Utterly bundled their empty plates and glasses into the just-in-case, then raised a finger to her lips and pointed to the rushes ahead. They were taller now and they didn’t just line the banks of the river but rather grew in clumps across the water, channelling it into narrow passageways. And there were nests scattered amongst these rushes. The kind of nests herons might sit on. Only the birds that sat on these nests were most definitely not herons.
They were larger – much larger – with white bodies and wings made from shards of mirror instead of feathers. And every single one of them was gazing at his or her reflection in their wings.
Arlo buried his head beneath his waistcoat and Casper tried to keep focused on dipping his paddle in and out of the water as the boat slipped between the rushes, but when the jailbirds began to call to one another – low, hollow hoots – he couldn’t help glancing up. His eyes met with the shining eyeball of a jailbird on a nest just past the end of his paddle. It hissed at him.
‘Pay it a compliment,’ Utterly whispered. ‘Quick!’
‘You . . . you have a lovely beak!’ Casper stammered.
The jailbird hissed again but it didn’t move. It stayed exactly where it was, eyes narrowing at Casper and Utterly. Then, just when Casper was thinking perhaps he’d got away with it, there was a chinking sound as the jailbird ruffled its mirror wings and soared up into the sky.
‘Another compliment!’ Utterly cried, cowering beneath her umbrella. ‘It’s getting ready to dive!’
But the jailbird didn’t dive straight away. It circled high in the sky, then let out another low hoot. At its call the rest of the jailbirds shot off their nests and flew up into the sky.
Arlo squeaked in terror at the whirl of glinting mirrors then frantically began trying to puff flames from his nostrils – to no avail – because he knew, as well as Utterly and Casper, that no amount of flattery could keep them safe now.
‘They must be really mad if the whole flock have left their nests!’ Utterly gasped. ‘I’ve never seen that happen before!’
‘What do we do?’ Casper yelled as the jailbirds wheeled above them.
‘If we press the SWIFT EXIT button under our seats we might lose the canoe!’ Utterly shouted.
The jailbirds tucked in their wings and plunged down towards the boat. Utterly snapped the umbrellas shut, and held up her paddle with shaking hands.
‘We’re just going to bash them with our paddles?’ Casper screamed.
The jailbirds tore through the sky and then, when they were only metres away from the canoe, they spread their wings, stalling their descent, before forming a ring around the boat and spinning round to face upriver.
‘What . . . what are they doing?’ Casper stammered.
And then his toes curled. Because as the jailbirds hovered around the canoe, a reflection appeared in their mirrored feathers: a dark, winged shape growing larger and larger by the second. Utterly had seen it too and she and Casper whirled round.
Then they realised the reason that all the jailbirds had left their nests at once was because the one that Casper had angered had seen something as it circled in the sky and it had called down to the rest of its kind because it knew where the real fight lay – not against two children disturbing their peace but against an unfamiliar beast advancing towards them.
The creature had jagged wings, shining talons and the body and tail of a lion. This was a griffin, Casper knew that much from books of myths he’d read, but its wings and coat were so black it was as if the very darkest parts of the ocean had been stitched together to make it. And as it flew towards them, at speed, the air turned suddenly hot and close.
Not just a griffin, thought Casper. A Midnight come to drag me into Everdark to face Morg!
Utterly scrambled out of her seat and pulled Casper down into the body of the canoe with her and Arlo. ‘Keep as low as you can!’ she cried. ‘And trust in the jailbirds’ wings!’
Casper flattened himself to the bottom of the canoe as the Midnight hurtled closer, its yellow eyes glowering. It stretched out its talons and Casper watched in horror as it yanked the first two jailbirds out of its way before ploughing on through two more and thumping a claw down onto the stern of the canoe. The boat jerked to a halt.
‘Get to the bow with me!’ Utterly shouted to Casper.
Casper launched himself towards Utterly as the Midnight clambered over his armchair and then, just at the moment it opened its terrible beak and the air turned even hotter still, until even breathing felt hard, it slid upward as if pulled into the sky by some strong but invisible force.
‘What’s happening?’ Casper panted.
‘The jailbirds’ wings,’ Utterly gasped. ‘They’re working their magic!’
A blinding white light flooded from the birds’ wings, dragging the snarling Midnight closer and closer towards them until suddenly the griffin was screeching before the mirrors of the largest jailbird. The light flashed and Casper watched, open-mouthed, as the Midnight was sucked into its mirrors until it vanished from sight and the only clue that it had been there at all was that the wings of the largest jailbird had turned completely black.
Casper staggered to his feet. ‘The Midnight . . . It’s gone!’
Arlo lay on the bottom of the boat panting while Utterly sat back down shakily in her armchair and Casper followed suit.
‘Trapped in the wings,’ Utterly replied, ‘but not gone – a jailbird’s prison doesn’t last for ever. Tomorrow that Midnight will be on the loose again. We were lucky it didn’t carry you off to meet Morg.’
The jailbirds sank to their nests and Casper shivered as he took in the one with black wings. The Midnight had been even worse than he had expected and he knew that Utterly had been just as rattled by it because she was unusually quiet now. They took up their paddles again, reactivated their umbrellas and whispered as many compliments as they could think of to the jailbirds they passed, before sailing on through the rushes until the nests petered out.
Eventually the river widened and the rushes gave way to blossom trees. There were hundreds of them, their branches so full of bloom the water itself had turned white from their reflection, and to Casper it seemed like paddling through milk.
‘I’ve never been this far west,’ Utterly said quietly. ‘It’s Beyond the Boundary For Safekeeping. It’s beautiful here . . .’
Casper shuddered. Utterly was trying her best not to mention the Midnight, but his mind was swimming with yellow eyes and black feathers and all he could think about were the risks ahead. What if there was another Midnight lurking in the trees nearby? What if it attacked and there was no one around to help them? What if it managed to haul him into Everdark, then somehow Morg used him to cross the links into the Unmapped Kingdoms?
‘The Midnight was terrible,’ he said finally. ‘Like something out of a nightmare. And I got the strangest feeling when it opened its mouth, as if the air around us was growing hotter and hotter – at one point I could barely breathe!’
The rain fell harder, hammering onto the umbrellas and denting the river.
‘You were probably so scared you were just sweating more than normal.’ Utterly sniffed. ‘It’s time to stop being a wimp.’
But Casper could tell from the way Arlo was still nuzzling into her hair that Utterly was shaken, too.
Maybe even brave people feel a little bit wimpish sometimes, Casper thought.
The canoe trundled on through blossom trees surrounded by bluebells and wild garlic and eventually the rain eased until it was merely spitting.
‘Why is the river called the Witch’s Fingers?’ Casper asked after a while.
‘Because witches only have three fingers and the river breaks into three tributaries. But I don’t think that happens for miles yet.’
Utterly tickled Arlo as the river bent left, then widened.
Casper squinted downstream. There were rapids ahead and past them, the river seemed to fork into three gushing tributaries. He tapped Utterly on the shoulde
r, then pointed. ‘Umm . . . Is that the river splitting?’
‘Don’t be daft. That’s just a few rocks breaking things up; the river will join again shortly afterwards.’
Casper craned his neck to get a better view and his heart started to thump. ‘But if it all joins up then why is there a signpost wedged into the rock in the middle of the river, just before the fork?’
Utterly peered closer then, her eyes widening as she took in the signpost. Three signs fanned out from it, each one pointing to a different tributary:
HERE
THERE
ANYWHERE
Utterly grimaced. ‘Now would be an excellent time to make a swift decision on where we go next, Casper.’
‘But . . .’ Casper gulped as the canoe charged on into the rapids. ‘There’s no sign for the drizzle hags! They could be anywhere!’
‘Good thinking!’ Utterly cried as the canoe clipped a rock and veered onto one side. ‘We’ll go for Anywhere!’
Before Casper could reply, Utterly dug her oar into the water and the canoe swerved past the signpost then bumped down the rapids towards ANYWHERE, sending Arlo head-over-heels into Utterly’s shin.
‘We need a map and a compass!’ Casper spluttered.
The boat sped on down the river and Utterly scrabbled around beneath her seat. ‘Here, have a soggy toffee instead.’
Casper scowled as they continued downstream past a meadow full of poppies, then there was a plop as something white and soggy landed in the canoe. It was a paper aeroplane and on seeing it Utterly cringed. ‘Mum’s clearly realised I’m nowhere in the castle . . .’ She picked it up. ‘I’m all for wireless communication but now the whole kingdom has SkyFly there’s no getting away from parents. I like hearing from Dad – it’s kind of cool that even though he’s a Ballooner and he’s out in his hot air balloon catching marvels most days, he can just whisper a message into a piece of paper and it shows up, via paper aeroplane, wherever I am a few hours later – but Mum’s messages are always so –’ she paused ‘– grumpy – and this one’ll be no exception.’
She opened the paper and read the words aloud:
‘My darling Utterly,
I’m worried sick about you.
Wherever you are in The Beyond, please, please come back.’
For a moment Utterly’s face softened. There was no mention of her being the criminal behind all the troubles with the marvels. Then she read on and a hardness Casper was growing to recognise closed around her.
‘This morning the Lofty Husks revealed the news we’ve been living in fear of: Morg is growing in power and her followers have found a way into Rumblestar. Unfamiliar beasts have been reported out in The Beyond, Frostbite has disappeared and the castle is in lockdown. We have an emergency supply of marvels so nobody needs to be outside the castle walls. Least of all you, whatever you might have done in the Mixing Tower before you left. We know you, Utterly, and we know that you wouldn’t have meant to cause the kingdom harm. Come back home. Your father and I love you dearly, despite everything, but you cannot fix what you have started – only the Lofty Husks can – and you cannot fix the past.
Mum
PS I hope you have had breakfast today?’
Utterly’s words grew quieter as she reached the end of the note and as she finished reading she scrunched up the paper and hurled it behind her. ‘What I have started indeed,’ she spat.
But Casper caught the note, unbeknown to Utterly, and opened it in his lap.
‘What did your mum mean by fixing the—’
Utterly cut across him. ‘It sounds like if we don’t find this familiar face fast, your world and mine are both done for.’
Casper looked at the note again. There were things Utterly wasn’t telling him. ‘Something happened, didn’t it? Something bad—’
Utterly’s eyes flashed. ‘Shut it or I’ll throw you overboard.’
Casper stared at the note, then, very quietly, he said: ‘Shouldn’t we send a message back to your mum telling her you’re okay – and innocent?!’
‘We’re in a race against time, Casper. Not a letter-writing club. I need to show everyone back at the castle that I’m innocent by getting on and saving the kingdom myself!’
But Casper was determined to approach this quest as systematically as possible, whatever Utterly’s pride had to say. He knew there was no point messaging the Lofty Husks and begging them to come and sort everything out (even Slumbergrot had said that the only way to fix things would be for Casper to find a familiar face) but those in the castle needed to know about the shatterblast so that they could check the pipes or change the cauldrons or whatever Bottlers did inside the Mixing Tower. And perhaps on learning this valuable information the Lofty Husks would come to assist Casper and Utterly on their quest instead of assuming Utterly was somehow tangled up with the Midnights. Casper rummaged around the side pocket of the canoe until he found a half-rotted pencil, then, making sure that Utterly wasn’t watching, scribbled a hasty message on the back of the paper:
Safe, well and INNOCENT. Morg’s followers called Midnights (Frostbite one of them – he framed me). Have it on authority Midnights pouring deadly wind called shatterblast into Mixing Tower. Am trying to stop them with message from the wind and boy from the Faraway. Back soon.
PS Midnights are griffins. |
PPS Had breakfast.
Casper whispered ‘Utterly’s mum’ into the paper before folding it up into the shape of an aeroplane and letting it float, unseen by Utterly, back towards the castle. Casper looked at the alder trees crowding the riverbanks. They were bent so far over the water on either side that their branches joined where they met in the middle, closing the river off into a shaded cage. And still the rain pattered onto the leaves.
‘We’re definitely going the right way,’ Utterly said after a while. ‘This is drizzle hag territory, for sure.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘Because there’s a distinct smell of magic in the air.’
Casper sniffed. ‘What does magic smell like?’
Utterly considered. ‘Musky – like the way pine trees smell when the wind rushes through them.’
Casper sniffed again. And then again. And on the third sniff he smelt it. ‘Ha! There it is!’ he exclaimed. Then all of a sudden he realised that several hours had passed and all sorts of impossible things had happened and he hadn’t stuck to his timetable for Managing and Processing Impossible Information at all. He shook himself. It was important that he didn’t lose a grip on things. ‘But then again,’ he said to Utterly, ‘it might just smell this way because there are pine trees nearby.’
Utterly shrugged. ‘But then why has the river turned silver?’
Casper jumped. The water had indeed changed colour! Beneath the tunnel of branches it was a gleaming silver, like molten steel. Arlo climbed into Utterly’s coat pocket until just his ears poked out, swivelling this way and that in case danger was close.
‘I’ve been told the drizzle hags keep themselves to themselves,’ Utterly added. ‘The waters here are hexed with river nymph tears to put people off from visiting; even Ballooners have to take extra care when they come to collect the rain marvels.’
A breeze sifted through the trees, jostling the leaves free from the branches and sprinkling them on the river as words:
If you drink from silver tears
Rich you’ll be for all your years.
But you must give up something dear
To own this gift of silver cheer.
The leaves broke apart and floated downstream.
‘Hexed silver is pricier than gold,’ Utterly muttered. ‘But it’s best to ignore it. Drizzle hag magic is not to be trusted.’
But now even the trees around them were silver, and no matter how hard Casper tried to focus on the task ahead, he found himself thinking about Candida and Leopold and the horrible things they always said about his family being poor. This amount of silver could change all that if he ever did get back to Litt
le Wallops. It could bring smart clothes, a new car and fancy holidays . . . It would mean fitting in. At last.
Utterly knocked his paddle with her own and Casper’s thoughts scattered. ‘Drinking enchanted silver never ends well,’ she told him. ‘In class we learnt about a storm ogre who swallowed a whole jugful and now he’s the richest ogre at the Smoking Chimneys, but he’s never seen his silver because the river took his sight. And then there was the marsh goblin who got tons of silver but lost his voice. Trust me, it never ends happily.’
They paddled on but Casper wasn’t used to the tricks of magic and his eyes kept being drawn back to the river and the promise of riches. He thought of the time Leopold had locked him in the school toilets the day his class had gone to the cinema as an end-of-term treat. He thought about the day Candida had egged his parents’ car. He thought about all the hours his mum and dad spent working overtime so that they could afford to buy him a present for his birthday and for Christmas. And he felt an uncontrollable urge to cup a hand into the river and have a taste. Surely that wouldn’t bring any harm?
He lowered his hand into the river, slowly, gently, so as not to alert Utterly, and let it trail through the silver. The water was warm and it seemed to cradle his palm and all at once Casper saw his mother’s face in its reflection. His heart filled with longing. But the image before him was blurred – like a partly drawn sketch – and as Casper tried to fill in the blanks, to remember the way his mother’s dark hair fell and the way her eyes sparkled as she smiled, he met with a strange emptiness.
Is the river getting ready to steal my memories, Casper wondered hazily, as payment for the silver? But he felt so calm suddenly that he kept his hand where it was. What if it’s not such a bad thing to forget? What if having money is more important? Mum always wanted me to make friends, he said to himself, and if I was rich – really rich – I wouldn’t stick out any more. Everyone in Little Wallops would want to spend time with me, and Candida and Leopold would stop being mean.
Rumblestar Page 9
