Lug put both hands over his chest. “Are you sure?”
Izzy nodded.
“But…their hearts?” said Dree. “That means they must be—”
“Dead,” said Selden.
Izzy reached out for him, but he shrugged away from her.
Hen petted Lug’s shoulder while he sobbed softly. “Oh, dear… All our friends…”
“What are you so upset about?” snapped Selden. “We wanted to find out what happened to them, didn’t we? Now we know. We’re the only ones left, so you better get used to it.” Without waiting for a reply, he Changed into a wolf and trotted away from them, into the shadows.
Izzy started to go after him, but Dree held her back. “Just let him go,” she whispered.
Lug blew his nose into his sleeve. “He doesn’t mean it,” he said as he sniffled. “He’s just as torn up as we are.”
Izzy slipped her hand into Dree’s. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
A cold gust of wind blew down on them from above. Dree wiped a tear from her cheek. She looked up at the gathering clouds and smelled the air.
“Knew it,” she said softly. “It’s going to rain.”
• • •
Before continuing on, they dug a deep hole and buried their Scarlet Stairstep. Now that Morvanna knew their trick, the necklaces were useless at hiding them from the Unglers’ well-trained snouts. Selden scouted ahead and found a faint track that continued up the mountain. A rockslide had almost completely hidden it from view. The rocks wouldn’t cover their scent, but at least it would slow down their pursuers.
Once they climbed over the rockslide, they followed the trail as it switched back and forth across the face of the mountain. It was very narrow, more fit for goats than people. Dree followed Selden as a cat, with Lug walking behind as the fluffy ram. Izzy and Hen brought up the rear. Farther up, the trees thinned, and Izzy could make out the Apple Festival lanterns twinkling down below. As the track led them onto the northern side of Mount Mooring, the view of Avhalon and its rivers disappeared behind the shoulder of the mountain.
Between breaks in the clouds, the full moon shone so brightly that Izzy could have read a book by its light. When she looked over the edge of the track—which she tried not to do if she could help it—she saw the tiny silhouettes of fir trees, like the models from a train set. From the festival grounds, Mount Mooring had seemed enormous, but now she could see much taller, white-capped peaks in the distance. Row upon row of mountains filled the horizon to the north and west.
“I wonder what lives out there,” she said.
“That’s the Norlorn Range,” said Dree with a swish of her slinky tail. “Home to trolls and ice giants and wild, lawless sorts of fairies like the Wevildale goblins.”
Izzy fell quiet again, wondering if there was any pocket of Faerie not full of danger. As the track led them through switchback after steep switchback, she thought of all the conditioning drills her old gym teacher forced her P.E. class to do. Completely useless. They should have been climbing up and down the school stairs with sacks of flour on their backs. As the track turned east, it became wider, which meant she didn’t worry so much about falling off the side. But thick banks of clouds rolled over the moon, and the wind picked up sharply. Just when Izzy felt like her thighs couldn’t handle another step, the ground started sloping downward. Although it wasn’t as tiring as climbing up, she had to be careful not to slip on the loose gravel under her feet. Lightning flickered in the clouds overhead, followed by the slow rumble of thunder.
“All right, everyone, back to normal,” said Selden, Changing back into himself. “I think we should hold hands for a while.”
They inched along in the dark with their backs to the mountain. Izzy held on to Lug with one hand and Hen with the other. The wind blew harder and colder with every gust.
“Just a little farther,” shouted Selden between thunderclaps. “We’ll find a cave or an overhang and wait out the storm.”
A shrill blast pressed them against the mountain wall. A scatter of fat raindrops hit Izzy’s face.
“Here it comes!” shouted Dree.
All at once, the rain came down in solid, stinging sheets. When the wind blew, it drove the freezing drops sideways, pummeling them against the mountain wall. Within seconds, Izzy was soaked through every layer of clothing. Still, they all crept along the track, moving an inch at a time. Even when the lightning flashed, Izzy could see nothing but gray water and gray rock. Beneath their feet, the track had quickly become a river of mud.
Beside her, Hen stumbled. “My slipper! It fell off!”
“Hold on a second,” Izzy shouted to Lug. She let go of his hand and bent down to feel the track at Hen’s feet. “I can’t find it! It must have fallen off the side. Come on. You’ll just have to walk without it.”
Izzy reached out for Lug again, but her hand touched air. Still gripping Hen, she took a step forward and blindly waved her other hand around in the darkness.
“Lug?” she cried. “Lug!”
“What is it?” shouted Hen.
“I’ve lost them!” Izzy peered through the rain, looking for a sign of the others, but she could barely even make out Hen just beside her.
“What do we do now?” cried Hen. “If it rains any harder, I’ll drown!”
“Let’s keep going,” said Izzy. “They can’t be too far ahead.”
Izzy placed her hand back on the mountain and shuffled forward with her head down. Hen limped along behind her. They called Lug’s name again and again, but only the wind roared back at them.
Suddenly, the track dropped. Izzy’s feet flew out from underneath her. She fell onto her side, and Hen’s hand slipped out of hers. She grasped for something to hold on to, but she was sliding too fast. Mud and gravel flew up and hit her in the face. She covered her eyes with one arm to protect them. Her shirt bunched up around her armpits. Her bare ribs and back scraped against the muddy ground. Twisting, she managed to roll onto her stomach. She dug her fingers and the toes of her boots into the ground until she slowed to a stop.
Izzy scrambled to her hands and knees and felt around for her sister.
“Hen? Hen!”
She swung her arms out in all directions, searching for the mountain wall, but it was gone.
“Izzy? Izzy?” It was Hen, calling her name from somewhere in the storm.
“Here! I’m here!” she shouted. A sharp gust of wind washed away her voice.
“Izzy? Where are you?” The voice grew fainter. Hen was moving away from her.
Izzy tried to stand up, but her clothes were plastered against her skin, weighing her down. On hands and knees, she forced herself to crawl over the gritty mud. Lightning pulsed, but she still couldn’t get her bearings. What if she and Hen unknowingly crawled right off the side of the mountain? She opened her eyes wide against the blackness, willing them to see something, anything.
A cluster of hazy amber lights appeared in the distance.
Izzy kept her eyes on the haloed lights as she pressed through the rain. As she drew closer, one of the points of light moved away from the others. The light bobbed up and down like a firefly. It darted to the side and disappeared, then came back into view again. With a lurch in her stomach, Izzy worried it was a troll or one of the other wild mountain creatures Dree had mentioned. Her teeth chattered so hard she couldn’t close her jaw, and her fingers had lost their feeling. She decided she didn’t care what it was—troll or not—if she stayed put, she and Hen would die of hypothermia.
“Over here!” she shouted to the light. “Here!”
The light swung toward her and floated closer, growing in size. In a moment, it was almost on top of her. She realized it was the light from a lamp mounted onto a helmet. A huge purple head with two hideous, insect eyes loomed above her. Izzy shrieked and recoiled from the face. Gloved hands reached up and pulle
d the eyes down and off. In their place, the face of a young man with red cheeks stared down at her in surprise.
“Bless my bones,” he said. “A child!”
23
Tom Diffley
Rain drummed against the window. Izzy had been standing there for a half hour, even though she couldn’t see anything in the glass but her own anxious reflection. Behind her, Hen sat on the edge of a stone fireplace, catching the tip of a stick on fire and blowing it out.
“You’re going to get burned,” said Izzy.
“You sound like Mom.” Hen looked up at Izzy and smiled. “Hey, don’t be so worried. That nice man will find them just like he found us.”
Izzy wrapped herself tighter in the blanket the red-cheeked man had given her. The Changelings were tough, but even they couldn’t survive outside on a night like this. She turned from the window and paced in front of the door.
Their rescuer had the strangest house Izzy had ever seen. The downstairs was one large room, with a ladder at the far end leading up to a second floor. Copper pipes and little brass wheels crisscrossed the ceiling, and every rug, curtain, and blanket in the room was a different shade of violet.
Izzy held out her eggplant-colored blanket, turning it over. “Don’t you think it’s weird that everything in this house is purple?”
“I guess fairies like colorful things,” said Hen. “My room in Morvanna’s castle was pink, floor to ceiling. I had a ginormous pink bed with pink satin pillows.”
“Pink satin pillows?” Izzy couldn’t help laughing. She thought of the nights she spent in Lug’s bed of sticks or buried in itchy leaves. “The whole time I was looking for you, I thought you were in the bottom of some dark dungeon!”
“No way. I had toys and all the princess clothes I wanted, and if I needed anything, the guards had to get it for me.”
Izzy sat down beside her sister at the fireplace. “But weren’t you afraid? All by yourself in that castle with Morvanna and all those goblins?”
“I was at first,” said Hen with a little shrug. “But they all pretty much left me alone. The only time I ever saw Morvanna was when she was getting Peter to make me laugh.”
“So you know about that? Did you know she was stealing your laughter to make an elixir?”
“Yeah, but it didn’t hurt, so I figured it was OK. If I would have known what else she was putting in that potion, I never would have laughed for her.”
Izzy brushed a stray curl off Hen’s forehead. “You’re pretty brave, you know that?”
Hen smiled and poked her tongue through the gap in her teeth. “Thanks. But if it weren’t for Peter, then I probably would have been scared.”
“Peter?” asked Izzy, leaning back. “But he’s the one who stole you in the first place! And he’s Morvanna’s servant.”
“I know, but he was the only one who was nice to me. He did things to make me laugh even when Morvanna wasn’t around.”
Izzy shook her head at her sister. “Oh, Hen, you’ve always been so gullible.”
Hen scrunched up her face and sat up taller. “I am not! If anyone tried to eat me, I’d punch them in the nose!”
“Not edible. Gullible. It means you always believe anything.”
“Oh. Well, you always think you know everything.”
Izzy turned away from the flames. “Not always,” she whispered. For example, at this moment, she had absolutely no idea how they were ever going to get back home.
She was just about to go to the window and look for the others again, when the door banged open. Dree and Selden stood in the doorway, dripping wet and shivering. Izzy threw her blanket off her lap and jumped up.
“Thank goodness! What happened to you? Where’s Lug?”
Selden put his finger to his lips and nodded behind him.
The red-cheeked man followed them in. “If you’re talking about your ram, he’s in the barn with my sheep,” he said. He took off his goggles and headlamp and pulled off his muddy boots by the door.
Selden and Dree shuffled over to the fireplace, teeth chattering. Izzy wrapped her blanket around Dree’s shoulders. She hoped the barn was warm for Lug’s sake.
The man took off his gloves and hat and shook the water from his curly brown hair. When Izzy saw him on the mountain, he had looked so large and intimidating, but once he peeled off his thick purple coat, she saw how thin and wiry he really was. As far as she could tell, he seemed like a nice, though nervous, person. He lingered by the front door, like he might run out of it at any moment.
“Thank you so much for helping us,” said Izzy. “Won’t you tell us your name?”
“The name’s—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and started again. “The name’s Tom Diffley. And I don’t have any treasure here, and I never disturbed a grave in my life.”
“OK…” said Izzy. She looked at Dree and Selden, but they shook their heads, as confused as she was. “Tom, could we please have something to drink? Something hot, maybe?”
“I’ll boil a kettle,” said Tom. He backed up all the way to his tiny kitchen. “I guess you want real water in it?”
“Um, yeah, that would be great,” said Izzy. She leaned over to Hen. “Is it just me, or is this guy a little weird?”
“He looks like he’s about to throw up,” whispered Hen.
In the kitchen, Tom pulled a wooden lever on the wall. Water trickled through the pipes overhead into a kettle suspended from a cable. When the kettle was full, the weight of it sent it wheeling along the cable like a zip line, where it stopped just over the fire. Tom went to the wall beside the fireplace and pulled down on a series of ropes. Above them, a flat plank of wood lowered down until it stopped at table height. Tom brought over four chairs and sat them at the table, then set out some cups and saucers. His hands shook as he poured the kettle, spilling steaming water onto the table.
Tom raised his cup to his lips, eyeing them over the rim. It took him a moment to realize the cup didn’t have anything in it.
“Tom, is anything wrong?” asked Izzy.
He set his cup down and backed away. “Now listen, if you’re all shades, then just come right out and say it!”
“Shades?” asked Izzy.
“Ghosts! Of folks who’ve died in the mountains! Why else would you be out wandering in this storm? One of you is clear as glass!” He nodded at Dree, who hid her bare arms behind her back. “And you,” he said, sweeping his hand to Selden. “You popped up out of the shadows, out of nowhere. Just like a ghost!”
Selden rubbed the back of his neck guiltily. Izzy guessed Tom must have caught him in the middle of a Change.
“I’m sure it was just the storm playing tricks on your eyes,” she said.
“Are your ears a trick?” asked Tom, pointing at her, then Hen. “There’s been no human children in Eidenloam Valley for fifty years. You’ve got to be specters!” He took a few steps backward toward the ladder. “Listen, I’m dead tired, and I want to go to bed. But I can’t sleep knowing there’s shades sitting around my table. So if you are ghosts, then just get on out the door and go back to where you came from.”
“We’re not ghosts, I promise,” said Izzy.
“Yeah,” said Hen. “See, we’re sisters, and they’re—ow!” She scowled at Dree. “Hey—you pinched me!”
“He doesn’t need to know everything about us!” Dree hissed.
“Oh, come on. You can’t be serious,” said Izzy. “He saved all our lives out there. Maybe he can help us.”
“Yeah,” said Hen. “And if Morvanna’s chasing us, he needs to know what he’s getting into.”
Dree smacked her palm to her forehead.
At the mention of Morvanna, Tom went green. “No, no,” he said, holding up both hands. He took another step backward. “I don’t need to know. Nothing’ll come of it but me getting into trouble, and I’d just as so
on stay ignorant, if you don’t mind. Long as you’re not shades, you can all stay till the storm clears, then be off on your way.”
The front door slammed open. Lug stood in the doorway with his arms wrapped around himself, shivering violently.
“C-c-can’t s-s-stay out there any l-l-longer,” he said. “Th-th-those sheep s-s-smell, and one of ’em b-b-bit me in the b-b-backside!”
Tom’s eyes bulged. “What in the name of—” He stopped and held his hands up again. “No, I don’t want to know. Truly, just keep it to yourselves!”
• • •
Once they all dried off, Tom showed them upstairs to their rooms.
“This was my pa’s room when he was still alive,” he said, holding a door open for Izzy and Hen. He pulled a lever on the wall next to the door, and a panel in the floor slid open. With the turn of a wheel, a bed rose up from the planks. “I built this for him when he got older so he could get in and out of bed easy.”
“Can I ask you something?” said Izzy. “You say you’re a sheep farmer, but you seem more like an inventor to me.”
Tom brightened and puffed out his thin chest. “That’s right. But all this stuff in the house is nothing to what I’ve got out in the barn. I’ll show you tomorrow, if it ever stops raining.”
A small bookshelf stood against the far wall of the room. Izzy’s fingers itched to open one of the books. It felt like such a long time since she’d even held one. “Is it all right if I look through those later?” she asked.
“Fine with me,” said Tom, rummaging through a trunk filled with purple clothes. “Here, these should do for night things.” He tossed some old flannel shirts and wool socks onto the bed. “I’m turning in. See you in the morning.” On his way out of the room, he stopped in front of Izzy. He closed one eye, and pressed a finger down onto the top of her head.
“I’m not a ghost,” she said with a laugh.
“Doesn’t hurt to check. All right, girls, good night!”
Izzy and Hen dressed themselves head to toe in violet. Outside, the wind had stopped screaming, and the rain beat out a steady rhythm against the window. Hen jumped onto the bed and burrowed under the covers.
The Changelings Series, Book 1 Page 13
