‘And I’ve ridden through the forest canopy on prowlgrinback,’ Eudoxia added. ‘Though like you, Professor, I’ve never been this far from Great Glade.’ She shuddered. ‘In the dark …’
Slip nodded vigorously. ‘Slip was born in the forest – but he can’t remember much about it. What do you think we should do, friend Nate?’ he repeated, his eyes wider than ever.
Squall Razortooth turned to Nate and clapped him on the back. ‘I’m afraid this old sky pirate is a cloudlubber, lad. Not much use down here in the Deepwoods.’
Nate looked from one expectant face to the other. ‘I’ve been out in the Eastern Woods,’ he began, ‘but they’ve been thinned out, and are pretty well-travelled these days. I’m afraid the Deepwoods themselves are every bit as strange to me as they are to the rest of you.’
Just then, in the distance, through the strange cacophony of the night-time forest, Nate heard a familiar sound. He turned slightly and cocked his head to one side. The others looked at him questioningly.
‘What is it?’ said Eudoxia.
‘I thought I heard …’ Nate began. ‘Yes, there it is again. Can you hear it? There … Yodelling!’
Eudoxia nodded, a puzzled frown on her face. Nate screwed his eyes closed as he concentrated on the faint but unmistakeable sound.
Back in Copperwood, Weelum had told him how, despite the solitary nature of their lives, banderbears would maintain contact with one another by yodelling. Their booming voices would carry across the vast distances of the Deepwoods, passing on tales, one to the other, warning of danger and, on occasions, calling all of their number to assemble at one of their great convocations, when banderbears would come together from every corner of the forest.
‘It’s Weelum,’ said Nate excitedly.
‘It’s certainly a banderbear,’ said the Professor, ‘but can we be sure it’s our friend, Weelum?’
Nate raised his cupped hands to his mouth, filled his lungs with air and yodelled back as best he could, his long broken cry echoing off into the shadow-filled night. It was answered at once, the yodel coming in a long musical burst of greeting.
‘It is him!’ cried Nate. ‘I’m sure of it!’
The yodelling came again, the long tremulous phrase rising at the end.
‘He says to come now,’ Nate said, turning to the others. ‘To follow his calls …’
‘But it sounds so far away,’ said the Professor uncertainly. ‘Might it not be wiser to wait until morning? After all, it is my understanding that the Deepwoods are at their most dangerous after dark …’
‘If an old sky pirate might make so bold …’ said Squall Razortooth, reaching into the depths of his frock coat and withdrawing his hands.
All at once, the air around them was bathed in a bright yellow glow. Everyone turned, to see the sky pirate’s grinning face illuminated by the light that was streaming up from his hands.
‘Sky crystals?’ said the Professor, wonder in his voice. ‘I’ve heard of them, of course. But I’ve never seen any.’
‘The very same, Professor,’ said Squall. ‘We all think we’re so clever now in this Third Age of Flight, but those sky pirates of the First Age knew a trick or two worth remembering, like these sky crystals. Not only do they create light, but when struck together, they make sparks – and, since they work in the rain, they’re better than any strikefire …’
Far in the distance, Weelum’s yodelling cry sounded again.
‘They’ll light our way and ward off any unwelcome creatures lurking out there in the dark,’ said Squall.
The Professor nodded. ‘Very well,’ he said.
They hastily gathered up their belongings, slipping rucksacks and bedrolls onto their shoulders. Then, with Squall at the front, the sky crystals in his hand glowing brightly and showing the way ahead, they set off. Eudoxia and Slip followed immediately behind the sky pirate, walking side by side, their hands clasped together. Nate and the Professor brought up the rear. All five of them were cocooned in the yellow ball of light that illuminated their immediate surroundings and, they hoped, might keep the Deepwoods creatures at bay.
They walked through the forest in silence for the most part, weaving their way between the huge tree trunks with their spreading roots corrugating the forest floor. Every so often, Weelum’s yodel would confirm that they were still heading in the right direction. Down into deep dales they trudged, stepping over flat-topped mushrooms and dew-drenched moss, as mist coiled round their ankles. Then up undulating slopes they climbed in single file, brushing past feathery white ferns and swaying sallowdrop trees, heavy with fruit. Around them, just outside the sky crystals’ reassuring glow, the dark forms of forest creatures moved through the undergrowth.
‘Don’t you worry, Miss Eudoxia,’ Slip whispered, his voice quavering. ‘Slip’s job down the mine was to get rid of nasty crawly things. Slip’ll protect you.’
‘You mustn’t worry either, Slip,’ Eudoxia replied, patting his arm. ‘My father taught me to take care of myself. I’m a crack shot with a phraxpistol …’
‘What’s that?’ breathed Squall Razortooth, suddenly stopping and squinting up into the branches high above their heads.
Nate listened. A soft whooshing sound filled the air, rising and falling like a huge pair of bellows tending an unseen forge.
‘Well, I never!’ muttered the Professor delightedly. ‘Look, there! It’s a giant tree fromp, as I live and breathe!’
Nate screwed up his eyes and peered into the shadows. High in the branches of a mighty ironwood pine, hanging from a huge tail, was the shaggy white form of a gigantic animal. As Nate’s eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could just make out the fromp’s great fur-fringed ears and long prehensile trunk, which snaked down and swayed gently back and forth. The creature’s chest rose and fell as it breathed in and out in soft hooting gulps. The fromp opened one deep blue eye and gazed down at them balefully.
‘Amazing creatures,’ the Professor whispered. ‘Impressive-looking, but completely harmless, I understand. They’re perfectly adapted to life high up in the pines, eating the blackbark beetles and resin grubs that live there …’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘I’ve never actually seen one in the wild before …’
The yodel, louder now, sounded from over the next tree ridge.
‘Come on,’ said Nate. ‘Not far now …’
They clambered up over the steep forest ridge and down through clumps of dew-covered ferns on the other side, until they came to a stand of ghostelms. Their white trunks rose up from the dark loamy forest floor, straight and smooth-barked.
‘Wuh-wuh!’ came the sound of a familiar voice, and the great shaggy form of Weelum the banderbear came lurching through the trees towards them. He interlaced his claws at his chest. ‘Wuh-waah-wuh!’ Our songs have become one at last.
‘Weelum!’ Eudoxia cried out, rushing up and embracing the banderbear. ‘It’s so good to see you,’ she told him, and pulled away. ‘We’d have been lost without you!’
Beside her, Slip the scuttler nodded enthusiastically.
‘It’s certainly good to see a friendly face,’ the Professor added, smiling broadly.
Nate raised one hand to his forehead and held out the open palm of the other to Weelum. ‘Wuh-wuh,’ he said. What path would you have us take?
In answer, the banderbear motioned for them to follow, and set off between the white tree trunks. After some forty or fifty strides, the banderbear stopped and turned to Nate.
‘Wuh-wurra-wuh,’ he announced proudly.
‘What did he say?’ asked Squall Razortooth, the glow from the sky crystals revealing his weather-beaten face, flushed and glistening with exertion.
‘He said that …’ Nate began uncertainly, looking around at the thin white tree trunks all about them, ‘… that we should sleep here for the night.’
The sky pirate gazed up at the ghostelms, a look of confusion on his face.
‘I thought you said these here banderbears couldn’t climb trees,’
he said. ‘Mind you,’ he added, noting just how high above their heads even the lowest branches were, ‘by the look of this lot, I’m not sure we could either.’
Weelum shook his head, his tusks gleaming in the light of the sky crystals, and pointed. ‘Wuh,’ he said.
There, at the foot of the nearest elm, was a low mound, perfectly camouflaged against the dark forest floor. Nate knelt down. On closer inspection, the mound was a closely woven construction of sallowdrop leaves and fern fronds over a frame of ghostelm branches, which nestled in a carefully excavated hollow. Nate crawled inside through a small opening and found himself in a spacious den, lined with fragrant barkmoss.
The Professor’s head appeared at the entrance behind him. ‘Extraordinary!’ he marvelled. ‘Room for us all to sleep in comfort, yet almost completely undetectable from outside. Our friend Weelum really is a marvel.’
Moments later, Eudoxia, Slip and the old sky pirate joined them and began unpacking their bedding rolls, each exclaiming at the snugness and comfort of the banderbear nest. When they had settled, Weelum himself crawled inside, his arms full of succulent sallowdrop fruit, which he handed round.
‘Wuh-waah,’ he growled, handing Squall a sallowdrop with one paw and his parawings, neatly folded and strapped into place, with the other.
‘Weelum owes pirate of the sky his life,’ Nate translated. ‘Squall Razortooth is friend to the banderbears for ever.’
Looking up, Nate saw in the sky-crystal light that the old sky pirate’s eyes were glistening with tears.
‘Legend has it that the great sky pirate, Captain Twig, was friend to the banderbears,’ Squall said, taking the parawings and shaking Weelum’s great paw warmly. ‘Tell him, Nate, that this old sky pirate is deeply honoured to be his friend.’
• CHAPTER FORTY-TWO •
Nate woke and looked up at the intricately woven roof of the sleeping nest above his head; long thin fronds of oakwillow interlaced with thick glade fern and briargrass, and lined with rootmoss from nearby lufwood trees.
Five weeks they’d been travelling, and each night the banderbear had woven a new nest from the vegetation around them, each one perfectly camouflaged to blend in with their surroundings. Sometimes he used copperwood sticks and gladegrass; sometimes thatches of snagwood or clods of soft bark lichen, but always when preparing the nest site, the banderbear worked with amazing speed, skill and judgement.
Often, during those dark Deepwoods nights, Nate would stir from his sleep at the sound of footfalls and growls from outside the nest, only to drift back to sleep as one nocturnal prowler or another passed by, oblivious to their presence. It was the combination of materials that Weelum chose for the sleeping nest so carefully each night that both hid the travellers from sight and disguised their scent from the many predators in the endless Deepwoods. After five weeks of travel, Nate had become familiar with the different smells of the various sleeping nests, and had only to catch the fragrance of fresh gladegrass or newly picked barkmoss to feel both safe and drowsy.
Looking around, Nate realized that he was the only one still in the nest. Outside, he could hear the sound of his companions preparing breakfast.
Over the weeks, they’d developed a routine for life on the march through the forest. Slip the scuttler would rise at first light with Weelum, and set off with the waterflasks, and a blackwood bow which Squall had made for him during the first few days of their journey. While Weelum foraged for the fruits of the forest, Slip liked nothing better than to climb through the branches of the trees, gathering snowbird eggs, scooping up thousandfoots and barkgrubs, and bringing down a plump gladegoose or two with a well-aimed arrow.
By the time he returned, having filled the flasks with tree dew or from the lullabee ‘drinking troughs’, Eudoxia and the Professor would have built a hanging fire in the brazier pot that Squall had fashioned from a large ironwood pinecone, and be sitting in the branches of a tree, having one of those discussions of theirs. And, while they talked about the politics of Hive, the economy of the Eastern Woods, or the best hand to play at ‘Dead Skull’ splinters, the two of them would set to work, cooking the latest delicacy that Slip produced from his forage sack.
The smell of roast gladegoose or barkgrub sausages usually brought the old sky pirate out of the sleeping nest, yawning loudly and complaining good-naturedly about his aching bones. While the Professor helped him up into the tree and Eudoxia gave him a mug of steaming charlock tea, the sky pirate would reach into his frock coat – now looking a little ragged and the worse for wear – and produce his charts.
Originally their plan had been for Squall Razortooth to get them out of Great Glade aboard the Gladedancer and drop them at the settlement known as the Midwood Decks. From there, the Professor had told them, they would be able to buy passage on a phraxbarge to Hive. Somewhere in that great city, Eudoxia’s father, Galston Prade, had disappeared, seemingly without a trace, and the Professor had contacts there who might be able to help in their search for him.
Eudoxia, Nate knew, was desperate to get to Hive as soon as possible. The journey from Great Glade to the Midwood Decks aboard the Gladedancer should have taken no longer than a couple of days. Unfortunately, it had not worked out that way. But with the loss of his beloved phraxlighter, Squall had taken his travelling companions to his heart – especially the banderbear – and was determined to chart their course as accurately as his skills permitted.
Which is where Nate came in …
Every night, several hours before dawn, Nate would leave the nest and climb the nearest tall tree. From its topmost branches, it was his job to make a note of the position of the stars so that the sky pirate could chart their progress and plan their next day’s journey – or ‘voyage’, as Squall still insisted on calling it. Once Nate had scrawled down the appropriate observations in the barkpaper notebook Squall had given him, he would return to the sleeping nest and be allowed to sleep in.
From outside the nest, the unmistakeable smell of frying thousandfoots wafted in through the oakwillow and briargrass weave. Nate stretched and yawned before climbing out of his blanket and folding it into his bedding roll. Slinging it over his shoulder, he pulled the notebook from his topcoat and crawled out of the sleeping nest.
It was a bright sunny morning, with huge cumulus clouds billowing high into the sky over the distant treeline. A warm and gentle breeze rustled the broad leaves of the lufwood trees all around. Up in a tree close by, Squall and Slip were eating a breakfast of thousandfoot fritters beside the hanging brazier, while Eudoxia and the Professor were deep in conversation about the timber trade in the Midwood Decks.
Nate was about to climb the tree to join them when he noticed the banderbear. The great shaggy creature was standing some way off at the top of a nearby tree ridge, stock-still and back turned. He was sniffing the air, his feathery ears fluttering animatedly.
Nate frowned. ‘What’s wrong?’ he called out.
Weelum turned round and stared back at him, and Nate saw that his arms were full of succulent grayleberries.
‘I said …’
‘Wuh-wuh,’ the banderbear murmured distractedly, letting the grayleberries fall to the ground and turning away.
Nate glanced round uneasily. In the branches above him, the others were oblivious to the banderbear. A twist of smoke was rising up from the brazier as Squall and Slip complimented Eudoxia on her cooking, and the Professor helped himself to another mug of tea. He turned back.
‘Weelum?’ he said, walking up the slope towards his friend.
Above his head, the sky was a brilliant blue and the warm morning sunshine dappled the forest floor. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a flash of orange. He looked round, but there was nothing there.
‘Wuh,’ Weelum groaned miserably.
‘What is it?’ asked Nate. ‘Are you sick?’
The banderbear looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. His eyes were wide and filled with panic and, Nate realized,
the poor creature was trembling from the tops of his ears to the tips of his toes.
‘Wuh-wuh,’ he said, raising a single paw and bringing it slashing down through the air.
‘Danger?’ said Nate. ‘What kind of danger?’
The banderbear turned his attention back to the forest floor ahead of them. There was another flash of orange. Nate followed the banderbear’s gaze and found himself staring at a small round creature with fluffy orange fur and small unblinking eyes, standing low to the ground beneath a copperwood tree.
‘Is that what I think it is?’ Nate whispered, his voice trembling.
‘Wig-wig!’ the banderbear cried out, the fur at his neck standing on end. ‘Wig-wig! Wig-wig!’
On the far side of the clearing, more of the orange creatures tumbled into view. A handful at first, then a dozen, then a hundred, their numbers rapidly swelling as more and more of them spewed out from the undergrowth. With a yelp of abject terror, Weelum turned, hoisting Nate up roughly onto his shoulders as he did so, and hurtled back down the slope. Nate clung on tightly to the thick fur at the back of his neck, ducking low to avoid the overhanging branches as the banderbear flattened everything before him.
He glanced round. The wig-wigs were close on their heels, their fur glossy and gleaming in the dappled sunlight as they scampered behind in pursuit. To his right, half a dozen of the little creatures leaped at them. As they did so, their fluffy bodies split in two, to reveal two rows of savage teeth.
‘Earth and Sky protect us,’ Nate gasped, gripping tightly round Weelum’s neck.
One of the creatures attached itself to Weelum’s elbow. Grunting with pain, the banderbear swung his arm round and dashed the wig-wig against a tree. As it dropped to the ground, several more took its place, and Nate found himself holding on for dear life as the banderbear slashed and snatched at the vicious beasts, lurching and swaying in his efforts to rid himself of the savage orange furballs that clung to his body like vicious tarryburrs.
Edge Chronicles 10: The Immortals Page 23
