by Angie Sage
“Stop daydreaming and get in the boat, will you?” the Hunter snapped at him. “Get in the back, out of the way.”
The Apprentice did as he was told. He didn’t want to admit it, but the Hunter scared him. He stepped carefully into the stern of the boat and squeezed himself into the tiny space in front of the feet of the oarsmen.
The Hunter looked approvingly at the bullet boat. Long, narrow, sleek and as black as the night, it was coated with a polished lacquer that allowed it to slip through the water with the ease of a skater’s blade on ice. Powered by ten highly trained oarsmen, it could outrun anything on the water.
On the prow it carried a powerful searchlight and a sturdy tripod on which a pistol could be mounted. The Hunter stepped carefully into the prow and sat on the narrow plank behind the tripod, where he set about quickly and expertly mounting the Assassin’s silver pistol onto it. He then took a silver bullet from his pouch, looked at it closely to make sure it was the one he wanted and laid it down in a small tray beside the pistol in readiness. Finally the Hunter took five standard bullets from the boat’s bullet box and lined them up beside the silver bullet. He was ready.
“Go!” he said.
The bullet boat pulled smoothly and silently out from the quay, found the fast current in the middle of the river and disappeared into the night.
But not before the Hunter had glanced behind him and seen the sight he had been waiting for.
A sheet of flame was snaking up into the night.
Sally Mullin’s cafe was ablaze.
12
MURIEL
A few miles downriver the sailboat Muriel was running with the wind, and Nicko was in his element. He stood at the helm of the small crowded boat and guided her skillfully along the channel that wound down the middle of the river, where the water flowed swift and deep. The spring tide was ebbing fast and taking them with it, while the wind had risen enough to make the water choppy and send Muriel bouncing through the waves.
The full moon rode high in the sky and cast a bright silver light over the river, lighting their way. The river widened as it traveled ever onward toward the sea, and as the occupants of the boat gazed out they noticed that the low-lying riverbanks with their overhanging trees and occasional lonely cottage appeared increasingly distant. A silence descended as the passengers began to feel uncomfortably small in such a large expanse of water. And Marcia began to feel horribly sick.
Jenna was sitting on the wooden deck, resting against the hull and holding on to a rope for Nicko. The rope was attached to the small triangular sail at the prow that tugged and pulled with the wind, and Jenna was kept busy trying to keep hold of it. Her fingers felt stiff and numb, but she did not dare let go. Nicko got very bossy when he was in charge of a boat, Jenna thought.
The wind felt cold, and even with the thick sweater, big sheepskin jacket and itchy woolen hat that Silas had found for her in Sally’s clothes cupboard, Jenna shivered in the chill from the water.
Curled up beside Jenna lay Boy 412. Once Jenna had pulled him into the boat, Boy 412 had decided that there was nothing he could do anymore and had given up his struggle against the Wizards and the weird kids. And when Muriel had rounded Raven’s Rock and he could no longer see the Castle, Boy 412 had simply curled up into a ball beside Jenna and fallen fast asleep. Now that Muriel had reached rougher waters, his head was thumping against the mast with the movement of the boat, and Jenna gently shifted Boy 412 and placed his head on her lap. She looked down at his thin, pinched face almost hidden beneath his red felt hat and thought that Boy 412 looked a lot happier in his sleep than he did when he was awake. Then her thoughts turned to Sally.
Jenna loved Sally. She loved the way Sally never stopped talking and the way she made things happen. When Sally breezed in to see the Heaps, she brought with her all the excitement of life in the Castle, and Jenna loved it.
“I hope Sally is all right,” said Jenna quietly as she listened to the steady creaking and gentle purposeful swish of the little boat speeding through the shining black water.
“So do I, poppet,” said Silas, deep in thought.
Since the Castle had disappeared from view, Silas too now had time to think. And, after he had thought about Sarah and the boys and hoped they had reached Galen’s tree house in the Forest safely, his thoughts had also turned to Sally, and they made for uncomfortable thinking.
“She’ll be fine,” said Marcia weakly. She felt sick, and she didn’t like it.
“That’s just so typical of you, Marcia,” snapped Silas. “Now that you’re ExtraOrdinary Wizard you just take what you want from someone and don’t give them another thought. You just don’t live in the real world anymore, do you? Unlike us Ordinary Wizards. We know what it’s like to be in danger.”
“Muriel’s going well,” said Nicko brightly, trying to change the subject. He didn’t like it when Silas got upset about Ordinary Wizards. Nicko thought being an Ordinary Wizard was pretty good. He wouldn’t fancy it himself—too many books to read and not enough time to go sailing—but he reckoned it was a respectable job. And who would want to be ExtraOrdinary Wizard anyway? Stuck in that weird Tower for most of the time and never able to go anywhere without people gawking at you. There was no way he would ever want to do that.
Marcia sighed. “I imagine the platinum KeepSafe I gave her from my belt will be of some help,” she said slowly, gazing studiedly at the distant riverbank.
“You gave Sally one of your belt Charms?” asked Silas, amazed. “Your KeepSafe? Wasn’t that a bit risky? You might need it.”
“The KeepSafe is there to be used when the Need is Great. Sally is going to join Sarah and Galen. It may be of some use to them too. Now be quiet. I think I’m going to be sick.”
An uneasy silence fell.
“Muriel’s doing nicely, Nicko. You’re a good sailor,” said Silas some time later.
“Thanks, Dad,” said Nicko, smiling broadly, as he always did when a boat was sailing well. Nicko was guiding Muriel expertly through the water, balancing the pull of the tiller against the force of the wind in the sails and sending the little boat singing through the waves.
“Is that the Marram Marshes, Dad?” asked Nicko after a while, pointing to the distant riverbank on his left. He had noticed that the landscape around them was changing. Muriel was now sailing down the middle of what was a wide expanse of water, and in the distance Nicko could see a vast stretch of flat low-lying land, dusted with snow and shimmering in the moonlight.
Silas stared out across the water.
“Perhaps you should sail that way a bit, Nicko,” suggested Silas, waving his arm in the general direction where Nicko was pointing. “Then we can keep an eye open for the Deppen Ditch. That’s the one we need.”
Silas hoped he could remember the entrance to the Deppen Ditch, which was the channel that led to Keeper’s Cottage, where Aunt Zelda lived. It had been a long time since he had been to see Aunt Zelda, and the marshland all looked much the same to Silas.
Nicko had just changed course and was heading in the direction of Silas’s waving arm when a brilliant beam of light cut through the darkness behind them.
It was the bullet boat’s searchlight.
13
THE CHASE
Everyone—except Boy 412, who was still asleep—stared into the darkness. As they did so the searchlight swept across the distant horizon again, lighting up the broad expanse of the river and the low-lying banks on either side. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind what it was.
“It’s the Hunter, isn’t it, Dad?” whispered Jenna.
Silas knew Jenna was right, but he said, “Well, it could be anything, poppet. Just a boat out fishing…or something,” he added lamely.
“Of course it’s the Hunter. In a fast-pursuit bullet boat, if I’m not mistaken,” snapped Marcia, who had suddenly stopped feeling sick.
Marcia didn’t realize it, but she no longer felt sick because Muriel had stopped bouncing through the water. In fa
ct, Muriel had stopped doing anything at all, except slowly drifting nowhere in particular.
Marcia looked accusingly at Nicko. “Get a move on, Nicko. What have you slowed down for?”
“There’s nothing I can do. The wind’s dropped,” muttered Nicko, worried. He had just turned Muriel toward the Marram Marshes only to find that the wind had died. Muriel had lost all speed, and her sails were hanging limply.
“Well, we can’t just sit here,” said Marcia, anxiously watching the searchlight coming rapidly closer. “That bullet boat’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
“Can’t you rustle up some wind for us?” Silas asked Marcia, agitated. “I thought you did Element Control on the Advanced Course. Or make us invisible. Come on, Marcia. Do something.”
“I can’t just ‘rustle up some wind,’ as you put it. There’s nowhere near enough time. And you know Invisibility is a personal spell. I can’t do it for anyone else.”
The searchlight swept across the water again. Bigger, brighter, nearer. And coming toward them fast.
“We’ll have to use the paddles,” said Nicko, who, as skipper, had decided to take charge. “We can paddle over to the marsh and hide there. Come on. Quick.”
Marcia, Silas and Jenna grabbed a paddle each. Boy 412 woke up with a start as Jenna thumped his head down on the deck in her rush to pick up a paddle. He looked around him unhappily. Why was he still in the boat with all the Wizards? What did they want him for?
Jenna thrust the remaining paddle into his hand.
“Paddle!” she told him. “As fast as you can!” Jenna’s tone of voice reminded Boy 412 of his drill teacher. He put his paddle into the water and paddled as fast as he could.
Slowly, far too slowly, Muriel crept toward the safety of the Marram Marshes while the bullet boat’s searchlight swung backward and forward across the water, mercilessly seeking out its prey.
Jenna stole a look behind her and, to her horror, saw the black shape of the bullet boat. It was like a long repulsive beetle, its five pairs of thin black legs silently slicing through the water to and fro, to and fro, as the highly trained oarsmen pushed themselves and the boat to the limits, gaining fast on Muriel’s frantically paddling occupants.
Sitting in the prow was the unmistakable shape of the Hunter, tense and ready to pounce. Jenna caught the Hunter’s cold, calculating stare and suddenly she felt brave enough to talk to Marcia.
“Marcia,” said Jenna, “we’re not going to reach the marshes in time. You must do something. Now.”
Although Marcia looked surprised at being spoken to so directly, she approved. Spoken like a true Princess, she thought.
“Very well,” agreed Marcia. “I could try a Fog. I can do that in fifty-three seconds. If it’s cold and damp enough.”
Muriel’s crew was sure that there were no problems with the cold and damp bit. They just hoped they had fifty-three seconds left.
“Everyone stop paddling,” instructed Marcia. “Keep still. And quiet. Very quiet.” Muriel’s crew did as they were told, and in the silence that fell, they heard a new sound in the distance. The rhythmic splash of the bullet boat’s oars.
Marcia gingerly stood up, wishing that the floor wouldn’t move around so much. Then she leaned against the mast to steady herself, took a deep breath and threw her arms wide, her cloak flying out like a pair of purple wings.
“Murken Wake!” the ExtraOrdinary Wizard whispered as loud as she dared. “Murken Wake and Refuge Make!”
It was a beautiful spell. Jenna watched as thick white clouds gathered themselves together in the bright moonlit sky, quickly obscuring the moon and bringing down a deep chill into the night air. In the darkness all became deathly still as the first delicate tendrils of mist started rising from the black water as far as the eye could see. Faster and faster the tendrils grew, gathering together and growing into thick swathes of Fog, as the mist from the marshes rolled over the water to join them. In the very center, in the eye of the Fog, sat Muriel, becalmed and patiently waiting as the mist tumbled, swirled and thickened around her.
Soon Muriel was blanketed by a deep white thickness that struck a damp chill into Jenna’s bones. Next to her she felt Boy 412 start shivering badly. He was still chilled from his time under the snow.
“Fifty-three seconds precisely,” Marcia’s voice muttered from out of the Fog. “Not bad.”
“Shhhh,” shushed Silas.
Thick white silence fell in the little boat. Slowly Jenna lifted her hand and placed it in front of her wide-open eyes. She could see nothing but whiteness. But she could hear everything.
She could hear the synchronized splash of ten knife-sharp oars being dipped into the water and out again, in and out, in and out. She could hear the swishing whisper of the bullet boat’s prow slicing through the river, and now—now the bullet boat was so close that she could even hear the labored breathing of the oarsmen.
“Stop!” the Hunter’s voice boomed through the Fog. The splash of the oars ceased and the bullet boat drifted to a halt. Inside the Fog Muriel’s occupants held their breath, convinced that the bullet boat was very close indeed. Maybe close enough for them to reach out and touch. Or close enough even for the Hunter to leap onto Muriel’s crowded deck….
Jenna felt her heart beating fast and loud, but she made herself breathe slowly, silently, and stay completely still. She knew that although they could not be seen, they could still be heard. Nicko and Marcia were doing the same. Silas was too, with the added interest of having one hand clasped around Maxie’s long, damp muzzle to stop him from howling and the other hand slowly and calmly stroking the agitated wolfhound, who had become quite spooked by the Fog.
Jenna could feel Boy 412’s constant shivering. She slowly reached out her arm and pulled him close to her to try and warm him up. Boy 412 seemed tense. Jenna could tell he was listening hard to the Hunter’s voice.
“We have them!” the Hunter was saying. “This is a Hexed Fog if ever I saw one. And what do you always find in the middle of a Hexed Fog? One hexing Wizard. And her accomplices.” His low, self-satisfied chuckle drifted through the Fog and made Jenna shiver.
“Give…yourselves…up.” The Hunter’s disembodied voice enveloped Muriel. “The Qu—the Princess has nothing to fear from us. Neither do the rest of you. We are only concerned for your own safety and wish to escort you back to the Castle before you have an unfortunate accident.”
Jenna hated the Hunter’s oily voice. She hated the way they could not escape it, the way they had to just sit there and listen to his silky smooth lies. She wanted to shout at him. To tell him that she was in charge here. That she would not listen to his threats. That soon he would be sorry. And then she felt Boy 412 take a deep breath, and she knew exactly what he was going to do.
Yell.
Jenna clapped her hand tightly around Boy 412’s mouth. He struggled with her and tried to push her away, but she grabbed his arms with her other hand and held them tightly against his sides. Jenna was strong for her size and very quick. Boy 412 was no match for her, thin and weak as he was.
Boy 412 was furious. His last chance to redeem himself had been thwarted. He could have returned to the Young Army as a hero, having bravely foiled the Wizards’ attempt to escape. Instead he had the Princess’s grubby little hand shoved over his mouth, which was making him feel sick. And she was stronger than him. That wasn’t right. He was a boy and she was just a stupid girl. In his anger Boy 412 kicked out and hit the deck with a loud thump. At once Nicko was on him, pinning his legs down and holding him so tightly that he was completely unable to move or make another sound.
But the damage was done. The Hunter was loading his pistol with a silver bullet. Boy 412’s angry kick had been all the Hunter needed to pinpoint exactly where they were. He smiled to himself as he turned the pistol on its tripod to face into the Fog. He was indeed pointing it straight at Jenna.
Marcia heard the metallic clicks of the silver bullet being loaded, a sound she had heard o
nce before and never forgotten. She thought fast. She could do a Begird and Preserve, but she understood the Hunter well enough to know that he would merely watch and wait until the spell faded. The only solution, thought Marcia, was a Projection. She just hoped she had enough energy to maintain it.
Marcia closed her eyes and Projected. She Projected an image of Muriel and all its occupants sailing out of the Fog at full speed. Like all Projections it was a mirror image, but she hoped that in the darkness, and with already sailing away fast, the Hunter would not notice.
“Sir!” came the shout of an oarsman. “They’re trying to outrun us, sir!”
The sounds of the pistol being primed ceased. The Hunter swore.
“Follow them, you idiots!” he screamed at the oarsmen.
Slowly the bullet boat pulled away from the Fog.
“Faster!” yelled the Hunter angrily, unable to bear the sight of his prey escaping him for the third time that night.
Inside the Fog, Jenna and Nicko grinned. Score: one up for them.
14
DEPPEN DITCH
Marcia was snappy. Very snappy.
Keeping two spells on the go was a tough one. Especially since one of them, being a Projection, was a Reverse form of Magyk and, unlike most spells that Marcia used, still had links to the Darke side—the Other side, as Marcia preferred to call it. It took a brave and skillful Wizard to use Reverse Magyk without inviting the Other in. Alther had taught Marcia well, for many of the spells he had learned from DomDaniel did indeed bring in Darke Magyk, and Alther had become adept at blocking it out. Marcia was only too well aware that all the time she was using the Projection, the Other hovered about them, awaiting its chance to break into the spell.
