The Invisibles E-Book

Susie Bower

• Herausgeber: Pushkin Children's Books
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 237

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

A magical kingdom. Four friends. One terrible mistake... In the Land of Magic, four friends live a life filled with wonder. But there's one rule they must not break: never set foot on the Island of Darkness. So, when one child does the unthinkable, they must all pay a terrible price - exile to Wasteland, the bleak world where only grown-ups live. For Grace, this fate is particularly cruel. She wakes up with no memory of her magical home, or how she ended up here - and the only clue to her past is guarded by two hostile and mysteriously invisible children. As Grace uncovers the Invisibles' secrets, she must work out a way to return home, before Wasteland traps her forever...

Leseprobe

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for Charlotte and Amarjit

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7‘Survival can be summed up in three words—never give up.’

—BEAR GRYLLS

‘It is when we are most lost that we sometimes find our truest friends.’

—BROTHERS GRIMM 8

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGEDEDICATIONEPIGRAPHTHE LAND OF MAGICS BEFORETHE ISLAND OF DARKNESSTHE CATCHERTHE FIFTH MAGICWASTELAND THE WRITING ON THE WALLTHIEF!THE WASTELANDERMR SMITHTRAITOR!THE SONGGHOSTS?LIAR!IN THE CELLARGRACETHE FIRST THING IN THE RUCKSACKSKYCORPTHE BOOK OF FORGETTING MAGICSI AM HERETHE SILVER KEYIN THE CUPBOARDALL MY FAULTTHAT’S WHAT FRIENDS DOSNIPE’S STORYESCAPEIN THE ATTICTO SKYCORPUP THE LADDERTHE CREATUREMERLINTHE CENTRE OF THE MAZEBROKEN MIRRORBEFORETHE MAGIC RETURNSTHE SONGESCAPE FROM THE CATCHERMERLIN’S STORYHOMEACKNOWLEDGEMENTSMORE FROM SUSIE BOWERABOUT THE AUTHORCOPYRIGHT

910

THE LAND OF MAGICS

11

BEFORE

Merlin sat back in the rowing boat as the oars splashed and dipped, splashed and dipped. Beside him on the seat, his pen scribbled busily in his diary. High above in the cloudless sky, a flock of plump pink pigs flapped past on gossamer wings.

A winged fish leapt out of the SeaSky—close enough to touch its shimmering scales—and performed a loop-the-loop, scattering drops of SeaSky over Merlin’s face before diving back down into the water. He leant over the side of the boat to watch the fish streak to join its flock, darting like a hummingbird through the translucent blue. Far below, at the very bottom of the SeaSky, water-clouds drifted. What would it be like to be that fish, to live in the SeaSky, free to leap and play? More fun than being a boy, on his way to Library Island for yet another boring lesson with a pile of fuddy-duddy Books.

Merlin turned to stare behind him once again, far across the SeaSky to where the dark shadow of an island crouched at the edge of the horizon, almost buried in heavy cloud. 12It seemed to tug at his eyes like a magnet. Had it always been there? And if it had, how come he’d only noticed it a few weeks ago?

Tome, he ordered his diary and pen and they floated into his hands. He shoved them into the pocket of his cloak and focused his attention on the oars again.

Rowon, he told them. RowtoLibraryIsland. And the oars obeyed him. Merlin lay back, his face to the sun. The boat slid past his friend Vincent’s place, the wake from the oars sending tiny wavelets slapping against the wooden stilts which anchored the little house in the SeaSky. There was no sign of Vincent’s rowing boat. He must have already set off for Library Island. Merlin smirked. Vincent’s Magic couldn’t make the oars row for him. He would’ve had to row himself across the SeaSky, which meant sweat and sore arms. None of the others had the Magic of Command. And the more he practised it, the more powerful he felt inside.

Ahead, Library Island shimmered like a mirage. The Library, ivy-covered and turreted, towered above the beach, where tiny waves lapped upon the strip of pale sand. The rowing boat ground gently on the beach and Merlin jumped out. His cloak, stitched with hundreds of tiny mirrors, tinkled and flashed in the sun’s light. Under his bare feet, the sand was warm. Vincent’s boat was already there.

Fasten, Merlin ordered the loop of rope lying in the bottom of the boat, and the rope rose like a snake and wriggled over the sand towards a tree, winding itself around 13a branch where Vincent’s rope was already tied. Merlin turned and gazed one last time at the dark island, then set off up the beach towards the Library.

A small round mirror hung from a nail on the Library door, facing out to the SeaSky like a watching eye. As Merlin approached, he noticed that the distant, dark island was reflected in the mirror. He walked up to it until his own face stared back at him—a boy with slanting green eyes, like a cat’s, and black hair tied back into a pigtail. Carved into the mirror’s wooden frame were the words:

WHO ARE YOU?

‘Merlin,’ he said, and waited for the door to open. Nothing happened.

Open, he ordered it. It didn’t.

Merlin frowned and pushed at the door, but it stayed firmly shut. Suddenly, his reflection seemed to swim and swirl and break into pieces as if someone had tossed a pebble into a pond. When it settled again, his reflection had changed: his head had swollen to twice its normal size, his mouth curled into a smug smirk and his green eyes flashed with self-importance. A voice spoke from the mirror.

‘Becareful,Merlin.Nonearesoemptyasthosewhoare full of conceit.’

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the image swirled and broke up again and his own reflection stared back at him. 14Merlin blinked. What was that about? The door creaked slowly open and he stepped into the Library.

The fusty smell of ancient Books tickled his nostrils. A ladder leant precariously against the rows of bookshelves. Vincent balanced on it, trying to pull out a large volume from the highest shelf. Merlin grinned. Vincent didn’t have the Magic to summon Books from shelves, to make things obey him.

Lately—ever since he’d noticed that dark island—he’d wanted to wind Vincent up. He turned to the door behind him.

Slam! he ordered it.

The door crashed shut. Vincent swivelled on the ladder, lost his footing and tumbled, all arms and legs in a flurry of Books. In a flash, Merlin summoned a plump cushion from an armchair and sent it flying across the room to catch Vincent’s fall. Vincent landed on it and three heavy Books crashed to the floor beside him. He stumbled to his feet, his thin, dark face screwed up in anger.

‘Why’d you do that?’

Merlin shrugged. ‘Just a joke.’

‘A joke?’ Vincent stayed where he was, scowling at him. ‘Do I look like I’m laughing?’

Merlin wandered over to inspect the three Books lying splayed on the floor. He made a face at the first, which he and Vincent had read last week. TheBookofWasteland’s cover was dreary, damp and grey, and just looking at it made him tired. He bent to the second. It had a strange, cobwebby cover and a wispy white title:

15THE BOOK OF FORGETTING

Even as he stared at the words, they began to melt away.

Tome, he summoned it, holding out his hands. The Book suddenly grew a pair of fine white wings and fluttered up to the topmost shelf, where it slipped into place among the other volumes. Merlin frowned. The stupid Books in the Library would still only obey him when theydecided to. As if to prove the point, two sturdy little legs sprouted from TheBookofWastelandand it, too, stomped over to the bookshelves and jumped up to join the others.

Vincent was still moaning on. ‘What’s got into you? Just because you can make things obey you, it doesn’t mean you’re better than us. You’ve changed—writing in that diary of yours, keeping secrets. Your Magic’s made you big-headed.’

The image of his head, swollen up in the mirror, jumped into Merlin’s mind and he quickly shook it away. Vincent glared at him.

‘You’ve turned into a right pain-in-the—’ 

‘Lighten up.’

Vincent was no fun any more—he was jealous of Merlin’s Magic. Merlin bent to look at the third Book. On its jet-black cover, silver letters spelt out the title:

THE BOOK OF SECRETS

16Thiswas more interesting. Before he could summon it, the Book sprouted dry, scaly wings—like a bat’s—and flapped up to land in his hands.

‘Look.’ He turned the cover towards Vincent. ‘Let’s see what it’s got to say.’

Vincent muttered something under his breath. Merlin carried the Book to a desk and plumped down in a chair and Vincent reluctantly joined him. Merlin ordered it: Open.

The Book creaked open. Its pages were completely empty.

‘Go on, then,’ said Vincent. ‘Make it read to us.’

Read.

The Book began to whisper, in a shadowy voice:

‘Sincetimebegan,theLandofMagicshasbeenthehomeofchildren like you—children who never grow old. Each of youpossesses a different Magic. But beware: Magics can be usedfor good or for ill.’

‘For ill?’ Merlin frowned.

Vincent stared at him meaningfully. The Book went on whispering.

‘Look too long at dark places, and dark events will occur, as sure as night follows day.’

Dark places. The island on the horizon crept into Merlin’s mind again. He shook his head irritably. Why did the Books always have to be so gloomy, warning him not to do things?

‘Beware the Island of Darkness,’whispered the Book, as if it knew what he was thinking. ‘Beware the Creature 17imprisoned in the Maze. A terrible fate awaits any child who gazes upon her.’

‘What—what Creature?’ Vincent shivered.

‘Heed my warning. Ignore it at your peril. Do not venture into the dark places. Curiosity kills cats.’

The Book snapped shut. Its scaly black wings unfolded and it flapped up to the bookshelves. Merlin watched it slip back into place. Then he stood up and went over to the window. The island was a dark smudge on the horizon. 

Vincent came to stand beside him. ‘Best not look at it,’ he said in a low voice.

‘Too scared?’ said Merlin.

‘What d’you mean?’ Vincent’s dark eyes flashed with fury. ‘Didn’t you hear what the Book said?’

‘Why should we believe everything the Books say? What if the Books are lying? What if this—this Creature in the Maze is just a story made up to scare us?’

The air suddenly filled with a cacophony of angry voices. The bookshelves vibrated. Every Book stamped and muttered.

‘There’s your answer.’ Vincent turned and headed for the door.

Merlin said loudly: ‘Only joking.’ The Books’ uproar died down. As Vincent reached for the door handle, Merlin ordered it:

Stick.

Vincent turned the handle, but nothing happened. He tugged at the door.

18Open.

The door jerked open with such force that Vincent slipped and fell to the floor. After a moment, he slowly got to his feet, his thin face twisted with anger.

‘Think you’re so clever, don’t you, Merlin?’ he hissed. ‘Think you know better than the Books—just because you can make them read? Well, prove it!’

‘What are you on about?’

‘Prove that this—this Creaturedoesn’t exist. Prove that the Books are wrong. I dare you!’

The shelves began to vibrate again. Merlin glanced at them, then back at Vincent.

‘Nah,’ he said loudly. ‘Can’t be bothered.’ The Books quietened immediately.

Vincent shook his head, rubbing his back from the fall. He didn’t look angry any more. He just looked sad.

‘I thought you were my friend,’ he said. ‘Friends don’t do this stuff.’ He turned and went.

For a moment, Merlin stared at the empty doorway. Then he shrugged. Too bad if Vincent had no sense of humour. No sense of adventure, either. His loss. He turned back to the window, shaded his eyes against the sun and gazed at the endless blue SeaSky, and at the island—the Island of Darkness—on the horizon. Vincent had dared him to do what hewas too scared to do himself.

I’ll show him.

A strange shiver passed down his spine.

Not fear, he told himself. Excitement.

19Below, on the beach, Vincent trudged over the sand towards his rowing boat.

The Books were silent now, but Merlin knew they were watching him. He patted his cloak pocket where his diary was.

Time to go home and make a plan.

20

THE ISLAND OF DARKNESS

…tonight I’ll row to the Island of Darkness and prove there’s no such thing as this Creature. That’ll show wimpy Vincent.

Stop writing, Merlin ordered the pen.

The diary shut with a snap and the pen jumped into his outstretched hand. Merlin turned to his mirrored cloak, hanging on a peg across the room.

Come.

The cloak flew from its peg and wrapped itself around his shoulders. Merlin slipped the diary into its pocket. He’d planned it all carefully, waiting a good three hours after the sun sank sizzling into the SeaSky, waiting until the others—including Vincent—were safely asleep in their stilt-houses.

He stepped out onto the deck. All was silent, apart from the lapping of the SeaSky around the wooden stilts of his house. The SeaSky was filled with a million silver stars, 21winking and glittering. A fat, yellow moon floated deep beneath the surface and the smell of ripe cheese drifted into the air. Merlin screwed up his eyes and gazed towards the horizon. The Island of Darkness was out there, ready for him.

WaittillVincentfindsoutI’vedoneit.WaittillIprovethatthat Creature doesn’t exist…

Below the deck, Merlin’s rowing boat rocked on the water, tied to one of the four stilts. Silently, he dropped down into it and sat on the seat at the back. A pair of oars lay in the bottom of the boat. He ordered them:

Row.

The oars rose and settled into the rowlocks on each side of the boat. Then they began to slice through the SeaSky in perfect unity. The boat moved past Vincent’s stilt-house, the windows dark, his empty rowing boat tied to one of the stilts. For a moment, Merlin hesitated. What if he climbed up to Vincent’s house, woke him and persuaded Vincent to come with him—to do the dare together?

No. Vincent’s scared. Vincent wants to believe the Books. 

Row on, he ordered the oars.

His stomach gave a loud rumble. Better stop at Provisions Island and pick up food and drink for his journey. He might not be back in time for breakfast.

Provisions Island loomed ahead, its trees luminous green in the darkness.

Land,he ordered the boat. He hopped out and followed the winding path, past the bushes laden with spoons and 22saucepans and hammers and saws. Clouds of flutterbies rose up on delicate silver wings from the dewy grass, singing their night-song, settling on his head and his arms until he brushed them away. He walked past the Clothes Tree with its hats and jeans and coats, until he arrived at the Eating Tree, the tallest of them all. On its topmost branch, a pair of pink pigs roosted, their wings folded, snortling in their sleep. He stood beneath the tree and held out his hands.

‘Bread roll,’ he called quietly. Like a falling leaf, the roll dropped from one of the lower branches into his hands, and he stowed it in the pocket of his cloak. ‘Cheese,’ he called, then, ‘Milk.’ A hunk of yellow cheese detached itself from a high branch and drifted down, and a bottle of milk broke from the topmost branch and twirled down like a sycamore seed into his open hands. He nodded his thanks and hurried back to the boat.

Soon, he was passing Library Island. From an open window drifted the sound of gentle snoring. Good.The Books were asleep and wouldn’t see him go by. He’d show them that there was nothing to fear on the Island of Darkness—not for a boy with his Magic. If the Books had their way, he’d live every day the same, the way Vincent and the others seemed content to do. He, Merlin, was different.

On and on rocked the boat. The rhythm of the oars made him sleepy, but he forced his eyes to stay open. If he slept, the oars would stop rowing. Instead, he stared at the 23Island of Darkness. A blanket of heavy black cloud hung over it, so it was hard to tell which was land and which was cloud. Its gloom seemed to creep over the water like mist and close about him. An icy wind sprang up, and the water swirled. Merlin shivered.

Wrap around me, he ordered his mirrored cloak.

The cloak didn’t move. The oars had stopped rowing too. It must be because he was sleepy. The boat wallowed beside a jagged rock which pointed upwards like a warning finger. Merlin pulled the cloak round himself and peered over the side. The SeaSky, usually blue and warm and translucent even at night, was black and dead-looking; the stars and the moon had disappeared. He scooped up a handful of water and splashed it over his face to wake himself up. The iciness made him gasp. He turned back to the oars.

Row on.

Nothing.

I said, row on.

Still, nothing. The boat floundered in the choppy water, the oars rattling like bones in the rowlocks. A sliver of fear snaked into his stomach. What was going on? Why weren’t the oars obeying him? He glared at them. Then, he slid off his seat and stood up. The boat rocked violently, sending the diary tumbling from his cloak pocket to the bottom of the boat. It rocked again, and the bread, cheese and milk flew out of his pocket too—only they went overboard, sinking under the surface. He quickly crouched, grabbing the sides of the boat. The last thing he needed was 24to be pitched into the dark water. He lowered himself to his knees, then crawled until he reached the second seat beside the oars. Holding tight to the sides of the boat, he manoeuvred himself to sit on the seat. If he had to row, he’d have his back to the Island of Darkness, but it was the only way…

The wind was stronger now. It whipped the black water into peaks and troughs, tossing and pitching the little boat. The air was freezing, his fingers numb, each breath like swallowing icicles. The voice of TheBookofSecrets seemed to whisper in his ears:

‘Heed my warning. Ignore it at your peril. Do not venture into the dark places. Curiosity kills cats.’

What if the Book was right? What if there wasa Creature…

That was the trouble with having a big imagination: it was always coming up with what-ifs, and some of them weren’t good what-ifs. Even so, he couldn’t help thinking of his stilt-house, of his cosy bed, of the Land of Magics…

But going back would be giving up.

He grasped the oars. Up against the wallowing waves, they seemed weak as matchsticks. He hardly remembered how to row, it had been so long since he’d had to. He gritted his teeth and began.

Almost there.

The bucking of the boat and the icy spray made his stomach churn and his eyes sting. He had to keep looking 25over his shoulder to see where he was going. The oars creaked, groaning in the rowlocks with each stroke. Cold sweat trickled down his back, his arms ached, his palms were sore and blistered. Behind him, the Island of Darkness towered in a black mass, surrounded by spiky rocks like sharp teeth. He wiped the sea spray out of his eyes and peered into the gloom.

There was a narrow channel ahead between two rocks, and beyond it, a paleness which might be a beach. One wrong move and the little boat would capsize on the rocks and sink. And without the boat, he could never return to the Land of Magics…

A roaring sound made him jerk to look round. A black wave rolled towards the boat, towering higher and higher, blotting out the Land of Magics, blotting out everything.

I’m going to drown.

He hauled the oars in, bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut, his ears filled with the thunder of the wild water. The wave took the little boat, sweeping him high into the air, his stomach left behind. He gripped the sides with white knuckles, waiting for the smash and the splintering as it hit the jagged black rocks.

But the smash didn’t come.

There was silence. Only the sound of his rapid breathing, the vibration of his heart thrumming in his chest.

He opened his eyes.

The boat floated on an expanse of water still and dark as a sheet of black ice. The air was still, too. A beach glimmered, 26dotted with huge boulders. And further on, was a mass of dark forest. Nothing moved.

He turned to look back. Beyond the rocks, the storm still raged. By some miracle, the boat must have been washed between them. He wiped his wet face, tasting the salt on his lips. Then he lifted the oars from the bottom of the boat and settled them into the rowlocks. Keeping his eyes on the beach, he began to row. Apart from the tiny splashes of the oars and the tinkling of his mirrored cloak, all was silent.

The boat ground against the shore and lurched to a halt. Merlin waited, his eyes and ears alert for any sign of life. A tiny gleam of triumph whispered into his mind. Iwas right. It’s nothing but a deserted island.He pulled off his shoes and rolled up his jeans. Then he grabbed the rope and stepped over the side of the boat into the shallow water. He almost cried out—the water was icy and sharp stones cut into his bare soles. In seconds, his feet were numb. He gritted his teeth and waded silently to the beach, hauling the boat behind him. He stepped out of the water, lifted each foot and rubbed it vigorously until the life came back into it. Then he put on his shoes and peered around for somewhere to tie up the boat. Ahead of him in the dim light lay a huge boulder. Maybe he could loop the rope over that like a lasso. He trudged towards it over the cold, sharp pebbles, his breath misting the air.

It was two boulders, by the look of it. One huge one, with a smaller, rounder one balanced on top.

27Fasten, he ordered the rope.

It didn’t move. His fingers were cold and fumbling, but he managed to loop it into a noose. Then he stood on tiptoe and threw it up at the top boulder. It glanced off and dropped to the ground.

He was about to try again, when the boulder moved.

28

THE CATCHER

High on the topmost boulder, a pair of bloodshot eyes slowly opened. Below them, a thin mouth with blackened teeth gaped in a yawn. The eyes narrowed as they focused on him. The mouth opened again and a hoarse whisper crept out of it.

‘I bin waitin’ fer a long time… fer a child from the Land of Magics.’

The rope fell from Merlin’s hand. Every bit of him wanted to run, but his legs were frozen with fear. The boulder spoke again.

‘Yus… a long, long time. No child has bin brave enough to come ’ere… until now.’

Merlin stood up straighter. He licked his dry lips. ‘Are you the—the Creature?’

‘Me?’ A strange sound rocked the boulder. A sort of wheezing, grinding snort. As if it was laughing. Then it stopped abruptly.

‘Wot brings you ’ere, boy?’

‘I’ve come to—to find out if it’s true.’29

‘True?’

‘If it’s true that the Creature exists.’

The boulder shifted and a pair of thick legs and feet in massive boots unfolded from the bottom of it. It creaked to stand up, towering over him. It was a mountain of a man with a hairless head and pockmarked skin.

‘You want ter find out wot’s true?’ it wheezed. 

Merlin nodded.

‘Then foller me.’ The boulder moved towards the trees. 

Merlin hesitated. Should he run, while he had the chance? In a flash, he remembered Vincent’s angry, frightened face, and his words: I dare you.

The boulder turned. ‘You comin’, or wot?’

Merlin wrapped his mirrored cloak tightly around his body and followed the boulder into the forest.

It was dark among the trees. Their leafless, skeleton branches formed a black canopy over his head, blotting out the sky. Strange flutterings and squeakings rustled invisibly. Ahead, the massive shadow of the boulder moved surprisingly fast on its great, rock-like legs. Merlin had to half-run to keep up. Black thorny branches whipped his face and caught at his cloak. When he tried to free it, a thorn pierced his thumb. He stopped to suck the trickle of blood, black in the dim light.

‘’Urry up, boy,’ the boulder called over its shoulder.

The forest went on and on. Merlin held his arms in front of his face to fend off the whipping branches and kept his 30eyes on the rough dark ground to stop himself tripping over snaking tree roots. After a while, the air became a little lighter. The boulder suddenly stopped and Merlin almost walked into it. He lowered his arms and looked up. 

A wall of rock reared in front of them, as grey and pockmarked as the boulder’s skin. A vast black hole gaped in it, so dark it was impossible to see inside. Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. The Maze.He shrank back towards the trees. But the boulder stayed where it was. It took a deep, rasping breath and bellowed: 

‘MISTRESS!’

Long seconds passed, silent except for the squeakings and mutterings in the forest behind them, and the heavy breathing of the boulder. Then a sound crept from the hole in the rock. It was no more than a thin, icy whisper, as if each word was forced out by a huge effort, but it made every hair on Merlin’s head stand on end.

You… woke… me, Catcher.

The boulder puffed out its vast chest.

‘Yus, Mistress. My patience has bin rewarded at last.’

Patience?hissed the voice. I call it… laziness. 

‘Wait till I tell you what I got, Mistress.’ 

Well?

‘I got you a boy.’

A sharp gasp. A… boy?

A sour smell drifted out of the Maze—the smell of something rotting, decaying. Merlin swallowed and stared into the hole. He could see only darkness, but something 31was in there, breathing. So The Book of Secrets had been right. The Creature did exist.

What is… your name, boy?

The voice of the Creature seemed to wind around his neck like a noose, making it hard to speak. He cleared his throat. ‘My name is Merlin.’

Ahhhh… Merlin, whispered the Creature. The Magic… of Command.

‘How—how do you know about my Magic?’ Merlin’s brain seemed to have turned to ice. He clamped his lips together to stop his teeth chattering.

The Creature ignored his question. Show… me, Merlin, it whispered. Magic something… into the Maze.

Merlin looked around. The only thing he could magic was a broken branch, lying at his feet. He stared at it.

Move.

It didn’t.

Move.

Well? whispered the Creature. 

‘It—it’s not working.’

The boulder gave another wheezing snort. The Creature suddenly hissed, sharp as a whip.

Silence, Catcher! It is no… laughing matter… that the boy’s Magic… falters.

The Creature’s voice became soft again, its foul breath drifting out into his face.

You have come… from the Land of Magics?

‘Y-yes.’

32How… did you… get here?

‘’E came in a boat, Mistress,’ said the boulder.

Aboat… The Creature was silent for a moment. Didyou tell… the others… that you were coming here?

How did she know about the others? Merlin lifted his chin and summoned his energy. ‘No. They’d have tried to stop me. And this is my adventure.’

The Creature breathed out and the stench of death and decay crept from the Maze into Merlin’s nostrils.

Only the very bravest child… would dare to cross… thewater.Why… Merlin?Why… didyou… come?