Swift by R. J. Anderson Page B

she listened closely with her bird-keen ears, the only sound was the wind whispering through the leaves.
    Perhaps Ivy had only imagined the scream – it would be a relief to think so. She’d hardly begun to stretch her wings, and there was still a glorious infinity of open sky to explore. But the night wouldn’t last forever, and now that Richard had proved himself a man of his word, Ivy owed it to him to set him free. Maybe, if she moved quickly enough, there’d still be time for him to take her to her mother.

    Ivy hurried towards her home cavern, still giddy with the thrill of flight. Before heading underground she’d transformed into a swift and back again several times over, until she could leap into flight as easily as blinking and land with barely a stumble. Changing shape was so easy now, she felt certain that even without moonlight she’d be able to do it again.
    I can fly! Ivy’s heart sang out. She wanted to burst into the cavern and shout her triumph, wake up Mica and Cicely so they could see the miracle. But she couldn’t do that yet – it was too risky. She had to at least free Richard first. Dimming her glow to the barest hint of luminescence, she eased the door open and tiptoed in.
    Flint’s thunder-axe was propped against the wall in its usual place, with his well-worn boots beside it. Ivy glanced at the bed-alcoves, reassuring herself that all the curtains were drawn. Then with painstaking care she lifted the magical pickaxe, and carried it out the door.

    Lowering herself and the thunder-axe down the Great Shaft at the same time was an agonising business. Every time the pick’s weight shifted Ivy held her breath, fearing the precious tool would slip free of her makeshift harness and drop into the flooded depths below. But at last she made it safely to Richard’s cell.
    ‘I did it,’ she panted as she loosened the ropes around her chest and lifted the thunder-axe free. ‘Now let’s get that iron off your ankle.’
    Richard looked blank, and Ivy wondered if he’d understood. ‘I said,’ she began more loudly, but he cut her off.
    ‘I heard you,’ he replied. ‘I’m just a bit unused to pleasant surprises, that’s all. Are you really planning to strike off my manacle with that thing? From the way you’re staggering about, it seems more likely that you’re going to smash my foot to bits with it.’
    ‘I’ll try not to,’ said Ivy tartly. She crouched beside him, examining the iron band. ‘How did they put this on you?’
    ‘I don’t know. I was unconscious when—’ But then Ivy slipped her fingers between the manacle and his skin, and his words ended in a gasp.
    ‘Did I hurt you?’ Ivy pulled her hand away. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
    ‘No, not that.’ Richard sounded shaken. ‘It’s – you. You touched iron on purpose .’
    Oh, of course. She’d forgotten what a shock that would be to him. ‘My people have been working with rock and metal for centuries,’ Ivy said, feeling her way around the band. ‘If we lost our magic every time we touched iron, how would we get anything done?’ She sat back. ‘I can’t find a hinge or a keyhole anywhere. They must have spelled it right onto your ankle.’
    He stared at her. ‘You mean piskeys can use magic on iron, too?’
    ‘Some of us can. Unfortunately for you, I’m not one of them. That’s why I borrowed this.’ She nodded at the thunder-axe. ‘But we’ll need to put some padding around your ankle first.’
    Without hesitation Richard pulled off what was left of his shirt and handed it to her. His skin was sickly-pale beneath the bruises, his collarbones jutting and his ribs clearly visible. ‘Try not to swoon,’ he said dryly.
    ‘I’ve never swooned in my life,’ said Ivy. She tore the shirt into strips, and pushed as much of the worn fabric as she could between the manacle and the faery’s ankle. ‘Ready?’ she asked.
    Richard looked apprehensive, but he nodded.
    ‘Just one thing,’ Ivy said as she hefted