Jungledrop

by Abi Elphinstone

  She breathed more golden dust that fell about the twins, making Fox sneeze, before it vanished completely. ‘That breath will protect you from the sun’s glare and from the sticklebugs’ bites,’ Goldpaw said. ‘The objects inside this satchel will help with everything else.’

  Fox eyed the crumpled leather bag. ‘Why is there only one satchel? There are two of us.’

  ‘As I said before,’ Goldpaw replied, ‘you must work together.’

  Fox threw Fibber a filthy look and snatched up the satchel. She unbuckled it and shook out the contents: a blank piece of parchment, a small mirror and – most disappointing of all – a spoon.

  ‘You’re sending us off into the jungle armed with a SPOON?!’ she cried.

  Beside her, Fibber was looking increasingly worried. ‘What about spears and stuff? And maps?’

  ‘The parchment is a map,’ Goldpaw answered. ‘An indescribably rare one called a flickertug map. It is impossible for Lofty Husks or Unmappers to cross from kingdom to kingdom, but the rulers of Jungledrop, Rumblestar, Crackledawn and Silvercrag can communicate with one another through enchanted mirror rings and I have it on good authority from my peers that this flickertug map is, in fact, the last of its kind in all the Unmapped Kingdoms.’

  Fox picked the map up and then jumped as a strange silver glitter shimmered across the surface of the parchment. But no places or words appeared.

  ‘You have to tell the flickertug map where you want to go,’ Goldpaw said. ‘It would not yield the whereabouts of Morg’s stronghold or the Forever Fern when asked, but that might simply be because the wrong people have been asking…’

  Fox felt an unexpected shiver of excitement fizz through her.

  ‘And the mirror?’ Fibber asked, turning it over in his hands. ‘What’s that for?’

  ‘The jungle is full of tricksters,’ Goldpaw replied. ‘Its magical creatures, animals and plants survive because they are masters of disguise: they can hide in exposed places; they can dissolve before your eyes; they can disappear without trace. But, with a doubleskin mirror, you can compete. Just hold the mirror up to your surroundings and your skin, hair and clothes will adopt the exact colours and patterns of your setting: your ear might resemble a leaf, your nose a twig, your tunic the trunk of a tree. Remember, though, that the doubleskin’s magic only lasts a few minutes and you can only use it once before its powers vanish altogether – so you must make it count.’

  Fox eyed the mirror mistrustfully. ‘I’ll believe it when I see it.’

  ‘And, finally, the fablespoon,’ Goldpaw said. ‘Hold it above a plant and the details of that plant will flash up inside the head of the spoon: its name, its character and whether it is food or poison.’ She paused and looked at Fox. ‘But it only works if you say please. Keep these items safe and—’

  The panther’s ears swivelled back towards the tunnel. She stood up quickly, her fur on end.

  Fibber spun round. ‘What – what’s happening?’

  Footsteps sounded in the tunnel and then out rushed an Unmapper – a man this time, with a leaf-tousled beard, raindrop tattoos on his ears and fear plastered across his face. ‘It’s Iggy,’ he panted. ‘He’s gone!’

  ‘Gone?’ Goldpaw growled. ‘I sent him home and watched him leave for Timbernook.’

  The Unmapper shook his head. ‘He never arrived. His parents are scouring Timbernook as we speak, but –’ he looked down – ‘there are monkey tracks near his house. They don’t look like the tracks the silvermonkeys leave. These ones are bigger, and spiked where claws might be. And they lead north. Towards the Bonelands…’

  Goldpaw paced back and forth by the edge of the lagoon. ‘We always feared that Morg would, eventually, turn her attention to Unmappers, hoping to steal more magic from them than she can from thunderberries and animals. And now it seems that terrible day has come. Oh, poor Iggy! The terror he must be feeling. And it was on my watch. But for Morg’s Midnights to have broken through the phoenix magic into the heart of the jungle –’ she shook her head – ‘that means the harpy’s power is reaching its height. She will be on the move from the Bonelands soon, so it is not weeks we have left before Jungledrop falls but days!’

  For a second, Fox felt a surge of guilt. It was because of her and Fibber that Iggy had been late making his way home. But then she remembered that feeling sorry for people was a sign of weakness and she fought hard to bury her feelings.

  The Unmapper took a step closer to Goldpaw. ‘Deepglint is in the Bonelands, you said; he’ll find Iggy and bring him home. Won’t he?’

  Goldpaw hung her head. ‘There has been no word from Deepglint for a month now.’

  The Unmapper’s face paled.

  ‘But that does not mean that he is lost to us,’ Goldpaw added hastily. ‘Deepglint might have found Morg’s stronghold and be making plans to seize it. It could be too risky to make contact.’

  It was the first time that Fox had detected fear, and unease, in the Lofty Husk’s voice and it made her shuffle a little closer to her brother.

  ‘I’ll send word via the fireflies to Spark in the Elderwood and ask him to patrol Fool’s Leap. We must get Iggy back before Morg’s Midnights cross over that ravine into the Bonelands.’

  Goldpaw turned to the twins. ‘I will stay here and conjure the strongest spells I know to make the boundary safe for the Unmappers again. You should leave immediately. If Morg’s power is nearing its peak, she may be very close to finding the fern. You must find it before she does and plant the pearl so Morg will never be able to harm Jungledrop again. If she swallows that pearl and takes the fern’s immortality for herself, the Faraway will die and so will the Unmapped Kingdoms as we know them. Then Morg will steal all the Unmapped magic and create a new world with the power of the elements on her side.’

  ‘Yes, yes, all very tragic,’ Fox replied. ‘Now, where will I find shoes and a change of clothes for this quest? My blazer is in quite a state.’

  Goldpaw shook her head in disbelief, but it was clear that she didn’t have time to discipline rude children. ‘You will find shoes, clothes and flasks of fresh water in the Bustling Giant.’ She bounded off towards the tunnel with the Unmapper hot on her heels. ‘Now, go!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘There is not a moment to lose!’

  The twins made their way round the lagoon towards the Bustling Giant and, once inside the great hollowed hallway of the tree, which was lit by dozens of raindrop-shaped lanterns, they got changed into the clothes hanging up on the hooks there. Fibber put on a pair of patchwork-leaf shorts and a feather waistcoat. Fox chose a short feather tunic, but kept her tie because it made her feel more strategic and businesslike. (It was a strange look, especially when coupled with the moccasin boots the twins found.) They glanced briefly into a few of the rooms leading off from the hallway which were filled with vast cauldrons, twisting pipes and staircases that wound higher and higher up the tree, then they grabbed two flasks of water and made their way outside again.

  Fox laid the flickertug map down beside the lagoon and knelt before it. The waterfall roared on, the parchment glimmered silver beneath the candletrees and even Fibber, whose gaze had kept wandering to the temple in the middle of the lagoon earlier, watched the map eagerly.

  ‘Where is the Forever Fern?’ Fox whispered to the parchment.

  At first nothing happened. The map simply carried on glistening in the night.

  ‘I knew we shouldn’t have bothered listening to that crackpot panther,’ Fox muttered.

  She wondered whether the time was coming for her to see if the phoenix tear could somehow lead her to the fern. But then the map’s magic flickered into life and silver words curled out onto the parchment:

  Seek the Constant Whinge

  Fibber frowned. ‘Who or what is the Constant Whinge? What kind of map doesn’t even show locations!’

  Fox gave the map a short, sharp jab with her finger in case showing it who was boss prompted more information. But no new words, or indeed places, appeared. It
was only when Fox lifted the map up again that she realised the flickertug’s magic wasn’t finished with them yet.

  ‘Argh!’ she cried as she stumbled forward. ‘The map’s alive! It’s – it’s dragging me along!’

  Fibber shook his head in disbelief. ‘Flickertug,’ he murmured, running a hand over the parchment. ‘Maybe the map will tug us in the right direction!’

  Instinctively, Fibber reached out to grab the map. Years of trying to keep one step ahead of his sister were hard to shake, even though he knew that none of that mattered any more. Fox grabbed back and Fibber took a deep breath. He thought of Goldpaw’s words about working with his sister and reluctantly let Fox yank the map away from him.

  ‘I’ll lead the way,’ she snapped. And, with that, she hefted the satchel onto her shoulder with her spare arm and allowed herself to be pulled towards the waterfall spilling into the lagoon.

  Fibber followed close behind, still clutching his briefcase.

  ‘Do you really want to cart that briefcase through the jungle with you?’ Fox called over her shoulder.

  Fibber glanced at the Doodlers’ temple again and Fox followed his gaze. What was it about the building that intrigued her brother so much?

  ‘The briefcase is coming with me whether you like it or not,’ Fibber panted. ‘I’ve spent too long working on what’s inside to abandon it altogether.’

  Fox didn’t have time to remain curious because the map was pulling her through a gap between the rock face and the thundering water. Then she and Fibber were both running behind the waterfall itself, the sound of it pounding in their ears.

  Fox had expected it to be dark behind the waterfall, but there was a strange glow coming from the shelf of rock above them that the water careered off. Fox squinted. Hundreds of tiny bats were clinging to it. She had seen bats before – black ones with jagged wings and grating screeches that tore out of cathedral ruins – but these ones were bright white, like light bulbs, and they hung silently, watchfully, from the rock above the twins as the flickertug map led them on.

  The sight was so utterly magical that, for the briefest of moments, Fox and Fibber exchanged glances full of wonder. And in that moment, the competition was forgotten because here they were, being led through the light of a thousand luminous bats by an enchanted map, a map that had not even shown the most legendary explorers or the rulers of this kingdom the location of the Forever Fern.

  Fox felt an unexpected thrill at the thought of the map choosing her, and being unique – special, chosen – was enough to make her forget, just for a second, that she was unworthy of being loved.

  The twins scampered out from behind the waterfall into the knotted undergrowth to find a yellow parrot perched on a low-hanging branch in front of them. They knew, at once, that this was Heckle because the bird took one look at Fibber’s briefcase and started muttering about handbags.

  ‘Scoot!’ Fibber hissed at the parrot. ‘This is an important mission.’

  But Heckle stayed exactly where she was, her yellow feathers lit up by the glow-in-the-dark plants beneath.

  Fox glowered at the bird. Seeing her brought back thoughts of Iggy and a prickle of guilt, which she quickly tried to squash. ‘Clear off, Heckle!’ she barked.

  Heckle fixed the twins with beady eyes. ‘The girl and the boy are feeling ever so slightly guilty about my beloved Iggy going missing.’

  ‘Shut it, feather-mouth,’ Fox snarled.

  Heckle squawked indignantly, but the flickertug map, it appeared, didn’t have time for conversations because it hauled Fox on again, past an orange plant with clam-like petals that sprang open as Fox brushed past them, then spat out a cluster of spotted frogs that had been sleeping inside. Fibber hastened after Fox and Heckle followed.

  Fox threw a glance over her shoulder. ‘That parrot is not coming on this quest.’

  Fibber nodded. ‘I’d rather face Morg than spend any more time with that bird.’

  But Heckle – who harboured a wild hope that the twins might find Iggy as well as the Forever Fern – had decided that she very much was going with them.

  The flickertug map led Fox on into the jungle. At first the trees looked exactly like those she had seen in documentaries about rainforests at school: evergreens, banana trees, cathedral figs and giant cedars. The only obvious difference was that they were all linked by the Hustleway high up in the understorey. Fox took in the vast network of turquoise creepers that zigzagged through the trees, connecting them all and providing a path through the knotted jungle. But there were no unicycles zipping back and forth and Fox found it hard to imagine a time when countless Dashers would have been racing along the creepers with satchels full of thunderberries.

  Very soon the trees began to change, growing stranger and wilder with every step the twins took. One had hundreds of leaves that seemed to be blank sheets of paper. Another grew a single sock from its uppermost branch. The next one had small silver buds that Fox realised were silver-foil wrappers, only when the twins opened a few up they saw there were no sweets inside.

  Heckle wheeled above the children. ‘The girl and the boy are puzzled by the trees in the Elderwood, but Heckle is used to such sorry sights. The leaves of the chapterbarks are now blank pages when they used to be filled with unpublishable stories. The left-behinders only grow one forgotten object a year when they used to grow everything from odd socks to house keys and reading glasses. And the gobblequick trees only produce sweets when you beg for several hours. Years ago, you just had to drift past one and it would shower you with toffees.’

  But, now that they were outside the Boundary for Safe Keeping, Fox had noticed something altogether more sinister. Beyond the trees around them vast stretches of rainforest had been flattened, and plants and shrubs looked as if they’d been burned to the ground. Fibber, too, had seen the black undergrowth and the twins exchanged nervous glances. Morg’s dark magic had been in these parts, so what was to say her Midnights weren’t still here, looking for the twins?

  The parrot flapped on above the children. ‘Heckle is missing Iggy dreadfully. It was that little Unmapper, after all, who found Heckle in the Elderwood a few months ago, unconscious after a tussle with Morg’s Midnights. He nursed Heckle back to health.’

  Fibber groaned. ‘I didn’t realise the parrot would share her own thoughts as well as other people’s.’

  Heckle flicked her tail feathers proudly. ‘Since her encounter with the Midnights, Heckle began repeating feelings instead of squawks and now she can relay the thoughts of all sorts of Unmappers, animals, magical creatures and, it would seem –’ she gave the twins a hard look – ‘rude children from the Faraway. The only minds that Heckle cannot read are those of wild beasts or those twisted by dark magic.’

  The parrot swooped down towards Fox. ‘Heckle is tired and emotionally overwrought and is hoping she might be able to perch on the grumpy girl’s shoulder for a bit. It’s the least the girl can do after getting Iggy kidnapped…’

  Fox batted Heckle away. ‘Shoulders are for barging, not perching on. And my name is Fox and that’s Fibber, so you can drop all the stupid chit-chat about grumps and handbags.’

  Heckle flapped back upwards, then said cagily: ‘The tantrum tree ahead is considering which of you to wallop first. And Heckle doesn’t blame it.’

  Fox’s ears pricked up. Tantrum tree. Hadn’t Goldpaw said something about navigating one of those?

  The map led her closer and closer to a tall tree with thick, spiked branches that grew in large, swooping arcs. It was a bit like the monkey puzzle tree that grew in the park near Bickery Towers back home only this tree seemed to be bristling – despite the lack of wind – as if it might be slightly more alive than an ordinary tree.

  Fox gave the first branch a wide berth and then – WHOOOOOMPH! A very spiky one above unfurled and took a swipe at her and, had she not sidestepped in the nick of time, she would have been clobbered over the head.

  Heckle let out a squawk, which, to Fox, sounded susp
iciously like a laugh. ‘The tantrum tree is feeling the need to express itself. It isn’t happy with such impolite behaviour.’

  ‘SHUT UP!’ Fox yelled as the tree thumped its branches down left, right and centre until there was such a maze of prickles surrounding the twins that they couldn’t get away.

  The tree had them trapped and it was only a matter of time before one of its swipes would knock them clean out. Fibber flattened himself to the ground as two branches thumped down either side of him. Then Fox found herself remembering what Goldpaw had said about tantrum trees.

  ‘Fibber!’ she panted. ‘We have to say something to this tree for it to let us past! Something polite, only I can’t remember what!’ She yelped as a branch smashed down just beyond her, spraying soil and leaves everywhere. ‘What do you say when you want to get past someone? MOVE?! BOG OFF?!’

  The tree didn’t move or bog off. It simply ramped up the walloping.

  And it was only when Fibber staggered up and screamed: ‘Excuse me!’ that the branches of the tantrum tree stalled for a second.

  Fox cottoned on straight away. ‘Excuse me! Excuse me! EXCUSE ME!’ she roared.

  The words felt strange in her mouth, as if they didn’t quite fit, but she and Fibber kept yelling them over and over again because the tantrum tree was now winding in its branches, like a retreating tide, until it stood quietly as if it hadn’t, seconds before, very nearly knocked them out.

  The twins edged away and Fox gasped as the tree lowered a branch one last time. But it didn’t try to wallop either of them. It simply patted Fibber on the back, then tucked itself back into place again.

  Fox lingered for a second below this branch, in case it decided to stoop down and pat her, too, but it remained where it was. After all, it had been Fibber who had remembered the words excuse me. Not her. For a second, Fox felt a familiar jealousy burn inside her, but then she consoled herself with the realisation that leading businesswomen probably didn’t hang around waiting for hugs. They probably just carried on stamping their way to the top.