Tim Burre’s forehead crinkled. “Magic.” He leaned closer. “I know a ship that sailed west—it came back in pieces. Crushed against the edge of the world.”
So the edge of the world was a wall now, not a rim you could fall off. “You can’t really believe that,” said Brine. “Why did you stay on the ship if you thought we were all doomed?”
Tim Burre glanced across to where Cassie was standing at the helm. “Because if there’s one person who can survive falling off the world,” he said, “it’s Cassie O’Pia. I reckoned it was worth a try.” He squinted into the distance. “Are those mountains?”
Brine’s heart gave a jump as she saw them, too—a cluster of peaks, shimmering in the distance, rising straight out of the sea. “Told you,” she said. “There’s no such thing as the end of the world.” She tossed Boswell the rest of the meat. “Cassie!”
“I see them. Full speed to starboard.”
The Onion drifted around gently, ambled across a ripple or two, and paused.
“All right, so full speed might be a little slower than usual,” said Cassie as everyone groaned.
* * *
The hours passed and the Onion crept across the motionless sea, but the mountains appeared as far away as ever. Cassie gave orders with her usual confidence, but Brine saw the frown lines around her eyes. The crew was used to fighting their way out of dangerous situations. If a giant squid rose from the deep now and attacked them, they’d go for it with cheers of joy. But they couldn’t fight this … this nothing.
As evening drew on, Brine sat with Peter and Tom and watched. Without the usual noise of wind in the sails, the pulsing of wood was unusually loud: a steady, rhythmic beat that sounded almost like the ship was breathing. It was the sound of the magic filling the ship, Peter had said once, expanding and contracting. Brine had no idea how he knew that or how she could hear it, because only magicians were supposed to be able to sense magic.
“I don’t like this,” said Rob Grosse for about the twentieth time.
Brine shaded her eyes, squinting at the horizon. “Is it magic?” She turned her head slowly from side to side, watching the mountains. They seemed to blur on the edge of her vision, turning to mist, but as she looked straight at them, they became solid again.
Tom shook his head. “Actually, I think it’s entirely natural. What we’re seeing is a mirage. It’s very rare, but when the sky and sea are both really clear, sailors sometimes see islands that aren’t there.”
“And you’ve read about this in your books, have you?” asked Ewan.
Tom gave him a puzzled look. “I’ve read about everything in my books.”
Cassie strode across the deck. “Whatever it is, we’re not going to find out sitting here. Peter, I know you’ve given up magic for now, but can’t you conjure up some wind for us?”
Brine felt Peter shift beside her. She kept her gaze on the sea, careful not to turn and meet his gaze.
“You can’t just create wind,” said Tom. “Wind is air that’s moving. Think of how much air you’d have to move just to get a breeze.”
“It’s air,” grumbled Rob. “It’s not like it’s heavy.”
The sun dipped below the horizon and, as the sky darkened, the mountains disappeared.
“There we are,” said Tom. “Mirage.”
Brine heard a flapping sound behind her. “Well done, Boswell,” she said. He was finally getting the hang of what his wings were for.
But when she turned around, she saw the dragon curled up with Zen, asleep. She looked up—to the very top of the mainmast, where the black-and-white flag hung like a rag. The bottom edge of it waved at her.
Around the deck, the pirates paused. Nobody dared say anything in case this was another mirage. Tom opened his notebook and held it up. Some of the pages fluttered gently.
“Wind!” shouted Tim Burre. “Wind ahoy!”
A moment later a gust caught the sails, bowing them out. The pirates cheered as the Onion picked up speed. Brine stood, a huge grin on her face. “I knew Tim Burre was making things up about the end of the world.”
They were on their way to the Western Island again, she thought. She’d find her family, and it would turn out that they were the last dragon trainers in the world. They’d adopt Boswell and prepare him for a life in the wild. Brine would be sad to see him go, of course, but he’d come back to the island every year to visit and she’d be known as the Dragon Girl of the West.
She turned to face Peter. “We will find dragons,” she said.
She’d expected him to disagree, but he nodded. “I know,” he said, frowning at her.
“What’s wrong?” Brine asked.
“Nothing.”
It didn’t look like nothing was wrong. It looked like something was very wrong indeed, but that Peter didn’t want to tell her. Brine crossed her arms. “If you don’t say, I’ll tell Cassie to throw you overboard.”
Peter barely smiled at the joke. “All right, then. Marfak West’s ghost is on board.”
“That’s not funny,” said Tom, frowning.
Peter crossed his arms. “It’s not supposed to be. Marfak West is on the ship and I’ve talked to him—down belowdecks.”
Brine scratched her head. Peter didn’t look mad, and she knew he wasn’t joking, because he wouldn’t joke about Marfak West. “I’ve had nightmares about him, too,” she said. “But he’s gone. He can’t hurt us now. The ship has all sorts of dark places belowdecks. And you get odd shadows.…”
“You think I can’t tell the difference between a shadow and Marfak West?” Peter flushed with anger. “I’ll show you—come on.”
They followed Peter down the steps. Tom’s messenger gull squawked at them, making Brine jump. There was a perfectly good explanation for this, she reminded herself. Peter had suffered at the hands of Marfak West more than any of them. He’d probably thought he’d seen something in the dark.
“He said we were all going to die,” said Peter. He pointed to the dark stacks of crates at the back of the ship. “Through there.”
Brine looked at the dark gap between the crates. She couldn’t see anything, but she caught her breath as Tom squeezed past her.
“I can’t see anything.”
He squirmed out and Brine took his place. She could hear her own breath unsteady in her ears. Marfak West was more likely to appear to her than to Tom. If his ghost were here, which it couldn’t be because … well, why would it be? Ghosts haunted places like the Sea of Sighs; they didn’t stand around admiring packing crates.
Something touched her face and she jumped, but it was only a strand of spider’s web—normal-sized. She pushed her way back out quickly. “Nothing.” She grinned with relief. “It must have been your imagination.”
“But—” started Peter.
He was interrupted by alarm bells ringing overhead.
Brine promptly forgot about probably nonexistent ghosts and tore up the steps to the deck.
“The end of the world!” shouted Tim Burre. “The end of the world, ahoy!”
In the flood of silver moonlight, Brine saw a great line of water stretching out, and, beyond that, a broad lip of land narrowed to a point that looked like the spout of a jug. And all the waters of the ocean poured up and over it, in a great unending rush that made no sound at all as it tumbled into a great, black void, empty save for the shining lights of the stars.
“Man the sails!” yelled Cassie. “Turn this ship around!”
The crew shook themselves out of their daze and stumbled to obey. But the Onion continued relentlessly on course, heading straight for that tumbling line of water, beyond which there was no ocean—nothing at all.
CHAPTER 4
It’s the end of the sea; we’re all going to die.
We’ll fly with Orion up into the sky.
The wreck of our ship will become a new star.
It’s the end of the world, and it’s not very far.
(from OVER THE EDGE by Tim Burre)
P
eter couldn’t get his brain and his eyes to agree on what he was seeing. The world didn’t have an edge, his brain said. The world was round like a ball. It was one of those things he’d always known, just like he knew that fire burned and that his old master, Tallis Magus, would beat him around the ears anytime he got a spellshape wrong.
And that shows how much you know, said his eyes. Because, if the world was a ball, what was that rapidly approaching ridge of land? And the sea pouring over the side like water out of a bucket?
Behind him, Rob Grosse began to laugh hysterically. “It’s the brim. We’re going out of the bowl.”
“Turn this ship around!” screamed Cassie. She slashed the rope holding the mainsail, and the canvas sagged limply, but the ship didn’t slow. The sea rushed on and they rushed on with it.
“My books!” cried Tom. He rushed across the deck to gather them up from where Peter had left them.
Brine gripped Peter’s arm. “Peter…”
“I know. Do something.” He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t even move. The deck lurched beneath his feet. If he tried to take a step, he’d fall down: He knew it.
“Abandon ship!” Bill Lightning yelled, and in a moment everyone was shouting. Brine let go of Peter and ran.
Peter took a step after her and found to his surprise that he hadn’t fallen down after all. The deck still felt like it was heaving, but when he stood still, everything seemed to grow quiet. The sound of the ocean pouring off the world should be deafening, and yet the only noise came from the crew as they fought over the rowing boats and tried to turn the Onion around.
Where was Tom? He’d know what was going on. Peter spotted him a moment later, his hands full of books, trying to stop Ewan Hughes from slashing the sails to pieces. Ewan didn’t seem to care where he was waving his cutlass. Peter ran and caught his arm.
“Get out of the way,” snapped Ewan.
Peter clenched his fingers over the dark spot on his right palm and drew a shape in the air with his left hand instead. “Back off or I’ll turn you into a jellyfish.”
The threat worked. Only for two seconds, but it was long enough for Peter to drag Tom out of the way. Ewan went back to attacking the sails.
“They’ll destroy the ship,” said Tom. “We have to stop them.” His eyes were wide behind his glasses.
Peter grabbed his arm. “Come on.”
He looked around for Brine and saw her fighting Trudi over one of the rowing boats. Then Bill Lightning grabbed the boat, hurled it over the side of the ship, and prepared to jump after it, but twenty pirates piled on top of him. Brine tumbled backward, scrambled up, and started clambering over them all.
“Brine, stop!” Peter leaped for her and hauled her off the heap of squirming pirates. They both crashed to the deck. Brine kicked him in the face, and his vision flared amber for a second.
Tom sat on her legs. “Brine, it’s a mirage. Listen!”
Brine kept trying to kick them. Boswell scampered across and burrowed into Peter, whimpering. Looking over the side of the ship, Peter saw the rowing boat bob away and suddenly disappear.
“A mirage?” Brine said, her face pressed into the deck. “Like the mountains?”
Peter nodded. The movement made his head feel like it was going to fall off. He sat back on his heels and rested his hand on Boswell’s back. He could still see the edge of the world hurtling toward them, but they weren’t getting any closer.
Brine pushed Tom off. “Why didn’t you say so? Where’s Cassie?”
The pirate captain staggered by right at that moment, grappling with Rob Grosse. Brine grabbed hold of her as she passed. “Stop fighting! This isn’t real.”
“Nobody tells me to stop fighting,” snarled Cassie, shaking her off.
Peter hung on to Rob’s sword arm. “We’re not telling you. We’re asking you … nicely … to stop. We’re not going to fall over the edge of the world.” He tried to think of something that would convince her. “It’s magic,” he said.
“Magic?” Cassie paused. Rob stopped struggling, too, now that Cassie wasn’t trying to hit him.
Tom nodded. “Remember I said there was too much magic? It’s making us see things.”
Cassie sucked in a breath. “Are you sure?”
“Listen,” said Tom. Cassie tilted her head to one side. After a moment she frowned and sheathed her cutlass.
“Stupid magic making us do stupid things,” she muttered. She swung away from Rob and strode over to Ewan, who was still trying to cut down the sails. “Everyone, stop!” she shouted. She pulled Ewan away from the rigging. “This isn’t real.”
Turning, Peter saw that the foaming edge of the ocean was rushing closer. He staggered and clutched Brine for balance. It was only a mirage, he reminded himself.
Cassie stood still. “If you’re wrong about this—we’re all going to die in about thirty seconds.”
Peter’s face ached from the effort of not screaming. He gritted his teeth into a smile. “Don’t worry. Magicians are never wrong.”
The Onion climbed the last wave and plunged down. Peter had to bite his own hand to keep himself from screaming. Brine gripped his other hand, her nails digging in—she looked like she was holding her breath.
The ship shot out of the sea altogether and into the bank of land that formed the spout of the bowl. They hung for a second, teetering right on the edge, then slowly toppled over. Even though Peter knew it wasn’t happening, his stomach lurched and he shut his eyes tight.
The moment he did, the deck leveled out beneath him, the rush of movement stilled, and he knew they’d never been falling at all. He kept his eyes closed and marveled that he could still feel the waves lifting the ship up and down, and hear the sea slapping against the hull.
“You’re hurting my hand,” he said finally.
“Sorry.” Brine let go.
Peter opened his eyes. The ocean stretched out around them, flat and wide and endless, just like oceans ought to be. He’d never seen anything so amazing, so beautiful. He wanted to jump into the sea and kiss the waves.
The pirates cheered. Cassie clapped Peter on the back and laughed. “Well done. Everyone, get back to work. We’ve just survived the Great Stillness. The Western Island can’t be far. Nothing else is going to go wrong.”
Nothing, except for a patch of water that had started to heave as if it were boiling. Then something rose out of the sea straight ahead of them—something huge and with far, far too many tentacles.
Ewan Hughes drew his cutlass. “That’d better be another mirage.”
CHAPTER 5
A severe monster warning is in place for all ships on the Atlas Ocean this month. Be on the lookout for giant crabs, flying sharks, and swarms of man-eating squid. We advise postponing all nonessential journeys.
(from the BARNARD’S REACH MONSTER FORECAST)
The monster was so big that Brine had to look at it in pieces. First, tentacles—giant brown ones sprouting out of the sea like a forest come suddenly to life, then slender green ones that waved in between. They couldn’t possibly all be part of the same animal, Brine thought, but then the waters shifted and she glimpsed the huge moving mass where the tentacles met.
“It’s the Dreaded Great Sea Beast of the South all over again,” groaned Bill. Then he grinned and drew his sword. “This is more like it.”
After months of easy sailing with very little to do, the pirates greeted the monster with the enthusiasm of long-lost friends. Brine backed off as they rushed to attack. A tentacle slapped down on the deck, scattering half the crew, but they were up on their feet again in an instant, and they fell upon the creature with yells and whoops.
Brine caught hold of Peter and Tom, and they all edged toward the back of the ship, away from the worst of the tentacles.
“Do you think we should help?” Tom asked, sounding like he’d rather not.
Brine shook her head. “I think they’ve got this covered.”
Cassie chopped through her first tentacl
e and waved it over her head like a flag. The monster snatched it out of her hands, lifting her off her feet for a moment before she let go. Meanwhile, Bill Lightning, Ewan, and Rob Grosse were slashing at any bits of sea-monster that came close enough. Trudi waved a meat cleaver in wild circles.
Brine felt oddly sorry for the beast. It must have thought it had found an easy meal but was realizing its mistake now.
“Go for the eyes!” cried Cassie.
“Aye, aye!” Ewan shouted back, and the air filled with arrows.
Boswell rushed at the tentacles, growling and flapping his wings, and Brine’s heart leaped into her mouth. “Boswell, come back here!” She lunged for him and missed. A tentacle hit the mainmast, and the Onion tilted sideways. Brine staggered and slid.
“Hold on!” yelled Cassie as more tentacles wrapped around the mast and pulled. The Onion rose half out of the sea. Peter grabbed Brine’s hand, which only meant the two of them slid down the deck together.
The Onion tilted farther, spilling screaming pirates into the sea. Ewan Hughes clawed his way up the deck and started smacking at the tentacles with both daggers, but the monster clung on tighter, pulling the Onion over and down into the sea. Brine’s feet hit the deck rail. She was practically standing on it, her back against the deck and Peter clinging to her hand. She looked down and immediately wished she hadn’t. The dark waves churned hungrily and several pirates thrashed about, trying to stay afloat. Oddly, the monster paid them no attention, though it could have picked them out of the sea.
Tom landed in a heap beside them with Boswell on top of him. Zen’s claws scraped across the deck as the cat slid down to join them and thumped into Tom’s head.
“Funny,” said Tom, spitting out fur, “the monster seems more interested in the ship than in us.”
Brine tried to hang on to the deck. “Oh good. Then it might let us drown instead of eating us.”
Boswell untangled himself from Tom and started clawing determinedly up the deck. Brine grabbed for him and missed. “Boswell, come here!”
Peter let go of Brine’s hand and tried to climb up the deck after the dragon.
The Journey to Dragon Island Page 3
