by Leah Cutter
“Hey, Mom—” was all Dale managed to get out before she started speaking over him
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Can you talk? Where are you?”
“I’m fine, really,” Dale said, his heart warming. “We’re driving down the highway, heading inland.”
“We have Nora,” Mom said. “And we’re coming to meet you.”
“That’s great,” Dale said. “Is she okay?” The need to see his sister, his twin, washed over him and he had to blink suddenly at the overpowering emotion.
“Shaken up,” Mom admitted. “And she needs to get out of town, still.”
“All right. Meet us at—” Dale looked out and gave directions to the next exit, as well as the fast food joint they’d be at.
After Dale had hung up, he told Dad, “We’re still going to be the cavalry. Just a bit different.”
Dad was going to drive off with Nora, taking her out of harm’s way.
While Dale was going to have to go back and face the monster again.
* * *
Adele flopped onto a bench in the warrior’s barracks, drained beyond belief. The battle with the Maker had left her more exhausted than the three-day flight up the coast. All she wanted to do was sleep for a year. She couldn’t answer Garung’s questions. Couldn’t address Pravir’s snide comments. Could only close her eyes and drop into the deepest sleep she could find.
Soon, far too soon, Adele found herself being dragged back into consciousness. Her wings ached and needed to be oiled. Her stomach still rumbled, needing fuel. Even her will hurt, after defending herself so fiercely.
But someone was not letting her sleep, had the strength to draw her back up.
When Adele opened her eyes, she grimaced. “Bascom,” she murmured. When had the warrior gotten so strong? Despite his illness?
“You must wake,” Bascom said sternly. “And face judgment.”
“Judgment?” Adele asked, confused. What had she done to warrant that?
“You have been directed to appear before the council,” Bascom continued.
Adele forced herself to sit up. She brushed at her garments, using a feeble thread of magic to straighten them.
She didn’t bother to clean them: She would continue to proudly wear the blood of her enemies.
Garung and two of the other students sat at the far end of the barracks, talking with a warrior there. Three other students talked with another pair of warriors.
They should be saving their strength, sleeping and resting, not being students and exploring and learning.
Adele had a bad feeling about this.
* * *
The council met in the room that had held Queen Adele’s bone-white throne. The curtains had all been drawn back, showing murals of forest glens and mushroom circles. Sparkling will-o’-the-wisps shone from every corner, brighter than the usual fairy lights. Her throne had been taken down, along with the platform it had sat on. Instead, all the royals gathered together in the open room, circling and chatting.
It was worse than the council of the Redwood Fairy Kingdom. How could Cornelius stand it? To rule without a title?
But Adele had no doubt that rule he did. Conversation had died out when she’d been escorted into the room, then had sprung back up again.
When Cornelius came into the room, silence spread in waves and all the fairies turned, attending to him. He demanded their attention without a word, a throne, or a title.
Adele was impressed despite herself.
Cornelius walked from the door into the center of the group. They spread out behind him, until as one they faced Adele, who stood with just Bascom, her back to the doors.
“Adele, though once you were queen of the Greater Oregon Kingdom, we now banish you. You must leave this place, never to return,” Cornelius proclaimed.
Not one of the fairies standing behind him looked tentative or unsure. Quite a few—including Imogene and Gideon—bared their teeth at her.
They had probably wanted to kill her, not banish her.
“Why?” Adele asked. What had she done?
“The Maker knows your name,” Cornelius said. “You can’t be trusted.”
“She doesn’t know it fully!” Adele complained, stung. “And I know hers as well.”
“Not good enough,” Cornelius said. “Can you guarantee that she’ll never be able to control you? That you’ll never slip someday, and give her an edge?”
“You know I can’t,” Adele said bitterly. “But she will never completely control me. I will have her in my power, someday.”
“Even if you do somehow manage that feat,” Cornelius said, “you are never to return here. The Maker is stronger than you realize.”
“And if I do return?” Adele asked. She knew the answer, but she wanted to make Cornelius say it.
“I will kill you, old friend,” Cornelius said softly.
The truth of it chilled Adele. Her oldest friend had changed, dramatically.
It was ironic, really. She’d worked so hard to get her subjects to find their fierce fairy hearts.
It seemed that Cornelius had found his.
* * *
Garung bitterly faced the midday sun. It irked him that they were being turned out from the Greater Oregon Fairy Kingdom so quickly.
That they’d barely accomplished any of the things they’d set out to do depressed him further. His trips were probably only going to be sung about as mourning tunes. He was certain they’d lose more students on the flight back, either dropping from exhaustion or in battle.
And it was all her fault.
Garung glared again at Adele. He didn’t know why she’d been banished, but Bascom, the head of the warriors, had let them all know that while only Adele’s banishment was formal, the rest of them were not welcome to return.
Ever.
At least the warriors escorting them had taken them out of the kingdom at the northern end. Titir said he could navigate the coast, using the human highways instead of the ocean, and so they might be able to avoid King Ramit and the Forest Fairy Kingdom warriors.
Cornelius had promised not to inform King Ramit of his decision to turn the southern fairies loose until after the moon had fully risen. That gave them a good flying start.
Garung looked at the fairies strung in a line behind him. They all looked as grim as he felt. They knew what was ahead. None of them was looking forward to another race down the coast.
Or to the battles that would happen at home.
Garung wouldn’t be surprised if he lost a couple of the students to King Ramit—not as victims, but as converts. Easier to do that than to face their parents.
Face the probability of the Forest Fairy Kingdom declaring war on the Redwood Fairy Kingdom.
“This is as far as we will go,” Thirza announced after they’d been flying for just a short while.
Garung wanted to protest. They’d been promised an escort to the borders of the Oregon Kingdom. He’d assumed that meant the border between Oregon and California.
Garung and his troop turned to face Thirza and the others. “We will go,” he told them. “And we won’t return.”
“As will I,” “And I,” “And I.”
Half a dozen of the warriors that had been escorting the troop suddenly flew across the invisible line separating Garung and his troop from the Oregon warriors.
Including Bascom.
“What?” Thirza screeched. “What is the meaning of this?”
“They need our help. More than Cornelius does,” Bascom explained. “They have goods to trade. And battles to face. All we have here is order and routine.”
“You’re a traitor,” Thirza declared.
“Am I?” Bascom challenged. “Or am I fulfilling the will of the royals by ensuring that Adele never returns?”
Garung kept his smile to himself. He’d been the one who had approached Bascom, proposing that he follow his former queen into exile, both ensuring her safety and her banishment.
Thirza shook
her head. “You’ve been sick,” she said. “The Tinker is returning. This year.”
“He won’t be able to fix us. You know that,” Bascom chided. “He’s a patch on a mortal wound.”
“And what about Kostya?” Thirza demanded.
Garung’s eyes widened. He’d thought Adele’s story had been a lie.
Bascom shrugged. “What about him? He’s a single dwarf. Surely you and the other warriors can handle him.”
Had Adele told Cornelius that Kostya had returned? And he’d believed her?
Or had the dwarf really come back?
It wasn’t as if Garung would ever find out. They weren’t ever going to return to this cursed kingdom.
“We need to go,” Garung announced. The others all looked to him. It was very gratifying.
Maybe all the songs about him wouldn’t be sad. Maybe he could return with most of this troop, as well as some new blood.
He could only try.
“Let’s fly,” Garung told the group.
They turned as one and began to fly south.
Flying home.
* * *
Dale breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Mom’s car pull into the parking lot. Not because he had nothing to say to Dad—they’d actually gotten along better than Dale would have thought. They both still liked basketball, though they disagreed about which teams should be in the playoffs. Dad had a wicked sense of humor too, though Dale quickly realized that at least half of what Dad said was meant to make fun of him, not have fun with him.
Still, he wasn’t going to regret calling his dad once a month or so.
Nora got out of the car stiffly, standing and waiting until Mom also got out. She turned awkwardly, as if she’d been hurt. Then she and Mom walked slowly across the blacktop.
When they stepped into the sunshine, Nora’s hair suddenly shone with an odd silver glow, as if her hair was no longer black and straight, but made from silver curls.
She was completely free of the creature, wasn’t she? Dale waited warily until his sister stood directly in front of him.
“Doofus,” Nora said fondly, before pulling Dale into a hug. Her hands were so hot—she must have been doing a lot of magic recently.
Dale felt his reservations melt away. Of course this was Nora. It couldn’t be anyone else.
“Idiot,” Dale murmured into her hair, giving her a fierce hug before pulling back. “You okay?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Getting better,” Nora admitted. “I’ll call, later, when we get to a hotel.”
“Mrs. Wentworth said to drive, and keep driving, don’t stop,” Mom said, interrupting.
“We’ll get as far as we can on this tank of gas,” Nora said. “And we won’t stop until after we’re past the Oregon border.”
“The devil’s really got your number, doesn’t he?” their dad suddenly asked.
“Yeah, he does,” Nora said, smiling at him. “And you’re going to help me run away from him.”
“’Bout time you came to your senses. We’ll pray together, later,” Dad promised.
Dale nodded. Though Dad was still a pig, and he didn’t really like Nora that much, he’d at least try to do the right thing.
“We’ve got to go,” Nora said. She squeezed Dale’s bicep with her too-hot hand. “Take care of Mom. I’ll send you extra protection later, to help when you work with the fairies.”
“Thanks,” Dale said. He suspected he might need it. “And what about Brett?”
Nora gave him a crooked smile. “Mrs. Wentworth assured me that he won’t come after you again. He’ll still be focused on me for a while. Once he realizes he can’t get to me, his interest in the family will disappear.”
“You sure?” Dale asked.
Nora shrugged. “He’ll probably go after the fairies first.”
Dale nodded grimly. According to Dad, they’d tried to thwart Brett’s attempt to kill him.
“Don’t you start feeling sorry for them,” Nora warned. “You only need to help them for a single day this year. Don’t be getting involved in their wars.”
“I won’t,” Dale promised, though he knew it wasn’t a promise he could keep.
Nora squeezed his arm one last time, gave Mom a quick hug, then looked at Dad and said, “Let’s roll.”
Dale desperately wanted to say something to his sister about her choice of boyfriend—anything to lighten this goodbye.
All he did was stand back as they pulled out of the parking spot.
Then Nora rolled down her window. “Don’t make me come and rescue your ass again,” she warned.
“Idiot,” Dale said with a grin. “Don’t you go getting your soul enslaved again. Or I’ll have to come and kick your butt all over Texas.”
With a last wave, Nora rode out of the parking lot in Dad’s car. Dale went over to stand next to Mom, who put her arm around his waist (he was too tall for her to put it over his shoulders, as she once had).
“She’ll be fine,” Mom said, as it to reassure herself as much as Dale.
“Of course she will be,” Dale said. Because no matter how far away Nora went, she was still his sister. His twin.
And they’d always race to each other’s rescue.
* * *
Brett knew that waiting was dangerous. He stood out on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, breathing in the winds, letting them heal the rest of his damage from the infernal car striking him. The ancient sunlight still sparkled on the waves and Brett could almost forget the human encroachments on either side of him, remember how the beach had looked—and how little the ocean had changed—across the millennia. a
While Brett waited, the Maker was getting farther and farther away. The silly attempt this morning by the Maker and the teacher to obscure her path had been pitiful, really.
Why did they think they could fool him? Particularly after the teacher had already fooled him once? He knew exactly where Nora had gone, off in the car with that father of hers.
Still, Brett waited. That damned car had hit him at exactly the wrong time, just as Nora had taken the ring off, had torn out the heart of his spells. He’d been at his most vulnerable. The car certainly hadn’t come close to killing him, but it was taking him longer to heal than he’d expected. Longer to regain his speed, and Nora was driving away from him with all the artificial swiftness her kind could muster.
Longer to muster his will.
He really was getting old.
Of course, there would be mates in the future. He wasn’t that old, he assured himself. Yes, Nora had been special. But didn’t all humans consider themselves special? She would have conveyed such strength to his brood, though.
There was still a chance that he could win her back, bend her will to his, but the farther she got from the center of his territory, the harder it would be. The weaker his own strength would be.
Brett stood up straighter, pushing back against the winds.
It was time. To either convince the Maker of the error of her ways, or to kill her, and her father as well.
It didn’t much matter to him which one she chose at this point.
* * *
The car finally pulled over to get fuel at a station just across the border of Brett’s territory. Had the Maker stopped there on purpose? The day was still hot, the sun beating down, unyielding, no winds to cool them this far from the ocean.
While the father stayed with the car, the girl walked away, toward the station.
Brett had stepped into her path unexpectedly. “Hello, beautiful,” he told her.
And she was still beautiful, with her long dark hair and dark eyes.
“O’onakie. I expected you miles ago,” Nora replied with a chuckle.
“You’ll find that I still have enough strength to deal with you,” Brett promised her.
“Deal with who?” the Maker asked. Her dark hair glowed brightly in the sunlight, flaring in a halo of silver.
Silver curls.
“You!” Brett proclaimed. The teacher
. How had she fooled him again, particularly when he’d been so certain this time? The winds whipped around both of them. Brett couldn’t contain his growl of frustration.
The only reason he didn’t kill her immediately was because he had to admire and respect her skill.
From the front pocket of her patchwork quilt skirt, the teacher pulled out a baggie full of powdered silver. “You were tracking yourself, I’m afraid,” she said. “This is from the chain you used to tie Nora to the bed.”
Brett took the bag and weighed it. The teacher was far too clever, as had been the Maker.
It was a shame they both had to die.
“You really should wait until tonight, to kill me in my sleep,” the teacher told him before he could strangle her. “Far less questions about a wild young man on the highway at a national truck stop.” She glanced up at the security cameras on the side of the building.
Brett grimaced. He could always take care of all of that…but the teacher was probably right. “There could always be an accident,” he said softly. “Once you get back in the car.”
“No guarantee I’d die,” the teacher pointed out. “They do make these things called safety features, you know, in these modern vehicles.”
“I’d make sure of it,” Brett promised her. “And him, too.” He owed her a death.
“No, not him,” the teacher said immediately. “I know he hurt you.”
Brett gave a snort. “Barely,” he lied.
“If you don’t kill him, he’ll always live in terror of you,” the teacher reasonably pointed out. “See him?”
The father stood on the far side of the pumps, looking over the car in shock. He’d wet himself in fear.
It was good to know that he could still strike such terror into men’s hearts.
“Tonight, then,” Brett promised the teacher. He still had her scent, and could find her easily enough, after he’d figured out where exactly Nora had gone.
“I’ll still fight you,” the teacher told him.
“I look forward to our dance,” Brett told her, before sliding away, flowing back into the winds.
He was looking forward to testing her strength, her cleverness, her cruelty, before he took her soul.
She couldn’t be allowed to live, no matter how much he admired her.
