The Last of the Sky Pirates (39 page)

Impatient to see the notorious Edgelands for himself, Rook gave full head to the skycraft sails and darted forward. Beneath him, the trees grew fewer and the undergrowth thinned. Silhouetted against the pale yellow sky ahead was Wuralo, looking back. She spotted the approaching skycraft and waved.

Rook signalled back and, shifting the weight-levers and sail-ropes, swooped down towards her. As he flew lower in the sky, the rising mist swirled around him, chilling him instantly to the bone. He landed on a flat slab next to the waiting banderbear, jumped down and wrapped the tether-rope round his hand.

‘Wuh-wuh,’ Wuralo greeted him. ‘Wulloo-weg.’ She hugged her arms tightly round her great stomach.
This place fills me with dread
.

Rook nodded as he looked around the broad expanse of greasy, grey rock. He had never been anywhere that made him feel so uneasy. Even the endless tunnels of the Undertown sewers, with their muglumps and vicious piebald rats, were nothing compared with the barren Edgelands.

It howled and sighed as the chill wind swept in from beyond the Edge and whistled along the cracks and
gullies in the sprawling granite pavement. It clicked and whispered. It hummed and whined, as though it was alive. A sour, sulphurous odour snatched his breath away. His skin turned to clammy woodturkey-flesh as the coils of fetid mist wrapped themselves around him. The wind plucked at the
Stormhornet
, bobbing weightlessly by his side.

He saw Wumeru emerging from the woods, followed closely by Rummel, with Weeg and the twins – Meeru and Loom – behind him. Like Wuralo, they seemed deeply troubled by the eerie atmosphere of the bleak Edgelands, and clustered together for warmth and safety.

Twig and Molleen reached the desolate rockland last. Twig clapped a hand on Rook’s shoulder. Rook could see he was trembling.

‘I never thought I’d return to this terrible place,’ said Twig, looking around uneasily. ‘But somewhere out there the
Skyraider
is waiting for us. Follow me,’ he said. ‘And search the horizon for the great black demon crag!’

Twig strode off into the mist, with Rook by his side – the skycraft bobbing behind him as he slipped and slid over the treacherous rocks. The group of banderbears, still huddled together, followed close behind.

The wind continued to whine and whisper in Rook’s ears and, as he trudged on, trying hard not to listen, wispy fingers of mist seemed to caress his face and stroke his hair.

‘Ugh!’
he groaned. ‘This is a terrible, terrible place.’

‘Courage, Rook,’ said Twig. ‘And keep looking for the crag.’

Rook strained to see through the dense, coiling mists. Ahead of them, the flat pavement seemed to stretch on for ever.

‘Wait for the mists to clear,’ said Twig. ‘They will, if only for an instant – but that’s all we’ll need to spot our goal.’ He pressed on. The wind howled round his ears, and strange voices seemed to snigger and jeer.

As Rook stumbled after him, the little skycraft at his side twisting and turning in the oncoming breeze, he could only pray that Twig was right. The mist closed in, blurring his vision and muffling his ears. ‘Is everyone still here?’ Twig called back. ‘Wuh!’ the banderbears replied with one voice.
We are all together
.

Occasionally, sudden squalls of turbulent air blew in, slamming into Rook’s face and pitching him off balance. He would drop to the ground, clutching on tightly to the tether-rope, and wait for the wind to subside. The last time it happened, the air had cleared and, for the briefest of moments, he thought he caught a glimpse of the Edge itself. But then the mist had closed in again, and he’d been plunged back into whiteout blindness. ‘I can’t see a thing!’ he called out nervously.

‘It’s all right, Rook,’ said Twig. ‘Trust me.’

Just then the mist thinned again, and Rook glimpsed the cliff-edge a second time. Far in the distance a dark shape loomed. The mist thickened, and Rook lost sight of it. ‘Did you see it, Captain?’ he said excitedly. ‘The crag!’

‘I saw it,’ said Twig. There was an odd catch in his voice. ‘But I didn’t see the
Skyraider.’

They forged ahead in the face of the gusting wind and swirling mists, struggling to see more than a few feet ahead.

‘I don’t think I can go much further,’ gasped Rook as he battled with the
Stormhornet
. Twig looked stooped and exhausted; the banderbears around him, bedraggled and miserable.

‘We’ll stop for a few moments,’ shouted Twig above the howling wind.

The banderbears formed a huddle round Rook and the old sky pirate, offering a shield from the gale. Rook shivered unhappily. If only those mocking voices would stop, he would at least be able to think.

‘We’re lost, aren’t we, Captain?’ he said.

Twig didn’t seem to hear him. He was gazing straight ahead. The wind had died down momentarily and the mist was rolling away. ‘Look,’ he said simply.

And there, looming above their heads, was the largest sky vessel Rook had ever seen. Its great battered prow alone was the size of twenty
Stormhornets
, its pitted, scarred hull as big as an Undertown tavern, while its mast towered up into the sky like a great ironwood pine. A mighty anchor chain descended to the black crag ahead, its dark bulk shielding the vessel in its lee.

‘She’s magnificent!’ gasped Rook, then shook his head sadly as a thought struck him. No matter how wonderful it was to have created a wooden skycraft, the
Stormhornet
was, he realized, nothing compared with the
Skyraider
. The so-called Second Age of Flight, of which the librarian knights were so proud, was the merest shadow of what had existed before. So, so much had been lost.

‘Come on, lad,’ Twig called him, ‘we have no time to lose. We must leave this accursed place! Take your sky-craft and board the
Skyraider
. Throw down the rope-ladders and we’ll climb aboard. Quick, now. Before the winds pick up again.’

Hurriedly Rook climbed onto the
Stormhornet
and took to the air. In moments, he was level with the battered balustrade of the mighty ship’s foredeck. He secured the
Stormhornet
to the mast and jumped down to the deck. With trembling fingers, he untied the coiled rope-ladders and let them down. Instantly, the bander-bears began clambering aboard, followed at last by Twig himself. As he set foot on the sky ship, the old sky pirate captain fell to his knees and kissed the deck.

‘Thank Sky!’ he whispered. ‘I thought for a moment that I’d lost you.’ He sprang to his feet. Suddenly, he no longer looked stooped. The years seemed to fall away, and a youthful glint came into his eyes. ‘Come!’ he cried. ‘Let’s get the
Skyraider
airborne!’

As one, the banderbears dispersed. Twig went with them. Rook was left on his own. He scuttled round the
Skyraider
, snooping into cupboards and locker-rooms,
peering down below deck and watching the banderbears as they hurried this way and that, busily making the great sky pirate ship skyworthy Wumeru headed for the galleys below deck. Rummel unfurled the mainsail, checking it and double-checking it for any sign of major rents in the material. Wuralo saw to the ropes. Meeru and Loom climbed over the balustrades – one on the port side, one on the starboard side – and clambered round the hull-rigging beneath, ensuring that the hull-weights and rudder-wheel were all secure and in alignment. Weeg scaled the mast, inspecting the great wooden shaft for any trace of wood-rot or the tell-tale hairline fracture of timber fatigue as he climbed right up to the caternest at the very top.

From behind him Rook heard a hiss and a soft roar. Curious, he followed the sound, and stumbled across Twig himself – his head between the bars of the central cage – staring intently at the surface of the flight-rock. Beside him, adjusting the flames of the now blazing torches, was Molleen.

‘Is it all right?’ Rook asked.

Twig pulled away from the flight-rock and looked round. ‘It shows no sign of the sickness,’ he said.

‘But that’s wonderful news!’ said Rook. ‘We can fly!’

‘Indeed we can,’ said Twig. ‘But we must make haste. For I fear the unseen sickness may already have struck.’

Rook frowned. ‘But how?’ he said.

Twig swept his arm round in a wide arc. ‘Through the crew,’ he said. ‘You heard what they said. Most of them have had experience of life on board a sky ship. The
danger is that one – or all – might be carrying the terrible sickness.’

Rook trembled uneasily. ‘But how can we tell?’ he said.

‘We can’t,’ said Twig. ‘Maybe the flight-rock has already been contaminated. Maybe not. Certainly, the closer we fly to the crumbling Sanctaphrax rock, the greater the risk. Make no mistake, Rook, this is a one-way voyage. The
Skyraider
won’t be coming back. We must just hope and pray that it holds out long enough for us to make it to the Tower of Night.’

‘Earth and Sky willing,’ said Rook, his face pale and drawn.

‘But cheer up, lad,’ said Twig, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘This is the beginning of a great adventure. Come with me.’

He turned away and, leaving Molleen to tend to the flight-rock, hurried round the narrow skirting-deck and up a short flight of stairs to the helm. He seized the great wheel and released the locking-lever. Then he tested the individual bone-handled flight-levers, one after the other, making sure that the ropes moved smoothly; raising and lowering the sails and hull-weights in preparation for take-off.

As he did so, the yodelled cries of the banderbear crew filled the air as, one by one, they announced that the various sections of the great sky pirate ship were just about in working order. When the last – Weeg – called down from the caternest that the mast was skyworthy Twig clapped his hands together with glee.

‘Prepare to launch!’ he bellowed. ‘Make ready to drop the anchor chain!’

‘Wuh-wuh!’ the banderbears bellowed back.
Aye-aye
.

With a mighty shudder and an ominous creak, the
Skyraider
began to lift up into the air. Twig let the heavy anchor chain fall away with a resounding
clang
.

‘We shan’t need that where we’re going,’ he called to the others.

The tattered sails billowed. The sky ship listed to one side and pulled away from the black crag. Higher and higher the great sky vessel flew, calmly, sedately, until, all at once, the wind caught it from behind and sent it soaring up into the air so fast that Rook’s head spun and his stomach did somersaults.

‘This is
amazing
!’ he cried out.
‘Incredible!
I can’t believe that I’m actually flying on board a sky pirate ship!’

Twig chuckled. ‘Neither can I, lad,’ he said. ‘Neither can I. Sky above, but I’ve missed it! The thrust of the sails, the sway of the weights – the wind in my hair. It’s almost like the old days,’ he said. ‘As if I were a sky pirate once again.’

Rook turned to him, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘But you
are!’
he said.

Twig nodded slowly, as his fingers danced over the flight-levers. ‘Aye, Rook, I suppose I am,’ he said. His brow furrowed. ‘The
last
of the sky pirates.’