Island of Shipwrecks (14 page)

The man's face perked up. “Oh, magic!” He nodded. “Magic. So. This is why ship . . . arrives . . . on the land, like this. It is for you to fix.” He pointed to the pirate ship, clearly happy to finally make sense of how the damaged ship managed to be sitting entirely on land.

“Yes,” Lani said, tickled. “How do you know about magic? Can you do magic?”

“Me magic?” the ancient little man said, pointing to his
wrinkled old chest. A gust of wind took his hat high into the air, and he laughed, unbothered by it. “No. I know magic from another visitor. Visitor I do not see in a long time. He comes through the magic tube. You know him? His name is Marcus Today.”

W
h-what?” Alex sputtered. “You knew Mr. Today? There's a tube here?” Could this be their way home?

The little man held up his hand as the storm grew worse and a gust of wind sent Fox rolling across the ground. “Come quick,” the man said to them all. “I will show you.”

Alex exchanged looks with Florence and his friends, and they all nodded. The man seemed harmless and trustworthy.

The man trekked to a cluster of rocks not far inland, and held his hand out, presenting it. “Magic tube,” he said proudly.

Alex and Samheed ran to look inside the rock formation.
There, indeed, were the remains of a tube, tilting slightly as if years of wind had begun to push it over. Its glass was opaque with salty grime from the sea. Moss grew on the floor of it, and a puddle of water collected in the lowest area. The panel was cracked and there were several holes in it where the directional buttons should be.

Alex's heart sank. It was completely useless. “Very nice,” he said to the man. “Thank you for showing us.” He looked back at the others and gave a quick shake of the head. “Sorry, everybody. Not functional,” he said. “I wouldn't have the first clue about how to fix it.” He squinted at it. “I'll certainly give it a try, though.”

A blast of lightning split the sky and a howling wind sent Fox tumbling several yards. Henry ran to pick him up, and Kitten too, though being so small and low to the ground had kept her from sailing anywhere thus far.

The man beckoned the Artiméans to follow him. “Hour of calm is over,” he said, and his words were starting to come out more smoothly the more he spoke. “We must shelter from the hurricane.” With that he shielded his eyes and squinted toward the shore, looking longingly at the toolbox, and shook
his head. “My box,” he muttered. He turned and moved quickly toward the center of the island, where the largest rock formations stood. The Artiméans exchanged glances once more. Faced with a choice between the worsening storm and the unknown, they chose the unknown and went after him.

When they reached the tallest rocks, everyone but Florence followed the man through a small, sheltered doorway into a large open room.

“I'll stay out here,” Florence called out.

Alex came running back to the doorway, realizing Florence was too big to fit through it. He looked at her, concerned. “Are you sure?”

“The weather doesn't bother me. If anything strange happens, yell, and I'll rip these rocks out of my way so fast and be at your side in no time. But there's no use destroying the poor man's place unless it's necessary.” She gave Alex a reassuring smile. “Besides, I can see and hear what's going on inside that main room from here.”

Alex frowned. “Okay, if you say so,” he said.

“I do.”

Alex slowly turned and went back inside.

Off the main room were smaller, semi-closed nooks. The nooks were modest in size, but plentiful, which made the shelter feel quite spacious, yet cozy. There was easily enough room for thirty or forty people, Alex guessed. He looked around and automatically reached for a spell component in case they were being set up for an ambush. But the little man just stood and waited patiently, a wide grin on his face, as he watched the Artiméans look around. No one else appeared.

The entry room where they stood was by far the largest space they could see, and though there was no physical door that could be closed to shut out the storm, the wind and rain coming inside was vastly minimized by intricately positioned rock slabs outside.

While the others wandered through the shelter, Alex stood by the door and looked out, seeing the pattern of rocks that protected him from the elements. It was so cleverly designed that he quite wished he'd thought of it, and for a moment he longed to be back in Artimé, working on art for a change. He needed something creative to do. The voyage had gotten long and arduous, and now that they had rescued Copper, he just wanted to go home and draw things.

He could see Florence just outside the door, sitting against the rocks, wiping down her bow and arrows with a bit of moss she'd pulled up.

Sensing Alex hanging back, Florence spoke up. “I may try to work on the ship if the storm lets up a little. For now, though, I can barely hang on to this arrow even though I'm partially sheltered in this corner. The wind wants to take everything. So I imagine out on the open shore it'll be nearly impossible to do anything in these conditions.” She looked at Alex. “I mean it, Alex. Get out of the rain. I'll be fine here.”

Alex, finally convinced, nodded and went inside to find the others settling in nicely. The little man scurried over and gave him a towel and some dry, ragged clothes to change into, then disappeared into one of the nooks. Alex could tell the clothes had once been adorned with a colorful pattern that had now faded almost completely away. Alex changed quickly and hung his clothes to dry by the others, then wandered about through the open space, visiting the different nooks where his friends had settled. He checked on Captain Ahab, making sure the statue was comfortable. He spied Sky with Lani and Samheed, all talking animatedly in one nook, Samheed acting something
out to the others' enjoyment. Alex looked away. He'd join them later. Maybe.

On one side of the shelter was a nook that led to a large enclosed area with a door. Alex peered inside the doorway. To his surprise, he found it was a greenhouse, brightly lit. The little man was inside with his back to Alex, working intently on something.

Alex looked up, wondering where the light was coming from. Instead of a rock slab ceiling, there was glass to let in whatever natural light there happened to be, and strange glowing orbs hung above a healthy assortment of vegetation.

The man noticed Alex and pointed to the glass overhead. Loud sheets of rain swept over it. “You see this?” the little man asked. “Marcus Today makes magic glass for us.”

The words sank in and Alex's eyes clouded with emotion. He was surprised by how much this information affected him. Mr. Today had been here, in this place. He had been kind to this man. Yet he'd never spoken about it. And there was a tube here! If there was a tube in this desolate place, how many other tubes could there be? And all of those Quillitary vehicles buried at sea . . .

He looked at the man and then suddenly frowned, replaying his words in his head. “Wait a minute. Did you say ‘us'?”

The man nodded. He pointed to an area of the shelter that had been thus far unexplored, and he held up two bony fingers. He went to the opening and called out in the strange language. After a long moment, two equally ancient men appeared from deep inside the shelter. They nodded politely at Alex, who smiled and gave an awkward wave.

The three island inhabitants had a conversation, and then the first man invited Alex to follow him. “If everyone is ready, may I speak, please?”

“Of course,” Alex said. He went back to the main room and called the Artiméans to gather. The man asked everyone to sit down on the floor around a blackened area. He disappeared, returning a moment later with dry firewood, and began to work two pieces of wood together with a bit of dried moss. Samheed offered up a damp origami dragon, which was able to spit a few sparks to help the process along.

When the fire was going strong, and the smoke was funneling itself neatly out a nearly invisible vent hole near the ceiling, the man sat back on his haunches.

Alex and the two men joined him by the fire. Florence leaned in and poked her head through the doorway to listen.

“This is home of many and few,” the man said to the tune of the wind and thunder. “We did not build it. The ones who came before us did not build it. We are all visitors here, like you.”

Sky smiled and caught Alex's eye. The both swiftly looked away.

“These are my friends. They only speak our native language,” the man said. “We are . . . scientists.” His hesitations and stutters lessened the more he spoke, as if the Artiméans' language was swiftly coming back to him.

“I am youngest,” he said with his gummy grin. “My name is Ishibashi Junpei. You may call me Ishibashi-san.” He nodded at Samheed, who sat closest, prompting him to repeat it.

“Ishibashi-san,” Samheed repeated.

“Good.” Ishibashi drew some symbols on the dirt floor with his finger. “I am ninety-six years old. My friends are ninety-eight and one hundred and ten,” he said, pointing to them. “Ito and Sato. They are
very
old.” Ishibashi cackled. The other two islanders smiled politely, not understanding. They were mostly toothless as well.

“We are pleased to meet you and grateful for the shelter, Ishibashi-san,” Alex said. “My name is Alex.” He introduced the others. Fox, who was embarrassed at being pointed out, and Kitten, who decided to be embarrassed too, scampered around the shelter, to the delight of the islanders.

“Are you the only people on the island?” Alex asked.

“
Hai
, that is correct. There were more, but dead now. Some lived here with us for a time. I am sure more in the future will smash upon our rocks during the hurricane. But now, we are only three.”

Lani edged closer, her eyes ablaze with the fire's reflection. “How long have you been here? Are all three of you scientists? Don't you want to escape? What is a hurricane?”

Ishibashi's laughter rang out and echoed in the stone chamber. “Slower please; I am very old.”

Lani repeated her questions.

The old man nodded after each one and began to answer slowly. “Our ship carried a great number of scientists and crewmembers. It was lost here many, many years ago.”

He paused, a faraway look in his eye, and continued. “At that time, there were ten or twelve others from shipwrecks
living here. They were old. Most died soon after we came. Also there are outcasts.”

“Outcasts?” Sky asked.

The man nodded. “There is an island of pirates—you know of it?”

The Artiméans all nodded.

“When the pirates capture intruders or enemies, they hurt them, drag them near our island. Set them adrift in little fishing boats. They have done this for hundreds of years—or so the legend goes. The little boats get caught in the hurricane and crash on rocks. Only a few outcasts lived and made it to shore.”

“Where is everybody now?”

“Gone.” Ishibashi looked at the floor. “Most cannot withstand the constant storm. They go crazy. Then they try to escape. The current and the wind always drive them back against the rocks, to their deaths. Only one time someone escaped—just last year.”

Crow and Henry exchanged horrified looks. Copper leaned over and whispered something to them, but they didn't look relieved. Alex's stomach knotted.

Ishibashi went on. “Some from our ship died that way—trying to get off the island. The rest died from accidents or old age.”

“That's horrible.” Alex shifted uncomfortably as fearful, questioning eyes turned his way. There was so much pressure being the head mage! How were they going to get out of here? He was pretty sure he could transport the ship to calmer waters, but that presented a new set of problems, like how would they get to it without Simber? Living things didn't transport, so they couldn't board the ship before moving it. And poor Spike had had a hard enough time getting them safely to the island, and that was swimming
with
the current. She couldn't possibly carry them that great distance fighting the current the whole way. And of course there was Florence, too heavy for everyone present to lift for long. It had taken Simber and Spike combined to bring her up from the pirates' aquarium, and that was in calm water. There was simply no way to get off this island without Simber—they'd have to wait . . . and hope he'd find them.

But what if he didn't?

Outside the wind howled and thunder crashed. Ishibashi
looked out the stone doorway at Florence, who remained unaffected by the horrible weather. “Are you okay, robot?”

Florence, disturbed by the hopelessness of escape, murmured, “Yes, I'm fine. Thank you.”

Ishibashi turned back to the other Artiméans. “You know by now a hurricane is a terrible storm. Every day the hurricane comes. It howls all afternoon and through the night. In the morning the storm rests, only to return a short time later, more fierce than the day before.”