Prologue
Oria
Her legs stopped moving and her hand clung to the stone wall. She didn’t want to walk anymore. The damp chill radiated into her palm. The draft from the water thundering past brushed against the tip of her nose. She let her free hand gently stroke across her belly. Her breath caught, and her eyes went to the blue rays of light dancing across the walls. She turned towards the orb of water. It sparkled.
“You have to go,” said the old light elf.
“But what if you’re wrong?” she whispered. “What if he’s still alive…?”
“No one can survive the icy water for this long,” he said quietly, pressing his lips together so hard they paled.
“But you didn’t find his body,” she said.
“Trust me, I’ve searched,” he said, holding her with his gaze. “You know I’m the last person who’d give up on him.”
“Agnarin…”
“You’ll be safer out there alone than back here with us,” he interrupted.
We’ll both be safer out there, she thought, and forced her hands away from her belly.
“If you don’t go, it will end in war,” Agnarin sighed. “Then his sacrifice will be for nothing.”
She swallowed. Her throat burned. Home was no longer safe. The warm walls had gone cold. The laughter had disappeared out through the windows. The conversations over tallow candles had long since burned out. The creaking wooden door – that even she had to bend her neck to get through – was closed for the last time. The backpack caused her to sway. The only thing she had left.
For the last time, she felt Agnarin’s comforting hand as he released her grip on the wall. Where would she now go for advice?
Quietly, she nodded, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The cold spread across her chest, strangled her anxiety. Oria was just a memory. She took a slow step towards the waterfall, then one more. Soon she was swallowed by the cold chasm.
Chapter 1
The schoolyard at Coltsfoot Hill “Oh, Mire… Oh, Mire,” Francis said sweetly, before smiling to the circle of faces. “You’re so special, but soon, you’ll go back to being a grey mouse,” he continued, and tightened his grip around her hair until her nose touched his. “And nobody cares.”
The frosty breath from his mouth stuck to her face. He cawed like a crow, and his stare picked her to pieces. The other boys pushed towards him. Rough laughter coiled around them. Gawking faces locked her to the spot. Where was Emma? Everyone looked the same. There! Emma’s sharp fringe revealed her. Why was she just standing there?
Francis’ raven gaze darted around as he enjoyed the audience’s attention. Behind his red earlobe, his birthmark seemed to vibrate with excitement. It looked like a spider ready to leap.
“Perhaps you have to go home to mummy’s fairy tale sessions,” Francis grinned and narrowed his
eyes. “But let me tell you something… not all fairy tales end happily ever after.” He sniggered.
His grip on her hair loosened a fraction. She could move. Surprise him. She’d probably come to regret this, but she had to get away. Now!
She jerked her neck back while twisting her body away from him. She kicked towards his shin with all her strength. He lost his grip, and she yanked her hair out of his hands. She spun around, gritted her teeth and threw herself between the two standing in her way. Francis’ scream echoed as she shoved her way out of the circle. Without looking back, she ran towards the toilets.
The lock on the stall made a hollow click as soon as the door shut. Jeebus, how tight her chest felt. She slumped down onto the toilet lid and shifted her attention to the smells of mould and musty concrete. The damp air drew the heat out of her body.
The door to the toilets banged open. Giggling echoed off the hard walls. Without a sound, she climbed onto the lid of the toilet.
“Mire?”
It was the queens of drama, of course.
“Answer us!”
The two of them would always swarm around a victim like horseflies. Their snide remarks would bite with feigned kindness.
“Francis is furious,” one of them said. The row of stalls rattled. Mire’s throat hurt. She refused to reply. Refused to meet them.
“You should see his leg.”
“Poor thing!”
She could hear them drawing closer. The neighbouring stall shook, and then their nails clawed against her plastic door. They stopped.
The only sound she could hear was the rhythmic dripping from a tap. Each drip resounded in her head. How she hated water. Her body stiffened as the school bell called them to a new lesson.
“Ugh, never mind then,” one of them said. Their steps disappeared.
Mire met her own face as she exited the stall. Her ocean green eyes glowed under her red curls, as always during autumn. But Francis was right. As soon as the first snowfall came, she would go back to looking like a laboratory rat. Even though her hair had always changed with the seasons, people just couldn’t seem to get used to it. Why couldn’t she just be like everybody else?
She detangled the knots from Francis’ grip with her fingers. Her scalp was burning. Then she noticed the golden locket. It had jumped out of her sweater. Should she just throw it away? It didn’t mean anything anymore. She felt it grow heavier in her hand. She considered yanking it off. Her body grew hot.
She pushed it back inside her sweater, then snuck out the door and ran across the schoolyard as fast as she could.
Oria
The half moon lit their way through the autumn leaves in the forest. A red gonk and a dark elf hurried along the track. The summons had worried everybody. The rock trolls had never before taken such liberties as to summon all of Oria. What would King Agnarin say? Mjolnir sped up.
“Move, you old shrink root,” a rock troll grumbled and shoved Mjolnir into the shrubbery. “Even the Nixie would have time to crawl out of the lake to grab you, you worm.”
“You braying misfire!” Mjolnir bellowed, brushing off sticks and autumn leaves. The rock troll’s back had already melted into the forest. Mjolnir pushed away Hops’ helping hand.
“He was only stressed,” Hops said, and pulled his red jacket closer around himself. “An extraordinary public meeting isn’t an everyday occurrence.”
“Mark my words, Hops,” Mjolnir said and continued down the path, “They’re up to something.”
Hops shook his head. “Don’t be so negative. They’re…”
Mjolnir waved at him angrily. “You can’t be too negative. The Mountain King wants nothing more
than to bring down Agnarin and the light elves.”
A tall, cloaked figure rushed out of the brush towards them. Mjolnir tried to pull away from the inevitable collision. He growled as they both tumbled across the leaves, but the cloaked creature leapt to his feet and ran in the opposite direction before they could even catch their breath.
“What’s wrong with people?” Mjolnir roared from inside his knitted cap. “You’d think common manners had become an alien concept.”
“I… I’m… I’m sure he had a good reason,” Hops stuttered, and helped Mjolnir back on his feet.
“Isn’t everyone going to the extraordinary public meeting?” Mjolnir scowled after the stranger.
Hops took a few hesitating steps down the path. “Well… we weren’t really…”
“Shhh!” Mjolnir peered around wildly. “There could be ears anywhere!”
“Do you think anyone knows?” Hops whispered and popped the collar of his jacket.
“Knows what?” Mjolnir said and marched onwards while nervously scanning the woods around them.
“About our mission, of course,” Hops hissed. Mjolnir elbowed the gonk in his ribs.
“This is your last warning. No one can know about the gift. NO ONE!”
The harsh words made Hops jump. Had he seen
a shadow move? No, it was only the wind rustling a small bush.
“Here,” Mjolnir mumbled and pulled a few branches out of the way.
Dozens of oil lamps revealed a meadow in front of them. The murmur of voices rose against the swaying treetops. At one end, a stage with a slanted roof had been nailed together. Mjolnir squinted. The wind was nipping coldly at the red hair on the enormous heads in front of them. Huge muscles danced under glistening grey skin as the rock trolls roared with laughter.
There was movement in a maple not far from the stage. Mjolnir frowned and looked up. Several short legs were sticking out between the leaves. Littlings. A rock troll woman lifted one of them up towards a branch. He was standing in the palm of her hand, no taller than a cat’s tail. The little guy shuffled himself from her thumb onto the tree. Littlings sat tightly packed all along the tree’s sprawling branches. This one quickly balanced over to someone he knew and made himself comfortable. That had to be an excellent place from which to see everything.
A couple of dark shadows came roaring down from the sky.
“Duck!” Mjolnir yelled. Hops only just had time to throw himself to the ground before a couple of witches skidded across the ground on their broom handles.
“You can’t stand in the middle of the landing
strip!” one of them shrieked with exasperation, and shook her head as the broom flew to her hand.
Although Mjolnir and Hops were pushing towards the maple tree, they were being squeezed further and further out towards the edge of the field. There were too many people. Right in front of the stage, Mjolnir caught a glimpse of white cloaks. The light elves were guarding the stage. Their hoods trembled above their serious faces. Their smooth, beardless skin tightened as they studied their surroundings.
Mjolnir froze as he spotted a creature by the outskirts. There was no mistaking those pointy ears.
“There’s a tussling here,” he said and pointed. Hops turned to look, but in the same moment, the creature vanished.
“Don’t go imagining things,” Hops said and laughed nervously.
“But I saw one!” Mjolnir insisted.
“Tusse tosh,” Hops said. “They never seek out crowds.”
“Even so,” Mjolnir said and frowned. Even the tusses were feeling the tension. He shivered.
Booming steps drew attention towards the stage. A rock troll was shoving light elves aside and stomping up the stairs to the podium. The wood creaked beneath him. Other rock trolls pushed their way forward and took up position around the stage. Quietly, the light elves pulled back into the crowd.
The crowd grew quiet. The rock troll smiled to them through narrow eyes.
“On behalf of the Mountain King, I will read a decree that has been unanimously decided by the Council of Trolls,” the rock troll boomed and unrolled a scroll. Something about this performance stunk worse than the Nixie. Mjolnir could feel it in his bones.
“The Council of Trolls has decided that all light elves are banned from Paxi Mountain.” A gasp went through the crowd, but Mjolnir was looking around. What was he not seeing? In front of him, the light elves were staring with wide eyes and grasping their spears with both hands. The troll continued.
“They are spreading vicious lies about our great leader.” The murmurs increased, and the speaker allowed himself a pause for effect. “Those who are found supporting the light elves,” he said even louder, “will be considered enemies of our people,” he stared directly at the white-robed figures in front of him, “and will be cast out of Cobbledeep.”
Rock trolls in clanking armour moved towards the light elf guards. The white-cloaked elves calmly pulled away, but in two quick leaps, the trolls caught up with them. The elves fled in a cacophony of angry growls. Red hair danced above glistening grey shoulders as the rock trolls threw themselves after their prey, but the light elves slipped in between the