Jungledrop

by Abi Elphinstone

  ‘But there won’t be a Jungledrop or a Faraway if we don’t find the Forever Fern,’ Fibber said quietly. ‘You said you were a legendary apothecary, so you must know of something that can help us. Please?’

  Fox slumped down into a chair opposite Fibber. He seemed to be getting very good at being nice. And it was starting to make Fox wonder whether maybe her brother wasn’t just trying to outwit her on this quest, that he actually meant what he was saying. But this would be going against everything their parents had taught them…

  ‘I suppose there is something,’ Doogie said after a while. ‘When I was trying to save Ethel, I realised that the puckleberries should be seedless before being added to the crushed smidgeroot for them to be fully effective. My Ethel was too ill by the time I made the discovery. I – I was too late… But, if consumed early on after an onslaught of dark magic, I think this cure could just be powerful enough to save a life.’

  He hobbled over to a shelf, pulled off a few dusty books, an egg cup full of moss and several silver fir cones, then picked up a small, cork-stoppered bottle filled with purple liquid. Its label read: PUCKLESMIDGE SYRUP: RESTORES HEALTH IF CONSUMED ASAP AFTER EXPOSURE TO DARK MAGIC.

  The flickertug map tingled suddenly in Fox’s hands, as if acknowledging that this was the reason it had led them to the Constant Whinge.

  ‘Pucklesmidge will be your best bet against the Midnights and indeed Morg,’ Doogie said. ‘If anything can save you from dark magic, it’ll be this syrup.’

  Fox reached out a hand to grab the bottle from Doogie, but the apothecary held it back from her and gave it to Fibber instead. ‘Thank you, boy, for awakening something inside me that I had thought was long dead.’

  Fox started. Fibber was even being rewarded with life-saving potions because of his niceness now. She straightened her tie and tried to make herself look as likeable as possible. But the apothecary didn’t thank her or hand over an extra bottle of the life-saving cure.

  Instead, he glanced down at the map in her hands, then fixed his wise old eyes upon her. ‘A flickertug map senses the journey the heart needs to make to reach a destination, not the feet. It will eventually lead you to the Forever Fern, of that I have no doubt, but remember: the things you search for are often much closer than you think.’

  Fox nodded stiffly. She had no idea what the Unmapper was talking about, but there was something in the way he spoke, and in the way that he looked at her, that made the wall around her heart quiver. The apothecary might have entrusted her brother with the cure, but he was telling Fox that she would be the one to find the Forever Fern. And that confidence in her – that blind faith – reached out into the most hidden and precious parts of Fox.

  She smiled shyly, a real smile this time, and when she looked up at Fibber she saw that he was smiling, too, as if – just possibly – the years of loathing that had passed between them didn’t matter quite as much as they’d thought. Fox blushed and looked away. It was a rare thing to find herself exchanging a real smile with a family member and she wasn’t altogether sure what it meant.

  Heckle cooed from her perch on the back of an empty chair. ‘Fox is feeling a little less cross than she was before, Fibber is feeling a little less scared, Doogie Herbalsneeze is feeling a little less sad and Heckle is feeling a little more confident about finding Iggy. Oh, Heckle does so love it when a quest lifts people’s spirits like this.’ She paused. ‘Perhaps a spot of food would cement the positive atmosphere?’

  The apothecary smiled, then reached inside a store cupboard and rustled up two vegetable wraps that the twins – and Heckle – ate quickly. When she’d finished, Fox looked up at the front door and noticed that it was open. Just a crack. And yet she had distinctly remembered Doogie Herbalsneeze closing it after Fibber walked in. Fox watched the door with narrowed eyes. Perhaps it had been pushed open by the breeze?

  But when a fist wrapped itself round the edge of the door – a fist fringed with black, jagged claws – Fox knew that there was no breeze outside the Constant Whinge.

  Everyone saw the monkey’s claw at the same time, but it was Doogie Herbalsneeze who spoke first, his voice an urgent whisper as he spun round and pointed at a cabinet in the corner of the shack. ‘Quick! It’s a secret door out of here! Leave – now – and don’t turn back!’

  The front door continued to creak open.

  ‘But you?’ Fibber whispered, before turning to follow Fox to the cabinet.

  The apothecary reached for several potions and emptied them into a bowl on the table. They began to bubble and hiss. ‘It’s as you said, my boy: all the trying was leading to something else.’

  What happened next happened fast. At the precise moment the door opened fully to reveal the dark silhouette of a monkey, two more monkeys appeared at the window, carefully stepping over the broken glass, and the mixture in the apothecary’s bowl exploded. Thick blue steam immediately filled the shack so that it was impossible to see who was where or what was what. But Fox, Fibber and Heckle blundered on, scrabbling for the handle of the corner cabinet and dragging themselves inside while the shack behind them erupted with noise: chairs toppled, glass smashed, monkeys screeched – a sound so shrill and terrible it was as if Hell itself had opened up.

  The cabinet was roomier than expected inside and Fox crawled further into it, pausing just once when she heard the apothecary cry out in pain.

  ‘Keep going!’ Fibber panted. ‘I don’t want to leave him either, but everything will have been for nothing if we’re captured now!’

  Fox hurried on. What was wrong with her? Worrying about a man she’d only just met! She crawled towards the back of the cabinet, then pushed it open and sunlight flooded in. They found themselves on a jetty leading away from the shack over the river. And tearing away from the far bank was a herd of swiftwings who had been drinking, just moments before, at the water’s edge. Fox whirled round to see blue smoke pouring out of the shack – from the chimney, the window and the door – then there was an explosion of purple, followed by clouds of yellow and red. It looked like Doogie Herbalsneeze was throwing everything he had at the Midnights and, for now, it seemed to be working.

  ‘We need to get out of here!’ Fibber cried.

  Fox could feel the map’s magic stirring in her pocket, where she hastily put the flickertug before hurrying to the secret exit. She brought it out into the open again and looked down to find a new word sparkling in silver on the parchment:

  Shadowfall

  The map seemed to be tugging upwards, not enough to lift Fox off her feet, but very much insisting that that was the way it wanted her to go.

  ‘I – I don’t understand,’ Fox stammered. ‘Shadowfall sounds like a place, but why is the map pulling us up? We can’t fly!’

  There was a thunder of footsteps behind them and Fox tensed. She spun round once more to see the monkeys had found the secret passageway and were now charging out of it. They raced down the jetty, their orange eyes fixed on the twins, their razor-sharp teeth glinting in the sunlight, and behind them crawled the battered apothecary.

  Heckle squawked in terror.

  ‘What do we do?’ Fibber cried.

  But, at the very moment the first of the monkeys should have set its claws and teeth into Fox, there was a swooshing sound. Suddenly the twins were swept from the jetty, hoisted onto the back of something large and brown and very unstable, and whisked up into the sky.

  The monkeys hissed and screeched below, but the twins were out of their grasp now. Fox clung on to a feathered neck while two large brown wings beat either side of her. It was a swiftwing. It had stayed behind to help them while all the rest of its herd had rushed off. And from the way it flew – clumsily and with a great deal of panting – Fox was in no doubt about which swiftwing this was.

  Total Shambles.

  She gulped as she remembered his faulty take-off the day before and yet here he was, risking his life to save them. With the map still urging them onwards, following the river just beneath the
overhanging trees, it was as if the enchanted parchment had known that a swiftwing was the only way the twins would escape from the Constant Whinge alive.

  Heckle settled herself in Fox’s lap and the girl was too preoccupied with what was happening below to nudge the parrot off. The monkeys were dragging Doogie Herbalsneeze away from the shack. Were they taking him to the Bonelands to face Morg, all because he’d tried to protect Fox and Fibber? Or did Morg want Unmappers like Doogie and Iggy for other reasons?

  Fox glanced over her shoulder at Fibber. He was terrified of heights so, without thinking, he had wrapped his arms round his sister’s waist. And, though Fox would never have admitted it, there was something solid and comforting about the way her brother clung to her. But, as the twins locked eyes, Fibber seemed to realise how unnatural and awkward it was for the two of them to be in such close contact. He hastily moved his hands to the swiftwing’s back and curled his legs tighter round its sides.

  Fox made a point of shuddering dramatically to show her brother that she hadn’t liked the clinging on any more than he had. Then, quite unexpectedly, she found herself asking: ‘Do you think Doogie will be all right?’

  ‘If we find the Forever Fern, he might be,’ Fibber replied.

  And Fox wondered then if maybe Fibber was actually hoping to find the fern to save Jungledrop and their own world rather than himself. Back on the Here and There Express, he had said that, like her, he saw the plant as his chance to secure his place as a Petty-Squabble. However, given his odd behaviour since their arrival here, Fox wondered if he might now have other motives. Something had been changing inside her brother for some time and that something had been awakened even more in Jungledrop. Fox looked again at Fibber’s briefcase. What, really, had her brother been pouring his heart and soul into back home? Because the longer this quest went on, the surer Fox felt that it wasn’t being a ruthless businessman that fired him up. It was something else entirely.

  Panting hard, Total Shambles flew on over tumbling waterfalls and remote lagoons, then he ramped up the heavy breathing and, with a triumphant squawk, charged up through the branches that arched over the river. The twins bent down over him to avoid a mouthful of leaves and then they were soaring – or, more accurately, flapping strenuously but still airborne – above the canopy.

  ‘Jungledrop – it’s – it’s huge!’ Fox stammered.

  She had felt small down on the jungle floor, but up here, where the treetops spread out into the distance for as far as the eye could see, Fox felt absolutely tiny. And only now did she realise just how much of the kingdom had been drained of magic. Now and again there were patches of greenery in the canopy, but for the most part the jungle had been sucked of colour and life. Fox spotted a more ordered ring of trees, still alive and standing, some way south of them, and she supposed that must be Timbernook. But, now that the Midnights had broken through the phoenix magic that protected the Unmappers’ homes, who knew how long it would be before Timbernook fell into Morg’s hands, too?

  Fox cast her eyes over the destruction. Somewhere, in all this chaos, she had to find the Forever Fern. She clutched the flickertug map tighter. It was still urging them on, towards wherever Shadowfall was, and Total Shambles seemed to follow its course as if he could sense the magic bound up in the parchment. And Fox knew that, whatever happened, she mustn’t lose this map. Finding the fern without it would be impossible.

  The afternoon sun was low in the sky now, catching the clouds that hung above the canopy and wrapping them in gold. Fox ducked as Total Shambles flew through a low-hanging cloud, ruffled his feathers to shake off the moisture, then carried on flying above the sprawl of trees.

  Fox had never ridden a horse before or, in fact, a bike. Bernard and Gertrude Petty-Squabble had said that activities outside school should be focused solely on formulating plans to make money and there wasn’t, as far as they could see, anything profitable about galloping around on a horse or charging about on a bicycle. Hobbies were a waste of time in their eyes.

  Fox wondered if her parents would have changed their minds if it had been a swiftwing or a unicycle powered by junglespit in question. For, although Fox knew she mustn’t lose sight of the important business implications of this quest, she couldn’t deny that magical methods of transport were just a tiny bit thrilling. They made her want to whoop and giggle, two activities which were, predictably, frowned upon as a Petty-Squabble.

  Fox watched as the sun set beyond the furthest trees, leaving a flame-orange sky in its wake, and she thought of their journey so far. A lot of people had been surprisingly helpful: Tedious Niggle and the Here and There Express had got them to Jungledrop; Iggy had kept them safe from Morg’s Midnights; Goldpaw had given them a satchel full of magical objects; the boglet had helped conjure the Constant Whinge; Doogie Herbalsneeze had given them pucklesmidge syrup; Total Shambles had whisked them to safety in the nick of time; even Heckle had proved useful with the tantrum tree and the omnifruits.

  Fox had always been told that great things were achieved by individuals stamping on and jostling others out of the way, but that had not proved to be the case here in Jungledrop. Perhaps, Fox thought, it would be worth mentioning a few of the Jungledrop inhabitants in her victory speech to the press, which she would deliver from the penthouse suite of the Neverwrinkle Hotel while holding a glass of whatever extremely successful people drank when celebrating (bubbling wine?) and with her proud parents looking on.

  Heckle twitched in her lap. ‘Heckle is a little nervous that we are heading so far north, but hopes we are getting closer to Iggy?’

  At the mention of the north, Fox shifted. Didn’t the Bonelands lie in the north of the kingdom? Surely the flickertug map wasn’t demanding they go there?

  From behind her, Fibber said: ‘Goldpaw told us a Lofty Husk called Spark would be patrolling the ravine that separates the Bonelands from the rest of Jungledrop. So, even if that is where we need to go to find the fern, we’ll be fine as there’ll be a Lofty Husk nearby.’ Fibber paused. ‘Right?’

  ‘Yes,’ Fox replied, though deep down she wasn’t sure. She remembered Goldpaw also saying that there had been another Lofty Husk patrolling the Bonelands beyond the ravine, but that he hadn’t been heard from for a month. Perhaps Morg’s Midnights had seized him… So what was to say that the Lofty Husk patrolling the ravine hadn’t been set upon by the Midnights, too?

  Total Shambles flew on. The sky was darker now, poked with stars, and, in the far distance, there were large birds soaring above the treetops. They were just silhouettes against the moon, but even from their outlines Fox could tell what they were.

  Vultures.

  And everyone knew that vultures usually only hovered over one thing: dead bodies.

  It was too dark to make out much of what lay ahead, but at the sight of the vultures Heckle gave a little squeak. ‘Heckle is now feeling extremely queasy and worried.’

  And it seemed that Total Shambles was suddenly in agreement. The map was still urging them onwards, but the swiftwing was heading down now as if he’d decided that this was as far as he would go.

  Fox shut her eyes and held her breath as Total Shambles plunged towards the canopy of trees, hurtling through a narrow gap in the branches. Fox had been expecting a few glow-in-the-dark plants and magical trees still standing below, just as there had been in other parts of the rainforest, but what she saw instead made her stomach lurch.

  The swiftwing wasn’t dropping down because he wanted to stop; instead, they were careering over a ravine, a plunging drop flanked either side by towering rocks that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles in both directions. There was a rickety bridge crossing the divide. And on the far side of the ravine – no glowing plants or glittering Hustleway – was the dark shape of a forest full of dead trees.

  ‘Fool’s Leap!’ the parrot screamed. ‘Heckle thinks we should change course! Immediately!’

  ‘Turn back!’ Fox yelled at Total Shambles. ‘Turn back!’

  T
he map was desperately tugging Fox’s arm upwards. It had seemed to want to cross over into the Bonelands, but it had also been very insistent about them keeping above the jungle canopy. It was obviously not happy that Total Shambles had decided to approach things another way. And there was something different in how the swiftwing was flying now, too. He seemed out of control and not in the same slightly shambolic way as earlier. He was wobbling from side to side and his wingbeats were slowing down. He screeched as the ground grew closer and then, only by a whisker, he cleared the ravine and crash-landed in the Bonelands.

  The twins tumbled off Total Shambles’ back and glanced around fearfully. They could feel the full weight of dark magic here. Not a single tree crowding round them had managed to cling on to a leaf, orchid or vine as some back on the other side of Fool’s Leap had done. These trees were like old husks – bare-branched, withered and throttled by fungi. And the plants dotted here and there in the undergrowth were horribly creepy: bushes sprouting bulging eyeballs; shrubs shrouded in thick, sticky cobwebs; a cluster of flowers with toenails for petals.

  Fox’s shoulders bunched in fear and she shot a panicked look at Total Shambles. ‘You idiot!’ she hissed. ‘Why did you land down here?! Morg’s Midnights are bound to be close!’

  The swiftwing tried to get up, but his legs buckled beneath him and he rolled onto his side and gasped.

  ‘He’s hurt!’ Fibber cried.

  And when Fox took a closer look she saw that her brother was right. There were claw marks on Total Shambles’ hind leg, three deep gashes oozing blood.

  ‘The monkeys must have lashed out just as we took off,’ Fibber said. ‘All this time Total Shambles has been flying he’s been in pain. No wonder he crash-landed! He couldn’t go any further.’ He looked at his sister. ‘He would have kept going, following the pull of the flickertug map, if he’d been well enough. I’m sure of it!’

  Fox looked down at the parchment in her hand. It flopped uselessly, any spark of magic seemingly gone.