Fablehaven1-Fablehaven

by Brandon Mull

seemed pleased whenever she acknowledged them.

  We haven’t really gotten to talk since it all happened,

  Kendra said.

  You were sleeping half of the time, Grandpa replied.

  It was true. She had slept for two days and two nights

  straight after the ordeal-a personal best.

  All those kisses knocked me out, she said.

  You excited to see your parents? asked Grandpa.

  Yes and no. It was the third day since Kendra had

  awakened. Her parents were coming to pick them up this

  afternoon. Going home will seem bland after all this.

  Well, you’ll have fewer demons to worry about.

  Kendra smiled. True.

  Grandpa folded his arms. What you did was so special,

  I don’t know how to speak about it.

  It barely seems real.

  Oh, it was real. You mended an irreparable situation,

  and saved all of our lives in the process. The fairies have

  not gone to war for centuries. In that state, their power is

  virtually unrivaled. Bahumat did not stand a chance. What

  you did was so brave, and so doomed to failure, I can’t

  think of anyone I know who would have even tried it.

  It felt like my only hope. Why do you think the Fairy

  Queen helped me?

  Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe to save the preserve.

  Maybe she sensed the sincerity of your intentions.

  Your youth must have helped. I’m sure fairies would much

  rather follow a little girl into battle than some pompous

  general. But the truth is, I never would have guessed it

  would have worked. It was a miracle.

  Hugo stopped the cart. Grandpa climbed down and

  then helped Kendra. She held the silver bowl that she had

  taken from the island. They started down a faint path

  toward an archway in a tall, unkempt hedge.

  Weird how I don’t have to drink the milk anymore,

  Kendra said. On the morning she awoke after the fairy

  kisses, when she went to the window, she saw fairies fluttering

  about. It had taken a moment to register that she

  had not yet consumed any milk that day.

  I’ll admit that it worries me somewhat, Grandpa said.

  Creatures of whimsy are not solely confined to the preserves.

  The blindness of mortals can be a blessing. Take

  care where you look.

  I’d rather see things how they are, Kendra declared.

  They passed under the archway. A group of satyrs were

  playing tag with several slender maidens wearing flowers in

  their hair. The paddleboat was adrift in the middle of the

  pond. Fairies skimmed the surface of the water and soared

  among the gazebos.

  I’ll be curious to know what other changes the fairies

  wrought in you, Grandpa said. I’ve never heard of such a

  thing. You’ll let me know if you discover any other oddities?

  Like if I turn Seth back into a walrus?

  I’m glad you can joke about it, but I’m serious.

  They walked up the steps to the nearest pavilion. Just

  toss it in? Kendra asked.

  I think it would be best, Grandpa said. If the bowl

  came from that island, you should give it back.

  Kendra threw the bowl like a Frisbee. It landed in the

  water. Almost immediately a hand shot up and snatched it.

  That was quick, Kendra said. It will probably end up

  down with Mendigo.

  The naiads respect the Fairy Queen. They’ll make sure

  the bowl ends up where it belongs.

  Kendra looked at the pier.

  She may not know you, Grandpa said.

  I just want to say good-bye, whether she gets it or

  not.

  They walked along the boardwalk until they reached

  the gazebo adjoining the pier. Kendra walked out to the

  end of the pier. Grandpa stayed a few steps behind her.

  Remember, not too close to the water.

  I know, Kendra said. She leaned forward to look

  down into the pond. It was much clearer than it had been

  at night. She jumped a little when she realized that the face

  looking up at her was not her reflection. The naiad looked

  like a girl of about sixteen, with full lips and a profusion of

  golden hair swirling about a face shaped like a valentine.

  I want to talk to Lena, Kendra said loudly, over pronouncing

  the words.

  She may not come, Grandpa said.

  The naiad kept staring up at her. Get Lena, please,

  Kendra repeated. The naiad swam away. She’ll come,

  Kendra asserted.

  They waited. Nobody came. Kendra studied the water.

  She turned her hands into a megaphone around her mouth.

  Lena! This is Kendra! I want to speak with you!

  Several minutes passed. Grandpa waited with her

  patiently. Then a face rose almost to the surface of the

  water, right at the end of the dock. It was Lena. Her hair

  was still white with a few black strands. Though she looked

  no younger, her face had the same ageless quality.

  Lena, hi, it’s Kendra, remember?

  Lena smiled. Her face was barely an inch from the

  surface.

  I just wanted to say good-bye. I really enjoyed our

  talks. I hope you don’t mind being a naiad again. Are you

  mad at me?

  Lena motioned for Kendra to come closer. She put her

  hand by her mouth like she wanted to share a secret. Her

  almond eyes looked mirthful and excited. They did not

  match the white hair. Kendra bent down a little.

  What? Kendra asked.

  Lena rolled her eyes and motioned for her to come

  closer. Kendra crouched a little more, and in the same

  instant that Lena reached up for her, Grandpa Sorenson

  pulled her back.

  I told you, Grandpa said. She is no longer the

  woman she was back at the house.

  Kendra leaned forward just enough to peer over the

  edge again. Lena stuck her tongue out and swam away. At

  least she isn’t suffering, Kendra said.

  Grandpa walked her back to the gazebo in silence. She

  told me she would never choose to return to life as a

  naiad, Kendra said after a while. She said it more than

  once.

  I’m sure she meant it, said Grandpa. From where I

  stood, it didn’t look like she went willingly.

  I noticed the same thing. I worried she might be suffering.

  I thought maybe she needed us to save her.

  Are you satisfied? Grandpa asked.

  I’m not even sure she remembered me, Kendra admitted.

  At first I thought she did, but I bet she was faking,

  trying to get me close enough to drown me.

  Probably.

  She doesn’t miss being human.

  Not from her current point of view, Grandpa agreed.

  Much like how being a naiad did not sound very fulfilling

  to her from a mortal perspective.

  Why would the fairies do that to her?

  I don’t think they saw it as a punishment. Lena was

  probably a victim of good intentions.

  But Lena was arguing with them. She didn’t want to

  go.

  Grandpa shrugged. The fairies might have known that

  once they restored her, she would change her mind. Looks

  like they were right. Remember, the fairies experience existence


  like the naiads. From their point of view, Lena was

  out of her mind wanting to be mortal. They probably

  thought they were curing her insanity.

  I’m glad they restored everybody else, Kendra said.

  They just restored Lena too much.

  Are you sure? She was a naiad to begin with.

  She didn’t like the idea of aging. At least she won’t die

  now. Or get any older.

  No, she won’t.

  I still think she would rather be human.

  Grandpa frowned. You may be right. Truth be told, if I

  knew a way to reclaim Lena, I would. I believe once she

  was mortal again, she would be grateful. But a naiad can

  only descend to mortality voluntarily. In her current state,

  I doubt she would make that choice. I am sure she is very

  disoriented. Perhaps in time she will gain some perspective.

  What’s it like for her?

  No way to be sure. For all I know, this is a unique

  occurrence. Her memories of mortality are apparently distorted,

  if she retains them at all.

  Kendra unconsciously twisted the sleeve of her shirt, a

  pained expression on her face. So we just leave her there?

  For now. I will do some research and give the matter

  considerable thought. Don’t tear yourself up about it. Lena

  would not want that. The alternative was being devoured

  by a demon. She looked all right to me.

  They started back toward the wagon. What about the

  Society of the Evening Star? asked Kendra. Are they still

  a threat? Muriel said she was in contact with them.

  Grandpa pinched his bottom lip. The Society will be a

  threat as long as it endures. It is difficult for an uninvited

  guest to gain access to a preserve-mortal or not. Some

  would say impossible, but the Society has shown repeated

  resourcefulness at circumventing so-called impossible

  obstacles. Fortunately we foiled their attempt to use Muriel

  to free Bahumat and overthrow the preserve. But we now

  know they have learned the whereabouts of Fablehaven.

  We will have to be more vigilant than ever.

  What secret artifact is hidden here?

  It is unfortunate that your grandmother had to share

  that secret with you. I realize it was a precaution in case

  both of us were incapacitated, but the knowledge is a terrible

  burden to place on children. You must never speak of

  it. I have tried to impress that idea on Seth as well —— heaven

  help us all. I am the caretaker of Fablehaven, and

  I know little about the artifact save that it is hidden somewhere

  on this property. If members of the Society of the

  Evening Star are aware that the artifact is here, and we

  have every reason to believe they are, they will stop at

  nothing to penetrate our defenses and lay their hands on

  it.

  What will you do? Kendra said.

  What we always do, Grandpa said. Consult with our

  allies and take every measure to ensure that our defenses

  remain intact. The Society has known the location of

  dozens of preserves for centuries and yet has failed to infiltrate

  them. They may pay us extra attention, but unless we

  let our guard down, there is little they can do.

  What about that ghost lady? The one who escaped

  while the fairies were trapping Bahumat?

  I do not know her story, except that she was obviously

  colluding with our enemies. I have never met many of the

  dark beings who lurk in the inhospitable corners of

  Fablehaven.

  They reached the wagon. Grandpa boosted Kendra up

  and then climbed in himself. Hugo, take us home.

  They rode in silence. Kendra considered all they had

  discussed-the fate of Lena and the impending threat of

  the Society of the Evening Star. The fateful night that had

  seemed like the end of her problems was starting to look

  like the beginning.

  Up ahead, off to the side of the road, Dale was chopping

  a fallen tree into firewood. Drenched in sweat, he

  swung the ax aggressively. As the wagon rolled by, he

  glanced up at Kendra. She smiled and waved. Dale gave a

  tight smile and looked away, returning to his chore.

  Kendra frowned. What’s up with Dale lately? Do you

  think being turned to lead traumatized him?

  I doubt he felt a thing. He’s beating himself up over

  something else.

  What?

  Don’t say a word about this to him. Grandpa paused,

  glancing back toward Dale, then went on speaking. He

  feels bad that his brother Warren wasn’t present when the

  fairies were curing everybody.

  Grandma said Dale’s brother is catatonic. I still

  haven’t met him. Could the fairies have helped?

  Grandpa shrugged. Considering that they put Lena

  back in the water, changed imps back into fairies, and

  remade Hugo out of a pile of rubble, yes, I imagine they

  could have cured Warren. Theoretically, any magic that

  can be done can also be undone. Grandpa scratched his

  cheek. You have to understand, last week I would have

  said there was no possible way of curing Warren. Believe

  me, I have investigated the subject thoroughly. But I’ve

  never heard of an imp changing back into a fairy, either. It

  simply doesn’t happen.

  I wish I’d thought of it, Kendra said. Warren didn’t

  even cross my mind.

  Not your fault in the slightest. Warren just wasn’t in

  the right place at the right time. I’m grateful the rest of us

  were.

  How did Warren get like that?

  That, my dear, is part of the problem. We have no

  idea. He disappeared for three days. On the fourth he

  returned, white as a sheet. He sat down in the garden, and

  hasn’t said a word or responded to anyone since. He can

  chew food, and walk if you lead him. He can even do some

  simple chores if you get him started. But no communication.

  His mind has flown.

  Hugo stopped at the edge of the yard. Grandpa and

  Kendra climbed down. Hugo, see to your chores. The

  golem hauled the cart away.

  I’m going to miss this place, Kendra said, taking in

  the bright flowers attended by glittering fairies.

  Your grandmother and I have waited a long time to

  find somebody like you among our posterity, Grandpa said.

  Trust me. You’ll be back.

  * * *

  Kendra, Grandma called up the stairs. Your folks are

  here!

  I’ll be right down. Kendra sat alone on her bed in the

  playroom. Seth was already downstairs. She had packed her

  bags and helped him with his.

  Kendra sighed. When her parents had first dropped her

  off, she had counted the days until their return. Now she

  almost felt reluctant to see them. Since they knew nothing

  about the magical nature of the preserve, there was no way

  they could possibly relate to what she had experienced.

  The only person she could share it with was Seth. Anyone

  else would think she was insane.

  Just thinking about it made her feel isolated.

  Kendra crossed the room to the pain
ting she had done

  of the pond. It was a perfect keepsake from her stay-a

  paint-by-numbers drawn by a naiad depicting the location

  of the bravest act of her life.

  Yet she hesitated to bring it. Would the image stir too

  many painful memories? Many of her experiences here had

  been dreadful. She and her family had nearly been killed.

  And she had lost a new friend when Lena was returned to

  the pond.

  At the same time, the painting might make her long

  for the enchanted world of the preserve. So many aspects

  of Fablehaven were wonderful. Life would seem so dry after

  the extraordinary events of the past couple of weeks.

  Either way, the painting might cause her pain. But of

  course those memories would persist with or without the

  picture of the pond. She picked it up.

  The rest of her bags were already downstairs. She cast

  a final glance around the playroom, treasuring up the

  details, and walked out the door. She went down the stairs,

  along the hall, and started down the staircase to the entry

  hall.

  Her mom and dad stood in the entry hall smiling up at

  her. They had notably gained weight, especially Dad-he

  looked twenty pounds heavier. Seth stood near Dad clutching

  his painting of the dragon.

  You did a painting too! Mom exclaimed. Kendra, it’s

  gorgeous!

  I had help, she said, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

  How was the cruise?

  We made a lot of memories, Mom said.

  Looks like Dad ate plenty of snails, Seth said.

  Dad rubbed his belly. Nobody warned me about all the

  desserts.

  You ready, honey? Mom said, putting an arm around

  Kendra.

  Aren’t you going to look around? Kendra asked.

  We walked the grounds a bit while you were upstairs,

  and toured the lower rooms. Was there something in particular

  you wanted to show us?

  Not really.

  We should probably get going, Dad said, opening the

  front door. Not too many days ago that door had been

  mangled and an arrow had protruded from the frame.

  Outside, Dale was loading the last of the bags into the

  SUV. Grandma and Grandpa waited nearby on the driveway.

  Dad helped Kendra and Seth load their paintings

  while Mom thanked Grandma and Grandpa Sorenson

  profusely.

  It was our pleasure, Grandma said earnestly.

  You’ll have to let them visit again sometime soon,

  Grandpa insisted.

  I’d like that, Kendra said.

  Me too, Seth agreed.