It was the Fern Queen.
Janna, Alissa, and Petten froze where they stood. There was nothing they could do. The queen airily waved and her people came out of the woods from every direction. They wore dark green clothes and had olive-green eyes. Thick green veins traveled over their arms and necks.
Janna’s legs lost the strength to hold her up. If she hadn’t been in a state of frozen shock, she would have fallen. It was one thing to read about the Fern Queen’s strange people in the shelter of the tower library. It was another thing altogether to have them coming toward her.
I’ll scream if they touch me.
To her relief, the fernpeople didn’t come that close, though one of them snatched Petten’s sword away from him. He never saw it again.
Meanwhile, the queen was caressing the nearest fern’s soft fronds.
Ferns, talk about ferns, popped into Janna’s mind.
“I can see why you’ve always loved ferns,” she said in as normal a voice as she could manage. “They’re quite green.”
Lamb loony!
Hoping to recover from the lame comment, Janna plunged on. “You even dress like one. What a beautiful green dress!”
That caught the queen’s attention.
“Do you think it’s pretty?” she asked, twirling to show off her flutters. “I have lots of dresses, but this is one of my favorites. It resembles a Phyllitis in a light breeze, don’t you think? That is a hart’s-tongue fern in popular speech. If I had a favorite fern, the Phyllitis might be it because of its delightful frills, but I love them all.”
Janna opened her mouth hoping something would come out. Nothing did. Fortunately, Petten broke into the conversation.
“Your dress is very pretty, as are the Maker’s ferns,” he said casually while reaching for the reins of his horse. “It’s a marvel how many varieties of shape and hue he’s put into that one type of plant. We cannot stay and admire them with you though. We must be on our way. Our families will be anxious about us.”
Good try, Petten, Janna cheered him silently.
“Ah yes, your families,” the Fern Queen said, smiling.
Janna was watching her face carefully. She thought she’d seen a flicker of hostility in the queen’s eyes when Petten mentioned the Maker, but it was gone so quickly that she didn’t know whether or not she had imagined it.
There’s something weird about her smile. I don’t think I’m imagining that.
“You are a thoughtful young man and quite right. We must remember your families. Nevertheless, I could not dream of letting you go this soon. You must pay a visit to my castle. Why, you haven’t even seen my gardens!”
She smiled again.
It’s cruel, realized Janna. That’s the difference. I’ve never seen a cruel smile before.
Fear rushed up her throat and into her head, almost blocking out the queen’s next words.
“I will let your families know where you are.”
They couldn’t talk their way out, and running away wouldn’t work. Janna glanced at the others. Alissa was trembling quietly, but Petten was smoldering. She didn’t want him to say anything that would make their situation worse. Meanwhile, her fear was turning into a nervous desire to chatter. Might as well make the most of it.
When the queen motioned the group forward, Janna skipped up next to her and started chatting. It was a good move. The queen obviously loved to talk, especially about herself.
She must be over two hundred years old! I don’t know how she’s stayed so young looking and beautiful, though it’s a given that she dyes her hair blonde. I bet she dyes her eyebrows too, but how does she keep her skin smooth? It should be a mass of wrinkles. She is disgustingly conceited!
First, Janna admired the Fern Queen’s hair and asked how she curled it. Then she started in again on the woman’s dress, marveling over how gracefully it swung, exactly like a Phyllitis fern. That led to a discussion covering the overall merits of ferns, which was a relief to Janna, who didn’t think she could say one more thing about the queen’s appearance without gagging.
They were led quickly through the forest, and Janna winced whenever any of the fernpeople came close. The veins on their arms and necks were grotesque. Some of them had green veins running through their faces too, but it was their eyes that horrified her the most.
Green eyes can be nice, she thought, blinking self-consciously, but theirs remind me of mold. I wonder how well they can see.
The fernpeople saw well enough to keep a close watch over their prisoners. When they reached a group of horses tied in a clearing, the queen sprang gracefully up to ride sidesaddle on a palomino mare. The mare’s unusually long mane and tail had been braided with ribbons—green ones—the exact same shade as the queen’s fluttering dress.
Janna coughed to cover an involuntary gagging sound. Enough already!
The fernpeople rode two to a horse. Petten swung himself onto Golden Chestnut, then pulled Janna up behind him and Alissa in front of him, to their great relief. Neither girl wanted to sit with a fernperson. Three people were a heavy load to carry, but Golden Chestnut was a large horse and had been well trained. One of his ears twitched, but he didn’t otherwise object.
They traveled for two hours before the trees began to crowd together with branches that intertwined overhead. The leafy tunnel wound around a small hill before plunging steeply into a gully. Janna had developed an allergic reaction to tunnels, even tree tunnels. She couldn’t breathe deeply. Leaves hung heavily over them and tree trunks came too close. She was almost panting when they finally climbed out of the trees onto a ridge.
The queen stopped her horse at the top of the ridge and waved at the valley beneath them. After that claustrophobic gully, Janna was glad to see mountains towering on the other side of the valley; nevertheless, she gave them only a passing glance.
The Fern Queen’s home demanded her full attention.
Perfectly situated in the center of the valley was a network of gardens filled with a large variety of green plants. Flowers had been added here and there; however, flowers were not the most important feature of the Fern Queen’s estate.
Janna wanted to sniff in disdain, but even if the queen hadn’t been sitting next to her, she could not have snubbed the unusual gardens. They were lovely. The different textures and shades of green had been expertly combined. Whoever had planned the gardens had artistic talent, whatever more objectionable qualities they possessed.
In the middle of the gardens rose a turreted castle, with good lines and clean white stonework. A picture-book castle, Janna thought, trying hard not to show how sour she felt. The Fern Queen was waiting expectantly.
“It’s beautiful,” Janna said a little too loudly as she tried to counteract her negative feelings. As she said the words, Mount Pasture’s castle sprang into her mind.
“One tower isn’t enough,” she had always argued. “A royal family should live in a castle, not a glorified farmhouse.”
Now, as she studied the castle below her, Janna realized that she preferred her home, despite its imperfections. Hopefully, the queen couldn’t mind read.
Petten was muttering a polite compliment. Even Alissa managed to smile and nod. The Fern Queen absorbed the praise as if she were a sponge soaking up water. Janna could almost see her swelling.
Then they trotted down the ridge, across the valley, and along pathways edged with ferns until they reached wide stone steps in front of the castle. With a sinking heart, Janna trudged up the steps and heard the heavy doors close behind them.
Chapter 8
Trapped
Once inside her castle, the Fern Queen led the way. Janna saw Petten glance rapidly around, but there was no chance of escape. The queen was in front of them; fernpeople behind them. Reluctantly, the three captives walked down an elegant hallway into the throne room.
The spacious room was carpeted with moss-green rugs that felt soft even beneath shoes. Ferns were everywhere. There were magnificent large ones and small
perfectly shaped ones. Each was planted in a dark green pot that had its own basket with chartreuse ribbons woven between the strips of wood. The throne itself was draped in an emerald satin that swung in heavy folds to the floor. Shimmery curtains of the same hue billowed out into the room at the slightest breath of wind.
The queen seated herself and smiled, showing a glimpse of white teeth. The cruelty in her smile was more evident than ever. “Here you are, my dears, and here you will stay. I do hope you enjoy your visit.”
With that, she laughed and called her guards.
“Take them to an attic room. Make them useful in house or garden work. I do not care what they do, but be sure they are taken care of—watched over, as it were.”
She laughed again and then pointed to Janna as they moved off. “I want that one to attend me. Goodbye, dears.”
It was a relief to get away from the woman. Her very presence was oppressive. Despite the situation, Janna, Alissa, and Petten straightened slightly as they followed the guards to a small room on the top floor.
A narrow rectangle of light came through a slit in the wall and revealed a mattress hanging over a rickety bed frame. There was nothing else in the room, although a guard soon brought a bundle of hay and threw it into a corner.
Petten walked to the window and put his hands on either side of it.
“I’m sorry. I should have moved us out of that meadow sooner. We might have gotten away.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s my fault as much as yours. More really. If I hadn’t fallen and hurt my head, we’d have been long gone,” said Janna.
“The Fern Queen must have been close by. She might have found us no matter what we did,” Alissa offered.
“It did seem as if she was searching for us,” Petten said, spinning about to face them again. “I don’t see how she could have known Janna was there, but she might have been tracking me, and it was probably her people who attacked your group, Alissa.”
“I do not understand. Why would they attack a harmless group of travelers?” the golden princess asked in bewilderment.
“They could have been after your horses or other plunder,” Petten explained grimly, “but more than likely you were the target. She’d want the Kingdom of Green Waters. It would be a perfect place for her precious fern gardens.”
Alissa shook her head as if she couldn’t make the connection, and Petten continued, “Who does she now have safely imprisoned in her castle?”
“Two princesses and a prince,” answered Janna reluctantly. She didn’t like what Petten was implying. She didn’t like it at all.
“Yes, and she knows exactly who we are and where we’re from. Our stories told her everything.”
“We don’t know when she arrived,” Janna pointed out, hoping to find a weak point in his argument.
“She was too happy,” Petten said in gloomy conviction. “Didn’t you see how she gloated over us? And she said she would let our families know where we were.”
Janna nodded unhappily. “What will she do?”
Petten clenched his fists. “Offer to trade us for a portion of land, I would think, though she’ll wait first, long enough for our parents to get frantic with worry. She’s a proven liar. They can’t trust any promises she makes, but neither can they attack her in open battle. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill us, and they know it. We have to escape.”
The three stood together in the little room at the top of the castle. Alissa was the first to move. She sank, trembling, onto the floor and raised her face.
“We need you,” she whispered.
Footsteps sounded in the hall outside their room. Fernpeople were coming to put them to work. Alissa sprang to her feet, trembling worse than before.
“The odds aren’t—” Petten began to say, but Janna interrupted him.
“We’re going to get out of here,” the twelve-and-a-half-year-old said with such ferocity that the older two were smiling when the door opened.
****
Three weeks later, Petten woke a little before dawn. He stretched on his mound of hay and yawned. A song sparrow sang a few liquid notes from the garden, and he quit stretching to listen. He had learned to appreciate the birds’ songs over the past few weeks. There had been little else to enjoy.
Someone stirred on the other side of the room. That would be Janna. She was an early riser too. Often she was up before Petten, and he’d wake to find her gazing out their slit of a window. Sure enough, Janna slipped to the floor and walked over to the window.
“Good morning,” Alissa said pleasantly from the far side of the bed.
Alissa was the most beautiful young woman Petten had ever seen. She was also invariably nice with a genuineness that kept the trait from becoming annoying. He and Janna had a tendency to be grumpy first thing in the morning or, at best, silent, and Petten valued Alissa’s good-natured greetings. If someone didn’t speak pleasantly to him then, it would be all day before he heard a friendly voice.
“Good morning,” he answered, trying to match her warmth.
Janna couldn’t quite manage it this morning.
“Mormph,” she mumbled.
Heavy footsteps clumped down the hall. The chains on the door outside their room rattled; the lock turned. The fernman who locked them in at night, also unlocked them when he brought their breakfast. This morning, he tossed the basket with its meager portion of bread to the floor and left.
Janna picked the basket up and carried it to the window to examine its contents.
“Don’t they know three people need to eat from this?” she said, banging it against the wall. “There are only two hunks of bread today. How do they expect us to work if they don’t feed us enough?”
No one had an answer for her. Alissa swung her legs to the floor and stood. Petten came to see how big the hunks of bread were. The three of them were constantly hungry. The fernpeople threw a few leftovers from the Fern Queen’s supper into two baskets. They brought one of the baskets at night and the other in the morning. It was never enough.
“I’ll break a third off each piece of bread. It’ll be fairly even,” said Petten.
The girls both nodded, and Janna added resignedly, “OK, but give me whatever’s smallest.”
Petten shook his head. “Janna, you shouldn’t diet now. We’re on starvation rations as it is.”
“I know, but I get more to eat than you two. I told you that sometimes …”
“She gives you leftover pastries,” Petten finished for her.
“I stuff them in, but then I can’t handle how rich they are, so I throw them up,” Janna said unhappily. “I’m so hungry, I do it every time, even though she always laughs at me and comments about my weight the rest of the day. I hate being laughed at.”
Alissa put an arm around her shoulders, while Petten finished dividing the bread. They munched their breakfast quietly. It didn’t take long to finish.
“What’ll you do today?” Janna asked Alissa.
“I do not know, but surely I will not wash curtains again. I did them five times last week and then again two days ago. I have never done housework, but curtains do not need to be washed that often, do they?”
“No, they don’t!” Janna announced as if she were the mountain world’s authority on the subject.
Petten scratched his nose to hide a grin. His guess was that the younger girl had never washed a curtain in her life.
“The fernwomen don’t know what else to do with you,” Janna finished, peering suspiciously in his direction.
“I should finish fertilizing the garden in front of the castle this morning,” he told her quickly. “They’ll have to assign me something else then.”
The diversion worked.
“I hope you don’t work with dried manure again,” Janna said.
“I wash off. You wouldn’t believe how much worse the smell would be if I didn’t.”
“Wet manure smells worse than dry manure,” Janna countered, and Alissa, ever the peacemaker, changed the
subject.
“Maybe you’ll see Golden Chestnut today.”
“I would like that, though it hurts not to respond to his neighs.”
“Chestnut’s a lot better off than we are,” Janna reminded him and he nodded.
The castle horses were sleek and well fed. The Fern Queen wanted their coats to shine in the sun.
Footsteps clumped down the hall. Alissa stood resignedly, Janna glowered at the door, and Petten kicked his straw into a tighter clump. As soon as they arrived at the doorway, the fernpeople beckoned impatiently toward their particular charges.
Petten followed a gardener down the hall to a door that opened onto the narrow staircase used by inferior servants. The big fernman stomped down three flights of stairs and pushed open a small, outside door.
The early morning sky was pale blue. Wisps of clouds drifted high overhead. Petten took a deep breath of the fresh air and was glad he had been assigned to work in the gardens. Hard as the labor was, he preferred it to staying indoors.
The fernman led the way to the front garden Petten had been fertilizing for a week.
“Finish here, then do that one,” he said curtly.
He pointed to an oblong-shaped garden on the left that was filled with a variety of small ferns. The garden’s borders were edged by a feathery flower that alternated pink, purple, and white. Miniature willow trees stood on either side of a bench.
“Do I fertilize the trees too?” asked Petten.
Horse manure from the stalls was always piled behind the stable, where it dried into fertilizer. Petten had been working steadily away at the mound for the last three weeks. He didn’t believe there was enough dried manure left to do another garden.
“Yes,” said the fernman angrily. “Spread it out.”
He stomped off, and Petten headed behind the stables. His wheelbarrow was where he’d left it the day before, a dirty shovel leaning against it. By midmorning, he’d finished the front garden and started on the new one.
Two fernmen snickered as they passed. Petten ignored them, even when they slowed down.
Captives of the Fern Queen Page 6