Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  Adar gathered Elice into a one-armed hug. “Why? Because Chriel spoke of the Sundering?”

  Elice nodded against his chest. “She said it was all lies told by the Summer Queen to undermine my mother.”

  Adar squeezed her tighter. “It’s not lies. Have you ever heard about creatures of the past age?”

  Elice looked up at him and sniffed. “Some. Chriel told a story of elves and dwarves and Hebocks.”

  “I’ll tell you another, this one about mermaids, but only if you promise to lie down and get some rest. You’re staggering with exhaustion.”

  He spread the blanket over the snow. She didn’t resist as he pulled her down next to him, his hand never leaving hers. “At the end of the first age, our ancestors had fins and lived in great cities beneath the sea. Split into great queendoms, the mer ruled the waters and all the creatures within them. They knew how to capture the magic from the world around them and shape it to their will. Because of this great magic, their cities shone with such luster and brilliance that they lit up the night sky far above them and left all the water turquoise. They mined deep within the earth, finding gemstones and gold and trading them with the dwarves on shore.

  “No one knows quite how it happened, but a creature rose up—all sharp claws and terrible teeth. Its hide was tough as armor, and it had a voracious appetite for mer. At first, the mer did not fear it, sure their magic would protect them. But the magic failed, slipping away in the parting of night and morning. For months, the mer fought back with harpoon and trident, desperate to destroy the monster. But they could not kill it. Could not even harm it.

  “Within a year, the greatest civilization ever known was on the brink of destruction. It was then that the mer fled the waters, washing up on the red shore and begging for aid. And there they died, for a mer cannot live long outside of the water. But they would rather face a peaceful end than a bloody one.

  “Then the magic’s new form appeared—an ethereal being, more spirit than creature. Magic poured from it, bleeding into everything it touched. This creature, now called a unicorn, took pity on the dying mer and changed them, replacing their gills with lungs and granting the mer enough magic to survive. In time, the mer flourished and became known as the elves of the second age.”

  Elice mulled over the tale. “Chriel told a story like that—it got her killed.”

  Adar watched her, sympathy in his gaze. “It’s called the rebirth. And it’s always a time of turmoil. But if you think about it, there weren’t any sides between the mer queendoms anymore. It was all just about survival.”

  Elice rubbed her forehead. “They’re just stories for children. They aren’t in the history books.”

  Adar looked away, staring into the distance without seeming to see anything. “Who knows, maybe the mer are still there, and we just don’t see them anymore.”

  “Are you even listening to me?”

  “I like to think there is something left from the previous ages, that they aren’t completely gone.”

  Elice let out a long sigh. He squeezed her hand and said, “Just go to sleep.”

  Adar bolted upright, a sharp ache cutting through him as his gaze scanned the cloud-smeared sky. He saw nothing but the huge glacier to his right, the ocean to his left, and the shore stretching on before and behind. Elice sat up beside him, wiping the sleep from her eyes. It could only have been a few hours since they lay down, for he could see the exhaustion in her bleary eyes.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  His every instinct was humming to life. “I don’t know.” He pulled out the dagger she had given him and pushed himself up with his good arm, not for the first time wishing he was whole.

  Elice didn’t question him, she simply shoved the blankets into the pack and wrapped them up tight. He took hold of her hand and they started moving, hurrying along the snow-packed shore. They waded across dozens of streamlets that slipped from under the iceberg like a river through a delta.

  Suddenly Elice froze, pulling Adar to a halt. “There.”

  Ahead of them stood a pure-white bear, taller than Adar and twice as long. It was the largest bear he had ever seen. The animal blocked their way and seemed to be guarding the path.

  In Elice’s opposite hand, a wickedly sharp ice spear formed.

  “What do we do?” Adar asked her.

  “Go around. It outweighs us five to one, and it’s faster.”

  “There is no way around.” He gestured to the sheer glacier rising hundreds of feet beside them. But Elice didn’t head for it, instead sidestepping toward the sea. “Elice . . . what are you doing?”

  She walked onto the water, ice spreading before her feet in a long, thick path. Adar started to follow her but balked at the edge, staring down at the black waters beneath the ice. He could almost feel them closing over his head, sucking away life and heat. “This didn’t work out so well for me the last time,” he joked weakly.

  “Adar,” she said breathlessly.

  He followed her gaze. More bears had joined the first, standing shoulder to shoulder in an unnaturally straight row. He squinted and saw fairies perched on the bears’ shoulders. “That’s cheating,” he cried, outraged.

  Elice’s mouth was a thin line. “My mother promised she and her fairies wouldn’t interfere. I guess she thinks this doesn’t count.”

  Adar took a step out onto the ice and gestured to the cliffs. “The glacier—”

  “Inland is a vast desert—there’s nothing to eat.” When he hesitated, she pleaded, “You have to trust me.”

  He readjusted his grip on the knife and hurried after Elice on the ice path, the dark ocean spreading out on both sides. The path bobbed with the waves. He glanced back and realized more bears had joined the others this time from the way they’d come. Why weren’t they moving in to attack? Adar had just turned to ask Elice when he saw a flash of gray beneath them. “Elice, there’s something down there.”

  Before she could respond, a massive form exploded from the water, huge jaws gaping at him. Adar only had time to lift his good arm to shield himself before the form rammed into him, driving him into the water and cutting off Elice’s scream with the rush of water in his ears. The cold was instant, stabbing Adar to his core. He floundered in the water, not sure which way was up or down. In the rush of bubbles, he couldn’t even make out what had attacked him. But he could hear it. Bird-like chirps and cricket-like trills mingled with a haunting moan.

  When the bubbles cleared, he recognized the creature as a seal—pale belly and a dark-gray back sprinkled with dark spots. It was even bigger than the polar bears. And it was charging toward Adar. He considered the knife and then whirled and started to swim away, but it grabbed hold of his arm with sharp teeth, bearing down hard before dragging him to the bottom.

  He struggled, but his injured arm was pinned to his side. His good arm was trapped in the monster’s teeth, blood pouring from the wound. Having already used his breath to shout a warning, Adar felt his lungs screaming for air. Fire and burning, he was going to drown in the blasted ocean after all.

  But then something rushed past him. The seal jerked as an ice spear impaled its back. Suddenly free, Adar swam for the surface, his movements jerky and uncoordinated because of the cold and his bandaged shoulder. Backlit by the gray sky, Elice dove toward him, her hair streaking out behind her.

  He had nearly reached her when he saw movement in his peripheral vision. Dozens of seals churned in the water, each with a fairy clutching their shoulders. Wearing strange sheets of ice on her feet, Elice grabbed Adar’s hand and settled it firmly on her bare shoulder. The cold stopped attacking him, but it had already done its damage, for his muscles were stiff and uncoordinated.

  Dozens of icicles shot out from Elice, pulses of them—once, twice, three times, driving the seals back. She never stopped kicking upward, dragging Adar with her. As soon as they broke the surface, he gasped for air. For a moment, all he could do was breathe.

  Elice let out a shrill whis
tle. Adar kept his gaze on the water, watching as another seal charged toward him. “Elice!”

  She whipped around and launched a spear even as ice swelled under Adar, lifting him. It was thick and clear, forming a large ice floe, which he floated on like a raft. Almost immediately, it was soaked with blood from his arm. Wincing with pain, he pulled his left arm out of the sling and pressed against the puncture marks on his right arm. Fortunately it didn’t seem broken.

  Adar watched another seal launch itself at him from below. He cringed as it thudded into the ice. The floe jolted but didn’t break. He let out the breath he’d been holding, though his body was still clenched against the bitter cold.

  Elice reached up from the water. Using his bitten arm, Adar took hold of her hand to haul her onto the ice, but she pulled the cold from him first, turning the water logging his clothing into a dry snow that sifted off him. His entire body sagged in relief, though he was still shivering and his left shoulder and right arm burned. Elice had pulled herself halfway onto the ice floe when another seal darted toward her. Adar shouted a warning, but the seal had already clamped onto Elice’s arm and dragged her out of sight.

  Adar scrambled toward her, ready to dive back into the water, but she bobbed back to the surface. “It’s all right. It’s only Picca.”

  His gaze shifted to the seal and he recognized the animal he’d shared a cave with for several days. Elice formed a handle on the ice floe around Adar and held on while the seal dragged them both toward the shore. Elice’s gaze was trained on any approaching seals, which received a stab from an ice spear for their trouble.

  When the ice floe ran aground, Elice wrapped her arms around Picca’s neck and kissed her. Adar didn’t have time to feel relieved, for the fairies riding the bears gave a shrill war cry. The bears charged forward.

  “Elice, we have to go!”

  He struggled to his feet, fighting the cold that had seeped into his muscles, making him sluggish and numb. At least his arm had stopped bleeding. Elice whispered goodbye to her seal and draped Adar’s good arm around her shoulder. They ran for the glacier cliffs rising before them. For the hundredth time, he wished for a fire to warm his frozen body.

  They reached the base of the glacier. Elice held out her hands, ice springing from her, coating the sides in roughhewn stairs. Adar started up them, not sure how he kept his body moving. By the time they were about halfway up the cliffs, his lungs burned with every inhale, but at least he wasn’t quite as cold. He chanced a glance back to see if the bears were after them and realized Elice was making the stairs crumble behind her.

  While their escape had slowed the bears, it hadn’t stopped them. They were scaling the cliffs, their claws digging into the packed snow. Even as Adar watched, one fell with a roar. The fairy abandoned its shoulders and zipped away.

  “Elice, they’re still coming!”

  “Keep moving,” she panted.

  He finally reached the top of the cliffs, Elice right behind him. She whirled around and peered down. Grateful for the pause, Adar braced his hand on his knees, his breath sawing in and out of his lungs. In the distance, a pod of orca feasted on the carcasses of the dead seals.

  Elice raised her hands. The glacier beneath the bears began to crumble, sending bears careening toward the shore.

  “Take that, you overgrown goats!” Adar tried to shout in triumph, but the frigid air seared his lungs and left him coughing, ruining the effect. But then snow shot up from the shore, cushioning the bears’ fall and steadily growing under them to push them closer to their targets.

  Adar pointed. “That’s cheating!”

  Elice tipped her head toward the poisonous green sky. “Mother,” she screamed. “You swore you would not harm us.”

  “I swore that neither I nor my fairies would harm him,” came Ilyenna’s disembodied voice, her body having lost its physical form. “But I made no promise about the creatures of my realm.”

  “Still cheating!” Adar shouted back in disgust.

  Elice backed away from the cliff face, snatching Adar’s hand and pulling him with her. “We have to run.”

  They took off across the frozen expanse, Elice spanning the numerous ravines with bridges of ice. Adar glanced over his shoulder as the first of the bears crested the glacier, legs churning. In only a few strides, the bears were catching up, surrounding Adar and Elice. And all of the creatures, fairies and bears alike, had their gazes pinned hungrily on him.

  He heard their panting and whipped around in time to see a bear moving to cut them off, so close he could make out shredded flesh between the animal’s teeth. Adar held out his dagger. “Elice,” he warned.

  But she had already stuttered to a halt. He slammed into her, and they both went down and then scrambled to their feet. She tried to pull him behind her, but they were surrounded, so there was no “behind.” Slavering, the bears prowled around them, the only sound their huge paws scraping along the snow.

  “Well,” Adar said through clenched teeth. “I can honestly say I’d rather drown than be eaten alive. Can we go back to the ocean?”

  “Stay out of the way, daughter of winter, and you will not be harmed,” said one of the fairies from atop the shoulders of a bear.

  Elice took a step back from the fairy who had spoken. “Mother! You cannot kill him! You promised!”

  “I won’t kill him. Just maim a little. He’ll still be perfectly alive.”

  “Give me one of your spears,” Adar said. He might not be able to fight off a dozen polar bears, but he could do a little maiming of his own.

  Elice set her teeth, defiance sparking in her honey eyes. “You’re not going to hurt him.” To Adar, she said, “Sheath that dagger.” He opened his mouth to question her when he felt the ice beneath his feet began to crack. He looked down as the opaque ice thinned. Below them, he could make out a brilliant blue ravine that darkened to black. He shoved the dagger in its sheath. “Elly, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

  “Better than being eaten,” she reminded him. And then they were falling.

  Elice plummeted, arms windmilling. Concentrating, she managed to form an ice slide beneath her. She and Adar landed on it, morphing their freefall into a skidding, spilling plunge that carried them at an angle toward the bottom of the fissure.

  Before Elice could react, the fissure narrowed. She tried to duck, but her head smacked into a shelf of ice. Sparks of black blossomed in her vision, and her body felt numb and far away. Adar’s hand grabbed her, his legs wrapping around her torso.

  Then the ice slide disappeared beneath them and they were freefalling again.

  “Elice!” he yelled. She shook herself, seeing the churning river rising up toward them. She pulled on winter, barely managing to encase them in a pod of ice before they plunged into the water.

  Sprawled on top of Adar, she waited to see if the ice would hold. It shivered but stayed together. She pulled more magic, reinforcing and thickening it as they careened along an enormous river beneath the glacier. Through the clear ice, she could make out a narrow ravine twisting above them, a chaotic river flowing through the center of it.

  He relaxed his death grip on her. “Definitely better than being eaten by a bear.” He looked into Elice’s eyes. “You all right?”

  She gently probed the growing knot on her forehead. Her first attempt at speaking came out garbled. She rolled her tongue around, smacked her lips, and tried again. “I think so. You?”

  He shot her his cocky grin. “I’m trapped with a beautiful girl lying on top of me—do you even have to ask?”

  Despite herself, she chuckled. “You’re incorrigible.”

  He brushed a finger down her cheek. “And someday you’re going to fall madly in love with me for it.”

  She was suddenly aware of how close they were, his body pressed against hers. She could feel his heart beating through their clothes. “Don’t count on it.”

  He chuckled. “Always the doubter.”

  The pod hit something. El
ice braced herself to keep from being thrown around. Their pace picked up, and another bump jostled them. It suddenly got very dark. She sensed the water all around them—they were in some kind of tunnel.

  “How much air do we have?” Adar’s voice came from the pitch black.

  She’d never tested an air bubble this large. “No more talking,” she told him. The pod slammed into something, sending them spinning end over end.

  They braced themselves against the wall of the pod and managed to ride through the worst of it. But they had another problem, more immediate, if less pressing than their diminishing air. “Adar . . .” Elice said very carefully. Before he could respond, she threw up all over him.

  He made a sound that was half surprise and half disgust. There was a sudden light, but before Elice could get her bearings, they were plunging down so fast she could only scream. They hit water and sank slowly before floating back to the surface. Behind them and to Elice’s right, a roaring waterfall crashed into a clear pool, which must have been where they had fallen from. Far above was a sliver of daylight that sent a brilliant shaft of light streaming down into a narrow, jade-colored cavern that emptied into another black tunnel.

  She reached for Adar’s hand. “Don’t let go.”

  “I won’t.”

  She dissipated the pod, and they both went under the surface of the water. Adar was true to his word, holding tightly to her hand so she could keep the cold at bay. Together, they kicked to the surface. The current pulled them relentlessly toward the tunnel.

  “I’m thinking we don’t want to do that again,” Adar commented dryly. Still holding hands, they kicked for a shelf of ice. When Elice could feel slush beneath her, she hauled herself up, Adar helping her keep her balance. They waded onto a slippery ice shelf. Elice turned the water on their bodies to snow, and they brushed each other off.

  Adar flopped down, pulling her down with him. He scooted his back against the glacier. Somewhere along the way, he had lost his hat. “Your mother really needs to work on her diplomacy. Also, keeping her promises.”