“You’re not going to believe this,” she said, smiling, “but I think we’ve just found Liesel’s dream cottage.”
Three sharp notes played on a button accordion chimed through the blackness. Harper and Nate turned to each other, and both spoke at the same time: “Ferdie’s in trouble!”
With a light whoosh, Harper brought the Scarlet Umbrella twirling to the ground. Everyone tumbled out and ran helter-skelter over the peppermint grass up to the candy-cane door, which Ferdie was loudly hammering on.
“What’s wrong?” cried Nate.
“The folk in there have got my sister!” replied Ferdie.
“Which folk?” asked Harper, but at that moment the candy-cane door swung open and they came to face-to-face with a man with skin the same rich black color as the trees and a beard so long it touched his toes and seemed to be spun from gold.
Ferdie shook his fist at him. “Give me back my sister!” he yelled.
The old man frowned deeply. “Actually, we’ve grown quite fond of her,” he muttered. “We’d rather like to keep her.”
Ferdie went pale. Through the starless dark, Nate reached out and patted his wolf. Smoke gave a rumbling growl.
The man with the golden beard took a big step back. “Oh, well, it was just an idea,” he mumbled. “I suppose you’d all better come in.”
The children, the wolf, the cat, and the pink dove found themselves inside the strangest little cottage they had ever seen. On every wall were shelves lined with objects straight out of fairy tales. A red cloak made from the exact same fabric as Harper’s umbrella. A spindle, old and delicate and incredibly sharp. Five very ordinary looking beans that seemed to softly sparkle. A slipper of precious glowing glass. And a lock of endless hair.
There, in the middle of the room, her face bright with happiness, sat Liesel, merrily swinging in a rocking chair. “What on earth are you doing?” snapped Ferdie, his sharp German accent much stronger when he was angry.
“Making friends with the fairy-tale keepers.” Liesel grinned, gesturing at the family on cushions around the edge of the room.
Ferdie blinked. “The fairy-tale keepers?” he asked.
“Yes,” said a tall, willowy woman. “We guard the trees and the fairy tales they hold.”
Nate could just make out the silhouettes of a mother and three children, alongside the granddad.
“Each fairy tale is written upon the trees and has a clock to mark the time it first began,” the willowy woman continued. “Only on the eve of the fairy tale’s birthday do the characters slip from the pages of their stories and roam the forest.”
Harper and her friends stared in surprise. “Y-you mean for one night each year, Red Riding Hood skips through these very woods?” stuttered Ferdie.
“And Cinderella rushes home through these trees?” asked Harper.
“And the three pigs hide from the wolf?” added Nate.
“Yes,” cried the littlest fairy-tale keeper, who was so small and smiley she reminded Harper of a pixie.
“The Night Forest is truly amazing,” said Liesel dreamily. The fairy-tale keepers nodded proudly.
“I think I found some sort of beast in the trees,” said Nate.
“And I thought I saw the Ice Raven,” added Harper.
“And I think I found the tale of ‘The Lone Wolf and the Ice Raven’ written on the trees,” Ferdie half yelled.
At this, the mother and the grandfather looked at each other sadly and the three golden-haired children fell silent. Nate felt the air go still and wondered what could be wrong.
“The tale of “The Lone Wolf and the Ice Raven’ is the Fairy Tale Unfinished. The only story without an ending,” explained the eldest boy.
“What do you mean?” said Liesel.
“The bark on the trees is too old and crumbly to read,” said the middle golden-haired girl, “so the Lone Wolf and the Ice Raven are trapped forever in the forest, until someone discovers how their story finishes.”
A sad, low howl, which could only belong to a huge, unhappy wolf, came floating in on the breeze. It was followed by the flapping of dazzling wings. “There they are,” said the grandfather, “As real as you or I.”
Liesel leaped up and dashed to the window, but before she even reached it, there came on the wind the song of a bird, so sweet and beautiful it could tame the fiercest heart. Everyone stared at one another with wonder. The Ice Raven had started to sing.
Chapter Eight
LONE WOLF AND THE ICE RAVEN
I’m not sure if you have ever heard an Ice Raven sing, but imagine the sound of a thousand hummingbirds learning how to fly, or a nightingale calling to a long-lost moon, and that will be close.
As each of the children listened, they felt the soft tug of magic and they knew that the Wild Conductor was right—this was a bird whose song could tame Othello Grande’s heart and help him win back his place in the Circus of Dreams. Win back the life he so longed for. Win back an adventure of music and clouds.
The children knew they would do anything to help the Wild Conductor succeed, each of them keen to rush back to the University of Fine Literature and tell him the great news. As the bird’s song took hold of their hearts, Liesel found it was impossible not to start dancing, so she spun her on toes as lightly as a falling leaf, grabbing the eldest golden-haired boy and swinging him into a polka.
Ferdie felt as if the poetry of the trees had come to life. He at once found a spare pencil and began scribbling a rhyme. For Nate, it was like hearing the whispers of the woods turned into a lullaby, so sweet it could make you weep.
Harper seemed to fall beneath the spell of the song completely. In a dreamy daze, she found herself reaching into the Scarlet Umbrella and pulling out her golden harp. In a streak of claws and fur, Midnight leaped into her arms, knocking the instrument to the ground. The harp clanged loudly, breaking the Ice Raven’s spell.
The whole room stared at the black cat with a look of puzzlement. “What’s wrong?” whispered Harper, gathering Midnight to her.
“That’s a most extraordinary instrument,” said the granddad fairy-tale keeper, stooping to pick up the fallen harp and inspecting it. “It is said that with the right song, a harp could draw the Ice Raven out of the trees.”
The children nodded, but the fairy-tale keepers looked grave.
“But the Ice Raven must never leave these woods,” cried the littlest daughter, “or her story will disappear and she’ll never turn back into a maiden!”
Liesel let go of the boy with golden hair, Ferdie stopped scribbling, Nate frowned deeply, and Harper held Midnight tighter, all of them trying not to think of the blue leather-bound songbook, or the man with magpie-feather hair so desperately seeking the mythical bird. “You mean the Ice Raven must stay here forever . . .” Harper murmured, and the family of fairy-tale keepers all nodded.
“Come.” The mother smiled. “Let us tell you the tale.” And she sank gracefully into the rocking chair, which the children now realized was a storytelling chair. Nate felt around for cushions and handed them out to his friends, then everyone settled down to hear the tale of “The Lone Wolf and Ice Raven.”
“Once upon a time, in a deep, dark wood, there was a witch’s daughter and a young prince who were very much in love. They were set to be married by the light of the full moon. But the witch, who was cruel and angry, could not bear to lose the company of her only child. So she turned the girl into a bird with pale feathers and the prince into a huge, hungry wolf. Only at night could they return to their true human forms.”
Nate wrapped his arms around his faithful companion, thinking of the growling beast she’d saved him from in the forest.
“By day, the hungry wolf hunts the Ice Raven. By night, the maiden is so afraid of the prince she once loved that she wears a cloak made of moonlight, so bright that no one can come near her. They have long forgotten who they were to each other and have become enemies.”
“How can the spell be broken?” asked Harper
.
The granddad sighed heavily. “We don’t know,” he answered. “The fairy tale was never finished. Its clock was never set.”
Liesel leaped to her feet. “What about the witch? Can’t she reverse the spell?”
The mother sadly shook her head and continued with the tale.
“When the witch saw how afraid and unhappy her daughter had become, she tried to undo the spell, but alas, she had grown too old and forgetful and died of a broken heart, leaving the maiden cloaked in moonlight and the lonely prince with a cape of fur to wander the forest forever, becoming the Ice Raven and the Lone Wolf at the first light of dawn.”
A cuckoo popped its little painted head out of its wooden home and cooed that it was six o’clock. “You must head home before night falls,” said the mother gently, “but do come back tomorrow.” Harper tucked the little golden harp safely inside the Scarlet Umbrella.
“I will never play it in the forest,” she promised, hugging the golden-haired children goodbye.
The eldest took Liesel’s hand and looked at all of them. “Come with me—I know a shortcut.”
The four children followed the fairytale keeper boy through a maze of blackened branches and gnarled trunks in silence, all of them astounded by the song of the Ice Raven and the low howling of the wolf.
As twigs cracked beneath their feet and leaves whispered their secrets, Nate, who knew wolves better than anyone, noticed how incredibly sad the lone wolf sounded. His rough cry was certainly not the growl of a hungry hunting beast, but more of a heartbroken animal, lost and alone. But Nate didn’t have time to think about this further, because at that moment they turned a corner and found themselves in the glow of afternoon sunlight.
Harper was amazed to see that the sky over the City of Singing Clocks was a dusky blue; twilight had not even started to fall. They waved farewell to the fairytale boy and set off through the winding streets. “How do you think the Wild Conductor will take the news that the Ice Raven must never leave the forest?” Harper asked nervously.
“Badly,” answered Nate.
“But if we explain that she belongs to the Fairy Tale Unfinished, he might understand,” suggested Ferdie.
“He’ll have to understand,” said Liesel. “You can’t mess with fairy tales.”
Harper smiled, but her feet and her heart felt heavy.
Chapter Nine
A TERRIBLE PLAN
As the first stars began to twinkle, the four children, the wolf, the cat, and the little pink dove reached the University of Fine Literature. It was an incredibly old and majestic building with turrets and spires that seemed to kiss the clouds. Brigitte rushed out to meet them with a basket of warm cinnamon buns. “Come and see your rooms,” she cooed, pointing to a set of stairs that led to the university rooftop.
“It’s like a garden in the sky,” whispered Ferdie as they made their way across a lawn of lavender.
“It’s nothing like our rooftop,” Liesel told Nate. “There’s honeysuckle and lilac and apple trees and even a wishing well in the middle.”
Harper smiled as the lavender bristled beneath her feet, the strong scent making her think of her Great Aunt Sassy. It was wonderfully calming after the strangeness of the woods.
In each corner of the rooftop was a separate turret, complete with a spiral staircase. “Harper and Nate are sharing a turret,” explained Brigitte. “Ferdie and Liesel, you’re in the turret opposite. Peter and I are in the turret on the far side and the Wild Conductor and his ravens are in the turret over there.”
Everyone turned to stare at the turret that was covered by a cloud of dark feathers. The Wild Conductor leaned out of the window and gave a pleasant nod. In the splendor of the sunset, the children couldn’t quite bear to tell him the sad news about the Ice Raven. Instead, they sat down to a wonderful picnic dinner of sauerkraut, sausages, rye bread, and apple strudel.
Slowly, the summer moon rose in the sky, and the orchestra of ravens put their fine heads beneath their shadowy wings and slept. The Wild Conductor stared down at the little group on the roof garden and gave a rare, slightly awkward grin. He was in good spirits and was all set for his first journey into the Night Forest. He looked at the blue leather-bound music book and chuckled with glee. At last, the Ice Raven might truly be his. Though, if the legend were true, he would need Harper’s help, as the bird could only be summoned by a song on the harp. Still, he might get to see the wondrous bird tonight—he might even hear it sing! He tucked the book grandly inside his long satin coat and made his way toward the picnic.
The view of the City of Singing Clocks was so spectacular that the Wild Conductor paused at the edge of the lavender lawn to take in the sights. Something softly twanged against his foot, and the Wild Conductor spotted Harper’s golden harp. “It must have slipped out of the Scarlet Umbrella,” he muttered, noticing the umbrella in the corner propped over Midnight and Smoke. Carefully, he picked up the harp to return it, when all at once every cuckoo all over the City of Singing Clocks burst forth to call in eight o’clock, and he was startled into stillness. And in that moment, an idea began to shape in his mind.
Peter appeared at the far end of the roof garden. “Hello,” he called to his friends over the chime of a thousand singing cuckoo clocks. He’d had a long day discussing fine literature and was pleased to be back with his children.
Liesel sprang into his arms. “The forest is really magical,” she cried.
“There are fairy-tale keepers and a Fairy Tale Unfinished,” added Ferdie.
“There’s an Ice Raven who can only be drawn out of the forest by a song on the golden harp,” said Nate.
“But the Ice Raven must not leave the Night Forest,” Harper said, “or her fairy tale will never be finished.”
But the Wild Conductor didn’t hear this last part of the story, as he had already slunk into the shadows and vanished into the City of Singing Clocks, clutching the harp firmly.
Chapter Ten
THE MISSING HARP
“I can’t find it anywhere!” Harper cried, trying her best not to panic. Liesel dropped to her knees and felt her way through the lavender the same way a little mouse might. Ferdie tightened his serious scarf, but instead of a plan, he came up with a poem called “The Missing Harp.” Peter and Brigitte glanced at each other nervously and started searching quickly around the garden.
Everyone knew how important the harp was. It had been a gift to Harper from her parents, and it was her only way to reach them when she needed to. For you see, Harper’s parents lived in the very circus the Wild Conductor dreamed of rejoining. Othello Grande was such a strict ringmaster that the only way Harper’s parents could visit their daughter was through the magical harp. When Harper played her dream song, they would drift down on black umbrellas to wherever she was. They simply had to find the harp.
Nate and Smoke moved slowly, tracing every step, until they found a harp-shaped dent crushed into the lavender. Smoke put her nose to the ground and gave a pained whine. Nate felt around until his fingers traced the shape of a large footprint. He gave a long sigh. “I think the Wild Conductor may have taken the harp.”
Everyone was silent. “Where would he take it?” asked Brigitte, but it was not really a question, for they all knew the answer.
Peter took hold of Harper’s shoulders. He had known her all her life, and he looked at her now as fondly as if she were his own daughter. “Go,” he cried. “Get as many as you can in the Scarlet Umbrella and we will follow below by foot.”
Harper seized the Scarlet Umbrella, and Midnight leaped onto her head like a little hat. Nate pulled a strand of edentwine from his pocket and attached the umbrella’s handle to the wolf’s collar. Ferdie grabbed the basket, which was still half full of cinnamon buns, and fastened it to the umbrella with a rope made from twisted tablecloth.
Liesel stared around darkly; there was no room for her and she was trying her best to be calm about it. Nate, who could just make out the small girl glimmering with
fury at his side, smiled and took her hand, his eyes twinkling with a wondrous idea.
Moments later, the City of Singing Clocks was filled with the pounding of unstoppable paws as a wolf the color of stardust tore down the cobbled stones, on her back a small girl with a smile so wild it could have outshined the moon. Liesel was riding on Smoke’s back! Floating behind them, shooting past the stars, came the Scarlet Umbrella, towed by the powerful wolf. Deep in the umbrella’s dome sat Harper, Midnight, Nate, and Storm; trailing just below in the basket of cinnamon buns rode Ferdie, his scarf billowing in the breeze.
Running after them came Brigitte and Peter, racing as fast as if one of their own beloved children needed help. “Hurry! Get to the forest—find the harp,” they cried.
As the Scarlet Umbrella and the basket of buns approached the dark trees, Harper and Ferdie saw something in the sky that made their hearts shiver. A light was moving, gliding over the black leaves like a drifting star.
“It’s the maiden cloaked in moonlight,” called Ferdie.
“The witch’s daughter!” gasped Harper.
“Where?” asked Nate, but nobody answered, because at that moment Smoke broke into the Night Forest and the children were plunged into darkness. Thin branches pulled at them like wizard fingers, and tree trunks leaned closer together to block out the moon. There was a terrible crunching sound as the Scarlet Umbrella caught in the boughs of an ebony birch. Then the children were tumbling, falling out onto the soft bracken, a sense of unease closing in on them.
Ferdie and the basket of buns got tangled in the lower branches. Nate fell into the undergrowth, his tambourine and pork-pie cap rolling out of reach. Smoke skidded to a halt, hurling Liesel into a mass of berry bushes, while Harper, Midnight, and Storm were flung farther, bouncing from branch to bracken and landing on a bed of glowing mushrooms.
As the children gazed around, they realized they had become separated. Each of them reached for their instruments, only to grasp thin air. In the rush to leave the University of Fine Literature, they had completely forgotten to bring them. They had no way to reach one another; they had no secret signal. And in the deep night of the forest, not even the stars dared to shine. The children were truly alone.
Harper and the Night Forest Page 3
