Bones of Faerie

by Janni Lee Simner

  Caleb didn't seem to hear. His hands beneath hers were clenched into fists. He looked at me again, and I looked to the floor.

  “You can't go after her alone, and I know better than to expect you'd let me go with you. But the boy will go.

  I don't know what you are to each other, but he has followed you this far. He'll not abandon you now.”

  I took a step back. “How do you know I'm going?” I hadn't told anyone but Karin yet.

  “It was a guess, nothing more, given what I saw. Did I guess wrong?”

  He had no right to see all he did. He had no right to guess at what I'd do before I'd even decided for myself.

  I heard quiet conversation and footsteps on the stairs. Samuel and Karin stepped into the room as Caleb stood, shaking, and walked toward me. My chest pounded with the fear that he might enter my thoughts once more, but he only opened his fist and dropped something into my palm—a metal disk not much wider than my thumb, hanging from a chain. “Find your mother, Liza.” Caleb's voice trembled like water beneath wind. “And when you do, tell her I am sorry. Tell her she was right.”

  He fell to his knees. Allie cried out. Samuel and Karin ran to help him to his feet. “You need rest,” Allie said severely.

  Caleb stumbled toward the door. Allie started after him, but Karin laid a hand on her shoulder. “I'll see him safely home,” Karin said. “He'll be fine, I promise. You stay here and help Liza pack, all right?” Allie swallowed and nodded. Karin helped Caleb from the room. “You're a fool,” she said to him again, not with anger this time.

  Allie whispered, “Caleb could have killed himself, pushing so far without a watcher. Why didn't he call me? I would have helped him. He knows that.”

  Samuel drew her close. If he was still angry at her for going beyond the Wall, he gave no sign. “Caleb knew you would have stopped him. And he knew he needed to do it anyway.”

  “I don't understand,” Allie complained.

  I looked down at the disk in my hand. The surface was worn and tarnished, but I could tell the metalwork came from Before. The picture etched on its surface was more intricate than anything we had craft for now: on one side a man's face, on the other a silver arch over a river, stretching from one forest to another. A boat lay on the river, but the arch was what caught my eye. A huge metal arch stretching from river to sky…

  Words were inscribed on the disk: Missouri on one side, United States of America on the other. Old words, words from Before. But the Arch—what was it doing on the disk Caleb had handed me? That made no more sense than his knowing my mother's name. I felt like Allie, like

  I didn't understand. I slipped the chain around my neck, letting the disk hang beneath my sweater.

  “Liza.”

  I looked up at the sound of Samuel's voice.

  “Karin has told me where you must go, though she didn't have time to tell me why. I don't like it, but— whatever you require for your journey, I will see that you have it.”

  “Why?” I asked before I could stop myself. I was just a stranger here, and yet they'd done so much for me already. “Why did you let me into your town at all?”

  “Because that's what people do,” Samuel said, just as Caleb had. But then he added, softer, “Because it's what we forgot to do during the War.” He stroked his daughter's tangled hair. “Because some of us have sworn, on our very lives, that we won't forget again.”

  Chapter 9

  Samuel gave me all I asked for: flint and steel, plastic water bottles, a change of clothes. Bedrolls and warm leather jackets. Several days’ food.

  He gave me things I didn't ask for, too, not because I didn't need them, but because I feared to ask too much: long cloaks oiled against the rain. A leather tarp, oiled as well. Cooking pots and extra socks. A hunting bow, so strong and light I knew it came from Before. A small plastic torch, also from Before, that produced a beam of cold white light at the push of a button. Tallow sniffed each item Samuel handed me as I packed. Allie watched us, sulking, from the couch.

  “Most of our batteries are long dead,” Samuel said as he showed me how the torch worked. “But a few have held their charge, against all reason.” He thrust the torch into my hand, along with an extra set of batteries. “I've been saving these until there was need. And I'll sleep better knowing you have a reliable light with you.”

  “At least tell me where you're going!” Allie said. I realized neither Samuel nor I had told her. I drew Caleb's disk from beneath my sweater and showed her the Arch.

  Samuel set down the coil of rope he was handing me, good nylon rope from Before. “The Arch was where the War began. The Arch and the Needle and the Pools. You know that, don't you?”

  I shook my head. I hadn't known. “The Arch was at the heart of the city,” Samuel said. “St. Louis, gateway to the west. You sure you have to go there, Liza?”

  The dark look on his face sent icy shivers down my spine. I knew about the city, of course, knew that it had fallen much harder than the towns. I forced my voice to stay steady, feigning confidence I didn't feel. “Karin said you know the way.”

  Samuel rested his head in his hands. “I know.” He sounded suddenly tired. “I could still give you driving directions, right down to which interstate exit to take.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  He said nothing.

  “My mother's there. I have no choice.”

  “If she is there …” Samuel frowned. “She probably didn't survive the journey, Liza. And if somehow she did survive, she wouldn't want you to follow her. She'd want you to stay safe.”

  I shook my head. “I can't leave her.” Tallow shoved her head under my hand. I scratched the cat behind the ears. “Please. If there's something I can do for you in turn—”

  “All right,” Samuel said, but he kept frowning. “Hang on. I'll show you.”

  He left the room. Allie leaped from the couch the moment he was gone. “You can't go, Liza! You can't go somewhere so dangerous that even Dad is scared.” When I gave no reply she shook her head, hair falling into her face. I saw a few clear strands scattered amid the red. “I can forbid you to go. As your healer. Just like I would forbid someone who broke their leg to walk on it.” She drew a gulping breath, voice wavering between anger and tears. “At least let me see your hand. To make sure it's healing right, before you leave.”

  I held out my palm. The scars were barely visible now. Allie closed her eyes and ran her fingers over the two pale lines. Rain fell gently against the roof. “No sign of infection. That's good.” She opened her eyes. “But you still haven't told me why you did it. Why you cut yourself like that.”

  “I didn't do it on purpose.” I felt for the knife in its sheath. What if I didn't have someone to pull my fingers away from the blade the next time my magic led me to grab it?

  Allie caught her breath as my fingers tightened around the hilt. “Don't,” she said.

  “I wasn't.” Silently I let my hand drop.

  “Promise you won't. Not here, and not after you leave, either. Words have power, that's what Caleb and Karin say. Especially for people with magic. It's like the oath about doing no harm. You can't say it if you don't mean it. Promise you won't hurt yourself again.”

  I hadn't meant to hurt myself the first time. I didn't know where my magic would lead or what harm it might do. “I won't do it on purpose,” I said.

  Allie irritably brushed her hair out of her face, as if that wasn't good enough for her. “Why do you make everything so hard?” she demanded. “Why did I have to wind up with you, of all the people who could fall under my charge?”

  “You healed me well,” I assured her.

  “No, I didn't. Because you wouldn't be afraid to promise if I had.”

  Samuel returned and spread his map out on the table. I knelt beside him. “We're here,” he said, pointing to Washville. “If you take the main way out of town, it will eventually bring you to what's left of I-Forty-four…” He took an old pencil and began tracing a route east and no
rth. If all went well, that route would take me all the way to the Arch—and to a thick river labeled the Mississippi.

  “So far away,” Allie breathed. Not with anger, not with fear, but with envy.

  “It would have taken only an hour or so by car,” Samuel said. “On foot—I don't know. Four days, maybe? Five? It depends on the road and the trees and who knows what else.” His frown deepened. “If you were my daughter, I wouldn't let you go.”

  “If she were your daughter, she'd never have left home at all,” Allie said morosely.

  Samuel refolded the map and handed it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I'll bring it back if I can.”

  “You'd better!” Allie said. “You're still my charge, you know. Leaving doesn't change that.” She grabbed Tallow from where the cat was trying to nose her way into my pack. Tallow squirmed, but Allie didn't let her go.

  The pack was made of strong nylon, like the rope. It bulged with supplies. So did a second pack beside it, for Matthew. I still hoped to leave him safely behind, though. I'd been careful to make sure my own pack held a fair share of everything I needed.

  I wedged the map into a pocket of that pack and turned to Samuel. “Thank you. For everything.”

  He reached out and drew me into his arms, as if I were as young as Allie. I stiffened, but Samuel didn't let go. “I pray that I'm wrong, child. I pray that you find her.”

  I hadn't intended to sleep. I'd intended to lie on the couch until Samuel and Allie went upstairs, then quietly leave before Matthew could follow me. But I must have drifted off, for I woke to Matthew gently shaking my shoulder.

  I jerked to my feet. Matthew stood in front of me, fully dressed, his hair pulled neatly back from his face. His breathing was easy, his eyes bright and alert. He favored his left leg a little but otherwise seemed well.

  Too well to risk his life all over again. “You needn't come,” I said.

  He ran a hand over his hair, making it pull loose around his ears, as if he were just the quiet, smiling boy who'd come to say Father was looking for me. Who'd offered to face Father with me. “I'm going with you, Liza. So there's no point in arguing, unless you want to waste time.”

  “Do you even know where we're headed?”

  “I assume you'll tell me on the way.”

  Samuel came from the kitchen and handed us slices of brown bread thick with butter. Someone knocked at the door. I feared I'd find Caleb there and was relieved to see only Karin.

  She smiled and took my hands. “There's no use telling you to be careful, Liza. You know that well enough. I'd offer warnings about Faerie, but I haven't been there since the War. I do not know what you'll find.

  “Listen to your magic. That's the first thing I tell the children here. Don't fear it—but don't expect it to be safe, either. Don't expect it to be one thing or another at all. Magic is never simple. And it flows in both directions: a shape-shifter can return to human form, a healer can wound with her touch. Because I can draw trees to me, I can also push them away.”

  I felt Caleb's metal disk beneath my sweater. Tell your

  mother she was right. Right about what? “Karin, how does Caleb know my mom?”

  Karin's smile turned sadder. “I think that story is not mine to tell. Ask your mother when you find her.”

  Matthew and I shouldered our packs. Outside, dawn was brightening to orange and light shone through scattered clouds. Karin and Samuel walked us to the Wall along a path made damp by last night's rain. Allie was nowhere in sight. I wondered if she was still angry at me for failing to make promises I didn't know I could keep.

  Tallow was missing, too. I longed for her weight on my shoulders but said nothing. If I couldn't keep Matthew safe, at least I could protect Tallow. Allie would care for her well enough. She'd probably let the cat sleep on feather beds all she wanted.

  At the Wall we stopped a moment more. Karin looked at me. She looked away before I could drop my gaze. “Stay to the path, don't travel at night if you can help it, and return when you can.”

  “Let us know that you're safe,” Samuel said.

  I nodded, not promising, not refusing to promise. I turned from them, and I stepped through the Wall's parting branches.

  A moment later Matthew emerged beside me. The dirt path continued beneath our feet, just as it did on the map, so we walked on. Matthew limped a little, but he matched my pace easily enough.

  If any shadow followed us, the morning was too bright for us to see it. I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. Forest soon surrounded us, tall oaks and hickory, but the path beneath our feet remained clear, with only bits of black rock poking through here and there. Blackberry and wild plum kept to the undergrowth. Ragweed and wild grape held close to the trees.

  Beside me Matthew said, “Now, Liza, where exactly are we headed?” I looked at his face, pale as if after long illness, at the way his fair hair fell around his ears. He rubbed at his scarred wrist. That and his limp seemed to be the only things Caleb hadn't healed.

  I should have felt uncomfortable, alone with Matthew on the path, but I realized I was glad of his company, for all that I'd have been gladder if he'd stayed safe. One of the oaks threw an acorn at us. It grazed my ear. “We're going to find my mother, like Karin said.” I picked up the acorn and flung it back into the forest.

  “Good.” Matthew nodded, as if finding Mom made perfect sense, as if he wanted to find her, too. “Did you see Tara? Did your magic … show her to you somehow?”

  “Is it really so clear?” I hadn't told anyone but Karin about my magic, but everyone else seemed to have figured it out on their own.

  “I'm not stupid, Liza. I saw you grab at hot metal, at a knife's blade. Anyone could tell you saw something. And it's not as if you're the first person I've known with magic.”

  He'd said that before. I'd assumed he meant his brother, or maybe Rebecca. But Samuel said all children had magic, and in his sleep Matthew had talked about protecting the others. “Who else?” I demanded. If anyone else in my town had magic, I'd have known, wouldn't I?

  The wind picked up, carrying the scent of rain. “I made a promise,” Matthew said uneasily. “But perhaps one day I'll be released from it.”

  I'll stay hidden. I'll stay safe. But only because Tara asks it. “A promise to my mom,” I said flatly.

  Matthew ducked his head, and I knew I was right. The clouds thickened. I pulled on my jacket again. How much did my mother know? How much had she kept hidden? Did she trust Matthew more than me?

  A butterfly flew across the road. Matthew held out his hand and it landed there. He stared at the iridescent wings as if debating whether to speak. “Before Tara left, she spoke to Gram. I didn't hear all of it. But Gram told her not to be stupid. Gram said there was nothing left for her to find. She said Tara wouldn't be welcome, even if there was. I don't know what Gram meant. You're not the only one they keep secrets from, Liza.” Matthew shrugged awkwardly and changed the subject. “The things you didn't see in the cooking pot and the knife. Did they tell you where Tara is?”

  Smoke rose from the butterfly's wings. I drew out Caleb's disk and pointed. “She's beyond this Arch. In Faerie.”

  The butterfly burst into flame, as butterflies often did. Matthew shook warm ash from his fingers. “Well, then, we'd better get walking,” he said, as if going to Faerie held no more danger than heading down to the river for water.

  As we walked on, the clouds closed in and the sun disappeared behind puffs of charcoal. Matthew and I drew the cloaks from our packs. By midday rain began to fall, lightly at first, then harder.

  Lightning flashed. A maple stretched toward the light. Thunder rumbled. Another flash of light. This time the bolt met one of the maple's branches. The tree seemed to draw the lightning into itself and to stand taller than the trees around it. Matthew and I ducked against the boom that followed, then walked faster, hunched against the rain and growing wind. Mud pulled at my boots. Water trickled in around the edges of my cloak
.

  A bluff rose to the west. Oaks and maples and elms all reached toward the rain, sighing happily as water soaked through their leaves and into their roots. The rain continued into late afternoon, then gave way to cold drizzle. The wind let up. I heard sounds that the wind and rain had hidden: the scrabbling of claws, the scream of some small rodent, low wails like a baby's cries.

  Footsteps on the path behind us, squishing in the mud.

  I slowed my pace and quieted my steps, listening. Matthew sniffed the air. The clouds grew thick around us, the road dark. It was still afternoon, but I couldn't tell how late. Don't venture out alone into the dark.

  “We should make camp,” I said.

  Matthew nodded so quickly I knew he'd had the same thought. Whatever followed us, we'd do better with a fire at our feet and solid stone at our backs. We found a spot at the base of the bluff where the dirt road widened into a broad flat space. I set the tarp up against the bluff, fitting together the hollow metal poles Samuel had provided. Matthew gathered what dead wood he could find near the road, and beneath the shelter we coaxed a small fire from the dry undersides of the fuel. All the while the footsteps drew nearer and the sky grew darker. I untied the bow from my pack, stepped out from beneath the tarp, and nocked an arrow. Matthew moved to my side, his eyes flashing with each distant flicker of lightning.

  A figure rounded the corner, cloak splattered with mud, a bundle wrapped in her arms. I drew the arrow back, then caught my breath as the figure looked up, lightning illuminating her features.

  “No,” I whispered. She was supposed to be safe. Safe with Samuel and Caleb and Karin. Safe behind the Wall that her town had built to protect its children.

  I set the bow aside as Allie stepped into the light of our fire. The bundle squirmed. Two damp ears poked out from beneath oiled leather. Allie reached out, handing the bundle to me.

  “You forgot your cat,” she said.

  Chapter 10

  Tallow climbed into my arms and licked my nose once, then leaped to the ground and stalked beneath the tarp to the fire. Her wet fur stuck out in all directions. She began licking the mud from her coat. I stared at Allie. “What are you doing here?”