The Rise of Winter, page 26
Vulpeera gave a gentle laugh. “I’m beginning to wonder if I’m part cat,” she said, holding up her back paw to show the white bandage and splint wrapped around it. “Though I think my nine lives are nearly up.”
“Yes, we’re all indebted to Lillian.” I turned to find Pteron splayed across the chair in the corner of my room. Over each of his wings was a large gauze, while another covered his chest.
I heard footsteps on the stairs and Granny entered, followed by Uncle Farlin in his stained overalls.
“So, it’s true,” Uncle Farlin said, smiling. “Our little princess is awake. You gave us quite a fright.”
Granny sat down on the side of my bed, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Sore, but fine.”
“I mended your collarbone, but it will ache for a while. I have become quite a medic these past few days.”
Granny swept her hand around the room and we chuckled. It looked like a hospital ward, not a house.
“Thank you, Doctor Granny, you’ve healed everyone,” I said, then a thought occurred to me. “Well, everyone who could be healed.”
A solemn silence fell over the room, and my uncle’s eyes grew glassy as he turned away.
“Is it true?” I said. “Is Alectus … or should I say, was Alectus my brother?”
Granny’s lips tightened, and from the corners of where her eyes once were, tears began to form. “Yes,” she croaked. “Yes, he was.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “But why? Why didn’t you tell us?”
“You have to understand that I was looking out for your best interests. Both of you. I thought I could spare one of you this life. Keep you hidden from the thing that had already taken so much from our family.” Granny’s hands shook as she spoke. “I’m sorry, Winter. I don’t expect you to understand. I’m not even sure that I do.”
“No,” I said, taking her hand, “I do understand. At least, I think I do. I just wish things could have turned out differently.”
“I’m mostly to blame,” Uncle Farlin said, sitting beside Granny so that the bed sagged another foot. “I wanted so badly to have a son. I thought I had it in me to be a good father. But Alectus had so much passion and drive; I should never have kept him on the island. It drove him mad. It made him feel trapped. Once he found the Society, I thought he had turned a corner, but it wasn’t enough. I see now that I was blind as a parent. I was blind to his cruelty. Perhaps I was never meant to be a father after all.”
“Don’t say that!” I said, tears running down my face. “You were a great father. I often wished you were my father. Alectus was just—”
“Too much like his father,” Granny said. “Passionate and driven, but in the end, taken by Malum.”
I lay my head back on the pillow, thinking of Alectus. His last look. That look of anger. That resolve to destroy. “Alectus is gone,” I said, “and so is Mount Skire.”
“Yes,” Granny agreed.
“What will happen now? Am I done being the Terra Protectorum? Are the Guardians finished?”
“No,” Vulpeera said. “If anything, we are needed more than ever. Terra has taken a heavy blow, but at the same time, there is hope. Lupora is gone, her dark army disbanded across the continent. The other animals will hear of what happened, and faith in the Guardians will be restored. We will come together as a united front. No one has heard from Cheelion, and Cano is still angry, but the rest of us will rally behind you. We will use our powers to stop the wane of Terra’s energy.” Vulpeera looked at me curiously. “Speaking of powers, how much of what happened on top of Mount Skire do you remember?”
“On top of Mount Skire?” I said, thinking. “I remember my fight with Alectus. And the mountain exploding. And you falling. And Arctos. And then …”
“Yes? What next? Do you remember what happened next?”
I rolled on my side and looked out the window. In the garden below, Tully was running around in circles while Proctin chased him with a stick. Arctos and Felinia sat at the far end of the yard, looking up at the mountains.
“I remember a little,” I said.
“Arctos claims that he saw you control the elements. He says you moved the rock and blew out the forest fire. Do you remember that?”
“Sort of,” I said. The memories all seemed like a dream now.
“What was it, Winter? What power did you call?” Vulpeera asked, inching closer to me on the bed. Pteron leaned closer from his place on the chair, watching me intently.
“I’m not sure. I remember feeling something. It wasn’t like the other powers I’ve used. It wasn’t a single feeling. It was different. It was everywhere. I felt light and complete and … one.”
Vulpeera and Pteron shared a long look. Did they know something I didn’t? Did they understand what had happened?
“Unomnis,” Vulpeera whispered.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Pteron said, straightening up in the chair. “We cannot be certain of what it was. Unomnis is only supposed to be granted to the one who has gained all twelve of our Mother’s abilities. Only then can they become one with Her.”
“But you heard what she said.”
“I’m not doubting what she says; I’m just trying to be reasonable.”
“There was a lot of energy in the air,” I said. “When Mount Skire exploded, I saw huge tides of Her energy around me. Could that have something to do with it?”
Pteron nodded. “Perhaps. Whatever it was, it was a power we have not seen before. But it is there, inside you, lying dormant. You only have to learn to control it. No doubt it is linked to the other abilities, and further mastering them will help. But Mount Skire is gone, and Terra’s energy has now weakened further. It will not be easy. You will have to train again. You will have to give yourself to learning. But if it is true, if you can call upon Unomnis, then perhaps there is hope that you can not only slow the decay of our Mother, but heal her completely.”
“You think so?”
“I hope so,” Pteron said. “But I know this: if ever there was a Guardian who could save us, it is you.”
Vulpeera nodded. “I have faith in you.”
“As do we all,” Granny said.
“So?” Pteron asked. “Will you do it? Will you find this power hidden within you and heal Terra?”
I looked around the room at the hopeful faces. “I-I’ll try,” I said.
Vulpeera smiled. “That is all anyone can ask of you.”
Chapter 67
IT WAS A SLOW CLIMB UP THE MOUNTAIN. I HAD REASSURED Granny that my body no longer hurt, but that wasn’t exactly true. It had only been a few weeks since I had come home from Mount Skire.
“These mountains looked a lot smaller from the house,” I said, panting, “but I’m glad you asked me to come. I’ve always wanted to hike up here. I used to watch these mountains from my window at night. It sounds odd, but sometimes I felt like they were trying to tell me something. Like they were calling to me.” I laughed at myself. “I sound crazy, don’t I?”
Arctos let out a low grunt to let me know he was listening, but continued walking ahead. Sometimes he didn’t answer my questions. I had initially thought this was a sign that he was unfriendly, but I’d learned over the past few weeks that it was just his way. He wasn’t sweet like Vulpeera or chatty like Proctin, but he had a good heart—of that I was sure.
“When I learned about Mount Skire,” I continued, “I thought I had my answer. I thought it was Terra’s mountain that called to me. But Mount Skire is gone and the mountains still speak to me. Every night, I hear them.”
We rounded the last bend in the path and came to the summit, a rough peak with many jagged rocks. It had taken us hours to climb to the top, but the view was worth it. We were higher than most of the other peaks.
“Wow!” I said, “I can see my house from here.” I pointed to a small cluster of dirt roads and houses in the distance. “It’s hard to appreciate how big these mountains are until you’re standing on one.”
“They were built by my ancestors,” Arctos said.
“They were?”
The bear nodded. “After the Almost End, the lands to the south became inhospitable, and there was fear that the toxic environment might seep into the fertile lands up here. The Land Guardian of Strength at that time—my ancestor—built these mountains to seal off the threat.”
“I had no idea your gift was so powerful.”
“It was,” Arctos said.
“Was? But not anymore?”
“No. The Weakening has reduced my gift to little more than the ability to move rocks. Terra is fragile.”
“Fragile? You mean you weren’t trying to make that hole in the ground during the fight in the clearing?”
“No,” Arctos said, shaking his head.
The conversation ended, and we sat quietly, watching the view. The sun was low behind us, causing the shadows of the mountains to reach across the landscape. Fields of orange and yellow blanketed the ground between small towns and glades. The gentle rolling of the hills gave the entire scene a sense of motion, as if we were living on the waves of Terra.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I said, breaking the silence. “It’s worth protecting.”
“Yes,” Arctos agreed. “But even for one as gifted as you, it won’t be easy.”
My eyes followed the road leading from Dunvy toward the ocean in the distance. I couldn’t see Olport, but the heavy smog showed me its location. I thought of the scum in the water there. Near the base of our mountain was a charred patch of earth with blackened trees—the remnants of the Red Woods. There were so many reminders of our destruction.
“We’re killing Terra, aren’t we?”
Arctos didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. I knew I was right. The humans were destroying the earth. The signs were everywhere.
“I can fix this,” I said, more to myself than Arctos. “I know I can. I just need to talk to the Society. I’ll make them understand what’s happening. Once they realize their inventions and pollution are destroying the earth, they’ll stop. How could they not? We’re one of the smartest species on earth. We wouldn’t knowingly destroy ourselves, right?”
I looked up at Arctos. He was staring down at me with an expression I could not read beneath his still-healing face.
“You sound so much like your father,” he said. “He, too, had many ideas of how he would save Terra.”
“He did?”
Arctos nodded.
“Come with me. I brought you up here to tell you something about your father.”
I followed the bear to the far side of the summit. The view was different to the south. There were no rolling hills or sun-touched fields, only endless peaks. A heavy fog lay over the mountains, blocking any view of the Forgotten Lands.
“Before I tell you,” Arctos said, “I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“Your father was like a son to me.”
“I know,” I said. “You told me, up on top of Mount Skire.”
“But I need you to appreciate it. I need you to know that what I did, I did out of necessity. I did not wish to fight with your father, but Malum’s grip was too strong. There was no saving him. He could not be forgiven and he could not be let go. The anger was too great. The destruction would not have ended.”
“If you’re looking for forgiveness,” I said, “you’ve already got it. I don’t blame you.”
“I’m not seeking forgiveness. I need you to understand that the man I fought that day was not your father. He was gone. Just as Lillian says—Gregor Wayfair died the day your mother died. I was fighting Malum.”
“I’ve come to terms with what happened,” I said, tears spilling down my face. “I know what my father tried to do.”
I looked away from the bear and wiped my cheeks with the back of my hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I needed to be sure you understood that before I told you. I needed to be certain you would not go looking for him.”
“What?” I said, turning abruptly back to Arctos.
“It will do you no good, Winter. It will only bring you pain. Your father is gone. You must understand that.”
“What are you talking about? Why would I go looking for him? He’s dead!”
Arctos and I locked eyes.
“He’s dead, right? You told me yourself. You said you killed him.”
Arctos shook his head. “I never said I killed him.”
“Yes, you did! On top of Mount Skire! You told me!”
“No, I told you that I did what needed to be done—I did not say that I killed Gregor.”
“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”
“Everything I said was the truth. I told you that your father and I fought—the truth. I told you that I won—the truth. But when it came time to strike the final blow, I could not do it. So, I made him a deal. He would leave Nacadia and never return. He would be banished to the Forgotten Lands, where he could do no more harm.” He pointed his paw to the south. “In the end, I think he was happy to go. His soul was troubled.”
I could hardly speak.
“So, my father is still alive?”
“I don’t know,” Arctos said, “and I do not tell you this so that you will go looking for him. I merely wanted you to know the truth. No more secrets. No more lies.” He sat down heavily, his eyes wet. “I do not know what is calling to you, but perhaps it is not the mountains as you have thought.” He turned his powerful eyes toward me, holding me with his gaze. “Perhaps it is what is left of the man who was once your father.”
Epilogue
HIGH ATOP MOUNT SKIRE, A SNOWY OWL SITS PERCHED ON A rocky crag. The mountain is no longer as it once was. The pool is gone. Her link to Terra’s heart is gone.
“What will become of Terra Creatura?” she asks, shaking her head back and forth slowly.
The wind blows and her feathers ripple, but there is no answer.
“Can the girl heal us? Is it as You predicted? Can she stop this decay?” The owl looks around at all the destruction: forests burned, mountains crumbled, caverns opened. There will be no answers. She must simply have faith.
With one last look around, she takes off into the night sky. As she flies over Mount Skire for the last time, she does not see the boy. How could she? He is half buried beneath the rocks at the bottom. His clothes are torn, his body bruised and broken. If he were an ordinary boy, he would be dead.
But this is no ordinary boy, and he has no intention of dying.
He has but one thought. One so strong he can taste it—a sharp, biting flavor that mixes with the iron taste of blood in his mouth.
It is a single word.
Some call it Malum.
But the boy knows it by a different name:
Revenge.
Acknowledgements
To Wiz, the biggest influence on my writing, thank you for your countless readings and re-readings. To David, for the patchwork quilt and your cartography skills. To Sydney and Aidan, for your amazing illustrations. To Jess, for being a wickedly thorough editor. To Jacob, my biggest online supporter and fan. To my amazing beta readers from the Teen Committee—Adelyn, Dannica, Lily, and Kirk, thank you for your invaluable feedback. To Pip, my only sibling to read this book, and to my other two siblings that will not be named as they did not read this book. To Mom, for championing my marketing team and being so supportive. To Dad, for reading the back of all my books. To Auntie Janie for being my biggest fan in the family. To Uncle Steve, for reminding me that eagles can’t lift people but perhaps condors can. To Carol, for your research and help with cover ideas. To Mimi, Scott, Marek, Nana, Barb, Jenn, Chip, and Elara for all your suggestions and support. To all my other friends and family who helped with this book—thank you! Most importantly, to my wife, who stayed up many nights listening to me read, and only fell asleep once; to my kids, for being the most lovable distractions I could ask for; and to Michelle, my brilliant editor, cover artist, marketer, publisher, and all-around book make-betterer, thank you a million times.
About Alex Lyttle
Alex Lyttle is a pediatrician living in Calgary, Alberta with his wife and four children. His first novel, From Ant to Eagle, was based on his experiences as a doctor and won several awards. The Rise of Winter steps away from the medical world and enters that of fantasy—a world created during bedtime stories for his eldest daughter. When not working or writing, Alex enjoys … well … it doesn’t really matter what he enjoys, because he mainly just chases toddlers around the house.
Alex Lyttle Talks About The Rise of Winter
WHY ARE YOUR FIRST TWO BOOKS SO DIFFERENT?
My first book, From Ant to Eagle, was written using the adage “write what you know.” I drew from my experiences as a pediatrician and wrote a book about a boy whose brother was sick. My second book tosses that adage out the window. The Rise of Winter is a story from my imagination, not my experiences. I began creating stories as a teenager working as a camp counselor. I liked to tell stories where the campers were the main characters and could put themselves into the story. I would often start with, “Imagine yourself lying on a grassy hill with the warm sun on your face. Your eyes are closed when you hear a scurrying sound not far off. You open your eyes to see a red fox staring back at you. In a troubled voice, the fox tells you that it needs your help.” It was from these stories that The Rise of Winter began. When I had my own children, the story evolved further until I had enough to begin writing.
THE END OF THIS BOOK SUGGESTS THERE WILL BE A SECOND BOOK. IS THAT TRUE?
Yes—this book is the first of a trilogy. Without ruining the story, I can tell you that the second and third books will answer a lot of the questions that went unanswered in this one. You will learn why Penny is mean to Winter, what happens to Cheelion and Cano, and whether or not Winter’s father is alive. You will also learn more about the world in which Winter lives, the Society that runs it, and why Winter and Alectus have cat-like eyes.
