by Amy Bearce
Micah waited while they both regained their footing and then continued, “Yes, though they are no longer as they were.”
Sierra narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you being vague on purpose?”
“They are quite rare now. I haven’t seen one since I was a child,” he offered.
She swore his eyes twinkled. They walked in silence before Sierra asked another question.
“How long were you… like that? Unable to talk?” Discomfort nipped at her, but she had wondered this in the back of her mind since he first spoke.
He lifted his haunted gaze to hers. “It was eight winters of silence for me, though I had grown weak and ill as a very young faun.” He shook his head. “I have forgotten many things, I think, but I am grateful to be healed from the loss of magic.”
“It sounds really horrible.”
“It was. I believe…” Here he paused, but then his voice gained in strength. “I believe many creatures are still suffering as I was. And I am sorry to say that keepers who hoard the nectar of their hatches contributed to this dilemma, in addition to those who came to these mountains to take the wild fairies captive.”
For a moment, Sierra almost couldn’t hear what he was trying to say. His voice was so musical, so lulling with such carefully chosen words. Then what he said came clear, and she recoiled as if he had struck her.
“I didn’t do this to you! I mean, I shot you, but I didn’t starve you.”
Corbin also protested, “I’ve loved my hatch from the beginning! Not all keepers abuse their charges.”
The phrase, Unlike Sierra, hovered unvoiced. He didn’t look at her as he spoke, but his statement hurt, so sharp it left numbness behind. She stared straight ahead, down the icy path.
“Not all keepers, no, I imagine not. But don’t humans take nectar from the fairies for many reasons, some even seen as noble?”
Corbin fell silent. Sierra didn’t answer, either. Too many things were flashing through her mind, first and foremost, Flight. But beyond that, medicines made from nectar were used throughout the continent as well. Guilt made anger spring up.
“What was I supposed to do? Let Jack beat me to death? Kill Phoebe? You don’t understand.” Her chest hurt. Her fairy flew down and brushed her cheek, sensing her distress, breathing peace into her.
Micah’s dark eyes were steady. “As I said, you are loyal. And the fairies are drawn to you―both of you”―his gaze moved to include Corbin―“because you were born able to share a special bond with them. They desire your companionship, not just your protection. They are such social creatures.”
As Micah said this, he waved at Sierra’s queen, who was fluttering above her head, doing silly dive bombs now and then. It was the kind of behavior that used to irritate Sierra but now seemed as charming as a toddler wanting to play chase. Queen meant no harm. She only wanted to cheer Sierra up. In fact, Queen loved her, through and through. Sierra felt it, steady as a heartbeat.
Queen sent love to her wordlessly, and it was delicious, like being offered cake. The depth of that love was almost tangible, a gift that could be held onto like a life-line. Queen had fought Sierra to stop the loss of the hatch’s nectar but had chosen her out of love in the first place. Wild fairies had chosen to be with humans from the beginning of humanity’s existence for this same reason.
This rich love hummed in the back of Sierra’s mind all the time now, impossible to ignore. She was coming to accept their new relationship, though it meant changing her entire view of fairies. But she still quietly resented the theft of her choice. Her whole life changed again. Queen didn’t ask. She had just bonded them, like the first time, only stronger. But that didn’t make taking her nectar okay.
Honesty was painful but necessary. “Corbin’s right. I stole from her and let Jack use her magic for evil. I stole from them for him, taking too much, and they kept making more. If that makes me a horrible person, so be it.” The words hurt to say out loud. What she said next was worse, but she had to be truthful. “I’d do it again, too. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to protect my sister.”
Queen became agitated at this statement, motions becoming faster and erratic. Her thoughts were a jumble, and Sierra couldn’t decide if Queen was upset about Phoebe’s possible fate or that Sierra valued her sister over the fairies. Sierra tried to send a thought to her queen. The fumbling attempt felt odd and embarrassing, like eating a meal with her feet. Thankfully no one knew but her. I’m sorry, Queen. And truly, she was. She didn’t sense anything in return, so she guessed she failed to communicate. Not surprising.
Sierra picked up her pace to build distance between her and the faun and Corbin. She decided she’d start referring to Micah as such in her head: The faun. It didn’t matter that he looked human―he was still a magical creature. He wasn’t Micah. He was only a barely-known faun who happened to look like a young god and act like a hero.
hen they stopped for lunch, the faun went foraging and returned with light pink berries. They tasted like the spun sugar they used to get once a year when the fair travelled down the coast, stopping at each port. He also had used Sierra’s fairy nets to carry back piles of dark green leaves, which didn’t look edible. But the two of them mixed together and baked over a small fire tasted delicious, the sourness of the greens balanced nicely by the sweet berries.
They had few slices of bread left, but Sierra passed them around. They needed strength to keep going. The cold sapped everyone’s energy, though she imagined the boys were kept warm by carrying Nell’s tall frame. They had icy water in their canteens, and Corbin dripped a few drops into Nell’s mouth. He mashed some of the berries in his palm and spread some along the inside of her lips. She licked the fruit and swallowed, all on her own. Corbin gave a hoot and offered her more. Her eyes fluttered open, and Nell finally looked around.
“What in the great green forest happened to you?” she said, taking in the scabs from bites and scratches covering Sierra and Corbin. Her voice sounded scratchy and rough from all the screams, but it was definitely Nell’s voice.
“You don’t remember?” Corbin’s voice was higher than usual.
Sierra let him take lead.
Nell slowly shook her head and raised her hand to her head. “Ooh,” she moaned. “I feel like I got kicked in the head.” She aimed a steely glare at Sierra. “Did you do this?”
Ah, she was back. Sierra had to smile, making Nell glower even harder.
“No, a bunch of fairies kicked your butt from here to the ocean.”
Her brow furrowed. She examined her hands, frowning at the visible scratches and bites.
“Was there… a cave?” Her voice dropped, as hesitant as it had ever been.
Corbin scooted closer and pillowed Nell’s head on his legs. Interestingly, Sierra wasn’t bothered at all.
“Yes, there was,” he answered.
When Nell’s gaze found the faun, she sputtered, “Whoa! What happened to him?”
Sierra knew exactly what she meant, but didn’t even know how she could explain and still ignore him. She accidentally met his eyes and felt a blush burn her cheeks. She had to be beet red. He smiled and raised his eyebrow at her reaction, clearly amused. Sierra was mortified.
Fortunately, Nell saw the queen sitting on Sierra’s shoulder and was immediately distracted. Nell tried to lurch to her feet. “It’s a fairy! You did it!”
She sounded shocked but genuinely pleased. Warmth that had nothing to do with the weak sunlight filtering through the pines filled Sierra’s heart.
“Yep, so we’re on our way home. Think you can walk?”
Corbin glanced at Sierra. She figured he wanted to know if they should tell Nell what she said, how she said it. Sierra gave a slight shake of her head. One thing at a time. Doubtful Nell would believe anything like that, especially coming from Sierra.
Nell gasped and shrank back when she saw the small army of fairies making lazy loops around them.
“I remember now!” she whispered. She froze, eyes wid
e.
Corbin held her hands and they all stared at the fairy entourage. Sierra doubted all the queens would leave the woods, but for now, they were an amazing sight. They seemed like well-fed children who had even gotten a fat slice of pie after a feast. Queen radiated satisfaction, too, full to the brim with magic once more.
Even Nell relaxed once it became clear they weren’t swarming. These were all queens, after all, without hatches. The incident at the cave aside, usually the tiny workers did most of the swarming if they were provoked, sometimes for the most ridiculous reasons. Not too bright, the little buggers. That was part of why when a queen was ready to raise young, she usually bonded to a keeper who helped care for the little fairies. Keepers guarded the little ones from getting taken or having their nectar stolen by other humans. Until then, though, queen fairies traveled the world, or they used to. Not many queens strayed from their hatches in recent years. Maybe that change was part of the problem.
They took things slowly the rest of the day, even though the agonizingly sluggish pace pushed Sierra’s patience. Nell could walk with the help of Corbin, which left Micah walking too near to Sierra for comfort. She couldn’t forget what he said, about keepers causing harm to all magical creatures. Her throat tightened. Had she really been hurting Queen so terribly? Or other innocent creatures like Old Sam? It was like finding out Sierra had been starving Phoebe without knowing it.
When the sun dipped below the trees, they made an early stop for the night. Nell was winded, though she wouldn’t admit it, and Corbin was, too. Sierra was exhausted, in some deep place without words.
Nell and Corbin built a fire, a crackling warmth that sent up sparks from the added dried pine needles. The scent reminded Sierra strongly of home, and she wrapped herself in her blanket, not even interested in dinner. Queen nestled in Sierra’s hair. Corbin’s fairy was nearby, but the rest were off somewhere else. If Sierra concentrated, she could sense something that seemed like, Happy, happy, warm… tired… coming from Queen. Soon the fairy fell asleep, her soft breath whispering against Sierra’s neck.
Inexplicably, Sierra felt safe. Her shoulders relaxed after being tight all day. At least the packs weren’t heavy anymore, since they were without food.
The voices of the others were a soft murmur, but she didn’t pay much attention.
“Only one week…” floated through the dusk. A girl’s voice. Nell.
“―have to go faster, tomorrow―”
Ignore, ignore, ignore. Sierra burrowed deeper in her blankets. Eventually, sleep claimed her.
A loud trumpet and a flash of red light disrupted Sierra’s sleep. She sat up, blinking her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening. The ground wasn’t moving. No quakes. But a plume of fire curled through the trees next to her, setting the dry branches aflame.
She shouted, stumbling out of the bedroll, but the others were already awake and responding. Nell had her sword out, not even trembling in the face of the encroaching fire. The heat flowed to them in waves, the crackling becoming a roar. The smell of burnt wood singed their noses.
Queen clasped tight to Sierra’s shoulder. Run! Run! Run! One’s panic was indistinguishable from the other’s. Sierra thankfully didn’t see any other fairies.
Another wave of flames showed them what they faced, illuminating a creature of ancient tales against the pitch black of the night. The impossible loomed in the flickering light, but there was no mistaking this creature: a dragon stood before them.
The beast resembled a lizard but was the size of a cottage, covered in hard red and orange scales that reflected the light of the flames. A long tongue snaked out as it wove its head back and forth on its long neck, as if to hypnotize them. Silver, leathery wings hung down its back and a tail flicked behind it, with spikes long enough to pin someone to a tree. Sierra’s breath shuddered out, her lungs wheezing. Then the dragon roared, rattling her bones and kicking her heart into a frenzy.
Sweat drenched her despite the cold, and her hands moved to her bow, too slowly, as if she were moving through molasses. She was going to be too late.
The dragon took a deep breath, chest expanding. Even as Sierra realized the danger in that moment, the beast’s unreal beauty captivated her. She dropped her hands to her side, nearly paralyzed by the sight. Never had she seen such graceful beauty disguised as death. There was a power in its form, balanced completely by its elegance, brilliant coloring, and flowing movement. Her eyes stung, and not from fear, sadness or wood smoke. The creature was simply that incredible. If she was going to die, then she was glad she’d die seeing this.
Soft singing floated through the crackling fire, and the dragon froze. No flames came as it waited. Everyone stopped. Sierra’s heart pounded so loudly it seemed like a drum for the single voice. The low, rich song flowed through their camp, but she couldn’t peel her eyes away from the dragon to see where the sound was coming from. The haunting melody was so other-worldly, Sierra wanted to cry from a yearning she didn’t understand.
Micah―in her panic, Sierra completely forgot to refer to him as “the faun” in her mind―stepped next to the creature, eyes half-closed as he lifted his voice. He sang of a new home, a home of magic and healing. He reached out his arms, and the creature tilted its head to one side and lowered its neck so Micah could stroke the scaly nose. When he finished, he told the beast, “Now, go, young dragon, and do not return. There is a cave near the top of the mountain, full of surplus fairy magic. Go there to find what you seek.”
The dragon―young dragon?!―tilted back its head and gave a shriek that made Sierra clamp her jaw tight to keep from screaming as well. Then the creature flapped its wings, filling the night with the scent of musty caves mixed with exotic spices. It took off straight into the air, ripping branches from the trees as if they were matchsticks.
The silence after the dragon left was deafening, except for the roar of the fire growing larger, blistering the night air. Sierra stared at Micah as though she had never seen him before. He sent a killer dragon away with a song. He convinced this huge beast to curl up in a cave through the suggestions hidden in his beautiful music. What could he convince others of?
The dragon might have left, but the fire was still a real danger. Everyone grabbed their things, slung their bedrolls haphazardly on their backs, then ran. Queen hissed from being jostled but stayed hanging on Sierra’s shoulder. The run was a nightmare, full of tree roots grabbing their ankles and rocks cracking them in the shins. Branches whipped across their faces as they darted and ducked through the trees, racing as fast as they could away from the towering flames. Queen burrowed into Sierra’s hair, pressing against her raised fairy mark.
As they fled, Micah came alongside Sierra. Grabbing her hand, he said, “Run with me.”
He took off at a pace so fast she was almost flying, her feet barely skimming over the ground. He flowed over and around obstacles she wouldn’t normally even see. With his hand touching hers, she ran with more grace than she ever had. They were like two halves of a whole, moving completely in sync.
Magic. It had to be. No matter how incredible it felt, whatever was happening wasn’t natural―more magic she didn’t understand, didn’t ask for. Frightened by the way she was swept up in Micah’s power, Sierra yanked her hand away, stumbling in shock.
“What’s happening?” she asked, trying to keep running. She hit a rock so hard she knew she’d be bruised, but she kept going anyway.
“We’ve shared magic, Sierra. In the cave, the same fairies shared their magic with you and with me, so we are connected. Can you not feel it?” His hand reached out to her beseechingly as he kept pace with her.
Yes, she could sense their connection, but it scared her, and that was the honest truth. The experience was too intense. She also didn’t want to burn to death, though. Grabbing his hand, she promised herself they’d talk about this in detail later.
They picked up the pace, Corbin and Nell just ahead. Micah’s feet flashed faster and Sierra followed
, somehow knowing all the right places to step. The two eased past Corbin and Nell, who stumbled as they ran. Micah guided them the fastest way down that wouldn’t cause injury or get anyone killed, Corbin and Nell close behind. Occasionally, there was a crack followed by a shout of pain and cursing. Sierra didn’t even check. They were okay, or there’d be screams for help instead.
When the scent of smoke began to fade, Sierra dared a look back over her shoulder and saw the orange flickering in the distance. The fire headed away from them. They’d gotten lucky. Or had a good guide. The moon came out finally, and she noticed the muscles on Micah’s back working as he ran in front of her, arm stretched back, his hand engulfing hers. She was thankful he hadn’t left them yet, even if he said that hurtful thing about keepers. The three humans of their little group, at least, would have died without him tonight, as prey of an ancient predator. When Micah finally let go, she felt somehow reduced, like she was missing something important.
Are all magical creatures so amazing? she wondered as they paused to catch their breath.
Micah’s chest heaved, making this the first time Sierra had seen him winded. It didn’t detract from his stupid perfection at all. She frowned. Queen flittered about anxiously, her wings a blurry rainbow. Sierra’s pants were stained and wrinkled. Her flesh was torn and ripped, her hair knotted and gnarled. She thought of the merfolk with their green scales and seaweed hair like lace, full of an alien beauty even while hauling fishermen’s deep-sea nets. And Sam, who, despite his skinny bones, glowed luminously white on Midsummer’s Night. How was it that humanity had come to rule over these magic beings of such intense beauty?
Humans had their own strengths, she guessed, but they seemed awfully weak comparatively. Just look at the three of them, trembling and exhausted from their escape. Nell looked particularly worn down, which made sense given her recent experiences. The sun had begun to rise, so they lost only an hour of sleep, but Nell could have slept all day and still not had the rest she needed. Sierra thought extra sleep sounded very good. As soon as they stopped, though, Corbin, Nell, and Sierra all turned to Micah.
