Tinker Bell and the Lost Treasure (4 page)

D
own at Lilypad Pond, Terence was trying to blow off steam by tossing some stones. “I kept her work space clean … brought her food … stoked the fire … searched high and low for a sharp thingy! And she didn’t even say thank you.”

The stone landed dangerously near a frog. The frog read Terence’s mood and slipped away—out of range and out of danger.

Terence skimmed another rock, narrowly missing Silvermist and a sparrow man, who were flying over the pond. “Whoa!” Silvermist protested.

Terence picked up the biggest rock he could find and tried to hurl it. But the rock was so large it sent him reeling backward.

Silvermist flew over and shook her head. “I know some rock fairies who are going to be pretty upset.”

“There are no rock fairies,” Terence grumbled. “I know, but if there were, they’d be upset,”

Silvermist replied. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great, why do you ask?” Terence said. He immediately regretted his sarcastic tone. “I’m sorry. I had a fight with Tink.”

Silvermist sat down beside Terence. “What happened?”

“There was an accident. And she just exploded.”

Silvermist turned pale. “She
exploded?
”

“No, no. I don’t mean like that. I mean she yelled at me.”

Silvermist chuckled. “Did she turn red?”

“Well, of course she turned red. It’s Tink.”

Silvermist waved her hand dismissively. “Just give her a chance to cool off.”

Terence nodded. “Yeah. You’re probably right,” he agreed. But in his heart, he had his doubts. He glanced over his shoulder at Tink’s house, wondering if the smoke he saw rising from the chimney was coming out of the fireplace—or out of Tink’s ears.

Inside the house, Tinker Bell was hard at work. With great precision, she used a pair of tweezers to try to put the moonstone back together. She dipped a piece of broken moonstone in some sap and moved her magnifying glass for a better view. Carefully, very carefully, she tapped it and … the whole thing fell apart.

Tink hung her head in defeat. But she jerked it up when she heard a voice calling out to her.

“Hello, Tink!” Clank and Bobble were standing in the doorway.

Quick as lightning, Tink swept the moonstone fragments into a bag.

“We came to see if you wanted to join us for Fairy-Tale Theater,” Clank said.

Bobble nodded. “We figure you could use a break.”

“Break?”
Tinker Bell squawked. “Nothing’s broken. What do you mean? What do you know?” She saw their confused faces and caught herself. “Uh … sorry. Busy. You know, the revelry. Autumn Scepter and whatnot.”

Clank grinned. “I can’t wait to see that scepter! Is it as beautiful as I imagine?”

“Uhhhh …” Tink was at a loss for words.

Clank beamed. “Terence told us it’s amazing. We are so proud of you.”

Tinker Bell began gently herding them back through the door. “Look, guys, I really don’t have time.”

Bobble nodded. “Try not to worry, Tink. We’ll tell Fairy Mary you couldn’t make it.”

“Fairy Mary?”
Uh-oh! What did Bobble mean by that?

“Well, sure, you know her,” Bobble said. “She never misses Fairy-Tale Theater. Bye-bye.”

As soon as Clank and Bobble flew away, Tink peered into the bag. She stared at the moonstone fragments and started thinking. Suddenly, she had an idea. “Clank! Bobble! Wait for me!” she shouted.

Tink soared out the door as fast as she could to catch up with her friends.

By the time she got to Fairy-Tale Glen, the place was packed. Tinker Bell made her way through the crowd until she found the head tinker. “Fairy Mary,” she began in a breathless voice, “I—”

“Tinker Bell. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight. Have you finished the scepter?” Fairy Mary asked.

“Not exactly,” Tinker Bell began. “I was wondering … I mean, I have to ask you—”

“Yes?”

“It’s about the moonstone.”

“What happened to it?”

“Errrr …”

“You didn’t lose it? Tell me you didn’t lose it.”

“I didn’t lose it.”

“Oh, good.”

“But I was thinking … if using one moonstone creates blue pixie dust, using two would create even more. Do you have another moonstone?”

Fairy Mary chuckled. “That moonstone is the only one found in the last one hundred years. And thank goodness we found it. Without the blue dust, the Pixie Dust Tree would grow weak. And things would be pretty tough around here, believe you me.”

THUNK!
Tink’s legs turned to rubber and she fell backward.

Fairy Mary hurried to help her up. “Are you okay? You look sort of pale. Wait! I know what’s going on!”

“You do?”

“You’ve been working too hard. What you need is a little theater. Knowing you, you’d probably redo the whole scepter if you could.”

“Is that an option?” Tink asked with a nervous laugh. The sound of chimes informed them that the show was about to begin. It was time to find seats.

“Oh, Tink!” Fairy Mary laughed and grabbed Tinker Bell’s hand, pulling her into the crowd.

Fairies poured into the woodland theater, eager to see Lyria, the most talented storyteller fairy. When everyone was seated, an animal fairy stood and struck up the bug and animal orchestra. Frogs, crickets, beetles, pill bugs, and centipedes played an introductory piece of music.

Music fairies played an overture with spider-silk harps, gourd timpani drums, and flower whistles. Light fairies arranged themselves overhead so that colorful beams streamed down and illuminated the orchestra and the stage.

Fairy Mary and Tinker Bell sat next to Bobble and Clank. Fairy Mary raised her opera glasses. “How exciting!”

Bobble put fresh droplets in his dewdrop goggles.

The chorus sang.
“Hush, fairies, shush, fairies, ’tis the moment for ancient fairy lore.”

The beautiful music made Tinker Bell feel even more depressed. She was about to slip away when her friend Fawn squeezed in between her and Fairy Mary. “Excuse me,” Fawn whispered.

Tink’s nose began to twitch. What was that smell? She glanced at Fawn and realized that she was looking a bit sheepish. The smell was coming from her. “Sorry,” Fawn whispered. “Skunk training.”

The music swelled.
“Aha, aha. Hush, fairies, shush, for a fairy tale of yore,”
sang the chorus.

The crowd held its breath in delighted anticipation … and gasped when an explosion of pixie dust materialized onstage. A rain of leaves came down, and Lyria appeared out of the whirling colors.

Lyria waved her hand, and a cloud of sparkling pixie dust formed animated images to illustrate her tale. A pirate ship appeared, flying over the audience. A crew of menacing pirates prowled along the aisles and converged onstage.

It was all part of the art of fairy stagecraft, but several of the bugs still dove behind a centipede for protection.

Lyria began her tale, holding the audience rapt. “’Twas a distant fall when a pirate ship arrived in Never Land. The dreaded pirates swarmed ashore, seeking the greatest and most elusive prize of all—a fairy.”

Lyria focused her electric gaze on Bobble and—
POINK! POINK!
—his eye-goggle droplets popped in fear.

Fawn clutched Tink’s arm. “Pirates give me the willies,” she whispered with a shudder.

Lyria waved her hand again, and the image of a fairy appeared. A giant hand came swooping down and snatched up the fairy. Lyria continued with the story. “Far and wide the pirates searched until they found a fairy. They chased her, captured her, and forced her to lead them to the most magical treasure of all—the enchanted Mirror of Incanta.”

The image of an ornate hand mirror appeared in the air. “Forged by fairy magic in ages past, the mirror had the power to grant three wishes—anything precious to your heart.”

Tink perked up, intrigued. “Fairy Mary,” she whispered. “Is this true?”

“Every word,” Fairy Mary confirmed.

Tink watched as the pixie dust ship Lyria had created crashed into jagged rocks. “The pirates used two wishes. But before they could use the third wish, the ship was wrecked on an island north of Never Land. The Mirror of Incanta, with its last remaining wish, was lost forever. Yet it is said that the clues to find it are hidden in this ancient chant.”

Tink strained her ears, trying not to miss a word or a clue.

“Journey due north past Never Land, till a faraway island is close at hand.”

Lyria created an image of an island. A cloud of butterfly wings transformed into a spooky set of eyes staring out of the darkness. On cue, an image of a stone arch appeared.
“When you’re alone, but not alone, you will find help. And an arch of stone.”

Tink repeated the words so she would remember them. “Arch of stone,” she whispered.

“There’s one way across the isle’s north ridge. But a price must be paid at the old troll bridge.”

Lyria flew upward, and the image of two trolls running toward each other as if to fight appeared. When they collided, the image dissipated.

“What did she say?” Tink asked, trying to keep up with Lyria’s clues.

“I think she said something about a toll bridge,” Fawn answered.

“Toll bridge?”

Fawn nodded. “Yeah. But I don’t know how much it costs.”

Lyria walked the plank of the sparkling imaginary ship hovering in the air.
“At the journey’s end, you shall walk the plank of the ship that sunk but never sank.”

Suddenly, the pirate ship was no longer in the air, but perched on a shore. Then it transformed into a satchel stamped with a skull and crossbones held up with a dagger. Then it turned into a pile of gems and jewels and the Mirror of Incanta.
“And in the hold, ’midst gems and gold, a wish-come-true awaits, we’re told.”

Tink’s mind was spinning.
Maybe there is a solution after all.
What luck that she had come to the play! That mirror, with its unused third wish, was the answer to her problem.

But she had to move fast. She feigned a yawn and slipped away. Vaguely, she heard the ominous warning at the end of Lyria’s tale:
“But beware and be warned, there’s a trick to this clue. Wish only goodwill, or no good will come you. For the treasure you seek may yet come to rue.”

Tinker Bell wasn’t too worried. All treasure hunts and magic-wish schemes had traps associated with them. She didn’t need to be warned about being careful. She would be the most careful treasure hunter and wish maker in history. She had to be. After all, she only had one chance. And she wasn’t going to blow it.

T
ink studied the huge compass that still sat in her home. The needle pointed north. What was it that Lyria had said?
“Faraway island is close at hand. Due north past Never Land.”

Tinker Bell found her map of Never Land and scanned it. There was an island north of Never Land, all right. And that was where she would go.

She checked her gear, making sure she had everything she would need—food, map, compass, sextant. She had put together a warmer outfit, with a hat and a cape. But then she realized she had another problem. “How am I going to carry all this?” she moaned. Pixie dust would lighten her load, but did she have enough to fly that far with this much stuff? She looked at her daily pixie dust supply.
Nope.

Tink quickly left her house and flew to the Pixie Dust Distribution Depot. She looked around and saw Fairy Gary handing out the pixie dust rations to some fairies. “There you go. One cup, dear.” The fairies thanked Fairy Gary and flew away. Tink immediately took her place at the end of the line and smiled. “Hi, Fairy Gary.”

“Hello, Tink. What brings you here?” Fairy Gary asked.

Tink hated to come right out and ask for more dust. The rules were very strict. She decided to butter him up first. “I see that bucket-and-pulley system I rigged up for you is working out. You know, you really run a tight ship.” She smiled at him, trying to get on his good side. “I know it sounds like I’m just saying it. But you really do. Really.”

Fairy Gary blushed with pride. “That’s very sweet, dear. Ho, ho, ho, ho!” he chuckled.

“Anyway,” Tink went on, “I was wondering … canIhavesomeextrapixiedust?” She hoped that if she said it really fast he might say yes before he realized what she was asking.

“Ho, ho, ho—pardon?” Fairy Gary did a double take.

“Come on, Fairy Gary. Please. Just a smidge.”

“Now, Tinker Bell, you know the rules.” He consulted his checklist. “It says here you have already had your daily ration.”

Tinker Bell flew away without even saying good-bye. She saw Iridessa, Rosetta, and Silvermist passing overhead and took off after them. Maybe they could help her.

“Iridessa! Rosetta! Silvermist!” Very quickly, Tink explained that she needed some dust for a special project that she couldn’t discuss. But her friends were as shocked by her request as Fairy Gary had been.

“Lend you some of our dust!” Iridessa exclaimed. “Tinker Bell! We need every bit of it on the mainland.”

Rosetta nodded. “It takes a lot of flying to bring in autumn, sweetie. Sorry,” she added regretfully.

Rosetta and Iridessa flew off to take care of business, but Silvermist lingered. “Say, you know who might be able to help?”

Tinker Bell knew she was talking about Terence. She and Terence weren’t exactly on the best of terms right now. Still, maybe he would help her. She blew out a sigh that sent her bangs flying straight up. It was worth a try.

“Rafaela … Renato … Redina … Rina …” Terence had grumpily checked his list and was flying out of the depot, ready to make his pixie dust deliveries, when he heard a happy squeak. It was Cheese the mouse pulling Fawn in a cart. They drove by and gave him a cheerful wave.

Terence didn’t feel very cheerful, but he tried to fake it—flashing them a smile and a wave. “Hi, Cheese. Good morning, Fawn.” As soon as they were around the corner, he let his face fall back into its gloomy expression. He returned to his list but was startled when he heard somebody at his elbow.

“Terence!”

He turned. “Tinker Bell!” Why had she come? To yell at him some more? Well, she could scream all she wanted. He didn’t care what she did anymore. “I’m surprised to see you here. How’s the scepter?” he asked coldly.

“I’m working on it,” she replied. Her eyes darted around and she seemed nervous. Clearly, there was something on her mind. “Look, Terence. Things happened. Mistakes were made. Um, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Terence felt his anger melt away. Tinker Bell could get mad and blow up, but she always apologized. And when she did, he was ready to forgive—one hundred percent. No hard feelings. Terence waited.

“I need some extra pixie dust,” she blurted out, thrusting a bag toward him.

Terence couldn’t believe it. Surely she was kidding. He looked at the bag and then at Tink.

Nope. She was serious. “You need more pixie dust?

That’s why you’re here?” he asked, stunned.

Tinker Bell nodded.

“That’s not exactly what I was expecting. Why do you need more dust?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell me? You need more pixie dust and you can’t tell me why?” Terence was trying very hard to wrap his mind around this. As he watched, he could see Tink turning red, which meant her temper was rising. Boy, did she have some nerve or what!

“A true friend wouldn’t ask!” she shouted.

That did it. “A true friend wouldn’t ask me to break the rules!” he shouted back.

“Then I guess we’re not true friends!” she yelled, turning her back to him.

Terence couldn’t believe it. “I guess we’re not,” he whispered.

“I’m on my own, then,” Tinker Bell said, flying away.

Terence watched her go, feeling his heart harden again—this time for good.
Some friend,
he thought.
With friends like that, who needs enemies?

As Tinker Bell flew away, figuring out a way to fix the moonstone was all she could think about. Her heart felt as hard as steel.

Desperate times called for desperate measures. An idea began forming in her brain. A plan. An invention. A contraption. A way out of this horrible mess
that was all Terence’s fault
. She sprang into feverish action, flying here and there, gathering everything she would need all over Pixie Hollow.

By late afternoon, Tink had found cotton from the cotton-ball fields, feathers from reluctant bird donors, the gourd she had made her boat from, and all manner of tools, screws, odds, ends, bits, pieces, and whatnots.

Then she went to work. Hammering, nailing, sawing, screwing, gluing, measuring, hanging, and hoping.

By evening, her contraption was complete. Dressed in her adventuring outfit, Tinker Bell stood back and took a moment to admire the balloon and the basket that would carry her north in search of the enchanted mirror.

She had crafted the balloon out of cotton balls. The hollowed-out gourd formed the basket. Pots and pans hung from the sides to provide ballast. She would drop them as she traveled to make the balloon lighter as the pixie dust began to lose strength.

She didn’t have much pixie dust, but what she had—combined with the cotton balls, wind, and clever management of her ballast—would have to be enough to lift her into the sky and carry her where she needed to go.

Tink sprinkled the cotton with a bit of pixie dust, grabbed her provisions, and pulled up the anchor.

Up went the balloon.

Up high over Pixie Hollow.

Up over the hilltops.

Up, up, up Tinker Bell went.

And then …
away!