Kerka's Book Page 7

  A moment later, my feet slipped out from under me and I fell on my knees. Ardee turned and a chunk of snow-covered rock broke off the ledge. One hoof slipped off.

  “Just stay still,” Ardee called out. “I’m okay.”

  I waited until the reindeer got her hoof back on solid ice.

  “Can you get up?” Ardee asked.

  “I’ll try.” I got onto my knees, but when I tried to stand, my boots slid out from under me again. “The ice is too slick!”

  Ardee held out one of her back hooves to me. “Hold on to me, then,” she said. “I’ll pull you until we find a bare spot.”

  Being dragged along an ice shelf holding on to a reindeer’s hoof is not fun. My arms began to ache and Ardee’s hooves sprayed chips of ice as she walked. I couldn’t protect my face, but I kept my eyes closed. Just when my mittens began to slip off Ardee’s hoof, the path took a sharp left turn into a ravine.

  “You can let go now,” Ardee said.

  I collapsed onto bare rocky ground and rolled over, taking a minute to catch my breath. High rock walls on both sides of the ravine shielded us from the wind and blowing snow. The sky overhead was a darker shade of blue laced with faint puffs of light. I blinked, but my eyes weren’t playing tricks. The tiny puffs really did appear here and there.

  Ardee looked down at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” I said, getting to my feet. My legs ached from the climb, but we didn’t have time to rest. It would be night soon.

  The trail through the protected niche was still icy, and I stayed behind Ardee, clinging to her tail as we walked ever upward. When the reindeer paused to dig in a pile of snow, I didn’t argue. My knees were a little shaky and I needed the break.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I need a snack.” The reindeer looked back. “You’re not going to yell at me, are you?”

  “No!” I shook my head. “You’ve earned a treat, but there’s no grass up here.”

  “I know,” Ardee said. “I like reindeer moss just as much.”

  I watched, fascinated, as she plunged her muzzle into the snow. When she lifted her head, she had a mouthful of gray lichen. “It’s very dry,” she said after the third bite. “Can we use more magic water now?”

  I was thirsty, too, but the pouches weren’t insulated. “The pods might be frozen.”

  “They might not,” Ardee said, chewing another wad of lichen.

  “Let’s find out.” I rubbed my hands together under the coat to warm my stiff fingers before I opened my backpack. The water pod was cold, and nothing happened when I poked it. “It’s frozen.”

  “Oh.” Ardee swayed from side to side. She quickly added a warning. “But we can’t eat snow.”

  “I know.” I sighed, absently rolling the cold pod between my hands while I mulled over the problem. We had to drink to keep going, but eating ice or snow would lower our body temperatures. That would make us more dehydrated, not less.

  “Do you have a brilliant idea yet?” Ardee placed her chin on my chest and begged with her big blue winter eyes. “Please have a brilliant idea.”

  “I wish it was that easy, Ardee, but—” I inhaled sharply then grinned when I realized the pod wasn’t frozen anymore. Friction and body heat had warmed it up in my hands. “No brilliant ideas, but how about an accidental one?”

  “Will it make water?” Ardee backed up a step.

  Keeping my hands under the coat, I rolled the pod between my palms as fast as I could until it was hot. It began to cool when I held it outside my coat and jabbed it, but when the pod expanded and split open, the water inside was still warm. It tasted as good as sweet tea or hot chocolate sliding down my throat, and the heat radiated from my stomach to warm my whole insides. I gave Ardee a little more than half.

  The reindeer drained the pod and burped. “It’s a good thing you’re so smart.”

  “The fairies thought of everything, not me,” I said.

  “Then it’s very good you’re smart enough to figure out fairy things.” Snorting, Ardee turned and began walking.

  “We make a good team,” I said, trudging after her.

  “Yes, we do.” She flicked her tail. “Grab on to my tail if it gets slippery again.”

  The hike up the ravine was easier going than the ledge, but it didn’t last. The instant we left the shelter of the rock walls, we were hit by winds and driving snow. Ardee turned broadside, inserting her body between me and the wind so I wouldn’t be blown off my feet. Although traces of twilight lingered, we were both blind in the blizzard.

  We couldn’t see the path to continue on, and we would freeze to death if we didn’t keep moving.

  I pulled out the rope and touched the last knot.

  As though by magic, which it was, the wind obeyed my unspoken command and calmed to a whisper. The swirling snow settled, creating lacy patterns on the rocks. As I looked around to get my bearings, I realized that the third knot had saved us from more than the winter storm. The reindeer and I were standing on a narrow ice bridge that spanned a deep canyon. The bridge was no more than eighteen inches wide. A step to either side and we would have fallen off. The knot had saved our lives.

  Shaken by yet another close call, I looked down into the dark chasm. Did I decide to save the last knot based on intuition, logic, or luck? Did it matter why or how as long as it was the right decision?

  I frowned in thought. Even with great intuition, the best information, and uncanny good luck, no one knew exactly the right thing to do at all times without fail. Everybody made mistakes. The difference was in how each person handled them. My mother always said that insecure people got mad or made excuses or blamed someone else. Stupid people wouldn’t even admit there had been a mistake. Smart people learned from their mistakes and with luck made fewer as they went through life.

  I tried to be smart, but making decisions was complicated. When I had time, I tried to consider all the good and bad things involved. And that was all I or anyone else could expect.

  “Fairy lights,” Ardee said, her voice filled with wistful longing. “It looks like home.”

  I looked up. Night had truly fallen while I was deep in thought, but the sky wasn’t black.

  Shimmering grayish lights with faint tints of blue and green were splashed across diamond-studded dark blue velvet. Sprays of silver exploded behind starbursts of blue while waves of gray rippled underneath. Tendrils of green lightning flashed, sputtered out, and then flashed again. The aurora borealis in Finland’s Arctic skies had more dazzling colors, but otherwise they looked the same. My mother called the northern lights a cosmic magic show, created by the universe to preserve the sense of wonder too many children lose when they grow up.

  “It looks like my home, too,” I said, blinking back a tear. I missed my mother, my father, my sisters, and the carefree days of my childhood. A tear froze on my cheek, and I brushed it away. I couldn’t complete the tasks ahead if I was a lump of blubbering mush.

  “We’re almost to the top!” Ardee exclaimed, swishing her tail with excitement.

  A natural bridge connected the ravine to the base of the mountain peak. I couldn’t tell if the bridge was made of rock or just ice covered with snow. Queen Patchouli had sent me here so I was pretty sure the suspended path would hold our weight. Still, for a second, I wondered if I had used the third knot too soon.

  “Is something wrong?” Ardee asked.

  “No.” I didn’t want to scare her. We had to cross the bridge to reach the mountain peak. I pointed to where the bridge path widened several feet farther out. “Let’s move to safer footing.”

  The reindeer pranced forward, secure on the ice pack. I put the wind rope back in its pouch and followed at a more sedate pace. Fearful of stepping on a weak spot that might break off, I placed my boots in Ardee’s hoofprints and held my breath. I paused where the bridge widened to three feet across, captivated by the astounding view.

  Illuminated by the fairy lights overhead, we could see Ave
nturine below us. A layer of daylight blanketed the ground under the darkness. I could see the ridge of the boulder wall by the beach, across the Glass Lake to the shores of the Willowood and beyond, to the lilacs by the glass wall and the Orchards of Allfruit. I thought I spotted the green branches of Birdie’s Glimmer Tree just before the terrain faded into a hazy horizon, but then I realized I couldn’t possibly see that far. The landmarks were the handiwork of a fairy’s whim, drawn from my memory and imagination.

  “What’s that tall pointy thing?” Ardee was looking at the view on the other side of the bridge.

  I turned, expecting to see parts of Aventurine I hadn’t visited yet. I gasped when I saw the waking world stretching to another hazy horizon. Far to one side, the green domes of the Helsinki Cathedral and the tall Olympic Tower stood out like toys placed on a paper map of the world. I glanced over the Eiffel Tower, one of Aunt Tuula’s favorite places, across the whitecaps on the Atlantic Ocean to the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor. Ardee was staring at New York City.

  “That’s the Empire State Building,” I said. “It was the tallest building in the waking world for a long, long time.”

  “But it’s not as tall as your mountain,” the reindeer said.

  I smiled as I shifted my gaze back to Aventurine, amazed by the fairies’ artistry. Two worlds seen from a mountaintop was a masterpiece. But I couldn’t stop and stare any longer. I urged Ardee to move on and quickened my own pace. I was getting tired, but I didn’t want to fall behind.

  The wings came out of nowhere. The huge bird swooped down on us from the dark blue sky. I ducked, but it flew so close, its talons snagged my hair. I staggered toward the edge of the bridge.

  “No!” I shouted and grabbed for Ardee. She clamped on to the back of my coat with her teeth and pulled back. She was stronger than the bird and kept me from falling off. The bird screeched as it flew off. I landed in a sitting position under Ardee’s nose, but I wasn’t out of danger. The bird flew in a wide arc and started back.

  “Duck!” I drew up my knees and covered my head with my arms.

  Ardee let go of my coat and stood her ground. The white bird flew straight at us. At the last second, Ardee rattled her antlers and gave a warning cry that sounded like a foghorn! The bird decided she didn’t want to tangle with Ardee and whooshed over us.

  “What was that?” I asked as I watched the bird disappear into the darkening sky.

  “A snowy owl,” the reindeer said. “It must be guarding something.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ardee said. “Some answers just seem to be in my head. But I don’t have the answers to what I really want.”

  “I think a lot of people feel that way,” I said. I stood up and rocked back on my heels, shaking.

  I took a deep breath. So far, Queen Patchouli’s faith in my abilities wasn’t misplaced. The last leg of my ascent to the peak was within sight, at the far end of the ice bridge. I had come a long way and had endured much.

  With Ardee’s help, I reminded myself. I let her take the lead across the rest of the bridge.

  8

  The Kalistonia Fairies

  My legs buckled when we stepped off the ice bridge. I fell against a large boulder and sank to my knees, too cold and exhausted to go on.

  Ardee nosed me in the side and gently pawed me with her hoof. Her voice shook with urgency. “Don’t lie down, Kerka.”

  “I’m too tired to walk another step.” My words were slurred and hard to hear. I was even too tired to talk. I leaned my head against the rock and closed my eyes.

  “Get up.” Ardee nudged me harder. “You have a mission. Important things to do, you said.”

  “I have to rest,” I insisted. “Then I’ll go do important things.”

  “Reindeer that fall down to rest never get up,” Ardee said firmly. “They freeze or get eaten by wolves.”

  Wolf? Fear-induced adrenaline brought me out of my stupor. I shook my head to clear my brain, but I couldn’t shake the weariness in my bones and muscles. Still, I couldn’t ignore Ardee’s warning.

  Grabbing the reindeer’s long hair, I pulled myself up. My legs wobbled like spaghetti, and I couldn’t feel my feet. Leaning across Ardee’s back, I rubbed my hands and stamped my boots to quicken the flow of blood through my body, but I struggled to keep my eyes open.

  “If I don’t rest soon, I won’t have the strength to finish my quest,” I explained. “We have to stop when we find shelter.”

  “A shelter where the wolf can’t go,” Ardee said.

  “Is it nearby?” I gasped, feeling foolish for trying to hide the predator’s pursuit. The reindeer would catch the wolf’s scent long before I saw or heard it.

  “No, but it’s coming,” Ardee said.

  The fairy lights cast a flickering glow over the path as it wound through crevices in the rocky terrain. We were no longer in danger of falling off a cliff, but sleep was a constant temptation. Using Ardee as a crutch, I dragged one foot after the other and scanned dark recesses in the mountainside, looking for a haven from the brutal cold. We found a few caves, but they were too narrow to enter or were shallow dead ends. I finally nodded off for a few seconds and heard a soft voice.

  “This way …”

  Startled, I awoke and quickly glanced around, as though the dreamed words were real and not a whisper of the wind. Notches and cave openings looked like slices of night behind the dancing fairy lights. My eyes focused on a sliver of black set deeper into the rock. The opening wasn’t wide enough for me or a reindeer with antlers to slip through, but I was drawn to it anyway.

  “There.” I let go of the reindeer to investigate. Aided by the glimmering lights, I reached the fissure in the rock without mishap. A massive boulder camouflaged a large cave entrance, and Ardee hung back when I stepped inside. The darkness was so black I couldn’t see my hand. “We’ll be safe here,” I told the reindeer.

  “It’s too dark,” Ardee protested. She was still standing outside. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

  “That’s why it’s safe,” I explained, trying not to lose patience. “It doesn’t look like a cave from the path, and the darkness will keep other creatures out.”

  “Maybe, I guess.” Ardee set one hoof inside, her resolve faltering. “I wouldn’t come in if you weren’t making me.” After thinking about it a few more seconds, Ardee gave in. “Hold on to me and don’t let go. I don’t want to get lost.”

  Twining my fingers in Ardee’s neck hair, I used the lessons I had learned in the dark woods and stretched out my other arm. Taking tiny steps and feeling my way, I avoided running into the rock walls. The cramped passageway didn’t lead directly into a larger cavern. We had to turn at every wall, first left, then right, then left again. There wasn’t yet room to lie down comfortably so we kept going. As we walked deeper into the mountain, a dim yellow-green glow began to filter through the darkness.

  Ardee stopped suddenly, sitting back on her haunches and stubbornly refusing to move. “A troll must live down here … or maybe something worse.”

  “Do you smell something, Ardee?” If a dangerous being was lurking in the rocks, I wanted to know. If not, I had to calm the reindeer’s jittery nerves so she didn’t bolt out of the cave. I could never catch her, but the wolf would.

  Raising her muzzle, Ardee sniffed. Her tense muscles relaxed under my hand. “Nothing stinky-bad.”

  Relieved, I continued walking. “I bet the glow comes from lichen.”

  “There’s no such thing as light-up lichen,” Ardee scoffed. Distracted by my theory, she walked with me.

  “We have lots of glowing life forms in the waking world,” I argued. “Fireflies, glow worms, mushrooms, and deep sea jellyfish, for instance. Even wolf eyes glow in the dark. I’m sure Aventurine has such things, too. Probably more, because of the amount of magic here.”

  Around the next curve, the passageway opened into a small circular cave with a domed ceiling. Everything in the cave glowe
d, from clusters of small yellow bell-shaped flowers on large rocks to giant moths with green wings. Transparent crystal stalactites hung down from the ceiling over matching stalagmites that reached up from the floor. Large, glowing white worms ducked in and out of holes in the rock walls, causing an oddly soothing strobe effect.

  Ignoring the glorious sight, Ardee sniffed a wide patch of thick brown moss and tried a small nibble. She spit it out. “It tastes awful, but it’s soft. You can sleep on it.”

  “Good.” Yawning, I sat down. I shifted the pouches so I wouldn’t squash them and took my Kalis stick out of my backpack. I knew I would feel more secure sleeping with it in my hand.

  “The cave creatures probably don’t like that disgusting sour moss, either,” Ardee added as she settled on the hard floor beside the spongy lichen mat. “But I can’t be one hundred percent positive. Some porcupines eat pine needles, and I can’t stand them.”

  I didn’t like the idea of hungry creepy crawlies squirming around me munching moss, but that wasn’t my biggest concern. Despite my exhaustion, I was afraid to fall asleep. What if I didn’t wake up in time?

  “Lie close to me,” Ardee said. “I’ll keep you warm.”

  “Thanks, but I’m worried I’ll oversleep.” On camping trips in Finland, I always woke up at the first light of dawn, but there was no sunlight inside the cave and I was far more tired than I had ever been in my life.

  “Reindeer are light sleepers,” Ardee said. “Waking up at every little thing is one of our best defenses. When do you want to get up?”

  I couldn’t answer. The sun rose in Aventurine on a whim, not on a schedule. I told Ardee the first thing that popped into my mind and hoped my intuitive answer was correct. “In three hours.”

  “I’ll stay alert for the wolf,” Ardee said, “and I’ll wake you in …”