Fairy Keeper (14 page)

The next morning, they were all ready to be off. By mid-morning, they were far enough for the salty tang of the ocean to have faded from the air. When the sun sat high overhead, they left the road, trekking away from civilization. All but a few towns and villages in Aluvia followed the coastline.

The rocks of the cliffs smoothed to flat grass plains, with a few trees spearing up into the sky here and there. The brown, tall grasses waved back and forth, looking much like the ocean they had left behind. The tops reached their hips at times.

The first night in the true wilderness was the hardest. There was no nearby house to run to if they needed it. They cleared a small area of the meadow to lie down in, tearing up handfuls of the dried and brittle stems. They emptied one small section of ground down to the dirt, where they built a tiny cooking fire. Sierra’s hands were sore from the pulling by the time they were done. Nell used her knife―of course she did, any chance to use a weapon―and fared much better, to Sierra’s chagrin.

Nell’s campfire offered only a sullen red glow by the time they turned in for the night. Like the night before, they lay down like the points of a triangle, each of them as far as they could get from the others and while still near the fire. Sierra had camped out in their meadows many times, but that wasn’t the same as sleeping unprotected outdoors on the cold ground far from home. Beyond the perimeter of their little camp, she couldn’t see the horizon from her position lying down. Every snapping twig made her jump. The air was even colder farther from the coast, and she was uncertain what kinds of creatures might crawl along and find her in her sleeping roll. She wished she had one that buttoned up along the top like Nell’s, but hers was the basic kind children used.

Sierra hoped Phoebe would sleep better than this tonight at home, wondering if their pallet felt too big with only one person in it. A few rocks dug into Sierra’s back, and she wished for her old lumpy pallet. She closed her eyes even though she’d probably never sleep. An owl hooted nearby, and she smiled. Some would have turned cold at the sound, but Sierra bet that owl would eat most critters that might dare enter their sleeping area. As nervous as she was, the long hike had worn her out. Her muscles bellowed at her, but nothing could stop sleep from claiming her.

She woke up disoriented. She couldn’t remember where she was for a long moment, or why she was lying on her back in a grassy field. Then everything rushed back, and it was like ten bags of flour falling onto her chest. The fire had died, and frost lined the ground. A need to go to the bathroom, though, forced her from her warm cocoon. She didn’t change clothes at night anymore, so all she had to do was slide on her boots, safely inside the foot of her bedroll, and tromp out to a private distance from the camp. The two quiet lumps in their sleeping rolls didn’t move. Each step Sierra took made her legs scream. Squatting to use the bathroom was agony, like someone driving a knife through her thighs. She nearly fell into the leaves, but she stayed silent.

When Sierra returned to camp, she found Corbin stretching and wiping his eyes. He grimaced as he stood, and dark satisfaction shot through her. She wasn’t the only one feeling the effects of their journey. Nell, though, seemed comfortable as she slid out of her bag and didn’t twinge or stretch.

Sierra frowned but silently packed up after they had a morning meal of bland cooked grains purchased the day before. She needed to find some berries for breakfast to supplement their supplies.

As they continued on their journey, though, her muscles warmed up, and the pain faded some. There wasn’t a lot of talk between the three of them: strained silences between Corbin and Sierra, glares between Sierra and Nell, awkward silence between Corbin and Nell. With Sierra’s newfound understanding, she found herself analyzing every gesture and glance the two of them made. Watching them helped pass the time as their legs pushed through the grass. There were no villages this far away from the ocean ports, and even wildlife seemed sparse. The quiet murmur of the wind weaving through the meadow filled the air with a soft
swish swish swish
. Birds called out occasionally without showing themselves. Spiky dark green points rose in the distance, near the foot of the mountains. That’s where they were headed. Sierra wondered if the animals knew something they didn’t about the forest in the distance. The thought made her shiver. She wished there were some other place to look for the fairies.

As the sun traveled across the sky, it reminded Sierra of what she’d be doing at home. When the sun reached its zenith, melting the last of the morning frost, she thought about Phoebe most likely preparing lunch for Jack right now. That was normally Sierra’s job. She imagined puttering in the pantry, picking out bulgur wheat or rice, choosing a ripe squash to slice and simmer in the pan with garlic and onion. Jack usually wanted meat, so she served up some imaginary ham in her mental meal.

When the sun began to sink, an unexpected twinge of panic grabbed Sierra. She hadn’t collected nectar at all in three days. The last two days had been so busy, she hadn’t really noticed the missing part of her routine, but walking all day in nature forced her to face reality. Her heart thumped heavily. It was an irrational response, since of course there was no nectar to collect. But she’d spent the last four years of her life collecting nectar daily, making sure she finished her afternoon collection by twilight to minimize damage to herself when fairies returned to the hatch for the night. It felt strange to hike along for days without caring for them. Her fingers began to itch to go collecting.

Despite the awkwardness, she had to ask.

“Uh, Corbin?”

He was walking slightly ahead of the girls. He waited for her to catch up to his side, looking at her only out of the corner of his eyes. He moved stiffly, but tilted his head to indicate he was listening. Dark hair slid forward into his face, and he impatiently tossed the wayward lock out of the way. His amber-colored eyes appeared brighter against skin already tanned darker than its usual nut-brown.

“Do you feel… strange… not having collected nectar? I keep thinking I’m forgetting something important…”

He looked relieved and faced her, stopping in his tracks. He smacked his forehead. “Yes! That’s
it
! All afternoon, it’s been like in school when you sort of remember an assignment but can’t remember when it’s due! You got it―it’s the fairy runs!”

“At least it’s not just me. I was feeling a bit crazy,” she admitted.

“See, you think you don’t like your fairy, but you care more than you think.” Corbin never missed a chance to drive home his frequent point. Then he reached to tug Sierra’s braid, but his hand faltered partway through. He dropped his arm awkwardly as he glanced at Nell waiting and tapping her foot impatiently.

“Uh, thanks for figuring out what was bothering me, Sierra,” he said. He stared at the ground for a moment before moving on.

She noticed he didn’t call her little sister, or squirt, and any of his many nicknames. Could he have forgotten all their times together? Not all were fun and games, either. They were the kind of friends that stuck with each other. Or had been.

Once, Corbin’s mother caught the sea trade pox two years ago, a very serious illness. By the time she caught it, she had already used up their own supplies of medicine treating others with the disease. Sierra worked with Corbin all day and night to gather enough of the right herbs to help his mother survive. He taught Sierra how to make the healing herbal creams and teas necessary to nourish the body during and after the sickness. She’d spent hours helping at his house and learned so much from him.

Corbin’s distant behavior now stung worse than a fairy bite, as if all those memories meant nothing. Feeling defeated and betrayed, she didn’t even bother to correct his wrong assumption. A compulsion to collect nectar didn’t mean she adored her fairy, but she’d already told him that a thousand times. He obviously didn’t want to keep talking, much less about something they’d always disagreed on.

Nell and Corbin walked a little ahead of Sierra, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She turned her mind to solving the problem of the missing fairies. The fact that no fairies had harassed or flirted with two keepers traveling together suggested, more than anything she’d heard, that all fairies had been affected. Maybe Keeper Hannon was on to something.

Then a new realization blew through her, leaving that thought in the dust. This meant Phoebe and Sierra could run away! No fairies would give their whereabouts away with their flittering, squealing, pinching presence. She nearly froze at the magnitude of the realization, shocked that it was just now occurring to her, but she kept moving, not wanting to attract Nell’s attention. It wasn’t an ideal solution, because Jack would search hard for them. His pride would demand it. Phoebe didn’t deserve a life on the run if they could figure out something better. Still, she tucked the thought into her heart and used it to keep warm when the dark thoughts inevitably came of what would happen if she didn’t find a fairy to trade for her sister’s life.

ach day blurred into the next as the mountains filled more of the horizon. The trio made good time. Sierra missed Corbin’s upbeat chatty nature, though he finally loosened up enough to describe what kind of creatures they could expect along the way. After all, he’d read every scroll and book in his village on magical creatures and the natural world. Sometimes he explained bits about the plants around them and even found several good edible herbs.

The scent of dry meadow grass blended with the sweet zip of pine needles from the sporadic trees that began to appear. In the distance, the Skyclad Mountains looked like hands reaching out to grab the clouds. Sierra’s anxiety ratcheted higher each time the sun set on another day without her sister.

She woke up less and less sore as time went on, but her sleep became less and less restful the closer they got to the jagged peaks ahead. Every night when Sierra slept now, she dreamed wild, vivid dreams about her fairies. Sometimes Phoebe was there, too, and Corbin and even Nell, but Queen was always there, calling to her.

Her dreams were full of blazing reds and oranges, zipping lights of color that made her dizzy. She woke groggy and disoriented.

Corbin still acted strangely around Sierra, as he had since their lips bumped, leaving her uncertain how to bring up such a bizarre topic as her dreams. She certainly had no intentions of confiding in Nell, either. Nell and Corbin’s stilted silence with each other had been replaced with soft chatting about all manner of things. Turned out they both enjoyed hearing the fiddle players down at The Sweet and Sour, an old tavern on the old wharfs of Port Ostara. They both loved fried pickles. And hey, what did they know, they both loved a good thunderstorm. Their slowly growing interest in each other would have been sweet to see, had it been anyone but those two. As it was, it was downright depressing for Sierra to watch.

Their little sidelong glances at each other made Sierra feel even worse. She felt sure she was going to lose him, her only friend outside of Phoebe. He still acted like Sierra had caught the pox. But she had to keep going. This was about Phoebe, not about Corbin. As long as Phoebe wasn’t sent to Bentwood’s, Sierra could survive anything.