“Let me guess,” Worthy put in. “Then you wake up.”
Meilin turned a fierce glare on him. He made a noise that sounded like meep and backed away.
But Conor was nodding. “Yes, then I wake up.”
To Abeke’s surprise, Anka had put her spirit animal, the chameleon, into passive state. She stood there, unhidden. Her face was pale, and she had deep shadows under her eyes. “Come with me,” she said, without her usual sharpness. “I want you to see something.”
They followed as Anka led them up the steepest, rockiest part of the path yet. The trees grew closer together, too. With the clouds like a low ceiling overhead, it was almost like being in a dim cave, Abeke thought.
And then, suddenly, the path grew level. Four more steps, and they came out of the forest to stand on the pebbled shore of a lake so wide they couldn’t see the other side of it.
In the middle of the lake was an island.
“Is that it?” Anka asked in a subdued voice, pointing. “Is that what you saw in your dream?”
As one, they all turned to Conor to see what he would say.
RESTING HIS HAND ON BRIGGAN’S ROUGH-FURRED HEAD, Conor gazed out at the island in the middle of the lake.
He had expected the Heart of the Land to look like a regular island. Like a low hump in the middle of the lake, with trees growing on it.
This island was nothing like that.
It was like a huge, square pillar jutting out of the water. There was a thin ribbon of beach around its base, where waves lapped, but then it went straight up—all gray, rocky cliff face—until it ended in a flat top. It was taller than the tallest castle tower Conor had ever seen, and from where they stood on the shore of the lake, its steep sides looked impossible to climb.
But that’s where they had to go to reveal the rock that shared its name with this island—the Heart of the Land.
“Is it?” Rollan interrupted.
Conor blinked. “What?”
“Is that the place you were standing in your dream?” Meilin said, pointing at the island.
Conor frowned and studied it. “I don’t know.” His dream had been so dark. “I’m pretty sure it was an ocean, not a lake.”
“Water, though,” Rollan pointed out, “and a high place.”
“It could be,” Conor said slowly. He looked around at his friends, and at Worthy and Anka. “It doesn’t matter if it is or not. We still have to go out there, right?”
“No way,” Worthy said quickly.
“Shut up, Worthy,” Rollan and Abeke said at the same time. They grinned at each other, then quickly turned somber again, knowing how much danger they were about to put themselves in.
“No, seriously,” Worthy said, putting his hands on his hips. “I mean, look at the island. It’s not even an island! It’s made out of cliffs! And we don’t have a boat, so we can’t get out there. You can’t, I mean, because I’m not going. And then you’ll have to climb to the top of it in the middle of a storm. And now there’s this wave thing that Conor dreamed about that might be coming? You’d have to be crazy to try it.”
“So anyway,” Rollan said, ignoring Worthy, “I’ll send Essix out to take a look around.”
“We need to hurry,” Meilin reminded him. “The Oathbound will know we’re here, and they’ll be coming.”
Rollan nodded, then turned and whispered something to Essix on his shoulder. After a moment, Essix launched into the air. With a shrill cry, she swooped higher, buffeted by the gusts of wind that were coming in ahead of the storm. Steadying herself, she flew straight toward the island.
Rollan closed his eyes and he frowned, concentrating. Conor knew he was seeing through Essix’s eyes.
“As much as I hate to admit it, Worthy’s not wrong,” Rollan muttered. Conor could only barely see Essix in the distance, circling the island. “This thing is all cliffs. But there might be a way up. There’s a flat area at the top, and a big rock shaped like a crescent moon. Huh. I thought there might be an arrow with a sign saying ‘Reveal the Heart of the Land here.’ ” He opened his eyes again. “But there’s not.”
“It doesn’t sound too promising,” Abeke said.
Rollan shrugged. “We still have to try to get up there.”
“You can’t climb the island,” Worthy put in, “because you can’t even get to the island.”
Rollan raised his eyebrows. “Essix showed me a way out there.” He pointed with his chin along the curve of the lake. “Over that way is a long strip of sand that leads out to the island. Sort of like a bridge.”
“It’s probably not sand,” Worthy said glumly. “I bet it’s quicksand.”
All four Greencloak kids glared at him.
“I know, I know,” Worthy muttered. “Shut up, Worthy. But I’m not wrong. This is a completely terrible idea.”
It was hard to admit, but as he stood at the end of the sand path, Conor thought Worthy might be right—again.
What Rollan had called a bridge was a thin line of sand winding in an S shape from the pebbly shore toward the pillar-like island. The clouds overhead were roiling, and growing darker by the minute. Thunder growled, and lightning flashed on the distant horizon. The lake’s waves were whipped by the wind, washing over the narrow strip of sand. They’d be lucky to make it out to the island.
Meilin had decided that Anka and Worthy should wait on the lakeshore to keep an eye out for the Oathbound army, and to prevent them from crossing the sand bridge if they decided to come after the Greencloaks.
“That doesn’t sound like a very rewarding task,” Worthy complained.
“You could come with us, Worthy,” Meilin said, and she gave him a sweet smile.
He flinched. “No, that’s all right. You go ahead.” Then he added under his breath, “And try not to kill yourselves while you’re at it, all right?”
To Conor’s surprise, he found himself stepping closer to Worthy. “She gave you a dangerous task,” he said. It was hard to read the face behind the white mask, but Conor thought Worthy was worried. “We’re counting on you.”
“I’ll do my best,” the other boy said. Then he added in a rush, “And … and I’m sorry for the way I treated you, Conor. You know, back in Trunswick, and the rest of it.”
“You were having a bad day?” Conor asked.
He saw Worthy gulp. “Ha-ha,” he chuckled awkwardly. “Yes. A bad year. A bad everything. But I’m trying to be better.”
Conor was silent for a long moment. “Before the Wyrm, I might have thought that anyone who did the things you did was beyond saving. But … ” He shook his head soberly. “When the Wyrm took me, I did bad things. And I thought for a while that it made me a bad person. But it didn’t. I am worthy. And maybe, so are you.”
He saw Worthy’s slitted eyes blinking rapidly behind his mask. Then he whispered, his voice shaking, “I hope so.”
Conor put a reassuring hand on the Redcloak boy’s shoulder. “I’m sure you will be.”
As thunder rumbled and the storm prowled closer, the four Greencloaks set off across the sand bridge. The sand was soft underfoot and shifted at every step. Waves washed across their feet. Across the choppy water, the island loomed closer as they struggled along the narrow bridge of sand. Uraza led the way, leaping from one dryish spot to the next, clearly unhappy about getting her paws wet. Abeke followed, her strides long and powerful thanks to her bond with the leopard. Then came Meilin, followed by Rollan, then Briggan, with Conor bringing up the rear, bounding with wolflike confidence.
At a distance, the island’s cliffs had seemed unscalable, like slick stone walls. But as they grew closer, Conor saw that the cliffs were covered with fissures and ledges. Even so, it still looked difficult to climb. Each wall sloped gradually outward; the top of the island was bigger than the bottom.
Ahead of Conor, Essix whirled past on a gust of wind. The blast had them all fighting to keep their feet on the sandy path. Then she banked and landed awkwardly on Rollan’s shoulder, flapping her wings
to steady herself.
“She can’t fly in this storm!” Rollan shouted. His brown cloak whipped in the wind. Its shadowed inner lining almost looked green under the stormy sky.
Conor nodded, and they went on.
The thunder grew louder. Conor saw fingers of lightning probing the lake. The clouds lowered until it was almost as dark as twilight, and the wind gusted. Ahead, Conor saw Meilin stumble. He yelled out a warning, and Rollan grabbed her arm before she could tumble into the freezing lake water.
At last they trudged from the path to the narrow strip of rocky shore at the base of the island. At the same moment, the clouds opened, and an icy rain pelted down.
They gathered into a tight group. Uraza looked wet and miserable, and Briggan’s tail was lowered, raindrops dripping from his fur.
“What now?” Abeke shouted to be heard above the wind and the pounding rain.
Rollan wiped the rain off his face and pointed. “There’s the way up,” he shouted.
At first, Conor only saw the dark gray cliffs looming overhead, streaming with water. Then he saw what Rollan was talking about.
All down the cliff face ran a narrow rock tube like a chimney, about two feet across. Water gushed down it. It was a waterfall, running from the top of the island to the bottom. They were supposed to climb up this way?
Conor glanced at Rollan, who nodded.
He knew what Worthy would have to say about this: You’re all completely crazy.
The spirit animals would not be able to make this climb. Uraza and Briggan, and even Essix, joined Jhi in passive state.
Thunder crashed overhead, and they started up the cliff. First Rollan, who as a street kid had climbed the roofs of Concorba, evading bullies and the town militia. Then Meilin, then Abeke, and Conor last.
Rollan climbed a few feet and then shouted down at them, “There are handholds! Somebody’s come this way before!”
Conor followed, finding it was true, though the handholds were covered with slippery moss and slick from the rain. The thin stream of the waterfall rushed past his right shoulder. As he climbed, he fell into a rhythm. When Abeke’s booted foot left one tiny shelf of rock, Conor put a hand there and pulled himself up. The rock was gritty under his fingers, which were growing numb with cold. But the chimney of rock protected them from the worst of the wind.
Halfway up the cliff, there was a ledge just a few inches wide, a resting place. Rollan waited there for the rest of them to catch up. The four kids clung to the gray rock face, trying to catch their breaths as the wind battered their backs.
Conor looked over his shoulder, then closed his eyes, dizzy.
“Don’t look down!” Rollan shouted from close beside him.
But Conor had already seen the tiny strip of beach where they’d started their climb …
… and from this height, the lake surface seemed smooth. Just like in his dream. Turning his head, he looked toward the horizon, half expecting to see the huge wave. If it was coming, it would crash into the island and wash them all off the cliff and into the lake.
Instead he saw the worst of the storm bearing down on them. The boiling clouds were a sickly greenish-black and flashed with continuous lightning. Thunder boomed overhead, loud enough to shake the island.
All four of them cringed against the cliff face, holding on for dear life. Rain lashed down. The howling wind pried at their fingers as if it wanted to whirl them away to their deaths.
“We have to keep going!” Conor heard Meilin shout.
Conor opened his eyes and nodded. Following the others, he edged toward the next handhold, and suddenly his foot slipped from the edge. The sickening feeling of falling flashed through him—and then Abeke’s hand grabbed his arm.
“Hold on!” she yelled, steadying him.
It reminded him of the time he’d been having a prophetic dream at Greenhaven Castle and had sleepwalked right off the edge of a tower. Essix had snagged his cloak in her talons long enough for Abeke to grasp his arms and pull him up. Ever since then he’d been a little queasy about heights.
Abeke remembered, too. “Steady on!” she said, with a reassuring nod. She started climbing again. Conor took a deep breath, then followed. Blinking the rain out of his eyes, he looked up just as a clap of thunder broke right over the island. The rain turned abruptly colder, and every handhold became instantly crusted with ice. Lightning flashed, blindingly bright. In its aftermath, Conor saw Rollan, who was still leading, take a bad step. His boot slipped from an icy foothold, and he plunged downward.
Falling.
ROLLAN HEARD ABEKE SCREAM AND AN ANGUISHED CRY from Meilin. Terror slammed into him—I’m falling, I’m going to die—when suddenly he wasn’t falling. He was choking, and banging hard against the bumpy gray face of the cliff.
Something had him around his neck. Reaching up, he snagged taut cloth with his hand. Hoisting himself up, he eased the pressure on his throat. His feet found a tiny crack of rock to stand on, and, gasping for breath, he pressed himself against the rock face. Eyes closed, just breathing, Rollan clung to the cloth, his heart beating so hard that it felt like his whole body was shaking.
“Are you all right?” he heard Conor call from above him.
Without opening his eyes, he nodded. His throat felt bruised, and his shoulder was scraped from where he had slammed into the rock. His fingers were numb, but they clung like claws to the fabric that had stopped his fall.
Opening his eyes, he saw what it was.
Tarik’s cloak, just beneath the brown layer, was now torn along the edge.
It had snagged a corner of rock, saving him.
Rollan released a shaky breath. “Thank you, Tarik,” he whispered as the wind howled around him and the icy raindrops pricked like needles on his skin.
And … thank you, Worthy, for handing him the cloak earlier.
Looking up, he saw that his friends were waiting for him. “Keep going!” he shouted at them, his voice hoarse. He saw Meilin nod and lead the way.
Trying to steady his shaking hands, he made certain his green cloak was still covered beneath the brown one, and followed. Don’t look down, he’d told Conor. He took his own advice, focusing on each handhold, the stone gritty and cold under his fingers, streaming with icy water. At last he looked up and saw Meilin at the edge of the cliff, helping Conor over and then reaching down to him. As he stretched to take her hand, the storm gave one last roar of thunder, and the wind yanked him away from the cliff face.
But Meilin held on tightly and dragged him over the edge of the cliff and onto the top of the island.
Rollan flopped over and lay there for a second, his eyes closed, feeling the last of the rain patter on his bare face. The stone was bumpy and hard against his back. And solid. He’d come closer than he ever had before to dying. Climbing down the cliff was going to be …
Well, he didn’t want to think about it. Shivering, he opened his eyes and sat up. The other three were sitting, Abeke with her head on her knees, Conor looking out toward the horizon, where the storm was walking away on legs of lightning.
“Looking for the wave that you dreamed about?” Rollan croaked. He rubbed his throat, which was still sore. I’ll have bruises there, he thought.
Brushing his wet hair out of his eyes, Conor shook his head. “I’m pretty sure this isn’t the place.”
“Completely sure would be better,” Rollan said. Buffeted by the last of the wind, he got to his feet and surveyed the top of the island. As he’d seen through Essix’s eyes, it was roughly square, and strangely flat, as if human hands had smoothed it. In its center was a weathered black rock about as high as his head, curved in the shape of a crescent. It seemed oddly familiar. Something about its shape …
Meilin stepped up next to him. “It’s got the same surface as the gift,” she said, reaching into her pocket. Carefully she pulled out the cloth-covered rock and unwrapped it. Conor and Abeke came to look at it, too.
And yes, Meilin was right. The huge, crescent-sh
aped rock in the center of the island was covered with obsidian-like black scales, just like the Heart of the Land stone.
“So now we reveal it,” Rollan said. Followed by the others, he headed for the big rock, studying it, trying to figure out why it looked so familiar. In the middle it stood about head height, and it tapered down as it curved on each side to about a foot off the ground. He stepped into the center of the crescent; Meilin stood close beside him, and Abeke and Conor just behind. It was almost like being inside a circle, enclosed by the stone. It was quiet there, a kind of stillness that went beyond protection from the last of the storm’s winds. It felt old, Rollan thought. Nobody had stood in this place for a long, long time.
“I think it’s important that we’re all here together,” Abeke said softly from behind him.
Rollan nodded. She was right. Without each other’s help, none of them would have made it to the top of the island.
Feeling almost reverent, Rollan laid a hand on the surface of the rock. It felt smooth under his fingers. Each scale was rounded, like a bump. Now that he was close to it, he could see that it wasn’t entirely black; some of the bumps were a lighter color, almost orange, in a strange, mottled pattern.
“There,” whispered Meilin, pointing.
Rollan looked and saw a hole in the huge stone, right at chest height, big enough to put his hand into. Immediately he understood. That is where they would reveal the Heart of the Land.
Meilin held out the rock. “You’re from Amaya,” she said to Rollan. “You should reveal it.” Conor and Abeke nodded, agreeing.
Rollan felt goose bumps creep over his skin, and it wasn’t because his clothes were sopping wet from the climb up the island. He looked around at his friends’ faces, all as serious as he knew his was. “All right, I’ll do it,” he said. In the enclosed space, his voice echoed strangely.
Solemnly, he took the rock. It was heavier than it looked, and almost seemed to pulse with warmth. Turning to the huge stone that surrounded them, he gripped the rock in his fist and put his whole hand into the hole. It was like a tube, with a niche at the end. He pushed the stone into it. There was a click, the sound of a key turning in a lock. Quickly Rollan pulled his hand out.
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