A Different Kind of Power

“Get out of here!” he spat at her, making more tears trickle down her cheeks, sliming her skin. “We don’t want you here anymore, Alyzia—you cause too many problems.”

“But, Father,” she started to say before his look of contempt froze her vocal cords. She bowed her head in unwilling submission, then backed away, her bare feet scuffing the dust.

It’s not fair! she thought, her shoulders slumped as she walked out of the village for the last time, her meager possessions in a knapsack on her back. I didn’t do anything! I just practiced with the boys a few times…why does that make me anathema? But she knew why. Her hidebound, conservative father had been horrified at finding her sweaty and out-of-breath, a wooden practice sword clutched awkwardly in one hand. His child, his girl-child, had been learning how to fight with the sword. Even after he had expressly forbidden her.

She could still remember his harsh words, delivered with a slap to each cheek. You’re a healer, girl! Not a fighter! Act like it! he had screamed at her, his tone more scathing than the burning in her abused face.

But Alyzia couldn’t help it. She had been a natural at the sword, her instructor had covertly told her, under cover of the communal supper. An utter natural—like she’d been born with a sword in her hand. Was it her fault that she could heal, too?

According to Father, she thought bitterly, refusing to look one last time at the small thatched huts of her village. They didn’t deserve a last glance. They had all stood by and watched her father beat her and turn her away. They hadn’t lifted a single hand to help.

“I’ll probably be killed by a Dark Mage,” she mumbled under her breath, wiping the last traces of tears from her eyes. “Won’t they all be happy then.”

“Who?” a piping, curious voice asked at her side. She jumped, whirling, her long dagger automatically in one hand. Her left hand—another reason nobody had been very willing to stick up for her. She was left-handed, a sign that most associated with the Dark.

A small, rotund child stood there, smiling gap-toothed at her. She had a leafy crown of flowers on her head, and a thin, gauzy dress that blended in with the forest on.

“Who would be happy if you were killed by a Dark Mage?” the child asked again, tilting her head to one side. She had bright blue eyes that reminded Alyzia of the sky.

“My father,” Alyzia said gravely. Somehow, this little girl could inspire it, like she wasn’t talking to a child at all, but a girl her own age. “He threw me out of the village.”

“Well, that was mean,” the girl said clearly, tossing her wild little head of red hair to show her disgust at the idea. “You’re his daughter; he shouldn’t throw you out.”

“Who are you?” Alyzia asked, suddenly needing to know.

“I’m Evaela,” the little girl said, smiling again. “I’m the daughter of the Faerie Queen.”

“Surely you’re jesting,” Alyzia said blankly, her mouth gaping open. This little girl, this clearly running wild child, was the daughter of the Faerie Queen? No way; there had to be a mistake.

“I’m not jesting, or making this up,” the little girl said calmly. “The Faerie Queen, Queen Ela, is my mother. Would you like to meet her?”

“All right,” Alyzia said, in a daze. She couldn’t believe this. Hardly fifteen minutes’ walk from her village, and here she was, about to meet the Queen of the Faerie. It hardly seemed real.

“Take my hand,” Evaela instructed. Alyzia took the pudgy little hand so solemnly presented to her—it was warm and faintly sticky—and followed the girl obediently. The trees blurred around her, so much that she had to shut her eyes, and when she opened them again…

She was in the Faerie Kingdom.

“Oh,” she breathed in astonishment. Everything was subtly different. It was still part of the forest, but everything looked so much more alive. It looked like you could start talking to a tree and the tree could reply. It looked…well, it looked like Light personified.

“Come meet my mother,” the child insisted, tugging at her hand. She looked totally unimpressed with the new forest; she’s lived in it her whole life, Alyzia thought wryly, of course she’s not impressed.

Queen Ela was a tall, slender woman who Alyzia would have thought totally human was it not for the delicate, translucent wings sprouting from her back. She estimated the queen as having a ten-foot wingspan. Her face looked worried until she spotted her wayward offspring, leading Alyzia by the hand.

“Evaela! Where were you? I told you not to run away from your tutor,” she scolded, giving Alyzia a warmly welcoming look as she did so. “I’m so sorry. She doesn’t realize how dangerous it is in the human world.”

“Mama! She is human,” Evaela piped up. Queen Ela looked surprised, then gave Alyzia a closer look.

“I see,” she nodded. “Well, clearly, Evaela, she’s not dangerous, but you got very lucky. And, honey, you know you’re not supposed to bring people back. It’s still dangerous. Did you remember to close the portal?”

“Yes!” Evaela said defiantly but Alyzia, looking closer, could tell the little girl had lied. Evaela probably had no idea if she had remembered to close the portal back to the human world.

“What’s your name, dear?” Ela asked, giving Alyzia another smile.

“Alyzia,” she managed to say, her voice barely audible. After all, it wasn’t every day you got to meet the Faerie Queen.

“I’m Queen Ela,” she started to say, before loud shrieks and screams shattered the pleasant idyll into twisted shards.

Cold, mocking laughter echoed through the forest glade until it reached Alyzia’s ears. She shuddered; it sounded utterly evil.

“How delightful,” a voice sneered. It sounded just as evil as the laughter. “A little forest full of faeries. Tell me, who so obligingly left the portal open?”

Ela shot a furious look at Evaela. Evaela gasped, her eyes filling with tears.

Alyzia looked up and fear shot straight up her spine.

It was a Dark Mage.

He was very tall, around six-foot-two, and bone-slender. Dark, midnight-black hair whipped around his shoulder blades, even though there was no wind to be felt. His eyes were enormous and slightly tilted, a dark jade green. High, angular cheekbones lent a strange sharpness to a gently rounded, white face. His mouth was twisted into a smirk; black sparks of power clustered around his fingers.

“Ah, look!” he cried, evidently spotting Alyzia. “A human woman! Tell me, human lady, why are you here?”

“I came here,” she replied quietly, refusing to respond to his bait. The Dark Mage shook his head in mock sadness, a virulent twinkle in his eyes telling her how much he was enjoying drawing this out. Of course he was, she thought angrily. Everybody knew the faeries couldn’t fight back. They had no real magic of their own. Certainly nothing that could stand up to the Dark.

The Dark Mage slowly paced up the path until he stood less than a foot away from Alyzia. She had to tilt her head back to look at him. Evaela trembled and hid behind the queen, her entire body shaking.

“What is going to stop me from killing you, Queen Ela?” he asked over Alyzia’s shoulder, evidently dismissing her as trivial, nothing more than a tiny biting fly.

“Me,” Alyzia said grimly, yanking out her long dagger and plunging it into his stomach.

Shock painted his face as he fell slowly to the ground, one long-fingered hand wrapping around hers, still grasping the dagger handle. Blood, shockingly red, poured out of his body, pooling on the dirt. Alyzia sank down with him, unwilling to let the dagger go.

“You…” he breathed in accusation, his green eyes filming over. “You…”

“Me,” she confirmed, her voice still grim. “You shouldn’t have underestimated me, Dark Mage.”

“Not…that…” he whispered, sweat glazing his face. “Your…left hand…hand of power…”

Alyzia stared down at her hand in shock. A faintly lavender glow shone around her left hand for a second before disappearing. Somehow, being in the Faerie Kingdom had brought out her latent magic.

“Power,” the Dark Mage whispered and died, crumpling into the ground. Within seconds, he had become a little pile of black ashes, swiftly carried away by the rising wind. Alyzia stood up on unsteady legs, wiping her dagger clean on the grass. She felt nauseated.

“You saved us, Alyzia,” Queen Ela said, her voice a trifle shaky. She licked her lips and continued, “If there’s anything…anything in my power to do, I’ll—”

“That’s all right,” Alyzia cut her off. “I already know what I want.”

“What?” Ela asked, unconsciously hugging Evaela closer to her.

“I want to go home,” Alyzia said simply. “But since I can’t…can you teach me how to use the sword? And maybe how to control this new power I have? Or do you know somebody who would?”

Relief filled the queen’s eyes and she nodded, straightening up and patting Evaela on the head.

“It so happens,” the queen began slowly, “that you’re looking at the Faerie Kingdom champion. If the Dark Mage hadn’t caught me by surprise, with Evaela to look after, he would have been looking at ten inches of steel in his guts. And I happen to know faerie magic very well, and it appears you have a form of that, too, Alyzia.”

“Thank you,” Alyzia said, curtsying.

It felt surprisingly natural.