Episode 3: The Storm Fortress
The Sky Whales were gone — every last one of them scattered into the dusk. But as the three friends stood staring at the empty sky, Tom noticed something glittering on the clouds beneath their feet.
"Emil — Luna — look!" he said, pointing. "There's a trail!"
Sure enough, scattered across the clouds was a line of tiny, glittering droplets — but these were not soft like ordinary cloud-dew. They were frozen solid, hard little beads of ice, leading away in a long winding path.
Luna knelt and touched one. "Frozen cloud droplets," she murmured. "These don't form naturally on Nimbus-9. Something cold passed this way — something that freezes the clouds as it goes." Her eyes widened. "A ship. The Duster's ship must leave these behind! This trail will lead us straight to him!"
"Then that's where the whales were fleeing from," Emil realized. "Come on — let's follow it."
They climbed back aboard the cozy red tomato-ship, and Emil flew low and slow, tracing the line of frozen droplets across the darkening skies. On and on the trail led them, deeper into a region of Nimbus-9 where the clouds grew grey and heavy and the air turned cold.
And then, at last, they saw it.
Rising up out of the storm-dark sky was a fortress — an enormous, menacing castle built entirely from hardened storm clouds, black and bruised-purple, crackling here and there with little flickers of lightning. It loomed in the gloom like a thundercloud given walls and towers, and the frozen trail led straight to its gates.
"The Duster's lair," Luna whispered. "It has to be."
"It looks horribly well-guarded," said Tom, peering up at it. "We can't just walk in the front door. They'd spot us in a second."
"Then we'll need a clever way in," said Emil. "Any ideas?"
A slow, proud smile spread across Tom's face. "As a matter of fact," he said, "I've been tinkering with something in the workshop. I call it... Cloud Camouflage!" He produced a small, whirring little device, covered in dials and tiny puffing nozzles. "Watch this."
He switched it on — and at once, a soft shimmer spread over all three of them. When Emil looked down at himself, he gasped: they no longer looked like a boy, a worm, and a cloud-herder at all. They looked exactly like floating chunks of grey storm debris — drifting, raggedy lumps of cloud, just like the bits that swirled all around the dark fortress.
"Tom, that's brilliant!" Emil whispered.
"Disguised as the very storm itself," said Luna, amazed. "No one will look twice at us."
And so, looking for all the world like three harmless puffs of storm-junk, the friends drifted right up to the fortress and slipped silently inside. They floated down dark, cold corridors, past crackling walls and gloomy halls, their hearts pounding — but no guard so much as glanced their way. Tom's invention worked perfectly.
Deeper and deeper they crept, following the hum of machinery, until they came to a vast central chamber — and there, at last, they found what they were looking for.
In the middle of the chamber stood an enormous, fearsome machine — a towering tangle of pipes and pumps and spinning dials, humming and throbbing with power. And at its very heart, locked into place and glowing bright, was the Core Crystal of Nimbus-9.
And standing before the machine, his back to them, was a tall figure in a long, tattered grey cloak.
The Duster.
He turned slowly, and his eyes glinted in the machine's glow. "Well, well," he rasped. "Storm debris that tiptoes. I'm not as foolish as I look." He waved a hand, and Tom's camouflage flickered and died, leaving the three friends exposed. "Visitors. How tiresome."
"Give back the Crystal!" Luna cried boldly. "You're destroying our planet! Without it, all of Nimbus-9 will dissolve!"
The Duster threw back his head and laughed a cold, dusty laugh. "Dissolve? Oh, I know exactly what it does, little cloud-herder. But you see, this Crystal is far too valuable to waste on holding up your silly clouds." He gestured grandly at the great machine. "Behold — my weather-controlling machine! With the Crystal's power, I can summon storms or sunshine, rain or drought, anywhere I please." His eyes gleamed greedily. "And I intend to sell it. I'll bottle up the perfect climate of Nimbus-9 and sell it, piece by piece, to every planet in the galaxy that wants better weather. I shall be the richest pirate who ever sailed the skies!"
"But Nimbus-9 will be destroyed!" Emil protested. "Luna's whole world, gone — just so you can make money?"
"A small price," sneered The Duster, "for someone else to pay." And with that, he reached out and pressed a great lever. "Now — let me show you out."
Beneath the friends' feet, the solid cloud floor suddenly began to soften. It turned thin, then watery, then to swirling liquid cloud — and they began to sink!
"It's turning to mush!" Tom yelped, paddling to stay afloat. "We're sinking!"
The Duster strolled toward the exit. "Sink slowly," he said pleasantly. "I've a planet's weather to go and sell."
But Emil's mind was racing. He caught Tom's eye, then Luna's, and gave the tiniest nod. Trust me.
"Wait!" Emil called loudly, splashing toward The Duster, waving his arms, making as much noise and fuss as he possibly could. "You can't leave! I have so many questions! How does the machine work? How did you build it? It's fascinating!"
The Duster paused, vain enough to be flattered. "Well... naturally it's a work of genius," he began, and as he boasted, he turned his back on Tom and Luna entirely — exactly as Emil had hoped.
While Emil kept The Duster talking, Tom and Luna paddled quietly to the side of the great machine. Tom, clever Tom, studied the tangle of pipes and dials, his eyes darting. "There," he whispered. "That panel — that's the control for the storage cells. He's got something trapped in there. Help me, Luna!"
Together they pried open the panel and worked at the controls — twisting, switching, unlocking. And suddenly, with a great rushing whoosh, one of the machine's huge storage cells burst open — and out poured an enormous, glowing, gentle Sky Whale, one The Duster had captured and locked away. That was what had frightened the others off — their friend, held prisoner in this dreadful place!
The freed whale gave a mighty, joyful, trumpeting cry that shook the whole fortress.
"NO!" The Duster shrieked, whirling around. "My prisoner!"
The great Sky Whale, free at last and overjoyed, surged upward with tremendous force — and smashed straight through the wall of the storm fortress! Cloud-bricks exploded outward, lightning crackled, and a huge hole tore open in the side of the lair, the open sky beyond.
"Now — jump!" Emil shouted.
The three friends leapt from the dissolving floor, caught hold of the great whale's misty flank, and were carried up and out through the shattered wall, into the free open air, just as the storm fortress groaned and buckled behind them.
They tumbled safely onto a firm cloud-bank a safe distance away, breathless and laughing with relief — alive, and free, and together.
But their joy did not last.
For high above, through the broken wall of his crumbling fortress, The Duster rose up in his own dark, frost-trailing ship — and clutched tight in the machine he'd torn loose, still glowing bright, was the Core Crystal.
"This isn't over!" his voice echoed down through the clouds. "The Crystal is mine!" And his cold ship streaked away into the distance and was gone.
"He escaped," Tom groaned. "And he still has the Crystal!"
But Luna was getting to her feet, and in her hand she held something — a torn scrap of paper, fluttering in the breeze.
"Not entirely empty-handed, he didn't," she said, a fierce little smile on her face. "When we leapt away, I grabbed hold of his cloak — and this came loose. It's a piece of his map!"
They gathered round to look. On the torn scrap was drawn a strange and dangerous-looking place, ringed with jagged bolts, and labeled in spiky letters:
The Isle of Static.
"The Isle of Static," Luna read, and even she looked frightened. "I've heard of it. A terrible, dangerous zone, far from here — a place where the clouds themselves turn to solid lightning. Nothing soft survives there." She looked up at her friends. "But if this is on The Duster's map... then that must be where he's taking the Crystal next."
Emil set his jaw, and helped Tom up onto his shoulder. The freed Sky Whale circled gently overhead, as if waiting to help.
"Then that," said Emil bravely, "is where we're going too. We've come too far to give up now. To the Isle of Static — to save Nimbus-9!"
To be continued in Episode 4...