Leo pauses, and so do I. There is light ahead, so I wait, giving my eyes enough time to adjust to the darkness, to this new fire we’ve discovered. What would anybody be doing this far from camp?
The light is the fire of a large lantern burning up ahead of us, down in the woods just to the right. Mortimer and a few of the Guardians are gathered around the flame. They’re standing in a circle, whispering things to one another. I watch as Mortimer kneels down to the ground and sprinkles something in the dirt. He stirs circles, mixing it with the dark soil below. Then he presses his fingers together and makes a pulling motion. The process repeats, stir and pull, stir and pull. The Guardians all take a step back, their eyes focused on Mortimer’s work. One of them rests a hand on his sword as he watches, ready to strike whenever necessary.
The Dust below Mortimer’s hand begins to rise from the ground, slipping through his fingers. The push and pull reminds me of Mama kneading bread dough.
As Mortimer works, the Dust underneath his hands begins to billow. Even from here, I see what looks like a tail on one end, swishing. A pointed snout on the other. Mortimer’s eyes are closed, he’s muttering something, and the creature’s back goes rigid instead of smooth, scales prickling all across its spine.
Did he just create that? I wonder. But that doesn’t make sense. The Guardians protect us from creatures like this. Maybe Mortimer’s just cornered something, and my eyes are playing tricks on me.
So why does it look like that thing is growing as Mortimer molds it?
I realize now my body is shaking uncontrollably. Leo is steady against my side, leaning in to support me.
They’re just catching it, I tell myself.
A Guardian steps to the side, and the creature—this snake—begins to move away from their circle. I only see patches of its body in the firelight, the way its scales shine as it slithers through the forest. Mortimer and his Guardians wait for a moment, quietly. Then they follow close behind as the snake monster heads into the woods.
I have to warn everyone at the camp. Energy launches me off the ground and onto Leo. I ride him bareback through the woods, branches swatting at my face, but I don’t care. I have to warn Adam and the rest of the riders that this creature is heading toward them.
“Faster,” I urge. I’m back at the tree line, the campground in front of me, when I hear a scream and realize I’m too late.
A glimmer of light catches my eye, coming from across the way. The snake shimmers, slithers, through the brush and toward the camp.
“Run!” I shout, riding out of the trees on Leo’s back. “RUN!”
Boys are glancing around frantically. I point to a sight that’s haunted my nightmares for months, a vision so similar to what I saw the night I met Leo: bright yellow eyes. Dark slits down the center.
At the sight of the snake, Adam howls. “GO!” he yells to Greer, grabbing the little boy by the sleeve and pulling him to his feet. Nico and Connor grab our bags and run, and everyone else follows suit. But in this darkness—with all this Dust kicked up—we can’t see the Dustsnake anymore.
Honor and his friends are still settled around the campfire, looking bored.
“It’s a monster!” I yell. He shakes his head as if he doesn’t believe me, and then one of his friends points, screams, and pulls Honor to his feet. They all push Honor in front of their group.
“You’re the one with the sword!” one says. “Kill it!”
“Kill what? I can’t even see it!” Honor screams. He holds the sword straight out in front of him, blade trembling so hard it dances with the bonfire light.
I squint into the night and see the monster gliding around in the chaos, as if it’s enjoying it all. Shining eyes. Fangs like fire. Honor screams, shoves away from his friends, and runs.
As the monster glides past us, Leo bangs his hooves down into the clearing, barely missing the head. I slide down from his back, grab a flaming stick from one of the bonfires and hold it out in front of me. I see other boys do the same, trying something, anything, to ward off this thing.
“Where are the Guardians?” Adam shouts. “They’re supposed to protect us!”
I look all around and see no one. Did Mortimer lose sight of the monster in the woods? Don’t they realize it’s come into the clearing?
I hear ragged breathing beside me and see Honor holding his stupid sword.
“Kill it,” I tell him. “Or give me the sword and I’ll kill it.”
The monster flings its body toward us and Honor hacks at it, madly, cutting long slashes in the dirt.
“Wait! Everybody be still!” one of Honor’s friends shouts. He’s holding a paper sack out in front of him, far away as if it’s poisoned. As if he wants nothing to do with it. “That Guardian said the monsters know liars.” A tear wriggles down the boy’s face. I see the glimmer in the firelight. “Maybe if I confess, it will leave us alone.”
The boy steps toward a bonfire at the center of the clearing. And slowly, in a ripple of fiery scales, the monster raises its head, yellow eyes fixed on the boy.
“I’m sorry,” the boy says. He tosses the sack on the ground, and the stolen gold powder spills out.
With a wild scream, just like we heard in the woods, the snake leaps at the boy. He jumps away just in time and the snake lands in the fire, where it explodes in a tiny pouf of sparkly dirt.
The clearing grows quiet. We stand, watching, with our torches and tired eyes.
One of the Guardians walks over and takes the sack of gold from the crying boy. All the Guardians are back now, watching us from the edge of the clearing. They say nothing. They don’t comfort us. Even Mortimer just watches, arms crossed over his chest.
Adam walks up beside me. “Did you see where it came from?”
For reasons I don’t understand, I answer: “No.”
It’s only a small lie, the size of a seed. I don’t like how it feels planted deep inside me.
It’s still dark when I run home the next morning. Mama must be terrified, I know. I’m surprised she didn’t run through the woods to find me. Even though Mortimer sent word.
Did he send a Guardian to my house?
Worry is a waterfall, drawing out every other thought in my mind.
Are the North Woods always this quiet?
I’m rounding the rough path to the cottage when I see Granny Mab up ahead. She’s standing against a tree, well hidden in the dim light, black skirt billowing. She holds a finger to her lips. Shhhh.
Through the trees, I see the lantern lights on the front of our cottage. And there on the steps, I see billowing black cloaks. The Guardians.
Mab points up, into an old Telling Tree. The Telling Trees “tell” us the weather, usually. They turn white in the rain. They’re pitch on an ordinary morning, like this one. Black as a shadow. My eyes adjust to see Denver curled up in one of the high branches, perfectly hidden.
Gentle, I remind my heart. Stay gentle. For Denver, for now, stay silent.
“When, exactly, will your son be home?” The Guardian is questioning Mama. “Time’s running short, and so is our patience.”
I clench the Feathersworth in my hand. I remember flying, just last night, with Leo. Sailing into the snow. Every day I’m getting closer. I will beat these horrible men.
I wait until they’re long gone to climb into the tree. Until Honeysuckle sings out soft and low and lets us know we can be at peace. For now. She flaps up beside me as I climb. I take Denver into my arms and think about the day I taught him to climb this tree. I never realized I was teaching him to hide.
“You’re not even shaking,” I whisper. “Look at you, how brave you are.”
“Because I saw you yesterday,” he says, his voice barely a breath. “I saw you on Leo. I saw you fly. And I knew I would be all right.”
For now, for this one quiet moment, he is.
“Hurry your butts, Coal Tops,” Iggy shouts as we arrive in the clearing. “Long flight today. Let’s saddle the horses and send you off.”
>
I barely slept last night thinking about this challenge. I only need to complete three more rides and our debts are paid.
“Do you know where we’re going today?” I ask. Leo boops his nose against my forehead, and I laugh for the first time in days.
“I do,” Iggy says, feeding Leo handfuls of hay. “You’ll know it, too. The mountain called Truth and Flame.”
“Oh!” Adam is trying to pull Jeff toward us. But Jeff is content to munch on every spare blade of grass he finds today. Adam clears his throat and says:
From far away,
This mountain fine,
Looks made for walks and hikes and climbs.
But woe to him who only sees
Above the ground,
And not beneath.
No man’s rank or build or family name
Will be remembered on Truth or Flame.
“Is it just like the rhyme says?” I ask Iggy, excitement bubbling inside me. “Nice on the outside and … ?”
“A bold and blazing inferno on the inside.” Iggy nods. “Truth and Flame would be a simple enough ride if it weren’t for the blazes themselves—unexpected, hissing, bursting from pockets in the mountainside. Horses can sense the flame, of course. But it makes fetching gold hard. So trust your ride today. I don’t want the horses hurt. I’ll hold you responsible if they are.”
“I know,” I tell her. And I agree with her, totally. It is my job to take care of Leo. Just like he takes care of me. The last conversation I had with Iggy plays through my mind. I know I should apologize, but I turn to wander away. Leo moves in front of me, blocking my path of escape, and nudges me back toward her.
“Fine,” I whisper. “Iggy … I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry for what I said. You’re great with the horses. And I’m grateful for your help.”
Iggy glances at Leo. He snorts, nods at her. She rolls her eyes.
“These sweet horses hate disagreements,” she says. “They don’t like it when people fight.”
“How do you know so much about them?”
Iggy grins, just a little. “Secrets, as I said. Everybody’s got ’em.”
“Ah. Well, like I said, sorry. And Iggy’s a great name. Iggy Thump—it sounds brave and bold, like your Papa said.”
“Mallie’s a good name, too,” Iggy says with a grimace. As if it pains her to give a compliment. “That’s the name of a moon, you know. Before the Dust came, when winter was finally over, a second moon used to rise in the sky. The Mallie Moon—it was bright and pale pink and people’d dance around in the light when they saw it. Meant winter was over. The blooming season was back. It fits you, I reckon.”
This is a bona fide compliment. I’m not sure how to respond exactly. Somehow my hand ended up over my heart while she was talking, like my body reacted to these sweet words of its own accord.
“Oh, please!” Iggy says. “Don’t go getting sentimental. You’ve got a big mission ahead of you.”
Three more missions, I think to myself. Three completed missions, and Denver is safe.
The mountain of Truth and Flame is a place we’ve only heard of in stories. It’s not visible from the train down the mountain, not even on a clear day. If you travel into the South Woods as far as you can, make it all the way to the cliffs, then you might see a hint of it in the far distance. The mountain is black as char, with flames bursting out the side. Instead of the usual Dust surrounding it, you also have smoke to deal with. It makes for excellent stories, the kind we tell by firelight when winter sets in. We talk about the days before the Dust, when people ventured beyond the mountain we know. Truth and Flame makes for a mighty tale.
But I doubt it’s going to be an easy ride.
Also, I have no clue how we’re supposed to scrape gold powder from the sides.
We take off from the clearing again and fly south in unison. The flight is long, so we pace our horses. They’ll have enough to worry about when we actually get there. We fly for miles. After a while, the peaks around us become unfamiliar-looking, black and forbidding.
“You worried?” Adam yells, flying up beside me.
“A little more than before, maybe,” I tell him honestly. “Are you?”
“I’m still rattled from last night,” he admits. “I’ve never seen a monster that close. So much for Mortimer and the Guardians being there to protect us.”
I nod and say nothing else. It feels strange holding back something like this. But what would I say? That I possibly saw Mortimer create a monster? If I make Mortimer angry, he might let me go. I might lose my place here, even lose the money I’ve made so far. I can’t do it.
“Mallie,” Adam calls out. I glance to the side to see the fear on his face as he looks straight ahead, toward the mountain rising dark as a demon miles in front of us.
Truth and Flame.
“Everybody be careful!” Greer calls, flying up on my other side. I see Nico and Connor flying out beside him, focused straight ahead.
I lean forward. “Go, Leo.” I say the words against his neck. And say a little prayer that we’ll be okay.
In seconds, the world around me is blazing. I can’t breathe for the heat of it all.
Smoke billows at my face.
Fire nips my boots, singes the hem of my pants. Leo veers into a hard right, jolting my body, as a plume of fire bursts from the side of the mountain. Sweat beads on my face instantly from the heat. Leo weaves in and out of the smoke, and I squint through my goggles, finally seeing a shimmer.
“I’m ready,” I tell Leo, bracing my legs against his sides and unhooking my Keep. Leo flies at an angle up the side of the mountain. I make sure my right arm is through the reins, hooked at the elbow, while I lean down and collect gold powder in my Keep with my left hand. Sweat beads on my forehead and drips down my face. I can hear the deep rumble of the mountain, like it’s about to burst all over.
Got it! I pull my Keep away from the mountain, encouraged by the weight of it.
Leo rises into the sky so I can breathe regular air. Even Dusty air feels nice when you’re stuck in smoke.
There’s still room for more, I think as I look into my Keep.
“Down,” I tell Leo. And my brave mount zooms back toward the mountain.
With the bag in hand, I lean low, ready to gather up a pile of gold powder. But Leo swerves suddenly as a flame shoots up out of the mountain so close to my face I wonder if I’m actually burnt.
I remember Iggy’s advice about this: Trust Leo completely.
My horse has a knack for knowing when the fire will burst from that mountain. As we make another pass, I see that his instinct is spot-on—swerving, rising, even stomping out flames to keep us safe.
I lean low and collect a final pile of gold powder to top off my Keep. I’m sure there are ashes in this bag, too, but I also know there’s gold.
More than enough.
“We did it!” I shout excitedly. “Let’s go home, Leo.” He swerves and sails skyward.
My hand and Popsnap are covered in soot, and I know that means the rest of me is, too. I smell smoke everywhere: in my hair, in Leo’s hair, all around me.
I gulp at the fresh air as Leo bursts out of the smoke cloud surrounding the peaks. Then I check my Keep again. It’s full. I wait for the rest of the boys to emerge from the smoke, and my worry sails away, easy as a Starbird in the wind.
Even through the fire, I know I’ve grabbed enough gold powder to complete today’s mission. My whole body feels less tense suddenly. I had a good ride. And maybe because it was so hard, I feel even prouder of myself. I’ll have two thousand Feathersworth now. Two more rides and Denver is safe from the mines. My family is safe.
I rest my face on Leo’s mane as Adam flies up beside me.
He’s covered in soot, too: his hair, his face, even his clothes. We must look like flying shadows. He nods at me, and without even speaking, I know he means two things:
He’s safe.
He got enough gold powder, too.
&
nbsp; For a few minutes, we soar in circles around each other. We’re covered in ashes. We’re drifting like shadows. My best friend looks like a warrior, I think, as I watch him sail around me. And I know I must look that way to him, too. It’s a fine feeling.
We sigh with relief as we leave Truth and Flame Mountain in our wake.
Leo and I land in the clearing behind Greer, just before Adam. Before Leo is even fully on the ground, I’m swinging off his back to check for injuries.
“You were so brave,” I tell him, kissing his sooty muzzle.
I ruffle Leo’s mane, shaking the smoke loose from the green stripe that matches mine. He touches his muzzle to my forehead.
“Lionhearted Leo,” I whisper. “That’s what you are.”
And his deep brown eyes are on my eyes. It’s like he hugs me with his eyes sometimes. Leo can’t speak, of course, but I still feel like he communicates with me. Like there’s an unspoken understanding between us. Sometimes just looking into his eyes makes me feel brave, too. You are the lionhearted one, his heart seems to be saying to mine. You are brave.
“I’m brave when you’re with me.” I grin.
Iggy scuttles up beside us, muttering to herself, scanning Leo for burns I might have missed. Of course, she couldn’t care less if I’m hurt. But she’s endlessly concerned for “her” horses. This is becoming very endearing to me.
She sighs and pats his side. “All’s good with sweet Leo, it seems. I’ll take him to the stable for dinner and a bath.” Iggy doesn’t actually have stables set up in the West Woods. But there is a grove of Telling Trees she calls her stables. There’s a little creek and plenty of shade, and she insists the horses are left alone when they go there. All animals need rest, she says. “I’ll take Jeff, too, Adam.”
The horses follow Iggy happily, ready for some alone time with her. But I know Leo will find me later.
“I’m too riled up to go straight home,” Adam says, as if he’s reading my mind. “There’s something I want to show you. Meet me back here after they weigh our powder, okay?”
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