Chapter 2
Janna trudged along the road toward the castle. There had been partial shade in the woods near the schoolhouse, but the trees had soon given way to fenced fields on either side that rose and fell monotonously. Heavy shafts of sunlight fell from the sky and bounced on the ground. The smell of sunbaked grass filled the air.
By the time she climbed to the top of the first hill, she was dripping with sweat and had to stop to catch her breath. It was a fine view for anyone who enjoyed pastureland spreading for miles in every direction. Beyond the borders of Mount Pasture, bigger mountains soared into the sky. Their distant beauty had always comforted Janna, but sweat was sticking her shirt to her skin today and the bigger mountains seemed too far away.
When she was finally able to turn off the road into the shade of the large oak trees that grew in front of the castle, hot drops of perspiration were running down her legs. Her parents would be eating lunch soon, but she wasn’t planning to join them. They’d ask why she was home from school so early, and she wasn’t ready for that confrontation.
Stealthily, she slipped around the castle until she reached the outside door to the tower. It was hot and stuffy on the tower stairs. The rest of the castle had windows and thick stone walls that cooled the air, but there were no windows on the tower staircase. Janna felt as if she might faint with the heat—either that or melt.
Only two things kept her climbing.
The biggest library in the Kingdom of Mount Pasture was located at the top of the castle tower. Bookcases covered every wall, but there were so many books that they overflowed the shelves onto the floor in places. There wasn’t much else in the room, besides a chair, a small table, and Janna’s secret stash of snack food.
It was her box of snacks and the history books that kept Janna going now. She didn’t mind skipping lunch as long as she had food of some sort, and while she ate, she’d read up on the Fern Queen. Eating and reading were two of Janna’s favorite activities, and she very much liked doing the two of them together. As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she collapsed into the chair and reached for her snack box.
It was empty. Janna threw the box on the floor.
“Dad got into it—again. He and Mom are both big-time overeaters, which is exactly why I find it hard to lose weight. Furthermore, it’s wrong to eat someone else’s food. They expect me to do right. They’ll get angry with me for running away from school, but they do wrong too, and they never even notice it.”
Janna sat in her chair, staring at her snack box and muttering, until she remembered the night before last, when she’d climbed to the top of the tower to stargaze. Somehow, the box that had been full of snacks when she’d arrived had been empty when she left.
Quickly, she pulled out a history book. She’d read about the Fern Queen, then later, when her parents were through with lunch, she’d sneak into the kitchen and find something to eat.
Long ago, the queen of a kingdom not far from Mount Pasture became obsessed with ferns. First, she filled the gardens around her castle, then she planted her favorite plant throughout her land. Since her kingdom was made up of low, moist valleys, it proved ideal for growing ferns—and for less wholesome pursuits as well, people began to say.
The whispered rumors said the Fern Queen had concocted a potion that changed people into plants. A lot of people scoffed at the idea, though they couldn’t deny that she was the daughter of the Stalker, who had been an expert potion maker. Years went by, and everyone, even the scoffers, noticed something strange about the queen. The people she grew up with lived and died; then their children did the same. She lived on, planting and cultivating ferns.
Rumors became established folklore. People enjoyed telling stories about the evil Fern Queen in front of their safe, comfortable firesides. It wasn’t until she attacked and defeated a small kingdom that her neighbors realized she meant to expand her kingdom at their expense.
They banded together with big Mount Pasture and fought.
Janna lost track of time as she reached for one book after another, trying to find something interesting about the battle accounts. All of them described how long each battle lasted, where it was fought, how many people were on each side, and other facts that weren’t in the slightest bit interesting. None of the accounts said anything about what the Fern Queen looked like or how she changed people into plants, and Janna wished she could take the historians who had written them by the shoulders and shake them.
Only one report was worth reading, in her opinion, even though it was in the largest and heaviest of the history books. She ought to read it again.
“I’ll stretch first.”
Her back ached from bending over books all afternoon. Her arms ached too, but after she’d stretched, Janna reached for the heavy book, lifted it onto her lap, and turned to the report. A drop of sweat fell on it. Absentmindedly, she grabbed the bottom of her skirt and dried the page, but it wasn’t until sweat started trickling down the back of her neck that she realized how hot she was.
At least the top room of the tower had a window, though two windows would have been better because then a breeze could have come in one and out the other, creating a cross breeze.
Janna was staring vaguely outside, hoping for a breath of wind, when something bright blue dashed past the tower window. She blinked and looked again. There wasn’t anything blue outside except for the sky, and even the sky was pale that afternoon, as if it were suffering from heatstroke.
Dust from the old books must have gotten into her eyes, making her see things. Her throat was dry too. And she had a headache.
“I’ll read this report again, then I’ll quit.”
****
When the Fern Queen’s army surrounded us, we formed a circle around our children and called to the Maker for help. He sent help, and mighty it was, but clouds had covered the night sky, making it too dark to see. All we could do was listen.
First, a distant drumming of horse hooves grew louder and encircled our enemies as well as us. We were unable to see how many horses had come to our aid, though it sounded like hundreds. The enemy shouted in defiance and sent arrows twanging into the darkness.
Then the howling began. Wolf howls, long and sinister, wavered in every direction. We trusted that the wolves had come to help us, but we ourselves trembled at the wailing cries. Though the enemy was still shouting, there was fear in their voices. Nevertheless, they maintained the circle around us.
Suddenly, both hoofbeats and howls stopped. A bird trilled, then another and another, until the air resounded with their songs. Throwing ourselves on the ground, we wept with the joy that filled us and were grateful when the singing ended. Some things human beings cannot bear, not until…we reach high home.
The enemy ran from the birdsongs. Our scouts followed their tracks to the borders of the Fern Queen’s kingdom.
****
The light in the tower dimmed as Janna read the last few words. She glanced out the window in time to see the sun dip below a far mountain. No matter, the sun was always dipping behind mountains in Montaland. The subdued light of evening would last several more hours.
Janna looked down at the book she was holding, but the words on the page blurred together. She rubbed her eyes impatiently.
“I’ll read about the wolves once more, and then I’ll quit.”
Rubbing her eyes helped. She was able to read the part about the wolves again, but it only described them as gathering and howling. So what? Wolves always gathered and howled. That wasn’t special behavior. Janna could no longer think clearly. No matter, her list of high-home animals was on the table in front of her. She’d list this report as a reference even if it didn’t contain new information. All she had to do was straighten up and reach for the list. Straighten up, straighten right up, and—
She didn’t move.
Too tired.
It was then that a flock of her least favorite animals chose to announce to the world their outrage at an act of gross injustice. At the same time, a dog began barking, and she couldn’t tell which species of animal was more indignant. The sheep don’t want to go where the dog wants them to.
She winced at the increasingly loud exchange.
“Baa-aaa-aaaa…”
“Quit it,” she said through her teeth.
“Baaaaa-baaaaaaaaa…”
“I said, quit it.”
Her headache was getting worse.
“Sheep couldn’t possibly be high-home animals. What a ridiculous idea!”
“Baaaaaaaa—” Then suddenly the clamor cut off.
Good, the dog had herded his flock where he wanted it to go. Now she could relax. Closing her eyes, Janna took one of her deep calming breaths, but she didn’t relax because a line of fat wooly bodies were now marching through a gate in her mind. Fat, wooly, dirty-white bodies marching one after another after—
“I can’t stand it!” she yelled and lunged from the chair, out of the library, down the stairs, and through the tower’s outside door.
Sneaking past several castle windows, Janna made her way toward the kitchen. She needed something to eat. That would make her feel better. However, when she reached the kitchen window, she could hear her mother talking. Queen Berta and a friend were having a cup of tea at the table.
Janna wavered, but she still wasn’t ready to explain why she’d run away from school.
Besides, there were pies cooling on the windowsill, strawberry pies. Her mother would insist on cutting a piece for her, and Janna hadn’t yet recovered from being called chubby in a song made up by ungrateful kids who should have thanked her for making the effort to give them a history lesson.
Her mother was quite chubby herself, but she was happy that way. Whenever Janna said anything about a diet, Berta would tell her she looked fine and then, in the same breath, urge her to exercise.
“Nobody should talk about exercise on a hot day. And I don’t look fine.”
Janna got past the kitchen windowsill, but it wasn’t as easy to leave behind the smell of strawberry pie. Uh oh. Now the rich aroma of rolls baking in the oven was wafting through the air. My favorite. Janna’s mouth began watering at the thought of a big puffy roll cut in half and slathered with butter that melted and oozed down the sides.
Running was the only option.
The smells followed at her heels as if determined to lure her back until she dashed through a side entrance to the castle garden and slammed the stone door behind her. The garden’s absurdly tall walls did serve a good purpose after all. They blocked smells. Janna took a deep breath of the protected air and headed straight toward the nearest stream for a cold drink of water.
“That’s better,” she said finally and stood, wiping her mouth.
Green leaves waved from nearby trees, and summer flowers bobbed as if to say hello. Boring. Nevertheless, Janna’s headache began to ease, and she made her way to the far side of the garden, where an old pear tree grew. Its branches hung within three feet of the ground, forming a sheltered canopy, but the best thing about the tree was two of its lowest branches, which had been pushed together by a long-ago storm. The result was a particularly comfortable perch that had been Janna’s secret retreat for years.
A jump and a twist settled her, and she leaned back gratefully and closed her eyes. Something stirred in the leaves above her.
“Go away, squirrel.”
A prolonged whirring of wings announced the presence of a bird, not a squirrel, but Janna didn’t open her eyes. Why should she care what type of bird it was? A number of birds ate the fruit of her tree, though they usually waited until the hard green knobs had ripened.
The bird kept rustling the leaves.
You should look. It might be special.
Janna didn’t know where that thought had come from, but she wasn’t about to open her eyes. It had been a hard day. She deserved a rest. Eventually, the leaves stopped rustling and she was able to relax until her stomach rumbled.
Jumping off the branch, she wondered what to do until the bell rang for supper. There was the hidden tunnel, of course, which needed to be found so she could prove Alland wrong. None of the history books had mentioned a secret tunnel built by the Fern Queen, which was bothersome, but not hard to explain away. It was a secret for high home’s sake. Alland had no right to say it didn’t exist, and Janna marched resolutely through the garden toward the back wall.