Hen stamped through the water, splashing Izzy in the back. “This is so cool—my feet aren’t even wet!”
“Told you that wool would keep you dry,” said Tom. “My sheep are the very best.”
A faint, liquid light shimmered up ahead, and the sound of rushing water grew to a roar. Tom explained that the tunnel exit was hidden behind a waterfall. They carefully followed the slippery trail out from behind the cascade. Izzy blinked in the too-bright light. It took her a moment to realize it was only the moon. They had hiked the entire day away. She suddenly felt exhausted, but there was no time to rest.
Tom pointed at the waterfall behind them. “This feeds into the Liadan River. We’re close to Avhalon now.”
Izzy took a breath and let her lungs fill with the scent of pine sap. They were back in the evergreen forest but on the eastern side of the river this time. Tom and the girls picked their way around the trees, staying close to the swollen river. When they were still fifty yards upstream from the Liadan Bridge, they crouched in the ferns on the riverbank. Avhalon’s ancient city walls cast deep shadows over the dark water.
Being so close to Avhalon again put Izzy’s whole body on edge. She listened for the sounds of Unglers shrieking or goblins shouting.
Tom pointed across the river. “You see that hole in the stone?” he whispered. “Look close, right at the waterline. That’s our way in.”
The circular hole was barely visible above the rushing water. A grate of vertical bars covered the dark opening.
Tom swung his bag off his shoulder and started digging through it. “That was Pa’s project when he worked for the queen. All the other city folk haul their water out of the Liadan in buckets, but that wasn’t good enough for Morvanna. She wanted it piped into the castle directly. Pa designed the whole thing. Water rushes in through that opening and flows under the city to the castle pump room. From there, it’s piped all through the castle.” He reached down into the bottom of his bag. “Now where’d I put that thing?”
Out in the middle of the river, a broken branch floated quickly past. Izzy was a decent swimmer, but she didn’t know if she’d be able to make it across by herself. The current would definitely sweep Hen away.
“Tom, I don’t know if this is going to work…”
“Now, don’t give up till you hear me out.” He dumped his bag out onto the grass. Ropes, pulleys, and half a dozen small wooden contraptions tumbled out. “Ha, knew I packed it!”
He picked up something that looked like a crossbow. He fit the bow with a strange-looking arrow. The tip had a spring-loaded clamp attached to it instead of an arrowhead. Tom tied a thin rope to the shaft. He took aim at the grate. The bow twanged. The arrow flew across the river, the rope unfurling behind it. The arrow clanged against the metal grate and fell into the water.
“Shoot!” whispered Tom. Izzy and Hen helped him reel in the rope. “It’s too dark. I can barely see what I’m aiming for.”
Fireflies began to flicker around them. Tom took another shot. This time, the clamp latched onto one of the bars like teeth.
“You did it!” said Hen.
Tom took the free end of the rope and fed it through another one of his machines: a jumble of pulleys with wooden handles on either side.
“This is the Zipper,” he said. “I made it to get feedbags up to the barn loft without killing my back. With this, you girls won’t have to do a thing. Just hold on tight to the handles, and it’ll take you to the other side all by itself. Once you reach the grate, just send it back across. When it’s my turn, I’ll pull myself hand over hand. Izzy, I think you’d better go first. That way, you can catch your sister when she comes across.”
Izzy slung the strap of her wool bag across her chest, then grabbed the handlebars of the Zipper and stepped into the river. She sucked in a breath when the frigid water spilled over the top of her boots.
Tom held the other end of the rope taut. He nodded to her. “Go on. Just pull that switch on the side.”
Izzy waded farther in. When the water was up to her stomach, she flicked a metal switch on the Zipper. Something inside it clicked, and the machine whizzed along the rope, dragging her with it. Air bubbled out of her woolen clothes. They made her so buoyant, she floated almost entirely on the water’s surface. When the Zipper reached the grate, Izzy grabbed the bars and wrapped her legs around them. The water flowed swiftly past the bars into the dark channel. Izzy’s hand brushed against a heavy padlock submerged below the surface. She hoped Tom had brought something in his bag that could break it. Shivering, she reached up to the Zipper and flipped the switch to send it back to the shore.
Izzy watched nervously as Hen came across. But her sister held tight, and a few minutes later, she had reached the grate too.
Just as Tom stepped into the water, they heard shouting from the bridge. Metal clanged, and the city doors swung open. Goblin boots pounded over the stone, followed by the unmistakable shrieks of the Unglers. Izzy made Hen duck down until only their heads bobbed above the water. The goblins held the Unglers on leashes like bloodhounds. Another dozen goblins on horseback thundered after them, riding out in the direction of the Edgewood.
As the last line of soldiers crossed the bridge, one of them shouted, “Look there! Someone on the riverbank!”
“Get down there and see what he’s doin’!” shouted another goblin.
“Oh no!” Izzy whispered. “They spotted Tom!”
Tom dropped his end of the rope. He kicked his bag into the water and held both hands overhead. The two goblins rode down the riverbank and dismounted. One jabbed his finger into Tom’s chest while the other searched his pockets. The river was too loud for Izzy to hear what they were saying. She held her breath and tried to stop her teeth from chattering. If the goblins looked across the water, she and Hen would be caught. The guards each grabbed one of Tom’s arms and dragged him up the riverbank, over the bridge, and into the castle.
“Now what do we do?” whispered Hen.
Izzy reached down and jerked the padlock. “It’s no good. It’s locked.”
Hen edged one shoulder between the bars of the grate. “I—I think I can make it…”
“Careful. Don’t get stuck.”
Hen’s head scraped against the metal as she pushed through the bars. She turned with a huge smile on her face. “I did it! I’m—oh no!” Her fingers slipped off the grate.
“Hen, no!”
Izzy grasped for her hand, but the current had already pulled her out of reach. Hen’s arms flailed and splashed as she sped away and disappeared into the channel.
27
Four and Twenty Blackbirds
Izzy threw herself at the grate. She wedged her shoulder between the bars and pushed as hard as she could. It was no good. She was too big.
“Ugh, come on!”
Izzy had never wished she was smaller until now. She shut her eyes and willed herself to make it. “Come on, come on!” With one last brain-squishing push, she was through.
She took a big breath and let go of the bars. “Hen! I’m coming!”
Izzy swam with the current, calling her sister’s name. Her voice echoed off the stone walls surrounding her. She couldn’t see anything in the dark channel. She swallowed a gulp of water. As she coughed it up, she heard a small voice coming from downstream.
“Here!” gurgled Hen. “I’m over here!”
Izzy swam ahead, following the sound. She pawed at the water all around her until her fingers touched fabric.
“I’ve got you!”
She pulled Hen close and helped her turn onto her back. Luckily, Tom’s wool clothes were the perfect flotation devices. They bobbed at the surface, catching their breath as the current swept them farther into the darkness. Hen’s teeth were chattering loudly. They needed to get out of the water soon, or they’d both freeze.
“Keep kicking your le
gs to stay warm,” said Izzy.
She did the same, and the toe of her boot hit something solid. The current slowed, and sloshing, mechanical noises filled the darkness. A few more yards and Izzy could reach the bottom with both feet. She bobbed along on her toes, swinging her arms to either side of them. Her fingers grazed slimy stone walls, then the walls disappeared, replaced with a stone ledge a few inches above the water.
“Come on, Hen. Over here!”
Izzy pulled her sister to the side and hauled her out of the water onto cold flagstones. She opened her eyes wide but couldn’t see anything. The rhythmic mechanical sounds echoed loudly all around them.
“This must be the pump room,” said Izzy. “I think we made it!”
Tom had dressed them in his thickest, oiliest wool. Even after swimming through the river, they were only partially soaked through. When Izzy opened her bag, she was shocked to find everything inside was dry. It was like magic—Tom’s own special sort of magic. She worried about him. If they were going to help him—or anyone else—they needed to get up into the castle in a hurry.
Izzy heard a loud scritch. She looked up to see the bright light of a match glowing between Hen’s fingers.
Hen grinned and scratched the side of her nose. “I borrowed some of Tom’s matches. You know—just in case.”
“Uh-huh,” said Izzy skeptically. But this time, she was thankful for her sister’s fascination with flames.
Once they were dressed in their own clothes, Hen lit another match, and they began to look for a way out. The water from the river swirled in a stone pool in the center of the room. Along the wall, bellows wheezed and wheels whirred, pumping the water out of the pool and into copper pipes that disappeared into the ceiling. They reminded Izzy of the design of Tom’s house. Beside the machinery, they found a narrow wooden door. Izzy pushed it open. An unlit stairwell wound up and out of sight. Hen’s match went out.
“We don’t have many left,” she whispered. “Should I light another one?”
“Save them. We can climb stairs in the dark.”
She took Hen’s hand, and they started to climb. Small, unseen creatures clicked and squeaked at their feet, scuttling out of their way. Izzy was in too much of a hurry to dwell on what they might be. She knew it must be way past midnight by now. They had climbed countless steps when they finally came to a landing and a wooden door with a thin beam of light shining beneath it.
“If we peeked out into the castle, do you think you’d be able to recognize where we are?” Izzy whispered.
“I think so.”
Izzy swung the door inward the slightest crack. Hen put her face to it.
She turned back to Izzy, smiling excitedly. “Yes, I know where we are!” she whispered. “This is the first floor—”
“First floor! But we’ve been climbing forever!”
Hen pointed at the crack. “I know, but I’m telling you, this is the ground level. You go down that way, and you get to the castle gates that lead out to the rest of the city. Over that way, there’s a little courtyard that—”
Izzy cupped her hand over Hen’s mouth. She’d heard voices. She didn’t dare shut the door in case someone noticed. The girls held stone still and listened. Boots stomped closer and stopped just outside the stairwell.
“All you do is complain,” said a nasally voice. “Least you only have to guard one of ’em. It’ll be easy.”
Izzy put her eye to the crack. It was a trio of goblin guards. She recognized Blister’s pimply nose. One of his comrades was so round, he was almost a perfect sphere. He wrung his fleshy hands and shifted on his feet.
“He may only be one, but he’s wild,” moaned the round guard. “You saw Pustule’s hand. That Bretabairn nearly bit clear through his thumb. I could see the bone!”
“There ain’t anyone left to guard him,” said Blister. “Everyone else was sent out with the Unglers. Morvanna says they told her there’s one more Changeling in the Edgewood, and she won’t let no one rest till it’s found.”
“Yeah,” said the nasally one. “And the two of us got to get back over the mountain to look for them scrubby little girls.”
Hen squirmed. Izzy squeezed her to be still.
“And there ain’t a wyvern alive strong enough to carry you.” Blister poked the fat one’s belly and laughed. “So, like it or not, you’re comin’ to the garden.”
The fat goblin whined as they continued walking past. Izzy waited until they had stomped out of earshot.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered. “The wild one they’re talking about must be Selden. Hen, do you know where they’re going?”
“It’s the courtyard I was telling you about. Morvanna calls it a garden, but everything in it is dead.”
“Hopefully that doesn’t include Selden! You stay right here behind this door. I’m going to see if I can get close to him.”
Izzy opened the door a little farther and edged out into the hallway. She tiptoed down the hall, hugging the walls until she reached an archway that opened to the outside. Izzy crouched behind one of the huge urns that decorated either side of the arch. She peered around the corner into the courtyard.
Smoking torches threw an oily light onto the stone walls. The castle rose high around the square enclosure. In the farthest corner, Selden lay underneath a heap of netting in his wolf form. His eyes were closed, and he breathed steadily. The net was cinched shut at the top with a silver cord. The end of the cord stretched to the wall, where it was tied to a thick metal spike. There was no sign of Dree or Lug anywhere.
A goblin with a long, sunken face sat in a wooden chair near Selden with a bowl in his lap. He cracked nuts between his teeth while blackbirds hopped from one foot to the other, waiting for him to drop one.
The long-faced goblin spat a nutshell onto the floor at the other goblins’ feet. “It’s my turn to go off duty, and I’m takin’ it. I been watchin’ that mangy thing for hours now.” He jutted his chin at Selden.
The fat goblin hung back, watching Selden nervously. “I thought Her Majesty already took care of all the Bretabairn.”
The long-face shook his head. “The Weaver can only do so many at a time. We’re to guard this one till sunup. That’s when the Weaver’ll be ready to take him.”
The other goblins seemed to shrink down and shudder whenever the long-face said the word “Weaver.” Izzy wondered who he was talking about.
The fat goblin still hadn’t taken a step closer. “Pustule said that boy bit him good…”
The long-face sneered. “Pustule got too close, that’s all. That boy can Change all he wants, but he cain’t get out ’less I let him. Watch.”
He stood and drew a wooden club from his belt. He stalked up behind the sleeping wolf and whacked him on the spine with it. Selden sprung up and howled. He went crazy, snarling and clawing for the goblin. But the long-face stayed just out of reach, and the only thing Selden managed to do was to cinch the cord tighter around the stake in the wall.
The goblins cackled wickedly. The long-face handed his club to his fat replacement. “Here. He gives you any trouble, just give him a taste of this.”
The long-face joined the other two goblins as they turned and marched back into the castle. Izzy squeezed herself between the wall and the urn and held her breath until they were gone. Back in the courtyard, the fat goblin had slid the chair backward a few feet. He cracked open one of the nuts and sucked out the insides.
“Blech!” he said, spitting it out again. He flung the rest of the bowl out on the ground. Wings fluttered as all the blackbirds descended on the remains.
“I should’ve offered those nasty snacks to you,” the goblin said to Selden. “You sure won’t get any food where you’re headed.” He chuckled as he eased down farther into the chair and crossed his arms over his swollen belly. “No tricks now, or you know what I’ll do.” He patted the c
lub at his side.
Selden stared at him. He growled but didn’t lash out again. After a moment, he laid his head on his forepaws and shut his eyes. The fat goblin’s chin dipped lower and lower until it rested on his chest. He began to snore.
Izzy got to her feet and tiptoed into the courtyard. Boxes of perfectly pruned trees had been placed along the perimeter, their leaves brittle and yellow. She crept behind the planter boxes while the goblin snored on his chair. If she was going to reach Selden, she would have to walk across the center of the courtyard, right by him.
The blackbirds pittered around the guard’s feet, unheard over his snoring. Izzy took a deep breath and started across, keeping her eye on the iridescent birds. She wished she could be as featherlight as one of them, with tiny scaled feet tapping softly across the stone floor. The birds eyed Izzy, twitching their heads like little dragons, but they didn’t fly away.
Selden jolted upright when Izzy touched his shoulder. The blackbirds spooked and took to the battlements high overhead. The goblin snorted in his sleep but didn’t wake.
“Shhh!” whispered Izzy. “It’s me!”
“What are you—”
Izzy put her finger to her lips. She pointed at the sleeping guard, then to the cord. She motioned for Selden to move closer to the metal stake. She needed some slack if she was going to untie it.
Selden quietly dragged himself closer to the wall. Izzy hesitated before starting on the knot. She tried not to dwell on the idea of touching Morvanna’s spittle as she set to work. She remembered from her experience with Lug’s snare that the silver cord was impossible to break if put in tension. But it was actually quite slippery and easy enough to loosen if she worked with it gently. The goblins had been much clumsier at tying this knot than the Unglers had. It only took a few minutes to get it free.
Selden Changed back to himself as the net fell at his feet. Without a word, Izzy started to tiptoe back to the courtyard entrance with Selden following behind. A handful of blackbirds returned to hunt for more dropped snacks. As she watched them hop around the empty net, she had an idea. She leaned over and whispered it to Selden.
The Changelings Series, Book 1 Page 16
