Kerka's Book (15 page)

The fairy nodded and sped off. Queen Mangi led me to a spot between tall stalagmites. No other fairies were in sight. She began another lecture, but I didn't complain.

“A Pax Lineage fairy godmother must have discipline, self-assurance, and wisdom to be a keeper of the peace,” Queen Mangi said. “You must also have the power to implement your good works.”

“Magic,” I said. “Birdie has the power to heal the green world with her family's Singing Stone.”

“Fairy godmothers of the Pax Lineage have the wind,” Queen Mangi said, “but you must learn to harness it. It is usually necessary for a girl to master the OneTwoOne Dance, in ballet terms the
pas de deux
, before she has the skills to perform the One
Dance, and the One Dance cannot be mastered until she learns to harness the wind.”

“That's a solo, right?”

“The wind is your partner,” said Queen Mangi. “You work together as one. Learning these moves also teaches you how to balance the powers of Kalis dance and defense. Give it a try.”

“Right now?” I asked. “Here?”

The queen smiled and nodded.

Instinctively, I reached up and moved my arm in an arc, trying to weave strands of the wind that made the fairies fly. My fingers twined around slender filaments of solid air for a glorious moment before the threads disintegrated in a puff.

“Begin like this.” Standing on one foot, Queen Mangi demonstrated a series of controlled tai chi–type movements. The results were instant. Bellflowers jingled in the whisper of wind she created with a wave of her hand. A spray of rain arced out of the waterfall with a casual flick of the queen's wrist. Holding her hands palms down as if she were pressing against air lifted her off the floor, like an acrobat pushing against a trapeze bar. “Concentration is the key,” she said as she slowly lowered herself.

I closed my eyes, focused on the air around me, and pushed my hands down. I could feel streams of
air rush through my fingers, but my feet didn't budge. After three tries, I threw up my hands. I had felt every move Queen Mangi made, and I had been certain I could do it, too, at least a little bit.

“Everyone learns these things in their own time and way, some quickly and some more slowly,” Queen Mangi said serenely. “You've ridden the wind more than most girls ever do. Now it is time for you to continue your quest. My fairies cannot hold back the sun much longer.”

I wanted to try again, but the queen started walking. “How did you and the reindeer come to be together?” she asked as we headed to the entrance tunnel.

“I saved her from a wolf, and she's been with me ever since.” I could see that Ardee was eating from a basket. Several small fairies were scratching her rump and her ears. “She seemed so lost and alone, I wanted to help her. It turns out she helped me just as much as I helped her. And now, well, I just feel somehow connected to her.” I realized this was true.

“Still, it is clear she is not your spirikin,” the queen said thoughtfully. “I didn't think a reindeer was a fit for you.”

I had to ask: “What's a spirikin?”

“Spirikins are unique to the Pax Lineage. No
other fairy godmother has them.” Queen Mangi's gaze swept across the cavern. “Spirikins are animal spirits. Each girl's spirikin represents her inner self, and that defines which animal chooses her. The spirikin helps a girl acquire the one quality she needs but doesn't have.”

“Oh.” I nodded.

“Most spirikins come to girls in the Crystal Cave. Spirikins that choose especially strong-willed girls often decide to fight.”

“When do I meet my spirikin?” I asked.

“It will come when you need it most,” Queen Mangi said. “So it should be soon. You can't complete your mission until you master your shortcoming.”

“What
is
my shortcoming?” I asked.

“You'll figure that out when you meet your spirikin.” The queen's gaze turned to a ledge on the wall beside me.

I turned slowly. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the snow leopard staring down at me. The instant the animal caught my eye, it snarled. I had been chosen, and my spirikin wanted to fight.

The queen, Ardee, and the fairies nearby moved out of harm's way as the big cat crouched. An unnatural stillness settled over the cavern.

Then, without so much as a twitch of warning, the snow leopard leapt. I immediately jumped up from the bench and planted my feet. With Kalis stick in hand, I watched the leopard land on the flattened tops of a group of stalagmites. I was no match for the leopard one on one, but I stood my ground despite my pounding heart. I waited for the animal's next move.

The cat waited, too. I wanted to run, but the leopard could catch me in two strides. Taking slow, deep breaths, I checked the terrain on both sides, looking for cover. Before I finished my survey, the cat jumped down.

I bent my knees and launched myself off the floor—but there was nothing within reach to jump onto. As the cat pounced to bring me down, I twisted into a Tornado Spin and barely avoided being smashed by two hundred pounds of snow leopard. My shoulder slammed into a stalactite, and I could feel the cakes in my food pouch go
squash
when I hit the ground. Bruised and breathless, I scrambled between two stalagmites. The cat clawed at my leg and tore my pant leg.

I huddled in the narrow space formed by the crystal towers, staring into the cat's golden eyes. The
spirikin sat on its haunches, watching me. A third stalagmite cut off escape to the rear. Overhead, the towers grew so close together, the opening was too small to squeeze through. I had backed into a corner.

The leopard could turn my little Kalis stick into splinters with one bite and claw me to shreds within seconds. I could bite and kick when its teeth clamped on to my boot, but I couldn't win. Staying out of reach was the only way to survive, but I had lost that possibility when I jumped up to nowhere instead of ducking to the side. The cat's gaze only made me more annoyed with myself. I should have taken time to figure out a better strategy!

Rising, the cat backed off a few feet and sat down again, tail flicking back and forth. I barely noticed. Folding my arms on my pulled-up knees, I rested my head and tried to come up with a workable plan. The thought hit me like an electric shock.
That's why the snow leopard had attacked!
It had charged to force me into a fight. It didn't want to harm or eat me. It wanted to test me.

I held the leopard's golden gaze as I crept out of my cramped niche. I rose slowly and, just as slowly, slipped my Kalis stick into my backpack. Dropping my hands to my sides, I faced the snow leopard in
surrender. When the leopard crouched, I didn't flinch. When it leapt straight at me, I didn't duck or defend myself. I opened my arms.

We melded into one. Now I
was
the snow leopard. All her instincts and senses were mine. My mother had often said that there was no better teacher than experience.

My mission to reach the summit and find Biba's missing voice was fixed in my leopard mind like prey, and I bolted toward the cavern entrance. My human side felt regret for not bidding the Kalistonia Fairies good-bye, but the feeling fled when my feline focus settled on the reindeer. Big cats and deer are mortal enemies, but the bond between Ardee and me had not been broken by my transformation. As I raced by her, Ardee abandoned the safety of the fairy cavern. She ran after me, and we emerged into the frigid cold outside together.

A predator and loner in the wild, a snow leopard does not have to rely on the reindeer's sensitive nose. I could track our scent back to the path, and although I could talk, I didn't want to use speech any more than necessary.

“What's that?” Ardee's ears perked up at the sound of something stirring in the rocks nearby.

My mouth watered at the scent of rabbit. I remained perfectly still, waiting for the rabbit to show itself. My patience was rewarded when the snow white hare suddenly darted from one mound of rocks to another.

“It's a bunny!” Ardee exclaimed.

I longed to catch it, but I didn't give in to the desire, and the hare scurried into the safety of the rocks. The pull of my human quest was stronger than my new leopard instincts.

Catching Ardee's eye, I made a purring sound in my throat and then headed up the mountain trail. The trek was as easy for me now as it had been hard for me in human form. My thick fur coat kept me warm in the below-freezing temperatures, and my clawed paws didn't slip on the ice and snow. I loped up the path until I caught the scent of wolf.

Stopping beside me, Ardee stared down the trail. There was nowhere to run on the rocky slope, and no place to hide. On her own, she would have been defenseless. But Ardee wasn't alone.

“Go first,” I growled.

As the reindeer walked ahead of me, I crouched to scan the snow-covered terrain. I could sense the wolf was coming closer, but I couldn't see it, not even with my feline night vision. The reindeer and I had the
advantage of the high ground, and I wanted to make sure we kept it.

“Quickly!” I said.

We pressed onward, digging into the ice and plowing through snowdrifts until we reached a flat area near the top of the mountain. The plateau was the size of a backyard, and it was as high as we could go. The Dayling Mountain's peak rose above us, draped in the golden aura that encircled the distant peaks of Hourling and Yearling, too.

Biba's voice was here to find, but I didn't know where to look. A hint of gray outlined the towers of jagged rock that bordered the plateau on two sides. With the sun rising and time growing short, I padded around the edge of the flat area, peering into crevices and testing for a telltale scent. The last side dropped off into an abyss. I stayed back from the edge. I had used up Queen Patchouli's knots of magic wind, and I couldn't reach the rope pouch anyway. The pouches, my clothes, my backpack, and my Kalis stick had all been absorbed in my blending with my spirikin.

I stood quietly, looking into the night, listening. There was no trace of Biba's voice: not a whimper, a whisper, or a hide-and-seek giggle. There was only the hushed stillness of a winter dawn on top of a mountain.

The reindeer paced back and forth along one of the rock walls, as far from the cliff as she could get. I recognized her actions. A moving target was harder to hit, and she wouldn't accidentally jump off the cliff if something startled her.

Like that wolf
, I thought when I saw it glowering at me from a ledge.

Ardee darted to the opposite side of the plateau and stood with her back to the wall. Speed wouldn't help her in this confined area, but if the wolf charged and got past me, she might be able to toss him aside with her antlers. It was the only chance she had if I failed.

But I couldn't fail. Despite Ardee's appetite and her questions, I loved her. Even in the moment, I was startled by the thought. My hackles bristled when the wolf looked at Ardee, and I snarled to get its attention. As I stared into its eyes, my cat-self said to wait, so I did.

The wolf had less patience. Head down and teeth bared, it leapt off the ledge. I sidestepped with a casual calm, as though my opponent were nothing but a pesky puppy. The wolf landed on the ice with
legs splayed. Helpless to control an undignified slide, it scrambled to regain its footing and faced me with even greater hostility. The wolf growled and I roared, both of us showing our fangs as we slowly circled each other. I was in no hurry to escalate the contest, but the wolf charged. I jumped clear and batted its ears as it sped by. Furious, the wolf spun around, crouched to spring again, and snarled as it held my feline stare.

Behind the wolf, Ardee was hugging the rocks. The wolf and I stood between her and the path that led down the mountain. As the wolf began to circle me, I pivoted, watching and waiting for the next attack. When it surged toward me, I was ready. But I wasn't prepared for the wolf to suddenly veer toward the reindeer.