Fairy Queens: Books 5-7

by Amber Argyle

  Elice didn’t have time for shock—she simply threw the ball at the water. It slammed into the ocean in a brilliant flash of light. With a massive crack, the ocean and its monster wave froze solid. Light shimmered and arched, thousands of droplets of frozen water falling with a tinkling sound. A little farther down, a particularly large iceberg perched precariously at the tip of the wave broke free and pitched forward. It crashed, ice and snow scattering across the tops of the frozen waves.

  She had a moment of panic. What if she’d just frozen the hunters solid? But then one of them cried out, tumbled from his kayak, and sat up, gaping at the frozen wave above them. Elice let out her breath in a rush.

  “Fire and burning,” Adar said from beside her.

  The hunters tested the ice with their paddles, then carefully stepped out of their kayaks. Elice eased onto the naked sea floor and nearly fell. Adar, who was right behind her, steadied her, and then nearly toppled himself. The ice was slick. Elice didn’t usually make slippery ice.

  She tried to draw on winter again to add some textured snow, but there was nothing to take, for the magic was completely depleted. Did her mother experience the same thing when she did this, or was it because Elice was weaker? Had her mother felt as helpless and insignificant as Elice now did?

  Elice, Adar, and Sakari left the shore and moved, slipping and sliding, across the ice, passing hundreds of frozen sea stars, sea spiders, and even a rigid seal. But as Elice and Adar approached the men, they held out their oars, which were tipped with wicked-looking spears. Elice took a startled step back. She didn’t have any magic left to fight them.

  Adar moved protectively in front of her. “She just saved your lives,” he said in Svass.

  The men slowly lowered the spears. One of them, who looked to be in his mid-thirties, motioned toward her with his chin. “Are you the queen?”

  “Her daughter,” Adar answered him. “And who are you?”

  “Aklaq,” the man said evenly. “Do you mean us any harm, winter’s daughter?”

  Elice shook her head. “My name is Elice. We came for your help.”

  Aklaq’s spear oar fell to his side. “What could one as powerful as you need from us?”

  “Your dogs,” Adar said. “But Tapeesa has already refused us.”

  The man rubbed some frost off his chin. “My mother might reconsider now.”

  He turned back to his fleet of stranded kayaks, partially frozen in the ice. The dead whale’s tail protruded from the wave, frozen solid. Elice noticed movement beyond, and her mouth came open as a pod of whales approached the floating carcass—so she hadn’t frozen the entire ocean solid, just a very thick layer of it.

  The way the wave had frozen, the pod was at eye level. She watched as they swam around, nudging the limp body with their noses. They called to one another in a mournful song—Elice could feel the vibrations of it through her feet. One of them paused, and she could have sworn it looked right at her. It was large enough it probably could have crushed the ice, drowning them all.

  She stepped forward, rested her bare hand on the ice, and tried to communicate that she was sorry. Whether or not the creature understood, it turned and slowly swam away, the rest of the whales following it.

  “That’s why I save the ones I can,” Elice said to Adar. “I hate that they have to die so we can live.”

  Coming up beside her, he pulled off his mitten with his teeth. Then he took hold of her hand without a word. She was distracted from the faint outline of the departing whales by the sound of chipping ice. She turned to find the men trying to dig out their kayaks.

  She opened herself to winter and found some dregs of magic had returned, so she used it to encase the kayaks and the carcass in snow. The whale immediately came free, skidding down the ice and coming to rest on the seabed with the rest of the dead and dying creatures.

  And then Elice’s magic was gone again.

  The men shot her quite a few nervous glances as they pulled their kayaks free and lifted them onto their shoulders. Slipping and sliding, the group trekked down from the ocean to the carcass resting on the seafloor.

  “Aklaq, ask her how long it will hold,” said one of the men.

  Aklaq turned to Elice, but before he could repeat the question she said, “I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before.”

  “Start butchering,” Aklaq called. “We won’t waste the meat.” The men took out long knives and began cutting into the whale’s rubbery skin. Adar stepped forward and touched the animal’s body. “It feels like a boiled egg.”

  Aklaq handed him a piece of the skin. “Eat, it will keep you warm.”

  Adar started chewing . . . and kept on chewing. Elice knew from experience that it would take him a while. “We have three days left to reach the border between the lands of winter and summer,” she told Aklaq. “And we have to move fast. Will you help us?”

  He paused to gaze up at her. There was blood on his hands. “I will help you. We will take my dogs.” He turned to the others, his eyes asking a silent question. Elice didn’t dare look. What if no one else agreed to help them?

  “Tikaani will come as well,” Aklaq said when he turned back to her.

  That’s two more than I thought we’d have, Elice mused.

  “We must see our people to safety,” Aklaq went on. “Elice, if you would tell the women to pack the tents up the mountain and bring us the dogs. We cannot be here when the ice melts.”

  She turned to Adar, who was still chewing. “When we get a tent set up on that ridge, I want you to rest in it.”

  He grunted. “I keep telling you, I’m hard to kill.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him. His chewing slowed and he finally swallowed. “You can be scary, you know that, right?” he teased. She gave him a toothy grin. He shivered. “Someone should light a fire—the smoke will keep the fairies at bay. I volunteer to tend said fire.”

  Aklaq’s eyes narrowed in thought. “We have some moss left. Makes lots of smoke.”

  Elice didn’t leave Adar’s side until he was in a newly erected tent at the top of the hill, a cheery fire burning beside him. He had barely lain down before he was fast asleep. While he slept, Elice and Sakari helped the women pack up tents and supplies. In a few hours, the whole camp had been moved to the top of the mountain. The dog sleds hauled the last few loads of whale meat up the tallest hill, where it was cut up into smaller pieces and laid out to dry in the arid winter air. The whole village worked together, eating as they went.

  Elice volunteered to help with the butchering, but Tapeesa politely refused the offer. Sakari shot Elice an apologetic look and made to follow Tapeesa. Elice grasped her arm. “Thank you, Sakari. If not for you, I don’t know if Adar and I would have made it this far.”

  Sakari gave her a half grin. “He’s heavier than he looks.”

  Elice chuckled. “Believe me, I know.” She sobered. “But it’s not just that. You stood up for us.”

  Sakari stared at the ground. “It’s hard to care about people when you’re always afraid you might lose them. But I think not caring is worse.”

  She knelt beside the other women and went to work. Elice watched her work and wondered, Will there ever be a place where I belong like that?

  Elice turned away. She had other things to worry about—like reaching the border before Winter’s End. She wandered to the next hill, where the dogs were gorging themselves on whale blubber. They were relatively small animals, at least compared to the only other land animals she knew—polar bears.

  She bent down by one and observed the way it tore away chunks of meat, then swallowed without really chewing. The dogs’ faces and mannerisms reminded her of a leopard seal, only, of course, the dogs were smaller and more muscularly built and had legs instead of flippers. “You can pet them,” said a voice from behind her.

  Still crouched, Elice pivoted to find Tikaani behind her. He was a young man, not much older than her. He carried more meat to the dogs, which barked and strained at their te
thers. Elice reached out and stroked the back of the nearest dog. The fur wasn’t nearly as soft and sleek as seal fur. The dog seemed to like the attention, though, for he crowded her and licked her cheek with a smelly tongue. She laughed a little, suddenly wishing she’d had one of her own in the palace.

  “I’ve heard stories of a palace taller than a mountain and grander than anything we can imagine,” Tikaani said without looking at her. “Though your clothes are worn, I can tell they were once fine. You don’t even need to wear a parka. Why would you defy your mother by leaving?”

  Shame knifed through Elice. She reached for her magic out of habit and found it weak but serviceable. Wanting to test herself further, she called forth a mild blizzard with swirling currents of air. She found that if she bent the currents and wanted them to stay, they did. So she bent and twisted and turned until a face peered back at her—the face of her mother.

  Elice released the magic, and the face scattered across her lap.

  Tikaani crouched beside her. “I do not wish to be cruel, but I need more than just gratitude if you wish me to risk my life and, by extension, the lives of my family.”

  She forced herself to face him. He had the typical Svass dark skin, round face, and narrow eyes, and there was determination in his expression. He was handsome, too, with dimples in both cheeks and a bright smile—she’d seen it when he’d greeted the dogs.

  “Because I want to be free,” Elice finally said. “I want a people, like you have a people.”

  “None of us are truly free. We are all at the mercy of life.” Tikaani tipped his head to the side as he studied her. “What of the other two you travel with?”

  She let out a long breath. “I don’t think my mother will hurt Sakari—she has no reason to. But Adar . . . she nearly drowned him and then set a pack of seals and then polar bears on us. All after she promised she wouldn’t hurt him.” Elice shook her head. “I don’t trust her to let him go even if I did go back to her.”

  Tikaani slowly nodded. “So it’s love then, and not fear, that drives you.”

  Elice opened her mouth to argue with him. She certainly wasn’t in love with Adar. He was irritating and inconsiderate and loud. But the words wouldn’t come. Before she could formulate a response, Tikaani had walked away.

  Later that day, Elice settled into the first dog sled, with Aklaq on the runners behind her. Sakari followed behind with Adar. Tikaani came last, his sled holding a large load of whale meat and blubber. Aklaq had informed Elice that it was more for the dogs than for themselves. Before her, the sixteen dogs yipped and danced at their harnesses. One let out a long howl that sent a shudder through Elice.

  “My bones protest this,” Tapeesa said sourly.

  “That’s because you are old, Mother,” Aklaq said without looking at her.

  Tapeesa huffed. “We need you and Tikaani here to protect the people.”

  A great cracking sound whipped through the group, making the dogs jump and yip. Elice twisted around and watched as a fissure split the center of the frozen wave. Everyone seemed to hold a collective breath as fractures spread faster and farther. Water shot out in places, the holes that let them through widening and breaking apart until the sea was released with a roar. It surged forward. Elice opened herself to winter. Though she still wasn’t at full power, she might be able to put a barrier between the people and the surging wave.

  The water slammed into the protected cove where the village had been and surged up the mountain, but instead of continuing toward the village’s new site, it spread between the hills until it reached the glacier. It pooled and rose, eating away the landscape one churning wave at a time. Elice prepared herself, but the water halted, milling about the mountains and going no higher.

  Aklaq turned back to her, anger in his eyes. “And what protection could I offer against that wave, Mother? It would have killed us all.”

  His mother’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears. “When gods and mankind mix, mankind always loses. You are meddling in the affairs of immortals. Such a union will not bode well for us who have no power in the world of fairies.”

  Aklaq fixed his gaze ahead of them. “Elice saved my life. She saved your life. She saved the lives of my wife and my children. Now she asks for our help. I cannot deny her.”

  His mother scowled. “And what would you have us do while you’re away?”

  Aklaq sighed. “It’s not much earlier than we normally leave to hunt caribou. Tikaani and I will go ahead and start the hunt. The rest of you follow along after you finish drying the whale meat.”

  Tapeesa took a step closer. Elice couldn’t help but notice the genuine fear in her eyes. Aklaq softened and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. When she stepped back, a younger woman and five children took her place. Elice glanced back in time to see Tikaani press his forehead to a woman and three children who must have been his mother and siblings.

  Elice shifted her gaze to Aklaq. “Am I wrong to ask this of you?”

  He looked up from tying down some straps, his eyes determined. “Perhaps the queen shall kill me. I cannot know. But I can at least be as brave as the girl who owed me nothing and yet risked everything.” Before Elice could protest, he called out to his dogs while releasing a lever on the side of the sled. The sled glided forward and picked up speed until the wind bit into Elice’s cheeks and tugged tears from her eyes.

  The landscape changed little as they crossed the hard-packed snow, always heading south. The dogs trotted on and on, seeming tireless and only pausing to eat snow and some meat before they were off again. The group broke for a late dinner, eating the same meat as the dogs.

  Elice wandered among the group, drawing away the cold, though it was hardly necessary. She tended to Adar as well. His shoulder was out of the sling, and he could lift his arm above his head. The bite marks were scabbing over, the redness and swelling gone. He seemed stronger, too, and he kept everyone laughing with his jokes.

  As they continued on, there were no animals, since there was nothing to support any creature so far inland. They stopped that night, and Elice formed a hollow mound of snow that looked like a large drift. The dogs packed into it, along with the people. With Adar on one side of her, and Sakari on the other, Elice slept hard and dreamless. The next day was much the same, but the landscape began to change. The weather became warm and the snow turned to slush, something Elice had rarely seen on land before.

  She could make out a dark smudge in the distance. When she asked Aklaq about it, he said it was mountains—their destination. Elice settled back, watching as the mountains grew larger and began to take shape as sharp peaks covered in glaciers. She was so distracted she didn’t notice anything amiss, even when the dogs began to cast nervous glances at the mountains taking shape around them.

  It wasn’t until Adar’s voice cut through the slicing of the runners that Elice realized something was dreadfully wrong. “Cover your face!”

  Not asking why, she pulled her fur muffler over her mouth and nose and ducked under her hood. She saw their dark shadow on the snow. Then she heard voices and knew it didn’t matter whether she hid her face or not.

  Of all the animals she’d nursed back to health, many had later died. But only one death had made her weep with rage. She’d come back to the cage to find nothing left of the icebird but feathers and blood. And though no fairies had ever entered Elice’s smoky, underground cave before, she had instantly known which fairy had done it, for she could smell the stench of sulfur and rot. Wolverine fairies. Tenacious, cruel, and cunning. Even the bear fairies feared them. Only the wolf fairies stood against them, and then only because they banded together in an unbreakable pack.

  Elice ripped back her hood and saw a pack of wolverine fairies circling Adar, the weak sunlight shining off their oily fur wings. She launched herself from the moving dog sled, anger and protectiveness rising within her alongside the cold. But the fairies did not attack—according to the bargain, they couldn’t. Instead, one of them shot a g
reasy smile at Elice, fangs bared, and the whole flock turned, their wings beating as they flew away, no doubt heading to alert the Winter Queen of her daughter’s whereabouts.

  Elice launched out with her ice. A huge chunk wrapped around the center mass of fairies, dropping a dozen like stones. Five escaped, scattering in all directions. Running to keep them in sight, Elice shot ice after them, encasing one fairy after another, until she had all but one. It zagged back and forth, evading every shot of ice she sent its way. She felt someone approaching her from behind. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tikaani raise a bow.

  “No!” she and Adar shouted at the same time.

  But it was too late. The arrow flew true, dropping the fairy from the sky. Elice ran toward it, hardening the snow as she went so she didn’t sink. When she found the creature, the arrow had nearly cut it in half. The fairy’s blue blood spattered the fresh snow around it. Panting, the fairy shot her a vicious smile. And then it died. Elice staggered back.

  “I don’t understand,” Tikaani said. “I stopped it. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

  Sakari ran up, standing shoulder to shoulder beside Elice. “It’s them, isn’t it? The fairies,” Sakari whispered as if afraid the dying one might overhear her.

  “It’s a wolverine,” Aklaq said as he peered down at the fairy. “But there was nothing there before!”

  “It was a bird,” Tikaani answered defensively. “And then it turned into a wolverine.”

  “It’s a fairy,” Adar said.

  Elice bent down and scooped up one of the fairies frozen in a chunk of ice. It glared at her, and she could feel the growl through her fingers. “Without the Sight, all you can see is the lie. It must be a bit different for all of you.” Elice closed her eyes, connected with the ice she’d just encased the fairies with, and made it self-sustaining. It would trap the creatures and take them out of the game until her mother dissipated the ice.

  In disgust, Elice tossed away the ice-incased fairy. “Once they’re dead, they can inhabit the bodies of their nearest creature. The one you shot and killed is already a fairy again. And she’s flying to my mother.”