Fairy Queens: Books 1-4 Read online

  After pushing Otec into a chair, Narium handed him a cup of the Argon’s legendary beer, and gave Seneth a cup of something that smelled like honey and licorice.

  “Send a couple of pigeons to High Chief Burdin. He’ll tell my father and Hargar.” Seneth took a careful drink. “I can’t believe I had Raiders as guests at my clan house.”

  Narium set bread and cheese in front of Otec, then took out some fibrous paper, cut it into two strips, and began writing, her characters small and tight.

  “Tell them there are five hundred Raiders,” Otec said without looking at her. Once his father and brothers were here, everything would be all right. They would defeat the Raiders and free his family.

  Seneth gasped. “There weren’t that many before!”

  “The women were fighting alongside their men,” Otec said.

  Seneth sat back in his chair, clearly dumbfounded. “That’s—”

  “I saw it myself.” Otec took a deep pull of his beer, the bitterness fanning across his tongue. He heard people filtering into the great hall.

  Lips pressed into a thin line, Seneth made to stand up. Narium put her hands on his shoulders to keep him down. “There’s no point until they’re all here.”

  Seneth cast her a look. “I’m going to have to talk to them eventually.” Trying not to cough had turned his face red.

  “Push too hard and you won’t be any help to anyone,” Narium shot back.

  “Don’t coddle me,” he growled, but she was already halfway to the door that led outside. Seneth turned to Otec. “Tell me everything that happened.”

  Otec relayed the important parts. Then he pulled out Matka’s satchel, which he’d gone through earlier. The food was long gone. Left were her drawing tools—charcoal, board, vellum, and extra paper—worthless bits without the magic of her touch. A few of her drawings, mostly plants. But there was also the drawing of the Shyle. Otec’s village would never be the same, now that the Raiders had burned and violated it.

  The flower Otec had carved for Matka was gone; she must have kept it with her. He was glad. He had a piece of her, and now she had a piece of him.

  Her satchel also contained some small bags of a sharp-smelling powder, which Otec explained must be luminash. Seneth rubbed it between his fingers. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to explode.”

  Otec took a pinch between his thumb and finger and tossed it onto the coals. It flared a hot, bright white that quickly faded. He and Seneth stared at the fireplace as if they’d never seen it before.

  They tried each of the four pouches. One burned bright and hot, one burned for a long time, one burned in a multitude of beautiful flames, and the fourth burned orange and long, like an ember.

  “This could be very useful,” Seneth said, rubbing his throat as if it pained him. “We’ll have to send scouts to warn us if the Raiders come out of the pass.”

  Otec gestured toward the village. “I saw nothing but women and children. Who will you send?”

  Seneth hesitated. “The boys the militia left behind. They’re faster and lighter than the men anyway.”

  “They’re children,” Otec choked out.

  “It’s that or send the women,” Seneth growled. He shot Otec a sheepish look. “I’ve been sick abed for over a week—it’s why I’m here being hounded by my pregnant wife instead of at the front lines with the others.” As if to punctuate his words, Seneth started into a coughing fit.

  Otec dropped his head, the shame of being purposely left behind burning through him.

  Narium reappeared at the doorway. “It’s done.”

  Imagining the fate of his mother and sisters, Otec told Seneth, “You should evacuate the women to Tyron. They’ll be safer there.”

  Seneth stared at his hands before looking up. “They won’t be happy about it, but I’ll see it’s done.” He looked at Narium for confirmation. After a brief hesitation, she nodded.

  Otec watched them, a sudden pang for Matka’s safety shooting through him. Was she dead? Were all the women he cared about dead?

  Seneth lumbered to his feet. Legs shaking from exhaustion, Otec followed him into the massive great hall. It was packed with adults, mostly women and a scattering of elder men. All of them stared at him, but he didn’t get the familiar sick lump in his stomach. Being intimidated by crowds suddenly seemed a small thing after all he had been through.

  Wasting no time, Seneth announced, “The women and children will flee to Tyron.”

  “Isn’t that closer to the armada bearing down on our shores?” asked an older woman.

  Seneth eyed her. “There’s nothing but a few leagues between a company of five hundred Raiders and our village. Any boy over the age of thirteen will be staying, as will any man strong enough to use a bow or axe. The rest of you have two hours to pack what you need.”

  An immediate outcry rose up. “No!”

  “My boys aren’t old enough to go to war!”

  “They’ll be cut down like wheat before a sickle!”

  Seneth held out his hands. “Every single one of them can use a bow and arrow. And they’re all we have.”

  A middle-aged woman stepped forward. “I’ll fight in my son’s place.”

  Seneth squeezed his fists tight, the only sign he was frustrated. “And who will raise your other children if your husband dies, Getta? You’re needed elsewhere. The boys are faster and stronger.”

  She opened her mouth to argue.

  “A clanwoman does not ask for things she shouldn’t,” Seneth roared. “You will be leaving in two hours, regardless of how long you stand here arguing with me!”

  The younger women were already filing out—they probably didn’t have sons old enough to stay. Some of the older women followed them.

  Seneth motioned for a couple of women to come forward. “Getta, Allis, I’m going to need your boys to ride for the canyon on the fastest horses we have left. If they see the Raiders coming, they’re to light a signal fire and come back at once.”

  “No,” Getta said in a trembling voice. Allis dropped her head as if it weighed too much to hold up.

  “Get them both ready,” Seneth commanded. “I want them gone within the hour. But send them here first.”

  Getta clamped her jaw shut.

  Allis cast Narium a helpless look. “Please—”

  Narium looked into the woman’s eyes. “They’re the best chance we have, and right now the clan needs them.”

  The fight seemed to leak out of both women.

  Otec marveled at Seneth’s resolve. The way he expected his people to follow him—to trust him—to the point where he demanded it. Otec didn’t think he could ever do that.

  Seneth nodded to Narium. “Help the boys get ready.”

  Without hesitation she marched out of the room, Allis right behind her. Getta paused before turning to leave, but not before she shot one last glare at Seneth.

  As soon as they were gone, Seneth broke into a coughing fit. He stumbled back into the kitchen, where he tried to pour himself another cup of tea with shaky hands. Otec took the pot from him and poured. Seneth took a swallow, wincing when the hot liquid went down. He sank into the chair, out of breath.

  “How do you know the women will obey you? You can’t really enforce it,” Otec said.

  Seneth closed his eyes. “I won’t have to. The boys are too proud to stay behind now that they’re being treated like men.”

  “Are you in any state to lead?” Otec asked.

  Seneth opened his eyes. “Are you?”

  “I was never meant to lead. I’m a throw-away son.”

  Seneth poured more beer into Otec’s cup. “Not anymore.”

  Three boys stepped into the clan house. “The twins are Ake and Arvid, Allis’s boys,” Seneth said. “Getta’s boy is Ivar.” They stood straight and tall, but one of the twins was obviously terrified. The other had sweat on his brow. Ivar simply seemed excited.

  Seneth looked them over. “There are Raiders in the pass. And there’s nothing
between them and us but a few leagues.

  “Mother said we’re to watch and light a signal fire if we see any of them,” Ivar said with enthusiasm.

  “There’s a bit more to it than that,” Seneth explained. “Even if our clanmen push through a forced march from the coast, it’ll take at least four days for them to get here. The Raiders will attack before then. They’d be stupid not to.”

  One of the twins—Otec couldn’t remember which—shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then asked, “What do you want us to do?”

  Seneth started coughing again, so it was half a minute before he could answer. “I want you to light the forest on fire. Gather up clusters of dried brush and make a long line. Just be sure the wind is driving the fire up the pass instead of down on us before you start it.”

  “And if the wind changes direction?” Otec said.

  “Then the plan fails.” Seneth pointed to the pouch of open luminash on the table. “You’re going to use this to do it.”

  Otec felt the blood drain from his face. Using fire as a weapon was like trying to catch a wild badger—at some point it would turn around and bite. “Seneth—”

  “Do you see another way, Otec? Because if you do, I’ll gladly take it. As it is, this is as likely to fail as not.”

  Otec chewed on his lower lip, trying to come up with something else, but what else was there? They had to delay the Raiders while they waited for the clanmen to come, or everything was lost.

  “I’m going with them,” he said, surprising himself. He couldn’t let these children face this alone, and he was done being left behind.

  Seneth shot him a look. “Just standing makes you shake.”

  “Then give me a horse,” Otec said, his voice quiet but determined.

  Seneth started to grin and then seemed to think better of it. “I’d be no good to you—not with this sickness.”

  Otec nodded. “Run things here. We’ll be back.”

  Narium appeared at the door. “We’re ready.”

  “Bring out another horse,” Seneth said. “Otec is going.”

  Narium’s mouth tightened, but she whirled around and called for another horse by name, then ordered women to gather more food and do it now.

  Feeling weak, Otec forced himself to stand. He took the boys outside, where a fourth horse was being brought out.

  Seneth stood at the doorway. “Otec, I’m sending a pigeon with you. If . . .” His gaze darted to the mothers, who were wringing their hands and whimpering. He lowered his voice. “I’ll set up more watchers, but you have to send the birds back or we won’t have enough warning.”

  Otec understood. If they were captured or killed, Argonholm wouldn’t know until it was too late to flee. “I’ll keep them nearby.”

  Narium brought him the horse. “Your body is going to fail you soon. Let the boys work tonight while you sleep, or you’ll be worse than useless.” She handed him a couple of herb bags. “The one that smells bad is for nights. The one that tastes bad is for the mornings. A palmful of each.”

  He stuffed them in his saddlebags. “Thank you, Narium.” He swung up into the saddle and rode away as the people of Argonholm frantically packed what they could onto wagons and the backs of horses.

  Ivar immediately took the lead, and Otec let him. The boy would learn soon enough that being a man mostly meant extra work and more responsibility. Otec and the boys paced the horses, rotating between walking, trotting, and galloping.

  Ake and Arvid were quiet and watchful. “Do you know the canyon well?” Otec asked them. The twins nodded in harmony. “There’s a place where the forest is thick and the pass narrow,” Otec went on. “We’ll make for there. Understand?”

  “Yes,” the twins said in unison.

  Ivar dropped back to ride with Otec. “They’re a bit creepy,” he muttered under his breath. “But eventually you sort of get used to them.”

  “You must listen to me, Ivar. I’ve faced these Raiders, and they are fast and merciless. If I say run, you have to promise me that you will.” Otec met the boy’s gaze and refused to look away until he agreed. Then Otec glanced back at the twins. “You two as well.” Both nodded.

  At nightfall, after hours in the saddle, they reached the pass between Argon and Shyle. It was heavily wooded here, with the forest constantly overtaking the wagon-rutted road. Otec sent one of the boys farther up the pass to keep watch; the others he set about gathering anything flammable and laying it on the ground in a long line. Then he went to sleep.

  At daybreak, Ake woke Otec to say, “Arvid saw the Raiders. They’ll be here by midmorning.”

  Otec groaned. His legs felt like they were full of sharp-edged gravel. He rubbed them down while one of the twins handed him the tea Narium had packed for him, plus a slice of bread slathered with butter and blackberry jam. By the time he’d eaten he could move, though it still hurt and he walked with a limp. He glanced at the long line of sticks and brush the boys had managed to make during the night.

  He took out the four bags of luminash, preparing to tell the boys how to use it, when Arvid came running through the heavy trees. “There are scouts at the front—a dozen of them. They’ll be here any moment!”

  Otec tried to peer through the thick forest. It was innocent and beautiful . . . and waiting to be burned. “Light the torches!” When Ivar didn’t move, Otec shoved him toward the horses, which were tethered in a meadow behind them. “Go!”

  Running, Otec began spreading the powder onto the line of sticks and brush. The luminash clung to his sweat and burned the shallow cuts on his palms as it billowed out like fine dust. With one bag emptied, he glanced back at the boys, who still struggled to light a torch.

  He heard a shout and glanced past the boys to see a dozen Raiders bearing down on them. Abandoning the line of debris, Otec sprinted toward the boys. “Back to the horses. Let the pigeon go.” The twins abandoned their kindling and rushed toward the horses.

  Ivar still hunched over his kindling. “I have a coal.” He blew on it, determination written on his round face.

  Otec stepped protectively in front of him, drawing his bow. He let loose an arrow, but it imbedded in a tree instead of a Raider. He wouldn’t have a clear shot until the enemy was nearly upon them. “Ivar, go now!”

  The boy blew gently, his hands shaking. Smoke surrounded his head as hungry flames rose and began to lick up the kindling. Otec turned to face the Raiders, letting loose three arrows as they sloshed through the river, but only managed to hit one man. Two dozen steps and the Raiders would be on them. Otec couldn’t stop eleven of them.

  Ivar had touched the torch to the fragile frames. “Throw it!” Otec shouted.

  Ivar hurtled the torch into the luminash-dusted debris. It flared bright, a blast of heat that sent Otec reeling.

  He glanced through smoke and flames to see the Raiders hurtled backward. The fire flashed along the kindling, stopping where he had stopped spreading luminash when he’d run back to protect the boys. Otec clenched his teeth. “Come on, burn!” But there was no wind, and the flames consumed the trees but didn’t spread beyond them.

  The Raiders split into two groups. Half moved around the fire to come at the clanmen from below. The other half drew back their bows.

  Otec hauled another bag out of his pocket and raced to the line of fire. Arrows began raining down. He ran faster, barely limping. But it wasn’t going to be enough. They were going to stop him. They were going to put out the flames.

  And then a white blur shot past him, snatching the bag of powder out of his hands. The owl’s sharp beak tore a small hole in the bag, and powder flowed out in a thin stream like sand from an hourglass. The fire flashed after the luminash, ate up the powder as it fell from the sky, and collided with a tree still covered in dry autumn leaves. The tree burst into flames, thick smoke churning up and turning the sun blood red.

  One of the Raiders skidded to a halt, “Luminash is sacred!” Fury cast harsh lines across his face. He brought up his bow,
aiming for the owl.

  Otec loaded an arrow. “Ivar! Help me!” The boy loosed an arrow, which sliced into a Raider, sending him to his knees.

  Otec released his arrow, feeling the twang of the bow as it vibrated in his hand. The Raider who had taken aim at the owl staggered back, an arrow in his chest. Otec felt no sorrow, no regret. Only a bone-deep satisfaction. He drew back and released another arrow. And another.

  The owl returned, talons open, and Otec tossed her another bag. She caught it and pivoted in midair, her beak tearing a hole as she whirled about. Then the twins were beside Otec on their horse, releasing arrow after arrow.

  With the owl’s help, the fire spread farther up the pass, devouring the distance to the Raiders, who turned and ran as the smoke stalked them, the fire feeding a growing wind that howled after them.

  When the owl had spread all the luminash, she landed on a lower limb of a tree, far away from the flames, and looked at Otec as if waiting.

  Without breaking eye contact with her, he said to the boys, “Stay here, and whatever you do, don’t look at the owl.” Matka had refused to look—she’d been terrified of it.

  “I killed men?” Ivar said.

  Otec turned back to find the boy shaking, his previous confidence gone.

  “Ake, Arvid, get him back to Argonholm. Let them know the pigeon was wrong. The fire will hold them.”

  “How do you—” Ake began.

  “Go now!” Otec ordered.

  Once they had turned their mounts and galloped away, he approached the owl and stopped before it, his horse dancing restlessly beneath him. The bird watched him with far too much intelligence. As soon as Otec thought this, the owl shivered, its body shimmering. The feathers shrank and disappeared, leaving behind slate-purple skin and a human-like face with black lips. She wore a short, feathered dress, and her hair was snow white with black tips. Her long ears pointed away from her head. But her eyes were still yellow, and the wings on her back still resembled those of an owl.

  “You’re a fairy,” Otec said in disbelief. This was the creature that had terrorized Matka, the creature that had somehow warned her the night she was captured.