A True Princess (4 page)
“We must stay on the road,” I reminded Kai, and he nodded. The evergreens rose up high above us. I had never seen such tall trees before. Our footsteps sounded loud on the dirt road. Fewer birds seemed to call; fewer squirrels chattered. Our conversation dwindled and then stopped entirely, and I caught myself looking right and left, before us and behind us—though I did not know why. I had the strange feeling that the forest had taken us captive.
“I don’t like this,” Karina said anxiously.
“Well, it’s where the road goes, so we must follow,” Kai replied. “And remember the map—on the other side is Gilsa.”
The meager light from the sun filtered through the thick trees and did not warm us. As the hours passed, it lowered in the sky, but it did not set. I realized that Midsummer’s Eve was near—was it in three days? A week? I had lost track of time in the days since we had left the farm. We prepared to stop and were looking for a spot where we could rest when suddenly something in the forest made a noise. It was a howl, or a shriek—a terrible sound. Ove, who ordinarily was a most obedient dog, leaped off the road and into the underbrush.
“Ove!” Kai shouted, and without thinking, he too dashed off the road. Karina and I stopped, unsure of what to do. I listened hard, but the forest had swallowed them as if they had never existed.
“Kai!” I cried, hoping my voice would guide him back. “Ove! Here, boy! Ove, Kai, where are you?” There was no answering call.
“Should we follow them?” Karina asked uncertainly. “Or should we wait?”
“Wait,” I said decisively. I was not going into that wilderness if I had a choice. We perched on our packs at the road’s edge, but our uneasiness made us stand again and pace back and forth, trying to see Kai in the dimness beneath the thick trees.
Suddenly, in the distance, we heard the sound of hoofbeats and the jangle of swords. I grasped Karina’s hand and pulled her off the road. My heart thumped wildly as we crouched behind a bush, watching to see who would appear. I bit my lip hard when I saw that the four riders who trotted toward us on horseback did not wear the fine clothing of gentlemen but the low-brimmed hats and dark cloaks of brigands. Trained to see enemies or victims at a distance, the men noticed us easily. From his tall mount their leader called, “Come out of hiding! It will be the worse for you if we have to bring you out by force!”
We rose, hands still clasped tightly. I tried not to show my fear. Karina too stood as tall as she could, and she pressed her lips together to keep them from quivering. The men hooted when they saw us.
“Ladies!” the leader said in a mocking voice. We were close enough now that I could see a ragged scar that crossed his cheek from the corner of his eye to his mouth. He dismounted, and behind him his men did the same. “Ladies traveling alone—how very unusual. Are you brave, my dears, or are you simply foolish?” His tone was light, but his eyes, beneath the brim of his felt hat, were dark and threatening.
“We must run,” I whispered, squeezing Karina’s hand in mine. She nodded very slightly.
The brigands drew near behind their leader, and I could see the pockmarks on the cheeks of one and the dust that streaked the cloak of another. As we readied ourselves to turn and flee into the forest, though, we heard a cry from behind us and then a wild barking. Kai, his borrowed sword drawn, ran onto the road, Ove beside him. The leader drew his own sword quickly, but he was distracted by Ove nipping at his legs; and Kai brought his blade down on the brigand’s forearm. The man howled in pain and dropped his weapon, grabbing at his wounded arm as the blood dripped down. He kicked at Ove, who danced around him, growling fiercely.
“Get them!” the brigand cried, finding his voice again; and his men leaped forward, their own swords drawn.
“Kai!” I screamed as the brigands bore down on him.
“Run!” Kai called to us, and to Ove, “Herd, boy”— the command he used when sheep were straying. Immediately Ove dashed to us, pushing us into the forest as he would have pushed wayward lambs.
Knowing his single sword and unpracticed arm were no match for the thieves, Kai turned and fled as well. The three of us and Ove crashed through the underbrush as fast as we could run, tripping over fallen logs and hidden rocks. We ran for what seemed like hours, though I am sure it was much less than that. At last we had to stop, and we bent over, gasping. We stood still until we could breathe more easily and tried to hear whether anyone had followed us.
The silence was eerie. No bird called; no breeze disturbed the heavy air of the forest. It was quieter than any quiet I had ever experienced. I looked around in the dim light. Everywhere the trees closed in, and there was no path to be seen. I could not see the sky, so I could not judge our position from the sun. Was the road to our right? Or had we run south, placing it on our left? Perhaps we had gone straight into the forest and needed only to go straight back—but which way was back? I turned in a circle, looking for clues, but there was nothing to hint at where we were or where we should go.
“No,” I whispered, my low voice sounding loud in that still place. “Oh no. We are lost in Bitra Forest.”
W
e stood beneath the looming trees, filled with dread. Ove pressed against us, and Karina crouched down to put her arms around him. He whimpered; and when Kai shushed him, Karina stood and turned on her brother.
“Why did you run off?” she demanded, her voice echoing in the forest. “You left us to the mercy of those robbers! This is all your fault!”
“I’m sorry,” Kai said wretchedly. “I was afraid we would lose Ove. I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t!” Karina snapped. I could see that she was using her anger to mask her fear, and I interrupted her sharp words.
“Kai saved us, Karina. He fought against all of them! Without him . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to think of what might have happened.
Kai held up his sword. The blade was streaked with blood. “I cut a man,” he said, low.
“And it’s a good thing you did,” I replied briskly. “Wipe off the blade, and let’s start walking. We can’t stay here.”
Obediently, Kai looked for a patch of grass or a clump of leaves to clean the sword, but the ground beneath us was bare save for a layer of brown needles from the pine trees. No underbrush could grow in this sunless place.
“I have a kerchief here somewhere,” I said, rummaging in my pack. I pulled it out, and Kai wiped the blade until it gleamed again. Then I buried the soiled kerchief beneath the pine needles and picked up the pack.
“Come on,” I commanded. Kai and Karina seemed to be in a trance. “Come on! We must move!”
“Where?” Karina asked helplessly, gazing around. “How can we know which way to go?”
“We can’t,” I admitted. Then when I saw the panic in Karina’s eyes, I said with a confidence I did not feel, “We will just have to walk, and hope that we are walking in the right direction.”
We started out, moving slowly around the enormous tree trunks that stretched upward as far as we could see. As we walked, Kai seemed to return to himself; and finally he said, “I have heard that moss grows on the north side of trees.”
We looked carefully at the trees we passed. “There,” I said, pointing to a patch of green growing on one side of a great trunk. We found more moss on many of the other trees and used it as a guide, hoping it was sending us northward. I thought for a moment of Hansel and Gretel and their journey through the forest. If only we’d left a trail of breadcrumbs from the road! But then I remembered that birds had eaten Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumbs, and they had been lost anyway.
After what must have been many hours walking through an unchanging forest, we grew too weary to go on and stopped to eat and sleep. We had barely spoken again all that long day. We ate in silence too, sharing the little bit of bread and cheese that we dared to eat—for who knew how long we would be in this wood? Still hungry, we lay back with our packs as pillows, I with my blanket wrapped around me. The pine needles made a soft surface beneath us, and in moments Karina was asleep. Kai, though, lay staring blankly upward. I knew that he did not see the heavy branches above him but was repeating in his mind the slice of sword through flesh, the scream of the brigand and the sight of his blood.
“What you did was so brave,” I said softly, and he turned his head to look at me. His eyes were clouded with misery.
“I’ve never hurt a person before,” he said. “I have never wanted to.”
“You have never had to,” I reminded him. “You saved us—you know you did. We couldn’t have fended off those men otherwise.”
He nodded and sighed deeply. “I didn’t know I was capable of that.”
“Well, I for one am glad that you are,” I told him. “And perhaps that thief will think twice before he attacks his next victim!”
“Perhaps,” Kai allowed, the trace of a smile on his lips. He closed his eyes then, signaling that he did not want to talk about it more. I closed mine as well, and thought that I too had changed. I did not believe that I could use a sword on a man, but I no longer felt that I was the dreamy girl who fumbled with the dishes and forgot her chores. I could curtsy like a lady and sing in front of a crowd. I had forced Kai and Karina to walk through the forest. I felt stronger and more awake there, in that dark, uncanny place, than I ever had on the farm; and I hoped that my strength would help us find our way through Bitra Forest.
Before long I drifted into sleep.
A dirt field, and at each end of the field there is a man on horseback, both man and horse heavily armored. At the sound of a horn, the riders race toward each other. They carry heavy lances, and it is obvious that each means to use the lance to unseat the other. They meet in the middle of the field with a great crash and the neighing of frightened horses. One knight goes flying, landing with a thump and the jangle of armor on the hard ground. A moment later he struggles to his feet, and the onlookers clap and cheer. The mounted knight rides to a raised dais, doffs his helmet, and bows his head to the king and queen; the queen stands and lays on his brow a circlet of entwined leaves and flowers. Again the knight bows; again the lords and ladies clap and laugh and sip cool drinks from colored goblets as the sun shines down. . . .
When
I opened my eyes, I was met by the same gloomy dimness as before. The silence was complete, but it was not a peaceful stillness. Indeed, it made me feel quite uneasy. I imagined elf-spies behind every tree, though we had heard or seen no sign of any living, moving thing. Sighing, I stretched and rose, patted Ove, and woke Kai and Karina. We had not yet passed a stream where we could drink or wash, and I was beginning to worry about finding water.
I told them of my dream as we walked through the endless silent forest, elaborating on the parts I did not truly remember: the ladies’ dresses, the number of trumpeters, the flowers in the winners’ garlands. Kai winced as I described the jousting, but Karina said, “I wish that I could see such a tournament!” and asked for still more detail.
At last we heard a very welcome sound: the rush of a stream over rocks. Ove sprinted ahead; and before we could think to stop him, he was lapping happily at the clear brook water.
“Ove—,” I started, but it was too late. I held Karina back from joining him; and when she looked questioningly at me, I said, “What if it is enchanted?” We had all heard tales of elves and their food that, once eaten, bound the eater to them. What if the water flowing through this elvish place had the same power? Karina’s hand flew to cover her mouth in alarm, and we stared at Ove, hoping he would not suddenly sprout wings or turn into a mole or begin to recite rhymed couplets. He felt our intent gazes and turned to look at us. Tilting his head to the side in that way he had, he wagged his tail and barked sharply in a tone that clearly said,
Come on in! The water’s fine!
And we did. The water was fine indeed—delicious and cold. We splashed our faces and scrubbed our dirty hands, drank until our stomachs hurt, and sat beside the brook on the soft pine needles, refreshed.
“Have I grown pointed ears?” Kai asked me, and I laughed.
“Not yet,” I said, “but I see that Karina’s nose has turned into a duck’s beak.” Karina hooted and grabbed for me, and I sprang up and dodged around her, Ove following me and barking with glee. Chase was his favorite game, whether it was sheep or humans he pursued. We ran in circles, accusing one another of magical transformations: “You’ve grown a squirrel’s tail!” Kai told his sister; and she shouted, “And you have the skin of a trout—and its smell!” At last we were spent and collapsed, laughing, on the ground. Filled with joy, Ove rolled over and over in the pine needles, and we laughed until we wept to see him shake and the needles fly in all directions.
“Oh,” Kai gasped, wiping his eyes as we finally quieted. “It feels good to laugh! This place is so grim.”
“If there are evil spirits or creatures, we have surely let them know that we are here,” I pointed out, thinking of the elvish spies I had imagined earlier. “But no doubt they knew that anyway.”
We walked on, but within minutes I noticed that Ove’s ears were raised—a sign that he smelled or heard something out of the ordinary. As I watched him, I saw a ridge of fur down the middle of his back rise up as well. Kai too looked closely at his dog, and then we followed Ove’s gaze. To our horror we saw a lone white wolf not far from where we stood.
“A wolf!” Kai cried. “To the trees!”
We dashed forward, looking for a trunk with branches low enough to grab, as more wolves leaped out of the shadows behind the first one. I could see, from the corner of my eye, that these were not the gray wolves of the sheep fields but larger, snow-white animals. Their teeth glistened as white as their coats as they ran, and Ove turned to fend them off, showing his own teeth as he tried to protect us.
Karina was first to reach an enormous fir tree with low-hanging branches. She jumped, grabbed a branch, and swung herself up. I followed, mutely cursing the skirts that tangled around my legs. Balanced on the lowest branch, we looked down in helpless terror.
Below us six white wolves ringed Kai and Ove in a silence more fearsome than their howls would have been. Their tongues hung out as they panted, and their sharp claws left gouges in the dirt as they moved closer. For a moment all movement stopped. Then, faster than I would have believed possible, Kai seized Ove and hurled him, as if he were no heavier than a stick, up to Karina. The force of the throw nearly knocked Karina off the branch, and I grabbed for her as she caught Ove, holding him tight as his paws scrabbled wildly in the air. Kai leaped for the branch where we perched just as the wolves sprang, their razor-sharp teeth gnashing just inches below his dangling legs. Pulling himself up, Kai took Ove from his sister and we climbed higher, away from the slavering jaws that snapped beneath us.
The tree branches were like a stepladder reaching upward, and I climbed frantically. Long after Kai and Karina had settled themselves on a wide branch far above the forest floor, I kept going, pulled by an urge I did not understand. I felt that I must see a glimpse of sky, feel the fresh wind on my face. At last the branches grew too small to bear my weight, and I had to stop. I peered upward, trying to see blue among the brown branches and green needles. Instead, just above me between two branches I spied an enormous nest. It was built of branches as a smaller one might be built of twigs, and it was held together with mud. I clambered a little higher, testing each branch to make sure it would hold me. When I could look inside the nest, I saw that scattered in the mud were feathers, fur, and scraps of wool. I gasped and wobbled wildly, my shock almost making me lose my grip on the tree trunk. The nest was the same size and shape as the basket that had carried me safely down the river.
Not a basket, made by the world’s worst basket maker, but a nest! As I ran my hand along its rough edges, I saw Kai climbing up behind me. Speechless, I pointed at the nest. His eyes widened.
“It is just the same as the one at home!” he ex-claimed.
There was a rustle above us, and we looked upward, grabbing at the tree trunk for balance. On a branch far too thin to hold us sat an enormous falcon. Its dark eyes were on me, and I was suddenly very glad that the nest was empty of chicks. I knew what a falcon would do to protect its babies.
“This is your nest?” I asked the bird. She did not startle or appear to notice my voice in any way, but her gaze was intent. It was not an unfriendly look, and I had a sudden thought. I bowed my head to her.
“If you—or one of your kind—helped me when I was a baby, I thank you,” I said formally, feeling a little foolish for talking to a bird. But the falcon seemed to acknowledge my words, uttering a loud, high-pitched cry. Then she spread her enormous wings, somehow avoiding the thicket of branches around her, and soared upward. In a moment we heard her cry again, and from the sound I knew that she flew above the trees in the open sky.
Kai and I climbed down to rejoin Karina, who was waiting safely with Ove in the crook of the tree. We rested there, speculating about the nest and trying not to think about the wolves that might still be lurking below. Karina told us they had slipped back into the forest; but Ove still twitched nervously, so we did not dare to descend.
“Perhaps a falcon plucked you from your mother’s arms,” Kai suggested, but Karina disagreed.
“No mother would let go of her babe, no matter how fierce the bird,” she insisted.
“Maybe it rescued me from some terrible danger,” I said.
“I suppose it is possible . . . but then, why place you in a nest?” Karina asked skeptically. “Why float you down the river?”
I shrugged, frustrated. It seemed that every clue I gathered about my past—the blanket, the nest—raised a dozen new questions. I despaired of ever finding all the answers I wanted.
“We should start off again,” I said sharply. Ove had finally fallen asleep in Karina’s lap, his ears twitching with his dreams, so I knew that the immediate danger had passed. We climbed down warily and walked more carefully than before, stopping often to look and listen; but there was no sign of the wolves.
Before long, though, we noticed something peculiar. With every step, the air grew heavier and thicker. The trees seemed to waver, shimmering as far-off objects do when the sun is very hot, though it was cool in the forest.
Ove whined fretfully. “Is it going to storm?” Karina asked.
“I don’t know what it is,” Kai said. I felt that we were moving toward a thing unknown. Perhaps, I thought hopefully, we were nearing the end of the forest and would emerge to see the road and Gilsa Town.