Isle of Winds (The Changeling Series Book 1)

by Fahy, James

  Karya sipped her wine sullenly, sinking into her huge fur coat. “I just don’t like this,” she said to no one in particular. “Sitting here, waiting for news. What’s taking so long, anyway? That’s what I’d like to know. It’s been hours now since Deepdweller sent his message to the other barrows. And all this feasting. It’s like he’s trying to distract us, keep us here. Something smells wrong.”

  “I think it’s the sausages,” Woad sniffed at the banger on the end of his fork, then shrugged and bit it in half anyway.

  * * *

  It was hours later, much to Karya’s increasingly evident impatience, that a slender, wide-eyed redcap approached and informed them that the chieftain wished to have their presence again.

  The three companions were led, not back to the throne room as they had expected, but back up the long spiralling corridor to the entrance of the barrow.

  The doors to the outside world were closed fast, but the chieftain was waiting for them, his black and gold robes bulky around him.

  “You have some information?” Karya asked as they approached.

  “We will keep our end of the bargain,” the creature replied. “Redcaps always do. We will tell you what we have heard. That is what was agreed between your people and mine.”

  “Do you know where they are?” Robin asked eagerly.

  The chieftain peered at Robin in the gloom. “We have heard that a servant of Lady Eris did indeed pass across the Barrowood, and that those who you seek to find were present. They travelled east, beyond the borders of the forest and far over the moors, but they did not walk. They left no track which you can follow.”

  “Then how will we ever find them?” Robin asked.

  “You would do well to seek guidance from the Phythian perhaps,” the redcap murmured. “Or at least, that would have availed you, if you had had more time.”

  “What do you mean?” Karya demanded.

  The redcap’s mouth split into an ugly smile. Behind it, the vast circular stone which barred the door to the forest outside slowly opened.

  “Redcaps hear much … see much. All know this to be true. You three are not the first to come to us of late looking for information.”

  Karya narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

  The door was open fully now, the fresh forest air rushed in to greet them. The blood-red light of the setting sun washed through the trees outside and, on the other side of the clearing Robin could make out several shapes.

  Woad’s nose twitched. “Skrikers!” he yelped in alarm.

  The redcap grinned toothlessly. “A deal is a deal.”

  Karya’s eyes were wide with shock. “You tricked us! You kept us here all day. That message you sent through the stone, it wasn’t asking after our friends at all, you were sending a message to…”

  “Mr Strife!” Robin cried out in alarm.

  “We have given you the information we had on your friends,” Deepdweller replied, unabashed. “We have kept our end of the bargain. We also had a bargain with Eris’ man, and now that too is fulfilled. This has been a good day for business.” It chittered to itself. “A good day indeed. Farewell, surface dwellers.”

  It turned and crept off slowly down the tunnel.

  “That two-faced, double-crossing…” Robin spat angrily.

  Woad glared. “Well, what did we expect? He’s a redcap. You can’t trust them at the best of times.”

  “Shut up, both of you!” Karya snapped as the barrow’s door-stone clunked shut behind them with a very final thud.

  Across the clearing, two skrikers growled low in their throats, making Robin’s skin crawl.

  “Here we all are,” Mr Strife said smoothly, stepping out from between the trees. “How … nice.” He smiled at them, a horrible rictus filled with small even teeth. His green, slicked hair shone in the light of the setting sun.

  Karya pushed Robin behind her. “Stay away from him!” she warned.

  “Ah … Karya,” Strife said smoothly, as though greeting an old friend. He looked at her with his head cocked. “I’ve been looking for you for quite some time now. How fortuitous to find you here with the Scion. One might call it chance, but I prefer to think of it as fate; a concept I’m certain one with your nature would understand. Two of my Lady Eris’ most wanted personages here in the palm of my hand together.” His eyes narrowed. “Two birds, one stone. Tell me, girl. If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear, does it make a sound?”

  “Where’s Henry?” Robin said, cutting her off. “And Phorbas? What have you done with them?” Woad grabbed his arm, holding him back.

  Mr Strife’s cold eyes fell on Robin. “I have them,” he said softly. “And now I have you.”

  Karya turned to Robin. “We have to run,” she hissed in a whisper. “Get ready.”

  “But Henry…” Robin protested.

  “Can’t help Henryboy if we’re dead,” Woad growled. “Skrikers make us into dog food, then what?”

  “Robin Fellows, all of the Netherworlde is very interested in your potential,” Mr Strife said, stalking across the clearing toward them. The skrikers padded at his side, their dark shapes wavering as though seen through a heat haze.

  “My inheritance, you mean?” Robin spat. “Yeah, so I’ve heard.”

  “I am sure that my friends here, Spitak and Siaw, will be most persuasive in convincing you that your cooperation is for the best,” Mr Strife said in his oily voice. The dense carpet of autumnal leaves crunched under their paws as the skrikers advanced.

  “We have to get to the trees,” Karya whispered urgently. “Behind the barrow.”

  “We’ll never make it, boss,” Woad said. “Skrikers too fast; we run, they run.”

  Karya looked about hopelessly. Mr Strife produced a long, slim-bladed knife from the depths of his frock coat.

  “Scion … the leaves,” Karya said, her eyes lighting up.

  “What?” Robin stammered, distracted by the approaching beasts and knife.

  “We need a diversion,” Karya snapped, “A smokescreen. The leaves on the floor, Scion. Hide us!”

  “I … I don’t know if I can. I’m still learning…”

  “Learn faster,” Woad suggested urgently.

  Mr Strife lunged towards them, arm outstretched as though to seize Robin from afar. The skrikers growled, leaping forward, and Karya and Woad stumbled back in shock.

  Robin didn’t stumble. He stood his ground, his hand flying to his mana stone. Gripping its solid warmth, he closed his eyes tightly and pointed his hand, fingers outstretched, at the forest floor before him. He had time to think briefly, ‘this had better work!’ and then, with all of his strength, he cast Featherbreath on the leaves beneath them.

  Only this wasn’t floating a sheet of paper in a classroom. This was fighting for his life in the lonely wilderness.

  All over the clearing, the countless leaves exploded upwards, rustling and roaring in the wind, a tremendous wave of solid red and gold spiralling between them and their attackers. Mr Strife disappeared from view, crying out in surprise as he was lost in the sudden maelstrom. The skrikers, invisible in the storm, howled in alarm, disoriented.

  Robin stood shocked, his pale hair whipping about his face as leaves battered him like angry moths. His mana stone felt as hot as blood against his chest.

  Karya grabbed his arm and dragged him back.

  “Now! Don’t just stand like an idiot! Run!”

  He clambered the barrow’s sloping wall and crossed the top of the grassy cairn, darting between the makeshift chimneys. He half-ran, half-slid down the steep slope of the far side. The others were almost at the trees on the far side of the clearing already. Robin pounded after them, his bag slamming painfully against his back, heart thudding in his ears.

  He heard a shriek of inhuman fury behind him and risked a look over his shoulder. Mr Strife had clambered to the top of the barrow and stood, his face contorted in fury. Leaves were still falling from his shoulders and stickin
g haphazardly in his garish hair.

  The skrikers were already bounding down the slope, headed straight for him at terrible speed.

  Karya and Woad had stopped running. They had reached the edge of the trees and were standing, breathless and white-faced waiting for him. Karya had her hand splayed on the tree bark and Woad’s skinny blue arms laced around her waist. They were both shouting at him to hurry.

  His legs burning as he ran, he suddenly saw that Karya’s hand wasn’t on the tree at all – it was somehow in it. She held out her other hand, reaching for him. He heard a growl close behind and was suddenly sure that he could feel the skrikers’ breath on the back of his neck.

  Robin threw himself forwards, arm outstretched.

  Behind him, a blood-freezing howl. Karya’s fingers closed around his, jaws snapped inches from his head, and before he could form another coherent thought, he was being pulled forwards into a sudden rushing darkness, leaving far behind the fading howls and dying red sun.

  Chapter Seventeen –

  The Ghost Stone

  Robin floundered blindly in darkness, panic clutching at his throat. His jumper snagged, dragging him backwards. Flailing, he tore free with a loud rip, falling to the snow-covered ground. He blinked in the darkness, looking back over his shoulder. It hadn’t been skrikers tearing at him. He’d been half-buried in a thick and prickly hedgerow. Wherever they were now, it was not the Barrow Wood. Here it was full night, and bitterly cold.

  “Woad? Karya?” he called, his voice still hitching in panic. He was answered not by his companions, but by a roaring, bright yellow light bearing down upon him. He froze, as helpless as a frightened rabbit as it barrelled towards him in the darkness. It was almost upon him when a firm blue hand grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him back off his feet.

  “Is your brain jellified, Pinky?” Woad gasped irritably. Robin stared after the light, confused, as it disappeared into the darkness. A red winking light disappeared around a bend and was gone.

  “A … a … motorbike?” he stuttered. “We’re back in the real world?” He struggled out of the ditch, wobbly on his feet. “The human world, I mean?”

  “Will you two please get out of the mud?” Karya’s voice came from the darkness. “Strife won’t be far behind.” She glanced around, taking in their surroundings. “I think I put some distance between us but I don’t quite know where we are yet. Somewhere far from Barrowood village at least.”

  Robin scanned the views. It was hard to believe that mere moments earlier they had been running for their lives in another world. His teeth chattered in the cold and he hugged himself against the wind, his heavy book bag shielding his back a little. All around them was dark, snow-covered moorland. They were high up somewhere, wherever they were.

  In the distance, Robin saw the lights of a city, sprawling and twinkling, oblivious in the darkness. Closer by was the odd isolated speck of light from a farmhouse nestled in the hills, these pinpricks of light both lonely and cosy.

  “Where are we?” he asked.

  “I think I may have outdone myself,” Karya replied, hands on her hips. “I meant to put as much distance between us and Strife as I could, but I’ll be a chalpie’s aunt if I haven’t only gone and moved us fairly close to where we’re going anyway.” She sounded quite pleased with herself.

  “Where we’re going? Robin asked. “You mean we’re heading towards somewhere? I thought the main plan was just to be heading … you know … away?”

  “Don’t you ever pay attention, Pinky?” Woad asked. “We need to see Pythian Lady. That’s what the redcaps said.”

  “Redcaps?” Robin spluttered incredulously. “We can’t trust anything they say!”

  “Trust? No, of course not.” Karya shook her head. “But believe? Certainly.”

  “But…”

  “Look, Scion, redcaps can’t be trusted,” Karya said flatly, cutting him off. “That’s just their nature. Don’t take it personally. But they don’t lie outright. Deepdweller may have had an earlier arrangement with Strife, but he was also honour-bound to keep his deal with us. He told us to go and see the Pythian. She’s an Oracle of the Netherworlde, so that’s where we’ll go.” She peered up at the dark moors around them. “And as I said, we’re closer to our goal than I expected.”

  She pointed down the snowy country road. A lonely pub sat some way off, a kindly grandmother smiling down from its swinging sign, cosy windows filled with welcoming light.

  Robin fervently hoped this was where they were headed. He had to admit though, it might be difficult to explain what three unkempt children, one of them blue, were doing out in the middle of nowhere in late December.

  Karya however, wasn’t pointing at the pub, but at the snowy hills beyond. The landscape rose up and up, rugged and huge. Robin’s legs ached just looking at it.

  “That hill, you see,” Karya said. “It’s called Knowl Hill. If I remember rightly, there’s a Janus station right on top. Good job really, as I used all my mana on that last tear. I’ll be good for nothing for a while.”

  “I don’t like the look of all the dead people between us and it though, boss,” Woad said darkly, squinting into the darkness at the looming hill.

  Robin stared at the faun, confused. “Sorry? Dead people?”

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Karya reassured him briskly, setting off towards the hills behind the pub without further ado. “Dead people can’t hurt you.”

  “Zombies can,” Woad argued, scampering after her. “Ghouls can, revenants too…”

  “Yes, yes, alright!” Karya replied irritably. “But not regular dead people. Ghosts are just ghosts.”

  “Seriously … what are you both talking about?” Robin said. “I don’t see any ghosts anywhere.”

  “You will. Up on the moors,” Karya said without looking back.

  * * *

  The snow deepened as they trudged onwards, the slopes becoming steeper. Soon, Robin and his companions were wading through thigh-deep drifts. Even Woad struggled.

  “Ghosts, which are not really dead people at all, but more like memories of people…” Karya explained as they forged ahead, “… are attracted to specific places to haunt. Funny really that you’re learning the Tower of Air at the moment, cause they seem to have a thing about air and wind.”

  “What do you mean?” Robin asked breathlessly.

  “Well,” Karya went on. “It’s always draughty cliff tops and windswept castle battlements with ghosts, isn’t it? Occasionally the crow’s nests of shipwrecks, places like that. But these days there’s one kind of place in the human world where ghosts seem to show up more than ever.” She pointed ahead.

  For a moment, his heart jumped. Robin could make out shapes ahead in the darkness, huge and slender, looming over the hills. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing.

  “Windmills?” he said. “There’s a wind-farm here?”

  “Oh, they’re everywhere these days in your human world,” Karya said. Robin watched the vast blade-like sails turn slowly, slicing the night sky in almost complete silence. He had never realised how immense the structures were.

  “Ghosts seem to love them,” Karya said. “I think they get caught up in all the churning air energy here.” She shrugged inside her furs. “Or maybe they just like it, who knows. Look, there’s one now.”

  Robin followed her pointing arm. High ahead, at the top of the nearest windmill was a greenish-grey translucent shape, tangled in the blades.

  “That’s a ghost?”

  “Yes. They’re everywhere if you look for them.”

  Robin glanced around. Scattered liberally throughout the dark hillside, dotted over the moors and under the watchful care of the towering windmills, there were hundreds of misty ghosts.

  Robin stopped walking, taken aback by the sight. Karya and Woad turned around.

  “What’s wrong?” the girl asked.

  “There are … so many of them,” Robin replied, stunned.
He stared at a distant shimmering figure. It looked like a woman in a long old-fashioned dress. She passed between the shadow of a tower and, as he watched, her barely substantial form caught in the updraft. Her form stretched out upwards, growing thinner until she was pulled up into the blades above, losing form altogether. Robin couldn’t be certain, but he thought he heard a distant ‘whee!’, although it could have been a mournful wail. The spinning ghost was flung free and shot out across the sky. It hit a distant hillside and slowly reformed back into the shape of the woman in the old fashioned dress, who then continued her mournful walking as though nothing had happened.

  “They’re much easier to see than they usually would be,” Karya told him, looking out over the snow at the gathered masses milling around. “It must be your mana stone,” she reasoned. “It calls out to them.”

  Robin’s hand went to his mana stone. He automatically expected it to feel cold and lifeless after all the mana he had channelled back in the forest, but it was warm and light. “My mana stone?” he asked, confused. “What would that have to do with it?”

  “Seraphinite is an excellent mana-stone for channelling the seventh and most difficult Tower of the Arcania.”

  “The seventh tower?” Robin replied distractedly. His attention was focussed on the ghost of a young street urchin, who was running along in the snow with a spectral hoop and stick. As he watched the boy ran headlong into a tall snowdrift and disappeared, his form blown apart like smoke.

  “What are the Towers of the Arcania?” Karya asked impatiently, “Honestly, hasn’t your tutor been through all this with you?” She counted them off on her fingers. “Earth, air, fire, water, light, darkness and…?”

  “Spirit!” chirped Woad helpfully.

  “But I don’t know how to do any spirit magic,” Robin argued.

  “Of course you don’t, you dolt,” Karya scoffed. “The seventh Tower is the most difficult of all. What I’m saying is that certain mana stones are good for certain Towers. My mana stone is amber.” She rattled her bracelet. “Good for Earth. Woad’s stone is a fire-opal. Seraphinite,” she pointed at Robin’s chest, “… is good for spirit.”