Towers [BOOK ONE]

Chapter One

It was late autumn, but as we trudged up the mountain that chilly morning, the snow was almost as deep as our knees. Thank you, Aunt Finna, for the new boots, I thought. The boots were bound all the way up my calves, fur side in, keeping my feet warm and dry.

Channing, my cousin, walked beside me, the sled tucked under his arm. The light of the rising sun cast a halo around him, his short red curls glowing gold at the edges. His freckled cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, but his light brown eyes were just as cheerful and optimistic as always as he lifted his gaze towards the mountain's peak. A cool breeze stirred the trailing ends of the scarf he always wore loosely about his neck.

On my other side was Emmy, my best friend. Her mousy brown hair was kept in two braids, and she had pretty, pale blue eyes that I'd always been envious of. And yet it felt silly, somehow, to use a vicious word like envy in the same breath as her name. Emmy was innocent and fun, and she made an action as simple as walking look as if she were dancing.

Even now, despite the fact that it was so cold I could see her breath, despite the fact that she had forgotten her coat, she was laughing.

"I'm soaked, Bird," she said. "I'm sure to turn into an icicle by the time we reach the top."

I pulled off my coat and slipped it onto her. "Here, I don't need mine."

She hugged me. Emmy was the sort of person who communicated by touching, and although I wasn't, I didn't mind it. I'd known Emmy since we were little, and I had long since grown used to her habits.

"We're most of the way up," said Channing. His voice was husky, the voice of a seventeen-year-old boy. Sometimes I felt as if I could happily listen to that voice of his all day-it was like a lullaby. "Maybe this time we won't crash into a tree."

"You remembered to sharpen the runners, didn't you, Channing?" I asked, running a hand through my curly brown hair and fingering the blue jay feather that I always kept there. "Last time we skidded right off of the ice because they were too dull."

"Of course I sharpened them," he said, giving me a playful shove. I laughed. "I spent all night doing it."

"We do the stupidest things sometimes," said Emmy distantly, remembering. She twirled one of her braids with a finger; she always did that when she was thinking. "Like the time you tried to climb that tree blindfolded, Bird, and ended up falling and breaking your arm."

"Channing's fault, he dared me to."

"Or the time Channing snuck up on Farmer Guff's flock of geese and was nearly trampled!" Emmy clapped her hands twice. "They chased him all the way across the field. He shrieked like a little girl who's spotted a snake. We laughed so hard afterward."

"It wasn't funny," said Channing, narrowing his eyes at us.

"Oh," I said, feeling a bubble of laughter in my chest, "but it was."

We finally reached the mountain's summit and paused to gasp for breath. The wind here was blisteringly cold, carrying snowflakes from a storm somewhere southward. I glanced at the frozen spring and the river that flowed from it. The stream ran all the way down the mountain, a pale silver ribbon. A path to adventure. Our path.

I turned my eyes to the horizon. The sun rose like a white coin in a golden-red sky. From this altitude, the many towers dotting the vast landscape seemed small and insignificant. I only wished that they could always be this way. They're so much more intimidating when you're looking up at them rather than down upon them...

Channing dropped the sled, and it scraped the thick ice that covered the surface of the spring. "Ready, Bird?"

I turned back to my friends with a wide smile. "Definitely."

We squeezed onto the sled-Emmy in the front, Channing in the back, and me in between them. Channing was the tallest and certainly the strongest; Emmy and I were both slight little things, and neither of us seemed to be getting any bigger. Therefore, it went without saying that Channing held the steering rope.

The mountain was so high. My heart gave a little leap as I peered around Emmy and down the slope. Excitement, I told myself, but I knew that deep down, I also felt fear.

"Forward," said Channing. "Just a bit."

We scooted closer to the edge. The runners glided easily over the ice. My breath caught in my throat.

Just before we tipped over the brink, I shouted, "You were right, Emmy, sometimes we do very stupid things!"

Then the sled took off down the stream, skidding and jumping and sliding, and we were too delighted and terrified to do anything but scream.

I don't remember the mountain being so drastically vertical during the climb! was my last coherent thought before all sense left me.

The sled hit a rock and soared into the air, only to slam back down moments later and turn sharply to the right. A tree branch shot past, slashing my cheek, but I was too exhilarated to feel the sharp sting of pain.

"This is amazing!" shouted Channing.

I clung to Emmy so tightly that it was a wonder she could still breathe.

We were going faster now. The icy wind burned our faces; it whipped my hair back and made my eyes water. I screamed until my voice was hoarse. Emmy laughed and shrieked as if she'd just heard the funniest joke of her entire life.

The sled was starting to crack.

"Channing...!" I began, my voice edged with fear and warning. I already knew it was too late. I could feel the runners wobbling beneath us. Perhaps it was our combined weight or just the sheer speed, but whatever the reason, the sled was about to break.

"Just a little bit further!" he yelled, to me or to the sled or to no one at all. "Almost there!"

The ground came up to meet us, as swift as a slap to the face. One moment, we were streaking down the mountainside like a runaway lightning bolt. The next, we were sprawled in snow up to our waists as the sled shattered into a mess of splinters and boards. I landed facedown and was soaked almost instantly.

It was a long time before I was able to actually process what had happened.

Emmy moaned. "I think I'm dead."

A new voice surprised us. "Oh, you'd better bet you are," said Caleb, Channing's older brother. We lifted our freezing faces out of the snow and looked up at him dazedly. His hands were on his hips. He was taller and stronger-looking than his brother, with dark hair and serious eyes. "Mother and Father will not be pleased."

The three of us shared a look.

"Oops," said Emmy.