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eluded the High Echelon for years, never staying in one place long. Max always liked to think they'd made it across the border.
The path grew agonizingly steep and a freezing wind stung their faces. He could see the silver owl hopping from branch to branch and the dog shaking icicles from its fur. His nerves jangled, Max could hardly think straight. To calm himself, he began singing softly:
"Owl in the darkness, silver in the leaves,
Blind child comes leading through the fog and trees.
Through the haunted forest, beyond the aching hills,
Darker grows the eventide, deeper grows the chill."
He swallowed hard. He hadn't given much thought to the "blind child" part before. Was the Prophecy talking about Rose?
"We need a plan," he said, steering Rose around an upturned root. A plan, he thought, would make him feel less anxious, more in control. "Too bad we don't have a map like the one your dad drew. That was so cool."
Rose went quiet and he knew she was thinking sad thoughts about her father. "My dad never has plans," she said at last. "He makes things up as he goes along. That's because my dad likes to be open-minded and flexible. He likes to be surprised."
Max sighed inwardly. He hated surprises.
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Black branches towered overhead, rising against a pewter sky. Sleek and insidious, the wind-borne vessels glided just above the trees, buffeted by the wind. Each time the droning grew louder, Max and Rose dove off the path and into the forest.
Snow lashed at their faces as the path curved, and Max glimpsed a roof shrouded in icy mist. "Rose, there's a house ahead!" he said excitedly.
"Hurray!" cheered Rose. But Max could tell by the way she squinted her eyes that she was having trouble seeing.
As they neared the structure, he saw snow-laden branches straggling out through broken windows. The building stood solid and round, glistening with ice, its battered doorway facing them. Over a shuttered window hung a sign with faded letters. It reminded Max of the ticket booth at Cavernstone Grey's train station, where he'd once gone with Gran.
"'North Forest Railway--northbound from Tigris to Port Sunlight and environs,'" he read aloud. "This town must be Tigris." He frowned, thinking how the railway station in Cavernstone Grey would one day be deserted like this one.
Rose took off her hat and shook it out. Her long red hair was powdered with snow. "I always wanted to ride on a train," she said in a dreamy voice. Her eyes went wide. "Hey, my dad talked about Port Sunlight! I think he was headed there next!"
Max blinked at her in surprise. If this train went north, that meant Port Sunlight was in the Frozen Zone. "Why would he go to the Frozen Zone?"
"Search me," she said, brushing ice off Helios. "My dad doesn't tell me everything, you know."
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Max stroked his owl, who had flitted from a branch and clung tightly to his arm. She appeared wary and alert, her golden eyes studying the landscape.
"Let's go," he said, feeling anxious again.
The path took them past the ticket booth and through a gateway of rough-hewn wood. Max could see remnants of a high fence that had once barricaded the settlement, and beyond it a crooked line of rooftops. Apprehension and relief swept through him. The town was still standing!
Keeping close to each other, Max and Rose stepped through the gateway, into the silent town. Heavy snow sifted down, muffling their footsteps as they trudged past empty shops, houses sealed with ice, a clapboard inn with shuttered windows. Thick strands of ivy, coated in frost, choked gutters and chimneys, and spilled down the sides of buildings. Max could see where trees had pushed through walls and roofs.
"I can't see," whispered Rose. "Everything's white again."
"Not much to see anyway," said Max, worried that these episodes of Rose's were happening more frequently. "Looks like the town was wrecked by tremors or something."
Snow fell in waves and gusted down off rooftops. Max realized with growing alarm that all the buildings were frozen shut. His mind raced. Where were they going to sleep?
The dog, glued to Rose's side, began to growl. The silver owl hooted nervously, then dove into Max's pocket.
Max turned a corner, half-blinded by snow, growing more fearful by the minute. Without warning a high-pitched howl broke the silence.
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"A wolf!" gasped Rose. "I can see the outline of it, Max! That thing's huge!"
Max froze, panic engulfing him. Snow swirled and he glimpsed two impossibly tall shapes garbed in red, faces covered with masks and goggles, and beside them a large creature with spiky black fur. Dark Brigradiers--and a plague wolf!
Clutching Rose's hand, he sprinted toward an ice-covered house, hurling himself against the front door. It was frozen solid. He kicked frantically, shattering the layers of ice, while Rose bore down on the handle. At last the door gave way, creaking on rusted hinges as it swung inward. They tumbled into a dark, glacial room.
Max slammed the door and bolted it. "The snow will cover our tracks," he said, trying to sound confident. "The wolves will lose our scent, don't worry."
Rose looked uncertain. "I hope you're right, Max."
Max brushed snow off Rose's coat, while Helios sniffed around, toenails clicking on the icy floor. Max spread his jacket for Rose to sit on, then dumped the bread and cheese out of his rucksack. While she ate, he walked around inspecting the rooms, disheartened by what he saw: overturned furniture, smashed pottery, a stone hearth rimed with frost. What sort of family had lived here? Had there been a boy like him? A grandmother? A dog?
The owl squirmed out of his pocket and climbed onto his shoulder, rubbing her beak against his face. Max felt a bit warmer with his owl so close.
"Helios hates it here," grumbled Rose. "So do I." Max saw her
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crouched next to the dog, running her hands over his fur and pulling out thistles one at a time. "He's a sun dog and he hates the cold."
"Yeah, but it's almost dark, Rose, and--" Max bit down on his lip. He didn't want her to know how frightened he was. Outside the light was fading and he hoped the Dark Brigadiers would give up and go home. But with night coming he felt a creeping dread.
What they needed was a fire, but it would be too risky to light one, even if he could. He dragged a table across the room and pushed it against the door, then blocked the two windows with bookshelves and a sideboard. In the kitchen he heaved one broken cupboard against the back door and another against the window.
By now it was totally dark outside. Exhausted, Max crawled into the corner next to Rose and started emptying out his rucksack, piling coats, sweaters and a thin blanket on top of them.
"They'll never find us here," he reassured Rose. "Besides, there's a snowstorm going on--they won't stick around much longer."
"Yeah," she whispered, "those goggles are rubbish when it comes to snowstorms." Before he could ask if that was really true, Rose said, "Mrs. Crumlin is a giant skræk?"
Max felt a wave of nausea, remembering. He wished he could forget, but he knew Mrs. Crumlin's hideous face was stamped on his memory forever.
And so he explained to Rose what had happened. When he'd finished, she snickered--somewhat cruelly, he thought.
"You don't understand," he said, "she's not Mrs. Crumlin anymore!"
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"How can she not be Mrs. Crumlin?"
"Because she's a skræk!" Max shuddered, remembering the wings tearing through her raincoat. "Her shape is still human, but her features sort of fused with, um, skræk features." What would the authorities do? he wondered. Would they be able to restore Mrs. Crumlin to her old self? Somehow he doubted it.
"Ugh, that is totally revolting!"
"It could have been me, Rose!" he said, repulsed by the thought. "Or you! They were planning to get us both!"
"Your silver owl saved you," said Rose, smiling drowsily. "She's the real superhero! I mean, superheroine."
Max gave a sleepy chuckle,
thinking how he was the luckiest kid in the world to have Rose for a friend--and a silver owl, too.
Huddled together, the two children, the dog and the owl sank into a weary sleep.
"Wake up, Max!" whispered Rose, shaking him.
He sat up, muscles tensed, startled to find himself in what felt like a dark, frozen cave. Then he remembered that they'd found shelter in an empty house.
"I looked out the window!" Rose shook him again. "Something's outside, Max! Something's coming!"
Wired with fear, Max listened, watching his breath on the air. Blinking sleepily, the owl peered out of his pocket. The frigid house was silent.
"Come look, quick!" Rose pulled him to his feet, her voice shaking with terror. In the darkness her face looked like a floating mask. "I can see weird shadows!"
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Max leaned toward her, alarmed by the strange light in her eyes. He had a sudden hollow feeling. The owl let out a sharp hoot. Growling, Helios leapt to his feet and tore around the room in frenzied circles.
Gripped by a cold terror, Max raced to the window, where Rose had somehow heaved the shelves to one side.
Peering through the filthy cracked glass, he saw snow whirling around a mass of dark shapes hobbling down the road. His heart clanged inside his chest. Misshapens! Covered with ice and snow, they moved erratically in awkward clumps, eyes pulsing, their crooked outlines illuminated against the icy background.
They seemed to be moving toward the house with alarming speed. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift up. How many were there? he wondered. Had they seen him and Rose break into the house? For a nanosecond his heart stopped. Did they live here?
"Hurry, Max!" cried Rose, pulling him from the window. He saw his rucksack slung over her shoulder, stuffed to overflowing. When it came to quick escapes, he thought, he could always count on Rose.
Something thumped against the front door. Terrified, Max whirled around. He heard claws scraping against the wood, then a snap, a splinter, hoarse guttural screams. Helios barked at a high, frenzied pitch.
With an earsplitting crack, the door crashed inward.
"Run!" screamed Rose.
Heart pounding, Max seized Rose's hand and they fled to the kitchen, Helios yelping at their heels. The two hauled the cupboard
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aside and kicked wildly at the back door, cracking and shattering the ice. "Hurry!" urged Max. In the next room he could hear the shrieks of the Misshapens, high and mad and shrill.
The back door flew open, and he and Rose stumbled onto the porch, gasping and breathless, staring at each other in terror. They leapt down the steps, the dog close behind, speeding away over the ice. Sprinting between houses and trees and garden walls, they zigzagged down a maze of alleys, stumbling through snowdrifts, running headlong into darkness, leaving the village behind.
Max had no idea how to find the path again: the blowing snow and tangled trees confused him. All he could do was run in the direction of the Frozen Zone, his owl in his pocket, Rose clutching his hand, pulling him forward as if somehow she knew the way, into the blackest of nights.
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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
[Image: The fortress.]
Max clutched Rose's hand as they raced deeper into the ice and mist and luminous blue snow. On all sides rose glacial walls and ice-clad trees, and whitethorn bushes hoary with frost.
Unlike Max, who was racked with anxiety and self-doubt, Rose charged confidently ahead, pulling him toward the pale cliffs of the Frozen Zone. The silver owl flew out of Max's pocket, spiraling upward. He watched her skimming and darting ahead of them, growing more lively and spirited the higher they climbed.
As they stumbled along, Max took deep breaths, yet all the while dread gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Where were the
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Dark Brigadiers and their plague wolf now? he wondered, glancing around. And what about the Misshapens?
The farther up they climbed, the more difficult it was getting to breathe. "Can we stop, Rose?" he asked, puffing hard as the path grew steeper. "Just for a minute?"
"Sure," she said. "But not for long."
Max loosened his scarf. His eyes were smarting from the cold. "I thought by now we'd find the Owl Keeper and be somewhere safe and warm. Maybe I hoped too hard," he said, doubts crowding into his head. "What if Gran was just remembering some childhood story? What if the Owl Keeper is just some character in a book?"
"Don't you dare say that! That's what Crumlin and Tredegar wanted you to believe!" Rose grabbed his wrist and squeezed, crushing the bones with her wiry fingers. "Of course the Owl Keeper's real!" she cried fiercely. "And it's up to us to deliver the silver owl! It says so in the Prophecy--and that poem's the truest thing I ever heard!"
"Okay, okay," said Max, prying her fingers off his wrist. Her tenacity could be frightening.
"We can't give up now, Max, that poem's all we've got!"
He stood looking at her, the wind howling in his ears. Her hair hung in strings around her face and her lips were cracked from the cold. There was a chunk missing from her boot where snow was getting in and she was only wearing one mitten.
"What happened to your mitten?" he asked.
Rose shrugged. "Lost it."
She stamped off determinedly, Helios trailing behind. Max
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noticed that the bobble on her hat was gone, too. Poor Rose, he thought. She was so brave--she didn't care about cold or hunger, she just kept going.
Despair rolled over him. He wanted to believe in the Silver Prophecies and in their mission to deliver the silver owl to the ancient tower. He wanted the Owl Keeper to be real. He'd never wanted anything so much.
But, deep inside, he could feel himself giving up.
Rose tugged at his sleeve, urging him on through a hollowed-out tunnel of snow, as if--despite being blinded--she knew the way. On the other side of the snow tunnel, they emerged onto a narrow ridge and Max could see the path once again. On his right loomed a sheer cliff, impossible to climb, and on his left a snow-filled ravine plunged into darkness. He shut his eyes, trying to block out a sudden dizziness.
When he opened his eyes, he looked across the ravine to another ridge, running parallel with the path. Above it hung the two moons, throwing their eerie light over the bleak, icebound forest below.
"Helios is breathing funny," said Rose, sounding worried. She bent down and rubbed the dog all over. "Warm up, Helios, warm up!"
Max looked at the shivering hound and noticed for the first time how cold he looked. "Yeah, he's kind of blue around the mouth," he said, sliding off his knapsack and digging through it. Helios looked gaunt and hollow-eyed, his paws glazed with frozen snow. Max pulled out the blanket and threw it over him, tying it around his neck. He hoped that the dog would be all right.
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Rose jumped up. "Look, over there!" Her voice was high and breathless.
Terrified, Max peered through the trees, studying the hills, trying to make sense of the landscape. All he could see were leafless branches and barren cliffs. Where would they go if someone came after them now?
The silver owl flapped overhead. Helios shook his body out and started to whine. Too bad he wasn't one of those snarling guard dogs advertised in Homes and Domes, thought Max, feeling more anxious than ever.
"I see shapes, running on the snow!" Rose pointed to the other ridge.
This time Max saw them: three black wolves, running fast, dark blurs against the sky. He felt his throat close up in terror.
"Plague wolves, right?" Rose whispered.
Max's heart shriveled. He felt all hope leaching out of him. How could they outrun three hungry wolves?
"If anything bad happens," he said, swallowing hard, "will you remember we were friends?"
"I'll remember." Eyes closed, she leaned into him, kissing his cheek. Her breath smelled of peaches and her hair had a sharp, spicy odor. "Star-crossed friends, that's what we are," she said softly, "like the god
s and goddesses of old."
It was just as well she couldn't see him blushing.
A freezing mist swept down, and the path, crusted with snow, grew narrower and more treacherous as they ran. Max became more fearful with each step, staring at the wizened trees wrapped
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in ice, the black rocks crouched along the path. Even the sky looked frozen.
Sleet began falling like frozen knives. Cold and miserable, Max looked uncertainly around. His owl, her feathers soaked with ice and snow, fluttered ahead of them, urging them on. Without warning the path widened, opening out onto a vast, frozen plain. It struck him as the kind of place where battles had been won and lost centuries ago, a place where ancient ghosts might walk.
Through the ice and sleet he could make out a line of jagged shapes ahead, looming against the sky. Fear pressed against his chest.
"I see shapes!" shouted Rose. "It's a castle!"
Max let out a sigh of relief. Maybe their luck was turning. He could see a high stone wall that curved for miles into the distance, its watchtowers jutting up at intervals: sturdy stone turrets with narrow windows cut into the sides.
His owl gave a joyful hoot.
"It's a medieval fortress, Rose! It has to be!" Max said, his excitement mounting. He envisioned a castle bristling with weapons and soldiers. "They built them around cities for protection, with towers and parapets and windows for shooting arrows out of! I saw pictures in Gran's books, but I didn't think there were any still standing. This is unbelievable!"
"That's in the poem!" said Rose, her eyes growing wide. " 'The fortress old'!"
Max hadn't even thought of that. Could this be the place they'd been searching for? he wondered. Light spilled down from the crimson moon, infusing the snow with a reddish glow. As they rushed over the icy ground, his heart filled with hope. Soon they
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