Fairy Queens: Books 1-4

by Amber Argyle

  Panar’s mouth opened, then closed again.

  “You’re going to pass out?” Nelay asked.

  Her father’s over-bright eyes fixed on her. “Daughter, I’ll be lucky to make it all the way home.”

  Swallowing hard, she met Panar’s gaze and saw the fear there. “I’ll prepare Asat. You get the meat.”

  She pulled the packsaddle off the donkey, revealing a dark, rectangular stain of sweat on his back. To try to protect the saddle from the elements, she stashed it under a bush. She left the tent, cooking implements, and other odds and ends, but took the blankets and put a few items in her pockets. Then she set aside her spear to take with her.

  Panar had already brought their father some meat, which he ate slowly. Nelay and Panar took hold of his arms and hauled him to his feet while he hissed in pain. Somehow, they heaved him partway onto the donkey’s back. The animal shifted and brayed in protest—he wasn’t used to being ridden, and Father was heavier and larger than Asat’s regular load.

  The donkey lurched to the side, which nearly caused Father to slip off. Nelay grabbed his leg and locked her knees, bracing herself while Panar steadied Asat. Finally, Father was able to swing his other leg over the animal’s back. After nothing bad happened, Asat settled down. Father lay down on the donkey’s neck, his arms dangling past the beast’s shoulders.

  Nelay glanced at the sky. They had a few hours to full dark. “We’ll tack northeast until this mountain flattens out. I’ll scout ahead for water.”

  Her father spoke with his eyes closed. “Be careful.” His voice was tight with pain. “We can’t risk having anyone else bitten.”

  She nodded, then draped her empty water skins around her neck and took her spear in one hand. “I will, Father.” She grabbed a few strips of meat out of her pouch to give her strength for the long march, wishing for a sip of water to wash it down her already-dry throat.

  After she took several long strides, she glanced back at Panar and saw the pleading in his face. For all that he pretended he was a man, he wasn’t yet. “Go slow,” she said, angry that he always expected her to fix things.

  Panar nodded, and she turned from them. Using her spear as a walking stick, she moved at a steady pace through the brush, her every sense attuned to the rhythm and flow of the desert. There were small signs of food, but she ignored them, instead searching for water fairies.

  For anyone without the sight, the desert appeared a desolate place. But it was never as desolate as it seemed. The animals were simply hiding, deep in the ground or tucked in the crags of rocks or beneath dying bushes. After nightfall, when the shadows robbed mankind of vision, those creatures emerged and roamed through the cool dark.

  The fairies were even better hidden. Some people saw a bird, a bug, or nothing at all, their eyes passing over the fairies without actually seeing them. But the fairies weren’t hidden from Nelay. She scoured the landscape for a moss fairy, a water fairy, for fairies whose animals made their lairs by water—leopards, sand cats, hyenas. Her desperation increased as she found nothing.

  The dusky turquoise sky gave no sign of the sun’s existence besides a smudged, pale-blue print in the distance. Nelay moved to a trot—it would waste her body’s water reserves, but if she didn’t find anything before dark, she’d have to wait for morning.

  She caught sight of a leather wing and whipped around, her heart pounding. Was the fairy still following her after all? But she saw nothing. Steeling herself, she pressed on, searching. She finally stopped when it was too dark to see. There was no water. Hope had kept her moving. And now that hope was gone.

  Legs aching, she trudged to the side of the steep, cliff-like slope of another tabletop mountain and slumped down to light a smoky fire so Panar could find her. She drew her knees to her chest, her head throbbing and her mouth and eyes swollen. Her whole body screamed silently for water.

  Was her father even still alive? She reached into her pocket and withdrew the glass idol. Her thumbs worked up the slippery wings as she mouthed the words over and over. “Let the fire burn within me.”

  She awoke sometime later to Panar kicking her legs. She sat up with a start to find him standing above her, holding the donkey’s lead rope. “Where’s the water?”

  Working her swollen tongue to try to bring up some moisture in her mouth, Nelay pushed herself to her feet. She staggered with sudden dizziness and rubbed at the cramp in her leg. “There isn’t any.”

  The fire reflecting off his face, Panar shot a worried look back at their father. “Sister, we have to have water!”

  “I can’t find what isn’t there!” She studied her father, draped over their donkey, his face screwed up in pain, his breathing labored. She glanced quickly away. “I won’t be able to find anything in the dark, Father.”

  He didn’t answer.

  She shot Panar a panicked look. Her brother swallowed hard. “He keeps falling asleep,” he said. “It’s hard to wake him.”

  Nelay strode to her father and shook his shoulder. His head turned away from her touch. Squeezing, she shook him. His eyes opened.

  She stepped back. “I couldn’t find any water.”

  Her father grunted something incoherent and rested his head against the donkey once more.

  Nelay bit her knuckle as she stared at him, aghast.

  “He’s going to be fine,” Panar said stubbornly.

  She nodded a little too emphatically. It would be a quarter moon, just enough light to see by. “If we have the valley crossed by morning, we can reach Mother by this time tomorrow.”

  Nelay started out. Panar jerked on the donkey’s lead rope and followed.

  With air sawing in and out of her lungs, Nelay finally reached the top of a table mountain. Sweat should be pouring down her, yet it wasn’t. She would have been frightened, but it was getting harder and harder to worry about anything except her next step. And the next step after that.

  She knew she was being watched, but she was very careful not to look for the snake fairy now. Her only hope was that the creature would lose interest and go away.

  Leaning against her spear, Nelay looked back. Panar staggered up the rise toward her, the donkey trailing behind him. The animal’s ears drooped tiredly. He had started to stumble more and more. How much longer before he flopped down and refused to rise? How much longer before all of them flopped down and refused to rise?

  But if they pushed through, they could be home by tonight. Mother would have goats milk and cheese and cooked grains, and cool water from their well.

  Nelay turned her face toward the hot breeze that whipped her headscarf free and twisted her robes against her ankles. Tugging the headscarf back over her face and holding it, she started across the flat expanse with a quicker step. When she finally reached the other side, she searched the landscape below, looking for any signs of water, water fairies, or the snake fairy still following her. There was nothing.

  Ignoring her persistent headache, Nelay searched for a suitable place to descend. To the south, a fan of land spanned out. She whistled to catch Panar’s attention and pointed so he could head straight for it. Then she made her way across the top of the mountain and down the other side, sliding on her bottom when it grew too steep.

  At the base, she sank to the ground, her head pounding and her heart thudding painfully in her chest, and watched as Panar and the donkey picked their way down. Sometime in the night, her father had slipped off the animal’s back. He had awakened enough to help them get him back on. After that, they’d tied him around the animal’s neck.

  Suddenly, the donkey stumbled and lurched forward. With a shout, Panar jumped out of the way. Before Nelay could process what had happened, the donkey flipped, sending her father flying through the air. He hit hard and skidded down the slope. Nelay started running, the donkey’s brays sounding far away.

  Panar reached Father first. Nelay skidded to a stop beside them, dust sticking to her throat and making her cough. “Father?”

  He reached towa
rd his wound, his whole body clenched in pain. “My leg.”

  Nelay exchanged a look with Panar before pulling the bandage back. A large chunk of her father’s skin about the size of her hand came with it. Blood oozed from the wound, which was surrounded by unnaturally white flesh. Nelay didn’t have a drop of water to wash the blood away.

  Gagging, Panar stood and backed away. His head swiveled from side to side. “Where’s Asat?”

  Nelay staggered to her feet. “Asat!” she called. They jumped up and searched frantically, but the donkey was gone. Breathing hard, Nelay sat back down, her forearms resting on her drawn knees. “Father, Asat is gone.”

  He let out a few hard breaths and opened his eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and bulging. He glanced at his leg and grimaced. “Listen to me now. Both of you, go on home. Fetch Benvi and his sons. Have them come for me.” Benvi was their closest neighbor, a half day’s walk away.

  Nelay shook her head so hard her headscarf came loose and pooled around her shoulders. “By the time we get him, we won’t be able to come back here until tomorrow before the ovat.” She knew her father wouldn’t survive that long without water.

  Panar was still and silent on the other side of their father. “We can’t leave him,” she pleaded with her brother.

  When Panar didn’t respond, she felt a sob heaving in her throat. She had to make them understand. “If we leave him, he’ll die.”

  Panar finally raised his eyes to hers. “That’s why he’s sending us away. So we don’t die with him.”

  A sob burst from Nelay’s throat. Crying without producing tears made her headache blaze. “No! You go. I’ll stay here and find water. You come back with the others.”

  “Daughter,” Father said softly. She refused to look at him. He rested his hand gently on her arm. “It’ll be all right. Go with your brother. He’ll care for you.”

  She finally met her father’s gaze. “No.”

  “Nelay, listen to me! If you don’t find water soon, you will die.”

  “So you want us to leave you to die!”

  Her father reached up and took her shaking body in his arms. She collapsed against his chest, feeling the fever burning through him, and sobbed until her head felt like it would burst.

  When she’d finally calmed herself, hard pulses of pain shot around her eyes. Father rubbed her back, something he’d never done before. “Drag me into the shade. Leave me with a spear and a knife.”

  So that he could fight off any predators that smelled the blood. Something hardened within Nelay. She would not lose her father. Not when she could stop it. “Father, there might be water. I saw something up on the mountain.” A lie. She had formed another plan—one that had nothing to do with finding water. “I might have to dig for hours, but I can get some.”

  Father seemed to consider. “If you’re wrong, it will be too late. Go with your brother.” He held out his arms for them to take. “Help me.”

  She and Panar each hooked an arm around his elbow and dragged him over to a bush. “Not this one, Father,” Nelay said with a nod toward the spines.

  “That’s why I chose it,” he said breathlessly.

  Suddenly she understood. The spines would protect him from wild beasts.

  Panar swept his spear under the spiny branches. Nelay hoped he would flush something out—even a scorpion would provide them some moisture, but there was nothing.

  Her brother stuck the butt of the spear into the bush and pushed up the branches. Father lay on his back and, with Nelay’s help, managed to slide under. Then Panar gently lowered the branches.

  Father spoke to them, his face obscured by thorns. “My children, I will fight to live with all I have, if you will promise the same.”

  “Yes, Father,” Panar said, his gaze fastened to the ground.

  Nelay could only nod.

  Father took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Go now.”

  Panar gave a hard jerk of his head for Nelay to follow, passed his spear to his other hand, and started out.

  She trailed after him, looking back at the bush until it had disappeared from sight. When she was sure they were out of Father’s earshot, she reached forward and took hold of her brother’s sleeve. “Panar?”

  He cocked his head back but didn’t stop moving. “What?”

  “I meant what I said. I can find water.”

  “Father said no.”

  She stumbled on a bump in the ground and fell to her knees. She didn’t bother standing back up. “If I don’t bring him water, he’ll die.”

  Panar’s shoulders slumped, and he finally stopped walking, though he didn’t turn to face her. “He’s going to die anyway, Nelay. His skin is starting to rot. Maybe it’s better this way.”

  Nelay’s whole body went numb. “How is it better if he dies?”

  Panar whirled on her. “The only way to save him from the poison is to cut off his foot, but then he’ll bleed to death. Better for him to die whole.” His voice hitched. “There’s nothing we can do.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said in a whisper.

  He looked away, jiggling his spear. “You’re coming with me, Nelay.”

  Pushing herself unsteadily to her feet, she backed out of his range, dropped her spear, and pulled her sling from her belt. She had it loaded with a stone in seconds.

  Her brother reached for his own sling. “Nelay,” he said, warning in his voice.

  “You can’t make me go.”

  “Just for once, follow me.” He pounded his chest for emphasis, his eyes begging her.

  Though she was only nine, Nelay knew he was asking for more than simple obedience. If she went against him now, he’d never forgive her. And even after everything he’d done to her, she didn’t want that. “I can’t.”

  He jerked out his own sling. Before he could even load a stone, she flung hers, letting go on the second rotation. Her stone flew perfectly, hitting his hand.

  Panar hissed in pain, clutching his hand and shooting her a murderous glare. She filled her sling with another stone but kept backing away. “I can save him. You have to believe me.”

  He started toward her. She twisted her sling again, this time hitting his shoulder.

  With a cry, he staggered back. Nelay knew he’d have a massive bruise. But she wouldn’t back down. “Go!”

  He charged toward her, but she flung another stone, hitting his chest.

  “Fine,” he spat, his eyes rimmed red with fury. “Stay and die.”

  He whirled around and stormed away. Nelay watched him go, her resolve suddenly wavering. She was terrified to be left alone. Terrified that her perfect plan didn’t seem so perfect anymore. And even though what she was about to do would surely cost her freedom, maybe even her life, it was all she had.

  She waited until she couldn’t see or hear her brother before retrieving her spear and taking a defensive stance. Then she said softly, “You’ve been following me.”

  There was only stillness, and a shard of doubt pierced her heart. It wasn’t too late to catch up to her brother, if he didn’t throttle her beyond her ability to walk.

  Steeling herself, she turned in a slow circle, searching every branch and shadow. It was time to break every rule her mother had taught her. “I saw you . . . you were helping that snake shed its skin, weren’t you?”

  Still nothing.

  “My mother says I must never let the fairies know I can see them. She says, ‘When gods and mankind mix, mankind always loses.’ But you’re a snake fairy. And snakes have venom. Maybe your magic can stop the venom.”

  “And what makes you think I would help you, mortal child?” a voice hissed.

  Nelay nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to find the fairy flying in a sinuous, snakelike pattern toward her. Allowing herself to look, Nelay saw things she’d never noticed before. The ropes of the fairy’s inky hair were gathered at the top of her head before hanging halfway down her back. Her large ears pointed away from her head. Black markings line
d her eyes and trailed in points down her cheeks. Her lips were blood-red, her fangs visible even when her mouth was closed. Scales covered her wings and most of her body, with lighter bands across her chest that gradually came to a point somewhere above her knees. Cloth hung from her body, fluttering as she moved. Either her feet were pointed or she wore pointed shoes. And her fingers ended in black claws.

  Nelay shuddered but managed to hold her ground.

  “I have no love for your kind—I am the keeper of snakes,” the fairy announced.

  Nelay fumbled for some kind of response. Honestly, she hadn’t thought past simply asking for help—something even the meanest of humans wouldn’t have withheld. But this wasn’t a human. Nelay must remember that. “You were following me—there has to be something you want.”

  The snake fairy’s tongue flicked out, tasting the air, and a shiver crawled down Nelay’s spine. “The air is heavy with your fear.”

  Nelay wished her mind wasn’t so thick with thirst. “My mother does that when she doesn’t want to answer my father—says something to distract him.”

  The fairy smiled, revealing a black mouth. “Clever, aren’t you?”

  A touch of anger made Nelay puff her chest out. “What’s your name?”

  The wings stiffened. “Siseth,” the fairy finally said.

  Nelay let out a bit of the breath she’d been holding. “There’s something you want, Siseth. Something that can be bargained for.”

  Siseth eased down to crouch on a rock, her wings curling around her. “Bargained? No. Something to be taken.”

  The threat rolled off the fairy as her body coiled to strike. Nelay’s fingers inched toward the pouch of rocks at her waist.

  Siseth tracked her movements. “You think you can hurt me? I am immortal.”

  Nelay swallowed. “I can try.”

  Siseth darted forward so fast that Nelay stumbled back. She brought her spear up, instinctively swiping at the creature. She felt a tiny shudder as the spear connected. Siseth fell, landing in a broken heap.

  Nelay blinked in disbelief, easing forward. It felt ridiculous to rest a spear tip against the tiny fairy’s chest, but she did it anyway. She pushed gently, but Siseth didn’t move. Unable to resist, Nelay reached out and brushed her fingers against the scaly, bat-like wings.