Captives of the Fern Queen

by Sarah G. Byrd

  She rubbed the goosebumps on her arms. Her teeth started chattering, and she was about to hurry out of the pool so she could get back into it with a more conservative inch-by-inch approach, when she caught sight of her reflection. Green eyes looked at her from the surface of the water, green eyes that were rapidly widening with alarm, because they weren’t the only thing that was green.

  Her hair was green too, speckled green.

  “No,” she moaned, as everything she’d read about the Fern Queen turning people into plants raced through her mind.

  Janna had spent hours, maybe days, in the Fern Queen’s tunnel. But how—

  Vapors floating in the air. Powder scattered on the floor. Chemical goo smeared on the banks of the stream—but that last was too far-fetched even for Janna in a panic, and besides, she had clutched instinctively at her hair.

  As soon as her fingers touched it, she realized the truth. “Leaves,” she said through chattering teeth. “It’s l—l—leaves.”

  During the night, green pieces of her makeshift pillow had entangled themselves in her hair. The hair itself wasn’t green, although leaves were part of trees and trees were big plants, come to think of it.

  “I’ll f—f—find out.”

  The inch-by-inch approach was too slow for her now, so Janna leaned forward, and plunged her head completely under the water. When she came up for breath, she shivered violently once more, then began running her fingers through the tangles over and over again until her long hair flowed in the water.

  “Long brown hair,” she noted with satisfaction; however, it was too cold to sit and note things, however satisfying they might be.

  She scrubbed her clothes using her hands and a rock from the bottom of the pool. The worst stains wouldn’t come out, but it was the best she could do. There was obviously nothing that would mend the jagged hemline of her skirt. She shrugged as she sloshed out of the water. The padding had been worth it. Besides, who cared about nonessentials like that?

  Janna deliberately didn’t ask that question out loud because it was time to quit talking to the person who wasn’t there. High time, she thought with a sniff, then had to resist a strong urge to say goodbye.

  She lay down in a sunny spot that had a bit of grass and moaned with pleasure. The sun’s rays were warm and soothing. It didn’t take long for her clothes to dry. In fact, it didn’t take long enough. Now she had to decide what to do next.

  Reluctantly, she got to her feet and studied the mountains that rose on three sides of the ravine. It would be colder on top of them, especially at night, and she was a slow climber. Also, these mountains were bare and rocky. They’d provide very little protection from either wind or rain. Last night, it hadn’t rained, but she couldn’t expect the dry weather to last. It rained often in the mountain world.

  Besides, she didn’t know which direction to go. The tunnel had twisted and turned too often to make its exit a reliable guide.

  “I have to follow the stream through the ravine,” she said, and her stomach clenched painfully.

  Janna made herself walk toward the wood, but her steps got slower and slower until she reached the edge and stopped altogether. The trees grew too close together in this wood. Even in the middle of the day, it was gloomy under their branches. People did tend to build homes close to water though, and some of the ravine dwellers might be willing to help her.

  “There could be friendly people.”

  She stood without budging a full minute.

  “If I stay with the stream, I’ll always have water.”

  Another minute passed.

  “I’ll keep a close watch for unusually large ferns,” and with that Janna made herself step forward.

  At first, her watch was very vigilant.

  However, the morning drifted uneventfully into afternoon, and the trees began spreading out. Shafts of sunlight lit the ground, though there was enough shade to keep the air comfortably cool. The combination of sun and leaves made shadowy patterns on the forest floor, patterns that swayed with the breezes.

  Janna relaxed as she traveled over and around the logs and branches in her way. When she reached a mass of ripe strawberries, she stopped to pick them. Her appetite was beginning to return.

  It was when she was halfway through the second handful of berries that someone started singing. Janna jumped and the strawberries in her hand fell to the ground. The song was faint. She couldn’t make out the words, but someone was definitely singing on the other side of the stream. Janna leaned in the direction of the sound. A person. A real person.

  “No,” she snapped, pulling back. “I am twelve-and-a-half years old. I will not be lured into going the wrong way.”

  Lifting her chin, she stepped over the next log in her way. That was as far as she got.

  “I’ll be careful,” she said with embarrassment, but before the words were out of her mouth, she was hopping from one rock to another across the stream. When she reached the other side, she practically ran up the hill.

  I’ll only go far enough to hear better. When the singing got louder, she glanced back toward the stream, but she couldn’t turn back, not yet. She wanted to see who was singing.

  Half running, half walking, she finally reached the top of the hill. A thicket of huge bushes covered it. There was room to walk beneath them if she stooped way over, but dead leaves from years past crunched under every step. Wincing at the noise, Janna crept stubbornly on until two big rocks blocked her way.

  The singing was quite clear now, and there was a new noise, a noise that she recognized immediately this time. Climbing one of the rocks, she parted the leaves in front of her. Careful, she cautioned herself again. Then she peered through the opening she had made, and her jaw dropped. She forgot everything but the scene in front of her.

  Directly beneath her rock, a stream sprang out of the ground and gurgled down a short cliff before running between a thick wood on one side and a grassy meadow on the other. The white flowers and green fleecy plants that filled the meadow were pretty. Ordinarily, Janna would have been delighted by the sight.

  Right now, she barely noticed them. Her attention was fixed exclusively on the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen sitting in the midst of the flowers. Thick blonde hair fell down the stranger’s back to her waist. A gold band encircled her forehead, and her face was lifted, singing.

  Her song was a cry to the Maker for help.

  It seemed to Janna that she had walked into one of the old Montaland stories, one of the best of the old stories. She hung onto her rock, eyes aglow.

  There was no breeze; the whole forest might have been holding its breath to listen. For Janna, time ceased. The old tales flooded her mind, and she wasn’t surprised when an answer came to the princess’s song. A golden-brown stallion emerged out of the trees on the other side of the stream. He was ridden by a young man with brown curly hair, blue eyes, and a sword at his side. Pulling his horse to a stop, the young man leaned forward and opened his mouth to speak to the princess.

  It was then that disaster struck.

  Janna had leaned forward too, anxious not to miss a thing. The rock she was on teetered for one sickening moment. Then it fell, taking her down the waterfall and into the stream.

  ****

  “Be still,” said a gentle voice.

  Everything was dark and Janna was confused. Was she still in the tunnel? Her eyes sprang open in alarm. Light flooded reassuringly back, though nothing was in focus.

  “Rest now, you will feel better soon,” said the voice soothingly.

  Something cool was put on her forehead. It felt good, very good. A secure feeling swept over her. She was home, sick with a fever. Her mother was putting a cool cloth on her head.

  “That’s quite a bump she got,” said another voice, slashing through her dream of home.

  She wasn’t home. Where was she?

  Eventually, lights and shadows quit wavering and sorted themselves out. Janna found herself lying on the grass in the
meadow. It was strange to have seen the meadow from above, then find herself lying on it without any memory of getting there. The last thing she could remember was that big rock beginning to tilt.

  Two faces bent over her, and Janna was instantly outraged. This was wrong. They should be looking at each other, not her. The handsome young man should be swinging the beautiful princess onto his charger, while she smiled in sweet gratitude at him. He would rescue her; they would fall in love; that was the way it should go.

  What were they doing instead? They were taking care of a fat and obviously clumsy twelve-year-old. Twelve-and-a-half.

  “I’m fine,” she said and tried to sit up.

  “But no,” said the golden-haired princess in distress.

  “You need to take it easy for a while,” said the young man firmly.

  “What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you read the old stories?” Janna grumbled, but they didn’t answer.

  They probably thought she was delirious, and it was quite true that her head had started pounding as soon as she’d moved it. She sank back onto the soft grass, and in a few minutes the pounding had eased. Her curiosity, on the other hand, had increased.

  The golden princess was dipping a white embroidered handkerchief into the stream. The prince—he had to be a prince—was studying the dell as if it were very important, though Janna suspected that he was giving her privacy to recover from the fall.

  Carefully, she sat up, relieved that her head didn’t pound this time. It ached but she could handle a mere headache.

  When they saw her move, the prince and princess hurried toward her.

  “I’m better,” Janna said but didn’t go into details. Her curiosity couldn’t wait another minute. “Who are you? Where are you from?”

  They joined her on the meadow’s green grass, and the prince motioned for the golden princess to speak. She handed Janna the cool handkerchief and began.

  “I am Alissa, the only child of the king and queen of Green Waters. Ours is a quiet kingdom, located in a valley next to a tall mountain with two peaks. We are aptly named Green Waters, for we have many green lakes, small in size though deep in depth.”

  The prince nodded as if he knew exactly where the two-peaked mountain and green lakes were. The corners of Janna’s mouth turned down and she wondered if she looked as geographically ignorant as she felt.

  “I was traveling to my aunt’s home,” Alissa continued, “a long trip but an easy one. My companions and I have traveled the same route often without trouble. We did not dream of meeting enemies. I did not know that I had any.”

  She lowered her head.

  “We had almost reached my aunt’s kingdom when we were attacked. I do not know what happened next because my mare bolted. She ran until she reached this stream and stopped to drink. I was also thirsty, so I dismounted, but the mare pulled the reins out of my hands and ran away. Not knowing what to do or where to go, I prayed in song as is my custom when alone.”

  She blushed. “I would not have sung if I had known others could hear me.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” the prince said cheerfully. “It’s a good thing I heard you. Now I can make sure you get home.

  “My name is Petten, and I’m an only child too, the son of the king of Far Reaches, a scouting kingdom. My father had towers built on our highest peaks, then created a communications system that allows other kingdoms to ask for help quickly. In the last few days, we’ve heard of several raids along the Fern Queen’s boundaries.”

  He nodded at Alissa.

  “Yours is one tale among many, I’m afraid. My father sent me to the Fern Queen’s kingdom to gather information. I was preparing to return home when I heard you.”

  Petten and Alissa turned toward Janna, but she wasn’t ready to talk about herself yet. She had an important question for the two of them, several in fact, but this one would do for now.

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “I am sixteen,” Alissa told her with a smile.

  “Seventeen,” Petten said.

  “One year older—perfect,” Janna said under her breath, but her pleasure ebbed away under the expectant faces in front of her. She shifted positions, then cleared her throat.

  A quiet minute passed. It felt like an hour.

  Chapter 7

  The Fern Queen

  “Do you need more rest?” Petten finally asked.

  “No, I’m better,” Janna said, resisting the impulse to clear her throat again.

  She was telling the truth. Her dizziness was over, though she’d probably have a headache for the rest of the day, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. She just didn’t want to talk to these people. Actually, that wasn’t the problem either. Janna enjoyed talking. The reason she was fidgeting in place had to do with the differences, the rather major differences, between their stories and hers.

  Alissa and Petten hadn’t lost their tempers and fallen into holes in the ground. They hadn’t crawled through a dirty tunnel or slept under a mound of decomposing leaves. Petten’s clothes were rumpled but acceptably clean. Alissa’s white dress was spotless.

  Janna had been pleased with her morning’s wash, but the stains that hadn’t washed out bothered her now, especially the two big ones on the front of her skirt, the ones that were shaped like fingers pointing toward her jaggedly torn hemline.

  Did I get every leaf out of my hair? she wondered darkly.

  The prince and princess sitting side by side on the meadow would laugh when they heard her story. Maybe they already wanted to laugh but were holding it back.

  I don’t care if they do, she told herself heatedly. And it doesn’t matter how much I weigh, popped up out of nowhere. Janna lifted her chin with stubborn resolve. Petten and Alissa had shared their stories. It was her turn.

  “I’m Princess Janna of the Kingdom of Mount Pasture. My parents wanted more children and so did I. I mean, I wanted them to have more, so I could play with brothers and sisters, but there was only me. Well, one day I was hiding behind our garden wall on a mound of dirt, because I was mad at my parents and wanted to be by myself. There were dirt clods poking into me, and I sat down hard, trying to make them smooth out, but then the whole thing collapsed beneath me and I—well, I fell into a tunnel.”

  Janna took a deep breath. She could tell a story better than this; what was the matter with her?

  “I had to crawl toward the other end. After a while, the tunnel got higher so that I could walk, but I didn’t have anything to eat or drink until I reached a stream. Then the roof lowered on me and I had to crawl again. It was awful but I finally got out.”

  She hesitated. Her adventure with the high-home lizard was the second part of her story, but it was even more unusual than the first part. Very few would understand or even believe it. No, it was too private.

  “I rested and cleaned up the best I could, and then followed the stream through the ravine until I heard Alissa singing.”

  She had finished. Wincing inwardly, she waited for the expected reaction, but the prince and princess in front of her didn’t laugh.

  “I would never have made it through that tunnel,” Alissa said fervently instead.

  “Very well done,” Petten agreed, and the two of them smiled at her.

  Janna’s eyes widened in pleased surprise. A vivid memory came into her mind of sitting on the mountainside outside the tunnel, feeling hungry and alone, so very hungry and alone. First the jewel egg; now Alissa and Petten. Did you … I mean, did you really? That is so …

  A lump formed in her throat. As soon as it was gone, she began asking more questions. It was at least twenty minutes before she said, “Petten, you’ve been scouting in the Fern Queen’s land. What have you discovered?”

  “You’ll be interested in this. I found a small cache of picks, axes, and shovels hidden close to the mouth of a stream. It must have been the one you followed out.”

  “But I didn’t meet anyone the whole time I was in the tunnel,” Janna respo
nded, her body shuddering at the very idea. “Nobody was working in there.”

  “They’ve probably finished their repair work. The tunnel is ready and waiting. It’s now a matter of when the queen chooses to use it.”

  Janna tapped her chin thoughtfully and did her best to show proper concern, but the truth was that her mind had gone off in an entirely different direction. Maybe she had broken through the surface of that mound of dirt because the Fern Queen’s workers had shoveled too close to the top. Maybe a thin surface, rather than an overweight body, was the reason she had fallen into the tunnel.

  “What does the Fern Queen look like?” she asked, covering a strong desire to smile in the face of threatened invasion. “Have either of you seen her?”

  Alissa and Petten shook their heads.

  “Perhaps we should be on our way,” the golden princess suggested timidly. “I did not realize that I was in her kingdom before you told me, but now that I know, I am finding the ferns in this meadow a little unsettling.”

  Janna and Petten sprang to their feet.

  “You’re right,” the scout said at once. “I shouldn’t have let us stay this long.”

  He whistled for his horse, who was busy tearing up huge mouthfuls of the meadow’s lush grass.

  Janna stared in awe at the large, fleecy plants growing along the edge of the clearing. Despite the firmness of her morning’s resolve to watch for unusually large ferns, she had completely ignored them when they’d actually appeared. Tumbling down the waterfall, then making two new friends, had filled her mind completely.

  “You mean, these are some of hers? I’ve never seen ferns this big before.” She watched the long fronds swaying in a breeze. “You’d think they’d be ugly somehow, wouldn’t you? They aren’t though. They’re beautiful.”

  “Sooo kind of you, my dear,” trilled a melodious voice.

  Out of the shadows walked a graceful woman with brilliant green eyes, green fluttering clothes, and a wide flattered smile.