The Faery Queen's Daughter

by Tam Erskine

  Stay with me. The Coira’s voice wrapped around him like nothing else that could ever matter. Please, sweetling, I'll never leave you again. Just stay. Stay with Mother.

  Shards of ice rained down like daggers.

  Jack was dimly aware that Jonquil was trying to reach him, that Clematis was calling to him, that Daisy tried to keep her sisters out of harm's way.

  They don't truly care. How could they understand you? Coira asked. They aren’t enough.

  Ivy's fingernails dug into Jack's palm, anchoring him in the present just long enough to see what was truly before him.

  Jack suddenly smiled--the Ellyllon were fighting to reach him and a faery princess who'd risked her immortal life for him was trying to pull him to safety. It was enough.

  The Coira's voice lost its charm, and she sunk back into the thawing moat.

  Ivy led him further away from the moat.

  His steps grew surer, confident that Ivy led him to safety. Well, relatively speaking.

  Chapter 14: In which they breach the walls

  Of course, as they finally stood in front of the outer walls to the Queen's palace, Jack Merry suspected that no one was thinking that all would be well. He surely wasn't. The outer walls were covered with the tangled vines of a monstrous plant, its tentacles lashing the air. As Jack watched a bird flew too close to a writhing tentacle. Tiny teeth on the vine wrapped around the bird as other vines lashed around, waiting to snatch up the bits of feather and other things that fell.

  "I see it, Jack," Ivy said calmly. “That’s not usually there. My mother must be expecting us.”

  The Ellyllon buzzed about, murmuring amongst themselves.

  Jack glanced at Ivy. "I could try to change it . . ."

  "No. We've no time to rest after this, and once we're inside, things are sure to be worse. My sister Ada will have warned the Durgs and who knows what else to keep us from the queen." Ivy brushed her hair back, twisted it into some sort of towering knot, and fastened it with a strip of cord. Her leady wings flapped once, twice, and then stilled against her skin Then, she hefted her sword and said in forced cheer, "'This is no different than trimming a hedge."

  Jack stared at it. Nothing remained of the bird, and the tentacles were flailing about again.

  "There must be something I can do."

  "Indeed, there is." She offered a wry smile. "If I'm terribly cut up, try to get me out so Jonquil can mend me. If not, take advantage of the vine's distraction and keep going."

  Jack was aghast. "I can't leave you."

  “If I fall, you must still go forward, Jack. You are the only one who can heal my mother,” Ivy insisted. “She wants to be well. I’m certain of it, and if I’m right, you can save her, change her.”

  “But—”

  “My job was to get you here, Jack,” Ivy said firmly. “You must heal the queen.”

  Jonquil nodded. "We'll do what needs done to get him there, Ivy. Clear the path."

  Daisy stayed silent, but Jack saw her nod briefly, too.

  #

  Ivy lifted her sword and began hacking at the vines. At least they're not alive. Thick tentacles landed alongside her with heavy thumps. How can anyone look at a corruption of a thing's nature and not realize Mother needs help?

  As Ivy spun and ducked, she kept swinging, severing toothy plants and trying to prevent the slashing vines from cutting her. For the most part, she was succeeding. One tiny tendril had caught her hair and ripped a good handful out at the roots. Her wings had scrapes. Her already-dirty tunic was now ripped in countless places. Her arms grew heavy.

  Even though she didn't speak of it, Mother knew that the folk met in secret, met and plotted.

  Ivy looked at the towering length of the vine: it reached up beyond where even the strongest plants in the realm could reach, touching that false sky, almost pushing through it to the world above-ground.

  If Jack couldn't help her, it'd be a matter of time until the folk turned against her mother. The Queen might not be a good mother, but once she had been a tolerable mother. Before.

  Ivy paused, ignoring the lashing vines striking her and wrapping around her ankles. She forced her way deeper and deeper into the plant. Tendrils grabbed her, biting with tiny plant teeth and trying to stop her. Her tunic was tearing, and her skin stung from small bites. Larger tentacles could not reach her without tangling themselves.

  Finally, she found the central stalk and took aim.

  Ada would be a horrible Queen. If my sister were even a passable choice as a regent, the folk would have assassinated the Queen by now. They have no love for her anymore. All that stops them is that Princess Ada is worse.

  With every bit of anger she could harness, Ivy swung at that central stalk of the vine, cutting deep into it.

  This will work. Ada will not take the throne.

  Ivy tugged the sword out of the meat of the vine. Green gelatinous slime clung to the blade. Once more she stabbed. This time the entire thing trembled, rapidly striking her over and over, tugging her ankle, trying to pull her away.

  It will work.

  One last time, she sliced the vine, severing it clear through. The entire plant collapsed on top of her, burying her under thick tentacles. Then, everything went dark, and Ivy let herself stay still. Until they pulled her out of the remains, Ivy could give in to her fears. No one would need to know how scared she was right now, how terrifying it was that she’d be wrong, how awful it would be if her mother couldn’t be saved.

  "Ivy!" Jack's voice sounded frantic. "Ivy! Where are you? Where is she? Is she . . I saw her fall.”

  The Ellyllon would be no help moving the heavy vine. Ivy’s moment of admitting fear was already ended. Heroes didn’t get time to be afraid.

  "I'm here, Jack." She sighed and started pushing the vines away. There'd be time for fear and hiding later, or there'd be no need for any of it. "It's fine, Jack. I’m fine."

  And she slid her blade through another nest of tentacles on top of her, clearing a bit of space so she could move.

  Jack pulled vines away, and she saw the scrapes and small cuts where the plant's teeth had torn his flesh. Soon, his face was visible, brows drawn together and looking more afraid than she'd seen him before.

  "Give me your hand," he said.

  She reached out, stretching toward him.

  Jack helped lift her from the mass of plant pieces.

  "See. Just like trimming a hedge," Ivy said.

  #

  While Jonquil tended to the slashes and scrapes covering Ivy, Jack pretended he was calm. He'd listened to those tolling bells drop slower and lower as she'd fallen under the monstrous plant. That was when he'd panicked.

  "Are you well enough to keep moving?" Jonquil's voice betrayed mixed emotions, fear and worry and hope.

  "Of course." Ivy nodded and tiny bits of plant matter shook free of her hair, like a strange rain shower. “This is it. Mother will be saved.”

  Jack sat on the ground beside her, not bothering to brush away the shower of greenery that was falling around them. He saw the tears in her wings, the scrapes on her skin, and he wanted to wait while she recovered.

  “We could rest,” he said.

  “Here? In the open?” Clematis asked incredulously.

  “I’m fine to continue,” Ivy stressed.

  In front of them was the Queen's palace, Ivy's home. It wasn't a faery palace in the way he'd imagined it, but then again, few things here were at all what he might've imagined.

  The area immediately around the palace door was a strange structure of crumbling rock and what looked to be seashells. Flowers sprouted from the sides at odd intervals, perhaps either as decorations or as some other defense. At spots it seemed that only pure chance kept the rocks from tumbling down. But, for no discernable reason, the further walls seemed fashioned out of a wholly different rock. It was almost glassy, black and slick like it was wet. He could see faint lines where bits of the rock had been chipped away, leaving jutting points that looked as s
harp as Ivy’s sword.

  It was far from inviting.

  Jack stayed on the ground, looking away from the crumbling doorway to study the ravaged plant.

  Ivy did that.

  She'd been like a sea squall given form, spinning and tearing down whatever stood in her path, but he'd seen her face in the middle of it. He'd glimpsed her expressions of determination and exhaustion, and several times had started towards her, only to be stopped by Clematis' stern admonishments. 'You'd be more trouble than help with this, Jack.' and 'She said for you to stay here.'

  Each time, Jack had mumbled his acquiescence.

  Now, he looked up at her, taking in the droop of her shoulders and the tremble in her hand. "Are you sure you're even able to go on?"

  "I am," Ivy said with a visible straightening of her sagging shoulders. "And if I weren't, it wouldn't matter. We can't stay here, Jack. It's no safer sitting here than it is going forward."

  He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her they could turn back. Not because he was afraid for himself, though he supposed he should be, but because in that moment all he could think about was how tired she looked.

  But going back wouldn't help her fix her world, and somewhere along their travels, that had become important to him. Or maybe Ivy was just important to him. He thought of the creatures he’d met along the way. They all waited and watched. Most weren’t helping in the open—but who would dare commit treason? Who would face an angry, world-making queen? Only her daughter, a few tiny faeries, and one foolish boy.

  He had to help her.

  Jack stood up and stepped in front of her. "No more telling me to wait while you rush off."

  Her eyes widened and a tiny furrow creased her brow.

  "You said I shouldn't help because I get too tired, but . . ." He tugged her to her feet and lowered his voice so the others couldn't hear him. "You're exhausted, too. I can see it. So, either we go together, or we don't go."

  "Fine." Ivy stared at him for a long minute and then walked off at a much faster pace than normal, as if to prove she was not tired at all.

  Jack rolled his eyes and hurried after her.

  With a slight thump, Daisy landed on his shoulder, gripped his ear, and murmured, "Well said!"

  Then she darted away to join her sisters beside Ivy.

  "I'm waiting, Jack Merry," Ivy called. She gripped the handle and motioned him forward with her free hand. “Try to keep up.”

  He bit his lip to keep from smiling at her irritation and sped up. Once he was at her side, he said, "I'm here."

  Then, together they tugged open the door.

  #

  Not two steps into the vast white room, the Durgs were upon them. The rat-faced men swarmed from every nook and cranny of the chamber, clambering over crystalline sculptures, dropping from glittering chandeliers.

  Clematis called out, "Behind you!"

  Brandishing skull-tipped canes like rapiers, the Durgs quickly separated the group. Jonquil and Daisy were still with her, but Jack and Ivy were each on their own, surrounded by groups of Durgs.

  Her back against a stark white wall, Ivy held her own, but in the middle of the chamber with only a fountain to offer any cover, Jack was utterly defenseless.

  "Jack!" Ivy's screamed, and everything seem to slow.

  Clematis turned in time to see Jack get bashed on head repeatedly by a contingent of Durgs. He was holding up his hands to protect his face, but blood seeped from at least three places. Falling, he braced himself on the edge of the fountain.

  Durgs tramped through the water, unmindful of anything but attack. The clear water in the fountain's spray clouded with dirt and blood.

  Clematis nocked another arrow and started picking off as many of the Durgs as she could. Calm. No sense wasting the arrows by not aiming well enough.

  She was so focused on keeping her arm steady she didn't see the arrival of their unexpected back-up until Jonquil breathed, "The Bollynoggins are here." Her voice was almost reverent. "They came."

  Clematis let loose another arrow and followed Jonquil's gaze to see Grandmother Nogs gesture to the archers.

  Then, the room was full of arrows as the Bollynoggins fired on the Durgs, clearing a path toward Jack Merry.

  Looking regal as she balanced on the back of a squirrel, Grandmother Nogs waved from the doorway. Her moss skirt and plump green legs were all but hidden under the fur of the squirrel's two tails, which were wrapped securely around her like a harness.

  Clematis swooped to the left to avoid the blow of a skull-tipped cane.

  “Grandmother,” she said and nodded at her. Then, Clematis nocked another arrow and sighted down on a Durg whose aim was far too good to go unanswered.

  With the arrival of unexpected back-up, and fierce back-up at that, the tide turned quickly, and in what seemed only a few moments, Ivy--with a bloodied, battered Jack Merry securely behind her--and Grandmother Nogs were both beside the Ellyllon.

  Jonquil promptly flew to tend Jack's wounds.

  The Bog Mother winked, and then turned to Jonquil. "I seem to recall you invited me to the fracas."

  "I did." Jonquil looked up from a particularly bloody wound over Jack's eye. "Glad you could make it."

  The Bollynoggins were like a moving wall around them, facing the Durgs and firing their arrows almost nonstop.

  Ivy, towering above them, knocked back any Durgs that made it past the barrage of cactus arrows. The floor was littered with the tiny needles, their sharp tips and barbed sides piercing the Durgs when they fell.

  Jonquil glanced down and added, "Not that I mind you coming, but why . . .?"

  Without seeming to look, Grandmother Nogs spotted a Durg that had been creeping up on them. She bashed him with the spiked metal club she held in her right hand.

  "Well, the boys were restless. Thought a trip would be good for them." Grandmother Nogs jabbed another rat-faced attacker. “And here’s as good as somewhere else.”

  Behind them, a sculpture shattered under the blows of a group of Bollynoggins with clubs, raining crystal shards around them, making it difficult for the Durgs to cross the chamber.

  A pair of egrets swooped down to extract the victorious Bollynoggins. They grabbed the vines that their brothers dangled and dangled from the birds as the egrets flew through the air.

  Then, as one the Bollynoggins dropped from the vines, spreading out beside Grandmother Nogs.

  Clematis smiled as their much larger group moved forward toward the long hallway that led to the Royal Chamber. "Glad you could join us."

  "Couldn't let the boys go unsupervised." With a loud sigh, Grandmother Nogs swung the mace again, clobbering another Durg. She grinned and added, "And I thought it'd be nice to crack a few skulls."

  Now that Jack was steady again, Jonquil zipped off to a fallen Bollynoggin, and in moment had him back on his feet.

  More Durgs vaulted from their hiding places.

  A great egret with three Bollynoggins standing on its back dropped down. In tandem all three Bollynoggins on its back let loose their arrows, providing cover for Jonquil and the healed Bollynoggin.

  "Help with the door, Jack." Ivy gestured with her sword. “Let’s go.”

  Together, they tugged open the gleaming silver door, and the whole strange army streamed through.

  Once the Bollynoggins were all through, Jack and Ivy slammed the door shut and slid the bolt, leaving the Durgs outside it.

  "Persistent, aren't they?" Grandmother Nogs muttered, her gaze roaming over the Bollynoggins to assess the damage.

  The Durgs were shoving against the door, pounding on it, and calling out rather awful threats that had to do with fires and meat spits.

  "Ivy?" Jack said. "Look at the door for me."

  After resting her head on his shoulder for a moment, she nodded.

  Then Jack closed his eyes and said, "And the door was impervious, solid through and through to any that would harm Ivy."

  Then, he tugged Ivy with him, and they fol
lowed the score of Bollynoggins that had taken point. "Come on."

  Jonquil zipped back and forth and tended to whatever wounds she could, humming that silly song their mother used to hum. Hagan lectured Daisy on her lack of "a single piece of weaponry to protect herself."

  Clematis grinned at all of it. It was good to have help.

  Chapter 15: In which old kindnesses are remembered

  They weren't but halfway down the hall when Ivy felt her throat constrict.

  The Ellyllon and Bollynoggins rounded the corner, but Ivy froze, clutching Jack, pulling him to a stop beside her. Fear washed over her before she even saw them, but the time between fear and seeing them wasn't long enough to say anything to warn Jack.

  From the depths of the palace, they came. Their faces were lost in a cloud of their own making. The Hunt rode toward them.

  Skeletal hooves pounded over the marble floor as they came pouring into the room like a raging waterfall forced into a narrow channel. The hounds raced between those sharp hooves, a seething black mass with glowing eyes and bared teeth. Their experience with only one hound was difficult enough. The onslaught of innumerable hounds would be impossible to stand against.

  This was it: the end.

  It took everything she had to not flee.

  "Ivy?" Jack stepped nearer to her, his breath warm in her hair. "You risked that to rescue me?"

  She nodded; speaking was too hard with her heart thrumming inside her.

  "And you said you were the reasonable one . . ."

  She tore her gaze away from the approaching terror to glance at him: he was smiling.

  He took her free hand in his. "You are truly amazing."

  #

  Jack looked at them, this Hunt that Ivy's spoken of in such a shaky voice. They were as awful as she'd said. The closer they came, the more he felt the urge to run.

  The dark horses were sheer muscle, seeming strong enough to run the span of the world without pause. With fathomless green eyes and huffing something foul-smelling with each breath, every aspect of the horses sent shivers over him.

  The Hounds were like countless copies of the one they'd faced in the meadow--glowing red eyes and dripping slaver from impressive jaws--but the sheer number of them made it appear as if the ground moved. Like black waters in a flood, they flowed around the horses' bone-white hooves.