The Last Of The Sky Pirates Part 8

The rough form of the skycraft began to take shape: the narrow seat, the fixed keel and, at the front, the raised figurehead. Although lacking any fine detail, the angular head of the creature was already clearly recognizable. He was working on the curved neck when he heard footsteps approaching. The first woodtrolls must be arriving from the surrounding villages.

Rook felt a hand on his shoulder. aEarly start, youngaun?a said Oakley, his rubbery face creasing with amus.e.m.e.nt. aThatas what I like to see. Now, what do we have here?a He raised his lantern and held it up to the wood. For the first time, Rook saw the carved prow clearly. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

aI think Iave found it,a he said.

aI think you have,a said Oakley. aDo you know what it is?a Rook shook his head.

aWhy, youngaun, itas a stormhornet,a Oakley told him. aAnd you donat see many of them, I can tell you.a Rookas heart fluttered. He lay his hands on the roughly hewn head of the creature. aStormhornet,a he whispered.

The Gardens of Light

Click click click click a The rhythmical sound of claw on stone came closer. Rook looked up from the bubbling pot in front of him, to see their tutor a" an ancient spindlebug, already in his third century a" tottering towards them. He was picking his way along one of the narrow, raised walkways which formed a winding network throughout the glowing underground cavern. A laden tray was gripped tightly in his claws.

Weeks after he had first set foot inside them, Rook still couldnat get over the Gardens of Light. Hidden deep below the huge Ironwood Glade, the vast illuminated cavern was one of the most spectacular wonders in all the Free Glades. It was here that the great gla.s.sy spindle-bugs grew the astonis.h.i.+ng glowing fungus, the light from which s.h.i.+mmered on the cavern walls high above their heads and lent everything an eerie, yet ethereal beauty Rook could have spent hours just gazing at the hypnotic s.h.i.+fting lights a" if it wasnat for the varnis.h.i.+ng. aNice gla.s.s of tea, Master Rook?a The ancient spindle-bugas voice, as thin and reedy as his long gla.s.s legs, snapped Rook out of his daydream. Tweezel towered above him.

aThank you, sir,a said Rook, taking the gla.s.s of thin, amber liquid.

The spindlebug pa.s.sed the tray to Magda, Stob and finally Xanth, who accepted the last gla.s.s with the faintest trace of a smile playing on his thin lips. Xanth really seemed to like Tweezel, Rook noticed. Although the young apprentice was still quiet and reserved, the spindlebug seemed somehow able to get him to relax. Rook never could work out how.

Perhaps it was the old creatureas quaint formality; the way he insisted they stop and drink his strange scented tea, bowing to each other after each sip, but saying nothing a" not a single word a" until the gla.s.s was empty. Or perhaps it was the long conversations the two of them had together about long-ago times, as the apprentices stirred the little pots of varnish over the small bra.s.s burners, adding a pinch of oak pepper here and a dash of wormdust there.

Rook would listen in as Tweezel told Xanth about places with strange names, like the Palace of Shadows and the Viaduct Steps, and tell stories of a young girl called Maris, whom the old creature had loved like a daughter. They spoke quietly, politely, never raising their voices. Rook couldnat always make out the details, and when he tried to join in, Xanth would smile and Tweezel would say, in that thin voice of his, aTime for a nice gla.s.s of tea, I think, my dear scholars.a They finished their gla.s.ses and bowed. The spindle-bug inspected their varnish pots.

aNot bad, Master Rook, but be careful not to overheat your varnish. It does so thin it, I find a" and with quite tiresome results.a Rook nodded. It was strange to think, looking at the clear, bubbling mixture in front of him, that without it there would be no sky-flight. The sumpwood of the sky-craft, once coated with the meticulously prepared and applied varnish, gained the enhanced buoyancy that made wood-flight possible. Some said that it was Tweezel himself who had invented the varnish, but whether this was true or not, all accepted that the spindlebug was the greatest authority on varnish and its preparation in all the Deepwoods.

aWhat shall we do with you, Mistress Magda? We canat have lumps, now, can we?a Magda sighed. Varnish was proving far trickier than shead ever expected.

aAnd as for you, Master Stob!a Tweezel tutted, peering into the apprenticeas blackened, sticky varnish pot. aI think youad better start again. To the milking field with you!a Stob groaned, and with a dark look at Rook and Xanth he picked up a tin pail and a pair of heavy gloves, and stomped off towards a field of glowing fungus, several walkways below.

aNow, Xanth, my dear young scholar.a The spindle-bugas antennae quivered as he peered down at the glistening bra.s.s pot. aI do believe youare done! Quite remarkable! I have never seen a more perfect varnish, and at only the fiftieth attempt! You, Master Xanth, will be the first to varnish your skycraft. Congratulations! Youave made an old spindlebug very happy!a Xanth smiled and looked down modestly. Rook was pleased for his cla.s.smate a" though he couldnat help also feeling a little jealous. He was still months away from making a perfect varnish for his skycraft.

Just then there was a high-pitched scream, followed by a string of loud curses.

aNot again!a said Tweezel, trilling with irritation. aFollow me, everyone.a Rook, Magda and Xanth clicked the lids over their burners and followed the spindlebug off the laboratory ledge and down the stone walkway towards the fungus fields. As they rounded a corner, they saw him.

Covered with glue and upside down, Stob was stuck halfway up the cavern wall. Ten feet below him, snuffling amongst the glowing toadstools, a huge slime-mole swayed from side to side, its translucent body bulging and slos.h.i.+ng with mole-glue. The sight of the glistening creaturesa jelly-like bodies always made Rookas stomach lurch queasily a" and milking them was one of his least favourite tasks. But without mole-glue there would be no varnish, and without varnish there would be no wood-flight, and without wood-flight a aMaster Stob!a said Tweezel, his reedy voice sharp with vexation. aDonat tell me. You did it again, didnat you? You milked it aa aYes,a said Stob weakly. aFrom the wrong end.a

The Slaughterers Camp

aBehave yourselves, you stupid things!a came Magdaas angry voice. aOh, no! Not again!a Rook turned to see his friend hopelessly entangled in the gossamer light spider-silk sails. aYouave got to watch out for the crosswind, Magda,a he called over his shoulder, as he concentrated on controlling his own sails, which were billowing up into the warm air like two large, unruly kites.

He tugged on the silk cord in his right hand and the loft-sail gently folded in on itself. Then, having waited a split second, he swung his left arm round in a wide arc, playing out cord to the nether-sail. It, too, folded gracefully in on itself, and fell silently to the ground.

aHow do you do that?a said Magda. She looked at the two neatly folded sails beside Rook, then at the tangled mess of cord and spider-silk wrapped round her own arms and trailing in the dust, and sighed deeply.

aYou look like a bedraggled s...o...b..rd,a laughed Stob. He was sitting at a table eating tilder steaks with two flame-red slaughterers, who laughed good-naturedly with him.

In front of them the huge fire crackled in the vast iron brazier, throwing heat high into the clearing and warming the long family hammocks slung from the trees above.

Rook loved the slaughterers camp almost as much as the Gardens of Light. Especially at this time of day, when the evening shadows grew long, the camp fires were replenished and, one by one, the slaughterer families woke up and poked their flame-red heads from their hammocks to greet the new night. Soon, the communal breakfast would begin. Rookas stomach gurgled in antic.i.p.ation of tilder steaks and honey-coated hammelhorn hams. But first, he must try to disentangle his poor friend.

He turned back to Magda, crouched down, and began gently tugging at the knotted ropes.

aCareful, now. Careful,a came a voice from behind him. It was Brisket, the slaughterer who had been a.s.signed to teach the four apprentices all about sail-setting and ropecraft. aDonat want to weaken the fibres now, do we?a he said. aLet me have a look.a Rook stood back. Brisket kneeled down and began teasing the ropes loose with one hand, while a" taking care not to snag it a" easing the sailcloth free with the other. Rook watched closely. Even though the slaughterer was little older than himself, his every movement revealed a lifetime of experience.

aMy word, mistress!a he was saying. aYou really have got yourself in a tangle this time, havenat you?a aI just donat understand it,a said Magda, her voice tearful and cross. aI thought I was doing everything right.a aSail-setting is a difficult business,a said Brisket.

aBut I did what you taught me,a said Magda. aI threw out the loft-sail slowly, just as you said.a aBut you threw out into a crosswind,a Rook blurted out, stopping himself when he saw the hurt look on Magdaas face.

aRookas got a point,a said Brisket softly as he carefully folded Magdaas sails. aYou must feel what the sail is telling you through the cord. You must watch how the wind shapes it, and let your movements flow. Never fight the sails, Mistress Magda.a aBut itas so hard,a said Magda disconsolately.

aI know, I know,a said Brisket understandingly aGet Master Rook here to help you. Heas got the touch, and no mistake.a He paused, and tugged at a last knotted cord. The knot undid, the cord slid free. aThere, Mistress Magda,a said Brisket, handing her the sails. aThatas all for today. Now, whoas for breakfast?a Stob, Magda and Rook sat at a long table, which was weighed down by the sumptious spread of food laid out upon it. A little way off, Xanth stood practising his ropecraft. With one lazy movement, he la.s.soed the great curling horn of a hammelhorn which stood chewing the cud at the far side of its enclosure.

aShow-off,a said Stob, and grabbed another huge steak from the platter before them.

aYouall turn into a hammelhorn if you eat any more,a said Magda.

Rook looked across at Xanth. Thanks to his success in varnis.h.i.+ng, the young apprentice had gained a head start on the others. Head already mastered sail-setting and was close to pa.s.sing ropecraft. Despite this, Rook didnat feel jealous. Rather, he felt sorry for him. It was Xanthas haunted expression and quiet, lonely manner that touched him.

aOh, heas all right,a he said to Stob, and turned back to his steaming tilder stew.

By now the communal tables were bursting with hungry, happy slaughterers, toasting the new night with mugs of woodale and bursting into song. Stob joined in, raising his mug high in the air.

Stob, Rook noticed, loved the slaughterers camp even more than he did. The arrogant, surly Stob he knew seemed to disappear in the company of slaughterers. He relaxed and become almost playful. For their part, the slaughterers had taken to Stob, treating the young apprentice like some sort of prize hammelhorn, to be fed and patted on the back.

Just then there was a loud cry from above their heads. Rook looked up. There, an arm waving in greeting, was Knuckle astride the Woodwasp, bearing down on them in a series of exquisitely executed loops. He had a la.s.so in his hand, which he was swinging round and round.

Lower he came, swooping down past the communal hammocks strung out between the ironwood trees, over the hammelhorn pens and tanning vats. When he was no more than a dozen strides away, he flicked his wrist forward. The rope coiled down like a striking woodcobra and circled Stobas raised hand. Knuckle jerked the la.s.so. The slip-knot tightened around the mug of woodale a" which abruptly flew out of Stobas grasp and up into the air.

aHey!a shouted Stob indignantly.

Knuckle smiled and took a gulp from the mug. aDelicious!a he called down as he brought the little sky-craft in to land. aThanks, friend,a he said, handing the empty mug to Stob. aI was feeling rather thirstya Stob looked at the slaughterer for an instant a" then a broad smile broke across his face and he threw back his head and roared with laughter. The slaughterers around them joined in.

aItas good to see you, Rook,a said Knuckle, sitting down next to him and helping himself to Rookas tilder stew. aYou look more grown-up each time I see you. Youall be off on your treatise-voyage in no time, Iall be bound.a Rook smiled. aIf I can master ropecraft half as well as you, I hope to,a he said. aThe Stormhornetas varnished, rigged and tethered at Lake Landing, just waiting to be flown a" if the masters ever let me, that is.a aOh, theyall let you all right,a laughed Knuckle, his mouth full of stew. aFrom what I hear, youare a natural, just like your friend Xanth over there.a He paused. A smile played on his lips. aA stormhornet, eh? A rare creature, by all accounts. Swift and graceful, and with a sting in its tail; a harbinger of mighty storms brewing far off.a He clapped Rook on the shoulder. aItas a fine name, Rook, my friend. A fine name!a

The Naming Rite

aWe are a.s.sembled here, over Earth and under Sky, to welcome four apprentices to the Academyas long list of brave librarian knights, so we are,a announced Parsimmon, the High Master of the Lake Landing Academy Behind him, the mighty Ironwood Glade cast its reflection in the gla.s.sy lake; above, the sky glowed a deep gold. The air was heavy and still.

Rookas heart give a little leap. He was standing in a line with Magda, Stob and Xanth. Before them, at the centre of a long, raised lufwood platform, stood Parsimmon, flanked on both sides by the tutors who had guided them through their long, arduous months of learning: Oakley Gruffbark, the wise and patient woodtroll, his tufted hair blazing a brilliant orange in the evening light; Tweezel, the ancient spindlebug, leaning on an ironwood staff and wheezing softly; and Brisket, the flame-red slaughterer, dressed in a heavy hammelhornskin coat, with a length of rope coiled over one shoulder.

aYou have done well, my young apprentices,a Parsimmon continued. aVery well. For though many months more will pa.s.s before you are ready to depart on your treatise-voyages, this evening marks the completion of the first stage of your studies.a He turned to the row of skycraft, tethered to heavy rings at the back of the stage. aYou have carved your skycraft exquisitely, taking care to heed what the wood told you. You have prepared your varnish and applied it with care, to give them the gift of flight. You have rigged them with sails of finest woodspider-silk, tamed by your touch, and you have mastered ropecraft, to tether them and bring you safely back to earth. Well done, my fine young librarian knights!a Rook lowered his head modestly. The tutors murmured their approval. Rook nudged Xanth and smiled. Xanth looked round and, for an instant, Rook thought he saw a flicker of sadness in his friendas eyes before he returned the smile.

aIt is time,a Parsimmon continued, afor you to name your skycraft which, tomorrow, you will fly for the first time.a aAt last,a Rook heard Stob mutter under his breath.

Magda felt for Rookas hand and squeezed it tightly. aWe did it,a she whispered.

Rook nodded, and looked up into the twilight sky, his eyes wide and heart singing. It was indeed a perfect evening, with the sun warm, the wind gentle, and small clouds rolling across the sky like orange and purple b.a.l.l.s of fluff. The water of the lake ruffled like velvet.

aStep forward, Magda Burlix,a said Parsimmon.

Magda left the line. She climbed up onto the stage, shook the High Masteras hand and crossed over to where her skycraft was tethered beside the others. She laid her hands upon the gently bobbing figurehead.

aBy Earth and Sky, your name shall be Woodmoth,a she said, reciting the words she had been practising. aTogether, we shall set forth into the Deepwoods and return with a treatise ent.i.tled The Iridescence of Midnight Woodmoth Wings.a She bowed her head and returned to her place in the line.

aStep forward, Stob Lummus,a said Parsimmon.

Stob came up and rested his hands on the ridged, curling horns of his figurehead. aBy Earth and Sky, your name shall be Hammelhorn,a he said in a loud, confident voice. aTogether, we shall set forth into the Deepwoods and return with a treatise ent.i.tled A Study of the Growth Rings of the Coppertree.a As Xanth stepped forwards, he glanced round at Rook. He looked oddly troubled; sheepish, almost. Rook smiled at his friend encouragingly, but the expression in Xanthas eyes remained sad, haunted.

aBy Earth and Sky, your name shall be Ratbird,a Xanth announced, his hands shaking as they clasped the creatureas carved snout. aTogether, we shall set forth into the Deepwoods aa His head lowered and the thick hair which had grown unchecked since his arrival at Lake Landing flopped down over his eyes. His voice dropped. aAnd return with a treatise ent.i.tled aa A faraway look came into his eyes as he raised his head. aA Witnessing of the Hatching of a Caterbird from its Coc.o.o.n.a It was Rookas turn. He stepped up onto the stage, his heart bursting with pride and excitement, and walked slowly towards his skycraft. aBy Earth and Sky, your name shall be Stormhornet,a he said. aTogether we shall set forth into the Deepwoods and return with a treatise ent.i.tled An Eyewitness Account of the Mythical Great Convocation of Banderbears.a All four apprentices raised their right hands and touched their bloodoak pendants with their left. Then, heads raised and voices carrying across the dark waters of the lake, they announced in unison, aThis we pledge to do, or perish in the attempt.a ook was awoken by shafts of light streaming through the grille of his sleeping-cabin door. He threw off his tilderwool blanket and flung the door open. aMagda,a he called. aMagda, are you up yet?a aDown here, sleepy head,a came Magdaas reply.

s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up his eyes against the light, Rook squinted down at the landing below. There, resplendent in their green flight-suits, goggles and golden wood-armour, stood Magda, Xanth and Stob.

aWhy didnat you wake me?a Rook called angrily.

aWe tried,a said Stob. aBut you were dead to the world, believe me.a Rook scratched his head. Head had the old familiar nightmare again the previous night, and had woken in the half-light of early dawn, exhausted. He must have nodded off again.

aCome and join us,a said Xanth. aYour flight-suitas by your door.a Sure enough, hanging from the iron hook outside his cabin was a green leather flight-suit with pockets and loops, as yet unfilled with equipment. Wooden leg-s.h.i.+elds and arm-protectors dangled from their cord straps beside it. With trembling fingers Rook seized them and, fumbling clumsily, pulled the soft, burnished flight-suit on over his night clothes. His first flight! He was about to go on his first flight! Pausing only to adjust his new goggles, Rook dashed down the tower walkway to join his companions on the landing.

aWhere are our skycraft?a he asked breathlessly.

aOver there,a said Magda, nodding towards the four skycraft, still tethered to the back of the lufwood stage.

There, gently bobbing in the breeze, was the Ratbird, the Hammelhorn, the Woodmoth a" and the Stormhornet. Rook grinned. aThey look good, donat they?a he said.

aTheyall look even better up in the sky,a said Stob. aWhereas our flight instructor? I thought head be here by now.a aPatience,a said Magda. aWeave waited long enough. A few more minutes wonat make any difference.a As the early dawn mist began to lift over the lake, and the sounds of hammelhorn carts rumbling down the woodtroll paths towards the timber yards echoed through the air like distant thunder, the apprentices began to get impatient.

aSunrise, the High Master said, didnat he?a said Stob. aSo where is our flight instructor?a aPerhaps he overslept, whoever he is,a said Xanth.

aForgotten all about us, more like,a said Stob irritably.

aWell, Iam not going to stand for it. How about you three?a The others shrugged.

aJust once round the lake and back again,a Stob said. aIt canat do any harm. Whoas up for it?a aMe,a said Rook and Xanth together.

Magda nodded. aAll right,a she said quietly.

Rook ran to the Stormhornet. Now that it had been decided, he couldnat wait to be up in the sky. He released the tether, jumped up onto the saddle and, feet in the stirrups, grasped the two wooden rope-handles.

With nimble fingers, he raised the loft-sail and lowered the nether-sail a" keeping a hold of the upper nether-sail rope as he did so. The two sails billowed out in front of him, just as they had so many times before, when he had been perched on top of the training block. This time, however, his craft was not secured to the ground.

With a tremble and a sigh, the elegant Stormhornet rose from the platform. For a second, it hovered there, its sails fluttering and flight-weights swaying.

Then, as the wind took it, Rook pulled on the pinnerrope, and the skycraft suddenly came to life and surged upwards into the crisp morning air.

Nothing could have prepared Rook for the thrill which raced through his body as the skycraft climbed ever higher. Not the buoyant lecterns, nor riding the prowlgrins as they leaped from tree to tree a" nor even his brief flight with Knuckle. This time, he was in control. The Stormhornet responded to his every movement, dipping and swooping, rising and looping, utterly obedient to his command. It was exhilarating. It was awesome.

Once round the lake, Stob had said, yet now he was airborne, Rook had no intention of landing so soon. He looked round at the others. Stob was some way to his left, his flight steady and arrow-straight, the heavy hammelhorn prow seemingly b.u.t.ting its way through the currents of air. Magda, in contrast, seemed almost to be fluttering; this way and that she went, darting through the air, catching each gust and eddy for just a moment before changing course. Rook realigned the weights and sails, pulled the pinnerrope to his left and swooped down towards her. As their eyes met, they both burst out laughing.

aIsnat this the best thing ever?a said Rook, his voice s.n.a.t.c.hed away on the wind.

aIncredible!a Magda shouted back.

Xanth, sleek and poised on the Ratbird, swooped down low over the lake, his trailing flight-weights skimming the still surface. Rook gasped at the elegance of his friendas flight. Xanth twitched the ropes and flew off, laughing.

Standing up in the stirrups, and tugging hard on the pinner-rope, Rook gave chase. Up to the top of the trees they flew, then, twisting round, they hurtled down, down like stones, before pulling out at the last moment, skimming the water again, and soaring back into the sky.

Xanth glanced round, his face glowing with excitement.

aWhup! Whup! Wahoo!a Rook cried.

aWahoo!a Xanth bellowed and, turning away, darted back off towards the trees, looping the loop twice as he went.

This time Rook did not follow. Pulling the Stormhornet round, he flew back across the lake.

All at once he heard a cry of alarm, and spun round to see Stob and the Hammelhorn hurtling straight towards a great ironwood tree on the far edge of the lake. His hands were a blur of movement as they leaped around the ropes and levers, but the Hammelhorn was not responding. With a sickening crunch, the skycraft struck the treeas ma.s.sive trunk, and fell.

Rook gasped and, distracted, let go of his own sail-ropes. The next moment he felt a heavy drag below him. Looking down, he saw, to his horror, that the nether-sail was half immersed in water. Desperately, he tried to raise it, while at the same time giving full head to the loft-sail. But it was no use. With a loud splash, the Stormhornet struck the lake.

The icy water s.n.a.t.c.hed Rookas breath away and chilled him instantly to the bone. He struggled desperately upwards, fighting against the weight of his wet clothes, and emerged next to the Stormhornet, which was bobbing about on the surface, pinned down by its sodden sails. Gasping with relief, Rook grabbed hold of the tether-rope, and clung on tightly.

Overhead, Magda seemed to stall. Her sails collapsed and the Woodmoth lurched to one side. With a shrill scream, she tumbled down towards the lake. There was a resounding splash, followed, seconds later, by coughing and spluttering as Magda surfaced beside Rook.

aItas all your fault, Rook!a she laughed. aYou put me off!a The Woodmoth dropped slowly down towards the surface of the lake, landing close to the base of the iron-wood tree where a disgruntled Stob sat rubbing his head ruefully Xanth swooped in from overhead. aAre you two all right?a he called. aItas a bit cold for a swim, if you ask me.a He flew off with a laugh, circling the lake effortlessly on the soaring Ratbird, before turning back towards Lake Landing.