The Island of Wolves

by Elizabeth Avery

  Nina’s Expedition

  -to-

  The Island of Wolves

  by

  Elizabeth Avery

  Copyright © 2018 by Elizabeth Avery

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.

  First Edition: 2018

  To a close friend who won’t get to see this one. I hope you would have enjoyed it.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: The Museum

  Chapter 2: The Home for Lost Children

  Chapter 3: The Bodyguard

  Chapter 4: The Departure

  Chapter 5: The Monster in the Deep

  Chapter 6: The Island

  Chapter 7: The Wreckage

  Chapter 8: The Interrogation

  Chapter 9: The Crystal Caves

  Chapter 10: The Hot Spring

  Chapter 11: The Brig

  Chapter 12: The Ring of Horns

  Chapter 13: The Other Side of the Story

  Chapter 14: The Jungle

  Chapter 15: The Troll Camp

  Chapter 16: The Temple

  Chapter 17: The Courtyard

  Chapter 18: The Volcano

  Chapter 19: The Stowaway

  Chapter 20: The Arrival

  Chapter 1:

  The Museum

  A holiday, a gap year really. That’s all I wanted. Just a break before I threw myself into the long years of university study. Was such a thing really too much to ask? I wanted to travel. To see the sights, smell the scents and taste the flavours of a world I knew to be rich and vibrant. Was that so selfish?

  But at only eighteen years of age, my dream of seeing the world already felt out of my reach. As soon as I’d returned home from my final year of compulsory education, the ink not yet dry on my diploma, Mother had plied me with a veritable mountain of academic brochures, insisting I hurry up, make a decision, and get to studying for the required college entrance exams.

  The late night cramming sessions for my prestigious boarding school’s stringent graduation tests still haunted me. I knew the stress of the exams and the exhaustion of many a late night, they would dog my dreams for months to come. The thought of going straight back to it without, it seemed, a moment’s pause was just too much.

  “I want to take a gap year,” I’d said to her. “I want to see the world and travel a little before deciding on an academy.”

  Mother, unfortunately, had not been pleased to hear such a request. Not that I’d been particularly surprised. She was a severe-looking woman, and had been as long as I could remember. Thin face with thinner lips, almost constantly pursed, as though everything around her brought her never-ending displeasure. She always dressed well: smart, fashionable clothes like she’d just walked out of a legal office. Her pale blonde hair was always up in a tightly pinned bun, almost like she didn’t want to have long hair but also didn’t want to cut it. Her eyes were green, like mine. Though while my own were pale like spring grass, her glares cut as hard at chips of emerald.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. “What will gallivanting around Alvis get you? You already wasted most of your final year doing cultural studies, of all the useless things.”

  “It’s my passion,” I protested. “The world, its people—”

  “What rot!” snapped Mother. “Do you think your father and I are going to support you for the rest of your life? You think because we’ve done well for ourselves, you can rest on your laurels?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “You need to get back on the right track, with proper academic studies: finance. Business! You think your father will have you at his company just because you’re his daughter? If you want that apprenticeship, you had better show him that you’ve earned it!”

  “I do want it, I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “I just don’t know if I’m ready yet. It felt so far away when I started high school, and now that it’s here, I’m not prepared. More school isn’t enough, I want life experience.”

  “Life experience? You won’t experience anything worthwhile sunbathing on a beach somewhere.”

  “I don’t want to go for that!” I said. “Father trades with people from all over the world, from different countries and cultures. How can I go out and meet with people, make business deals with them, if I don’t understand them? I want to travel to learn, so that when I do go to work, I can bring something worthwhile to table.”

  “And you expect everything to just wait around for you until you get back, do you?” she asked. “Your father is not going to break his company, which he put his blood and sweat into, to pieces just to suit you, Nina Sterling. It’s all or nothing and if your brothers are ready to start working, they will, and you will be the one playing catch-up.”

  “Then that’s the risk I have to take,” I said. “If I’m really an adult now, then I have to be able to make decisions for myself.”

  “Fine!” snapped Mother, throwing her hands up. “I’m obviously not getting through to you. But if you think we’re going to pay for this you are sorely mistaken. You can waste your life on your own money.”

  Unable to argue further, I left the house.

  I walked aimlessly, sighing for what felt like the hundredth time as I thought about what Mother had said. What money? Minors weren’t generally allowed to hold jobs, part-time or otherwise, because why should you give a job to a child when an adult has a family to support? Most schools had strict rules against them anyway, preferring their students to focus their time on their studies and not outside activities. And even if all that wasn’t the case, there was no way Mother would have allowed me to do manual labour for pocket money. My family were aristocrats and I was certain the thought of me working as a waitress or some other ‘common’ job would probably give Mother a heart attack. Regardless of how I felt, as far as my parents were concerned, we were too good for that kind of thing.

  The bank was the obvious first thought; I could get a small personal loan for the initial travel expenses. Then perhaps I could odd-job my way from there, earning enough in each stop on my journey to pay for the next leg? It was certainly possible. But what about the repayments? Did I really want my first steps into adulthood to be paved with debt? And what if I couldn’t get approved in the first place? I had no collateral and my travel was hardly going to turn some kind of profit to begin with. It wasn’t some kind of entrepreneurial business trip.

  As I walked, thinking about my dismal prospects, my feet took me to the place I always seemed to wind up at when feeling down: the Pherasian Museum of Natural History.

  It had barely changed in all the years I’d been visiting. The same set of six massive columns held up the wide second floor balcony. The same white stone steps lead to the imposing double doors, carved with the images of fantastical creatures: Pegasus in-flight, dragons breathing fire, the great hydra spitting lighting from its mouth.

  As a child, I had stood outside the building staring at those carvings, wondering if perhaps one day, I’d get to lay eyes on such breathtaking creatures. The skeletons on display inside just could not capture my imagination in the same way as these images had.

  Even now, so many years later, while the specimens inside took my attention more, there was still something about those images of such fearsome, mystical beasts that filled me with awe. Oh, how I still wished I could see them in the flesh!

  Today, though, there was a small addition to the building. Just outside the open front doors was a sandwich board, painted a brilliant blue with shiny gold lettering: ‘New Addition: The Giantess Butterfly’

  I’d never heard of such a thing. Was it a newly discovered
species or a fossil that had been found? I couldn’t wait to find out.

  The receptionists greeted me like an old friend. I smiled in return and gave them a wave. For years I’d sworn up and down those two women had always been behind that desk. It was as though they’d just come with the building when it had been built and had, over time, become a part of the furniture.

  “Is the professor in?” I asked as I approached.

  “Doctor Linesley?” asked one of the ladies. “I would think so. He’s probably up in the archives. He had some mail this morning and I haven’t seen him leave again.”

  “Would you like me to send a message up in the tube?” asked the other woman, already moving her hands to her typewriter.

  “Oh no, don’t trouble yourself,” I said. “I’ll probably have a wander before I go up.”

  The Museum of Natural History was separated into three wings on the ground floor. The west wing held the history section. Rows of mannequins in preserved clothing dating back hundreds of years, royal coinage throughout the ages, walls of paintings and tapestries, and one of the world’s largest collections of historic weapons and armour. Eighty percent of the collection was from the kingdoms of the central continent but even so it was fascinating. From the entrance, you could zig-zag your way through the exhibit in chronological order and see the human world grow and change before your eyes.

  If you got tired of the history lesson, it was only a short walk across the main atrium, under the empty eyes of the towering skeleton of a long extinct predator, and you would enter the east wing and the natural part of the museum.

  I felt I could while away my entire life in this place. Skeletons and detailed taxidermy of creatures from all over the world, both current and extinct, were set up in dioramas that as closely as possible resembled their natural habitat. Cases of preserved plants, flowers and leaves of all shapes and sizes, dried and mounted for study. A collection of mineral specimens from the mysterious silver dust of the northern waste mountains, to the brilliantly coloured gemstones dredged up from deep within the planet’s crust.

  And at the back of the east wing was the insect display. Moths, dragonflies and shiny-shelled beetles of all kinds were carefully pinned up in cases. In the centre a new case had been added, specifically for the exhibit’s new addition: the Giantess Butterfly.

  It was the size of a housecat, with sapphire wings, which were patterned with tessellating diamond shapes. I’d never seen anything like it before in my life. It was breathtaking. What I wouldn’t give to have seen it in flight, in its natural habitat.

  I left the exhibit and headed to the north wing, which contained an impressive library. My home away from home. It felt like every free day I’d had in my youth had been spent here, between the towering bookshelves, reading anything and everything I could get my hands on. From historical reference books to the expedition accounts of famous explorers, I’d read a little bit of everything, and then only read more once I’d started studying the subjects in earnest. While I couldn’t claim a photographic memory, I always managed to be able to pull up some fact or other tit bit when I needed. Not that that skill had served me that much outside of my exams.

  Stepping around the barrier rope at the back of the room, ignoring the sign across the staircase that read ‘Staff Only’, I went up to the second floor where the museum’s offices were located. I walked the halls with familiarity, passed rows of dark wood doors until I reached my destination.

  Just below a shiny brass nameplate that read ‘Professor Linesley: Department of Sociocultural Xenthropology’ there was a white buzzer. I pressed it, and only the feel of the vibration under my finger let me know the device was working.

  The walls of the old museum building were the sturdy kind, making for effective sound proofing if you didn’t have your ear pressed right up against a door, so the only warning I got before it flew open was the muffled clunk of it being unlocked.

  The man who answered was somewhat ruffled, and a furrowing of his brow suggested he wasn’t in the mood for disturbances. His expression cleared almost immediately when he saw me.

  “Ah,” he greeted with a smile, throwing both arms out in welcome. “Lady Nina, always a delight, always.”

  The professor never failed to make me smile. He was old enough to be my father, with grey hair spotted around his temple, and lines earned from many a late night carved into his weathered face. He was round in the middle from all the years of doing desk work and not much else. His suit shirt and pants were ill-fitting and cheap, his tweed jacket second-hand and patched heavily at the elbows.

  “Is there any point anymore in reminding you that I am not a Lady?”

  “Your Uncle’s a Lord,” said the professor, waving away my objection. “And that’s good enough for me.”

  The professor’s study was at the same time both unnaturally ordered and a frightful mess. No surface was clear of books or papers, and yet everything was in neat stacks. The entire right side wall was a bookcase, filled to the brim, but only partially with books alone. Loose papers, rolled scrolls, folders and groups of what looked like archaeological artefacts filled the shelves. At a glance it looked a nightmare, but further examination showed that everything indeed had its place to be, and was in it.

  The opposite wall carried an enormous map of the world, each of the six continents outlined in a different colour and a rainbow of pins dotted about, some of them connected with string.

  Underneath the map was the professor’s desk, a massive carved oak behemoth of an antique. I remembered the day he got it. I couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, and was visiting the museum for the first time with my uncle. He’d presented the desk to the professor, who’d just been made director of the department, as a gift for his new office.

  Today, all the usual books and letters had been pushed to the back of the desk. A dozen manila folders now occupying the emptied space. I just barely caught a few names and photographs from the opened one on top, before Professor Linesley brought my attention back to him.

  “School’s been out almost a month now,” he said, moving between me and the desk, and leaning against its edge. “And this is the first time you’ve come to visit me? Should I be worried my girl is losing interest in the natural sciences?”

  “Oh never,” I assured. “It’s just, you start off trying to recover from all the exam stress and the next thing you know the weeks are flying by.”

  “Just the same after we’ve published a new article,” the professor replied with a sage nod. “Everything winds down and you think you’ve got the rest of time to relax and wait to move on. But before you know it people are asking you about the next one before you’ve even started it.” He let out a bark of laughter. “I suppose the next thing on your ticket will be academy applications, am I right?”

  I sighed and sat down heavily on the couch in the centre of the room. I explained my conversation with Mother, my feelings tumbling out in a rush. “I can see the rest of my life stretching out ahead of me as one long line of standardised tests.” I finished with a sigh.

  “Yes it can feel like that sometimes,” said Linesley, moving away from his desk. He went over to a trolley in the corner and poured us both cups of tea. “You finish your compulsory, you attend an academy, get an internship, then you finally get your certificate papers, and well, what do you know, you have to study more for every paper you work on. It’s never ending. But that doesn’t mean it’s not worthwhile.

  “What subject were you planning on following? Were you still wanting to following up with archaeology, or did you want to stick with Xenozoology? You seemed to be really enthusiastic about your classes on other races.”

  “Mother wants me to study business. She thinks cultural academics are soft options.”

  “Ah she would, wouldn’t she?” he said solemnly. “Katherine was always quite the industrious woman. I always said she suited Richard more than James.”

  “Uncle and my mother?”

&nbs
p; Was the professor implying that my mother and uncle had dated at some point?

  “They were at Oaksfield together,” he said “But James was a flighty one even back then, so it didn’t last. After your grandfather passed away, he inherited the Sterling Lordship. Your father, of course, had to make his own name, and for his business ventures, I don’t think he could have done any better than your mother.”

  I could remember Uncle visiting when I was still young. He would take me on excursions to the museums and galleries, and every gift seemed to be a new book that engrossed me.

  “I haven’t seen him since my thirteenth.”

  “I’m surprised he was able to stay in one place for that long,” said Linesley. “He was always a traveller, an explorer. The things he’d bring home from his trips, entire books were written about some of them. I think he saw that kind of wonder at the world in you as well. Maybe he hoped you’d follow in his footsteps.”

  It was true my cultural classes had never really felt like work, so interested with the subjects I was. But if I continued with it seriously, I’d definitely have to give up on working with Father’s company. I didn’t know if I was ready to make that decision yet. I shared my concerns with the professor.

  “Well these aren’t decisions I can make for you.”

  “I know.”

  I just wanted to more time to think things through. If only Mother wasn’t so impatient.

  “What did you want to do with a gap year?”

  “Travel,” I replied. “Whether or not I end up joining Father’s company, I want to see the world and its people, and if I do join Father, then knowing more about the world can only help a company that is in the business of international trade.”

  “You’ve clearly thought about it. And I see exactly where you’re coming from.”

  Too bad Mother didn’t agree.

  “Do you have any savings?”

  “Some saved pocket money, but not nearly enough to travel for a whole year.”