The Rise of Winter, page 3
“Hurry, Granny,” I said, reaching my hand out to guide her in after me.
Granny bent down with a grave expression. Her eyes were forever closed but somehow, I felt like she was looking at me.
“I’m not coming,” she said.
“What?!”
I started to crawl back out of the hole, but she held up a hand to stop me.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “I can handle whatever comes through that door. Besides, it’s not me they’re after—it’s you.”
“Handle what behind the door? Granny, they’re huge! You can’t—”
“I’ve still got some fight left in me,” Granny said, smiling.
“What are you talking about? Fight? Granny, what’s after me?”
“I should have told you a long time ago,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I thought I was keeping you safe. I didn’t think you’d be chosen, not after your father. I’m sorry, Winter.” She reached out a hand and touched my face. “Vulpeera will explain everything. Trust her.”
“Granny, I’m not going without you!” I was angry, and my throat tightened as tears began to form, but she stood and began pushing the tub back into place before I could stop her.
What was happening? What was my grandmother talking about? What did she mean about me being chosen?
Before the washing tub was fully back in place, Proctin let out a cry. “Oh, for Terra’s sake,” he said, jumping in behind me.
The slit of light grew smaller, until it was no wider than my hand. Granny’s face reappeared. “I almost forgot,” she said. She reached into the pocket of her bathrobe, then held out her hand. In it was the necklace from the drawer. “Take this. And remember that I love you.”
“I don’t care about the necklace!” I said, as the crack closed. I should have told her I loved her, too, or one of a hundred other things. Instead I sat there in the darkness, wondering if those would be the last words I would ever say to my grandmother.
Chapter 5
“COME ON,” VULPEERA SAID, PULLING MY SHIRT FROM BEHIND with her teeth. “Lillian will be fine.”
I would have refused to leave except … Lillian? I hadn’t heard anyone call Granny by her first name since … well, since ever. It was weird enough talking to a fox, but even weirder for it to be on a first-name basis with my grandmother.
“How do you know Granny?” I asked, but there was no answer. The fox had disappeared ahead through the tunnel, though I hadn’t heard her leave.
I looped the necklace over my head and crawled after her, while Proctin followed closely behind.
The ground was wet and cold under my knees and seemed to be sloping downward. I tried not to think about how only a few minutes before I’d been tucked in my warm bed. I tried not to think about Granny. I tried not to think about anything.
“Hurry,” Vulpeera said, her voice in front of me again. It was too dark to see anything, and it seemed as if the fox were flying through the tunnel. I couldn’t hear a single noise from her except when she spoke. Proctin, on the other hand, sounded as if he were dragging a bag of bricks behind me, and made an odd wheezing sound when he breathed.
“You humans are very slow on all fours,” he said.
“We humans don’t normally crawl.”
“We raccoons can walk just as well on two legs as on four.” He let out a little grunt and I heard him lift his front paws off the ground, only to fall back with a wet thud. “Okay, maybe not just as well, but pretty close.” He tried again with the same result. “I’ll work on it.”
As we moved deeper into the tunnel, Proctin continued to practice walking on two legs while I picked up my pace the best I could. It was difficult; the tunnel was narrow, with roots that slapped at my face and rocks that stabbed my knees.
“Vulpeera, how much farther?”
“Not much,” she replied.
My hands were numb and my neck was stiff. I couldn’t see anything, so I focused on listening and was surprised to hear a faint sound ahead, like rushing water.
“What’s that noise?” I asked.
“We’re getting close to Pteron’s cave,” Vulpeera said.
“Cave? I thought we were going to a cove.”
“We’ll catch a ride from the cave to the Cove.”
“That’s confusing. How will we—” My face smacked into the side of the tunnel as it took a hard turn left. The sound of rushing water had grown to a low rumble, and for the first time I saw a dim light.
Finally, an end to the stabbing pain in my knees, I thought.
I crawled about twenty more feet before exiting the tunnel into a large cavern with a dark river running through the middle. A light coming from one end cast jagged shadows on the walls as it passed through the stalactites and stalagmites, making it look like we’d entered the mouth of some overgrown crocodile.
“It’s nice to be on two feet again,” I said, as I stood and stretched.
“Two feet, she said two feet!”
I looked around. Someone had spoken, but it wasn’t Proctin or Vulpeera. The raccoon had tucked itself between my feet like a third shoe while the fox stood rigidly, looking into the dark cave like a bloodhound pointing toward a scent.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
“She wants to know who’s here.”
“Tell her!”
“No, you tell her.”
“Let Pteron tell her.”
The cave had suddenly become an amphitheater of tiny voices echoing off the walls, drowning the sound of rushing water. Eyes—hundreds of small, yellow eyes—looked down at me from the walls and ceiling and stalactites.
“Is it her?”
“It must be her.”
“The chosen one!”
“She looked at me!”
“No, she looked at me!”
“I can hear you,” I said. “Who’s there?”
My voice seemed to shake the sides of the cave, and the black walls began to shudder and move as if they were made of running water.
The voices became deafeningly loud.
“Enough!” bellowed a deep, resonant voice, and all the others faded away.
Two new eyes appeared up above, the same yellow as the others but much larger. They were like bodiless globes, hanging in midair as they stared down at me. I began to back away when they suddenly broke free from the ceiling and dropped toward me. I let out a yelp and covered my face as I stumbled backward. The gigantic yellow eyes stopped a few feet in front of me as the creature perched and spread itself out on a stalagmite: an enormous bat with a long, slender nose and tall, pointed ears. Its unfurled wings must have spanned a metre as it clung to the rock. Around its head, a crest of golden fur shimmered in the trickle of light coming from the far end of the cave.
“So,” the bat said, “you must be Winter.”
I nodded—still afraid, but slightly reassured by the calmness of its voice.
“Those eyes,” he continued. “I have seen them before. And your hair. You have so much of your parents in you.”
In this messed-up world of talking animals it was my eyes that were fascinating? “Wait—you knew my parents?”
The bat’s mouth spread into a smile. “Of course,” he said, nodding his head, “we all did. Your grandmother, Lillian, is a good friend of mine.”
I thought about Granny and a lump suddenly formed in my throat, but I fought it back down. The last thing I wanted to do was start crying in front of these animals—especially if they had information about my parents.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Pteron,” the bat said, “and I am the Sky Guardian of Wisdom.”
He said this as if I should know what it meant.
“And you knew my parents how?”
The bat looked at Vulpeera with a confused expression.
Vulpeera shook her head. “Lillian has told her nothing.”
“Nothing?” the bat questioned, his eyes momentarily widening.
“Nothing,” Vulpeera repeated.
“I see,” Pteron said, nodding solemnly. “Well, she will have to be brought up to speed quickly—the ceremony is in two days.”
“Yes, I will do that once we are on the river. Forgive my urgency, but we shouldn’t stay. Lupora already had the house surrounded when I arrived. It won’t be long before—”
Vulpeera stopped talking. A sound had come from deep within the cave—a growling, scraping sound like dogs running on pavement.
Pteron’s eyes narrowed to small slits. “How could they have known already?” he asked, shifting himself higher on the rock to look deeper into the cave. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. They’re here. Quickly, Cheelion is waiting by the entrance.”
Vulpeera nodded. “Follow me, Winter,” she said, and ran toward the light coming from the entrance of the cave, bounding over the rocks and stalagmites as if they were nothing more than a well-marked path.
“Who’s coming?” I asked, looking back toward the scraping sound. “Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?”
Proctin took off after Vulpeera. “I’d rather not wait to find out,” he yelled.
“Go with Vulpeera,” the bat said. “She will explain everything. I will see you at the ceremony.”
The noise was growing louder—whatever was coming was getting closer.
I turned and ran after Vulpeera, but tripped over the first stalagmite in my path. Cat-eyes or not, I wasn’t very good at seeing in the dark.
In a heartbeat Vulpeera was by my side, helping me to my feet with her wet nose nuzzled against my arm. “Careful,” she said. “Quickly but carefully.”
Following the river, we ran toward the entrance of the cave. The ledge of rock grew narrower as the river widened, and I had to focus on the ground to avoid tripping. Behind us, the sound of growling and snarling grew louder.
“Hurry!” Vulpeera said, the urgency now rising in her voice.
I made the mistake of looking back. Dark silhouettes rushed toward us, and on the walls of the cave were shadows that resembled dogs.
“Are those—”
“Wolves!” Vulpeera shouted. “Come on—over here!” She leapt onto a large rock in the river, and motioned for me to follow.
“There?” I yelled. “Not there! We need to keep running!”
Panic was starting to take over.
“Get on!” Vulpeera cried. “Trust me!”
I remembered what Granny had said about trusting the fox, and jumped onto the rock. When I looked back, the wolves were only twenty metres behind—large, greyish beasts with wide, snarling mouths and sharp canine teeth. Their muscular shoulders flexed with every stride as they tore through the cave, bounding over the rocks and closing the gap between us.
I was going to die sitting on a rock like a meal on a dinner plate!
Just as that thought crossed my mind, the rock began to move. Not quickly by any means, but the shore was definitely getting further away.
“Hurry, Cheelion!” Vulpeera yelled. “They’re closing in!”
The distance was growing but we weren’t far enough. It was going to be an easy jump for the wolves.
The largest wolf pulled out in front and I braced for impact. It was only ten metres away …
Four metres …
Two …
Strands of drool dangled from its open mouth as it pounced.
It soared through the air, only to be engulfed by a black cloud that fell from the ceiling of the cave. With a splash it toppled into the water, howling as thousands of bats swarmed it from above. The wolves behind gave up their pursuit as bats continued to pour from the ceiling and walls. In seconds, the whole cave had become a frenzy of flying creatures so thick it was impossible to see.
Our rock gained speed as if caught in a current. The wolves jumped and snapped and howled in rage before the river banked sharply, and we left the cave behind.
Chapter 6
WE FLOATED DOWN A WIDE RIVER LINED WITH ROCKS AND BRAMBLES and brush. Large, wilting trees reached out over the water, their sinewy branches like fingers grabbing at us from above. It was night, but the sky was brighter than any night I could remember. The same golden moon I’d watched from my window now hung directly above, illuminating the river in a yellowish hue as its light passed through the branches.
We had slowed considerably when the river widened, drifting at a leisurely pace. It was strangely peaceful, the noise of snarling wolves and squealing bats now far behind us.
I realized I’d been tensing every muscle in my body and let myself relax, loosening my grip on the rock below me.
The rock?
Somehow we were floating along the river on a rock—every few moments propelled faster by some unseen current. In front of us was a log, sticking upright in the water, leading us as we went. I tried to make sense of it but was too exhausted to think. Everything had been so strange. And with my adrenaline now gone, my body was devoid of anything that might keep it going. I wanted to stay awake, to ask Vulpeera about everything that had happened, but the urge to close my eyes was overwhelming. I took off my backpack and laid my head on it as Proctin curled his warm, soft body against mine.
“Vulpeera,” I said, with a large yawn, “can you tell me about my parents?”
“Not now,” Vulpeera said. “Get some rest. You’re tired. When you wake, I will tell you everything. We have a long journey before we reach the Cove.”
I thought about protesting, but Proctin’s little body was comforting and sleep overtook me.
Voices floated above the gurgling of the river as I passed in and out of consciousness.
“Nothing?” came a voice, slow and soothing.
“Nothing at all,” came another, not unlike Vulpeera’s.
“Her father? The Guardians? The Cove? Why has Lillian kept it from her?”
“Shh—you will wake her. Let her sleep, poor thing. We will tell her everything tomorrow.”
“But the ceremony is in two days.”
“Shh … there will be time. There will be time.”
WHEN I AWOKE, the sun shone bright and warm overhead, and we drifted between fields of wildflowers and long grasses. The world was still green from the recent wet season, but before long, the dry months would parch the landscape and paint it with yellows and browns. The mountains stood strong in the distance—the same mountains I’d seen so many times before, yet somehow these seemed different. We must have been far from home because I didn’t recognize any of the peaks.
“Where are we?” I asked, sitting up and rubbing my head. Proctin stirred but didn’t wake.
“About a day’s journey from the ocean,” came the voice from my dreams, the slow, drawling voice that seemed to pause between every word.
I looked over the front of our rock to see two black eyes staring back at me. They belonged to what I’d thought was a log the night before, but now realized was the head of a sea turtle. The rock on which I was sitting was its shell, complete with faded green plates that were chipped in several places, giving the impression the turtle was very old. I felt ashamed I hadn’t realized sooner. But who was this turtle? And—
“Cheelion,” the turtle said, reading my mind. “Water Guardian of Wisdom.”
“Winter,” I replied. “Grade nine at Dunvy High.”
I knew as soon as the words were out of my mouth that it was a silly thing to say, but the turtle just nodded slowly.
“And the raccoon?” he asked, looking toward Proctin, now waking with a stretch.
“A sycophant,” Vulpeera said. “He followed us from the house and managed to sneak aboard during our scuffle with the wolves.”
I thought back to where I’d heard the word “sycophant.” Biology class—Mr. MacPherson had said a sycophant was a parasite that lived off another creature.
“He’s not a sycophant!” I said, looking angrily from Vulpeera to Cheelion.
Proctin’s eyes widened and he quickly jumped between us. “Oh, yes I am!” he exclaimed. “Definitely a sycophant! One hundred percent sycophant! Left my colony a long time ago and haven’t seen or spoken to them since. I live with the humans now.”
Cheelion seemed to contemplate this momentarily. He had drifted toward the bank of the river and stopped in a calm pool next to a rock. “Sycophant or not,” he said, “your kind made your loyalties clear a long time ago. This is the end of the ride for you.”
Proctin clung to me as Vulpeera tried to push him off the shell with her nose.
“But, but, but … I assure you, I have no association with my kind anymore. I’m barely even a raccoon. I—I’m more human than anything. Yes, that’s it, more or less human. I live with Winter. We’re family!” He turned to me with pleading eyes. “Right?”
Vulpeera wasn’t listening and continued to push, loosening Proctin’s grip on my leg.
“Stop this,” I said, putting my hand between them. “He’s right—we’re family. He lives under my house, and we share dinners most nights.”
Proctin nodded forcefully. “Yes! Yes, we do! Dinner!”
Vulpeera looked questioningly at Cheelion.
The turtle shook his head. “Dinner or not, we will need to discuss private matters and can’t have spying ears about. He must get off.”
“Then I’m leaving too,” I said, picking up Proctin with a heave and moving toward the edge of the shell. He was much heavier than I’d expected.
Cheelion looked deep in thought, and we stared at each other for a few moments before he turned back toward the river.
“Fine,” he said. “Just don’t get too comfortable, raccoon. Your ride ends when we get to the Cove.”
I sat back down cross-legged on the shell, and Proctin climbed on my lap.
“Well,” I said, “now that we’ve got that resolved, can someone tell me exactly where we’re going and what this ceremony is?”
Vulpeera sat down beside me, her tail swishing back and forth. “Yes, we have a lot to cover before we reach the Cove. Best get started. Am I right to suppose Lillian has told you little about the Guardians?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I don’t even know what a Guardian is.”
