Fairies and the Quest for Never Land

by Gail Carson Levine

  “When is Tink going to use these—”

  “—treasures? She’s in her workshop, designing.”

  Queen Ree and Rani returned to the Home Tree for more metal to sacrifice. Gwendolyn flew high above Fairy Haven to see what other preparations were under way.

  The dairy mice’s near pasture had been scattered with sheets, tablecloths, curtains, split-open balloon-carrier balloons, carpets, and bits almost too tiny to see.

  In the air below Gwendolyn, a fairy hollered out directions. On the ground, fairies picked up pieces of cloth and put them down where they were told.

  It was a colossal jigsaw puzzle! As she hovered, Gwendolyn kept guessing where the next piece would go, and after a few minutes she knew. The cloth was being laid out in the shape of two dragons, the feet of one pointed toward the Home Tree, the feet of the other pointed the opposite way. The two lined up at their spines. Sections were missing, but fairies—sewing talents?—began to stitch up the pieces that already fit together.

  Hmm. If everything was connected, one dragon could be folded over the other, stitched up partway, filled with cotton or foam, to make an enormous stuffed dragon.

  What use could a stuffed dragon be?

  Carrying brushes and buckets of paint, fairies glided from the Home Tree. They landed on the cloth and started painting. Were these art talents?

  In quick strokes a fairy painted triangles of light blue-green. Following her, another fairy gave each triangle a shadow of darker green. The paint concealed the seams between swatches of cloth.

  After four triangles Gwendolyn knew what she was seeing: scales! Scales that looked sharp enough to rip your skin if you touched them.

  With Prilla at her side, a fairy dabbed paint from a wooden palette onto one of the dragon faces. In minutes, sunken cheeks and a wrinkled snout appeared. Prilla gestured at the face.

  Gwendolyn descended to listen.

  “The expression isn’t wicked enough,” said Prilla, who seemed to be an authority. “Make the mouth curl down more. Good. Now you’ve got it.”

  Even the flaring scales above the eye looked cruel. Gwendolyn fought an impulse to hide from those half-open eyes, which seemed to follow her. Instead, she knelt by a sparrow man who stood at the edge of a dragon belly. “I have some cloth,” she began. “If there isn’t enough, you can have the quilt and the sheet in my bower.”

  He smiled. “That’s kind, but we’ve got enough. Keep your sheet and comforter. The decors will be glad you have them.”

  “Do you mind my asking? What’s the stuffed dragon for?”

  “Stuffed?” He looked bewildered. “Stuffed? Oh, I see. I suppose it will be stuffed—with dairy talents.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they volunteered.”

  Gwendolyn felt thickheaded. “Why will they be inside?”

  He spoke slowly and extra clearly. “The dairy talents have to keep the dragon suit aloft and help it fly. Speed will come from the fast fliers, who will flap the wings.”

  “It will fly?” Could she help? Push it from behind?

  “When Kyto sees another dragon, he’ll go to it. The suit will land in the right spot for Tink. We think Kyto will land too, because he’ll want to know where the stranger came from and the size of its hoard.”

  “What if Kyto isn’t flying yet?”

  “If he isn’t, the suit will land near him and distract him from Tink.”

  Gwendolyn nodded, impressed by the plan’s ingenuity and grandeur. What courage the dairy talents and the fast fliers had, to face Kyto first.

  The sun set. Gwendolyn left the pasture although fairies were continuing to sew or paint by their glow light. Periodically the musicians and singers ripped apart the quiet of the night.

  In bed, she imagined Kyto flaming at a fairy and felt her own knees and elbows go weak. She was frightened for herself, too, but only in the way she was frightened of a horror movie. Despite what Mother Dove had said, she didn’t believe anything bad could really happen to her here. Logically she understood that if Kyto roasted her, she’d die and never go home. But that was just logic. In her belly and her heart she believed that if Kyto’s fire raged at her, she would pop up unharmed in the house at Number 14.

  The kiss felt warm when she woke up the next morning. She kept her eyes closed.

  Kyto was sitting on his hind legs on a ledge midway between his cave and the plains. Gwendolyn’s pulse galloped. He might have flown there. He might be flying!

  Wait…Could this be the dragon suit and not Kyto? No, because last night less than half the suit had been sewn.

  Her vision drew closer.

  Vidia stood on Kyto’s claw!

  Leave, Vidia! Fly—quick! He’ll crisp you!

  Don’t die!

  E I G H T E E N

  “DARLING…” Vidia didn’t sound terrified, and her darling didn’t ring as sarcastic as usual, or sarcastic at all. “Mustn’t arch your back. Fast fliers fly with a flat back.”

  “Little crispiness, did I arch my back?” Kyto’s voice was hoarse and crackly, like a talking fireplace, but the feeling in it was molasses and honey. He was flirting!

  “Try again, sweet.” She flew above his head.

  He faced away from the mountain, pushed off with his back claws, and flew, staying close to the ledge, his back level. He flapped his wings too fast and too hard. His flight was bumpy, but it was flight.

  In her bower, Gwendolyn gasped.

  He landed two dragon-lengths farther down the mountain, panting out clouds of smoke.

  Vidia hovered above the smoke. “Longer strokes with your wings next time, love.”

  She was teaching him to fly again!

  How dared she?

  He finally caught his breath. “Show me, precious pearl.”

  “Watch the wings.” Vidia flew back and forth near his face. She hovered. “See, sweet?”

  “I see that you are my shooting star, my flaming arrow.”

  Vidia’s glow pinkened. “My turn, dear heart.” She fluttered within six inches of his mouth.

  He would swallow her!

  His chest expanded. His cheeks puffed out.

  Gwendolyn dug her fingers into her thighs. He was going to flame!

  But he blew a stream of white smoke. Gwendolyn heard a whoosh mixed with the high notes of Vidia’s laughter. She was using Kyto’s breath to fly faster!

  When his chest stopped expanding, he inhaled and pulled her back. Gwendolyn heard more shrieks of laughter.

  Vidia was an evil traitor who could get other fairies killed. Gwendolyn hiccupped and opened her eyes. She buttoned her blouse wrong at first and jammed her right foot into her left sneaker.

  At the nest, Beck was urging Mother Dove to eat an almond pie. Gwendolyn landed in the hemlock and panted out her vision.

  “Kyto in flight,” Mother Dove said, “is bad news. But thank you, Gwendolyn.”

  Why isn’t she angry at Vidia? Gwendolyn wondered.

  “Beck, see how Tink is coming along. I promise to eat my breakfast while you’re gone.”

  Beck hovered. “Mother Dove, why would Vidia help him?”

  Mother Dove cooed. “She has fallen in love.”

  “With Kyto?” Gwendolyn asked, stunned, although she’d seen enough to believe.

  “With Kyto. Her loyalty has become divided.”

  She’s still a traitor, Gwendolyn thought.

  “Is he in love with her?” Beck asked.

  “It is possible.”

  “Does Vidia…” Beck took a deep breath. “Does Vidia still love you, Mother Dove?”

  “She is still a Never fairy.”

  Gwendolyn said, “Has Kyto stopped hating fairies?”

  Beck waited.

  “He may hate fairies more than ever. His nature is jealous.”

  Beck left.

  Mother Dove pecked at her breakfast. “Gwendolyn, would you eat this for me? I’d like Beck to think I have an appetite.”

  So Mother Dove was distr
essed. Although she had no appetite either, Gwendolyn started on the pie, which was about the size of her hand. when she’d eaten a quarter of it, she saw Beck’s glow through the trees and crammed the rest into her mouth.

  Beck reported that Tink had finished her design and was calling her contraption the Kyto Keeper. She was in the Home Tree courtyard, starting to make it.

  Gwendolyn left the nest. If Tink was outdoors, anyone could watch.

  Tink sat by the columbines with a muffin tin in her lap. Under the rosebushes, a dozen or more other fairies, probably potsand-pans talents too, chose items from the mound of metal and flattened them with mallets.

  Gwendolyn recognized a familiar shape atop the mound, the tea strainer she’d brought from home. She landed carefully and picked it up. Tink had smoothed out the dent and had repaired the hole so cleverly that Gwendolyn couldn’t tell where it had been. What’s more, she had added a feature, a layer of mesh to press the tea for extra flavor.

  Now her innovation would be destroyed. Why, everything in the mound was probably equally original.

  Still, here was something Gwendolyn could help with. She could flatten the pieces much faster than fairies could. Without the slightest inkling of beware, she filled her hands with bedsprings, shovels, rakes, kettles, skillets, whatever, and spread everything on the courtyard pebbles. Then she leaped up and stamped down hard.

  Someone shrieked.

  N I N E T E E N

  WAS KYTO coming? Gwendolyn looked up and saw only blue sky. She looked down. Horrified fairy faces stared at her.

  Oh, no! She’d done something wrong again. But what?

  Tink flew at her, right at her, and stopped an inch from her nose. “Don’t do that again.”

  “Isn’t everything supposed to be crushed?”

  Tink tugged her bangs and flew to the ground where she picked up what had been a bucket. “We spread them out first, then flatten them. You can’t do it haphazard.”

  “I’d fly backwards if I could.” Gwendolyn held her kiss. Why did she always forget beware when she most needed to remember? “Can they be fixed?”

  No one answered. Fairies descended on the trampled metal. Tink returned to the muffin tin.

  Cursing herself for a Clumsy bungler, Gwendolyn stood at the edge of the courtyard. Fairies pulled apart the mess she’d created. If only one of them would say she hadn’t ruined the Kyto Keeper or set work back for days…but no one did.

  After watching the other pots-and-pans talents for a few minutes, she circled Tink on foot and stopped three feet behind her, hoping not to be sent away.

  Using her shears, Tink cut the cups out of the muffin tin. Her tools lay in front of her in neat rows. Rather than step closer, Gwendolyn used her binoculars to see them. Some were familiar: saws, hammers, wrenches. But what was that long-handled, square-headed thing with tiny spikes all over? Or the doohickey like a copper spider with rollers at the ends of its legs? Or the long, narrow curl that could have been an apple peel if it weren’t made of metal?

  Terence, who stood at Tink’s side, called, “Gwendolyn, do you have any spare metal?”

  Her skirt zipper was metal, but her skirt would fall down. The zippers on her backpack were plastic.

  The kiss! The kiss and chain would be a lot of metal, as much as bedsprings. She reached for the clasp, then hesitated. When Tink flattened the silver, she might harm the precious acorn button inside, the real kiss.

  Beware! Gwendolyn thought. Don’t be selfish. She cupped her hand over the pendant. Fly with you, kiss.

  But without it, she’d lose its visions and the glimpses of Kyto. A rush of relief ran through her. How delightful to have a good reason to keep her kiss!

  Tink could have the chain, though. Gwendolyn slipped the pendant into her skirt pocket. She stepped forward and deposited the chain next to Tink. “Here.” The chain equaled at least half a set of bedsprings. Gwendolyn’s neck felt strange without it.

  Tink didn’t look up, but Terence said, “Good for you, Gwendolyn.”

  She wondered if she had more to give. Yes! Metal rims circled the shoelace holes in her sneakers. Each rim was big enough for a fairy bracelet, and there were twenty of them. She could remove the rims and still lace up her sneakers.

  She approached the mound again. Fairies looked up in alarm.

  “I’m not going to hurt anything!” She found a tiffen knife for cutting out the rims. Gathering her courage, she sat as near Tink as she dared, just a few inches away, then unlaced and took off her left sneaker. She stabbed the cloth around a rim. After a struggle, she yanked the rim out and dropped it into a pleat of her skirt. She looked over to see how Tink was doing. Her shadow fell on Tink, who scowled upward. Gwendolyn straightened instantly.

  The glow in Tink’s hand intensified as she threaded the apple-peel thingamabob in and out of a strip of muffin tin.

  “It’s a slit maker!” Gwendolyn said.

  Tink dimpled up at her.

  “What are you making?”

  “The Kyto Keeper collar.”

  Terence chimed in. “Which will stay around Kyto’s neck forever.”

  Tink wove another strip of muffin tin through the slits she’d just cut. Her hand’s glow or something in Tink herself made the tin as pliable as cloth. She murmured, “There! Gooood! Perrrfect!” The tin whistled as it wove in and out.

  For the first time, Gwendolyn felt part of Fairy Haven, really part of it, a Clumsy helping with a fairy project. It was such a precious feeling she sensed herself growing warm, as if she were glowing too.

  To her amazement, Tink, fairy of few words, started explaining. “The Kyto Keeper collar has to be stronger than Kyto.” She picked up a length of flattened iron. “I’ll wind this cut-up pail and a few lamp stands around the tin to make the collar thick enough.”

  “Won’t the sharp edges chafe his skin?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “I wouldn’t let them chafe!”

  Gwendolyn blushed.

  Tink trimmed the iron. “The collar will be hinged, like a door. It will open so wide he won’t feel it until it claps shut.”

  Terence chuckled. “He’ll be surprised.”

  “And the collar will be beautiful. It has to be beautiful!” Tink sounded as if someone might disagree. “Gwendolyn…” She looked up from her shears.

  Until now Tink hadn’t ever said Gwendolyn. Never before, Gwendolyn thought, has my name tinkled like chimes.

  “…if Peter ever asks you about the Kyto Keeper, will you tell him how beautiful it is?”

  Was Tink saying she didn’t expect to live to have another conversation with Peter? Gwendolyn gulped. “I’ll tell him.”

  Tink went on. “Three screws will hold the collar closed. They’ll go in at the back of his neck where he can’t reach.”

  “That will make him mad,” Terence said, sounding gleeful.

  Tink added, “He’ll strain against the collar with all his might. If the screws hold, Never Land will be…If they give out…”

  Gwendolyn nicked her thumb. If the screws gave out, the island would be a charred ruin.

  T W E N T Y

  THE SCREWS will hold,” Terence said. “Of course they will.”

  Gwendolyn sucked on her cut. “What will the collar be attached to?”

  Terence answered, “A chain with a big screw at the end, which will be sunk into a boulder, which will keep Kyto from flying.”

  “I’ll need you to carry the boulder to him,” Tink said.

  Gwendolyn nodded enthusiastically. She was going on the quest! “What boulder? Where is it?”

  “On Torth,” Terence said, “or on the plains around the mountain.”

  “How will I lift it?”

  “Fairies will help you,” Tink said, “everyone who can be spared. Ree will see to that.”

  But the strongest sparrow man could barely lift two pounds.

  “I’ll sprinkle fairy dust on the boulder,” Terence said, “and extra dust on you and your helpers.”

 
Gwendolyn wished she had a talent for boulders. Maybe a boulder could be lifted with fairy dust, but what if it couldn’t?

  She finished taking the rims out of her sneakers and scooped them up. when she piled them next to Tink, who was sitting, they reached higher than the fairy’s waist.

  Tink picked up one rim. “Copper,” she said. “Nice.”

  Gwendolyn grinned. “Tha—good.”

  Tink spent the rest of the day making the collar. Gwendolyn spent the rest of the day watching. The hinges alone took three hours.

  Dulcie and several serving talents flew out of the Home Tree with baskets of cookies.

  Gwendolyn checked the sky. “Exactly how far away is Kyto’s mountain?”

  “Depends,” Terence said. “Depends on whether Never Land is big or small.”

  “I see.” But she didn’t.

  Dulcie deposited a basket of cookies in Gwendolyn’s lap. “We’ll bring more. Oatmeal-quince-cinnamon, my recipe.” She added, “Most times, it takes almost a full day to fly to Torth.”

  Gwendolyn emptied the basket onto her palm and licked the cookies off. More food was brought out, all cooked or baked before the destruction of the pots and pans.

  Tink stood back from the collar. “Done,” she said.

  It was stunning, even though it was made of this and that, including the rims of sneaker lace holes. Copper nestled against silver against tin against gold. Gwendolyn thought she saw shapes—a goose, a fox, a bearded face. She looked away, looked back, and saw a rose, a sheep, a castle, her own house at Number 14.

  The next morning Tink started work on the remaining parts of the Kyto Keeper: the three little screws for the collar, the big screw that would be sunk into the boulder, and, most demanding of all, the chain that would connect the collar to the big screw.

  While Tink labored, sewing talents continued sewing the dragon suit together. Other preparations went forward as well in the next three days. The wing-washing talents scrubbed the wings of the fast fliers to give them maximum speed—once their wings dried. Fairies can’t fly with wet wings. The water talents practiced making their water birds and flying them ever longer distances. And the cooking talents and baking talents wrapped food for the trip.