The Islands of the Blessed

“Look at the gulls. They’re fleeing before it,” she said. The seabirds were coming in from the sea. They screamed to one another as they circled distractedly before landing in the forest at the top of the mountain.

Jack remembered something about the smell of the air before a really big storm, something about metal. He could smell it now. The clouds had already changed from milky white to gray.

“We have to get to higher ground,” Thorgil said urgently. “Storms like this produce giant waves.”

“What about staying in the snail house?” said Jack, beginning to catch her alarm.

“If you want to drown. It’s too close to the sea. Hurry!” Thorgil handed the rope to Jack, hefted the chest, and ran for the mountain.

They looked for a way up, but all of the apparent paths ended only a few feet above the beach. By now the sky had deepened to an ominous slate blue, and wind began to buffet them, threatening to knock them over. “Drop that cursed chest!” Jack shouted. For Thorgil, always somewhat clumsy because of her paralyzed hand, was dangerously so with the heavy box under one arm.

“Don’t touch it!” she screamed when he tried to yank it away. They both slid down the boulder they were attempting to scale and into a deep crevice in the side of the mountain.

“Put that down, or you won’t be able to climb up!” Jack ordered.

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t get out anyway,” said Thorgil, panting and hanging on to the chest.

Jack looked up. It was true. They had fallen down much farther than he had realized, and the rock was perfectly sheer. The wind howled over the top, and waves had begun to crash so violently that the spray reached them even where they were trapped.

“I guess this is it,” said Thorgil. “You can tell the sea enters here because of the barnacles. It’s certainly going to be flooded during this storm.” A wave hit a rock and the ground trembled.

It was growing dark although it was only midday. The sky—and Jack could see only a small slice of it—was boiling with evil-looking clouds. The speed at which the weather had changed was astounding, and the far end of the crevice was so deep in shadow, it might as well have been night. He edged toward it, hoping to find a way up. He put out his hand to feel the rock and found—nothing at all.

It wasn’t a shadow after all. It was the mouth of a cave. 

Chapter Thirty-eight ST. COLUMBA’S CAVE

“A cave? Let’s go inside,” said Thorgil.

Jack had an instinctive dislike of dark holes in the ground. So far he hadn’t found anything good in them. “What about knuckers?” he said, remembering the spiderlike creature that had almost trapped him and Pega.

Thorgil paused. She had met them too. A wave shook the ground and cold water splashed over them. “If we stay here, we’ll surely drown. We don’t know that there are knuckers inside.”

“There could also be wyverns, hippogriffs, manticores, basilisks, and krakens,” said Jack, naming a few of the things they might find in dark tunnels. He wasn’t sure what all of them were. More water sprayed over their heads.

“Those things eat you quickly,” pointed out Thorgil, who seemed to have more information. “That’s not so bad. Knuckers kind of suck at you for a long time.”

“Wonderful,” said Jack. They both stared at the dark opening, unwilling to move. “The Bard once said…” Jack swallowed and forced himself to go on. “The Bard once said that caves with no air movement are the most dangerous. This one has a breeze.” He could feel a steady flow of warmer air blowing in his face.

“So… only wyverns, hippogriffs, and the rest to worry about,” said Thorgil. A really big wave sent water swirling around their feet.

Jack slung the rope over his shoulder. He used one hand to feel the wall and the other to hold on to Thorgil. “If I disappear, you’re to go back,” he said.

“If you disappear, I’m going with you,” she retorted.

Jack went first, slowly and cautiously. It had occurred to him that the cave could fill up with water and they’d be no better off, but the ground went up. The roof of the cave went up as well. “I say! This is lucky,” Jack said. “It’s a regular tunnel.” The farther they went, the better he liked it, although he had no reason for this.

“Is that light?” said Thorgil.

Jack had been so absorbed with avoiding rocks, he hadn’t noticed. There was a faint light coming from a side cave. Side cave, he thought, remembering the knuckers. Yet even here a breeze stirred. It was cold and smelled of the sea. When he got to the entrance, he could see that the light came from a small hole on the farther side. The ground trembled as a wave crashed nearby.

He thought he saw a man crouching in a white robe. The Bard, he thought, for one frozen moment. But it was a cloth draped over a rock. He expected to feel sorrow and disappointment. Instead, he was unaccountably happy, as though he’d turned aside from a dark road to find a house with a cheerful fire on the hearth. The cave was brimming with the life force.