CHAPTER SIX

Tom immediately set off up the wooden walkway, which was suspended from cables attached to branches far above. He strode with purpose, his school pants bagging around his legs. Jane followed. She noticed that Tom kept his eyes ahead, and didn’t look out at the woods that ran deep to either side of the path. He walked fast and stayed in the centre of the walkway, well away from the guide rope and the hundreds of feet drop to the forest floor.

They passed birch and oak and pine and elm. The trees were at least five times larger and taller than the trees back in England. The suspended path moved from tree to tree, always climbing, always moving deeper into the woods.

After a while Tom stopped for a rest. He turned back to Jane and grinned a toothy grin. ‘I'm glad you came with me.'

Jane leaned against the side of the tree they were currently straddling, perhaps 200 feet above the ground.

'Why is that?'

'I would never have got that door shut by myself ’

‘I'm glad I served a purpose.’

‘I’m just saying … you may have saved me from being killed by a swamp hog.’

‘While that is a cause for celebration I have to tell you … I am not here for you.’

‘I know ... you are here for the book.'

'Yes, The Wyld Book of Secrets. Apparently you know where it is.'

Tom shook his head.

'The nun told me you would help me find the book. What were you told?'

Tom put a finger under the collar of his blazer and scratched his neck.

'I was told to see the King of Wyld Fell and he would help us.'

The path climbed from tree to tree, circling one massive trunk after another. The trees were covered with moss and lichen, and ferns grew in the deep crevices in the bark. Black ants marched in lines. A lizard turned a slow head and whipped out a strappy tongue to taste the air. A caterpillar, as big as a cucumber, was caught in a strand of spider web, while a spider, the size of Jane's fist, took slow, deliberate steps toward its prey.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Occasionally a squirrel would pop its head out from somewhere.

Growing from receptacles formed by crooked bark and forked branches and weep holes in the trunks of the trees were the large yellow flowers that Jane had seen down by the waterfall. Bobbing into the flowers were the fat, glassy winged bees, with legs bulging with pollen. Hundreds of bees, perhaps thousands, filled the woods with a loud hum.

Tom pulled the key out from his shirt and inspected it while he walked.

‘The thrip seemed to think this key was important.’

'I don't see how it relates to the Wyld Book of Secrets.'

Tom shrugged and dropped the key back inside his shirt.

‘Perhaps it doesn't.'

The boardwalk kept climbing, and the air grew colder. Still the treetops remained far overhead, where the sky could only be seen in temporary glimpses. These trees were even larger than Jane had first thought.

‘I hope there is no problem seeing the King,' said Jane.

Tom shrugged again.

Just then a large ripping sound rose up from a tree just across from the boardwalk. Jane went to the guide rope where she witnessed a giant mushroom breaking off from the side of a yew. The mushroom was as fat as a beach umbrella, turnip white, with a fan of underbelly brown. Instead of falling to the ground, as you would expect, the mushroom rose like a balloon, thrusting into the branch above where it caught for a moment before curling around the branch to bump and roll up and up through branches and leaves until finally it became obscured by leaves.

Jane said, ‘The mushroom is lighter than air …’

Tom had also stopped and was staring up at the flying mushroom.

‘It could be anti-gravity.’

The mushroom breaking from the tree had left a jagged hole in the yew, with black soil and crumbles of white mushroom stalk.

Jane said, ‘How could anti-gravity affect just one object?’

Tom shook his head and said, ‘It seems to be rising with some force.’

Jane let go of the rope and whistled through her teeth.

‘Things just keep getting stranger.’

Tom kept watching where the mushroom had disappeared, and his face was concentrated with thought, so Jane sidled past him and continued to walk.

The boardwalk narrowed as the trees’ circumferences got smaller. Night was coming, and still the path was inclining. How much further was this tree top city and the palace of the King? Finally, the sky began to appear between the leaves: deep purple with bands of pink and orange to the west. Birds swam down from the sky into the woods. The trees sighed as they moved in the breeze.

Jane was about thirty feet ahead of Tom who was tiring steadily. He had shrunk back into the darkness. Jane was about to stop and wait for him when she heard a nasally voice that sounded like the voice of somebody talking through a swollen throat.

‘Elion’s got to got the out.’

*