The Crystal Throne by Kathryn Sullivan

The Crystal Throne

Kathryn Sullivan

Amber Quill Press, LLC

Copyright © 2003 by Kathryn Sullivan
ISBN: 1-59279-085-2 (Electronic)
ISBN: 1-59279-942-6 (Paperback)
Cover Art © 2003 Trace Edward Zaber
Amber Quill Press, LLC
http://amberquill.com

RATING: G

CHAPTER 1

The Door

"Down, girl! Steady!" Jeanne Tucker clutched the reins and tried to keep her seat as the frightened Appaloosa reared wildly. The skittish mare came down on all fours and backed up a step, her eyes showing white and rolling at the leaves swirling on a gust of wind. Jeanne clung to the horse with knees and hands, using all the tricks her brother had taught her to bring the Appaloosa under control.

The horse reared again. "Down, Robin!" Jeanne jerked the reins and managed to turn the big head as the mare tried to bolt off the trail into the dark tangle of trees. Robin tossed her head, fighting the bit, whinnying with fear.

Finally, the mare quieted. Jeanne carefully released one hand from the reins to stroke the night-black neck. "Easy, girl. Easy now." The horse stood quietly, calming under the continuous flow of talk and patting. Jeanne could feel the taut coil of fear loosen, the mare's body slowly relaxing beneath her.

"Silly. A bunch of dried-up old leaves and you act as if a ghost is after you. Maybe you ought to write that essay on the haunted tree for me. You certainly get scared often enough."

Robin swung her head back, nickering softly, and Jeanne suddenly felt tears of frustration springing to her eyes. "Oh, why can't you behave, Robin? You know Mike's going to sell you if you keep this up! He almost sold you last time, when I ended up in the hospital, but I promised you would behave. You've got to, girl!"

She wiped her eyes on the rough sleeve of her brother's red wool jacket and shook her long brown hair back over one shoulder. "We'd better get home, girl, before anything else happens."

Despite her words, the girl sat still a moment longer. The wood rustled softly about them, leaves painted the color of flames by the setting sun. Now why did I feel that I had to come to Wilson's Forest today? she wondered. Especially at this time of the afternoon. She shook her head and nudged the mare into a walk. I certainly wasn't thinking straight, or else I wouldn't have brought Robin here. Starbolt or Firebird would have ignored the shadows and leaves, but not my poor Robin.

The Appaloosa shivered, nickering uneasily. Jeanne patted the smooth neck. "I know, honey. It's dark and spooky out here." That does it, she decided. Feelings or no feelings, I'm getting Robin home.

She eyed the deepening shadows of the forest preserve, breathed in the dusky scent of autumn. The soft clops of Robin's hooves on the dirt trail and the creak of the saddle echoed in the stillness.

She tensed and pulled the mare to a halt, hearing voices raised in anger above the rustling leaves. Jeanne glanced about nervously, recognizing the thick stand of trees. Oh gosh, I'm practically right by the haunted tree! She shook herself. You're more of a chicken than Robin. Ghosts out in daylight? Angry ghosts?

Listening to the irate mutter of the voices, she dismounted and pulled Robin onto a tiny path almost hidden by thick bushes. The path was seldom used. People usually stayed away from the haunted tree.

Jeanne shivered as she came within sight of the tree. Almost thirteen and you still believe in Grandpa's stories? she scolded herself. Trees don't move. She shivered again.

The tree did look haunted. The huge trunk of the ancient oak was bent and twisted with age and the heavy snows of past winters. The branches were bare of leaves even in the summer and the lower ones resembled twisted claws waiting to grab anyone who came too close.

She saw the Burns twins arguing in the clearing before the tree and paused a moment in surprise. Peter and Jody were new to town--their parents had moved in just before school started--but even newcomers would have been warned about the tree. Peter reached up and pulled one of the dangling, claw-like branches down. Jeanne caught her breath and almost called out a warning, but Peter had released the branch after a curious glance.

It figures, she thought. Miss Long says to write something about the haunted tree, so Peter comes and studies it as if it was a specimen in biology class. She glanced at her watch. He skipped gymnastics practice to be here at this time. Why? Wonder what Jody's doing here.

Jody appeared to be arguing with her twin. Peter ignored her, brushing his dusty hands on his jacket and jeans. The fraternal twins were so different that the term 'twin' didn't seem to apply to them. Peter was a little shorter than his sister and his hair was sandy where hers was pale blonde. Their personalities differed also. Peter was more independent and often seemed older than his twelve years. Jody, on the other hand...

Jeanne cut off that line of thought. Now that she was closer, she could feel the hot flames of anger within the two. Now how do I do that? she wondered, asking the same tired question. How is it that I always know what people are feeling?

She turned away and began to lead Robin back to the main trail. Robin tossed her head and suddenly whinnied.

"I told you it was haunted!" Jody screamed.

"Oh, bother," Jeanne muttered. She pulled Robin into the clearing and almost bumped into Peter. "Hi. Sorry to frighten you. You scared me, too. Didn't expect to see anyone out here."

Jody glared at her with unfriendly blue eyes and Jeanne felt the dark chill of the taller girl's hostility. Jody's gaze flicked to Jeanne's oversized jacket and heavy jeans, and Jeanne suddenly felt very sloppy in comparison to Jody's fashionably bright colors and expensive jacket. But you can't ride a horse in that, she cheered herself. "Hi, Jody. Do you have to write an essay on the tree, too?"

Jody sniffed.

Peter glanced over at his twin. "Jody..."

"I don't have to speak to farmers," Jody drawled arrogantly. "And especially to her. Amy Evans says she's weird. Amy says that--"

"Oh, shut up, Jody," Peter interrupted. "You sound like you're stuck in a loop."

Jody glared at him.

"Go ahead," Peter said slowly, tightly controlled anger in his voice. "Go ahead, add one more of Amy's comments. I dare you."

Jody sniffed again. She strode haughtily past Jeanne back to the trail. "I'm telling Dad on you!" she yelled and ran.

"I'm sorry, Jean," Peter sighed, drawing a hand through his rumpled sandy hair. "Jody's been hanging around that Evans crowd too long."

Jeanne shrugged. "I've heard worse names from Amy."

Peter suddenly looked past her and his blue eyes widened. "Hey, Jean, is that an Appaloosa?"

"The name is Jeanne," she said, adding the 'ie' sound to the name, "like the genie of the Lamp." At his blank expression she mentally sighed and continued, "Yes, she's an Appaloosa." The mare nudged Jeanne, and she automatically started stroking the silky neck. "Do you ride?"

"Don't I wish! We've always lived in cities or suburbs before now."

Jeanne suddenly heard her voice saying, "I could teach you if you want." Her hand froze on Robin's neck. What had she said? She couldn't teach him; couldn't afford to be around him. What if she made some dumb slip that showed him exactly how different she was from others? No, safer not to teach him. And yet...

Peter's smile grew even wider. "Could you? That would be--naw," he interrupted himself. "I couldn't pay, and it would take up your time--I know you probably have chores."

He sounded so dejected that she couldn't let him down. Maybe I could trust him. It would be nice to have a friend my own age, not just the stable gang. Sure, she corrected herself cynically. As long as he thinks you're normal. But if he notices that you're a mite too perceptive, then watch him draw away, just like all the rest.

But somehow, the words slipped out without any thought. "I never said anything about money. What do you think I am? We're friends, aren't we? And one of my 'chores' is exercising some of my brother Mike's horses, so you'd be helping me."

Robin nickered uneasily and Jeanne led the mare over to the cleared area in front of the haunted tree, away from rustling leaves. Peter followed. "Your brother has horses?"

"My oldest brother raises horses. He bought Robin here in the spring."

"She's beautiful." Peter moved towards them, and Robin tried to hide behind Jeanne. He stopped and waited for the horse to quiet. "Did I do something wrong?"

Jeanne held the bridle firmly. "No, Robin just frightens very easily. Move slowly. I won't teach you on her. She's bad enough for me."

Peter patted the sleek hide. "Why do you ride her then?"

<"Mike told me that if I could cure her, she's mine."

"He must not have much confidence in you. Aren't horses expensive?"

Jeanne smiled. "Oh, he does. He just thinks I've met my match in Robin. You see, Robin's previous owners were very cruel to her. She still doesn't trust people."

Peter eyed her curiously. "You know, you're a lot like your horse. I don't know why Amy's been picking on you but with her around I can see why you're always on your guard."

Jeanne felt a slight shock at the unexpected remark. "I'm not--"

"You are. I've watched you in class. You're awfully edgy around people. You hiding some deep dark secret? Why do you let Amy push you around?"

"I don't." She glanced down at the ground, confused and unaccustomed to the kindness behind his remarks. "Don't mess with Amy's crowd, Peter. I can handle her better than you can. We've been enemies for a long time. You're a newcomer. Amy could--"

"Amy couldn't do anything to bother me."

"Amy's already bothering you through Jody. And you don't know what one rumor in this town can do."

"Like the one she told Jody?" Peter asked. "That you have magical powers?"

Jeanne flushed in anger. That rumor was too close to the truth for comfort. "I don't--"

"Of course not. There's no such thing as magic--or haunted trees, for that matter. Hey, I was meaning to ask you. How come when Miss Long mentioned this old tree, practically every kid in class looked scared? What's the big deal about it? It's just a tree."

Jeanne glanced nervously at it and found herself wondering if it had heard. "Miss Long is new to town--she doesn't understand yet," she said swiftly. She turned back to Peter. "There--there're stories."

"Such as?"

"Such as people vanishing."

Peter frowned. "Oh, come on! What does that prove?"

"Not much, I guess. It did happen almost a hundred years ago. But sometimes you can hear voices here, only they don't sound human." Jeanne warmed to her subject, feeling as if she was reciting from one of the fantasies she loved to read. "And there've been lights--dancing, bobbing lights, like a will-o'-the-wisp, only there's no swamp near here. The tree has been known to walk, too."

"Walk?"

"Sure. Raccoon Creek is about a hundred feet through there," she said, pointing into the thickly tangled underbrush. "And the tree used to be on its banks."

"Huh?"

"Yep. Stood right on the bank of a creek a hundred feet from here, though the bank was undercut so badly by the water that the tree was just about ready to fall in. This was back when Wilson's Forest was private property, before the Wilsons donated it to the town as a forest preserve. Anyhow, the Wilsons decided to cut the tree down." She paused for effect.

"And?"

"And when they got out to the creek, the tree was gone. They finally found it right here."

Peter silently studied the gnarled old tree. "You're kidding," he said finally. "You actually believe that stuff?"

"Some. My grandfather remembers when the tree was on Raccoon Creek. He was my age then."

"Trees don't move," Peter said flatly. "Your grandfather was only kidding you."

"No, I can tell when someone is lying. And I also believe him because every time I come here, near the tree like this, I get the feeling that there's someone watching me." She shivered. "Like right now."

"It's probably just Jody sneaking around." Peter glared into the shadows, looking for his twin.

"She's just as confused and hurt as you are, Peter. Give her time."

He glanced at her sharply and she realized her slip. "I--I mean," she faltered, cursing her stupidity, "it's always rough when my brothers and I fight. Must be worse for twins."

Peter frowned at the surrounding trees. "Yeah, it is. She won't even listen to me now."

Jeanne forced herself to remain silent, although she wished she could say something to comfort him. She felt fear rising strongly in the mare's trembling body. "Gosh, it's late. I've got to get Robin back."

She swung up into the saddle and looked down at Peter, remembering her promise. "Could you come out to the farm tomorrow? It's Saturday; I'd have time to start you then."