Clash of the Sky Galleons (43 page)

Clash! Clash! Clash! Clash!

Ahead of the
Galerider,
sky pirate ship after sky pirate ship hit the wall of league ships in front of them, their razor-sharp keels up as their captains pulled hard on the flight-levers and their stone pilots doused their flight-rocks moments before impact.

Now it was Quint’s turn. In front of the
Galerider,
like a monstrous bubbling cauldron spitting fire, the
Bane of the Mighty -
the league ship he’d seen being launched - filled the sky. Beside it, listing badly, its aft-hull shattered and flight-rock cage disintegrating, the league ship
Forger of Triumph
marked where the
Mistseeker
had just broken through. Over Quint’s shoulder, the slim elegant
Iceblade
had taken a direct hit to its flight-rock that sent it spinning wildly as the hot rock sank.

‘Fire!’ Quint screamed at Tem, and the next moment, the
Galerider’s
harpoon rocketed from her prow and smashed into the rock cage of the
Bane of the Mighty.

Seconds later, Quint flattened the flight-levers, and the Stone Pilot doused the flight-rock. With a shuddering
crash!
the
Galerider
reared up into the sky, its razor-sharp keel tearing through the aft-castle of the league ship as it did so. Quint glimpsed the ashen, terrified face of the leagues captain at the wheel of the
Bane of the Mighty,
as they hurtled past, and felt a sickening pang in the pit of his stomach.

The
Galerider
sped on into the clouds, part of a now ragged arrowtip formation which, Quint could see as he looked over his shoulder, had done its job well. The wall of league ships had split apart, vessels listing to one side, spiralling out of control, or disintegrating entirely and falling in fiery splinters from the sky. But it had not been without cost. At least ten magnificent sky pirate ships were ablaze. And as the
Galerider
joined the other attack ships and they fell into line once more, the
Iceblade
hurtled down into the Deepwoods canopy in a blazing ball of fire.

Quint swallowed hard, sickened and shocked by the terrible scene of carnage before him. The heavier sky pirate ships were moving in now, bearing down on the league ships that remained, scattered in twos and threes but still spitting forth a hail of missiles. The
Fogscythe
fired a great blazing ironwood ball that shattered a heavy league ship, the
Profit Bringer,
in one blow. Around it, the league ships now sent up signals of white smoke, signifying their surrender, as great flocks of distressed ratbirds spiralled round the battle, searching for new roosts, and leaguesmen clustered in tiny barges and lifeboats, or fell screaming down into the Deepwoods below.

‘A magnificent yet terrible sight,’ murmured Raffix behind Quint. ‘Poor wretches.’

But Quint wasn’t listening, for at his feet lay Hubble the banderbear, a great, bloody gash across his forehead where a shard from a sumpwood grenade had hit him.

‘Take the helm, Raffix,’ Quint ordered, dropping to his knees and cradling the young banderbear in his arms.

He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed and short soft whimpers of pain were escaping from his great tusked mouth. Maris appeared, her face flushed and her medicine chest open under one arm.

‘Duggin’s wounded in the leg,’ she reported, ‘and Phin has minor burns … Oh, Hubble!’ Maris knelt down beside the banderbear and hurriedly began cleaning the wound. ‘It’s deep,’ she said, her voice betraying her concern. ‘I’ll do what I can, Quint.’

Quint got to his feet and crossed to the balustrade, which he pounded angrily with a clenched fist.

‘Why does there have to be such death and destruction?’ he stormed. ‘Such pointless waste …’

The words died in his mouth as he stared out across the sky. The sky pirate armada was regrouping around them, the
Maelstrom Seeker
holding its position at the head of the long line. But Quint wasn’t looking at the sleek black vessel. Instead, his eyes were focused on a great dark bank of cloud to the west, out of which a gigantic vessel was emerging. It was like no sky ship he’d ever seen before. Quint’s hands fumbled at his breast-plate as he unbuckled his telescope and held it to his eye.

‘What the … ?’ Spillins’s astonished voice sounded from the caternest above.

The sky ship had six masts, a massive expanse of deck and a towering aft-castle. Its huge sails billowed out, sending the great vessel speeding towards the sky pirate armada at an astonishing rate. As it drew closer, Quint could see it was armed with weapons of every type. There were boarding-spikes, battering-rams, harpoons lining every one of the six tiered decks, catapults fore and aft, and crossbows, log-hurlers and deck-splitters everywhere.

As if that wasn’t enough, this vessel had no ordinary crew. Quint scanned the decks. They were teeming with black feathered shrykes, clad in armour and bristling with murderous weapons. On its massive curved prow, the sky ship’s name was picked out in gold letters.

The Bringer of Doom.

‘A league ship …’ Quint breathed.

As he watched, the mighty sky galleon’s flight-rock burners flared, and as gracefully as a sky pirate ship a quarter of her size,
The Bringer of Doom
swooped down past the
Fogscythe,
the heaviest of the sky pirate ships. Suddenly, five flaming missiles - huge blazing logs -shot from the league ship and smashed into the
Fogscythe,
which exploded into flames.
The Bringer of Doom,
as if demonstrating its name, sped past the armada before it had time to manoeuvre and destroyed the equally heavy
Thundercrusher
in a matter of moments. It then circled round the mesmerized fleet once more, like a ravenous white-collar wolf circling a flock of frightened tilder.

Then the unthinkable happened. One by one - the smaller vessels at first, then spreading through the armada - the sky pirates began to abandon their beloved sky ships. The air filled with parawings as the sky pirate crews descended into the Deepwoods below.

Several, like the
Stormrunner
and the
Driftcleaver
tried to flee under full sail, but
The Bringer of Doom
ran them down in an instant, shattering the first with its enormous keel and the other with its catapults. The shrykes on board screeched and cackled, clearly in a blood-frenzy as the sky pirate ships went down, dragging several fleeing sky pirates out of the air and devouring them on deck.

Quint stood mesmerized as the nightmare unfolded, crew after crew abandoning their ships while the shattered remnants of the leagues fleet gathered greedily behind their monstrous saviour,
The Bringer of Doom.
Soon, with even the crew of the
Maelstrom Seeker
disappearing down into the green forest canopy below, the
Galerider
was alone in an armada of ghost ships.

‘Quint, we can’t stay’ Maris’s tearful voice sounded in his ear. ‘Duggin has the
Edgehopper
ready. We’re all aboard …’

Quint spun round, as if suddenly awakened. ‘What about Hubble?’

The banderbear lay on his side by the wheel.

Tears coursed down Maris’s cheeks. ‘There’s nothing I can do for poor Hubble,’ she wept bitterly.

‘You go, Maris,’ said Quint gently. ‘I’ll secure the helm and parawing after you …’

‘But Quint! …’ Maris protested.

‘Please, Maris.’ Quint’s eyes beseeched his friend to understand. ‘Go! I’ll follow …’

They both knew he was lying; that he would never abandon his father’s sky ship. What was more, if Maris gave him away to the crew waiting in the small sky ferry, then they wouldn’t leave either - and Maris knew Quint couldn’t bear that.

She nodded, tears running down her face, and her heart breaking.

‘Maris. Please …’

She crossed over to Quint, took his head in her hands and kissed him gently on the lips.

Then she turned and ran from the helm. Moments later, the small sky ferry cast away from the
Galerider
and sped down towards the forest canopy, and not a moment too soon.

Quint stood at the helm, his hands poised over the flight-levers. The Stone Pilot had left the flight-rock burners at a quarter setting, and Tem had recharged the prow harpoon, ready for action. In the sky ahead,
the massive league ship closed in on the
Galerider.
Its decks were bristling with screeching jet-black shrykes, and a boarding-party hurriedly lowered ropes and grappling-hooks.

Quint watched impassively a deep sorrow welling up in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Yet despite this, he found himself fascinated by the most extraordinary feature of the monstrous vessel as it drew closer.

Its flight-rock.

It was the largest, most perfect flight-rock Quint had ever seen. No wonder
The Bringer of Doom
was so manoeuvrable and fast, with such an extraordinary flight-rock at its centre.

But how had the rock managed to grow so big before being harvested? Quint wondered, gazing at its surface, so smooth and unpitted - the clear sign of a freshly harvested rock.

The secret lay deep at the very centre of the enormous flight-rock. There, nestling in the heartrock, was the crystal of stormphrax in its sheath of glow-worm skin, which Zaphix Nemulis, the custodian of the Stone Gardens, had planted there. As the glow of the rotting skin dimmed, so the weight of the stormphrax had increased, weighing the rock down and allowing it to grow to its enormous size.

But now the rock had been harvested. Zaphix Nemulis had been paid and was back in Sanctaphrax, toasting his feet in front of a roaring fire. What did he care that the rock he’d nurtured with this clever technique over all
those months had the seed of its own destruction at its very core? Zaphix had a full purse and warm feet - and better still, no spiky-fingered leaguesmaster bothering him all the time …

Meanwhile as the
Bringer of Doom
loomed up before the Galerider over the distant Deepwoods, the very last fragment of glow-worm skin fell into desiccated dust and its pale glow turned to pitch darkness.