Stormchaser: Second Book of Twig

by Paul Stewart

  Charge! thought Twig in alarm. The thought of paying for the guide’s services hadn’t even occurred to him, yet of course the curious bleached creature would want rewarding. Twig, however, didn’t have a bean to his name. None of the crew did.

  ‘Tell you what,’ Screed said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘Special offer for sky pirates.’ He looked at them askance. ‘Two hundred each.’

  Twig trembled. With four of them planning to cross the Mire, that was eight hundred - eight hundred he hadn’t got.

  The professor, however, seemed unconcerned. ‘A thousand in all,’ he said. ‘I can cover that.’

  Now Twig was really confused. ‘But…’ he began. ‘I thought…’

  The Professor of Light turned towards him. ‘After much consideration, I have decided to go with you,’ he announced. ‘If you’ll have me, that is.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course,’ said Twig uncertainly. ‘But you said …’

  ‘I will take my chances,’ the professor said. ‘Who knows, perhaps my neck will mend …’ He paused. ‘At any rate, I cannot stay here.’

  ‘But you were so sure,’ said Twig. ‘You said …’

  ‘I know what I said,’ the professor interrupted. ‘I thought I’d be able to research stormphrax if I remained. But I was wrong. Although the Twilight Woods would indeed give me the time to study, they would also rob me of the ability to do so.’

  Screed Toe-taker tutted impatiently.

  Ignoring him, the professor went on. ‘I am an academic, Twig,’ he said. ‘Why, in Sanctaphrax I am known for the sharpness of my intellect. I can recite Dilnix’s ancient Treatise on the Properties of Light, I know The Thousand Luminescent Aphorisms of Archemax by heart… Yet here, in this terrible mind-numbing place, I can barely remember who I am.’

  ‘So, you mean …’

  ‘I mean, I would rather die a dignified death than suffer the ignominy of an eternity of ignorance.’ He pulled a leather pouch from the folds of his gown and handed it to Twig. ‘There’s five hundred in there,’ he said. ‘He can have the rest when we arrive.’

  Twig turned to Screed, and shuddered as he caught the gangly individual staring down at the professor’s feet, licking his lips. ‘If you agree to the terms,’ he said, offering the leather pouch, ‘we have a deal.’

  Screed looked up and smirked. ‘Very glad to hear it,’ he said. He took the pouch in one hand, slipped it down the front of his jerkin and reached out again to shake Twig’s hand.

  Twig shuddered at the touch of the dry, bony fingers. ‘Come then,’ said Screed, and he pulled him gently but firmly across the invisible line, out of the Twilight Woods and into the Mire.

  Twig stopped and turned back. The Professor of Light hadn’t moved. Despite his resolve, it was a hard step to take after all, it might be his last.

  ‘Come on,’ said Screed irritably. ‘We haven’t got all day’

  ‘You take as long as you like, Professor,’ said Twig.

  Screed snorted, and turned away in disgust. Twig put out his arm for the professor to steady himself upon.

  ‘Thank you, Twig,’ said the professor. ‘Whatever may happen, my boy, it has been an honour and a pleasure getting to know you. One day you will be a fine sky pirate captain. With your own ship. I know you will’

  And, so saying, the professor took that all-important step forwards. Twig, who was expecting him to collapse at any moment, moved to support him. But the professor did not collapse. He winced with pain as he crossed into the Mire. He cried out. He stumbled a little. But he remained standing.

  From behind him, Spiker, Hubble and the Stone Pilot cheered with delight. ‘Well done, Professor,’ they said.

  ‘Yes, well done!’ Twig beamed. ‘You’ll be as right as rain once we get you back to Sanctaphrax.’ The professor smiled weakly. His face had turned a deathly shade of grey. Twig’s face clouded with concern. ‘H … how are you feeling?’ he asked him anxiously.

  ‘Alive,’ the professor groaned. ‘Just about. But I’m afraid I’m going to be rather slow. Perhaps it would be better if …’

  ‘No,’ said Twig resolutely. ‘You’re coming with us. We’ll all take it in turns to help you.’ He turned to the others. ‘Come on, then, you lot. Let’s go.’

  ‘And not before time, either,’ said Screed waspishly.

  As the remaining crew-members shambled forwards, Screed turned and strode off. Twig followed after, with his arm around the professor’s back. ‘Look lively!’ Screed called back. ‘And remember, keep together, walk where I walk and don’t look back.’

  Twig’s heart sank as he looked ahead and saw just how far they had to go. The Mire seemed to stretch on for ever. If he had been on his own, the journey would have been daunting. With the professor leaning heavily against him …

  ‘One step at a time’ the professor wheezed, as if reading his mind. Twig nodded, and looked down at the white mud as it oozed around his feet. The professor was right. They were out of the Twilight Woods, and that was what mattered, for although the Mire was as perilous as it was vast, it too had boundaries. And, thanks to their fortuitous encounter with a guide …

  ‘Cap’n! Cap’n!’ he heard Spiker shrieking with alarm. For an instant Twig forgot that the oakelf was addressing him. He looked round automatically for Cloud Wolf. ‘Cap’n Twig!’ Spiker screamed. ‘You must come quick. It’s Hubble!’

  Twig glanced ahead. The albino banderbear was lying in a heap on the soft ground.

  ‘You go,’ said the professor. ‘I can stand unaided.’

  Twig didn’t need telling twice. He raced through the thick, sucking mud and fell to his knees beside his friend. ‘What is it?’ he said. ‘Hubble, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Wuh … wuh-wuh,’ the banderbear groaned. He clutched at his chest, and turned his massive head away.

  ‘Hubble!’ Twig cried, his eyes filling with tears. ‘Hubble, speak to me. Tell me what to do.’

  ‘Wu-uuh,’ the banderbear moaned softly, and was suddenly racked with a fearful gurgling cough that sent spasms of pain shooting through his body.

  Twig struggled to hold back his tears. The injuries Hubble had sustained during his descent from the Stormchaser were internal and far more serious than Twig had realized. His breath came in short wheezing pants. Twig stroked the creature’s neck, whispering all the time that everything would all be all right, everything would be fine. The banderbear smiled weakly and closed his eyes.

  ‘T-wuh-g. Wuh-wuh. Fr-uh-nz …’

  Suddenly, a trickle of blood dazzling red against the thick white fur welled in the corner of his mouth, over-flowed and ran down his cheek. Hubble coughed again, trembled, spluttered and fell still.

  ‘NO!’ Twig wailed, and threw himself round Hubble’s neck. ‘Not you. Not now. You can’t be dead!’ he howled. ‘You seemed so … so well…’

  ‘It happens to the best of them,’ came a mocking voice from behind him. Twig froze. ‘One minute they’re fine,’ he continued. ‘The next, dead as …’

  ‘Screed!’ Twig roared, as he leaped to his feet and drew his sword. ‘One more word and, so help me, I shall slice you in two.’

  Screed sneered. ‘And condemn your crew to certain death?’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’ He turned away, leaving Twig quivering with impotent rage.

  ‘Come, Twig,’ said the Professor of Light. ‘You can do no more for your friend.’

  ‘I know,’ said Twig. He sniffed. ‘But…’

  ‘Come,’ the professor repeated. ‘Before that scoundrel, Screed, gets too far away’

  •C H A P T E R E I G H T E E N•

  TOE-TAKING

  S creed Toe-taker could hardly believe his luck. When the banderbear had collapsed, it was all he could do not to leap about with delight. Struck down the moment it had left the immortality of the Twilight Woods, the most dangerous member of the group was a danger no longer.

  ‘And the others will be easy pickings,’ he whispered to himself, and wheezed with wicked laughter. ‘The old
fellow will slow them down nicely’ He paused, and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. ‘Still,’ he added, ‘it does seem a shame to let good toes go to waste. Particularly such large and hairy ones.’

  He looked round to see where the rest of the group had got to, and was pleased to discover that despite his advice they were already strung out in a long line. Far away at the back was the oakelf. He was clearly in trouble.

  ‘Not long now, little one,’ Screed whispered menacingly. ‘And not much longer for you either,’ he said, turning his attention to the heavily-clothed figure limping along in the middle of the line. ‘And as for you two,’ he said, as he focused in on the youth and the old person on his arm, ‘you, my twinkly-toed friends, will be the glitter on the icing!’

  He raised his arms and cupped his bony, parchment fingers to his mouth. ‘Hey!’ His cracked voice echoed round the bleached landscape like the cawing of the white ravens. Neither of them paid it any attention.

  ‘Hey, you!’ Screed bellowed. ‘Captain Twig!’

  This time the youth looked up.

  ‘What is it?’ he called back, his voice fluttering on the wind.

  ‘We’re nearly half-way,’ Screed shouted. Then he pointed behind him. ‘You see that jagged bit on the horizon. It’s the mast of a wrecked ship. That’s where we’re headed. When we get there, we can all rest up a bit.’

  ‘We must rest now!’ Twig shouted back.

  Screed smiled to himself. ‘Out of the question, I’m afraid. This whole area is infested with the worst type of oozefish. Eat you alive as soon as look at you.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Well, can you at least go a little slower?’ Twig called.

  ‘Course I can, Captain,’ Screed called back amiably. ‘But I shan’t!’ he added under his breath. He raised his hands to his mouth again. ‘Now, you just keep right on till you get to that shipwreck,’ he said. ‘You’ll be all right so long as you keep going in a straight line. But watch out. There are poisonous blow-holes on both sides, and the sinking-mud is treacherous. So, don’t stray from the path.’

  ‘We won’t,’ he heard Twig calling back.

  ‘Oh, and one last thing,’ Screed shouted. ‘Although it looks flat, the Mire is quite bumpy. Don’t panic if you can’t see me or the ship for a couple of minutes. Just keep going.’

  ‘OK!’ shouted Twig.

  Screed chuckled to himself. What an obliging young fellow this Captain Twig was proving to be. He turned away contentedly and continued across the fetid wasteland. The white sun glinted on the distant shipwreck. Screed knew that although it was nearer than it looked, it was also farther than any of the guileless party of sky pirates would ever get.

  ‘Muglumps, oozefish and white ravens,’ he snorted. ‘They are as nothing compared with me. For I, Screed Toe-taker, am the most dangerous creature in all this great white wilderness as you will discover to your cost, Captain Twig,’ he sneered.

  Screed’s words echoed round and round Twig’s head. Don’t stray from the path. It was what Spelda and Tuntum, the woodtrolls who had brought him up as their own, were always telling him. Yet if he hadn’t strayed from the path then, he would still be living in the Deepwoods to this day. This time, however, Twig knew that the advice was sound, for if the professor slipped or stumbled, it could prove fatal.

  With his head fixed to the branch at his back, the injured professor could not look down, and so it was left to Twig to keep an eye on where they were stepping and that meant looking away from their destination. Each time he glanced up again, he found they had drifted to one side or the other.

  ‘Must I do everything?’ Twig complained irritably. ‘Why don’t you tell me when we’re wandering off course?’

  ‘I can’t,’ said the professor. ‘My eyes are closed.’

  ‘Well open them!’ Twig snapped impatiently.

  ‘I can’t,’ he repeated wearily. ‘With my head fixed at this angle, my eyes are set towards the sun. If I stare at it too long, I’ll go blind.’ He snorted miserably. ‘And what use is a Professor of Light who cannot see? I’d end up begging on the streets of Under town.’

  Twig turned away guiltily. ‘I’m sorry’ he said. ‘I …’

  ‘Oh, my dear boy’ said the professor, ‘you are the last person under Sky who should apologize. You stuck by me in the Twilight Woods; you are sticking by me now. I am, and shall remain, eternally grateful to you.’ He paused. ‘It’s that Screed character I’d like to tear off a strip. He said he’d slow down.’

  Twig nodded, but said nothing. Perhaps the guide had slowed down. He and the professor were making such painfully slow progress that it was difficult to tell.

  The journey was taking on the never-ending quality of a nightmare. Every yard was like a mile, every second seemed to take an hour.

  ‘Sky above!’ the professor moaned. ‘How much further to go? I don’t think I can take much more of this.’

  ‘You’re going to be fine’ Twig assured him as he glanced over his shoulder to check that Spiker and the Stone Pilot were still following them. ‘It can’t be that far now.’ He turned back and looked up ahead and gasped with horror.

  ‘What is it?’ said the professor, his eyes snapping open.

  ‘Screed,’ said Twig, as he unhooked his telescope with one hand and frantically scoured the horizon. ‘He’s not there!’

  The Professor of Light squinted into the distance. ‘He warned us this might happen,’ he said.

  ‘I know, but…’

  ‘Come now,’ said the professor. ‘I am old and in pain. I am allowed to be disheartened. But not you, Twig. You have your whole future in front of you.’

  Twig stared ahead glumly. ‘Mud,’ he muttered, ‘that’s all I can see in front of me. Oh, Professor. If only I hadn’t disobeyed my father, none of this would have happened. But no. I wouldn’t do as I was told. Stubborn and stupid, I had to sneak back on board the Stormchaser. This is all my fault.’

  ‘Twig, my boy’ said the professor gently. ‘What’s done is done. I am not about to apportion blame. The important thing now is how you deal with the consequences of your actions. If you … WAAAAAH!’ he screamed, as at that moment and without any warning, a scalding blow-hole erupted between the two of them.

  ‘Professor!’ Twig cried, as he was torn from his side.

  He stared up in horror at the thick column of seething mud which shot up into the air like the trunk of a great white tree. Higher and higher it rose, loudly roaring, before folding over on itself and tumbling back to earth in a shower of thick, sticky globules.

  ‘Professor!’ Twig cried again. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Over here,’ came a quavering voice from the far side of the column of mud. ‘I’m stuck.’

  ‘Just hold on,’ Twig called back. ‘I’m coming to get you.’

  As the mud spewed forth from the hole, clouds of noxious steam billowed up all round Twig. Coughing and spluttering, eyes streaming, he staggered forwards. The heat shimmered. The mud gushed. Twig raised his arm to his face, but nothing could keep out the breath-snatching stench.

  ‘Can’t… find … you …’ he gasped.

  ‘Here,’ the professor’s frail voice replied. It sounded close. Twig stopped, wiped his eyes and peered through the dense mist. And there, staring back at him, was the professor, not three strides ahead.

  ‘Stop!’ he was shouting. ‘Not a step further.’

  For a moment, Twig could make no sense of what he saw. Clearly, the professor had not landed on his back for, although his head was most definitely at ground level, it was staring ahead, not up at the sky. And then he understood. The Professor of Light had fallen into a patch of quickmud. It was already up to his armpits.

  Twig pulled his scarf from around his neck and tied it over his mouth and nose as a makeshift mask. Then, he removed his sky pirate’s coat, knelt down at the edge of the sinking-mud and, with the collar and shoulders gripped tightly in his hands, tossed the other end towards the professor.

&n
bsp; ‘Grab hold of it,’ he gasped. ‘I’ll pull you out.’

  The professor clung on. Twig braced his legs, leaned backwards and pulled as he had never pulled before.

  ‘Heave! Heave! Heave!’ he grunted desperately.

  Slowly, slowly, the professor began to emerge from the ground. First his chest appeared, then his stomach …

  ‘Oh, my neck,’ the professor whimpered. ‘My poor, poor neck.’

  ‘Nearly there,’ Twig gasped. ‘Just…’

  Squellssh … POP!

  The sucking mud had released its grip on the professor’s legs. He lay on his front, head down.

  ‘Professor,’ said Twig urgently, as he rolled him onto his back and wiped the claggy mud from his face. ‘Professor, can you hear me?’

  The professor’s thin, cracked lips parted. ‘Yes,’ he croaked faintly. ‘I can hear you … You saved my life.’

  ‘Not yet I haven’t,’ said Twig. ‘But I shall. Climb on my back.’

  ‘Oh, Twig,’ the professor protested. ‘I couldn’t… You couldn’t … ’

  ‘We won’t know until we try,’ said Twig. He slipped his coat back on, turned and hunkered down. ‘Put your arms around my neck,’ he instructed. ‘That’s it.’

  Then, with a grunt of effort, he straightened up, grasped the back of the professor’s bony legs with his hands and set off. Away from the quickmud, he trudged. Away from the blow-hole with its poisonous mist and fountain of scalding mud. On and on through the bleached and boggy landscape. The temperature dropped. The air cleared.

  ‘Still no sign of Screed’ the professor muttered at length. ‘I deceitful individual if ever there was one. Takes our money, he does, and then abandons us to our fate. Probably sat in that shipwreck right now, with his feet up.’

  Twig raised his head and stared out across the Mire. The shipwreck was, at last, looking nearer.

  ‘To Open Sky with that scurvy cur’ Twig cursed, and spat on the ground. ‘With or without Screed’s help, Spiker, the Stone Pilot, you and I are going to survive this ordeal. As captain of this crew, I give you my word.’