Voyage of the Owl (6 page)

Down at the port, the light was fading fast. Sniffer arrived with his entourage of armoured soldiers. Burgis showed him where he had seen the children watching the
Sea Dragon
. Their footsteps were obliterated by the port guards, who had already tried to find them without success. Sniffer swore. It was impossible to tell anything from these tracks.

Sniffer found the tracks of a horse-drawn cart heading back to Tira. He found some fresh silver fish scales and the bristles of a brush that smelt strongly of soot, but nothing useful. He searched wider, examining the tracks that led down to the beach.

Always at his heels trotted the enthusiastic Burgis. Sniffer found him unbearably annoying – whether it was his interfering presence or his cloying smell, Sniffer wasn’t sure.

Finally Sniffer searched the narrow roadway that led further west, to the fishing village of Ainsley. In the last of the light he saw the large pawprint of a dog. Just in front was the perfect,
narrow print of a girl’s boot. Sniffer smiled triumphantly. ‘At last!’

‘Fetch me some more lanterns,’ he barked to Burgis. ‘Come on, men. I have found the trail.’

Sniffer loped off into the darkness, stopping every few minutes to check the footprints in the dusty track with his lantern.

It was dusk when Ethan, Lily, Roana, Saxon and Aisha rounded the last bend and wandered down into the fishing village of Ainsley. The dirt streets were empty, and the cottages were dark. But a waft of merry music and the light of many fires beckoned them down to the beach.

The fisherfolk of Ainsley were celebrating. Bonfires burned on the sand. Lanterns hung in the trees and from the bows of the fishing boats pulled high above the tideline. Long tables were set up on the sand, covered in colourful cloths and laden with platters of delicious food.

A band played lively, cheery music – fiddles,
drums, flutes and guitars. Children, dressed in their festive best and crowned with wildflowers, danced in the sand. A troupe of gaily dressed gypsies performed – juggling fiery torches, walking on their hands, performing acrobatics, dancing on stilts. The four children were entranced by the colour, movement and noise of the festival.

Ethan inched closer to a woman who was serving food behind one of the tables. ‘Excuse me, mistress,’ he asked politely. ‘Have you seen a seaman called Fox?’

Saxon was asking the same question of a salty old fisherman who was draining a tankard of golden ale.

‘Aye, laddie,’ the fishwife replied. ‘Fox will be here for t’ blessing of t’ fleet. ’Tis t’ full moon, you know. Tonight we ask t’ Moonmother t’ bless our boats and nets, and fill them with t’ harvest of t’ seas. Coom join in with your friends. Eat. Drink. Dance with us. Bring us good luck. We’ll let Fox know you seek him.’

Saxon received a similar reply. The children searched the crowds, asking several people for Fox, but no-one had seen him. They were jostled and bumped by the happy crowd. The first woman Ethan had spoken to came over with a large tray of crispy calamari.

‘Here,’ she smiled merrily. ‘Try this. They are quite delicious and need to be eaten hot.’

The children crunched on the hot calamari – golden fried on the outside and thick and chewy on the inside. Lily took an extra piece and fed it to Charcoal, snuggled in her pocket. Charcoal nibbled it daintily, licking the crumbs off her long white whiskers.

A fisherman pressed tankards of ice-cold, foaming apple cider in their hands. The bubbles tingled their tongues and fizzed tiny bubbles on their skin.

Someone else offered them a platter of herbed mussels stewed in onion and tomato, which they slurped straight from the shell. The fisherfolk talked and laughed and ate and drank.

To the west, the sky was streaked scarlet, hot pink and delicate violet. To the east a huge glowing moon, full and round, rose slowly from the sea. It was cheered with great welcome by the gathered crowd.

The band switched tunes and played a slow lilting melody. A young fishermaid sang a hauntingly beautiful song to welcome the coming of the Moon Goddess. Bands of young children carried baskets of fragrant wildflowers down to the sea and tossed them on the crashing waves.

‘Bless our fleet, oh bountiful Moonmother,’ prayed one of the village elders, his eyes closed and his arms raised to the east. ‘Share with us the harvest of the sea and the blooming of the earth. Thank you for the gift of precious and beautiful life. Let us never take it for granted.’

The moon rose majestically from the eastern horizon, lighting a rippling golden path across the inky sea.

‘Look how beautiful it is,’ whispered Lily. ‘I have never before seen the moon rise from the sea like a great golden disk.’

‘The full moon again,’ added Ethan. ‘That means it is a full month since the vernal equinox, a full month since the Sedah invaded Tiregian.’

Everyone was silent. It seemed a lifetime ago, that fateful dawn, when the Sedahs killed King Radnor in the forest clearing and took over the land. Then they had been innocent children. Now they seemed so much stronger, older and wiser.

Roana felt the amethyst locket hidden inside her shirt. It held a plaited braid of black, gold and white hair, a lock from each member of her family. She blinked back tears at the thought of her father murdered in a treacherous ambush, her mother imprisoned in the dungeons of Tira and her
younger brother kidnapped. The hope of her family, of her country, rested with her now. It seemed a very heavy burden.

The music changed again, the band swinging enthusiastically into a lively dance tune.

‘Come on,’ shrieked a fishermaid, about Roana’s age. ‘Why so mournful? Tonight we dance around the bonfires. Tomorrow is soon enough for long faces!’

She grabbed Ethan by one hand and Saxon by the other, and dragged them into the dancing, laughing crowd. Lily and Roana shrugged and giggled, following closely behind. They didn’t know the exact steps but improvised, copying the fisherfolk stamping their feet and clapping their hands. No-one minded.

The rhythm of the music pounded in their blood, making their feet dance and their bodies sway, almost despite themselves.

Aisha watched them patiently, flopped under a table licking up scraps of food as they fell from above. Charcoal played under a tree, beside the abandoned packs, leaping at shadows and chasing her tail.

At last the children gave up dancing and fell down, laughing and tired, into the soft sand. Their
friend, the old fisherwife, came over with a large plate of steaming hot fish and salty fried potato.

‘Eat up. No sign of Fox yet, but he’ll be here soon,’ she smiled. The children grinned their thanks and devoured the food gratefully.

The fire jugglers threw their torches higher and higher into the air. The torches twisted and turned, flaming through the dark sky, and were deftly caught before spinning up into the air again.

A gypsy touched a flaring torch to his mouth, and breathed out, a blazing, roaring fire demon dancing from his lips. The acrobats tumbled on the soft sand, spinning cartwheels and backflips with breathtaking speed.

The music grew faster and faster as the dancers whirled wildly. People laughed and talked and chattered. The flames flickered and leapt. It was beautiful.

A loud shout shattered the darkness.

‘Stop,’ shouted Sniffer. ‘Don’t anybody move!’

The music ceased suddenly. Everyone froze. There was no sound except the lapping of waves. Then there were screams, chaos, yells and fleeing bodies. Ethan grabbed his bow and quiver, then clutched Lily by the hand.

‘Come on,’ he whispered furiously. ‘It’s Sniffer!’

Ethan dived into the shadows under the food tables and crawled as fast as he could. Lily, Roana, Saxon and Aisha followed. Ethan did not know where he was leading them. Just away. Away from the screams. Away from the fleeing bodies. Away from the terrifying shadows of the black Sedah guards. Away from the memory of that terrible snuffling voice.

The Sedah guards rampaged through the festival, knocking over a few tables of lovingly prepared food, kicking out fires and tipping over barrels of carefully hoarded ale.

And over everything could be heard Sniffer’s voice screaming, ‘Find those children. Find that dog!’

Ethan looked back for just a moment and noticed something surprising. The fisherfolk were running, screaming and yelling. But they weren’t running away. They were running back and forth. Running into Sedah guards. Knocking things flying. Knocking out lanterns. Causing chaos and confusion. Causing a diversion.

The fisherfolk were making it very difficult for Sniffer and his guards to find Ethan and Lily, Roana and Saxon. They were putting themselves in danger to help the children escape.

Sniffer stooped as if to pick something up. Their new friend, the fishwife, tipped a large platter of marinated octopus over Sniffer’s head. Red sauce dripped down his face. Slimy octopus clung to his hair, his eyebrows, his shoulders. Sniffer bellowed with rage. He spun around to abuse his attacker, but she was gone.

Ethan reached the cold dark shadow of the beach beyond the bonfires and started to run. He glanced over his shoulder again to make sure everyone was following him.

He ran and ran, his bow and quiver bumping on his back. Behind him the others ran blindly in the darkness, struggling in the soft sand. Their hearts hammered.

A long arm grabbed Ethan from the dark. He grunted in shock. A strong body gripped him tightly and a huge hand covered his mouth with a suffocating oily rag. Ethan tried to scream. Aisha growled, low and menacing, her whole body rigid with threat.

Lily stopped running and reached for her bow. Roana crashed into her back, sending her flying. Saxon skidded to a stop. They all stared in terror at the tall dark shadow who held Ethan captive.

‘Don’t scream,’ growled the shadow. ‘Don’t make a sound. I am Fox. I am told you seek me.’

He released Ethan, who fell back, nearly gagging from the strong smell of the rag that had covered his mouth. Aisha relaxed, sniffing Fox uncertainly.

Saxon took a deep breath.

‘Hello, Fox,’ he said nervously. ‘I am Saxon of Kenley, son of Rodney the tailor. We have been told that you might be able to help us. There is something belonging to my friend here that we would like to retrieve from the Sedahs.’

‘You are all rather young, are you not, to have the might of the Sedah army on your tails?’ barked Fox. ‘Do you have gold? I don’t risk my hide for anybody unless they have good hard crescents in their pockets!’

Roana nodded weakly, a bit overawed by this tall stranger speaking from the shadows.

‘I hope you have plenty,’ Fox added. ‘I believe you already owe me for a wrecked rowboat, several daggers, a number of my cloaks and some silk shirts.’

The four started, looking guilty. They were too shocked to speak.

‘Well, I don’t owe Emperor Raef any favours, so you may as well come along,’ Fox snapped. ‘We can work out the terms and conditions on the
Owl
.’

Ethan and Lily glanced at each other, rolling their
eyes slightly. But obediently they followed the dark shadow in front of them along the black shoreline. Away from the bonfires their eyes quickly adjusted to the paler light thrown by the marbled full moon, which was now silvery white and high in the sky.

‘Ethan,’ whispered Lily in a quavery voice, ‘I’ve lost Charcoal. I took her out of my pocket when we were dancing and left her sleeping on our packs. Our packs are lost back in Ainsley too.’

Ethan squeezed Lily’s arm in sympathy.

‘I’m sorry, Lily,’ he whispered. ‘You know we can’t go back for her, or for the packs. She could be anywhere by now, frightened by all the noise and shouting. Someone will find her and look after her. We can find her when the Sedahs are gone, and it’s safe.’

Lily blinked away sudden tears. She loved her little kitten. She had rescued Charcoal from the ruins of a burned-out village the Sedahs had destroyed. Her playful games and sweet nature had cheered them up many a time when things had seemed tough.

Fox led them along the beach. There was something odd about his dark shadow, as though he were misshapen or hunchbacked. Roana felt a clutch of fear around her heart, to be following this
mysterious stranger to wherever he was taking them.

At last Fox stopped. Drawn up high on the sand was a black rowboat, very similar to the one they had ‘borrowed’ near Goldcoin Cove.

‘Help me drag it down to the water,’ ordered Fox. ‘I hope you kids are handy with an oar. It’s a long row.’

‘Where are we going?’ asked Ethan curiously.

Fox laughed and threw his arm out towards the horizon.

‘To the
Owl
. To the
Owl
, with a wily wild Fox!’ he vowed theatrically.

The children looked puzzled.

‘Soft and silent she slips through the night, swooping after her prey. Dark and silent as a shadow. Mistress of the night!’ Fox ended with a flourish, like an owl diving after its prey.

The children looked at each other in alarm. Could Fox be completely insane? Was he dangerous?

‘To my ship,’ explained Fox impatiently. ‘My ship, the
Owl
.’

Out on the horizon, the children could just make out a darker shadow, a black hole against the star-spangled sky.

There seemed to be nothing else they could do. It was either follow the half-crazy Fox to the
Owl
, or stay on the beach and risk being found by Sniffer and the Sedahs. Everyone bent their backs and started dragging the rowboat down towards the surf.

The boat was ankle deep in water when a soft thud of a horse’s hooves made them pause. They pushed harder, thrusting the boat out towards safety.

‘Fox. Fox,’ called a soft voice. Fox gestured to the children to pause.

The horse trotted closer. In the dim moonlight, they could just make out a familiar figure. It was the large shape of Master Drummond, riding Lily’s own Nutmeg.

Nutmeg was a beautiful chestnut hunter, about seventeen hands high, with three white socks and a white blaze down her nose. Her fine breeding showed in her high-stepping gait, her strong, lean body and her intelligent eyes.

Lily gave a cry of delight and ran to her beloved horse. Aisha bounded around in excitement, wagging her tail furiously and licking Nutmeg on the nose. Nutmeg whickered in welcome.

Lily buried her face in Nutmeg’s neck, breathing in her sweet familiar scent, stroking her strong,
steady body. Ethan also ran to stroke the horse, weaving his fingers in Nutmeg’s chestnut mane.

Master Drummond stooped down.

‘We don’t have much time,’ he warned sternly. ‘Cookie told me that the Sedahs were after you again. You must have been careless. I rode to Ainsley and arrived just moments before the Sedahs. I tried to reach you through the crowd to warn you, but I was too late. All I could do was enlist the help of the villagers to create a diversion so you could escape.’

Master Drummond smiled. ‘I spread a few rumours about why half the Sedah army was chasing four grubby urchins. Anyway, I thought you might need these.’

Master Drummond handed down four shabby, travel-stained packs.

‘Did you find my kitten?’ asked Lily.

‘No,’ answered Master Drummond regretfully. ‘I will ask the fisherfolk to look out for her. Now you had better go. The villagers can’t hold the Sedahs off forever.’

Lily clutched his arm.

‘How are our horses, Master Drummond?’ she asked anxiously.