by Tony Abbott
“Neal, hush,” said Julie. She, too, removed her mask and stood with Keeah.
“There are three and a half of us now,” said Hob, scampering behind the children.
“Then, Ninns — do that!” shouted the beast leader. “Capture them! Capture all of them!”
“No, you don’t!” cried Julie. “Everyone to the star dune!”
“Except you bad guys,” said Neal. “Not you. But us. The good guys —”
“Neal, hush!” cried Keeah as the children burst from the tavern and charged up the great star-shaped dune, with thirty-five angry Ninns on their tail!
“I saw the Sand Children run here,” said Julie, leading the way up the tall dune. She reached the top just in time to see a flash of red and silver disappear into the sand.
“What?” said Keeah. “Where did they —”
“There,” said Julie, pointing.
At the very tip, where the crests of five individual dunes met, was a narrow opening in the sand. It was perfectly round and was bordered by a band of silver.
“The entrance,” she said.
“But the entrance to what?” asked Neal.
“To safety,” said Hob, looking nervously behind him. “Unless you want the Ninns to get you! Bludge is coming, he is yelling, and Hob saves himself!”
The imp shoved past the others and dropped right into the opening.
“Capture them!” yelled Bludge, who was already halfway up the dune.
“I miss Hob,” said Neal. “Me next!” He, too, disappeared through the opening.
Julie and Keeah looked at each other, then quickly followed Neal and Hob. A moment later, they found themselves at the top of a wooden staircase that teetered and wobbled crazily from just under the surface to the distant ground below.
“It’s hollow!” said Keeah. “The entire dune is hollow!”
“And Bludge wants to see it, too!” said Neal as the former Ninn leader jumped into the entrance hole above them. Luckily, he was too large to fit and got stuck.
“Arrgh!” he yelled. “Ninns, get me free!”
“Quickly, down the stairs,” said Hob.
As the friends clambered down, they couldn’t help noticing that the rickety steps were made of planks of weathered wood.
“The Sand Children must have built the stairs from pieces of the tavern,” said Keeah.
Although hundreds of feet from ceiling to floor, the space under the dune was large and open like a cavern. An intricate pattern of planks crisscrossed the ceiling to keep the sand in place. Odd structures dotted the space below all the way into the shadowy distance. The kids guessed that they were houses. They were made of more wooden slats tied together with cloths and rope. They ranged along streets of red sand, lit by flames reflected in mirrors and plates and goblets, giving the whole sandy cavern a silvery glow.
Among the houses were Ninn war belts fashioned into hammocks, ancient armor hammered and flattened into bridges, and here and there wagon wheels made into merry-go-rounds.
Lamps fashioned of dented glunk pots hung from posts and lit the way down sandy paths that curved off into the darkness.
“This is kind of amazing,” said Neal when they reached the bottom of the stairs.
“And kind of beautiful,” said Keeah.
“And very legendary!” said Hob.
“Indeed it is!” said a high, strange voice.
The four friends turned and saw a short, stout woman dressed in red and silver robes. A crown of silver cloth circled her brow, under which long silver hair cascaded nearly to her waist.
“Greetings and welcome to Koomba,” the little woman said. “I am Mashta, Empress of the Sand Children.”
“I am Princess Keeah,” said Keeah.
The two rulers bowed to each other.
“We are ghostly little folk,” said Mashta, waving her arms at the surrounding streets, “who arise just before dawn from the red dunes on the fringes of the Dark Lands. Children, come and greet our visitors!”
The streets came alive with little shapes.
The Sand Children were no larger than a foot tall and were dressed in silver tunics and slippers. Their faces were eager and childlike as they huddled around their empress, who stood taller than they by only an inch or two.
The little folks’ arms were still full of the treasures they’d stolen at the tavern. Freed from its chains, the black-furred nightfox scampered along with them.
“Is this the empire of Koomba?” asked Julie.
“Yes … and no,” said Mashta, flinging her robes behind her to reveal a short staff hanging at her waist. “All that remains of the original Koomba are the pathways and roads, shells of buildings, and passages into the dark. But when the beasts drove us underground, we decided to create our own empire in the underdune, using what we find and borrow and … take. This is our Koomba now.”
“The underdune,” said Keeah. “A beautiful word —”
“Arr-arr-arrgh!”
Pop!
Bludge was finally yanked up and out of the entrance hole above them. The Sand Children giggled brightly.
“Ho-ho-ho!” said Mashta, her whole body shaking. “We are sometimes sad, but not for long. We have too much beauty and wonder around us! The underdune is our living museum of trinkets and treasures.”
Julie glanced at Neal and Keeah. Did the Sand Children have a drop of fazool among their treasures?
The empress motioned the friends into a small house. A pedestal lit by candles stood at the center of a simple room. On the pedestal sat a small tasseled pillow.
“What’s this?” asked Neal. “A sleeping lumpy?”
Mashta laughed. “No. Look closely and you will see the only known claw of a young wingwolf.”
“A wingwolf?” Julie rubbed her hand again and fixed her eyes on a small object as white as a bone and as sharp as a blade.
“Now, that is legendary!” said Hob, his face aglow in the candlelight.
“Exactly,” said Mashta. “Young wingwolves shed their claws like we lose baby teeth. The legend is that at birth, wingwolves are able to fly and change shape, but they also have a third power.”
“What power?” asked Julie.
“Alas, once young wingwolves lose their claws, they are said to forget what their third power is,” the empress said.
“And so legends are born,” said Hob.
Julie remembered the exact moment she was first scratched by the flying wolf. At first it stung; then she had felt a tingling sensation up her arms and neck and the unmistakable feeling of being special.
She loved to fly. And changing shape was amazingly useful. And yet, she always felt she could do more.
Could she have a third power?
“But something tells me you are here for another reason,” Empress Mashta said.
Keeah drew in a breath. “We’re looking for a poison that has cursed our friend,” she said.
“A cursed poison?” said Mashta. “You mean the dreaded … fazool.”
As soon as the empress mentioned the word, the Sand Children whispered among themselves and drew closer to her.
“They fear fazool,” she said. “But mostly the hideous monster that protects it.”
“Monster?” asked Neal. “Nobody mentioned a monster.”
“A terrifying creature,” said the empress. “We never should have taken the silver vial from the tavern, but, alas, it was so shiny. And cool to the touch. Little did we know what poison burned within. Soon the vial vanished, and just as soon an unspeakable monster began to haunt the dark passages beyond our little underground village. We have never ventured into the Forbidden Passages.”
Keeah looked toward the shadowy corners of the cavern. “Monster or not, if the fazool still exists, we have to find it. Time is running out for our friend. And for Droon.”
“You must love your friend a great deal to risk such danger,” said Mashta. “We cannot lead you into the Forbidden Passages, but if you must go, you may take the machine —
”
“Machine?” said Neal. “What kind of machine?”
“Better to see it than to hear about it. Follow me.”
Mashta led the four friends down one path after another until they came to a large shape covered by a red cloth. Tugging the cloth, the empress revealed what looked like an elephant with a blue hide, enormous twin trunks, and great batwing-shaped ears. It was made of iron plates and rivets and pistons and rods.
“A tuskadon?” said Keeah.
“An iron tuskadon,” said Mashta. “It was here when the Sand Children and I arrived. None of us knows how it came to be here.”
The tuskadon’s front left foot was frozen in the air, raised high as if ready to take a step.
“Holy cow, this is so cool!” said Neal, running his hands over the iron plates that formed the machine’s hide.
All at once, there came a howl. The nightfox yelped excitedly when it saw the machine. The little animal leaped so high, it landed on the machine’s giant head, right next to the control cabin.
“Hob thinks we have a passenger,” said Hob.
The nightfox pawed one of the machine’s ears — pop! — a hatch opened, and the creature slid inside. The next moment — Foom! Thunk! Plooof! — steam rose from the machine’s giant trunk.
“I think we have a driver!” said Keeah.
The kids climbed up the riveted hide of the tuskadon and squeezed themselves through the hatch into the cabin. As the motors churned and chugged, the tuskadon coughed and sneezed alarmingly, as it if would explode from the pressure.
“Open the snouts —” said Neal.
“You mean the trunks?” said Julie.
“Whatever!”
Seeing a big lever, Hob took it and pushed forward with all his might. A blast of steam burst from the tuskadon’s massive trunks, blowing sand everywhere, and the giant machine took a step — phoom! The ground shook beneath it. It took another step — phoom! And another and another.
The creature was walking!
“Into the Forbidden Passages!” said Hob.
“To find the elixir!” added Keeah.
No sooner had the kids entered the Forbidden Passages than fierce winds roared about, pelting the tuskadon’s iron hide with sand as hard as frozen rain.
“Nasty weather in here,” said Neal.
“I wonder if the passages lead somewhere,” said Julie. “Maybe out to the surface again?”
Gears groaned and spun and clacked. The tuskadon thundered down the paths as fast as its iron legs could take it.
“I hope it knows where to go,” said Keeah.
In fact, the machine seemed to want to go off the paths. The great iron tuskadon lurched constantly to the left, and sparks flew like fireworks as it scraped the sides of the tunnel.
The nightfox growled once — “Rrrr!” — then swatted a paw across the control panel. The machine righted itself, turned, and powered directly off into a side tunnel.
“Hmm,” said Hob. “Almost as if that was no accident —”
“Everyone,” said Keeah, “look up here.”
Julie’s heart hammered in her chest when she saw the crude drawings of birds scratched across the ceiling of the cabin. She recalled her earlier image of little Sparr drawing pictures of birds. And here they were!
“I think Sparr made those pictures!” she said.
The nightfox grumbled softly and hopped up next to Julie, looking out the porthole.
“Are you serious?” said Neal. “Sparr?”
“When he was young,” said Julie. “Don’t ask me how I know, but I think … this machine was a sort of toy for him —”
“Hob, slow down,” said Keeah. “There’s something blocking the passage.”
The tunnel ahead had caved in. Giant chunks of rock and dense mounds of sand were piled from floor to ceiling and wall to wall across the passage.
“Hob, please stop,” said Keeah.
“Hob can’t stop!” cried the imp. He yanked back on the lever, but the tuskadon kept pressing forward. It slammed into one block and pushed it aside. It struck another. “It wants to keep going! It’s out of control!”
The machine struck the tumbled stone and kept stepping forward like a toy with batteries that hits a wall over and over. The gears ground, the mechanical legs squealed, and the steam built up until the iron animal shook and quaked.
“It’s going to explode!” cried Hob. “Everyone out!”
The four friends and the nightfox jumped from the tuskadon just as its trunks blasted an enormous cloud of steam. The sand in the tunnel blew up into a storm that showered over the kids.
When the dust finally cleared, the tuskadon stood tilted and motionless. It had wedged itself firmly into the tunnel.
“Terrific,” said Neal. “Stuck in the Forbidden Passages with no ride.”
Coughing and gasping for air, Hob said, “That toy … is not a toy!”
“Look,” said Keeah.
The explosion had dislodged one of the giant blocks obstructing the passage, creating a slender gap in the rubble.
Julie peered into the gap. She saw a glimmer of light in the far distance.
“What can you see —” said Neal.
“Shhh,” she said, holding her hand up.
Everyone fell quiet. Closing her eyes and concentrating, Julie heard the sound of something hissing from somewhere beyond the collapsed wall.
“Uh-oh.” Julie backed away.
The hissing grew louder.
“Is that what Hob thinks it is?” asked Hob.
Neal gulped. “If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking, then I think so!”
A tentacle, green and thin and dappled with shiny scales, slithered out through the collapsed stone and felt around in the light. A row of tiny teeth clacked on the end of the tentacle.
Hob jumped. “The legendary monster!”
“Maybe I should blast it right now,” said Keeah, her fingers already beginning to spark.
A second tentacle emerged from the hole, enlarging it, and Julie could see more of the glimmering light beyond it.
“I have an idea,” she said. “If we draw the monster out here, one of us can sneak through the hole to the other side. That’s probably where the fazool is.”
“Draw it out here? Where we are?” said Neal. “Uh-huh, and what’s Plan B?”
“Julie’s right,” said Keeah as a third tentacle pushed its way past the others, enlarging the hole even further. “Maybe we can keep it busy long enough for someone to find the fazool.”
Soon a fourth, fifth, and sixth tentacle emerged from the hole, pulling through a body as long as a squid but covered with scales. The fangs at the tip of each tentacle chomped constantly.
Julie could think of nothing but the light beyond the cave-in. “I’ll go,” she said. “I want to. I have to.”
Her friends looked at her.
“All right, then,” said Keeah. “We’ll cover you. Neal?”
“I’m on it.” He tugged his turban low on his brow, twisted his fingers, and — plink! — he suddenly wielded a gnarly club in his hands.
“Rooo!” went the nightfox.
“I know. I look good, don’t I?” said Neal.
“Wish me luck,” said Julie.
“We’ll need some, too,” said Keeah.
Julie went deep into herself to a place of calm and quiet. The outside world seemed to fade away, and all that remained were her own thoughts.
So.
I’ve got to get past the monster.
Then what?
We’ll see.
Two tentacles flipped wildly, snapping at Keeah. She blasted them, and Neal jumped forward, swinging his club.
“Now!” cried Hob. “Julie, go —”
Julie ducked, dodged to the side, and ran forward, leaping through the hole and out the other side.
Just as she had seen when she had peered in, the path inside was gold. Not gold from light or reflected sand, but genuine gold, beaten to a flat s
urface.
Turning, she saw Neal and Keeah fighting the monster, while Hob and the nightfox huddled behind the stalled tuskadon.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
Then she ran toward the glittering path ahead.
Soon the noises of battle faded completely, and all Julie could hear were her own soft footsteps tapping along the golden path.
“This is so beautiful,” she said to herself. “And so strange. Is this a street of ancient Koomba? Is that where I am?”
All at once, the street turned, and the passage’s low ceiling gave way to a high, ornate vault, also made of shimmering gold.
On either side of her stood the remains of once-great buildings toppled upon themselves. Huge blocks of silvery stone, fallen towers etched in brass, and the remains of turreted walls surrounded her. Great hanging lamps of gold and crystal and the shreds of banners torn and ragged all swung in sudden breezes, and the air sang with the plinking of tiny bells.
“Koomba does exist,” Julie said to herself. “And I’ve found it!”
Rubbing her hand, she realized that the wingwolf scratch was becoming inflamed.
A warm desert breeze touched her cheek.
Looking beyond the buildings and into the distance, she saw what could only be the brightening light of day.
“The passages lead out,” she whispered.
As she approached the light, however, she glimpsed a curving passage of fallen blocks to her left. It was barely lit by its own light, but seemed to her as bright as a beacon.
“That way then,” she whispered.
Drawn by the light, Julie rushed forward, trusting her instincts.
Her instincts let her down.
She tripped twice over uprooted paving stones, bumped her shoulders on tilted lampposts, banged her knees over and over on stone blocks, and barely escaped knocking herself out.
Then she stopped. A smoky purple cloud seemed to float up from nothing and fill the passage.
“What? Oh, not now, please,” she said. “Not the past —”
But the cloud would not stop. It grew and grew like smoke from a bottle, and there was Galen, standing near her, his face just as it had been before, worried and afraid.
