Echo Quickthorn and the Great Beyond

by Alex English

‘Ha!’ The professor reappeared in the doorway. ‘I bet old Jefferson never thought of that! He might have all those young engineers working for him, building all his fancy technology, but does he have lollipops? I think not!’

  Doctor Beetlestone laughed. ‘Don’t be so competitive.’

  Jefferson. Fancy technology. Echo’s mind suddenly made the connections. Fergus! Abena had said he was one of the engineers who worked for Jefferson. He’d be back in Port Tourbillon by now. Perhaps he’d already told Abena something that could help!

  Echo raced out of the room, pulling the postal pigeon from her pocket. She shimmied back down from the tree house, scrawled a note on a scrap of paper and released the little bird into the sky with a metallic flutter. She watched it leave with every finger and toe crossed. Abena had to have answers. Time was running out.

  Once the nectar lollipops had set, Doctor Beetlestone pulled them out of their moulds with a pop and stashed them in a bag. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and find some butterflies!’

  They followed her through the jungle until they came to a wide clearing with a gleaming greenish-blue lake. On its surface floated enormous lily pads, each one as wide as Echo was tall. Doctor Beetlestone stepped on to the first one and strode across the lake, using the wrinkled leaves as stepping stones.

  Echo followed, hopping from leaf to leaf. The leaves bobbed slightly as they took her weight, but they held. Each plant had a mottled yellow-and-brown flower or a bud as big as Echo’s fist.

  ‘Leopard lilies,’ the doctor explained, as Horace inched from leaf to leaf to join them in the middle of the lake. ‘The butterflies sometimes come here in the late evening to feed, but they’re shy creatures. If we’re quiet and patient, we may get lucky.’

  The four of them arranged themselves cross-legged on a leaf. Doctor Beetlestone handed out the lollipops and they sat in silence, scanning the skies for any sight of a fluttering wing. The purple mist descended on the lake, bringing an eerie hush with it, only broken by the occasional plop of a fish or the squawk of a heron.

  ‘But how will we see them—’ started Horace.

  Doctor Beetlestone put a finger to her lips. She waved her lollipop aloft.

  Echo let out a gasp as a black-and-gold butterfly with wings as big as dinner plates loomed out of the mist and landed on Horace’s head. Gilbert gave a chirrup of alarm and hid himself in Echo’s hair as the butterfly’s coiled tongue unrolled to lick the lollipop Horace was holding.

  ‘It’s . . . it’s heavy!’ said Horace, looking up in amazement, a huge grin spreading across his face.

  ‘If only I had my photographic plates,’ said the professor, with a groan, as suddenly a whole flock of Greater Brimstones descended on them out of the fog, their velvety wings brushing Echo’s arms as she held her lollipop out. She giggled in delight as one landed on her wrist and lapped at the sweet nectar, all the while keeping one huge compound eye fixed on her.

  ‘Aren’t they incredible?’ whispered Horace, his face glowing.

  ‘Yes,’ Echo whispered back, suddenly understanding what Horace saw in these beautiful insects. ‘They really, really are.’

  Finally, the butterflies dispersed, Gilbert was brave enough to emerge from Echo’s hair, and they all followed Doctor Beetlestone back over the lily pads and through the jungle to her treetop laboratory.

  She headed up the steps, followed by the professor and Horace. As Echo approached the stairs, there was a rustle of leaves and her postal pigeon swooped down through the branches. Echo caught it in both hands and feverishly unrolled the scroll of paper clasped in its claw. Could this be it? Her hands shook as she read the note:

  F says try Tyrian Isle. That’s where

  Jefferson’s crew saw them last. Abena

  Tyrian Isle. Echo thought back to Mrs Milkweed’s charts. That was the largest island to the far south of the cluster. Could Fergus be right?

  ‘Come on, Echo!’ called Horace from the top step. He peered down at her. ‘Who’s that from?’

  ‘No one,’ said Echo, guiltily shoving the message and the pigeon into her pocket and hurrying up the steps.

  ‘How close are the other islands?’ Echo asked Doctor Beetlestone, as she cleaned the lollipop sticks and stashed them away neatly in a cabinet.

  The doctor smiled. ‘How about I give you a bird’s eye view?’ she said. ‘I’ve made a few adjustments to the lab since you were last here, Professor. Hold on tight.’ She pressed a large blue button on the wall and the whole laboratory shook before sliding smoothly upwards into the air above the treetops. She pressed a yellow button and the others gasped as the roof unfurled like a bud opening. The walls slid down to reveal a glass parapet, leaving them gazing in amazement across the treetops of Amethyst Isle and over the glittering sea.

  ‘Wow!’ said Echo. ‘This is incredible! Can we see all the islands from here?’

  ‘That’s Magenta to the west,’ the doctor said, pointing to a tiny, beach-fringed island. ‘And the larger one beyond it is Heliotrope.’ She walked over to the other side. ‘Then, to the north-east, we have Magenta.’

  ‘And what about Tyrian?’ asked Echo.

  The doctor turned to Echo. ‘Tyrian is far to the south,’ she said, pointing out a dark shape on the horizon. ‘But it’s barely part of the Violet Isles really, different flora and fauna entirely.’

  ‘Have you ever been there?’

  The doctor shook her head. ‘No, and I don’t intend to. It’s a dangerous place. No butterflies there either! Just poisonous fire ants, porcupythons and worse.’

  ‘Why’s it so dark?’ asked Horace, squinting through his binoculars. ‘The sand looks black.’

  But Echo’s heart was thudding so loudly in her ears she didn’t hear the professor’s reply. She thought back to the photogram Evander Jefferson had shown at the Guild. The Scarlet Margaret, tethered above a charcoal-dark beach.

  ‘Can I see?’

  Horace passed her the binoculars and Echo focused on the island. She shivered as she took it in. Black sand. Tyrian had to be the place.

  She needed to get there, and there wasn’t much time.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next morning Echo woke at the break of dawn, as the first tendrils of sun crept in through the windows of Doctor Beetlestone’s tree lab. She had to get to Tyrian, but neither Doctor Beetlestone nor the professor were going to take her there. She looked at the sleeping forms of her companions and bit back a guilty sigh. No, as much as she’d like the company, she would have to get there herself.

  She scooped up Gilbert, who cheeped a drowsy, Whasssgoingon, before going back to sleep round her neck, then crept across the room and out of the door barefoot, boots in one hand.

  She was almost at the beach when she heard the crunch of a footstep behind her. She spun round to find a rumpled Horace staring accusingly at her.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ he hissed.

  ‘None of your business.’ She went over to the Hummerbird and started to climb.

  ‘You can’t take the professor’s ship,’ said Horace. ‘What will he do without it?’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ said Echo. She opened the hatch. ‘He’s safe here with Edie. And I’ll have the ship back before he knows it’s gone.’ ‘You can’t!’ said Horace, scrambling up after her. ‘Where are you going anyway?’

  ‘Tyrian,’ said Echo. She slipped inside.

  ‘But that’s . . . that’s the dangerous island.’

  ‘It’s the island where the sky pirates are,’ said Echo. ‘Where my mother is.’

  ‘Your mother? But how can you possibly—’

  ‘She’s there. I know it.’ Echo faced Horace and told him about what she’d seen at the Explorers’ Guild, about what Fergus had said and the black-sand beach. ‘The Black Sky Wolves kidnapped her and that’s where they’re hiding.’

  ‘But that photogram was years old, Echo. How do you know they still have her?’

  ‘I don’t, but it’s all I have to go on.�
� Why couldn’t he understand? ‘This is important, can’t you see?’ She clenched her fists to stop her voice shaking. ‘This is the only chance I have to find her. And anyway, I have a plan.’ Echo lowered her gaze, unable to meet his eye. She’d figure one out when she got there anyway.

  Horace nodded slowly and folded his arms. After a moment, he said, ‘I’m not letting you go. Not alone. It’s too dangerous.’ Gilbert gave a wounded chirrup as if to say, Alone? What about me? But, as Echo looked at Horace, an understanding passed between them.

  ‘So you’ll come?’ she asked. ‘Even though it’s dangerous?’

  Horace nodded stiffly. ‘I know what it’s like not to have a mother,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to bring the ship straight back though.’

  Echo smiled at the we. ‘Promise,’ she said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Echo tried not to let Horace see how nervous she felt as she fired up the Hummerbird ’s engines and they lifted into the air. She barely spoke for the whole journey and didn’t loosen her grip on the wheel for a single moment, praying all the way that the damaged balloon envelope, still patched up with her old petticoat, would hold. As they neared Tyrian, fear fluttered in her belly and she frowned in concentration. Her landing had to be more successful than the last time she’d flown or they’d be stranded in this perilous place! But the little ship kept humming forward and, after a slightly wobbly approach, Echo managed to bring them down on to the sparkling black sands without a hitch.

  ‘So, which way do we go?’ asked Horace, as they climbed down from the Hummerbird.

  Echo felt her cheeks flush with heat. ‘I don’t really know yet,’ she said. ‘I guess we should look around a bit.’

  ‘But they could be anywhere!’ Horace threw up his hands. ‘We can’t just fly here and expect to find them! You said you had a plan!’

  ‘I know!’ Echo felt her eyes prickle with tears and she held her breath to keep herself from snapping at Horace. ‘But I lied. I didn’t ask you to come.’

  ‘You’re a fool, Echo.’ Horace shook his head in disbelief. ‘What are we even going to do if we find them? They’re pirates! There are only two of us!’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that?’ Echo shouted. ‘You can’t always have a plan, Horace. Sometimes you just have to go out into the unknown and see what you find.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Horace, sitting down on the black sand. ‘Let me know when you’ve worked out what to do.’

  ‘I’m going to look at the map.’ Echo turned her back on him and stormed back to the airship. Why had she ever thought Horace had changed? He was the same old spoilt prince he’d always been, tagging along and ruining things. She would just have to work this out by herself.

  After consulting all the charts she could find, Echo was still in the dark about how to find the Scarlet Margaret. She sighed. ‘The only thing for it is to explore,’ she said to Gilbert, who was also eyeing the maps with a confused expression. ‘Let’s tell Horace.’ She climbed out on to the roof of the Hummerbird, shaded her eyes with her hand and scanned the empty black-sand bay. Where was he?

  Echo wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand and jumped down on to the beach.

  ‘Horace!’ she called. There was no answer, just the swish of the tide and the odd melancholy cry of a seabird. ‘Oh, where is he?’

  Gilbert curled his tail into a question mark and turned a worried shade of white.

  ‘Perhaps he’s hiding.’ Echo draped the lizard round her neck and circled the ship’s gondola, but the sand was empty. ‘Horace?’

  Nothing. The beach was deserted. She spun round and scanned the bay, a heavy feeling settling in the bottom of her stomach. Horace wasn’t on the beach anywhere. So where was he?

  Echo retraced her steps to the water’s edge. Think, Echo. Horace had been sitting right here and then they’d argued and she’d stomped off up to the Hummerbird.

  Echo flushed as she remembered. Perhaps she shouldn’t have shouted at him. Perhaps she even owed him an apology. But, if he’d wandered off, she had no idea which direction he’d gone in.

  Gilbert suddenly tensed on her shoulder and scuttled down her leg on to the sand.

  ‘Gilbert, what are you . . . ?’ Echo trailed off as she saw him sniffing a set of footprints veering away from her trail to the Hummerbird and leading towards the trees.

  Her heart dropped into her stomach. Doctor Beetlestone had said this island was dangerous! Echo scooped up Gilbert and ran up the beach, her boots slipping on the loose sand, thoughts of vicious porcupythons, whatever those were, filling her head. She followed the footprints until they dried out and disappeared.

  ‘Horace!’ she called into the trees, hoping in vain this was some kind of joke. ‘Horace, you can come out now!’

  But there was no reply, just the papery rustle of the palms and the rhythmic whoosh of the sea behind her. Echo stepped forward, out of the sunlight, and peered into the dim green darkness. There were no neat pathways like on Amethyst Isle, but she could see a trampled section in the ferns where someone had pushed their way through.

  Oh, Horace! Echo stroked Gilbert’s scaly tail. No need to panic. She’d go and find him, and apologize, and bring him and the ship back before Professor Daggerwing even realized they were gone. Horace was right, she had been foolish to think that two children could do this alone. She took some deep breaths to steady her nerves. He couldn’t have gone far. Could he?

  She stepped into the trees. The beach had been hot and dry, with the sun beating fiercely on the back of her neck, but the palm forest was a wet sort of warm, with damp, leafy air and a springy bed of moss underfoot. Echo pushed through the dripping ferns, making her way into the jungle. Something rustled in the bushes, and she jumped backwards, fearing teeth sinking into her ankle, lost her footing and landed on her bottom in the leaves.

  She laughed in relief when she saw it was just a glossy red beetle scuttling through the undergrowth with a berry clamped tight in its pincers. It still took a minute or two to get her breath back though, and steady her pounding heart. Once she had, she realized just how quiet and still and Horace-less the place was.

  She filled her lungs. ‘HORACE!’ she yelled, as loud as she could, her voice reverberating through the trees. A flock of bright green parrots exploded from the forest canopy at the sound, but when the leaves settled there was still just that damp, dripping quiet and the thud of Echo’s own heart in her ears.

  Where was he? Why did he have to run off? Didn’t he know how dangerous this place was? Tears prickled in her eyes and she rubbed them away with the back of her hand. No, she wasn’t going to sit here and cry. She was going to find him.

  Echo got to her feet and turned in a circle, scanning the greenery for any sign of Horace’s yellow-blond hair. Up ahead, she could make out the trail of crushed ferns, and so she trudged onwards through the trees, ducking trailing vines and stepping over clusters of brightly coloured toadstools for what seemed like hours. She had almost given up and turned round when a wide clearing opened up before her and she spotted a strange group of huge plants, each with a drooping stem as thick as her arm, and topped with a gaping pink flower as large as an armchair.

  ‘Wow, Gilbert, look at these.’ Echo stepped forward to get a closer look.

  Pain shot through her shoulder. ‘Ow!’ She looked down to find that Gilbert had sunk his jaws into her skin and turned a bright emergency red. ‘What’s the matter? They’re just big flowers.’

  He raised his crest, but Echo ignored him.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to eat them.’

  The flowers were a deep fuchsia-pink and each wide, rounded petal was fringed with a row of needle-sharp thorns, each one as long as Echo’s finger. As she got closer, she breathed in a delicious, heady scent, like peaches and oranges and candyfloss all wrapped into one. She licked her lips and moved closer still.

  ‘Or maybe I should. They smell delicious!’

  Gilbert scuttled into her hair and nipped her ear with a, N
o, Echo!

  ‘Get off!’ She brushed him away and he landed with a plop in the leaves as she walked, as if in a trance, closer to that delicious scent. As she got nearer, she realized each flower contained a pool of nectar in its centre that glistened like honey. Her mouth watered.

  ‘Is this what smells so beautiful?’ As she reached out to dip a finger in the sticky liquid, Gilbert raced up her leg and bit her hard on the thigh.

  ‘OW! What’re you—’

  As she snatched her hand back, her fingers brushed a thorn and the flower snapped shut with a fleshy thud.

  Echo staggered backwards, her heart racing. What was this thing? She shook her head, trying to get rid of the fug in her brain. Why couldn’t she think straight? Had the flower done this to her?

  Gilbert scrambled up her back and nudged at her shoulder. Somehow she stumbled away from the plants before collapsing at the edge of the clearing with her head in her hands. It took several minutes for her head to clear, but, once it had, she scooped up Gilbert and put him back on her shoulder. ‘Sorry, Gilbert, I should have listened to you.’

  Gilbert rolled his eyes in an I know kind of way.

  ‘What on earth are those things?’ She smoothed his scales. ‘Let’s get out of here. They’re giving me the creeps.’ She glanced around. ‘Where is he?’

  As she turned to leave the clearing, there was a muffled cry from behind her.

  Echo spun round, blinking. ‘Horace?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Mmmmph.’

  There it was again. Echo froze, scanning the clearing for any sign of movement. Then she saw it, and her heart dropped. There, in one of the closed plant mouths, was a large, squirming lump. A rather Horace-shaped lump rippling within the fleshy bud of petals. She could make out an elbow, or was it a knee? Whatever it was, it did not seem happy.

  She was about to race forward and wrench open the petals when Gilbert’s claws tightened on her shoulder and she remembered the plant’s strange perfume and its effect on her.