Lost Children of the Far Islands (15 page)

The dark shadow passed over the right-hand page and disappeared, as though traveling to the next page in the book, leaving behind it still, flat, empty water. A yellow sun shone at the top of the page. Crisp, sweet salt air blew across their faces.

The Móraí sat down at her end of the table, a mug of tea in front of her. At the other end of the table sat the Bedell. He let out a gentle burp and a white feather drifted from his mouth and landed on his empty plate. Ila giggled and the Bedell winked at her.

The memory of the dark shadow moving across the pages of the book had dulled Gus’s appetite. She fiddled with her spoon and then looked over to Leo for direction. Should they say something about their discovery? Her brother had his face at the edge of his steaming bowl of soup and was snarfling up great spoonfuls. Gus sighed in irritation. The soup in front of her
did
smell good, though. She took one sip, and then another. Soon she
was buttering a thick slice of brown bread to sop up the last bits in her bowl.

“Now dessert,” the Móraí said when the empty bowls had been cleared away. She stood up and went into the kitchen, asking Ila to help her.

“No candles, I’m afraid,” she said, coming back into the room with a white-frosted chocolate cake. Ila followed her with a small stack of plates. She had forks balanced on top of them and was concentrating very hard on keeping the stack from wobbling.

“Surprise!” Ila said. “Happy birthday!”

One by one, the forks began to slide off the plates. While Ila scrambled about on the floor, the Móraí cut generous slices of cake for everyone, even for herself and the Bedell.

“I totally forgot,” Leo said. “Happy birthday, Gus.”

“Happy birthday,” Gus said back to him. She had forgotten as well.

Ila popped up with the forks. She gave one to the Bedell, who stared at it and then, somewhat awkwardly, stabbed at his piece of cake.

Ila giggled. “Eat it!” she commanded, and so, with a theatrical sigh, the Bedell put a forkful of cake in his mouth.

“Mmm,” he said as he chewed. “Better even than seagull!”

Ila looked very pleased, and did not seem to notice that the Bedell did not take another bite of his cake.

“Oh, and we have to sing!” she said.

The Móraí looked puzzled. “Sing?”

“ ‘Happy Birthday,’ ” Ila explained, and launched into the song as though she had been singing it, instead of merely listening to it, her whole life.

Gus and Leo joined in, and their voices filled the small room. The Móraí watched them with a smile on her face.

When they were finished singing, however, her smile faded. She looked down the table at the Bedell. “I think I should be alone with the children, my Messenger,” she said gently. “This is only for the Folk to hear.”

The Bedell sat very still. One cuff on his white shirt had a smear of chocolate across it. “Mistress?” he said softly.

“Please,” she said.

The Bedell put his fork down, very carefully, next to his still-full plate and said, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

He rose stiffly from his chair and left the room.

“Why did you do that?” Ila demanded. “You hurt his feelings!”

“My Messenger understands why I do what I do,” the Móraí said, but none of the children were quite sure that she was right. For a moment, Gus didn’t know that she even liked the Móraí. She glanced up and caught the old woman gazing steadily at her. Gus blushed and looked down hurriedly, afraid that the Móraí could read her thoughts.

“We have much to talk about,” the Móraí said. “Please listen closely.”

Gus and Leo both put down their forks. Ila took a quick extra bite and then put hers down too, struggling to chew the enormous mouthful of cake.

“You wanted to know why you are here,” the Móraí said. “Why I sent my Messenger for you.”

The children nodded.

“I brought you here for your protection,” the old woman said. “Gus and Leo, as you approached your eleventh birthday, we became aware of you. I was overjoyed when my Messenger told me that Rosemaris lived and that she had three children. But as we became aware of you, so did the Dobhar-chú. I think he sent his servants to find you.”

“The wolves?” Gus asked.

The Móraí nodded.

“Is that what we saw in the book?” Gus asked.

“What book?” Ila demanded.

“What did you see?” the Móraí said.

Gus wasn’t sure how to describe it. “We saw a dark shadow,” she said slowly, “under the water. It turned the sea black. And it stank.”

“Like dead fish and hamburger grease,” Leo offered.

The Móraí nodded. “Yes. That was the Dobhar-chú. What else did the book show you?”

“We read about the Folk,” Leo said. “And how you learn to Turn when you’re eleven.” He shot a quick look at Ila, who was beginning to look like a thundercloud. “And how the Folk lived and the rules of Turning.”

Ila squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.

The Móraí jumped, but Gus and Leo just rolled their eyes.

“She wants attention,” Gus explained.

Two fat tears rolled down Ila’s cheeks.

“No, she doesn’t,” the Móraí said. “She wants to be included. Come here, child.” She gestured to Ila, who swiped at her cheeks with the backs of her chubby hands and slid off her chair. Gus and Leo were amazed to see her climb up on the old woman’s lap.

“Now you may ask me a question,” the Móraí said to Ila.

“What does the Dobhar-chú want?” Ila asked.

“He wants the sea and everything in it,” the Móraí said. “I am very, very old, children. I am all that holds the Dobhar-chú fast, and I will not live much longer. When I am gone, he will be free. The rising tides and the missing fishing boats tell me that his power is growing as mine wanes. But these things are merely the shows of temper of an imprisoned monster. Once he is loose, he will bring death and destruction to anything that lives in the sea, or near it.”

“More missing boats?” Gus asked.

“More than that. Remember, the Femori rule the storms, and the Dobhar-chú is stronger and crueler than his father’s people. He will drown the land and make it his.”

“Tsunamis,” Leo said, suddenly remembering the conversation with their father. What had he said? That it would be virtually impossible for a tsunami to hit the
coast of Maine? But his father hadn’t known what was waiting in the sea.

“That’s why Mom was trying to hide us,” Leo said. “Because of the Dobhar-chú.”

“I think your mother was using the song that you call the night poem,” the Móraí explained. “Your mother gave up her Folk aspects when she left this island. Using a weapon like the night poem was a very dangerous thing to do. It is powerful, but it takes a bit of your strength every time you call on it. She used it too much, and she went too far. And because she has been away from here so long, the song only partially worked. As you grew older, your Folk aspects grew stronger. That is why the Bedell—and the King of the Black Lakes—was able to find you.”

“But why would the Dobhar-chú care about us?” Gus asked. “I mean, we’re just kids, right?”

“You are,” the Móraí said, “and you are not. You are Folk, and when I die, you will be the last of the Folk.”

“But what do we do now?” Gus said. “We can’t just hide here forever!”

The Móraí nodded. “I am not strong enough to destroy the Dobhar-chú on my own. All I can do is keep him contained. But now that you three are here, we have a chance.”

“Whoa,” Leo said. “Are you talking about us fighting the Dobhar-chú? That’s crazy.”

“As long as the Dobhar-chú lives, your mother will continue to weaken. And if we do not destroy him, then when I am gone, he will be released from his prison.”

“Mom,” Gus said, and her eyes filled with tears.

“I will be with you,” the Móraí said. “I have been waiting for many, many years for someone to help me to defeat the King of the Black Lakes. Now I think that the one I have been waiting for is actually three. Three Lost Children. You are here, and it is time.”

Ila climbed down from the Móraí’s lap and went to stand next to Gus, pressing up against her. Gus put an arm around her shoulders. Then Leo was beside her as well, standing close enough that their shoulders touched.

“OK,” Leo finally said. “I guess we’ll do it. Teach us how to destroy the Dobhar-chú.”

“So then we just kill the what’s-his-name,” Gus said. She was sitting in her bed in her red nightie. Ila and Leo were perched on the end.

“But how?” Ila asked, holding Bear very tightly to her.

“We can do it,” Leo said confidently.

He put out his hand. Gus put her hand on top of his.

“Come in, Ila,” Gus said. Ila put Bear down and added her small hand to the pile.

“Together,” Leo said.

“Together,” Ila and Gus repeated.

They sat like that for a moment without moving. It felt good, somehow. None of them knew what would happen. They didn’t know how or even if they would get home again. But they would do it together.

“So we have to figure out a way to fight the Dobhar-chú,” Leo said. “It’s our only option.”

“The Móraí said she would teach us stuff,” Gus said, but her voice sounded a bit doubtful.

“We can ask the Bedell,” Ila said suddenly. “He’ll know what to do. We can ask him in the morning.”

Gus and Leo looked at their sister, a little startled. Ila picked up Bear and squeezed him.

So it was agreed that they would talk to the Bedell at breakfast. Everyone felt better after the plan was made, even though it wasn’t much of one. Ila disappeared under her covers like a creature curling in a burrow, and Leo drifted off to his room. He thought it would take him forever to fall asleep, but instead he had barely switched off his light before he was in a deep, dreamless darkness.

When Leo woke, he did not know where he was. No blue night-light glowing cozily from the far side of the room, no bedside lamp, no sound of the oak tree’s branches against his window.

He sat up, frightened, and remembered where he was. Loup Marin. Then he remembered the rest of it—the water and the swimming and the Móraí’s announcement and the book … the book. Leo had never seen anything like
The Book of the Folk
before. For him, the chance to look again through
The Book of the Folk
was like an astrophysicist being invited on a tour of Mars. It was irresistible.

Leo swung his feet onto the cold floor. Moving as quietly as he could, he felt around for his backpack and took his small penlight out. Pulling on socks, he padded down the darkened hallway, feeling his way along the wall. He didn’t dare to turn on the flashlight until he
was in the living room, standing next to the velvet couch. Then, pointing the light down, he followed its beam to the bookshelf and swept it over the books. And again, and then again.

“No,” he whispered. The book was gone.

Leo swung the light around and checked the floor, side tables, couch, and then the wooden trunk that served as a coffee table.
The Book of the Folk
was on the trunk. Its cover was no longer plain brown leather. Instead, the title blazed across it in gold letters that flickered like fire. Leo sank to his knees in front of the book.

Slowly, he reached out one hand. The book shivered as his hand came closer. He could feel the heat coming off it.

“May I?” he whispered. The book fell open in front of him, and feeling absurdly grateful, Leo bent his head to read.

After a moment, he clicked off the flashlight. The book was giving off its own light, and it was more than enough to read by. Its pages told the story of the great battle between the Sea Folk and the Dobhar-chú. Leo read for a long time, turning the pages quickly as the battle unfolded, scourging the seabed and staining the ocean red.

A chill wind suddenly blew out of the book, bringing with it a low, dull roar that rose off the page. It was very quiet, as though coming from a great distance, but Leo could make out different sounds within the noise—the screaming of people and the crashing of waves on rocks and the roaring of a beast and the bellowing of seals.

He read about how the Folk called the creatures of the sea to come to their aid, the ways in which they convinced the solitary squid and the wild seabirds to help them in their struggle. Silvery dolphins, great blue-finned tuna that cut through the water like living swords, black-finned killer whales, powerful blue whales, and flashing, darting otters all fought for the Folk.

The huge eels from the deepest sea went with the Dobhar-chú, as did the hammerhead and great white sharks. And there were other creatures fighting for the Dobhar-chú. The Muirbrech, a green-skinned water serpent who could hypnotize any creature with its one eye, fought for the King of the Black Lakes. Murcats, the sea cats who were the size of horses and had tusks like boars, also joined his side. There were pictures of other, unnamed creatures—a bright orange wingless dragon with an eel-shaped head, and a huge, flat creature with four eyes on its top and a long tail that ended in a set of claws that glowed silver. A black fish with a giant, sucking mouth lined with jagged teeth flashed across the page, followed by a giant blue squid with fins alternating with tentacles that wrapped around its own body so that only its blazing yellow eyes showed. And then an animal that Leo recognized. It shook the water off of its thick, reddish fur and stared up from the page with bright, malevolent eyes.