Bones of Faerie03 - Faerie After

by Janni Lee Simner

  I looked right back at her. “I intend to call Rhianne,” I said.

  Chapter 18

  “You cannot be serious,” Elin said. “You cannot expect Rhianne will answer a human call when she has spoken with none of her own people since the War and has never spoken with any but plant speakers regardless.”

  “Who’s Rhianne?” Matthew asked.

  “A summoner. And she already has spoken to me.”

  “The summoner,” Elin said. “The first of our people. One does not trouble her lightly.”

  The wind was growing colder. I drew breath to call.

  Before I could, the ground lurched beneath us. Stone shattered, and a tree—not the First Tree, a new tree—burst through the cracks, a tree with cinnamon-brown bark whose perfect green leaves unfurled as they grew, green so bright it burned my eyes. A quia tree. The life in it pulled on me, as familiar as the life in the seeds I’d once held, but I hadn’t called this new tree, which held nothing of Rhianne within it. Karin’s crooning fell silent.

  “Mother?” Elin said.

  The plant speaker crouched into a protective stance, as if the new tree were one more threat she faced. Her magic hadn’t called it, either, as far as I could tell; I still felt the pull of the untouched quia seed in her pocket. Tolven, I thought, remembering my vision. Tolven had a quia seed, too.

  Karin opened her mouth to speak, but the sounds that came out were tree sounds: branches creaking in the wind, roots moaning as they soaked up rain. She stood and stalked toward the new tree.

  Allie darted forward. There was a flash of silver light, and Karin crumpled gracelessly to the ground. Allie knelt to run her hands over Karin’s body. “She’s all right. I mean, her body’s all right. I don’t know about the rest.”

  Elin let out a breath. “Let us take her from this place, then.”

  Elin and Matthew lifted Karin together. They stepped through the standing stone, and I took Allie’s hand to follow.

  It trembled in mine, as if Allie were the one who’d been stunned. “I hate this,” she said. “This isn’t what healing is for.”

  I knew it wasn’t just Karin she meant. “You didn’t have to kill the owl. You could have let me go.”

  “You could have let me go.” Allie sighed. “And Caleb could have let me go, too. It’s so hard, isn’t it? Deciding what to do. Caleb was better at it. I’m still learning, you know?”

  “I know. I’m learning, too.” I looked into the stone. The Arch, I thought. Show me the Arch.

  The light that came to the stone was sluggish as muddy water. We waited several long heartbeats until I saw—

  A woman running toward the Arch, a woman I’d seen in visions before, her long clear braid flowing behind her. The Arch let her pass through its surface as readily as the forest had let her through its brambles. She disappeared from view, and instead I saw—

  Matthew and Elin setting Karin down beside the Arch, while Nys frowned as he watched them—

  I stepped toward that vision, back into my own world. The air grew sticky with moisture. The stale smell of Faerie faded but didn’t go away.

  Allie ran to Karin, pressing hands to her chest. Matthew straightened Karin’s arms by her sides. He, Elin, and Nys were the only others here. The sky was as dark in my world as in Faerie, but seeing in the dark wasn’t a problem for me, not anymore. I heard the soft breathing of the rest of the fey from where they waited deeper in the forest, clustered in small groups, as if they couldn’t find any larger space free of the crumbling. If our follower also watched us, I couldn’t tell beneath the sound of so many.

  “I thought it best not to have a crowd when Karinna returned,” Nys said dryly. “Someone might try to stop her when she abandons us again.”

  “She won’t abandon us,” Elin said. “Not this time. No matter what you might hope, Nys.”

  “I helped you bring her back,” Nys said. “I serve our people, Elin, always. Remember that. I was not the one who was absent when the time came to lead them from the Realm at last.”

  “Stop it, both of you!” Light bloomed beneath Allie’s hands, gentle silver light that flowed over Karin and bathed all of us in its glow.

  The light faded, leaving us surrounded by night once more. Karin didn’t move.

  “What is wrong?” Elin demanded.

  “Nothing.” Allie’s voice was a thread near to snapping. “She’s awake. She should be fine, but—”

  The River murmured between its banks. “I could try calling her,” I said, uncertain.

  “There is no need for that.” Karin sat up with a deliberateness that said her silence had been a choice. Her voice was steady, sane. I grabbed her hand, and she squeezed it. Elin’s voice caught on a sob. I looked at the weaver, and she smiled, really smiled. I smiled back, daring for the first time to believe Karin would truly be all right.

  “I gather I have been gone some time.” Karin spoke with as much care as she’d moved. She opened her eyes, though they did not focus. “I would know where I am, and who is here with me. I hear Elin, Liza, Allie. There are two others. There are many others, but only two close by.”

  “Matthew.” He was smiling, too. “And we’re at the Arch.”

  “Nys.” He didn’t smile. “It is good to see you, Karinna.”

  “If that is so, it is no doubt for reasons of your own.” Karin gave a dry chuckle. “And, Matthew, there is a story in your being here. But first: Elin, Nys, have you harmed the others in any way?”

  The smile drained from Elin’s face. “Even now, at the Realm’s own ending, humans matter to you more than your own people?”

  Karin’s expression went steel hard. “No, Daughter. They do not matter more. But neither do they matter less. And you have not answered my question.”

  “We’re fine now,” I said.

  “I risked my own life and left my own people to look after your precious humans.” Elin’s voice was just as hard. “Does that please you?”

  Karin rested her head on one hand. “Elin.”

  “You need not worry about me,” Elin said. “Unlike you, I plan to return home. There is only one person left in the Realm now who can call a quia tree to grow, though I know not how a seed came into his keeping. I’ll not abandon him, though the land itself crumble away. Indeed, Nys, I’ll not soon forget that you left Toby behind.”

  “Staying was the plant speaker’s choice, not mine,” Nys said. “If he could not be persuaded to follow us, it was not for lack of trying.”

  Elin ignored him. She gave her mother a stiff bow, though Karin could not see it. “I am glad you are well, Mother, and I am sorry for any harm I have caused you.” She stepped through the Arch at that and was gone.

  Karin pressed her fingers against her forehead. “It is difficult to speak with you, Daughter, if you persist in running away.” She stood, and Allie darted to her side to steady her. Karin felt her way to the Arch, Allie guiding her once she saw where she was heading. Karin ran a hand along the smooth metal. “The crumbling smells strong here. It was not nearly so strong on the path between our towns.”

  “It might be worse there, too, by now.” I felt a shiver of fear for Mom, and the baby, and all my town. “Karin, I have to go back to Faerie, too.” I still had to call—to try to call—Rhianne out of the gray.

  Matthew’s brows drew together. He rubbed the scar at his wrist. “Why, Liza?”

  “Yes, why?” Nys asked. “What could possibly be left in our dying world for you? No matter—I have pledged to grant you your freedom, and if you wish to throw your life away with it, that is no concern of mine. I have my own people to see to, and Allie has a promise to keep.”

  “Careful, stone shaper,” Karin said. “They are my people, not yours, by oaths you yourself have taken.” Did Nys pale a little? Karin knelt to trace a crack in the stone. “What promise, Allie?”

  Allie knelt beside her. “I’m going with Nys. To help heal the Faerie folk. I gave him my word.”

  A small green shoot br
oke through the stone. Karin stroked it gently. She wouldn’t let Allie go with Nys. Of course she wouldn’t.

  “It’s the right thing to do, Karin.” Allie ran a hand through her hair, making it stand on end. “If you’d seen how sick they were in Faerie, you’d say so, too. It’s like when you and Caleb came to our town, and we didn’t deserve your help but you gave it to us anyway.”

  Karin laced her fingers together, letting the green go. “And no doubt my people would not accept my brother as healer in your place, even were he willing to return to them.”

  Silence then, save for the distant breathing of the faerie folk and the chirping of an early sparrow.

  The green shoot wilted and fell. Karin did not move. “Tell me,” she said.

  “It was my fault.” My throat ached with every word. “He died fixing my mistake—one of my mistakes.” My knees shook. Matthew steadied me. I saw no blame in his gray eyes, not for this.

  Karin stood and turned toward the Arch. “So, Youngest Brother. It is you who finds escape after all.” For a heartbeat she leaned her head against the metal, as if for support. Then she turned back to us. “Allie. Liza. Matthew. Every teacher knows the risk they take when they accept students. Later, when we have time, I will want to hear all that has happened. Until then, know this: Caleb and I both chose the sacrifices we would make long ago, as humans measure time, and we vowed there would be no regrets. We agreed to pay the prices we needed to pay to save the things we could save.”

  Matthew leaned on me, too, as if it were all we could do to keep each other standing. “I’d change it all if I could,” I said.

  “I know.” There was no blame in Karin’s words, either. “Allie. Come here.” Karin reached out her hands, but Allie threw herself around her with a sob.

  Karin held her close. “Nys has, I assume, offered you promises of protection?”

  “He has indeed,” Nys said. “You need not worry on that account. Your pet humans have negotiated well. The healer will be safe.”

  “Not safe enough, if it is pets you see them as still. But you will treat her well. I will see to it, for I intend to travel with you, for a time at least.”

  I let out a breath. If Karin was with Allie, she’d be as safe as she possibly could be.

  “You did not deem remaining with your people necessary after the War,” Nys said. “What has changed, that Karinna the Fierce worries about us now?”

  “I do not believe I am obligated to share my reasons with you, any more than you are free to disobey my wishes. I am yet heir to the Realm, and here, where my mind is my own, you have much to answer for.” Karin put her hands on Allie’s shoulders. Allie looked up at her, eyes glistening. “You do your teacher honor,” Karin said.

  Allie swallowed. “I’m trying to.” She walked over to solemnly hug first Matthew, then me.

  “I’m—” But I still couldn’t say it. “I’m not sorry I saved you. I’m sorry for what happened because of it, but I’m not sorry for that.”

  “I know. I—” Allie shook her head. “I’ll see you soon, okay? Promise?”

  I didn’t know what would happen when I went back to Faerie, when I tried to call Rhianne. “If I can. Promise.”

  Allie brushed a hand across her eyes and walked to Nys’s side. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “Wait for me with the rest of our people,” Karin told him. “I must speak with Liza and Matthew. Give us”—she tilted her head—“until the first light of dawn, if the crumbling allows it. Return for me then.”

  Nys bowed his head. “As you wish, my liege.” He spoke the last word as if it tasted bad. He took Allie’s hand, and together they disappeared into the forest. I heard Nys’s steps, a whisper of movement against the damp earth, and Allie’s, no louder. Karin turned back to us as their steps faded. “Now, quickly. Tell me why you must return to the Realm, Liza.”

  “And me.” Matthew sat cross-legged on the ground, and I sat beside him. Karin sat, too. I told them both, as quickly as I could, about Rhianne, and the crumbling, and how I had made the crumbling worse. More dawn birds joined the sparrow as I spoke, though the sky remained dark.

  “So you see,” I said. “This is mine to fix, or die failing to fix.” Matthew gave me a sharp look, but I pressed on. “I need to do everything I possibly can to call Rhianne out of the gray. To stop the crumbling before everything is lost.”

  “The price of my people’s gifts.” Pain flashed like lightning in Karin’s eyes. “I did not know it was so high. I have learned, since the War, how much your people have suffered for those gifts, but I did not know all of it. This mistake did not begin with you, Liza. You are only one small part of something that started long before you were born.”

  “But if I can do something about it—I already failed once, and that made things so much worse—I have to keep trying, don’t I?” This was too important not to.

  “You are strong,” Karin said. “We both know this. Rhianne is stronger, strong enough that her tree survived the burning of my land when so much else was lost. I heard that land all too well, with my mother gone, where before I only heard the plants and their dying. That’s the reason my mind so swiftly slid from my grasp. I don’t remember much of what happened in the Realm. But I remember too well how deeply the land was injured and how much pain it yet feels. That the First Tree stands at all, damaged though it is, tells me that uprooting Rhianne will be no small task. And I fear Rhianne will do all she can to destroy you, should you fail.”

  A gray strip of sky was dawning across the River. Matthew’s arm pressed against mine, but I could not feel his fingers around my stone hand. I leaned against him, hoping it wasn’t my wanting making him draw near, because I needed him here so badly. I didn’t know if I could make Rhianne hear me, but I knew that if I did, and failed, I wasn’t likely to survive to try again. “But can it be done?” I pressed.

  “I do not know. Perhaps. It is not impossible. But it is such a small chance.” More green shoots sprouted along the crack in the stone. Karin ran her fingers through them. “It is not right, that you pay the price for what my people have done. You do not deserve that.”

  Almost, I believed her. “But none of us deserve all the things that happen to us, do we?” Both the good and the bad—we were better and worse than it all. “No one deserved the War,” I said.

  “Just so.” Karin reached into her pocket and held something out: the last quia seed. “Take it,” she said, and I did. “Perhaps this will be more help to you than it was to me. The seeds were always meant for you. But I would stand beside you if I could.”

  “You can’t. Not in Faerie.” I slid the seed into my pocket. There was no knowing how long Karin’s mind would stay her own if she went back.

  “No, I can’t,” Karin said. “And not only because madness would render me useless. I do not know how long your world will resist the crumbling after mine falls to it, but however long that may be, I cannot allow so many of my people to enter your world together, free to use their power as they will. I must have oaths from them—not to use glamour and not to harm your people with their other magics—before I let them go any farther.”

  “But I can go with Liza.” Matthew turned to me. “I am going. You know that, don’t you?”

  “No.” I drew my hand from his. He wasn’t a summoner. He couldn’t do anything against Rhianne, and if I fell, he’d have no way of leaving Faerie on his own. If I didn’t return, I needed to know that Matthew, at least, would be safe, for as long as this world held. “There’s nothing you can do, not this time. Go with Karin and Allie, Matthew. Please.”

  Matthew was silent, as if thinking about that. At last he said quietly, “All right.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to remember the feel of holding him, the scent of his hair and his skin and his sweat—everything. “Someone needs to go home,” I said. “To Mom and the others. To tell them what’s happened.”

  “All right,” Matthew said again, his voice just the same: flat, express
ionless. I saw the sleepy emptiness in his face, and I knew. This decision was not his own.

  Karin raised her head. “Liza,” she said softly. “What are you doing?”

  “Keeping him safe.” Shame heated my face—what was shame beside Matthew’s life? If I was going to sacrifice myself, I could at least save him, and he could hate me all he wanted afterward. I’d be gone.

  “I see,” Karin said. She could hate me for this, too. It didn’t matter. I didn’t want anyone else dying for me.

  Karin stood, and the green sprouts retreated beneath the stone. “You are changed, Liza. Allie, as well. I sensed it when I woke, but I believed it a matter that could wait. I was wrong. Are you aware that there is a part of me that wants nothing so dearly as to forbid you to return to my world? That even as we speak, that part would have you go back to your town, to live under whatever protection it can provide, for as long as it might hold?”

  “I know that.” I stood, too, wishing, like Karin wished, that there was a better way.

  “No. I do not think you do.” A dangerous edge crept into Karin’s voice. “Because if I wished to, I could stop you. Blind though I am, I have battle skill enough remaining to render you unable to walk. I could send you home with Nys and Allie and Matthew, and you could not stop me. Shall I show you?”

  There was no warning. Her leg swept forward, and mine buckled beneath me. I crashed into the stone, and Karin’s knee jabbed my stomach, throwing me onto my back, while Matthew watched through sleepy eyes. I threw my hands over my head, waiting for the next blow. I’d never feared Karin before.

  The blow didn’t come. Karin stood and turned from me. I curled into a crouch, protecting my bruised stomach.

  Karin looked toward the Arch, as if she could see something in its surface. “Humans have always been so fragile, so easily broken. I have always been more powerful than any of the humans I taught. But I have not used that power against them, not since the War ended. Kaylen is—was—not as powerful as me, but he had power enough, and he did the same. I do not know for certain how my people’s gifts have come to you, Liza, though I have some ideas. But I know well the temptations of power and the desire to use it against others for their own good. So now you know it, too. What will you do?”