Elf Realm , livre ebook

Praise for
E LF R EALM : T HE H IGH R OAD
Compulsively readable - VOYA
Original, imaginative - Booklist
Praise for E LF R EALM : T HE L OW R OAD
Highly imaginative, richly described, and filled with a wide cast of characters, this is a thoroughly engaging fantasy that never lags. - Booklist , starred review
[A] magical tale . . . Without sacrificing plot for message, Kirk offers a subtle critique of the ways humanity mistreats the planet. - Publishers Weekly
After reading this intriguing fantasy, readers will take a careful look around them while walking through the woods.
- School Library Journal
Named a fall 2008 IndieBound Kids Indie Next List selection (Inspired Recommendations for Kids from Indie Booksellers)
ALSO AVAILABLE BY DANIEL KIRK
NOVELS T HE E LF R EALM T RILOGY The Low Road The High Road The Road s End (forthcoming)
PICTURE BOOKS Library Mouse Library Mouse: A Friend s Tale Library Mouse: A World to Explore

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition of this book as follows:
Kirk, Daniel. Elf realm : the high road / by Daniel Kirk. p. cm. Summary: Fourteen-year-old Matt forms an uneasy alliance with Tuava-Li the elf and Tomtar the troll in an attempt to restore to well-being the tree at the northern pole whose roots bind the worlds together, while Matt s nine-year-old sister, Becky, tries to free their captive parents with Asra s help. ISBN 978-0-8109-4075-8 [1. Elves-Fiction. 2. Trolls-Fiction. 3. Magic-Fiction.] I. Title. II. Title: High road.
PZ7.K6339Elh 2009 [Fic]-dc22 2009015494
Paperback ISBN 978-0-8109-8979-5
Text and illustrations 2009 Daniel Kirk
Book design by Chad W. Beckerman
Originally published in hardcover in 2009 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. This edition published in 2010. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher. Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.
Printed and bound in U.S.A. 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
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TO RALEIGH
The High Road
ATT WAS FALLING. The ground had opened up beneath him, and as he plummeted headlong through a narrow tunnel, arms and legs flailing, there was no ending, just falling, falling, falling. When he tried to scream the roaring wind filled his throat, and only a sob escaped his lips. His mind was a blur. His panic was so intense that he couldn t concentrate on anything but the certainty that he was going to die. A heartbeat later he heard someone screaming. She plunged past him, bouncing off the milk-white walls of the tunnel. Becky! Matt cried.
Matt! she shrieked, tumbling head over heels, her voice raw with fear. Matt, Matt!
Suddenly the boy and his sister hurtled around a curve, and a ragged figure brushed past them, followed by another, and another, and another. Pale faces with huge gleaming eyes and pointed ears stared, then shot out of sight. With a sudden burst of shock and relief Matt realized that he wasn t falling, after all. It wasn t gravity pulling him down; it was something else, some unknown force, pulling him and his sister forward, in a vast tunnel, parallel to the ground but beneath it. They were in the Cord. They were traveling the Low Road, the Faerie passage hidden in the earth, and Matt and his sister weren t falling; they were flying . Becky! Matt cried. Hold your hands out in front of you, keep your body straight and your eyes ahead. Look where you re going!
I can t, Becky sobbed, and bounced off another wall.
Yes, you can! If I can do it, so can you!
I can t, Becky insisted, as Matt drew alongside her and took her hand in his.
Then stay with me, he said, trying to keep his sister steady as they hurtled together through the tunnel. Even though Matt s heart was pounding, confidence welled up inside him; he felt a crazy certainty that he could do this, that he could navigate the Faerie passage, that he could lead himself and his sister to safety somewhere up ahead. We re flying! The words burst from him, fragile and explosive. Becky, we re flying!
Then in the distance he saw a dark line spread along the wall of the Cord, like an ink mark drawn by an invisible hand. There was a ripping sound. Dozens of tiny, filthy fingers reached into the tunnel and grabbed Becky by her hair. They yanked her from the Cord as Matt hurtled forward, unable to turn back. In despair he clutched at the walls with his fingernails, trying to slow the insane velocity. His grip gave way. Then his perspective shifted again, and in horror he saw that he wasn t flying, after all. He was falling, down, down, down.
Silence. Matt opened his eyes and sat up in the darkness. He was breathing so hard that he felt dizzy. In the seconds it took to orient himself a glimmer of hope welled up inside, then vanished, leaving him in a place blacker than he could ever have imagined in his brief fourteen years of life. As he left the realm of dreams behind and entered the waking world, Matt had no doubt that this was the real nightmare. He wasn t at home in bed. He was in a cramped, moldy space beneath the roots of some enormous tree in the woods, where he had spent the night sleeping fitfully next to his sister on a pile of damp leaves. He brushed a leaf from his face, and peered into the darkness to see if Becky was still lying asleep beside him. He heard her quiet breath, regular and calm, and he decided to leave her alone. She was only nine. It wasn t fair to subject her to this insanity. Daytime would come too soon.
Matt crawled out from under the tree roots into the dark forest. His jeans and T-shirt were filthy, caked with dirt, even though he had turned his clothes inside out, like the Elves asked him to. Evil spirits, they said, would be less able to recognize someone with their clothes turned inside out. Around his neck hung a tangle of beads, amulets, and charms, designed to protect him from spells; or at least that s what the Elves told him. All superstitious garbage, all of it , Matt thought. There was a soggy lump of herbs tucked between his teeth and gums. He spit it out into the foliage. All night long he had kept the bitter herbs in his mouth, just like they had instructed. This was supposed to dull the pain from the markings they had tattooed on his chest, which they d guaranteed would hurt. They were right , he thought. This was madness, all madness. And it was all his fault. Matt slipped his fingers beneath his T-shirt and felt the place where his skin had been marked. To protect and help you , the Elves had said. The tattoos were necessary to protect him from the dangers that lay ahead. What dangers? Matt thought. And how would they help? Was he crazy to agree to this? What was he thinking?
It had started with the shoe. It seemed like a lifetime ago, so much had changed since then. Matt s dad and mom had moved the family from their apartment in Pittsburgh to the hilly countryside north of town, to start a new life. Dad had inherited a big piece of property, and it was there that he built the houses on the edge of the rural highway. He was going to be a developer. He was going to transform the forest into a place where people could live. But Matt, running barefoot through the construction site, stepped on a little jeweled shoe, only two inches long, and everything changed. Matt hid the infection that began to fester in his foot. Then the Elves came to him in the night and demanded that he return it to them.
Elf , Matt pondered, was a funny word. When people thought of Elves they d picture cartoon characters baking cookies in wood-fired ovens; they d think of fairy tales, and silly stories meant to entertain and amuse children. And yet, here were Matt and his sister, cowering in fear, obeying the commands of humanoid creatures who called themselves Elves. Because of the shoe, the little jeweled shoe, Matt had discovered a realm unknown to humans. It lay somehow parallel to his own world, though the bonds that kept these two worlds apart were coming undone. The Elves were at war, both with each other and with people; though there were few who knew that yet. The houses Matt s dad had built were all burned to the ground by some hideous, flying, fire-breathing things, and there was nowhere in the human world for Matt and his sister to go. Their parents and baby sister had been taken, abducted by a group of renegade Elves.
Matt peered into the darkness. Over the tops of the trees a streak of purple appeared; dawn was near. He heard what sounded like footsteps in the distance, clomping over the leaves on the forest floor. Elves, no doubt soldiers on guard, were patrolling the outskirts of the Elfin city of Ljosalfar. Matt moved carefully among the trees. His fingers touched carved wood; it was one of the totem poles sculpted by Neaca. She was an old friend of the Mage. The Mage had ruled Alfheim, the community of Elves that was destroyed in the firestorm that took Matt s own home. Now the Mage and her apprentice, Tuava-Li, were homeless, too, and they, along with Matt, Becky, and Tomtar, were all Neaca s guests. Neaca s forest home was surrounded by totem poles like the one Matt stood behind. She called them her Klumma .
Matt, is that you? a