by Alex English
‘When did King Alfons last give you a day off?’ said Echo. ‘You all slave away down here so he can feast on swan and quinces. When do you get your freedom?’ She stabbed a finger towards the floor. ‘You’re no better off than the prisoners down there.’
Here the prisoners let up a cheer. The chef seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘I suppose you’re going to tell us there’s roast swan for everyone out there, beyond the Barren?’ he said. A kitchen girl with two blonde plaits stifled a giggle behind her hand.
‘Roast swan?’ said Echo. ‘No, there’s no roast swan. But there are –’ she glanced at Bulkhead and Lil – ‘there are sea urchins and saltweed and golden snapperfish.’
‘Snapperfish?’ The chef suddenly looked interested. ‘Never heard of them.’
‘Of course you haven’t! That’s the whole point. You haven’t seen or heard of half of what there is in the world. But if you roast them on an open fire, with your best friends around you, I promise you nothing tastes better.’
Echo was in her stride now. She looked again at Professor Daggerwing. ‘And there are pickles! Pickled squibnuts, pickled lily livers.’ She turned and grinned at Horace. ‘And pickled sweetroots.’
‘Sounds weird,’ grunted the chef.
‘Oh, it is weird,’ said Echo. ‘It’s weird and it’s new and it’s utterly, utterly wonderful.’ She turned to the children. ‘Isn’t there even one of you who’s curious?’
One-Eye thrust his hand in the air. ‘I am!’
Another hand crept up at the back. And another. And another. A grin spread across Echo’s face as she looked down on a whole sea of hands, a sea of laughing kitchen boys and girls with bright, excited eyes, chattering to each other about this whole new world they dreamed of seeing.
‘Quiet!’ yelled the head chef. He banged his cleaver on the table, but the kitchen children didn’t hush and he was soon lost in a crowd of excited faces as they pushed forward.
‘Let’s go,’ Echo said, jumping down from the bench. ‘To the gates!’
There was a roar of young voices shouting, ‘To the gates! To the gates!’ and the kitchen children of Lockfort surged through the castle in a wave, leaving the open-mouthed chef standing in an empty kitchen, his cleaver still dangling uselessly in one hand.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
With the castle dignitaries busy feasting in the banqueting hall and the castle staff busy waiting on them, Echo and her merry band of prisoners, pirates and kitchen children marched through the castle and onwards into the city unimpeded.
As they travelled through the streets, Echo told tales of explorers’ guilds and libraries, islands and airships, and her little band of followers gradually became a large one.
‘King Alfons is a liar and a fraud!’ she shouted to the curious crowd that gathered round them. ‘His prophecy is a fake. He told me my mother abandoned me when he’d stolen me from her and sent her to the dungeons. He says there’s no world out there, but he’s lying to you all.’
‘Ridiculous!’ cried a man.
‘Poppycock!’ shrieked another.
But the children of Lockfort hung on every word. By the time the sun was setting, and they’d nearly reached the city walls, Echo had a small army on her side. She explained her plan to them as they marched onwards.
As they approached the gates, the royal coach clattered past and the crowd parted, cheering and waving, to let it through. Echo spotted the king’s jewel-laden hand waving to the crowd. It was almost time. She scanned the sky. Still no sign though. Had her message got to Port Tourbillon?
The square filled with people. Echo saw Miss Brittle and Arthur, the fencing tutor, pass by without giving her a second glance, thanks to her new haircut. Martha stood in the crowd, wearing her best dress, and Echo almost raised her hand and cried out in greeting before stopping herself. She couldn’t lose focus now. There would be time to talk when this was all over.
The bugles blared, announcing the arrival of King Alfons, and she shrank back, concealing herself. Horace squeezed her hand. ‘Now?’ he said.
Echo felt fear rise up inside her, but she swallowed it back down. She quickly searched the sky again and felt a rush of adrenaline flow through her as she saw a tiny speck out past the north beacon. It was far away, but it was coming.
‘Now,’ she said. ‘NOW!’
The children and pirates and prisoners gave a war cry and surged forward through the crowds. The castle guards tried to stop them, but the ragtag group barrelled past, catching them by surprise as they rushed, whooping and chanting, to surround King Alfons’s throne.
‘What is the meaning of this?’ he spluttered, getting to his feet. Then he saw Echo and Horace, and his face dropped.
‘Echo, Horace,’ he whispered. He put his goblet of mead down, composed himself and forced a smile on to his face. ‘My dear son Horace,’ he announced to the crowd. ‘He has recovered from his terrible illness.’
He turned to a guard. ‘Remove them,’ he snarled between clenched teeth.
Gilbert stiffened on Echo’s shoulder and let out a hiss.
‘With pleasure, Your Highness.’ The guard thudded forward, but was immediately pounced upon by at least ten of the prisoners.
The sky pirates formed a protective circle round Echo and Horace. The king’s face paled and his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish as he saw Lil. ‘Y . . . you!’ he said. He drew himself up. ‘I should have known you were behind this.’ He turned to Horace. ‘This . . . this woman killed my brother.’
‘I loved your brother!’ said Lil, her curls bouncing angrily. ‘It was frost fever that killed him, and, if you’d have let me take him back to Port Tourbillon, he could have been cured.’
‘I should never have let him leave.’ King Alfons shook his head. ‘I always said going beyond the Barren would end in disaster.’
‘But you can’t blame Lil for what happened,’ said Horace. ‘I know it must have hurt you terribly, but it wasn’t anybody’s fault. It’s not a reason to hide the world from everyone. To lie to them.’
‘I’m keeping them safe from the outside,’ muttered the king. ‘It’s my duty—’
‘You told me my daughter was dead.’ Lil jabbed a finger at him.
‘So you didn’t come back,’ said the king. ‘I wanted to forget you existed.’
‘Then why keep me here at all?’ said Echo. ‘Why didn’t you let Lil take me with her?’
The king shook his head. ‘You were the only thing I had left to remind me of Edmond. I hoped you’d grow up to be a little like him.’ His sadness turned to disgust. ‘Sadly, you’ve turned out to be more like her.’
Lil put her arm round Echo’s shoulders. ‘Edmond would have been proud of the daughter Echo has become.’
The king trailed off as the rest of the sky pirates, Professor Daggerwing and the ragtag group of prisoners stepped forward to surround him.
‘It’s over,’ said Echo. ‘All the lies, all the deception. Now, hand us the keys.’
‘But these are royal keys,’ spluttered the king, clutching the chain around his neck. ‘They may only be used by those with royal blood.’
‘I have royal blood and so does Echo.’ Horace put out his hand. ‘Pass them to me, Father.’
‘You’re making a mistake, Horace—’
Bulkhead stepped forward and silenced the king with a growl.
King Alfons turned pale. With shaking hands, he took the chain from around his neck and passed it to Horace. ‘I don’t know what you hope to achieve,’ he said.
‘It’s very simple really,’ said Echo. ‘We’re going to open the gates and show all these people –’ she gestured to the staring crowds and raised her voice – ‘what you’ve been hiding from them for all these years.’
The king shook his head. ‘Hiding?’ His voice rose as he turned to the crowd. ‘Preposterous! I’ve been protecting them, from death and disappointment, and from . . . from outsiders!’
There was a whoop and a murmur of agre
ement from the adults in the crowd and Echo faltered. Would she be able to convince them? She took a deep breath. ‘But what if they don’t want to be protected? What if they want to be free to discover things for themselves?’
The king bristled. ‘It’s all beside the point when there’s no way out of the city. As you well know, the prophecy—’
‘Yes, your prophecy,’ said Echo. She turned to the crowd. ‘Everybody knows about the prophecy, don’t they?’
There was a shuffling of feet and a murmur of agreement.
‘And, if the prophecy is fulfilled, the gates of Lockfort open, for good.’ She turned to King Alfons. ‘Agreed?’
The king twisted his rings. ‘Yes, yes, of course. If it is fulfilled.’
Echo turned to the Royal Reader. ‘Please do start the reading. I think we’re ready for the Gate-opening Ceremony to commence.’
The Royal Reader, pale-faced and surrounded by a ring of baying children, cleared his throat and hushed the excited crowd. Over his head, Echo could see the speck in the sky growing larger and larger, until she could make out two gleaming copper wings, a snout that breathed fire and a tiny, goggle-wearing figure astride its back.
The Reader began.
‘When Tuesday arrives on a Sunday night,
When a she-wolf soars by dragon flight,
When the king’s blood turns from red to white,
Then the gates of Lockfort shall open.’
King Alfons, seemingly recovered from the shock of Horace standing up to him again, pushed himself out of his throne. ‘As we all know,’ he addressed the crowd, ‘the prophecy cannot be fulfilled.’
‘Can’t it?’ said Echo.
There were jeers from the crowd and the king laughed. ‘Where are your wolves?’
‘Remember my mother?’ said Echo, gesturing to Lil. ‘The one you told me was dead? She’s the leader of the Black Sky Wolves.’
There was a ripple of surprise in the crowd.
The king snorted. ‘And I suppose my disloyal son is the dragon?’
‘Let’s make an agreement,’ said Horace. ‘If we can fulfil the prophecy and open the gates, you step down as king.’
‘And if you don’t?’ said the king.
‘You can do whatever you want,’ said Echo. ‘Lock us up again. Throw us in the Barren. You choose.’
King Alfons glanced across at the other dignitaries, smiled and rolled his eyes as if humouring the two children. ‘If you insist.’ He grabbed Echo’s and Horace’s hands and shook them with a smug grin. ‘Now do tell me –’ he said – ‘I am intrigued to know: just when is Tuesday going to arrive?’
‘Right about now,’ said Echo. ‘In fact, she’s behind you. On that dragon.’
There were shrieks and gasps as Abena Tuesday steered Smokesister through the square and swept elegantly to the ground, skimming over the petrified king’s head and landing before him, the dragon’s metal talons rattling on the stone.
She pulled off her goggles with a whoop. ‘That was some ride! Wait till I tell my brothers about this!’
‘Please welcome Abena Tuesday!’ Echo grinned. ‘Have you ever seen anything like this in Lockfort?’ she yelled to the crowd.
The children shuffled forward, but then One-Eye stepped out of the crowd and stretched out a tentative hand to touch Smokesister’s metal scales. He turned to the others, a huge grin on his face. ‘I believe her! Ain’t nothing like this in Lockfort.’
‘I do too!’ shouted a girl with a long blonde fringe.
Even their parents had started to murmur to one another behind their hands, looking from Abena, with her black and green plaits, to the great steaming copper dragon, back to Echo.
‘Now we need a she-wolf to take flight,’ Echo said, turning to Lil. ‘Over to you, Mother.’
But, to her surprise, Lil shook her head. ‘No, Echo. Not me.’
For a moment, Echo stood, frozen. ‘But . . . but you have to!’ she finally said. ‘You said it yourself – we have to show the people that the prophecy has been fulfilled so the gates can open.’ Her voice shook. ‘Otherwise they won’t believe. You’re the next part of the prophecy. You’re the she-wolf.’
Lil shook her head again. ‘No, Echo. I’m not.’
The king, who had regained his composure, looked over at Echo with a smirk. ‘You almost had me there, young lady, but it appears your plan has a small flaw.’ He looked around at the gathered crowd. ‘Who’d have thought a sky pirate wouldn’t be brave enough to fly?’ He let out a snigger.
‘That’s not what she means, Father,’ a small and slightly shaky voice came from behind them. Horace stepped forward and joined hands with Echo. ‘The she-wolf in the prophecy isn’t your mother,’ he said, turning to Echo.
‘Then who, exactly, is it?’ asked the king, still smirking and winking at the crowd.
But Echo suddenly realized what Lil and Horace were saying. She squeezed Horace’s hand. ‘Thanks, Horace,’ she said. Then she raced towards the dragon and hauled herself up behind Abena.
‘Go!’ she yelled. ‘Fly!’
Abena flicked a switch and the dragon’s huge wings flapped, blowing the king’s hair back and sending his goblet flying.
‘Horace was right!’ Echo yelled down at King Alfons, grinning as the smirk finally fell from his face. ‘It wasn’t my mother in the prophecy. It was me!’
‘Hold on!’ cried Abena, and at once they were soaring into the air, the dragon’s mechanical wings beating rhythmically, the king’s words lost on the wind. Echo clung to Abena and laughed in delight as her hair whipped back. Down below, face after face turned up to watch her. The gasps from the crowd turned to cheers as they soared skywards, and the buildings of Lockfort shrank to tiny grey doll’s houses as they climbed ever higher.
‘Shall we do a circuit?’ shouted Abena.
Echo grinned and nodded into the leather of Abena’s jacket. She felt the dragon’s metallic scales slide over one another as Smokesister banked and wheeled to the left in a great arc over the city. The world rushed by in a blur and Echo looked down to see the grey little streets fly by below them. Her whole life had been in Lockfort, she thought with a sudden pang. It all looked so small from up here.
Abena pulled back and took the dragon higher, almost into the clouds, and Echo looked out across the city walls, across the Barren and to the horizon. She smiled. Lockfort was small, a small part of the great, wide world. And now the prophecy was being fulfilled. They were going to open the gates and let everyone explore that world for themselves. Echo’s heart was full to overflowing, and she couldn’t stop herself from grinning as they dived and swooped, looped and soared over the circular streets of Lockfort.
By the time Abena steered the dragon back down and they landed near the gates again, Echo’s face was stiff from smiling. She unpeeled herself from Abena’s back and sat up. The people of Lockfort cheered as she slid down the dragon’s flank and landed, legs trembling, on the flagstones. She took a moment to get her breath back before storming over to King Alfons, who took a quick step backwards as she approached.
‘You said that the prophecy could never be fulfilled,’ she said, jabbing a finger at him. ‘But Tuesday’s arrived on a Sunday and a wolf has flown with a dragon.’ She turned to the Royal Reader. ‘Please remind us of the last part of the prophecy.’
The Royal Reader cleared his throat. ‘When the king’s blood turns from red to white, then the gates of Lockfort shall open.’ Fear was etched on the king’s face. He composed himself and addressed the crowd. ‘And how are you going to turn my blood white? Even you have to concede that part of the prophecy is impossible.’
Echo thought quickly and turned to Horace, who was still clutching the three jewelled keys. ‘Horace is your son, isn’t he?’
‘Of course,’ said the king.
‘Then he is the king’s blood,’ said Echo, taking her place between Lil and Professor Daggerwing. ‘Go on, Horace. You know what to do. Turn the keys from red to white.’
&n
bsp; Horace nodded and walked over to the gates before taking the glittering red key and turning it in the lock.
Echo held her breath. Was it her imagination or had there been a tiny click?
Horace looked at her and nodded. He inserted the next key, the pink tourmaline. As he turned it, Echo heard the mechanism engage.
Gilbert clung to her shoulder and Echo gripped her mother’s hand as Horace took the final key, encrusted with its gleaming white diamonds, and turned it in the lock. The crowd grew silent. There was a symphony of clicks and whirrs as the locks engaged.
And, as if in slow motion, the gates to Lockfort swung open.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
For a moment, nobody knew quite what to do, and an eerie hush descended over the crowd. But then the hush turned to whispers and the whispers turned to murmurs and the murmurs turned to a whole hubbub of people, curious people, excited people, chattering and questioning and wondering, and craning their necks to look at the world that had opened up outside the gates.
All of a sudden, one small blond-haired boy, released from his distracted parents’ arms, tottered forward and took a step through the gateway. His mother raced after him and swept him up and then stood, staring, amazed by herself and where she was standing.
‘No!’ shouted the king. ‘You can’t go out there!’
Another child walked through the archway.
‘It’s not right!’ The king’s face was flushed now and his crown askew. ‘It’s not safe! You can’t . . . Please!’
Another ran through, and another.
‘No!’ yelled the king. ‘No! NO! NO!’
But the people weren’t listening, and suddenly there was a rush as the whole crowd surged towards the gates and out they spilled, laughing and whooping and cheering, into the Barren, as King Alfons screamed and wept and raved unheard behind them.
‘Thank you!’ said a woman, as she rushed past Echo, dragged by her three small children.
‘Thank you!’
‘Thank you!’
‘Thank you!’
