The New World Fae

From Intermagical Part 4 - Chapter 18

The Silent City

​​​​​

​

Settled on my comfortable rock with a plate full of curious looking cakes to try, I nodded to Faeryn.

​

 

“About the American Faerie. Where to begin? Well, at the beginning, I suppose!” She beamed at me. “The first of us came over with some of the earliest European settlers. Faeries have always been curious, and the tales of a green land over the sea with wide seething rivers and towering trees appealed to some of the more open minded and adventurous of the Sidhe, so they stowed away on human boats traveling across the ocean.”

​

 

“Easy enough, if the human’s can’t even see you,” put in Arlee. Faeryn paused, an ornate yellow item covered in sparkling sprinkles halfway to her small mouth. “You know, I’ve been doing a little more research on that, darling, and I’m beginning to wonder if they mightn’t have been better able to, then, than they can now, but- well, let’s not digress.”

​

 

Faeryn paused to bite her cake and take a long sip of tea before she continued. Each of our teacups was unique, and hers looked like a delicate porcelain violet with a pretty green curl of a stem for a handle. It didn’t look particularly practical, but Faeryn seemed to be well practiced with it. “Now, the Sidhe who found themselves in the Americas were in for a surprise. A few surprises, actually. The first, that this land, described as ‘largely uninhabited’ by the report of storytelling sailors, was, in fact, quite densely inhabited by various nations of native humans and magical creatures alike.”

​

 

She raised her eyebrows at me, animated in her storytelling and clearly enjoying herself. “The second surprise was that the Sidhe had not been the only ones with the clever idea to come explore this land of supposed milk and honey. Alongside these native magicals were assorted fair folk who had emigrated from here and there. Come by twos and threes, without any particular place to go, now that they had arrived, being without the hills and holes and shires they were used to. So, they found each other and they ganged together, for safety and for companionship.” She ran her fingers through the water and painted the scene. A dockyard tavern lit by lamplight, full of the craggy and wizened, and the smooth and eerily beautiful of all different races and creeds, huddled together as though for warmth, in this wonderful but strange new land.  “And so, though some of us may still know ourselves specifically to be faerie,” she gestured to include the three of us gathered there, “that time was when we came to collectively call ourselves, ‘The Fae’ or ‘The New World Fae.’”

​

 

I selected one of the delicate cakes from the plate, choosing a mottled confection in all different shades of pale blue. It was one of the simpler ones in my collection, and I eyed the other, more complex designs, suspiciously. “Yeah, that’s what Godrin told me. That here, all the different magical creatures were just fae, or fair folk, even though there are lots of different types,” I said, feeling like I was beginning to understand.

​

 

“Ah, so it is not quite true to say that you do not know anything,” Faeryn mused, looking a bit put out.

 

“I think that might be the only thing I do know, really!” I implored her, wringing my hands, wanting her to go on and tell me everything she could, “Please, will you tell me about them?”

​

 

“Hmm, well,” she continued, just a bit petulantly, “After a half hundred years or so, the magicals of the new world, these New World Fae noticed that the humans here were not behaving like the ones they had left behind. Humans had always changed things, made things, built things, putting them up and tearing them down again, but not like they were doing here. These humans were carving footholds out of the sheer rock faces of the earth with a shocking efficiency and speed. Making big, lasting changes. Powerful human magic, you know. Or, do you know?”

​

 

“Let’s assume that I don’t,” I said, with a smile. I bit into the round little faerie cake I was holding. It tasted like blueberry, which made sense, considering its coloring.  

​

 

“Well, let’s put it this way. Humans can make changes that are real. They can cut a stone and build a wall and a thousand years later, that wall will be there because the world has been forever changed.  But, humans are limited. They tire and sicken. They need to eat and rest. Their tools break. The humans of the harsher climates had to chisel and claw their existence out of the raw, bitter landscape. Their changes were real, but they took time. The magical creatures, like the faeries of Europe, developed their civilizations alongside the humans and when the humans changed the world, the fae adjusted where they felt they must. The old country faeries don’t change if they don’t have to, and old, ruined castles stay mostly the same, year to year, anyway.”

​

 

 Arlee chuckled and bent down to refill Faeryn’s  tea cup from the still-steaming pot. I couldn’t see where the heat could be continuing to come from, but I figured I’d better just round things up to ‘maybe it’s magic’ until I knew better. “But, as I was saying, these new world humans were a different kind. After a few score years’ worth of nothing at all remaining the same, these same adventurous magicals who had come to explore the new world decided to gather and discuss the situation they were in. They talked long and wide, and they decided that in this new land, with these new types of humans, and this new type of New World Fae, it was time for a new plan.”

 

 

“The intermixing declaration?’

​

 

Faeryn laughed. “I call it that, yes. I think I’m probably the pre-eminent researcher on the New World Fae, at this point. They don’t really write anything down, or give things proper names. But yes, the Fae Intermixing Declaration.”

​

 

“How were they planning to, er, intermix?” I asked, momentarily distracted by a tiny flying faerie that had glinted into view behind Faeryn’s head, dust glittering in the light of the falls.

​

 

Faeryn laughed again, harder and longer than before. She seemed so happy to be talking with me now, especially compared to how glum she had been the rest of the time. “Well, some intermix in what might be considered the traditional way. Some African spirits can, I know. And, of course, we faeries have found that we can interbreed with humans through the, er, natural means. It’s what has allowed us to build up our numbers in the Americas like we have, and create huge bustling cities like this one used to be. Though, we do find that often, crossbreeding directly with full humans creates unfortunate ,” she gestured to her chest, sadly, “consequences.” She looked back up at me and a fiery expression lit her face. “But not,” she said, fixing me with her intense gaze, “always.”  

​

 

“African spirits?” I asked, through another bite of cake, “You know, I met someone at the Fair Isle-”

​

 

Faeryn smiled. “The Gullah, yes. The very same. In fact, his own origin sounds quite similar to the faerie methods, although he says he doesn’t think he’s an African type of faerie, I’ve asked.” Another tiny faerie had joined the first, and they started chasing each other, distractingly, as though playing tag. Arlee gave the pair a sharp look and they darted off, out of sight again.

​

 

“You call him the Gullah too?” I asked, “I thought, maybe someone who knew him, well, might have another name.”

​

 

Faeryn looked at me with a half-grin that perfectly captured the dark man’s humored expression, and answered, “Network security.”

​

 

I laughed. Of course that would be the reason. “And the others? The ones who intermixed less,” I searched for the word, “traditionally?” I eyed the enticing-looking plate of cakes again. If the blue one tasted like blueberries, what would the ornate white and gold confection taste like, I wondered.

​

 

“Well, there are any number of ways, for any number of types of fae . Gifting some of their magic to a particular human line, for example. Even being in proximity to them can do it, in some cases, through general osmosis.”

 

 

“They could eat them,” Arlee suggested, helpfully.

​

 

“Hmm,” Faeryn said, looking as though she wished Arlee had not said that, “Anyway, It worked. By intermixing humans and magicals, we found that we could live amongst the humans, and alongside their changes more easily. Those who had more human than magic could live amongst the humans or the magicals or both. The magicals could gather in spaces created by part-humans, and enrich them with their magic.”

 

 

“Like the Fair Isle,” I said, understanding.

​

 

“Yes, like the Fair Isle, and like this,” she gestured to the sparkling city around us.

​

 

“This city is Faeryn’s ” said Arlee, beaming with pride at the smaller woman, “her human side gives her such capacity to create.”

​

 

Faeryn smiled, then sighed. “It will all fade away, in time. Once we leave this place for good, in a little while nothing will remain to even show that we were here. Just the falls and the caves and the mist.” She smiled, sadly. “I can’t do much human magic, at all, really. Not that I’ve had much chance to try, living here amongst the faeries. You’re the most human person I’ve ever seen here.”

​

 

“Apart from you?” I asked. I gave into temptation and seized the white and gold cake, nibbling the corner curiously. Lemon, and something floral. Elderflower? I took another taste. It was very nice.

​

 

“Not even me,” answered Faeryn, “You are 42.7% fae, or 58.3% human. I, myself, am 48% fae, and 52% human, making you, for our purposes, significantly more human than me.”

​

 

“Is that so?” I said, fascinated by the specificity, even if it didn’t mean much to me yet.

​

 

“It is. It’s an interesting combination, to be sure. 42.7% single-source high Sidhe. One of the faerie queens, if I’m not mistaken, although which one, I couldn’t say. My mother’s touch is upon you, shielding that information from view.” She quirked  her mouth up at  my look of confusion. “From my view, and from others who could read it. It’s my mother’s idea of a protection for you, I’m sure.”

 

 

“My mother is,” I paused, uncertain, “The Queen of the Faeries?”

​

 

“No, not the Queen of the Faeries. That’s my mother, and that would make us sisters. No,” she said, answering my look, “that isn’t physically possible. We are only a few months apart in age. You’re just a bit older. That I can see, clearly. No, you simply come from the line of a faerie queen. It’s more of a stature . An archetype. Matriarch might be the closest title that humans use. There are,” she considered for a second, “maybe a hundred faerie queens, right now? In the New World, anyway.”

​

 

“57% human, from the line of a faerie queen,” said Arlee dreamily, gazing at me.

​

 

“Why?” I asked, “is that good?”

​

 

“It’s-” Faeryn paused, still looking at me with that strange intensity, “powerful. You’ve been living amongst humans all these years? I can’t imagine that someone as magical as you wouldn’t have been doing human magic. Tell me, do you like to make things?”

​

 

“Make things? Like crafts? Yeah, all the time.” One of the tiny faeries had re-emerged and peeked from behind a tree and pulled funny faces at me. I looked away, trying not to laugh and draw Arlee’s razor sharp attention back to the pretty little creature.

 

 

“What kind?” Faeryn asked.

 

 

“Oh, I don’t know, all sorts of things. Sewing, beading, woodwork, ceramics. Anything really. I like papercraft a lot, because of how quickly things come together.”

 

Faeryn smiled, as though I were saying exactly what she expected me to. “And, what is it that you make?”

 

 

“Oh, practical things that I need. Gifts for my friends. Things I see and like, and think, ‘I could make that.’” I laughed, thinking about my college roommate’s face when she would come home and find me, yet again, surrounded by pattern pieces, tape, and scissors. “I only like to make things once, though, usually. Just to see if I can.” More small, impish faces peeked from behind branches now, eyeing me curiously. “I always can,” I added, quietly. It was true.

​

 

“Mmmhmm. So, you create things. Brand new things that have never existed before, out of elements of the natural world. You just take them, and create magic with them, with your own hands and mind.”

 

“I don’t know about the ‘elements of the natural world’ part,” I said, skeptically, “I usually get my supplies from the craft store.”

​

 

“Clay? Undeniable. Cloth ? What sort? Cotton, the fiber of flowers. Wool, the hair of beasts. Paper, the pulp of trees. You take the natural world and you bend it to your human will. And quite powerfully, by the sound of it.”

 

I noticed several more tiny faeries who seemed to be sneaking closer to listen, darting from tree to tree, laughing behind their tiny hands. “Okay, maybe so,” I said, remembering what the Gullah had said about magic. His ideas were starting to make more and more sense.

        

“Now, tell me, in the human world, did you ever find that things tended to go your way?” Faeryn asked, sipping her still-hot tea.

 

Definitely magic , I thought, taking another sip of my own before answering, admiring the way my gilded teacup glinted in the light filtering through the windows. “I guess so,” I said, “Whenever I wanted to sit next to a particular friend, in school, the assigned seats just sort of,” I shrugged, “changed to what I wanted them to be.”

 

“Why?” Faeryn asked, peering at me closely.

       “I don’t know,” I answered honestly, “Are you saying that it happened because I wanted it to?”

 

“Maybe,” said Faeryn, “I don’t know. Did other things go right?”

 

“Yeah, I guess so. I usually get the jobs I apply for, and I win a lot of the contests I enter, for art and things. I guess I just thought I was good at that stuff,” I shrugged.

 

“And so you are,” said Faeryn, “talent is no small part of human magic.”

 

“Oh,” I said, thinking back over the events of my life with this new perspective.

 

“Last question,” said Faeryn with a smile, “I’ve given you a lot to think about, I can see.”

       “Yes,” I said, and meant it. Perhaps hearing the truth of it in my voice, Faeryn gave me a moment to digest before asking her final question, and I gazed off at the sparkling city, glittering in rainbows, in the distance, through the trees.

​

 

“Alright. Have you ever found that you could influence other people into doing the things you wanted them to do?”

       “Oh, uh…” the question took me aback. That sounded like manipulation. “My mom always said that wasn’t a nice thing to do, and that I should let people make their own decisions,” I answered, defensively.

​

 

“And why would she tell you that?” asked Faeryn, smiling like a well fed cat, “Was it because you were good at it?”

 

 

“I guess it must have been,” I said, thinking about the conversation when she had told me that. I had been telling my mom that I thought I could get my friend to go on the rollercoaster with me. “I can usually get people to do what I want,” I had told her cheerfully, before she had scolded me. “Yeah, I think so.”

​

 

“The three pillars of human magic,” Arlee recited, “Creation, Manifestation, and Influence.”

 

 

“Human magic?” I asked, “What does that even mean?”

​

 

“Why, the magic that humans can do, of course,” said Faeryn, “Not all of them find themselves drawn to wield it, and fewer do it with intentionality, though all have the capability. Humans yearn for magic, and yet they cling to the short-sighted notion that, while others’ skills may count as ‘magic,’ somehow their own abilities are miraculously excepted from being qualified,” she shrugged, “Even though their capabilities are far greater than that of the common beast, and even those of many storybook wizards, humans tend to forget about their own prodigious skill when thinking about magical abilities. That doesn’t make a human’s magic any less impressive or less magical than the fae kind, though. “

 

 

“Oh,” I said, my mind reeling, “Is that so?”

​

 

“It is,” said Faeryn, grinning that cat's grin, again. “And,” she said, resuming her lecturer’s air, “the increase, and unexpected overflow of human magic has been an extremely interesting and unintended consequence of the last four hundred years of this intentional intermixing.”

​

 

“What do you mean?” I asked, watching the little pixies advancing sneakily, giggling behind their hands as they crept closer and closer to Faeryn in the spring.

​

 

“The explosion of human industry. Science, medicine, and technology,” she said, “the advancements of human society over the last few centuries. No one has proved it, of course, but I’m fairly certain. The combination of the fae ability to see and interact with the inherent magic in the world, and the human ability to enact real and lasting change has created an exponential increase in the overall effectiveness of human magic. And why wouldn’t that be a powerful symbiosis?”

​

 

“It might create quite the crisis,” Arlee said, with a giggle.

​

 

“A crisis? You don’t mean… The Crisis?? You think that the Crisis Control Council's crisis is the fact that fae are mixing with humans?”

​

 

“In a way. More so that the human-fae intermagicals are becoming too powerful and too aware of their own power for the comfort of those that would control them. But again, this is pure speculation, if well researched,“ said Faeryn, drawing a hand through the water lovingly again. This time the vision showed pages and pages of papers flipping one after another, in a cascade.

 
“What can you see in that thing?” I asked, as images of papers continued to flip by.

​

 

“Anything that the waters have seen,” Faeryn said, with a sad little sigh, “and it’s been flowing around this world for a long time. It’s the next best thing to being able to live outside this spring.” At this, she started to cry, and silently sank below the surface of the water, again, leaving me alone with Arlee. The tiny faeries who had crept close during Faeryn’s lecture darted away, at her change of mood, leaving trails of glowing motes behind them.

 

 

“Oh no,” I said to the small, stately woman, “did I say something wrong?”

​

 

“No,” said Arlee, sadly, “You said everything right. She’s been crying under there for weeks now. Your visit is the most she’s spoken since we heard the news. And the first she’s eaten.” She looked wistfully at Faeryn’s  plate of half-finished cakes.

​

 

“Really?” I asked, selecting a third cake, the most decadent of them all. This one was a tiny multi-layered extravagance, decorated with sugarspun lace. “If I could have food like this all the time I don’t know if I’d ever stop eating.” I took another bite of the delicious, delicate cake. Light and moist, it tasted divine.

​

 

“Oh, they’re mostly tofu and she knows that,” said Arlee, poking a cake which turned white and cubic for a moment before resuming its pleasing shape and hue, “but her body is delicate and her diet is particular. She has to eat something to keep her human body strong.”

​

 

“Oh,” I said, continuing to chew. Now that she mentioned it, the texture was reminiscent of a cold block of uncooked tofu. My chewing slowed. The cakes were not quite as appetizing now. “Since she heard the news? What do you mean, what news?”

​

 

“Why, the spring, of course,” Arlee said, “The reason why all the faeries have evacuated.” She took in my look of confusion and continued.

​

“Some ill-intended humans have discovered a place where these waters emerge from the earth.”

​

 

Behind her, I saw Faeryn’s  fiery head rise slowly back out of the water. “What are they going to do?” I asked.

 

 

“Some human nonsense. Something about… what do they call it? Capital?”

​

 

“Money,” corrected Faeryn, “They’re going to thrust their nasty pump into the ground and rip the water out, with enough force to flood this cavern and slice through my heart like a knife, if I were to try to stay here. They’ll destroy our city and the ecosystem both, just for a little bit of filthy money.”

​

 

“They’re doing what, now? Stealing your water? That’s insane! Hasn’t anyone tried to stop them?” I asked, incredulously. 

​

 

“What can we do? Humans make changes, and we adapt. It is the way of the world,” said Arlee, sadly.

​

 

“But, why?” I asked, “It doesn’t have to be that way, does it? Wasn’t that the whole point of the intermixing plan? So that intermagicals could impact human events and help the fae  folk?”

  “Well…” Arlee hedged, but to my surprise, Faeryn smiled.

​

 

“Maybe so,” Faeryn said, looking thoughtful. “I’ll admit it crossed my mind, when I realized who you are, or rather, what you are.”

​

“What I am ?” I asked, “why does it matter what I am?”