Rowan and the Ice Creepers

by Rodda, Emily

• ISBN13: 9780060297800
• ISBN10: 0060297808
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2003-09-18
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publications

Summary

"Four must make their sacrifice. In the realm twixt fire and ice . . . The quest unites both life and death." The wise woman Sheba's ominous words haunt Rowan. The bitter winter has lasted far too long and won't loosen its deadly hold on the land. As food stores dwindle, the people of Rin flee to the warmer coast. Rowan and two friends -- and a shadow -- journey up the mountain that towers over Rin to seek the source of the unending cold. Rowan knows from past experience that the mountain is unpredictable and harbors many dangers. But now waves of freezing air stream down its sides. And ferocious ice creepers -- giant eyeless creatures with gaping jaws and teeth like shards of ice -- slither from its shadow eager to devour any warm being. Will Rowan and his friends somehow be able to bring spring -- and life -- back to the land? Can they survive the perils of the mountain and the attacks of the ice creepers?

Excerpts

Rowan and the Ice Creepers

Chapter One

It Is a Curse!

The village of Rin huddled, freezing, in a silent world of white. Deep snow blanketed the valley. The Mountain brooded against the gray sky like a vast ice sculture capped with cloud.

Never had there been a winter like this. Never had the snow fallen so thickly. Never had the cold been so bitter.

And never had it lasted so long. By the calendar, it was spring -- the time for planting, and for blossom, bees, and nesting birds. But still the air was deadly chill, fields and gardens lay buried, and snow weighed down the bare branches of the trees in Strong Jonn's orchard.

A meeting was called, but it was too cold for the people to gather in the village square. They crowded instead in the House of Books, shivering and murmuring amid the smell of oil lamps, parchment, and old paper. Deep shadows flickered on worried faces, gesturing hands. The lamps were turned low, for oil, like everything else, was in short supply.

Rowan, who had been in the bukshah field when the meeting bell sounded, arrived last of all.

For a time he stood outside the door, stamping the snow from his boots. Despite the cold, he was in no hurry to enter. He knew what old Lann, the village leader, was going to say to the people, and he had made his own decision on what he was going to do about it. For now, his mind was still with the bukshah.

The great gentle beasts he tended had strayed again during the night. They tried it every winter, but this year they had broken out of their field over and over again.

This time they had wandered past the silent mill, its huge wheel stuck fast in the ice of the stream, and moved on till they had almost reached the base of the Mountain. It had taken hours to tempt them back to their field -- hours, and the last few handfuls of oats from the storehouse.

There will be trouble when it is discovered those oats are gone, Rowan thought ruefully. But what else could I do? Let the bukshah wander off to die?

He did not blame the beasts for breaking down their fence. They were hungry. The bales of hay on which they fed in winter were almost gone, and in a desperate attempt to make the food last, Rowan had been forced to cut their daily ration by half. Several of the oldest and frailest members of the herd had already weakened and died.

But Rowan knew that if food was scarce in the valley, it did not exist at all outside it. Except where sheer, rocky cliffs showed as brutal gashes on the shimmering whiteness of the Mountain, the land was snow covered on every side, as far as the eye could see.

"You must stop trying to stray, Star," Rowan had said to his favorite, the leader of the herd, when at last all the beasts were back in their field. "You must stay here where I can care for you."

Star had turned her great head to look at him and rumbled deep in her throat. Her small dark eyes were troubled. She wanted to please Rowan and obey him. But all her instincts were telling her that he was wrong.

Dimly understanding, Rowan had patted her, feeling with dismay the jutting ribs beneath her shaggy coat. "Spring will surely come soon, Star," he had whispered. "The snow will melt and there will be grass for you to eat once more. Just a little longer..."

But how much longer? Rowan thought now. How long can this go on?

Gritting his teeth, he pushed open the door and slipped into the crowded room. Shaaran and Norris, the two young people he had rescued from the enemy land of the Zebak, moved quickly to his side. They had clearly been watching for him. Shaaran's soft eyes were anxious, but her brother's face was alive with curiosity.

"Where have you been hiding yourself, Rowan?" Norris whispered. "We have not seen you for days!" He grinned and glanced at his sister teasingly. "Shaaran thinks you have been avoiding us. She fears we have done something to offend you. Please put her out of her misery and tell her it is not so."

"Norris!" Shaaran hissed, blushing scarlet.

Rowan forced a smile. "Of course you have not offended me," he murmured. That at least he could say truly, though he could not deny the rest. How could he have been with his friends and not told them what was about to happen? So he had avoided them.

But now they were about to hear everything. His heart ached at the thought of their dismay.

Norris would have pressed him further, but at that moment there was movement at the front of the room. Lann was preparing to speak. She was standing in the place of honor, in front of the hanging strips of painted silk that told in pictures the ancient story of the Rin people's slavery in the land of the Zebak. The bright paintings, glimmering in the lamplight, made a strange background to her sober figure.

For more than three hundred years the Rin people had lived in freedom in their green valley, with no memory of their past and no idea that many of their own had been left behind in the dreaded place across the sea. Then, just over a year before, Rowan's little sister Annad had been snatched away and carried to the land of the Zebak.

Determined to save her, Rowan had followed. He had found her, against all odds. And at the same time he had found Shaaran and Norris, the last of the lost ones.

Shaaran had brought the box of silks with her when they escaped, and ever since that time the silks had hung in the House of Books, to be marveled over and discussed endlessly by the people of the village.

Rowan and the Ice Creepers. Copyright © by Emily Rodda. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

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Excerpted from Rowan and the Ice Creepers by Emily Rodda
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