“Yes. One day.” Queen Emery took another sip of wine. “In the meantime, I see an opportunity here.”
Meylyne’s mother sat back and sighed.
“You want me to cure Prince Piam of his rapid-aging disease.”
Queen Emery smiled. “How astute of you. It is a perfect solution, is it not? This way, you prove your loyalty to us and we pardon Meylyne. We all win.”
“We have tried this before, with disastrous results,” Meylyne’s mother replied. “My sorcery cannot cure him. Your doctors cannot cure him. Your explorers have died, in search of his cure—”
“Regardless of all that, you must cure him!”
Meylyne flinched as Queen Emery slammed her goblet down on the table. Wine splashed everywhere.
“Look at the state of my Queendom! You speak of war between our worlds? Well war within my world is near! Half of my queendom has lost faith in me. I need to show them that I am not some pathetic, cursed being—incapable of protecting them against a rogue garlysle, or giving them a healthy heir to the throne . . .”
Queen Emery fell silent while a servant dabbed a cloth into her spilled wine. As soon as the servant had left, a bell sounded in the distance.
“You know that it will take more than Prince Piam’s good health to restore your people’s faith in you,” Groq said.
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” Queen Emery drained the rest of her wine. “Either way, it is time to conclude this meeting. Are we clear on my terms?”
“Yes,” said Meylyne’s mother. “You will pardon Meylyne as long as I cure Prince Piam.”
“Correct. Of course I shall have to imprison Meylyne in the Shadow Cellars in the meantime. I can’t have my people think I am entirely addle-pated. You have three months to find or conjure up my son’s cure. If you fail, I shall have to send Meylyne to the Snake People. It was, after all, a First Rule that she broke.”
The crystal slid from Meylyne’s knees.
The Shadow Cellars . . . and then the Beneath-World?
The floor tilted beneath her and for a second she thought she would be sick. Images of everything she had ever known about the Beneath-World flashed through her mind—the scorching mud, the streams of fire and, worst of all, the Snake People. Hateful creatures with human bodies and snake heads.
She stood up. The Well had been right about everything, and this meant one thing.
I have to run away!
4
Hope
DASHING TO HER BEDROOM, MEYLYNE GRABBED HER rucksack. Her eyes darted around the room as she began throwing things into it.
Spell book, quilt, medicine . . . what else?
She hurried back into the living room and almost tripped over her mother’s crystal. At first she just stared at it. Her mother would be beside herself when she found it gone—probably even more so than finding her daughter gone.
You have to take it—the Well said so.
She pushed the crystal into her rucksack. I’ll leave her a note, she thought, running into the kitchen. Then she’ll know why I’ve run away, and I’ll promise to take care of her crystal.
She filled a drinking-pouch with water and squashed it into her bag along with some daffy-seeds, a loaf of bread and a packet of figs. She realized that she had slopped half of the water over her pinafore and dabbed at it with a towel. There was no time to change. Her mother would be home at any minute. Hoisting her bulging rucksack onto her back, she grabbed her cloak and sped outside.
As she neared the town center, she found the usual throng of garlysles milling about; picking up their groceries for supper or taking their children to pottery class. Everything looked so ordinary that tears pricked her eyes. She would give anything for her life to go back to normal.
Fat chance of that, she thought bitterly. In a few minutes, my mother will read my note and—
She gasped and stopped so suddenly that a garlysle bumped into her from behind.
I forgot to leave a note!
The garlysle grumbled at her.
“Oh just go around me,” she snapped.
The garlysle looked outraged but moved away as she began muttering to herself.
“I am such an idiot. Now what am I supposed to do? I can’t just run away without leaving a note!”
An idea clicked in her mind. She dashed off in the opposite direction and did not stop running until she had reached Trin and Train’s cave. She banged on the door.
“Come on,” she muttered.
The door opened and her friend Train peeped around it. Aside from her feathers being longer around her face, she looked identical to Trin. Her beak widened into a huge grin.
“Meylyne! What are you doing here? I thought you’d be shut in forever . . .”
Meylyne quickly stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. “Train, shush! I’m sorry but I don’t have much time. Where’s Trin?”
“Here.”
Trin walked up behind them. Grasping their talons, Meylyne pulled them into their room. Two nests were perfectly made up against the far wall. Meylyne sat in one of them and Trin sat in the other. Train squeezed in next to her.
“Well?” Train demanded.
Meylyne’s chin wobbled. “It’s really bad. I have to go back into the Above-World.”
“What? You’re kidding right?” Train spluttered.
“I wish!”
Meylyne rushed to explain everything as quickly as possible.
“. . . so now Queen Emery’s really mad and saying I’m in cahoots with my father,” she finished. “She’s insisting that my mother prove our loyalty by curing Prince Piam of his disease or I’ll get sent to the Beneath-World.”
Trin’s and Train’s feathers clamped down on their backs. They looked as if water had been poured over them.
“Oh Meylyne, you never should have gone in the Above-World. Your mother would’ve lived without her stupid opal!”
Meylyne wiped her face. Train was right. She was an idiot to have expected her mother to be proud of her just because of that.
“And Queen Emery is such a beast. Everyone knows there’s no cure for Prince Piam’s weird aging disease,” Train continued.
“Well here’s the worst part,” Meylyne replied. “According to the old Well of M’Yhr, there is a cure and I’m the one that has to get it. That’s why I have to go to the Above-World again—it’s where the cure is.”
Trin and Train gaped at her.
“I know it sounds crazy, but the Well wouldn’t lie.”
“No, but what about your mother?” Train asked. “She’ll come looking for you, and you’ll be in double the trouble when she catches you!”
“She won’t find me. She has no idea where I’m going.” Meylyne cleared her throat. “Which is why I need you to give her a message.”
Trin and Train recoiled. They were terrified of Meylyne’s mother.
“What message?” asked Trin.
“Tell her that I’m going to find Prince Piam’s cure so she doesn’t have to. Oh, and that I borrowed her crystal and I promise to take good care of it.”
Trin folded his arms. “No way.”
“Please! Otherwise they’ll just think I ran away and it’ll look even more like I am in cahoots with my father!”
“Meylyne, you can’t go.” Train grasped Meylyne’s hands with her talons. “The Above-Worldians are total barbarians. If they find out that you’re part-garlysle, and Meph’s daughter, they’ll probably roast you on a spit and eat you!” She jutted out her beak. “If you go, I go.”
For an instant Meylyne was tempted. Then she shook her head. “No. At least I look like an Above-Worldian. We’ll definitely get caught if you come too.”
Train opened her beak to argue but Trin cut her off.
“Meylyne is right, and if the Well said so, then she has to go.”
A voice floated in from the back of the cave.
“Trin, Train—is Meylyne in there with you? I just got a message-mole from her mother. She’s looking for her.”
“No dad, she’s not in here,” Trin yelled. “Quick—out through there,” he hissed at Meylyne, pointing to an open window above them. He pushed a chair underneath it. “Now, before dad comes in and finds you here!”
Meylyne jumped up.
“Wait!” Train grabbed her wrist. “You can’t just go by yourself — it’s far too dangerous!”
Meylyne’s throat tightened. “Listen, the Well told me to go, so it has to be okay.”
Train exchanged a desperate look with Trin.
“She’s right. The Well knows what it’s doing,” he said.
For a second, Train looked as if she would argue. Instead she pressed something into Meylyne’s hand. It was a small, pewter locket in the shape of a shield. “Then take this.”
Meylyne looked at it. “This is your mother’s locket. I can’t take it.”
“You must,” Train insisted. “Mother talks to us through it. She’ll tell us if you need our help.”
Meylyne’s throat tightened. Trin’s and Train’s mother had died when they were little and her locket was their most beloved possession.
“Hey!” The door handle to Trin’s and Train’s room rattled and their father’s voice boomed from outside. “Why is this door locked? Open up!”
“Sorry Dad,” Trin called out. “Didn’t mean to do that. I’ll open it right now.” Go! he mouthed to Meylyne.
Meylyne climbed onto the window sill.
“You’ll give Mother the message?” she whispered.
Trin and Train nodded. Meylyne gave them a watery smile and then dropped to the ground below. Without a backward glance, she sped away from their cave.
She didn’t dare use the entrance to the Above-World that she had used that morning. It was bound to be guarded now. The only other unguarded entrance that she knew of was by the Wise Well.
Once again, she made her way to the abandoned part of the Between-World. Her fingers played with the pewter locket but she tried not to think of her friends. It was too horrible to imagine never seeing them again. Before she knew it, she was at the Well’s edge.
“I’m doing what you said,” she called out. “I’m leaving to find Prince Piam’s cure.”
The Well’s waters swirled and bubbled. “I knew you would do the right thing. Farewell, Meylyne.”
“Wait!” Panic swelled in Meylyne’s chest. “What exactly am I supposed to get from the Valley of Half-Light?”
“Everything you need to know will be told to you, along the way.”
“Really?” Meylyne’s voice became shrill. “Including how to fend off soul-eating sphers?”
“There is a spell for that, in your Book of Enchantments. Farewell, Meylyne.”
“Wait! Please don’t go yet. I just need to know—this won’t take long, will it? I mean, I’ll be home soon, right?”
The Well’s waters became still.
“Hello!” Meylyne splashed the water with her hand but the Well remained silent. She was on her own now. Pushing herself to her feet, she trudged over to a cave and threaded her way through the cracked bowls and bottles on the floor to a small staircase in the back. It was dark there and she felt her way along the wall; cobwebs clinging to her hands and face. At the top of the stairs, a dim light outlined a door. She opened it and peeped outside.
A quiet, spacious street met her eyes. This entrance came out in one of Tyr’s outlying roads—it had none of the noise and grime of the town square. On either side of her, a row of cedars shielded her from the houses behind them. The entrance was hidden in one of the trees.
Once she was sure no one was around, she crept outside and made her way along the perfectly groomed ice to a field full of cherry-blooms. The crimson flowers looked purple in the dusk and their fragrance perfumed the air. Just beyond them was the stream. It was an uphill walk and she was panting by the time she got there.
Catching her breath, she looked around. The stream was lined by drooping willows and blue ferns. There was no sign of the stalliynx.
Or any living thing, for that matter.
She made her way downstream. About five trees later, she saw something. A spiky fern hid its body but she could see its long gray and white head as it drank from the water.
That must be it!
Meylyne had never met a stalliynx before. They kept to themselves. Licking her lips, she stepped into the moonlight.
“Um, h-hello there,” she called out.
The stalliynx lifted its head and looked at her. It was about the size of a horse and had a horse’s head but its body was sleek and golden like that of a lion’s. Instead of hooves, it had long, sharp talons. Backing away from the stream, it stalked toward her.
Meylyne took a small step away. “I’m Meylyne.”
“I know,” replied the stalliynx. Its voice reminded her of a bassoon-frog she had once heard singing at night; deep and rich.
“Oh—good.” Meylyne produced a nervous smile. “I suppose the Well got a message to you.”
The stalliynx nodded. “You ready?”
Meylyne blinked. No, “hi, nice to meet you, I’m Mr. Stalliynx,” or anything like that.
“I suppose so. Do you know where it is I need to go?”
The stalliynx nodded.
“Oh.” Meylyne took stock of its wide and rather high-up back. “It’s just . . . I’ve never actually ridden a stalliynx before. I’ve never ridden anything, for that matter.”
The stalliynx lowered itself to the ground.
“Right,” Meylyne muttered. Heaving her rucksack over her shoulder, she straddled the stalliynx’s back and clutched its thick, white mane as it rose to its feet. She wobbled a bit as it started to walk.
“You understand me? Not used to talking your language,” the stallyinx said.
“Yes, thank you.”
Meylyne tried to focus on the rhythm of its legs as they walked on, following the stream as it wound through the willows. Once she felt steadier, she looked up at Glendoch’s three moons, glowing above her.
“I’ve never seen the moons before. It was always daytime when I saw the Above-World in Mother’s crystal. They’re huge!”
“Big and bright,” the stalliynx growled. “But don’t worry. No one see us. When we reach western plains, we take floating bridge to Valley of Half-Light. No one use bridge now, so no one bother us.”
“Why does no one use the bridge any more?”
“No one dare.”
Meylyne swallowed. Of course not, she thought. No right-minded Glendochian would leave Glendoch Proper. The outlands were the home of the exiled ones—witches and other spiteful creatures, like her father.
“So, what’s your name?” she asked, wanting to change the subject.
“Hopexivaffoplos-ploossenaagen. Mister.”
“Hopeggsy—what?”
“You call me Hope.”
Meylyne breathed a sigh of relief. “Hope it is.”
By now they had reached the edge of a forest. An eerie silence enveloped them as they entered it. Meylyne’s head swiveled from side to side as she took in the old, white trees looming up before them, shafts of moonlight filtering through the branchless trunks.
“This place is spooky,” she whispered.
Hope did not reply. Meylyne shifted uncomfortably as a pang of guilt stabbed her.
“I am sorry that you have to do all this because of me,” she said.
“Request come from Well. No need apologize. Well very wise.”
“Yes—usually I think so too, but right now this whole thing seems like the opposite of wise. How long will it take us to get to the Valley?”
“Week.”
Meylyne’s shoulders sagged. “So I have one week to learn the spell to keep the sphers away.”
“That hard?”
“Most likely! And then I don’t even know what I’m supposed to find once I’m there. Why would the prince’s cure be there of all places?”
Hope was silent fo
r a minute. “What Well say?”
“Just that I would learn whatever I needed along the way. Oh . . . and to practice my sorcery. As if that will do any good.”
A dark shadow scuttled up one of the trees. Meylyne turned to see a rat-like creature with a scorpion’s tail, glaring at her as she rode by.
“Aah!” she shrieked. “What is that?”
Hope shied away, his head snapping back to see. “Merdrat.”
“A merdrat?” Meylyne’s entire body shuddered. “Ugh! Here I am, worrying about what to do once I get to the Valley, when really it’ll be a miracle if we make it there at all.”
Hope chuckled. “Don’t worry. I get you to Valley. That easy part.”
5
An Unfortunate Oversight
A FEW HOURS LATER, MEYLYNE AND HOPE STOOD AT the entrance of a narrow, wooden bridge. Part-suspension, part-floating, it zig-zagged over Glendoch’s western plains before disappearing into the mountains. Meylyne stared at its splintered planks and wonky railing.
“Um, is this old bridge the only way to the Valley of Half-Light?”
“It is.”
Meylyne shivered, drawing her hood tightly around her head. It was weird having nothing but the sky above her. Up ahead, the ground dropped away fifty feet and the ice below was ripped into ragged, razor-sharp peaks.
“And you’re sure it’s safe to cross?”
Hope walked onto the bridge. “Safe enough.”
“Whoa!” Meylyne gripped even more tightly to Hope’s mane. “Really? It’s just it sort of looks like the opposite of safe.”
A wind blew up, muffling Meylyne’s words and causing her eyes to smart from the ice-chips whirling around. Looking down, she felt her stomach tighten. A yawning chasm, like a monster’s mouth with icy teeth, appeared below her. She clamped herself around Hope, shouting, “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all. Let’s just turn around.”
Hope stalked on as if he hadn’t heard her.
“Hope—” Meylyne’s words were drowned out as the wind howled even louder, pelting her with ice. It felt like someone was throwing pins in her face and she buried her head in Hope’s mane. This felt a tiny bit better until a huge gust of wind slammed into them. Hope stumbled from the force of it.
The Thorn Queen Page 3