Fairy Keeper (28 page)

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.

Nell spoke for all of them when she said, “Was that what I think it was?”

Micah replied, “It was a young dragon, yes, but please know it is rare for any creature in these woods to attack. Many years ago, when they were larger and fiercer, this was not the case. But now? I have never seen a dragon attack. My father said the dragons had mostly returned to hibernation, without enough magic to sustain such large beasts.”

“Larger?
Fiercer
?” Corbin voiced the same thought Sierra had. “Any fiercer and it would have roasted us!”

Micah chuckled, and his laughter ran over Sierra like rain. Corbin shifted on the rock, and she wondered if he noticed Micah’s laughter seemed almost physically present, too. Or was it only her, having shared magic with him?

“The magic of your fairy queens drew the young dragon, I think. I have seen many creatures in this forest that would make humans fear them, but none are as deadly as humanity itself. Humans, ever fearful, have hunted many magical creatures of these mountains into near extinction. After all, part of why fairies began bonding to humans was to gain protection from other humans who would use them, enslave them, or kill them.” His voice lost all humor as he finished his statement.

Sierra couldn’t get the image of the dragon out of her mind. Her home seemed so tame in comparison. The only familiar magical creatures she’d seen on this journey were the fairies.

The fairies in question had found the group again and darted around the camp as if playing a child’s game of “Come Catch Me.”

Nell climbed to her feet, her face slowly draining of expression. Her pupils expanded until they nearly eclipsed the blue of her eyes, leaving only a pale ring to her iris.

The same rich voice they’d heard once before rolled out from her mouth, a majestic alto. The voice simply took over like a puppeteer using a marionette.

“Humanity can be murderous. Like scavengers stealing the bricks from a bridge, causing it to collapse, so do humans steal the life-force of our world in large ways and small. Every magic-born creature enslaved is one more hole in our foundation. Soon, if these tragedies are not stopped, the foundation will collapse. Begin with the fairies.”