The Rise of Winter, page 21
“Yes,” a small, chirpy voice answered next to my head, “the escarpment follows the beach all the way around the bay.”
I had nearly forgotten about Aurora. She hadn’t shown herself since we’d left the cave, and I had become accustomed to the low humming sound she made.
I looked up at the wall: a sheer mass of grey rock. There were a few cracks and ledges, but I doubted the smallest raccoons would be able to climb that high.
“How will we get to the mountains?” I asked. “We won’t be able to climb this.”
“There’s a gorge up ahead that cuts through the cliff,” Aurora said. “A river runs through it, but at this time of year, it should be low enough to pass. We can follow the gorge all the way to the mountains. There is a grove of trees at the foot of the mountains where the raccoons will be safe.”
Proctin and Procynia were looking around as if they’d heard a ghost.
“It’s Aurora,” I said, as if that should make sense. “She prefers hiding.”
“Prefers staying alive,” Aurora retorted.
I laughed as Proctin batted at the air around his ears.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s get to this gorge before the wolves return.”
As we continued to walk, our pace slowed further. The rocks on the beach got progressively bigger—first they were the size of oranges, then watermelons, until finally they became as large as hay bales, requiring us to climb and jump between them. They were slippery from the mist that showered us with each crashing wave, and there were sharp barnacles and slick seaweed on their surfaces. Even with my Sensium, I slipped on several occasions.
“How much farther?” I asked, after we’d been travelling for what felt like an hour.
“Less than a kilometre,” Aurora said.
“Good,” I said, grunting as I jumped from a large boulder down to a smaller one. I stopped and turned, helping the line of raccoons that followed.
I was beginning to think we might make it—there was still no sign of the wolves, and we had covered a lot of ground—when someone yelled, “LOOK OUT!”
My first thought was that the wolves were coming, until I saw movement with my Aminoculus and ducked my head. A large boulder sailed over top of me, narrowly missing my skull before landing with a splash among the rocks.
“Get down!” I yelled, as another boulder came sailing from the water.
I pressed my stomach to the rock and waited.
Another boulder flew toward me, and I rolled to the side. It was followed by an odd clicking noise from the water.
Cano, I thought. He was the only water creature large enough to throw rocks that size.
When the third rock came, I was forced to jump to another boulder, but my foot slipped and my shoe wedged between the rocks, trapping me.
I pulled hard to free my foot, but it wouldn’t budge.
When the next rock came, all I could do was raise my hands in front of my face, although I knew it would do nothing to soften the blow.
The rock was enormous, twice as large as me, and I closed my eyes, bracing for the hit.
I expected to be knocked unconscious, or worse, but was instead hit by a giant wave of water. When I opened my eyes, my clothes were drenched and there was kelp hanging from my hair.
The noise returned, a mechanical click punctuated by short, high-pitched squeals.
I looked around to find the raccoons looking just as confused and startled as I was. I wriggled my foot free from the rocks and slunk over the boulders toward the water. When I got to the edge, I peered down.
At first, I saw nothing but waves, floating kelp, foam. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then I spotted them: two bright eyes looking up at me—two bright, innocent, adorable eyes. A sea otter lay on its back with its hands folded neatly over its chest, floating in the kelp. It had a dark brown coat with silver-grey speckles, and long whiskers coming from a pale face.
The squealing, clicking noise had stopped the moment I looked over the edge, and there didn’t appear to be anyone else besides the otter.
“You didn’t happen to hit me with a rock just now, did you?” I asked, removing a strand of kelp from my hair.
It seemed like a dumb question; the rock had been ten times the size of the otter.
“Me?” said the otter, looking hurt. “You think I would hit you with a rock?” It blinked its big eyes innocently.
“No, well, I didn’t think so. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”
The otter smiled. “That’s okay. Shall we play a game?”
“A game? I’m actually trying to figure out—”
“Great,” said the otter, “let’s play catch! I’ll get the rocks.”
Before I could answer, it flexed its body backward and disappeared beneath the waves. When it returned, it was holding a large stone on its chest.
“Catch!” it said, and threw the rock to me.
I reached out to grab it, but the second it hit my hands, it turned to water. It was as if it had melted on contact.
“You missed!” the otter said, spinning around and around and making the clicking, squealing noise I now saw to be laughter.
“It was you!” I said, pointing my finger at the otter.
“No,” said the otter, “you asked if I hit you with a rock. And I didn’t.”
“Well, you threw a rock at me, didn’t you?”
“Oh sure, I threw a rock, yes, but I thought you’d catch it.”
“You thought I’d catch a boulder hurtling toward my head?”
The otter thought for a moment. “Yes,” it said, nodding vigorously. “Now, let’s play again!”
“I don’t have time for games,” I said, irritated. “I need to get to Mount Skire before it’s destroyed.”
“Destroyed? By what?”
I stood and began jumping from rock to rock as the otter swished its tail lazily, following along in the water.
“Lupora,” I said. “She’s taken her army and my cousin, Alectus, to destroy Mount Skire.”
The otter scrunched up its face. “That doesn’t sound like a very fun game.”
Aurora flew up beside us. “Ah, I see you’ve met Tully,” she said. “I figured he’d show up sooner or later. We’re in his home, after all.”
“Tully?” I said, looking at the otter.
“Water Guardian of Agility,” the otter said with a nod of his head.
“More like Water Guardian of Mischief,” Aurora said dismissively. “Now, we’d better get going. I’ve just flown ahead, and it looks like the gorge will be passable. With luck, we should be there before lunch.”
“I should probably come,” Tully suggested, still following along in the water. “It sounds as if Lupora is not much fun. I bet I can change that. Does she like to play games?”
Aurora flew a few feet over the water and looked down at Tully. “No, that’s alright, I’m sure we’ll be fine without you. You can, um, stay here and guard these rocks.”
Tully looked upset. “But I always guard these rocks. Why can’t I come? I’m a Guardian, after all!”
“A very young Guardian,” Aurora said. “I really think it’s best if you stay here.”
“But I’ve been a Guardian since I was just a pup and have never once got to do anything fun!”
“You were a Guardian when you were a pup?” I asked.
Tully nodded happily. “Youngest Guardian ever selected. So young I don’t remember. But now I’m bigger and stronger and older and faster and smarter and—”
While Tully continued to list his attributes, I turned to Aurora.
“Why would Terra select a pup for a Guardian?” I whispered.
“There weren’t any other options,” Aurora said.
“No other options?”
“As I’m sure you’re aware, there has been a sharp decline in the otter population around Olport. Tully’s family has borne the brunt of that mass exodus.”
I pictured Alectus’s fashionable otter-pelt hat.
“That’s awful,” I said, looking at Tully swimming along, smiling and talking to himself. I felt bad for him. He probably wanted to play because he was lonely. “I think we should let him come,” I said to Aurora.
Aurora shook her tiny head from side to side. “Tully is still young and learning, and well, frankly, he’s a bit of a troublemaker. I really think—”
“I’m young and learning,” I said, offended.
Tully heard this and stopped talking to himself. He nodded excitedly. “Yes! She’s young! Let me come. We can play all sorts of games.”
“You can come,” I said. “It would be fun to have you along.”
Tully squealed and spun around in rapid circles, so fast a whirlpool formed in the centre. He clapped his paws and chanted, “Fun, fun, fun, fun!”
Aurora let out a faint harrumph beside me. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. He’ll be your responsibility, not mine.”
And with that, the hummingbird vanished.
Chapter 52
AS WE MADE OUR WAY OVER THE FINAL STRETCH OF BOULDERS toward the gorge, Tully swam beside us, occasionally picking up rocks and throwing them at unsuspecting raccoons, who groaned as they were showered with water.
“What exactly is your power?” I asked, hoping to distract Tully from bothering the raccoons.
“I can change the physical elements of Terra,” Tully said. “Like water into rock and rock into water.” He gave a powerful swish of his tail, shooting himself out of the surf and landing on top of the waves, where he began walking. It looked as if he were lighter than water, but when I looked closer I saw that the water had turned to stone. “Ta-dah!” he said, jumping back into the sea.
“Wow, that’s amazing!” I said, and Tully chirped and clicked excitedly.
“And you must have super strength to be able to throw those boulders?” I guessed.
Tully flexed his arm muscles and nodded. He disappeared beneath the waves and resurfaced holding a rock the size of a shopping cart, covered with seaweed and barnacles.
“Super strength!” Tully said, in a singsong voice.
“Incredible!”
The rock suddenly lifted from Tully’s paws and hovered above his head.
“Hey!” he said, as Aurora appeared above the rock.
The little hummingbird held the boulder by a strand of seaweed. “He doesn’t have super strength,” Aurora said with a scowl. “He hollows out the rocks so that they’re nothing but empty shells. They’re as light as a feather.” She lifted the rock higher to show us the hole in the bottom.
The rock disappeared with a pop, and a shower of water rained down.
“Well, you’re no fun,” Tully pouted. He pulled a small stone from a pouch beneath his armpit and threw it at Aurora, but the hummingbird disappeared before it hit.
“Super strength or not, I still think it’s impressive,” I said, giving Tully a wink.
“Thank you!” he said, clapping his hands.
As we walked, Tully found new games to play. When he tired of throwing rocks, he invented a game he called, “Not that one!”
As I’d jump toward a boulder he’d turn it into water and yell, “Not that one!” then laugh hysterically as I landed awkwardly below.
This game was both irritating and dangerous, and by the time we neared the last of the boulders I was beginning to think Aurora had been right about leaving Tully behind.
“We’re nearly there,” Aurora said, appearing beside my ear. “You should be able to hear the waterfalls.”
She was right. A low rumble sounded ahead. I climbed a high boulder and spotted a gap in the escarpment further down the beach, where a large river flowed into the ocean. The source of the rumbling wasn’t the river, but two large waterfalls straddling the entrance of the gorge. They came from either side, landing at the base of the river and filling the air with a thick, white mist.
“The runoff from the mountains drains through the gorge,” Aurora said. “The main river runs down from Mount Skire, but there are many others that join along the way. The waterfalls will be cold and unavoidable, but it’s not far up the passage to the woods.”
I nodded. Getting wet wouldn’t be a big deal if it meant we could finally walk on flat ground. There were only about fifteen more metres of boulders to cross before the ground leveled out.
“We can have a race!” Tully suggested.
“I’m not going to race,” Proctin said, waddling up beside me and looking at the gorge. He seemed to be growing particularly annoyed with Tully.
“Well of course you’re not going to race,” Tully said, jumping from the water and landing beside Proctin. “No one should race when they’re pregnant. That would be dangerous for the babies.”
Before I could stop him, Tully reached out and rubbed Proctin’s belly.
“Pregnant!” Proctin shrieked, taking a swipe at Tully’s head but missing as the otter ducked and leapt back into the water.
“Don’t be mad,” Tully said. “I just thought a race would be a fun way to get away from the wolves.”
“Get away from what wolves?” I said, focused on climbing over the last few boulders.
“Those ones,” Tully said, calmly pointing across the bay.
We turned to see a pack of wolves racing down the beach in our direction.
Chapter 53
“HOW FAR UP THE GORGE IS THE FOREST?” I YELLED AS WE SCRAMBLED down from the boulders, the sound of the waterfalls getting louder as we closed in on the gorge.
“Too far!” Aurora said. “We’ll never make it before they get here.”
The wolves had already cut the distance in half. What had taken us hours to walk would only take them minutes to run.
“We’d better think of a plan,” I said, searching the beach for an idea. “How well can the gaze swim?”
“Not well,” Procynia said. “The wolves would only have to wait a few minutes before we either drowned or were forced to return.”
“And the wall, is it too high to climb?”
She looked up at the grey escarpment. It must have been thirty metres high, with hardly any ledges or cracks in the sheer stone. It would be next to impossible to scale.
“We are good climbers, so we could try,” Procynia said. “It might be our best chance. But the mist from the waterfalls has made the rock wet, which will only add to the difficulty.”
The waterfalls.
“I’ve got an idea,” I said, looking at the opening of the passage between the falls. “Forget climbing. Get everyone into the gorge! Quickly! Through the waterfalls!”
Without asking questions, the gaze moved as I’d directed. It took longer than I would have liked—the raccoons had to shuffle single file behind the falling water, and by the time they were through, the wolves were halfway across the boulders. Procynia and I stood watching as they approached.
“What will we do?” she asked. “They will be here in a matter of minutes.”
“Follow me,” I said, turning and entering the mist.
Once inside, it was hard to see, and my Aminoculus was useless with all the water in the air. I put my hand on the wall to guide myself behind the waterfall. The sound was thunderous, and my clothes were drenched by the time I got to the other side.
I emerged in a long canyon with a wide river flowing through it. The walls were steep, and several smaller waterfalls fell from the sides into the river as it led up to the mountains. There was only a narrow riverbank, where the raccoons huddled in a line. Everyone looked frightened—especially Proctin. He stood knee-deep in the water, muttering, “The wolves are coming! The wolves are coming!” with a petrified look on his face.
Beside him swam Tully, clapping his hands and chanting, “The wolves are coming! The wolves are coming!” in an excited tone.
“Aurora?” I called, and a second later she appeared beside me. “Can you fly up and see how close the wolves are?”
She nodded and disappeared.
“Keep moving everyone further into the gorge,” I said to Procynia. “Get them as far from the waterfalls as possible.”
I took a few steps backward, surveying the entrance to the gorge, deciding on how best to carry out my plan.
Seconds later, Aurora returned. “They’re already over the boulders!” she shrieked. “They’ll be here any moment!”
“Already over the boulders!” cried Proctin, putting his hands over his face.
“Already over the boulders!” sang Tully, taking a mouthful of water and spitting it into the air like a fountain.
Darn, there wouldn’t be time to explain.
“Tully, come here,” I yelled, “I’ve got a game for you.”
Tully’s eyes lit up and he scampered over.
“A game? Oh, I love games! Is it tag, or—?”
I grabbed Tully by the shoulders and spun him around toward the mist. I held his hands from behind and aimed them up toward the tops of the waterfalls.
“The game is called ‘raining rocks’!” I shouted over the thundering water.
“Ooh! That sounds like fun! How do we play?”
The first silhouette of a wolf appeared in the mist.
“Turn the waterfall into rocks, Tully!” I yelled. “NOW!”
His arms turned cool and his body stiffened as the water above changed. There was no longer a thick mist in the air, but pebbles and rocks of all different sizes. Where the waterfalls had been were now two towering rock cascades. Stones fell to the ground like cement and began filling the entrance to the gorge.
The wolves that had been underneath yelped and turned around. Only one made it through, but its tail was pinned by a large boulder before it could attack. The rocks continued to fall, piling higher and higher. Tully had turned both waterfalls into rockslides, and it didn’t take long for the entire passage of the gorge to be sealed.
When it was over, the only sound was the low rumble of the smaller waterfalls behind. I turned to see hundreds of stunned faces.
“That was fun!” said Tully, breaking the silence and hopping around me in circles. “Can we do it again?”
