Fablehaven

by Brandon Mull

Page 27

  Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson were resourceful.

  They might have already escaped. Was she doing this for nothing?

  Kendra remembered an occasion three years ago at a community pool. She had desperately wanted to jump off the high dive. Her mom had warned her that it was higher than it looked, but nothing could dissuade her. Many kids were jumping off it, several her age or younger.

  She stood in line at the base of the ladder. When her turn came, she started climbing, amazed at how much higher she seemed with each step. When she arrived at the top, she felt like she was standing on a skyscraper. She wanted to turn back, but all the kids in line would know she was scared. Plus her parents were watching.

  She walked forward along the diving board. There was a slight breeze. She wondered if the people on the ground could feel it. When she approached the end of the board, she stared down at the rippling water. She could see all the way to the bottom of the pool. Jumping no longer seemed like a fun thing to do.

  Realizing that the longer she hesitated, the more attention she would draw, she turned around quickly and descended the ladder, trying to avoid eye contact with the people waiting in line at the bottom. She had not been up a high dive since. In fact, she rarely took any sort of risk.

  Once again she was standing on the brink of something frightening. But this was different. Jumping off a high dive, or riding a roller coaster with multiple loops, or passing a note to Scott Thomas-those were all voluntary thrills.

  There was no real consequence to avoiding the risk. In her current situation, her family would probably die if she failed to act. She had to stand by her previous decision and carry out her plan, regardless of the consequences.

  Kendra considered the oars. She had never rowed a boat and could easily picture herself floundering, especially if nasty naiads were giving her a hard time. She examined the paddleboat. Designed for a single passenger, it was wider than it needed to be, presumably for additional stability.

  The childish craft was not nearly as big as the rowboats, and she would be close to the water, but at least Kendra thought she could maneuver it.

  Kendra sighed. Kneeling, she untied the little boat, tossing the slender rope onto the seat. The paddleboat wobbled when she stepped aboard, and she had to crouch and use her hands to avoid falling into the water. The bottom of the novelty craft was completely closed, which meant nothing could grab at her feet.

  After getting situated, Kendra sat facing the dock.

  There was a steering wheel to control lateral movement.

  Turning the wheel all the way to one side, she pedaled backwards and slid away from the dock. Cranking the wheel the other way, she started pedaling forward, and the boat quietly slid out of the boathouse.

  Ripples radiated out from the front of the paddleboat as she steered it toward the island, pedaling briskly. The island was not far-maybe eighty yards. The paddleboat moved steadily closer to her destination. Until it started moving away from the island.

  She pedaled harder, but the boat kept sliding diagonally backward. Something was towing her. The boat began to spin. Turning the wheel and paddling did nothing. Then the boat suddenly tilted precariously to one side. Something was trying to tip her!

  Kendra leaned to prevent the boat from capsizing, and the boat abruptly rocked the other way. Kendra changed position, counterbalancing desperately. She saw wet fingers holding the side of the boat and slapped at them. The action was rewarded by giggling.

  The boat began to rotate quickly. Leave me alone!

  Kendra demanded. I have to get to the island. This earned a longer titter from multiple voices.

  Kendra paddled furiously, but it did no good. She kept spinning and getting hauled in the wrong direction. The naiads started rocking the boat again. Thanks to the low center of gravity, Kendra found that leaning was enough to prevent the boat from capsizing, but the naiads were relentless.

  They tried to distract her by banging the bottom of the vessel and by waving at her. The boat pitched and rocked and spun, and then suddenly the naiads would heave in earnest, trying to catch her off balance. Time after time, Kendra reacted quickly, shifting her weight to spoil their attempts to flip her. It was a stalemate.

  The naiads did not show themselves. She heard their laughter and glimpsed their hands, but never saw a face.

  Kendra decided to quit paddling. It was getting her nowhere, and wasting energy. She resolved to exert herself only to keep the boat from tipping.

  The attempts grew less frequent. She said nothing, made no response to the taunting giggles, ignored the hands on the side of the boat. She simply leaned as needed when they tried to tip the boat. She was getting better at it. They were not able to tilt it as much.

  The attempts stopped. After about a minute of no activity, Kendra started paddling toward the island. Her progress was soon halted. She quit paddling immediately.

  The naiads spun her and rocked her some more.

  She waited. After another minute of tranquility she paddled again. Again they pulled her away. But less eagerly.

  She sensed them giving up, getting bored.

  On her eighth try using this technique, the naiads apparently lost interest. The island grew closer. Twenty yards. Ten yards. She expected them to stop her at the last moment. They didn't. The front of her paddleboat scraped against the shore. Everything remained still.

  The moment of truth had arrived. When she set foot on the island, either she would transform into a cloud of dandelion fluff and drift away, or she wouldn't.

  Almost indifferent at this point, Kendra leaped out of the boat and landed on the shore. There did not seem to be anything magical or even special about it, and she did not turn into a cloud of seeds.

  There was, however, a barrage of laughter from behind her. Kendra whirled in time to see her paddleboat drifting away from the island. It was already too late to do anything without jumping into the water. She slapped herself on the forehead with the heel of her hand. The naiads had not given up-they were trying a different strategy! She had been so distracted by the prospect of becoming dandelion fluff that she had not hauled the boat out of the water as she should have. She could have at least kept hold of the rope!

  Well, one more favor to ask the Fairy Queen.

  The island was not large. It took only about seventy paces for Kendra to walk around the edge of it. Her tour of the perimeter revealed nothing interesting. The shrine was probably near the center.

  Although the island had no trees, it had many shrubs, many of them taller than Kendra. There were no trails, and pressing through them was irritating. What would the shrine look like? She pictured a little building, but after crisscrossing the island a few times, she realized there was no such structure.

  Maybe she had not turned to dandelion seeds because the island was a hoax. Or maybe the shrine was no longer here. Either way, she was stranded on a tiny island in the middle of a pond full of creatures who wanted to drown her. What would drowning feel like? Would she actually inhale water, or just pass out? Or would the demon get her first?

  No! She had come this far. She would look again, more carefully. Maybe the shrine was something natural, like a special bush or stump.

  She walked around the perimeter of the island again, more slowly this time. She noticed a thin trickle of water.

  It was strange to find a stream, no matter how small, on such a tiny island. She followed the stream toward the center of the island until she found the place where it came bubbling out of the ground.

  There, at the source of the spring, was a two-inch-tall statue of a fairy, finely carved. It rested on a white pedestal that added a few more inches to the height. A small silver bowl sat in front of it.

  Of course! Fairies were so tiny, it made sense that the shrine would be miniature as well!

  Kendra fell to her knees beside the spring, directly in front of the small figurine. T
he night was very still.

  Looking to the sky, Kendra noticed that the eastern horizon was turning purple. Night was coming to an end.

  All Kendra could think to do was pour her heart out in complete sincerity. Hello, Fairy Queen. Thank you for letting me visit you without changing me into dandelion seeds.

  Kendra swallowed. This felt weird, talking to a diminutive statue. There was nothing regal about it. If you can help me, I really need it. A witch named Muriel is about to set free a demon named Bahumat. The witch has my Grandpa and Grandma Sorenson prisoner, along with my brother, Seth, and my friend Lena. If that demon gets out, it will wreck this whole preserve, and there is no way I can stop it from happening without your help. Please, I really love my family, and if I don't do something, that demon is going to, he's going to- The reality of what she was saying hit her like a great weight and spilled out as tears. For the first time, the fact that Seth was going to die fully entered her mind. She thought of moments with him, both endearing and annoying, and realized that there would be no more of either.

  She shook with sobs. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She let them come. She needed the release, to stop trying to suppress the horror of it all. The tears she had shed while fleeing the Forgotten Chapel had been of shock and terror. These were tears of realization.

  Tears slid down her chin and plopped into the silver bowl. Her breathing came in ragged gasps between sobs.

  Please help me, she finally managed.

  An aromatic breeze drifted over the island. It smelled of rich soil and new blossoms, with just a hint of the sea.

  Her crying began to subside. Kendra brushed the tears from her cheeks and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She sniffed, amazed at how swiftly congestion could appear.

  The miniature statue was wet. Had she cried on it? No!

  Water was seeping from its eyes, trickling down into the silver bowl.

  The air stirred again, still redolent with potent aromas.

  Kendra inexplicably sensed a presence. She was no longer alone.

  I accept your offering, and join you in weeping.

  The words were not audible, but they struck her mind with such a forceful impression that Kendra gasped. She had never experienced anything similar. Clear fluid continued to leak from the statue into the bowl.

  From tears, milk, and blood, devise an elixir, andmy handmaidens will attend you.

  The tears were obvious. All Kendra could picture was Viola for the milk. Whose blood? Her own? The cow's? The handmaidens had to be the fairies.

  Wait, what do I do? Kendra asked. How do I get off the island?

  In reply, the wind swirled for a moment, and then gusted. The pleasant aromas vanished. The little statue no longer wept. The indefinable presence had departed.

  Kendra picked up the bowl. About the size of her palm, it was nearly a third of the way full. She had hoped the Fairy Queen would resolve the situation for her. Instead she had apparently shown her a way to resolve the problem herself. The telepathic message felt as precise as spoken words. Her family was still in danger, but the spark of hope was now a flame.

  How would she get off the island? Rising, Kendra walked to the shore. Unbelievably, the paddleboat was drifting in her direction. It steadily approached until reaching the island.

  Kendra stepped inside the boat. It pulled away from the shore spontaneously, turned around, and started toward the little white pier.

  Kendra said nothing. She did not paddle. She was afraid to do anything that might disrupt the effortless progress to the pier. She held the bowl in her lap, careful not to spill a drop.

  Then she saw it, a dark figure standing on the pier, awaiting her return. A puppet the size of a man. Mendigo.

  Her throat constricted with fear. She had worked magic on the island! Getting the tears from the statue-that was magic, right? Her protected status was finished. And Mendigo had come to apprehend her.

  Can you drop me off someplace else? she asked.

  The boat moved steadily forward. What could she do?

  Even if they dropped her off elsewhere, Mendigo would just follow.

  The boat was twenty yards from the pier, then ten. She had to protect the contents of her bowl. And she could not let Mendigo haul her away. But how could she stop him?

  The paddleboat brushed up against the pier, coming to a stop alongside it. Mendigo made no move to grab her. He seemed to be waiting for her to disembark. Kendra set the bowl on the pier and stood up, noticing that the boat was being held steady.

  When she stepped onto the pier, Mendigo moved forward, but as before, he could not seem to grab her. He stood with both arms half-raised, fingers fluttering. Kendra picked up the bowl and walked around the limberjack.

  Mendigo followed her along the length of the pier.

  Why would Muriel have sent Mendigo after her if he could not seize her? Did Muriel know she had communed with the Fairy Queen? If so, the puppet sure moved quickly.

  His being there was probably precautionary.

  The problem it posed was severe. Evidently Kendra had not actually worked magic on the island; she had merely collected an ingredient. But in concocting the elixir the Fairy Queen described and giving it to the fairies, she would certainly be performing magic. The moment her protected status ended, Mendigo would be on her.

  That was not an option.

  Kendra set the silver bowl on the steps leading up to the gazebo. Then she turned and confronted Mendigo. The puppet was more than half a head taller than her. I think you work like Hugo. You have no brain and just do what you're told. Is that right, Mendigo?

  The limberjack stood still. Kendra tried not to get creeped out. I have a feeling you won't obey me, but it's worth a try. Mendigo, go climb a tree and sit up there forever.

  Mendigo stood motionless. Kendra walked straight at him. He was trying to lift his arms to grab her, but was unable to carry out the intention. Standing close to him, she reached out a tentative finger and touched his wooden torso. He did not react, except to continue struggling against whatever force prevented him from seizing her.

  You can't touch me. I haven't done anything mean or used any magic. But I can touch you. She gently stroked both of his arms just beneath the shoulders. The limberjack jittered with the effort of trying to grasp her.