Kerka's Book Read online

  “I’m sorry.” Ardee’s voice was small. “I’ve never seen a magic water bottle before, and I’m really thirsty.”

  “So am I.” My voice was tight. “You wasted a whole pod of water! We only have five left, and now I have to open another one so we don’t get dehydrated and pass out. Then we’ll only have four, and I don’t know how far we have to go to find more water—if we find water.”

  Ardee sniffled.

  I took a deep breath. Being angry wouldn’t change anything. I took more deep breaths until I relaxed. Then I took another pod from my backpack and held my hand by the reindeer’s face, palm out. “Do not move until I say so.”

  “Okay,” Ardee said meekly.

  I jabbed the pod, took a long drink, and then gave the rest to Ardee. I poured it into her mouth a little at a time so none was spilled. When the water was gone, I buried both pods. They would fertilize the meadow as they decomposed. Birdie would like that, too.

  Of course, Ardee started grazing again, but I went down the path, checking the rope pouch as I walked. “We have to keep going, Ardee. Come on!”

  “But I’m hungry,” Ardee grumbled as she trotted along behind me.

  “Then graze as you go,” I said. “You can walk and eat at the same time, can’t you?”

  “I guess. But it doesn’t taste as good that way.” Sighing, the reindeer paused to nose through the grass, looking for a tasty mouthful. “Wait for me, Kerka!”

  I spun around and pointed toward Dayling summit. “I have to be on top of that mountain by a certain time,” I told her. “It’s extremely important to me. You can keep up, or you can stay here. Which is it going to be?”

  “Keep up,” the reindeer said. She pulled up a mouthful of grass and jogged to close the space between us.

  Despite the fact that Ardee paused every few minutes to grab another bite of pasture, we reached the far side of the meadow in good time. The sun was getting lower, and the mountain cast shadows on a wide expanse of white just ahead. What I had thought was a field of snow turned out to be a huge mound of ice that stretched toward the mountains as far as I could see. It looked just like the glaciers in Finland. This was actually good because the icy surface would be hard to walk on but not as dangerous as trying to slog through deep snow.

  “We’ll stop here a few minutes,” I said, moving several yards back into the meadow. I didn’t need to rest, but I knew that Ardee had to eat as much as possible before we went on. Reindeer live off their extra body fat during the harsh winter months; I just hadn’t realized exactly how much they had to consume! I knew that where we were going grass would be as hard to find as unfrozen water.

  “I like you, Kerka,” Ardee said, lowering her head to eat.

  “I like you, too, Ardee,” I replied, smiling.

  “This is the best”—tug, chew—“grass”—tug, chew—“I’ve ever tasted,” Ardee mumbled through mouthfuls.

  “It might be the last grass you taste for a while,” I said. “There’s nothing but snow and ice in front of us as far as I can see.”

  “I don’t like ice,” Ardee said.

  “What?” I said in surprise. “But you’re a reindeer. Ice and snow are your natural habitat.”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Ardee snorted and resumed eating.

  I was impatient but didn’t rush her. I reminded myself that she was young. And I also started thinking that even if she held me back a bit, somehow she was helping me. That she was to me what I was to Birdie. And, honestly, she just made me feel good.

  Reaching into my backpack, I pulled out my coat. The garment returned to full size as I unfolded it and spread it on the grass. I sat down and ate a honey bar and one sunflower seed cake while I studied the golden snowcapped mountain. I was pretty sure we had reached the halfway point. I wasn’t full when I finished eating, but I had to ration my supplies. I decided to let Ardee continue grazing a few more minutes. We had a long way to go, and she would need her strength.

  “What!” I sat up with a start, horrified when I realized I had dozed off. The reindeer was standing at my side with her nose in my face. Her moist nostrils flared slightly, and she stared at me intently. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “I don’t know,” the reindeer answered.

  “Why didn’t you wake me?” I asked, scrambling to my feet. I was upset about losing precious time.

  “You were asleep,” the reindeer said. As I was about to argue, she explained, “I only sleep when I’m tired. You can’t climb a winter mountain if you’re tired, so I was very careful not to wake you.”

  “Okay, thanks.” I couldn’t be mad at her for thinking of me. I noticed she wasn’t eating any longer. “Are you full?” I asked her. I could hardly believe it.

  Ardee bobbed her head, rattling her antlers. “For now.”

  “Good,” I said.

  I took the mittens out of the coat pocket and put them on. Then I slipped into the coat and noticed that it had grown a hood. Wondering if it had the power to respond to the actual climate, I zipped it up. Then I took off my crushed flower wreath and pulled the hood up over my head. I put my backpack on over the coat and adjusted my Kalis stick so I could grab it in a hurry. As I started briskly across the last stretch of meadowland, Ardee uncharacteristically galloped ahead and waited at the glacier.

  “Why are you in such a hurry?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t like ice.”

  “I know a trick!” Ardee announced proudly. “It will help us.”

  “What is it?” I asked, intrigued.

  The reindeer bent her front leg. “See the bottom of my hoof?”

  I humored her and looked. The big pad in the center of the hard hoof wall was soft and cushy. “I see it.”

  “Watch this.” Ardee sprang onto the glacier.

  “What?” I asked impatiently. The ice was slippery and it took me a minute to reach her side.

  “Hold on to my fur so you don’t fall, then look at my hoof again.”

  Ardee bent her leg at the ankle and rested the toe of her hoof on the ice so I could see the underside. The big pad had shrunken and hardened within the hoof wall, leaving the hoof with a cookie-cutter rim. When I looked up, she stomped on the slick glacier. Her hoof cut into the ice, and she didn’t slip or slide.

  “Wow!” I was truly impressed. “Is that magic or natural?”

  Ardee moved her head from side to side slightly, the reindeer version of a shrug. “Maybe magic makes winter feet happen faster here.”

  Tightening my grip on the reindeer’s long hair, I held on as she moved forward. The ridged soles on my boots gave me some purchase on the ice, but not enough to keep me from sliding on the slippery spots.

  “Can you see the path, Ardee?”

  “Yes, I have winter eyes now, too.” Ardee turned her head. Her brown summer eyes had changed to blue.

  Being dependent on Ardee made me feel strange. Then it occurred to me that I didn’t feel odd about depending on magical knots or an enchanted map, so how was depending on a living creature any different? I tried to keep this in mind as Ardee moved at a very slow pace, testing every step on the hazardous ice. I didn’t object. I could not have crossed the glacier as easily or as fast without her, and my woolen coat did not keep out the cold completely. Pressing close to Ardee’s side kept me warm as well as upright. My fingers were cold even though I was wearing mittens. Burying my hands in the reindeer’s thick undercoat helped.

  “Don’t let go,” said Ardee. “I really don’t want to lose you.”

  “Don’t worry,” I replied. “I don’t want to lose you, either. You’re doing a great job,” I added. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “Yes, really,” I said. “But we can’t talk anymore, okay? It’s much too cold and we have to make it all the way across.”

  We plodded across the white expanse in silence. I kept my head down to protect my face. Numbed by cold and lulled by the slow, steady rhythm of
our progress, I lost all track of time. I was taken by surprise when we came to a halt at a wall of ice. From a distance, it had looked like part of the glacier.

  “What is it?” Ardee asked, sounding both fearful and annoyed.

  “A frozen waterfall,” I said. I looked up but I couldn’t see the top of the gigantic icicle. “My dad calls them icefalls.”

  The reindeer followed my gaze. “There’s no way I can climb it.”

  I had already reached the same conclusion.

  “What are we going to do?” The reindeer’s voice quivered.

  “Don’t worry,” I said softly. “I’ll think of something.” Every problem had a solution, even in Aventurine. I had solved the elf’s riddle and opened the boulder gate. And Queen Patchouli’s magic rope had summoned the wind to carry the reindeer and me across the canyon. “That’s it!”

  “Do you have a brilliant idea?” Ardee asked hopefully.

  “I have an idea. It’s too obvious to be brilliant.” I would have grinned, but the cold hurt my teeth. Instead, I reached under my coat. The pouch was stiff with cold, and I struggled to open it. Finally, I pulled out the rope and touched the second knot. “Here we go again!”

  “Oh, fiddlesticks!” The reindeer stiffened and closed her eyes. “Just tell me when it’s over.”

  The ribbon wind sliced through the purple sky, a ghostly streamer of arctic breath. I tried to hang on to the reindeer’s fur, but the wind didn’t pick us up together this time. First it sailed under Ardee’s belly, looped over her back, sailed under her belly again, and jerked tight as it yanked the reindeer off the ground.

  At the same time as Ardee’s hooves left the ground, the wind whipped around my chest. Still clinging to the rope, I raised my arms so they wouldn’t be trapped when the ribbon wind tightened. Takeoff was sudden, and the wind rose skyward too fast for sightseeing. It did not adjust course to avoid the bulges in the frozen waterfall. I had to be on guard, pushing off the ice wall with my free hand and my feet so I wouldn’t smash into the hard mounds. Ardee squealed every time she banged into the ice. Her sharp hooves cut deep when she hit, causing a spray of ice crystals.

  The icy specks were so cold they stung my face. I tried tucking my chin, but slivers of ice cut the skin on my cheeks anyway. My first impulse was to swat the bits away. Then I realized that the crystals swarming around my head like angry bees were actually alive. Since Ardee and I had disturbed them, I couldn’t justify doing them more harm. I was sure someone was keeping track of such things in Aventurine. How else would the fairies know which fairy-godmothers-in-the-making deserved to return and complete the training?

  All such thoughts ceased when the ice creatures fled in a sudden, frantic flurry. Just as the last one flew away, a hairy hand burst through the ice and grabbed my wrist.

  7

  Fairy Lights

  I am hardly a screamer, but this made me scream—as loud as I could. Thankfully, the wind stopped instantly, so that I hung suspended against the ice wall instead of having my arm ripped off.

  “What’s happening!” Ardee shrieked. “Why did we stop? Are we there yet? Oh, I can’t look!” The wind had clearly stopped going up with her, too.

  The hairy hand was attached to the hairy arm of a monster trapped in the ice. Round eyes glared at me from a misshapen face that was framed by black spikes streaked with silver. The mouth was curled in a sneer, showing yellow teeth. A blood-red coat covered the monster’s bulging belly.

  It reminded me of another folktale my father used to tell me, about a fur trapper who had been frozen behind a waterfall at the sudden onslaught of winter. He could escape only if he captured a human girl to melt the ice, freeing him as she froze in his place.

  My arm had started to freeze in the monster’s grip. While my flesh was turning to ice, the ice encasing the monster’s arm melted.

  I gasped. I was the girl! And if I didn’t find a way out, I’d be frozen in the waterfall! I still held the magic rope in my free hand. There was one knot left. I was already using the ribbon wind, so the knot couldn’t help me. But I didn’t dare drop it to grab my Kalis stick. It couldn’t smash through tons of ice, and if I survived, I would need the knot later.

  “I think I’m going to throw up,” Ardee moaned.

  I had one thing to offer the monster, the only other thing I had acquired since leaving the Willowood Fairies: the elf’s message.

  Could an elf have a troll or an ogre for a brother? I didn’t know, but I was out of ideas so I delivered the message.

  I shouted it, hoping he could hear through the ice. “The elf on the beach wanted me to tell you: ‘If the wind goes free, so will we.’”

  Instantly, the monster opened his hand and released my wrist. A tingly sensation coursed through my arm as my blood started circulating again, but my joy encompassed much more than my freedom. The first elf had predicted his brother would find me if my path was true.

  We had not strayed off the trail.

  The ice melted around the elf’s brother, forming an alcove. It turned out the second elf wasn’t huge or grotesque—the wavy ice had just wildly distorted him. Rounder than his brother, with chubby cheeks, a furrowed brow, and a dour expression, he was also two feet tall.

  I remembered my manners. “Thanks for letting go of my arm,” I said, still dangling in the air. The magical wind hovered in place, apparently waiting for a cue to start moving again.

  “Had to,” the elf growled, folding his arms and scowling. “My brother sent you. I didn’t want to.”

  “But you did all the same.” I extended my hand. “I can take you to the top of the icefall.”

  “Why would I want to go there?” he snapped.

  “Why would you want to stay here?” I asked, curious.

  “Because it’s not the top of Dayling Mountain,” the elf huffed. “I have no use for Dayling Mountain. No use at all.” He did not possess a smidgeon of his brother’s lyrical manner or poetic talent.

  “Can we go now?” Ardee moaned.

  “In a minute.” I still had business with the elf. I was a bit put out by his disdain for my mountain, but he had let me go and I owed him a favor. I had to repay him or face worse than a few bitter words when the disagreeable little man decided to get even. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “I can hope, but I won’t count on it.” Heaving a great sigh, the elf said, “Give that same message to my brother if you see him, which you won’t.”

  “Why won’t I?” I asked.

  “You’re just a child,” the elf growled. “Not a bit of sense in your head, or you wouldn’t be hanging around here.”

  I guessed I’d be cranky, too, if I had been frozen on a mountain while my sister lived at the beach. Still, that didn’t make it right to be so rude. Since as far as I knew I was under no obligation to stay and take the elf’s insults, I tugged on the ribbon wind.

  Ardee screeched as the current resumed our superfast ride up the icefall. As soon as we cleared the top of the icefall, the ribbon unwound Ardee and me like toy tops and dropped us in a snowbank. I was glad to be alive and thankful that I wasn’t climbing the icefall inch by inch.

  “I do not want to ride that scary thing ever again,” Ardee complained as she pawed her way out of the deep drift. She shook snow off her antlers and stamped packed ice out of her hooves.

  “And what if you were cornered by the wolf with no other way out?” I teased as I peered down at the glacier.

  “Okay, maybe then,” Ardee admitted. “But not for anything else.”

  I didn’t laugh. Instead, I looked over the edge of the icefall to see how high we were. I inhaled softly when I saw a speck of gray; the wolf was at the base of the ice wall far below.

  I was sure the wolf couldn’t climb, but with its thick coat of fur, it could easily survive the winter weather on the mountain. When the wolf leapt onto an ice shelf and disappeared, I realized it didn’t have to follow in our footsteps to catch us. It could take alternate routes and backtr
ack to pick up our scent anywhere we had been.

  I decided not to tell Ardee that the wolf was still after us. Putting the knotted rope back in my pouch, I looked for the path. I couldn’t see it on the ice and drifted snow, but Ardee found it—with her nose.

  “Other animals have used this path before,” she explained. “It goes this way.”

  I pulled my hood around my face a bit more and followed the reindeer away from the icefall. The path became a ledge that wound steeply upward with a sharp drop-off on the right. There was just enough room for my boots on the slippery ledge. I inched along, hugging the rocks and moving my feet forward without lifting my boots off the ground, the wind whipping about us. Ardee paused every few minutes to wait for me. She wasn’t afraid of falling.

  The temperature fell several more degrees, making the air so brittle I could almost hear it crack. Frost formed on my eyelashes, and the sky deepened from violet to dark blue.

  “Can you still see?” I shouted to be heard above the wind.

  “Yes!” Ardee called back.

  I slipped backward, and the reindeer immediately shouted, “Kerka! Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride!” I yelled, grabbing Ardee’s back leg to steady myself as I struggled to rise. Her rimmed hoof kept her anchored on the incline.

  “Hold on to my tail!” Ardee said when I was back on my feet. “So I can pull you up if you fall.”

  I hesitated. If I stumbled and fell off the cliff, I might drag her over, too.

  “Please,” Ardee pleaded. “It won’t hurt. Besides, if you fall, I’d rather die with you than lose you.”

  I believed her and moved closer, clutching her short tail with both hands. “You’re very brave, Ardee.”

  “No, I’m sure-footed, and I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Ardee said, bending her head to press on.

  With darkness descending and a frigid wind hampering every step, we crept forward like an arctic snail. I had no idea how long the Aventurine night would last. I had to find Biba’s voice before the sun rose. There would be no do-overs.

  We could fly the remaining length of the narrow ledge if I touched the third knot. However, using it to lessen the hardship and save time didn’t seem wise. Although we were moving slowly, we were moving forward. I decided to keep the knot for a situation we couldn’t handle without help.