Faerie Winter

  Her hands closed around my throat. “I think that will be quite enough, Liza.”

  As I lurched away, wool tightened around my throat, leaving me gasping for air. My scarf—I grabbed at it but couldn’t pull it away. “Go away, Elin, go away!” I choked on the words as I reached for my knife. I should have gone for the knife from the start. It couldn’t fail me the way magic could.

  Elin’s hand brushed my wrist. Wool flowed over my fingers, and my own sweater sleeve wrapped around my hand, forcing my fingers into a fist. I reached for the sleeve with my other hand, but I was too slow. Elin grabbed it, and wool flowed over that hand, too, trapping it. I staggered, letting my pack, with its bow and quiver, fall from my shoulders. “Go away, go away—” I needed more air. I brought my bound fists to my neck, but they were too clumsy. My sight blurred, and I fell, gasping, to my knees. Kyle laughed. The sound seemed very far away.

  Elin’s fingers brushed my neck again, and the scarf loosened. I drew gulping breaths as I stumbled to my feet. “Elin, go away!” I threw all the power I could into the call.

  Elin’s laugh was wild. “As if after the Uprising I would entrust any human with my full name. Perhaps if your power were greater or we’d known each other longer, this short form would suffice, but that is no matter.” She looked down at me. “And now, Liza, I believe we are ready to talk.” She took my knife from its sheath. I lunged at her, but she stepped aside and handed the knife to Kyle. “Kyle, dear, would you hold this?”

  I would not let fear cloud my thoughts. I would not. Kyle tested my knife against one finger, but Elin made a tsking sound. “Not yet.” Kyle obediently drew the knife away. Johnny moved to Elin’s other side. My hold on them was gone.

  “Take me if you must, but let Kyle and Johnny go.” I had a chance yet of fighting my way free, but Kyle and Johnny didn’t, not while glamour controlled them.

  “I don’t think so.” Elin’s silver eyes were bright. “Though glamour doesn’t touch you, as a weaver I have power enough of my own, and if it is a small thing beside my mother or grandmother’s magic, still it has its uses. Give me your hands.”

  I backed away. “What do you want with us?”

  “That is for the Lady to decide. Your hands, Liza.”

  The Lady will not like this. Karin’s words, from my vision. Mom had spoken of a lady, too, when she’d told me about glamour. She’d said the Lady had turned a boy into a stag and hunted him, and her voice had tightened with fear.

  There was a black walnut tree just a few paces from the path. If I could get to it, tear my sleeves against its bark—

  “This will not do.” Elin turned to Kyle. “You may use the knife now.”

  He pressed the steel to his palm at once, slicing skin.

  “Kyle! Come here!”

  He shuffled toward me. The blade seemed huge against his small hand. Blood welled up as he pressed it in deeper.

  “Give me the knife.”

  Kyle hesitated, then shook his head—no. He grinned as his hand grew slick with blood. Johnny laughed as he watched us.

  A few more steps and I’d reach the tree, but if Kyle cut too deep, he could lose use of his hand. I stopped, drew a sharp breath, and held my hands out in front of me. “Leave him alone.”

  Elin’s feral smile reminded me of a cat that had cornered its prey. “No more playing with the knife, Kyle.”

  Kyle frowned, but he drew the blade away. So much blood—I couldn’t tell whether tendons had been severed. He looked up at me, and for an instant fear flashed across his face. “Hurts,” he whispered.

  Elin patted his shoulder. “Of course it doesn’t hurt.”

  Kyle nodded slowly, though his hand still bled. Anger threatened to choke me, as surely as my scarf had.

  “If you take so much as a single step without my leave, Liza, I shall feel free to command him to slit his own throat. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” I kept the fear from my voice. Anger had its uses, after all.

  Kyle stared down at his bleeding hand, as if it puzzled him. Elin glanced at Johnny. “Find my butterfly, and bring it back to me.” Johnny headed off among the trees to do as she asked while Elin stalked toward me.

  “Much better. Grandmother says all humans come into line sooner or later. It is simply a matter of learning to speak your crude language.” Elin took my hands in hers. I fought not to flinch as she rolled up my loose coat sleeves and crossed my arms in front of me. Wool flowed once more, liquid and glimmering, until my sweater bound my arms together at the wrists. Elin smiled as she stroked the sleeves, and the rest of the sweater tightened around me, constricting my ribs. I gave a sharp gasp. I could breathe, but I couldn’t run. I pulled at my sleeves. The binding at my wrists held. I was trapped.

  Panic shuddered through me. Kyle drew his bleeding palm to his mouth, as if his wound were a mere curiosity. “Bind his hand.” Talking hurt with the sweater tight around me.

  Elin smiled sweetly. “Kyle doesn’t mind a little blood, does he?” Kyle shook his head. “Still, it would not do to bring him to the Lady damaged.” Elin strode idly to Kyle and touched the sleeve of his wool coat. Light flowed beneath her fingers, and a strip of wool fell away into her hands, as surely as if she’d cut it. She wrapped the cloth around Kyle’s injured hand and ran her fingers over the wool. The edges melted together, the way wood melted beneath Charlotte’s hands. When Elin drew away, a tight gray bandage circled Kyle’s palm. Kyle grinned, even as blood began to seep through.

  Johnny returned with Elin’s butterfly. The wings were bent, but they flapped on. Elin frowned as she straightened them and drew her hair from her neck. “If you try to use your magic in any way, Liza, there will be more blood. I trust you understand that as well. Do you require that I gag you, or will you behave?”

  “I’ll—” Words caught in my throat. I couldn’t promise to do as she asked if I didn’t mean it. “You don’t need to gag me.”

  “Good.” Elin took Kyle’s bandaged hand. He wrapped his fingers around hers. Johnny reached for her other hand. “You will walk ahead of me, so that I can watch you. Follow the trail.”

  “Where are we going?”

  Elin made a shushing sound. “I have not given you leave to ask questions, Summoner. Do you seek to anger me so soon?”

  Johnny tilted his head at me, as if puzzled. “You worry too much, Liza.”

  “Indeed,” Elin said. “Start walking.”

  I wanted to throw myself at her. I did not want to walk into danger at her command. But I moved forward, my bound gait stiff, my breath tight. If we continued along this path, we’d be heading straight for Clayburn. Rain began to fall in large, cold drops. Elin’s steps made no sound, but I heard Kyle behind me. Johnny, too—for once he wasn’t using magic to hide himself.

  My thoughts remained my own. I held to that, staying alert for any way free of this trap.

  We left ash and mud and the picked-over bones of the dead behind. Elin asked Johnny questions: about his magic, and Kyle’s, and mine; about the other children in our town. Johnny obediently answered them all.

  Raindrops pocked the soft snow and made puddles in the dirt. Matthew’s prints continued on, as did the stranger’s prints beside them. Wherever Elin was taking us, Matthew had gone that way, too. There’d be no help for Ethan from either of us anytime soon.

  The air grew heavy with the scent of dead leaves. Sun poked through the clouds, but it seemed a thin thing beside the damp and the cold. Kyle whined once about being hungry, but at a word from Elin fell silent. I was hungry, too. The dried meat in my pockets might as well have been miles away.

  As the sun neared the horizon, it gave off a yellow glow. Light reflected off a puddle ahead of me. I stumbled, the light turned golden bright, and in that brightness I saw—

  Matthew, whining as he nosed at the bones of the burned children, not seeing the dark shadow that fell across his path. I tried to cry out a warning, but then I saw—

  Karin, reaching into a wall
of ivy and hawthorn and briars, the Wall that protected her town. Greenery parted as she cupped her hands around something tangled within—a silver quia leaf on a chain, much like the one Mom had given me. The scene shifted, and green leaves gave way to bare winter branches, but Karin continued holding her leaf. As if in response, my own leaf grew warm against my chest.

  “Karin!” I called, knowing better than to expect her to hear, knowing that visions could never wholly be trusted and that it might not be the present I saw.

  Yet Karin tilted her head, as if puzzled. Her brows drew together, and her gaze focused right on me. “Liza? What is wrong? Where are you?”

  “Near Clayburn—” I wasn’t sure if I mouthed the words or spoke them, but as I did, I fell forward.

  The puddle splashed beneath me. I looked up, into silver eyes—not Karin’s eyes. Elin grabbed my scarf as I struggled to my feet. It tightened around my throat, and dizziness made me stagger. “I’m sorry,” I gasped. Under my too-tight sweater, the quia leaf remained warm against my skin. Caleb had said the leaf would protect Mom in dark forests. Could it be protecting me from Elin’s glamour, too? “I will do my best”—I drew a strangled breath—“not to fall again.”

  The scarf loosened as Elin turned away. She laid a hand on Kyle’s shoulder. “You may play with the knife again, if you’re careful. You do know how to be careful, don’t you?”

  Kyle nodded and tested the tip of the knife against his bandage. He watched with mild interest as fresh blood soaked through the blood that had clotted there. Johnny watched, too, a dreamy look on his face.

  “I said it wouldn’t happen again.” Anger colored my voice.

  “I am aware of that. This was just a reminder that you’d best keep your word. Enough, Kyle.” Elin laughed, but it sounded forced. “Isn’t Liza silly to fall?”

  “Silly!” Kyle grinned at me as if we shared some secret. Johnny rolled his eyes, almost as he might have done without glamour, but then he laughed, too. How could Caleb have ever used magic like this on Mom?

  Elin shoved me forward. “Keep walking.”

  I walked, but something felt different—my sweater, where my wrists were bound, wasn’t quite as tight as before. I tugged on it, and the wool gave a little, as if some tear had weakened the fabric when I fell. It felt looser around my ribs, as well.

  The rain had stopped. As the sun dipped below the horizon, I slowly worked at the weak spot in the fabric, using movements I hoped were too small to see. Fibers gave way, one by one.

  I heard Johnny stumble in the fading light. Kyle complained he was tired, and Elin silenced him by telling him he wasn’t. A shadow floated across our path, brushing my leg. I shivered as I felt the longing within it, the cold desire to be called—there was nothing I could do about that now. The shadow floated on. Had it belonged to one of the children Elin had killed? I no longer doubted she’d commanded Ethan to burn them all. I wondered if he’d even understood was he was doing. Not my fault. He might be dying for it even now.

  Another fiber gave. I uncurled my fingers, curled them again before Elin could see. Wind brushed my face and sent shivers down my spine. A faint burned scent returned to the air, though the wind didn’t come from the direction of the dead children. It came from Clayburn.

  Wool tore. My wrists pulled away from each other. I pressed them together again, careful not to move too fast. I felt the skin of wrist touching wrist through the holes in the fabric, Matthew’s hair tie between them. I inched my fingers up through my sleeves, slowly widening those holes.

  “Carry me,” Kyle whispered. Elin made a disdainful sound. When I looked back, it was Johnny who carried Kyle. The younger boy leaned his head sleepily against his brother’s shoulder, clutching my knife like a toy he didn’t want to let go.

  The burned smell grew stronger as we came to the ruined houses that meant we were near the edge of a town. The path continued on, toward pale bluffs that reached for the sky. We veered off it. The forest gave way to cleared land, but the ruins went on. One house’s roof had fallen in, and its walls were blackened and crumbling. The next house had burned to the ground, and the one after it, too. A man lay lifeless in the snow, arms flung open, shirt burned away.

  I choked on the stench of charred flesh. This wasn’t the edge of a town. This was—this had been—Clayburn. She didn’t only kill the children.

  “Smells bad,” Kyle muttered sleepily.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Elin told him. Kyle didn’t complain again.

  We passed a woman whose fingers had melted together where they were folded over her chest, a man whose frost-stiffened hair fell over the sunken sockets of eyes that had burned away. I tasted bile at the back of my throat, even as I wondered why Elin hadn’t killed the children here, too, instead of waiting to take them so far beyond the town.

  The last of the light left us, and a bright moon poked through the clouds. A great horned owl hooted, a mournful sound.

  “Owl’s hungry,” Kyle muttered. “Me too.” Elin didn’t bother answering him. The houses grew closer together, some piles of ruined timbers, others half standing. Their blackened beams glistened in the moonlight. More shadows drifted among them, keeping their distance from us, as if dying had taught them, too late, to be afraid.

  The holes in my sweater were large enough to get my hands through now. I slowed my steps. I’d go for Elin’s eyes—that was my best chance of disabling her without weapons or magic, and it might buy Johnny and Kyle the time to escape.

  The wind died. I caught a whisper of movement, and a woman silently stepped out from between two fallen houses.

  She wasn’t human. I knew it at once, down to my bones, would have known even without her pale hair, piled in braids atop her head and held in a net that glittered with icy green light, or her silver eyes, which shone as bright as moonlight itself. Her long brown dress was frayed at the hem and sleeves, yet she moved in it with a liquid grace that nothing human could hope for. Only her heavy black boots seemed out of place. I felt a fleeting desire to bow before her. The leaf burned hot against my chest.

  Kyle stared up at her, rapt, from within Johnny’s arms. I couldn’t attack her and Elin at the same time. Some part of me didn’t want to.

  The Lady. Who else could this be? Her smile was filled with sharp edges, like broken glass from Before. She gestured with one hand.

  A gray wolf trotted out of the shadows and sat by her side.

  Matthew. The Lady stroked the top of his head, and he leaned into her touch. If he saw me, he gave no sign.

  The quia leaf remained warm, but otherwise every last bit of me felt icy cold. Not Matthew. The Lady drew her hand away, and Matthew curled up at her feet. He was under her glamour, as surely as Kyle and Johnny were under Elin’s. No.

  I was staring at him—I forced my gaze away. If they saw that Matthew and I knew each other, that could be used against us. I had to wait, to see what was happening here and what I could do about it. It had never been so hard not to act.

  A corner of the Lady’s mouth twitched, and I knew I’d already given myself away. Johnny set Kyle down. “Matthew!” Kyle cried, and threw himself at the wolf.

  Matthew snarled. Kyle skittered back, and his face scrunched up. “Matthew’s never mean.”

  “He is whatever I command him to be.” The Lady reached down and stroked Matthew’s fur. “Does the scent of humans trouble you, my pet?” Matthew gave an uneasy half growl.

  I pressed my feet against the snow, forcing myself not to leap at her. That would serve no one. When my chance came, though, I’d do worse than go for her eyes. If only I knew her name. She wouldn’t be standing there at all, then.

  Elin stepped forward. “Grandmother,” she said. The woman looked no older than Caleb or Karin—but I knew that faerie folk lived longer than humans and did not age as we did.

  The Lady’s gaze swept over Johnny, Kyle, and me as if we were little more than ants beneath her feet. “These are not the ones who destroyed our people.”

/>   Elin looked swiftly down. “I found them where I found the others. It would not have done to leave them there, where they might cause trouble.”

  The Lady frowned. “Since when does my granddaughter fear the trouble that humans might bring? You saw to the others readily enough, the children who escaped your control and caused such great harm. All but the fire speaker who led them and the child who escaped with him. I trusted you to deal with them, too, else I would not have returned to this town, not even to bury our people.”

  Ben, I thought. Ethan. Elin hadn’t waited to kill the children—they’d escaped, and she’d pursued them. She must have caught Ethan again for long enough to make him burn the others, but he’d gotten away in the end. Was he still alive in our town, waiting for help that might never come?

  “I thought you might have a use for these three.” Elin seemed young beside the Lady, for all that the Lady didn’t look old. “Just as you had a use for the shifter, when we came upon him. I have brought you a lightfoot, an animal speaker, and a summoner.”

  The Lady’s hair flickered with cold green light. “What use have I for an animal speaker? Dispose of that one, and I will give some thought to the others.”

  I edged toward Kyle. Wind tugged at Elin’s long hair. “An animal speaker would be of use to me,” she said.

  “Your hesitation displeases me.” The Lady knelt in front of Kyle. “Child, I need for you to take that knife to your heart. It is not a difficult thing—you can do that for me, can you not?”

  Kyle nodded, eager as a puppy chasing a pack. He lifted the knife.

  I ran at him, pushing my hands through my torn sleeves and grabbing the knife from his hand. I threw it far from us both. The Lady turned to me, her eyes glimmering in the dark, her anger pushing against me like a physical thing.

  I reached beneath my sweater, grabbed the leaf from around my neck, and threw it over Kyle’s head. “Run, Kyle! Go away! Go someplace safe!”