by Lorna Reid
‘Anyway, I take it you can’t settle down in the crew room? Not feeling hungry enough to steal from the kitchen today?’ She opened her mouth and stalled, panicking about how to answer. He smiled and buttoned his shirt.
‘I used to do the same when I was your age, serving on board the Silver Wraith. Stamp was the young cook at the time. He was huge and terrified everyone, even then. I remember getting caught more than once and having my arse beaten raw – not that it was always me who stole. Most of the time it was Jal.’
Katrina giggled.
‘Glad you find it funny,’ he said dryly, tucking his shirt in and slipping on his jacket. As he strapped his sword to his waist, he noticed her staring. ‘Consider yourself lucky that you don’t yet need to wear one of these.’
She gaped at him. ‘But it’s a sword! That’s lucky.’
‘To wield something that makes you an arbiter of life and death isn’t lucky. It’s a heavy weight that can’t be measured in mere steel.’
She felt stupid and looked down at the floor.
‘Blades are a sign of responsibility and maturity, which is why they are traditionally given for turning thirteen,’ he said. ‘You can’t legally have anything but a short sword until you turn seventeen.’ He paused a moment, as if considering something, and then rummaged in the chest of drawers, retrieving a sheathed dagger.
The black leather was inlaid with a burnished swirling design and the hilt was wrapped in small, tightly bound leather strips. Katrina held her breath as he turned it over in his hands.
‘Take this. It was your father’s.’
She hesitated. If she accepted it, did that mean she condoned what he had done? No, she decided, trying not to let the overwhelming lure sway her. And then it was in her hands. It was surprisingly light. She eased it from the sheath and sucked in a taut breath behind a grin as the wicked blade seemed to slice the light.
‘Take care with it, or I’ll never hear the end of it,’ said the Captain.
Katrina nodded, too happy to worry about anything else.
‘Come on, since your other shiny gift is the reason we’re skipping a stop to get you out of here, we’ll grab the charts and I’ll show you where the other towns are before I head up on deck.’
She perched happily in a chair, with her new blade lying next to her, and drank in everything while the ship heaved on the roughening water.
*
Danny and Poppy wandered along the port side of the ship, sharing a bowl of mashed potatoes covered with red sauce that Danny had stolen when Stamp’s back was turned. ‘Do you think we’ll get there in time?’ said Poppy, spooning up a lump of potato.
Danny shrugged. ‘We’re on the best ship. Anyway, maybe Air got through to his father and he’s sent reinforcements.’
‘Well, we’ve come so far and seen so much, it’s been worth it, even if the others get to Isa first.’ Poppy sucked the last potato fragments from her spoon and Danny nodded in agreement, taking a swipe of the mash.
Some of the crew were practising with swords at the front of the ship, blades glittering in the dull light, and Danny and Poppy stopped to watch them, finishing the potato in silence until Poppy shivered.
‘Is it me or is it getting colder?’ she said, pulling her hands inside the sleeves of her borrowed jacket. Danny realised he could see his breath in the air. The crew on deck had also noticed, and the banter and weapon training stopped abruptly. One of them took off at a run along the starboard deck, while everyone strapped on weapons from the small lockers tucked along the ship’s rails.
‘What’s going on?’ began Poppy.
‘Bayard, get all the mages up here. Wake, get everyone on deck now. Arm up!’ the Captain shouted over the rail above them. He hadn’t seen Danny and Poppy, and they pulled back into the shadow of a large crate that was lashed into a makeshift storage pen on the quarterdeck, directly below the helm.
‘Maybe we should get below?’ suggested Poppy, watching everyone race away at full pelt. ‘This doesn’t look good.’
‘You can if you want, but I want to see what’s happening,’ said Danny, stuffing the bowl behind a net. Poppy huddled up, huffing mist into the air as the temperature dropped further.
Crew members banged through the door from below deck and ran to the rear of the ship. Two others had whipped a tarpaulin off what looked like a small, ornate cannon and were loading glowing balls into the muzzle.
‘I really don’t think we should be out here,’ she whispered.
Danny wasn’t sure what he had expected – something, at least – but there was nothing. He craned his neck out, trying to see.
‘Neath’s heart,’ shouted Patches, spotting them. ‘Get below deck, now.’ He was carrying a large sword and had a strange half-glove strapped to his hand. Its worn leather was shot through with seams of silver and it covered most of the man’s fingers and palm, the back open to the elements.
Danny had seen the crew carrying them before and assumed they were some sort of weapon or armour. ‘What’s that thing?’ He had to know.
‘A Manika: magical weapon for us non-mage types. Invaluable down here,’ Patches said, glancing around. ‘Now get below.’
The crew had fanned out over the deck, keeping a measured distance from the sides, Danny noted.
Poppy turned to go, but Danny grabbed her arm. Oozing out of the darkness on a spreading cushion of mist came a black ship, glistening malevolently like a spider’s abdomen. Claws raked across his mind and he slammed his hands to his ears as a chilling scream ripped inside his head.
It was a nightmare vision: white mist rolled off her evil black decks, full of tortured, howling shapes and half-faces that swirled in the soup as claws scraped down the inside of his head.
‘The Interfectrix. Get back!’ shouted Patches, shoving him and Poppy into a crevice between two crates and dragging a net over them. A volley of flame leapt from the gloved hands of the crew on deck, and the shriek intensified in Danny’s head until he thought his ears would bleed.
From somewhere above them a fierce glow was building and fizzing while streaks of flame and light crashed into the black ship. The crew fired volley after volley, and the cannon began to send howling shots across the dark water.
Patches shouted orders while the white mist twisted and curled like a nest of rearing snakes, snarling and lunging at the defensive black flames, which were now surging higher around the sides of the Riana, protecting her.
Poppy watched in terror, her blue eyes reflecting every wave of fire and magic that the crew sent at the ship. She clutched Danny’s arm in a steel pinch. A shout issued from above them, and a wall of flaming rainbow energy swept out, engulfing the Interfectrix in an ear-splitting explosion.
‘Get us the fuck out of here, Tab!’ shouted the Captain. Danny looked up and saw him at the railing with Mineska and a row of others, sending waves of magic lashing through the darkness at the ship, which was beginning to fall behind.
The dirty, raw feeling of the claws in his head had gone, and the screams and harsh, cutting whispers had also vanished, leaving him feeling shaky. The crew on deck continued to lash out with their Manikas, supporting the mages with raw energy.
The explosions and flames continued to drive back the spirals of snarling mist that twisted and groped through the darkness from the black decks as the Riana opened up the distance between them.
‘Captain, we’re heading into a storm!’ shouted Tab.
‘We’ve no fucking choice. It’s that or the Interfectrix. Give me the helm. Jal, set full watches on all decks, re-arm everyone, and charge the flame shot as a precaution. They’ve never been sighted in a storm, but I won’t take the risk,’ he shouted down, leaning out. ‘And get those fucking kids below deck now!’ he yelled louder, spotting Danny and Poppy hiding below.
Patches and Ivy bundled them into the crew room just as Katrina and Russell hurried in. ‘We were watching from “Kneazel’s storeroom”,’ Katrina said.
‘What was that thing?’ said
Russell. ‘It was like … claws in my head.’
‘The Interfectrix. We’ve no choice but to head into the storm around Clementine’s Cleft. Hopefully we’ve done enough to keep her at bay,’ said Patches.
‘If we don’t get wrecked and end up as sitting ducks on the rocks,’ said Ivy, changing his Manika for a spare from the chest by the door and tossing his old one into a basket that was already half-full of other weapons.
‘Are they broken?’ said Katrina, pointing to the basket.
‘No, just drained,’ said Ivy, strapping the weapon on and securing the buckle around his wrist.
‘Stay here, all of you. It’s not safe out on deck, and this storm’s looking nasty.’ The door slammed and they could hear them running back down the corridor.
The ship was already rolling heavily by the time Danny and (mainly) Poppy described being out on the deck. Russell perched in his favourite chair, twisting the hem of his top around his fists while they described the ship.
‘We saw some of it, but it sounded worse from where you were,’ said Katrina.
‘It seemed like the ship was alive or something. I’ve never seen anything like that – those things, the mist.’ Poppy huddled up and used her coat for a blanket.
Danny saw Russell staring at his shaking hands and quickly shoved them into his pockets. He was no stranger to horror, but being confronted with something that wasn’t on a screen with end titles was sobering, and he couldn’t stop trembling. Now, all any of them could do was put their trust in the ship and crew, and wait.
‘Well, I’d rather face a storm than that … whatever that thing is.’
No one argued with Russell.
*
Danny and Poppy left Russell and Katrina chatting about mirror magic and snuck out of the crew room. The Riana pitched and lurched, and the occasional shout could be heard from outside over the growing howl of wind.
They were heading for the kitchen to try and sneak some food out; Danny had reasoned that the storm would make a good diversion, and Poppy agreed.
A particularly violent drop sent her crashing into Danny. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ said Danny. ‘I hope he’s not in there. I’m starving.’
‘How can you want food, anyway, after seeing that thing?’ She shuddered.
He shrugged. ‘You didn’t complain about those cakes I got earlier.’ He smirked at the face she pulled and they stopped around the corner from the kitchen. The corridor was disappointingly devoid of any cooking smells, but Stamp was shouting at someone, so they hovered nearby and listened.
From what they could hear, someone had stolen from the kitchen again, and the culprit was to be on the receiving end of many nasty things. Poppy felt the balled-up cake cases in her pocket dig into her leg and gave Danny a nervous look, but he just shrugged and pulled a face.
It seemed like they were going to be there a while, and Danny began to fidget, eventually wandering to the steps leading to the main door out on deck and tiptoeing to peer out of the porthole.
Poppy watched him pressing his nose to the thick glass and thought again how like his father he looked, especially since that glimpse of the past.
‘What’s it like out?’ she whisper-called to him.
‘Foamy, wild.’
‘I hope this ship is as good as they boast, or we’ll be a fixture on the seabed.’ Poppy finished wedging her incriminating cake cases into a gap in the wooden skirting and joined him, fighting for a place at the porthole.
They watched the occasional crew member battle past, bent against the wind, and caught the occasional order over the wrath of the storm.
‘Well, at least we’re likely to lose that ship,’ Poppy said, rubbing her arms at the mere memory.
Danny stepped back from the door. ‘Yeah.’
They wandered back down to perch at the bottom of the stairs and stretched out their legs. Danny scuffed his boots over the worn boards and played with a loose thread from his jumper. He seemed to want to talk about something, so she let him work up to it.
‘I keep thinking that I want to find Mum down here, but then I’m terrified of her actually being down here, you know? What if that ships gets her? Does she have to live through these storms? What if she gets hurt?’
Poppy nodded. ‘What do you miss most about her?’ she said, after a moment’s silence.
‘Everything,’ Danny said. ‘Her smile, her laugh, the way she used to tease Dad, and how she’d help me cheat at cards to beat Thom and Dad. I miss her singing to me, how she used to always drink out of the same mug that I got her when I was four.’ Danny’s voice became strangled and he stopped talking and turned away.
Poppy touched his arm and felt how badly he was trembling. ‘You’re lucky you can maybe get her back, you know. There’s a chance. At Darrant Ridge, or from any info they can get from Dreyling Tor. It may have taken years, but you’re going to find her.’
Poppy rubbed her feet together, letting her trainers make a squeaking sound, and tried not to let her own bitterness poison her sympathy. Danny seemed to sense something was wrong and shuffled on the step.
‘Do you know anything much about your dad yet?’ he asked, clearly fighting the emotion that threatened to consume his voice.
‘Some stuff. Mum told me how they met and how cheeky and handsome and talented he was.’ Poppy stopped and it was her turn to look away, trying to hide that she was wiping her eyes.
‘It’s stupid. How can I miss someone I’ve never met? Why does it hurt so much?’ she whispered. It was killing her. ‘I just feel so cheated. Like he was stolen from me.’
‘It’s not stupid,’ said Danny. ‘He was stolen from you. I’d feel the same. I’m so sorry about your dad. I hear Thom and Dad talking sometimes; they miss him. They were really close.’
‘I just wish I knew him, wish I could have met him. I love Mum so much, but I want to make my dad proud of me, too, and I can’t.’
Poppy huddled her arms around her knees and tried to hide her tears. She felt Danny shuffle closer and there was a tentative touch on her shoulder.
‘Uhm. Look …’ he puffed, half to himself, and the hand on her shoulder tensed even more. ‘Sorry, I’m crap at stuff like this. I just … I’m sure he’s looking out for you, somewhere. He’d be proud of you for you doing all this stuff – trying to save someone, having adventures. Him and Dad and Jen and Thom always used to get into shit, from what I heard.’
Poppy sniffed and half laughed as she wiped her face on her sleeve. ‘I want to be a great mage, like he was.’ Danny draped a rigid arm around her shoulder, looking terrified that he might be doing the wrong thing, but she looped her arm round his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. It felt nice, and his flash of a smile made her feel strangely more at ease. ‘I’ll be as good as him one day.’
Danny relaxed his arm a little. ‘Your mum and you have your pact, remember, so she can tell you everything now. Same with me; I can find out where Mum really came from and what Dad used to do when he was my age and where he went.’
‘Falling off roofs to sneak out with my dad and Thom,’ Poppy said, and laughed, wiping her eyes again.
‘Yeah,’ said Danny. ‘Now we get to hear all the good stuff.’
She didn’t know how long they sat on the stairs while they talked about what they’d do if they became mages, and speculated about what trouble their parents had got into at their age, but it was an unusually pleasant evening in the eye of the surrounding chaos.
Chapter 22
◊
THERE HAD BEEN NO celebration when the storm was behind them, and the Interfectrix but a distant nightmare, just a muted ripple of relief that was felt throughout the ship and a grim determination to press on, harder, for Varron.
Over the passing days, as the ship carried them closer to Varron, Danny’s stomach knotted as his dreams intensified. Blood, fighting, and an unending darkness where his mother ran, searching for something. Occasionally, inst
ead of the darkness was a dusty red land, harsh and twisted.
Warm rain spattered around him as he ran through a forest of thick, gnarled black trees – ran from whatever pounded after him. Every night he would wake up with a thudding heart, sweating in spite of the cool temperatures on board and wondering what it meant.
Everyone was suffering the same, and the Oracle’s visions were plaguing them all, none more so than Russell, who paced or fidgeted endlessly when he wasn’t curled up in the crew room.
Danny slumped down beside him on the sofa after an especially silent breakfast and nudged his arm. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey,’ he replied, head in hand, flicking his eyes to Danny for a moment and returning to watching the Captain and Mineska teach Katrina and Poppy how to disarm someone holding a knife.
‘Trouble sleeping again?’ Danny said, knowing full well.
‘As much as you,’ Russell said. He’d half expected that.
‘I thought this stuff would get better, not worse,’ muttered Danny, picking at the piece of toast he’d brought with him to the crew room.
‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ said Russell. ‘I just can’t escape it, any of it. The more I see it play out, the worse it all feels.’
‘We’re not far off Varron now, Patches was saying,’ Danny said. ‘Then what?’
‘You’re asking me?’ Russell lifted his head from his hand and stared at him. ‘This was all your idea.’
Danny frowned. ‘Kind of, but not really.’ He wasn’t sure he even believed himself.
‘Initially it was,’ said Russell. ‘And I don’t know. I … don’t know. Mineska says that they’ll get us to Darrant Ridge, but from there I have no idea.’ He shook his head. ‘Somehow I don’t think they’ll let us just walk right in there if it houses one of those Crowmount fragments. But we have to try. I won’t let Isa die. And we’ll get your mother out,’ he added.
Russell seemed to be processing something, trying to speak several times and then stopping. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ Danny said, nibbling the seeds off his toast crust.
‘About your mum. I mean, for however she got to where she is. That it happened, you know.’
