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

where cacti grew and tortoises sauntered and craned their necks. Still, the vine pulled away ahead of them, arching like an inchworm as it retracted.
    “How long is that thing?” Hap asked Sophie.
    “Very.”
    They arrived at the heart of the island, a strange and watery garden filled with exotic plants, bushes, and trees. The path they’d followed branched into smaller trails that meandered through the clearing. “Step on the stones, not the plants,” Umber said, though Hap had already decided that would be wise. “There are a few mats of moss that don’t mind if you rest on them, though.”
    They went by a shrub with brilliant orange blossoms, which snapped shut as they passed. “Shy around strangers,” Umber explained. A stand of pale blue mushrooms stood nearby, so tall that Oates could have walked under their caps. Towering ferns waved in the gentle breeze.
    As they moved into the clearing, a bird with a long blue tail burst out of tall grass. When Hap followed its flight with his gaze, he saw an ancient building ahead.
    It was a dome built of rough white stone, with arches in its curving walls that let air and light pass. On either side of the dome stood more modern structures: long, rectangular wings made of wrought iron and milky glass. Hap saw a riot of strange plants inside, growing in steamy air and pressing against the misty panes.
    The vine they’d followed curled itself like a snake, with the coils stacking high overhead. More of the pale green and blood red arms emerged from every arch of the dome and slithered into the garden like the tentacles of a sea creature. Some grew up and over the dome, dividing into slender fingers that might have been holding the stones in place.
    Hap tugged on Umber’s sleeve. “Those vines. Are they all from one plant?”
    Umber nodded. “One vine, one mind. It’s all Dendra.”
    An old man in a long, brown robe hobbled through one of the archways, leaning on a twisted cane. Another small vine hovered by his elbow, a living banister. He was not a tall man, and his height was reduced by the curve of his spine, which forced his head down so that he had to crane his neck to squint at his visitors. His hair was thin and silky, dangling past his ears, and he might have been bald on top except for what appeared to be stringy gray moss growing there. Tiny white flowers emerged from his thick beard. “Who is it? Who’s there?”
    Hap looked sideways at Sophie. “Didn’t Lord Umber just tell him it was us?” She shushed him quietly, her forehead creased with worry.
    “It’s me, Fendofel,” Umber called out, quite loudly. “Umber. Remember?”
    Fendofel’s mouth broke into a nearly toothless smile, and he rapped the side of his head with his knuckles. “Foolish me! Ha-ha, of course, you just told me you were coming a minute ago!”
    The dome was surrounded by a narrow moat, and Fendofel limped across one of the short bridges that spanned the water. The vine slithered behind him with its tip elbow-high, darting left and right, depending on which way the old man teetered.
    Umber trotted ahead to close the distance, and took the old wizard by the elbow. “How wonderful to see you again.”
    Fendofel was a head shorter than Umber, and his rheumy eyes glistened as he looked up. “And you, and you! But look at you, Umber—so thin! You’re skin and bones, my boy.”
    “I’m fine, Fendofel,” Umber told him.
    The wizard looked at him from head to toe, squinting. “Well, you don’t look fine. But tell me, how is my tree of many fruits? Healthier than you, I hope?”
    “Strong-limbed and thriving, just like me,” Umber said, chuckling. “And, Fendofel, you remember these good people.” Umber swept his arm toward Balfour, Sophie, and Oates.
    “I . . . oh, of course I do,” Fendofel said. He put his hand beside his mouth and tried to whisper to Umber but was plainly heard by all. “Be a good fellow and remind me of their names, will you, Umber?”
    Hap saw the