The Faery Queen's Daughter

by Tam Erskine

  "As am I." Ivy reached into her satchel and felt for a coin purse. It'd be quicker if she could look, but she was unwilling to take her gaze off Jorge. She doubted he'd bite her, but she wasn't certain. "Yet I pay my way."

  He looked at her satchel, eyes glimmering with a green glow now that she had mentioned paying. "Princesses needn't pay. Queen's Own say so."

  "A gift then." Her fingers touched on the silver slivers in her satchel.

  "Gifts . . . Her Own gave no gifts." He made a rattling noise in his chest again, like something was stuck in there and made his breathing harder than it should be. Maybe it was. No one in the realm was quite sure what Jorge was.

  "I am the Queen's Own, and I call it fair to offer gifts." She pulled out the three pieces of silver, letting them clink together in her palm. "Leastways, among friends . . ."

  A flop-eared girl with a short dagger darted forward and sniffed the silver. "True and spoken. Gifts of Princess. Good-good."

  Jorge snarled at the girl. She hissed back, her twin tongues slashing out like tiny whips.

  "Friends are fine to have." Ivy clutched the hilt of her sword with her free hand. "Indeed, I have many friends who've stood with me." She sighed. "Still and true, my sister knows that those who take coins might be tempted by bonds other than friendship.”

  "Gifts. Some folk give gifts to bind into other meetings." Jorge sniffled and spat again. "Not friends with little Princess. Trouble in such vows."

  Vine-gnarlers dropped down and soaked fungus strips in the spittle. Their pincer-edged feet clacked together as they hurriedly gathered the spittle that'd go to make their poisoned darts. Then, they scurried back up the vines, chattering in that strange way of theirs. Once, Clematis had said that they were speaking, but their words were too fast to make sense to most folk.

  "Just one night's rest and ample warning if you find a reason we need to leave here quickly." Ivy held the coins out again. Behind her she felt Jack move closer, and hoped that there wasn't another danger coming closer. "No orders from me, no terms of the next meeting, just this eve and we go on."

  "Rest. Food. No vows for next meet." Jorge gargled, and held out his hand. "Gifts for this exchange."

  Ivy curled her fingers around the silver. "And true warning should we need to leave sooner than planned. I cannot rest if I worry over our safety."

  The flop-eared girl hissed and sidled near. "Guard you well." She nodded vigorously, her ears slapping her shoulders with a soft thwack-thwack. "Friends. No gift at all."

  Jack whispered, with some panic in his tone, "If I might, Princess, I'd say that taking the deal now seems wise."

  Thinking the same thing, Ivy murmured, "My vow it is so." Then, she turned back to see what troubled Jack. The goat-legged Glaistigs were stroking his hair and shoulders, stamping their feet and crowding close to him.

  She looked at them, trying to figure which was the elder here. She studied the shorn circles with oghams carved in their hairy flanks, exposed by the long slits on the side of their traditional breeches. The symbols spelt out tales of their greatest feats or at least their clan names, but they moved too frequently for Ivy to decipher the words.

  The tallest Glaistig shoved a younger one to the side, but the young one didn't retaliate.

  Before Ivy could act, Jorge stepped in front of her. "Princess and her mortal rest now." He pointed into the tree-lodge. "Fiona," he tugged the flop-eared girl's hair and gargled, "Go with."

  The flop-eared girl, Fiona, hissed. With a not-entirely-gentle headbutt, she herded Jack forward. "Pretty mortal." Her ears thwack-thwacked again as she nodded. "Keep safe."

  "Yes, I'm sure you will." Stifling a yawn, Ivy stroked Fiona's head. "Friends then?"

  Fiona nodded, thwackthwackthwack. "Friends and true."

  "I'll remember it." Ivy yawned again, determined to ignore the snarling exchange between Jorge and the Glaistigs. A secure sleeping chamber sounded better than most anything she could think of.

  Clematis struggled to keep up with Grandmother Nogs. Sticks and vines cluttered the path, making wings useless and rather inconvenient. "Grandmother?"

  The Bog Mother moved as if there were no obstacles in their low and winding path. She stepped forward without any obvious attention to what was before them, but her arms weren't scraped, nor were her pantaloons snagged.

  "Grandmother Nogs!" Ignoring the dangling thistle-teeth creepers, Clematis rushed forward and gripped Grandmother Nogs' arm. "What's going on?"

  The Bog Mother swiveled, a sorrowful look on her heavy features. "Matty child, I can't offer you the answers you seek." She slapped a bog-fly with a brief snarl as it came close to Clematis' bleeding arms. "Jonquil and I have spoken of the troubles for a long while. She knows the danger, but she still rushes forward."

  "I don't understand . . ."

  Grandmother Nogs murmured some almost-silent command and the guards slipped into the reeds again. She shook her head. "The Queen reigns over the realm. This is the way it's been for as long as any of us recall." She pausing, staring at a mottled brown rat that was trying futilely to fend off a pair of racing serpents. "Those that would change things . . . the cost can be too high. Jonquil knows this, but she still tries to convince me and mine to join a battle that is not ours."

  "Jonquil? My Jonquil?"

  Grandmother Nogs laughed, a smoky sound like wood-fires in the fog. "Jonquil is a girl with many secrets, Matty. She's not as meek as she lets you and Daisy think." She shook her head. "No, Jonquil bides her time, thinking and planning. She's got a good heart, and a good cause too, but I'm getting too old to go out battling for changes, Matty-love."

  Clematis opened and closed her mouth, soundlessly, like the water-maidens at the foul lake. Jonquil? She almost laughed at the thought. My sweet sister, a revolutionary? But as she stood there, watching the rat lose its fight, she had to admit that the thought of it wasn't entirely unbelievable. Jonquil might hold her tongue, but she was livid at the suffering of the creatures in the realm. "What does she want from you?"

  Grandmother Nogs smiled, but it wasn't a gentle smile. Her sharp teeth glimmered in the green glow of bog-lights. "Why, she wants me to call in my favours with those that I hold sway over. She wants me and mine to follow your Ivy if the Queen insists on a fight. And she will, you know. She and Ada aren't simply going to bow down because Ivy asks it of them."

  "Fight?" Clematis started.

  But the Bog Mother went on as if Clematis hadn't spoken. "I am not willing to risk my boys, Matty. You must understand. The bog . . . the Queen and Ada do not bother us, not now, but if we help you . . ." She sighed, loudly, and gestured at the musty darkness. Strange songs echoed over the water, slithering things and splashing things. It was a soothing, albeit eerie, music. "I have much to lose."

  And in that moment, Clematis saw something that she'd never seen before: the Bog Mother was afraid. With all her years of wisdom and tangled alliances, she was still afraid.

  "Matty," Grandmother Nogs whispered, harsh and low. "Stay with us. Talk to your sisters. If you try . . ."

  "You've been family to us, and maybe Daisy might stay, but Jonquil won't. She'll go with Ivy and Jack on the morrow." Clematis lowered her voice. "The legends--they're true. Jack Merry has the Queen's very gift. He made a sword for Ivy, fashioned it without even a struggle. He gave Jonquil the healing touch."

  At first, Grandmother Nogs did not reply. They stood there, silent in the shadows of the bog-grass, listening to far off cries of musk-roans and wiskins. Finally, the Bog Mother nodded briskly. "So be it. Jonquil will go, but you and Daisy . . . Just think on it."

  Clematis looked at her. She had been there for them so often, a family when they needed one. "I'll talk to Daisy. Maybe Hagan should try to talk to her, too?"

  At that suggestion, Grandmother Nogs laughed. "Maybe. It might be all she needs to convince her to leave sooner though." She gestured that they were moving forwards. "Let's see about your bow, then. We've a little time before our meal." />
  And with that, the guards circled them once more and they were off as if nothing had changed, but to Clematis it felt as if everything had.

  Chapter 11: In which Ivy and Jack leave Pwca Vale

  It seemed she'd no sooner fallen asleep than Ivy woke with a stone-hard hand clamped over her mouth.

  The scant light from the glowflies in the room wasn't enough to allow Ivy to see her captor's face, but the musky scent of fur left no doubt. Glaistig, and more than one. They never traveled alone these days, preferring the comfort of sister-in-arms too much to risk losing one of their ever-dwindling herd.

  "Shh, little one . . ."

  Ivy tried to turn her head to see Jack, but the Glaistig's grip allowed for no movement.

  "Come now. Time is swift, but we shall be swifter." The Glaistig slid her free arm under Ivy and lifted her as easily as if she were a babe.

  As she was curled into the creature's chest, Ivy saw Jack being scooped up, his mouth also covered securely.

  There was no chance of escaping, not against two of them, not with her sword out of . . . where is my sword? She'd had a hand curled round the hilt when she fell asleep. She flexed her hand, moving her arm the slight bit she could.

  "Stay still, princess, we don't want Jorge or the rodent to hear," the Glaistig whispered, her breath warm on Ivy's face.

  Then, they were moving, but it was the queerest sense--as if time were stilling, as if the air itself were freezing around them. Ivy'd traveled in so many different ways, but none had felt so odd. The very peculiarity of the process made her stay as motionless as she could. Though she'd never heard of the Glaistigs having time-shifting skills, she couldn't think of any other way to explain the reversal of vibrations.

  Almost as abruptly as they begun moving it was over. Ivy felt her feet hit solid ground as the Glaistig lowered her and uncovered her mouth. "Jack Merry?"

  "I'm here." Jack's voice echoed. "Though I'm not sure where here is. Are you hurt?"

  "No." Ivy could see shadows moving in the dim room, darknesses within the dark. The air was cold and damp, but in the distance, she heard water trickling over rocks. "We're with the Glaistigs, Jack. And I mean truly with them. They're in the room."

  Several sets of hooves clopped in the stillness.

  Ivy added, "Surrounding us, I believe."

  "Do you have your sword?"

  She squatted down and felt around on the slick floor, damp with what she hoped was water-sludge or cave-moss, not something worse. "No."

  "And do you think you'll need it, little princess?" The voice was right beside her. "Do you think that wielding your sword is necessary here?"

  Ivy shivered, but she straightened her back and called out, "Can you give me a little light, Jack Merry?"

  "Umm . . . sure." Jack's voice was as unsteady as she felt. "The princess glanced upwards, and there on the ceiling was a glimmering ball of light, shining well enough to illuminate the . . . chamber."

  As he spoke, the light blinked on and grew bright enough that Ivy could see a full score of Glaistigs grinning and watching them. They were spread out in a wide oval around Ivy and Jack, making it obvious that the only way out was through the well-armed women.

  Ivy crossed the chamber--a high-ceilinged cave--and stood beside Jack. Taking a deep breath, she started to read the oghams carved on each flank until she found the elder. Battling her would be the best choice; defeat the matriarch and the others would stand down.

  Now, let's see if Jack can fetch my sword from where ever they've hidden it.

  "There's one more thing I need, Jack."

  "Jonquil?" Calder stood beside her. His hand didn't rest on his weapon belt, but he scanned the area as alertly as if the Bog Mother were still with them.

  "Umm?" Jonquil watched her sister splash around with Hagan, far more at ease than she'd been in a long while.

  "Are you staying?" The young guard's posture didn't change. "Should I tell them to fix your rooms . . ."

  Sighing, Jonquil glanced up at him. He was one of the youngest guards, far more cautious than Hagan and his year-mates. "Not yet, Calder. Not yet." Jonquil glanced back at the water.

  There was a telltale smirk on Hagan's face as Daisy's voice carried over the swamp, "I might have missed you some too. But that doesn't mean . . ."

  Hagan whooped and said, "But if I were to ask to come along with you . . ."

  Daisy shushed him, their voices dropping lower.

  On the bank, Calder squatted down, "If Grandmother Nogs allows it, he'd travel with you. Many of us would." He lowered his voice further, adding, "It's a just thing you're trying."

  Jonquil nodded. "And if I wanted to leave Daisy and Matty here? If I asked you to keep them here? What then?"

  Calder shook his head. "Hagan . . . he'd try if you wanted him to keep her here. You know how he feels. Everybody knows he'd rather be with Daisy, but he'd rather we go with you than to stay here. As to Matty . . . we'd try." He gestured to the thicket where a growing number of guardsmen hovered. "But it's not keeping your sisters here that we're offering. We will if that's our only way of helping you, but we're asking to come. Get Grandmother Nogs' blessing."

  Looking at their faces, eager and believing in her, Jonquil thought of Grandmother Nogs' demand the last time she'd visited: no discussion of help unless she promised to take over as Bog Mother. It wasn't a plan she liked, but Daisy and Matty would be happy.

  Jonquil stood up and nodded. "I'll speak to her."

  Jack looked at the goat-footed women, recognizing several of them from outside the inn at Pwca Vale. Water dripped from stalactites above them, dripping into puddles on the floor. Ivy had moved to stand beside him and was steadily staring at the strange symbols that were marked on exposed skin of the women's legs.

  Perhaps that's the language here?

  He quickly glanced at the markings too, but they didn't look the letters he'd learned.

  One of the women moved closer. "Are you seeking something, little mortal?"

  "Answers." Jack smiled as he caught her gaze. "I'm not so sure where we are, why we're here . . ."

  Ivy brushed his hand with hers, but he wasn't sure if she was urging him to be quiet or keep talking.

  "We thought it best to talk here." The woman's smile vanished as quickly as it had arrived. "Jorge's no friend of ours. He'd not let us speak with you earlier, so we waited until the rodent girl scampered off."

  "Fiona left?" Ivy's surprise was apparently enough for her to forget her own fears for a moment. "I thought she was guarding our rest."

  "So did Jorge." The woman scowled. "We were watching though."

  Several women stamped their feet in the silence that followed the soft-spoken reply. Their footsteps thundered in the cave until one of the women spoke. "Princess. I remember you far better than I'm sure you remember me. You were not yet walking when I last came to the Queen's home."

  She was more heavily armed than the others with a pair of swords crossed over her back, hilts jutting above her shoulders like the tips of wings. At least three shorter blades were fastened to her belt. But it was the symbols that startled Jack as he watched her move forward. Her entire leg seemed covered in them.

  "Do you mean us harm, Matriarch Sezja?" Ivy stepped in front of Jack. Even without a weapon, she moved between him and what might be a threat. "Should I find a way to defend myself?"

  Sezja shook her head. "No. I meant to save you from whomever the rodent girl went to fetch. She'd spent long hours with your sister when the Royal Deceiver was here."

  The others stamped again, ane Jack was beginning to suspect was their way to say they agreed.

  "Your mortal wouldn't survive long without your help." She paused to survey them again, lifting an eyebrow as she did so, seeming to find them somehow lacking. "I thought it best to bring you to my home first. From here, you can take him back aboveground."

  Jack suspected he shouldn't interrupt, but he did. "I'm not going aboveground just yet. I'm staying with Ivy."<
br />
  Ilanya snorted. Several others exchanged glances.

  As if she hadn't heard, Ivy said, in a rather emotion-less voice, "Why would he leave, Matriarch? Jack Merry can set things to right. Mother will see . . ."

  An unmistakable look of weariness crossed Sezja's face. Her eyes drooped closed for a moment before she answered. "What you do is noble, child. It's not worth the mortal's life though. It's not what his parents would want, not what you should want after all this time watching out for him."

  "My parents?" Jack gaped at her.

  Did she know what happened to them? His mouth felt dry, as if he hadn't had a drink in days. Perhaps they survived.

  "What do you know about my parents?"

  Ivy looked over her shoulder at him and squeezed his hand. "Nothing, Jack. The matriarch obviously seeks to trick us." Then, she whispered, "Could you summon my sword now?"

  He looked past her to Sezja.

  Jack thought he'd stopped hoping that his parents would return to him some day. He thought, after all this time, he had accepted their absence. Especially now, after what Ivy said about that night. Obviously, he was wrong.

  Angry that the Glaistig tried to toy with his feelings, he looked away from her. Then, he closed his eyes and imagined Ivy's sword. He thought of the vines etched in the blade, the heavy weight of it in Ivy's hand. "The princess opened her hand and as she did so her sword returned to her. Its hilt in her hand as it should be."

  Ivy curled her hand around it and nudged him behind her. "He's staying with me, and we need to be on our way, so let's talk about you moving out of our way."

  "I'll come with you if you're going." Hagan smiled at her, as if his foolish grin would take away the seriousness of what he suggested. "Just say the word."

  "You know that isn't my choice, Hagan. Grandmother Nogs makes the decisions." Daisy watched him scan the bank before they headed back towards the camp. For all his foolishness, he was a good guard.