Excerpt: Stolen

Keris flew about the house, packing for her first-ever trip to the Other’s Kingdom. She started in the kitchen for food, and then scoured the cellar for magical things. As she dove across Fairle’s workbench to snatch up a bottle of aqua pearls, payment for getting through the Gate of The Walking Moon, she accidentally knocked over a stand of crystal phials. One of them shattered under her grasping hand, a shard cutting her pinky open.

“Ouch.” She sagged against the bench and popped the little finger in her mouth, but with her other hand she stashed the aqua pearls in her bag. Ruefully, she regarded the mess she had made of the workroom and storeroom, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. She darted around, snatching up other trinkets and talismans, anything she thought might be useful in the Other’s Kingdom, until the shoulder bag bulged, and then clattered out of the cellar, tripping once on her shoelace before she reached the yard.

Not bothering to tie the lace, she scrambled up the stairs to her bedroom, threw the bag unceremoniously onto her bed, and then undressed in a flurry. The Others, according to Grandmother, appreciated not only honesty, but politeness and good hygiene as well. She hopped into the bathing cubicle installed by Jonoh and his father, and took a shower so quick the water never had time to warm up.

She dressed herself as carefully as she could. Rummaging through her closet and limited selection of clothing, she finally chose a walking skirt of deep red and a navy and cream polonaise, both trimmed in cream eyelet. The short sleeves and low neckline of the polonaise were perfect for the hot summer days. She could do nothing about her old, worn brown boots, but tied a double knot in the bows to keep them from coming undone. Lastly, she pinned her hat with its red ribbon to her corn silk curls, fluffed the ruffles under the brim, shouldered her bag, and thumped down the stairs.

Even though Keris knew that the body lying in Fairle’s bed no longer contained what had been her friend, she found she could not leave without saying goodbye. She tried – she had her walking stick and her hand on the doorknob, but it just didn’t feel right.

So, squaring her shoulders, she turned back into the house and entered the back bedroom.

The patio doors were open. Keris’s little bee friends of the morning were making exploratory swoops through the room, their bodies lighting up like specks of gold in the slanting afternoon light. Warily, Keris moved forward, to where the breeze played with the bed curtains, but she didn’t see anyone else in the room. Just Fairle, looking like a wax doll, lying so still and cold in her bed.

Keris hitched a stool to the bedside and sat, brushing a few loose strands of Fairle’s copper hair off her face.

“Jonoh and Grandmother have already gone,” she whispered, taking up Fairle’s cold, ashy hand and kissing it. “I pray Jonoh will succeed, but I can’t sit by and do nothing. I’m going, too, to help in any way I can. I won’t let you die like this, Fairle. I love you, and I hope you’re having pleasant dreams.”

She waited a few minutes, but there was nothing; no flicker of the orange eyelashes, no twitch of the fingers. One by one, the bees left for other pursuits. Sighing, Keris rearranged Fairle’s hands on the quilt and then shut and locked the patio doors. She drew the curtains last, watching the light slide of Fairle’s face, leaving the room and its frozen occupant in quasi-darkness.

“What took you so long?” Thevar demanded as soon as Keris stepped out of the front of the shop.

She shut the door with a bang. Inside, the bell rattled reproachfully. She didn’t bother answering, but turned the heavy brass key in the lock with a snicking sound. Walking stick in hand, she descended the three stoop steps and joined the feyling in the yard.

“I’m ready,” she said.

“Then let’s get going.” He turned and marched across the yard.

“Hold on!” Keris hurried after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m following that boy,” he responded, throwing out a hand angrily. “They went that way.”

She put her hand on her hip. “Haven’t you ever been out of Taluith? We can’t go the same way they did. The road will have closed.”

“And how would it have looked to have a dragon flying around out here, do you think? I knew better than to try to come here. The only reason I came in the first place is because I look like this.”

“Fair enough,” Keris said. She didn’t mention that his appearance now, in his tattered, outlandish kilt, his bare skin covered in cuts, bruises, and scars, and the horns growing straight out of his wild mane of hair, wasn’t much help in blending in with the locals. In fact, a car going by on Broad Way slowed, its engine stuttering, as the driver gawped at them. Thevar glared right back, and then the car puttered off, roaring as it picked up speed. She didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.
"Grandmother told me the rules a long time ago. We won’t be able to get there by walking. We’ll have to go by magic.”

The expression on his face could have melted butter. She chose to ignore it, and rummaged in her bag until she found what she needed – a goose feather. Holding the feather aloft, she said, “Traveler of the skies, take us safely on your wing. There is a place we need to go. As I will it, so it shall be!”

With the feather, she sketched the shape of the Rune of Journeys on the air, r, and then another, the Rune of Motion, e, and then she threw the feather from her. The feather twirled around in mid-air, pointed its quill to the west, and shot away. Keris picked up her skirts and her feet. She jumped forward, calling to Thevar to follow, and then they were running on air.

Grinning ferociously, Thevar passed her, almost knocking her off balance. She only caught a glimpse of his face as he blew by; he looked happy, his eyes slitted against the wind of their passing.

It didn’t last. The feather abruptly stopped, and then floated gently to the ground. Keris counted three strides, and then her boots touched the earth as well. Looking disappointed, Thevar dropped into a crouch, his hands planted on the ground between his feet. He reminded her of a winded dog; a strange, cinnamon and black mongrel. With horns. They were both breathing hard.

“What was that?” he asked. Like before, when he’d asked if she could break Hyrne’s curse, his low voice held a throb that held something of power in it. Or hunger.

“Feather magic,” she answered when she could, straightening her hat. “Grandmother taught me.”

“I didn’t know humans could fly, too.” He tilted his head back. “Where are we?”

“Within Hanglefan Forest, I think.”

Keris scuffled her boots through the soft mulch obscuring the trail, brushed her fingers along a patch of moss adhering to the trunk of a nearby tree.

“You think?” Thevar looked over his shoulder at her.

“I can’t be entirely sure. The feather brought us to the place we needed to be – sometimes travel spells are a bit arbitrary.” She turned a full circle, noting the low lighting. Hanglefan Forest was in the mountains to the west of Little Sureton, and the goose feather had gone west. If her spell had worked, they should be near the Gate of The Walking Moon. But the afternoon was waning, the sun was going down, and it was going to be dark soon. It was quiet, because the birds were settling in for the night. She and Thevar needed to find the Gate and buy passage through it before nightfall.

“Help me out here,” she said, striking off the trail and seeking through the undergrowth.

He didn’t move. “For what?”

“We need to find a tree trinity.”

“A what?”

“Really, didn’t those witches of yours ever teach you anything?” she asked absently, still searching.

She felt his anger before he said anything, and gripped her walking stick as he punched the ground and then stood up.

“Oh, they taught me things. Like how to be a pet, kept collared by the door. And what the tail of a whip feels like when it cuts, not because I did anything wrong, but rather because I was just there. That’s what they taught me.”

“I’m sorry,” Keris said in a small voice.

“Sorry? Don’t you get it yet?” He laughed, harshly. “I hate witches. I hate you. I just want to get Herla’s soul back to that wretched king so I can be a dragon again. That’s it. So do whatever it is you need to do and maybe you can go home alive.”

“You do know that Fairle is a witch’s apprentice just like I am, right?” she flung at him, sick of his prejudice and bad attitude. “Witchlight touched her just as it did me. She’s no better or worse than I am!”

His mouth thinned. In a carefully controlled voice, he said, “Well, that won’t last long when I take her back to the jungle with me, will it?”

“You don’t own her. It doesn’t work that way. Love is about giving and taking, equally. It’s about caring for the other person’s welfare as if it was your own.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! If you think you can just dive in and take her by force, you’re more of a beast than I thought.”

“You’re wrong about one thing, little witch. She is better than you,” he snapped. And then he stomped away.

Keris stood there, shaking. She would have continued the argument if he hadn’t left like that, and she struggled with herself not to chase after him. Or to start screaming insults.

I’m alone, she realized. The Goddess only knew where Jonoh was. She needed Thevar’s strength to help her steal Fairle’s heart back from Hyrne, and he needed her magic, but that was it. Once they had the heart, Keris was going to need to get it back to Fairle before Thevar had a chance to try and claim her like some dragonish treasure.

The sky, what little she could see of it through the canopy of leaves, had gone from blue to dusky purple. She was running out of time. Keris produced a quartz crystal and a moonstone from the pouch of stones shoved in between a candy bar and some apples. She kissed each stone, and then pushed them into the hole of the self-bored stone tied to the top of her walking stick. They stuck as if glued there, and then began to glow with the moon’s dim white light. Her way illuminated, Keris continued her search for a tree trinity, otherwise known as faerie trees: a rowan, a hawthorn, and an oak all growing together.

With her walking stick, she probed the soil cradled between these three giants, and eventually uncovered a stone with a single rune carved on it: p, the Rune of Fate, the symbol of the Walking Moon, the Goddess.

She had found the Gate.

But now what? Keris looked around, confused. What was she supposed to do now? She had the aqua pearls to pay for passage through the gate – aqua pearls were powerful faerie magic, created from pure well water. Grandmother used them for scrying. A single marble-sized pearl held several gallons worth of water, and the pure water was cherished by those who guarded the Gate of the Walking Moon. But . . . where was the guardian?

“It looks like the clasp to a chest,” Thevar said from her right, and Keris tripped on her shoelace – it had come undone again – and almost fell over.

“What are you talking about?” she huffed, before remembering that she didn’t want to speak to him anymore.

“That thing, on the rock.” He pointed to the rune. “It looks like something that opens and closes.”

Keris frowned, and then brought the lit tip of her walking stick closer. He was right. The clasp to a chest . . . something treasured. . . .

“Ah!” she exclaimed, startling herself. She gently pulled the bottle of aqua pearls out of her bag, spilling a box of raisins in the process, and then placed two pearls on the stone, one for her and one for Thevar, right between the prongs of the rune, and then stood back.

“We offer payment for passage,” she said.