The Hungry Isle

by Emily Rodda

  She had seen this sight before—or, rather, she had seen its image, embroidered on a silk wall hanging in a dim little shop on Two Moons. Then, she had not recognised it. She had not known why the image filled her with such passionate longing.

  Now she understood. It had been the wraiths’ yearning she had felt. And slowly, as she stared at what was ahead, the certainty grew in her that this was where her quest had always been fated to end.

  An emerald island, wreathed in haze and ringed with black. Great seabirds wheeling silently above the haze. Ghostly shadows coiling like smoke from the lush forest, wavering on the glittering shore ...

  Tier—the Hungry Isle.

  6 - The Glittering Shore

  Britta felt the boat give a little jolt as the turtles began to swim more strongly, eager to reach their goal. She felt the goozli twitching in her pocket. She felt the excitement of the wraiths that seethed around her. Father has sent for me, she thought. And before she could guard against it, a stab of wild, foolish joy pierced her heart.

  Sickened by her own weakness, she sat rigidly as the joy soured and cold dread crept back into the place where it had been. Dare Larsett had waded through blood to become the King of Tier. Now, it seemed, it pleased him to have his daughter’s company, whether she wanted to join him or not. As for her companions ...

  Slowly she turned back to face Sky and Hara. They were no longer looking at the island, but at her. So were Mab, Kay and Jewel, who had been woken, perhaps, by the jerking of the boat.

  She knew at once that they could all now see the wraiths surrounding her—knew it by their absolute stillness, by the horror in their eyes. Jewel’s teeth were bared in revulsion. Sky’s hand had closed around one of his braids, in the place where the charm that was supposed to ward off evil hung.

  Britta’s eyes burned. The wraiths pressed closer, moaning her name. Her living flesh shrank from their ghostly touch and she felt hot and cold by turns, as if she had a fever.

  She forced her dry lips open. ‘I am sorry,’ she heard herself saying huskily. ‘I—did not know.’

  ‘Not ... your fault,’ Mab said faintly. ‘My fault— mine!’ She plucked feverishly at the buttons of the tight jacket she had donned for Wrack’s funeral.

  ‘Be still, Mab.’ Kay seized the restless, quivering fingers and clasped them firmly. ‘Be still, my dear.’

  ‘More are coming,’ Sky said softly. ‘From the shore—over the water—do you see?’ For once, his face was totally unguarded, and Britta could see that there was fascination in his eyes as well as fear. It came to her that many other people must have felt like Sky as they approached the Isle of Tier in ancient days. Their moaning shades flitted about her now.

  A hideous vision of the future rose before her, and in that instant the clouds that filmed her mind parted and she saw clearly what she had to do.

  She lurched sideways, intent on throwing herself into the sea. Hara’s bellow echoed in her ears. Sky sprang forward and seized her around the waist, pulling her back to safety. Vashti woke, screaming.

  ‘Let me go!’ Britta cried, struggling frantically, cursing herself for being so stupid, so slow to realise what had to be done. ‘Without me you will have a chance to get away!’

  In desperation she bit Sky’s hand. He yelled in shock and, feeling his grip loosen, she tore herself free and scrambled for the side again.

  ‘Hold her, Sky, curse you!’ Hara roared.

  ‘Do not listen to him!’ Britta screamed, as Sky lunged for her and again dragged her back, this time sprawling with her into the bottom of the pitching boat. ‘Sky, for pity’s sake! You have read enough to know what will happen if you are trapped on the island! The Staff will enslave you! You will become a wraith yourself! You and Jewel and—’

  ‘I have read enough to know that letting you jump overboard will solve nothing!’ Sky panted, holding her down. ‘We are inside the reef, Britta! It is too late for us to get away now—with you or without you. The Hungry Isle will have us if we try. It will destroy the boat and eat us alive. We must take our chances on the shore—we have no choice!’

  And when Britta heard that, all the strength seemed to drain from her body. She stopped fighting and lay still, in blank despair.

  Wraiths streamed from the beach and swarmed over the boat, more every moment. Vashti shrieked, Jewel and Hara cursed, Mab groaned. But Sky made no sound, though pale, chill shadows brushed him jealously, trying to reach the girl pinned beneath him.

  Britta felt the boat nudge the sand of the shore and come to rest. She felt Sky release his hold on her and sit up. She felt the bumps as people scrambled out into the shallow waves. She felt the boat being dragged out of the water, high onto the beach.

  She felt it all, but she did not move—did not even raise her head. A rich perfume, headier by far than the scent she had noticed in the Two Moons swampland, was mingling with the smell of the warm seawater sloshing at the bottom of the boat. Her skin was prickling. Her ears were filled with adoring whispers.

  Britta, the wraiths were whispering. Larsett’s daughter. You are home now, with us. With us ...

  Britta heard, and shuddered. Words from Mysteries of the Silver Sea floated across the surface of her mind.

  ... the Staff bonds to the name and the flesh of its Master ... the wraiths it has enslaved will worship that flesh and that name as they worship the Staff itself ...

  My father’s blood runs in my veins, Britta thought. The wraiths sense it—that is why they want to be near me. For them, I am a link to the Staff that is everything to them. Poor, lost spirits ...

  How many times, in the safety of her bedroom in Del, had she shivered as she read in A Trader’s Life of the unsuspecting travellers who had been lured to the Hungry Isle in its earliest days? So often that she knew the words by heart:

  They came meaning only to spend an hour, but they never left. Becoming enraptured by the magic Staff, they stayed to worship it and fawn on its Master, while the island gorged first on their longboats, and then on their rotting ships.

  By the Staff’s power these poor wretches lived long in their bondage. But even when their hearts failed at last they remained as wraiths floating in the dim, perfumed air ...

  The wraiths moaned, pressing closer. Britta felt their touch, like moths’ wings brushing her skin, and recognised it. She had felt those caresses so often in the past weeks! Whenever she had been sad or angry, worried or afraid, the wraiths had drawn close to her and helplessly tried to comfort her. But then she had not known their touch for what it was, because she had seen them only as flickering shadows.

  Now, on the island where their human lives had drained away so long ago, she could see their thin faces in the grey mist that swirled about her. She could see their slim, twining bodies. She could see their fluttering hands, whispering mouths and lost, hollow eyes. And she could feel that here they were stronger. Here they could act, where away from the island they could only watch and wait. Hope flared within her.

  ‘Can you help us?’ she cried. ‘Can you help us to get away from here?’

  But the wraiths merely quivered in bewildered agitation and she saw in dismay that for them her question had no meaning. Their slavery to the Staff of Tier was complete. Their only happiness was to be near it, and to serve its Master. They could not imagine anyone feeling differently.

  And there was something else. Britta realised it with desperate pity as the shades closed in around her again, softly chanting her name and her father’s. In their pale half-life, the wraiths still faintly remembered what they had been. Once they had been flesh. Once they had had families and friends. Once they had loved.

  For them there could be no hesitations, no doubts. Britta was Larsett’s daughter—so of course she must want to be near him, just as he wanted to be near her. Nothing else was possible.

  Britta caught her breath as another small flame of hope flickered to life within her. There might be little chance of escape for her, but surely there was a chance
for the others. Her father had once loved her. If there was still a spark of feeling in the monster he had become ...

  Slowly she sat up. High on the curving black shore, before a background of lush forest, Jewel and Sky were bending over Vashti, who was crouched on the sand with her head in her hands. Followed anxiously by Kay, Captain Hara was striding towards them with Mab cradled in his arms, threading his way through the huge, gleaming shells of basking turtles.

  In many ways the scene looked very ordinary— like a picture in a story about a group of castaways. But of course, Britta thought grimly as she crawled to the side of the boat, I am seeing only half the picture. And she imagined what her companions on the shore were seeing—a dishevelled girl in a flaring red skirt, surrounded by a throng of fawning ghosts. No wonder Sky and Jewel had fled from her as soon as they were able.

  She quelled the wave of misery that threatened to engulf her. She had always been haunted by her past. The wraiths were just the visible sign of it. And now it suited her to be left alone with them. They would take her to her father.

  The moment she set foot on the glittering sand, however, the wraiths’ mood abruptly changed. They began writhing feverishly, hissing something new. Britta strained to make out the words.

  We are summoned, Larsett’s daughter. We must go to the cavern of the Staff. You must follow ...follow ...

  For an instant they eddied around Britta like a whirlwind, nearly knocking her off her feet. Then they were gone, leaving her dizzy and blinking, swaying where she stood.

  There were shouts, but they seemed very far away. Then she heard sand squeaking beneath a fast, heavy tread and felt a warm human hand gripping her arm, steadying her.

  ‘So your admirers have left you, little nodnap,’ she heard Jewel say. ‘Where have they gone?’

  ‘To—to their Master,’ Britta faltered. She could not bring herself to say, ‘to my father’—she simply could not. Looking up, she was astounded to see that Jewel was grinning.

  ‘So we thought,’ Jewel said. ‘Well, we will follow their example. Mab —’

  ‘No!’ Britta cried. ‘I—I mean, I must follow them, but you—’

  ‘Do not be ridiculous,’ Jewel broke in, beginning to hurry her towards the others. ‘Why should you face Larsett alone simply because his foul servants swarmed over you in the boat? It was just your bad luck that you were sitting in the prow, so were the first living creature they saw.’

  Britta’s stomach turned over. Jewel thought that all the wraiths had come directly from the island— did not realise that some of them had been in the boat already.

  Of course! The wraiths in the prow had only become visible when the island did, and more had rushed over the water just moments later. To Jewel, and to the others in the boat, it must have looked as if all the wraiths were part of the same invasion.

  ‘And you tried to lead them overboard to save us—then held them in the boat while Hara and Kay got Mab safely away!’ Jewel was exclaiming. ‘By the stars, Britta, I hope I would have had the same courage.’

  Britta cringed. ‘Jewel—’ she began, but the words she might have said stuck in her throat.

  ‘I am only sorry that I had to abandon you when we landed,’ Jewel rattled on. ‘Vashti bolted from the boat so wildly that it was all Sky and I could do to catch her.’

  She lifted her hand to Sky, who had moved with the others to stand by a dim gap between the forest trees. ‘A path leads into the forest just there, do you see? It could well be the way we must take.’

  Britta stumbled along in silence, not knowing what to do or say.

  ‘Cheer up, little nodnap!’ Jewel said, glancing at her. ‘We are in a tight place, certainly, but there is still a chance. Have you forgotten? Mab and Dare Larsett share a past. He was just a ragged boy when Mab helped him escape Del before the Shadowlands invasion. She helped him to become a successful trader—taught him everything she knew. He owes her a great deal. If she pleads for us he may agree to let us go, for her sake.’

  Britta nodded dully. In her turmoil, she had actually forgotten that her father and Trader Mab had a history that stretched back to a time long before she was born. She wet her lips. ‘But surely Mab is too weak to—’

  ‘She seems a little better now she is on land,’ Jewel said. ‘She will have strength enough to plead our case, I think. She seems certain of it, at least, and she is impatient to make a start. So hurry on, Britta! We have to stay together—for our own safety, if for nothing else.’

  She glanced at Britta again, noted her grave expression, and grimaced. ‘Indeed! There can be no real safety here! But when danger threatens, what else can one do but whistle in the dark? And whether Mab succeeds or fails, at least when the thing is done the suspense will be over. At least we will know.’

  You will know more than you imagine, Jewel, Britta thought, her heart twisting in her chest. But still she said nothing, and soon it was too late to speak. They were reaching the gap in the trees, and her skin had begun to tingle. She could see the path winding away ahead of her and was seized with such a great longing to follow it that it was all she could do not to break into a run.

  She moved into the green dimness, barely aware of Hara striding ahead of her with Mab in his arms, or of Jewel, Sky, Kay and Vashti following behind. The silent call was very strong. She could feel it in every fibre of her being. And she obeyed it without thought and almost without fear, though she knew in her bones that it was not her father who was summoning her, but the magic Staff of Tier.

  7 - The Cavern

  Haze drifted in the treetops above them, masking the sky. Orchids with petals like flabby, speckled flesh hung heavily from knotted boughs, their powerful scent reminding Britta of the smell of over-ripe fruit. Ferns grew tall and rank between vast, twisted roots, and thick tongues of purple fungus poked from the rotting stumps of fallen trees. There was no sound but the sullen gurgle of slowly running water.

  ‘It should be beautiful, but it is not,’ Jewel muttered to Sky. ‘There is—a wrongness in it.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Sky answered bleakly. ‘According to the old tales, it was a paradise when Tier created it, and was still beautiful in the time of Bar-Enoch. The magic has soured since then, it seems. Perhaps Dare Larsett’s mastery of the Staff is not as perfect as it might be.’

  ‘I would keep such thoughts to myself, if I were you,’ Jewel breathed. ‘My thumbs are pricking. There is menace here—just waiting its time.’

  Britta heard their voices, but the words had no more meaning for her than the gurgling of the stream. The cavern of the Staff was very near—she could feel it. Her heart was thudding painfully. Her whole body was tingling. Soon ... soon ...

  The path curved around a vast tree so infested with orchids hanging layer upon layer from its boughs that its trunk was invisible. And there, straight ahead, was a wall of dull black rock. In the wall a great mouth gaped, fringed with rusty moss and filled with a swirling mass of tiny silver stars. A whispering sound drifted through the glittering veil, as if the cavern itself were breathing.

  Hara stopped dead. Mab murmured to him and he set her down. She turned to Britta.

  ‘I would like you to help me on from here, Britta, if you are willing,’ she said, her voice surprisingly strong. ‘The island’s wraiths have made a bond with you, and their goodwill may be of value. Hara and the others can stay here and wait.’

  No one said a word. Britta caught a single glimpse of Jewel’s frozen face, of Sky’s crooked grin, of Vashti’s dull stare and Kay’s worried frown. Then Mab’s hand had fastened on her arm, and they were walking together, with painful slowness, towards the cavern.

  ‘Mab,’ Britta made herself say as the old trader stopped to gasp for breath, ‘there is no need for you—’

  ‘There is every need!’ Mab snapped. ‘Thanks to that scoundrel Crow, things have not happened as I planned, but I have spent two long years waiting for this moment and I cannot turn back now.’

  Britta gaped at her
, dumbfounded.

  Mab scowled. ‘Have you not guessed it yet, girl? Have you not guessed why we gave our usual crew leave and hired less able and intelligent hands for this voyage? Or why our last port was Illica, where the trading is chancy at the best of times?’

  When Britta still stared, she shrugged in disgust. ‘Well, you would have found me out in a minute or two in any case, so we might as well get it over now. The fact is, Tier has been my goal from the beginning. Its last reported sighting was south-east of Illica, and Hara was secretly steering the ship towards it when Crow made his move. I needed to come here, Britta. I have something to ask of your father.’

  Britta’s throat closed. Her face and neck were suddenly burning hot.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Mab said dryly. ‘I know who you are. I have been hearing news of you for a long time— Captain Gripp has no secrets from me. I promised him silence, and I kept my word. Your visits made the old man happy, and what did I care what you did? But then—then I found a use for you. So I told Gripp to sponsor you for the Rosalyn contest.’

  ‘You! But—’

  Mab’s mouth twisted into a grim smile. ‘The contest was the best excuse I could think of to take an unknown girl like you on a voyage without raising suspicion at the Traders’ Hall. And I needed you as protection—and bait.’

  Bait. Britta’s mind was spinning. She could not speak.

  ‘We knew roughly where to find the Hungry Isle,’ Mab went on harshly. ‘Our problem was how to make the island show itself, and stop it attacking the Star. You were the answer to that. Your father doted on you. I was sure that he would not be able to resist seeing you if you were near. And so it has proved.’

  The scalding sense of betrayal was almost more than Britta could bear. ‘Captain Gripp knew—?’

  The old woman snorted. ‘Gripp knew only what I told him—that I wanted to do you a good turn in secret, help you towards a life as a trader if I could. As it was, I had to delay announcing the contest till you were old enough for Gripp to feel happy about sponsoring you—delay, I might say, that I could ill afford.’