Selden, stubborn as always, struggled against him once more before Changing back to himself and falling down on the floor, coughing and gasping.
Fye put his slingshot away. “Don’t talk about things you know nothing about,” he said to Selden. He started to leave the room, then turned back to Izzy. “Our pact with Rine is only for the Bretabairn.” He nodded at Hen. “We can set her free as soon as we deliver the rest of you.”
“Please,” said Izzy, her voice coming out as a whisper. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
Fye looked at her sadly. “I do. And I’m sorry for it.”
He turned and left them alone.
18
Lake Umbra
That night, Izzy and the others whispered among themselves, trying to come up with a plan to escape. But even though they plotted until their voices went hoarse, they kept coming to the same conclusion—there was nothing they could do as long as they were underground. They’d have to wait until they reached the surface. Hen kept mumbling something about needing her backpack, which was lying somewhere among the Muscadine wreckage. But even Peter’s flute couldn’t do them any good, not when Hen still couldn’t play more than one note on it. Their best hope was that Hiron and Tom would figure out a way to rescue them from above.
Izzy slept heavily, without dreaming, until morning—at least she assumed it was morning. It was hard to tell time underneath the ground. The female guard, Race, came in with a candle, bringing the scent of fresh air with her down into the earthy burrow.
“Fye has had a message from Rine,” she said. “We’re to take you to a meeting point outside the borders of our lands, where we’ll hand you over.”
“How nice to get the opportunity to march to our own death,” said Selden, still groggy with sleep. “Why not hand us over here and get it over with? I’m sure Rine is chomping at the chance to zoom in and scoop us up.”
Fye came in and leaned against the doorway. “Rine won’t set foot on Fillifut lands,” he said. “None of the witches will. When their kind first started arriving centuries ago to set up a settlement in the Norlorns, they had to cross through our valley. My ancestors made them sign a treaty before allowing them to pass. As long as the witches touch Fillifut soil, their spells are useless.”
“And you really trust them to stick to that?” asked Selden.
“They don’t have a choice,” said Fye proudly. “The treaty holds, whether they want it to or not.”
Selden snorted. “If you’re all so powerful, then why are you working for them?”
“Enough talking. It’s time to go,” said Race, pushing Selden out the door and into the hall. “And remember, no Changing. We’ve all got eyes on you, and they don’t call us the quick-footed for nothing.”
They followed Fye through the tunnel, down winding passages lit by stubby candles set into the dirt walls.
They passed by openings that led to other large rooms where Fillifut families stood in the doorways. Wide-eyed little bunnies who sucked their fingers and clutched at their mothers’ skirts gawked at the Changelings as they passed by.
Fye stopped at the entrance to one of the rooms. He put his hands on the doorway and called inside. A speckle-coated Fillifut woman emerged carrying a small bundle of fur in her arms. She passed the baby to him.
“How is she this morning?” Fye whispered, nuzzling the baby’s ears.
“She had a better night than last,” the woman answered wearily. “She tried to stand up again this morning.”
Fye raised his eyebrows.
The woman shook her head sadly. “She couldn’t.”
That’s when Izzy noticed that something was wrong with the little Fillifut’s back legs. Her feet were thin and bowed inward, twisted wrong. Izzy knew she was intruding on a private family moment, but she couldn’t look away. She was mesmerized by how gentle Fye was with his baby.
“Give her the rest of the tonic,” he whispered to the woman. “There’s no need to save it for later. When I get back, I’ll have buckets of it. She’ll be well again.” He smiled and kissed the little one gently. Then he kissed the woman on her cheek as he passed the baby back to her.
They were off up the passages again. Fye glanced down and caught Izzy looking at him.
He cleared his throat. “My daughter isn’t well,” he said softly.
“I’m sorry,” said Izzy. “What happened to her?”
“Some years ago, an illness fell on our herd. Well, not all of us,” he added bitterly. “Only the children. They’re born with twisted feet. It’s painful for them. The only thing that makes it better is a tonic the witches make. They brew it for us in return for guarding their borders. This spring, Rine sent us a message that if we bring him Changelings, he will double the amount of tonic he gives us.”
So that was why the Fillifut had to turn them in. Izzy watched Fye’s troubled face. He was just as trapped as they were.
They exited the warren through a tangle of tree roots and into a grove of slender trees with pearly white trunks. The sun had just begun to rise, but after so much time below ground, the dim light was blinding. The Fillifut seemed to expect this and lingered near the entrance to let their prisoners’ eyes adjust.
A buttery, garlic smell wafted through the air. Several wood fires burned nearby with big kettles swinging over them.
“Oh, bless us all,” groaned Lug, looking longingly at the cooking fires.
“I could hear your stomach growling all down the hallway,” said Selden.
“Sit, sit, Bretabairn,” said Fye, motioning to some long wooden tables near the cook fires. “You’ve got to fill your bellies if you’re going to make the trek ahead of us.”
He spoke to the Fillifut manning the fires. They handed out wooden plates piled high with bright-green herbs drizzled in a honey-colored sauce.
Lug rubbed his hands together. “I’m trying awfully hard not to like this Fye fellow, but he doesn’t make it easy.”
Izzy knew what he meant. Fye waited until all the other guards had their plates before he took one for himself. He reminded Izzy of her dad a little, the way he knew everyone’s name and something about them. And he had a tender spot for the children. He walked over to the small table where they sat having their breakfast. He told a joke that sent them into a fit of giggles.
Izzy followed their lead, scooping up the herbs and sweet sauce with her fingers and slurping it down like noodles.
Beside her, Lug munched his food slowly, like he was savoring each bite. “Fye, sir, what is this that we’re eating?”
“Bell clover.”
“Bell clover? Really?” said Lug, his eyes wide with interest. “We have it in the Edgewood. But it’s different. This looks the same, but the taste is…I don’t know how to describe it. A little sharper, I suppose.”
Izzy cracked a smile in spite of herself. Leave it to Lug to admire the foliage even in the midst of a crisis.
“It’s quite a tough herb,” said Fye. “Grows the whole year round, even under the snow.”
“Really?” said Lug, sniffing a sprig of the plant. “That’s incredible for any kind of clover. Must be some strange hybrid.”
“In my father’s time, the Fillifut had to retreat south every winter,” explained Fye. “But a few years ago, when the bell clover began growing in our valley, we could stay all year. It’s helped to strengthen us.”
“Oh fantastic,” said Selden, pushing his empty plate away. “You’ll have to point it out to me if we pass some so I can crush it under my boot.”
Fye laughed. “You’ve got a soldier’s sense of humor, Bretabairn.”
One of the Fillifut mothers came over to shoo the children back underground. Hen nudged Izzy’s arm. “Look,” she whispered.
Instead of hopping straight off, they reached under the table to grab crutches and canes. Their feet were
wrapped tight in bandages.
Fye whistled. It was time to go. The Fillifut formed a line with Izzy and the others sandwiched between. Izzy could tell Selden was sizing them up.
Race fell in line behind him. She leaned forward and tapped him on the shoulder. “Before you get any ideas, know that there’s a pair of Fillifut eyes on you at all times, even if you can’t see them.”
Izzy looked out into the surrounding trees. Perfectly camouflaged behind the trunks were dozens more Fillifut soldiers. Fye wasn’t taking any chances with such valuable prisoners.
They started out hiking along the canyon river, through the stands of lovely gold-leafed trees. The canyon widened and became less steep and then opened out onto a green valley studded with rolling hills.
Fye and his troops loped more easily over the open ground. The entire wide valley belonged to the Fillifut, and their group swelled larger and larger as more of their kind leaped out of burrows to join them. Their troop now had over fifty rabbit soldiers. With a sinking feeling, Izzy realized their likelihood of escaping was even worse now than it had been down in the burrow.
Even if she could have Changed into a blackbird and managed to fly away without a slingshot bringing her down, Selden, Lug, and Hen were earthbound. The Fillifut kept Selden separated, so she couldn’t even talk to him about an escape plan. The only way they were getting out of the valley was if Tom and Hiron could make a miracle happen. Izzy kept her eyes trained on the sky, but so far, she hadn’t seen or heard any sign of them.
As they neared the edge of the Fillifut lands, the bell clover grew thicker, blanketing the ground in a solid carpet of green. The Fillifut would reach down every so often and swipe up a big handful of the herbs and stuff it into their mouths.
Lug plucked the clover as well. He held it up to his nostrils and sniffed, then held it out to let the sunlight filter through its leaves.
“Absolutely intriguing,” he said. “It grows so vigorously.”
“Someone hurry him along!” called a soldier. “We can’t keep stopping to smell every blade of grass in the valley.”
Clip, the short-eared guard assigned to Izzy and Hen, chuckled. “Can you imagine if the wildflowers were blooming? We’d be old hares by the time we reached Demon’s Dome!”
Izzy stopped in her tracks. She exchanged a glance with her sister.
“Demon’s Dome?” asked Hen casually. “That’s a weird name.”
“Cheerful name for a cheerful spot,” said Clip.
He pointed straight ahead, to the mountain that had just come into view. The top was rounded, like a bald head. Two rocky peaks behind it gave the illusion that the mountain had horns.
“The Dome marks the threshold into the Witchlands,” said Clip. “We’re taking your friends to the other side for the handover.”
“How much farther?” said Hen.
Clip looked west, where the sun had begun tracking toward the tops of the mountains. “If your big friend hadn’t slowed us down so much, we could have made it there by nightfall. But we’ll have to camp near the base and make the last push in the morning.”
Izzy kept her head down. She didn’t want the guard to see that she’d started sweating.
Demon’s Dome.
Lake Umbra was right there, nestled somewhere at its base. They were now within walking distance of the whole reason for risking their lives to come. Izzy had to get there. But she had no idea how she’d get out from under the sharp Fillifut eyes.
Fye halted the company among a cluster of hills. Demon’s Dome loomed to the north. There were no warrens here and no trees to provide cover. The Fillifut seemed nervous, ears twitching constantly, eyes on the border. Whatever treaty they had with the witches, it obviously wasn’t built on trust.
Fye set up a perimeter guard and assigned three Fillifut to each Changeling and five to watch over Selden. The friends were kept far apart. Hen pouted and cried about nightmares until Clip broke down and let her sleep next to Izzy.
Hen rolled closer to Izzy. “Did you hear what he said?” she whispered. “Demon’s Dome! Lake Umbra has to be close.”
“I know,” said Izzy. “We’ve got to figure out how to ditch Clip.”
Hen wrinkled her nose. “If I just had my backpack!”
“Will you quit talking about that stupid backpack already?”
“No talking!” barked Clip.
Izzy waited until he looked away. “I just had an idea.” She whispered it to Hen.
Her sister grinned. “Just tell me when.”
Izzy lay on a pillow of bell clover, watching thin clouds blow slowly across the stars. Hen dozed off beside her, but Izzy stayed awake, listening for the right moment.
The Fillifut were scared. Izzy knew what that felt like. And she also knew that being scared makes you jittery and awake—at first. But after hours of being tense with fear, you get tired. And when you’re tired, you make stupid mistakes. She just had to wait it out.
It took all night, but finally, when the sky over the eastern horizon had just begun to glow a watery blue, she sat up and poked Hen in the ribs.
Camp was silent. Two of the guards assigned to her lay sleeping in the grass. Clip kept watch at the top of the hill. His eyes would close, then jolt back open.
Izzy and Hen trudged sleepily toward him.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” said Hen.
Clip yawned. “So go.”
Hen shook her head. “Not here. Someone will see.” She hopped from one foot to the other. It was so convincing that Izzy wondered if she really did have to go. “Please?” Hen whined. “I really have to go. I really, really, really have—”
“All right!” snapped Clip. “This way.”
“I’ll go help her,” said Izzy. “Last time she went outside, she peed on her feet.”
Clip rolled his eyes. He led them down the other side of the hill and through the perimeter guard, muttering something about being on diaper duty as they passed. The girls followed him over the top of another hill. At the bottom on the other side grew clumps of twiggy grass, high as Izzy’s shoulders. The guard pointed to the grass.
“That’s as much privacy as you’re going to get. I’ll wait at the top of the hill. I’m counting to twenty, and then I’m coming back. Got it?”
“We got it,” said Izzy. She walked Hen down behind the reeds.
“He’s not looking,” whispered Hen, craning to see over the plants. “Now’s your chance!”
Izzy crouched down in the reeds. The ground here was muddy and damp. She tried and failed to Change into her fox form. But even without her keen fox ears, she heard the croak of a frog. Water was close by.
Twenty seconds passed. True to his word, Clip called out, “All right, time’s up. Let’s go already.”
“Here he comes,” Hen hissed.
“OK, you just stay low.”
Izzy stood up. She smoothed back long gray ears and shouted in her best Race impression, “You idiot! You let them get away!”
Clip gaped at the Likeness of Race. He looked all around for the little girls who had been there just a moment ago. “I—they—they were just here!”
Izzy hopped farther into the reeds. “I saw them head this way. I’ll follow them. You go get reinforcements! Go!”
Clip turned and bolted back uphill toward camp. Izzy ran through the grass in Race’s Likeness for a dozen yards before letting it drop.
“Hen, let’s go!”
“Right behind you!”
They only had a few minutes before Clip would snap out of his sleepy stupor and realize his mistake. But Izzy didn’t need much time. They were close now. Up ahead, through the reeds, a thin mist rose off the surface of a lake the color of ink.
“You think this is it?” asked Hen.
Lake Umbra was smaller than Izzy thought it would be. Through the mist,
she could make out the opposite shore.
Izzy walked down to the water’s edge, her boots crunching in the wet sand. It was strangely quiet. No birds, no insects, not even a breath of wind to rustle the reeds.
“Hello?” Izzy whispered loudly. “Is anyone there?” She stood for a moment, listening to herself breathing. “Please! If you’re there, we need your help!”
The girls waited, watching the still water. “Are you sure this is it?” whispered Hen. She turned to look behind her. “They’re going to find us if we don’t—”
“Shh!” Izzy grabbed her sister’s arm. “Look!”
Perfect circles of ripples flowed toward them from the center of the lake. Out in the deep, a blurry white sphere moved beneath the blackness. Floating just below the surface, it split into two as it drifted toward them. The white shapes bobbed closer and closer until they were only a few yards away. The round faces of two girls rose slowly up out of the water.
Izzy and Hen gasped and stumbled in the muck. The Fen Whelps’ chins rested just above the waterline. Their skin was mottled and so white, it was almost blue. One of the girls had a splash of gray freckles across her cheeks. They stared, unblinking, with black eyes set wide apart like a seal’s. They immediately made Izzy think of Good Peter. Neverborns, she thought.
“Look, Sister,” said the first Fen Whelp breathily. Her voice was like the whisper of wind over water. “Visitors.”
“A human child and a Bretabairn,” said the second Whelp. “We haven’t seen either of those in a good while.”
Izzy swallowed, fighting the urge to back away from them. “Please, we’ve come here to ask you a question.”
The Whelps both sagged, frowning. The freckled one dug something out of the corner of her eye and flicked it into the reeds. “Questions, questions,” she said. “That’s all anyone ever comes here for.”
“And they’re always such boring ones,” agreed her sister. “What’s the meaning of life? Does so-and-so really love me?” She looked at Izzy. “I suppose you’ve come to ask us one of those?”
Hen tugged on Izzy’s sleeve and whispered. “The flute! I was supposed to bring it to show them. But it’s on the Muscadine!”
In a Dark Land Page 14