“It all started with that human woman, Mary Anning,” said Magnus. “I remember her, you know, though it must be seventy or eighty years ago. She started the whole craze for fossils, kept digging them out of the cliffs around here. Of course in those days, you could put a spade in anywhere and come up with some ammonites, at least. These cliffs are full of them. She was the one who found a plesiosaur, you know; first one anywhere.” He saw the blank look on the face of his listeners. “Big fish thing, with teeth, made of rock.”
“Is it still here?” Grunion asked nervously.
“Heavens no, it had been dead for a long time. A very long time, I think. I’ve certainly never seen a live one in the tunnels.”
“Good to know,” Grunion said.
“Now we have this new gentleman trying to do the same thing. At least Mary Anning did it with a little hammer and spade. That isn’t quick enough for him of course. He’s laid dynamite all along the ridge here. We watched the test explosions and we’ve seen the wires, leading to a plunger. Once that goes down, this entire cliff will slide into the sea and our hall with it.” Charles Magnus sighed sadly and sipped his tea, though it had gone cold. “The tragic thing is that he’s not even looking in the right place.”
“What do you mean?” Sparkler asked.
“Well, you have to understand we’ve been in these cliffs for a very long time. Hundreds of years, maybe even longer. We know where all the bones are. I could show you places further along the coast with all sorts, full skeletons even—the strangest animals you’ll ever see. Honestly, the whole coast is riddled with them, just not this cliff. That’s what makes me a bit, well, irritable, you see. This human is going to destroy our home for nothing and then move on to another one. It’s just so very frustrating.”
“You could cut the wires,” Grunion said. Sparkler shook his head.
“They’d just bind them up again. You know what humans are like, Grun—determined. They don’t stop easily, not once they have an idea.”
“You stopped the bearded men, when you told them about making better fireworks.”
Grunion had spoken innocently enough. There was quite a murmur of noise around them and he’d been warm and full of toast. As he finished speaking, he realized that the Dark Tollin’s home had fallen silent. It was a shocking silence, so thick and gloomy that it seemed to spread out of the room and into the corridors and caverns beyond. Somewhere distant, someone dropped a plate.
Magnus leaned forward in his chair, clasping his hands together.
“Wangle said you broke the First Law. Of course, I didn’t believe him. I have to say I thought he was making it up to blacken your name. He was one of a rather old-fashioned group, you see. They call themselves the Sons of Dorset.”
“I think we met one up on the ledge from the tunnels,” Wing said.
“It’s possible. I’m afraid they blame you for what happened to Wangle.” Magnus looked at Sparkler and their eyes met for a moment. “Some of us understand a bit better than that. If you play with fire, or indeed cats, you have a good chance of being burned, or perhaps eaten. Wangle paid the price of his ambitions.” The Tollin Magnus shook his head sadly. “Perhaps I am too old for the challenges of a new century. For me, the Laws are all that keep us from chaos.”
“Would that be a chaos worse than your ancient home sliding into the sea?” Wing asked. Magnus blinked at her.
“I’m not sure I understand, my dear,” he said.
Wing looked at Sparkler. After a pause, he nodded and she smiled.
“We brought a few things with us, just in case, Tollin Magnus. You may not be able to speak to humans, but we can.”
CHAPTER SIX
WAITING IN THE DARKNESS
IR ALFRED WEISS was not a man to insist on the luxuries of life. He’d hunted tigers in India in terrible heat. He’d climbed mountains in Nepal and suffered frostbite without complaint. He’d come late to the world of fossils, after seeing the entire skeleton of a mastodon* on display in New York. He’d been fascinated then and it wasn’t long before he came home to Dorset and began exploring the part of it known as the Jurassic Coast.
It had taken time, money and energy to get permission to dynamite the cliffs. It helped that his cousin was the local mayor, of course. Alfred had gone to sleep that night with the intention of getting a good rest before dawn, when he would pose for a newspaper photo and then push down the plunger. He dreamed of dinosaurs as he slept, which became a little odd when a Tyrannosaurus rex kept nibbling his ear. He waved it away a few times, but then at last, he woke up. He reached up to his face and found that he was wearing glasses. Surely he’d taken them off before he went to sleep?
It was dark in his little tent on the sandy hills by the beach. He’d chosen a spot where the wind wouldn’t be too chilly, though he’d known a lot worse than a Dorset winter. He almost went back to sleep, but then he heard a rustling sound. In India, a rustling sound can mean a snake has decided to share your tent with you.
Sir Alfred sat up sharply and reached for a box of matches. No matter how brave you are, there is still something frightening about a tent in the middle of nowhere and the sense that you are no longer alone in it.
When he struck the match, Sir Alfred Weiss realized he wasn’t wearing his own glasses. Through blue glass, he found himself looking at a small group of winged creatures, sitting on his sleeping bag and watching him closely. With trembling hands, he lit a storm lantern and blew out the match before he burned his fingers. Should he call for help? His explosives team and workmen were all sleeping in the local pub. He was the only one who’d opted for a night out under canvas. The things watching him didn’t look frightening, he had to admit.
“Good evening,” he said after a while.
“It’s already morning, I think,” Sparkler replied, making his voice as deep and slow as possible. “Keep the glasses on—you need them to see us. Dawn isn’t far off and we don’t have much time, so listen closely.”
In some ways, it felt like a dream. When he’d gone to sleep that night, Sir Alfred hadn’t thought he’d be spending the wee hours in his striped pajamas and a greatcoat, squeezing into cracks in the Dorset cliffs. Still, if they were telling the truth, it was worth a few risks. He’d never been a man to turn away from risk, even while tiger hunting, which was why he’d always been bitten on the front.
“Not much further,” Sparkler called to the human. Dawlish was with him and the young Dark Tollin had impressed Sparkler with his courage, he had to admit. It was a lot to ask, to break the First Law. It had kept Tollins safe for a thousand years or more. However, some things are worth a risk and they had to have a guide who knew where the fossils were. Dawlish hadn’t actually spoken to the man, it was true, but simply being there was enough.
The second challenge had been finding a way into the cliffs that was large enough to take a great, clod-hopping human. They’d wasted a precious hour with maps before they’d found a place he could reach. Even then, it was going to be tight.
Sparkler watched in frustration as Sir Alfred Weiss wedged himself into the narrowing tunnel.
“Come on, it’s almost dawn,” Sparkler said.
“I’ll have…to take my coat off,” the man said, red in the face. He went back to get enough room and returned in just his pajamas, with the storm lantern held in a trembling hand.
“Not far now,” Dawlish whispered to Sparkler. The Dark Tollin was trembling himself, with tension and excitement.
They pushed on until the tunnel was so narrow that they worried the human would have to remove his pajamas as well. No one wanted that, least of all the man himself. Great discoveries are almost never made by naked men, with the possible exception of Archimedes, who was in his bath at the time. All other great discoveries have been made by clothed people. It’s almost a rule.
Without warning, the tunnel widened into a cavern. Sparkler gasped as the storm lantern brought light to it for the first time in thousands of years. It made even the Dark
Tollin Hall look small. Water ran down the far wall and perhaps that water had gouged out the cavern over the centuries. That was impressive enough, even without Grunion trying the echo and calling “Coo-eeee” until Sparkler nudged him.
The skeleton seemed to be made of black stone. It lay half in and half out of the wall and water ran over it, making it look alive. Who knew how long it had lain there, slowly being revealed by the torrent of years and water? It seemed to grin at them, but all skeletons do that. It’s almost as if skeletons know some joke we haven’t spotted yet. Perhaps they do.
“Holy mackerel,” Sir Alfred breathed as he came up and saw the cavern. His pajamas were torn at the knees and he was out of breath, but he had never been so happy. He removed the blue glasses for a better look and then put them back on again.
“Will this do?” Sparkler asked him. Sir Alfred nodded, stunned. He didn’t know what the fossil was yet. It looked a bit like a Rhomaleosaurus. He could see the huge fins and teeth. He shuddered at the thought of the seas it had known, a dark and ancient ocean.
“I’ll remove the dynamite from your cliff, of course,” he said. “I would have anyway, you know, once I knew you were there.” He looked at the tiny creatures watching him so nervously in the lamplight. “Seeing you has been better than anything I could have dreamed of finding in these cliffs.”
“The thing about fossils,” Sparkler said seriously, “is that they don’t mind being put in a cage, do you understand? If you tell anyone about us, that’s what will happen to us. We trusted you with this.” He hoped he’d made the right choice.
Sparkler relaxed when he saw Sir Alfred nod, then grin. For a moment, he looked young again, almost boyish.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he said.
There was no explosion as the sun came up. Now that Sir Alfred knew where to look, there wasn’t any need for one. While the newspaper reporter looked on in confusion, Sir Alfred led a party of his men down the beach until they came to a crack in the rocks. They thought he’d lost his mind when he went into it, but it wasn’t long before they were all coming out again, their faces bright with excitement. Sparkler watched from high up on the Dark Tollin cliff. He was sitting on a ledge there with Wing, swinging his legs. He’d taken back the blue glasses he’d brought from home. He knew he’d taken a risk, but no one had been hurt and that made it the right choice.
“You know, Wing,” he said, looking out to sea. She glanced at him and saw to her surprise that he was blushing. “I’ve been thinking.”
“You’re always thinking,” she replied.
“Yes, but I’ve been thinking of other things this time,” he said. “That Dawlish, for example. Do you like him?”
“A bit,” she admitted. “He’s a nice lad and he’s the son of the Tollin Magnus, after all. It’s a bit like Romeo and Juliet.”
“Is it?” he asked.
“Well, two grand families, you know. The son of one and the daughter of the other…”
Sparkler scowled and she thought he might not go through with it.
“I did enjoy doing Romeo and Juliet with you,” he said.
“Yes?”
“And I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me.”
She put her hand in his and smiled.
“I’d like that very much,” she said. Together, they sat and watched the sun rise over the sea.
THE END OF BOOK THREE
Author’s Note
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE WAS BORN more than four hundred years ago. He wrote the most famous love story of all time: Romeo and Juliet. It is set in Verona, a city in Italy. If you go there today, you will be able to see the balcony where Juliet is said to have talked down to Romeo—talked down in the sense of her being higher, not her being rude.
He also wrote the most famous tragedy, Macbeth, which is full of exciting battles and no love story at all. It has witches and a ghost, so pretty much everything, really.
Finally, he wrote a number of comedies. No one could stop him. “You do tragedies, Will!” they used to say. “People dying, the audience in tears!”
He would just look at them.
“Or love stories, Will, you’re brilliant at those!”
He merely laughed in a hollow way.
“History plays! Romans and kings all poisoning each other and things! What about those, Will?”
He threw his pen at them.
He had conquered all those things, yes, but he wanted to try his hand at comedies as well. If you study them in school, they will seem dull, but here is the secret. If you go and see one performed by actors, speaking the lines in a real theater, you just might enjoy them. It’s what Will would have wanted, after all.
—Conn Iggulden
About the Author and Illustrator
Despite finding time to write historical novels and THE DANGEROUS BOOK FOR BOYS, CONN IGGULDEN is in some ways better known as a trainer of Tollins. His Tollin troupe, Small and Mighty, are famous in Tasmania, where they often play to packed houses. Tragically, he lost his two best-known performers earlier this year. “The thing about transporting Tollins in shoe boxes,” he says, “the really important thing, is to remember to put the airholes in.”
LIZZY DUNCAN, with her trademark blue glasses, was a founding member of the Tollins in Art program, where inner-city schoolchildren are taken to the countryside by bus and encouraged to paint and observe Tollins in their natural habitats. TOLLINS: Explosive Tales for Children was her first illustrated book.
Lizzy’s abstract paintings of Tollins are much sought after whenever they appear at Sotheby’s auction house, and she is very active in promoting Tollin rights and registering them as a protected wetland species—or as a dryland species, if the weather’s been good.
Conn and Lizzy’s first book together, TOLLINS: Explosive Tales for Children, was published in 2009 to great critical acclaim—and has ensured that no one will ever mistake a Tollin for a fairy again.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Credits
Jacket art © 2011 by Lizzy Duncan
Jacket design by Tom Starace
Copyright
Tollins 2: Dynamite Tales. Text copyright © 2011 by Conn Iggulden. Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Lizzy Duncan. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
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Library of Congress catalog card number: 2011929316
ISBN 978-0-06-173101-3
EPub Edition © FEBRUARY 2012 ISBN: 978-0-06-204308-5
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* Dark and blustery.
* Only once. After that, no fingers.
* Surprisingly, for simple, homemade radios, this is true.
* Ancient elephant, bit like a woolly mammoth.
Conn Iggulden, Tollins 2: Dynamite Tales
(Series: # )
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