The Moon Stealers Box Set. Books 1-4 (Fantasy Dystopian Books for Teenagers)

by Tim Flanagan

  ‘Quick,’ said Steven, ‘grab the rope.’

  The rope was knotted onto a metal loop at the front of the boat. Steven and Georgia both grabbed it and pulled back, using their weight to prevent the boat from slipping into the sea.

  Now that it was secure they could see that it was a simple carcass of a boat with nothing left in it except for two thin beams of wood that were intended for the occupants to sit on. Everything else that might have been inside had been washed away leaving nothing more than the wooden shell and a twisted metal bracket at the back where a motor would have once been attached.

  ‘Look,’ said Georgia, pointing further down the beach towards a pile of driftwood that was tangled amongst black seaweed. Poking out was a long and perfectly round pole with a flat end.

  ‘An oar,’ replied Steven. ‘Help me pull the boat up the beach.’

  Once the boat was out of reach of the sea, they both began scouring the shingle, looking for a second oar that might have been washed up with the tide. Eventually they found one. They weren’t a matching pair, but that didn’t matter.

  They left the oars inside the boat and went back to Hurst to find Tracker.

  ‘It appears to be undamaged,’ said Georgia when they explained about their find.

  ‘If we wait for the tide to go out, the current might help make it easier to row across to the island,’ replied Tracker.

  ‘What if we end up getting blown away from the Isle of Wight?’ asked Georgia.

  ‘Then we could be in danger. If we end up drifting towards the south of the island we might get washed up on the rocks.’

  They collected their clothing that had dried in the sun, packed their bags and made their way towards the shingle bank where Steven and Georgia had left the boat.

  Tracker watched the sea for a few minutes. ‘Looks like the tide is slowly coming in,’ he said. ‘We should wait for a while.’

  With time to kill, they turned to the tall white lighthouse and its adjoining outbuilding. The door to the outbuilding was unlocked. Although they hadn’t seen any sign of survivors around Hurst, they still entered with caution and their weapons ready. Along one of the walls were rows of tools hanging from nails in chipboard mounts. Various pieces of machinery had been abandoned, as had the waterproof fisherman’s overalls hanging from coat hooks behind the door. They each stepped into a pair of large trousers that came up over their waists and were fastened by braces over the shoulders. The waterproof jackets gathered at the centre, providing them with a water tight fit. There were other basic supplies inside the outbuilding which they packed into a box and took back out to the boat. They placed their holdalls into black bin liners to try and keep them dry during the crossing and positioned everything at the back of the boat.

  All they could do was to sit down on the shingle and watch the sea; waiting for the tide to reach it’s highest before they could attempt their journey.

  By late morning the time was right.

  Together they pushed the boat into the water. Tracker held onto the front to keep it steady whilst Georgia and Steven stepped inside, before following. He then took one of the oars and pushed against the shingle so the boat floated gently out into the Solent.

  The small boat was now at the mercy of the sea.

  The water on the eastern side of Hurst was calm, protected by the shingle spit from the current of the open water.

  Steven and Tracker sat beside each other and clipped the oars into half round metal hoops on the rim of the boat. Working together they both pulled the oars towards the back of the boat, causing it to move forward slightly. After a few strokes they managed to synchronise themselves and get into a rhythm. As they rounded the shingle beach they suddenly felt the boat pull along the stretch of water alongside Hurst as the shallow water created currents that sucked them in different directions. They managed to angle the boat to face away from Hurst then row as hard as they could, fighting against the current. For each stroke south the boat drifted west by another two. Before long the boat had moved westward away from Hurst, but also away from the Isle of Wight.

  As the currents changed and the boat reached deeper waters, they managed to gain more control and turn in a more southerly direction. Away from the shallower waters where the water was being channelled through the narrower gap between Hurst and the Isle of Wight, the waves in the open water grew higher. Georgia sat at the back of the boat, her useless arm made her feel guilty that she couldn’t help. Steven and Tracker continued to pull heavily on their oars, pushing the water beneath the boat to propel them towards the Isle of Wight. Steven began to feel the burn in his arms, but he knew they couldn’t stop until they reached the other side of the Solent. With every stroke he could feel the skin on the palms of his hands rubbing and blistering against the wooden pole. Thankfully, the nearer they got to the Isle of Wight, they found fewer currents pulling them off course. The projection of land on the north side of the island provided some protection from the current that swept through the Solent.

  They turned the boat in an easterly direction, putting them back on course.

  As they both began to tire, the rowing became harder. Each stroke felt like it was going to be the last they could manage. The oars felt heavier and heavier every time they pulled back. Ahead of them they could clearly see a yellow stretch of beach of the Isle of Wight. The sight of Colwell Bay spurred them on to keep rowing, knowing that each stroke brought them nearer to their destination. Beneath the boat shallow beds of sand slowly began to rise up nearer to the surface as the seabed ascended towards the beach. As they got nearer, the oars bit into the sand, swirling it in spinning clouds beneath the boat.

  As they approached shallower water once again, they felt the bottom of the boat scrape against the top of the seabed. Tracker leapt out. He was standing in water no deeper than his thighs. The waterproof waders they had found inside the outbuilding beneath the lighthouse kept him dry whilst he pulled the boat further ashore. When the bottom of the boat became grounded, Steven and Georgia both jumped out and helped pull the boat onto the beach. Relieved and exhausted, Steven lay down on the beach taking in large lungs of air and allowing his arm muscles time to recover.

  ‘We can’t rest yet,’ said Tracker.

  They pulled the boat up the beach, over a line of old brown seaweed and onto a bank of shingle. In front of them, the edge of land rose sharply in layers of orange and white stone with tufts of dry grasses growing out from small crevices. To the north of the bay was a white square building that seemed to float just above the surface of the water. Nearer to them was a concrete road that led up through the bank of land giving them access to the world above them.

  They tucked the boat into a cove beneath a small stone cliff, covered it with old seaweed then began walking towards the access road, which led them towards a row of identical holiday bungalows. Although it was only mid afternoon, Steven and Tracker were exhausted. They broke into the first bungalow they came to and collapsed onto the soft beds inside.

  If their boat had been spotted, Coldred’s guards would be sure to investigate the area around Colwell Bay. But, until that happened, Steven and Tracker rested while Georgia kept guard.

  12. A Frosty Visitor

  Edgar, Flora, The Grey Man and the children spent the rest of the afternoon gathering supplies and vehicles ready for their journeys. They found no other humans in the village, at least none that were still alive, and the original occupant of the cellar hadn’t returned. Now that they knew where they were going, there seemed to be a sense of purpose and direction that reassured them. All except Edgar. He knew that the creatures poison was creeping round his body, making his muscles ache and his head pound with a thumping that was louder than his heart. He knew that if he completed the journey to Avalon, he would not have the strength to control the twelve swords of power. Controlling Ethera was becoming harder than ever, sapping the energy from his body as it had done in the forest clearing. The pain in his head reduced when he used the remains
of Flora's acai berries, but he knew that the poison had travelled too far to be reversed.

  In the dark cellar, lit only by a single candle, Edgar looked across at the sleeping figures of the children. All his long life he had kept a distance from everyone, lurking in the shadows, never revealing himself, but watching and protecting from afar. But he had grown fond of these children, especially Joe and Max. The two boys had already demonstrated their courage and leadership, good qualities for Knights of the Round Table, but also good qualities for the new world. If they could cleanse the planet of the Moon Stealers, the boys would be the knights of the future replacing the greed that had overcome humanity, with good moral qualities. If Edgar needed to find the strength to fulfil his duty, he only had to look at the boys to know that there was hope for the future. Scarlet and Peter were different. They seemed to have formed a strong attachment to Flora, but both of them had natural magical gifts within them. Scarlet had learnt how to communicate with animals during her time in the Underworld, whilst Peter could see things in their world that normal humans could not. They too had a place in the future. If the magic on Earth was to be ignited once again, Scarlet and Peter would be needed to help maintain and develop those skills.

  Edgar rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Below ground, the screams of the creatures were muffled and sleep arrived easier than it had done for several nights.

  Edgar awoke sensing that something was wrong.

  He sat upright and listened.

  It was pitch black inside the cellar; the candle had long since burnt out. The only thing he could hear was the gentle breathing from the children as they slept. Uncertain why he had woken, Edgar waited.

  And then he heard it.

  It sounded like a faint dripping sound that was coming from upstairs. But, then he realised that it hadn’t been a sound that had woken him, but a smell. The air inside the cellar had been damp and musky, but now there was a faint, but sharp, acidic smell. Edgar reached to his side, feeling in the darkness for a candle and lighter. He flicked the lighter and lit the wick, illuminating the cellar in an orange glow. Everyone was there, lying exactly where they had been earlier. Edgar stood and listened for the dripping sound once again then turned towards the other end of the cellar which extended beneath the kitchen. The smell seemed strongest there. The light from the candle caught a movement on the floor. A small pool of water had collected and an occasional drip would land in the centre of it causing ripples to expand to the edges. Edgar looked up towards the ceiling. He could see a dark patch where the water had collected prior to dripping down. He knelt down beside the puddle and sniffed.

  The acidic smell was stronger at the water.

  For some reason it reminded him of Edinburgh Castle.

  He remembered the rusty gates in the tunnels beneath Edinburgh Castle and the creature that had pursued them.

  He remembered how the creature had dissolved the metal so that it could break through.

  Edgar looked at the puddle once again. He then realised that it did not consist of water, but was the acidic juices created by a creature dissolving metal. But why would a creature be attacking something metal inside the restaurant?

  Above his head something heavy and metallic thudded against the ceiling. Edgar tried to picture the layout of the kitchen area above him, but, if his mind still functioned correctly, he thought the only thing in that part of the kitchen would have been the walk-in refrigerator.

  Why would a creature be trying to break into that?

  Unless, of course, it was a creature trying to break out!

  As if to confirm his suspicion the ceiling above his head creaked slightly as something loaded its weight onto it and began to move around. Edgar walked beneath it, listening as it moved. With every step came a scratching noise as something sharp clawed at the ground. An occasional chirping sound also broke the silence. After circling the kitchen, the sounds from above entered the dining area. Edgar was now standing over where the children were sleeping, looking at the ceiling above. Subconsciously aware of a change in the darkness, Peter opened his tired eyes and stared up at Edgar. Not expecting to see the glow of a face standing directly above him, he gave a little start that woke the others.

  It also made the sounds from above stop moving.

  It had heard Peter.

  Edgar signalled for the others to remain silent. The Grey Man stood up, lit a candle and joined Edgar.

  ‘What is it?’ he whispered.

  ‘It’s the creature from the fridge,’ replied Edgar. ‘It got out and I think it knows we're down here.’

  ‘If it’s still night time, it might call for others to join it. The floorboards won’t hold it back forever.’

  ‘Do you think it will go?’ asked Joe.

  Edgar shook his head. ‘Not if it knows there is someone down here. If it calls for help we will be trapped.

  ‘Keep making some movement over here,’ said The Grey Man, ‘I’m going up.’ He began to carefully climb the ladder that led to the hatch behind the bar. The creature had stopped walking around the restaurant and was now beginning to scratch at the wooden floorboards directly above where the children had been sleeping.

  With every step The Grey Man took towards the wooden hatch he stopped and listened. To keep the creatures attention away from the bar area where the hatch would open, Edgar made little coughs. As The Grey Man reached the hatch he looked over towards Edgar who gave a nod. The Grey Man blew out his candle and allowed it to drop to the ground. Above them the creature heard something and began chirping a little. Edgar coughed once again, bringing the creatures focus back towards that part of the cellar. Above them the clawing sound began once again, only this time faster and more desperate. They listened in terror as they heard a splinter of wood being torn from the floor. The Grey Man knew he had to make a move before the rest of the floorboard was lifted, exposing the children. He slid the bolt across and raised the latch slightly so that he could see out. From where he was he couldn’t see the creature that was somewhere near the front of the shop, but he could hear the scratching noise it was making.

  The Grey Man silently placed his sword on the wooden floor behind the bar and lifted himself out of the hatch, trying to keep as low as possible so that he couldn’t be seen. He closed the hatch then raised his head to peer over the top of the bar. He used the bottles of wine that were lined up on the counter top for cover, enabling him to look towards the creature without being seen. Crouched at the front of the restaurant and bathed in moonlight was a black hooded creature that looked like it was praying. It was lying flat against the floorboards listening to the sounds beneath it. From where The Grey Man was, he could still hear Edgar clearing his throat, trying to distract the creature, who continued to drag one of its claws along a floorboard.

  The Grey Man looked around the room. The tables and chairs would not provide enough cover for him to get any closer to the creature without being seen. If it felt threatened it might call to its brothers and sisters for help.

  Trying a different tactic, The Grey Man picked up a small shot glass from the top of the bar and rolled it along the floor towards the gap between the bar and the wall and waited. He pressed his back hard up against the side of the counter.

  The scratching stopped.

  The glass continued to roll until it hit the opposite wall.

  The Grey Man gripped the donestre sword with both hands. If he couldn’t go to the creature, then he would wait for the creature to come to him. Using his faerie magic, he merged into his background like a chameleon, and waited.

  There was silence in the room.

  Eventually a dark shadow moved into the gap between the bar counter and the wall. He knew that the creature had taken the bait and was now examining the glass he had moved. But still he waited. He could hear the muffled noises from down below as Edgar tried to distract the creature, but its attention was now concentrated on the glass and the bar area. The Grey Man waited, watching the gap between the cou
nter and the wall. As soon as the creature moved forward to investigate he could dispatch it in one swing of his sword.

  Suddenly the shadow disappeared.

  The Grey Man waited for a few seconds to see if the creature reappeared.

  But, it didn’t.

  Beneath the bar The Grey Man could see shelves piled with stationary including printed menus, business cards and some spare till rolls. He carefully reached over and grabbed one of the till rolls in his hand. He intended to send the till roll in the same direction as the shot glass when he heard the sound of a raspy breath coming from above him.

  Slowly he turned and looked up.

  Staring down at him was the hooded shape of a creature. He knew that it wouldn’t be able to see him, but it may have noticed the movement of his hand when he reached for the till roll. The Grey Man slowly placed the till roll beside him and moved his hand back towards his sword, grasping it tightly with both hands. Although the element of surprise had gone, he would still be able to attack the creature before it knew what was happening. The single white eye in the creatures head flicked and darted around the bar area as it desperately tried to find what had disturbed the shot glass. It clung to the bar top by its hooked wings ready to launch itself at its prey.

  In a sudden burst of energy The Grey Man leapt up from the floor and thrust the hooked blade of his sword towards the eye of the creature. Equally agile the creature quickly dodged backwards allowing the sword to harmlessly stab into thin air. The Grey Man quickly drew his sword towards him ready to strike again, but the creature had jumped onto the top of a table further into the dining area. At any moment the creature could call for help. The Grey Man twisted round the side of the bar and faced the creature ready to swing the great sword down on it. The creature flapped its wings, creating a force of wind that pushed against The Grey Man, forcing him backwards. It then attempted to fly off, but the ceiling was not high enough to give it sufficient space. All it managed was to jump from one table top to another, edging closer towards the window. The Grey Man picked up a chair and threw it at the creature. As it ducked to avoid it The Grey Man leapt forward once again, swinging his sword in a wide arc which carved the creature in two.