Trinity's Book

by Jan Bozarth

  “What’s happening?” I asked.

  “We’re running out of gas,” Moa said. “You better get the little fairy queen ready to travel.”

  While the bird coaxed the exhausted bubble beasts to keep going, I eventually managed to get the harness on backward and fasten it. Then I put the wrapped baby into the sling across my chest and tied her to me with unbreakable string. I stuffed the potato into the pack beside her and picked up the kite, and we were ready to go.

  My timing couldn’t have been better. Moa landed the cloud car at the bottom of the hill where we had first seen the spoonga trail. The edge was close. I just had to run without falling into a crater or hitting a geyser.

  “Go,” Moa said as the king’s cloud cars cleared the top of the hill. “I’ll hold them off.”

  I hesitated. “I can’t just leave you! You could die.”

  “You don’t have a choice. I’m saving you now, just like you saved me. My debt is paid.” Moa shoved me with his beak.

  I knew the life debt wasn’t the only reason for his stand. Moa was sacrificing himself because he cared about me and the baby queen and the future of Aventurine and the cloud people who had treated him so badly.

  “The mist men won’t fly off the edge,” Moa went on. “The bubble beasts will shut down, and the guards don’t want to fall. Now get out of here!”

  I threw my arms around Moa for a quick good-bye hug and then ran.

  I ran so fast I didn’t see the hooked outcropping of rock on one of the formations. I ducked at the last minute, but I didn’t duck down far enough. The rock snagged my kite and ripped it in half.

  Behind me, I heard the mist men shouting at Moa. “Get out of the way, solid!”

  “What?” Moa shouted back. “Are you talking to me?”

  I skidded to a stop two feet from the end of the Cantigo Uplands.

  I only had half a kite left. It was useless. I dropped it, put my arms around the baby, and looked down at the top of the tree.

  Was Moa right? Could I have flown up to the cloud domain without the kite?

  I stepped to the very edge, thinking about Moa’s words: “You have magic. You can fly. You just have to believe it.”

  “There she is!” a man’s voice yelled.

  With the future Queen of Aventurine tied to my chest, I spread my arms and swan dived off the cloud.

  I spread my arms and legs to catch the wind and fell, not fast like a ton of rocks, but steadily, past the top of the tree in ten seconds. My stomach was in my throat and strands of my hair stuck in my teeth.

  The baby laughed, and the sound snapped me to my senses: I had to fly or we would both die.

  I closed my eyes, drew my legs together, dipped my right arm, and visualized a slow, graceful arc. Something tingled inside me, and I felt a warmth seep out from my gut to my fingers and toes. When I swooped into a wobbly but controlled turn, my eyes popped open.

  I was flying!

  No kite, no wings, just me.

  On-my-own flying!

  As I completed the curve, I angled my body up and soared higher. I banked again, completed another long lazy turn, and then flew in a wide circle around the treetop. After a few more practice turns, every movement came naturally, just as they did in my dreams.

  “I did it!” I laughed, and glanced at the Cantigo Uplands overhead. I wanted to fly back, to show Moa he was right, but I couldn’t take the chance. The new Queen of Aventurine was safe now, and I had to take her back to the Willowood.

  But there were no rules that said I couldn’t have fun doing it.

  “Okay, baby!” I shouted. “Let’s see what we can do!”

  The little fairy giggled as I headed downward in a slow spiraling course.

  Everything on Kasandria’s old branch looked so different I almost missed it. The dead vines and rotting brush that had mirrored the fallen fairy’s black heart were still visible here and there, but new leaves, vines, and bunches of flowers were taking over. Dozens of birds perched on secondary branches, and their songs filled the air.

  The white chicken spotted me from a nest it had built in an old feeding dish. “The lock lady’s back!”

  The birds were still weak from their ordeal as Kasandria’s captives and didn’t fly out to greet me. Instead, they flapped their wings and called out their thanks and good wishes. I dipped to the left and then to the right to acknowledge them before continuing on to the hot springs.

  “When you’re older, go to that branch for a hot bath,” I told the little queen. “It’s very relaxing.”

  I flew a long way out from the tree to avoid Hoon’s territory and gave the infant queen strict instructions.

  “Stay away from Hoon and his awful little toad-men,” I said sternly. “He calls himself the Keeper of the Cloud Pine Forest, but I think he just made it up. He is not a nice guy.”

  The baby couldn’t understand me, but my tour guide patter helped cement the memories in my mind. I didn’t want to forget a single detail of the journey, especially the friendly Curipoo.

  I saw the kites flying off the Curipoo branch from a distance. In the short time I had been gone, Jango and Targa had made a dozen kites and taught others to fly them. I couldn’t take the time to land, but I wanted to let them know I had survived my mission.

  I buzzed the branch.

  “Hey!” Jango yelled.

  “That’s Trinity!” Targa shouted, and waved. “Trinity!”

  “I made it!” I shouted as I flew by again. “Your kites are wonderful!”

  “Everybody wants one!” Jango yelled. “Come see!”

  I wanted to stop, but I knew the Curipoo would keep me too long. I just waved and flew out of sight around the massive trunk.

  I suddenly realized I didn’t know how to get back to the Willowood. Even if I knew how, I couldn’t return through the magic mirror portal. The baby couldn’t be expected to keep her eyes closed during the ride. It was just too dangerous.

  I landed on the end of a branch and scanned the sparse secondary branches. I could take off quickly if something dangerous threatened, but all I saw were small brown lizards and blue bugs. Satisfied we were safe, I pulled out my pendant and opened it.

  “Oooh,” the baby cooed.

  “The inside is even better.” I pressed the clasp and held the open disk for the baby to see. Then I asked for directions. “Show me the way back home.”

  The gizmos whirred and the filaments glowed. A blue mist swirled and slowly cleared to reveal a compass with an arrow pointing toward a waterfall—the first landmark on the way back to the Willowood. With the open pendant in my hand and the baby snug against my chest, I flew off the branch.

  I intended to stay above the fog that shrouded the dense forest, but the gray mist enveloped everything within its realm. No matter how high I rose, the fog closed in around me. Visibility was near zero, but the lighted compass buzzed whenever I veered off course and kept buzzing until I was headed in the right direction again.

  Now I knew how my mom felt when she had to fly a jetliner through heavy rain: It wasn’t fun, and having to rely on instruments took skill and concentration.

  Before long, I could see the vague outline of mountain peaks. As I drew nearer, the fog dissipated to give me a clear view of a waterfall. The river plunged through a break in a cliff into a deep pool. I checked the compass, expecting to see the next landmark, but the arrow still pointed to the waterfall.

  Is that a hint to stop and rest? I was tired from the physical exertion and the tension of flying blind, and the baby was hungry. She was starting to fuss. Still, although I wanted to land, I didn’t know if I could get airborne again from the ground.

  I circled to make sure it was safe to land. The riverbank was wide and grassy at the top of the cliff, and a rocky ledge jutted out over the waterfall, providing a nice launch platform.

  I banked to slow my speed. I decided to land feet-first, like flying superheroes did in movies. If something went wrong, I might break an ankle, but
I wouldn’t smash my face or the baby into the ground. At ten feet, I brought my legs down—and hovered!

  “Cool!” I exclaimed as I lowered myself to the ground.

  The little queen clearly disagreed; she started to cry.

  I sat down on a moss-covered rock and pulled the fairy food out of the pack. I was hungry, too, but I only took a quick bite. The sweet potato replenished the part I had bitten off and then adjusted to fit the baby’s mouth. Her cries became sobs that quieted as she filled her tummy.

  Cradling the baby helped me relax, and the aches in my arms and legs seemed to magically ease. In fact, as I glanced about, I realized that everything in the small glen was responding to the new queen’s presence.

  Bell flowers jingled, and woodpeckers drummed a lively beat on the trees. The grass grew taller and greener, and flowers blossomed in bouquets of violet, pink, yellow, white, and blue. A white rabbit hopped over and gently nuzzled the baby’s cheek.

  Not quite a proper hongi, I thought. In the traditional Maori greeting, people touched foreheads and noses to trade the breath of life. The hongi signified that one was not a visitor but belonged to the land. I was sure the rabbit meant the same thing.

  The baby would be the queen of everyone and everything in the fairy world. She was Aventurine.

  As soon as she finished eating, the baby fell asleep. I put the never-gone sweet potato back in the pack beside her and refreshed myself with a drink from the water pod. Then I walked out onto the rocky ledge and checked the compass.

  The image had changed. Instead of one arrow, there were several tiny arrows that followed the path of the river below right through the Willowood.

  “It’s the creek!” I exclaimed. The sound of rushing water had helped me get oriented when I first woke up in the fairy world. Now it was a reassuring sign that I had almost completed my mission. I checked the sling to make sure the baby was safely tucked in. Reminding myself that the journey wasn’t over yet, I took a deep breath and imagined myself leaping into the air. Warmth flooded through me, and I shot up into the sky.

  I flew above the trees as I followed the winding course of the river. Although the lower route might have been more interesting, my first priority was to deliver the baby to Queen Patchouli quickly and safely. Still, the trip wasn’t totally boring.

  The flora and fauna of Aventurine continued to welcome the little fairy queen.

  Treetops bowed as I flew by. Rows and rows of birds in high branches chirped and whistled. When the river narrowed, a brisk wind forced me to descend, and the overhanging tree branches parted to clear a flight path. I spotted the clearing with the stone table.

  “We’re here!” I shouted with joy.

  The creatures of the forest shouted back—roaring, squeaking, chittering, and chirping in their excitement to welcome the royal baby. Animals gathered in the willows on the edge of the glen. As I brought my feet down to land, all of the fairy queens glided out of the woods.

  “It’s Trinity!” Queen Honorae exclaimed.

  “Of course it is,” Queen Patchouli said matter-of-factly, as though no one else could possibly cause such a commotion upon arrival.

  “And she brought the baby!” young Queen Blanca squealed. She was so excited she changed into a small white horse and whinnied as she romped around the field.

  “Of course she did,” Queen Patchouli said, as if she never had a doubt. She smiled when she stopped before me. “I am so glad to see you, Trinity, and very happy that you brought the new queen with you.”

  “Thank you. She’s really sweet and—” The words stuck in my throat, and the rush of emotion I felt surprised me.

  In a few short hours, I had grown to love the little fairy. Like a little sister, I thought, fighting back a tear. I didn’t want to give her up, but she wasn’t mine to keep.

  “Can we see her?” Queen Patchouli asked gently. She seemed to understand how I felt and didn’t want to rush me.

  “Sure,” I said as I lifted the baby out of the pack. I held her in my arms and pulled down the silky bark swaddling to show off her adorable face. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “The most beautiful baby ever,” Queen Patchouli agreed.

  “All new mothers think that,” Mama Cocha grumped. Then she grinned and added, “But this time it’s true!”

  “She’s so tiny!” Queen Blanca the horse exclaimed. “When can I give her pony rides?”

  “Soon enough,” Queen Patchouli said.

  I beamed with pride as all the queens gushed over the baby. The infant fairy was, as she should be, the center of attention, but she was not the queens’ only concern.

  “I was so worried about you, Trinity,” the blue queen said. “No one who is not of the mist has ever gone to the Cantigo Uplands and returned.”

  “Not that we know of and not until today, Queen Marla.” Queen Mangi regarded me with relief and respect. “It must have been difficult.”

  “There were a few tight spots and close calls,” I admitted.

  “I haven’t danced a step,” the golden Queen Tensy said.

  “But you wore a new path around the guesthouse with your constant pacing,” Queen Alaina teased.

  “We’ve done nothing but wish for your safe return.” The blind Queen Carmina put a hand on my arm.

  Her soothing touch removed the last traces of stress as I looked into the faces of the queens gathered around me. The warmth in their smiles and joy in their eyes almost made me cry. I felt guilty for doubting my mother and denying their existence for so many years.

  Then suddenly, I started to collapse.

  “Take her, please,” I said, quickly giving the baby to Queen Patchouli.

  Queen Mangi gripped my arm to steady me. “You must be exhausted!”

  “You need to rest so you don’t sleep through the festivities tonight,” the silvery Queen Kumari said.

  “I am a little tired,” I said, yawning. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.

  I stretched and inhaled the scent of a fresh flower bouquet. My mom usually chose spice and herbal-scented air fragrances. This new one smelled just like Aventurine.

  Then I opened my eyes. I wasn’t in my New York City bedroom. I was lying on a soft pad in a fairy cottage. The scent of flowers did not come from a spray bottle but from climbing morning glories and rosebushes growing on the walls.

  I had been so tired when I arrived I hadn’t noticed anything except the comfy bed of feathers of moss.

  How long was I asleep? I yawned and stretched again. The light shining through the round windows had the golden cast of late afternoon fading to dusk, the same as when I dozed off. Has a whole night and day passed?

  That wouldn’t surprise me. The instant Queen Patchouli took the baby, my legs had given out. The worried fairy queens had offered me food and water, but I was too exhausted to eat. Even so, Queen Patchouli made me swallow a small, spiced honey ball before she let me lie down.

  I sat up, ran my fingers through my tangled hair, and scratched my itchy nose. I was still wearing my tunic and leggings, but my shoes and harness were neatly stacked on a stool. The Ananya necklace was around my neck.

  “Rise and shine!” Queen Patchouli said as she swept in through the round, open door.

  With magnificent blue wings and a glittering silver-blue gown, the Queen of Aventurine looked gorgeous. A flowered wreath with colorful streamers crowned her lustrous chestnut hair. Her smile chased away the twilight shadows in the room.

  “How are you feeling?” the fairy queen asked.

  “Great!” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe I slept a whole day away.”

  “You didn’t,” Queen Patchouli said. “The honey ball I gave you made you rest more efficiently. You didn’t want to miss the naming ceremony, did you?”

  “No!” I grinned, then asked, “Is the baby okay? The cloud people had her a long time before we got away. She was really hungry, and I had to feed her sweet potato.”

  “The little queen is perfect!” Queen Patchoul
i exclaimed. She came and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Your mission was one of the most difficult I’ve ever assigned, and your success is an achievement of unmatched importance.”

  “Thanks, but I didn’t do it alone,” I said. “The Curipoo and the birds I rescued from Kasandria helped a lot, especially Moa.”

  The queen’s face darkened at the mention of Kasandria’s name. I suspected that evil fairies were very rare and something good fairies preferred not to think or talk about. I rattled on about my friend instead.

  “Of course, Moa is really a mist person. He thinks cloud people and fairies should be friends, so King Shyne changed him into a bird. Moa sacrificed himself so the baby and I could escape.” I could feel my eyes begin to water just thinking about my loyal friend.

  “I see,” the queen said, nodding gravely. She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze and released it. “Someday soon I want to hear all about your adventure and the cloud people and how the new queen was born, but right now it’s time to get ready for the naming ceremony. You’re the guest of honor.”

  “I, uh …” I was so overcome with emotion I didn’t know what to say. “That’s so … cool. I probably should, uh … clean up … and change,” I stammered.

  The climbing flowers on one wall parted to reveal a tall wooden panel, which promptly unfolded into the wardrobe.

  “I’m sure you’ll find something you like in there,” Queen Patchouli said.

  As the queen left, three other fairies entered. They set baskets and pitchers on a table and told me they’d be nearby if I needed anything else. On her way out, the last fairy paused in a corner and pulled a vine to start a rainwater shower.

  After washing with daisy-petal soap and drying off with towel moss, I felt clean as well as rested. I was also famished and eager to join the festivities. But first, I had to pick a dress that was suitable for such a momentous occasion.

  Most of the gowns in the wardrobe were too frilly, flimsy, or fancy for my tastes. I only found one I liked. With a long, flowing skirt and a scooped neckline, the sky-blue dress complemented my dark hair. Diamonds were embroidered with gold thread in a band across the waist. The pattern reminded me a bit of sunbursts and Queen Sonja. If the fairy baby had been born to close the rift between cloud people and fairies, the gown was perfect for her naming ceremony.