(From THOMAS GIRLING’S NEW BOOK OF SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE)
“And that’s it,” finished Brine. “The end of the extraordinary story of the voyage of the Onion.”
She sat with Tom and Ursula in the science library of Barnard’s Reach. Racks of books lay drying around them and Book Sisters crept about, carefully turning and smoothing the pages so they wouldn’t dry wrinkled. Though Brine guessed that most of the Sisters were using the books as an excuse and really were staying around to hear the end of the story.
Two days had passed since the battle of the Antares. Two days with no storms, no birds or bears trying to eat them, no evil magicians trying to kill them. It had almost been too quiet. Of course there’d been the usual arguments with Peter and the excitement of learning how much food a baby dragon needs (lots) and how often it needs the toilet (oftener than you’d imagine). Much of those two days had been spent on Barnard’s Reach.
The libraries had escaped, but not without damage. The lower book cellars were still full of water, and everything down there was beyond saving. Whole rooms might never be usable again.
The Mother Keeper remained a worm. Brine had taken her across to the Onion so Peter could try to turn her back, but nothing he did had had any effect. The Mother Keeper was living in a jar now while the Book Sisters researched ways of bringing her back. In the meantime, Ursula was serving in her place.
The library rules were changing, Ursula said. There wouldn’t be so many rules, for a start, and anybody would be allowed to come in and read, men and women, boys and girls. Maybe if they started treating knowledge as something to be shared and not hoarded, she said, there’d be fewer people like Marfak West around. Ursula had, however, introduced one new rule: No dragons allowed. She’d been very polite but very firm about the presence of a fire-breathing lizard in a room full of books.
Peter had stayed behind on the Onion with the dragon. Someone had to look after him, he’d said, although Brine had seen from his face that that wasn’t the only reason. He still hadn’t told her what had happened during the time he was with Marfak West, and Cassie had warned her not to ask. He’d talk about it when he was ready.
Brine sighed. She ought to feel happier than this. She’d stood at Magical North, helped defeat Marfak West, and saved Barnard’s Reach. She ought to be celebrating, but all she felt was the sadness of a story ending.
Ursula blotted a page. “Actually, Brine, I think you’re wrong. This is not the end. This voyage of the Onion may be over, but your own story is only just beginning. Tom told me you want to find your parents. I was Assistant Keeper of Geography once, remember. I found a few books for you.”
She pulled out a box from under one of the racks and carried it to the table. “They’re a little out of order,” she apologized, “but they might be helpful. You can borrow them if you like.”
Brine didn’t dare look. Tom reached past her and took the first book out. Stories about the Western Ocean. A book of maps. And, right at the bottom, a book that looked even older than Boswell’s journal. The cover was made of dark brown paper, stained unevenly.
The Western Island and the Floating Castle.
Brine gazed at it, speechless, not daring to open it. She heard Marfak West’s voice in her mind all over again. Here it was at last—home. Suddenly she was afraid. What if she found her way home and nobody remembered or wanted her? Wouldn’t it be better just to stay on the Onion, not ask too many questions, not try to know too much?
“Go on,” said Tom.
Cautiously, her heart thumping in her throat, Brine opened the book to the first page.
The words on the cover were the only words in the whole book. The rest was a series of pictures—forests and mountains, strange-looking plants and even stranger animals. Then she turned a page and saw a picture of what had to be a dragon. She almost dropped the book. “There are dragons on the Western Island? Is this real?”
Ursula raised her hands in a shrug. “No one thinks so. But nobody thought Magical North was real, either.” She slipped the book back into the box. “Take it all with you. You’ll be needing it.”
* * *
Peter was waiting for them when they got back to the Onion. The baby dragon was curled up with Zen in a patch of setting sun. Peter had been sorting through the pieces of starshell he’d saved. Some of them were already beginning to glow. Brine wondered what he was going to do with them all, but she decided it would be better to let him work that out for himself.
She sat down on the deck and let the dragon crawl into her lap. “He needs a name,” she said. “We can’t keep calling him ‘the dragon.’ We don’t even know for certain that he is a dragon.”
“He’s got wings and scales, and he breathes fire,” said Peter. “How much more dragony does he have to be?” His eyes looked bruised and tired. He swept all the starshell aside. “We should throw this lot overboard. Magic brings nothing but trouble.”
Brine put her hands over his. “Magic is part of the world, Peter. You can’t go throwing away parts of the world because you don’t like them. Anyway, magic is only trouble if the wrong people get hold of it. You’re one of the right people.”
He nodded, but he looked away from her. “That’s the problem,” he said. “I don’t know what sort of person I am. I’ve only ever been a magician, and the only other magicians I know are Tallis Magus and Marfak West.”
“Magic didn’t turn them bad,” said Tom. “I bet you they were both horrible people before they became magicians. Magic just meant they could be horrible in different ways.”
“Maybe,” said Peter. “Or maybe Boswell is right and magic corrupts people.” Slowly, he gathered up the starshell pieces and put them in the box Ewan Hughes had given him. When he was finished, he held it out to Brine. “I want you to take care of this,” he said. “Until I’ve worked things out.”
Brine’s heart hammered. He couldn’t mean it—not this much starshell. “You really trust me with this?” she asked.
“Right now I trust you more than I trust myself,” said Peter. For a second, he met her gaze. “I need to know who I am without magic, and that means no spellcasting.”
Brine couldn’t think of what to say. Or rather, she could think of lots of things, and all of them seemed wrong. She nodded solemnly and took the box.
The dragon flapped inexpertly at her. Peter scooped the little creature up. “We should give him a name. Is he a he? What does Boswell’s book say?”
“Not much,” said Tom. “Males are supposed to be smaller than females and breathe fire earlier, so it could be a boy, but it’s hard to tell with no other dragon for comparison.”
“Let’s say that he is for now,” said Peter. “If he lays an egg, we can rethink. How about calling him Boswell?”
Boswell purred like a cat, and for the first time in days, Peter smiled. Brine smiled back. Peter would be fine. He just needed a new adventure—a good adventure this time. One without freezing cold or evil magicians. She put the starshell box to one side and set her box of books down in their place. “Here, take a look at these.”
Peter opened the first book and gave a low whistle. “There really is a floating castle. And are those flying creatures dragons?” He scratched Boswell under the chin. “He’s going to be lonely. How would you like to be the only dragon in the world? We’re going to have to find some friends for him.”
Brine knew he was thinking about the lonely years growing up on Minutes. Tom, also, had a faraway look in his eyes as he turned his head back toward Barnard’s Reach. Once again Brine found herself wishing she could remember her own childhood, but then she saw Cassie sitting cross-legged on the deck with Aldebran Boswell’s map spread out in front of her, her fingers already trailing the western edge. Some people always looked to the future, Brine thought, and the promise of a new adventure surged inside her.
“We’ll find more dragons,” she said confidently. “If Boswell’s egg survived, there must be others. Will you come west with us,
Tom? You could go back home now that the rules have changed.”
“And miss the next voyage? You’ve got to be kidding.” He got up and held his hands out to them. “We’re friends,” he said. “That means we stay together, wherever the seas take us.”
“Wherever the seas take us,” they both agreed.
The setting sun laid a trail of amber light across the waves before them, disappearing into the west. West, where home was. And, if they were lucky, dragons.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Just as one person cannot sail a ship alone, this book would never have set sail without the hard work of many, many people.
My gallant captains, Noa Wheeler and Rachel Kellehar, who steered me through these exciting new waters with skill and great care. Also Oriol Vidal for the amazing artwork. And special thanks to Julia Sooy and everyone at Henry Holt for their time, effort, and expertise. You are all brilliant.
My most wonderful agent, Gemma Cooper, who fell in love with the Onion and stormed on board to become my navigator, my chief adviser, and much, much more. This book would not be the same without you.
My motley crew of fellow writers and friends who shared the ups and downs of the journey, suffered through my early drafts, and supplied me with more tea, cake, and friendship than anyone could wish for. A big thank-you to Peter and Anna Bell, Sarah Burrow, Helen Clifford, David and Alison Williamson, Caleb and Beverley Woodbridge. Thanks also to Rob Harper and Sarah Callaghan for silly rhymes, Vee and Keith Griffiths for revels in the sky, and everyone at Team Cooper for all your advice and encouragement.
This magical voyage began when my opening chapters won a place in the final of Undiscovered Voices, run by the Society of Children’s Writers and Illustrators. I am tremendously grateful to the Undiscovered Voices team for their work in discovering and developing new writers.
Finally, and most of all, I would like to thank my husband, Phillip. Ewan Hughes to my Cassie, my fellow adventurer and tireless helper. I can’t imagine doing this, or anything else, without you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Claire Fayers lives in South Wales with her husband and as many cats as she can get away with. She used to work in a science library, but now writes full-time, which is the best job ever. She likes skiing, kite-flying, playing the cello, and dinosaurs. The Voyage to Magical North is her first novel. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Text copyright © 2016 by Claire Fayers
Chapter opener art copyright © 2016 by Oriol Vidal
Henry Holt and Company, LLC
Publishers since 1866
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Henry Holt and Company, LLC.
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All rights reserved.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Names: Fayers, Claire.
Title: The voyage to Magical North / Claire Fayers.
Description: First edition. | New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2016. | Summary: “Twelve-year-old Brine Seaborne and her friend Peter find themselves in an adventure with pirates, invisible bears, and a seriously evil magician”— Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2015022325 | ISBN 9781627794206 (hardback) | ISBN 9781627796583 (e-book)
Subjects: | CYAC: Magic—Fiction. | Voyages and travels—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Fantasy & Magic. | JUVENILE FICTION / Action & Adventure / Pirates.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.F39 Vo 2016 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at http://lccn.loc.gov/2015022325
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First hardcover edition 2016
eBook edition July 2016
eISBN 9781627796583
The Voyage to Magical North Page 23
