The fireflies winked on and off across the forest, illuminating the night like tiny floating lanterns.
“Look!” Deric pointed towards the dark field, where the tiny lights floated in the air.
“Fireflies!” said his friend Ginny, who stood up and walked to the edge of the tracks from where they could see the spectacle.
“Don’t get too close or whistle at them,” warned Deric.
Ginny looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. At 14, she was a year older than Deric and no longer believed in things like she used to do when younger.
“They could be fairies,” he repeated, “you get on their wrong side, and there will be no end to their mischief.”
Ginny crossed her arms and turned to look at the glowing spectacle on the field.
“I’m not afraid of any fairies.”
“There could be thousands of them,” said Deric.
Their friend, Zak, came riding down the road on a scooter.
“The Wandering Minstrels have arrived!” he announced breathlessly. “I’m going to tell Mayor Haggart.”
Deric and Ginny stared at each other.
“Wandering Minstrels!” They shouted at the same time.
The pair ran across the field to cut through to the main road leading to town. The light from the fireflies and the radiant silver moon was so bright that they could easily see the path ahead. Breaking through the trees at the crossroads on the other side of the field, they caught a glimpse of the wagons rounding the corner to Academy road.
“Where do you think they are going?” Ginny said as she watched the colourful caravan disappear down the road.
“It looks like they’re going to the old college campus,” Deric replied. “That’s the only transient zone available for miles around.”
“Mayor Taggart is not going to be happy about this one bit.”
“Let’s go find Zak,” said Deric.
“I’ll race you there!” said Ginny, and before the terms of the challenge had been worked out and agreed upon, she sprinted down the road as fast as her gangly limbs could carry her.
“You rat!” Deric called out and ran after her.
“What’s going on?” Deric whispered to Ginny, who had squeezed herself into the small alcove at the Town Hall. She had one ear pressed against the wall.
“Shh! It’s hard to hear,” she said in a low voice.
Deric could hear Mayor Taggart’s booming voice but could not make out his words. He was definitely not pleased about the presence of the Minstrels, whom he considered “nothing but a bunch of hoodlums and misfits.”
The crowd was hesitant at first but then warmed up to the mayor’s fiery speech against the newcomers.
Ginny finally let Deric listen through the small hole in the alcove wall.
“What should we do about it?” someone shouted. “Should we ask them to leave?”
“We will ask nothing of them,” shouted the mayor. “We will make them LEAVE!”
The crowd cheered his words.
Mrs. Mathison, a longtime resident of Oak Vale, stood up and banged her cane on the floor three times. The hall grew silent.
“Let us not be so hasty now,” she said. “I am all for law and order, but I just don’t see what law these people have broken. The old campus has always been a shelter for transient nomads as per our agreement with the Overseer. These folks haven’t committed any crimes, as far as I know, so what harm is there in letting them stay a few nights?”
There was a smattering of murmurs as the crowd considered her words.
“They will cause trouble,” said the mayor smoothing his mustache. “Mark my words, Matilda.”
The Wandering Minstrels had certainly caused a commotion since their arrival. Parents were warning their children to stay away from them. One evening, as twilight gave way to darkness, Deric was on his way home when he heard a voice.
“Hello, young friend.”
Lost in thought, Deric had failed to notice the woman who stood by the train tracks surrounded by a swarm of sparkling fireflies.
He felt a knot in his throat, and a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
In one hand, the woman held a lamp, and in the other, a woven basket.
Deric noticed that the she had long braided red hair and deep green eyes. She wore a long flowing outfit that was nearly translucent and shimmered under the light. On her ears, she wore large earrings, bracelets on her arms, and beaded necklaces that shimmered in the light. A small silver star glittered just above her left eyebrow.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said and raised the lamp, casting strange shadows on her face. “And maybe you have. We can’t tell what is real and what isn’t anymore, can we?”
Not knowing how to reply, Deric simply nodded.
She smiled and her face brightened like morning light dispersing darkness.
“May I know your name?” she said.
“Deric.”
“Well met, Deric of Oak Vale. I am Mista of the Seven Stars,” she said with a slight nod.
He nodded and blushed.
“Tell me," said Mista, "which is the way to the supply store?"
Deric didn’t respond right away; he was mesmerized by the woman’s large and deeply penetrating eyes that held him as if spellbound. He finally mumbled something and pointed across town in the direction of the nearest grocery generator. There was no use in hiding it from her. It was illegal to deny aid to those who sought it. The generator in this town was open for anyone who needed it. In return for its hospitality, the town received all it needed for survival out here in the mountainous wild of Oak Vale, where settlements were only allowed with special permission from the Overseer.
Mista thanked him and bid farewell to Deric with wishes of dreams filled with shining stars.
The town was abuzz with the presence of the new visitors camped out at the old college. They had briefly shown up in town wearing their extravagant and colourful clothes then passed around pamphlets announcing a ‘Magic Fire festival’. Most citizens kept their eyes down and refused to take the pieces of paper, but a few of the documents managed to get into circulation and passed around in secret.
Deric marveled at the images on the pamphlets that showed lavish dancers, daring acrobats, and enthralling musicians celebrating under a smiling moon ringed by seven stars. Words in alphabet letters were printed on the illustration, just like in the old days when reading text was important. Deric himself did not know how to read them but those who did said the words provided key information like dates and times. A secret invitation out in the open for a night of magic fire.
To the boy, the time before the creation of the Overseer seemed so distant and unreal. They say people used to dance and make music for a living in that era, but today there was no need to do so unless one felt like it. Just like the Wandering Minstrels, who had turned merrymaking into a way of life.
When evening came, the fireflies appeared once again, sprinkling their lights upon the land. It was curious to Deric how he didn’t remember the last time he had seen them. Like locusts, perhaps fireflies also had their season, he thought. Or maybe they had been here all along. He just never noticed them until now.
Over the next few days, rumours swirled about the fire festival. It was the talk of the town. The tales grew wilder with each telling and accusations flew about who had attended the gathering. To make matters even worse, the local troublemakers were more rowdy than usual, drunkenly shouting in the middle of the night.
Finally, the mayor had enough and convened a meeting at the town hall.
“They are destroying the fabric of this town…” complained Mayor Taggart at the impromptu meeting.
Twirling and smoothing his mustache, he proceeded to describe a litany of immoral sins that had taken place since the Minstrels had arrived.
“What they do in other lands is their business,” the mayor finally said with one finger straight up in the air, “but this town is a peaceful home for honest folk.”
There was a round of applause. The mayor nodded with a satisfied demeanor, brushed his mustache with one hand.
At that moment, there were three loud bangs on the wooden floor.
“Good evening, Mrs. Mathison,” said the mayor clearing his throat, “it is a pleasure to welcome you. You may speak freely of your own accord.”
The matriarch stood up with the help of her cane.
“Thank you, Hank,” she said, “I have a few questions.”
The mayor winced at her informal approach but kept his composure and simply nodded.
“Who broke the fence around the chicken coop? Who threw eggs at Ms. Jonas’ window? Who was howling loudly from the rooftops? Who made excited noises in the alleys? Who painted the water tower with that vulgar art?”
Mayor Taggart again cleared his throat.
“Those matters are under investigation,” he told her.
Mrs. Mathison laughed.
“We all know who did it- the usual suspects, that’s who. The wanderers had nothing to do with it.”
“But that is not the point, madam,” said the flustered mayor. “The town was orderly before they came, and now everyone is running wild with wanton abandonment.”
“What do the Minstrels have to do with it? They rarely venture into town and have done nothing but sing and dance to entertain people.”
“All this mayhem is clearly their fault,” insisted the mayor. “Their ways are not our ways. They put ideas in our impressionable young.”
A murmur spread through the crowd.
“We cannot let our guard down,” said Mayor Taggart. “Our very way of life is at stake! They’ve been here almost a week, but it is time that we put a stop to their raucous.”
The attendees clapped and shouted in agreement.
Deric found Zak and Ginny and told them what he had heard at the town hall. It was clear that they were going to take action that very night.
“We must warn the wanderers!” he said to them.
“I don’t know if we should get involved,” said Zak. “The Minstrels are kind of weird.”
Deric looked at Ginny.
“Don’t look at me,” she said. “It’s your decision.”
The world of grownups was complicated. Deric could see that even though the Minstrels themselves had not caused any trouble, as Mrs. Mathison had pointed out, their influence was affecting the town, as the mayor had rightly said.
Silently, he grabbed his air scooter and jumped on it. The motor came alive with a low hum and lifted off the air. With the front light guiding the way, he hopped over the magnetic rails and rode towards the outskirts of town.
At the edge of the campus, hidden in the thick vegetation that had taken over the abandoned place, Deric, Ginny, and Zak watched the Wandering Minstrels play music, dance, and perform acrobatic feats with fire for a ragtag audience that had streamed from the town and surrounding countryside.
The celebrants blew on lit torches that sent bursts of flames in the air to the sound of hooting, hollering, and cheering. The shadowy silhouettes flitted about the burning fire like spirits from another plane.
“Look, that’s Danny Oldsfield and Denise Marek,” said Ginny. “They dance like they’re possessed.”
The trio watched enthralled.
“Isn’t she with Gary Bayman?” said Ginny.
“Not anymore,” muttered Zak.
The drums sounded like a fast-beating heart, accompanied by the bubbly sound of fiddles, smashing cymbals, frenetic lyres, and all manner of instruments that individually played discordant notes but together created a harmonious vigorous sound.
The minstrels jumped, spun, somersaulted, and took their acrobatic maneuvers to extremes, which sent the gathered crowd into delirious frenzy.
Above the fire, the woman called Mista sat on a swing held aloft by two drones that swung her backwards and forwards through the flames while she laughed with each swinging pass.
“I know her!” said Deric.
“You know her?” Zak asked incredulously. “Since when?”
“I swear,” he said. “I’ll go talk to her.”
After managing to get her attention, Deric saw Mista descend on the swing, her face flushed and sweaty, her eyes even more bewitching than the last time he had seen her.
Around them, the bonfires flickered and illuminated the chaotic scene with shouts and cheers exploding like burning embers.
He told her what he knew and warned her that the townspeople were on their way.
“I will speak to our chiefs,” she said in a reassuring melodious voice. “Worry not, young man. The glittering stars are on the side of justice.”
She removed one of her woven bracelets and handed it to him. “You are a true friend of the Wandering Minstrels.”
He reached over and took the beautiful item that she offered.
He returned to his hiding spot with Ginny and Zak, who were huddled behind the bushes at the edge of the grounds.
“What did she tell you?” said a wide-eyed Ginny.
“She will speak with the others,” Deric told her, not mentioning the bracelet that Mista had given him.
“Here they come!” whispered Zak looking towards the road that led to the front gate, where a mob was now approaching.
The sound of drums and singing fell silent.
“Let’s go around this way,” said Zak. He turned and sneaked along a small trail around the building.
Deric and Ginny followed him along the overgrown trail that was thankfully illuminated by the glowing insects.
When they got closer to the front gate, they could hear one of the minstrels speak in a firm clear voice.
“We have broken no law, sir, but merely enjoyed ourselves with our music. We celebrate life in all its variety. We only wish to live in harmony with the natural world and other communities.”
“Well, as a member of the natural world and this community, I want you and your friends to pack up your things and find somewhere else to do your communing. The rest of us decent folk have work to do.”
There was silence for a moment. Then the chief spoke up.
“Why do you work so much?” he asked with the innocence of a child asking why the sky was blue.
The mayor was taken aback by the question and scoffed. “What do you mean why we work? That’s our way.”
“But you don’t have to work. Not really, I mean. The Overseer provides more than the basics of living. It is an age of abundance, and there is no need to work.”
“Work is what makes a community whole. It is not everything, but work keeps a man honest.”
“Have we been dishonest in any way?” asked the minstrel.
“You’re a bad influence on this town. We don’t dance and howl at all hours of the night like a pack of wolves. We don’t paw each other whenever and wherever we feel like it. And don’t get me started about that infernal sound that you call music. We want none of it. Right folks!?”
The crowd behind him assented with hollers.
“Tonight is our last night in this fair land,” said the minstrel, “and we will be on our way tomorrow morning.”
The mayor grunted.
“We want you gone tonight,” he snarled.
“We haven’t done anything wrong!” the other protested.
Another round of shouting ensued, mixing threats with philosophical arguments about the nature of society, and just as the groups seemed about to come to blows, a swarm of fireflies streamed onto the campus from the surrounding forest and arranged themselves in a barrier of radiant bands between the angry townsfolk and the riled-up celebrants.
There were gasps and cries of surprise from all sides. A few fell to their knees with heads bowed.
“What manner of technology is this?” said the mayor inspecting the bands of fireflies.
“I have no idea,” said the Chief Minstrel. “This is not our doing.”
“Isn’t it clear?” said a voice, which Deric recognized as belonging to Mrs. Mathison. “This is the Overseer’s doing.”
“Hah! Nonsense,” said the mayor. “This is just trickery by these lot.”
“Then why don’t you go right ahead and touch it?” the old dame challenged him.
The mayor walked up to the barrier and raised one hand towards it, but then he looked around at the gathered crowd- who was looking at him expectantly- and seeing the uncertainty in their eyes, he withdrew his hand.
“We want you gone first thing in the morning,” he said gruffly to the group inside the barrier. He then stormed off with the silent mob close behind him.
The glowing fence around the campus broke up into a glittering swarm of fireflies that once again flew into the surrounding forest and blended seamlessly with the natural world.
With the mob gone, a tentative drum began to beat, then it was joined by lyres and cymbals. Cheers rose again and the celebration continued to the sound of music, laughter, and crackling bonfires.
The nomads were gone the following morning just as they had promised. The campus had been left impeccably clean, even the bonfires had been cleared and made ready for anyone who might later venture onto these lands.
Life continued in the town seemingly as usual, but the passing of the musicians and acrobats had left an imprint on the people. A new rhythm took over the affairs of life. Secret bonfire celebrations began to take place. Tempers flared because of these libertine attitudes and spontaneous outbursts of joy, but others took it in stride. Mayor Taggart definitely had his hands full, and Mrs. Mathison was always there to point out his errors.
The following year, Deric and his family would move to the city and start a new life there. The Wandering Minstrels were soon a distant memory and so were the dancing fireflies. The only tangible sign that it had all been real was the woven bracelet that Mista had gifted him that night of magic fire.
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