The Bellwater: The Bellwater, #1

By JD Crager

Sammy spends his days at the Bellwater's Hospital tending his only patient, Tink. Human by origin, Tink was stripped to his bones in a work accident. Skeletal and sentient, he spends his days taking advantage of whatever the Orbs, the Bellwater's elite, will let him get away with. Ordered to discharge the miscreant, Sammy sets out to do as instructed, but his patient has other ideas. Tink disappears into the mysterious Indigo Beam leaving Sammy behind to be touched by a Reaper.
Waking up three days later in Tink's room with no memory of what happened, Sammy finds himself to be anything but alive. When Alba, the Reaper that touched him, stops in for a visit Sammy learns that his near death wasn't quite the accident he was being told; and his grandmothers are missing. Angry, scared and worried for his loved ones, Sammy forms an alliance with Alba. Together they set out to find the missing ones, and right the injustice being done to themselves.

 

Short, fantasy novellas ending on a cliff-hanger. Themed toward young adults, not all situations in the Bellwater series will be appropriate for young children. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: The Porch Stories
• Release date: Mar 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201155193

JD Crager

JD Crager is 55 years old and lives in Michigan with his mom. He is known to his family as a failure. JD could been successful working a 9-5:30 pm job for the man, but instead he wrote a book. You can help JD tell his ungrateful family to go f#$! themselves. Buy JD's books.

Book preview

Chapter One

Protests and Fauns

Wholly unprepared for what he’d walked into, Sammy paused on the path, staying just behind the Stinking Bush but far enough forward of the big boulder to leave him an escape route if he needed one. Pulling his conical his hat from his head he nervously crushed the green fabric between his hands. Protests were a daily event, but today the milling fey were actually angry.

Holding his beard with one hand old Toby leaned against the curve in his spine to shake a fist at the sky. Looks like we’re going to have to take it to the mattress, boys! So forceful was Toby’s ire that his balance was lost. The long tail of his beard, looped protectively over his forearm, the dusted the ground as the oldster rotated slowly on one heel. His expression stretched from anger to alarm. Whoooaa!

A small Willow sprite peeled herself away from her group to snatch Toby by the back of his short pants. Her eyes bulged just a little as she had to plant her feet to keep the old gnome upright.

Managing to get his errant foot back on the ground Toby took a relieved breath. Thank you, kindly. Turning his head to look up at the sprite, his ocean blue eyes shone gratefully.  His ocean blue eyes shone gratefully at the sprite as he turned his neck to look up at her. You’re a good one, he acknowledged. She smiled a brilliant, toothless smile in return before heading back to her group.

Over head the sun blazed tirelessly, breaking through the canopy in several spots to create narrow beams of light spearing through the shadows. Last night’s storm had thoroughly soaked all of the Bellwater, leaving the forest floor a steamy sauna that looked to extend beneath the arched entrance of the Common. Every protester, Toby included, looked as though they’d stopped at the Lynx Pond for a dip before heading on to the Hospital. Shirts were patched with sweat while hair, and most equivalents, were plastered to skulls. Sammy’s own coppery locks were currently a dark, wet, brown. His bangs stuck to his forehead in a shrimp shaped smear.

Orator laws are garbage! Toby hollered in his cracking tenor. Our history is just as important as theirs!

Yells of agreement popped up around the crowd and several fey began stomping their feet, causing small clouds of dust to rise up.

Orator laws? Sammy’s mouth tightened. What is an Orator Law?

Just as important! Just as important! Appearing somewhat mindless about their actions the stompers started walking, forming a line of fey snaking its way through the clearing, and in and out of the roots forming the arched entrance, while screaming their newly discovered message at the top of their lungs.

Angry by nature, the tiny, hovering Tinkers had no problem kicking at stones and using their short wings to bat any twigs with the audacity to be within reach of their passing. A few sprites thought better of the Tinker behavior and randomly broke the line to return the disarrayed ground cover to its original place.

EXCUSE US. THE CORPOREAL voice seemed to come from the rock.

Startled, Sammy spun around to stare rudely over the blond head of Hōsa, leader of the dwarf fauns. Twenty or so sharp-hoofed fauns had all managed to file silently in behind him while he’d been occupied watching Toby. Flushing, he promptly made the situation more awkward by opening his mouth. Huh? A few of the nearer members of the group chuckled.

Sammy’s mouth abruptly dried up in mortification. Seldom seen within the Bellwater proper, the fauns preferred to stick with their natural, nomadic way of life, so their appearance today was guaranteed to cause a bit of a stir.  And being fauns, they carried a rather specific... ahem... cough, cough... reputation . In order for them to progress unimpeded he would have to move forward into the protest area, exposing the fact he had been hiding behind the Stinking Bush with them. Folks would notice.

Giving Sammy a friendly smile that twinkled deep within his smoky eyes, Hōsa nodded toward the Hospital entrance. May we play through? The faun’s voice was smooth, cultivated, and as rich as fresh cream. In the sticky heat of late morning the herd looked weirdly greenish. The color did nothing to diminish the powerful muscles that rippled over their freely perspiring chests and shoulders, or the fact that Right of Species was never a question for these guys.

Straining to get himself together, Sammy quickly gave his sweaty forelock a polite tug, and began nodding like a snapped twig in a light breeze. Of course, of course. Steeling himself for what his imagination told him would be painfully embarrassing, he pasted a rather uncanny expression of what he hoped was unmistakable innocence onto his face before turning to stride a little too boldly into the open.

Imagining every pair of eyes landing on him at once, Sammy quickly decided to just push on through the crowd. He needn’t have worried. Barely registering the gnome’s arrival, the crowd spotted Hōsa and his crew, and staggered into a curious silence. Making use of their collective distraction, Sammy slipped quickly through, and under the cover of the Bellwater Common.

INSIDE THE RAGGED ARCHWAY of roots the heat drained off quite abruptly, giving way to the customary coolness of the forest floor. Molded from four living Gigantitrons, formerly known as Oak trees, the Hospital itself stood as a miracle of fey ingenuity. Coaxed and nurtured to exceed their customary boundaries, the trees drew strength through their bark, roots and the gifted hands of the healers and gardeners. Much of the once-closer-to vegetation had fallen back, respecting the trees need for more nutrients, and leaving, for better or worse, a large, and growing, empty space around the entire Hospital.

Making a beeline for the closest leg large enough to conceal him, Sammy bent over, hands on top of his thighs, and let his face finish burning. How humiliating. Fauns!

A rational part of him tried to point out that the fauns were fey too. They had as much right to be here as everyone else. But the long-running warmth of his cheeks argued they should be less conspicuous. Hōsa could have just sent a single delegate to find out what the Orbs had decreed. The sheer amount of fauns in the clearing felt like a show of strength as opposed to simple information gathering. And what, exactly, did the eroticists think they were going to do if they didn’t like what they heard? Publicly preen themselves until the Orbs changed their minds?

Straightening just enough to peek over the apex of the root, he quickly spotted Hōsa’s shaggy blond head. Facing the Common, the leader of the fauns stood calmly, listening to Toby’s repeated ranting. Seeing Hōsa’s perfect expression of attentiveness brought a fresh wave of heat to Sammy’s face.

Nah, Toby grouched. It’s just the one about the mud, the moon and the sun. He raised both of arms at the shoulders and dropped them abruptly in a flapping motion. That’s the oldest tale we’ve got, and for some reason those spherical dimwits on top of North don’t want to hear us tell it to each other any more. Grabbing his beard just beneath his chin Toby closed his fist around it and slowly slid the hand to the opposite ending, finishing with a sharp upward flourish toward the visible, North gigantitron, then let go abruptly. The crystalline hairs skritched and jangled against each other as they settled back, adding their noise to Toby’s. What’s next? No more flowers in the quad?

This speculation sparked instant debate among the others.

"Pffft, more like no more blue flowers."

Wha? Did they say that? No more blue flowers?

I’ll bet you three kicks to yer ass that those flowers won’t be going nowhere! Toby swept his beard again, more forcefully this time. The Tinkers floated safely away toward the fauns.

Sinking lower behind the root, Sammy reached unconsciously for his own beard. The tri-colored brassy mass jingled softly at his touch. Much shorter than the Toby’s, Sammy’s hair hadn’t grown to his chest yet. Granny Foley’s beard was past her waist, but she only had to bind it for the sake of safety when she was working with her brews. He had never seen her angrily sweep her beard at anything though. The act alone was as baffling as the appearance of the fauns.

The scuffing of many hooves against the packed ground drew Sammy’s attention back to the clearing. Hōsa looked to be moving his herd back down the path while Toby hollered his goodbyes, and waved enthusiastically with both hands. The bulk of the tree sprites were quickly returning to their random stomping patterns. Seeing that the show was officially over, Sammy straightened and headed for the mossy path through the Common.

LONG AGO THE GARDEN gnomes had joined forces with the Species Lab to make light in the Common a reality. Between those two groups they had managed to create an entire community of bioluminescent vegetation, bugs, insects and fungi. Not actually visible from outside, the Common was an impressive, eye-boggling display when first seen.

Outlined by Foxfire fungi, the softly glowing pathway meandered between roots and valleys, leading inevitably north to the Court, the small patch of land caught in the middle of the four trees. The spongy, glowing path splashed beneath Sammy’s feet as pockets of trapped rainwater from the storm exploded with every step. Having arrived suddenly, with heavy winds and flattening rain, there was a fair amount of damage to the lesser vegetation. Dead-fall and blow-down were still being gathered into piles for use later. To ease the pain of the work the storm also provided a newly re-inflated crop of Roseberries. Feeling better, but still a little pink from his encounter with the fauns, Sammy picked up his pace. Fauns, orators and flowers aside, he still had a job to do. Tink wasn’t going to go quietly all by himself. The familiar sight of Cissy bustling around at the Savory Bakery comforted his formerly jangled nerves.

Tucked into the perfect spot where the earth had risen alongside the roots as the Hospital was formed, Cissy and her bakery were a focal point of the Common during meal times. The only center plot with enough density to support a large baking oven like hers, the roseberry-loving gnome turned out pies from dawn until dusk every day.  Conveniently located next to the Brewed Brews Sammy would normally find Cissy and Delia calling out their production count to each other as they worked through the day. Competition between the two was tight.

Liberally smeared with fruit and sprinkled with flour, the sweating, panting gnome paused to shower him with a brilliant smile.

Sammy! She cried happily, sweeping a hand behind her to encourage his admiration of her fifteen to twenty baskets arranged in an open arc before the oven, filled to their tops with plump, juicy, pink roseberries. Look at all of this! If you hadn’t come along when you did I wouldn’t have gotten even half the amount. Despite the clearly arduous task of cleaning, mashing and cooking all of those berries, she looked thrilled. Wiping a glob of roseberry from her butter colored beard, she