The Mistmantle Chronicles Book Two
First published by Bloomsbury Publishing, 2005.
Now published by Purple House Press.
ISBN 9781948959230, 293 pages, 6 x 9 inch paperback.
As the inhabitants of the island of Mistmantle prepare for the coronation of Crispin the squirrel, robes are stitched, cakes are baked, wine is brought up from the cellars, and the Heartstone—the unique gold-and-silver-flecked stone that only the priest or rightful ruler of the island can hold—is readied.
But the newly established peace in Mistmantle is soon under threat. A storm-ravaged ship from a distant land appears in the mists surrounding the island; a dramatic revelation about the revered Heartstone comes to light; and the extrasensory powers of a young islander reveal the evil close at hand.
Urchin finds himself journeying to a hostile land, where the maniacal King Silverbirch and his sorcerer, Smokewreath, await him. There, Urchin will have to face challenges greater than those he has ever known, and in so doing he will learn a secret about his past that will change his life forever.
Beautiful new cover by Janna Mattia, black and white Mistmantle map by Joe Hox, with illustrations by Christine Enright.
Praise for Urchin and the Hearthstone
“McAllister continues to build an enchanting world on Mistmantle… readers of the first book will not want to miss the second”
—Voya
“An engaging read with appealing characters and lots of action”
—School Library Journal
Read extract…
Chapter I
Wild seas and storming rain had battered the coast of Mistmantle all night, making squirrels scurry down from lurching tree-tops and hide in the roots. But by morning the gale had passed and the island lay washed and sparkling, with the wet stones of Mistmantle Tower gleaming pale pink and gold in the summer light. Squirrels darting from the windows on errands scrabbled to keep their grip as they ran down the walls. On the rocks around the tower columns of moles saluted and stood to attention as Captain Lugg the Mole trained them, and in the tower itself there was breathless bustle. The island was preparing for the coronation of Crispin the Squirrel.
Delicious wafts of spice and heat came from the kitchens where moles, squirrels and hedgehogs chopped nuts, lifted sticky golden cakes from ovens, and hung bunches of mint in the windows to keep the flies away. Otters piled up casks of wine in the cellars. Dancers and choirs ran up and down stairs looking for somewhere to practise, acrobats rehearsed on turrets and hung up tightropes which Mother Huggen the Hedgehog used as washing lines for the choir robes, and young animals hurried from the Spring Gate with splashing buckets of cold water for thirsty animals. Hedgehogs struggled to carry robes and Threadings down the stairs to the vast Gathering Chamber, where carpenters sawed and hammered to finish a new gallery.
The Gathering Chamber was the most impressive room on the island, but today it was crammed with stacked-up benches, robes, busy animals preparing for the coronation and more animals trying to look busy so they’d be allowed to stay and help. Threadings, the stitched, woven and painted pictures showing the stories of the island, lay draped across chairs until somebody could hang them up. In the middle of all this, Urchin, a young squirrel with unusually pale fur, was trying to find a way out.
Captain Padra the Otter had given him a very simple order – ‘just nip down to the shore, Urchin, and ask Arran to come up’ – but it was easier said than done. Urchin may have been Captain Padra’s page and a Companion to the King, but at this moment he didn’t feel at all significant. He was just a very young squirrel trying to get out of the door while a dozen large hedgehogs carrying stepladders were coming the other way, and somebody had just left a stack of cushions in the doorway because there was nowhere else to put them. It was easiest to jump out of a window and run down the tower wall.
The fresh, warm air was wonderful, and sunshine soaked into his fur. He delivered his message to Padra’s wife, Captain Arran, who jammed her captain’s circlet on to her rough, tufty fur and made her way round the tower to the Gathering Chamber.
Urchin paused for a moment, absorbing the sun and the fresh sea breeze. A few leisurely otters rowed, fished and taught their little ones to swim in the shallows as if they didn’t know a thing about a coronation or the flurry in the tower. It was late summer, too beautiful a day to spend it all in the tower. He looked out to sea, and looked again.
Enchanted mists surrounded Mistmantle. No animal who truly belonged to the island could leave by water and return by water. The mists prevented it, and few ships found their way through them to the island. But something was moving in the mists now. Shading his eyes with his paw, Urchin watched. First he saw something, then he didn’t, then he did. He should let Padra know.
He ran round the tower again and skimmed up to the window of the Gathering Chamber. As his best friend, Needle the Hedgehog, was spreading red-velvet cushions on the window seat he was very nearly knocked back down again. He managed to keep his balance and scramble over, but Needle’s spines were exceptionally sharp and he couldn’t avoid being prickled. He wriggled his way through the crowd to Padra and caught the smile on his face, but Padra always looked as if he were about to laugh. ‘Captain Arran is on her way, sir,’ he said, ‘and I think there’s a ship coming. Something’s moving in the mists.’