Grell’s and the Lowconz tracks had vanished, buried under blowing snow.
Sandy angled across above the cliff. He doesn’t stop. He’s so strong.
It took nearly an hour for the two to reach a small ridge and another steep pitch. Sandy paused for breath. It didn’t seem this far coming down.
To her left stood a thicket of short, pine-like trees, each buried under a creamy swirl of snow. Soft ice cream. Snow cone trees. To her right, the ridge merged into the mountainside.
She looked down the slope. The rim of the cliff lay directly below. She looked back at their tracks angling up the slope.
Sam followed her eyes. “Looks like the spine of a snake,” he said.
“The spine of a snowsnake,” she muttered. She felt a chill.
“You know about snowsnakes?”
“One tried to get me.”
What hasn’t she done?
Sandy pointed to a tiny patch of green in the distance. “Is that jungle down there?”
“Yes.”
Sandy saw a movement off to the left. Something was climbing over the rim of the cliff.
“What’s that?” she pointed.
“An altivaulter?” replied Sam, squinting. “No. A fangvaulter. It’s way out of its range.”
It headed along the rim of the cliff in their direction. Another appeared and followed. Then others.
“A fanger gang!” said Sam. “Not good.”
The animals made their way across the rim in leaps and bounds, halting and peering over the edge as they came.
“They’re watching something!” said Sandy.
“It seems,” said Sam.
The fangvaulter gang would soon be directly below Sandy and Sam.
“What if they see our tracks?” she asked, squatting down.
“We should get out of here,” he said, checking the quiver.
“I’m for that.” Sandy turned to climb.
“Wait,” he said.
One of the fangvaulters was eyeing his and Sandy’s tracks. Sam crouched. Sandy ducked. Suddenly the fanger pointed. Two more turned to look.
“They see us,” said Sam.
“Oh, no. Not this. Not now,” whispered Sandy.
But the other two fangers shrugged and turned back to the cliff. The first fanger whacked them with a paw. The beasts began to squabble.
“Cross your fingers,” said Sam.
Abruptly, the first fangvaulter started up the slope. The other two hesitated, then followed.
“They’re coming,” cried Sandy.
Sam glanced into the snow cone trees. “They’ll surround us in there. I have to stand them off here, where I’ll have the advantage of height.” He strung an arrow. “Sandy, go, as fast as you can. Keep climbing. If they get past me and come after you, ski that way,” he pointed the way they had come. “Just stay high and keep skiing. You’ll be faster. They’ll give up. The Snoflians will find you.”
Sandy stared at the oncoming beasts. “Sorry, Grandpa. No way. Not now. Not without you.”
“Sandy, please go!” he pleaded.
“You can shoot arrows,” she said. “I can play frisbee.” She unslung her backpack and pulled out the disc. Copying Grell, she flipped open the top, inserted her fingers and twisted. Then she stood sideways, and waited.
With one arrow already strung, Sam stuck five more in the snow in front of him. Then he looked at her. “Whatever you have in your hand, sweetheart, it better be good.”
The fangvaulters heaved themselves up through the deep snow, mouths open wide, tongues flapping.
“Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes,” whispered Sandy. The leader was focused on her, its head swinging, fangs bared, saliva spewing. “Gross!” she muttered. Then she saw its eyes. Red?
“You’re ice,” she screamed.
She whirled the disc out over the slope. It spun lazily, seeming to hover. Sandy bit her lip.
The leader spread his clawed arms, ready to snatch the strange bird from the air, as he had done with so many before. But unlike the others, this bird slowed, then settled softly on the slope in front of him, just asking to be grabbed. He lunged.
The snow exploded.
Sam’s mouth fell open.
A fracture line spread across the slope. A massive slab of snow began to break away, slipping slowly at first, then accelerating, carrying the three beasts tumbling, flailing toward the cliff.
The rest of the fangvaulter gang, crouching on the edge, glanced back, gawked for a moment and bounded away in both directions. But too late. They were hit full force by tons of sliding snow. They flew over the rim, screeching and writhing.
Sandy stared, stunned at what she had done. “Sorry,” she mumbled, grimly. “But, I had to!” she said quietly, setting her jaw.
Sam lowered the bow, the arrow still strung. He gazed at Sandy. “What was that?”
“Something the Snoflians use...to start avalanches.”
“You are your grandmother’s granddaughter,” he said proudly.
“Mm,” said a voice from behind.
Sam spun, raising the bow and drawing the arrow in one quick motion.
Sandy whirled.
Sorzz and Snezz were skiyaking toward her out of the snow cone trees, clothes tattered, black tube weapons in their hands.
Sam released the arrow.
“Nooo!” screamed Sandy. She jumped in front of Sam.
Snezz dove forward, Sorzz fell to the side, both pointing their weapons at Sam. Sam was already notching another arrow.
“Not them,” shouted Sandy. She looked back at Sorzz and Snezz, her hand to her mouth.
Behind Snezz, a Lowconz warrior lay crumpled in the snow, blue face turning gray, Sam’s arrow in his chest, his bow by his side, his arrow in a snow cone tree.
The warrior had come from behind the tree, bow drawn, aiming at Snezz’s back, when Sam released his arrow.
Sorzz and Snezz swiveled to face the snow cones, black tube weapons ready.
“Down,” shouted Sam.
Sandy dropped to her stomach.
Two more Lowconz leapt from the trees with bows, taking aim. Sam released his arrow into the neck of one who fell forward, his arrow shooting into the snow. Snezz fired his weapon into the chest of the second, who sat for a moment, then fell back, his arrow sailing down the pitch. Both Lowconz lay still, turning gray.
“Are there more?” Sam shouted to Sorzz and Snezz, another arrow ready.
Sorzz aimed his weapon along the ridge. Two Lowconz bolted from the snow cone trees and poled off as fast as they could. Sorzz fired a blast over their heads. One fell and got up. The two kept going.
Sam studied the three Lowconz crumpled in the snow. “Vyldung’s warriors,” he said. He nodded to Sorzz and Snezz. They nodded back, slinging their weapons.
“You know them?” asked Sam.
“Yes,” responded Sandy, catching her breath. “Sorzz and Snezz...my grandfather, Sam.”
Sorzz and Snezz touched their fists to their chests.
Sam did the same. He turned to watch the fleeing Lowconz. “If they ever make it back over the movings, they’ll claim they were heroes.”
“The movings?” asked Sandy, a bundle of nerves from the rush of adrenaline.
“The mountains across the north of Lowconzia. The way I came. They move continually. Throw you off balance, trip you, flip you from ledges—like one did me,” he tapped his injured leg. “They will even swallow you.”
Everything’s so weird here. Sandy stared at the three Lowconz in the snow. They looked like the one she had left in the forest. They seemed young. She felt sad. The sun broke through behind her. She looked toward the valley. Something was climbing over the rim below.
“Look,” she said, pointing.
“Altivaulters,” said Sa
m.
She and Sam watched seven climbers come over.
“Three of them don’t look like altivaulters,” said Sandy. They look like me! Her heart pounded. “My friends?” she blurted.
Sam squinted into the sun. “Could be. But not the last one. That’s a Trappid!”
“A Trappid?”
“Something altivaulters would never hang out with,” said Sam, scratching his beard.
Sandy recognized the Jagged Peak team jackets. “It is my friends,” she squealed. “I have to go down.”
Sorzz touched her arm. He indicated he would go with her, while Snezz stayed with Sam.
Sam understood. He nodded to Sorzz who pushed off.
“Be cautious, Sandy,” he said. “Trappids capture and sell living things. Make sure your friends aren’t his captives.”
“I will,” she said excitedly, pushing off behind Sorzz.
CHAPTER 42
No Way
THE SUN WARMED THEIR BACKS, as they climbed from the cliff.
Sparky scanned the rim. No fangers. He went a safe distance from the edge and sat, the others with him. They munched on bits of plummetin nut and dried fruit.
Notch leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the sun hit his face. He took a deep breath. Smells like the beach.
Neff glanced at the specks of sunlight glittering on the snow. She watched the tiny, floating flakes sparkle in the air. So pretty. She studied the three altivaulters huddled together, chattering, watching the smoke billow from the mountainside. Their home is here. They’re afraid. She spotted a sliver of green in a distant valley. “I don’t ever want to be there again,” she said. “It’s awful!”
Trrad glanced at her.
“My big mouth,” she murmured. Does he know what I said? Embarrassed, she turned away and glanced up the mountain.
“Look!” she blurted.
Everyone stood. Two skiers were arcing down toward them.
“Friends, or foes?” asked Notch.
“One looks like Snowy,” responded Sparky.
The two flew off the avalanche crown in opposite directions, landed and cut back, one behind the other.
“The little one,” said Sparky, staring, “kinda skis like Sandy!”
“Sandy?” mouthed Neff, eyes straining. “No. It couldn’t be. Could it?”
“Skis like her,” said Sparky.
“But those aren’t her clothes,” said Neff. The skiers got closer and closer. “It does look like her....” And closer. “It is her. It’s her,” cried Neff, bouncing with glee.
“No way!” said Notch.
Sandy slid to a stop, spraying snow over Neff who flung her arms around Sandy. Sparky and Notch joined in a group hug.
“Hey, guys,” said Sandy, flexing under the added weight. “I’ve been waiting for you.” She scrutinized their grimy faces, tattered, mud-stained clothes, battered backpacks, scratched helmets and leafy footwear. “You, um, look really great!” she said.
“So kind of you to notice,” said Notch. “We’ve been having a perfectly marvelous vacation.” He smiled, through the dried mud on his cheeks and chin. “So glad you could join us.” He glanced at Sorzz standing behind Sandy. A Snoflian.
“We’re exhausted,” said Neff. “How did you get here?”
“After that thing took you,” said Sandy, “I went to get help. I met Mark. We came back to the cave. When we went in, it looked like the Snowy had gone after you. Did he?”
“Yes,” said Neff, “He found us. He helped us. But then he got hurt. We had to leave him. We don’t know what happened to him.” Her eyes glistened.
Had to leave him. Sandy recalled the warrior she had left lying in the snow. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.
“Are you okay,” asked Neff, “Did I say something?”
“No, no. It wasn’t that.”
“Oh,” said Neff, studying Sandy.
“I killed a Lowconz, I think. I had to.”
Killed a Lowconz? Killed? Neff’s stomach sunk. She was speechless.
Then Sandy brightened. “But I found my grandfather, Sam!” she beamed. “He’s there.” She pointed at the ridge.
“Your grandfather?” asked Neff, elated.
“Your grandfather!” blurted Sparky, “I thought he was, uh....”
“No. He’s alive. He’s been here,” said Sandy. She waved at the two figures on the knoll. One waved back. “That’s him.”
Neff waved. “Here? With the Snoflians?”
“No, with the Lowconz. I found him under an avalanche.”
Under an avalanche? With the Lowconz? And she killed one? “I’m so happy for you,” said Neff, hugging Sandy, trying to process the news.
“You guys are with altivaulters,” said Sandy.
“We are,” said Neff. “We wouldn’t be here without them. Long story.”
“Those your skiyaks?” asked Sparky.
Sandy looked down. “Loaners.” She looked at Sorzz. “From the Snoflians. Guys, this is Sorzz.” Sorzz smiled and tapped his big chest.
The three nodded.
Sandy looked at Trrad. “Is he your friend?” she asked.
“Not really. Just some Trappid hanger-on,” said Notch.
“He’s not a hanger on!” said Neff, shaking her head. “His name is Trrad,” she said. “He helped us escape.”
“Escape?” asked Sandy. “From what?”
“From the Trappids,” replied Neff.
“But isn’t he a Trappid?” asked Sandy.
“He is. Family problems,” said Neff.
“So, Sandy, how come the wormhole got you?” asked Sparky.
“I was fighting a snowsnake. It grabbed us both.”
“A snowsnake? For real?” asked Sparky.
“Yes. It was horrible.” She glanced toward the frozen river she and Sam fled along. She looked at her grandfather and thought of the dead Lowconz warriors there with him. “We have to go.” She looked at Neff’s feet. “Where are your boots?”
“We had to leave them, down there,” said Neff, pointing at the jungle.
“We have a long climb ahead of us,” said Sandy.
“Mm,” said Sorzz, pointing up the slope.
Seven skiers were coming down, two Snoflians on skiyaks, five altivaulters on plummetin nut skis, ropes criss-crossed over their shoulders. They took air over the crown one after another, swung apart and arced downhill.
The Snoflians, Grezz and Grell, stopped next to Sorzz. The altivaulters pulled up beside Jung, and glared at the Trappid.
Neff noticed. Trrad’s the enemy.
Grezz and Sorzz spoke briefly. Grezz turned to Sandy, “You find grandfather?”
“Yes!” she replied, smiling. She glanced up at the knoll, then gave Grell a sour look and said, “I almost didn’t.”
Grell looked away.
“These your friends?” asked Grezz.
“Yes,” replied Sandy. “Neff, Notch and Sparky, this is Grezz. He’s been helping me. She’s Grell.”
Neff noticed the slight. What’s going on between Sandy and Grell?
Jung hopped over.
“Another friend?” asked Sandy.
“Yes,” replied Neff. “A good friend. We call him Jung, J-u-n-g.”
Sandy smiled at Jung.
He smiled back.
Grezz beckoned to the other altivaulters. They approached. “Altis will pull you up to pods.”
The four humans and Trrad faced uphill, holding ropes attached to altivaulters. Sandy was in her skiyaks, the others in altivaulter plummetins. The altivaulters began to climb. Neff, jerked off balance, quickly caught herself and slid forward. Trrad, beside her, fell. He got up. Neff looked ahead, then back. He fell again. Then he fell twice more. Finally, the altivaulter pulling him sat and refused to m
ove. Everyone stopped.
Sorzz gathered the altivaulters together. After a short chat, they took turns dragging the Trappid. When they reached the avalanche crown, the altivaulters helped everyone over, except for Trrad. He made it over with a hand from Sparky.
Sandy reached the ridge first. Sam had gone ahead, pulled on a sled by an altivaulter. Sorzz sat waiting by the dead Lowconz.
Sandy looked at Neff and warned, “These Lowconz tried to kill us. You don’t have to look.”
Lowconz? Neff came over the ridge. She stared at the three fallen, gray-faced warriors, saw their blood then looked away, stunned. She felt weak. She focused on the pull rope.
Notch gazed in disbelief at the bodies. What are they? Lowconz? “They’ve been killed!” he whispered. A wave of anxiety enveloped him. Who are we with?
Sparky said under his breath, “What happened here?” Sandy said she took out a Lowconz. Was it one of these? Whoa, girl. He searched the snow cone trees as he passed, then looked at the bodies.
Fear engulfed Trrad, when he saw the Lowconz. He was traveling with those who had killed them. If they could kill Lowconz, they could easily kill him. He didn’t dare fall, not this time, not here.
A short way beyond the dead warriors, the altivaulters paused. Grezz sent Sandy and her altivaulter ahead to catch up with Sam. Grezz, Grell, Sorzz and Snezz returned to the knoll, dragged the Lowconz into the snow cone trees and came back up the slope.
Neff, Notch and Sparky, at first elated to find Sandy, the Snoflians and relative safety, rode through the rest of the climb in dull shock, looking around repeatedly for Lowconz warriors.
Jung, the large female and the young male altivaulter had gone ahead. The female and the young male went into the warren. Jung waited at the entrance for his human friends to pass by.
As they approached, a strong wind blew across the pitch, covering Jung in a cloud of white. His friends didn’t see him. The wind died. Jung watched them disappear over a rise.
CHAPTER 43
Healing Pod
SANDY CAUGHT UP WITH SAM in front of the healing pod as a Snoflian caregiver was helping him through the door. Sandy followed them in.
Sunlight filled the oval interior, though there were no windows. Islands of aromatic plants, herbs and flowers were scattered throughout, separated by walkways and trickling streams.
The Snowy Page 16