by Robyn Fraser
Something nudged Deanna’s chest. She grabbed onto it. It seemed to be a long, smooth, slightly tapered plank, about two feet wide and maybe six feet long. She pulled herself onto it, happy to give her arms and legs a rest, but still not sure how it would help her to reach the island.
“Bien,” said Hercules once she was on top of it. “Now I will push you and we shall have the chat.” With one fin, the fish grasped the back of the board and smoothly glided alongside her in the dark waters. Deanna let her head and body collapse fully onto the hard surface, her hands and feet dangling over its edges. She was totally at Hercules’ mercy, but she couldn’t worry about that. She’d be dead otherwise.
“So, mademoiselle, the story you presented to me a few moments ago, it sounds most fantastique. You say you have traveled here from another world? But that you were born in Illusiland?”
Deanna wasn’t sure just how much she should tell Hercules. Already, Mr. Sactual knew she was here. The only good thing about the shipwreck was that he’d think she was dead. It would probably be best to keep him thinking that by not telling anyone who she really was. Still, Deanna felt she owed Hercules an explanation. She also felt he was smart enough to know if she was lying.
“My parents left Magitoria when I was just little,” she said. “It was work related. I’ve come back because there’s something I need to do.” She glanced over at the fish, an almost-full moon reflecting on his face just enough for Deanna to tell he was listening carefully. “I’m afraid I can’t really talk about it, though.”
Hercules shook his head with vigor. “No, no, mademoiselle! But of course not! I mean not to pry into the things personal. I am only curious.” He waved his other fin. “Hercules Poisson is the epitome of sensitive, mademoiselle! You must not tell to me anything that makes you uncomfortable.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.” That was easier than she’d thought.
“However, using the little grey cells, I have concluded that you are Deanna, daughter to Queen Juliana and King by Marriage Robert, who saved Magitoria from invasion seven years ago and found it a necessity to leave Illusiland for Mundaland. Is it not so?”
Deanna’s heart stopped for a moment. How could he possibly know all this? “Ummm, I don’t know what you mean,” she lied.
“Ah, mademoiselle, the little grey cells, they are never wrong.” He stopped pushing for a moment and reached for something under the water. When his fin resurfaced, there was a small rectangular object in it. He pressed a button and a screen lit up. On it was an image of her parents, both younger, both wearing jeweled formalwear. A small girl with short, curly brown hair stood between them: Deanna.
“My memory, of course it is most admirable. I recalled the stories from seven years ago and so I did a grey-cell search when I was retrieving the surfing board you are on now.” He pointed the tip of his fin at the girl on the screen. “That is you, mademoiselle. Most jolly.”
Deanna was at a loss for words. Finally, she managed, “But how…does everyone have access to this?” She pointed to the device in Hercules fin.
The fish shook his large head. “No, no, mademoiselle, not many have the grey-cells. Truly, most do not. And please, there is not the need for worry. My intelligence, it is…how do you say…extra-ordinary. Most illusibeings will not make these connections regarding you and your family. And I give you my word, mademoiselle, that I share this knowledge with no others. Your secret, it is safe with moi, or my name, it is not Hercules Poisson.” He tapped a fin to his vested chest.
For some reason, Deanna believed him. Her heart slowed to its regular pace and Hercules began to push the board along once again.
They swam/floated in comfortable silence. “Are you French?” Deanna asked a few minutes later.
“French, mademoiselle? What do you mean?”
“I mean your accent. Where do you come from?” Too late, Deanna realized her question may not be entirely appropriate—he could have been born in Slightly Silly Sea. It’s not like she’d even heard any other fish talking. But Hercules seemed not to mind.
“Ah, I comprehend. I am not familiar with this French, mademoiselle, but no, I am not it.” He puffed out his chest as he swam. “Hercules Poisson, he is Belchan, but he learned to speak Illusish in school.” There was pride in his voice as he spoke of himself in the third person. “Belchant, it is in the northern region of Not Nearly Nasty Lake. This is to the east of Slightly Silly Sea, in the realm of Concreta.”
His voice softened. “Not Nearly Nasty had been a lake most beautiful, mademoiselle. I wish you could have seen it when it was so. And Belchant in particular was lush and filled with life. Many families made their homes in Belchant. But then, some years ago, a new leader took over the land to the east, and soon Not Nearly Nasty Lake, it became…how do you say...most polluted and dead. And the land around it, the forests and fields, they, too, were destroyed. It was all très mauvais.”
He shook his head. “It was a difficult and emotional journey, but I traveled here, to Slightly Silly Sea, as it is under the realm of no leader. It has been my home for many years now.” He paused and stared straight ahead. “Ah, Mademoiselle Deanna, we have arrived.”
Deanna raised her head from its resting position on the surfboard. Sure enough, directly ahead lay the dark shadow of what now seemed a vast island. It must have been at least a mile long.
“I’ll leave you now, to paddle to shore,” said Hercules. “You are most welcome to keep the board. There is fresh water in the stream and mango trees all across the island. I would visit with you longer, but truly, I was on my way to a rendevous with a most belle-thon when I regarded you, and now I run late. If, mademoiselle, you should attend the shore at sunrise, I will return to speak with you and see if I might be more of the assistance.”
The thought of being alone, in the dark, in an unknown place made Deanna shiver. She tried to be brave though. “Will I be safe here?” she asked, trying to keep any hint of fear from her voice.
“Oh, most assuredly, mademoiselle.” He paused. “Though…do you have the plugs for the ears?”
Deanna shook her head. “No, I don’t.”
“No matter. You will be most comfortable. Find a place to rest and Hercules will see you in the morning.”
With that, he gave Deanna one last push and dove out of sight.
Chapter Ten
Where We Learn What Insufferable Means
Deanna paddled her way to what seemed a very sandy beach and stood on her jelly-like feet. She dragged the surfboard onto the shore and left it against a tree, far enough away so that she was sure any incoming waves could not reach it.
She was exhausted, cold, hungry, thirsty and in the middle of nowhere. But she was also alive. And Hercules said he would return for her in the morning. She believed him.
Deanna let her backpack fall heavily to the ground, then knelt down and began to rummage through it. It was supposed to be waterproof and she even kept an extra liner inside so that her sketchbook and drawing supplies would stay dry in the case she was ever caught in a real downpour of rain. But she wasn’t at all sure anything could hold up to spending hours half-submerged in a lake.
She pulled her sweatshirt out first. “It’s dry!” she exclaimed and, after removing her soaked t-shirt, Deanna put it on, a warm wave of relief washing through her. It was a long hoodie, so when she removed her pants, and underwear too, she was still covered almost to her knees. Not that anyone was around to see her. At least, she hoped not.
Once this was done, Deanna felt around the inside of the pack and found the zipped up compartment where she kept her flashlight. She pressed the ‘on’ button; the flashlight worked, illuminating the tree she was under along with a mix of sand, ferns and other jungle-like ground covering. Using the light, she rummaged through her pack and was thrilled to find the bagged lunch she’d brought to school and forgotten about: a peanut butter and jam sandwich, a bottle of apple juice and a banana.
Once she’d devoured these, she checked
for the most important item in her backpack: the sketchbook. She exhaled with relief—it was fine.
Fed, watered, dry and feeling safe for now, Deanna found she just couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. Exhaustion had come, not knocking, but instead kicking down the door and storming in like it was raiding her body. Warm in her sweatshirt and the tropical-like air, the pleasant sounds of insects and birds chirping all around, Deanna curled up in some ferns and promptly fell asleep.
***
“What do you make of that? It’s odd looking, isn’t it?”
“Yes, most odd. Do you think it’s dangerous?”
“No, look at the claws—completely blunt. And the mouth—no sharp fangs to speak of.”
“Should we wake it? I wonder if it speaks?”
“I wonder where it came from? And what is that thing over its body?”
“We don’t want to frighten it away. Maybe we should make some noises from—oh, did you see that? It moved!”
Deanna turned in her sleep. She was dreaming. It was an annoying dream—someone was talking incessantly, not even giving her time to reply. She groaned.
“Oooh! Did you hear that noise? What was that? Was it speaking?”
“I think it’s dreaming; the eyes are still closed. See?”
“Oh yes, indeed they are. Should we wake it?”
“Maybe we should make some noise. Do you have your kazoo?”
“No, I left it at home. What about your traveling bongo set, did you bring that?
“I’m afraid not. But I do have my tuba, what about that?”
“Ooooh, that’s perfect. Play it! Play it now! Just not too close in case it jumps up.”
Deanna jumped up. “Ahhh!” she screamed. In her dream, an animal had let out a howling, blood-curdling, and remarkably flat cry. She was on her feet, eyes wide open, but it was still dark and she could see nothing.
“Ahhh!” came two more cries from somewhere behind her.
Deanna shot around. “Who’s there?” Her heart was pounding like a bongo drum roll.
“It speaks!” came a high-pitched voice from the darkness, maybe a few feet in front of her. It sounded remarkably like the annoying voice in her dream.
“Oh, this is so exciting,” came another, similar voice. “Hello, can you understand us?”
Deanna’s eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, the moonlight helping to illuminate two small creatures directly ahead. They were maybe a foot and a half tall and almost as wide. They seemed to be wearing overalls made of ferns and both were jumping up and down excitedly. One was holding an object twice its size, and though she couldn’t be certain, it looked remarkably like a tuba.
“Who are you?” she asked again, her heart slowing just a bit. At least they were small. And, so far, they didn’t seem to mean her any harm.
“Oh, oh, oh, let me answer first,” said the one to Deanna’s left. She (or he?) took a step forward. “I’m Archibald. Archibald deMoot. And this,” he pointed to the other one, “is—”
“No, no, no! I want to introduce myself!” interjected the one to Deanna’s right, taking a step forward and knocking Archibald in the elbow, causing him to lose his grip on the tuba, which then fell to the ground.
“Oww! That hit my foot! Oww, oww, oww!” The tuba player hopped up and down on one foot, turning in a complete circle as he did so.
“Sorry, Archibald,” said the other. “But you know how much I like to introduce myself.” Archibald had stopped hopping and seemed fine now. “You can call me Mirtranda deToot. What’s your name? Please tell us!”
“Oh.” Though her fear was abating, Deanna was starting to feel overwhelmed by how quickly these two were talking. “Uh, my name’s Deanna.”
“Deanna. What a queer name,” said Archibald. “Don’t you think so, Mirtranda?”
“Oh yes, so odd!” Mirtranda exclaimed, quite gleefully. “Where do you come from, Deanna? You weren’t here yesterday evening. We checked.”
“You checked?” asked Deanna as she reached into her backpack and pulled out the flashlight. She really wanted to have a better look at these two characters.
“Oh, we check every night and every day,” chimed in Archibald. “We are always looking for company. For someone to talk to. It gets lonely here, you know.”
“Oh, is it just the two of you then?” And, before either could reply, Deanna quickly added, “Do you mind if I turn on the flashlight?”
“What is it?” asked Mirtranda. “Does it flash light, then? How exciting! Yes, please! Put it on, we want to see it!”
Deanna turned on the light and shone it low, away from where she assumed their eyes were, not wanting to blind them.
“Ooooh, that is so wonderful!” cried Archibald. “How did you do that? Can I see it?” He took another step toward Deanna and held out a spindly four-fingered hand, which was covered with wiry yellow hairs.
“No, wait,” said Deanna, pulling the flashlight away from him. It shone over his face, showing huge, white-rimmed eyes, brown bark-like skin and a tall bush of yellow head hair. A pink-and-white striped bow was tied into it, keeping the hair held straight up.
“Oh, that’s alright,” said Archibald quickly, but the smile that had been on his face drooped into a frown. “I understand. But maybe later, Deanna? Maybe later I can see your light that flashes?”
“Umm—”
“Oh thank you, thank you!” he said, cutting Deanna off.
“Do you want to come meet our family?” asked Mirtranda. “You can come now, they will be so excited!”
“So there are more of you, then?” The thought of having to listen to even more of these beings talk and talk was almost unbearable.
“Oh yes, over two hundred. And we almost never get company here on the island, so they’ll all be very, very excited!” Mirtranda, whose hair was tucked up in a rainbow-striped toque, took a step forward and grabbed Deanna’s wrist. It was a remarkably firm grip. “Come now, come now!”
Archibald stepped up to Deanna’s other side and took her other wrist. “Yes, come meet them. They will have so much to talk to you about. They’ll be so happy!” The two of them started to pull Deanna, causing her to stumble.
“WAIT!” she yelled, fed up at being talked over and pushed around by these two little beings. Mirtranda and Archibald stopped in their tracks, still holding her wrists. “Let me go, please,” she said, more calmly. With clear reluctance, the duo did so, managing, amazingly, to not say a word for a full three seconds.
“Thank you,” said Deanna. “Now—”
“You’re welcome,” said Archibald. “We just really, really want you to meet—”
“Please, I haven’t finished,” said Deanna, more loudly, and then continued quickly with her thoughts. “I’m exhausted and I really, really need to sleep or I, um, won’t be good company for your family. Can you let me have a nap and come get me an hour after sunrise? I promise I’ll go with you to meet your family then.” She glanced at each in turn, hoping her expression didn’t give away that fact that she planned to be well away from here by sunrise. At least if Hercules Poisson showed up like he said he would. “How does that sound?”
“That is so wonderful!” exclaimed both in unison.
“We’ll stay here and watch you sleep,” said Archibald. “So if any of our family comes by, we’ll tell them not to talk to you until you wake up. Okay? Okay? Okay?” He was jumping up and down again.
Deanna sighed inwardly. “I guess that’s alright,” she said, wishing they’d just leave her alone, but resigning herself to the fact that that wasn’t going to happen. “Just, try to be quiet, okay?”
“Okay!” said both of them.
Deanna returned to the spot she’d been sleeping and lay back down. She kept hold of her backpack, not quite trusting them to stay away from it, feeling decidedly uncomfortable that she was going to be observed throughout her slumber.
“You’ll both be quiet, then?” she asked again. “You won’t talk while I’m sleeping?
”
“Oh, no, no no, no, no,” said Mirtranda. “We’ll be very, very quiet. We won’t talk to you at all.”
“Okay, good,” she said. With that, Deanna laid down her head, closed her eyes and tried to let her interrupted exhaustion take her back to sleep.
The not-talking lasted just under twenty-six seconds. “Is she asleep yet?” whispered Archibald.
“She must be, she’s not talking.”
“Isn’t this so exciting?” continued Archibald. “Wait until our family meets her. They’ll have so much to talk about! And to think, two sets of visitors in one day!”
“Yes, but those other three, they weren’t nearly so nice as Deanna, were they?” said Mirtranda. “Quite rude, in fact. ‘We’re with the Concreta Royal Navy,’ says the one, and then gets mad when we try to ask him what that is. ‘Have you seen a girl with brown hair around these parts? Maybe going by the name Deandra?’” Mirtranda put on a funny accent as she repeated what they’d said. “And then, when we said no and asked them more questions, they told us to shut up! So rude!”
Deanna kept her eyes closed, but she was wide-awake now. Deandra was the alias that Rose had used for her, back at the Carnivorous Cavern. Now, somehow, Mr. Sactual’s Concreta Royal Navy was looking for her. They must have heard that Mother Puck had capsized but they still thought Deanna might be alive.
While Mirtranda and Archibald continued to chat about any number of things throughout the night, Deanna lay awake, hoping that sunrise and Hercules would return before the navy did.
Chapter Eleven
Where Deanna Reunites With a New Friend
It seemed that Archibald and Mirtranda didn’t need sleep. Or maybe they dozed through the day; Deanna really had no idea. But she did know that she had barely drifted off several times in the night to be awakened by the two of them exclaiming loudly over one totally stupid topic or another, like who could shove the most mangoes in their mouths, or who had longer hair on their wrists.
