Captives of the Fern Queen

by Sarah G. Byrd

  Caramel Brute was better off than the rest of them. His sense of smell steadied him so that he could stay right behind the quiet horse with perfect ease. The horse made no noise whatsoever. It was the big dog’s pantings and snufflings that directed them whenever the tunnel made a turn. They simply followed the sounds and were grateful for them.

  Janna’s spirits had been buoyed up by Cook’s healing. Nevertheless, it didn’t take long for her to get tired of stumbling through total darkness. The walk through the tunnel lasted longer than she wanted it to, but then she saw a speck of light in front of them. The speck grew larger and larger.

  Yes! This is the way a tunnel should end. Janna would have lectured the others about tunnels and how they should never end in bushes that blocked the light, but she was too tired. She just wanted to get to the end, and she didn’t care if she ever saw another tunnel for the rest of her life.

  Finally, they stood blinking in a cave, a pleasant one with a wide opening. When the stallion quietly walked away, they hardly noticed.

  Below the cave was a valley and in the valley were grassy meadows that curved around wooded areas. Streams gurgled through the meadows and woods, while a waterfall plunged down the rocks on the far side of the valley. They couldn’t see where it hit the ground because of the trees, but the distant splash of water falling on rocks filled their hearts with delight.

  Cook laughed out loud. Janna could only guess how she must feel, freed from evil domination at last.

  “Young man,” the older woman said, breaking their silence, “if you’ll catch some fish, I’ll cook them.”

  “Hooray! Get those frying pans hot,” and Petten was off down the mountainside before he’d finished speaking.

  “I suppose that the lack of frying pans, not to mention the lack of fishing lines and hooks, will be no problem to you clever people,” Luff said dryly.

  “Of course not,” Janna assured him. She didn’t have the slightest idea how they would manage. However, she learned a lot in the next hour.

  Cook was as knowledgeable about cooking as Petten was about woodcraft. Under her directions, they dug a shallow hole near one of the streams and ringed it with rocks. Then they built a fire inside the rocks with the help of flint and steel pieces that Cook whisked out of one of her big pockets.

  When Janna exclaimed in surprise, Cook said, “No good cook would be without them!”

  She mimicked not only Petten’s words but his very tone of voice so perfectly that Janna and Alissa got the giggles and rolled around on the soft grass. Before long, there were red coals inside the ring of rocks, and by the time Cook had tended to Caramel Brute’s wounds, Petten appeared with five large fish. Cook scraped the scales off, cut the fish open and cleaned them, then put the fillets on thin rocks, which she placed over the coals.

  “Aren’t they ready now?” Janna asked before they really were, and everyone smiled indulgently at her as if she were a little child.

  Ordinarily, this would have made her bristle, but in this valley, she only reddened slightly and asked again as soon as she could get away with it. She couldn’t help it. The roasting fish smelled delicious, making her wish she could eat grass just to be chewing on something. Fortunately, fish do not take long to cook. When they flaked easily, Cook served them on large green leaves. Everyone was hungry enough to enjoy anything at all, but those fish were tender and sweet, with a delicate flavor.

  It was an unbelievably happy ending to a day that had started hard and grown steadily worse. They ate to their hearts’ content, then lay around the fire with satisfied groans, nestling into the thick grass as if it were a warm comforter, though the air wasn’t cold in that valley, even at night. The stars shone brightly above them.

  “I wonder what your mother is doing,” was the last thing Luff said as he drifted off to sleep.

  Janna lay awake longer, listening to him snore. When she heard someone moving, she raised herself on an elbow to see who it was. Petten was propping his head on his hands as he had done in their prison room the night before their escape, when they’d told each other silently, “We have got to get out of here.”

  Now they were out. Petten smiled at her, and she smiled back. She did; she most certainly did. Well, it was a half smile. Petten’s smile faded.

  “Janna, what’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.” Janna crashed back into the grass.

  It took a few minutes for her to relax again, but the night sounds were very soothing. She rolled over, felt how soft the grass was on her face, and slipped into sleep. Early the next morning, they were awakened by the very musical, very loud songs of the birds that lived in that valley.

  “Go away,” Petten unappreciatively told them and tried to bury his head in the grass.

  It was no use. The group sat up and yawned. Then Janna drew her breath in sharply.

  Across the valley in a meadow a small brown mare grazed with an even smaller foal at her side. They turned their heads toward the people every now and then, but neither seemed frightened. As Janna watched, a black mare entered the meadow followed by a tiny black foal. The babies played together as their mothers grazed. Alissa touched Janna on her shoulder and pointed to another spot in the valley. Several horses were walking out of the lush grass into the woods near the waterfall.

  “Up high,” whispered Luff as he pointed toward a cream-colored horse hopping nimbly among the rocks. They watched until the horse vanished from sight.

  Janna sighed with contentment. “Let’s stay here a long time.”

  There was nothing she wanted more than to wander among these horses, maybe even talk to them. The others were not as mesmerized.

  “We need to rest, but my father and mother must be very worried,” Alissa said.

  Petten nodded as he watched the foals play. “My father, too.”

  “And there’s your mother. Think how she must be feeling!” Luff added reproachfully.

  Janna didn’t answer any of them. She hated already the thought of leaving and was glad everyone was tired. They would stay until they regained their strength.

  Over the next few days, Petten fished, while Luff and the girls picked berries, gathered roots, and searched for herbs they could use to season their food. Cook did her best with the limited diet, but her best was very good. No one complained. When it rained, they retreated to the round cave, but as soon as the rain ended, they left the shelter, preferring to be outside. The birds woke them early each morning.

  Janna kept a sharp eye on Caramel Brute, whose wounds were rapidly healing. He had accepted them now. Cook was still his best beloved friend, but he no longer growled at the other humans and even allowed Janna to pet him once or twice, though he rolled in the grass afterward as if to get rid of her scent.

  What worried Janna were the dog’s hunting instincts, but her fears proved groundless. Caramel Brute didn’t hunt while they were in the valley. On the contrary, he waited expectantly by the fire and wolfed down his share of fish. He even accepted an occasional root from Cook, though he kicked dirt over the berries they offered him.

  Only once did Janna catch him watching some foals at play.

  Wistfulness was written all over his big ugly face; as if he wants to join them, she thought. I wonder if he’s ever played. When he saw her looking at him, Caramel Brute acted as though he had been caught doing something wrong. He huffed and sneezed guiltily, then sniffed at a nearby tuft of grass and lay down again with his back to the gamboling foals.

  In marked contrast, Janna tried her best to mingle with the horses. She would spot them across the valley and hurry to where they’d been, only to find no trace of them. They were obviously very private animals. Finally one morning, she happened upon two cream-colored foals playing, a colt and a filly. They had wandered off from their mothers into a meadow dappled with sun and shadows. As soon as they saw her, they stopped their play.

  “Don’t be afraid,” Janna told them gently.

  She stayed where she was, forcing herself
to be patient, and to her delight, the foals did not run away. They started playing again, watching her the whole time. Those little dark eyes peering out from under creamy white forelocks were so merry that she laughed out loud.

  Once more the foals stopped in the middle of a gambol, only this time they trotted toward her. Janna held her breath as they came close. The filly had almost reached her when she snorted a little baby snort and jumped away with all four feet.

  “You can jump like a cat,” Janna said.

  “More like a mountain goat,” someone corrected her.

  Janna whisked around to see the horse who had guided them through the tunnel. When the foals saw him, they whinnied with pleasure and rushed to nuzzle him, forgetting about Janna, who was bumped about by their active baby bodies. She didn’t mind. In fact, she loved every minute of it and patted the cream-colored backs and sides when they came in reach. She was rewarded by two little noses snuffling her up and down, tickling her until she laughed again.

  “What is that, Madow?” asked a high-pitched voice.

  “It is a human laugh.”

  “I made the human laugh,” chortled the colt.

  “I did too,” chimed in the filly and off they went, jumping and kicking their back feet high in the air. Their voices had been much more expressive than Madow’s, Janna observed. However, they were gone now and Madow was still there.

  “Thank you for bringing us here,” she said, not knowing quite what else to say.

  Madow remained silent, gazing at her, but he didn’t seem unfriendly. I believe he does have feelings. It’s just hard to speak “people.” I bet I couldn’t speak “horse” properly either.

  “You will soon leave this valley,” said the stallion.

  Janna’s face immediately drooped. She didn’t want to leave the valley, and she didn’t want to go back to Mount Pasture where nobody liked her.

  “Oh no,” she said sadly.

  Madow continued gazing at her, but his eyelids twitched slightly. Janna suspected that it was his version of eye twinkling.

  “We will take you over the mountain range.”

  Janna nodded glumly and Madow paused.

  “You have been given a great heart, human child. Do not be sad, the Maker will show you many good things in your life. Look back in gratitude and forward in anticipation.”

  The simple words shot straight into Janna’s deep places. She closed her eyes for a minute, feeling both comforted and counseled. When she opened them again, Madow was gone.

  Chapter 18

  Leaving

  Two mornings later, they were awakened by the song of a bird. At least, they assumed it was a bird. They found themselves awake and on their feet, listening intently with hearts stirred to an almost unbearable longing.

  “What was it?” asked Alissa, who was in tears.

  “I think that it must have been the call of a blueflame bird. What else could it have been?” King Luff told her.

  Janna nodded. Evidently, she wasn’t the only one who had read the old stories in their library at home. Petten was studying the nearby trees.

  “It must be somewhere in this valley,” he said.

  “We won’t see it,” Janna announced flatly. “Don’t you remember? Very few people get to see a blueflame bird. I read somewhere that a sighting only happens when the Maker particularly wants to encourage a person. I’ve always longed to see one, but I never have.”

  “I wonder how many people have missed the experience by keeping their eyes closed,” said Alissa.

  Everyone kept their eyes wide open for the next few minutes, but they didn’t see anything unusual; neither did they hear anything except for the by-now familiar bird songs.

  “I wish it would do it again,” Cook finally said wistfully, but the bird was silent.

  They were left with the memory of a song so beautiful it made their hearts ache. In later years, they rarely spoke of it, but the oddest things would remind them. The dark blue sky in late evening, stars over a distant mountain peak, a tree branch etched against the sky—something would suddenly stir their depths and revive the aching longing. It was painful, that longing, but they would not have wanted to live without it.

  “Perhaps in the high home,” Alissa once mentioned to Janna.

  “Yes,” Janna agreed.

  Neither said anything more. Some things were too deep for words.

  ****

  That morning was their last in the valley. Five horses trotted out of the woods onto the grassy area beside their fire and stood facing them. The humans were finishing a breakfast of mashed roots cooked with blueberries, which looked horrible but tasted good.

  For the second time that morning, they jumped to their feet. Nobody knew what to say. Then one of the horses calmly stepped forward. It was Madow, though it was hard for the humans to tell the horses apart if they were the same color and gender. The two stallions were both cream-colored, one of the mares was also cream-colored, and the other two mares were brown.

  “It is time for you to return to your people,” said Madow.

  Finding his tongue and remembering his manners, Luff answered with deep sincerity, “We are honored by our stay here. Thank you for your courtesies to us.”

  There didn’t seem to be anything further to say. Janna spun about with the confused idea of packing her things, but she didn’t have anything to pack.

  They doused the fire and put the blackened stones into the stream. Then they covered the shallow hole with dirt. Grass would spread over the small circle of dirt, filling in the bare place which looked remarkably insignificant now. It was hard to believe something so important to them had been contained in that minuscule bit of ground. The ring of stones had held fires that not only cooked their food, but cheered them with pops, sizzles, and important-sounding roars.

  Janna stared at the bare spot forlornly.

  The stallions trotted over to Luff and Cook as soon as they were ready to go. Janna had wanted to be on Madow so she could talk to him, but it was one of the brown mares who came up to her. According to the history books, only the cream-colored horses could talk. Janna felt deflated. Could this morning get any worse?

  It could and it did.

  Alissa was the first to mount. Gracefully, the golden princess swung herself onto her horse’s back. Then Petten mounted with obvious ease. Janna muttered under her breath. How in the mountain world had they done that? These horses were not as large as the ones in Mount Pasture, but that didn’t mean she could simply hop onto the brown back in front of her, which was as high as her shoulder. This was going to be humiliating. Petten would laugh the whole way home.

  As of yet, she didn’t think anyone had noticed her dilemma. Their attention had been distracted by Caramel Brute, who had started whining when Luff boosted Cook onto her mare. The big dog snuffled at one of his friend’s feet. Cook leaned down toward him, but Janna didn’t see anything further because her father arrived at her side.

  “We’ve neglected your education,” he whispered as he boosted her up. “When we get home, you’ll have to learn how to ride.”

  “Okay,” she said, clutching at her horse’s mane.

  The only other time Janna had ridden a horse had been the day they’d been captured by the Fern Queen, and that had involved sitting behind Petten and hanging onto him. Now she was by herself, and why had she ever thought these horses were small? She felt ten feet off the ground. At least, she hadn’t been embarrassed, thanks to her father.

  Janna managed to smile at him.

  “That’s a good idea,” she said with more enthusiasm. She’d always meant to learn how to ride. Everyone in the old stories knew how, so when she got back—

  She interrupted herself as they moved off. The last thing she wanted to think about now was going home and what that involved. Ugh. No, she wanted to absorb every last impression of this wonderful valley they were leaving. They would never return. She knew they wouldn’t. Their stay had been a gift offered in response to a
desperate need.

  The grass waved goodbye under the influence of the valley breezes, and Janna wanted to wave back. She would have if she’d been alone. The stream next to their sleeping place gurgled and splashed. It would gurgle and splash after they left too. Janna was glad it would. Anything else would have been totally wrong, but she still hurt to think of it going on without her.

  The last thing she saw as they entered the woods below the waterfall was a group of mares and foals in a nearby meadow. Sunlight shone on the babies’ bodies as they frisked over the grass. The mares lifted shaggy heads and watched the humans leave.

  When they reached the waterfall, they had to climb a steep staircase of jumbled rocks, but the horses sprang up nimbly, Caramel Brute scampering after them without a problem.

  Janna bit her lips anxiously. She wasn’t worried about her mare missing a step. What she was worried about was the possibility, the very real possibility, of sliding down the rump of her horse onto the head of the horse directly behind her, who was being ridden by Petten, naturally.

  She gripped her mare’s mane with both hands and squeezed her legs as hard as she could, but her body slipped another inch down with every jump. Fortunately, before anything mortifying could happen, the horses angled away from the waterfall. One by one, they went between two large boulders that led to a passageway of sorts.

  Janna exhaled in relief. They wouldn’t have to climb to the very top of the mountain, nor would they have to go through another underground tunnel. The passageway resembled a tunnel with huge rocks that often touched overhead, but the air was fresh. There would have been a panoramic view from the open places if thick moisture-laden clouds hadn’t settled around them, making it hard to breathe.

  “I think we could jump off and swim our way down,” Petten said to Janna when his horse crowded next to hers at a wider place.

  She nodded.

  “What’s the matter, Janna?”