The Heir of Mistmantle
Read The Heir of Mistmantle Online
Authors: M. I. McAllister
Tags: #The Mistmantle Chronicles, #Fantasy, #Adventure, #Childrens
Text copyright © 2007 by M. I. McAllister
Illustrations copyright © 2007 by Omar Rayyan
All rights reserved. Published by Disney•Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No Part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information, address Disney•Hyperion, 114 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10011-5690.
ISBN: 978-1-4231-4172-3
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For Brenda Mearns,
and for all of you who helped me through the darkest time
Contents
ROM THE HIGHEST TURRET
of Mistmantle Tower, Urchin the pale-furred squirrel and old Brother Fir the priest leaned out to get the best view they could. They looked down on the sparkling sea, light golden sand, the treetops, the meadows, and the dark red fur of a squirrel leaping from branch to branch.
“There he is!” said Urchin.
Squirrels darted out of the way, moles jumped to a smart salute, hedgehogs hurried to open doors as King Crispin dashed through the bright summer woods to Mistmantle Tower, his paws outstretched, his tail streaming out behind him. Crispin bounded up the stairs and flew along corridors, but as he reached the doors of the royal chambers, he heard the high-pitched mewing of a newborn squirrel.
The guard mole opened the door to a room full of busy females. Mother Huggen the hedgehog beamed with satisfaction as she bent over the queen. Moth the mole was washing her paws while squirrel maids whispered excitedly in a huddle. But Crispin, unbuckling his sword and flinging it into a corner, saw only Cedar, the queen, gazing at the squeaking bundle in her arms.
“A daughter,” she said as Crispin came to sit beside her.
The baby squirrel’s eyes were tightly shut, and her paws curled against her mouth. As Crispin touched the tiny pink ears, she opened her eyes, blinked, and, as if she saw nothing worth staying awake for, went back to sleep. But Crispin, taking the baby in his arms, felt that nothing could ever make him turn his eyes away from that small, sleepy face.
Once in his life before he had held a baby as new as this. He had been much younger then and had rescued a newly born orphan squirrel from the sea. That pale, wet little scrap, found on the shore and named after the sea urchins, had become an exceptional young animal who had resisted tyranny and faced dangers, but still liked to run up and down walls and splash in the sea with his friends. Looking down at this new infant squirrel, Crispin wondered what her future would be.
“She’s a little beauty, Your Majesty,” said Mother Huggen. “A right little princess. Two of you young squirrels, go and fetch Brother Fir and ask him to come and give her a blessing.”
“And send for Longpaw the messenger to spread the news around the island,” said Crispin, still gazing at the baby. “Tell everyone!”
“And can he tell them what her name is?” asked Mother Huggen.
So, on a summer morning, Catkin was born to Queen Cedar and King Crispin. She was born on Mistmantle, the island fairly and wisely ruled by her parents and their captains and guarded by the enchanted mists folded about it. As she grew up, she would learn about her island, and how few ships reached it through the mist, and how nobody who belonged to the island could leave by water and return by water. It was dangerous to go through the mists. Few animals left the island, and fewer returned—but most animals wouldn’t dream of leaving Mistmantle, with its valiant otters, its bright-spirited squirrels, its loyal and hardworking moles and hedgehogs. There were woods and shores, burrows and tunnels, caves and waterfalls, hills and valleys, plenty to eat, good friends, and the king and queen in Mistmantle Tower high on the rocks. But for now, Catkin slept in her father’s arms, her paws curled tightly against her mouth, completely unaware that she was born the Heir of Mistmantle.
HEN CATKIN WAS OLD ENOUGH
to look about her and her fur was growing soft and red-gold, the island began to prepare for her naming ceremony. That summer had produced an excellent harvest, and there were grains, nuts, and berries to be gathered and stored, well into the beginning of a hot, dry autumn. Otters, being shore animals, were never far away from the sea with its fresh breeze and cool salt waves, but they worked as hard as anyone, carrying heavy loads up the rocks to the tower. All over Mistmantle the work was hard and dusty, and the animals talked with yearning of the celebrations and fun of the Naming Day to come.
Soon, very soon.
On the night before Naming Day, two events took place. The first was seen, enjoyed, and wondered at by every animal on the island. The second was not noticed at all. It was a long time before anyone knew a thing about it, and by that time the harm had begun.
Riding stars! A night of riding stars! These nights happened from time to time when the stars leaped free from their orbits, whirling and swooping across the sky, dancing and spinning so low that you could almost touch them. Brother Fir always knew when there would be riding stars, and the islanders made a great party of these nights, with bonfires on shores and high hilltops and, of course, a good supper. A night of riding stars before Princess Catkin’s Naming Day was even more exciting, for something important always happened after a night of riding stars, either for good or for harm. Of course, they must be for good this time, for the princess’s naming.