Read Online The End of Time by P. W. Catanese, David Ho - Free Book Online

undergrowth shifted, and an enormous vine that was spiraled tightly at the end pierced through. It hovered for a moment, and then, as Hap watched with his jaw sagging, it uncoiled and reach toward them, extending across the waves. “ That is Dendra,” Sophie whispered.
    Umber leaned over the prow with a shining grin, waiting. The vine had diamond-shaped leaves the size of hands sprouting from it, and along its length more curling tendrils sprouted, all light green with jagged red stripes. When the vine finished uncurling, barely a foot from Umber’s face, Hap saw a long, red flower shaped like a trumpet, and he was amazed to hear a voice coming from the flower—the thin, quavering voice of an old man. “What is it? Who’s out there?”
    Umber smiled over his shoulder. “It’s like a speaking tube, Hap. The wizard talks into a blossom at the other end, and the vine conducts the sound.” He put his mouth near the flower. “It’s me, Fendofel! Your friend Umber.”
    “Umber?” said the voice from the vine. “Umber . . .
 Umber . . . Umber . . .” it repeated, puzzling over the word. Umber looked back at his friends again with a raised brow.
    “Of course, Umber!” cried the voice, rising with happy recognition. “My dear boy. You’re back! Come ashore, come ashore.”
    “I have friends with me—some you’ve met, and one you haven’t,” Umber told the flower.
    “Friends! How nice! Come, all of you! Welcome to my home!”
    The seaweed sank into the depths again, and the strands released the oars. The boat bobbed freely, and Oates, shaking his head with his mouth stretched wide, rowed them to the stone ramp. As they drew closer, the vine withdrew ahead of them. The ramp was covered with smaller vines that looked much like Dendra. Oates picked up a line, meaning to tie the boat off, but the smaller vines sprang to life and twirled around the cleats, holding the boat fast. “This is the oddest place,” Oates muttered, dropping the line and lifting the pack with the strange nut inside.
    They disembarked and walked up the ramp to where the riotous growth barred further progress. Hap felt Sophie’s elbow nudge his side. “Watch this,” she said.
    From inside the jungle, Hap heard rustling sounds, as if a stiff breeze was coming or a flock of birds had taken flight. The tangle of leaves and limbs that blocked their way pulled back, swinging inward like a pair of doors. The rustling extended deeper into the growth, and soon a shadowy tunnel had been created before them.
    “You look stupid with your mouth hanging open like that,” Oates said to Hap. Hap’s jaw popped as he snapped it shut.
    “Really, Oates,” Umber chided. “Hap’s never been here before. I envy him—it’s such fun to be astonished!”
    “Not for me,” Oates muttered.
    Umber nearly broke into a skip as he headed down the living tunnel. The vine called Dendra led them, slithering back along the path like the tail of a snake. The tunnel floor was paved with stones worn smooth. Fragments of sunlight pierced the thick canopy, spattering them with shifting flecks of light.
    Hap heard a rustling sound again, this time at his back. The path they’d taken closed in behind them, sealing their exit as if the tunnel had never existed.

 
CHAPTER
7
    After a few dozen paces the tunnel ended and they stepped into a clearing. Within the giant hedge that encircled the island, butterflies flittered about, and the hum of bees filled the air. They followed the stone path into the heart of the island, crossing narrow bands of sharply differing landscapes. There was a fragrant meadow with bright blossoms of a hundred different shades, where deer grazed, watching them pass with dull, unconcerned expressions. Next was a stand of pine trees amid a soft carpet of fallen needles.
    “I’ll remind you not to pick the flowers, everyone,” Umber said. “And don’t take any fruit unless a vine offers it to you.”
    They passed next through a sandy spot