Island of Legends

Alex counted the beds. There were forty in all. “More than enough, wouldn’t you say?” he asked as Florence approached.

“Dear me. I certainly hope so.” Florence handed over a stack of papers to Alex. “Here are the battle plans. Simber says at the speed they’re moving, they won’t be here before daybreak.”

“Thanks,” Alex said, looking them over. “I’ll have Clive send out the orders right away.”

Alex returned to his living quarters and summoned Clive, who pushed his face through the blackboard.

“Now what?” Clive asked.

“I have a job for you. It’s urgent.”

“Great.” Clive rolled his eyes.

“If you’re not up to it, I can ask Stuart,” Alex said. Stuart was Samheed’s blackboard. For reasons unknown to Alex, Clive didn’t seem all that fond of Stuart.

Clive frowned. “What’s the job?”

“We’re about to be attacked,” Alex said. “You’re the first to know.”

Clive’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“You’re the head blackboard now. I need you to distribute the orders. I need to be able to count on you. Can you do this? Or do I—”

Clive’s mouth fell open. He nearly drooled before he snapped his mouth shut once more. “Yes,” he said reverently. “Yes, Alex. I most certainly can.” There was no trace of sarcasm in his voice now.

Alex might have smiled had the situation not been so dire. “Good. Don’t mess it up. This is of the utmost importance.”

Clive nodded. “You can count on me.”

“I know I can,” Alex said. “Here goes.” Alex looked at the papers in his hand and dictated the various assignments to Clive so that Clive could send out instructions to each team in Artimé, letting them know where and when to report.

When Alex finished, Clive said in earnest, “Shall I open it with a general announcement? Something that will really get their attention?”

Alex hid a smile. “Oh, by all means. Put your heart and soul into it, Clive.” A moment later he felt the floor shake—a sure sign that Simber and Florence were on the way with an update. “And now I’ve got to go.”

Clive nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. And then he disappeared into the blackboard.

Shortly thereafter, on blackboards everywhere in Artimé, the following words appeared in stunning neon letters:

From Clive, head blackboard and confidant to our noble mage, Alex Stowe: Artimé is under attack! Please read and follow your instructions. And above all . . . DON’T DIE.

A Mass of Tubes

As it turned out, there was only one button in the jungle tube for the High Priest Aaron Stowe to push. When he opened his eyes, he was back in the kitchenette in Artimé’s mansion, his hands free and his heart pounding. He peered out, wondering if it would be smarter to risk his life trying to exit Artimé on foot rather than attempt to push another button.

But the hallway outside the kitchenette was filled with voices, most notably his brother’s and the growling voice of the ridiculously huge flying monster. Aaron thought that exiting the mansion now would mean certain death. He looked at the panel before him, agonizing over which button to push. Finally he decided to start at the beginning of the row. He sucked in a deep breath to steady his nerves, and blew it out as he pressed the first one.

Instantly he was thrust into darkness again, and he feared the worst—that he was back in the horrible jungle with the screaming black creature and the enormous rock with yellow eyes. He nearly slammed his fist on the panel in search of another button, but as he lifted his hand to do so, he noticed that the smell was quite different from the musky scent he remembered. This place smelled like . . . like stale, rotting wood. The heat of this location seeped into the tube and warmed him immediately, and after a moment he put his hand out through the tube’s opening.

Aaron’s fingers found a solid panel. He pushed on it, and with a creak, it swung open. A bit of moonlight trickled in through a window, and soon Aaron realized where he was. He was back in Haluki’s empty house.

“Oh, thank Quill,” he breathed, and he stumbled out of the closet on weak legs and sank to his knees, trembling, in the very spot where Mr. Today had taken his last breath. Aaron sat there for a very long time, feeling faint every time he tried to stand. Finally he crawled out of Haluki’s office, down the hallway, and into a bedroom, where he climbed onto the bed and lay there, trying very hard not to think about what he’d seen and how he’d nearly perished.

When he drifted off to sleep, he experienced rare dreams that were filled with strange, frightening creatures chasing him through a jungle. At every turn, he stumbled and the creatures devoured him. No matter how he tried to shout “Release me!” to them, he couldn’t get the words to come out in time.

Aaron awoke with a start just before daybreak, unsure at first of where he was, and then remembering. He felt a wave of shame wash through him—dreaming was not allowed in Quill, and he’d had quite a night of it. He scowled defiantly as he stared at the ceiling. What did it matter now? He was the high priest. He had no obligation to tell a soul.

After a while he rose and scrounged through the Haluki pantry to see if he could find anything to eat. He made himself a meager breakfast, and it was while he was eating that he finally remembered what had happened before he got caught up in the crazy tubes: The explosion in the sky. The lights pricking the darkness over the sea. And the chaos that followed in Artimé.