The Thorn Queen
Page 5
“Hyldas!”
She and Hope shrank into one another as the Hyldas swarmed around them. They were every bit as magnificent as Meylyne had heard—tall and muscular, with gleaming blue-black skin and piercing blue eyes. They wore greenish-black feather-dresses. Or maybe the feathers were part of them. It was impossible to tell. Within seconds, they had surrounded Meylyne and Hope.
One of them stepped forward. She wore a garland of leaves and berries around her head.
“So. You dare steal from us.”
Her voice was low and musical, and her pale blue eyes glowed with fire.
“Only wanted some water,” Hope said loudly. “Didn’t think you miss it.”
“Only water?” The Hylda gave Meylyne a cool look. “I don’t think so.”
Meylyne pressed herself into Hope’s side.
“It’s true,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Please don’t turn me into stone.”
“You tried to steal the bird!”
“The bird? No! It begged me to take it with me! I . . . I was afraid you’d all wake up if I didn’t do as it said. I promise!”
The Hylda reached out a hand to Meylyne until it was inches from her nose. There were feathers attached to her wrists and her fingernails were curved, like claws.
“First you steal, and now you lie.”
“Meylyne no liar,” Hope growled.
The Hylda turned on Hope.
“Impossible! The bird speaks the tongue of the dead—only the aquamins can understand it.”
She turned back to Meylyne. “You came here to finish off what you started, didn’t you?”
Meylyne could only stare at her, bewildered. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She shook her head.
“Fetch the bird!” the leader roared.
There was a ripple in the crowd. Seconds later, another Hylda appeared, holding the birdcage. The bird cocked its head at Meylyne, and mumbled something.
“All right,” the leader sneered at Meylyne. “You who understands the dead—what did the bird just say?”
Meylyne stared desperately at the bird.
“I don’t know—it spoke too softly!”
“Just as I thought,” the leader hissed, her eyes blazing. “Nothing but lies!”
Meylyne raised her hands before her face, sure she would turn into stone at any second. Then she heard the bird chirp,
“I said I was sorry—I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“It said it was sorry it didn’t mean to get me in trouble!” Meylyne blurted.
Silence. Then another voice—singsong and not quite there—
It is true.
The leader held her aquamin up in front of her face. “Are you sure?” she asked it.
Yes. She’s a Hearer.
The words reverberated inside Meylyne’s head. They came from the aquamin.
“What’s going on?” she whispered to Hope.
“Aquamin speaking to Hylda,” Hope replied. “They sacred—speak to dead. Translate for Hyldas when carry off battle-slain.”
The Hylda looked down at Meylyne.
“Well, well, well. A human Hearer.”
She turned to Hope. “I knew your kind could still Hear. But I thought yours,” she turned her gaze back to Meylyne, “never learned the skills of your elders.”
“No, the humans never learned the language of nature, but I’m part-garlysle,” Meylyne stammered.
Now there was murmuring among the Hyldas and the leader’s eyes showed a hint of curiosity.
“It is a well-known fact that most garlysles lost their Hearing skills years ago. There is but one garlysle that we know of that can still Hear—your notorious outlaw, Meph.”
Her lips twitched in a smirk.
“You are clearly not he.”
Meylyne bristled at the snickers this remark provoked. If there was one thing Meph had going for him, it was that he was a force to be reckoned with. Not so much herself.
“No, but I am his daughter,” she retorted.
There was dead silence. Another murmur rippled among the Hyldas as their eyes fastened upon her.
Now she’d done it. Meylyne wished she could bite back the words.
Another Hylda came forward. Her hair was streaked with white and her face was as mottled as a rotten crab-apple. She circled Meylyne.
“If that is true, then you are also the daughter of Glendoch’s sorceress, Ellenyr.”
Meylyne felt the hairs prickle on the back of her neck. “How do you know that?”
“There is unrest in Glendoch. Unrest precedes war. Most likely, we will be needed there soon enough.” The old Hylda shrugged. “We make it our business to understand the people with whom we shall soon become acquainted.”
She drew nearer to Meylyne.
“So, it is true then—you are the sorceress’s daughter. Do you, too, have alchemical powers?”
“Sort of,” Meylyne mumbled.
“Sort of,” the old Hylda echoed, glancing at the leader.
The leader regarded Meylyne. After a moment’s pause, she took the cage from the Hylda next to her and thrust it at Meylyne.
“Well, sort-of-sorceress, I believe there is a way for us to wipe the slate clean. You see, this is no ordinary bird. Once it was a mighty warrior but then an assassin struck him down. The warrior’s essence escaped the attack, but his assassin captured it and trapped it in the body of this bird. The assassin left it with the sphers to finish it off.”
Meylyne shuddered.
“Yes, we all know how that would have ended. Luckily for the warrior, our aquamins instructed us to retrieve him before that could happen. Now he must be returned to his original state if he is to fulfill his life’s purpose.”
The leader paused, as if waiting for a response.
“Um. Okay,” Meylyne said with a shrug.
“And for that, we need a sorceress.”
Meylyne was confused as the leader smiled, revealing silver, pointed teeth. Then comprehension dawned on her and her look of puzzlement turned to one of disbelief.
“You’re joking, right? You don’t honestly believe I can do that!”
“Oh but you must, if you and your friend wish to go free.”
Meylyne heard herself laugh hysterically.
“Look, I’m really, really bad at sorcery. I couldn’t possibly get a spell like that right!”
The leader bent down until her eyes were inches from Meylyne’s.
“I’m not interested in excuses, sorceress. You must free him, unless you want to end up in the Cave of Nhyrr.”
Meylyne cringed. The Cave of Nhyrr was where the battle-slain with impure hearts were taken to sleep forever. Once inside, there was no waking up.
“Please,” she begged. “Please don’t ask —”
Suddenly, all the Hyldas’ aquamins blazed with electric-blue light.
“Time to depart,” the leader shouted. “The battle of Wahir-Pet is about to begin!” She faced Meylyne. “Time runs short, sorceress. What is it to be?”
Hope thrust Meylyne’s bag at her. “Just do spell best you can,” he urged.
“Is no one listening to me?” Meylyne yanked out her book. The pages trembled as she flipped through them. “See!” She jammed her finger into the middle of the book, her eyes pleading with the leader. “Restoring stolen essences is a Level Seven incantation. I’m only at Level Two!”
Two Hyldas grabbed Hope’s mane, unfurling their wings.
“Meylyne do spell,” Hope cried. “Now!”
“Okay! Just give me a second!”
Tears welled up in Meylyne’s eyes as she skimmed through the incantation. She could just about pronounce all the words it required. But what’s that bit in the middle about? It doesn’t make any sense. She glanced at the bird, feeling like an executioner descending upon her victim.
“Hurry!” the leader spat.
Meylyne stuck out her hand. “Fine. I need the bird to sit here.”
The leader unho
oked the cage and the bird flew into Meylyne’s hand. Taking a deep breath, she began to gurgle, then gagged like she had a bone stuck in her throat. The bird closed its eyes and rolled onto its back.
Meylyne licked her lips. Just keep going.
Moving to the third part of the spell, she chanted in an ancient Glendochian dialect. Toward the end of the chant, she moved her hand over the bird’s body and closed her eyes.
“. . . eco yabboe,” she finished. Opening her eyes, she placed the bird on the ground and waited.
Nothing happened.
Meylyne stared at the bird, willing it to change into a warrior, or at the very least to open its eyes and not be dead. One minute stretched into two.
“What have you done to him?” the leader growled at Meylyne.
“I don’t—”
“Look!” Hope barked.
Meylyne’s head snapped back to face the bird and her mouth fell open.
The bird’s spindly legs were lengthening while its claws plumped up into boots. Its wings grew and shrank at the same time into thin, feathered arms. Its head and chest were expanding like a balloon being blown up. There was a loud RRRIP and all the feathers flew off his body.
“Aaaah!” Meylyne shrieked. “Ewww!” She spat out a mouthful of feathers, then waved her arms in front of her face to clear the air around her.
No way!
There, on the ground where the bird had been, sat a boy. He wore a greenish-brown jacket with trousers to match. The trousers were tucked into clunky gray boots. Meylyne had never seen clothes like his before. Nor had she seen anyone his size.
What is he, like, a foot tall?
“Well done, sorceress,” said the leader. “You did it.”
7
Blue
MEYLYNE LOOKED AT THE BOY ON THE GROUND AND almost laughed aloud.
Well done? He’s a foot tall!
“Here.” The leader dropped a reed bag at her feet. “Try not to steal anything else, sorceress. It would be good for you to make it home unharmed. Something tells me you’ll be needed there soon enough.” She nodded toward the boy. “And take him with you. You will want a good warrior on your side.”
Before Meylyne could ask her what she meant, the leader unfurled her enormous wings and shot off into the air. All the other Hyldas followed, spiraling past the moons like a plume of smoke. In seconds they were gone.
Meylyne stared at Hope. It was so quiet now that she could hear leaves rustling in the tree-tops. Hard to believe they had just been seconds away from permanent sleep or petrification or who-knows-what those terrifying creatures chose to do to them. Her legs turned to jelly and she sank to the ground.
“You did great, Meylyne.”
Hope’s eyes shone with admiration as he nosed the reed bag toward her. “Open please.”
Feeling like one in a dream, Meylyne poured some water into Hope’s mouth. He gulped it down with gusto, and then pushed the bag toward Meylyne.
“Now you.”
Meylyne took a long drink. She had forgotten how thirsty she was. The water cleared her mind and she felt a little less shaky.
“Now give some to him,” Hope said.
Meylyne looked at the boy, still sitting on the ground. The boy that, a few minutes ago, was a bird. He appeared as dazed as she felt. She held out the reed bag to him, and he reached out his hand but instead of taking the bag, he wiggled his fingers and began touching his cheeks and nose. Meylyne jumped as he bounded to his feet, crying, “Look at me! I’m a person again! Two arms, two legs, no feathers . . .”
He stared at Meylyne.
“But what’s up with my size? Did you mean to make me so short?”
He and Meylyne were eye-level, despite the fact that she was sitting down. At least he wasn’t quite as short as she had thought. She shook her head.
“Oh.” For a second his face fell but it brightened up almost immediately. “Well never mind—you can always get that right later.” Patting his jacket, he chuckled. “At least I’ve got clothes on, right? This must be what I was wearing when I was attacked. And look!”
Meylyne flinched as he pulled out a dagger from his belt.
“I really am a warrior—just like those Hylda-ladies said!”
Meylyne was having a hard time keeping up with him.
“Well, of course. Why wouldn’t you be?”
“Because I don’t remember anything. Not where I’m from. Not my name. Nothing. If the Hyldas say I’m a warrior, then I guess I am but I don’t remember it.”
“You don’t remember anything? What about who attacked you?”
A haunted look crossed the boy’s face.
“Nope. If the Hyldas hadn’t explained it to me, I still wouldn’t know what had happened. I just woke up one day in the body of a bird! I knew that was wrong, you know—I knew I was meant to be human, but that’s about it.”
“How awful!” Meylyne exclaimed.
“Oh that wasn’t the awful bit. What was awful was the sickness. All those ghostly things floating around me. The sadness. I could never sleep. I just got weaker and weaker.”
Meylyne shivered. “Well yeah—the sphers were eating your essence. Thank goodness the Hyldas saved you.”
The boy nodded. “Tell me about it! Can’t say I was too thrilled to be with those scary bird-ladies, but they were a heck of a lot better than the sphers.” He grinned at Meylyne. “And then you came along. How lucky am I?”
Meylyne raised her eyebrows. To say he was “lucky” seemed like a stretch.
So, you don’t even remember your name?”
“Naah. The Hyldas called me Blue but I’m pretty sure that was just a nickname they gave me.”
“We call you Blue then. I Hope, and that Meylyne,” Hope said.
“Great to meet you both!”
Blue grinned and stuck out his hand to Meylyne. Smiling warily, she gave it a shake.
“So, er, what is this place?” Blue asked, gesturing around him.
“This is Glendoch. Glendoch’s Outlands, to be precise,” Meylyne explained. “Hope and I are from Glendoch Proper.”
She debated telling him about the Above-World and the Between-World, but decided it was too much information at once.
“You’re definitely not from around here,” she added. “I’ve never heard anyone talk like you before.”
“Yeah. Pretty sure that where I’m from people aren’t magical. And animals don’t talk.”
“Well, there aren’t that many alchemists left in Glendoch either,” Meylyne replied. “Aside from my mother and me, I don’t know any others.”
“Mmm.” Blue studied Meylyne for a moment. “So, is there a spell to get me back to my normal height?”
“How you know that not your normal height?” Hope interjected. “You remember nothing.”
Blue frowned while he thought about this. “Good point. I don’t know. Man, I need my memory back!”
He turned back to Meylyne. “Is there a spell for that too?”
Pulling out her quilt, Meylyne wrapped it around her shoulders. She suddenly felt exhausted.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Well can you do it now?”
“I can’t do it at all. You’d need a decent sorceress for that, like my mother.”
“No,” Hope cut in. “You are decent sorceress. You get Blue almost back to normal!”
Meylyne sighed. There was no way to explain how she’d only got Blue’s size wrong with such a complicated incantation when she had failed in so many simpler ones before. It must have been luck. She pulled out some seeds from her bag and shrugged.
Blue stared at Meylyne, obviously waiting for her to reply. When she remained silent, he said, “Fine. We’ll just ask your mom to fix me.”
Meylyne choked on the seeds she had put in her mouth. She could just imagine the look on her mother’s face if she showed up with Blue.
“That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not? The Hylda said you should take me with you!”
“I know what the Hylda said, but here’s the thing, Blue. Before I can go home, I have to find something in the Valley of Half-Light. I highly doubt you want to go back there!”
All the color drained from Blue’s face.
“You’re joking right?” He gave a violent shudder. “You’d better be a decent sorceress if you plan to go there.”
Meylyne’s shoulders sagged.
“Yes, well, that’s the problem. Trust me, you’re better off not coming with us.”
“If Hylda say to bring him then we should,” Hope countered. “She say battle brewing in Glendoch. Need warrior!”
Meylyne was about to argue when she remembered what Queen Emery had said about war being near. At the time she had thought the queen said it to justify sending her mother to the Valley of Half-Light. But maybe she was telling the truth.
“Well?” Blue prompted.
Scrunching up her bag as a pillow, Meylyne lay down on the ground and held up the edge of her quilt to Blue.
“I’m too tired to think right now. Let’s just go to sleep and we’ll work it all out in the morning.”
“Go to sleep?” Blue sounded incredulous.
Hope lowered himself to the ground. “Meylyne right. We sleep now. Think clearer in morning.”
After a moment, Blue lay down too, but his eyes remained open and alert. He drew out his dagger and rested it on his chest, its tip gleaming in a splash of moonlight.
You know, it wouldn’t be so bad to have him with us, Meylyne thought groggily. The Hylda’s right. A warrior might come in handy. Pint-sized or not . . .
Her thoughts jumbled together as she slid into sleep. When she woke up, a few hours later, the night had brightened into dawn. Pushing herself up, she cried out as her back erupted in pain.
There was a flash to her right. Blue was on his feet, dagger in hand. Hope also leapt up and everything from the night—the Hyldas, Blue—flooded into her mind.
“Sorry! It’s just me,” she said, wincing. “I hurt all over!”