The Voyage to Magical North

by Claire Fayers

  The ship skipped sideways like a pebble on a pond. Everywhere, ropes snapped free. Tim Burre tried to haul the anchor out of the deck but couldn’t move it. Then the great blue tail swung around. It missed him—just—but came back a moment later and flicked the Onion up in the air. They landed with a prow-shattering jar. Waves washed across the deck. Trudi lost her hold on the mainsail and slid, screaming. Tim Burre forgot the anchor and ran after her.

  “Hold on!” he yelled.

  “What do you think I’m doing?” Trudi’s expression changed. “Tim, look out!”

  A shadow fell across the deck. The whale loomed over them, its tail thrashing the waves into yellow foam. Spray and ice filled the air. The mainmast cracked and toppled.

  “Tim Burre!” shouted Ewan.

  It was too late.

  Trudi rolled free, but the mast gave a sickening crunch and fell right where Tim Burre was standing. He disappeared into the deck with a cry. And all around, pirates screamed and wood began to split as the Onion sank lower into the freezing ocean.

  * * *

  Peter had thought that falling to his death would be different than it turned out to be. There wasn’t enough time even to begin thinking, and the only part of his life that flashed before his eyes was the split second in which he screamed and grabbed a chunk of ice, which snapped off in his hands. That moment seemed to go on forever, though. He didn’t even notice he’d stopped falling until a pair of boots kicked him in the head and Brine’s voice said, “Ouch.”

  Peter lay still, waiting for his thoughts to catch up with him. His companions sprawled around him, groaning. Tom’s glasses hung off his face in pieces. The others had scrapes and bruises. Marfak West should have come off worst, with his hands chained behind his back, but he was the first of them to sit up.

  “Where are we?” asked Peter, coughing. He struggled upright, looked around, and gaped in astonishment.

  They were at the edge of an underground cavern so big the other side was lost in shadow. Sunlight flooded in through the jagged holes everyone had made when they’d fallen, and glittering spears of ice hung from the remaining ceiling. The middle of the cavern was a perfectly oval lake of dark blue water, but to reach it—and this was the part Peter was having the most trouble taking in—you’d have to clamber over an entire mountain of shiny, glittering treasure.

  The floor was not so much paved with gold as buried beneath it—heaps of coins so deep you could plunge your arm in up to the shoulder and still not touch the bottom. Necklaces coiled in piles like snakes. Bracelets, rings, and earrings spilled out of decaying sacks. Discarded rainbows of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires lay in swathes.

  “How could so much treasure end up here?” asked Rob Grosse.

  Marfak West kicked a breastplate aside and stood up. “Nobody knows. The fact is, it’s here. I promised you treasure. Help yourselves.”

  The pirates needed no more encouragement. They whooped and ran at the golden piles. Bill Lightning ripped open a sack of coins and started stuffing them into his pockets. Cassie picked up a sword with emeralds in the hilt and swished it.

  “It’s raining diamonds,” shouted Rob, tossing handfuls of them in the air.

  Peter watched them all uneasily. They were behaving perfectly normally, he supposed. This much treasure ought to be exciting. But he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was only bits of metal and stone, and none of it really mattered. He edged back to join Brine, who was trying to put Tom’s glasses back together. “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “Me neither.” She turned her head. “What’s Marfak West doing?”

  The magician was picking his way across the piles of treasure to the lake in the center. “Peter,” he called. “Come and have a look at this.”

  “Don’t,” Brine said. Peter brushed her hand aside.

  “It’s all right.” He crossed the treasure to join Marfak West.

  The lake was frozen over, but Peter could see water moving beneath the thin layer of ice. He put his foot on it, and cracks spread. Marfak West pulled him back.

  Peter gasped, realizing the magician was no longer chained. “How did you do that?”

  “Practice,” said Marfak West. His voice was coldly mocking.

  Across the cavern, Cassie noticed what was happening and started forward. “Let the boy go. Now.”

  “Make me.” Marfak West’s hand closed around Peter’s wrist. “You really are completely stupid,” he said conversationally to Peter. “You don’t know the first thing about power or how to use it.” He forced Peter’s hand up over his head. “You don’t even know, for example, that you have a piece of starshell embedded in your hand.”

  Peter experienced a moment of ice-cold shock, then the center of his palm blazed with heat and magic flooded out. Amber light flashed across the cavern. Necklaces writhed like snakes around Cassie’s feet and tripped her. A suit of armor fell on Rob Grosse. Bill Lightning’s sword twisted in his hand and stabbed him through the foot. Tom squeaked out a battle cry and prepared to charge, but the coins on the floor shimmered and opened up like quicksand, swallowing him and Brine.

  Marfak West wrapped an arm around Peter’s throat, half choking him. “Stay where you are, or I’ll break his neck,” he threatened needlessly, as everyone was too entangled in treasure to move.

  Peter felt the last of the magic drain from his hand. His palm turned cold. Marfak West grunted in annoyance and threw him aside onto a pile of armor. Peter’s vision swarmed with stars. He scrambled back to his feet, gasping painfully. Brine shouted something, but her voice was lost in the roaring in his ears.

  Marfak West had tricked him. He’d pretended friendship, taught him things so that Peter would trust him, only so that he could stand and laugh at him now. Peter had known it all along, but he’d ignored the warnings. He’d wanted to believe that he was the only one who really knew Marfak West and, as usual, it turned out that he was wrong and the rest of the world was right.

  He’d deal with the rest of the world later. For now, Marfak West was not going to get away with this. He wrested a sword out of a pile of treasure. “You can’t go anywhere,” he said, “you might as well surrender.”

  “That’s what you think.” The magician raised his arms and plunged them straight into the icy lake. He hissed in pain and then he stood up again and turned to face them all. A lazy smile lifted the corners of his mouth. It was a smile that said whatever anyone had been planning to do, it was far, far too late.

  The sword fell from Peter’s hand. Brine, struggling out of a quicksand made of coins, sneezed explosively and sat back down.

  Marfak West held something roughly the shape of an egg, but if it was an egg, it was the largest one Peter had ever seen. The bird who’d laid it would have had to be the size of a horse. It filled the magician’s hands completely. And it glowed. Beneath a coating of frost, it shone softly, pure amber. It could have been made of rock or metal, or ice packed down into a hard ball, but of course it wasn’t. Because something else survived the presence of magic, something besides gold and precious jewels, and Marfak West was holding it in his hands.

  “Fools,” said Marfak West. “All this way for a sight of Magical North and some common treasure.”

  Magic spilled out of the starshell and wound around Peter’s legs like chains. Looking at the others, he saw that they were held fast, too. Magical North was not the end of the journey for Marfak West—it was the beginning. The beginning of a new reign of terror, only now he’d have the biggest piece of starshell in the whole world and not even Cassie O’Pia would be able to stop him.

  The ground trembled. Marfak West calmly tucked a fold of his coat around the starshell and stepped backward into the lake. “Thank you for the use of your ship, Captain,” he said. “Unfortunately, I’ve already sunk her and everybody is dead. I have my own transport from here.” The lake began to churn around him.

  Peter clenched his fists until they hurt. He’d been lied to, used, consistently push
ed around. He’d had enough of it.

  “Peter, do something,” shouted Brine.

  Why did everyone expect him to fix things when they went wrong? His vision turned scarlet, and he did something that he knew was impossible—he caught up a thick blade of magic from the air and, without thinking, he used it like a sword to cut himself free. The spell gave way around his legs so suddenly he almost fell, but he kept his feet and plunged straight on into the lake. He crashed into Marfak West and grabbed hold of him as the water closed over them both.

  They seemed to fall through water for a very long time. Peter’s chest burned. He felt air leaking away from his nose and mouth. His arms became too heavy for him to hold on to Marfak West any longer, and he let go. His coat snagged on something, or maybe something grabbed his coat—he wasn’t sure. A second before he opened his mouth, a great darkness rushed upon him and swallowed him whole.

  CHAPTER 25

  COLD FISH-BIRD SOUP

  Ingredients:

  1 fish-bird

  Salt

  Onions

  Water (or you can use seawater and leave out the salt)

  Cut the fish-bird meat into small pieces (can be done with a cutlass) and boil with the onions in plenty of salted water until falling apart. Allow to cool, and serve cold. If you are near any icebergs, you may chip off pieces and add them to the soup to chill it more quickly.

  (From COOKING UP A STORME—THE RECIPES OF A GOURMET PIRATE)

  “Tim Burre!” shouted Ewan. He ran to the fallen mast and heaved. The deck creaked under him. Black spots danced across Ewan’s vision, and he felt a muscle in his shoulder tear, but then the mast started to move. With a final gasp of effort, he hurled it aside, where it made another hole in the deck.

  Tim Burre lay facedown just below in a pool of seawater. He’d been lucky, Ewan thought: The mast had made a hole in the deck and he’d fallen straight through.

  Not that lucky, though—he wasn’t breathing.

  Trudi came to join him. “I think we’re supposed to kiss him or something,” she said. She didn’t look very eager to try it.

  Ewan pushed her aside, clamped his lips over Tim’s, and blew into his mouth. After a few seconds, Tim coughed, rolled over, and spat out water.

  “I could have done that,” said Trudi, clearly relieved that she hadn’t had to. But she did hug Tim when he sat up.

  Ewan looked at the crew gathered round him, silently counting up the damage. They’d lost eight people altogether. All but one of the rowing boats were smashed, as were three of the four masts, and the last one was leaning at an alarming angle. The deck had holes everywhere, and seawater came through as fast as they could bail.

  A muffled squawk came from under a pile of timber. Ewan pulled it aside and found the cage with Tom’s remaining messenger gull buried underneath. Miraculously, the gull was still alive. It huddled in the bottom of the cage, a bundle of damp feathers with accusing eyes. A moment later, Zen clambered out from under a neighboring heap of timber and shook himself.

  “We should write a message,” said Trudi, lifting the cat away from the birdcage. “At least people will know what happened to us.”

  They’d know, but they’d never believe it, Ewan thought. For a moment, he considered it. It was the humane thing to do. One of the gulls had already died. Why keep the last one locked up here to die, too, when the Onion sank? He picked up the cage. The others seemed to know what he was thinking; they nodded. Trudi turned her face away.

  Ewan stepped over the fallen mast and wedged the cage securely into a flap of sail. “We’re not going to send any messages,” he said, “because we’re not going to die here. We’ll make it back, and we’ll tell stories so fabulous that all the islands will think we’ve gone mad. All right?” He turned, fixing a grin on his face.

  No one met his gaze. Trudi tried to smile but didn’t quite manage it. “Cassie will come back,” she said, drawing a pattern in a puddle with her toe. “Cassie always comes back.”

  Ewan clapped her on the shoulder. “Of course Cassie will come back.” He laughed aloud. The sound fell on silence. Ewan didn’t care. He gazed around with narrowed eyes. Nothing had changed. If anything, they were sitting slightly lower in the water than before. They were alone and sinking in the frozen ocean. And yet …

  He slapped his hands together. “Right, you lot, we’ve got work to do. Repair and salvage. Dry clothes, food, whatever might be useful, bring it all on deck. We can use some of these broken planks to build rafts. Whatever you do, keep out of the water. And don’t let Zen eat the messenger gull—we might still want her later.”

  The pirates stirred into reluctant action. Ewan made his way to what used to be the prow. A broken square of wood bore part of the letter O. He held it in his hands for a long time before hurling it into the sea. Several fish-birds ducked out of the way and reconvened in a circle. Ewan wondered why they weren’t attacking, but of course they didn’t need to. All the birds had to do was wait, and the cold would soon do their job for them.

  Ewan clamped his teeth together, determined not to shiver. Whatever else happened, he was not going to let everyone sit here, waiting to die. They’d escaped from worse catastrophes than this. Cassie would be back soon, and she’d know what to do. Cassie O’Pia always knew what to do.

  * * *

  “Cassie, what do we do?” shouted Bill Lightning.

  “I don’t know!” Cassie yelled back.

  Brine felt the magic give way around her, and she fell forward just as a stalactite crashed down. Another one landed as she ran to the lake.

  “Peter!” She would have jumped into the water after him, but Rob Grosse grabbed her round the waist.

  “It’s too late,” he shouted in her ear. His voice was almost lost in the roar of falling ice. “He’s gone.”

  “Let me go!” Brine kicked him in the shins. He let go of her in surprise but grabbed her again straightaway.

  Cassie seized a shield in one hand and Tom in the other. “Brine, he’s right. There’s nothing we can do. We have to get out of here, or we’ll all die.”

  Brine didn’t care if they all died. She shook with cold and fury. She’d let Peter go. She should have known what he was going to do and she should have stopped him. Instead she’d just stood there and watched, completely useless.

  Cassie deflected another stalactite with her shield. It bounced away and smashed straight through a pile of treasure, leaving a gaping hole.

  Tom gave a shout. “A tunnel! Boswell said there was a tunnel leading up. What if he came the other way?”

  Then the tunnel would lead down. Brine stopped fighting Rob. Bill staggered across to join them, his face and clothes white with ice. Brine wiped her hair out of her eyes. Her hands came away damp with tears. Cassie was right: They had to get out of here.

  A whole section of ceiling fell in with an angry roar and a snow-bear picked itself up, shook its head, and fixed its eyes on Cassie as if she were the source of all its problems. Cassie threw a goblet at it. “All those in favor of staying here and getting eaten by the snow-bear, say ‘aye.’”

  No one said a word.

  “And all those in favor of seeing where this tunnel leads?”

  They piled through the gap just as the snow-bear charged.

  Brine’s hand struck solid rock. She tried to back out, thinking the tunnel—if it was a tunnel—was blocked, but the others were pushing in behind her, and then, as she groped down, she found a gap she could squeeze through. Sounds of shouts and roaring and more ice falling followed her. After a while, everything became quiet. Only Cassie’s voice drifted out of the darkness, saying the words that Brine had been bracing herself to hear.

  “Well,” said Cassie, “that could have been worse.”

  CHAPTER 26

  I am writing this, not in any hope that someone will one day read my words, but because I wish to complete the record of my journey before I die. I set out to find Magical North, and I succeeded. Nothing else matters.


  (From ALDEBRAN BOSWELL’S JOURNAL OF STRANGE ADVENTURES IN THE YEAR OF DISCOVERY)

  Something inside Brine snapped. “How?” she demanded. Her voice cracked. “How could this possibly be worse? Marfak West won. We practically handed him a giant piece of starshell. Peter’s gone. We’re trapped in a hole with snow-bears waiting to eat us. And even if we get back to the boats, there’s no point, because Marfak West has sunk the Onion. With that much starshell, he can turn the ship to sawdust.” Tears filled her throat.

  “Also, my glasses are still broken,” added Tom in a small voice.

  “Let’s not be so quick to give up,” said Cassie. “We’re all still here. Except for Peter, and we’ll rescue him next. Marfak West may be a problem, but we’ll think of something. The Onion has survived far worse than him. I bet they’re all sitting about snacking on toasted fish-birds and wondering where we are. And”—she wriggled past Brine—“I do believe this tunnel keeps going down. Shall we take a look?”

  Brine didn’t have the energy to be angry anymore. Why not? she thought. Given that they were all going to die, why not see where one small tunnel led?

  It led down, of course. They half slid, half crawled along it, bracing themselves against the sides with arms and legs. Gradually, the air became warmer—and lighter. A silver glow crept up to meet them. Brine could see her hands in front of her face again. She edged back. “What is it?”

  “I don’t know,” said Cassie, “but as long as it’s not more tunnel, I’m happy.” She crawled on faster and then, without warning, she disappeared. A moment later, they heard her voice. “Everyone, you have got to come down and see this.”

  * * *

  It was a sight that was worth more than all the gold in the world: a river. It rushed away from them along the middle of a wide underground channel. Great ribbons of Stella Borealis lit up the rocky ceiling, and a gap in the roof let in a bright burst of sunlight. But even the relief of seeing the sun again was nothing compared to the wonder of seeing a ship.