The Fae of Averlee

The Fae of Averlee

Jen Lowry

Copyright © 2021 by Jen Lowry

Editor: Sally Shupe

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All images are free for commercial use. Visit www.jenlowrywrites.com for access to the free educator’s guide.

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To Eli and the boys

Contents

1. Chapter One: The Beginning Where All Things Should Start

2. Chapter Two: My Family at Fireside

3. Chapter Three: A Song to Averlee

4. Chapter Four: I Must Find My Parents

5. Chapter Five: Sam Worries the Most

6. Chapter Six: Run, I Did. I Ran So Far Away

7. Chapter Seven: I Play When I Can’t Find Words

8. Chapter 8: Animals Talk Around Here

9. Chapter Nine Grandmothers Can Be Birds

10. Chapter Ten: Not a Welcomed Guest

11. Chapter Eleven: Destined to Go

12. Chapter Twelve: I Can Sing Ellendorian

13. Chapter Thirteen: Let Her Truly Live Again

14. Chapter Fourteen: You Know the Next Part

15. Chapter Fifteen: No Fighting Today

16. Chapter Sixteen: Foxes Have Fabulous Voices (In Case You Didn’t Know)

17. Chapter Seventeen: Too Many Questions I Have to Count

18. Chapter Eighteen: I Guess This Makes Me a Princess

19. Chapter Nineteen: I Do Believe in Fae

20. Chapter Twenty: The Awakening of the Fairies

21. Chapter Twenty-One: The Middle of It (Since You Insisted, I Must)

22. Chapter Twenty-Two: Think Seely - Think Safe

23. Chapter Twenty-three: Talks of War Over Tea

24. Chapter Twenty-four: I Sing When I’m Nervous

25. Chapter Twenty-five: How Does She Do That?

26. Chapter Twenty-six: Silver Will Do the Trick

27. Chapter Twenty-seven: Singing to the Void Hurts

28. Chapter Twenty-eight: Gather Round, Hear This Girl

29. Chapter Twenty-nine: Cat’s Got Her Tongue

30. Chapter Thirty: He’s Not Here

31. Chapter Thirty-one: Time to Go On (Even When You Don’t Feel Like It)

32. Chapter Thirty-two: Not that Door! (Sometimes Doors Are Meant to Stay Shut)

33. Chapter Thirty-three: I Can’t Swim (Take Note - Ask for Lessons)

34. Chapter Thirty-four: Blessings Not Cursings (Or You Know What Would’ve Happened)

35. Chapter Thirty-Five: Berry Did Come...Later but Better Late Than Never

36. Chapter Thirty-six: What Are You Doing Here?

37. Chapter Thirty-seven: It’s Nothing Serious

38. Chapter Thirty-eight: The End of It

39. Chapter Thirty-nine: Sam Is a What?

40. Chapter Forty: Bear Hugs Are the Best

41. Chapter Forty-one: Talks of Tea and War

42. Chapter Forty-two: Singing to a Bear and a Fox Makes Sense

43. Chapter Forty-three: So, That’s How It Happened

44. Chapter Forty-four: Standing in the In-Between

45. Chapter Forty-five The Forest Should Be Flat

46. Chapter Forty-six: My Final Song

47. Chapter Forty-seven: The Dark Kingdom Must Fall or Else

48. Freedom Song of the Fae by Payshance Averlee

Don’t Forget to Check Out My Site!

49. Dear Educators

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Other MG Titles by Jen Lowry

Chapter One: The Beginning Where All Things Should Start

Iam Payshance Delaware Averlee Whitcomb. It seems obvious to introduce who I am at the beginning of our meeting, but I’m sure somewhere you’ve heard my full name. Even if it’s been in a whisper. The age of 73 is a perfect one to recall life-changing events that are being shared with you now. It’s all been documented right here in these very pages for you to pass along to my grandchildren and their grandchildren and beyond. That matters to me.

I know you are wondering what has created this catalyst to tell. This urgency that I had to pen these words. It’s because Charlie needs us once again, and I must venture out through the woods and beyond. And, I might not make it back. I’m realistic. I’m also old. So, with those two things in mind, take these words I tell you to heart and pass them on.

Does that mean I’m going away soon? Yes, dear reader. I must. It is the only way. It will be the grandest of adventures, I’m sure, because not only does one get lost in the forests of Averlee, but one can be found as well.

There is a place beyond the veil right in the forests that lay on the edge of my property that is undetectable by a human eye. It is true. It is not of legend or folklore as one might try to convince you. I’m not going senile. I’m sharp as a tack. Still got it all up here and working on all cylinders. So, don’t start questioning my sanity, because if you do, you’ll possibly have doubts.

And we can’t have those when we’re talking about Averlee. We have to truly believe with all of our heart. So, stop a minute. Breathe in. Breathe out. The breath the doctor makes you take when he’s got that cold stethoscope against your chest. Breathe in. Breathe out. Believe. Well, now you do, and we can continue. But, it’ll be our secret, now won’t it, because the world could depend on you, like it did for me once.

That’s why you must know the truth. Just in case Charlie calls to you, too. You’ll be ready and not be afraid. Now is the time you can whisper, I promise not to be afraid, and I’ll believe you.

I must start at the beginning so that you shall understand all of it in its fullness. A story can only start there and make sense. There is no time to leave you wondering or filling in the blanks, even though I know your brilliant mind can handle such matters. Still. It must be told the right way. From the very start of it. I’ll get straight to it.

There are days that are so monotonous that a person doesn’t even consider it to be worth the count, and as it goes, the course of time ticks on. Nothing really to recollect or notice because it is just a day. Maybe if we were able to keep count of these, we might have thousands more of those.

But then, there are other days.

The ones that quicken the heart and bring a new creased line framing the eye from a deep smile at just the memory. Days that matter. The ones that help each day to face whatever may come, because the next might be a day like the one from memory. The days that matter more.

Like the birth of my first child.

Or the grandchild taking their first steps at my feet, falling sideways to catch my knee and balance themselves. Days like those. The ones that matter more than any other day put together. But I’m too old, and you’re too young, and I may lose you in my tales of grandmotherly love.

It was the eve of my thirteenth birthday. It was such a day as this very one as to why you’re holding this book.

A day filled with magic and mystery, tin whistles, and hand drums.

It was the night I brought the fairies back to life.

Dear reader, I know it might be a bit hard to believe that fairies exist. You’ve seen them in movies and cartoons, printed on journals and pajamas. Fairies in your human conception are all cute and sprinkle hope dust that allows children the capacity to fly. Fairies are sweet and innocent and only want to save and serve nature, not destroy it. Well, let’s put this in writing. There is a dark side to all light. You know this must be true. If you don’t, it’s time I convince you the light does not exist without the darkness.

And the Light Fae have a rival - the Dark Fae.

It sounds simple enough, but there is a complex history between the Seelies and the Unseelies. One that I won’t have enough pages to capture together here. You must believe me when I say Seelies are the fairies you want to be associated with. Have no dealings with the dark. Un - think run. Un - think nun of that (and yes, I spelled it wrong because that’s just how Berry taught it to me. You’ll meet Berry and Charlie and the rest, hold on). It’ll only make your life worse if you make dealings with an Unseelie. No matter what they promise you, you must resist their temptations, trust me. Trust me with your life, I tell you. Stay away from Unseelies.

The Dark Fae are an evil force, capturing souls with their Drifters, the dark shadows employed by them to cause evil to spread across lands. A shade brings great contentment sitting under a tree, escaping the heat and allowing you to rest peacefully. A Drifter’s shade brings heartache and destruction. It sucks the loving spirit right out of mankind and leaves them with a void that can’t be filled, unless touched again by the light.

Read the headlines from today’s news. Dark Clouds Mean a Mighty Storm Brewing. It showed the winds picking up as the clouds were rolling viciously across the sky as if a battle raged between gods. That's the urgency. Look here. See this picture on the front page. You see that shadow in the picture forming over the city of Avalon? That’s no storm on the horizon. That’s not a change in the weather or climate change. That’s nothing of the natural, but of the unnatural world breeching through the veil and waiting for the command to strike. Destroy. Consume. That’s the Drifters.

Now, you’ll know the meaning behind my disappearance. Once my mother and father vanished and didn’t give me any indication of why. It was a hurt times a million bee stings. You, dear reader, don’t deserve that pain, so I’m letting you know that my absence is coming. I’ll soon be back in the forests of Averlee to join The Alliance. I know the land can be saved again. It was before. When I was thirteen. I have proof one can even be reborn with spirit light if the Drifters feast on a soul.

Charlie once escaped from the Drifter’s powerful hold, so that is all the evidence one needs to know, that one can be saved. Charlie is very dear to me, and because of my love for him, I have to recount all the goings on of my past in order to set things in motion. So, if Charlie knocks on your back door (because foxes can’t use front entrances), please answer. You must know the truth. It’s time, and I can’t delay. If, and when, it becomes your birthday and this happens to you, just remember the promise you made to me at the very beginning. You will not be afraid.

Chapter Two: My Family at Fireside

There was a standing tradition on the eve of every birthday of every family member as long as I could recall. The family would gather round, with instruments in hand, and together we would play and sing the songs of old. We are Irish and a very proud lot. My red hair and fairydust freckles, along with my accent, could’ve given it away, but all the same, I thought you should know where I come from.

We would carry on the ways and tell the stories of the old land, and part of our very heartbeat, that’s how we are about our home.

I was quite precocious with the flute and loved the melancholy call the most. I played best at twilight, when nights were pink-hued and purple-hazed with a setting sun that brought peace across lands and even made trees still. Something about that hour brought out a deeper tune. But on the night before birthdays, every song and dance was done in a particular order, with very strict adherence to some unwritten code passed down among the generations. It was as if our very being knew the secrets and as long as we honored it by doing them just so, something might happen. The something is what we’re here about.

On the night before I turned thirteen, I could feel my pulse quicken. It was a strange sensation, almost burning at my fingertips, and if my hair could catch flame, maybe it would’ve actually done so that very night if I sat on that feeling long enough. A numbness yet a sharpness to senses was present all at the same time. I know I’ve had the feeling only a handful times since. Handfuls and handfuls more of triumphs, tears, and tumbles to get back up again, but not like that feeling.

I played along as Aunt Sara led the circle of players. My cousins surrounded me on the eve of my birthday, and I, being the celebratory reason, had a center log seat.

Take in the sounds of the fiddle, pipes, hand drum, and acoustic. Then there was a band of singers, in which I was included. I held my flute as if it were an extension of my very being. The seven of us in perfect melody. We played and played as the new moon peeked in and out of blankets of dark gray clouds as if it were amused, enticing games of peek-a-boo with me and my own.

But I was not interested in childish games anymore. I was to be a proper and brought-up-right lady,