The cadet didn’t reply – but he didn’t need to. I knew what he was thinking. There was something atmospheric about this path, something almost creepy, and my basest animal instincts were coming into play.
Stay quiet, my gut told me. Stay hidden. There could be anything out there, lurking in the dark …
It was a stupid instinct. This was hardly a dangerous forest. There were no wolves here, or bears, or even kangaroos. Just a patch of scruffy bushland, home to harmless birds and lizards.
But that wasn’t entirely true, was it?
Mariner’s cottage was hidden in this forest. This was where the old man had lived, and where he had died. The Inductors had crept through these trees, perhaps along this very path, to kill him. Some might still be out there, lurking in the trees …
‘We’re here!’ someone called from ahead.
Gratefully, we all hurried forward. The path vomited us out onto an enormous patch of open grassland, glinting with dew. A sea of clouds diluted the moon, but there was just enough light to make out general shapes. I saw a large wooden fence, at least ten feet high, with an enormous sign above its gate: ‘Welcome to Camp Adventure.’
I couldn’t help but laugh – and I wasn’t the only one. After our nerve-racking trek through the darkness, it was a relief to see something so silly, and so undeniably corny, as a campground called ‘Camp Adventure’.
‘God, it’s like we’re five years old,’ Sapphire said. ‘Are we seriously gonna be locked inside those walls like little kids?’
I exchanged a serious look with my friends. If that were the case, our mission might prove harder than we’d thought.
‘I believe it’s a security measure,’ Orbit said. ‘Do you see those antennae atop the wall posts? They’re part of the technological firewall. I suspect the wall is designed to keep intruders out, rather than to keep us in.’
‘Why bother?’ I said. ‘It just looks like a normal campsite. You know, the kind of place you go on a school trip to learn about teamwork, and protecting the environment, and all that stuff.’
‘Yeah, but it’s designed for HELIX cadets,’ Riff pointed out. ‘I reckon a few of our camp activities might be a bit … unusual.’
To pass through the front gate, we each had to touch a metal plate, allowing it to register our quintessence. One by one, I watched as tendrils of shining light spilled between each cadet’s fingers.
As I waited my turn, I pushed deeper into the tenebrous shroud. Around me, the quintessences of the queuing cadets were fizzling and flickering with more colours than a bowl of fruit salad. There were nervous sizzles of orange, and excitable flecks of yellow. Tendrils of calm blue and green swirled through the air, intermingling with weary purples and a few stray curls of dark irritation.
Clearly, some cadets were happier to be here than others.
As we passed through the gate, we came face-to-face with a grumpy security guard. He was a heavy man, with a blond beard and red-rimmed eyes. He ordered us to form a line, and then waved each of us over with a metal detector. Whenever the stick’s buzz escalated into a shriek, he would berate the guilty cadet until they handed over their phone or tablet.
‘Gee, they’re really serious about the “no technology” thing,’ Riff said. ‘You would’ve thought the firewall was enough.’
‘We’ll probably go out into the forest for activities,’ I said. ‘Guess it doesn’t count as a realistic wilderness survival experience if we can look up “how to start a campfire” on the internet.’
Inside, a series of bright spotlights welcomed us to camp. The setup looked fairly generic: a row of wooden cabins, a cheerful mess hall and a grassy lawn for playing sports. A thicket of trees rose high behind the cabins, and I could just make out the shapes of ropes and wooden platforms up in the canopy.
‘Camp Adventure?’ Phoenix muttered. ‘Camp Snooze, more like it.’
In spite of myself, I had to agree with her. After our death-defying mission in London, this looked less like an ‘adventure’ than a children’s playground.
‘Aw, come on!’ Riff said, with a grin. ‘It’ll be fun. I mean, if worst comes to worst, at least we’ll get to stuff ourselves stupid with marshmallows, right?’
As we milled around the edge of the lawn, a pair of figures emerged from the hall. They were a man and a woman, both in their early fifties. They both had curly red hair, which puffed around their heads like carrot-coloured clouds, and they wore matching denim overalls with steel-capped boots.
The woman was slightly plump, with a bright smile, and she welcomed us with a jovial wave as she approached. The man had the build of a stick insect, tall and thin, with a lump that jotted so far out from his throat that he resembled a snake who had swallowed a wombat.
‘Oh my goodness!’ Orbit whispered.
‘Oh what?’ I asked.
Orbit turned to me, his eyes huge with excitement. ‘That’s Pickles and Serendipity! They’re famous gadgeteer siblings; they helped to invent the Chameleon jets, and they’ve worked on countless top-secret projects. Serendipity has created some extraordinary gadgets, and Pickles is a genius with computer systems. She helped design the HQ security firewalls! Can you imagine how many lives their work has saved?’
‘Never heard of ’em,’ Riff said.
‘Well, of course you haven’t,’ Orbit said, deflating a little. ‘Field agents don’t tend to care about the accomplishments of gadgeteers.’
He sounded almost reproachful, which was a bit out of character. When I thought about it, though, I supposed he had a point. Field agents were the heroes of HELIX, with rumours and stories about their courageous exploits and their missions to save the world. By contrast, gadgeteers were just seen as geeks who dwelt in the basement. For the most part, we only paid attention to them when something needed fixing.
‘That’s really cool,’ I whispered, as they approached. ‘Do you think they’re in charge of the camp?’
‘Oh yes, quite possibly!’ Orbit perked up again. ‘They formally retired from the Auckland DEG a few years ago, so perhaps they’ve come down here to run the camp in their retirement.’
As Pickles and Serendipity reached us, a hush descended over the cadets. The woman raised her hand again with a smile.
‘Hullo, there!’ she said. ‘My name is Pickles, and this is my brother Serendipity – although everyone just calls him Dippy. We’re the custodians of Camp Adventure, so you’ll be following our rules while you’re here.’
A few cadets nodded.
‘The basic rules are no technology, no alcohol and no food from outside the camp. This isn’t just a wilderness retreat, cadets, it’s also a health retreat. I’ve received a message from your Combat and Weaponry tutor, Fox, to say he wants you all in tiptop shape when you get home …’
A chorus of groans.
‘… and he’ll be running fitness tests upon your return. You’ll be spending this week on a bunch of fun activities.’ Pickles glanced at her brother. ‘Dippy, would you like to continue?’
Dippy was not listening. He looked distracted, staring vaguely at a moth that had decided to flutter around the edge of his torch.
‘Dippy!’ Pickles snapped.
‘What? Oh!’ Dippy whirled around, and foisted a vague sort of smile onto his face. ‘Yes, sorry, what were we saying?’
‘The cadets would like a list of their activities for the week,’ Pickles prompted.
Despite her annoyance, the exasperation in her voice was coloured by fondness. It wasn’t hard to see that she loved her brother – and clearly she’d had plenty of years to acclimatise to his oddness.
‘Ah, yes!’ Dippy said. ‘You shall try your hand at many enjoyable activities. Ropes courses, rock climbing, orienteering …’
He trailed off, frowning, as if he couldn’t remember what came next.
‘And toasting marshmallows?’ Riff called out.
‘No junk food,’ Pickles cut in, with a swift shake of her head. ‘We’ve been ordered to serve y
ou a strict menu of fruit, vegetables and lean protein during your stay. You can thank Fox again for that one.’
There was an outbreak of muttering around us, as cadets shook their heads and swore under their breaths.
Riff looked aghast. ‘No pizza? For a whole week?’
I elbowed him. ‘Toughen up, kiddo. You’ll survive.’
‘No, I won’t!’ Riff insisted. ‘My tastebuds’ll stage a violent rebellion. I’ll shrivel up and wither away from tomato-paste deficiency, until I’m just a pile of mush in the dirt, and then a bunch of maggots will slither over and –’
Sadly, this dramatic tale of death-by-lack-of-pizza was cut short by Pickles, who cleared her throat to call for silence.
‘I’ve posted name lists to the cabin doors,’ she said, ‘so you can see who you’ll be bunking with. Eight cadets per cabin, and no complaining if you’re stuck with a snorer. Now, if I were you, I’d go and get a good night’s sleep. Trust me, you’ll need it.’
I was allocated a cabin with Phoenix, alongside Apricity and Sapphire. This would have been fine, if we weren’t also sharing with a gaggle of girls from the Sixteens – and if one of them hadn’t been Ultra.
Up close, Ultra was even more striking than she was at a distance. She had dyed her hair a shade so white it was almost silver, and her makeup was so bold that she looked at least five years older than the rest of us.
She walked with a haughty step, and the spark of interest in her eyes was countered only by her constant smirk. She was the sort of person who always seemed to be watching and judging, silently mocking you behind the facade of a smile. Even so, I tried to be friendly.
‘Hi,’ I said, as I hauled my luggage inside. ‘I’m Nomad.’
Ultra looked me up and down. ‘Yes,’ she said.
That was the extent of our conversation.
Sharing a bunk with Ultra was a girl called Rainbow. She wore a long fringed skirt, feather earrings and had a scraggle of honey-blonde hair. After introducing herself, she spent about ten minutes trying to lecture us about the healing powers of her ‘organic gemstone bracelet’ before Phoenix lost her patience and offered to show her the power of her own bracelet – which was, of course, a string of nightbeads.
Our last two roommates were a pair of friends called Rhyme and Melody. Rhyme wore braces on her teeth and pigtails in her hair, while Melody was a slim girl on exchange from Sri Lanka with a fishtail braid and a friendly smile. At first they both seemed quiet and polite: the sort of kids who never broke a rule, or spoke out of turn. Then it turned out they had smuggled an entire slab of chocolate, two bottles of cola and a bag of lollipops into camp – suddenly, they were the life of the party.
‘Ha!’ I said to Phoenix, after I’d thanked a slyly grinning Melody for a chunk of chocolate. ‘Reckon Riff’ll be jealous when we tell him tomorrow?’
The question was slightly garbled by my mouthful of chocolate, but Phoenix caught my meaning.
‘Oh, he’ll be furious,’ she said, with a smile of her own. ‘Serves him right for leaving all those pizza dribbles in the toaster.’
After half an hour of general chatter – or in Ultra’s case, half an hour of sneering in the corner – we settled down to sleep. Little by little, the cabin fell silent. There was occasionally a noise from one of the other girls: a rustle of sheets, the sound of someone rolling over, or a quiet little yawn. Eventually these turned into snores, and a deeper silence. The air felt soft and still: one moment suspended, stretching endlessly through the night.
I stared at the underside of Phoenix’s top bunk. My sugar high had faded now – but I couldn’t sleep for other reasons entirely. A dozen difficulties raced through my head, rolling and tumbling as they wrestled for prime position. How were we supposed to reach Mariner’s cottage? Could we slip away during lunch tomorrow, or would we have to wait until night? What if someone caught us climbing over the fence?
‘Stop it!’ I whispered.
No point stressing. I had to save my energy for the job ahead. And so I rolled over, released a weary breath, and waited for sleep to find me.
In the morning, I stepped into a realm of green.
The world outside was lush and grassy, with bristling leaves and a damp tang on the air. Back home, the grass resembled a stubby tan carpet, and the leaves were mottled shades of olive. Here the foliage was emerald, so bright that I almost needed sunglasses. It was as if Australia and New Zealand were pages in the same colouring book, but whoever coloured them had chosen a different box of pencils for each landscape.
‘Funny what a bit of rain’ll do,’ Riff observed, walking up beside me. ‘Pretty snazzy view, isn’t it?’
I nodded, still staring at the tress behind the cabins. Already, I wished I’d brought my art kit with me; I could have painted the landscape in vivid hues of blue and green, with streaks of gold where sunrise brushed the hills.
But of course, we weren’t here to admire the scenery.
We had a job to do.
Our day commenced with breakfast in the mess hall. It was a clatter of porridge dispensers, mushrooms, poached eggs, wholemeal toast and – for some inexplicable reason – a platter of celery sticks with protein paste. I was starting to suspect Fox had personally hijacked the camp’s menu system.
After breakfast, we were divided into groups, and bumbled off with Pickles, Dippy or one of the younger camp supervisors to run our day’s activities. These supervisors were a trio in their early twenties, who seemed to have been hired for their skills in such crucial areas as rope climbing, campfire sing-alongs and manic smiles of enthusiasm.
‘Good grief,’ Phoenix muttered. ‘I swear, it isn’t natural to be that cheerful about an obstacle course.’
‘Yeah, no wonder they got stationed here,’ I said. ‘Can’t imagine them on a dangerous HELIX mission, can you?’
‘Oh, I dunno,’ Riff said. ‘If any Inductors attacked, they could probably knock ’em out with a few verses of “Kumbaya”.’
The Fifteens and Sixteens were on the ‘High Ropes Course Extravaganza!’, which involved dangling from wooden platforms up in the trees, zip-lining across a gurgling creek and clambering up a synthetic rock-climbing wall.
‘This will teach you to get around in the wilderness,’ Dippy said. ‘You never know, you might need to climb up a deadly cliff face one day to escape the Inductors.’
Somehow, I doubted that a ‘deadly cliff face’ in the wilderness would have enough plastic handholds to resemble colourful acne. But we nodded in agreement, formed a jumbled queue, and took it in turns to navigate the course.
Dippy, who was supposed to be supervising, didn’t manage to hold his focus for long. Within ten minutes, he was busy fiddling with a small mechanical object in his hands. Occasionally, someone called out to ask for instructions, and he’d vaguely wave a hand and say something like ‘Carry on, cadet!’ or ‘Good job!’ or ‘Watch out for that – oh dear, that’ll need an icepack …’
Halfway across a rope bridge, there was a whir of clashing metal. I spun, alarmed, to see a tiny object hurtling towards me. I almost threw up a quintessic shield before I realised it was a mechanical sparrow, trailing strands of light behind its wings. With a cry, I ducked just in time.
‘Whoopsy-daisy!’ Dippy exclaimed, and then peered up at me. ‘She got away from me for a minute, there. Are you all right, cadet?’
I wanted to respond that his deranged sparrow had almost taken my face off, but he already looked so bashful that I bit my tongue. ‘I’m fine, sir!’
‘Glad to hear it!’ Dippy stuck his long fingers between his lips and gave a piercing whistle. The sparrow wheeled around in midair and soared back down into his slender hands.
As I watched him – beaming with childish pride as his invention fluttered downwards – it was easy to understand why Orbit admired Dippy so much. They were two peas in a pod: obsessive, passionate geniuses, who lived to tinker with machines … and who were, perhaps, just a little bit awkward.
�
�All she needs is a bit of oil behind the wings!’ Dippy reported happily, examining his sparrow. ‘Oh, and I suppose I should recalculate the automated flight path, try to avoid sources of heat like human bodies …’
And that was it, wasn’t it? That was what made Orbit so likeable, and Dippy too. They possessed the same optimism, viewing the world like a mischievous machine that simply needed a bit of tinkering. Despite my near decapitation-by-sparrow, I couldn’t help but smile.
As the day wore on, it began to drizzle. Riff, Phoenix, Orbit and I tried to meet in private. We exchanged whispers in the mess hall, we passed each other notes, and we tried again and again to organise our little mission. Yet every time we found a moment to sneak away from the group, something inevitably went wrong.
During our lunch break, Rainbow stopped Phoenix and I from leaving our cabin because she wanted to chat about the location of ley lines in New Zealand. During our afternoon break, we made it as far as the forest’s edge before a loudspeaker blared, summoning all cadets to an impromptu tug of war contest on the lawn.
In the early evening, after several hours of trying (and failing) to start a campfire with soggy sticks and a flint, we finally gathered by the edge of the fence. We had just prepared our quintessic circuits, ready to levitate over the fence, when the dinner bell clanged from the direction of the mess hall.
We all groaned. If we tried to skip dinner, we’d miss the evening roll call.
‘Saved by the bell,’ Phoenix muttered.
‘That’s it!’ Riff, who had been hovering around in excitement, descended with a thump. ‘Dunno about you lot, but I’m starting to get over this whole “mission” thing. We’ve had about as much luck as a goldfish in the Sahara Desert.’
‘Well,’ Orbit said thoughtfully, ‘if the goldfish is still alive to recognise its location, I would suggest that it is, in fact, an extremely lucky goldfish. Perhaps it possesses a portable filtration system of some kind, to extract moisture from the atmosphere, or –’
‘The goldfish is dead,’ Riff said.
Deadly Magic Page 12
