by Tom Banks
The Captain himself! But how …? No – of course, this was Zebediah, the author of all their recent troubles. Wearing the Captain’s best hat, a gold-piped model even more impressive than the one his brother habitually wore about the Galloon, Zebediah clambered out and stood on the hull of the Sumbaroon.
‘You have been saved, girl!’ he called, in a voice that barely carried over the wind and the crashing of the sea. ‘I would have crushed you! Tell your master that I know – I know about the pendant! I know it lies in the Kraken’s Lair, and I know how to use it against him! And as soon as I have repaired my ship, I will be there, while he is still entertaining the inbreeds and ingrates of Castle Eisberg! His bride will be mine forever, and soon his Galloon will follow! Ahahahaha! Mwahahaha! MWWWAAAAAAHHHAAAAAHHHAAAA!’
At this, Cloudier heard another voice, sweeter and clearer in the night air, emerge from the hatchway.
‘Who are you talking to, dearest?’
‘Just, erm … assessing the damage, my darling!’ called Zebediah, in a much deeper voice than before. ‘We must have hit an iceberg. Soon be dealt with, and we’ll be on our way again!’
Cloudier was now almost out of earshot, but she saw the Captain’s evil brother walking back along the Sumbaroon, heedless of the icy depths to each side, to see what damage the vengeful whale had done.
‘He may be completely barmy,’ she said aloud. ‘But he’s brave enough in his way.’
‘SKWAAAAWWWWWWWWWWW-AK-AK-AK-AK-AKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!’ agreed Fishbane at her side.
‘The Kraken’s Lair!’ said Cloudier, warming her soaking self at the burner once more. ‘So that’s where Isabella’s half of the pendant is. If he gets that, he’ll be halfway to taking control of the Galloon! We must get there, but how will we ever find it?’
With a croak that may have been the Seagle’s version of a resigned roll of the eyes, Fishbane began to peck and claw at one of the many thin cords that held the balloon in a protective web.
‘Ermm … please don’t …’ said Cloudier, but she stopped as Fishbane gave her one of his looks.
He must know what he’s doing, she thought, and so it proved.
Once Fishbane had a longish cord loose, he took it in his beak, and gave Cloudier a baleful look that she took to mean, ‘I don’t do this for just anyone, you know’. That done, he turned the burner off to stop the balloon rising any further, and dropped from the edge of the basket into thin air. He soon rose again into Cloudier’s eye line, with the cord clamped tightly in his serrated beak. His huge wings flapping slowly, he began to pull the balloon round, so that the wind was once more at their backs. And in this way, with the Lord of the Wandering Seagles towing her through the sky, and with the recent perils apparently behind her at least for the moment, Cloudier sat back to enjoy the ride to the Kraken’s Lair.
‘I would die, Captain Meredith,’ said the Brunt, matter-of-factly. ‘I cannot go out into the snow. I would die.’
The Captain winced slightly at this reminder of the Brunt’s mortality, but he was not to be put off.
‘But if we could find a way to keep you warm, my friend? You’d do it? For the Galloon?’
The Captain took a lump of sugar from a smartly dressed mouse with barely a blink.
‘I don’t like going outside, Captain Meredith,’ said the Brunt, appearing to think very carefully as he stared at the ceiling of his hot little room, down in the bowels of the Galloon where people rarely went. ‘But I would like to see the inside of a firehill again.’
‘Firehill?’ said Rasmussen, who was busy tying her last ribbon round another mouse, who had been trained by the Brunt to dance the galliard.
‘Volcano,’ said the Captain, his urgency fairly thrumming through him, despite his being sat in a chintzy chair, drinking tea from a cracked china cup. ‘The Brunt was born in one, many years since. It is his natural home.’
‘This is my natural home now, Rasmussen,’ said the Brunt, firmly but quietly.
‘Of course, of course it is, my old friend,’ said the Captain, leaning in towards the huge creature, whose impressive horns curled so high they nearly hit the ceiling of the room, even when he was sitting down.
‘And if it wasn’t in danger, we wouldn’t be here, except perhaps for tea and cake. But if Zebediah gets to the firehill first, he will have won. And I have no doubt that, so emboldened, he will keep making attempts on the Galloon itself, until it is his, or destroyed.’
Stanley and Rasmussen knew that when standing up, the Brunt had to stoop slightly to fit in here, even though it was his bedroom, living room, and, for all they knew, his kitchen and bathroom too. It wasn’t that there wasn’t more space for him – he just didn’t seem to want it. Stanley and Rasmussen had become fairly regular visitors since they stumbled upon the Brunt’s little room during a previous adventure, and they had become firm friends with him. Despite their love for the Captain, there was something unsettling for Stanley in seeing the Brunt put under this pressure. He almost seemed to squirm in his chair as conflicting expressions flowed across his huge, deeply lined face.
‘I like living here, Captain Meredith,’ he said simply.
‘And we like you living here!’ said the Captain. ‘But if I don’t get my hands on the token of love I made for my Isabella, then the very future of the Galloon is at stake.’
‘I think I have an idea as to how we can keep you safe from the cold,’ said Rasmussen, but Stanley wasn’t sure anyone else had heard her.
The cup in the Captain’s hand cracked like an eggshell, and Stanley felt the force of his feeling, but he also knew how much the idea of going outside scared the Brunt. This could go either way.
The Brunt’s brow furrowed yet further, and he turned to look straight into the Captain’s eyes.
‘Do you love her, Captain Meredith?’ he said.
‘Of course! Well … yes! I mean … What kind of …? Yes! Hang it all, Brunt, what d’yer …?’ stammered the Captain, and Stanley found this most unsettling of all. Beside him, Rasmussen stopped playing with the mouse, and watched the Captain carefully.
‘Then I will go,’ said the Brunt.
The Captain, still a tad flustered, looked again at the Brunt, and Stanley thought he saw a tear in his eye.
‘I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t love her. She’s my home,’ he said.
‘I meant Isabella, not the Galloon, Captain Meredith.’
The Captain squeezed his eyes tight shut for a moment, then looked up at the Brunt.
‘So did I.’
For the first time, Stanley thought about the power of these two people, and he realised that the Brunt, quiet though he was, was not some underling here. He was every bit the Captain’s equal. To Stanley’s surprise, the Brunt nodded briefly at the Captain but then turned to Rasmussen and Stanley before he spoke again.
‘Tell me your idea, please, Rasmussen,’ he said.
Rasmussen jumped from her chair, and clapped her hands decisively.
‘I’ll do better than that,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you!’
Flying through the air behind Fishbane, the Lord of Three of the Four Winds, Cloudier finally had time to update her journal.
I do not think it will take Zebediah’s men long to repair the Sumbaroon, and then they will be heading straight for the Kraken’s Lair. We will get there before them, however, and I must use whatever time advantage I have to find that token!
She looked up from her writing, to where Fishbane was still flying ahead, dragging her small balloon through the skies.
Was the whale a stroke of luck? Or did Fishbane have something to do with it? Perhaps he is not just the Lord of the Seagles, but of all creatures. Or perhaps all Seagles refer to themselves as Lords, and he’s just like all the others. I will ask him one day – but I’ll put a cagoule on first.
As she wrote this, she feared she had been found out, because Fishbane let out a skreeeek. But when she looked up, she realised that he was indicating that they were starting to los
e height. Cloudier stood and peered through the moonlit night. She could see the ice, reflecting moonlight up into the sky, so she knew they were still over the water, but ahead of them were patches of darkness. Islands perhaps, or mountains emerging from the sea? Fishbane seemed to be heading for one off to their left slightly. As her eyes got used to the distance, she could see that this was a large island, consisting almost entirely of one great volcano, which seemed to have a plume of smoke emerging from its open top. Down by sea level, she thought she could see occasional flashes of orange light, which made no sense to her for quite a while.
They continued their approach, and it seemed to Cloudier that Fishbane was flying faster now their destination was in sight. For this was surely the Kraken’s Lair, scene of that disastrous day a year or two before, when the Captain had forged a love token for Isabella, given half to her on a beautiful golden necklace, but then dropped his half down into the crater.
Now, as well as orange flashes, she could hear, over the wind of their progress, occasional hisses, as of something hot being plunged into water. She wished she could ask Fishbane what was going on, but as he was busy tugging the balloon, and could only communicate with her in writing at the best of times, she would have to work it out for herself. So – a volcano, in the sea, with orange flashes and hissing noises. Staring intently, she could see that the orange light was coming from a point where the volcano met the water, and where there seemed to be a darker patch. A cave perhaps?
This was confirmed as they drew closer, and she began to make out puffs of steam coming from the cave, as well as the smoke pouring from the open mountaintop. They were now level with this, thanks to Fishbane’s hard work. He dropped the rope he had been holding, and Cloudier gave the balloon a burst from the burner to keep it at the right level. Fishbane flew on ahead, as she continued more slowly on her way, by virtue of the prevailing winds.
She watched as Fishbane flew directly over the volcano for a second, before wheeling away, perhaps repelled by the smoke and heat. He flew back to her, and perched on the edge of the basket. Unsure what to do, Cloudier emptied some heat from the balloon, which caused it to sink, and seemed to please the Seagle. Soon they were floating slowly down towards the sea, and the winds were not so strong down here. Through a combination of Cloudier managing the balloon, and Fishbane giving the occasional tug on the lead rope, they were heading towards the dark patch – now clearly a large sea cave where the mountain met the water, and just as clearly, the place where Fishbane thought they should be.
Soon they were skimming dangerously low over the crests of the waves, with only occasional bursts from the burner keeping them from plunging into the sea. Cloudier’s heart leapt to her mouth again, as she realised that they had more chance of tipping into the water, or slamming into the side of the mountain, than they did of navigating directly into the upcoming cave mouth, and even if they made it inside, she would then be piloting a hot air balloon inside an active volcano.
For the first time, she felt the full weight of responsibility. There was a great deal at stake. If Zebediah found the token first, then …
Then what? The Captain had indicated that the Galloon’s future was at stake here. But how was anybody’s guess. She would just have to trust that the mission he had sent her out on was an important one. There was no more time for this train of thought – the volcano was looming, and if she missed the yawning cave mouth, she would be dashed to pieces on the dark mountainside.
Up ahead, Fishbane had hold of the rope again, and was using it to make fine adjustments to their flight path. The orange flashes were brighter now and seemed more frequent, each one accompanied by a hiss and a burst of steam. Her stomach flipped as the entrance to the cave flashed by, and then suddenly they were inside.
With almost no time to be relieved, she saw ahead of them the reason for the flashes. From a yawning gulf in the cave wall, many yards ahead, rivers of lava were flowing. The orange-hot, gloopy-looking stuff was pouring over onto a wide shelf of rock, where it pooled and spread into a lake of fire, dotted with occasional outcrops and islands. Every once in a while, the lava overflowed from this lake, and huge gobs of it plopped into the sea, which was lapping and crashing against the near edge of the shelf. Each time it did this, a huge cloud of steam burst from the water. She could see, through the waves, that the magma fell away through the water as it cooled, and some of it was still bright orange as it dropped from sight into the unknown depths of the sea.
Despite the chill water and the open cave mouth, the heat inside the cavern was intense. The little balloon had begun to rise on the column of hot air, and Fishbane let go of the rope, as it was yanked and buffeted about by the thermals. Cloudier grabbed onto the basket and held on tight. She was amazed to glimpse the stars through the opening at the top of the volcano. If she hadn’t been in mortal danger she would have laughed with joy at the silliness of it all – but the walls of the cave were closing in as she rose, and she now had almost no control over the balloon’s progress. The smoke was enveloping her, and she was in danger of choking, or being smashed against the rock walls, or dropping out of the balloon and either drowning or burning up in the maelstrom below.
She heard Fishbane’s squawk above the rush of the water and steam, and hoped that he was okay. The balloon seemed to be sticking now, either caught on an outcrop or pressed against the inward slope of the wall. Either way, it was no longer climbing, and it was, at least for a while, out of the main rush of smoke heading towards the chimney. Cloudier looked around, hoping to see Fishbane nearby, but he was not there. She peered down towards the base of the cave, where the fiery lake was still being filled up, and then overflowing with a hiss. If the Captain’s love token had fallen into the lava, or into the chill waters of the Great Northern Ocean, it was surely lost forever? Even if it had landed on one of the outcrops of solid rock dotted here and there about the lava lake, the chances of getting it back were miniscule.
Just as she thought she could not feel any more hopeless, her spirits plummeted yet further. As she peered through the gloom and the heat haze towards the cave mouth, she saw a sight to freeze her blood. There, chugging its way slowly into the cave, was the battered Sumbaroon. Cloudier watched as it gingerly picked its way past the rocks at the entrance to this hellish place.
‘He must have followed us!’ she said to herself, and then jumped almost out of her skin as the Seagle, who had landed on the basket behind her, let fly an ear-splitting screech.
She turned to admonish him, but soon realised that he had an urgent request. He hopped down into the basket, in which there was barely room for them both, and picked up Cloudier’s damp and crinkly notebook. She opened it for him, and handed him a pen, which he took with rather less care than he could have, leaving Cloudier with a nipped finger.
The Seagle’s head dipped and swooped, and Cloudier tried to read over his shoulder as he wrote. She could make no sense of it, until he dropped the pen, picked up the notebook and held it out for her to read.
We have two hopes – Water and air. I will find the Kraken, the denizen of this lair, and warn him of the Sumbaroon’s proximity. He will relish a chance to finish the job he has started. I will then make for the Galloon to warn them of your plight. Stay here, stay alive, and keep an eye on the Sumbaroon. Look for salvation when the darkness deepens.
Fishbane, Who Flies Into Fire.
And with that, he was gone.
‘Look for salvation when the darkness deepens?’ sneered Cloudier, despite herself. ‘Such hyperbole!’
In the main kitchen of the Great Galloon, the Brunt was being made cold-proof. As well as his traditional leather apron and greasy trousers, he was now wearing a kind of all-over quilted body suit, which Stanley had remembered seeing the last time they had visited the Brunt’s hot little rooms. It turned out that the Brunt used it to protect himself on those rare occasions when he had to actually step into the Galloon’s great furnace, to clean it or make repairs.
He was standing by the huge range cooker, yet still he was shivering in the relative cool of the kitchen. Stanley and Rasmussen were wrapping blankets and towels round his arms and legs, while the Captain and Cook were busy shovelling hot coals from the range into a series of bedpans, kettles and casserole dishes. Any metal receptacle with a lid had been pressed into service. Once every exposed area of fur or flesh had been covered, they began to hang these hot pots from his neck, sling them across his back with ropes, and generally ensure that as much of his body as possible was covered with heating pans.
His feet, also wrapped in damp cloths to prevent the fur singeing, were stuffed into great fish kettles full of embers, and his hands thrust into the biggest oven gloves they could find, and again stuffed with ash and cinders from the range. Finally they tied a bag full of hot stones, warmed in the oven, round his head like a hat. All this would have been enough to kill any other member of the crew. But Stanley noticed that the Brunt became more relaxed with every garment added, until eventually he was beaming beatifically and almost purring with delight.
‘This is very comfortable, thank you, Stanley,’ said the Brunt.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Stanley.
‘Thank you, Rasmussen,’ said the Brunt.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Rasmussen.
‘Thank you, Cook,’ said the Brunt.
‘You’re welcome,’ said Cook.
‘Thank you, Captain Meredith,’ said the Brunt.
‘You’re welcome,’ said the Captain.
Stanley, for one, was pleased no one else had helped. ‘That should keep you warm in almost any conditions,’ he said.
‘For a time at least,’ added the Captain. ‘Though we will be up against it. Once you are inside the volcano, and you’ve found the token, you can refill the suit with hot rocks and head back out.’
