The Winter Knights (34 page)

If only I could record that here the sorry history of the First Scholars’ sky-meddling came to an end, but I fear I cannot, for it is not so. Their experiments with the very matter of the sky have had consequences too terrible to have been foretold. The sky has sickened over Sanctaphrax, the balmy breezes and fragrant zephyrs have curdled into blizzards of snow and ice that have no end. There can be but one answer to this wintry plague that even the sealing of the Great Laboratory has not assuaged.

The sky must be purified, and there is only one substance in all the Edgelands that has the power this task demands. I speak of sacred stormphrax, most precious distillation of the Great Storm, the shards of which I, Quode Quanx-Querix, founding Knight-Scholar of Sanctaphrax, was the first to bring back from the Woods of Twilight.

Now I shall set forth on my final voyage into Open Sky beyond the Edge to restore the stricken sky, by seeding it with stormphrax. This, my final testament, shall be read by scholars hence, only if my desperate enterprise meets with success.

Farewell.

‘Are you sure, Phin, old chap?’

‘Take a look for yourself!’ Phin turned and thrust the brass telescope into Raffix's hand as he joined him on the foredeck of the old sky ship.

A strong north-easterly wind was buffeting the starboard side of the
Cloudslayer
, making the rickety vessel creak and groan as it bobbed about on the end of its tether. Below them, on the ship's flight-rock platform, Stope the grey goblin forge-hand fought to keep his balance as he attached the last of the fire floats to the flight-rock, and released them.

Dancing on the end of thin, silver chains, the intricate metal floats fanned out around the rock like a swarm of luminescent fireflies. Another gust of icy wind hit the flight-rock, and the floats clustered here and there over its surface as the glowing sumpwood charcoal inside was drawn to the coldest spots. The
Cloudslayer
stopped bucking and swaying and Stope climbed to his feet, smiling broadly.

‘They work!’ he exclaimed. ‘The fire floats work! I always knew they would – in theory. But now …’

Just then, in the distance, the bell at the top of the Great Hall tolled eight hours. From far below the Gantry Tower, there came the sounds of raised voices, and the thuds and clangs of doors and gates being slammed and barred.

‘Quick, Phin!’ shouted Raffix, snapping the telescope shut and racing over to the helm. ‘Release the tether!’

Phin didn't need telling twice. He tore over to the ship's prow and sliced through the tolley-rope with a single blow of his sword.

‘Tether released!’ he bellowed back.

Silhouetted against the low milky sun, the great sky ship rose up from the Gantry Tower, creaking and groaning louder than ever as it did so. At the helm, Raffix's hands darted feverishly over the flight-levers, raising and lowering the weights and sails, as the
Cloudslayer
was caught by a gust of icy wind.

‘Hold on tight!’ he shouted to the others as the old sky ship sped high over the rooftops of the Knights Academy.

Round the Great Library it wheeled, the hanging-weights grazing the building's pointed wooden roofs as they passed overhead; then on low between two tall swaying towers which tinkled and chimed in the wind. They skirted the tall latticed tower of the College of Cloud. They darted between a cluster of Minor Academy domed minarets …

‘Mind that archway!’ Phin bellowed.

Raffix tugged hard on the flight-levers. Stope shut his eyes tight and clasped the main mast as, all round his head, the fire floats whirred in a sparkling cloud. The sky ship skimmed the top of the arched walkway – causing two academics to duck down, and then wave their fists angrily after the runaway vessel as it soared back into the air.

‘Loftus Observatory ahead!’ Phin yelled from the prow. ‘Quick, Raff!
Quick!
’

On the rock-platform, Stope opened his eyes and gasped. Suddenly he understood why the other two had set sail so urgently. ‘Quint!’ he cried out. ‘Hold on! We're coming!’

Far up the observatory tower, just below the top, one of the gantry platforms had collapsed. And there, hanging precariously from an open door, was Quint. Dressed in an old suit of stormchasing armour, he clutched the handle of the door with one gauntleted hand, while in the other, he clung to the wrist of a girl who dangled below. Only moments before, they had been standing on the gantry platform staring open-mouthed with surprise at each other. Then, with an awful metallic
clang!
the platform had given way.

‘Save yourself, Quint!’ Maris screamed. ‘Save yourself!’

Quint's shoulders felt as if they were on fire. His eyes were blinded with sweat and he could feel the door beginning to give way as, one by one, the screws holding the hinges popped out and clinked against his armour as they fell.

‘Won't … let go …’ he grunted, as the door gave a sickening jolt. ‘Won't …
Won't !
’

‘
Aaaargh!
’ screamed Maris.

All at once the door hinges gave way with a splintering creak. For a moment, it came almost as a relief to Quint that the intense pain had suddenly lifted and that he was falling. His hand still clutched Maris's wrist as the heavy gantry door whistled past them …

Ummph!

All the air was knocked out of his lungs as, suddenly, his fall was cut short and the roaring sound in his ears was replaced with the sound of creaking wood and strange whirring hums.

‘I've got him!’ a familiar voice rang out somewhere above him.

Quint squinted up into the pale yellow sunlight. And there, overhead, was the gnarled and pitted hull of the
Cloudslayer
coming closer by the second as he was winched up by the scruff of his heavy black cloak. The pain had returned, tearing at the muscles of his right shoulder, but Quint no longer minded.

‘Phin? Is that you?’ he croaked, his throat dry and sore.

‘Hold on, Quint,’ his friend shouted down. ‘Just a moment longer …’

His armour clanked against the rickety balustrade as Phin, helped by Stope, hauled Quint aboard, followed by the limp body of Maris, her wrist still clamped in Quint's gauntleted hand.

They all collapsed in a heap on the foredeck. And as the old sky ship swooped off over the ice-bound city, they lay there for a moment, panting and struggling for breath. Phin was the first to climb to his feet. He detached the grappling hook from Quint's cloak and smiled down at him.

‘Thought we'd lost you for a moment there,’ he said. ‘And who's this?’

He nodded towards Maris, who had come to, and was looking up at him with startled eyes. She turned her gaze away and inspected her wrist.

‘You can let go now, Quint,’ she said softly.

‘Why, this is Mistress Maris, Master Quint's friend,’ said Stope. ‘Good old gauntlet locks!’ he muttered as he clambered to his knees and bent down over Quint, who was still gasping for air.

The grey goblin flicked the catch on Quint's cuff, and the gauntleted fingers clicked back.

Quint sat up with a groan of pain, and turned to Maris. ‘I thought … I feared …’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, Maris, what were you
doing
up there?’ he said, his voice hoarse and racked with emotion.

‘Me? What do you mean?’ she said, her own voice beginning to crack and quaver. ‘You
told
me to meet you there …’

Quint's brow furrowed. ‘
I
told you?’

‘Yes, you. In your last letter,’ said Maris. Her cheeks were turning pink and blotchy. ‘Oh, those horrible letters, Quint. All that unpleasantness about the money …’

Quint tore off his gauntlets and took her hands in his own. ‘Maris,’ he said softly. ‘Maris, I don't know what you're talking about …’

‘And how in Sky's name could you say I wasn't a true friend?’ She was sobbing now. ‘A true friend! Why, I've done everything you asked me to in those letters of yours,’ she wailed. ‘I'm as true a friend to you as Vilnix Pompolnius!’

‘Vilnix?’ Quint said, startled. ‘What's
he
got to do with this?’

Maris paused and wiped her eyes. ‘He brought me your letters …’ she began.

‘No, miss,
I
brought you Master Quint's barkscrolls,’ Stope interrupted. ‘All wrapped in a lullabee burner I made myself,’ he added. ‘Remember?’

‘Not
that
letter,’ said Maris, smiling at the grey goblin. ‘That was a lovely one …’ She turned back to Quint. ‘I mean the other letters you sent. The ones you gave Vilnix to give to me …’

Quint frowned. ‘I didn't give
any
letters to Vilnix Pompolnius,’ he said, cold anger growing in his voice.

‘But they were in your handwriting, Quint, I swear …’ Maris began.

‘Why, the crafty little barkslug!’ exclaimed Phin, shaking his head, ‘forging your handwriting, while all the time sucking up to you. The nerve of that Vilnix Pompolnius! Did he really think he could get away with it?’

Quint lowered his head. ‘He almost did,’ he said, with a shudder. He squeezed Maris's hand softly. ‘Leave Vil-nix to me. The important thing is that you're safe now. Or at least, you will be when we drop you off in Under-town …’

‘Drop me off!’ Maris exclaimed, getting to her feet. ‘Nobody's going to drop me off! Now I've got back to Sanctaphrax, I'm staying – and I don't care what anybody says!’

‘But Maris,’ said Quint. ‘We're leaving Sanctaphrax …’

Maris's jaw dropped. ‘You
are
?’ she said, startled. It was true. The sky ship had already sailed beyond the West Landing – where there seemed to be some commotion going on at the treadmills – and was high above Undertown. ‘But where are you going?’

Quint strode over to the prow and pointed into the dark clouds billowing beyond the Stone Gardens. ‘Open Sky,’ he said.

Maris looked up from the ancient barkscroll with its beautiful writing – slanting and angular, and decorated with great ornate loops. The blackroot ink had scarcely faded since the day Quanx-Querix's sharpened snowbird quill had first dipped into the ink-pot.

‘And Philius Embertine found this in the Great Library?’ she asked.

Phin nodded. They were all clustered round the helm, where Raffix was busily adjusting the flight-levers as the
Cloudslayer
sailed on, its sides buffeted by snow-flecked winds.

‘But he's shut up in the Hall of High Cloud now,’ Phin said. ‘Hax is keeping him a virtual prisoner there.’

‘A prisoner?’ said Maris with a shake of her head. ‘How terrible.’ She glanced round at Quint. ‘I mean I knew he was ill, but this …’

‘The thing is,’ Phin went on, ‘Philius realized how important the barkscroll was. That's why he went to so much trouble to get hold of stormphrax. He wanted Screedius Tollinix to cancel his stormchasing voyage and sail into Open Sky instead – “not to take from the sky, but to give back”. Those were his words. I didn't understand them until later when I read the barkscroll …’

‘But his friend Screedius left before he could tell him of his discovery,’ said Stope.

‘Which is why Phin, Stope, Quint and I realized it was up to us to carry out the old hall master's wishes,’ said Raffix, realigning the neben-weights.

‘By flying into Open Sky and purifying it with this,’ said Quint, holding up the light-casket.

Maris's eyes widened. ‘Stormphrax,’ she breathed. ‘But how?’

‘Don't you see,’ said Quint, urgently. ‘By giving
back
to the sky, not taking
from
it.’

‘And we do it, the Winter Knights!’ added Raffix, proudly.

Maris held out a hand and touched the small hatch on top of the illuminated box.

‘Careful!’ warned Quint. ‘It's only stable in twilight, remember! When the time comes, one of us will release it into Open Sky …’

‘Which one of you?’ asked Maris, scarcely able to believe what she was being told.

‘We haven't decided yet,’ said Phin. ‘Raffix is most senior, but Quint thinks it should be him – says he feels responsible for everything that has happened …’

Quint's face reddened.

‘But
why
, Quint?’ Maris began. She stopped and put a hand to her mouth. ‘… It's because you served as my father's apprentice, isn't it?’ she said. ‘He opened up the Great Laboratory, and you helped him …’