Emerald and the Elf King

by Becky Biggs

  Chapter Sixteen

  ORTLAND

  Emerald, Porter, and Maple followed the stone north all day. The sun was beginning to set as they finally emerged from the woods and found themselves at the border of Ortland.

  “We should stop here for the night,” Maple declared. “The marshes are scary enough. I don’t want to be wandering through them after dark.”

  “I’ll get some wood,” declared Porter.

  “Take the stone,” Emerald said as he turned to leave. “That way you can find us when you are done.” Porter nodded and accepted the stone before setting back off into the woods behind them.

  “Let’s see if we can find a good spot to sleep,” said Emerald. “It doesn’t look like it’s going to rain, but I don’t exactly want to be sleeping next to the marshes either.”

  Emerald and Maple began investigating the area at the edge of the woods. There was a small stretch of open grass that separated the marsh from the line of trees. While the ground there would certainly be softer, it wouldn’t offer the same sense of security as keeping a couple of trees or rocks between them and the marshes.

  “How about here?” Maple asked, pointing at a small clearing behind a boulder just inside the tree line.

  “Perfect!” Emerald said. “I like having something solid between us and the bog.” She paused and stared back at the marshes apprehensively. “It feels like we are being watched.”

  Maple shivered and drew closer to her friend. “I know.”

  Together they created three makeshift beds of leaves and pulled out some of the food Elyria had given them when they left her.

  “Emerald? Maple?” Porter’s voice drifted over to the two girls at their camp.

  “Over here!” called Emerald. She stood up and waved, though in the gathering darkness she couldn’t really see anything. She was greeted by silence. “Porter?” Emerald called uncertainly. She listened, but there was no response. “Porter?” she called again. Suddenly, Emerald felt a tug at her sleeve and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Sorry,” said Maple in a hushed voice. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Where is he?”

  “It’s okay,” Emerald replied. “I guess I’m a little jumpy. He stopped responding. I think I should go look for him. Hopefully he didn’t wander too far . . .” Her voice trailed off, but both she and Maple knew she was alluding to Porter getting lost in the marshes. “Stay here.” Maple was about to protest, but Emerald stopped her. “We can’t both go and risk all three of us being separated. Wait and see if he turns up. I’ll just go that way,” she said, pointing into the woods where Porter’s voice had come from. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. If I’m not, well, use the whistle and call my godmother.”

  Maple nodded and turned around to grab Emerald’s bow and arrow. “Okay,” she said, “but at least take this.”

  Emerald accepted the bow and arrow gratefully. Though she had no idea what might be out in the woods, it made her feel better that she at least had her great-grandmother’s weapon with her. She began to make her way deeper into the woods in the direction she’d last heard Porter.

  “Porter!” she called every few steps, pausing to listen for a reply. “Can you hear me?”

  She stumbled through the woods for about five minutes before it became nearly impossible to see. Emerald knew she couldn’t go much farther without a source of light. Soon she wouldn’t even be able to make her way back to camp.

  All of a sudden, she heard a groan. It sounded like an animal in pain. Her heart began to pound. She hoped it was Porter and not some wild beast. Just in case, she nocked an arrow and held it half-drawn, prepared to shoot.

  “Porter?” she hissed, pointing her bow in the direction of the sound. “Is that you?”

  “Emerald?” A feeling of relief flooded Emerald’s body as she lowered her bow. Porter’s voice was weak, but Emerald could follow it to her right.

  “Keep talking to me so I can find you,” Emerald instructed, her heart slowing to a normal rate.

  “I don’t know what happened,” Porter said feebly. “I was fine and then I blacked out.”

  “Probably still affected by the hit you took from the trolls,” Emerald said as she felt her way carefully through the thick undergrowth, trying not to stumble on Porter. She nearly fell over him, though, as she pushed between two thick and prickly bushes.

  “Ow!” Emerald rubbed her arm where she caught it on a thorn. She knelt down with her hands out to find Porter at her feet. “Here, let me help you up. Do you think you can walk?”

  “I think so.”

  Emerald helped him sit up. “Good. I’ll take the wood. We have some tallyweed. Maybe we can make you some more tea when we get back.”

  “Ugh.” Porter shivered.

  “I know it’s pretty nasty, but it’s all we have,” Emerald said practically. “Maybe you just need more than one dose to get better.”

  She helped Porter to his feet and gathered up his bundle of wood. Together they made their way slowly back to camp, using the guiding stone for a bit of light.

  “Oh, there you are,” exclaimed Maple as they emerged into the small clearing near the rock. “I was about to call your godmother.”

  “Porter’s still a bit woozy,” Emerald explained, dumping the wood down and helping him sit with his back against the rock.

  Maple tilted her head and studied him. “Poor you,” she said.

  “I can make you some tea—” She frowned as she realized that they had the materials they needed, but not the know-how to actually build a fire.

  “I can talk you through it,” Porter said weakly.

  “I’ll do it,” Emerald said, eager to learn a new skill. Maple shrugged and sat down to watch.

  “Take the small sticks and separate them from the bigger ones.” Porter pointed at the bundle of firewood he had gathered before fainting. Emerald did as instructed, kneeling next to a small fire ring Maple had constructed with stones while she was gone.

  “There should have been an old nest in the wood pile. That’s your tinder.” Emerald looked around and located a small bird’s nest that had fallen unnoticed from the pile of wood.

  “You’re going to need a flat piece of wood and a stick with a sharp end.” Emerald and Maple looked through the pile of wood until they found pieces that met Porter’s approval.

  “Okay, now put a bit of the nest into a notch in the bigger piece of wood.” Emerald tucked a bit of the dry grass and twigs that formed the nest into a hole in the larger chunk of wood. “And put the sharp end of the smaller stick on top of that. Now twist it between your hands until you see a spark or smoke.” With the last bit of instruction, Porter closed his eyes and lay back, exhausted. Emerald swiveled the stick between her hands with a furrowed brow. Drops of sweat formed on her forehead as she worked. It didn’t feel like she was making progress, but she was determined not to give up.

  “You can do it,” whispered Maple, impressed by the effort Emerald was making. Emerald kept rotating the stick though her arms soon felt like they were about to fall off. Just when she thought she was going to have to give up, she saw a small puff of smoke and a glowing ember.

  “Fire!” she yelped, almost forgetting to keep turning the stick. She looked up at Porter to ask him what to do next, but his eyes were closed.

  “Maybe put it in the fire ring with some more nest and twigs?” Maple suggested. Grateful for any kind of assistance, Emerald followed Maple’s recommendation. Luckily the embers caught and soon she had a little fire going. She slowly added a bit more kindling and a few small branches to the blaze, careful not to extinguish it.

  “You did it,” Maple said in awe.

  “I did.” Emerald wiped her brow as she stared at the flames. Maybe she could do this adventure stuff after all.

  “We don’t have a tea pot,” Maple said, breaking into Emerald’s thoughts. “But I did find this.” She displayed a bowl-sized rock that had been worn down in the middle so that there was a space where liquid co
uld sit. “It’s not deep enough to boil the water, but maybe if I heat it enough and let the leaves steep, it’ll help a little bit.”

  She gave it a try. Once the water was steaming, the imp added a couple of the tallyweed leaves to the water and let them soak for about five minutes. Meanwhile, Emerald roused Porter.

  “Nice fire,” he said. Emerald felt her face growing warm, but she brushed it off as being from the heat of the flames.

  “Here, drink this.” Maple handed Porter the rock bowl. He made a face but obediently drank it. He then ate a little food and lay back down to go to sleep. Emerald tucked one of the blankets around him.

  “I’m worried about him,” Emerald said, studying her sleeping friend. “Maybe we should have left him with my godmother.”

  “You know he wouldn’t have stayed,” Maple said, shooting a knowing look at Emerald. “He thinks it’s his duty to protect you.”

  “I know.” Emerald sighed and then changed the subject.

  “You and I should take shifts tonight. I don’t like the feel of it here.”

  “They say the spirits of those who were lost in the marshes walk them every night.” Maple shivered and pulled her woolen cape closely around her. “I don’t think they should bother us here, but I think you’re right. I’ll take the first shift.”

  Grateful once again that her little friend had decided to follow her, Emerald lay down, wrapped herself in the other blanket, and fell into a restless sleep. The moon was high in the sky when she woke later to take over the watch.

  It was unnaturally quiet. No owls hooted and no breeze moved the trees, yet as Emerald stood and stretched she could swear she saw the marsh grasses swaying hypnotically beyond the boulder. She shook her head and closed her eyes, trying to refocus. It had to be an illusion. She opened her eyes again but the grasses still seemed to be swaying in the thick mist that quilted them. It was almost mesmerizing. Emerald could feel herself being lulled into a trancelike state. She didn’t know why she’d been afraid. It was really so peaceful.

  She moved a little closer to the marshes without realizing what she was doing. One foot after the other, as if she were floating. It was so easy. Her next step would take her into the bog. She lifted her foot. Suddenly, she felt something pull her hands, knocking her off balance. She fell backward onto a small form who let out an “oof!”

  “Maple?” Emerald snapped back into consciousness.

  “What were you doing?” Maple’s voice shook in terror as she and Emerald untangled themselves from each other.

  “I don’t know. It was so peaceful. I felt drawn to the marshes.” Emerald stood and offered a hand to her friend. Together they stared back at the now motionless marsh grass.

  “The spirits were trying to pull you in.” Maple’s eyes were enormous. “That’s how it happens. They pull you in and never let go. We have to be very careful. Let’s stay awake together tonight.”

  “You saved me,” Emerald said shakily. She couldn’t believe how close she’d come to making a fatal mistake. “Thank you.” She knelt and hugged her friend. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  It was too dark to see, but Emerald sensed Maple was blushing. The two of them returned to their camp and found Porter there still sleeping peacefully.

  “Let’s not tell Porter,” she suggested, still shaking. “I don’t want him to worry.”

  Maple agreed. Then the two of them huddled together the rest of the night, counting down the minutes until the first light of dawn.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE MARSH SPIRITS

  Emerald startled awake the next morning to the harsh cawing of a murder of crows. She and Maple must have fallen asleep at some point the night before. Emerald couldn’t see them, but the birds’ cries came from the direction of the marshes. A feeling of unease ran down Emerald’s spine like a stream of icy cold water.

  “Do you hear them too?” Maple asked, nearly making Emerald jump out of her skin.

  “Oh! Yes. It’s pretty spooky,” Emerald responded, her heart still pounding. She looked over at Porter. He was still sleeping, oblivious to the racket. He was curled up in a ball and was breathing shallowly. The dark circles under his eyes seemed even more pronounced in contrast to his sallow skin. “He doesn’t look good,” she said.

  Maple glanced at Porter and frowned. “Maybe a little breakfast will perk him up.”

  “Perhaps,” Emerald said, not really convinced.

  Together she and Maple assembled a quick breakfast from the few ingredients they had. Maple boiled some more water for tallyweed tea and Emerald roused Porter. He slowly rose from his bed of leaves and looked around a bit groggily.

  “Did we find your godmother’s cottage yet?” he asked.

  Emerald and Maple exchanged worried glances. “Yes, we left there yesterday,” Emerald responded gently.

  Porter looked a bit confused. “Oh,” he said, rubbing his head. “I must be more tired than I thought.”

  “Here, drink this,” Maple said, handing him the makeshift rock bowl. It held a bit of steaming liquid in the center of it. Porter accepted the beverage and drank it.

  “Shouldn’t that be working by now?” Emerald whispered to Maple, indicating the cup.

  “I think so,” Maple whispered back. “I’ve never seen a human take it before, though.”

  “Hey, ladies!” Porter exclaimed. “My head is fuzzy, but I can still tell when my friends are talking about me.”

  “We’re just worried about you—that’s all.” Emerald handed him a bit of cheese and bread. “Here, eat this.”

  “Thanks,” Porter said, accepting the food. He hungrily took a bite. “I’ll be fine. I’m just hungry and tired.”

  “Maybe you two should stay here—let Porter rest,” Emerald said.

  “No!” Porter and Maple both exclaimed at once. Maple stood and faced Emerald with hands on her hips.

  “Absolutely not,” she said stubbornly. “You are not going into Ortland by yourself.” Emerald shot a quick glance at Porter and then scowled at Maple. Maple glared at her but simply added, “I’m staying with you.”

  “Look, Porter’s in no condition to go with us—and he can’t stay here alone,” Emerald said, standing up and putting a small hunk of the remaining cheese and bread in her bag. “Use your whistle and call my godmother for help. Please? For me?”

  Maple and Porter looked as though they wanted to protest again, but both decided against it seeing the stern look on Emerald’s face.

  “Fine, but don’t do anything stupid,” Maple said, giving her friend a hug so tight it was as if she’d never let go. “Okay?”

  “I’ll be very careful,” Emerald said, squeezing her friend back. After they broke their embrace, Emerald kneeled next to Porter and gave him a hug too.

  “I’m supposed to be protecting you,” he grumbled.

  Emerald smoothed a lock of hair back from his forehead.

  “And I’m supposed to be protecting you,” she said, smiling.

  “Get better so we can celebrate the defeat of the evil king.” Emerald sounded a lot more confident than she felt as she uttered that last statement.

  “Here, at least take this,” Maple said, holding out the flask to Emerald.

  “No, you might need it—”

  “Take it. No arguments.” Maple was adamant. “Now, get going. You’ll need a full day to cross the marshes.”

  Emerald gathered up her bow and arrows and slung them across her shoulder. She tucked the flask in her little bag of food and put it on her opposite shoulder. After giving each of her friends a final hug, she began walking towards the marshes.

  “Whatever you do, stay on the path,” Maple called from behind her. “And don’t listen to any voices.”

  Emerald turned and gave her friend a nod and wave, then swallowed, took a deep breath, and kept trudging forward.

  In the morning light, the Ortland marshes looked almost peaceful. A narrow path cut through long, yellow-green tendrils of
grass that came up to Emerald’s shoulders. The rising sun cast a warm glow on the landscape. As she walked deeper into the marshes, the land quickly swallowed her up. As far as she looked in every direction, she could see nothing but the vast sea of vegetation.

  The guiding stone pointed true and took her across solid ground, but if she looked to either side, Emerald could see where the path dissolved into murky, foul-smelling water. Though she couldn’t see anything in it, Emerald could swear she felt something watching her from the watery depths.

  “I can’t imagine anyone living out here,” she said out loud, breaking the silence of her determined march.

  “Weeeeee do,” a voice hissed in response. Emerald looked around wildly but didn’t see anyone. She thought of Maple’s advice and didn’t respond. She quickened her pace, hoping to get away from whatever was out there.

  “Come, join us,” the voice continued. “It’s so lovely in here.”

  Emerald shook her head and picked up speed, trying to block out the voice. A mist slowly wafted through the marsh grasses toward her. It floated onto the path and swirled to surround her. There was no escaping it. Every which way she turned, Emerald could see the creeping fog.

  Tendrils of the mist began wrapping around Emerald’s feet and legs. It was cold as snow but not unpleasant. Emerald felt like her body was slowly falling asleep. No matter how hard she tried to struggle against it, she couldn’t fight the numbing sensation. Soon she couldn’t even walk. She was frozen in place. Emerald groaned. She couldn’t be defeated this quickly. Oh, if only she had a horse—then she could ride out of here.

  She began to rub her hands together nervously, a couple of fingers brushing the ring her godmother had given her. She looked down at it. What had her godmother said? Rub it and think about what you most need and it will come to you?

  Emerald squeezed her eyes shut and began stroking the ring and thinking as hard as she could of a horse. She could feel the numbness up to her waist now. Hopefully this ring answered requests quickly.