Кейт Форсит - Relics, Wrecks and Ruins - Anthology of Speculative Fiction Short Works

Her mother shrieked and scrambled toward the Queen. Kim turned to follow her, but an Unseelie man with leaf-green hair stopped her with a sword to her chest.

Kim bent back across the altar to get away. One of her hands landed on the reliquary. Desperate for a weapon, Kim swung it up and swiped at him. The corner nicked his cheek.

His skin sizzled and peeled as if she had hit him with a flaming poker. Holy shit. Iron raised welts on her parents’ skin, but nothing like this. Kim didn’t waste time wondering why , she just started laying into the Unseelie faeries attacking her.

Kim wielded the reliquary as if it were a book in a room full of jocks. At first the Unseelie retreated from the cold iron but the reliquary gave her a shorter reach than their swords and daggers.

Another beautiful, lean Unseelie man, with eyes like ice, nearly took her arm off but a gnome stopped his blow with a shovel. Kim retreated, dodging blows that pushed her farther from the Faerie Queen. The Unseelie man drove the point of his sword over the gnome’s shovel and into his chest. Wrenching it free, he stepped toward Kim.

Kim staggered and fetched up against the hard surface of one of the monoliths. He had the sword leveled at her before she had time to draw breath. As he thrust it at her, she raised the reliquary to block. The shock of impact sent tremors through the bones of her hands.

She tried to swipe at him, but he twisted the sword under the reliquary and flicked it out of Kim’s hands.

A squeak of horror escaped her throat as the piece of iron flew out of her grasp.

The Unseelie smiled the coldest smile Kim had ever seen. “What now, changeling child?”

He pressed the sword against her chest lightly but with enough force to pin her against the concrete block. “By the powers, you reek like a mortal. If the Unseelie Court didn’t have use for you, I’d gut you like the spelless outcast you are.”

Kim tried to twist away from the sword but he pressed it forward, cutting through her shirt and into her breastbone. She grunted at the sudden pain.

And then she got pissed. “I’m not spelless, you bastard.”

Kim pressed her hand flat against the concrete behind her.

“Stone, stone, earth’s bone,

Once hid, now shown!”

The concrete exploded. Chunks spun through the air, slamming into the mob. The blast knocked Kim flat, forcing the air from her lungs. She rolled frantically to get away from the falling concrete and rebar.

Her chest burned, screaming for air, but she could not draw a breath. Kim pawed at her throat as if she could open it by hand.

Howling, the Unseelie man pushed a block off his chest. A host of other Unseelie, bloodied and furious, turned toward where Kim lay. She dragged air in with a terrified wheeze. A part of her brain wondered if this was what her dad felt like.

Her anger rekindled. Her dad was dying because of these traitors.

Kim grabbed the first thing she laid her hand on—a twisted length of rebar torn from the stone. Her hand stung from its rough surface, but Kim didn’t care. She rose to her feet and ran at the Unseelie as he was dragging his sword from under another chunk of cement.

Double-handed, Kim brought the rebar down on his wrist. The rod passed through his arm in a crackle of flesh. He screamed and fell, leaving his hand still clutching the hilt of his sword.

No blood dripped from the wound. The blackened skin had cauterized as the rebar had passed through. Kim stared at the rod in disbelief. Of course… it was iron. She had, like, a freakin’ lightsaber against these guys. And since she’d grown up here, it only stung her a little.

Kim dove forward, hacking with the rebar. Even a glancing nick with the iron made their skin bubble and peel. The Unseelie retreated before her.

This was the best weapon, ever.

Gnomes, changelings and other of the Queen’s Fae came to her side and formed a phalanx, cutting through the host of Unseelie. Kim fought without grace, but the terror that her weapon brought turned the tide quickly to the Queen’s favor.

Time lost its meaning until Kim found herself standing, rebar in hand, next to her mother.

And the Faerie Queen.

“Bravely done, good Mossblossom.”

For a moment, Kim wondered who she was talking to, and then remembered her Faerie name. “I—thank you, your Majesty.” There was probably something else she should say, but Dad didn’t have time for formalities. She pushed away the possibility that he was already dead. “So, could you—”

The fox-haired Fae stepped in front of her. “I am Oreyn, the Queen’s champion and I, too, thank you for your service, but I must ask you to release your weapon near the Queen.”

“Oh.” Kim looked at the length of iron stupidly and let it drop to the ground. “Okay. But listen, my dad needs help.”

Oreyn shied as the rebar rolled toward his toe. “Of course.” He stepped past it and put his hand on Kim’s shoulder.

She had never been this close to anyone like him. He smelled of honeysuckle and salt. His cheeks bore no trace of fuzz and had the poreless perfection of porcelain. He lifted his left hand and put a knife to her throat.

“Oreyn! What means this?” The Faerie Queen’s shout came at the same moment as a wordless cry from Kim’s mother.

Oreyn spoke three quick words in some language Kim did not recognize.

The world inverted, spun and sharpened into a painful clarity. The replica of Stonehenge had vanished, replaced by crisp trees and a stark blue sky.

The iron ring in Kim’s nose burned. As it seared her flesh, she screamed.

Kim didn’t care about the knife at her throat. The thing burning her had to stop. She grabbed it. Her fingers flared with pain.

She jerked them away.

Oreyn laughed and let his knife fall. “The touch of iron is worse here, is it not?”

Sick, twisted traitor. He was the one who had told the Unseelie Court about her. He was why her dad was dying.

Tears filling her eyes, Kim let the sleeve of her shirt fall over her fingers. With that slight protection, she yanked the ring out of her nose. The skin tore, but the pain was nothing to what she had felt.

Kim drove the point of the tiny piece of iron into Oreyn’s throat. Flame curdled the skin around it.

He shrieked.

As he tried snatching it, the fire leaped from his throat to his hands and then to his sleeves. His screams turned to hoarse wheezes. Arms outstretched, he staggered toward Kim.

She dodged, then turned and fled deeper into Faerie’s perfect woods. Careening through the trees, Kim ran until her legs collapsed under her. With her arms wrapped around her head, Kim lay on the ground and sobbed.

She woke in an unfamiliar bed. Every thread in the silk sheets chafed, as if her skin were too sensitive from a fever. Light filtered through carved filigree windows and caressed rich tapestries. Kim squinted to hold out as much of the too-crisp vision as possible. Her head ached from all the intricate detail.

“Kim, honey?” Her mother’s voice drew her gaze to the side.

She had thought Mom seemed old before, but worry had added new lines to her forehead. Or maybe she could see more in Faerie. “Dad?” Her voice cracked on that one syllable.

“Right here.” From her other side, Dad took her hand and held it firmly. “How do you feel, little girl?”

She whispered, “I want to go home.”

Her dad froze. “You are home, sweetie.”

“Hush, Woody.” Mom patted her hand. “Let’s go.”

They helped her stand. Then Kim’s mother spoke in the same language Oreyn had used. The world twisted, spun, and Kim staggered into her living room.

The soft toile fabric and Berber carpet looked as they had left it. The clock on the mantel said it was just after seven. Outside the window, dawn was beginning to light in their yard.