The Last of the Sky Pirates (20 page)

Wheeling through the air in a great cloud, the countless silvery creatures flapped in perfect synchronization. When one turned, they all turned. Together, they resembled nothing so much as a billowing sheet, tossing and turning in the wind.
‘AARGH!’
bellowed the trog.

The flock switched in mid air, and swooped down towards it. Roaring loudly, the trog swiped at them with its spear. Several of the tiny creatures plummeted to the ground – but with so many, the loss of half a dozen of their number meant nothing.

‘AARG—’

As Rook stared, fascination replacing fear, the flock struck. It engulfed the trog in an instant. The sound of gnashing and slurping filled the air – but only for an instant.

The next, the creatures flapped back into the air, squealing loudly.

Rook felt the icy fear return. The flock had stripped the hapless trog to the bone. Where he had been standing a moment before, there now stood a white skeleton and empty, grinning skull which, as Rook watched, fell to the ground in a heap of bones. The gruesome necklace of skulls lay among them. The spear dropped down on top of them all.

At the sight of what had happened to their leader, the others let out a howl of alarm.

‘Aargh!’
they screamed.
‘Urrgh!’
And they turned on their heels and hurtled back into the forest.

The flock of tiny, blood-crazed creatures wheeled round in the air – looking, for a moment, like a vast sky ship with billowing sails – before turning as one, and speeding off after the fleeing trogs.

For a moment Rook could not move. His breath came in short, jerky gasps. Beside him lay one of the small creatures, its neck broken. He picked it up. It was small – smaller than the palm of his hand and scaly. Four razor-sharp teeth protruded from its slack jaws.

Rook trembled. On their own, the creatures were nothing, yet when they swarmed they were transformed into a huge, fearsome predator.

Rook memorized every detail of the tiny creature, fascinated and repelled in equal measure. If he ever got back to the library, he would describe it and name it, and perhaps one day a young under-librarian would pick up his treatise and read about it, and wonder … He would call it a snicket.

Slowly and painfully, using one of the discarded spears which littered the forest floor for support, Rook climbed to his feet. He stared round into the gloomy shadows. Whichever way he turned, the forest looked the same. He sighed. He’d escaped the primitive skull-trogs, and the snickets – only to find himself lost and alone in the depths of the Deepwoods.

Back in the underground library, he had often wondered why so many of those who had written about the Deepwoods described it as
endless
. Of course it isn’t endless, he would say. You can see that from the map. Look, here it becomes the Edgelands, and here it borders the Twilight Woods … After a week tramping through the forest, however, ‘endless’ seemed exactly the right word. It was so vast that anyone lost could wander for ever, and never find a way out.

Too frightened to call for his missing companions, Rook set off, orientating himself as best he could by the distant glow of the sun. His knee throbbed and, now that the dangers had passed, he was left feeling weak with hunger. He stumbled on, glancing round constantly, trying not to cry out as the forest sounds seemed to grow more and more sinister with every step he took. ‘Stay calm,’ he told himself.

But what was that? It sounded like footsteps – and they were coming towards him.

‘It’s all right,’ he whispered, his voice breathless with rising fear. ‘Don’t panic’

Yes. Yes. They were definitely footsteps. Heavy, surefooted. Had one of the terrible skulltrogs come back to
finish him off? He crouched down behind a vast trunk, festooned with hairy-ivy, and peered out tensely. The foliage parted and—

‘Hekkle!’ Rook cried.

‘Master Rook!’ the shryke exclaimed. ‘Can it truly be you? Oh, brave master, praise be to Earth and Sky!’ Rook climbed awkwardly to his feet. ‘But you’re hurt! What have you done?’

‘It’s my knee,’ said Rook.

Hekkle dismounted and trotted towards him. Crouching down, he inspected it closely. ‘It’s swollen,’ he said at last. ‘But nothing too serious. Sit down for a moment, and I’ll fix it up.’

Rook slumped back heavily to the ground. Hekkle removed a pot of green salve and a length of bandage from his backpack and began treating the knee.

‘Did you see the flying creatures?’ said Rook. ‘Thousands of them, there were. They stripped that giant trog to the bone in a second.’

Hekkle nodded as he rubbed the salve into the joint. ‘And not only him,’ he said darkly.

Rook took a sharp intake of breath. ‘You mean …? Stob … Magda …’

Hekkle looked up. ‘I meant the other trogs,’ he said. ‘The brave master and mistress are safe,’ he said. ‘They are waiting for us at the edge of the Silver Pastures.’

‘Praise be to Earth and Sky, indeed,’ Rook breathed.

‘There,’ said Hekkle, as he knotted the ends of the bandage securely. ‘Now, let’s get you up onto my prowlgrin.’

They set off at a brisk trot, with Hekkle at the front holding the reins, and Rook behind, gripping the saddle tightly. As they loped on, the trees around them began to thin out. A head wind, blowing into their faces, sent the dark clouds scudding away across the sky, and for the first time that day, as warm shafts of sunlight flooded the forest floor, Rook began to feel optimistic about what lay ahead.

‘Not far now,’ said Hekkle. He pointed to a line of tall lufwoods. ‘Those trees mark the edge of the pastures.’

Rook grinned. They had made it. The next moment his happiness was complete. ‘And look!’ he cried out. ‘Magda and Stob!’

‘You’re right, brave master,’ said Hekkle. ‘But … Oh, no!’ His feathers ruffled and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. ‘What is
that
?
’

‘What? What?’ said Rook. He looked intently for any sign of danger, but could see none. Stob and Magda had dismounted next to a long log, tethered the prowlgrins to a nearby lufwood tree and were standing with their backs turned away, looking out across the pastures beyond. ‘What is it?’ said Rook. He was suddenly frightened.

Hekkle flicked the reins and kicked into the prowl-grin’s side. ‘Watch out, Master Stob!’ he shrieked as they pounded across the ground, but the wind whipped his warning away. ‘Mistress Magda!’

‘What was that?’ said Magda.

Stob shrugged. ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ he said, sitting down on the log.

Magda turned. ‘Look,’ she said excitedly. ‘It’s Hekkle. And he’s got Rook with him!’

Stob frowned. ‘Why are they galloping like that? And waving their arms? You don’t suppose any of those horrible trog things are …?’

Magda jumped up onto the log for a better view. ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘There’s nothing chasing them.’ She cupped her hands to her mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ she cried out. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Stop waving, brave mistress!’ Hekkle screeched back. ‘And get out of there! Both of you!’

Rook knew Hekkle well enough to understand that Magda and Stob must be in terrible danger. ‘Run for your lives!’ he screamed. ‘NOW!’

All at once there was an ominous rumble and a loud hiss. The ground shook. The dead leaves flew up. A pair of fromps skittered across the ground and away.

Rook stared ahead in horror and disbelief as the log on which Stob sat and Magda stood quivered, swung round and abruptly reared up into the air. It writhed. It swayed. It opened at one end, revealing sharp fangs and a dark, cavernous throat – and howled and wheezed with a bloodthirsty rage.

‘Stob,’ Rook gasped. ‘Magda …’

ook stared in horror as the enormous thrashing creature rose up on a cushion of air spurting from rows of knot-like ducts the length of its huge mossy body.

‘A logworm!’ Hekkle shouted. ‘Save yourselves!’ He kicked his prowlgrin hard with his heels.

Stob fell heavily just behind the hovering logworm, and remained motionless where he lay. Magda landed with a thud beside the tethered prowlgrins, which twisted and reared in panic as the logworm swung round in mid air.

‘Stob!’ Magda screamed as the creature’s great gaping maw lurched towards her fallen companion. ‘Watch out!’

The logworm instantly turned towards the sound of her voice. Magda screamed. The prowlgrins thrashed about, screeching and howling and rolling their eyes in
terror. The logworm’s ring of green eyes focused on the terrified creatures.

‘For pity’s sake, Magda!’ shouted Rook from behind Hekkle. ‘Get out of there …’

His voice was drowned out by a deafeningly loud hissing. The logworm’s huge mouth was sucking in air with tremendous force. A flurry of leaves and cones disappeared inside the creature as it came down low, and advanced on Magda and the terrified prowlgrins. They squealed and screeched and fought against the tunnel of swirling air, while Magda gripped their straining tether-ropes desperately.

‘Magda …’ Rook gasped.

Hekkle brought their prowlgrin to a skidding halt, leaped from its back and raced towards her. ‘Brave mistress!’ he called and seized her tightly by the wrist. Her cloak billowed out in the twisting air as he dragged her away to safety, just in time.

There was loud
crack
as the first of the tethers snapped under the unrelenting pressure, and one of the squealing prowlgrins barrelled back towards the cavernous mouth of the logworm. It disappeared inside. With a hideous crunching sound, the log-worm’s body arched and shivered as it squashed the life out of its still squealing prey.

Hekkle, dragging Magda with him, reached Stob and plucked at his shirt. ‘Get up, brave master,’ he said. ‘Get up!’

The librarian apprentice groaned.

Just then there was another
crack
, and the second
screaming prowlgrin disappeared. The logworm belched thunderously.

Hekkle and Magda pulled Stob to his feet, and stumbled away from the writhing monster. Rook kicked into the sides of his panic-stricken mount.

‘Come on, boy,’ he said. ‘They need our help—
Whoooah!’
he cried out.

The terrified prowlgrin let out an ear-splitting screech and reared up. At the sound, the logworm turned on them, and Rook found himself staring straight down the creature’s blood-red throat. Its circle of green eyes fixed him with a malevolent intensity. With a sinister hiss, the logworm lurched towards them, sucking in everything in its way in huge, convulsive gulps.