Chapter 13
Without hesitation, Petten and Alissa hurried out of the room, but neither of them knew Cook. Janna stayed right where she was, mouth still open. She’d worked with this fernwoman every day for weeks. Cook had a potted-plant personality. Cook never left the kitchen. These were basic facts.
“Come on,” Petten urged in a low voice.
That broke the shock. Janna closed her mouth and ran out of the room into the hallway, but as she passed the fernwoman, she couldn’t resist an incredulous sideways glance. Cook locked the door and fixed the chain. Then she led the way down the hall to the servants’ stairs, and as she passed Janna, the girl distinctly heard a low “humph.”
Was Cook joking?
Janna’s mouth dropped open again; however, when they started down the stairs, she forgot everything but the possibility, the very real possibility, of someone coming through a hall doorway and catching them. She wasn’t the only one on edge. Petten stepped on a creaky step and sprang six inches into the air. Janna nodded. She knew he’d passed dozens of fernpeople on those very stairs every day. He must feel particularly—then a creak under her own feet made her clutch at the wall on either side.
When she reached the second floor landing, Janna jerked to a stop.
“Go on. I—I’ll catch up.”
“What!” whispered Petten incredulously, and Alissa beckoned frantically.
“My dad,” Janna began, but before she could go on, a shadow moved at the bottom of the stairs and a low voice said hoarsely, “Shake a leg, Janna. I’m here.”
Janna shook more than one leg as she ran down the stairs and threw her arms around her father. The outside door was locked too, but Cook produced another key and slid it open. They slipped quietly out of the castle. Janna expected to feel relieved, but she didn’t. Most fernpeople would be inside by now, having their supper, but there were always a few whose duties kept them outside, and it would only take one of them to sound the alarm.
Petten took over at this point, as if he knew what to do. Janna feverishly hoped he did. The scout led them toward the back of the castle, hugging the narrow strip of shadow near the wall. When they reached the end of the stone wall, he walked silently to a dark clump of bushes and they walked after him, though not nearly as silently. From there they went to a dark stand of ornamental trees, then crawled a long way through several gardens that had conveniently tall grasses.
As they crawled, a mass of clouds moved into the valley, which made it less scary to stand and make the short run from the last garden into the woods. If someone was looking out a castle window, they would only see shifting shadows under the trees. However, the clouds also made it harder for them to see where they were going.
Janna stumbled more than once, crashing through the undergrowth a few steps before regaining her balance. Whenever she made the extra noise, she glanced at Petten, and every time she was able to see him in the forest gloom, he was frowning at her. They were already making more noise than he liked. You’re a scout, Janna wanted to remind him. Your first baby steps were in the woods, and everyone frowned at you until you could walk quietly. How do you expect—
The sudden clamor of dogs barking interrupted her. It wasn’t your normal dog clamor either. These were deep, throaty barks from the massive chests of very large dogs. The Fern Queen’s hunting dogs must have heard them.
“Hey, you,” shouted a voice that was as deep and throaty as the dogs’ barking.
Everyone froze. The Fern Queen’s woodsmen were as mean as their dogs.
“Eat this and quit barking. You disturb the queen again and she’ll make fertilizer out of you.”
The barking stopped as the dogs began snarling over their supper. The voice laughed roughly, and then she heard feet stomping toward the castle.
Janna, Alissa, and Luff exhaled deeply, while Cook sagged against a tree. Petten motioned, and they continued following him through the woods, stumbling over sticks and small plants, and getting scratched by low branches that were hard to avoid in the dark.
Finally, they reached a stream that splashed noisily as it reached the foot of a mountain, and Petten turned to them.
“We can talk here,” he said. “The sound of the stream will hide our voices.”
“How did you get out, Dad?” Janna asked.
Fear had not dampened her curiosity. By the look on Petten’s face, there were more important things to discuss, but she didn’t care. She had to know.
“Cook let me out before she went upstairs for you three. I was closer. Cook, we appreciate beyond words what you have done for us.”
The fernwoman grunted.
“Do you know the best route for us now?” Petten asked.
“No,” she replied in a dull voice.
The dull voice didn’t surprise Janna. Cook usually had a dull voice, but she found herself moving to stand next to her. How did a fernperson feel in open rebellion against the Fern Queen? Janna doubted it had ever happened before. If there was anything the fernpeople all had in common, it was unquestioning obedience to their queen.
Trying to speak cheerfully, she said, “Leave her alone, Petten. You’ve studied the land around here. You lead us.”
Petten nodded as if he’d expected the responsibility.
“I think we should go northwest up this stream. It might buy us a little time because she’ll expect us to go due west toward Mount Pasture. Also, this is the highest mountain bordering the valley. The higher we get, the safer we should be. The Fern Queen doesn’t seem to care for mountaintops. Her people may not be able to handle the colder air.”
But what about Cook? Janna wondered but didn’t say anything out loud. They had to get away somewhere or they would be captured. There was no option worse than that for any of them, including Cook.
“We’ll wade. The stream will hide our steps, and it’ll also guide us. You’d be surprised how easy it is to wander off track in the dark.
“Good,” said King Luff briskly. “Let’s go.”
Janna shuddered as she stepped into the stream, but she wasn’t reacting to the cold temperature of the water. This was a cruel woman they were dealing with, a woman who played games with her victims. She could be waiting anywhere in the dark shadows.
At first, the stream led them up through what was practically a fern forest. The rustling of giant fronds over Janna’s head would have been delightful if she were at home walking through them. Here, every swish made her think of the Fern Queen’s favorite dresses. She kept looking over her shoulder to make sure nobody was there.
The others were jumpy too. When a deer bounded past, Alissa let out a quickly stifled scream and even Cook clutched at her heart, as if to keep it in place. The tension was unbearable. Janna opened her mouth to break it, but it was then that something happened, though it wasn’t what everyone had been dreading—a shout of discovery or the howl of a hunting dog or an attack from the darkness around them.
A loud boom sounded, echoed slightly, and then faded away.
“What was that?” Alissa asked in a trembling voice, but nobody could answer her.
They waited, listening.
Then Cook cleared her throat to speak, though it obviously took an effort.
“When she ordered me from the kitchen, I knew what she meant to do, and I couldn’t take it, not this time. I slid the grease pot onto the stove. When it got hot enough, I knew it’d boil over and start a fire, but it would’ve only been a little fire. It wouldn’t have made a big boom.”
Janna stared at her, dumbfounded to hear the fernwoman say whole sentences, one after another. She’d only done it once before to the girl’s knowledge, and that was when she’d been emotionally upset by the memory of her family’s deaths.
“Cook, when did you learn to talk in paragraphs?” she asked but was roundly ignored.
“Whatever slows her down has got to help us,” Petten said approvingly.
Everyone except for Janna nodded in agreement. Janna shuddered instead. She’d seen the Fern Queen react to small obstacles. They made her furious.
“Let’s go,” she whispered.
They sloshed their way up the mountain as quickly as they could, but it was hard going. The current of water cut a pathway through the woods, but the streambed was slippery, and there were sharp rocks as well as loose ones. Before long, everyone was wet and sore, though the exercise did protect them somewhat from the cold. Up and up, they climbed, stubbornly continuing long after everyone but Petten wanted to quit.
When they reached a small clearing on one side of the stream, Luff called a halt. “We’ve done enough for one night. We’ve escaped from the castle, decided on our route, and made a start.”
Petten shook his head, but his followers were wheezing with exhaustion. Cook had her hand on her heart again. Mutinously, Janna staggered past him into the clearing and collapsed. The others followed.
The scout was the only one who stayed on his feet. They could hear him moving about in the dark, but nobody had the energy to ask why. However, when he came into the clearing with a large armload of wood, several people made frightened protests.
“She’ll s—s—see the s—smoke,” Janna said through teeth that had begun to chatter.
“I can build a fire that smokes very little,” Petten assured her. “If we have to rest, we should dry out. It’s too cold for wet clothes.”
“Do you have flint and steel?” Luff asked.
“Of course, I do,” Petten said, as if Luff had asked if he had two ears. “No good scout would be without them.”
There were plenty of rocks near the stream. Luff helped Petten carry enough into the clearing to make a circle so their fire wouldn’t spread. Then Petten grabbed an armload of dry leaves and mounded them inside the circle, putting twigs around and over them. With evident skill, he struck the flint onto the steel, making a spark fly straight into the leaves. The leaves and twigs began to crackle cheerfully, and he fed the flames with larger and larger pieces of dry wood until they had a warming fire.
Only someone who has spent hours in the woods on a cold night can appreciate what that fire meant to them. They clustered around it, drying out different parts of their clothes in turn.
The flames warmed and comforted, but they made such a small bright spot. When Janna turned to dry out her back, she could see the dark forest crowding close, leaning over the clearing as if reaching for them. Next to her, Alissa glanced up and instantly shrank back, so Janna glanced up too and then wished she hadn’t. Indistinct tree shapes swayed above them.
“Can someone tell a story?” the golden princess asked tremulously.
Several people murmured agreement, but nobody volunteered. Under normal circumstances, Janna would have jumped at the chance, but she was too busy shivering as she moved her left side toward the fire. There was no way she’d get to sleep that night. They hadn’t gone far enough and—
****
“Long ago,” Petten began, “our ancestors settled in Montaland from another world. Animals from the high home came to help them, and the new settlers wrote about them with great wonder.
“Blueflame birds sang, bringing joy so great it hurt. Deer with massive antlers raced through the woods whenever there was need of speed. Cream-colored horses shared their wisdom in human words. Even the smallest of all, the lizards, served as guides and occasionally gave away one of their brilliantly colored eggs.”
****
Quickly Janna swiveled about to face him.
Petten was using a very traditional beginning. Though she loved the old Montaland stories, they all tended to start the same, and she hadn’t been paying close attention. She’d heard a noise in the woods that sounded as if someone was creeping toward them. The noise had stopped but she still felt on edge.
As soon as Petten mentioned lizards, however, she forgot about scary noises and listened closely to the story.
****
“The settlers were happy in their new world. They had no desire to return to the old one. In fact, they were in danger of forgetting too much. Life in the old world had been hard, but important things had happened there that they needed to remember.
“So it was that a young woman went to sleep in the old world and woke in the new. Her name was Missie.”
****
“Missie!” exclaimed Janna. “I know this story. It’s one of my favorites.”
She was so gleeful that everyone around the fire smiled.
“Don’t interrupt,” her father said, but he was smiling too.
****
“Missie lived on a manor,” Petten continued. “Her father trained horses, and her mother worked in the garden and kitchen. As she got older, Missie helped her father in the stable and her mother in the garden, but her parents kept her out of the manor kitchen and away from the other servants. She didn’t know why at the time, but soon after she turned sixteen, both her parents died of an illness, and she was ordered to take her mother’s place in the kitchen.
“The kitchen servants were cruel, giving her more work than she could do and then punishing her for what she didn’t get done. Her life became miserable, but it got worse the day the manor lord’s son noticed her.
“In the dark of a night, as she was leaving the kitchen, he attacked. She managed to escape, but she was sick with the cough and fever that had killed her parents. Stumbling through the woods behind the manor, she went as far as she could before hiding under a bush. Her cough kept her awake for hours, but eventually she fell into a fitful sleep.
“When Missie woke, she could smell a difference before she opened her eyes. The air was fresher. She sat up, blinking in bewilderment. The bush she had slept under was gone. A slender tree with white bark had taken its place. A whole grove of the white-barked trees spread out around her, their long leaves waving in the slightest breeze.
“When a bright blue bird landed on a branch next to her and started to sing, Missie sprang to her feet. She’d never heard such a song. Her heart swelled with joy, more joy than she’d ever known, more joy than she could hold inside. She burst into tears, startling the bird. It flew away, but the sick young woman found it hard to quit crying.
“Then something moved past her on the forest floor. A gray lizard had darted to a nearby rock, where it perched and eyed her. The lizard left the rock, ran in a comically irregular circle around Missie, and then darted away a few feet, head turned invitingly. Without thinking, she took two steps toward it. Promptly, it scurried a few feet farther away and then perched again. The tiny eyes peered back at her, and her lips quivered into a partial smile.
“‘Why not?’ she said and followed the little gray body out of the grove of white-barked trees into an evergreen forest that went on and on until her steps slowed and she began feeling feverish.
“She had decided to lie down for another rest when the lizard dashed out of the trees into a large clearing. Big bodies were moving in the shadows around the clearing, and Missie drew back in alarm until she saw that the bodies belonged to horses. Intelligent heads lifted to inspect her, and alert ears pricked in her direction. She drew in a deep, satisfying breath of their strong horsey smell.
“Her father had taught her not only to ride horses but also to trust in the one who had made them. The smell of horses and the Maker—one had always reminded her of the other. Missie took a few steps into the clearing but then stopped. What should she do next? The lizard was no help. It had stretched out on a big sunny rock and closed its eyes.
“Suddenly, someone began whistling. Missie jumped. There was a gray stable across the clearing, so well camouflaged by tree shadows that she hadn’t noticed it until now. A man wearing overalls walked around the side of the stable. He had dark hair streaked with gray, and as soon as he saw Missie, he quit whistling and smiled at her as if he knew her.
“Missie smiled back. She couldn’t help it. Her past experiences told her to run from a man. Men were not to be trusted. She smiled at this man instead, and as he drew closer, her heart trembled, but not from fear.
“‘I’m glad to see you, Missie.”
“Something strange was going on, but then, this whole experience was strange.
“‘I…I—’ she stammered, then stopped. How did he know her name?
“Hesitantly, she took a step toward him and stumbled over a rock. The man reached to steady her, and she saw an old wound in his hand, as if something had been driven through it. Quickly, she checked his other hand. Yes, there was a wound in that hand too. Her face lit, and she fell on the ground before him, filled with a relief so great she thought she might faint. Now she would be safe. Now she would always be safe.
“The man lifted her up and seated her on the very rock that had made her stumble. Then he brought her a cold glass of water.
“‘This will make you feel better.”
“While she drank, Missie watched him over the rim of her glass. The man gazed around the clearing with evident pleasure, his eyes twinkling when they reached the sleeping lizard. He winked at Missie, and she laughed out loud, finding that she had finished her water and did indeed feel better.
“‘Now you’ll be wanting a ride,’ he said calmly as if it were the most natural thing in the world.”
****
Petten quit talking to put another log on the fire. Janna squirmed. He was taking too long.
“Petten, get on with the story.”
He grinned and moved in deliberate slow motion, adjusting the log. Janna sighed deeply. Finally, he took his place and continued the story.