Master of the Phantom Isle

by Brandon Mull

  “Not Uma Stormbrewer,” Tanu said.

  “The same,” Savani said. “She joined our staff after her legs gave out. She is quite old but remains sharp.”

  “The thought of meeting her makes me shy,” Tanu said. “I’ll need to brew myself a courage potion. She is one of the grand masters of potion making.”

  “There are also a handful of the menehune who interact with me,” Savani said. “It took long years to cultivate their trust.”

  “This is a big tree house for four people,” Tess said. “And a few dwarfs.”

  “More than a few dwarfs,” Savani said. “The menehune are not often seen, but they quietly keep all in order here. Still, the Monkey Maze was designed for many more occupants. Even at its peak, this tree community never approached full capacity, but now it feels abandoned.”

  “I want to go with Hako to check out the sacred pool,” Kendra said.

  “Are you sure?” Vanessa asked.

  “Definitely, if there is any chance it could help us find Seth,” Kendra said.

  “The dragons are gone from this island?” Knox asked.

  “I suppose they could return,” Savani said. “But the chances seem slight as long as the triclops is rampaging.”

  “The triclops must be really big,” Tess said.

  “He’s almost a force of nature,” Savani said. “Mombatu may prove more hazardous than the dragons.”

  “I understand the dragons here tend to be smaller,” Tanu said.

  “It depends where you go,” Grady said.

  “The islands host many smaller cliff-dwelling and tree-dwelling dragons,” Savani said. “Some are small enough to hunt in groups. None of those rival the great dragons at a sanctuary like Wyrmroost. But do not forget the sea serpents and the sea dragons. Very few dragons can match some of those in scale.”

  “Sea serpents?” Knox asked.

  “Some are longer than any dragon I have heard about,” Savani said. “Over ninety-nine percent of this sanctuary is ocean. Our largest occupants are under the water, and those boundaries extend beyond sight of the islands.”

  “I don’t want to swim anymore,” Tess said.

  “Crescent Lagoon is actually quite safe if you are supervised,” Savani said. “I don’t mean the entire sanctuary—I refer specifically to the lagoon for which the sanctuary is named. I learned to swim there, as have many others.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Tess said.

  “Have you examined the site where the Sunset Pearl was kept?” Tanu asked.

  “Hako went there with Warren,” Savani said.

  “We didn’t find much,” Warren said. “Ten really big moai in a ring facing inward. An altar of piled stones at the center with a bowl on top. Supposedly three guardians protected the pearl, but there was no sign of them. There were tracks from the triclops, though.”

  “Who were the guardians?” Calvin asked. “Could they have taken the pearl?”

  “They were secretive, with a reputation for being calm and wise,” Savani said. “Losing the pearl may have destroyed them.”

  “Could the triclops have taken it?” Kendra asked.

  Warren shook his head. “Mombatu didn’t appear until after the pearl was long gone.”

  “Maybe we’ll find some clues at the pool,” Kendra said. “And maybe I’ll find a few fairies along the way.”

  Tanu stretched and groaned. “I would like to consult with Uma before we go. I have dragon parts she may find interesting.”

  “I expect she will,” Savani said.

  “I’m coming too,” Knox announced. “To the pool.”

  “Me too,” Tess said. “I love pools.”

  “I think it would be safer if Tess stays here at the Monkey Maze,” Savani said.

  “We volunteer to watch her,” Newell said, nudging Doren.

  “We can play hide-and-seek,” Doren added.

  “That sounds fun,” Tess clapped.

  “Warren and I will join you as well, Kendra,” Vanessa said. “I wonder if somebody could create a diversion to distract the triclops? Lure him elsewhere on the island. Perhaps prevent him from falling upon us.”

  “I could try,” Grady said.

  “I wonder if two satyrs are required to watch one girl,” Vanessa mused. “Distracting the triclops would be very heroic.”

  Newel swallowed loudly. “I could come help, Grady. I have experience annoying lumbering brutes.”

  “That’s true,” Doren said.

  “Don’t underestimate Mombatu,” Grady said. “He is big, but he is also agile and impossibly strong. His hide can resist dragon fire and his hands can crush boulders.”

  “Sounds like my kind of party,” Newel said feebly.

  “I can watch Tess,” Savani offered. “I should remain here to make sure our last bastion on the islands remains secure.”

  “I guess that frees me up,” Doren said without much enthusiasm.

  “Let’s get ready,” Kendra said. “I’m tired of being out of the hunt for my brother.”

  The dark craft bounded forward over the choppy swells, swooping down into troughs only to rise again. Water occasionally sloshed over the sides but somehow drained after reaching the bottom of the boat. Though there was room for at least six more people, Seth and Ronodin had no companions, and neither worked an oar. Seth wondered if Ronodin really had to keep his hand on the tiller, or if he just liked feeling in control. Since they had untethered the craft from a sheltered dock inside the sea cave, the boat had propelled itself.

  Beyond the mist surrounding the island, Seth had discovered a bright day, and he was enjoying the feeling of direct sunlight on his face for the first time in memory. Now the misty island was fading to a smudge behind them, and a new island was growing as they neared it. A towering volcano presided over several lesser mounts, slopes green with vegetation.

  “Timbuli,” Ronodin said. “Soon you will glimpse other islands. And there are many more beyond our sight. This is the largest undiscovered archipelago in the ocean, a former dragon prison called Crescent Lagoon.”

  “Why hasn’t it been discovered?” Seth asked.

  “These islands are shielded by distracter spells,” Ronodin said. “If a ship comes near, all aboard feel a subtle urge to steer away, along with an irresistible impulse not to notice what they avoided. Even a pair of eyes studying a satellite photo will feel an unnamed compulsion to ignore these islands.”

  “I don’t feel that urge,” Seth said.

  “We’re already within the prison,” Ronodin said. “From inside, the distractions lose their influence.”

  Seth looked over the gunwale at the rolling sea. “What’s pushing the boat?”

  “Magic, of course,” Ronodin said. “It takes some magic to depart the Under Realm, and more to find it again. This vessel has enough to do both jobs.”

  “Can you do it without the boat?” Seth asked.

  “Naturally,” Ronodin said with a smirk. “But I’d rather work smart than hard.”

  “How does the water drain?” Seth asked.

  “A clever blend of engineering and magic,” Ronodin said. “You should ask about the bucket.”

  Seth had hardly noticed the old bucket, even though it was the only gear in the boat besides a coiled line. “Tell me.”

  “It’s called a sweet bucket,” Ronodin said. “Not much to look at, but fill it with seawater, and the water turns fresh.”

  “Really?” Seth exclaimed. “Can I try?”

  “Be my guest.”

  Though not terribly thirsty, Seth felt very curious. With the boat still bucking and diving, he leaned over the side and scooped some water into the bucket.

  “No magic words?” Seth asked.

  Ronodin handed him a tin dipper. “Try a sip.”

  Seth scooped the dip
per into the bucket. He tested the fluid with his tongue, then sipped some. Sure enough, the water was cool and fresh, without a trace of salt. “I’m impressed.”

  “We all live to earn your approval,” Ronodin said solemnly.

  Seth gazed ahead at the approaching island. “We’re going to the crypt during the day?”

  “Know your quarry,” Ronodin said. “This crypt is guarded by wraiths. And ultimately you will need to converse with a phantom. Shadow charmers sometimes prefer to operate at night because they hide so well in darkness, but daylight is no handicap to you. Wraiths and phantoms, however, are much less comfortable during the day. You do not want to confront them at the height of their powers.”

  “The wraiths will be hostile?” Seth asked.

  “They kept me out,” Ronodin said. “The Sphinx, too. Do you understand the nature of wraiths?”

  “I know they’re cold,” Seth said. “And starving. It’s nearly all they talk about unless you ask direct questions.”

  “Do you know how wraiths originate?” Ronodin asked.

  “No,” Seth said.

  “The creation of a wraith relies on a cruel trick,” Ronodin said.

  “Who would create a wraith?”

  “A powerful witch or wizard. A demon. A viviblix. Or one of the mightier undead, like a lich. Any of those prey upon individuals who want something desperately. The victims are eventually led to willingly cheat death until they receive what they desire.”

  “What happens if the people get what they want?” Seth asked.

  “Then they don’t become wraiths,” Ronodin said. “The all-consuming lust for the unobtained prize is what fuels the transformation. If the desired reward is attained in life, the potential for a wraith is lost. The birth of a new wraith depends on the coveted prize remaining elusive. Once a being powerful in dark magic facilitates the change, the wraith can gain freedom only by receiving the desired object, which brings the postponed release of death.”

  “And if the person can’t get what they want, they’re trapped?”

  “Sometimes the originator of the deal will deliberately hide, withhold, or destroy the desired object to ensure an undead servant. At other times the targeted victims crave something they can never win, like the love of a certain woman, the respect of someone they admire, or to hold an important title or position. In any event, if wraiths ever obtain what they most want, they find release.”

  “Can I find out what the wraiths want?”

  “Easier said than done. By the time they are undead, wraiths are so miserable and dissatisfied that they avoid the topic. They rarely wish to discuss their agonizing disappointment. Wraiths seek distraction. They leech life and warmth. And if they find a master they can comprehend, wraiths like to surrender their wills by serving.”

  “The wraiths are serving the phantom?” Seth asked.

  “Or somebody who wanted the phantom protected,” Ronodin said.

  “Can I talk them out of guarding Dezia?”

  “You may fail, but you must try.”

  “Will I need to do favors for them?” Seth asked, remembering the favor he already owed Ezabar.

  “Wraiths are not terribly interested in favors,” Ronodin said. “Many wraiths think they want freedom, although their only real freedom would be finding the object of their desire. Their sole remaining pleasure is the fleeting rush of draining a life force. Most would be willing to serve a better master. If it were me, I would try to help them feel released from their duty of guarding the crypt. Offer them a better alternative. Uninfluenced by outside sources, wraiths routinely stay true to commands for decades or even centuries. But you can talk to them, meaning you have a chance to influence them.”

  “And if I make it to Dezia?” Seth asked.

  “Phantoms are less predictable,” Ronodin said. “I gave you a book on the subject.”

  “I may not have read every page,” Seth said. “I need the summary.”

  “Phantoms are ethereal,” Ronodin said. “They have no tangible body. Nobody knows exactly where they come from, but they are born out of deep tragedy.”

  “If a person lost everything, they could turn into a phantom?”

  “Such a person could cause the birth of a phantom,” Ronodin said.

  “Maybe I’m a phantom,” Seth mused. “I don’t remember where I came from.”

  “You’re very much a human boy,” Ronodin said. “The afflicted person does not turn into a phantom. The phantom is what fills the footprint of the tragedy. After coming into being, phantoms develop an independent identity. The fundamental nature of a phantom is difficult to discern.”

  “They can think and speak?” Seth asked.

  “You should be able to converse with the phantom,” Ronodin said. “How you get the information you need is up to you.”

  “Brute force?”

  Ronodin grinned. “You could try.”

  “Favors?” Seth asked.

  “Whatever it takes,” Ronodin said.

  “This is starting to feel like quicksand,” Seth said. “I owe the Underking favors, and to do his favors, I’ll need to owe other favors. I keep piling up new debts.”

  Ronodin laughed heartily. “Welcome to the magical world!”

  “When does it end?” Seth asked.

  “Let me know if you figure that out,” Ronodin said.

  Seth had plenty to think about as the island drew nearer, the prow of the craft aimed at a black beach flanked by low, rocky cliffs. How could he prepare for threats that remained largely unknown? He would have to rely on his ability to improvise as he discovered how the wraiths and the phantom interacted with him.

  At length the boat moved into breakers and was propelled to shore at the fastest speed yet, waves frothing around them until the craft ran aground on fine black sand. Ronodin and Seth exited the front of the boat.

  “Come,” Ronodin said, as if talking to a dog. He snapped his fingers. “Up. Up.”

  The boat surged forward in little scoots until it rested completely on dry sand. Ronodin scanned the waves. “That will do.”

  “Obedient boat,” Seth said.

  “You should see it roll over,” Ronodin remarked. “This way.”

  They tromped off the sand and onto a path of hard mud that wound back into the trees. Ferns crowded the path, some lacy and delicate, others broad and shiny.

  “Do you expect trouble?” Seth asked.

  “Why not?” Ronodin said. “We have a rampaging triclops on the prowl, the possibility of dragons, and the undead unwittingly awaiting our arrival.”

  “Aren’t you on good terms with the dragons?” Seth asked.

  “I’m an expert at avoiding trouble,” Ronodin said. “I’m more concerned about you.”

  “So if dragons show up, I’m on my own?”

  “I want you safe. See the flowers over there?”

  Seth looked where Ronodin was pointing and beheld huge blossoms the size of hula hoops, red and white petals pristine against the verdant backdrop, maybe fifteen paces off the path. “The big ones?”

  “Yes,” Ronodin said. “They are responsible for the fragrance.”

  Seth sniffed purposefully. A definite perfume mingled with the humid air. “Smells tasty.”

  “Exactly,” Ronodin said. “Not just a pleasant aroma. The smell seems to promise you will be fed. See the green bulbs near the blossoms?”

  They were bigger than watermelons. Seth assumed they simply had not blossomed yet. “Sure.”

  “They will hastily devour you if you come within range,” Ronodin said.

  “Carnivorous,” Seth said, stepping away from the plant even though it was not near him.

  “Aggressively carnivorous,” Ronodin said. “Strikes fast. Can bite through bone. Some birds can’t resist the aroma. A meaty kill like you would satisfy t
he plant for months.”

  “Message received,” Seth said. “Don’t stop and smell the roses.”

  “Not without expert guidance. If you want a rule of thumb, big and bright isn’t right. Such species tend to be poisonous or carnivorous. Works in the jungle and in the sea as well. Some very nasty fish inhabit these waters.”

  “I want to see that flower eat something,” Seth said, lingering as Ronodin moved on.

  “Me too,” Ronodin said. “Sadly, we lack gullible children, and we have a schedule to keep.”

  Seth hoped Ronodin was kidding.

  They continued through the jungle. When they reached an open meadow, Seth noticed a moai on a nearby hilltop. “Cool statue,” he said.

  “They once guarded this prison,” Ronodin said. “I prefer them asleep. It is why the Underking has chosen the present hour to send us on this mission.”

  On the far side of the meadow, the path continued. Several plants about Seth’s height looked to have green dreadlocks instead of leaves. He amused himself by appreciating the variety of shrubs, flowers, and trees. Ronodin pointed out a tree that could kill by using its vines as nooses, and on the other side of the path, a spiky bush with exploding fruit.

  Where a splashing stream crossed their path, Ronodin held a finger to his lips and crouched. Following his gaze, Seth looked upstream to where a red boar the size of a car was drinking. The creature abruptly raised its head, wide snout sniffing, tusks the size of baseball bats curving sharply.

  As the beast turned toward Ronodin and Seth, the dark unicorn arose, one arm outstretched toward the boar, the other clutching what looked like a short, black unicorn horn. “Depart in peace or meet your ruin,” Ronodin said calmly.

  With a squealing snort, the boar turned and ran, crashing through the foliage. Seth remained tense until it passed out of earshot.

  “What if the pig had charged?” he asked.

  “Pork chops and bacon,” Ronodin said, putting away the horn.

  “Huge bacon,” Seth said. “Was that your horn?”

  “You saw nothing,” Ronodin said.

  “Okay,” Seth said. “Must have been my imagination.”