by Leah Cutter
The destruction had damaged the palace severely, and killed more fairies than Cornelius thought that it would.
Cornelius had always found it satisfying that the destruction Kostya had rained down had also ended up destroying him.
The flames in the hearth of the priests’ common area danced higher, then drew together, showing the image of an ugly dwarf.
Like the fairies, the dwarf had a bony ridge for a nose. However, the rest of its skin was pocked and marked, with rivers of wrinkles running around its eyes, crossing its cheeks. A mole grew high on its right cheek and two long hairs, like whiskers, sprouted out of it. Infected sores dotted its jaw.
“He’s still alive?” Cornelius demanded of the priest.
Sebastian grinned at the royal. “Aye. Well. Probably. Someone’s been in the tunnels to the north.”
“What do you mean?” Cornelius asked. “Wouldn’t the warriors have stopped anyone from entering?”
Sebastian started at Cornelius with wide eyes. “What, you think they’re still guarding those tunnels? Nothing has happened there for years. The guards have grown soft. They left ages ago.”
“You’re not serious,” Cornelius said, though he remembered now that this had happened in the past: They’d chased Kostya away numerous times, only to find he’d come back again, like an ill-luck poem.
“Lucky for you the priesthood has had enough of him,” Sebastian said. He spit on the ground, an old cursing gesture that Cornelius hadn’t seen for a century or more.
Cornelius shifted away from the wet spot on the packed dirt, as if the curse might flow up over his boots. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“We set our own guardians in the hallways,” Sebastian said. “Magical traps.”
Cornelius frowned. “Those take a lot of energy,” he said, disapprovingly. “A lot of constant concentration.”
“What in all seven hells do you think we priests do when we’re holding prayers?” Sebastian asked, aggrieved. “We’re not just a lot of useless buggers, unlike some royals I could name, who are only praying for a change of power or a better supper.”
“Who wants a change of—never mind,” Cornelius said, refusing to be distracted. He could name two, easily: Imogen and Gideon. They’d always expected to be awarded the rule, jointly, to be crowned the next queen and king.
However, when Cornelius had challenged Gideon to battle, they’d backed down quick enough, throwing their support behind Cornelius as if he’d been their original choice all along.
If they ever found the nerve to challenge Cornelius openly, they’d still have difficulty convincing the rest of the court to follow their lead—something they’d never realized.
Still, Cornelius was going to have to watch them more carefully.
“So someone has come back to the northern caves, where Kostya used to live,” Cornelius said slowly. “And you think it’s the dwarf.”
“Probably,” Sebastian said. “Or some of his people.”
Cornelius nodded. Maybe it would be good to have the people’s attention focused on something, anything, other than their useful, prosperous, peaceful lives.
Really, it was like leading children.
Chapter Two
“Dale! Come on!” Nora honked the horn of her truck while she still sat parked in the driveway. He was going to make them late on the last day of high school—the very last day, before they graduated. She was tempted to leave her twin behind, but the only reason Mom let her keep the car—an old red truck in perfect running condition, a present from her boyfriend Brett—was if she promised to give her twin brother Dale rides to school and share it.
Nora honked the horn again, but brought both of her hands back quickly from the steering wheel when Mom poked her head out the front door. “Sorry!” Nora called, not sorry at all.
“Don’t just sit there and honk,” Mom said. “Go and fetch him.”
Nora sighed, turned off the truck, and slid out. Her cutest pair of white sandals crunched against the concrete driveway, and she took a moment to tug her brightly-colored patchwork skirt and basic black T-shirt into place.
Damn it! She did not want to be late that morning.
Brett was supposed to meet Nora at her locker before classes. He’d been hinting at some surprise.
Nora hurried up the driveway, walked through the open front door and into the living room. Books filled the built-in bookcases in homey disarray. Scents of toast and coffee filtered through from the kitchen. The soft brown-and-white afghan Nora had crocheted three years before had been folded neatly and placed precisely against the back of the old gray couch—Mom must be in some kind of mood if she was straightening things that early in the morning.
Instead of calling out again, Nora marched through the living room and down the hallway to Dale’s room. “Dale!” she called urgently as she entered his too-neat room—but softly, so as not to make Mom more angry.
Dale’s bed was made, of course, and nothing was out of place. His clock and jeweler tools were all neatly lined up on the shelf he’d built, and his books all arranged—first by subject, then alphabetically—above his perfectly clean desk.
If Nora didn’t know better, she would have bet that even his shirts were organized by color.
However, Dale was nowhere to be seen.
Maybe the perfection and order had finally overwhelmed him, driven him crazy.
“Mom!” Nora called, storming back down the hallway toward the kitchen. “Where’s Dale? He’s going to make me late!”
Mom sat at the kitchen table as if she hadn’t moved all morning. “He went out the back,” she said. She swiped her finger across the screen of the ereader she was looking at. “Said something about the visit being early.” Mom looked up at Nora. “I swear, despite you both speaking English, I don’t understand half the words that come out of either of you.”
“Visit? Early?” Nora stiffened.
Shit.
Dale probably meant the annual visit from Bascom, the leader of the warrior fairy caste.
“I have no idea what he means either,” Nora lied easily. “I’ll go fetch him.”
Worried, Nora raced out the side door, through the back of the garage, and into the backyard.
“Dale!” Nora called.
Her twin walked toward the edge of their property, beyond the young but hearty rowan trees. He wore his usual wide-red-and-white-striped polo shirt and shorts. He looked as though he was talking to someone just out of sight.
Then Dale took another step forward and a flash of bright blue fairy magic blinded Nora.
When Nora blinked her eyes clear, her twin was gone.
* * *
No matter how Dale fought the fairies, they still made him do their will once a year. Even Nora’s magic couldn’t help. She hung magnets on the walls of his room, placed rowan branches woven together with daisies on the window sills. She also made him wear half-a-dozen knotted bracelets, trying different patterns.
Nothing worked, or prevented the fairies from calling Dale to them.
This year had been no different.
The fairies had Dale’s name after all, since he’d been foolish enough to give it to them, before he’d learned the power names contained.
Before he’d learned about the true nature of fairies.
Still, the annual call of the fairies wasn’t that bad, not that Dale would ever admit that to his bossy sister.
Like every year, Dale had nightmares for a couple of weeks before the call actually came, dreaming of the death of their mom, the world falling into complete decay and stopping, or even the time he’d dreamed of a world where no other people lived.
Usually, the night before Bascom the warrior showed up, he’d appear to Dale in a dream. The next day, Bascom would be there in person, showing up in Dale’s room, usually too early in the morning while Dale was still half asleep. Bascom would demand that Dale come back to the kingdom with him, just for half a day, to repair some of Master Thaddeus’ failing c
lockwork.
Not the great machine, no. Just the parts for Bascom’s people, the warriors, who all had clockwork embedded in their bodies.
Dale knew it would take longer than half a day. But he never bothered to explain to Bascom why he wouldn’t go back.
He couldn’t admit how scared he was that he wouldn’t want to leave the fairy kingdom again. Only Nora’s stubbornness had gotten him out the first time.
This year, though, it hadn’t been Bascom who’d appeared to Dale in a dream. It had been the older guy, Cornelius, the Master Jeweler for the kingdom, the lead royal, since he’d never had himself declared king.
“Come,” Cornelius had told Dale in his dream. “To the yard.”
The Master Jeweler had looked so serious.
He’d also looked sick. His usual pale face was gray, and it seemed as though the bony ridge running down his nose was melting.
Dale knew better than to follow Cornelius out of the house, out of the protected space that Nora had made for them.
He hadn’t been able to resist, however.
Dale found himself walking out the side door after breakfast, one foot placed in front of the other, as if he was sleepwalking or in a really bad dream and couldn’t wake up or stop himself.
At least he’d been able to say something about the visit to Mom before he’d gone outside. Hopefully she’d repeat his words to Nora, that his sister would realize it was a clue.
Then Nora just had to arrive in time to save him. Again.
* * *
Nora raced forward to the spot where Dale had been standing near the Rowan trees, just before the blue light had flashed. She twisted the bracelet on her left wrist, the one she’d knotted with all the eyes, willing herself to see.
The stupid fairies hadn’t decided to kidnap her brother again, had they? She was so going to kill him if she had to rescue him again.
But no, Dale stood unmoving just beyond the trees, trapped in a bubble of blue light. More like an image of him, Nora realized—just the barest outline of him, thin and transparent.
Damn the fairies and their illusions! Nora knew that Dale would be invisible to anyone else. The fairies had been learning how to defend themselves against her Maker magic. Plus, seeing through their tricks wasn’t her strongest ability.
Nora knew she wasn’t actually seeing Dale—just a marker, to show approximately where he stood, a shadow cast by the bracelet she’d made for him.
Whoever Dale talked to was hidden.
Nora couldn’t just walk through the bubble and grab Dale—the circle of power he stood inside was too powerful. She cursed again. If only she were stronger!
But Nora had never found her teacher, someone to show her magic. She’d had to learn everything on her own.
Fortunately, Nora had some tricks up her sleeve as well. She reached down and grabbed a handful of wet grass, grimacing at the cold. She glared at her palm when she realized it was now stained green.
She was so going to kill Dale after she’d rescued him.
With deft fingers, Nora plucked out three of the longer stems from the bunch, plaited them together, then brought them to her lips, blowing fiercely. A loud buzzing hum emerged. Nora imagined it spreading out like her physics teacher had taught, in waves, breaking against the bubble barrier.
It was part of her latest experiments: Sound with Making.
Nora blew again, like that old story Brett had told her about, with Joshua and his golden trumpet, blowing down the walls of the old kingdom.
The bubble of light popped with a huge blue flash, leaving Dale standing clearly between the trees, talking with…a fairy who wasn’t Bascom.
The fairy stood willowy tall, almost coming up to Dale’s chest, in a formal black suit and vest. His huge, gossamer-gray wings shone pale in the early morning light. Four pairs of goggles were stacked one above the other on the brim of the top hat seated on his gray hair. Handmade tools hung from the gold chain strung across his waistcoat. Every one of his fingers was layered in jeweled rings. His face was slightly more comely than an ordinary fairy’s, though he still had a broad, bony ridge down the center of his nose, his mouth was unnaturally wide, and his golden eyes whirled madly.
Cornelius? What was the head of the fairy royalty doing here?
“Nora—” Mom called from behind her.
“Hide!” Nora whispered urgently to Dale and the fairy before she turned around.
Just in time to see her mother fall.
* * *
Dale felt as though he finally woke up when he stepped inside the blue bubble of magical protection that the Master Jeweler had generated, the flash of magic clearing away the last of Dale’s cobwebs. The day was actually clear, not gray, though that was how it had seemed when he’d first woken up. He could smell the ocean, though it was a mile away, and that odd trace of jasmine that the fairies had.
As always, Dale was surprised by how wrong the stories about the fairies were: The Master Jeweler would fit more comfortably in nightmares, not in dreams. They didn’t grant wishes, though they were masters of illusion.
At least Nora’s bracelets still worked against the fairy illusions. Dale saw the Master Jeweler as he truly was: With a bony ridge down the center of his nose, wild golden eyes, dressed formally in a black suit coat with tails, a vest, and a starched white shirt. His top hat had four pairs of goggles perched on above the other. Gold jeweler’s tools hung from the chain across his waistcoat.
“Good to see you, young man,” Cornelius said. Though he barely came up to Dale’s chest, he still nodded as if looking down from a great height.
“No,” Dale said, automatically. No matter what the royal might ask, Dale would say no.
Dale refused to get involved with the fairy court. Not ever again.
Come fall, Dale would be moving away from the region, going to the local Port City technical college. Though Dale had his misgivings, Nora insisted it would be safer that way. He’d be far away from the fairies. Even if there were others there, they wouldn’t know his name. They’d scouted the place as much as they could using the Internet and map views: They’d never found anything remotely magical. Nora would go with him when he first left to secure his dorm room, too.
“What do you mean, no?” Cornelius asked, frowning.
“Whatever you want me to do. No. I won’t,” Dale said. He wondered why it was Cornelius there, not Bascom, but he wasn’t about to ask.
Dale was not going to get involved with the court.
“Then I won’t ask you to listen, like I would a warrior. I’ll just talk,” Cornelius said.
The memory stabbed Dale—Queen Adele sharing a joke with him about warriors never listening. Dale ruthlessly suppressed it, but he couldn’t help but pay attention to Cornelius.
“The priests—I don’t think you ever met them,” Cornelius said. “They’re smart, though. Smarter than the warriors. Now I’m wondering if they’re even smarter than the royals.” He paused and gave a wry grin before continuing. “They left magic traps in the tunnels to the north of the kingdom.”
Tunnels north of the kingdom? Dale stiffened, understanding what Cornelius was talking about.
Kostya, the dwarf. His tunnels.
“We think Kostya had come back. This time, though, we won’t just send a warrior raid to try to capture him. This time, we’re going to bait a trap. Capture him. Make him pay for all the damage he’s done to our kingdom, by killing the king, and then killing the queen and her great machinery.”
Dale found himself nodding despite himself. Yes. That was good. Kostya should be made to pay for those deaths.
“We would like your help,” Cornelius said.
Dale opened his mouth then closed it again, pressing his lips together to keep inside any agreement. He hated Kostya, hated him like he’d never hated anything, not even brussels sprouts or radishes.
Though Dale had sabotaged the queen’s great machinery by redirecting the power so it never left the machine but just bu
ilt and built and built, he’d always told himself that it was the second explosion, caused by Kostya’s deadly insect—the ohotnik —and her poisonous eggs, that had actually killed the queen.
Dale opened his mouth to ask what exactly Cornelius had in mind, though he wouldn’t say yes, not at all, never, when a bright light flashed all around him.
“What?” Dale asked, looking around.
Nora stood there, pissed as a winter storm. Before she could tear into him, though, Dale heard his mom’s voice calling Nora’s name.
Dale turned. All his nightmares from the past weeks coalesced as he watched her fall, crumbling like an autumn leaf.
* * *
Denise sighed as she tried to concentrate on the file she was proofing on her ereader, after her daughter Nora had gone in search of her twin brother. Denise already knew she’d have to go back and re-proof the last few pages, maybe even the entire chapter. She picked up her half-full coffee mug from the kitchen table and debated making a fresh cup, then she glanced over her shoulder at the sink. There weren’t many dishes to do—a couple plates scattered with toast crumbs, the large glass Dale had guzzled milk from—maybe she should wash those first. That way she’d be doing something constructive until the twins left for school.
At least Denise thought she understood why the twins were being so squirrely, beyond it being the last day of high school.
The five-year anniversary of Denise’s last heart attack—caused by a faulty pacemaker battery—was coming up.
Dale always grew so pensive around this time of year. He’d spend more time at home, not hiding in his room and working on whatever bit of clockwork or machinery had caught his eye, but hanging out with Denise and Nora. He wouldn’t tease his sister as much, and when Denise looked up from whatever she’d been working on, she’d often find him staring either at Nora or at her.
Nora grew fiercely protective at this time of year as well, asking Dale constantly if he was all right until he snapped at her. She would make him wear strangely colored and knotted macramé bracelets, as well as insisting that Denise wear one or two as well.
