by Lexi Rees
‘Yes. That’s the castle, and it’s got the flag too.’
Lisana peers at the manuscript. ‘Hmm. It doesn’t say where it is though. And I don’t recognise it,’ she says, passing it on to Dad.
‘Oh,’ Dad says. ‘Yes, I do know where that is. I grew up near there. It’s Castle Gylen, in Scotland. But the island is deserted, nobody has lived there for centuries.’
‘Perfect for the elders then. That must be it,’ Lisana says.
As we finalise the plan, I hope the vision is not a wild goose chase.
‘Can we go now?’ I ask, impatiently.
‘At first light,’ Dad says.
Waiting for the sun to come up we try, unsuccessfully, to sleep.
‘You must go now. There’s no time to lose,’ Lisana says as dawn breaks, ushering us towards the door.
We’re halfway out of the hut but something stops me. I turn back to Lisana. ‘Will you come with us? It’s time you left this island and started to be a guardian again.’
‘Thanks,’ she says, beaming. ‘I’d love to. And maybe I can repay you for all the trouble I have caused.’
Lisana takes a last look around her hut and grabs a few items. She hands one to each of us.
First, she holds out a large sea-green cloak for me. ‘Walrus skin,’ she says. ‘This will allow you to swim even deeper and longer under water, and without getting cold.’
I lift the cloak over my shoulders. It hangs around me in big folds, piling around my feet. I can’t imagine swimming in something so heavy. ‘Are you trying to drown me?’
She tilts her head to the side, looks at me quizzically, and turns to Aria. In her hands rests a pure white, feathered dream-catcher. ‘Any dark magic will get trapped in here,’ she says.
Aria gasps. ‘It’s beautiful. I’m going to hang it above my bed.’
Finally, she hands Dad a loaf of bread. ‘It’s everlasting,’ she says. He takes a bite. Nothing happens, the loaf doesn’t grow back. ‘Gotcha! It’s just regular bread!’ she says. Aria and I both start to giggle. The laughter breaks the tension, but it doesn’t last. Her face quickly clouds over again.
She doesn’t say anything aloud, but I catch her staring into Dad’s eyes, and see him nodding softly. Neither of them utter a word but I know something passed between them. Is she a telepath?
We leave the hut in silence, Aria and I clasping our unusual gifts, and Dad looking grim.
TWELVE
Hunted
Lisana grins as she clambers onto the Alcina. ‘Nice boat.’
‘Thanks. It’s a bit big for us to sail on our own. We manage, but …’ Aria says, hesitating before adding, ‘it was easier when Mum was here.’ Her shoulders slump.
‘We’ll find her, don’t worry. And you’ve got me to help on the boat now too.’
We’re quickly out of the bay and on our way. The sun is high in the sky and the wind is perfect. Luckily Dad has managed to fix the navigation instruments. The course to New London to deliver the fake pearl is set.
‘Can we come with you into New London to do the delivery?’ I ask.
‘No, I think it’s better if I go alone, as if it was a regular delivery,’ Dad says. ‘But I won’t give over the fake pearl until I know Isolda is safe.’
We pore over maps of New London, tracing out the streets which twist and turn around the station like a pile of wriggling worms. Be prepared, as the boy scout motto says. We locate an original blueprint of the old Strand Underground Station. Dad plans his escape route, just in case they spot the pearl is fake before he gets Mum back.
Lisana prowls on deck, even more restless than usual. She screws up her eyes and sniffs the air. ‘Trackers. They’re close.’
My stomach lurches at the thought.
‘I thought we were safe from them. Why would the trackers be after us? Surely, if it’s for Sir Waldred he wouldn’t send the trackers? I mean, there’s no point in them chasing us since we’re bringing it to him anyway, is there?’ I ask.
‘No. They are coming for you. I can feel them,’ Lisana says, her face dark and brooding.
‘But why would they do that? It makes no sense,’ Aria says, raising her eyebrows.
‘When did Sir Waldred ever honour a bargain?’ Dad says. ‘If the trackers can steal the relic from us before we get to New London, then he doesn’t need to release Isolda. He’ll force us to do something else to free her. Another ransom to be paid in exchange for her life.’ He looks around the room, his gaze lingers on Aria, his eyes full of worry. ‘We can still be of great use to him.’
Tension hangs in the air. We take turns on watch from the crow’s nest at the top of the mast. None of us say it aloud, but we all know it’s only a matter of time before they catch up with us.
Darkness has not yet surrendered to daylight and Aria is on look-out. I’m asleep on deck, too restless to be confined to my cabin.
‘What’s that?’ Aria calls down to me, pointing to a speck on the horizon.
‘Probably just another fishing boat,’ I say.
‘I can’t see any rigging and it’s too far offshore for a fishing boat, isn’t it?’
I scramble up the mast and hop into the crows-nest beside her. ‘You’re right, it’s the wrong shape for a fishing boat. Trackers?’
We watch the speck together for a while.
‘It’s getting closer,’ Aria says. ‘And it’s coming straight for us. Fast. We’d better get Dad.’ We slide down the mast as if it was a fireman’s pole.
Nervously, the three of us line up in a row along the stern of the Alcina. As it gets closer, we recognise the unmistakable hulking shape of a jet-ship swiftly closing the gap between us.
We spring into action.
‘They’re gaining on us. We need more speed,’ Dad cries.
The wind carries the smell of burning fuel from their engines. It catches the back of my throat and makes me cough. Since the Last War, fuel has been rationed. Only trackers and bounty hunters use it so wastefully.
They’re close enough now for me to see the cannons on their deck.
‘Faster,’ Aria yells. ‘They’re going to fire at us.’
Lisana appears, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. ‘No, they won’t fire, they don’t want to sink us. They want to catch us. They want the pearl.’
I take the helm and Dad adjusts the sails to give us more speed. The extra wind in the sails forces the boat to lean steeply over to one side. Things slide off the surfaces below decks and crash to the floor. But I also feel the speed pick up: seven knots, eight knots, nine knots. We’re flying along, but I glance back. It’s not enough. They’re still getting closer. There’s no way we can outrun a jet-ship.
If only we could surf, I think, panicking. That would make us totally uncatchable.
The sea churns behind us.
‘What’s that?’ Aria points at a giant wave, building from nothing, right behind us. ‘Oh no, please not now. We can’t get hit by a tidal wave,’ Aria cries, fear making her voice quiver.
The wave grows. I feel it catching up with us, lifting us high up into the air, carrying us along. The salty sea-spray stings our eyes. We’re perched on the crest of the monstrous wave. When it breaks, we’ll be smashed to pieces. There’s nowhere to go but down into the depths of the ocean.
Dad grabs the wheel from me but there’s nothing he can do; we can’t turn around, and in front of us the sea opens like a vast chasm. He holds the boat steady. His face a grim mask.
But the wave doesn’t break, it keeps driving forward, pushing us along with it.
Lisana scans the sea. ‘Interesting,’ she mutters, looking sideways at me. ‘It’s you,’ she whispers. ‘You’re doing this.’
‘Huh? I promise I didn’t do anything.’ But I thought about it.
‘Even more interesting. Subconscious action, a mere thought �
��’ Lisana says.
How did she know that? Did she read my mind?
‘An ancient talent …’ she continues. ‘If you can do that without training … I wonder what you might be able to do in the future …’ Lisana’s voice trails off.
Aria is dancing about at the back of the boat, watching the jet-ship. ‘We’re losing them,’ she cheers. ‘They’ve no chance of keeping up with us while we’re surfing like this.’
Surveying our rather precarious position, Lisana nudges me and hisses under her breath, ‘Finn, don’t stop doing whatever it is you’re doing, or not doing.’
Surf faster.
I daren’t look.
‘They’re falling behind … yes … yes, they are. They’re getting smaller. They can’t keep up. We’re outrunning a jet-ship,’ Aria sings.
Only once the jet-ship and its crew of trackers are left far behind do I relax. As I do, the wave slowly subsides until it’s nothing more than a gentle splash on the hull.
‘That was totally amazing,’ Aria says.
‘Indeed. It was a happy piece of luck there was a freak wave, just here, at this particular moment,’ Lisana says, oozing sarcasm and looking sideways at me.
‘Finn, did you make that wave?’ Aria asks, clocking the sarcasm in Lisana’s voice.
‘Maybe,’ I mutter, blushing.
‘Wow,’ Aria says. ‘I didn’t know you could do that.’
‘It saved our lives,’ Lisana says. ‘And the other good news is, provided you don’t touch the pearl, they will find it much harder to track us down again. We’re safe … for now.’
‘There is a problem though,’ Dad says. ‘The fact he really did send the trackers after us means we were right. Sir Waldred has absolutely no intention of giving Isolda back without a fight. We’re going to have to rescue her.’
“Welcome to New London” says the sign as we turn the boat into the Thames Estuary. Underneath, a smaller notice in scratchy writing hangs lopsidedly, “Pirates and Smugglers Beware”.
Rotting bodies swing from a row of gallows. My heart skips a beat. I want to look away but I can’t. My eyes are locked on the corpses. The tattered remains of a skull and crossbones flutters like a cape from around the neck of one of them.
The further up the river we go, the tenser Dad gets.
We tie up in a small, murky marina just outside the city walls. A man with a long overcoat and his hat pulled down low over his eyes approaches us, ‘Protection?’ he growls.
Dad passes him a roll of bank notes and nods without uttering a word. The man tilts his hat and winks, a wicked glint in his eyes. He prowls back towards the warehouse. His shadow leans against the wall, lurking like a hyena, only the tip of his cigar giving a clue as to his presence.
‘Stay here, all of you,’ Dad says. ‘I’ll deliver the fake pearl the way they instructed and find Isolda. When I get back, we’ll be on the way to Castle Gylen as quickly as we can. Guard the boat, but stay out of sight … And don’t talk to the man in the overcoat.’
THIRTEEN
Captured
‘He should be back by now,’ I say. ‘I think something has gone wrong. Lisana, can you sense anything?’
Lisana shakes her head. ‘I fear you are right.’
Aria chews her hair nervously. ‘What should we do?’
‘It’s up to us now. We’ll have to rescue both Mum and Dad.’
‘How?’
‘We know the delivery was to the old Strand Station. We’ll start looking there. There will be a trail.’
‘But we won’t even be able to get into the City? Dad had an entry permit, we don’t.’
‘I have a plan,’ I say.
Overcoat man wipes his nose with the back of his hand as I approach.
‘I need your help,’ I say.
‘What can I do for you?’ he grunts.
I explain what I need and he sidles away.
A sharp whistle from the shadows lets me know he’s returned. He holds out a package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with string.
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘Happy to oblige,’ he says, melting back into the shadows.
Disguised as convict labourers in plain blue cotton uniforms, we join their queue to enter the city. Freshly forged identity documents, courtesy of overcoat man, stuffed in our pockets. My hands sweat as I hand the papers to the guard. He barely glances at me, stamps the first page and passes it back to me. It worked!
I shuffle forwards towards the City gates. I daren’t look back to see what has happened to Aria, but hopefully the guard will show as little interest in her.
‘I’m right behind you,’ a voice whispers. ‘Don’t look round though. Keep moving with the crowd.’
We trudge along with the rest of the line onto the ferry. Not one of the workers smiles, they stare blankly ahead like robots. Years of hard labour has beaten them down. The ferry spits the group of workers out near the old parliament building at Westminster, abandoned when the Earth Lords moved into Buckingham Palace.
It’s just a short walk along Embankment to the Strand from where we disembark.
As soon as we can, we slip away. With a nod and a wink, one of the convicts edges forward to fill the gap in the line left by us, covering up our disappearance. We shed the disguises, dumping the clothes in a bin.
The old Strand Station is squashed between two much grander buildings. The whole building is only a fraction wider than the door. Old-fashioned red-glazed tiles cover the front. The dark green door is blocked by a metal grill, paint peeling from years of abandonment. An arched window sits above the door, opaque with grime and pigeon droppings.
At the bottom of the metal grill, a few of the bars have been bent back, presumably the result of an attempted break-in many years ago. The gap is far too small for an adult to squeeze through so nobody thought it worthwhile repairing the damage, but I reckon we’ll fit.
‘I’ll go first to check it’s safe,’ I say. I glance around, it doesn’t appear that anyone is watching us, and wriggle through the hole.
‘It’s safe, Aria,’ I say. ‘There’s nobody here. Come on.’
My eyes take a few minutes to adjust to the dim light filtering through the dirty windows. A ticket office and four ticket barriers wait patiently for the long-departed customers. Beyond them I see the way down to the railway platforms. A sign warns, “There are 193 steps in this station. Please use the escalators”.
The escalators haven’t worked in years, so we set off down the stairs. Dust works its way under my skin and makes my nose itch. The darkness gets thicker as we go deeper underground. I’m glad I remembered a torch, but the small circle of yellow light just exaggerates the shadows. I shiver.
We emerge onto the platform. The cream and green tiles form a pattern on the walls, spoiled by a dirty grey tint. Other than the sound of our footsteps, the silence is eerie. At the far end, there’s a door marked “Staff only”.
A faint noise echoes through the station, footsteps.
‘Someone’s coming,’ I whisper to Aria.
The footsteps get louder, running now.
‘We need to hide,’ Aria whispers back. ‘Quick, through here,’ she says, pushing me through the door.
I blink several times whilst my eyes adjust to the sudden bright light. From the dark, dirty disused platform, we’ve popped out into a gleaming white corridor with several doors. These weren’t marked on any plans.
Which way do we go?
My heart races.
A red dot on the security camera above our heads blinks. We’ve been spotted.
We run, flinging open the first door and plunging through, straight into two burly men in uniforms. One grabs my arm, bending it sharply behind my back. The other does the same to Aria. They push us roughly in front of them.
‘Hey,’ I say, ‘Let me go
.’ I twist myself, trying to escape from his grip, but he holds me tight.
They march us back along the maze of corridors. One of the radios strapped to the guard’s belts crackles. A disembodied voice from the radio says, ‘Security team alert. We have the package. We’re moving out now.’
‘We’d better hurry up. What do we do with these two?’ asks the man holding Aria.
‘Tie ’em up. We need to tell the boss there are two strange kids snooping around.’
The men shove us into one of the labs and force us to the ground. They rummage around for a roll of tape, wrench our hands behind our backs, and tie us to a bench.
I twist my hands left and right, trying to loosen the tape but it sticks to my skin and won’t slip over my wrists. ‘Can you get your hands free?’
‘No, it’s too tight,’ she says. ‘You?’
‘No.’
‘The package they mentioned must be the pearl,’ Aria says, wriggling furiously. ‘Let’s hope they don’t realise it’s a fake.’
‘I’m working on a plan,’ I say, straining against the ties.
FOURTEEN
Girl
‘Stay still,’ says a voice from behind the bench. I squirm to try and see who spoke, but with my hands tied I can’t turn around far enough. I glimpse a white lab coat. ‘Stop moving or I’ll cut you,’ the voice continues. They have a knife. I freeze. My hands come loose.
I whirl round to see our rescuer. It’s a scrappy little girl with dark eyes hidden beneath a tangled mess of long, black hair. She’s wearing a white lab coat that trails on the floor.
‘Who are you? Why are you trying to help us?’ I ask.
‘I’m Pippin,’ she says, squirming on her belly beneath the bench.
