Kerka's Book (7 page)

I braced to jump back on in case any crabs attacked me from the sand. Keeping an eye out, I hurried down the beach, walking away from the rocks until the golden peaks of the three mountains were visible. From here, I could also make out three
distinct paths leading up to the piles of rocks: One went straight and the others branched to the left and right. Each path was obviously a route to one of the Three Queens, and each path was blocked by a pair of humungous boulders.

One of the mountains was the key to completing my quest and making my dream come true, but which one? I had no information, no map to help me decide, and not even a friend to talk to about it.

A shrill whistle rang out as pebbles and small rocks tumbled down the boulder barrier.

“Who's there?” I yelled.

Suddenly a small man jumped out of the rocks. Standing two feet tall and wearing what I thought of as basic elf clothing—red cap, brown leggings, a green coat with white fur trim, and black boots—he watched me from atop a large rock. His pointed ears were too long to fit under his cap.

I was sure he was an elf. He looked seriously grumpy, and I tried not to be too worried. In Finnish folklore, disturbing an elf is almost as bad as insulting or cheating one.

The elf's ears twitched when he cocked his head. I just stared back until he somersaulted off his perch. The little man rocked up onto his feet and zipped across the sand, moving so fast I saw only a blur of
red and green, like a piece of Christmas gone crazy. He skidded to a halt in front of me.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“Who's who? And who are you?” the elf answered in a squeaky lilt. Then he added with a smirk, “As if I didn't know!”

I wasn't sure whether to tell him my name—which would give the elf the upper hand—or to call his bluff, which might not
be
a bluff.

“Who am I, then?” I asked with an impish grin, and crossed my arms, daring him. I knew that elves have a habit of getting even by doing something ten times worse than what was done to them. But they also like to be amused and entertained—that's what I was shooting for.

The elf jumped up and down and spoke in jumbled rhyme. “The name I choose is Kerka Laine. So I win, you lose; I know your name.”

My mouth dropped open, but I quickly closed it. The fairies must have told him to expect me.

“Don't hesitate or you'll be late!” The elf leaned toward me, his brow furrowing. “Your task must be finished, over and done, before the Three Queens'
glow disappears in the sun.” He waved his hand in the direction of the horizon.

“By morning?” I asked, perplexed.

“Maybe.” The elf shrugged.

I asked a different question, hoping to get a clearer answer. “How long do I have?”

“Tomorrow, today. It's hard to say.”

“What does that mean?” I asked as evenly as I could. I couldn't let myself get riled up.

The elf threw up his hands. “Sometimes the sun rises, sometimes it blinks on. Or takes the day off, and there isn't a dawn.” Then he concluded in an ominous tone: “In Aventurine, anything goes, and no one, but no one, ever knows.”

I exhaled slowly. So no one in Aventurine knew when the golden glow on the Three Queens would be lost in sunlight, because the sun didn't always follow the rules. But it didn't matter. I still had to find my little sister's voice before dawn, whenever it happened. I had to have time to finish. Otherwise, my mission would be a fool's errand, and Queen Patchouli was no fool. But now I had to go as fast as possible in case there was exactly enough time and not a minute more, which brought me back to my original problem.

“Thank you,” I said to the elf. “That is very
helpful information. So can you tell me which path I should take?” I asked as respectfully as I could, trying to get elf points. “You seem to know so many things.”

“What trade can you make?” the elf asked.

In stories, elves never do something for nothing, and they are willing to barter for both honor and treats. It was a good thing the Willowood Fairies had given me food for the journey. “I have a honey bar.” I took a bar from my pouch and held it out.

“Secondhand fairy food? That's rude!” he spoke with a look of disdain.

“It's perfectly good and very sweet!” I said, a little taken aback.

The elf leaned toward me again. “You can give a fairy's gift away, but not for a bargain on any day.”

“Really?” I asked, truly surprised. “I had no idea. Well, I don't have anything to trade, then. The fairies gave me everything I have, except my backpack.”

The elf sniffed. “One more thing is yours to give, your Kalis stick will always live.”

I was starting to feel a little grouchy myself. “I'll get lost in Aventurine or risk being expelled forever before I'll part with my Kalis stick,” I said. This actually seemed to be the right tone for the elf.

“So wise are you, and honorable, too.” The elf
paused, rubbing his pointy chin as he considered our dilemma. “No trade means I cannot tell you which path to take, but I'll give a hint for a favor's sake.”

“So if I do you a favor, we're even?” I asked.

The elf nodded. “Take a message to my brother, then nothing more will we owe one another.”

“And how will I find him?” I could not agree to anything that would take time or divert me from my quest.

“He'll find you, if your path be true,” the elf answered.

“Then I agree,” I said.

The elf motioned for me to come closer, and when I leaned down he said quietly, as if someone might be listening, “Tell him that if the wind goes free, so will we.”

“That's easy enough to remember,” I said.

Then the elf kept his word and gave me the hint. He pointed to the mountain on the left and said, “Hourling for grace.” Then he pointed to the middle mountain and said, “Dayling for the brave.” He pointed to the last mountain. “Yearling for the serene.” He dropped his arm. “Only one will save your place in Aventurine.”

I laughed; this was a good hint for me. I was certain I knew what it meant. The Kalis sticks my mother gave my sisters and me each had a letter carved into them, but the letters didn't match our names. Aiti had said only:
“You will know why when the time is right.”
The time was right now—my stick was carved with a
D
. “I'll take the path to Dayling,” I said.

“And the message, too. Don't forget, will you?” asked the elf.

“I won't forget,” I assured him.

The little man leaped into the air and clapped his hands. He was gone in a flash, laughing as he bounded toward the boulders.

5
Stalking the Tree Line

The ground shook and I heard a thunderous rumbling and grating sound. The stone wall was separating, making a space I could slip through. I didn't know how long it would stay that way, so I slung the coat over my shoulder and ran, blood pounding in my ears, and my boots pounding on the sand.

When I was six feet from the opening, the wall stopped moving. The opening was barely wide enough for me to squeeze through sideways. With rock pressing me front and back, I sucked my breath in as I forced my way through. My coat dragged on the ground, and the hem caught on something I couldn't see. I tugged, then pulled, to free it while I kept squeezing through the narrow opening. I pushed so hard to clear the stones that I landed in a
bramble of berries when I fell through the gap.

The two halves of the wall slammed together behind me. I stared at the towering wall with a strange sense of calm. I was out of breath and I was scraped and scratched, but I had survived. My mother had carved a
D
on my Kalis stick. She must have known I would be making this journey.

Biba's voice and my destiny lay ahead—on the mountain called Dayling.

I gathered up my heavy coat with a sigh. It was a pain to carry, but I couldn't leave it behind. I knew I would need it before the end of the journey. Still, I
had
to find a safer, more convenient way to carry it.

Wearing the coat thrown over my shoulders wouldn't work. The path ahead was clogged with brambles and branches and the cloth would snag. But maybe I could carry the coat in my backpack if I could somehow make it small enough. That didn't seem possible, but I tried anyway. To my surprise, the coat got smaller and smaller every time I folded it. Chiding myself for not taking magic into account, I kept folding until the coat was the size of my father's wallet. Then, with the coat neatly stowed with my food pouch and Kalis stick, I set off on the rocky path to Dayling Mountain.

The trail twisted and turned around more boulders and tall trees dripping with hanging moss. I was glad I had on winter clothes when I crawled through a tunnel of briar and prickly vines that scratched my hands and face. Hundreds of spiders were building webs in the twisted branches. I didn't mind spiders, but the possibility that one could fall into my hair gave me chills. I jumped when a six-legged red lizard with three glowing green eyes tickled my ear with its blue triple-forked tongue.

I didn't notice the gradual incline until I cleared the tangles of vegetation and emerged on a barren slope strewn with rocks and scrub brush. I trudged upward toward a tree line. With no one to talk to on this easy path, I started wondering if all fairy godmothers are connected by fairy magic and could be called upon when needed. Maybe that's why I had been drawn into Birdie's dream quest: she needed my charge-ahead attitude and get-it-done-no-matter-what methods. Or maybe it was something else, something less obvious. Birdie had told me that despite our differences, having me along made the mission seem less scary. I wished that someone would show up to help me, but wishing wouldn't make it so.

Nothing moved on the rocky incline, and the
silence was unsettling. To take my mind off it, I thought back to the day my mother gave me the Kalis stick, a year ago….

    The garden and lawn behind our house were bathed in summer light. Being the middle child, I stood between my sisters as my mother handed each of us a short colored stick.