The Montaland Adventures Boxed Set

By S. G. Byrd

Captives of the Fern Queen is the first in a series of three stories that take place in Montaland, the mountain world. Montaland is a world of mountains: icy peaks, tree-covered ranges, rocky crags, and lowest of all—the grassy hills of the Kingdom of Mount Pasture. Hills shouldn't be in a mountain world, especially not hills covered by smelly sheep. That's what Mt. Pasture's twelve-year-old Princess Janna thinks anyway, and when she tries to liven up her boring kingdom by telling the old stories to younger kids, everyone gets angry at her. Janna would give anything to get out of her kingdom and see something from the old stories, but when she does get out, it's not exactly what she had in mind. Crawling through a dark tunnel isn't fun and neither is starving as a prisoner of the Fern Queen.

Fernpeople: In the second book of the Montaland series the evil Fern Queen is dead but five green-veined fernpeople have survived. They will do anything to protect themselves. The Kingdom of Mount Pasture seems like a peaceful, safe place. The most exciting event in eleven-year-old Benk's life is lambing time. His older brother Alland is traveling to another kingdom to woo a princess. This infuriates Benk who is left behind with pregnant sheep duty. Sixteen-year-old Janna is baking cookies in Mount Pasture's castle kitchen when something hits her on the head, knocking her to the floor. As she loses consciousness, Janna has a dazed vision of a green-veined arm coming around her and roughly lifting her up. Fernpeople have her! Benk “borrows” a horse and sets out from Mount Pasture. Wolves start howling near the fernpeople's hidden cave—and Janna, held hostage, wonders how she can keep going.

Benk and the Ugly Princess: In Montaland, the mountain world, there are different kingdoms. Rose, a high-ranking princess in one of the kingdoms, has disguised herself to look ugly, but her coverup is exposed and she will soon be forced to marry the highest bidder. She must escape, but how far can she get on her own? Benk is a famous scout who finds Rose and wants to help her, but they are trapped in a cabin by evil wedewolves. Will even Benk be able to plan his way out of this one? Benk and the Ugly Princess is a fun fantasy with likeable characters who deal with one danger after another and find that the Maker of all worlds comes through for them—in unexpected ways.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Torchflame Books
• Release date: Feb 8, 2022
• ISBN: 9781611534689

Book preview

Captives of the Fern Queen

Title Page

CAPTIVES

of the

FERN QUEEN

S.G. BYRD

Durham, NC

Dedication

To all those

whose hearts would thrill

at the song of a blueflame bird

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank Nicole Ayers for her expert editing. I have never had a professional editor before, and I can tell the difference! I would also like to thank my friends Connie Walker, Sonya Hove, Beth Cotter, Emily Cotter, Elizabeth Monk, and Shirley Law; my sisters Miriam Anne and Carolyn; my husband, Bob, who came up with the title and has supported me all the way, and my children, Stephen, Sarah, and Elizabeth who have edited, encouraged, helped me with social media, and—most importantly, listened to rough drafts as children and begged for another chapter.

Chapter 1

A Bad Morning

O ver there. Twelve-year-old Janna glowed with anticipation as she herded the last few kids behind the schoolhouse. If they sat between the big laurel bushes, their teacher wouldn’t be able to see them through a window. Janna had looked forward to this too long to have it spoiled by adult interference.

Two runaways darted away from the group. She panted as she ran after them and pulled them back. It didn’t help that her waistband was digging into her stomach. That button needed to be moved over again.

Whew! The kids were finally in place, but she’d have to catch their attention fast or they’d scatter. Fortunately, Janna was an expert at catching people’s attention. She’d just add an interesting detail or two to her history lesson.

Long gray hairs grew out of the man’s nostrils and drifted to either side when he breathed.

It was a very good beginning. Everyone was listening, but unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one with an imagination. The boys clutched at their noses and started sneezing. Presumably, their nasal hair was undergoing a growth spurt, and the resulting nasal explosions made the grass tremble in front of them.

Janna shook her head. Little boys, she said scornfully, which was possibly a mistake because the sneezing got louder.

Janna was the oldest student left in her school. The other older students had dropped out as soon as lambing season began. Obviously, sheep were more important than learning in the Kingdom of Mount Pasture. Janna had argued that as one of the largest kingdoms in Montaland, the mountain world, Mount Pasture should have better values, but nobody had paid any attention to her despite the fact that she was twelve-and-a-half now and the only child of the king and queen.

Today was the last day before summer vacation—her last chance to tell the old stories. She glared at the misbehaving boys. It must have been a really good glare. One by one, the sneezers fell silent. Two of the girls were pretending to comb their nostril hair, but that was a quiet activity that could be ignored.

In a low, eerie voice, Janna continued, though this time she stuck to the facts.

He had a wart on one side of his nose. It had hairs growing out of it too, but they were short and blood red. He prowled at night through the woods, searching for travelers.

Janna’s voice lowered even more.

The Stalker did not allow trespassers.

She had their attention again. All but one of the five-, six-, and seven-year-olds had moved closer together. There was a dramatic pause. Janna knew how to tell a story. Pausing dramatically was a very effective tool in setting a mood, but before she could continue, her pause was interrupted.

That ol Stalker wasn’t real, scoffed the one boy who hadn’t moved. My brother says those ol stories were made up by someone who wanted to scare people.

Be quiet, Benk.

Janna pushed a wayward strand of brown hair behind her ears and continued before he could say anything else.

The Stalker had spent his life putting together potions and powders that would serve his evil purposes. When he found trespassers, he threw a powder in their faces that subdued them. Then he led them to his cave under a mountain. Deep inside the cave, they passed what was left of their lives, and the Stalker’s face, leering at them over a wavering candle flame, was the last thing they ever saw.

Two of the five-year-olds’ lips were quivering. Perhaps it was time to change the subject.

Now I’ll tell you about animals from the high home, Janna announced, her green eyes shining in anticipation. They were sent to help the first settlers in Montaland. Our ancestors were from a whole different world, you see, and needed help. So each type of animal was given a special gift that—

She was interrupted again, this time by a remarkably good imitation of a rude frog.

Alland says those ol stories about talking animals are make-believe too.

Quit croaking, Benk! Alland doesn’t know anything about our mountain world’s history, which isn’t surprising since he left school years ago and forgot in a week what little he’d learned before he left.

Janna’s voice was rising. She made herself take a deep breath and calm down. She was talking to Benk, after all, a seven-year-old boy whose father had died three years ago. Allowances had to be made. His big brother, however, was fifteen and ought to know better. She would have a thing or two to say to Alland the next time she saw him.

It was only the cream-colored horses who could talk, she explained. "The other high-home animals understood what people said but couldn’t talk to them. I’ve always loved blueflame birds the best. Their feathers were as bright as the flames that flicker blue in the heart of a fire. The very sight of a blueflame lifted people’s spirits so much that it changed their lives. Not many were seen, though. They were heard more often, but that was special too. Their song was piercingly beautiful. The history books said it was so beautiful it broke people’s hearts.

Then there were the lizards, she went on without stopping for breath. They popped up often in the old tales, guiding people places, but the most interesting thing about them was that they didn’t have ordinary eggs; they had beautiful jewel eggs that could revive a person on the brink of starvation. High-home deer could run impossibly fast. That’s the only thing I know about them. There’s a great story about a long-legged water bird, but it takes too much time to tell now. I saw something about sheep once that I wasn’t very interested in, and I know I read a paragraph somewhere about wolves, but—

The absorbed teacher was interrupted yet again, this time by an extremely rude frog.

Alland says— Benk began, but Janna had taken everything she could take from either Alland or Benk.

Quit croaking, and quit interrupting me when I’m teaching a lesson. Janna frowned at the small boy.

You’re not our teacher and it’s not lesson time; it’s morning break, argued Benk. The rest of the students nodded. We’re supposed to be playing.

But these stories are a part of our past and nobody else is teaching them to you, Janna countered.

That’s because they’re not real! an eight-year-old shouted.

They are real! They’re in the Montaland history books!

We could tell the teacher what she’s doing, a six-year-old said.

Too much trouble—let’s go play, yelled Benk, and the rebellious history class scattered. As they went, someone who still sounded a great deal like a frog sang out, Chirp, chirp, chirp, let me break your chubby heart.

It was a catchy tune, and the two words, chirp and chubby, both started with a ch sound. Alliteration, their teacher would have called it. In any case, the other kids started singing it too, whether they knew about alliteration or not. Janna was sure they emphasized the word chubby.

She sprang to her feet as quickly as she could, given the fact that her skirt had somehow wrapped itself around her knees. It wasn’t her fault that she was overweight, but there was no point in defending herself. She’d learned that the hard way. If my button pops…

Yanking her skirt free of her knees as she stumble-hopped away was not the exit she would have chosen, but as soon as her legs could move freely again, she ran away through the woods, trying to hold in her stomach.

The path to the road was on the other side of the schoolhouse. On this side, she had to crash through undergrowth and snap past thin branches, but Janna was in precisely the sort of mood to crash and snap, so she didn’t care. She didn’t realize she was crying until she got near the road. Hastily, she wiped the tears away. However, she didn’t quit moving as she wiped her eyes, and the result was that she charged right out of the trees into the side of a large female sheep.

There was a whole flock in the road, she belatedly noticed, as the ewe stared at her.

Janna, please don’t hurt my sheep, Alland said as he strolled up, following his herd.

Sheep are stupid, Janna said, but the princess of Mount Pasture hadn’t lived twelve-and-a-half years in a shepherding kingdom without learning that if one sheep got scared and bolted, the rest would follow.

She waited silently until the ewe decided that this person who had run into her wasn’t a threat and continued ambling down the road. Then Janna continued her tirade.

They stink too! I don’t know why Mount Pasture doesn’t raise horses!

Not much wool on a horse, the young shepherd pointed out.

Janna groaned. Shepherds never thought about anything except sheep and wool. They didn’t have brains. She’d realized that long ago. Their heads were tightly stuffed with—

Is school out already? Alland asked in a more friendly tone of voice.

He was obviously trying to change the subject, which would have been a good idea if his question hadn’t reminded Janna—

Why did you tell Benk the old stories are make-believe? They’re in the history books. Alland, you know that!

Yes, I believe you might have mentioned it once or twice, he said in the drawl that never failed to irritate her. But I don’t think those stories are meant to be taken literally. Montaland history is pretty dull reading. Someone must have wanted to spice things up. Besides, some of the stories frighten children, especially the way you tell them.

But you’re saying the high-home animals are make-believe too, Janna said, ignoring his description of her storytelling skills, which could—at a stretch—be considered a compliment. They’re not scary, and besides, the old stories are real. I know they are. The people of Mount Pasture refuse to believe in them because they’re blind to anything out of the ordinary.

When did you last see anything out of the ordinary? Alland asked over his shoulder as he followed his flock.

Janna was stumped only for a moment.

The castle garden wall—it hides a tunnel from the Stalker’s old kingdom. His daughter built the tunnel before we beat her in the old wars, and then one of our kings blocked its entrance with an unusually big wall.

You believe that too? Alland asked in amusement, turning to walk backward a few steps. That garden wall is certainly big, but I figure someone had an obsession with tall, thick walls. Maybe the builder made a measuring mistake and refused to admit it.

It hides the Fern Queen’s tunnel, Janna insisted hotly.

A lamb suddenly ran off the road into the woods, and the young shepherd had to run after it. By the time he caught the lamb and rejoined his herd, he was too far away to do anything but wave.

Janna didn’t wave back. She stood where she was, wrinkling her nose at a nearby mound of droppings. The sheep had scattered similar stinky deposits along the road, and since Alland’s fields were on the far side of the castle, she knew she’d be dodging sheep poop all the way home.

Her cheeks were wet again. Janna dried them, then made herself take several deep calming breaths until Alland and his flock walked out of sight around a curve in the road.

R

Far away, above the peak of the highest mountain in Montaland, a blueflame flickered. It was a small flame, and it didn’t really flicker as much as it quivered. The air was thin at that altitude. Wings had to move constantly just to stay in one place. The bright blue bird quivered its wings and waited.

Show yourself.

The voice wasn’t particularly loud. Still, the air shook, and a huge mound of snow broke away from the icy peak and thundered down the mountainside. The bird wasn’t surprised at the power behind the words, but it was surprised at the words themselves. Both wings stilled and the small body dropped three feet before recovering.

No one in the mountain world had seen a bird of its kind in years. At least, they hadn’t seen anything more than a blur of blue that was generally blamed on dust in the eye.

Just once, little one, and only to her. Then you may hide again.

In answer, the bird sang its song, the piercing one that broke people’s hearts. As soon as it finished, it tilted its wings and sped away from the high peak. Slanting downward, the little blueflame darted past several more snowy peaks, then over range after range of midsized tree-covered mountains.

It wasn’t until late in the afternoon that the bird reached the grassy slopes of the lowest hills in the mountain world. A wall appeared in the distance, looking like a child’s toy, but as the bright wings dashed over the hills, the wall grew until it loomed above the ground, stone upon stone, surrounding a large garden next to a castle.

Swiftly, the blue bird flew past the tower window and into the garden, where it rested at last in the green leaves of a pear tree.

Chapter 2

A Difficult Afternoon

Janna trudged along the road toward the castle. There had been partial shade in the woods near the schoolhouse, but the trees had soon given way to fenced fields on either side that rose and fell monotonously. Heavy shafts of sunlight fell from the sky and bounced on the ground. The smell of sunbaked grass filled the air.

By the time she climbed to the top of the first hill, she was dripping with sweat and had to stop to catch her breath. It was a fine view for anyone who enjoyed pastureland spreading for miles in every direction. Beyond the borders of Mount Pasture, bigger mountains soared into the sky. Their distant beauty had always comforted Janna, but sweat was sticking her shirt to her skin today and the bigger mountains seemed too far away.

When she was finally able to turn off the road into the shade of the large oak trees that grew in front of the castle, hot drops of perspiration were running down her legs. Her parents would be eating lunch soon, but she wasn’t planning to join them. They’d ask why she was home from school so early, and she wasn’t ready for that confrontation.

Stealthily, she slipped around the castle until she reached the outside door to the tower. It was hot and stuffy on the tower stairs. The rest of the castle had windows and thick stone walls that cooled the air, but there were no windows on the tower staircase. Janna felt as if she might faint with the heat—either that or melt.

Only two things kept her climbing.

The biggest library in the Kingdom of Mount Pasture was located at the top of the castle tower. Bookcases covered every wall, but there were so many books that they overflowed the shelves onto the floor in places. There wasn’t much else in the room, besides a chair, a small table, and Janna’s secret stash of snack food.

It was her box of snacks and the history books that kept Janna going now. She didn’t mind skipping lunch as long as she had food of some sort, and while she ate, she’d read up on the Fern Queen. Eating and reading were two of Janna’s favorite activities, and she very much liked doing the two of them together. As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, she collapsed into the chair and reached for her snack box.

It was empty. Janna threw the box on the floor.

Dad got into it—again. He and Mom are both big-time overeaters, which is exactly why I find it hard to lose weight. Furthermore, it’s wrong to eat someone else’s food. They expect me to do right. They’ll get angry with me for running away from school, but they do wrong too, and they never even notice it.

Janna sat in her chair, staring at her snack box and muttering, until she remembered the night before last, when she’d climbed to the top of the tower to stargaze. Somehow, the box that had been full of snacks when she’d arrived had been empty when she left.

Quickly, she pulled out a history book. She’d read about the Fern Queen, then later, when her parents were through with lunch, she’d sneak into the kitchen and find something to eat.

Long ago, the queen of a kingdom not far from Mount Pasture became obsessed with ferns. First, she filled the gardens around her castle, then she planted her favorite plant throughout her land. Since her kingdom was made up of low, moist valleys, it proved ideal for growing ferns—and for less wholesome pursuits as well, people began to say.

The whispered rumors said the Fern Queen had concocted a potion that changed people into plants. A lot of people scoffed at the idea, though they couldn’t deny that she was the daughter of the Stalker, who had been an expert potion maker. Years went by, and everyone, even the scoffers, noticed something strange about the queen. The people she grew up with lived and died; then their children did the same. She lived on, planting and cultivating ferns.

Rumors became established folklore. People enjoyed telling stories about the evil Fern Queen in front of their safe, comfortable firesides. It wasn’t until she attacked and defeated a small kingdom that her neighbors realized she meant to expand her kingdom at their expense.

They banded together with big Mount Pasture and fought.

Janna lost track of time as she reached for one book after another, trying to find something interesting about the battle accounts. All of them described how long each battle lasted, where it was fought, how many people were on each side, and other facts that weren’t in the slightest bit interesting. None of the accounts said anything about what the Fern Queen looked like or how she changed people into plants, and Janna wished she could take the historians who had written them by the shoulders and shake them.

Only one report was worth reading, in her opinion, even though it was in the largest and heaviest of the history books. She ought to read it again.

I’ll stretch first.

Her back ached from bending over books all afternoon. Her arms ached too, but after she’d stretched, Janna reached for the heavy book, lifted it onto her lap, and turned to the report. A drop of sweat fell on it. Absentmindedly, she grabbed the bottom of her skirt and dried the page, but it wasn’t until sweat started trickling down the back of her neck that she realized how hot she was.

At least the top room of the tower had a window, though two windows would have been better because then a breeze could have come in one and out the other, creating a cross breeze.

Janna was staring vaguely outside, hoping for a breath of wind, when something bright blue dashed past the tower window. She blinked and looked again. There wasn’t anything blue outside except for the sky, and even the sky was pale that afternoon, as if it were suffering from heatstroke.

Dust from the old books must have gotten into her eyes, making her see things. Her throat was dry too. And she had a headache.

I’ll read this report again, then I’ll quit.

R

When the Fern Queen’s army surrounded us, we formed a circle around our children and called to the Maker for help. He sent help, and mighty it was, but clouds had covered the night sky, making it too dark to see. All we could do was listen.

First, a distant drumming of horse hooves grew louder and encircled our enemies as well as us. We were unable to see how many horses had come to our aid, though it sounded like hundreds. The enemy shouted in defiance and sent arrows twanging into the darkness.

Then the howling began. Wolf howls, long and sinister, wavered in every direction. We trusted that the wolves had come to help us, but we ourselves trembled at the wailing cries. Though the enemy was still shouting, there was fear in their voices. Nevertheless, they maintained the circle around us.

Suddenly, both hoofbeats and howls stopped. A bird trilled, then another and another, until the air resounded with their songs. Throwing ourselves on the ground, we wept with the joy that filled us and were grateful when the singing ended. Some things human beings cannot bear, not until…we reach high home.

The enemy ran from the birdsongs. Our scouts followed their tracks to the borders of the Fern Queen’s kingdom.

R

The light in the tower dimmed as Janna read the last few words. She glanced out the window in time to see the sun dip below a far mountain. No matter, the sun was always dipping behind mountains in Montaland. The subdued light of evening would last several more hours.

Janna looked down at the book she was holding, but the words on the page blurred together. She rubbed her eyes impatiently.

I’ll read about the wolves once more, and then I’ll quit.

Rubbing her eyes helped. She was able to read the part about the wolves again, but it only described them as gathering and howling. So what? Wolves always gathered and howled. That wasn’t special behavior. Janna could no longer think clearly. No matter, her list of high-home animals was on the table in front of her. She’d list this report as a reference even if it didn’t contain new information. All she had to do was straighten up and reach for the list. Straighten up, straighten right up, and—

She didn’t move.

Too tired.

It was then that a flock of her least favorite animals chose to announce to the world their outrage at an act of gross injustice. At the same time, a dog began barking, and she couldn’t tell which species of animal was more indignant. The sheep don’t want to go where the dog wants them to.

She winced at the increasingly loud exchange.

Baa-aaa-aaaa…

Quit it, she said through her teeth.

Baaaaa-baaaaaaaaa…

I said, quit it.

Her headache was getting worse.

Sheep couldn’t possibly be high-home animals. What a ridiculous idea!

Baaaaaaaa— Then suddenly the clamor cut off.

Good, the dog had herded his flock where he wanted it to go. Now she could relax. Closing her eyes, Janna took one of her deep calming breaths, but she didn’t relax because a line of fat wooly bodies were now marching through a gate in her mind. Fat, wooly, dirty-white bodies marching one after another after—

I can’t stand it! she yelled and lunged from the chair, out of the library, down the stairs, and through the tower’s outside door.

Sneaking past several castle windows, Janna made her way toward the kitchen. She needed something to eat. That would make her feel better. However, when she reached the kitchen window, she could hear her mother talking. Queen Berta and a friend were having a cup of tea at the table.

Janna wavered, but she still wasn’t ready to explain why she’d run away from school.

Besides, there were pies cooling on the windowsill, strawberry pies. Her mother would insist on cutting a piece for her, and Janna hadn’t yet recovered from being called chubby in a song made up by ungrateful kids who should have thanked her for making the effort to give them a history lesson.

Her mother was quite chubby herself, but she was happy that way. Whenever Janna said anything about a diet, Berta would tell her she looked fine and then, in the same breath, urge her to exercise.

Nobody should talk about exercise on a hot day. And I don’t look fine.

Janna got past the kitchen windowsill, but it wasn’t as easy to leave behind the smell of strawberry pie. Uh oh. Now the rich aroma of rolls baking in the oven was wafting through the air. My favorite. Janna’s mouth began watering at the thought of a big puffy roll cut in half and slathered with butter that melted and oozed down the sides.

Running was the only option.

The smells followed at her heels as if determined to lure her back until she dashed through a side entrance to the castle garden and slammed the stone door behind her. The garden’s absurdly tall walls did serve a good purpose after all. They blocked smells. Janna took a deep breath of the protected air and headed straight toward the nearest stream for a cold drink of water.

That’s better, she said finally and stood, wiping her mouth.

Green leaves waved from nearby trees, and summer flowers bobbed as if to say hello. Boring. Nevertheless, Janna’s headache began to ease, and she made her way to the far side of the garden, where an old pear tree grew. Its branches hung within three feet of the ground, forming a sheltered canopy, but the best thing about the tree was two of its lowest branches, which had been pushed together by a long-ago storm. The result was a particularly comfortable perch that had been Janna’s secret retreat for years.

A jump and a twist settled her, and she leaned back gratefully and closed her eyes. Something stirred in the leaves above her.

Go away, squirrel.

A prolonged whirring of wings announced the presence of a bird, not a squirrel, but Janna didn’t open her eyes. Why should she care what type of bird it was? A number of birds ate the fruit of her tree, though they usually waited until the hard green knobs had ripened.

The bird kept rustling the leaves.

You should look. It might be special.

Janna didn’t know where that thought had come from, but she wasn’t about to open her eyes. It had been a hard day. She deserved a rest. Eventually, the leaves stopped rustling and she was able to relax until her stomach rumbled.

Jumping off the branch, she wondered what to do until the bell rang for supper. There was the hidden tunnel, of course, which needed to be found so she could prove Alland wrong. None of the history books had mentioned a secret tunnel built by the Fern Queen, which was bothersome, but not hard to explain away. It was a secret for high home’s sake. Alland had no right to say it didn’t exist, and Janna marched resolutely through the garden toward the back wall.

Chapter 3

A Disastrous Evening

Most children in Mount Pasture had searched for the hidden tunnel at least once, whether they believed it was there or not. Janna had kept the hunt up longer than most, but even so, it had been years since her last serious effort. It wasn’t far from her pear tree to the back of the garden. In a few minutes, the wall loomed above her, large and forbidding in the evening shadows.

Janna refused to be intimidated. She knew the tunnel was on the other side of that wall. It had to be. The back wall was built on the eastern border of Mount Pasture, up against a steep hill. Where else would a tunnel go?

Sniffing at the ridiculous searches some children had made into pastures, she studied the area for something that looked different, a swelling of the ground maybe that didn’t belong. Nothing seemed out of place, but she hadn’t really expected to find anything this side of the wall.

If she had time, she’d walk over to the other side, but the only gates were at the front of the garden. Before she could trudge down the meandering paths to a gate and then walk around the outside of the wall, the supper bell would ring, and she’d have to return without stepping foot on the narrow strip of land that existed between the back wall and the hill.

That strip of land positively beckoned to tunnel hunters. Janna had known every inch of it as a child. She’d never seen anything that remotely hinted at a hole leading into the hill, but she was older now. She’d find it and then wouldn’t Alland be—

The supper bell rang, interrupting her thought.

Hooray, Janna cheered, though she flinched too. Time’s up.

The expected outcry came as soon as she stepped into the castle.

Janna, where have you been? I’ve been beside myself worrying. Your teacher let everyone go home after lunch since it was the last day, then she came by the castle and let us know you’d run away. Why would you do such a thing and where did you go? I’ve been beside myself—

You said that already, Mom.

Janna tried not to roll her eyes. Her mother and father hated it when she rolled her eyes. There was no sense adding to her misdeeds.

Don’t answer your mother back, young lady, said King Luff, coming out of a side room. His belt was as wide as it would go, Janna noted, and appeared to need another hole so it could go wider.

Don’t you want me to answer her? Janna couldn’t help but ask. She gave the smallest, barely perceptible eye roll.

Yes, we want you to answer us, but with courtesy, Luff responded, but he had his mind on something else, as usual. Janna could tell.

And don’t roll your eyes at us either, said her mother. Well, where have you been?

I was doing research in the library. It was educational. You like me to learn things, Janna reminded her, hoping to avoid other questions.

There was no such luck, of course.

But why didn’t you have lunch with us first? Benk brought your lunchbox on his way home. It was wiped clean, with the trash already thrown away and the napkin refolded. You’ll have to thank him for being so thoughtful!

Unbelievable! Did you ask him what happened to the food in it? He and the other little kids ate my lunch!

You weren’t there. What did you expect them to do?

This was so unfair, but it was typical too. Her parents always put her in the wrong.

Those kids made fun of me and ‘thoughtful’ Benk was the ringleader. He gets away with everything.

Perhaps you misunderstood them, dear, her mother said with a solicitude that was fully as annoying as her anger had been.

I was merely giving them a history lesson and they—

We’ve told you what we think about those forced lessons. Some of the younger children have had nightmares after a session with you. Who was it this time? her father asked.

The Stalker, Janna reluctantly admitted.

Her mother threw up her hands in horror. He’s the worst of the lot—taking natural ingredients and doing evil things with them!

It was substances, not ingredients, Janna corrected impatiently and who could blame her? Her mother thought of everything in terms of cooking. I chose him because he was so thoroughly bad. He’s representative, and besides, we know more about him.

The Stalker’s story had always been her favorite, which was strange considering how frightening her own nightmares about him used to be. However, that had been years ago. She was too old to have nightmares now, and so were her schoolmates.

Those kids you’re worried about ought to be punished for rudeness, she said hotly.

Why? What did they do? Berta finally asked the question that should have been asked at the beginning of this conversation, in Janna’s opinion.

She took a deep breath, determined to give the episode her full storytelling abilities, but her mother suddenly sniffed the air and cried out, My rolls! Then she whisked about and hurried to the kitchen, leaving Janna with her father.

That was fine. She’d tell him. One on one might work better anyway—as long as he paid attention.

We were behind the school, she began, but Luff was staring at the floor in a distracted fashion. Janna wasn’t sure he was listening, so she repeated herself a little louder.

WE WERE BEHIND THE SCHOOL!

Okay, it was a lot louder. Her father jumped but at least he was listening now.

Who was?

You and Mom wanted to know what they did, Janna reminded him.

Yes, indeed, he agreed vaguely. What who did?

Dad!

I’m sorry, Pound Cake. Tell me again, and I’ll listen.

Right, Janna said, wishing her father would drop that old nickname. As a five-year-old, she had shown a marked preference for the rich dessert and had enjoyed the nickname, but it reminded her now of depressing things, like ounces and pounds.

Before she could start again, a sweaty group of herders walked into the hallway, and her father greeted them with an eagerness he certainly hadn’t shown her.

Janna did not scowl at the herders. It was an achievement. She didn’t smile either, but the lack of a scowl was definitely an achievement, especially since the men had come straight from a day spent with smelly sheep. Trying not to inhale, she edged sideways toward a window. She’d almost reached it when Berta bustled out of the kitchen, announcing that supper was ready and inviting the shepherds to join them.

I will not overeat; I will not overeat, Janna vowed under her breath, but she was hungry and her mother had outdone herself again.

Thickly sliced meat was tender enough to be cut with a fork; mashed potatoes were covered with thick gravy; fresh peas and baby onions were cooked with fatty pieces of meat to give them flavor; corn on the cob was already salted and dripping with butter; fried apple rings were encrusted with caramelized sugar; big, steaming rolls filled a breadbasket with a soft mountain of butter in a bowl at their side; then, for dessert, strawberry pies were cut into large wedges, each wedge topped with spoonfuls of whipped cream.

It was hopeless.

Luff loaded everyone’s plate with meat and mashed potatoes, while Berta added servings of peas and an ear of corn. The rest of the food was passed, which gave Janna more freedom to choose, but she couldn’t resist the rolls, though it was perhaps not necessary to take two. She passed up the fried apple rings completely, which made her feel so virtuous that she ate two pieces of pie.

After dessert, when everyone else was drinking coffee, Janna was so full that her mind was in a stupor. Regrettably, the numbness did not extend to the rest of her body. Her arms ached from lifting heavy history books from the bottom shelves, and her back ached from bending over those same books for hours while she read them.

It would have eased the aches to stretch her protesting body parts, but that wasn’t possible at the supper table. Besides, though Janna knew stretching was a necessary part of exercising, she didn’t really like either activity. The only good thing about her aching body was that it kept her alert enough to hear what was on her father’s mind.

A number of lambs had gone missing on the southeastern border.

Stolen, one of the men growled.

The shepherds of Mount Pasture did not take kindly to the idea of someone stealing their lambs. King Luff had a worried expression on his face as he urged them not to point accusing fingers without proof.

Janna stifled a yawn, and when the meal was over, she managed to stand, though she wobbled a bit. One of the shepherds spoke pleasantly to her, and she responded with a nod and a monosyllable. It was the best she could do under the circumstances.

Let’s go sit in the breezeway, suggested Queen Berta.

The shepherds declined, going their way after prolonged, though undoubtedly heartfelt, thanks for their supper. Janna waved goodbye weakly and followed her father to the breezeway, where she collapsed into the nearest chair.

Most houses in the Kingdom of Mount Pasture had a breezeway, a delightful room with windows specially designed to catch whatever breezes might be blowing. People wandered in and out of the small room or sat to rest a few minutes if they wanted to share being comfortably tired with other people.

Berta joined them as soon as she’d shown the shepherds to the door.

Oh, Janna, I forgot to tell you that we saw a friend of yours today. Alland was moving his sheep to another pasture and dropped by to say hello. We insisted that he have a bite of lunch with us.

I’m sure he dropped by to say hello, said Janna in an insinuating tone of voice. Everyone in Mount Pasture drops by to say hello at either lunch or supper.

We were delighted to have him, her mother scolded, then paused and started over again. I haven’t had a chance to hear about your morning at school.

It was dull. Not even the teacher wanted to be there.

It’s always that way the last day of school. Did I tell you that your teacher is retiring?

About time. She’s old.

It was obvious that her mother was trying to give her a reprieve from scolding, but Janna didn’t want the difficult parts of her day ignored. They needed to talk about them, not chitchat about everything else going on in Montaland. She would have begun the conversation herself, but the words wouldn’t come. Without warning, she found herself wanting to burst into tears and hide her head in her mother’s dress.

Janna shifted positions uncomfortably. Twelve-and-a-half-year-olds did not hide their faces in their mothers’ dresses—and this made three times today, she’d either cried or wanted to. She rarely cried. What was happening to her?

Who’s old? Are you ladies talking about me? asked her father from the depths of his chair.

As usual, he had not been listening to the conversation and had only caught the last word.

Berta smiled at her husband and opened her mouth to reply, but Janna beat her to it.

My teacher, who should have quit teaching ages ago.

She is old, Pound Cake. It happens to all of us. Even I’m two or three years older than I was fifteen years ago.

Janna knew her father was hoping for a responsive laugh to his stupid joke, but she wasn’t about to give him one, especially after he’d used that nickname.

When the silence got heavy, Luff added, But you can still be happy when you’re old.

We’ll have to invite her over for a good meal. She could use some fattening up, Berta chimed in.

That got a response.

Fattening up? Haven’t we got enough fat of our own without working on everyone else in the kingdom? Janna asked incredulously.

I meant no harm, scolded her mother again. She’d enjoy a home-cooked meal.

Janna frowned, feeling overweight and helpless to do anything about it. How could she ever get control of her eating when her mother was determined to cook an unending stream of company meals! She glanced at her father, who was staring at the floor again. Obviously, he had gone back to thinking of the missing lambs, so Janna concentrated on her mother.

Ask what’s bothering me. Ask. Just ask.

Actually, her mother did have a thoughtful expression on her face—and she was looking in Janna’s direction. Janna looked back, too out of sorts to speak first. When Berta opened her mouth, Janna leaned forward hopefully.

What about chicken and dumplings with corn pudding, stewed tomatoes, fresh green beans cooked with bacon, fried potatoes, biscuits with butter and honey, and nut cakes with caramel cream sauce for dessert?

Janna stared at her in disbelief, and her mother explained, For your teacher, dear.

Janna continued to stare, her body as still as her face. She felt like the storm that had passed through Mount Pasture a week ago. Minutes before it arrived, the winds had stopped but not in a calm way. The air had felt tight, as if something meant to get out.

Her mother turned uneasily toward Luff.

Or do you think that’s a little too fattening?

Huh? Luff said blankly.

Why, what Janna said, dear. Perhaps we should pay attention to our weight. I’m afraid that I’m getting pudgy.

Not a bit of it. At any rate, no more than I am, Luff added, and they smiled merrily at each other.

The storm struck as Janna sprang out of her chair and screamed, That’s it! That’s absolutely it! I can’t take it any longer! Neither of you can carry on a real conversation and let me tell you something you don’t seem to know. The three of us are fat, F-A-T, FAT!

She ran from the room, wanting to be by herself. Someone would drop by soon though. People were always dropping by in the evenings to visit with her parents or stroll in the garden—there was only one place guaranteed to be private. Janna rushed out of the castle and around the outside of the garden wall.

It was fortunate that she had remembered this place before supper. No one would think of searching for her in the narrow strip of land between the wall and the hill. In fact, she remembered a mound of dirt in the middle of the strip that would serve her purposes particularly well. The mound went a third of the way up the wall. Above it was a boulder that jutted out from the hill. In between the top of the mound and the boulder was a hiding place no one ever went to, a dark hiding place, the type of place only an exploring child would find interesting.

Janna darted under, over, and around the rocks and hummocks in her way. She was wheezing when she finally got to the top of the mound. With a heavy thump, she threw herself down and immediately wished she’d gone somewhere else.

It was not very appealing, this gap between the wall and the hill. Evening had brought cool reviving breezes to the hills of Mount Pasture, but they didn’t reach here. It was private; that was the one positive thing that could be said about it. However, there wasn’t anything but dirt, and the dirt was full of small, hardened clods of earth. Janna wiggled about, trying to find a smooth place to sit.

A twinge of guilt stirred inside of her.

They’ll say I was rude. I know they will, and I wasn’t. Besides, even if I was, they deserved it. No one ever talks to me about anything important.

All Janna wanted out of life right then was an uninterrupted period of time in which to sit and think and completely justify herself—but she couldn’t get comfortable.

Sheep’s wool, she said out loud. How can I think with dirt clods poking me?

Flouncing to another spot, she sat down hard.

With nightmare suddenness, the earth gave way beneath her, and she found herself falling, the mound of dirt caving in on top of her head. In a panic, she struck out, pushing her way through the dirt. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t breathe, and the only thing she could touch was soft, suffocating dirt. The heavy mass on top of her wouldn’t budge, so instinctively, she dug sideways to where she could breathe.

She could breathe, but she couldn’t see.

It was dark where she lay, so dark that she wouldn’t have seen her hand if she had waved it in front of her face, but Janna didn’t move her hand. She was afraid to move anything in case she caused another avalanche of dirt. Tears ran down her cheeks, and before long, sobs shook her body, though it frightened her to move even that much.

Only one person knew where she was. The old stories agreed that he always knew where everyone was. Nobody could hide from him. Eventually, she remembered.

Chapter 4

Darkness

H elp me, help me, help me, help me, Janna mumbled, wanting to scream the words but not daring, because the sound might make the roof cave in again.

It made sense not to scream, which could have indicated a reassuring level of self-control, except that the words wouldn’t stop. They kept pouring out of her mouth and that frightened her on top of everything else. Then a small quiet began to grow inside her, and her mind calmed enough to make her mouth quit mumbling. The Maker must have heard her. He must have sent the quiet.

Unfortunately, the first thought she had was that supper had ended only thirty minutes ago. It would be hours before her parents realized she was missing, and even then they wouldn’t know where she was. At that, Janna panicked again, her fears as dark and heavy as the air surrounding her.

Help me, help me, she began again, but this time the sense of quiet came quicker. Panic was waiting on either side, so Janna kept her mind in the middle of the quiet and refused to think about anything else.

Pushing up cautiously, she found that she could sit without bumping her head, and sit she did. The minutes dragged past. Her breathing sounded loud in the darkness. At least, nothing else terrible happened to her. In fact, nothing happened. She didn’t let herself wonder where she was. She spent quite a long time not wondering about it.

At last, she started to explore the darkness. There was a dirt floor underneath her with walls on either side that she could reach from where she sat. The ceiling wasn’t far from her head, much too low to allow her to stand. A mass of dirt was directly behind her, but she couldn’t possibly dig her way out. It was too soft; it would collapse on top of her again.

There was one direction left. Tentatively, Janna reached forward. Empty air met the tips of her fingers even when she stretched her arms as far as they would go. She took a deep breath. Then she rolled forward onto her hands and knees and started to crawl.

Don’t think about it, just do it.

Her skirt was getting in the way. Awkwardly, Janna tucked it into the waist band and continued crawling. When her hands and knees rubbed raw, her body began trembling, though she wasn’t cold. In fact, she was sweating. It had to be shock. Her lips were trembling too, but she didn’t think that was shock.

For the first time in her life, she found herself saying, I’m only twelve years old.

Twelve-and-a-half, came the automatic correction, and she almost smiled.

Even an almost smile helped. An idea came to her. She’d make padding out of her skirt. It was filthy by now, but that wouldn’t matter. Ripping long strips of cloth from the bottom of her skirt, she wrapped each knee and knotted the ends together.

Then she wrapped one of her hands, but in order to make a knot—quickly, Janna bit down on one end of the strip and pulled the other end tight, gagging at the taste of dirt in her mouth. She had to stop and spit for several minutes before she could make herself do the same thing to the other hand. When that knot was tight, her stomach heaved miserably several times, but the job was done.

This is a tunnel. It’ll take me out of here, she said with more bravado than she felt and went back to crawling.

On and on Janna crawled, until she could hardly remember doing anything else. The darkness made it difficult to know how much time was passing. When she got tired, she slept. When she woke up, she crawled. There was only darkness and the smell of earth, darkness and the smell of earth, on and on.

Finally, there was a difference. The shuffling sounds she was making began to echo. Janna reached upward—nothing. She rose to her feet and lifted both hands as high as they would go—still nothing. The walls hadn’t moved, but the ceiling had risen. She could walk now.

Walking was faster than crawling, and she made more progress through the tunnel, which twisted and turned, cutting its way through the darkness. There was no noise except for the thud of her footsteps for another long period of time. Then she rounded one of the sharper turns and heard something new.

Janna stopped short, her heart racing. The sound kept going, soft and continuous, and somehow familiar.

What is it? she asked, but it wasn’t until she quit trying to think and yawned that the memories came to her, bright in another day’s sunlight, yet remote, as if they had happened years ago.

First, she was sitting on a rock watching ripples; next, she was making a cup out of a big green leaf; last, she was leaning against a tree with a book in her hands, listening to the cheerful rush of—

It’s a stream!

She licked two very dry lips and began walking faster, but in three steps she stopped short again. The tunnel made sounds echo. That running water could be five feet away or fifty, and there was no way of knowing how deep it was.

Janna began testing the ground in front of her before each step. She was walking up a steep incline now. Her body leaned forward, and she