Calder. Yonaz, awake now, scrambles to grab a small shovel from the rack of fireplace tools. He whacks the plant until it lies flat and motionless. But another vine comes, and another, and he cannot fight them all.

One winds its way up Calder’s leg, around his belly, his arms. Delphine punches him hard enough to knock him off his feet.

I rush toward the door and trip over a vine. My chest hits the floor. Every bit of air is expelled from my lungs. Sparrow rolls off my back. Branna bleats beside us, urging us to hurry out the door.

“Stop!” Sparrow cries as she gets to her feet beside me. “Delphine, you must stop. Let me help you.”

Blood runs from Delphine’s nose and seeps from a cut above her left eye as she stands over Calder’s plant-entangled, prone body. “Help me? What help could you possibly offer me?”

“I can heal you,” Sparrow says. “That which is broken in you need not remain broken.”

Delphine sneers. “You look like a woman, but you understand no more than a babe. I am well enough. And soon I will be stronger than you can imagine.”

“I can sense the sickness in you,” Sparrow insists. “My gift?—”

“I have no need for your gift. You will be part of the cure, but not my healer.”

There is no fear in Sparrow’s eyes. Although her back is crooked, she stands with a warrior’s confidence. “You refuse my help, then?”

“I said shut up .” More vines slither into the room, splitting and spreading over the furniture and up the walls. She waves her fingers and the vines constricting Calder’s body send out shoots toward Sparrow and me.

We need to run. Once Sparrow is safe, I’ll rescue Calder somehow.

I get to my feet and grab for Sparrow, but she says, “Wait.” She takes a glass vial out of a little satchel hanging at her hip. She uncorks it and a pale gray wisp swirls toward the ceiling. The vines thread around our ankles.

I claw futilely at the plants as they reach tendrils toward my knees. “Sparrow!”

Quickly, she proclaims, “By the power of this elixir, in the name of goodness and mercy, I claim dominion here. Every plant here shall obey only me, every sprout, every vine, every bush, every tree.” Turning in a circle, she flicks her wrist and flings liquid out of the vial. Silver drops roll toward the four corners of the room. The globules grow then divide as they move. The vines turn to soot at their touch.

Delphine stands as if frozen to the floor, mouth hanging open in shock. Calder leaps to his feet. He shakes black ash from his arms and advances on her. But as he reaches to grab her, she seems to regain her wits. She dives across the floor, sliding through the soot as if it’s snow. Lightning quick, she seizes Branna and scrambles out the door.

Calder, Sparrow, and I chase after them, all the way to the narrow strip of grass at the very edge of the property. Beyond this land, there is nothing but air and clouds. Delphine stands perilously close to the precipice. Branna squeals with distress and wriggles in her arms.

We stop a few yards short of them. Never in my life have I felt such raw fear.

“Don’t move,” Calder says to me—as if I could. Or maybe he is addressing Delphine.

“Put her down, Delphine,” Yonaz says as he approaches from the house. He must have awoken from his faint when I was too occupied to notice. “Let us work this out peaceably.”

“I will put her down,” she says. “Where she lands is your choice.”

“No,” Calder says.

Delphine does not acknowledge Calder. She smiles grimly at Yonaz. “I do believe it is time for you to agree to my terms. Unless you’d prefer that I toss this creature to earth?”

Sparrow clutches my arm and whispers, “Should I send vines to bind her?”

“No. She might panic and drop Branna.”

Behind Delphine, chunks of soil break free and plummet to the ground. She takes a single step forward, gesturing to Yonaz with a motion of her head. “Come, darling. Say you will help me. Be true to our old vows and our sacred love.”

He walks toward Delphine slowly, cautiously, and stops within an arm’s length of her and Branna.

“Now, a kiss to mark the renewal of our pact,” Delphine demands. “It is not too late.”

Yonaz is shaking. Hesitating. He looks more ill now than he did when near death at the inn.

“Come, darling. I want us to be together in this, but I am growing tired of your indecision.”

The air roils, thick and sulfurous. The ground rumbles and quakes underfoot. Are these things side effects of Delphine’s fury? Will we all die before this day ends?

Calder moves close to me. I reach for his hand and entwine my fingers with his. My other arm wraps around Sparrow’s bony back.

Delphine leans forward. With one hand, she grabs Yonaz by the shirtfront and yanks him to her. She presses his mouth to hers. It is an ugly kiss, a thing laced with greed and magic that makes the air vibrate. Yonaz whimpers and slumps against her.

Fawn Branna, half freed from Delphine’s grasp, twists to bite down on her arm. Delphine cries out in pain and stumbles backward. Yonaz’s body leans heavily against her as she struggles to regain her footing. She reels, still clutching Branna. Her feet meet crumbling dirt—and then nothing at all.

Delphine disappears over the edge, taking the fawn and Yonaz with her. Sparrow cries out to command vines to catch them, but swift as the vines are, they’re no match for gravity’s pull.

A sickening thud comes from far below.