Beyond the Knock Knock Door (7 page)

Suddenly, his guts dipped. And again. Oh no. Ningaloo was losing altitude. Worse, they were falling!

Aurelio piped a frantic song but the whale shark didn't respond. The boys clawed her sides as she speared towards a cloud below them that was dark and sinister. It wasn't heavy with rain but –

‘Duck!'

– a swirling cyclone of sardines!

Thousands of the tiny fish flashed about them as Ningaloo opened her gigantic mouth to feed. Their dry, rough skins slapped against the brothers' faces as they tried to hold on. Exmouth came to their rescue, though. He charged through the middle of the sardines and scattered them like an explosion. Finally, satisfied with their fill, the two whale sharks curved upwards, while, underneath his feet, Michael swore he felt fish bouncing inside Ningaloo's belly.

‘Land ho!'

Gradually, a spot on the horizon peaked into the imposing shape of an extinct volcano. A large freshwater lake filled its crater, and lush green trees bubbled down its slopes. In its shadow was a harbour of ninety islands scattered like a broken plate. Unlike those they'd just fled, these islands were locked in the ground and home to four million people.

The whale sharks started their descent, swinging over buoys and trawler boats spilling with large hauls of prawns. Soon, an enormous stone titan loomed in front of the triplets – one of thirty statues circling the islands. Each depicted a famous king or queen kneeling in the sea, measuring as high as any skyscraper and holding aloft thick metal chains in raised fists. They must be watchtowers, Michael reasoned, noticing as groups of soldiers stationed on their crowns pointed and stared through spyglasses.

Individual islands took shape, and the triplets got their first real view of the thriving merchant city. It reminded Michael of Venice. Four-storey terraces dripped with hanging gardens and blazed orange in the sun. Spiked cathedrals were squeezed next to universities, dance halls, galleries and markets. Plazas fluttered with blue and gold pennants, while gondolas ferried passengers along the many intersecting canals. Decorated with scallop-shaped tiles, the architecture was beautiful, grandiose and old-worldly. But the more they looked, the more they spotted the new and wondrous. Clomping horses pulled tasselled carriages made from giant sea snail shells. Children skimmed
through the cobbled streets on hover skates. Bubble submarines sank to explore hidden treasures. Acrobats performed in public squares on tall jets of water. Amphitheatres hosted sculptors who could manipulate sand like an orchestra conductor. Divers surfaced beside a floating barge and signalled a crane operator to winch a massive harpooned crab to the surface. And from the biggest island's marina, a sleek cruiser left port – not by powering across the waves but by rising
above
them. Trailed by bright blue engine fire, it bellowed a final farewell before blasting across the skyline of spires, domes and terracotta roofs.

It was to this capital island that Aurelio steered. He played his pipe and the pilot fish pitched them towards a central plaza marked with a large clock tower.

‘Welcome to Pacifico – home to a noble class of artists, poets, storytellers, musicians, dancers, actors, philosophers and travellers. Shall we meet some new friends?'

Answering his pipe, the whale sharks dashed into the widest canal. They soared past terraces, jugglers, restaurants and fish; swept under footbridges and whipped past flags. On a whim, they arced to ring a church bell, which, for a moment, even left Samantha laughing.

‘My liege, it seems we've attracted a crowd.'

In the shadow of the whale sharks, people pointed. They were human, Michael realised. Or close to it.

‘Hold on.'

They circled the clock tower one last time before descending into the plaza. Children, too, rushed from the
archways in their hordes. Not that it was easy to tell them apart. Amazingly, most citizens of Pacifico were in their teens.

Like Aurelio, they were handsome with fine, slightly pointed faces, flawless skin, headbands, ear chains and gems set into their cheeks. Their long, braided hair ranged from black to blue to lilac, with a few redheads. No greys stood out – or indeed, elderly people at all. Their tailored clothes were similar to those worn in Europe centuries ago. Adolescent boys wore bright velvet suits, waistcoats, black shoes, gloves, hats and breeches adorned with sequins despite the spring heat. Girls paraded in neck ruffs, sleeves and long satin gowns drawn tightly at the waist with a corset and widened at the bottom with a cone-shaped hoop skirt. Showing too much skin was frowned upon, it seemed. However, again, the sea influenced their look. Conches and other shells replaced hats, and some of the fabrics drew inspiration from marine animals. One girl's sandy-yellow and brown dress swirled with blue rings like a blue-ringed octopus, while a boy paraded in the orange and white bands of an ornate butterfly fish.

Exmouth landed first. Still playing his pipe, Aurelio remained mounted, while Samantha slid off. She was just as ungracious in debarking as boarding and grumbled about the ride. Straightening her purple coat and cutlass, her hat flew back on her head before she turned round. The moment the crowd saw her, it gasped. ‘What?' she snapped, covering her goatee. ‘
What?
'

‘Pirates! Run!'

People fled across the plaza, tripping over chairs, tables and children. Windows slammed shut and doors rattled. Where thousands of citizens and tourists had stood moments ago, only the flagpoles rang in the breeze.

‘Just like school, eh?' Luke shouted down at her.

She snarled until silenced by marching steel. From the far corners of the plaza, two dozen teenage boys trooped in unison, armed with long sharp pikes. They wore chestplates with coral patterns, striped blue and yellow jackets, matching puffy pants, white collar ruffs and strange curving helmets. Their uniforms matched those worn by the soldiers on the watchtowers.

‘Halt, pirate! Throw down your arms!' their captain shouted. He had a blunt nose, heavy brow, cropped blue hair streaked with lilac, eight turquoise cheek gems and four military ranks sewn on each sleeve of his jacket.

‘Says who?' she laughed, amused how young they were. And those pants – definitely uncool.

‘Captain Cavalli of the Royal Marines! Now surrender your sword or your life is spent!'

A pinwheel of sharp points stretched under her chin. They pressed against her neck until her cutlass clanged on the flagstones.

Several marines broke away to arrest Aurelio as Ningaloo glided into the plaza. The brothers had no choice but to face capture as well. The soldiers readied to arrest them when the captain saw Michael's armour adorned with the four bears.

‘The Gold Knight!'

He pounded a fist to his chest and dropped to one knee. This triggered a domino effect. The other marines lowered their pikes, bowed and repeated his name.

‘Forgive us, my liege,' the captain said. ‘We did not know it was you.'

Removing his helmet, Michael looked from the teenage marines to the few brave Pacificans creeping from the shadows.

‘Been here before?' Luke asked him.

One moment the Royal Marines were trying to arrest the triplets, the next, saving them from being crushed to death. Together they pushed through the crowd, which, in its enthusiasm, had again mobbed the plaza, waving and cheering, ‘My liege! My liege!'

‘What news from the Hall of Heroes?'

‘But he's so
young
…'

‘Are you here to kill the monster?'

The arrival of a real-life hero had overshadowed the threat of a pirate invasion.

‘Do you think this will go to his head?' Luke asked.

‘If we don't lose ours first!' Samantha shouted.

The marines cleared the way past teahouses, fountains, jewellers, fashion boutiques and games of hover bowls until they reached a wide bridge. The triplets gasped. On the far side was a magnificent royal palace. Domes and spires with shell-like designs pointed heavenward; stained-glass windows glinted yellow, red and blue; statues of seahorses stood on their
curled tails; ancient champions fought on carvings and mosaics; and a massive stone staircase climbed to a sunlit colonnade jostling with robed onlookers.

Captain Cavalli raised his hand, and, simultaneously, his young soldiers stopped and pounded their pikes on the flagstones. Following a second command, they split and took up posts along the bridge as the captain led the triplets forward.

Halfway to the palace, two shadows passed over them. Aurelio waved as he, Exmouth and Ningaloo returned to the western skies. ‘Farewell, my friends,' he called out. ‘Find me again if you ever need a guide.' They returned the wave then climbed the massive stone staircase.

Reaching the top, they almost toppled over in exhaustion. But there was no time to catch their breath. Politicians, courtiers and nobles swarmed around them, eager to shake hands and ask questions.

Short, sharp claps soon brought everyone back under control.

‘Countrymen, return to your duties,' a portly man said, tunnelling through the crowd and throwing a robe around his chunky shoulders. ‘This is not the civilised way to greet such distinguished guests. There will be plenty of opportunities to meet our heroes later. Now, please. Everyone!'

The crowd dispersed, albeit not too far away. Finally alone, the man struggled to kneel before pecking Michael's gauntlet. Samantha and Luke burst out laughing.

‘Welcome to Pacifico, my liege. Prime Minister Pasquale at your service. What an absolute honour it is to finally meet the Gold Knight himself. I've been hoping for this day for many a year. And if I may be so bold, it is also a privilege to welcome not one, but
three
, champions from the Hall of Heroes.'

‘Er, thanks,' Michael answered. ‘I think.'

Wearing an odd-shaped orange cap that curled at the back, Prime Minister Pasquale differed from the other Pacificans. He was in his early-fifties and fat. Short red hair was greying above his ear chains, and he stood with an arched spine to balance the extra weight. He had a jovial face, fading blue eyes, big lips, thick brows, a prominent nose, twin moles on his forehead and four rubies set in each cheek. A double chin sagged around the collar of his white woollen robe, which was worn over another orange velvet one. Gold bells the size of lemons jingled down his middle, and jewelled rings choked each thick finger.

‘I'm Michael,' he answered, helping the Prime Minister to his feet. Wearing his armour in this sun was bad enough, but he hated to think how hot it was under all those regal clothes. ‘This is Samant –'

‘
Sam,
' she corrected.

‘And I'm Luke. You've heard of me too, right? The famous star ranger?'

The Prime Minister's gaze lingered on the cobra twisting about their sister's neck before he turned to Luke and smiled. ‘Sorry, good sir, but no. News from the Great Hall is less frequent to our parts. In fact, we
haven't heard from it for many a season. No need to worry, though. Your ilk must be busy travelling the Seven Worlds and restoring peace, am I correct?'

‘Um, yeah, I guess so,' Luke shrugged, looking at his siblings for help.

‘Come. You must be exhausted. Let us enjoy some refreshments while your rooms are being prepared.'

He led the way.

Samantha pulled Michael aside before they reached the entrance. ‘Remember what I said: my name is
Sam
. Pretend we're friends from this Hall place and get us home, okay?'

‘Okay, I've got it.'

Two brown-skinned servants bowed then pushed open enormous double doors carved with shells, dolphins and seahorses. Stepping inside, the triplets discovered an enormous palace furnished with marble and gold. It was spread across five floors with high ceilings and private balconies all overlooking the ninety islands. Libraries, throne rooms, map rooms, music halls, galleries, parliament chambers and kitchens formed the central hub, while guests' quarters and powder rooms filled the upper levels. Pasquale gave them a tour of the armoury, ballroom, magnetic gymnasium, private chapel and an underground royal crypt before crossing an inner courtyard bursting with fountains and flowers. Polished busts of poets and philosophers filled every corner and hallway. Statues waited by doors. Chandeliers hung with diamonds. And chefs, maids and footmen paused from their duties and lowered their eyes, while
more teenage politicians hurried down elaborate gold staircases to greet them with star-struck smiles.

Michael's footsteps
chink chink chink
ed as he walked around the Great Council Room, its four walls and arcing roof encompassed by one continuous painting. In an Eden-like landscape, saints and angels cared for children, while above, the Hand of God created the universe. Wolves ate alongside lambs; baskets overflowed with apples; and soldiers beat swords into ploughshares. The colours also drew him closer – they literally glowed. He touched the masterpiece, only to have his fingers pass straight through the canvas!

‘Go on,' Pasquale said from the doorway. ‘Don't be frightened.'

Apprehensively, Michael reached forward and stepped
inside
the painting. It was a giant hologram! He stepped among the beehives, touched an angel's wings and looked into a pitcher of pouring milk. Everything was three-dimensional.

‘This is so incredible,' he said. ‘It's so life-like. Who owns all this?'

‘Why, Sir Michael, do you not know?'

He gave a blank look.

Pasquale frowned with confusion. ‘Why, Queen Oriana herself – monarch of Pacifico.'

‘Oh, yes, Queen Ori – Oriana. It's just we've, er –'

‘– travelled to a lot of worlds recently,' Samantha finished. ‘We forget what planet we're on most of the time.'

‘I understand completely. Being a Prime Minister
is the same. Everyone expects you to remember their names, when you have difficulty remembering your own.'

He laughed to himself until interrupted by an elderly brown-skinned footman, also wearing a white wig, royal-blue and gold coat, matching breeches and a lacy neck scarf. He handed the Prime Minister a rolled-up parchment sealed with purple wax. ‘Ah. Her Majesty sends her apologies for not greeting you in person. The signing of a new treaty with the Merchant Guild has taken her away on state business. But she has invited you to a feast tonight in your honour, if that so pleases you.'

Michael looked at his siblings. ‘Er, we –'

‘Feast?' Luke jumped in. ‘You bet it pleases us!'