The Search for the Red Dragon - James A. Owen [73]
“What kind of booby traps?” Charles said, craning his head around nervously. “And are they effective?”
“Effective enough,” replied Aven. “Peter gave the job to two brothers, the Skelton boys, and just the initial tests were enough to keep the rest of us from tromping around out here without checking on where they put the traps.”
“What happened during the tests?” asked Jack.
“That’s when we gived the Skelton boys their nicknames,” Laura Glue put in. “Stumpy and One-Eye.”
“Sorry I asked,” said Jack.
It took most of the day, or the day’s equivalent in the Underneath, for the companions to make their way through the forest. Occasionally they heard the sounds of birds, but they neither saw nor heard any other creatures. But every so often, they could feel something watching. Bert, John, and Charles exchanged concerned glances, but Aven, Jack, and Laura Glue seemed not to notice. Aven in particular grew more and more animated as the trees began to thin and the terrain grew more hillpocked.
“Look!” she exclaimed, jumping across a large boulder at the base of a huge oak. “It’s my house! Father, look!”
There amidst the tangle of roots was a child-size set of furniture made of sticks woven together with reeds and sapling strips. There were remnants of what might have been a tea set scattered among the leaves and forest debris, and underneath the table she found a tarnished, twisted silver spoon.
“This is where I used to play, when I came here with Jamie!” she said excitedly. “He helped me build the furniture, and we had a set of spoons he’d brought with him from London. We were the envy of all the Lost Boys, having real spoons for tea.”
“Fascinating,” said Charles.
“There are imaginary houses and tearooms like this one set up all throughout the hills,” Aven went on. “We’re close now. We’re very close.”
With that, she carefully placed the spoon on the woodland table and turned to the others. “Follow us,” she said, taking Laura Glue’s hand once more. “We know the way from here—and there aren’t any more traps.
“I’ve come home.”
Laura Glue and Aven took off at a quick clip, and the men had to lengthen their strides just to keep them in sight. The forest continued to thin, with the mighty oaks giving way to slighter, paler aspens and stout, bushy cedars.
Eventually the trees stopped altogether, and there was nothing ahead but a high rise of colored sand. Aven and Laura Glue were atop it and waving at the companions to join them.
“There,” said Laura Glue, pointing to the near horizon. “That’s our city.”
From a distance, what Laura Glue called a “city” looked like a fortress that fragmented into a cluster of volcanic flumes, rising high above multicolored but otherwise unimpressive dunes of sand and stone.
“Uh, is it behind the sand?” asked Charles.
“It’s no use just looking for our houses,” said Laura Glue. “You won’t see them. Not yet, anyways.”
“Why not?” asked John.
“Well,” Laura Glue replied, “it’s because here, in the Nether Land, our houses are the exact opposite of your houses in Angle Land. There you can see the houses in the day, but not when it gets dark. But here it’s exactly the opposite. Our houses are the color of night, so you can’t see them in the daytime, only at night.”
“You mean your houses are black?” Charles asked.
Laura Glue scowled. “Of course not! Night isn’t black, it’s just dark. There’s a difference, you know.”
“Sorry,” said Charles.
“The things that seem dull in the daytime are magic at night,” said Laura Glue. “And that’s where we live—in the magic houses.”
“It is getting toward nightfall again,” Bert observed, scanning the sky. “Will we see them soon?”
“Yes,” said Aven, who was practically glowing with joy. “Just wait. And watch.”
The light of the Underneath began to fade into slumbering pastels; and as it did, the city of the Lost Boys began to awaken.
It was indistinct at