Island of Fog (Book 1) (28 page)

Robbie, too, might inadvertently make things more difficult. Sure, he was an ogre, but even ogres had soft hides. And he was so big that he wouldn’t fit through the tunnel as an ogre, so would have to revert back to his skinny human body.

He put a hand on Abigail’s shoulder and shook his head. “Sorry, this is
my
job. Thanks, though.”

Abigail’s mouth dropped open. She looked as though she was about to say something, but after a moment closed her mouth and studied him thoughtfully.

“Let’s go, then,” Robbie said.

“No, not you, either,” Hal said. “I think Miss Simone could do with your help at this end.”

“Yes, I could,” Miss Simone said. “In fact I’m counting on you, Robbie.”

So, grateful to his friends, Hal grabbed a lantern and headed into the darkness of the cave. He heard a number of muted calls—“good luck” and “be careful”—and then he was climbing a gentle slope at the back of the cave, holding the lantern high. The lighting was a dull orange color, and it flickered a lot. His shadow danced.

It was cold in the cave, even colder than the night outside. The air was almost frigid, and goose bumps rose on his arms and legs. His thin pants and shirt, and virtually bare feet, seemed ludicrous in the dark, cold, damp tunnel; he needed a thick coat and solid walking boots.

The air smelled musty, very much like a day of drizzle on the island. There was no sign of fog though. If the fog-hole was blocked, where had all the fog gone?

After several minutes walk along a fairly wide tunnel, he came to a narrow section. This continued for at least thirty feet, and the walls closed in even more as he started up a steep rise. The floor was pure rock, uneven but smooth, slippery in places where moss had grown. Ice cold water trickled down the walls. Hal’s breathing sounded loud in the tight, enclosed space, and when he stumbled and bumped the lantern against the slanting wall, the sound echoed all around. He heard the fluttering of small wings over his head and instinctively ducked.
Bats!

He pressed on, heart thumping. The tunnel turned and twisted, dropped a few feet, rose again, widened out, then narrowed again.
An ogre would never fit through here
, he thought suddenly, mentally patting himself on the back for refusing Robbie’s help.

But then again, neither would a dragon.

He thought his eyesight was playing tricks on him as he approached what appeared to be a black spot ahead. As he got closer, the light from the lantern should have lit it, but instead the black spot remained pitch black until he was standing right next to it. Around him the lantern’s flickering glow bounced off the rocky walls. But ahead, stretching across the full height and width of the tunnel, a black smoky cloud breathed in and out, rolling and turning in on itself as it expanded and contracted.

Hal stood for a minute just staring at it. Then he reached out and put his hand through. There was no sensation whatsoever.

He took a breath and stepped through the cloud, keeping his eyes open. There was utter blackness for a moment, then a flash of something—stars in a night sky?—and then he was through, stepping down heavily onto a hard floor that was a foot or two lower than he expected. He was standing once more in a tunnel, but this tunnel was different. It was large, and filled with fog.

Hal glanced back at the hole, making a note of its location. In this cavernous tunnel, the hole floated above the floor and it was possible to walk around it. How on earth was he supposed to find it again, in the darkness, with a manticore chasing him? With fog everywhere?

He sighed. This was madness. Still, he continued on, plunging into the fog and feeling his way along. The lantern was useless now—the light just bounced back at him. Having a sudden brainwave, he returned to the hole and put the lantern on the rocky floor directly underneath. Now he had a marker to help guide him on his return journey.

Treading carefully, Hal felt his way along the tunnel in total darkness. He could not see the fog, but he could smell it. It filled his nostrils, a damp yet oddly pleasant smell. He’d lived with fog all his life, and it was strangely comforting to return to it.

Hal didn’t know how long he walked, or how far, but it seemed to take forever. Finally he saw faint pricks of light ahead. There were gaps in the fog-hole blockage, tiny cracks where the blankets had shifted. He reached for one of these gaps, and widened it enough to stick his head through. Fresh air at last! And, despite being in the middle of Black Woods at night, the moonlight poured into the little clearing. High above, stars twinkled in a clear black sky.

He transformed himself into a dragon, at once feeling safer as he burst out of the fog-hole amid an explosion of blankets, branches, leaves and dirt. He cleared the way with his huge paws and watched as fog poured once more into the air. He suspected it would continue for a little while until it cleared out of the cavernous chamber and tunnel.

Hal looked around. Bright as it was in the moonlight, it was still night and he couldn’t make out much at all. He didn’t relish the idea of venturing into the thick woods, so he transformed back into his human body and stood in the center of the clearing, feeling extremely vulnerable.

“Thomas!” he yelled. “Thomas! I want to talk to you.”

His voice echoed, but all he heard in return was the grunt of a bullfrog.

“Thomas!” he yelled again.

Then he felt a number of sharp, stinging needles thud into his neck and shoulders. He gasped and ducked, but it was far too late. Behind him, the manticore watched warily, hunkered low to the ground, its tail high over its head and bristling with quills.

Hal felt woozy in a matter of seconds, and he fell sideways. He didn’t feel anything when he hit the ground, but he saw leaves fly up around him. The woods began to spin. Dimly he was aware of time stopping, starting, stopping again, like his life was sputtering and grinding to a halt. One moment the manticore was twenty feet away, rising to its feet; the next, it was standing over him.

Hal fought to keep his eyes open, but they kept closing. His limbs were heavy, impossible to move. There was a rushing sound in his ears.

Change
, he told himself.

He felt annoyed that he was in the exact same position now as when he had first met Thomas. Then, as now, Hal had been stuck with quills. Then, as now, the manticore had raised its stinger to strike. And, once again, Hal felt himself changing as he lay in the dirt.

As the change occurred, he forced himself up and swung a heavy fist at the manticore. Once again, as before, he hit the creature with a glancing blow to the face. Thomas staggered back and Hal climbed to his feet, already feeling the effects of the poison wearing off. He raised himself to full height and spread his wings. Then he roared angrily, and a huge blast of fire erupted from his throat. It lit up the trees and blackened the manticore’s whiskers.

Thomas backed off, his eyes narrowing. “This isn’t fair,” he growled. “I’ve brought down a dragon before. What makes
you
so special? How do you keep getting up?”

Hal wasn’t in the mood to chat. He swung around, putting his back to Thomas, and relished the brief moment when the manticore thought the dragon was turning to run. In that moment, a huge grin started to spread across the manticore’s face, but then Hal’s club-ended tail whacked Thomas so hard across the head that he flew through the air and slumped to the ground.

Breathing hard, Hal stared down at the manticore. It was still. Hal could see its chest rise and fall, and he nodded with satisfaction.
Unconscious is good.

Hal carefully clamped his jaws around the manticore’s long, thick tail, careful not to touch the black stinger that was partially hidden by poison-tipped quills. Then, walking backward, he stamped over to the fog-hole, dragging the manticore along. He wasn’t in the mood to feel sorry for any bumps or scrapes Thomas might endure on the journey to Elsewhere; Hal simply backed into the fog-hole and gave a hard yank every time the manticore got snared on anything.

Once inside the tunnel, Thomas slid easily along the moist, rocky floor. Walking backward in dragon form was not so easy though, so Hal gave up on that idea and began pushing the limp creature instead, hooking his large snout under the manticore’s body and giving it a good hard shove every few steps. This was certainly easier, at least for now. But what would he do when the tunnel got too narrow and he had to turn back into his human body?

He made it back to his lantern marker without incident. Above it, in the steadily thinning fog, the black cloud breathed endlessly a foot above the rock floor.

Then Thomas woke up.

He was dazed at first, but when he became aware of his surroundings he jumped to his feet, staggered, and spun around to face Hal. He looked angry, but frightened too.

“Where are we?” he said in a nasally, high-pitched voice.

Hal didn’t answer. There was no point, since he couldn’t form human words. But an idea came to him. He put on what he thought was his most threatening scowl, hunkered down, spread his legs wide, and let out a bellowing roar.

The manticore backed up and knocked the lantern over, and it went out.

In the sudden darkness, Hal heard a whimper of fear. Seizing the opportunity, he roared once more, only this time belching up a huge burst of flame, long and hot. In the flickering orange glow, Thomas turned to run, and disappeared into the black cloud. Hal shot another long, hot blast of fire into the cloud just for good measure.

He waited a few minutes before changing into his human body and stepping through the hole. The lantern was useless, so he was in utter darkness. If Thomas was waiting for him in the tunnel, there was very little Hal could do about it.

He began to feel his way along the narrow tunnel towards Elsewhere, hoping that Thomas had kept on running.

****

When Hal finally emerged from the cave entrance, a cheer went up. There were his friends, crowding around him, clapping him on the shoulders and ruffling his hair. There was Miss Simone, smiling broadly and nodding. And there were the goblins, standing around looking almost cheerful.

But best of all, there was Thomas, trussed up safely in a net, looking very annoyed.

“Robbie leapt on him,” Lauren said, nudging Robbie’s arm. “Thomas came hurtling out of the tunnel, then stopped when he saw everyone standing here, and turned to go back in. But Robbie was waiting. He had the net spread wide, and he jumped on top of the manticore and wrapped it around him. Then the goblins piled in, and it was all a bit of a struggle, but finally Thomas gave up.”

Hal gave a shudder. If the manticore had been allowed back into the tunnel, sooner or later it would have come across a poor, defenseless boy in a pitch-black tunnel.

“Nice one, Robbie,” he said, nodding. “You saved my bacon.”

Robbie looked pleased with himself. But more than that, he liked the attention Lauren was giving him.

Abigail linked her arm through Hal’s. “Come on, O Brave One. While you were away, a goblin arrived to say that our parents are feeling much better. They’ve set up campfires and things by the lake. Apparently there’s good food to eat.”

Hal’s stomach immediately began growling. “And roasted nuts?” he asked.

Miss Simone nodded. “Always.”

Thomas was taken off to be locked up somewhere. Still trussed up in the net, he hung between two long poles which the goblins carried on their shoulders. Weary but happy, Hal and his friends followed Miss Simone all the way back to the lake, where a ring of small fires warmed the air and cast a comfortable glow over the grassy bank. Hal found his parents bundled up in many layers of blankets, drinking soup from a huge pot and munching on thick, warm bread.

The mood was cheerful. Whatever medicine the goblins had given the virus victims, it seemed to be working. The puffiness had subsided, the burning sensation soothed with some odd-smelling cream, and all were enjoying dinner under a clear, starry, but icy cold sky.

Miss Simone kept on talking even after Hal and his friends had snuggled under blankets by the fire. “And tomorrow we’ll move you into your new homes, introduce you to everyone, and show you around. You children have a lot of important work ahead of you, but you’re also going to enjoy exploring this land.”

Hal’s eyelids were growing heavy. He glanced across at Abigail. She was sound asleep already. So, too, were Lauren, Darcy and Dewey. Robbie was staring at the sky. Only Emily seemed to be paying full attention to Miss Simone.

“In time, my children, you’ll join me and others in our research. The fog on the island makes the air safe, and we’re working to expand on that idea, to figure out a way to clean
all
the air in your old world and restore life. We’ve been unsuccessful so far, but, perhaps in time, we’ll find a way.”

Hal closed his eyes. Right now, all he cared about was sleeping.

“We need young Dewey to meet with the centaurs very soon,” Miss Simone went on. “Emily, the naga folk need to be pacified. And as for the harpies . . . ”

Hal felt himself drifting off, but then a strange feeling of being watched caused him to look around. In the darkness by the lake he found two bright red eyes watching him.

“Fenton,” Hal whispered, already dropping off again.

He dreamed of fog machines and manticores, of goblins and mermaids. At some point his visions turned dark and he saw the faces of his parents swelling up with blisters and rashes. He then found himself being chased by a pack of flying dragons, all laughing at him, jeering as he ran across the fields in desperation. He tried to fly, but no matter how hard he flapped his wings, he simply
could not
take off into the air.

He jolted upright, gasping, looking around in fright. But everything was all right—he was with his friends and family, safe on the grassy bank of the lake, under a glowing moon and clear, starry sky. He relaxed, sinking back into the grass, his eyes already closing.

He woke several hours later as a warmth spread over his face and something shone bright and orange through his eyelids.