For a second she debated sliding off his back and making a run for it but then another gust of wind slammed into her. She clung even more tightly to him. The only thing worse than being stuck on this bridge with Hope would be being stuck there without him.
From underneath her fur-trimmed cloak, she could feel his muscles moving up and down as he plodded forward. After a while she loosened her vice-like grip on him. Despite the storm raging around them, he seemed to know what he was doing. Eventually, the wind died down. Lifting up her hood, Meylyne saw that the bridge was wider now and not quite so rickety.
“Wow. I can’t believe you got us through that bit. This doesn’t look nearly as bad . . .”
A noise sounded in the distance and she stopped mid-sentence.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
The noise came again, a mournful wailing sound. Her scalp prickled. “Hope, what is that?”
“Hyldas coming.”
“Hyldas?” Meylyne’s voice became hoarse. “No way.”
Craning back her neck, she searched the sky. A speck appeared in front of one of the moons. Growing larger and larger, it soon became a black cloud blotting out the moon entirely. Panic coursed through Meylyne’s veins and she tugged desperately on Hope’s mane.
“What are we going to do, Hope? There’s nowhere to hide!”
“Nothing. Hyldas not interested in us.”
Meylyne did not believe him, especially as she felt him tense beneath her. She looked up again. As the cloud got closer, it started to break up. Now she could see at least fifty winged women and girls with long black hair, flowing behind them. A few seconds later, they were directly above Meylyne and Hope. Meylyne could not make out their faces but she had heard they were beautiful, with blue-black skin and eyes like aquamarine. Their enormous wings pulsed together as if they were attached to each other.
Meylyne held her breath, convinced they would swoop down and scoop her up at any minute. Her eyes remained riveted on them as they passed by, their forms melting into one again.
A minute later, they were gone.
Meylyne exhaled slowly.
“I can’t believe a pack of Hyldas just flew over us!”
She had only read about Hyldas before. Guardians of the warrior-realm, it was their job to carry off the spirits of those killed in war. Supposedly they were fearsome creatures with little regard for the living. It did not do to cross paths with them.
“They must be off to a battle, right?”
Hope nodded. “Take away spirits of battle-slain.”
Meylyne suddenly remembered what Queen Emery had said about war being near.
“They weren’t flying toward Glendoch Proper, were they?”
“No. Toward Celadonia. Our neighbor to west.”
“Phew. You know Hyldas are supposed to be super-scary. They can turn you to stone just by looking at you!”
“Not true,” Hope replied.
Meylyne ignored him. She felt exhilarated with their escape. “I can’t wait to tell Trin and Train about this . . .”
Hope remained silent while she babbled on. Then, as the excitement drained from her body, her mind became leaden. Sitting up took far too much effort, and she lay down on Hope’s neck, weaving her hands and arms through the knots in his mane so she didn’t have to hold on. He was warm, his steady gait soothing. She’d just close her eyes for a little bit. No way would she fall asleep.
She woke up bathed in the pink blush of dawn. At first, her mind struggled to understand why she was outside, lying on the most uncomfortable bed ever, with her arms stretched forward, wrapped in rope. Then all the events from the past day and night flooded her mind. Gingerly, she unraveled her arms from Hope’s mane, every movement sending daggers of pain through her shoulders.
“Everything hurts!” she moaned as she tried to sit up. Her back felt like someone was wringing her out like a wet cloth. Despite that, when she finally made it to sitting upright, she could not help but be awed by the ice-clad mountains surrounding them. They were in a small clearing, with hot springs bubbling to their right. Steam rose off them, warming the air around Meylyne and Hope.
“Nice sleep?” Hope asked.
“I guess so,” she grumbled. She wiggled her feet to try to bring back some feeling into her legs, which were so stiff she was convinced she would be permanently bow-legged. Then she realized that Hope had been probably walking all night and immediately felt bad. He was sure to feel worse than she did.
“Do you want to sleep now?”
Hope shook his head. “Not tired. Eat breakfast.”
Meylyne reached into her rucksack and pulled out the bag of daffy seeds. Dumping some into her hand, she fed Hope before cramming the rest in her mouth. It was probably the world’s worst breakfast. A tingle between her shoulder blades made her shiver and she reached back into her rucksack.
Hope would get a shock if I forgot to take these, she thought as she took out a bottle of purple pills. She washed one down with a swig from her water-pouch and then tried to squeeze some water into Hope’s mouth. A lot of it spilled on the ground, which was covered with a green, spongy-looking plant she had never seen before.
“What’s all this stuff covering the bridge?” she asked.
“Moss. Ready?”
“Hang on.” Meylyne stuffed the pouch back into her bag. Something in Hope’s voice made her uneasy. “Ready for what?”
“Running!”
Meylyne’s stomach gave a terrible lurch as Hope sprang forward. She was suddenly very much awake. Clutching his mane, she gripped his body with her thighs as everything around her became a blur.
“Aaaahhhhhhhhh,” she shrieked. “Slow down already!”
Hope whinnied gleefully in his own language and went even faster.
Meylyne tilted backward as Hope charged up the mountain, her arms shaking with the effort of holding on. For a while, everything blurred by in streaks of white, green and blue. Then, up ahead, she saw the bridge curve around and leave the mountainside altogether.
“Whooooooooaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!” she shrieked. “Slow down!”
Before she knew it, the bridge rose off the mountain, floating free-form in the air. Now there was nothing on either side of her but blue sky and the flaming yellow-orange orb of the sun. Her legs tightened around Hope while her hair streamed in the wind. Just as her muscles began to throb from holding on, Hope slowed to a canter. They had reached the next mountain in the range.
“This is more like it!” Meylyne shouted. “Don’t go any faster!”
To her relief, Hope settled into this slower pace. They continued on like this for hours, intermittently slowing to a trot until the sun was directly above them. Vast lemon trees grew on either side, their boughs hanging low with fruit.
Finally, Hope slowed to a standstill.
“Lunch-time,” he panted.
Meylyne whimpered as her fingers straightened out, one by one. They had cramped into claws around Hope’s mane. Gritting her teeth, she maneuvered one of her legs over his back and slid off, crying out as she landed on the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“You did well,” Hope said. “Natural rider.”
Meylyne glared at him. The aches she had felt in the morning were nothing compared to the agony she was in now. She felt like little pokers were stabbing into muscles she didn’t even know she had.
“I don’t care how well I did. I was really scared when you were galloping like that. Now I can’t move!”
Plucking off a lemon, Hope chomped on it without displaying a shred of remorse. Meylyne fiddled with the buckle on her rucksack, her fingers barely functioning. The buckle finally slid open and she pulled out some figs. Her water-pouch rolled out with them.
“Open, please.” Hope nudged the pouch with his nose.
Meylyne unscrewed the top and thrust the pouch at him. She was determined not to talk to him until he apologized.
Two dragon-flies buzzed by, their iridescent blue-green wings shimmering i
n the sun. Meylyne munched on some figs and for a while the two sat in silence. As the sun warmed her face, the tension oozed out of her muscles and her bad mood started to lift. She reached for her pouch but when she put it to her lips, only a drop came out. Her temper flared up again.
“Hope! You drank all the water!”
Hope blinked. “That all you brought?”
“Of course it is!” The figs had made her very thirsty. “Now what am I supposed to drink?”
“That really all you brought?”
“Yes, it’s really all I brought. I guess we’ll have to fill it up when it rains.”
“What if no rain? No water on bridge!”
Meylyne shrugged and immediately wished she hadn’t as the feeling of hot pokers jabbed into her back again. “Why wouldn’t it rain here? It always rains in Glendoch Proper.”
“Not here.”
Meylyne’s bad mood worsened.
So what—now it’s my fault that we’re out of water? Like I was supposed to know it doesn’t rain on this stupid bridge.
Once again, silence descended upon the two of them. After a while, Meylyne’s eyelids drooped shut and she was almost asleep when Hope nudged her.
“You conjure water,” he said.
Meylyne opened one baleful eye.
“What?”
“We need water. You sorceress. Conjure it!”
Meylyne snorted and shut her eye again.
Hope nudged her again. “Come on!”
With a huge groan, Meylyne sat up. “Look. I am terrible at alchemy, okay? I couldn’t possibly conjure up water—it’s a two-part transformation; a level Five spell. I’m only up to level Two.” She scowled. “It’s where I’ve been stuck my whole life. I’ve had so many accidents, Mother has forbidden me to practice in our cave!”
Hope studied her for a minute.
“You practice with me. I no mind accidents.” He looked up at the sky. “Now we get going—time for practice later. No excuses!”
By now, the sun had dipped down half-way into the sky. Meylyne climbed up on Hope’s back. Now she felt achy and discouraged. Dwelling on her alchemical incompetence always put her in a bad mood, and her dry, scratchy throat wasn’t helping matters.
As Hope broke into a canter, she braced herself for him to start galloping again. Much to her relief, he stayed at the slower pace. The lemon trees thinned out in a blur of green and yellow, replaced by a line of fragrant mimosa-trees. Long, purple sticks and white, feathery silkweed poked up between them. The sun hung low in the sky when he stopped.
“Off, please,” he said, his voice low and urgent.
Meylyne’s body shook with fatigue as he sank to the ground and she slid off him. There was a faint scent of lavender in the air, which she might have enjoyed were she not so exhausted. She had a dull headache and her mouth felt horribly dry and sticky. Looking at Hope, she noticed that his lips and back were flecked with foam. This lack of water was a bigger deal than she’d thought.
“We really have to find some water, don’t we Hope?”
“Ssshh.” Hope began sniffing around one of the trees. “Look.”
On the ground before him was a large, greenish-black feather; as long as Meylyne’s arm.
“Belongs to Hylda,” Hope said. “Come.”
Hope stalked through the silkweed, stopping at the gnarled trunk of a mimosa-tree. Meylyne followed him. They were right at the edge of the bridge.
“As thought,” he said. “Bats build nests underneath this bridge. Look.”
Dropping to all fours, Meylyne lowered herself to the ground and cautiously peered down below. She could just about see some brown, ropy material hanging beneath her.
“How weird. Bats built this? It’s huge—looks more like a cave than a nest. How’d you know it was here?”
“Hylda feather. Hyldas use caves to sleep in at night.”
An icy finger snaked its way up Meylyne’s spine and she backed away from the edge of the bridge.
“Well let’s get out of here then! We can’t stay here with a pack of Hyldas right beneath us!”
Hope fixed her in his gaze. “Hyldas have water.”
All the hairs rose on Meylyne’s body. “And what—you’re going to steal it from them?”
“No. You are.”
6
The Thief
“WHAT?” MEYLYNE SCREECHED. “NO WAY!”
“I can’t climb down into cave. You can,” Hope said. “Hyldas sleep very deep. Carry with them reed bags filled with water. You get one—last us till Valley of Half-Light.”
“Oh right. And get turned to stone if a Hylda wakes up? I don’t think so!”
“That not happen.” Hope’s tone turned desperate. “Listen—I need water bad. You too, soon. We have no choice!”
“No choice?” Now it was Meylyne’s turn to sound desperate. “I think just keeping going is a perfectly good choice! I’m sure it will rain or something.”
Hope sniffed the air. “It no rain for two weeks. We no last two days.”
Meylyne stared at Hope. His eyes were dull and his mouth was still flecked with foam. They really had to find water fast. But stealing from a pack of Hyldas—
She sunk her head in her hands.
“I can’t, Hope. I just can’t!”
“I no ask if too dangerous,” Hope insisted. “As soon as night fall, Hyldas sleep. They sleep like dead.”
The air was already plum-colored with dusk. It would be nightfall soon.
“But how will I see anything down there?”
“Hyldas wear stones around their necks. Aquamins. Sacred stones help them talk to dead. They glow in dark.”
Meylyne wrung her hands. Hope was not going to let this drop.
“Is there nowhere else we can get water?”
“No. Almost at drylands.”
Meylyne had heard that the drylands were beautiful, like blankets of golden sand. And completely devoid of water. She was out of arguments.
“You’re sure—you’re absolutely sure—there’s no way the Hyldas will wake up?”
Hope nodded.
“All right, I’ll do it.”
Hope sank to the ground.
“Thank you. Now we wait for dark to come.”
Meylyne sat down next to him. Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted. Behind her the purple sticks melted into the indigo light and the mimosa-trees rustled faintly. Night was falling fast. Drumming her fingers on the ground, she tried not to think. This was worse than waiting for her mother to come home when one of her messed-up spells had flooded their kitchen with caramel. Finally Hope nudged her.
“Time.”
Meylyne’s heart began to hammer.
“I wait here for you,” Hope said reassuringly. “This all be finished in no time.”
“Right.”
Meylyne crawled toward the edge of the bridge and peered over. In the moonlight, she saw that the fibrous wall of the nest had been woven into criss-crosses and fastened onto purple sticks, poking through cracks in the bridge.
She grasped two of the sticks. They seemed sturdy enough. Reaching down a leg, she searched with her foot for something resembling a rung in the nest’s fibers. There! She reached down another foot and cautiously lowered herself into the nest.
At first, she couldn’t see anything but dots of pale blue light.
Those must be the aquamins.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that the cave floor was covered with big, black mounds.
Hyldas!
She broke into a cold sweat. Forcing herself to crawl forward, she reached the first mound. The Hylda was lying on her back; the pale blue stone on her chest radiating a small halo of light. Just beneath the blue glow was a strap of some sort. Moving closer, Meylyne saw that it was attached to a bag.
That must be it!
Willing her hand to stop shaking, Meylyne took hold of the bag, but when she pulled it toward her, it tugged against something. Mercifully, the Hylda did not sti
r.
What’s it caught on?
Her eyes followed the strap up, and into the Hylda’s long black hair.
You have to be joking. She’s wearing the bag around her neck!
Meylyne closed her eyes. Part of her wanted nothing more than to give up and get out of there as fast as possible. But you’ve come this far, another part of her insisted. You can’t leave without the bag now!
With a deep breath, she grasped the strap in one hand while reaching her other hand underneath the Hylda’s head. A few strands of hair fell from the Hylda’s face, but she didn’t wake up. Meylyne slowly lifted up the Hylda’s head and pulled the strap out and over the top of it.
The Hylda still did not stir. She lay as motionless as a statue.
And the strap was free!
Meylyne felt giddy with amazement. She had actually done it! Turning around, she hung the bag around her neck and crawled toward the front of the cave as fast as she could. She was almost at the cave entrance when a voice chirped from above—
“Take me with you.”
Meylyne gave a small shriek and clamped a hand over her mouth, her head snapping up to see where the voice came from. Hanging on the wall was a cage and in it, a small blue bird.
“Please.” Its voice was louder now. “You can’t leave me here.”
Something stirred in the cave. Panic welled inside Meylyne.
“Sshhh! You’ll wake up the Hyldas!”
“Then hurry up and get me out of here!”
The bird’s voice was even louder now. Desperate to shut it up, Meylyne sprang to her feet.
“All right! Just be quiet! Please!”
She grabbed the cage but as she tried to unhook it, she dislodged something soft and fluttery. It landed on the cave floor and, to her utter horror, gave an ear-shattering scream.
Oh no—it’s a bat!
Everything that happened next was a blur. Hearing noises from within the cave, she ran blindly for the cave entrance. Behind her the bird pleaded with her to come back as she clambered up the ropy wall. Hope waited for her at the top. Grabbing the back of her cape in his talons, he hoisted her up.
“Bird . . . bat . . .” Meylyne panted, trying to explain. She trailed off as a black, flapping cloud emerged over the side of the bridge.
The Thorn Queen Page 4
