“Just… come on.”
They stepped over the hull of the boat onto the dock and made their way toward the field, stalking through the grass, getting just close enough to be in range. When they were both ready, Tigerlilja stood tall, waiting for her shot. She breathed slowly, evenly. There. The giant stopped moving for just a moment…
Tigerlilja and Vegard both fired, but the giant’s head snapped around again, trying to follow Peter. Her arrow struck him in the cheek, and Vegard’s planted itself in his tremendous, bulbous nose.
The giant roared and ripped the arrows from his face, while Peter hovered in the air, pointing and laughing, but that was all the opening the monster needed. He arced the club over his head and slammed it into Peter’s chest, impaling him on its spikes and sending his broken body crashing to the ground.
“No,” Tigerlilja whispered.
The monster that had brought the skull-men arched his back and roared his victory.
“At last, the son of Taiga is dead!” he shouted. “Her sword shall be mine, and her clan shall be wiped from the earth forever!”
The sword of Taiga, Tigerlilja realized.
She glanced down at the sword in her hands even as the giant turned in her direction. From the corner of her eye, she could see Vegard racing toward her, and she heard more footsteps behind—Argus and the rest. But she couldn’t move. The giant held her in his gaze, and her feet had frozen to the ground.
“Give me what is mine!”
His lumbering steps picked up speed as Tigerlilja tried desperately to move her feet. The sword glowed brighter in her hands, and she finally gave up, crouching low where she stood and baring her teeth in a feral snarl. She would not survive a single hit from that club, and she knew it, but she would do what damage she could before she died.
He was only seven strides away now. Five. Three. A cry echoed across the field. Vegard, she thought, still too far away, and she cringed inside. She did not want her brother to watch her die.
But it was not Vegard.
Peter flew at the giant with both swords in his hands, skewering the huge creature deep in his side. The monster howled and spun, then staggered backward in shock.
“No!” he roared. “No! It’s impossible! What have you done?”
“What? You hit me first,” Peter pointed out. “Fair is fair.”
“Not the swords, you idiot! How are you alive?”
“Ah! Now, that is an excellent question,” Peter admitted. “How are you alive? How is anyone?”
“I am Buri! I am the first-man, father of the gods, licked from the ice at the beginning of time itself! I am immortal, but you are nothing! You are not immortal! You are the son of a dryad!”
He launched himself at Peter, spinning his club in great circles through the air as though it were a mere fishing net, but Peter flew up and over his head, beginning the game once again. Tigerlilja’s feet were suddenly released from Buri’s spell and she fell backward in surprise, only to be caught by the strong hands of both Vegard and Argus, who had finally reached her.
They all backed away slowly, watching the strange battle in which Peter seemed to be playing some private game, while Buri tried desperately to bash in his skull. Even the tiny innisfay finally decided to join in the fun, turning into a miniature dragon and biting the giant on the ear.
“Friend of yours?” Argus asked.
“Very funny,” Tigerlilja muttered.
“We need to get that sword out of here,” Vegard told her. “If we can get to the boats, we might have a chance.” But Tigerlilja suddenly stopped moving and held up a hand.
“Wait.” She thrust her chin at Buri and Peter. “Look.”
The giant was tiring. For all his twirling his club through the air, gouging it into the earth with the force of each blow, Peter still darted in and out, laughing and taunting him mercilessly. They could see the effort in Buri’s huge frame, his muscles straining as he lifted the club more and more slowly each time, all to no avail, until finally he let the head of the weapon fall to the ground, his chest heaving from the stress of the exertion.
He fell still, and his eyes narrowed.
“She tied you to her forest… no… her forest is dead. Not her forest. But some forest,” he muttered. “She must have. Odin was right. They found a way.”
“Who?” Peter asked. He had stopped pestering Buri as soon as the giant had stopped moving. Now he crossed his arms over his chest and hovered in midair, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.
“No matter,” Buri said, ignoring him. “I will find it. I will find your forest and I will burn it to the ground. Then I will come back for you.”
“My forest? Why—”
“You’ll never find it!” Tigerlilja yelled in defiance, interrupting Peter as fast as she could. “You’ll never find our land! You’ll never burn it! And you’ll never kill Peter Pan!”
“That’s right!” Peter said brightly. “You’ll never find it, never burn it, never touch our never land! You’ll never catch me, never best me, never kill our Peter Pan!”
He took up the chant, repeating it over and over as Buri scowled and trudged away, disappearing back into the smoke of the burning village.
“Never find it, never burn it, never touch our Neverland! Never catch me, never best me, never kill our Peter Pan!”
a! That was a grand adventure!” Peter crowed, and he launched himself into a series of loops and spins through the air.
But Tigerlilja turned to Vegard with a heavy heart.
“Father?” she asked him. “Mother?”
Vegard lowered his eyes and shook his head, the tiniest of movements, and her heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Argus placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she reached up to cover it with her own for a moment, surprising them both.
“And yours?” she asked Argus softly. “Hampus? Garth?”
“Garth lives,” he told her, “and his Eliana.” The corner of his mouth flicked upward as he tried to offer her a smile. His middle brother and his sister-in-law had survived together. That much was a blessing. But his silence regarding the rest of his family spoke volumes.
“And Amma?” she asked, even more quietly.
“Badly injured, but alive last I saw,” Vegard told her. “Come. She’s in one of the boats.”
They found her bundled in the bottom of the farthest vessel, surrounded by wide-eyed children. She was wrapped in a warm blanket, but Tigerlilja knew that beneath it lay a gut wound from which she would not recover. Vegard had prepared her for that truth, but he wiped his tears away roughly before they reached her.
“Tigerlilja!” Amma’s face lit up, and she struggled to free an arm from her blanket, reaching out a frail hand to clutch Tigerlilja’s own, gripping it with more strength than the young woman had expected. Enough strength to make her smile a little, despite everything. “The children told me you lived, but I had to see it for myself. You and Vegard together. But what of this giant? Taller than a house, they said!”
“He called himself Buri, Amma. Like the old stories. And he said that Taiga’s sword was his by right. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”
“Buri!” Amma said the word with a mix of awe and foreboding. “But it couldn’t have been. No one could have stood against him.”
“I did!” Peter had gotten bored with his flying antics once he realized no one was watching, and he had flown down to the docks to see what had captured Tigerlilja’s attention. When he heard what Amma said, he pushed his head through the crowd that stood around the boat, shouldering his way past the few warriors who remained, until he stood before the old woman on the dock, his wings folded gracefully behind him.
“Peter!” Amma exclaimed.
“You see?” Peter said to Tigerlilja. “She knows me.”
“You stood against Buri and lived?” Amma pressed him.
“He hit me right here as hard as he could,” Peter boasted, clapping his hand to his chest. �
�With a spike!”
“Then it’s true,” Amma breathed.
“What’s true?” Tigerlilja wanted to know.
“He is the son of Taiga,” Amma told her, and then she turned back to Peter. “But you don’t remember her. Do you.” It wasn’t really a question. Peter only shrugged.
“He doesn’t remember anything, Amma, and he takes nothing seriously. It’s like he was kicked in the head by an ox.”
Amma nodded as she spoke. “Yes,” she replied slowly, “I suppose it would have that effect.”
“What would?”
“There is a story,” Amma said quietly. “One last story that I never told you because I wasn’t sure it was true.”
“I love stories!” Peter interjected.
“Good,” Amma told him, “because this one is about you.”
“Those are my favorites,” Peter admitted.
Tigerlilja scowled at him, but Amma only chuckled. Then Amma told them the story about Peter—about his parents and Buri and how they were tricked into death, and how Taiga had made her son immortal after all. But, of course, Peter forgot the whole thing just as soon as he heard it.
“The island,” Tigerlilja murmured. “It must be.”
“What island?” Amma asked, and her eyes flashed with hope.
“The sword took us there, and the innisfay brought us back,” Tigerlilja said.
“The innisfay!” Amma exclaimed. “Are they here?”
“Just one,” Peter told her. “Tinker Bell! Where are you?”
Tinker Bell hadn’t been sure how well she would be received by so many people at once, and she was very small compared to the rest of them. But Peter’s invitation gave her courage, so she flitted over the heads of the crowd to land on his shoulder.
“Oh!” Amma exclaimed. “She’s beautiful!”
This made Tinker Bell sit up straighter, her knees folded gracefully to the side, and her hair glowed an even brighter shade of gold.
“The innisfay protect the island, keeping it safe,” Amma told Tigerlilja. “Making sure the land flourishes. For as long as it does, Peter will not age, and Buri will not be able to spread his ice across the world. But now Buri knows, and you must help them, Tigerlilja. You and Vegard and the rest of the clan. You must help keep it safe. And you must watch over Peter.
“His mother meant it as a gift, but it is more of a curse than she realized. He can’t remember anything sad, so he cannot learn from his mistakes. And he forgets everyone he ever loses. Everyone he once loved.”
“I forget nothing, old woman!” Peter boasted. “I am far more clever than you!”
“Who is your mother?” Tigerlilja snapped. “We’ve just said her name more times than I can count.”
“I never had a mother,” Peter told her with confidence. “Tinker Bell is my only family. I might let you be my family someday, but you’ll have to be nicer first.”
“You must watch over him,” Amma repeated. “Promise me. It is my dying wish.”
“You’re not dying,” Tigerlilja tried to tell her, but Amma let go of her hand long enough to wave this away, and then she grasped it again. Amma could feel how thin the skin was over her bones, and she found herself fighting back tears.
“I am dying. But it’s all right. I fought today! Did Vegard tell you? He loaded my crossbow for me, and I shot one through the heart! How many old women do you know who get to go to Valhalla? And how many get to send their grandchildren to an immortal realm? Believe me, I die in peace.”
A flicker of sorrow showed on Peter’s face, but Amma snapped her attention to him, quick as a wink. “I am very happy, Peter. Always remember that. Very happy. To die will be an awfully big adventure. I will live in Valhalla, where I will feast and drink and dance every day, knowing my people are safe. And I will tell wonderful stories about you and Tigerlilja and Vegard, and all the people of our clan, so that all the greatest warriors will remember you forever.”
“Be sure to tell them about today,” Peter said, and his face brightened considerably. “I fought a giant!”
“Of course!” Amma assured him. “It will be one of my very best stories!”
“Then I will tell stories of you, too, Amma,” Peter replied.
Tigerlilja was tempted to tell Peter that she was not his Amma, but Amma caught her eye and shook her head, so Tigerlilja said nothing.
“Good. Then my family is your family now,” Amma told him. “All of my clan is your family. You must bring them to your island. They will make you happy.”
“All right,” Peter agreed. “If that is your wish.”
“It is,” she told him. “You must promise me. You must give me your word as a great warrior.”
“I promise,” Peter said easily. “You have my word.” And he bowed to her with a grand flourish.
Amma nodded, acknowledging his bow, and she exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. Then she turned to Tigerlilja, but her grip was beginning to lose its strength. Tigerlilja felt it, which only made her hold on tighter.
“Help him,” Amma told her granddaughter. “Find a way to heal him, so he can hold on to the ones he loves. For Peter. And for the memory of Taiga, who gave us sanctuary.”
“But… is it even possible? To heal such a curse, after so many years?”
“All curses can be lifted,” Amma told her. “With time, all things are possible. And now, you will have all the time in the world.”
Those were the last words she ever spoke, and she died with a smile on her face. So, even though Peter forgot all of Tigerlilja’s tears in the very moment they fell, he never forgot Amma.
“I have realized something today about families,” he announced to Tinker Bell, since no one else seemed to be listening. “All families need a storyteller. It is a very important job, and ours now lives in Valhalla, drinking mead and entertaining the gods, so we shall have to find ourselves a new one. But don’t worry, we’ll find her, no matter how long it takes.”
If Tinker Bell didn’t see the need to replace some old woman they had only just met, she was smart enough to keep that to herself.
“But now I need your help,” Peter told the innisfay, and Tinker Bell perked up considerably. She wasn’t sure how she felt about having all this new family, but it pleased her to feel she was the most important one, especially since she would always be the smallest.
“We need to bring our family to Neverland,” Peter told her, “but it will take many trips if we have to carry them one at a time. Do you think your people can help us?”
Tinker Bell looked at Peter, and she looked at the size of the clansmen, standing there on the dock—far too big for any innisfay to carry. She considered sprinkling them with innisfay dust, but there were quite a few children huddled in the boat. Tinker Bell wasn’t at all sure they could manage flying.
But then her eyes trailed along the boat itself. Sturdy. And large enough to carry them all at once, which gave her an idea. A magnificent idea. When she turned back to Peter, her hair was the brightest shade of gold he had ever seen.
More Tales of the Wendy!
We hope you enjoyed Tigerlilja! The series continues in The Wendy, a full-length novel!
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Also by Erin Michelle Sky and Steven Brown: The Intuitives.
Six unusual teens.
Ancient powers unleashed.
One strange summer to solve a mystery ...
before history catches up to them.
About the Authors
As a child, Erin fell in love with llamas and with the books of Anne McCaffrey, whose Dragonriders of Pern series inspired her to become a writer. When she finally met Anne McCaffrey at a fantasy convention some two decad
es later, she wept uncontrollably throughout the entire affair. She does significantly better with llamas.
Steven spent his childhood reading anything he could get his hands on, sharing his favorite stories with his younger brothers and then acting them out, especially if this required sword fighting on horseback. When they ran out of books, he wrote his own, including his brothers as the main characters by sketching original illustrations on magazine clippings.
Together, they are known as Dragon Authors, writing science fiction and fantasy for teens and adults. You can find them online at dragonauthors.com.
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