The Dragon's Gold

by Alex English

  ‘Father’s still father,’ said Horace, with a grimace. ‘But he’s stuck to his word and things are starting to change. The gates are open all the time now, and there’s even an airship route from Lockfort to Port Tourbillon. To be honest, I haven’t had to see too much of him since I’ve been in Port Tourbillon with the professor.’

  After discovering the truth about the world outside Lockfort, Horace had jumped at the chance to leave and take up an apprenticeship with Professor Daggerwing.

  ‘We’re studying the evolution of the Lesser Spotted Stinkbeetle at the moment,’ he said proudly. ‘Would you like to see one?’

  He reached into his satchel and Echo held her nose. ‘Er, no thanks,’ she said.

  Horace continued to fill Echo in on all his latest research as they wandered back through Sleepy Palms, past the starfish market, the hammock shop and Persephone Pepperpot’s Fine Hats for Fine Fellows, where Echo paused for a moment to peer in at the window full of jaunty tricornes.

  Gilbert twitched his snout as the delicious scent of barbecued meat drifted by.

  Horace’s stomach rumbled loudly and Echo giggled. ‘Feeling hungry?’

  ‘Yes, rather,’ said Horace, flushing pink. ‘I was too sick to eat on the flight.’

  ‘Let’s get some lunch before we head back,’ said Echo. ‘Beatrix’s crab dumplings are the best!’

  She led him off down a bouncing wooden walkway in the direction of the smell. Soon they were feasting on crab dumplings, sweet-chilli noodles and a spicy peanut broth at Skitterbrook’s Treetop Café – a cosy collection of sun-soaked bamboo tables, dressed with cheery pink tablecloths, nestled among the palm branches.

  They ate in companionable silence, Echo pausing every now and again to offer a chilli noodle to Gilbert, whose scales flared bright red with every bite.

  ‘This is delicious,’ said Horace, leaning back in his chair and basking in the sunlight. ‘I do love working with the professor, but I must admit it’s nice to just relax sometimes. How long are we staying in Sleepy Palms?’

  ‘Another two days,’ said Echo, through a mouthful of dumpling. ‘Then we’re on to Trombones. There’s rumoured to be a ruined temple in the jungle there—’

  There was a sudden flash of blue and a brilliant turquoise-hued beetle landed on the table before them.

  Horace put down his fork. ‘How fascinating!’ he said, his eyes sparkling. ‘I do believe that’s a Pearlman’s Bl—’

  With a snap, Gilbert sprang forward and devoured the little creature in one gulp.

  ‘Well, it was a Pearlman’s Bluenose,’ said Horace, looking slightly shocked before breaking into a grin. ‘I hope it was delicious.’

  Gilbert bobbed his head as if to say, Exquisite actually.

  Echo grinned back. She loved the sky-pirate life, but she had to admit it was good for the three of them to be together again.

  * * *

  After a dessert of creamy coconut-and-passion-flower ice cream, Echo and Horace meandered back through Sleepy Palms before descending from the treetop walkways to Amberjack Bay, where the Scarlet Margaret was moored.

  Horace gazed up in wonder at the great floating airship swaying gently above the sand. ‘I still can’t believe this is your home!’ he said. ‘Doesn’t it feel weird sleeping up there all the time?’

  ‘Not really.’ Echo shrugged nonchalantly, but secretly her heart swelled with pride. ‘At first, I felt a bit airsick every now and then,’ she admitted. ‘But I guess I’m used to it now I’m a sky pirate.’

  ‘It must be good to finally spend lots of time with your mother,’ said Horace.

  Echo shrugged. In truth, Lil had been so busy lately that Echo had barely seen her, let alone spent time with her. She brushed away the little wave of sadness that rolled over her and put on a smile. ‘It’s been great. Anyway, let’s get your suitcase onboard.’

  She shouted up to Flora, who leaned over the side of the ship and flung down a rope. Echo swiftly tied the end to Horace’s luggage and gave a whistle to let Flora know to drag it up. The pair followed up the rope ladder.

  Echo sprang over the side on to the deck. Horace came tumbling after her, landing face first with a clank.

  ‘Ouch,’ he said, retrieving a jar from his inside pocket. ‘I forgot. Professor Daggerwing sent this for you.’

  ‘How is the professor?’ asked Echo, examining the strange jar. ‘And the cats? And Mrs Milkweed? And what, exactly, is this?’

  ‘Pickled… er… something,’ said Horace, wrinkling his nose. ‘I wouldn’t eat it if I were you.’

  They made their way down to the cabins and Horace unpacked his things.

  ‘Come and see the crow’s nest,’ said Echo, hauling him back up to the deck.

  ‘Are you sure?’ said Horace, craning his neck to gaze up at the mast top. ‘It looks very high.’

  ‘It’s perfectly safe,’ said Echo. ‘Just follow me. And don’t look down.’

  She sprang on to the rigging and pulled herself upwards, hand over hand, on the rough ropes. At first, she’d found it almost impossible to climb all the way to the crow’s nest, but, as the weeks on the Scarlet Margaret had passed, it had become easier and easier. Now it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to be up there, the sea breeze blowing her hair, and breathing in salt brine and crisp, cool air.

  She turned and looked down. Horace was still at the bottom of the rigging. ‘Are you okay?’ she shouted.

  ‘Y… yes.’ Horace took a wobbly step and clung to the ropes for dear life.

  ‘Just take it slowly and keep going – the view’s worth it!’ Echo scrambled up the last few metres of rigging and heaved herself into the crow’s nest. Gilbert sprang from her shoulder on to the wooden edge and peered down at Horace.

  ‘Just a little bit further,’ called Echo, as Horace grimly made his way, hand over hand, up to them. She pulled him in and he sat, panting, with his head between his knees.

  ‘See, it wasn’t so bad, was it?’ Echo grinned.

  Horace got his breath back and stood. ‘Wow, what a view,’ he said.

  ‘There’s the aerodock,’ said Echo, pointing out the tiny landing strip where an airship hovered.

  ‘And is that a volcano?’ Horace waved at a squat mountain in the distance.

  ‘Mount Flameflux,’ Echo said. ‘We passed it on our way here. Almost singed our sails!’

  Horace glanced down at the Scarlet Margaret’s sails, as if to check them for scorch marks, then he pointed down at Amberjack Bay.

  ‘What are all those holes in the sand?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, that’s where we were digging for treasure,’ said Echo.

  ‘Treasure!’ Horace’s eyes widened as he goggled at her. ‘Really and truly?’

  ‘We didn’t actually find anything.’

  ‘But still – treasure hunting! You’re a real sky pirate, Echo!’

  ‘Not really.’ Echo flushed with pleasure and stared at her boots. ‘Come on,’ she said, after a moment. ‘We’d better get back on deck.’

  But, as she climbed down the rigging, she couldn’t help smiling to herself. She might not have a cutlass or a tricorne like Flora, but Horace was right: she was a real sky pirate, or certainly on her way to becoming one soon.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Echo and Horace clambered back down the rigging and jumped on to the deck of the Scarlet Margaret. They dodged Flora, who was busily sloshing soapy water across the wooden boards and mopping them vigorously, and wandered over to the stern of the ship, where Bulkhead could be seen in the captain’s quarters, hunched over a chart with his sextant.

  ‘How does the Scarlet Margaret float?’ mused Horace, as he looked down at the beach below. ‘I’ve always wondered. Professor Daggerwing’s ship had a balloon filled with lifting gas, and an engine, and so did the ship I came in on from Port Tourbillon, but this one just has sails.’

  Echo followed his gaze. Horace had a point. How did the ship float? The wind made them sail along, but what kep
t them up?

  She frowned. ‘I’ve never really thought about it.’

  Gilbert squinted up at the sails himself and curled his tail into a question mark.

  ‘You two look confused,’ said Bulkhead as he emerged from the captain’s quarters. ‘Something got your tethers in a tangle?’

  ‘Horace was just wondering,’ said Echo, not wanting to admit that she didn’t know either, ‘how the ship floats.’

  ‘Simple,’ Bulkhead said. ‘Cloud ballast.’

  ‘Cloud ballast?’ said Echo. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Ain’t you ever wondered what all that rumbling is down below decks?’

  ‘I… I thought it was the engines,’ said Horace.

  Bulkhead shook his head. ‘Nope, we’re all wind-powered.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, me hearties. Follow me and see for yerselves.’

  Echo and Horace looked at each other and shrugged, then ran after Bulkhead, who had grabbed a bunch of keys from the captain’s quarters and swung himself down the hatchway to below decks, his shiny brown head disappearing into the darkness.

  Echo and Horace followed, clambering through the hatchway and along passage after passage. As they descended through the ship, the portholes grew smaller and the corridors darker. Echo passed her cabin and those of the rest of the crew, but they went even further down, past the galley, where Spud and Skillet, the kitchen boys, were stowing pans and sharpening knives, dancing round each other like two grubby white-clad ballerinas. Still deeper they went, to the very lowest level, where the barrels of food and grog were stored, past the locked copper door to the armoury, where weapons were stored and mended, and the infirmary where Beti stored her potions and tinctures.

  In the three months she’d been aboard the Scarlet Margaret, Echo had explored every bit of the ship, or so she’d thought. Bulkhead opened a trapdoor she’d never noticed before and soon they were deeper in the belly of the Scarlet Margaret than she had ever been.

  They were making their way through another gloomy, lamp-lit corridor when Bulkhead suddenly stopped.

  Echo did too, and Horace bumped into her from behind.

  ‘Ow!’ They both yelped as they gave each other an electric shock.

  ‘Wow, I’ve never even been—’

  ‘Shh.’ Bulkhead turned and put a large finger to his lips. ‘Hear that?’

  There was a rumbling in the boards beneath their feet, and Echo’s hair crackled with static. Gilbert’s tail stood on end.

  Horace rubbed his arms nervously. ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’

  ‘What is that noise?’ whispered Echo.

  ‘That,’ said Bulkhead, ‘is the cloud ballast. Stand back.’ He dropped to one knee and drew back the bolt on a final trapdoor in the floor. He cocked his head and tapped his ear as a rumbling sound came from below, rattling the floorboards beneath them. All the hairs stood up on Echo’s arms and excitement fizzed through her.

  Bulkhead pulled on the iron ring and flung open the hatch with a flourish. All three of them peered inside.

  Beneath them, in the deepest recesses of the ship, the hold was filled with huge, writhing grey masses held in glittering nets. The grey things pulled and strained at the nets they were trapped in, as if trying to get free.

  ‘What d’yer think?’ asked Bulkhead, with a grin.

  ‘What are those?’ said Echo, leaning further in.

  ‘Stand back,’ said Bulkhead. ‘You don’t want to get singed.’

  A sudden white zigzag of lightning fizzed across the chamber and lit Echo’s and Horace’s faces as they peered down. The air sizzled with electricity, and Echo breathed in the smell of ozone and burnt toast.

  ‘But… but they’re clouds,’ said Horace, whose blond hair was now standing up on end. ‘Wait, are they thunderclouds?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Bulkhead.

  ‘Thunderclouds?’ That’s what the rumbling was? Echo’s mouth dropped open in astonishment.

  ‘Yep.’ Bulkhead put his hands on his hips and puffed out his chest proudly. ‘Caught by yours truly.’

  Echo could do nothing but stare as the clouds, dark as bruises, boiled and roiled in their nets.

  As she watched, another shard of lightning shot from one end of the chamber to the other.

  ‘It was Lil’s invention,’ said Bulkhead. ‘Clouds float, see, so if you catch ’em, and stash ’em down ’ere, they make the ship float. No need for lifting gas, and the thunderclouds generate electricity too. With a bit more work on the generator, we’ll be able to stop using coal altogether. Then there’ll be no running out of power in the middle of a chase for the Black Sky Wolves.’

  Echo felt her heart swell with pride. Her mother’s invention! Lil was so clever to have thought of it. She glanced across at Horace to check his reaction, but he was frowning and still staring at the clouds.

  ‘But where do you get them from?’ he asked.

  Bulkhead grinned, revealing a gleaming gold tooth. ‘From the sky, of course.’ He peered down into the hull at the clouds again. ‘Tell yer what – some of these are looking a bit thin. Either of you fancy going cloud-catching?’

  * * *

  ‘How do you catch a cloud?’ asked Echo, her head still spinning with a mixture of pride and sheer amazement at the thought that the ship was cloud-powered. An entire hold full of thunder under her feet the whole time, and her own mother’s invention too! She shook herself and followed Horace and Bulkhead as they made their way back up through the airship’s corridors and ladders, holding their noses as they passed the infirmary where Beti was now grinding up some rather pungent green roots with her pestle and mortar, and dodging Flora and her mop, which she was now sloshing vigorously round the corridors.

  ‘And, if you need the clouds to make the ship float, how do you get up in the sky to catch them in the first place?’ added Horace, as they emerged blinking into the sunshine.

  ‘Ah, for that we use Cloudcatcher. She’s stored up here,’ said Bulkhead. He climbed up to the forecastle deck and opened a double-doored cabinet. ‘Here she is.’ With some effort and grunting, he dragged out a spindly metal contraption that looked like a two-seated bicycle with a horizontal propeller above.

  ‘This is what we fly in and these –’ he reached into the cabinet again and drew out a little bag – ‘are the nets we use to catch the thunderclouds.’

  He flung open the bag with a flourish.

  Echo peered inside. It was empty.

  Horace looked inside too. He turned to Echo and shrugged.

  Finally, Gilbert scuttled down Echo’s arm and inspected the bag, rolling his conical eyes around and curling his tail into a question mark.

  Was this a joke? Echo looked at Bulkhead, baffled. ‘There’s nothing in there.’

  ‘No?’ said Bulkhead, with a grin. ‘Look again.’ He tilted the bag and, as the sunlight caught it, Echo saw something glimmer, a filament so fine and ghostlike it almost didn’t exist. She blinked and it was gone again.

  ‘Wait,’ she said. ‘I saw something. I did!’

  Bulkhead grinned again. ‘Try touching it,’ he said.

  Echo reached into the bag with one hand, scared of what she might find. Her fingers slid over a net of threads. It was like an unexpected cobweb brushing your face in the darkness. It was the sort of sensation that made all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  Horace reached in too, then looked up in wonder. ‘What are they?’ he asked.

  ‘Aethernets,’ said Bulkhead. ‘They’re woven by aether spiders from the Caves of Cape Cinnamo. Very rare, they are, but they’re the only nets fine enough to catch a cloud.’

  He lifted out one of the invisible nets, folded it and tucked it into his pocket.

  ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I think we’re ready to go. Cloudcatcher’s made for two, but if yer both squash in we three’ll be fine.’ He clapped his hands together and beamed at them. ‘Who’s ready to go cloud-catching?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Bulkhead squatted in front
of Cloudcatcher and inserted a metal handle in a slot in the nose of the vehicle. He cranked it round once, twice, three times and the little engine spluttered into life. With a whirr, its propeller began to spin.

  ‘Jump in!’ he shouted above the roar.

  Horace swallowed. ‘Er… I think I might go and tidy my cabin. I don’t want to leave my suitcase cluttering up the bunk.’

  ‘Suitcases can wait!’ Echo clambered into the passenger seat, pulling a reluctant Horace in after her. ‘Look, there’s even a seat belt.’ She stretched the safety harness across them both and tucked Gilbert into the breast pocket of her jerkin, just his head peeping out.

  Bulkhead passed the two children some goggles and pulled on his own before strapping himself into the other seat. He grabbed two metal handles in both massive hands.

  ‘Ready?’ he yelled above the whirr of the engines.

  ‘Yes!’ shouted back Echo.

  ‘I suppose so,’ whimpered Horace.

  ‘What?’ boomed Bulkhead.

  ‘Yes!’ Echo and Horace both shouted.

  ‘Chocks away,’ said Bulkhead, pulling back on the handles. Cloudcatcher wobbled up into the air, before soaring past the crow’s nest of the Scarlet Margaret.

  ‘Oi!’ Slingshot, who was greasing the mast with an oily rag, ducked as they narrowly missed him.

  ‘Sorry!’ shouted Bulkhead.

  Echo giggled and craned her neck to see Lil squinting up at them from the forecastle. Echo gave a cheery wave and Lil returned it, the creamy plume of her tricorne hat wafting in the breeze. Further below them, on the sand, she could make out the tiny figures of Spud and Skillet wading in the surf.

  ‘Look!’ She pointed them out to Horace. ‘Maybe they’re finding sea potatoes for supper.’

  Horace took a quick glance down at the ground before grimacing and squeezing his eyes tightly shut. ‘My favourite…’