Over the Moon Read online

  “Mallie!”

  Denver is up ahead in the woods, waving me toward him. He’s okay. Nothing happened! The scene at the house was only a nightmare, and he’s okay. I run after him, calling out his name.

  The ashes fall thicker around me. The light begins to dim in the sky. “Wait,” I call out to my brother. Again, louder: “Wait for me!”

  But he’s fast, and my legs are moving as if they’re stuck in bog water, mud thick all around me. A whoosh and something flies over me—crows, I think. I hear them caw. See their black feathers. But as soon as they land, those feathers bloom into capes, and there are no birds. Only Guardians. One of them holds my brother by the arm. Tears streak down Denver’s dusty face.

  And I can’t speak now.

  My voice is gone, like Papa’s.

  A scream wild inside me—an eruption of sound—boils in my heart, but all that comes out is a silent roar as they drag him away. And then I’m tossed over an edge I didn’t see, still unable to scream, clawing the air for something—anything—to hold.

  “NO!” I gasp, and sit up in my bed. Darkness mostly fills my room, but Mama left a lantern flickering on my dresser. I know the window is open because I feel the cool wind, and because my throat is scratchy from breathing in the Dust. I stand and push my sweaty hair away from my face, holding the lantern up to Denver’s bed.

  Maybe it was all a bad dream—every second of it.

  But there’s no little boy in the bunk above me. Only a sad yellow bird, nestled on his pillow asleep.

  I hear a soft animal’s snort from the window and look up to see Leo’s face shining in the light.

  Running to him, I lift my arms around his strong, muscular neck, I bury my face in his mane.

  As I pull back, Leo touches his muzzle to my tears. The sadness doesn’t leave me, but I feel stronger as I hold him. I’ve always heard people say they own animals. This is my Dustflight, my dog, my pet hedgehog. But this isn’t true of my horse: We belong to each other.

  Riding tomorrow, that’s the only way I can save my brother. But if I could just see him, and know that he’s okay …

  “Do you know where the mountain mines are?” I ask Leo in a soft whisper. The horse lifts his head once, as if he’s saying yes. Or maybe, Come with me.

  I climb out the window and onto his back. Leo’s demeanor is gentle tonight as we trot into the woods. His wings press extra tight against me, like he’s hugging me close.

  “Take me to him?” I ask. “Maybe I can even bring him home tonight. Hide him until I have all the money turned in. Then it won’t matter, right?”

  There’s a hesitation in my horse; I can feel it. But he breaks into a run, then leaps, then soars up through the trees and into the night. We fly together high above the woods, where no monsters can reach us. Where no Guardians can take away the people we love. Here between the Dust and the ground, life never seems as scary.

  But the Dust is wild tonight.

  I cough as Leo zooms through the middle of a low-flying cloud of the stuff.

  And again, rage consumes me. I want to hurt those Guardians for taking my brother.

  I will hurt them.

  Claw their eyes out and scream in their faces.

  I’ll roar louder than any monster they’ll ever encounter.

  I want to scream at Mortimer Good. I’m one of his best riders. He oversees the mines … and he still let the Guardians come for Denver? I wonder what he would feel like in the Down Below when rocks start falling, when the birds cry out warnings of an explosion.

  And then … almost as soon as the rage fogs over my mind, Leo pivots, flying out of the Dustcloud. The anger doesn’t dissolve completely, but I don’t feel overwhelmed by it.

  The Dust, I realize now, makes me horrible.

  The Dust is a villain I don’t know how to fight.

  The Coal Top mine is a short flight from my house. It’s looked the same since I was a girl, since I went to take Papa his lunch or watch for him to come home in the afternoons. The mines have always been there, but they haven’t always been evil. For as long as the mountain has been here, we’ve loved to explore it, care for the rare stones inside it, study the strange creatures who live and thrive down in the darkness. There are lizards in the mines that change color with the seasons. There are caverns with lakes. Papa took me to one of those once, a lake under a ceiling of bats that sleep all across the top of the cavern. Their wings glow in the darkness, giving light to the water. “Just because a creature loves the night doesn’t mean it’s bad,” Papa told me.

  I cling to this memory. Because the mines are different now. The darkness is so thick down there that it disorients people, especially at first. And the smells are foul. The smell of the Dust is bad enough. But there’s a rotten, eggy smell that belches up out of the mines the deeper down you go. And somewhere down there, in all that dark and stink, my brother is alone. He’s clinging to an old teddy bear and a scared little bird, waiting for me.

  “I’m coming, Denver,” I whisper.

  Two Guardians wait at the mine entrance, holding lanterns. So Leo and I fly high above the tree line to avoid detection. He sails above the mine, landing in a patch of grass underneath the trees. I swing off Leo’s back to get a better look at my surroundings. The mine is below me somewhere. I just need a way inside.

  “There’s got to be another door,” I say to Leo. He doesn’t react at all. Because he’s not paying attention to me.

  Leo’s head is dipped low, his nostrils are flared. He’s looking deep into the woods.

  I round in front of my horse to protect him. With a hard nudge of his nose, Leo pushes me out of the way and gets in front of me.

  “Mallie?”

  I feel an invisible weight lift from my shoulders. Relief shoots through my veins so fast, I nearly collapse to the ground. It’s just Adam. Adam and his horse, Jeff. Adam leads Jeff out of the woods and keeps his eye on me. Leo trots over to Jeff, and they gently bump foreheads.

  “What are you doing here?” I whisper-yell.

  “I could ask you the same thing! I flew over to check on you, and you were gone. I had a feeling this is where you’d be. You can’t bust him out, Mallie! You’ll be thrown out of the missions for good. Why are you being so stubborn?”

  “He needs me,” I say. “I know it. I can’t leave him here. If I take him home tonight and complete the mission tomorrow, it will all be all right. They’ll just think he ran away.”

  “They don’t like runaways,” Adam warns me. “And there’s no way inside. There’s one entrance to the mountain mine.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t believe that. The Guardians would give themselves more than one way out, wouldn’t they? Surely you’ve seen them leave through more than just the front door.”

  Adam frowns. “I don’t pay much attention, really. I just try to do what they tell me, just finish for the day.”

  I do the same thing, I realize. And it occurs to me now that we all do this—everybody on the mountain. We don’t question anything. We must live the stories we’re given. That’s what we’re told, so that’s what we do. When did we stop questioning things?

  A cool wind trills across the ground, and I shiver. “What do you think Denver’s doing now?”

  Adam hesitates. “There’s a big cave where new recruits sleep, deep in the center of the mine. Little nooks are carved into the walls, just big enough for a blanket and pillow. They’re all together in there. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

  I don’t realize I’ve started crying again until I feel a tear drip off my chin. Also, I laugh, but not because I think any of this is funny. “ ‘Recruit.’ As if anybody would choose this. There’s got to be another way in!”

  Adam holds up his hand. “Keep your voice down. This place is swarming with Guardians.”

  Ignoring Adam, I turn to the horses. “Jeff. Leo. Fly over and see if you can find us another way inside. Go.”

  The horses hesitate, but they listen. They swoop up and o
ver us, wings steady. I know how loud a Starbird can be, but I’m almost more amazed by how quietly they can move.

  “That was a bad idea,” Adam says, his voice a frantic whisper. “We’re above the mines, there are Guardians everywhere, and our horses are gone.”

  “They’re finding a way in,” I tell him. “I just want to see Denver. To see he’s okay …”

  “He’s fine!” Adam says. “Don’t underestimate how strong your brother is. You owe him that. He never underestimates you.”

  Adam is right. I can’t stop worrying about Denver completely. I guess I never will. But a cool breeze floats between us and lifts some of my worry away with it. My plan isn’t working out exactly the way I want, but that doesn’t mean it’s not working. I’m only two missions away from saving him. And yes, I know he is afraid down there. But I also know he’s brave. He’s a Ramble, my Ramble.

  “You’re right,” I say, pushing a frazzle of hair out of my face. “I shouldn’t have come here. This was stupid. In a few more days, he’ll be home. I’ll whistle for the horses and we can go.”

  Adam grabs my arm a little too tight. This close to him, I see fear shine in his eyes.

  So low that I can barely hear the words, he mouths: “Be very quiet. Don’t move.”

  Barely louder than my breath, than my heartbeat, I hear the sounds: twigs breaking beneath slow, solid footsteps. A swish across the forest floor.

  A low and happy hiss from behind me.

  Adam is staring over my shoulder. “I see its eyes,” he whispers. “Yellow eyes. I see its … teeth.”

  “Maybe it’s only Dust.” My reply is soft, quiet as the breeze blowing around us. Chillbumps rise along my arms.

  Adam shakes his head, barely. “It doesn’t look like Dust.”

  “Does it see us?”

  Adam waits for one breath. Then another. His eyes stay focused on the same spot over my shoulder. With a shaky breath he answers, “Yes.”

  I turn slowly, so that I’m in front of Adam.

  There is a cloud of Dust not fifteen feet away from me. And in that haze, I see the same bright yellow eyes Adam sees. The same eyes I saw in the West Woods the night I met Leo. They’re the same color as the eyes of Mortimer’s Dustpuppet, only bigger.

  I can’t make out the shape of the monster, but I see its tail through the cover of dust—swishing back and forth against the ground. Just like a dog, when that dog is about to get a delicious treat.

  I feel pinned to the place I’m standing. Sweat beads across my forehead, above my lip. I feel Adam spin, so we’re back-to-back. “There are more,” he says, his words coming out on a choppy burst of breath.

  A hiss from the mist nearby in the woods.

  A hiss from the Dust rising up to my left.

  Adam’s hand grabs for mine, and I wonder if my hand is as cold as his. “There are three of them, Mallie—”

  “Don’t call for the horses,” I whisper. “The Guardians will come for us. I don’t want them to hear us scream.”

  It’s a terrible decision to make: Would we rather be caught by Guardians and lose the chance to ride? Or eaten by monsters?

  “I have to call for them,” Adam says. I feel him trembling against me. Or maybe I’m the one trembling.

  “Don’t scream,” I beg. “We’ll be kicked out of the missions.”

  “I wish you’d thought of that before you came here,” Adam says.

  “You didn’t have to follow me!”

  We’re surrounded by Dust and monster eyes. I hear their claws scrape the ground, their tails sliding.

  I want to crumble as those eyes bore into me. They’re a hypnotic yellow, a dull fire. The color of my nightmares.

  Suddenly, the woods are full of footsteps—the loud steps grown men make. Lanterns beam in the darkness. “Someone’s out there.” The voice of a Guardian. “The beasts have something!”

  “Hold steady,” I tell Adam. “The horses will save us.”

  A wild rush of wind stirs the ground all around me, blowing up a storm of Dust. Leo and Jeff land in the center, and we jump on their backs. One of the monsters leaps through the fog and I see its wolfish face—snapping—snarling at us.

  Guardians storm out of the woods, swords drawn, but we’re too far now to be seen.

  Once we’re a safe distance away, Adam yells, “Let’s never sneak into the mine again. Or at least let’s not get caught next time.”

  I laugh, a little. But my body is still tense. As my heart steadies, my mind works out a different kind of thought: The Guardians … they aren’t afraid of these monsters. They came right at them. They control the monsters. The monsters control us.

  Iggy was right. Everyone has secrets.

  Especially Mortimer Good.

  Our next day’s mission will take place at the Lightning Range. It’s a place of endless storms, Papa told me once. No peace in sight. This is fitting for me. Endless storms is exactly how I would describe my mood.

  “You’ve got to calm down,” Adam tells me as we saddle our horses.

  “I can’t. I didn’t sleep at all after I got home. I won’t sleep until Denver is out of the mine. I should have rescued him last night.”

  “Two more missions, and you’re good! Stay the course, Mallie,” Adam says. “Focus on the missions ahead.”

  Just the missions. Nothing else. I know he’s right. But here’s the thing: Worrying about Denver wasn’t all that kept me awake last night. I thought about the monsters and the Guardians and how they weren’t afraid of them. That unsettled me as much as the monsters themselves. I thought about Mortimer Good, how he spun one up out of the Dust. And I thought about how it was time for someone—maybe me—to start asking questions. I want to know how Mortimer’s strange web connects together. And I think I know someone who can help me … if she will.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see a tiny mushroom girl feeding carrots to a blue-maned horse called Fiyero.

  “Stay,” I say to Leo, petting his muzzle. I walk casually over where Iggy is talking—baby-talking, actually—to Fiyero. She might act tough on the outside, but she’s got a soft and tender heart.

  “Iggy.” I come to a stop behind her. She stops talking to the horse, but she doesn’t turn toward me. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need to ask you a question.”

  Iggy still doesn’t turn as she holds out another bright orange carrot for the horse. “I’m having an important conversation with Fiyero, Mallie-girl. Can it wait for a bit?”

  “No,” I say quietly, so only she can hear. “I don’t think it can. Do you remember when you told me that I didn’t know what it was like to miss someone? I do now. The Guardians took my brother last night.”

  Iggy goes still. Her stance softens as she turns toward me. “I’m sorry for that.” She looks at the ground and shakes her head. “I am sorry. From the truest place in my heart, I’m sorry. Wish I could help.”

  “You can, I think.” I kneel down, reaching for a carrot to feed the horse. I don’t want the Guardians thinking we’re talking about anything important.

  “You told me once that everybody has secrets. I need to know yours. Especially if you know secrets about Mortimer Good.”

  “Shhh,” Iggy cautions. “Don’t say his name so loud. Even if I do know things”—she glances around and adds, almost silently—“which I do, I can’t tell ’em to you. I’ve got someone to protect, too, see. I’m sorry about your brother, though.”

  I lean closer and whisper, “I know Mortimer is doing something bad. Talk to me for the sake of the animals. I know you love the horses. Let’s start there. I want to know how he brought them back. And why he brought them back.”

  Fury sparks in her eyes. “He didn’t bring ’em back. I did.”

  Iggy glances down at her wrinkly boots as soon as she realizes what she’s said. She knows she’s let too much information slip.

  “Please,” I beg. “I’ll never tell anyone that you’ve told me. But I might have to do something dangerous re
ally soon. I need your help.”

  She’s chewing on her lip. Pondering her options.

  “Iggy?”

  She presses her tiny fist to her forehead and sighs. “Meet me at the stables in a bit. Quick like. Before I change my mind and before the mission starts.”

  Iggy’s “stables” are even prettier than she described them. Tall Telling Trees form a protective hedge around a tiny clearing, rolling down toward a creek sprinkled with lily pads.

  “The horses like to take baths in that creek,” she says, walking me to a spot far enough to prevent any nosy Guardian from hearing our conversation. “Sometimes at night, I sit on this stump right here and they gather around for me to read them stories. Animals love a good book, you know.”

  “I know Dustflights do,” I say, thinking about all the times I’ve seen Honeysuckle reading over Papa’s and Denver’s shoulders. The memory is a sharp pain in my heart. “So what I need to know is—”

  “I’ll tell you what you need to know,” she says with a huff. “Head for that Willow Tree over there. Willow Trees are the best for serious conversations. They’ll hold a person’s secrets. Toss ’em around in the branches until they sound like a pretty rattle. You can always trust horses and trees.”

  “How did you bring the horses back?” I ask when we’re safe beneath the shade of the Willow.

  “I’ll make it as quick as I can, Mallie-girl: My papa and I, we lived here in the West Woods, see. We were hiding from the Guardians. Papa worked in the mines for a bit, but they said he messed up some equipment.”

  “Mine, too!” I say with a gasp. “They accused my father of the same thing. I know they’re lying.”

  Iggy nods. “That’s why Papa and I hid in the West Woods.”

  I stare at her in disbelief. “Weren’t you afraid of the monsters?”

  Iggy snorts like I’ve told a joke.“Strange things, those monsters. When I first came here, I hid from them. I used to tremble when I heard them stomping around at night. In the day, too, sometimes. Then I came face-to-face with one. They’re terrible creatures. The one I saw had a body like a wolf. Face like a snake. Like somebody took a nightmare right out of my brain and dropped it on the path in front of me. I was stuck. I knew I couldn’t run from it; my legs are too short, see? So, I stood my ground. And screamed in its face.”