Thunder: The Shadows Are Stirring (Thunder Stories Book 1) (27 page)

Thinly forested with huge trees, the island is a nature geek’s dream. Fallen leaves coat the deep green grass in colorful splashes of yellow, red, and orange. Like pieces from a stained-glass window. Interspersed are gray boulders, covered with lichen and moss. Where the grass isn’t too tall, mushroom rings are visible on the ground. The trees have interwoven branches and both the roots and limbs have tons of what Mom would have called fairy knots—holes she would imagine as windows or doors to fairy homes. The deep sound of water, like the roar of a waterfall, mixes with the soft rustle of leaves and the musical notes of birdcalls. Seriously, this is my heaven. Breathing deep, I fill my body with pure, sweet air.

A burst of belligerent wind, howling like a wild animal, cuts through us. The temperature drops about twenty degrees. Strange. Grabbing my new jacket from my bag, I throw my arms into the sleeves and pull it close around my body. Without thinking about it, we step back into each other, forming a triangle with Storm in its center. The wind shrieks again, high pitched and keening. The birds go silent. The trees bend and sway, shaking their branches like angry fists, twigs scraping and leaves swirling in mini tornados. The sky does this fast-forward cloud-action thing, going from an empty blue smear to being covered with wisps of white. The clouds darken into a dense gray, before swirling into heavy blackness and eating the sun and almost all our light. The world pauses and, in the sudden silence, I bellow, “Scatter and get down! Now!”

They don’t question my command. We spring apart from each other, throwing our bodies to the ground in huddled form: feet together, head down, ears covered. Becoming as small as possible. Just then the air explodes in a simultaneous anti-flash and resounding sucking boom, which squeezes the air from my lungs and makes my ears pop. When my heart beats again, I take a deep breath, attempting to refill my lungs, while twisting my neck to see what I can of the sky. Another strange flicker. This time I see the jagged forked bolt of lightning, which glows a deep blackish-purple color. I’ve never seen anything like it. Another sucking boom.

I turn my head again, staring straight across at Maddix, who’s about fifteen feet from me. Flash-BOOM! The whites of his eyes glow bright blue, as does his shirt, which I know is also white. Flash-BOOM! The ground shakes. I turn my head to the left and see Sam’s white socks peeking through the gap of his pant leg and the top of his boots. Flash! Purple streak, bright blue sock. BOOM! A little later, the sky opens and dumps its entire water supply on us. We are exactly where survivalists say never to be in a lightning storm. Surrounded by water, encircled by trees, on high ground. Shoot. You might as well throw a metal fence around us with a sign posted, “Strike here!” Within a half hour it’s all over and I feel as nauseous as I’ve ever been in my life. My eardrums will never be the same.

“Wow, guys!” shouts Maddix, “That was black lightning! Did you see that?!”

Um, would it have been possible not to? “Black lightning?” I holler back. “Is that something normal out here? I’ve never seen anything like it before!”

“What the heck was that?” yells Jamie. “Is that normal around here?”

It takes a while before we can communicate without having to read lips. The sky is clear again, the sun well on its way to setting, and Jamie and I are sporting nasty burns across our faces and the backs of our hands and necks. Anything that had been exposed during the lightning strikes.

Maddix stares at the two of us and busts out laughing. “Whoa! What happened to you two?”

It’s our turn to glare at him as he helps smear cream into our skin. We’d just been baked in a natural outdoor tanning bed. Nice. Maddix got off easy; with his dark skin, he doesn’t seem to be singed quite as badly as Jamie and I. When my skin feels cool again, I get things together for a secure campsite.

I almost trip over something and realize it’s Storm, huddled up and shaking with fear and cold. While Maddix and I situate everything, I send Jamie over to the cub. He flops onto the ground next to the ball of wet-furred misery and pulls him close. Until camp is set, they lie together in a soggy heap, Storm’s snout buried under my brother’s arm, my brother’s face buried into Storm’s side.

Chapter Twenty-Two: Captive Audience

(SAMUEL)

T
HE MORNING AFTER THE STORM
, we go exploring. Rain must be common here because everything is perma-wet and glossy. The leaves that blew down last night are already turning to mulch and even the dirt is dark, like old coffee grounds. While the early sun brings a deep golden glow to everything, a wispy mist clings to the forest floor, rising about two feet in the air and keeping our footsteps muted. Because there are no trails through the grass, I’m guessing we’re not in the right location. But I’m still curious about the island, which juts from the lake like a huge wedge of cake. Our end is broad, several miles wide, with a cliff edge dropping down to the water; the far end narrows by a couple miles and slopes down into a smooth sandy beach at the lake’s edge.

By following the sound of a waterfall, we come to an area that looks like a giant bite has been taken from the land. A good-sized stream courses its way to a lip of land, hanging above the bite, before dropping fifty feet to a pool below us. We work our way down to the pool, which is surrounded by curled ferns and mossy rocks. The water is clear and the sound of the splashing is almost musical. Behind the waterfall, there’s a shelf of rock wide enough to use as a walkway. It’s begging to be explored.

We climb the slippery boulders and reach the shelf, managing not to fall or break anything. Sweet. Behind the cascading water, we discover a cave. Maddix and Jamie take off to see how far back it goes. I stay at the lip and tip back my head, listening. Rushing water echoes around me and wets my clothes with a fine mist, which makes me even more curious. Reaching my hand into the spray, I jerk back in surprise when it touches my skin. It’s totally heated.

“Hey, guys, you gotta feel this!” I exclaim, calling the others back to me.

Within a minute, the three of us are stripped to our skivvies and we’re cannonballing into the pool below. After we’ve all landed, Storm splashes down next to us, paddling with his paws and holding his snout above the waterline. I close my eyes and float aimlessly. My muscles ache after all the hiking, fighting, and surviving we’ve done over the past couple of weeks. I could float forever if I didn’t have a job to do. I sigh. We need to get going. Something starts poking at my brain. It takes me a moment to realize what caught my attention. The musical note of the falls sounds louder and clearer in my water-clogged ears. I crack a lid to see what has changed. What I see makes my eyes fly open.

Forgetting I’m in water, I try to jump up and manage to make myself sink instead. I resurface spluttering, “What the—?” The rest is choked off in a gulp of water. My brother, Maddix, and Storm are all floating in the air above me, absolutely petrified. I mean, they’re not moving at all. Not even blinking. Their eyes are all squinched up and their mouths are pursed all funny and—oh, man. They
are
petrified. The pit of my stomach sinks to my toes. Can’t we enjoy one lousy morning? Apparently not, but …. Really?

Something like glitter, jacked up on pepper, hits my face from out of nowhere. Ungh! I feel the sneeze work its way from the back of my nose and shoist. It sticks there, tingling over and over because now I can’t move either. Worst torture ever. I can totally feel and think and everything, and it takes all of five seconds for my eyes to start streaming from not being able to blink and for every inch of my body to get itchy and, man, that sneeze …. Aw, bugger it. I’m gonna go crazy within a minute. I feel my body getting sucked out of the water and then I’m dangling in space next to Jamie. We’re now soaking wet in the cold air, wearing boxers. Perfect. Just great for any defensive tactics. I’ve totally got us covered. Yeah, in Opposite Land. What kind of Leader am I?

“Aisliegh, this cannot be right. You have deformed the poor creatures. See how scrunched and twitchy they appear. Except for the tiger. He’s darling.” The voice comes from my left and I try to get my eyes to move. Ha! Who am I kidding? My tears won’t even fall, so my eyes are just kind of drowning in their own private sea.

“Raz, it is not my fault how they look. It is obviously an inborn condition. Do you not see how the largest is twisted precisely so? They must be here for medicinal reasons. Perhaps to relax the horrific knotting of their musculature.”

“They didn’t seem quite so, er, misshapen, before you walloped them with the dust.”

“Whatever. Should we bring them up?”

“Of course, Aisleigh. If they cannot help us, they would make terrific gargoyles. They would need to be shrunk up a smidgen to fit.”

I have no idea what these people are talking about, but I blanch at the words ‘shrunk up.’ Or I would if my blood could move through my veins properly.

“Fine then. But you’re right about the tiger. Do you think we could make it a pet?”

“No telling. Viola has no control over herself anymore. Honestly, if she can’t get a grip, she should step down.”

“Hush, Raz! If she heard you, she’d send you away from Faisle, and where would that put you? If you’re off the Island, you’re out of the Lake, and if—”

“Yeah, yeah; if I’m out of the Lake, I cannot be ‘of the Lake.’ Don’t get your wings in a twist, Aisleigh. There are worse things than having to join one of the other clans.”

“As an
outcast
?” Aisleigh sounds doubtful.

“Hey, an outcast of Faisle still outranks, well, even the clans of Hunter’s Grove. You know we create the best magics this side of anything. There’d be hope for me to eventually fit in somewhere. Let’s bring them up and see if we can loosen their tongues at all.”

Oh, this can’t be good. I feel the movement of the air around us as we are somehow floated to a new location. It does seem to be more “up.” I don’t know who these Raz or Aisleigh characters are, but they’ve sure got some ’splainin to do. Inborn twitchiness? Hardly.

Leaves and branches scrape at my arms and legs and, periodically, my head hits into something hard. After a distance, we drop down again, hanging motionless in midair.

The voice I think belongs to Raz states bossily, “Here. Let me do it. I don’t know what you put into your mix. I think you grabbed the Wrinkle Wart and not the Starshade.” I feel a small puff of breath against my face.

“Ahhhhh-CHOO! Ahhh-CHOOOO!” My sneezes burst out like a fully loaded slingshot.

“Well, that was just disgusting.” The voice sounds disdainful now.

I wipe my eyes, without thinking about my new freedom, and blink, shake my head, and blink some more. Floating right in front of me is a blue, three-inch tall creature with wings. The arms and legs are thin as twigs. In fact, if it pressed its legs together and held its arms at its sides, I’d have thought it was some kind of huge butterfly. It’s not. Another one—yellow this time—comes flitting past.

From next to me comes Jamie’s voice. “Hey, Sam, look! They’re fairies!”

“Wow,” breathes Maddix, “they don’t usually show themselves! This is a big deal.”

Um, yeah. You could say that. We settle onto the ground near the base of a thick tree trunk, not entirely of our own accord, more like our muscles are responding to an unspoken command. I gather my thoughts.

“Okay. Raz? Aisleigh? Mind telling us what’s going on?”

“Ooh! It’s kind of cute when it wrinkles its forehead like that.” It’s Aisleigh’s voice; she’s the blue one.

“Sugar, that’s because you didn’t get slimed with human grossness. Cute is not the word.”

“Uh, excuse me?” I interrupt before they can get distracted. “Gee, sorry I sneezed on you. I can’t exactly move my arms, right? Maybe you can tell us what you’re doing with us and who you are.”

“Hmph. Fine, I accept your apology,” says Raz. “You are hereby prisoners of the People of the Lake, fate to be determined by her Royal Highness, Queen Viola, upon accordance of the Trespasser’s Contract, Article 2B, Section 107. If determined guilty, ‘up to and including life’ is by law an acceptable sentence listed in said article, Section 304, Paragraph 22, line 36. Exchanges are welcome in some cases for guilty verdict rulings. Lake Penal code XVILL, Section 3. Welcome to Faisle Island, we hope you enjoy your stay.” She folds her body into a half bow.

Great. Isn’t that just spiffy. Why on earth would Oden want these guys? I think back to what the fairy things had said about their “magics” being the best around. I bet the answer lies somewhere in that detail. Which means I’ve got to win them over somehow.

“Can we meet with your Queen Viola? We have some business with her.”

A squeal comes from Aisleigh. “Ooh! Maybe they’re The Ones, Raz!” She turns to me and asks in a stage whisper, “Have you found something that is lost? Have you been sent?”

Frankly, I’m becoming kind of tired of being connected to anything that even remotely lists me, my family members, or my friends as “The One” or “Ones.” And I fervently hope we are not anyone else’s “One” for a long time to come, once this is all over.