The Secret Book

by Jamie Smart

  ‘FLEMBER!’ Dev gasped.

  The mist swirled down, around the clamp, then quickened along the wire. Through the bars of the birdcage and into the flemberthyst, lighting it up in a beautiful white glow. Then CRACK, the flemberthyst split; flember then crackled out and along the other wire, straight into Boja Bear’s eye socket and disappeared down inside his body.

  Dev’s mouth fell open.

  ‘YEEEEEEEEP!’ Boja Bear suddenly squealed. His face stretched out into a long, stunned horror. His one good eye rolled around in its socket. His legs thumped against the workbench.

  ‘YEEEEEEEP!’

  ‘Why is he screaming?’ Mina turned pale. ‘Dev, why is he screaming?’

  ‘I … I don’t know,’ Dev gasped.

  Boja Bear’s eye stared back at them, his arm pawing at the space where his other arm should have been. Then suddenly he smiled, a sweet, calm smile, and he slumped backwards.

  All the bright blue flember sparkled out through his fur, soaking down into the surface of the workbench. Mina pulled her lifeless bear away and sobbed loudly into his fur.

  ‘The flember!’ Dev took a large empty bottle from the shelf, as if he was trying to trap a spider. ‘Where did it go? Where did it go?’ He patted his hands around, before finally catching sight of it. Sparkling. Glowing. Dancing around the large golden F on the front of the flember book.

  ‘We did it,’ Dev’s voice quivered. ‘Mina, we caught some flember!’

  He raised the book to show her. Mina stared back, her eyes glistening with terror, her toy bear hanging limply in her arms. She could barely choke out any words.

  ‘He was screaming,’ she whispered.

  ‘I … we …’ Dev opened the book, flicking through the pages as if searching for an explanation, but he couldn’t look away from Mina. ‘Maybe it was his arm. He was missing an arm, and an eye, maybe it hurt.’

  The words felt weird to say.

  Maybe it hurt.

  Maybe an inanimate teddy bear hurt.

  ‘H … he came to life,’ Dev stuttered. ‘He actually came to life.’

  Mina started shaking as if she was struggling to hold back an absolute explosion of tears.

  Dev brought a hand over his mouth.

  ‘I’ve done it again,’ he gasped. ‘I’ve hurt you, again.’

  Just then, the workshop door flew open and there stood Percy, heaving with rage. Without a moment’s hesitation, Dev buried the flember book beneath a small pile of engine parts.

  ‘WHAT’S GOING ON UP HERE?’ Percy roared.

  Mina lifted her goggles and ran over, burying her face into his oily apron, still wailing as he reached his huge arms around her.

  Santoro slid past them both, smiling his thin, cruel smile at Dev.

  ‘Your brother goes back in front of the Mayor,’ Percy scowled.

  ‘I’ll take care of this,’ Santoro replied.

  ‘You’re just a kid. A kid in a uniform.’

  Santoro’s hand reached back for the hilt of his sword.

  ‘I am Guild,’ he snarled.

  Percy held Santoro’s stare for as long as he could, before swinging Mina away and out of the workshop. ‘Rotten apples,’ he called out through the house. ‘All of you. Rotten apples falling from a dead tree.’

  Santoro waited until he heard the front door slam, before grabbing Dev’s arm and jerking it up behind his back.

  ‘I said, I’ll take care of this.’

  11

  Santoro

  Santoro’s boots clipped Dev’s heels all the way back to Zerigauld’s antique shop. Dev, however, barely looked up from the path.

  He could only think of Mina.

  Zerigauld waited for them outside. He squawked about ‘work ethic’ and ‘responsibility’, while handing Dev a bucket of soapy water and a sponge. Dev knelt down, picked one of the many cheese-covered vases piled up in the doorway, and started scrubbing it.

  Zerigauld watched over him for a moment, before clapping his hands together and smiling up at Santoro.

  ‘Oh, since you’s ’ere, Santoro, can I’s interest you in a new rapier sword? I know them silly Youth Guild swords is too flimsy for a considerable fighter such as yourself …’

  Zerigauld hobbled back inside his shop, clattering through his crates and boxes.

  Santoro ignored him, instead pressing the tip of his boot into a small lump of cheese on the floor, and smearing it into a crescent. ‘You missed a spot,’ he snarled.

  It was enough to snap Dev out of his thoughts. He felt his cheeks flush red.

  ‘I know it was you who gave Space Fleet those carrots, back in the marketplace,’ Dev hissed. ‘And you did it because you knew Fervus would go for them. The Washtopus was working just fine until you sabotaged it.’

  He didn’t wait for Santoro to respond. ‘You just wanted to see me fail,’ Dev muttered, scrubbing at the cheese. ‘You only ever want to see me fail.’

  ‘What’s all this?’ Zerigauld stepped over Dev, holding a long wooden casket. ‘Stop blamin’ your silly little inventions on other people, Dev. Ain’t dignified. Look at your brother, ’ere, in all ’is finery. ’Is polished tan boots, the glor-r-r-rious blue and white stripes of Eden ’cross his tunic. Look how smart ’e looks. How respectable! And then look at yous.’ His wooden nose pointed down at Dev. ‘Baggy trousers. Scuffed knees! And yer ’elmet, wi’ all bits fallin’ out of it? I mean, honestly, who’s goin’ to take you seriously dressed like that?’

  Dev’s mouth went to protest, but his brain thought better of it.

  Zerigauld opened the casket. ‘’Ere, Santoro, try this sword. It ’as an ivory hilt.’

  Santoro twisted around to show Zerigauld the non-regulation sword strapped across his back. Its wide, rectangular blade made it look more like one of Gristle the butcher’s oversized meat cleavers. ‘I have my own,’ he growled.

  ‘Course. COURSE.’ Zerigauld smiled. ‘For now. But you’ll be Guild Leader soon enough, won’t yous? Bastor might be all muscle, but he’s no youngster, wi’ all that soot in his lungs, puffin’ an’ a-wheezin’. ’E won’t be in charge much longer. Fresh blood, tha’s what this village needs, an’ who better than you? You, wi’ a gleaming new sword from old Zerigauld. At a discount rate, course.’

  Santoro didn’t even look at him. ‘I’m here to guard Dev, nothing else.’

  Zerigauld bowed and shuffled backwards, as if in the presence of royalty.

  It was another few hours before Dev was finished. A few more hours for his mind to stew on everything that had happened today. The Wash-topus, Santoro and the carrots, the Mayor. The ban from Flember Day. The book too, and the bright, beautiful flember. Boja Bear’s terrified screaming.

  Poor, distraught Mina.

  All these memories rolled round and round in his head, taking it in turns to remind him how, for all his efforts to help, he only ended up making everything worse.

  Here in the antique shop, however, he had finally managed to do some good. Every vase now glistened, every pot shone, every weird stuffed ferret thing was still a weird stuffed ferret thing, only now with all the cheese brushed out of its fur. Zerigauld carefully positioned each item back inside his shop until everything looked normal again. Better than normal, in fact. His shop was now cleaner than it had ever been before, complete with a fresh lemony scent in the air.

  ‘Right, all done!’ Dev pushed on his aching arms and stood up. His spine clicked loudly as he stretched, leaning all the way back, until he was staring at the shop ceiling.

  At the golden heart glinting above Zerigauld’s head.

  ‘Took yous long enough,’ Zerigauld snorted. ‘Maybe this’ll teach y’some patience, eh boy?’

  ‘Y-yes …’ Dev nodded, still staring at the heart. The huge, shining lump of gold dangling just out of reach.

  Gold.

  Gold!

  The one thing he’d left out of his flember experiment.

  ‘What you waitin’ for, some kind of thank you? Y’can shove it up yo
ur bum. It’s gettin’ late and you’ve already wasted too much of me precious time. Gerrout!’ Zerigauld scuttled towards him like a grumpy spucklepig, shooing Dev through the door and out into the street.

  ‘Fiiiiiinally.’ Santoro was stood outside, arms crossed. ‘What took you so long?’

  Dev stammered out a few indignant noises.

  ‘Great, yeah, whatever.’ Santoro yawned. ‘Let’s get you home.’

  The warm afternoon sun had already begun to fade, burying itself behind the ocean and throwing delicate orange washes across the clouds. Lanterns plink-plink-plinked alight as Dev and Santoro walked beneath them, past the cosy glowing windows, through the delicious smells wafting out from each open doorway.

  Then there was a loud noise and all the lights went out.

  ‘GENERATOR!’ someone shouted from the shadows.

  ‘GENERATOR!’ others began to call.

  Santoro sighed, grabbing Dev’s wrist, and yanking him across the marketplace. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Guild duty.’

  Dev broke free of his brother’s grip but continued alongside him, down a side street, between grumbling residents and giggling children, until the path opened out onto a rocky peak. He peered over the edge at all the lights of Lower Eden twinkling below them.

  ‘They’re all fine down there, it must just be us.’

  Santoro was staring at a large generator half-embedded in the rock face. Thick grey smoke spilled out from its clunk-clunking pistons. Something inside it fizzed and popped.

  Dev stood beside his brother. ‘I’ve fixed more of these than I can remember.’ He smiled.

  ‘So have I.’ Santoro swung his boot forward into the generator’s metal roll cage. Sparks burst out over them both. He kicked again. And again. Gritting his teeth as he lashed out. Denting it. Breaking it.

  ‘Wait, wait, wait!’ Dev pulled him back. ‘A generator is an engine. Energy goes in, energy comes out, it’s all a very delicate process. You can’t just attack it!’

  ‘I can.’ Santoro kicked it again. ‘I am.’

  ‘Santoro, stop it!’

  ‘You’re not going near it, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘Let me try. I can hardly break it any more than you!’

  Santoro stared at Dev for a moment, then stepped back.

  ‘Go on then. Use that supposedly amazing brain of yours.’

  Dev knelt down in front of the generator and traced his fingers around its casing.

  ‘Orofractor … working. Clickywidget … working. Numplecogs …’ he whispered, ticking them off in his brain. ‘Fluxinator … fine … Alliotlepops …’

  His thumb smeared through a patch of sticky oil, following it around the side of the machine. Suddenly, his whole hand sank into a glob of black goo.

  ‘AHA!’ he yelled, before yanking out a rather hot, oily carrot.

  Instantly, the generator bumped back into life, humming as if nothing had happened.

  ‘It was wounded, by this.’ Dev waved the carrot at Santoro. ‘Space Fleet must have found a new monster to attack!’

  Santoro grabbed the carrot and turned to the villagers gathering behind them. ‘The Guild has fixed the generator. You can all go back to your homes now.’

  ‘But I fixed it!’ Dev called after him.

  ‘The Guild has fixed it,’ Santoro insisted, marching back towards the warm, well-lit glow of Middle Eden.

  Dev felt his bottom lip start to quiver. After the day he’d had, it was nice to finally do something helpful, and now Santoro wouldn’t even let him have that.

  It felt unfair.

  It felt cruel.

  And so Dev did the only thing he could think to do.

  He turned away from his brother, and he ran.

  12

  Flemberthyst

  No houses had been built up the western side of the mountain, and for good reason. These were the rockier climbs, the crevices and the gullies, weathered by rainfall into deep, perilous drops. Carpeted by great seas of knotted ivy, which spilled down over the lower village like a waterfall.

  Even Santoro wouldn’t risk scuffing his boots to climb up here.

  Dev, however, was already halfway around the rock face by the time his legs gave way. He slumped down on a rocky overhang, clutching his chest, his lungs struggling to find their rhythm again. Tears dripping from his chin.

  ‘Maybe I should just stay here,’ he whimpered. ‘Out of everyone’s way.’

  He picked up a rock and flung it as far as he could. It sailed through the air and then down, clattering across a few metal rooftops before disappearing into the streets of Lower Eden.

  Someone shouted something. It sounded rude.

  Dev sighed.

  ‘Who’s up here?’ a voice croaked from behind him.

  Dev turned to see the glow from a soft, yellow light, and a familiar figure hunched behind it.

  ‘Hi, Nonna,’ Dev whispered, wiping the tears from his cheeks. ‘Your banana light’s still working then?’

  ‘Ah, Dev …’ Ventillo’s huge, magnified eyes peered down at him. She opened up her outer coat to show a multitude of pockets, each one sagging under the weight of spare potatoes. ‘I’m on my sixth already. They only work for so long.’ Her face cracked into a smile. Then she tilted her head to catch Dev’s eye. ‘I didn’t think anyone else knew about this place.’

  Dev looked away. Ventillo shuffled forwards, and plonked herself beside him.

  ‘I heard about everything that’s been going on today,’ she said.

  ‘I’m only trying to help.’

  ‘Oh, Dev, you’ve been telling yourself that since you were young.’

  She clasped his hand.

  ‘Such a brilliant brain, but you’re wasting it. You spend half your time trying to fix your own mistakes. And then trying to fix those mistakes. And those. And then those. You’re like a dog chasing its own tail.’

  The hairs on the back of Dev’s neck bristled. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of this. Usually Ventillo was direct, but now there was a frustration in her voice. Perhaps she, too, had finally grown tired of him.

  ‘And stop sulking,’ she interrupted, clambering back onto her feet and pulling him up alongside. ‘Here, I want to show you something.’ Then suddenly she was off, clambering over boulders, tottering along ledges, making her way up the rock face with all the agility, and some of the noises, of a mountain goat.

  It surprised Dev. So much so that he could only stumble along behind her.

  ‘This place has always been my little secret,’ she smirked. ‘Now, I suppose, it’s yours too.’

  In front of them stood a sheer mountain wall, all but concealed by a thick layer of ivy, which Ventillo pulled apart as if it were a curtain. Behind it, a dark, jagged crack ran up the rock face, just wide enough to climb inside.

  And that’s exactly what Ventillo did.

  Followed, cautiously, by Dev.

  It smelt damp in here. It felt cold. The rocks were slippery and, apart from Ventillo’s dimly glowing banana, there was no light. By the time Dev’s eyes had adjusted, she was already disappearing deeper and deeper into the darkness, walking surprisingly fast for someone weighed down with potatoes.

  Dev followed, clonking his helmet on the low, craggy ceiling. They took a sharp left, then a right, sliding down some wet rocks and then taking it in turns to squeeze through a thin opening in the wall.

  ‘Are you ready?’ Ventillo whispered, as she popped out the other side.

  ‘For what?’ Dev asked as soon as he could breathe out again. He could hear trickling water. Then he could see it, glinting as it ran down the walls in thin strips, then across the ground, disappearing inside a large, dark hole in the middle of the cavern.

  Ventillo carefully sat down beside the hole, beckoning for Dev to do the same.

  ‘Have patience,’ she said, closing her eyes.

  Dev peered around their dimly lit hollow. Listened to the dripping echoes. Watched the breath curl out of his mouth i
n a fine mist. He shivered. And he was just about to suggest they go home when, suddenly, one of the small rocks in front of him started to glow.

  ‘A flemberthyst!’ gasped Dev, scrambling forward to pick it up. ‘They’re rare!’

  As he held it in his hands, the light seemed to fade away.

  ‘That they are.’ Ventillo nodded. ‘I didn’t think anyone else knew about them.’

  Dev slid the flemberthyst into his pocket and sat back down. A few moments later, another flemberthyst lit up in front of him. And then another, until soon all the ground around them was flickering.

  ‘The cave is full of flemberthysts!’ Dev gasped. ‘But they need flember to light them up. Where’s it coming from?’

  Ventillo pointed towards the hole in front of them. Dev peered inside. He saw water, invisible in the darkness but for its ripples catching the light. Then it churned, and it bubbled, and from within its depths a beautiful white light shone out, racing up the well at speed, spilling out around Dev’s feet. The flemberthyst floor lit as brightly as the sun, then up, up the light went, up the walls, spiralling out into a huge, intricate pattern across the ceiling.

  ‘Only happens for a few days every year,’ Ventillo whispered. ‘Always around Flember Day.’

  Small creatures started to skitter out from the dark corners of the cave. Scuttlecrabs, bonklice, hairsnakes. They bathed in the light from the flemberthysts. Tiny lurchershrimp plopped into the water. Bright blue butterflies fluttered across the surface.

  Dev held up his arms, his skin prickling with a strange, hazy warmth. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it.’

  ‘It rushes up.’ Ventillo mimed. ‘In waves, it comes. Can’t see it anywhere else on the island but here. Rushes up inside the mountain, right to the top, into the very tips of each branch on the Eden Tree, and then it all just … washes right back down. Back and forth it goes. Back and forth.’