by Juman Malouf
The air was heavy and oppressive, making it harder to breathe. “What happened here?” Charlotte asked.
“For centuries, the Longwalkers killed boars for sport,” explained Ansel. “We warned them to stop, but they didn’t listen. Finally, the boars attacked the castle. The Longwalkers were outnumbered. They killed every one except for Edgar. Perhaps because of his Alban blood.”
This is where his ghosts lived, thought Charlotte. She was starting to understand. Edgar was looking for justice. With maybe a bit of revenge, too.
Edgar’s pony stood in a corner munching on weeds sprouting between the broken flagstones.
Ansel jumped to the ground. “He’s here somewhere.”
“Let’s split up and look for him,” suggested Alexandria.
The twins were sent to search in the east wing. They looked in stone rooms and under staircases, peeking over their shoulders every few seconds, convinced they heard footsteps or whispering. Charlotte glimpsed a glint of light through a window in the tallest tower.
“Well, he’s not here,” said Sonja, poking out from under a torn tapestry. But nobody replied. Charlotte was already running across the courtyard.
She slipped into a doorway and hurried up a narrow spiral staircase. When she reached the top, she stopped to catch her breath. At the end of a long, dark hallway, she saw an open door. A thin light streamed out of it.
Charlotte ran for it and burst in. “Edgar!” she cried out.
The room was filled with piles of golden armor, hanging boar skins, and jars of teeth. A bag of diamonds lay scattered on a table. Edgar shoved something inside his shirt and turned. He looked to Charlotte with a smile. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“We came looking for you. The others are downstairs.”
Edgar hooked his arm into Charlotte’s and walked her out of the room. He locked the door behind them.
Charlotte looked back over her shoulder. “I thought you said the armor was stolen.”
Edgar sighed deeply. “Since my father died, the Albans have been careless. They don’t realize that the armor doesn’t work. I have no choice but to lie. It’s the only way to protect them.”
“Is that why you killed the boars?” Charlotte asked in a small voice. “To protect them.”
Edgar led Charlotte into a dim room. Thirty lit candles were clustered under a painting of a woman. She looked like Edgar.
“My mother was the queen of the Longwalkers. My father was an Alban, Tobias, Protector of the Golden Underground. He didn’t care much for us. Like the other Albans, he thought the Longwalkers were an inferior race. When the boars came, the Albans did nothing. Even my father abandoned us.” Edgar’s voice broke. He looked up at the portrait. “I saw my mother killed by the boars.”
“Ansel said it was the Longwalkers who caused the massacre. He said—”
Edgar grabbed Charlotte by the wrist. “Ansel’s lying! He’s against the Longwalkers just like the others. We were the only race living among the Seven Edens who weren’t chosen as Protectors. They wanted to get rid of us all along. I wouldn’t be surprised if they planned the massacre themselves.”
“How terrible!” Charlotte exclaimed. “The Albans seem such a gentle people—”
Edgar pulled Charlotte toward him. She shivered. His blue eyes glistened. His voice grew gentle. “All that’s in the past now because I’ve found you.”
“Me?” faltered Charlotte.
“The girl I’ve been waiting for.”
Charlotte laughed nervously. Nobody had ever spoken to her like that before.
He stroked her cheek. “We’ll rebuild Jagged Rock together and return it to its former glory.” He paused. “I’m going to kiss you again.”
She felt his sweet, warm breath on her face. The instant their lips touched, something like an electric current surged through her. She wished it would never stop. She did not care about the boars or humans or Albans or the future. She did not care about anything.
“Promise not to tell the others about the armor,” he whispered.
Charlotte trembled. “I promise.”
“Charlotte!” Sonja was standing in front of them with her hands on her hips. “What are you doing?”
Charlotte wanted to leap into Sonja’s arms and tell her everything, but she stopped short. Sonja hated anyone or anything she thought would come between them. When Larry, a reluctant Scrummager with oversized glasses, had asked Charlotte to go steady with him, Sonja told Tatty that he had spent six months in juvenile prison. Larry was banned from ever visiting the circus again. When Charlotte befriended a stray dog one summer, Sonja complained to Tatty about its fleas until it was sent away. Well, it was not going to happen with Edgar. For once in her life, Charlotte was going to keep Sonja out of her affairs.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The Hidden Stairway
IT WAS JUST LIKE CHARLOTTE TO FALL IN LOVE WITH somebody else so quickly. And a boar-killer too! Sonja shook her head. What about poor Jack Cross?
She followed her sister and Edgar back to the ground floor.
“I’m sorry I ran off like that,” apologized Edgar as they entered a courtyard. Alexandria and the Changelings were waiting. “The boars are a touchy subject between me and my brother. We’d better tell him I’m all right, or he’ll be worried.” He looked around. “Where is he?”
Ansel emerged from a doorway and dove on top of Edgar. “I’m sorry, brother!”
Edgar laughed and hugged him back. “Me too, Ansel.”
“We’ve wasted enough time,” interrupted Alexandria. “Are you ready to go, Edgar?”
Edgar nodded. “We’re near the Pathway to the Land Where the Plants Reign. We can walk from here.”
“If there was only one suit of armor remaining,” lamented Ansel, “I could come with you.”
Sonja saw Charlotte dart Edgar a look. He turned away and put his arm around Ansel’s shoulders. “The Albans need you.”
“You’re right, brother.” Ansel bowed. “Send word once the Key is found.”
“We will,” Alexandria assured him. They all took turns shaking hands with Ansel. He climbed onto a pony, gave a final wave, and rode out of the courtyard. The rest of the herd trotted off after him.
Charlotte and Edgar held hands as they crossed back over the drawbridge. Sonja walked a few steps behind them, brooding. This was worse than Larry or the stray dog or Jack Cross. Charlotte was acting like Sonja did not exist.
They joined a stone road down a hill. It dead-ended in a wall. There was a small smooth circle chiseled into the rock. Alexandria pressed her Amulet against it. A door clicked open.
“The Longwalkers could have been saved if they had had an Amulet at the time of the massacre,” Edgar said coolly. Alexandria stared blankly. He shrugged. “Too late now, I guess.”
Sonja was the last to enter the rectangular chamber. The walls were sculpted out of blue quartz. She brushed her fingers along the cool indigo stone. There were spiders, dragonflies, and caterpillars frozen inside like amber. An endless, rocky staircase ascended a narrow corridor up into the distance. The others were standing at the foot of it. Sonja raised her eyebrow. “I hope we’re not climbing that.”
“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” said Alexandria.
Wolf Boy leapt up four steps at a time as he transformed into a wolf. He looked back over his shoulder, swishing his black, bushy tail, and challenged Moritz, “Wanna race?”
Moritz, now a horse, broke past him at a gallop, and Wolf Boy howled and bolted after him. Edgar watched as they disappeared up the staircase.
“Incredible,” he said, mesmerized. “I’ve never seen a Changeling changing.”
“I have,” muttered Sonja. “Too many times.”
Alexandria pulled out a smashed cigarette and turned to Edgar. “Make sure they keep up with you.” She placed the tip be
tween her lips and strode up the stairs. “Maybe I can puff this in peace.” A trail of smoke unspooled behind her.
Edgar extended his hands to the twins. Charlotte grabbed one hand. Sonja brushed past the other. She turned to her sister. “It’s my turn to wear the locket.”
Charlotte nodded cheerfully and handed it over, then walked ahead arm in arm with Edgar. Frowning, Sonja clasped the little gold heart around her neck and trudged after them.
Every hundredth step, there was a statue of a man or woman with horns and wings. Their eyes were colored marbles, and their teeth were bleached bone. Sonja was exhausted as she reached the thirtieth statue.
Tiffins, Sonja thought. The last marionette they had made was a Tiffin. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago. Sonja pictured Tatty telling them as little children about the winged creatures inked on her belly: “They can fly a thousand miles without resting, and they can live a thousand years, but only if their wings don’t get damaged.”
She looked up wearily. Charlotte and Edgar were still climbing at a fast pace. She sank down by the statue’s feet and leaned her head against it.
Sonja had always sensed her sister’s need for independence, even when they were little children. She felt like Charlotte had been waiting her whole life to escape from her. Sonja, on the other hand, could not imagine a moment without Charlotte by her side. She was Sonja’s other half—and only together did they make a whole.
Out of the corner of her eye, Sonja saw something move. She peered behind the statue. A figure was huddled in a ball on the floor, trembling.
“Are you all right?” whispered Sonja.
It was a woman with a shock of red hair. A scent of vanilla wafted in the air. Sonja’s heart stopped. It could only be Tatty.
Sonja gasped. She covered her mouth with her hands.
The woman jumped to her feet and bolted up the stairs.
“Tatty!” Sonja shrieked. “Where are you going?” She started to race after the woman.
Charlotte grabbed Sonja’s arm. “Who’re you talking to?”
Sonja pulled away, confused, but Edgar caught her. Sonja struggled to break free. “Let go! I’ve got to catch Tatty!”
“But there’s nobody there!” yelled Charlotte.
Sonja’s head drooped. Her legs gave out. Edgar lowered her to the ground.
Alexandria heard the commotion and ran back down the stairs.
“Sonja?” Charlotte hesitated. “Can you hear me?”
Sonja stared at them bleary eyed. “I saw Tatty.” She looked toward the top of the stairs. “I could smell her. I almost touched her.”
“Another hallucination,” said Alexandria. “I told you, you’re sensitive to the Pathways.”
“Remember, Sonja,” Charlotte said softly, “you thought you saw our parents in the swamp.”
Edgar whispered something into Charlotte’s ear. She giggled. He helped her to her feet. “I’ll see you up there,” she said distractedly, and walked on, hand in hand, with Edgar.
“Wait,” Sonja pleaded. “Charlotte.” New tears sprang to her eyes.
“Come on,” Alexandria said impatiently. “Get up.”
Sonja covered her face. “Leave me alone.”
Alexandria sighed deeply. “What’s wrong now?”
“Don’t pretend you care. You don’t care about me. You don’t care about anyone!”
Alexandria swallowed and stared.
Sonja shook, crying. “You’re always annoyed with me. You think I do everything wrong!” Her face was puffy and tear stained. “You know what? I don’t blame you. Without my Talent, I’m a loser. A real nobody. Even my sister hates me.”
“Hates you?” grunted Alexandria. “Because of that boy? That’s only a stupid crush.”
“She’s always falling in love with someone or something, just to get away from me.”
“You can’t depend on each other all your lives. You have to find out who you are, as your own person.”
Sonja hunched her shoulders. Her voice lowered. “I really thought I’d do something special in my life. Now I know I won’t.”
“One thing I’ve learned: you never know anything for sure. You might be surprised. You might just prove yourself yet.” Alexandria kneeled down in front of Sonja and handed her a handkerchief. “In regard to me thinking you’re annoying, I don’t. I’m just a bitter, unhappy woman. Don’t mind me.”
Sonja wiped her eyes and murmured, “Okay.”
Alexandria helped her to her feet.
“Alexandria.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why are you being nice?”
Alexandria thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. I’ll probably regret it later.”
The last few steps were covered with plants and roots. Sunlight and shadows dappled them.
“You go ahead,” urged Alexandria. “I need a minute before I face the Protectors.”
Sonja hurried past Charlotte and Edgar, and with the last of her energy, she ran to the top. The sun glared in her eyes. She squinted. She stood in the middle of a meadow dotted with wildflowers. More meadows, gardens, and woods rolled to the horizon. They had finally made it to the Land Where the Plants Reign. This had always been Sonja’s favorite Eden. As a tattoo, anyway. It was the one she knew the best because it was inked across Tatty’s chest, where Sonja most liked to rest her head.
A soft breeze carried flowery scents. Butterflies spun around like a colorful tornado. The tall grass fluttered through Sonja’s fingers. It was magnificent.
In meadows and whispering fields,
Of butterflies and buzzing bees,
A fertile land of flowers and trees,
Where the Tiffins fly wherever they please!
“Oh, you made it, too,” interrupted a voice. She looked down. Wolf Boy and Moritz, boys again, were collapsed in the grass by her feet. Their capes were covered in swarms of butterflies.
“I hope you’re not going to eat them,” Sonja said, horrified.
“They’re too beautiful to eat,” Moritz returned dreamily. He lifted his thumb to show her a butterfly with rainbow-colored wings.
Wolf Boy sat up and pointed. “What’s that?”
Not far away, a small red dot dropped from the bright blue sky.
Sonja saw Alexandria run through the meadow and catch the falling, fluttering object. Sonja dashed toward her and peered over her shoulder, breathless. Dottie looked up feebly from Alexandria’s hands. A dart stuck out from the side of her neck. Blood stained her feathers. She wheezed out a laugh. “The Contessa got me.”
The bird’s eyes rolled back in a daze. Sonja looked down at her, worried. “Will she be all right?”
The others joined them. Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Is she going to die?”
Alexandria studied the little projectile. “Okay, Dottie, this might hurt.” In one motion, she yanked out the dart. The parrot squeaked a wounded peep.
Alexandria doused the gurgling wound in black gin.
Dottie opened her trembling beak.
Alexandria poured the last drops into her mouth. “Stay awake, Dottie. Help is on the way.” A trumpet blared in the distance. “Let’s go.” Alexandria gathered Dottie up in her coat.
They hurried through the meadow and down a path into a garden. A pungent mist filled the air. Tatty’s tattoo had not prepared Sonja for what she saw. Giant flowers towered over them: camellias, roses, dahlias, and peonies. Their stalks were as thick as broomsticks, and their tops were as big as umbrellas. The clashing scents made Sonja a little dizzy, and she stumbled along after the others.
A grasshopper the size of a dog leapt out from behind a bush. Sonja jumped back and screamed. Charlotte hid behind Edgar. The grasshopper wiped its glassy eyes and hopped away.
“What was—was that?” stammered Sonja.
“These are
the Ancient Gardens,” said Alexandria. “Everything grows bigger here. Something in the soil.”
“One bug like that could feed a whole village,” Moritz mused in a faraway voice.
Alexandria led them to the end of the garden where two tall creatures waited side by side. Thick, coarse horns twisted out of their temples, and velvety fur covered their long wings. They both smiled widely. Their teeth were large and square. “We delight in welcoming you.”
Sonja stared at them, mesmerized. “Tiffins. Real live Tiffins.” She reached out slowly to touch one of their wings. She had cut a hundred little pieces of fabric to make feathers to match theirs.
Alexandria jerked away her hand. “Sorry about that,” she apologized to the smiling creatures. “We just climbed the Hidden Stairway. She’s a little tired.”
Alexandria herded the children into the clearing.
Nine wooden chairs were arranged in a circle. A Tiffin sat in the largest one. His eyes were closed, and his colorful wings were draped across the ground behind him. He had purple hair as stiff as straw and smooth, alabaster horns. He was the Great Tiffin. Sonja remembered Alexandria saying he was the oldest and most powerful of the Protectors. It was funny: he looked more like forty than four hundred.
It was the same with the three women sitting beside him. They seemed about Alexandria’s age, but Sonja recognized them as the Three Swifters—ancient beings. Their pale skin was sprinkled with freckles; and long, wild locks of orange hair hung down over their red, linen dresses. A sand rose dangled from each of their left ears. They stared out into the distance, silent.
Two seats away sat the Mother of All Geese and Fowl, Protector of the Crooked Peaks. Sonja knew that she was the youngest of the five seated Protectors even though she looked, by far, the oldest. She wore a patch over one eye and a feathered cloak around her hunched shoulders. She clutched the handle of a misshapen cane with her leathery hand. Crows sat perched on the back of her chair. One buried its beak into her ear and squawked.