Over the Moon Read online

  “You yelled at it?”

  Iggy shrugs. “It’s all I could think to do! And here’s the truth; it left me alone. I wasn’t so afraid of them after that. They look terrifying, those monsters. But …”

  Iggy’s voice trails off. I finish for her: “They’re not real. None of them?”

  Iggy shakes her head slowly: nope. “The Guardians all know how to make them. I don’t know why they do it.” My breath hitches. Even though I suspected this, saw this, the reality of it makes me feel shaky.

  A thought I’ve been tossing around for days finally makes its way to the surface: “Because if you can make someone afraid, they listen to you. They obey you.”

  A loud shout comes from the clearing. The Guardians are gathering everyone up for the mission.

  “Quickly,” I say. “Tell me how you brought the Starbirds back. How you met Mortimer.”

  “I love my papa more than anybody in the world; he’s my dearest friend. The finest dad. But I got a little lonely out here without anyone else. Nobody to play with, see. So one day I was crying all by my lonesome, underneath a Telling Tree. And that’s when a Starbird found me.”

  Iggy’s eyes glisten at the memory. “I used to ride him—Fred, I called him—through the woods. Papa told me not to go too far. We don’t want to get caught, he said. But I couldn’t help it … every day we rode a little farther. A little farther. One day I was caught by the Guardians.”

  I imagine the Guardians’ eyes when they saw a Starbird for the first time in years. The thought of them being afraid gives me a little burst of delight.

  “They took my horse away,” Iggy continues. “Put me in a room alone, and I didn’t know what they’d do with me. Or how my papa must be worrying. Finally, in walks Mortimer Good with steaming-hot food and fresh cocoa and says he’s there to help me. ‘Lead me to the Starbirds,’ he says. ‘I just want to see them. Lead me to the Starbirds and I’ll give your horse back. I’ll take you back to your papa.’ So, I show him the Starbirds, and then he says to train them, to keep them in the West Woods. ‘Work for me,’ he says, ‘and you won’t be punished for hiding out here in the woods without permission. And once you’ve done good enough work, you can go home to your papa.’ Now … I’m stuck, see? I won’t see Papa again until Mortimer Good says I’ve done good work. Then he’ll return me to my family.”

  “He has your papa and your horse?” I ask, my body tensing like I’m ready to pounce. It’s a good thing Mortimer Good’s not standing here in front of me right now. I am not in a gentle mood.

  “That’s right.” Iggy nods. “But I’ve got secrets, too. He could take all these horses away from me if he wanted, but I’ll always be connected to them.”

  Iggy pulls off her mushroom hat and thick cascades of braided black hair come tumbling down. Each braid has a different color twisted up inside it, but the thickest color, the most prominent, is a vibrant shade of pink. “And they’re all connected to me,” she says. “They take care of me, even now.”

  Standing under the Willow, rainbow hair falling down around her shoulders, Iggy Thump looks like she’s fallen out of a storybook. She looks like a little mountain queen. Full of good secrets.

  Iggy smiles sadly. “The horses won’t leave this mountain as long as children need them. They never left the mountain. But we did—we went into the mines and into the valleys. And they waited, here, in the woods, where people used to come and ride them. Mortimer doesn’t have to worry about these horses going anywhere. He never did.”

  A silver tear slides down Iggy’s face. “Mortimer found a way to make it all work for him, though. He always does. The rich get richer. The poor get poorer. And he keeps dangling hope down in front of us like some crunchy golden carrot. We keep putting our trust in him because he’s a smooth talker. But he’s not to be trusted. We must live the stories we’re given,” Iggy says, rolling her eyes. “That’s what the Guardians tell us. They say the Dust is poison if we sing, and we believe it. They say the Dust snuffed out the stars, and we believe it.”

  “We don’t question it,” I add, my voice rising like a Starbird into the sky.

  “Right! Everybody just carries on, believing everything they’re told. And it’s ’cause we’re all desperate to protect people—and animals—that we love. That’s true for me. Describes you, too, I think.”

  I nod. It is true of me. “I’m going to help you get your horse back, Iggy.”

  Iggy shakes her head. “If you try, he’ll hurt my sweet horse. He’ll hurt Fred. I told you the truths I know, but that’s all I can do, Mallie-girl. I’m brave, but in a different way than you.”

  Maybe in a better way, I think. Suddenly, it’s not so hard for me to picture this small girl screaming in the face of a monster. Maybe I need to start doing that, too.

  Sometimes it’s better to sing instead of scream.

  But maybe sometimes it’s okay to roar.

  Iggy shoos me back out of her stables toward the clearing. When I look back, I see her sitting in the grass beside the creek, braiding a crown of daisies to add to her rainbow hair. The horses kneel down around her, surrounding her. Iggy the brave. Iggy their queen.

  Mortimer strides into the middle of the clearing. He isn’t dressed in a velvet blazer today; he’s wearing a slick black jacket made for rain. Silver buttons gleaming. Riding boots shining. His clothes don’t impress me anymore. The sight of his face makes me clench my fist.

  I’m surprised when he turns toward us. There’s a storm brewing in his eyes. Something has him rattled today.

  “Today’s mission is in the Lightning Range,” Mortimer says, scraping his fingers through his hair. “You’ll battle the elements, certainly. But I hope you’ll refrain from battling one another. I’ve heard things get nasty when you’re out on missions. Don’t let anger get the best of you, my riders.” He glances between Honor and me. “Today’s mission will be just a little bit different. I’ll let Iggy give you specifics. Then I’ll tell you about today’s … twist.”

  Iggy marches in front of him, hands on hips, looking around. Her hat is back in place, hiding all the rainbow strands. “Well, like the boss just said, you’ll be working the Lightning Range today. This is the most dangerous range you’ve tread so far. There’s only one way to handle it—you trust your horse. Horses have instincts, see. They’ll know how to dodge those fire bolts. They understand the sky. They’re built to crack the wind with their wings.”

  Mortimer nods but says nothing, like he’s trying to pick exactly the right words to say next. The confident shine in his eyes is replaced by another look, a hungry look. Like the gleam in the eyes of the monsters. “The Lightning Range is vital in other ways, children. You’ll be given an extra Keep today. And I want you to use it to look for something besides gold powder.”

  I glance at Adam and he shrugs his shoulders. Even Iggy looks confused.

  Mortimer waves a Guardian to his side. The man is holding a small brown bag. Similar to the bags they use to give us our Feathersworth. He opens the sack and walks around for us to see.

  My eyebrows scrunch closer at the sight of what’s inside.

  It’s the dull yellow powder, the kind I saw back at the Tumbrels. The kind I see on my boots sometimes. A dull yellow like the dust of our earth, like the morning sky, like my nightmares, even.

  “This is Timor powder,” Mortimer says gravely. “We use this mineral in our medicine. As you know, the mines get more dangerous the deeper we get. And we’re running low on resources to keep our miners safe. Gold powder isn’t all we’re after.”

  Strange, I think. Gold powder is all he’s cared about until now.

  “So we’re all depending on you to bring back Timor. It’s especially prevalent where storms are brewing, where lightning strikes and scorches the ground.” Something about the way he says this sends a shiver down my spine. “The rider who brings back the most Timor powder today will earn an extra five hundred Feathersworth. This could change everything for some of you.”
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  Mortimer Good stares directly at me. “One decision can change everything.”

  A shiver rakes across my ribs. He’s warning me, I realize. Does he know what I’ve seen? Is he daring me not to tell?

  What if I do tell everyone? What if expose his lies? Will things change? It’s not like the Dust will go away or the stars will come back just because I tell the truth.

  And what if I keep quiet? I could bring Denver home after the next mission. I could keep making money for my family.

  Mortimer’s eyes bore into mine.

  You’re afraid of Mortimer Good. My heart tells me this, loud enough to ring inside my bones. Loud enough to be true. I’ve just heard from Iggy what kind of person Mortimer Good can be. And as soon as I saw him stir up the Dustpuppets, I knew—he is a dangerous man. He has the ability to take everything, everyone I love, away from me. I wonder if this is why people pretend they don’t see evil, because to see it—to call it out—could harm someone you love.

  “Mallie,” Mortimer says, his voice like low thunder. “What will you do today?”

  I hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears. All the riders turn to look at me, confused. Iggy looks at me wide-eyed. He knows I know something. I don’t know how. But he knows.

  My words are shaky when they finally let loose: “I’m bringing you back the most Timor powder today. I’m winning the extra Feathersworth.”

  He smiles at this. His eyes soften—in delight?—or is it relief?

  “Take your mount,” Mortimer calls out, victory in his voice. “Be brave, my riders.”

  It occurs to me then that wearing my UtilitySnap on this run might not be safe, especially if lightning is involved. I toss it to the ground, where people have left packs and jackets. I cuff the sleeve of my coveralls to my elbows on both sides. It feels nice, having nothing on my arm. And nobody else seems to notice or care, which is also nice.

  “I’ll keep this for you,” Iggy says, picking up the UtilitySnap and tucking it underneath her arm. “Never know when you might need it.”

  Iggy reaches out for my arm in a kind way. Our eyes meet and she’s smiling, sadly. “We do what we have to, Mallie-girl,” she says. “There’s different kinds of brave.”

  “I don’t feel brave,” I tell her as I walk away. “Just foolish.”

  Mortimer grins at me as I ride past him, but I don’t smile back. Now I realize his smile looks wolfish, not beautiful.

  The Lightning Range is rocky, orange-colored. Like my old Popsnap, I think. As we fly toward the mountains, I see veins of lighting flicker all across the black clouds spinning above them. The spin is so gentle that it reminds me of making pinkberry pie with Mama when I was little. Stir gently, Mallie, she would say, putting her hand over mine to show me how. To slow me down. I guess I’ve never been good at being gentle. This doesn’t seem like the right time for it, either.

  “Steady,” I hear boys calling to their horses, all around me. But I don’t have to remind Leo. He’s already steady and strong. I pat his neck and remind him: “I’m here. We’ll be okay.”

  We sail closer, underneath the stormy canopy. The air is warm and electric. A sudden wind, like a warm breath from the jaws of the mountain, blows in our faces. The sky is an abysmal black now, an endless, swirling horizon of storms.

  Boom. The thunder cracks like an ax chop above the clouds. The mountains catch the echo and roll it back and forth like a roar. I feel it in my teeth.

  “Should we turn back?” Adam yells as we see some boys retreat.

  “NO!” I shout. This ride will make fifteen hundred Feathersworth for me, bringing me close to the four thousand I need for Denver.

  I imagine running through the woods, giving the Feathersworth to Mama. So much she can’t hold it all in her apron; coins so golden they reflect on her face.

  The air goes choppy, so rough that Leo breaks his steady glide and gallops on the wind. Working his legs manically, he neighs and runs even though there’s no ground beneath us. I hear the boys below me yell as the wind batters them.

  Leo drops ten feet, so fast that I’m not ready. I scream as I rise up off the saddle, and slam down with an “oomph.”

  Holding the reins again, I lean forward.

  “Push through, Leo. Ride on!”

  Leo curves hard to the right as a bright bolt of lightning snaps down to my left. Sparks fly from the singed place on the mountain where the bolt hit the ground.

  BOOM!

  Another bolt to my right, and Leo swerves again. I feel the heat of each bright bolt crashing down.

  Air shimmers where they strike. Hair prickles on my arms.

  I let Leo lead; he steers me around bolt after bolt of purple lightning.

  Then Leo dips down low and I see caverns. A bit of a break, I think. And I flip my goggles when my eyes catch a sparkle.

  The caverns are deep and craggy with sharp rocks jutting down from the ceiling. Dark is so thick around us that even Leo begins to waver. He rams into a rock face, scraping his side.

  “Careful, Leo!” I try to calm him. “Slow down! Easy!”

  But Leo can’t hear me; thunder echoes even louder in here than it did out there.

  I tap his flanks gently with my boot heels. “UP!” He obeys—gladly—and shoots back into the storm. I catch a glimpse of Adam to my right. He’s too busy trying to push Honor away to bag any powder at all.

  “Watch out!” I shout. But Adam doesn’t hear me. Honor does.

  Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Adam’s horse flies sideways to avoid a bolt of lightning, and his boots lose their grip completely. He grabs for his horse’s neck, but rain is pouring now. The horse is too slick to hold.

  Honor sails in close again. Even now, even knowing him the way I do, I think he’ll give Adam a hand, help him back on his horse, at least. But that’s not what happens. Honor stretches out his long leg. I’m already flying toward them, screaming, but I don’t get there in time. Honor stomps Adam’s wrist. And Adam lets go.

  “Leo!” I scream. “Dive!” Even as we’re zooming for Adam, I know we won’t make it.

  I watch as he grabs his wrist in agony and tumbles through the air. Fear spreads its claws inside my chest and everyone around me seems to fade except that terrible sight: my friend, falling.

  I’m shouting commands, racing for the ground faster than we’ve flown before. I’ve got to get beneath him. But he’s going too fast! Adam grapples for air. His eyes are locked on me and Leo. I shout as Adam disappears through a drift of low clouds. I can’t see what’s beneath it, but I don’t care. We fly blind into the cloud as I scream, over and over, “Down, Leo! Down!”

  We swoop up underneath Adam, and he lands on the saddle behind me.

  Adam’s arms lock around my waist.

  I feel him rest his forehead against my shoulder, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t know if I could find words either after a fall like that. As we float back up in the sky, Jeff flies through the low clouds, near enough to nuzzle Adam’s face.

  “Thank you, Mallie,” Adam whispers. With a shaky hand he reaches past me to pat Leo’s neck. “Thanks, buddy.”

  “Go home, Leo,” I say as the storm beats down around us. Adam’s horse glides along beside us. Connor, Nico, Greer—they’re all flying beside me. Our bags are full.

  “I got lots of Timor powder,” Adam says. “That’s what Honor wanted.”

  “He was going to kill you to get it,” I shout. “And he doesn’t even need it! What’s he going to do with five hundred extra Feathersworth?”

  “It was weird up there,” Adam says. “Honor was fired up anyway. We all get that way when we ride. But then a Dustcloud flew low, swarmed right in his face. That’s when he kicked me off. If you hadn’t been there—”

  “I don’t want to think about that.”

  I see a clump of the yellow powder in Leo’s mane and reach to brush it off. But instead my hand hovers above it for a bit. I pinch the Timor between my fingers and look at the col
or again.

  Yellow rust.

  Yellow as the morning Dust.

  Like the eyes of the monsters,

  Like the grit in my boots,

  Like the river that cuts through the heart of these hills.

  Strangely, I’m not thinking about what we’ll earn.

  I’m thinking about Timor powder.

  I’m thinking about the stories Mama and Papa told us when we were young. About the mountains far away from here. About a river that runs through those faraway mountains, a river with a dull yellow cast to it. “The Timor River.” I can almost hear Denver say it, in his smartest told-you-so voice. “That old river Timor will give you a fright.”

  “Have you seen them use Timor powder in the mines?” I ask Adam. “Is it the same powder in the river we learned about in school?”

  He nods. “We used to shovel it into the big furnace at night. The Guardians say it’s energy to keep the mines warm, even in winter. It’s thickest near that river, apparently. But there are pockets of it everywhere. The Guardians give us extra break time if we find more in the mine.”

  I’m imagining that big furnace now, how it sends smoke into the sky every night. How we breathe it in all day, every day. The Guardians told us this powder is medicine. But what if it’s not? What if that’s the story we’ve been given … so we’re living it. Even though it’s not true.

  This time, rage sets its claws in me without the help of any Dustclouds. I lean forward and race toward the clearing. I have a question for Mortimer Good. I have a decision to make.

  I swing off Leo’s back as soon as he lands, then pull the Timor powder from Adam. The day is dimming. A few riders have returned already. I hear a few more sets of hooves landing behind us.

  “Where are you going?” I hear Adam yell. “Mallie, what are you doing?”

  I’m going face-to-face with a monster, I think. I’m going to scream in its face if I have to.