“And that’s a young Chifflin!”
Chifflin held open the door and the figure followed him into the castle, up a winding staircase into a bedroom on the left. The room was richly furnished with a four-poster bed inside. In it a woman slept. To the side a man poked at a fire, guttering in the grate. He looked up as the willowy figure entered, his eyes wary yet hopeful. The figure bent over the sleeping woman, took hold of her wrist and lifted it to its mouth.
“Oh!” Meylyne gasped. “That stranger just bit the lady!”
Inching even closer to the diamond, she saw the sleeping lady’s eyes open. The man rushed to her side and the other figure melted into the shadows.
Borghesia hissed and the images in the diamond faded away. Meylyne stared at her.
“What was all that?”
Borghesia reached for the diamond and rolled it between her palms. Its facets glowed red in the fiery mud.
“The lady in the bed was your grandmother and the man was your grandfather—the queen and king of Rose. Your grandmother had been bitten by a snake and was on the verge of death so the king summoned me to suck out the venom as I was the only one who could save her.”
“That stranger was you?” Meylyne gasped. “But . . . but how? I thought snake people couldn’t survive in the Above-World.”
“Chifflin has always been resourceful. He brought me a person-skin to wear.”
Meylyne’s eyes widened even further. “A person-skin? He would never do that! He’d be too afraid of being eaten for one thing!”
“Oh no. He had something of value for me—something more valuable than his puny life.”
Meylyne frowned. As far as she knew, all the snake people wanted from the Above-Worldians was to eat them.
“What?”
“Freedom!” Borghesia’s eyes flashed. “He promised me the whereabouts of a grytch to Aardverd, if I spared his life and saved the queen.”
“A grytch to Aardverd?”
Meylyne stared at Borghesia, shock and horror mingling in her expression. The snake people couldn’t be allowed out of the Beneath-World. They would slaughter everyone. Borghesia stared back at her. It was as if she was reading her mind. Meylyne quickly looked away.
“I see,” she said aloud. “So you weren’t biting my grand-mother—you were saving her.”
“Yes. And then Chifflin handed me a slip of paper—a map to the tunnel—and sent me on my way. But he tricked me. By the time I arrived home, the map had disappeared—it must have been drawn in vanishing ink.”
“Chifflin broke his promise to you?”
Now Meylyne felt even more shocked. As intolerable as it would be to unleash the snake people on the Aardverdians, Glendoch’s sage not keeping his word was even worse. Glendoch’s sage had to be fair above all else. All order would be lost otherwise.
Borghesia shrugged as she swung her long legs around and underneath her.
“I should have known better—of all the creatures on Glendoch, you humans are the most likely to betray.”
She stared at Meylyne with such naked malevolence that Meylyne winced.
“So you kidnapped my mother as revenge?”
“Vengeance?” Borghesia smiled coldly. “No—justice. The Roses were in our debt. As they still are.”
Understanding dawned on Meylyne. Queen Scarlet’s talk of Glendoch being riddled with secrets and righting old wrongs. It all made sense now.
“And in order to repay that debt fully, you must tell me where the grytch to Aardverd is, for a start,” Borghesia said.
“A start?” As if revealing the location of the grytch wasn’t bad enough. “What else do you want?”
“Let us come to that later. It is trivial.”
Meylyne dug her fingernails into her palms. She was trapped. Borghesia was definitely owed the information she wanted. At the same time, there was no way could she give up the grytch.
What happens to the Aardverdians will all be my fault!
“Do not worry about Aardverd,” Borghesia said as if reading her mind. “We are not the enemy you think we are.”
“Really. So you won’t kill me as soon as I’ve told you?”
Borghesia laughed softly. “Indeed, the human in me would be tempted to do so but the snake would never let me. Your death isn’t part of the bargain and we do not stray from our code.” She leaned back. “So here we are. The measure of Glendoch, past, present, and future held in your hands. What choice will you make, Meylyne of Rose?”
Sweat trickled down Meylyne’s back and the snakeskin clung damply to her skin. She hated Chifflin for leaving this to her to do.
“It is not just we that will be satisfied once this debt has been settled. Trisdyan too will thank you,” Borghesia added slyly.
“Trisdyan? What do you mean?”
A smile played around Borghesia’s lips.
“Have you never wondered how it is that your mother was able to poison the Great Oaken Mother? The tree was after all under Trisdyan’s protection.”
Meylyne frowned. She hadn’t thought of that before.
“Well, now I know it was because of the Relic that’s possessed her. Obviously it’s not of this world. It must be super powerful!”
Borghesia blinked. It was the first time Meylyne had seen her do that.
“Relic? Hmmm.”
She fell silent for a second and then shook herself. “Trisdyan’s power knows almost no bounds. No otherworldly spirit could match it. But he made a bad decision the day he let the Roses trick us, and his guilt weighed upon him. It made him vulnerable to the curse under which he molders right now. He cannot shake it off until this wrong has been righted.”
“Trisdyan is cursed?” Meylyne gasped.
“How else could things on Glendoch have got so bad?”
Meylyne thought about this. Deep down, she had feared that Trisdyan had simply abandoned them. But he would never do that. This made a lot more sense.
“Fine,” she blurted out. “The tunnel to Aardverd is in the Valley of Half-Light—that’s where Blue came out.”
It was as if the room itself sighed in relief. Borghesia’s face stretched into something resembling a smile.
“Thank you, Princess of Rose. You have made the right choice. Maybe there is hope for Glendoch after all.”
The patterns in the mud swirled around Meylyne. To her right, a thin pink stripe flickered. She had almost forgotten about the snake that had brought her here.
“No there’s not. Didn’t your little spy tell you? Glendoch is on the verge of war!”
Borghesia stood up.
“I know that. Now my little spy, as you so unfairly name her, will guide you out. Farewell, Princess of Rose.”
Meylyne jumped to her feet. “Wait! You said before that telling you about the grytch was just a start to repaying the Rose’s debt. What’s the rest of it?”
Instead of answering her, Borghesia said, “Why do you not heal the Great Oaken Mother if you wish to save the Above-World from war? It is the sphers that drive your people to fight.”
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do? My mother has Anzulla’s feathers! How are we supposed to heal the Great Oaken Mother without those?”
Borghesia laughed.
“Foolish child. You don’t need Anzulla’s feathers. You have your own.”
22
Return to the Above-World
IN THE NEXT SECOND, BORGHESIA WAS GONE.
“Wait—what do you mean?” Meylyne cried.
Silence met her ears. All around her, the patterns in the mud swirled. There was a flicker of pink by her feet.
“Come,” the snake said, slithering away.
Meylyne hurried after it and before long they were back in the tunnel. The sentinels were still there, as watchful as ever. Meylyne did her best to ignore their hungry yellow eyes as she sped past.
“Slow down!” she puffed at the snake. “And tell me what she meant about my feathers!”
Still the snake did not answe
r her, nor did it slow down. It was not until they were back at the gates that it stopped.
“You’ll have to leave the snakeskin here,” it said.
“Of course I’m going to leave it here! Do you think I want to take it with me?” Meylyne ripped off the suit, all too happy to get the hot, sticky thing away from her skin. “There—now will you tell me about my feathers?”
The snake stared at Meylyne with its piercing blue eyes, once again reminding Meylyne of someone.
“This knowledge comes with the burden of responsibility. If I tell you, your life will never be the same again.”
Meylyne snorted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my life is already never going to be the same again!”
The snake bowed its head. It seemed to be weighing its words. Then it spoke.
“As all Glendochians know but are so quick to forget, there are rules that govern our worlds. Balance will always be restored. You, through your garlysle side—your feathers that is—have the power to restore balance where it has been unfairly tipped.
Meylyne gave the snake a flat look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
The snake sighed. “Simply put, your feathers have the power to heal.”
“What, like I am descended from Trisdyan? No I’m not, that’s ridiculous!”
“But remember this,” the snake went on. “You may only use your feathers’ powers where another’s power has been unfairly used. And every time you use them, your strength will be diminished, so use them wisely.”
Meylyne opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She didn’t know where to start with her questions.
“And you must never, ever use them when you’re angry. Now you must go, but before you do, I need one of your feathers please.”
“What for?”
“It is the completion of your debt to the snake people.”
Meylyne hesitated but she knew there’d be no getting out of the Beneath-World otherwise. Reaching around herself, she plucked out a feather and held it out to the snake.
“Tuck it in the band around my neck, please,” the snake said.
Meylyne tucked the feather in the band around the snake’s neck. It was the color of rose-gold and so thin Meylyne had not noticed it before. A familiar fragrance filled her nose.
“Roses,” she murmured. “I’ve smelled them so many times.”
Her eyes widened as the truth dawned on her. “It was you all along, wasn’t it? You’re the one that magicked us to Grimorex’s, and you switched my spell book, didn’t you? How long have you been following us? Who are you?”
“I, following you? Guiding you more like.”
The gate slowly swung open. Sunlight poured in, blinding Meylyne and she shielded her eyes against it. When she looked back, the snake was gone.
“Wait! How do I get back to Grimorex’s?” she cried.
“Back through the grytch,” the snake’s voice floated back to her. “Do not delay, Meylyne. Time is not on your side.”
“But—”
The gate began to close. Meylyne rushed outside. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in that ghastly place. She made it out just as the gate slammed shut behind her. Sinking to the ground, she relished the cold dawn air as relief flooded her insides like warm treacle.
Then she shot up. How on Glendoch was she going to get back to Grimorex’s? Her warm treacle-y feeling turned to ice. Grytchs liked to hide. She could be stuck here forever! She squinted at the crater walls but all she saw were silver roots.
“Do you know where the grytch is?” she asked desperately of those nearest her.
“Other side.” She heard the words murmured in her head, low and reedy and bolted to the other side of the crater, wincing as her broken wing gave a sharp twinge.
Stupid snake. My wings don’t have the power to heal or restore balance or whatever it said. They can’t even heal themselves!
“Am I near the grytch?” she puffed once she had reached the other side of the crater.
There was no answer from the roots.
Placing her hands on the roots, she tried again. Still no answer. Clearly these roots weren’t talking. Grytchs had all but disappeared and the few that remained were closely guarded.
While Meylyne fought the urge to throttle the roots, it struck her that she could fly out! There was no telling where she’d end up but at least she’d be out of this stupid crater. Unfurling her wings, she cried out as a sharp pain jabbed into her back. Tears of frustration coursed down her cheeks. There was no way she’d fly anywhere until she had fixed that wing!
“I don’t have time for any of this. I need to get back!” she cried.
As if in answer, her unbroken wing tugged toward the right.
“What the . . . ?” she murmured, startled.
The wing tugged her again, this time so determinedly that she stumbled sideways. Clearly her wing wanted her to move to the right. She allowed it to lead her, brushing her hands over the roots as she went. A low humming noise rose up before her, just as her wing stopped pulling. Two of the silver roots glowed. Drawing nearer, she saw something that looked a rip in the air between them. Blue light spilled out.
Did my wings just show me where the grytch is?
Swallowing, she reached in her hand and then screamed as all of her was pulled inside. As before she could not tell if she fell or flew. A kaleidoscope of light and sparks whooshed by. She was spat out of the tunnel headfirst, pain searing her back as she landed on all fours.
Icicle-thin shards of sunlight glinted through the tall trees towering all around her. She was back in Grimorex’s forest! She had no idea what had just happened but had no time to think about that now. Scrambling to her feet, she closed up her wings. The broken one hurt less that way.
“Which way to the castle?” she panted at the nearest tree.
“That way,” it whispered, its branches creaking to the right.
Meylyne sped through the woods. Brambles pulled at her dress and scratched her legs but she didn’t notice. Within minutes she burst out of the forest. Grimorex’s castle loomed up before her. Grimorex must have seen her coming because he was there in seconds, striding toward her.
“Thank goodness you’re safe!” he cried, scooping her up. “We were worried sick when we couldn’t find you! Where have you been?”
Meylyne nestled into his velvet jacket and felt she had never been happier to see someone in her life.
“I’ll tell you all about it. First let’s get Blue and Hope!”
Meylyne felt Grimorex stiffen.
“What?” she demanded. “What’s happened?”
“Blue’s fine. It’s Hope. He’s, well, see for yourself.”
Grimorex talked nonstop as he strode up his garden. “We thought all was lost. You were on the verge of death. Then you disappeared—and now here you are seeming perfectly fine.”
He stopped abruptly in front of a conservatory. Its glass walls were all steamed up. Grimorex pushed open the door and they went in. The air was so warm and humid that at first Meylyne found it hard to breathe.
Then she saw Hope.
He lay in the middle of the room, covered by blankets. His beautiful mane had turned white. Blue was kneeling by his side and he turned when the door opened.
“Meylyne! You’re back! Where were you? I looked everywhere for you!”
Meylyne gave him a brief hug and then dropped to Hope’s side.
“I’m fine—I’ll tell you about it later. What’s happened to Hope?”
Blue stared at her for a moment as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. He shook himself.
“It’s the poison from those ghost-wolves. This has been happening for days. Look—”
Blue lifted up a blanket. Not only was Hope’s mane white, his coat had turned white too.
“Days? How many days?” Meylyne asked.
“Three—ever since you’ve been gone.”
“Three? But it felt like just a few hours to me!”
&nbs
p; Meylyne remembered that grytchs could warp time. Laying a hand on Hope’s neck, she was shocked at how cold he was. At the touch of her hand, his eyes fluttered open and then closed again. It was as her mother had said—his heart was almost completely frozen.
“We’ve got to warm him up somehow!”
“We’ve tried. Nothing has worked,” Grimorex said.
Meylyne thought desperately. There must be a way to heal him. The answer was probably in her book somewhere, but it wouldn’t be easy to combat the Aethelrix. It could take ages to find. Hope didn’t have more than a few minutes by the looks of things.
Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Her wings were too hot. Without thinking, she unfurled them to cool them. Slivers of pain shot through her back.
“Oww!” she said. She’d forgotten about her broken wing. Worst of all, her wings weren’t cooling down at all. If anything, they were getting hotter. A thrumming noise reverberated around her and color—every color—infused the glass room. A feeling of lightheadedness stole over her. As if from a long way away, she heard Blue gasp,
“What’s happening?”
Underneath Meylyne’s hand, Hope’s neck no longer felt ice-cold. It was warming up. The gray spots were returning to his coat. He stretched and moaned, and then his eyes opened.
“Cold!” he muttered, and started to shiver.
“Get up and walk around!” Grimorex ordered.
Meylyne watched in a daze as Hope slowly pushed himself to his feet. His legs buckled and then held.
“What happen?” he murmured. “Feel like . . . sleeping in fog!”
“You—you’re okay!” Blue exclaimed. “We thought you were dead! But then Meylyne’s wings did this . . . multicolored thing and, like, you’re all better!”
Jumping up, he flung his arms around Hope’s leg.
“How’d you do that?” Blue directed this last question at Meylyne, who sagged against a plant pot with her eyes closed, looking and feeling like a lump of lead.
“It was my wings,” she rasped.
“Well yeah but—”
“Wait. It’s too hot in here,” Grimorex interrupted, looking concernedly at Meylyne. “Are you warm enough to go outside, Hope?”
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