Fairy Keeper (21 page)

Wearing a small smile, he shook his head and held out his hand once more.

Why couldn’t the faun speak? The tales said nothing about that. Grabbing him much more firmly than last time, Sierra bypassed his hand and lifted under both his shoulders, using all her strength. His breathing was ragged as he staggered to his feet―hooves―but not a word came out between those delicate human lips. He finally straightened his back, and his gaze locked onto hers for a long moment, those eyes dark with secret knowledge she couldn’t reach.

Her chest tightened, but she didn’t understand why. He was clearly not a threat to her, so why did she feel like prey that had been sighted by a predator? What else had the tales left out of the stories?

After they took a few steps, it became clear he needed to lean on her. He was a solid weight against her left side, and Sierra hoped he couldn’t feel the racing of her pulse. Fear, exertion, and something else she couldn’t place made her a walking heart attack. His arm was slung across her shoulders, and she gingerly wrapped her arm around his waist, avoiding the arrow protruding a little higher up. His ribs rubbed against her wrist. She lowered her hand a bit until it rested along the soft fur of his hips. It kept her hand warm from the chilly air. They staggered but eventually made it to the clearing.

For all Sierra’s worry and guilt, the looks on Corbin’s and Nell’s faces were hilarious. Twin sets of eyes bigger than dinner plates stared wildly at Sierra and the faun as they reached the glade. The faun was making a hoarse growling noise over and over. Walking with an arrow sticking out of your back had to hurt, even if you were a creature of legend and magic.

Nell was the first to regain the power of speech. “What in the great green woods have you done, Sierra?”

Corbin’s jaw still hung loose, making him look a bit dim-witted. Sierra smothered a smile, turning into the faun’s shoulder until she could control her face. What an inappropriate time to burst out laughing. About as proper as laughing about a rumbling stomach the night before she had to leave, in fact. As always, trying not to laugh made the pressure in her lungs build, and she was afraid she’d start braying any minute, scaring the poor faun and making Nell angry. Sierra would need help with the arrow and didn’t want to annoy someone whose help would no doubt be necessary. They had reached an understanding, and Sierra wanted to keep things even and smooth between them.

She took a deep breath and smothered the crazy hysterical laughs attempting to fly out of her. The faun watched, eyes trained on her like a mouse watching a cat. Or a cat watching a mouse? She stiffened, her arm around his furry waist becoming like rock. He smiled for a split-second, a flitter of a grin that made Sierra blink as his white teeth flashed at her. Did she imagine that? Then he moaned, a clear sound of pain. Her mirth at her friends’ shock and her own ridiculous predicament faded like morning mist in the blazing sun.

“He’s shot,” Sierra explained, in case they had missed the arrow.

Nell, obviously alarmed by the faun’s noises, said, “We need to get the arrow out of him, and we’ll need an herbal poultice for the wound.”

She tried to hurry over to help the faun ease down onto the log but groaned as she stood.

Corbin made her sit back down, saying, “I’ll help.”

He eased the faun from Sierra’s side onto a log. The relief of having his weight off her was amazing, but Sierra sat down next to the creature to ensure he wouldn’t tip over into the fire.

“I can make the poultice if you can keep him from falling,” Sierra said to Corbin. Years of pinches and scratches meant learning the best herbs for quick healing. She’d already seen some of what she would need during her trip this morning. Though she hated to leave the faun, she slipped out of their campsite with her herb knife and stopped at a nearby grouping of rocks. She rushed to slice through the stems and roots she needed, breathing deep the rich scent of valderium, the spicy tang of corindan, the sweetness of winter moss. She was thankful they grew here. Mashed together, these would help the faun heal.

When Sierra returned, she tried to smile encouragingly at the poor creature sitting hunched on the log. She grabbed a bowl and mashed the herbs with the end of her knife, swirling them into a rough poultice.

“Here,” she said, handing the bowl Corbin.

She took a deep breath and sat down next to the faun. Before she could take another, Corbin had pulled a bandage as big as his hand out of his bag and spread the poultice across it.

Nell said, “Corbin has to hold him steady so one of us can pull out the arrow. With only one arm, I don’t think I can do it, Sierra. You’ll have to.”

Sierra blanched. That would hurt him even more.

Nell seemed to read her expression. “Don’t be a baby,” she snapped, which stiffened Sierra’s spine.

“Come on, Nell, you know how Sierra is about blood,” Corbin murmured.

Sierra mashed her lips together. They’d never let her forget that, would they? They’d all been in class the day Nell came to school two years ago with a bad gash over one eye. She’d been working for Jack by then, and learning how to fight. It wasn’t easy going in the beginning. The stitches she’d put in herself came loose in the middle of their lesson on the requirements for eldership. It certainly livened up the lesson. Blood gushed down Nell’s cheek, pooling all over the desk. Sierra got one look and had to close her eyes and put her head between her knees. Blood was not her friend, no indeed. Luckily, as a keeper, that wasn’t usually an issue.

“You’ll be fine,” Corbin added, holding the faun steady. “You can handle anything, Sierra. You can do this.”

She smiled, despite the nausea in her stomach at the thought of pulling out the arrow. Corbin always believed in her. She nodded and got into place, taking one more deep breath to steady her nerves.

Nell directed them. “Okay, Corbin, keep doing what you’re doing. He may faint when it’s done, so be ready. Sierra, it’s in a good place, as far as arrow wounds go. You have to grab the end of the arrow and yank. If you push it through, the fletching will tear him up. This is going to hurt him as it is. A lot. And it’s going to bleed. A lot.”

Great. With trembling hands, Sierra grabbed hold of the arrow. Sweat made it slippery, so she wiped her hands on her stained pants. Her lips felt numb. He was shivering, the poor thing.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, before yanking the arrow out with a solid, forceful pull.

His shriek echoed through the clearing, and goose bumps marched up and down her arms. Blood poured from the gaping wound. Her stomach twisted, and she turned her face away. Nell’s voice was low and soothing over the sudden ripping of cloth, and when Sierra looked back over, Corbin had already placed the bandage around the faun’s waist. The cloth was strikingly white next to the rich cinnamon brown of the faun’s skin. Her knees felt weak, so she plopped down next to him. The faun slumped over for a long moment, silent. He had passed out. Probably for the best.

“He’ll be okay,” Nell told her.

“I thought he was a deer,” Sierra explained, gesturing to the obvious reason she made the mistake. Her skin felt clammy.

Nell stared at Sierra for a long moment. Then a laugh sputtered through Nell’s teeth. She clamped her lips, trying admirably to hold it together, but Corbin chortled and her laughter spewed out.

“Only you, Sierra!” She leaned over her knees, laughing until she cried.

Sierra sat there stiffly, the wounded faun passed out beside her on Corbin’s legs, unsure what to do.

Nell continued, “First, you attract a fairy and now a mythological creature no one’s seen in years. And you don’t want anything to do with magic!”

The laughter must have awoken the faun, because he stirred and sat up. The others were too busy laughing to do anything, but Sierra ignored them and said, “It’s out now. You’ll be okay.”

She frowned over at Nell and Corbin.

Nell said, “Seriously, how on earth could you miss the whole human torso and head thing?”

Sierra shrugged. She had no idea how she’d missed that. She didn’t appreciate having Nell of all people point out her own foolishness. Not so soon.

The faun ran his hand down Sierra’s arm softly. He offered a gentle smile this time, and patted her arm again, soothingly. It was a friendly touch, not scary at all, and there was something of home there in the scent of rosemary and rain. Her shoulders relaxed, and she squeezed his hand to show her thanks for his offer of support. Her skin looked like snow compared to his toasty brown tone that blended nicely with the trees and with his fur. His collarbone was like a strange necklace around his neck, all points and angles, and his skin hung loosely on his boney arms like a too-large coat.

“We’ll take care of you,” she promised him. She’d take him along with them until he was better healed. The compulsion to do so was too strong to ignore. But none of them could go any farther today.

“We need to take a day to heal,” Sierra announced.

Nell tried to argue, but Corbin sided with Sierra. Between the arrow wound and Nell’s shoulder, one day seemed reasonable. Nell must have been hurting pretty badly because her arguments were weak, and soon she was dozing. Corbin tidied up the camp and made more grains.

The faun closed his eyes and leaned his head against Sierra, right on her shoulder, his weight pressing against her. A strange flutter in her chest reminded her of her fairy queen. As if the thought of her called forth her image, the flickering lights from yesterday roared into her vision. The taste of nectar swelled in her mouth, nearly drowning her. The world turned orange, black, and red. Sierra gasped.

The faun’s head snapped up, concern clear in his eyes. Nell awoke with a start at Sierra’s strangled intake of breath, and Corbin immediately began scoping the clearing.

“Did you see something?” he asked.

Nell narrowed her eyes at Sierra. “What’s going on?”

“The colors are back,” she whispered.

Jagged edges of lightning shot across the clearing, lightning only she saw.

Nell gave Corbin a quick summary of what Sierra shared right before the earthquake, about the strange dreams and hallucinations. There hadn’t been time to update him since the earthquake blew all their plans apart. Nell didn’t mention the accusation made or the threats exchanged at all. Nell looked at Sierra, lifting one eyebrow slightly. She smiled ruefully back and nodded her thanks at Nell’s tactful story-telling skills. Who knew Nell could be so smooth?

Corbin stared at Sierra, stared at the faun, then stared back at Sierra. Of the two of them, she was the strangest. Great.

She continued, “I may pass out again, but the faun still needs help. I’m not able to hold him anymore.”

When Corbin shifted the faun off her shoulder, Sierra shivered when the cold air hit where he had been. The streams of colors receded to ripples, and she caught her breath.

Sierra snorted a tired laugh and rubbed her hand across her forehead. She never washed her face last night, and dirt was still smeared on it. Manic hilarity tickled her throat again, and she dropped her head onto her knees. She concentrated on her breathing and hoped her vision would return to normal by the next day so they could go. They had to find a fairy queen soon, or they’d be out of time.

or dinner, Corbin made a nourishing broth, and the taste of nectar eventually faded from Sierra’s mouth. They had some dried mushrooms left, and he stirred them in with greens and porridge grains. They weren’t the kind Queen liked best, so Sierra didn’t mind using them up. The meal wasn’t tasty, but it was warm, and that was most important.