Chapter One

"Wake up, wake up!"

In the brief instant between fast asleep and wide awake, Eoin knew that something was horribly wrong. His mum was shaking him in desperation, even though it was almost twilight-dark outside. "What..." was all he managed to say, but even that was drowned out by the rushing, rumbling sound from outside. His mum had already moved on, was already shaking his twin sister Freya awake and his dad was pulling pots and pans off the chest and heaving the lid open with a panic Eoin had never seen in him before.

Eoin stumbled to the window, the only window in their modest wooden shack. The valley was wrong, all wrong. The river, normally so placid and sleepy, was a roaring, raging torrent and there was a dark, tumbling mass growing in the valley ahead of him. It was a solid mass of water, a crashing tidal wave of water, and even as he saw it Eoin knew it was too late. He shouted out a warning – later on, he couldn't even remember what he'd said – and turned to grab his baby sister who was still, incredibly, asleep in her bed under the window.

The wave hit the hut with a force that would have shaken a mountain, and Eoin remembered little of what came next. The hut came apart in front of him. He was tumbling, spinning, his little sister Willow clinging tightly to his chest, the shock of the cold squeezing all the breath out of his body.

Then, abruptly, it was over. The water didn't flow away. It just stopped. The wall of water had stopped solid, and Eoin was still part of it, twisted at an angle and staring at some lopsided trees.

"Eoin!" His sister's voice, Freya's voice. She was suddenly right in front of him. "Eoin, are you okay?"

Her hands, scorching hands – her hands had always been so hot, but now they seemed hotter than ever – were tugging at him, and he found he could pull free of the ice. Waving his left arm he broke out, stumbled, and almost pitched over. Freya caught his shoulder, keeping him upright. "Eoin, what happened?"

He looked down at the bundle up against his chest. Willow looked back, big eyes, trusting eyes, not crying but scared. "I've got you safe, Willow,” he murmured. He turned back to Freya, but she was staring over his shoulder.

There was a wall behind him, a barrier of solid ice stretching away into the distance in both directions. Not a flat smooth wall, but a massive solid spear of a wall, a giant ice serpent that had slithered down the valley and eaten their house. The water had smashed through their lives and turned instantly to ice, the spume and froth of the raging river now frozen into its surface.

A loud thunk made them both jump. The valley was unnaturally quiet, the usual sound of running water now silenced, and the noise seemed to come from inside the ice itself.

There was another thunk, very close at hand, and a chunk of ice fell off the wall.

"Eoin? Freya? Can you hear me?" It was their dad's voice, and they both cried out to hear it. An eye appeared dimly, somewhere behind the chink in the ice wall, then they heard their dad's voice again, saying, "It's alright, Hope, they're all just fine. They've got Willow. They're safe."

Eoin was about to speak to him when the eye faded away and the wall shook under his blows again. Another small sliver fell off but no more.

Then they heard their mum's voice. "They're not safe, not safe at all. They've got to go, Frank. They've got to get out of here."

"I know," he said. "But this hole's not big enough."

"It'll fit," she said.

"Needs to be a bit wider," he grunted, still banging at the wall.

"It'll fit," she insisted. "Frank, they've got to go now."

"Eoin," called his dad. "Grab this."

Something came through the crack in the ice, fitting awkwardly through the gap, and Eoin grabbed it. It was a book, a slim dark volume covered in old, cracked leather. As he took it, he saw that his father's fingers were stretched out as far as they would go, and his heart sank. His dad was much farther away than he’d thought, and the ice was thick, much too thick to break through.

"How can we get through?" he said.

"You can't," said his dad gruffly. "You've got to get away from here. Take that book, it'll help. Hold on, your mum wants a word."

He disappeared from the hole in the wall.

"Eoin. Freya," came their mum's voice. "You've got to get away from here, sweeties. You're in great danger. The Ice has found you. I don't know how, but it's found you."

"The what?" said Freya, but their mum's voice continued.

"There's someone who can help. You're going to have to cross the lava fields. Find Father Tim. You know who I mean by Father Tim, don’t you?"

"But," said Eoin. "But, Mum, that's a fairy tale. Father Tim, the old man who lives in a volcano. You always said he wasn’t real."

"Eoin, you've got to find him," repeated his mother. "You can do it, sweetie. Look after your sisters."

A shrill cry from Freya almost made him drop the book. "The ice is moving! Eoin, get away from the wall!"

Like a miniature cave-in, chunks of ice started to break off around the hole.

"Mum! The hole! It's... It's closing up!"

Their mum's voice became fainter as the hole closed. "The Ice. It's coming. It knows about your powers. You've got to go now!"

"Powers? What powers? Mum?"

"Go, Eoin! We'll wait for you by the Steam Caves, where it’s safe. Stay away from..."

The hole had closed up, and he could no longer hear her voice. For a moment, he just stood there, dazed and confused. Willow, light as a feather, still snuggled up against his chest, held firmly by his right arm. He glanced down at the book in his other hand. The cover was embossed with the words 'Earth, Wind and Fire' in faded gold letters. That was all it said.

"Eoin!" cried Freya. "Come away!"

          Larger chunks were starting to fall now as Eoin scrabbled away. "We've got to get out of the valley," Freya said. Eoin grabbed her hand, so hot after the ice that he almost couldn't hold it, and they ran together up the bank, away from their parents, away from the smashed remains of their house, away from the ice serpent that was screeching and squealing as the ice started to grind against itself as it moved.

Small drumlins dotted the valley, and as they climbed up the nearest one they could see clear over the ice to a hillock on the other side. Their parents were there, hand in hand just like them, waving their children on urgently before they too hurried off out of sight.

Eoin and Freya didn't stop to think, just ran over the top of the hill and down the other side towards the trees.