Chapter 16
They climbed another hour and a half. The lack of trees made it possible to see farther ahead, though Janna didn’t find the view particularly encouraging. Large rocks dotted the top of the mountain like broken teeth. When the wind blew through them, there was a wailing sound, as if the mountain hurt when cold air touched its teeth.
If it’s this bad in the middle of the day, I hate to think what it’s like at night.
King Luff finally called a halt.
“We must rest,” he said, puffing wearily as he spoke.
They sank in a group heap right where they were. Luff and Janna were tired, but Alissa and Cook looked as if they might faint. Neither of them was accustomed to this much exercise. Alissa lay down and closed her eyes, but youth and general good health were in her favor. After a brief rest, she sat up and felt better.
Cook didn’t move from where she had dropped onto the ground. For years, she had lived and worked in the Fern Queen’s kitchen, rarely leaving it. Everything she needed had been delivered to the kitchen door. Caramel Brute whined and shoved his nose against her, but she didn’t respond.
“I’ll find something to eat. It will give us energy,” Petten said as he got to his feet.
Janna couldn’t resist pointing out, “I told you so.”
Petten laughed as if she’d said something hilarious, and Janna unexpectedly wanted to cry. She didn’t understand it. This was Petten, for high home’s sake. The two of them always teased each other. He liked to joke and laugh, and so did she. Get over it, she scolded herself, but that didn’t prevent her from sticking her tongue out at the scout, though she waited until he’d turned away. No sense giving fresh fuel to his newly warped sense of humor.
He called back as he left, “I’ll be quick.”
Nobody responded. They were too tired to care how long he took, Janna supposed. She was tired too, but she couldn’t quit inspecting the mountain below them. No woodsmen came in sight, but her stomach had twisted into another tight ball before Petten got back.
He was holding the ugliest, most unappetizing roots she’d ever seen.
“They’re clean,” he said as he passed the roots around. “I washed them in the stream.”
Janna held her root with the tips of her fingers. It was murky orange and was an irregular C-shape. It was dirty, no matter what Petten said, but she was too hungry to be picky. She took a bite, finding to her relief that the orange root tasted better than it looked. Gratefully, she ate the whole thing, feeling stronger as the food nourished her. The others were faring the same.
Even Cook ate her root and sat up, which pleased Caramel Brute. He grabbed one of her hands in his mouth though his teeth didn’t leave the slightest impression on her skin. Cook rubbed behind his ears affectionately, but her face was serious.
“Go on without me,” she ordered in her old abrupt manner, and everyone looked at her in dismay.
“We most certainly will not!” sputtered Janna.
Cook’s face softened, but she didn’t lose her determination. “I’m given out and it’s too cold…for me.” Her voice faltered with those last two words, but she made herself finish. “I’m not like you. My body’s marked. I am fern.”
Her hands lifted with shame and weariness to cover her face.
There was dead silence. Big green veins traveled over Cook’s arms and face. Her eyes had not lost their dull green hue. She had risked everything for them, but she was still a fernperson, and none of them knew exactly what that meant.
Alissa lifted her head. “Please heal Cook,” she asked simply.
It was the right thing to ask. Janna felt strongly that it was the right thing to ask. She took her turn as, one by one, they spoke on Cook’s behalf. Even Cook tried. She said, “Please,” and then stopped, but the silence that followed was full of unspoken words.
“Let’s move on,” Luff suggested.
“She isn’t healed yet,” said Janna, who had wanted instant results, but she stood with the others and started off once again.
By silent agreement, they moved very slowly to conserve their strength, helping Cook along as much as possible. Petten and Luff practically carried her over the steeper places, with Caramel Brute following at their heels, assuring them with a steady rumble that if they hurt his friend, he’d hurt them.
They kept going at a slow but steady pace for another hour. Then they had to stop. They had reached the high rocks and the wind had picked up, buffeting them as if they were blocks it wanted to knock down. They had to hold on to the larger of the rocks just to keep their footing.
“Over here,” Petten called. “I found a place to rest.”
He had gone exploring off to one side and found a cave that narrowed as it dug into the mountain. They didn’t care to go very far into the inky darkness. Sunlight glanced in at the opening, and they huddled in it, out of the worst of the wind.
No one spoke. Their strength was gone again and their spirits were low. If the trackers were close, they’d catch them. There was nothing they could do about it. Even Caramel Brute was tired. He limped into the cave, plopping down in front of Cook, and was more startled than anyone else when the voice came.
“If you seek help, you may find it here.”
Everyone scrambled to their feet. The voice was so totally without emotion that the meaning of the words wasn’t clear. Cook grabbed and held her dog, who was growling a low, disgruntled sort of growl. It had been years since anyone had snuck up on him, and he resented it. The dark figure at the back of the cave waited silently.
Finally, Luff gathered his wits enough to answer.
“Who are you?” he asked cautiously.
“I am Madow, a servant of the Maker,” came the reply, which should have been reassuring but wasn’t.
They didn’t know what to think. The voice wasn’t emotionless in the sense of calm and controlled. It was emotionless in the sense of a void, as if feelings had never been a part of it.
Compared to this person, Cook’s a drama queen, Janna thought and wiggled excitedly. She had been as startled as the others when the voice first spoke, but at the same time, every old story she’d ever read had raced through her mind. She wouldn’t have left the cave then for anything.
“Will you let us see you?” she asked.
Obligingly, the figure moved out of the darkness into the light, and Janna wasn’t the only one who cried out in awe. The figure that had spoken to them was a horse, a small cream-colored stallion.
Caramel Brute was not awestruck. The big dog’s growls deepened as the stallion came closer, and he pulled at Cook’s hold on him. She wouldn’t be able to restrain him much longer.
The horse walked slowly forward, coming to a stop in front of the dog, who was almost as big as he was. Gently, he lowered his muzzle, letting Caramel Brute sniff his breath as animals liked to do. Then he rubbed the side of his head against the dog’s head in trusting friendship.
Caramel Brute quit growling. He was almost comical in his complete capitulation to the enemy. Wagging his tail, he glanced around the cave, then made a great show of sniffing a rock.
The stallion lifted his head and said, “The Fern Queen is dead. You need not fear her any longer.”
“Dead!” they said in unison.
“She was in the kitchen mixing a potion. A small fire started next to her, and she threw onto it the liquid she was holding. The potion exploded when it hit the flames, turning into poisonous fumes that spread quickly, killing everyone in the castle.”
The horse explained readily enough, but it was difficult for them to grasp what it was saying. Their tired minds groped after the meaning in the emotionless words. They stood stupidly silent for a few minutes. The horse waited patiently.
Then Janna said, “It was Cook’s grease fire that made the potion explode, and we heard it. Remember that boom? But I don’t understand who set the dogs after us if everyone in the castle was killed.”
“The dogs broke free when they weren’t fed. They were vicious by nature and trained to track and kill.”
Understanding sank in and with understanding came a tremendous sense of relief. They might be exhausted, hungry, and cold, but at least the Fern Queen was gone. She could no longer threaten them with her potion. They smiled at each other.
“What do we do now?” asked Alissa, breaking the happy spell.
No one had a ready answer except the stallion, who responded in his monotonous voice.
“You may follow me through the tunnel in back of this cave to a valley where you will find rest and food. Everyone who serves the Maker may follow me, but no marks of evil are allowed to enter the valley. It is a holy place. I will return to guide those who wish to come.”
With those words, the cream-colored horse disappeared into the darkness behind him.