Forest of Shadows

by Kamilla Benko

  Worry gnawed at her stomach. She knew she did not have twenty years. She might not even have a day. Who else would the wolf enchant with its nightmare bewitchment? What would happen to all of them in the end?

  They reached the forest-green doors of the botanist’s shop, and Elsa turned toward her companions. “Stay with Anna,” she instructed Kristoff, and before Anna could stop her sister, or join her, Elsa was inside Gabriella’s shop. Anna made to follow her.

  Kristoff stepped in front of her with a gentle smile. “Elsa said to stay,” he said.

  “I can’t let her go in there alone!”

  “I think she’s got it covered,” Kristoff said, even as he unhooked his pickax from across his shoulder. “She is queen.”

  “She’s my sister first.” Anna looked at Olaf. “Please stay with Sven and make sure he doesn’t fall asleep.” Olaf saluted her as she went through the doorway, Kristoff just behind her. Inside the shop, a wailing scream reverberated, a sound so loud and clear and sad that Anna wished she could stick one of the many bunches of dried herbs in her ears to drown it out. Then—the screaming stopped. A moment later, Elsa came flying down the staircase.

  “Go!” Elsa said, her voice wild with fear. “We need to leave now!”

  They hurried out and slammed the door, and then Elsa sealed its seams with ice, for good measure. “I accidentally woke the botanist,” Elsa said, panting. And indeed, Anna could hear footsteps as Gabriella moved inside.

  “Did you get the mint?” Kristoff asked.

  Elsa held out her hand, flashing a bit of green leaf under Sven’s nose.

  Sven’s head jerked up, and Anna noticed with relief that his pupils contracted, ever so slightly as he inhaled the sharp scent.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Anna said. “Let’s go.” But before she could turn around, there was a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye.

  Kristoff had raised his pickax over his head. “Quiet,” he whispered, not taking his eyes from the road. “Something’s coming.”

  A shadow moved toward them across the cobblestones. Anna held her breath. A figure came into view. Tall, and quick. Elsa raised her hands, and then…

  “Hoo-hoo,” a voice whispered. “Girls, is that you?”

  “Oaken,” Anna whispered.

  Sure enough, there stood Oaken, a large, powerfully built man with shoulders as wide as a rowboat and legs as thick as tree trunks. But despite his rather formidable height, Oaken’s round cheeks were as rosy as a porcelain doll’s, and his auburn beard and the frizz poking out from under his cap clashed gloriously with the green wool knit sweater that Anna knew his nan had made for him.

  Oaken lifted a finger to his lips. Then he clasped his fingers together. He looked as though he’d aged ten years since Anna had seen him just the other week during a visit to his trading post. Exhaustion sullied his face, and the cap on his head was askew. His ruddy muttonchops twitched as he blinked wide blue eyes. He beckoned.

  Together, they walked quietly but quickly through the empty streets, following the dirt path that Anna knew would take them down into a grassy valley surrounded by silver birch trees. But even though Anna knew the path well, everything seemed different. Trees that should have felt as familiar as old friends became just another potential place for a wolf to hide. Had it escaped the hold of the castle? As soon as they stepped out of the village, Elsa turned around, and again waved her hands, directing a rush of cold and a flurry of ice over the village.

  A minute later, the village, too, was encased in an ice dome, the screaming sobs muffled. Elsa didn’t say anything as she hurried to catch up with the group, but Anna could read the expression on her sister’s face clear enough: I had to. For their own good. And for ours. And Anna knew her sister was right. What if the wolf got out of the castle, and was feeling hungry? What if the sleepwalkers accidentally wandered out of the village toward the castle and freed the wolf? What Elsa had done was the right thing to do.

  Finally, it was safe for them to speak.

  “Thank the glaciers you’re all right,” Oaken said. “We hoped you were okay when we saw the ice encase the castle.”

  Anna’s hope, which had been slipping away from her since Gabriella’s shop, caught on his word.

  “We?” Elsa repeated excitedly, clearly thinking along similar lines. “So, not everyone is asleep?”

  Oaken nodded. “A handful of us managed to flee to my Wandering Oaken’s Trading Post—”

  “And Sauna!” Olaf inserted. “Oh, I’d like to go into your sauna!”

  “And Sauna, yes.” Oaken nodded. “That’s where we’re going now.” Oaken was a shopkeeper who sold a little bit of this and a little bit of that, from carrots to snow shovels to healing draughts and more. But most famous of all was his sauna, a room of cedarwood and steam that could make even the coldest winter nights feel like a balmy evening in the jungle.

  His shop sat in a small pocket in the forest, a little way off from a small creek that fed into a larger river and on the path that led to the North Mountain and the sparkling ice palace Elsa had crafted when she’d first experimented with her powers three years before. The little wooden cabin had been built with loving attention to detail, with geometric patterns carved into its logs, and tall windows fitted with diamond-paned glass.

  Oaken took great pride in his shop. He’d once admitted to Anna that he used to think about becoming a designer before figuring out his real joy in life came from taking care of people and making sure they could get whatever they needed from him—for a fair price. Kristoff would disagree with that last part.

  Oaken’s trading post was open around the clock, and weary travelers could always find the sauna and a pile of fluffy towels ready and waiting to warm them. But as they neared the shop, Anna saw that for the first time in three years, the curtains were drawn, and a little painted sign hung in the window: CLOSED.

  “This way,” Oaken whispered, leading them around to a back entrance that Anna had only seen but never entered. He knocked on the door: one long tap, followed by three quick ones. Nothing happened, and then Anna spotted a tiny quiver behind the curtains.

  “Password, please?” came a man’s voice.

  “Surplus,” Oaken whispered.

  There was the sound of footsteps, then several clicks and a jangle of metal before the door creaked open.

  “Hurry, hurry,” Oaken whispered. He swept Anna, Elsa, Kristoff, Sven, and Olaf inside, then stepped into the cabin himself, twisting the doorknob to make sure it was locked. Satisfied with his work, he turned to face them, looking concerned. “Four-footed animals aren’t usually allowed inside Wandering Oaken’s Trading Post and Sauna. This is an exception, ja?”

  “He’s very well-behaved,” Anna said of Sven. “I promise he won’t be a problem.”

  Oaken’s expression shifted, and he nodded. At last, they were all safe.

  Metal screeched again as Oaken slid several bolts shut and clicked no less than seven padlocks. The shopkeeper wasn’t taking any chances of letting a wolf enter his cabin and mess up his tidy shop. Anna looked around. Well, what used to be his tidy shop.

  “Oh, dear,” Elsa murmured.

  Oaken’s shelves, stuffed with an odd assortment of goods—flowerpots sitting on top of books, next to a corner of rakes and barrels of candied nuts—usually marched in straight lines throughout the shop. But now, the shelves and all their wares had been pushed to the edges. Reinforcements for the windows, Anna guessed. In case someone—or somewolf—tried to break in. It looked as though the cabin itself were preparing for a great war, and it wasn’t just the cabin that was ready for a fight. Looking around, she spotted two villagers in the storeroom. Tuva the blacksmith, her hammer dangling from a tool belt, stood guard at the front door, and at the counter, scribbling across old receipts, was Wael.

  At the sight of him, Anna felt a twinge of embarrassment and an even stronger pinch of annoyance. If the journalist hadn’t goaded her yesterday, maybe she wouldn’t have
promised everyone that Elsa could fix everything in three days, and then maybe Elsa wouldn’t have had a council meeting without her. And then maybe Anna wouldn’t have accidentally spelled the wolf out of her nightmare.

  “Where is everyone else?” Olaf asked as he hopped off Sven, made his way into the center of the room, and peered behind overturned bookshelves. “Are they all in the sauna?”

  Tuva shook her head. “This is all of us. We’re the only ones left.”

  Anna froze. Earlier, she had assumed she’d find at least thirty or forty other villagers crammed inside. Not just two. She looked over at Elsa, but if her older sister had been expecting to find more villagers in there, her expression didn’t show it.

  Elsa nodded. “Okay. If this is what we have, this is what we have.” And though her voice was calm, Anna saw that she played with the tassels of their mother’s scarf. “Can someone please tell me exactly what happened?”

  “I can.” Wael held up a piece of paper. “I’m writing everything down.”

  Elsa, Oaken, and Tuva moved toward the countertop, but Anna made her way to the corner, where Oaken had dropped off a pile of thick wool blankets that Kristoff was now crunching into a soft nest around Sven.

  “I don’t understand.” Kristoff shook his head. “He was fine when we were looking for the trolls, and even when we got back to the castle, he seemed good. I mean, hungry, but good.” He shook his head. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s like he got the Blight by just looking at the wolf. He’s been out of sorts ever since!”

  “True.” Anna leaned close to Sven and waved the mint leaves under his nose. “Come on, don’t fall asleep!” she said.

  But the reindeer’s eyes drooped. It was exactly as SoYun had described. The Blight was coming on quickly and horribly. Kristoff gently shook his muzzle again and again. There was nothing they could do.

  “At this point, we need a mystic,” Anna said, thinking of the magically inclined wise-folk who existed in legends.

  “Anna? Kristoff? Can you come here?” Elsa called.

  Anna and Kristoff hurried over. As they neared, Wael held out mugs to them. “No one wants to fall asleep, just in case.”

  “Just in case what?” Anna took a sip. She almost choked. It was the strongest cup of coffee she’d ever tasted, and she could practically feel the tips of her hair twist up as the coffee coursed through her. Based on Kristoff’s now red cheeks and the tremor of Elsa’s hand, Anna suspected that they, too, had not been ready for the jolt.

  “Everyone who was asleep when the wolf ran through town has stayed asleep,” Tuva said, her usually cheerful face somber. “Only the people who were up late at night avoided falling under its sleeping curse,” she continued. “That’s why we made the coffee so strong. Who knows what will happen if we fall asleep?” It was a terrible thought, made all the more terrible by the sudden exhaustion that washed over Anna. All she wanted to do was curl up and sleep.

  “I was awake, but Gerda and Kai, well, they must have been asleep, because, I mean, they would never…” Elsa trailed off, at a loss.

  “Didn’t they attack us?” Olaf asked.

  “Well, they didn’t know it was us!” Anna rushed to clear her friends’ names. “And they weren’t exactly themselves….I think they thought we were part of their nightmares.” Speaking about them, Anna hoped Kai and Gerda were okay, and that the wolf hadn’t hurt them any more than it already had.

  Tuva nodded. “Exactly the same with my wife. Ada attacked me, all the while screaming for me to come help her. And there was absolutely nothing I could do.” The expression on Tuva’s face broke Anna’s heart. She knew only too well what it was like to feel helpless. Tuva collected herself and continued. “I left her at home. She just kept screaming and screaming.…”

  “Anna, you said we need a mystic, ja?” asked Oaken, tapping the tips of his fingers together. “Maybe Sorenson can help!”

  “Sore-what?” Olaf asked.

  “Sorenson,” said Oaken. “He’s what you’d call an expert in myths and lore. He’s the mystic of Miner’s Mountain.”

  “No one lives on that mountain but bears and lynx,” Kristoff said.

  The coffee was way too strong. Anna could have sworn she’d just heard Oaken say that an expert in myths and lore—a mystic—lived on Miner’s Mountain.

  Elsa tilted her head. “What?”

  Oaken started to say something else, but Anna was too distracted to pay attention. Mystics didn’t exist. They were just characters in stories Anna and Elsa’s mother would tell them before bed as young girls. Mystics were rumored to dabble in potions, enchantments, and powerful spells—but such people simply didn’t exist, or so Anna had thought.

  But if anyone would know how to reverse an accidental spell, it would be a mystic. Suddenly, finding Sorenson seemed more promising than returning to the secret room. Anna shook her head. If anyone had told her a week ago that she would be seriously considering seeking out a mystic, she would have laughed. But then again, she never would have believed that a nightmare wolf would be stalking the kingdom.

  “Why haven’t we heard about Sorenson before?” Elsa demanded.

  “He keeps to himself in a tall tower,” Oaken explained. “But if this is a curse, he could help!”

  “Is he…” Elsa waved her fingers, sending a dance of snowflakes twirling through the room. “Like me?”

  “Why, no.” Oaken shook his head. “No one is like you.”

  “We need to get to him!” Anna said, turning to her sister, who looked less than convinced. Anna whirled to Kristoff and, seeking backup, asked him, “Don’t you agree?”

  But Kristoff didn’t seem to have heard her. He was looking in Sven’s direction, and mumbled, “Why is this happening?” His coffee splashed out of his mug as his hands shook—from worry or from the coffee, Anna could not tell. “Where did it come from?”

  “Magic,” Oaken said. “It has to be.” His words seemed to suck the air out of the room as Anna cast a glance at Elsa, only to see that her sister seemed to have, at the same time, both curled into herself and become rigid, like a nautilus’s shell.

  “Did you do this?” Wael asked Elsa.

  Anna’s headache returned with furious force. “Elsa would never—”

  “Of course she wouldn’t!” Tuva said. “And no one is saying she would. But between the rotten crops, the sleeping animals and people, and now the wolf—what else could it be but a curse or a spell of some sort?”

  At the blacksmith’s words, guilt surged through Anna. Now was the time for her to come clean. “Elsa?” she said tentatively. The entire room looked at her, and she winced. Her voice had gone very squeaky. “Er…could I…talk to you for a moment? In private?”

  “It’s not like this is a very big place,” Elsa said.

  “Excuse me?” Oaken interrupted. “What did you say?”

  Elsa gaped. “I mean, I didn’t—it’s lovely, but it’s not, you know, the biggest—”

  Taking advantage of Elsa’s fluster, Anna pulled her sister away from the others and ducked behind the store counter. “We have to go see Sorenson,” Anna whispered, fumbling in her travel cloak pocket for the loose page from Secrets of the Magic Makers.

  Elsa looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “Anna, I’ve told you, magic isn’t—”

  “I know, I know.” Anna nodded. “It’s not the solution. But it might be the reason.”

  “What?” Elsa asked. “Anna, what are you trying to say?”

  “Now, don’t get mad,” Anna said. “It’s just—you see, I heard you having a council meeting without me, which is fine, but for some reason it upset me. I took back Secrets of the Magic Makers for some light reading, you know, because Mother always used to tell us stories at night. So, I found this song, more of a poem really, well, maybe it was a spell, only it turns out that maybe, possibly, it just might have—”

  “Anna.” Elsa sighed, burying her face in her hands.

  “The point is…” Anna took
a deep breath and held out the loose page from the book. “Arendelle is cursed…and…I may be the one who cursed it.”

  ANNA HELD HER BREATH as Elsa took the page, her eyes wide, scanning it line by line.

  “Anna—did you see the small note at the bottom?”

  “No,” Anna said, turning red. “Why? What’s it say?”

  Elsa moved the paper in front of her, along with a magnifying glass made of ice that she’d crafted.

  Peering through the ice, Anna read:

  *SPELL NOT GUARANTEED TO BE EXACTLY WHAT YOU WISHED FOR.

  **IF NOT REVERSED, SPELL SHALL TAKE ROOT PERMANENTLY ON ITS THIRD SUNRISE.

  “Oh,” Anna said. “Yeah, I…definitely didn’t see that.”

  Elsa bit her lip, and her eyes shimmered.

  “I’m sorry.” Anna shook her head, all the while hoping she could shake away the words. “I was only trying to help.”

  Elsa sighed. “I know. I can’t be upset at you for that.”

  There was something about Elsa’s words that made Anna want to curl up and cry. She almost would rather have had Elsa yell at her than sigh like she had. If Elsa had yelled at her, it would have meant that she thought of Anna as someone who had the ability to shape the kingdom’s future, but that sigh…it was the same sound her parents had made when a five-year-old Anna accidentally broke a clay figurine of a salamander over the mantel. “I thought it was a dragon,” a sorry Anna had told them. “I thought that it could fly!”

  It’s okay, they had said. You didn’t know any better.

  “Anna!”

  Kristoff’s yell cut through Anna’s thought spiral. She shot to her feet. Kristoff never yelled like that. Not even the time Anna had set fire to his sleigh to save them from a pack of normal wolves, of the animal—not magical—variety.