Voyage of the Owl (11 page)

At the same moment, there was a series of sharp pings, a whirring noise and a swift breeze disturbed the air. Saxon could make no sense of it lying in the bottom of the boat. Yet his fall seemed to have saved him from the worst of the flame. Instead of excruciating burning, he felt only a rather pleasant warmth.

Up on the stern of the
Owl
a huddle of people stared in shock at the scene below them.

Ethan stood alone – feet apart, bow steady, arrow nocked. He had already let off a stream of arrows – a dozen in just over a minute. The second had found its mark, down the creature’s throat. One had hit a huge milky eye, bursting it like a jellyfish. The others had stung its head, neck, spine.

The Barramon paused in the middle of its torrent of flame. It shook its flat serpentine head, bristling
with arrows, then dived, deep down to the bottom of the ocean. Ethan, Fox and Carl scrambled down the rope ladder to haul the rowing boat in. Aisha whined and cried, running back and forth across the stern.

Otto abandoned his post at the steering wheel, lashing the wheel on one side. The sails hung limp and airless. With no wind the boat did not really need steering. Lily picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could to the sail hold to fetch her pack.

‘Roana – help me,’ yelled Lily. ‘Fetch blankets and sailbags and some fresh water.’ Roana ran below deck to gather what she could find.

Together Ethan, Fox and Carl carried up Jack first and then Saxon, and laid them gently on the deck. A nauseating smell of wet smoke, singed hair and burnt flesh enveloped them.

Lily hurried back, panting. She dropped to her knees and carefully, gently examined each boy. Charcoal ran over and sat beside her, fascinated, her tail carefully tucked around her body, as if she too were examining the patients.

Jack was unconscious. He had fainted dead away from shock. His face was pale, with a bluish tinge around the mouth. His breathing was laboured and his skin felt clammy and cold. Lily gently covered
him up with a blanket. She piled a couple of sail bags under his knees and feet to raise his legs above his heart.

Saxon lay shivering and moaning and his eyes stared around in horror as if searching for the terrifying Barramon here on the deck. While his clothes and hair were singed, he was not badly burned. His drop onto the floor of the boat, and Ethan’s arrows, had saved him from the worst of the flame.

Lily covered him with blankets, moistened his mouth with water and made him as comfortable as possible on the deck.

‘Don’t try to move,’ she whispered gently, stroking his fringe out of his eyes with her fingertips. ‘Just rest quietly for a little while. You’ll be fine.’

Saxon smiled weakly and closed his eyes. His heart still fluttered uncontrollably in his chest. Gradually his breathing quietened.

When Saxon was settled, Lily turned back to Jack. His left arm and shoulder had taken the full force of the flame. Lily carefully cut the blackened sleeve of his shirt and peeled it away. The skin beneath was raw and blistering. She dribbled cold rain water over the burns. Jack flinched and woke up, his teeth chattering.

‘Poor Jack,’ whispered Lily. ‘You are fine. I am cooling down your burns with cold water. We’ll just keep you here for a little while until you are feeling a bit better. Are you thirsty? Would you like a sip of water?’

Jack nodded painfully, so Lily let him slowly sip.
She kept gently soaking water over the burns for several minutes.

Fox, Carl and Ethan carefully carried Saxon down into the cabin and settled him in a hammock. Aisha followed anxiously, her tail between her legs and her ears cocked.

Otto did not go back to the ship’s wheel. He hung about, stepping from one foot to the other, glancing nervously at Lily and Jack, the tattooed dragon’s head peeking out from under his rolled-up shirt sleeves.

‘Rowan, could you please fetch me some more water for Jack?’ asked Lily. ‘I want to dress his burns now.’

Roana obediently ran forward to the cabin.

Lily delved into her pack and found a large jar of honey that Saira had given her when they left Mereworth. Using a spoon, she began to dribble honey from the jar over the burns. Then she covered up each burn with a clean cloth dressing. Lily sang quietly to herself, lost in the familiar harmony of tending to the wounded.

‘Stop your witching,’ Otto yelled, lunging forward to grab Lily. He hauled her up by her hair and she yelled in pain.

‘No more of your evil potions,’ he snarled, clapping his filthy hand over her mouth. Lily could
see the snake-like head of the tattooed dragon glaring at her. It was so close she could see the minute details of the creature’s scales and gleaming fangs. ‘I knew I should have gotten rid of you right away.’

Otto jabbed his sharp dagger against Lily’s throat. ‘There’s no business for females on board a ship, especially a little witch. We’ve had no wind for days, then you tried to kill Jack by calling up a Barramon. When that didn’t work you try to kill him with some putrid poisonous potion!’

Otto started to drag Lily towards the side of the boat.

‘There’s only one way to save Jack now and that’s to slit your throat and throw you and your black cat to the Barramon.’ Otto spat on the deck. ‘The sea spirits will be appeased and the wind will come back.’

Lily struggled and kicked, gasping for breath. The smell of the filthy hand over her mouth made her want to vomit. The sharp dagger pierced her skin and she could feel a warm trickle of blood sliding down her skin and onto her linen shift.

Lily felt overcome with fear. There was no-one else on deck but the unconscious Jack. Uselessly she tried to scream and struggled harder and faster. The boat rocked sickeningly.

There was a hideous yowl. Otto stumbled,
slipped and yelled. He had trodden on Charcoal’s tail, and the kitten had retaliated with a vicious swipe of claws across Otto’s bare ankle. Otto’s fingers slid for a moment from Lily’s mouth. Lily bit hard and tasted blood in her mouth. Then she screamed. She screamed as loudly as she could.

Otto swore. He dropped the dagger from Lily’s neck, pushing her towards the rail at the side of the
Owl
. Lily bent backwards, feeling the hard timber of the gunwale behind her and the sickening sweaty body of Otto pressing against her, pushing her backwards towards the sea and the fire-breathing Barramon lurking in the depths.

A flash of red-gold streaked towards them and knocked Otto flying. He sprawled across the deck. Lily was knocked sideways and hit the deck hard, slamming all the breath from her. She rolled over and looked up.

There, standing on Otto’s chest, was Aisha. Her teeth were bared. All the fur on her neck stood straight in the air. A white foam of slobber dripped from her mouth onto Otto’s face. She growled deep in her throat.

Otto went completely white. He stuttered and whimpered in fear, covering his face with his dragon arms.

‘Call it off,’ Otto whimpered. ‘Call off the dog before it kills me.’

Aisha glanced quickly at Lily, waiting for her command.

Lily was speechless with shock and horror. She swallowed hard, moistening her throat, trying to think what order to give Aisha.

‘Good girl, Aisha! It’s all right, girl. Leave it now,’ Ethan’s voice said calmly.

Aisha looked up questioningly, looked down at Otto’s tempting bare throat as if deciding what to do, then obediently and daintily stepped off the petrified smuggler.

Otto breathed a huge sigh of relief, only to see something equally terrifying. Standing over him, face set with fury, was Ethan, bow poised, arrow nocked and pointing directly at his heart. Otto squealed in terror, cowering against the deck.

‘Don’t move,’ said Ethan. ‘Lily, are you all right?’

Lily nodded. She was shaken and bruised, frightened and shocked, but not badly hurt. Roana ran to hug her. Aisha whined and licked Lily all over her face, checking she was still all there. Lily murmured to her softly and gently. Aisha flopped down and placed her black-tipped head in Lily’s lap, her tail thumping the deck.

A heavy hand descended on Ethan’s shoulder.

‘Well done, son. I’ll take it from here,’ murmured Fox. He pulled out his engraved silver dirk from its ornate scabbard. ‘Get up, Otto,’ Fox growled, his black eyes flashing.

Otto groaned and complained. But after a fierce growl from Aisha and a casual wave of the dirk from Fox, he struggled to his feet.

‘Apologise to the young lady,’ Fox ordered. Mia reiterated the order by jumping up and down on Fox’s shoulder, chattering angrily.

Otto shuffled and dissembled, his shifty eyes darting around the deck, as if searching for the best line of escape. Fox carefully inspected his dirk, looking for smudges. Otto scowled horribly, then muttered a barely audible apology, glaring at the timber deck.

‘Now, Lily. This man has done you a wrong,’ stated Fox gently.

‘Wrong?’ exclaimed Ethan hotly, clenching his bow with white knuckles. ‘He tried to kill my sister!’

‘Exactly,’ replied Fox, his voice soothing and calm. ‘So, Lily, I think it poetic justice that you should decide his fate.’ He began to pace up and down, as if thinking deeply.

‘We could toss him to the Barramon – as it
appears he planned to do to you,’ Fox mused, playing with the gold hoop in his ear. ‘It might even bring some wind, although I doubt it. Or we could keelhaul him … you know, drag him under the keel of the ship, not that there are many barnacles on my ship. Or we could flay him with the whip and throw him into the bilges with the rats, or –’

‘No,’ cried Lily, going pale at the thought of these terrible punishments. ‘Couldn’t we just lock him up in your cabin until we get back to Tiregian?’

‘Of course not,’ declared Fox in shock. ‘I am not giving up my cabin for anybody!’

He thought for another moment. ‘We’ll lock him in the hold until I decide what to do with him,’ Fox resolved. ‘But that means that with Jack and Saxon injured, and Otto locked up, Rowan and Ethan will need to help sail the ship. That is, if we ever get any wind. I should have known better than to have a retired pirate on board my ship. It’s hard to get good help on a smuggling ship, you know!’

Roana helped Lily back to finish dressing Jack’s burns with honey and cloth. Jack was moved below deck to lie in the hammock next to Saxon’s. Aisha followed Lily everywhere like a shadow, determined not to let her out of her sight again for even a moment.

Then it was Lily’s turn to be nursed. Ethan cleaned the shallow cut on her throat with seawater, dabbed some rosemary water on it, then rubbed some arnica onto the bruises. Roana made everyone some hot tea. Lily went to lie in a sail bag in the shade to rest, with Charcoal curled up in the crook of her knees and the faithful Aisha at her feet.

Ethan and Fox marched Otto down below, into the storage hold behind the bulkhead, where the smuggled goods were usually stored. Otto was locked in with a blanket, a flask of water, some bread and a bucket. After the long journey, the stale air now smelt strongly of the bilges.

Fox did not seem to notice the smell. Ethan tried to breathe through his mouth to avoid the rank odour, but the stink, the closeness of the hold, the wallowing of the
Owl
in the windless ocean and the shock of the attack on his sister combined to make Ethan suddenly feel very sick. He swallowed and closed his eyes, fighting the nausea.

Burning bile rose in his throat. Ethan raced up the ladder to the port side of the ship and vomited over the side, until his eyes streamed with tears and his sides ached.

Mia clambered up his leg, climbed up onto his shoulder and patted him gently on the cheek,
chattering quietly in his ear. Ethan stroked the naughty monkey on her back. Her fur was silky and soft. Mia popped her warm little hands inside Ethan’s collar, stroking him gently.

Fox came up behind Ethan and clapped him lightly on the back.

‘’Tis the seasickness, lad,’ Fox explained. ‘It can take even seasoned sailors really badly and often quite by surprise. Take it easy for a while, and try to keep your eyes on the horizon. It helps, believe me.’

Ethan nodded, embarrassed. He felt much better up in the fresh air. He went to sit on watch on the bow. He had Fox’s brass eyeglass, and he used it to scan the horizon regularly for sign of a sail, of land, even of sea creatures or birds. There was nothing.

Ethan sat and dreamed of the
Sea Dragon
. Was it still out there? Was it also becalmed or had it slipped by them on some capricious breeze? Would they find it on this vast ocean? Would they find the Moon Pearl and Star Diamonds?

He burned with frustration to be sitting there, bobbing up and down uselessly when so much was at stake.

The storm came from the north. The wind howled and moaned around the tower, blowing snow in whirlwinds of blinding whiteness. The tower groaned and moaned in the ferocious wind.

Icy draughts and small drifts of snow trickled through the cracks in the stone around the window, falling to the floor.

Prince Caspar sat up in bed, terrified. The wind, the snow, the sounds went on and on. Caspar was sure the tower would be flung from its mountain perch and tossed into the valley below. At least that would be an end.

He pulled the blankets up around his chin and
the pillow over his head to block out the ceaseless howling. He whimpered in fear and sadness and longing.

He thought about his mother, his father, his sister. He tried to re-create their faces in his memory. Already they were blurring, turning to mist, and the harder he tried to grasp them, the further they fled.

He closed his eyes and remembered the soft feel of his mother’s hand on his forehead, stroking him, calming him, chasing away the nightmares.

He tried to block out the noise of the storm by remembering his sister’s voice telling him stories when they were younger. The candles in the nursery were long since blown out, but Roana would tell him endless stories of adventure and heroics, of princes and princesses, fairies and trolls and strange magical beasts.

At last, the medicine Prince Caspar had been given at bedtime began to cloud his brain with drowsiness.

He dreamed wild dreams of snow giants battling outside his window. The giants hurled huge boulders of snow, which shattered against the tower walls, shaking them to the foundations.

The giants growled and howled, wielding
massive clubs of ice. They wrestled and punched and grappled each other, tearing their snow hair by the roots.

In the dream Prince Caspar peered out the window of his tiny, cold tower room. Riding the back of the biggest, meanest snow giant was a tiny figure, dressed all in white. Caspar looked more closely. He gasped. It was his big sister, Roana. Caspar screamed and yelled, waving his arms at her.

Ice Princess Roana turned and looked at him. Then she looked away indifferently. She rode away on her snow giant, without a backward glance, leaving Caspar to the priests. Caspar sobbed and cried in his sleep, his arms straining after the ice princess on the snow giant.

When he woke in the morning, the storm was gone, but not the terrible heavy feeling of grief and abandonment left by the dream. He could not get up out of bed.

‘Come on, Boy,’ whispered the priest of Krad. ‘Get up and come down to breakfast.’

Prince Caspar turned his face to the wall.

‘I have some lovely honey for your toast this morning, and here’s your medicine. You know it makes you feel better,’ coaxed the priest.

Caspar obediently managed a small smile. He drained his medicine cup and struggled out of bed. Another dreary day.

Down in the palace dungeons, Queen Ashana, Willem and Marnie slept oblivious to the wild storm blowing far above their heads.

The Sedah guards paused on their rounds, seeking some shelter on the battlements. There was none.

‘Krad curse this blasted country and its blasted weather,’ swore one guard to another.

The other guard just nodded. He was too cold and wet to speak.

High in his royal bedchamber, Lord Lazlac sat at his desk, his quill poised over an epistle to his master, Emperor Raef. A fire roared in the grate. Candles flickered in the draught. Outside, the wind moaned like a prowling monster.

‘Krad curse this blasted country,’ whispered Lord Lazlac, as he struggled to find words to explain the latest developments in the invasion of Tiregian.

He threw the quill down and stared moodily into the fire.

A change in circumstances required a change in plan. He needed to secure his position as governor of Tiregian, especially when so many things were going awry. How was he to implement this new plan? And how to broach the plan with his master?

In the soldiers’ mess, Sniffer stared stonily into space. At the table behind him, Burgis laughed loudly as he lost yet more money at dice. Sniffer twitched with irritation. He could not stand living and working with Burgis and his constant smell, but that seemed to be his fate until he could find that elusive brat of a princess.

Sniffer twirled a long curly hair between his fingers. He sniffed it absentmindedly. Outside the storm was building in intensity.

He went over the evening on the beach again and again. The children had escaped with the help of an adult. They had escaped by boat. Where would they be going and why? Who was the mysterious adult? Which boat were they on and where did it moor?

There must be someone at Ainsley who knew – someone who was willing to talk for a price. He would start knocking on doors in the morning.
He was sure the children would return to the shores of Tiregian sooner or later. And when they did, he would be waiting …

Dinner was being prepared in the hot galley. Lily bent over the cast-iron stove, stirring a stew of smoky bacon and wilted vegetables. She pushed the damp strands of curly, honey blonde hair out of her eyes, frowning in concentration.

The stove suddenly lurched, swinging on its iron pivot pole. The pot nearly slid off the stovetop but Lily grabbed the handle just in time. Everyone looked up. The
Owl
was moving. The wind had returned.

‘All hands on deck,’ yelled Fox. Immediately everyone jumped to their feet and followed Fox on deck.

To the north, thick black clouds billowed and boiled, swept along by the racing wind.

Mia jumped up and down in the rigging, chattering excitedly. Aisha whined, pacing back and forth along the deck, unnerved by the sudden tension in the air.

Fox stared silently to the north, a deep furrow
between his brows. Then he started to bark orders. The intense seriousness in his voice, which for once lacked any sign of levity, made everyone scurry about their tasks without question.

The old patched sails were taken down, folded neatly and stowed in the sail locker. A stronger storm jib was set. Items that had been left lying about were carefully stowed away. The hatches were battened down and the portholes locked.

The animals – Mia, Charcoal and Aisha – were shut in Fox’s cabin to keep them out of the way. Mia was locked in a small cage, which was built especially for keeping the monkey safe during storms. She jumped up and down, screeching in fury at the indignity of being locked away.

It was a race against time to ready the ship for the battle ahead. Closer and closer the black mountains of cloud sped towards them, swallowing the stars.

The wind slammed into the ship with a thud that knocked the breath out of them. The wind howled and keened and screamed at them. The rain followed, pelting and driving. The waves climbed and grew until they towered over the tiny hull. The wind whipped the wave tops into white froth, which danced and sprayed in a wild frenzy.

Fox huddled into his oilskins, his black eyes peering into the darkness, squinting against the storm. He hauled and fought with the ship, which was tossed by the wind and the waves. Carl huddled in the bow, lashed to the foremast, desperately trying to look ahead to see if there was any imminent danger.

Ethan, Lily, Roana and Saxon were ordered below to shelter, where they huddled with Jack in the tiny saloon. The motion of the ship – tossed, dropped, thrown, pummelled – meant the children were battered and bruised. It was impossible to judge the timing and direction of the next movement, and brace against it.

The
Owl
’s timbers creaked and strained. It sounded as if they were being forcibly wrenched apart.

‘What’s happening?’ cried Roana in a high-pitched squeal.

Her mind filled with visions of the hull smashing and tonnes of icy seawater pouring into the cabin, swirling around them and sucking them out into the depths.

‘Let’s tell some stories, or jokes,’ murmured Saxon, putting on a brave face, as the hull thudded into a wave as though hitting a stone wall. ‘Did I ever tell you the one about the yeoman and the troll?’

‘No jokes,’ moaned Ethan, rolling his eyes to heaven. ‘May the Moonmother spare us that!’

The waves and wind grew stronger. No-one chatted or joked.

The ship leant heavily to the port side, then threw itself to starboard. The bow rose higher and higher, until the floor was a slippery slide, with everything on board sliding to the stern. Then the bow lurched and dropped, like a rock down a cliff, and everything fell with it, down, down, down to the bow.

The ship smashed into the bottom of the drop with a sickening crunch. A cupboard flew open. Plates, glasses and cups flew through the air, smashing and shattering. Shards of glass and ceramics exploded, slicing flesh with their wickedly sharp slivers.

Everyone screamed. The air in the stuffy cabin grew hot and thick. Fear sapped the oxygen, leaving a thick fug.

Roana’s head ached. The bile rose in her throat. Her stomach lurched and somersaulted. The sickness welled up her throat and she vomited as though she could never stop. The smell rose in steamy waves.

The
Owl
lurched again unpredictably. Ethan was the next to vomit. Lily’s stomach heaved in
retaliation. She snatched the bucket from Roana, who had momentarily stopped. Lily felt as if her head was going to explode. Soon Saxon and Jack were just as seasick as the others.

‘I’ve got to get out of here,’ Lily yelled. ‘It must be better outside.’

She struggled to the saloon door, which was battened shut. She was thrown hard against the starboard wall, banging her head sharply. She unfastened the door. The wind snatched it from her hand and banged it violently back and forth.

Fox gestured furiously from the steering wheel, ordering her back inside. He shouted but his words were snatched and scattered to the waves. Lily breathed in, savouring the salty, fresh cold air. A fork of lightning blazed across the sky, lighting up the world with its white-hot brilliance.

The world seemed to have shrunk in the fury of the storm. Lily could see in every direction to the horizon, in a perfect circle about her. It felt as if they were in the centre of a giant teacup, with the
Owl
bobbing uselessly in the middle. The lightning disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, plunging the world back into inky blackness.

Lily struggled to the stern, battling the wind and
the rain, to where Fox was fighting the huge steering wheel.

‘Inside,’ Fox shouted. ‘Go … out … back …’ The wind whipped most of his words away.

Lily shook her head to show her incomprehension and cupped her ear. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes, stinging them. She tried to gather it back out of her face, but the wind grabbed her cloak and swirled that away from her, letting in needle-sharp, stinging rain and sending icy shivers of fear through her.

‘Go back inside,’ Fox blared straight into her ear. ‘It’s too dangerous out here. You could be swept overboard.’

‘No. I can’t,’ begged Lily. ‘Everything’s flying about, including us, and everyone’s being seasick and I feel like I am going to die in there. I can’t breathe. I have to stay on deck.’

Fox looked at her in gentle sympathy, his red hair whipped by the gale so it crackled like a real fire.