They sprinted toward Tom’s house. When they were halfway across the field, the wyvern dropped the wool bale onto the catapult. The machine exploded into splinters. The goblin shouted triumphantly and turned his beast at the girls.
Tom grabbed a long plank thrown from the crushed catapult. “You girls go on to the house!” He ran back toward the barn, waving the plank overhead like a baseball bat. “Hey, down here, you lizards!”
While Tom drew attention away from them, Izzy and Hen raced for the front porch. Out on the field, two goblins who’d been knocked off their wyverns had recovered and were approaching Lug on foot. Selden backed up against him.
“Just leave me!” pleaded Lug. “I’m done for. Just go!”
Selden snapped and growled at the goblins as they closed in around him. One goblin rushed forward. When Selden turned to strike, the other goblin pulled a club from his belt and pummeled Selden on the back of the head. Selden sank to the ground. In a flash of silver, Dree was beside him. She Changed back to her normal self and kneeled over him, shielding him with her thin arms. With loud squawks, the wyverns dropped nets over both of them.
The goblin with the club turned away from the netted Changelings. He spotted the girls and broke into a malicious grin.
Izzy pulled her sister up Tom’s porch steps. “Hurry, Hen, hurry!”
She pushed Hen inside the house, slammed the door, and slid a chair in front of it. In Tom’s kitchen, she yanked open the bottom cabinets until she found an empty one.
“Quick, get in,” she told Hen.
“But what about you?”
Izzy crammed her sister into the cupboard. “Shhh!”
The front door rattled. “Open up! I see you in there!” barked a goblin’s voice. The door shuddered with the force of his club.
Izzy searched the room. She found what she was looking for: a burlap sack on the counter. She grabbed the sack, ripped it open, and scattered its contents on the floor in front of her. Breathless, she stood at the kitchen threshold, waiting.
The front door split with a crack. The goblin reached inside and shoved the chair out of the way. He swung open the shattered door and stepped into the house. Izzy recognized him as the guard who’d left Hen to get her a fried apple tart back at the festival. Where his long, pointed nose had been there was now just a charred, oozing stump.
The goblin chattered his teeth excitedly as he stepped toward Izzy. “I know she’s here, that lyin’ little brat. Now we’ll see who’s a little princess, won’t we? It’s her I’ve got to thank for this.” He pointed at his ruined nose.
Izzy guessed Morvanna must have punished him for leaving his post. She gulped and took one step back. “Don’t come any closer, or you’ll be sorry.”
The goblin laughed. He tramped forward. “I will, huh? And what’s a little speck like you gonna do to me? I could squash you under my boot, and nobody’d notice you’re gone.”
Izzy backed up a little more. She stopped once the goblin set foot into the kitchen. “Speaking of boots,” she said. “Maybe you should watch where you step.”
The goblin looked down. His yellow eyes widened when he saw that he stood in the middle of a scattered pile of black powder.
Izzy took Tom’s matches from her pocket. She struck one against the matchbox and held it out in front of her. “One more step, and I’ll drop it.”
The goblin released his nasty grin. “You won’t…”
Izzy set her jaw. “Oh, won’t I? You’ve got no idea what crazy things we humans will do.”
Another goblin appeared in the doorway. When he saw Izzy, the match, and the powder, he backed away. “Just leave ’em be!” he shouted. “We got the Changelings! The queen can always find more human brats if she wants ’em!”
The charred-nose goblin snarled at Izzy. His body twitched like he might rush at her. He glanced at the burning match. Then he spat on the floor at her feet, turned, and tromped out the door.
Izzy held the match up to her lips. Her breath was so shaky, it took her a few tries to blow it out. Behind her, the cabinet door swung open, and Hen climbed out. She ran to Izzy and hugged her around the waist.
“It’s all right. We’re OK,” said Izzy, as much to reassure herself as her sister.
They looked up to see Tom leaning on the doorway. His clothes were ripped, and he held a bleeding cut on his shoulder. “I’m sorry…I couldn’t stop them.”
Izzy rushed to the window and pulled back the curtain. Three wyverns had landed on the field so the remaining goblins could climb onto their backs. The scaly beasts beat their wings and rose to the sky, each carrying a netted Changeling back toward the peak of Mount Mooring.
Izzy bolted for the front door.
Tom grabbed her elbow before she could get outside. “Get back here! They just let us be—you want them to change their minds?”
“Let go! I’m going after them!”
Tom pulled her back. “The other side of Mount Mooring is going to be thick with goblins. You try and go that way, and you’ll get caught, no question.”
“But we can’t just abandon them! Morvanna will cut out their—she’ll cut their—” Izzy couldn’t say the words. She felt like something had its claws around her own heart.
“I didn’t say we were abandoning them. I just said you can’t go back to Avhalon the way you came, that’s all.”
“What do you mean?”
Tom sighed and shook his head. “I’m going to regret ever mentioning this, I just know it.”
Izzy clasped her hands in front of her. “Tom, are you saying you know another way to get to Avhalon? Please tell me you do!”
Tom glanced at the windows like the goblins might hear him even now. He lowered his voice. “A long time ago, farmers down in the valley needed a way to get their animals to market in Avhalon. You think those sheep are gonna march their woolly butts over the top of Mount Mooring? There’s a tunnel. It goes right under the mountain, straight to Avhalon. It’s all but forgotten about nowadays. No one’s used it for as long as I’ve been alive.”
Izzy let his words sink in. “Under the mountain…”
Tom nodded slowly. “Takes you right to the banks of the Liadan River.”
“But then how do we get inside once we’re there?”
“There’s a way to do that too,” Tom whispered. “And I guarantee nobody but me knows about it.”
Izzy’s stomach did nervous, happy little flips. “We have to go right away! The wyverns are probably already back by now!”
“I’m ready!” piped up Hen.
Izzy turned. She’d almost forgotten her sister was even there. “You’re not coming. You’re staying right here where it’s safe.”
“What? I can’t stay here. Mom and Dad say I’m not allowed to stay home by myself!”
“Oh, and you think Mom and Dad would allow you to go to a castle full of goblins and Unglers and who knows what else? You’re not going, and if you try and follow me, I’m going to tie you to a chair!”
Hen squinted one eye and leaned forward. “Just try it.”
“Hey, hey,” said Tom, stepping between them.
Hen leaned around him and pointed at Izzy. “Don’t boss me about being safe. You’re always doing dangerous stuff. If you would have dropped that match, the whole house would have blown up—with us in it!”
Tom patted Hen’s shoulder. “No, it wouldn’t,” he said calmly. He picked up the ripped burlap sack off the floor and showed it to Hen. The front was stamped with the words, Genuine Coffee, Fine Ground. “Your sister’s clever, that’s for sure. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, and she’s only looking after you…”
Izzy folded her arms and nodded.
“…but she’s not right all the time.”
“Ha!” said Hen.
Tom turned to Izzy. “This house isn’t safe now t
hat Morvanna knows you’re here. The goblins were fine to leave you this time, but I bet she’ll send them right back here to scoop you two up. They might already be on their way.”
“Yeah,” said Hen in her I-told-you-so voice. “Besides, if we’re going to rescue the Changelings, then you have to take me with you. I’m the only one who’s been inside the castle before.”
“She’s got a point there,” said Tom.
Izzy fought the urge to grab her sister and shake her. She’d come all this way, rescued Hen against crazy odds, and now she was taking her right back to Avhalon, right back to Morvanna. It sounded like the most stupid idea she could think of. But there was no way around it. Either they leave the Changelings to die, or they all went in search of them together.
“Fine,” said Izzy. She summoned up the decisive voice their mom used with them. “But you have to listen to me. No running off and doing your own thing. And no whining! Understand?”
Hen clicked her heels together and saluted. “Aye, aye, captain!”
Tom sighed and surveyed his ruined house. “Three days ago, I was a simple sheep farmer, minding my own business. Now I’m about to lead two humans through the Eidenloam Tunnel. If Pa was here, he’d say I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind.”
26
The Eidenloam Tunnel
Izzy should have known that not whining was a promise her sister would never be able to keep.
“This sweater is so itchy!”
Hen tugged at the collar of the purple cardigan Tom had given her. She also wore wool pants cinched tight at the waist and a pair of Tom’s house shoes with thick wool socks to make them fit better. She looked like a giant fluffy raisin. Izzy would have laughed, except she didn’t look much better.
“I don’t understand why we can’t just wear our own clothes,” grumbled Hen.
“You’ll thank me once we’re under the mountain,” said Tom. He switched his rucksack to the other shoulder, rattling the equipment he had packed inside. “Where we’re going, it’s cold and wet, and that wool is going to keep you warm and dry.”
The storm had dragged all the remaining summer away behind it, and the cold mountain air was sharp in Izzy’s nostrils. Just like Hen, she carried all her regular clothes in a wool bag. They were hiking downhill, farther into the deep bowl of Eidenloam Valley. Below them, ribbons of smoke rose up from the chimneys of the small villages of the Eidenloam.
It almost hurt to look at the pretty little valley. If the wyverns hadn’t shown up, they’d be walking down there right now, with the Changelings beside them, heading back to the Edgewood, back toward home. Instead, home was farther away than ever.
At noon, they stopped to eat some biscuits and cheese Tom had packed. When they finished, Tom led them off the trail, through a lush pasture of violet milkwort—the delicate flowers his sheep grazed on. They climbed down a rocky hill until they reached a stand of laurel trees growing against the mountain. They ducked beneath the smooth branches as they moved forward through the laurel. Tom pushed aside a cluster of saplings to reveal a dark opening in the mountain wall. A symbol was carved above the entrance: two hands, clasped at the wrists.
Hen tugged Izzy’s sleeve and pointed at the ground. “Hey, look at that.” A stack of five large stones stood on either side of the entrance. “Those are just like the ones we saw at Marian’s house!”
“They’re a sign of friendship between our worlds,” said Tom. “Stone for Earth, leaf for Faerie. You used to see them all over the valley.” He hung back from the opening. “There it is,” he said, pointing into the darkness. “The Eidenloam Tunnel. In Pa’s time, there was so much traffic between here and Avhalon, you had to get a ticket to go through. But now, it’s empty.”
“Why?” asked Hen, ducking under a laurel branch to get a better look. “Is it haunted or something?”
Izzy elbowed her in the back.
“Don’t mention shades!” said Tom with a shudder. “It’s bad enough we’ve got to go through there without imagining all the terrible ghosts we might meet!”
Good one, Izzy mouthed to Hen.
“Tom, you can’t be scared now,” said Hen. “We just battled a bunch of goblins riding on wyverns!”
“That’s different. There wasn’t time to think about it. And besides, the goblins were alive. Shades are—well, they’re shades.”
“I’m not scared of ghosts,” said Hen, taking a step into the tunnel.
Izzy grabbed her by the back of the collar. “No, but you should be scared of whatever other creatures Morvanna has working for her. Tom, won’t she be watching this tunnel?”
Tom shook his head. “I bet she doesn’t even know it’s here. She’s come into the valley before, but every time, she’s sent the wyverns up over the mountain. She wouldn’t waste all that effort if she knew about this tunnel.”
“All right,” said Izzy. She grabbed Tom’s shirtsleeve and pulled him along behind her. “Either we wait around for wyverns to spot us, or we take a chance with the ghosts. Personally, I’d rather meet the shades.”
“Easy to say in the daylight,” Tom said with a gulp, but he followed after her anyway.
Inside, the tunnel walls were slick with some kind of algae that gave off a faint phosphorescent glow. Otherwise, it was dark as midnight. Tom lit his headlamp. The beam cut through the darkness and illuminated a path that wound ahead into the black.
“OK,” said Izzy, her whisper echoing softly off the damp walls. “Now or never.”
She quickly realized she would have to go first if they were ever going to make any progress. Hen walked behind with Tom, holding his hand. The tunnel became colder the deeper they went. They walked a stone path worn smooth from heavy use and lined with deep wheel ruts. At times, the tunnel opened up to great rooms that extended beyond the reach of Tom’s headlamp. The rooms glittered with stalactites that dripped watery melodies in the darkness.
Tom kept stopping and curling up with his arms around his knees. Not only had Hen put the fear of ghosts into him, but it turned out he was also claustrophobic. To keep him from dwelling on “being crushed under a million pounds of stone,” Izzy tried to keep him talking.
“Tell us more about when your father was alive,” she said. “Were there really that many fairies traveling through here?”
“There were,” said Tom. “Eidenloam folk came this way to take their sheep and other goods to market in Avhalon. And the Avhalonians traveled in the other direction to consult with the humans.”
“You mean they came this way to go to Earth?”
“Some. You can get to the Edgewood from here, but it’s a long trip. Mostly they came to our villages to learn from the humans who lived there.”
“Humans lived in Eidenloam Valley?” asked Hen.
“Lots of them.” Tom’s voice had stopped trembling, and he talked more easily now. “The Eidenloam was a human settlement hundreds of years ago. Back then, the valley was home to the best farmers, the best ranchers—”
“—the best inventors,” said Izzy.
“That’s right!” chuckled Tom. “Any human trade there was, Eidenloam had it.”
Izzy stopped and turned around. “Wait a minute. Tom, are you part human?”
“You couldn’t tell?” Tom smoothed his hair away from his ears. For the first time, Izzy noticed they were pointed but much rounder than the Changelings’. “Having human blood may not be fashionable nowadays, but we in the valley have always been proud of it. Makes us what we are.”
They pressed on through the dark, with Tom telling Izzy about his lineage and the part-human, part-fairy villagers he grew up with in Eidenloam Valley. He explained that although humans didn’t have magic powers, they had plenty of skills that didn’t come naturally to fairies—logic, hardworking spirit, a desire to learn new things. The way Tom saw it, Faerie needed those qualities just as much as it needed pollenin
gs and pixie dust.
Izzy began to see all her familiar stories in a new light: Cinderella’s fairy godmother had plucked her pumpkin from the tidy rows of a human gardener. Rumpelstiltskin wove straw into gold on a human-made spinning wheel. Even Avhalon’s famous apple trees would have stopped bearing fruit long ago if it weren’t for human farmers who passed their knowledge down to their fairy cousins. Now Izzy understood that humans and fairies were part of the same story and had been for thousands of years. The Exchange might be keeping the two worlds connected, but even without it, Faerie and Earth were tied together.
“We’ve been walking forever,” said Hen with a groan.
“Can’t be far now,” said Tom.
“Now will you tell us your secret way into the castle?” asked Izzy.
“Pa told me all about it. I told you Morvanna sent wyverns over the mountain years ago to fetch some valley folk, didn’t I? Well, my pa was one of them she took. It was back when she first started building her castle. She had big plans for it, but there’s not many fairies in Avhalon that know how to build anything taller than a fruitcake.”
Izzy nodded, thinking about all the tilted, ramshackle buildings she had seen in the city.
“So she came to the valley to get ‘volunteers,’” Tom continued. “Slaves more like it. Pa was put in charge of the waterworks. The queen worked him down to the bone. He came back home but died that same winter.”
“I’m so sorry,” said Izzy.
Tom cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, his voice didn’t shake at all. “I thought I could lay low in the valley, be a simple farmer, and forget all about Morvanna. But now I see that she aims to ruin everything she touches. Maybe if we can rescue the Bretabairn, we can finally put a stop to her.”
If there were any ghosts beneath Mount Mooring, they kept to themselves. The sound of dripping water had grown steadily louder throughout their journey. Now, the little subterranean streams joined up with each other and sloshed over the tunnel trail.
“It’s from all that rain we got,” said Tom. “This mountain’s as holey as a dragon-breeder’s trousers.”
The Changelings Series, Book 1 Page 15
