House of Secrets: Battle of the Beasts

by Columbus, Chris

  “Go on, Eleanor,” said Wangchuk. “Read. Maybe this will make you believe that I am telling the truth.”

  All this time, Wangchuk had been holding his fingers and thumb together, and now he opened them.

  Eleanor could speak again.

  Amazed, she placed her finger on the floating letters in front of her face.

  “‘There will be traveling warriors,’” read Eleanor aloud, slowly, making sure she didn’t mix up the words. “‘And they shall display remarkable courage.’”

  As Eleanor read each word, the letters floated back down and returned to the pages of the book, soon replaced by more sentences. Eleanor looked at Wangchuk, her expression curious.

  “Continue,” said Wangchuk.

  “‘These warriors,’” read Eleanor, “‘will be greatly rewarded.’”

  “That is correct,” said Wangchuk. “And the greatest reward is the Door of Ways. I admit I have withheld information from you. The Door is not only where aspiring monks arrive. Entering it is the highest achievement for any warrior. And if you defeat the frost beasts, you and your friends will be able to do so.”

  “But how will the Door help us?”

  “It will take you home.”

  “Are you sure?” Eleanor asked.

  “It is very dangerous to be sure of anything,” Wangchuk said. “The Door of Ways does not grant its secrets lightly. There will be a final challenge for each of you. A test.”

  “What kind of test?”

  “Unfortunately, I know nothing about that,” said Wangchuk, closing the book. “Now go back to your room and get sleep. You’ll need much energy for battle. Unless, of course, you are still planning to leave?”

  “No,” said Eleanor. “We’re going to stay, and we’re going to fight. I was wrong about you, Wangchuk. I think you’re a good person, even if you’re harsh, and kinda weird.”

  “What do you expect?” Wangchuk said. “I’m a monk!”

  “There is one more thing: If we beat the frost beasts, after we go, all of you monks need to become vegetarians. I feel so bad for the poor yaks. I thought monks were vegetarians anyway!”

  “We’ll consider it,” Wangchuk said.

  “Oh, and there’s one more thing,” said Eleanor. “We’re not fighting the frost beasts alone. You’re going to help us beat them.”

  “Me? That is not possible,” said Wangchuk. “I don’t fight. You are the traveling warriors.”

  “Enough of that!” said Eleanor. “And we’re not only going to need you. Your brothers need to help as well.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue,” said Eleanor, her voice surprisingly strong and commanding. “You have powerful magic. First, you did that cinnamony thing on the mountain, where you revived us when we were practically dead. Then you just made me shut my mouth and not be able to speak—which nobody can do. We aren’t going to be able to beat the frost beasts without your magic.”

  “But ancient legend says that the traveling warriors will—”

  “I don’t care what ancient legend says!” Eleanor said. “We’re making our own legends now. And one of the things that warriors do is lead people. So we’re going to help you, but only if you help us. Is that clear?”

  Wangchuk hesitated, but then a big smile came over his face. “Very well.”

  “What’s so funny? Why are you smiling?”

  “The traveling-warrior legend says that there will be one who is greatest of all,” said Wangchuk. “One who shall display remarkable courage. And now I know which one that is.”

  Eleanor beamed with pride.

  “Hey, one more thing!” she said. “Do you have magic that can open a lock?”

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  Cordelia was awake when Eleanor came into the room with Wangchuk. She had been up worried about her sister and was overjoyed when Eleanor filled her in on what had happened. With the monks’ magic on their side, Cordelia felt the same way as Eleanor: They might actually beat the beasts.

  Cordelia gave Eliza May Kristoff’s diary to Wangchuk. He examined the book’s metal lock and spread his fingers across it. He muttered a few words, in a language that Cordelia and Eleanor could not understand, and the book’s lock exploded in several pieces. The cover popped open.

  “I think you’re tele . . . telkin . . . ,” Eleanor started.

  “Telekinetic,” said Cordelia.

  Wangchuk bowed and departed.

  “I’m going to check out the diary, just a little, and then we’re going to get some sleep,” Cordelia said. “I can’t believe Will and Felix are still out.”

  “They’re like animals,” Eleanor said, nudging a snoring Felix.

  Cordelia began paging through the diary.

  Her eyes widened as she read. A look of shock and surprise covered her face. Eleanor was watching.

  “What?” she asked. “Something important?”

  “Nothing,” said Cordelia. “Boring stuff. So far it’s a real slog to get through.” She squirmed inside. She hated lying to her sister but she didn’t know what else to do.

  Eleanor knew Cordelia. If Eliza May Kristoff’s diary were really boring, Cordelia wouldn’t be reading it. Nor would she be staring at the pages in horror.

  Eleanor was hurt. But if she had been able to peer into Cordelia’s thoughts, she would know the real reason Cordelia wasn’t talking.

  It was because she was thinking: No, no! This can’t be true!

  As the oldest, Cordelia promised herself she would never tell anyone the horrible secret she was discovering. Her family had already been through enough. This . . . this was something they didn’t need to know.

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  The next morning at breakfast (yak bacon), Will was having a hard time agreeing with Eleanor’s decision to fight the frost beasts.

  “It’s madness,” he said. “We’ll be eaten before you can say ‘Yorkshire pudding.’”

  “If we survive, we’ll get to the Door of Ways,” said Eleanor, “which will get us home—so long as we pass its test.”

  “No,” said Will. “There’s no such thing as this door. It’s a fairy story, a whole lot of rubbish. These people will say anything to get us to do their heavy lifting. I don’t know why you trust them. There’s something very strange about a group of men who live alone on top of a mountain—”

  “They’re characters in a book,” Eleanor said, “just like you. Give them a break!”

  That stung Will. He spent a good part of each day forgetting that he wasn’t a true flesh-and-blood person. Eleanor saw his face fall.

  “I’m sorry—that was mean,” she said. “You’re much more than a character in a book to us. You’re a real person. And we love you. But you should have some sympathy for these monks. They’re trapped here. All they want is to be free.”

  “I understand,” said Will.

  “Me too,” said Felix. “All I ever wanted was to be free.”

  “You’re right,” said Will. “I think one of the things we share . . . those of us who are from these books . . . is this sense that we’re trapped. Whether we’re fighting a war that never seems to end, or fighting in an arena for days and days . . . it always seems to go on and on, with no end in sight. It’s a bit like a curse . . . we all long for something more than Kristoff wrote for us.”

  “Look, Will,” said Eleanor. “You and Deal won’t even have to fight the frost beasts.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Cordelia.

  “I’ve been thinking about this,” said Eleanor. “I can fight the frost beasts. With Felix.”

  “What?” Felix asked. “Just us?”

  “Someone has to go back to Rome to get Brendan,” said Eleanor, “so we split up. T
wo and two. Felix will stay with me because he’s used to fighting a lot of creatures at once—”

  “Nell, you’re out of your mind!” Cordelia said. “You and Felix can’t fight these things on your own—”

  “I’d like to point out,” said Felix, “that I’ve never fought fifty large animals at once. I mean, I can do it. But it is going to be a challenge.”

  “No kidding,” said Cordelia.

  “It’ll be fine. I’m fast,” said Eleanor. “Superfast. And we’ll have the monks to help us.”

  “Are you feeling all right, Nell?” asked Will. “All of a sudden you’ve become a mini Winston Churchill.”

  “For the first time in forever, I actually can see a way home!” Eleanor said. “I know we can do this!”

  “But can you get your sister to agree?” asked Will.

  “It’s fine,” said Cordelia, giving up. It was hard for her to focus. Her mind wouldn’t stop reeling from what she had read in the diary the night before. Every time she thought she wasn’t thinking about it—there it was.

  After breakfast, upon hearing Eleanor’s plan, Wangchuk led the kids to the giant double doors that Eleanor had passed the night before. Eleanor got more and more scared as they approached and she heard the vicious barking.

  “Don’t be scared, brave warrior,” said Wangchuk. “I’m about to help your sister get back to Rome.”

  Wangchuk lifted a wooden bar to open the doors. They all entered—and gasped. In front of them were eight incredibly large sled dogs, rising up from beds of hay. The dogs resembled Siberian huskies, but twice as big. Gigantic bowls filled with yak bones sat at their feet. Their mouths were big enough to consume each of the kids’ faces with one quick chomp. The dogs snarled and bit as Wangchuk walked deeper into the barn. They were kept at bay by harnesses, attached to metal posts driven deep into the ground.

  “Meet the Batan sled dogs,” Wangchuk said.

  “What’s a sled dog?” Felix asked. “Actually . . . what’s a sled?”

  “It’s kind of like a chariot that’s got rails instead of wheels,” Cordelia explained. “But a sled isn’t as big as a chariot—”

  “This one is,” said Wangchuk, pulling a tarp off a giant machine.

  The sled was almost as tall as the barn, constructed of polished red wood, covered with ancient symbols. Two large chairs, upholstered with dark leather cushions, were attached to the top of it. It resembled the vehicle that Cinderella rode to the ball before it turned into a pumpkin, only without the pumpkin parts.

  “The Great Sled of the Buddha,” Wangchuk said. “It will take you where you need to go.”

  Eleanor hugged her sister while Felix held back. He was afraid to say good-bye to Cordelia and Will, unsure of how permanent this parting would be.

  “Good luck, Deal,” Eleanor said, holding her sister tight, squeezing her with not only her arms, but with each finger. “Bring Brendan back to us.”

  “I will,” said Cordelia. “Love you.”

  “Love you more,” said Eleanor.

  Felix moved forward to hug Cordelia himself. To his surprise—and heart-stopping pleasure—Cordelia kissed him on the cheek.

  “I thought you didn’t like me that way,” he said.

  “Just because I don’t want to be your wife, Felix, doesn’t mean I can’t give you a kiss good-bye.”

  Will rolled his eyes, but he gave Felix a hearty hug himself before he got into one of the sled’s massive chairs. Cordelia sat next to him and they fastened a thick rope (an ancient version of a seat belt) around their waists.

  Wangchuk, who held his hands closed to keep the dogs from barking, attached them to the sled’s chain with a rope as thick as his arm. Then all eight of the dogs rose to stand in two rows, widely spaced. Ahead, the monks had opened two huge doors that led out of the monastery. There was a straight path leading out of the dogs’ giant kennel and into the mountains.

  “Remember!” Wangchuk said. “If the terrain gets too treacherous, these dogs have special powers.”

  “What kind of powers?” Cordelia asked.

  Wangchuk didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed two multicolored fur coats to Cordelia and Will. Cordelia caught hers and held it over the edge of the sled with two fingers.

  “I don’t wear fur,” she said.

  “It’s from dead frost beasts!”

  “I’m sorry,” said Cordelia, “but I’m totally against it.”

  “If you don’t wear it, you’ll freeze to death! And this time, I won’t be around to save you.”

  Cordelia put on the coat and Will smiled; he could see how warm it made her feel. He was standing majestically at the front of the sled.

  “Mush!” Will said.

  The dogs didn’t move. One of them turned to look at Will: “Rrrr?”

  “Why didn’t my command work?” Will asked Wang chuk.

  “You’ve got to tell them where you want to go!”

  “Rome!” Will called.

  The sled dogs tore off, knocking him back into his seat.

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  Will had never experienced anything like gliding over snowy mountains at high speed. The snow was blinding white and he had to scrunch his face up; he thought, I probably look like Wangchuk. The air was so cold that it cut into his lungs, but it was also impossibly fresh. And the views were so spectacular—the blue mountains patchy with snow, the deep valleys with scrubby bushes like puffs of green paint—that it felt like he’d been lifted into heaven.

  “Isn’t this wonderful?” he asked Cordelia.

  She smiled; Will didn’t think she could hear him. The wind was too loud. She looked glorious in her multicolored coat with her hair flowing behind her. Will thought he’d never seen anyone so beautiful.

  The Great Sled of Buddha rounded a curve, throwing Will and Cordelia into the sides of their seats. The sled skidded precariously close to a cliff’s edge and, just as it felt they were going over, righted itself. The dogs displayed no dismay or deceleration. They were professionals.

  The thudding, whooshing snow under the sled and the frantic pace of the dogs seemed to make time slow down, and the sun put Will and Cordelia in such a daze that neither could say for sure how far they had traveled or for how long.

  Then it happened.

  It started with Cordelia’s hair. As the Great Sled took a sharp turn, a huge swath of it slapped Will’s face and triggered a sneeze. He emitted a great aaachoo into the air (his hands were holding the reins of the dogs), and then something odd took place—

  The sneeze didn’t stop.

  It bounced off the mountain in front of him: aaachoo!

  The mountain behind him: aaachooo!

  The one to the side of him: aaaaa-choo!!

  It continued to echo all around the speeding sled, like some nightmare version of surround sound, an innocuous sneeze turning into something much more dangerous, much more terrible. . . .

  Then he saw it, above and to the left.

  A chunk of the mountain was moving. There was a tiny black gap in the whiteness. A monumental slab of snow was rumbling toward the sled.

  Will yelled: “Ava—”

  Cordelia finished: “—lanche!”

  It was moving down the mountain like a cloud, only this cloud had weight that could kill. It was tough to comprehend, because it was just snow; it defied perspective—somehow seeming slow and fast at once. It was the most terrifying thing Will had ever seen.

  Will tugged the reins, trying to get the dogs to move faster than the avalanche. Maybe, just maybe, they could outrun this thing. But the snow was getting closer. In a few minutes, they would be engulfed. The sled dogs turned—now they were heading away from the avalanche . . .

  Toward the edge of a cliff.

  “Other way!” Cordelia screamed.

  “I’m trying!” screamed Will. “But the dogs . . . th
ey’re taking control!”

  The two of them took the reins together, pulling with all their strength, but the animals were determined to go over the edge. The thousand-foot wall of snow was inches from crushing them . . .

  And the Great Sled of Buddha flew off the mountain.

  Will would later remember it only in glimpses: Cordelia closing her eyes and putting her arms around him; the snow cascading over the side of the mountain; the sun shining down with uncaring clarity.

  But of course what he would remember most were the Batan sled dogs.

  They changed.

  It was a beautiful transformation, unlike the Wind Witch’s bone-cracking affairs. It was as if the dogs had been meant to do this all along. The fur that lined their enormous midsections folded out from under their shoulders—

  And formed into glorious furry wings.

  Then, in sequence, they all began to flap.

  “No way!” Cordelia yelled.

  Now Will understood the reason there was so much space between each dog at the front of the sled; it was so they could spread their wings and fly. The animals’ legs kept moving, running on air, flapping and pawing as they flew over a crevasse far below.

  As the avalanche finished crashing over the cliff behind them, they flew through the mountains like Santa Claus.

  “Those are some special powers,” remarked Will in awe, and it was quiet enough for Cordelia to hear him. She clasped his hand.

  In a few hours, the scenery below had changed, from white peaks to brown mountainsides to green hills. Then Will spotted something, far beneath him on the ground.

  “Is that . . . ?” he asked Cordelia.

  “Yes,” she said. “Maybe the avalanche represented the same kind of seam between two worlds that the tank went through, when we flew up on the mountain.”

  “Kristoff House,” said Will. “I’m glad to see you again.”

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