Battle of the Heroes Page 3

  The sea-serpent had brought the coracles right to the mouth of the harbour, where they bobbed up and down in the rough swell. ‘Thank you, Sabre,’ Quinn whispered. ‘We have to leave you here. I … I hope I see you again.’

  The sea-serpent bowed his head and she reached to stroke his silky scales before untying the rope that attached the coracles to him. Then the sea-serpent sank away beneath the waves, a flick of his long tail sending spray high into the air.

  The children paddled their basket-boats through the narrow gap between the headland and the stone causeway. For a few minutes, the coracles were tossed up and down like corks in a storm drain, but then they shot through into the calmer waters of the harbour. Keeping the motion of their paddles gentle to avoid the sound of splashing, they floated towards the town they knew was ahead, clustered at the base of the hill. The mist made it hard to see more than a few paces ahead. All was dark and quiet.

  A huge dark shape loomed ahead of them. Before Quinn could dig in her paddle and stop her coracle, it thumped against the side. It was a huge ship, bigger than any Quinn had ever seen. It towered above them, a few lights piercing the gloom.

  ‘It must be that warship Lord Mortlake was building,’ Tom whispered.

  ‘It’s incredible how fast they built it!’ Sebastian said. ‘It looks ready to sail!’

  To sail against the King, Quinn thought. My great-uncle, Ivor.

  The thought made her edgy and afraid. Quinn didn’t like to think about what could be the consequences of her discovery on the Lost Isles. On one hand, it was shiveringly exciting to know that she had royal blood. On the other hand, it was awful to know that both her parents were dead, and that her only living relative was a king most people thought of as frightening and cruel.

  And what of her ambitions to be a Grand Teller? If it was true she was really some kind of princess, would they make her give up her study of magic? Would she have to wear shoes and mind her manners? Would they make her go and live at Stormholt Castle with her great-uncle? Quinn didn’t want to. She wanted to stay here at Wolfhaven Castle with her friends.

  ‘We’ll have to go around it,’ Elanor whispered and began to paddle sideways.

  Quinn began to paddle again, too. The warship was like a floating castle, its sides as steep as an overhanging cliff. They reached its stern and began to edge around it, sliding under the weed-hung anchor chain. It was so thick, Quinn could not have wrapped the fingers of both hands around it and she wondered how huge the anchor must be.

  She heard a faint squeaking sound and all the hairs on her neck rose. A huge black rat was perched on the anchor rope, peering down at her with gleaming red eyes. ‘Urrgh,’ she said and shrank back.

  The squeaking intensified. Quinn saw more rats running down the chain towards her. They were all as large as hares. ‘Quick, let’s get away!’

  She tried to push away from the ship with her paddle. The first rat gave a high-pitched squeal and leapt for the coracle. Quinn batted it away with her paddle. More rats leapt at them from the ship, or raced down the anchor-chain, squealing loudly. The rat that had landed in the water swam for Quinn’s coracle and tried to scramble on board. She cried out in horror and whacked it hard with her paddle.

  The noise rang out over the still water, and somewhere nearby a man shouted out. ‘Beware! Beware! Attackers!’

  Lights kindled on the ship and on the shore. Men leaned over the ship’s rail, holding lanterns high. Desperately, the children tried to paddle away into the mist-wreathed darkness, but giant rats swarmed all over their wicker boats. One latched onto Sebastian’s boot and he kicked it away into the water. Quinn swept about her with her paddle, but there were so many. Too many.

  Then two red lances of light shot down from the castle. They burnt through the mist, parting the veils to show two women standing in the window of the highest tower. Lady Mortlake and Mistress Mauldred. The red light shone from the rings on their fingers.

  Quinn’s mouth dried. Her hands trembled in fear.

  Now the witch-sisters knew they were here.

  ‘So much for stealth,’ Sebastian muttered.

  ‘They’ll be hunting us now,’ Quinn said. ‘Let’s get into the underground caves as fast as we can. They won’t be able to see us then.’

  The children paddled as fast as they could away from the warship. The soldiers shot flaming arrows after them. One fell in Tom’s coracle, but he quickly stamped it out. The harbour was alive with light now, every lantern kindled. Soldiers ran from every direction, many piling into rowing boats. The children had no hope of out-paddling them.

  Quinn put two fingers into her mouth and whistled with all her strength. The shrill, high-pitched noise rang out. ‘Sabre!’ she screamed. ‘I need you!’

  A white arrow-shaped swell of water surged towards them. The sea-serpent’s great head reared from the water. With a glad leap of her heart, Quinn realised that the sea-serpent must have been lurking nearby, standing guard over her.

  ‘Sabre! Destroy the boat!’ Quinn shouted, pointing at the immense warship.

  The sea-serpent dipped his head to her, then rose higher. There was a cry from the ship’s watchman. As Sabre began to coil his great body about the ship, soldiers attacked it with their swords and shot flaming arrows at his head. All bounced off the sea-serpent’s armour-like scales.

  ‘Good thinking!’ Tom called, as he fitted an arrow to the string of his bow. ‘At the very least, we’ll scupper Lord Mortlake’s treasured boat!’

  Beltaine was darting through the air, catching giant rats and swallowing them in a single gulp. Already her belly was distended. Still more rats swam towards the coracles, their eyes gleaming in the flaring light from the ship. The four friends paddled furiously to the causeway as Sabre twisted behind them, the ship creaking and cracking between his coils.

  ‘No!’ Lady Mortlake’s shriek of rage echoed around the harbour. A red beam of light lashed out like a whip against Sabre, who hissed and released the ship. Timber shuddered as he sank beneath the waves.

  ‘Sabre!’ Quinn searched the tossing waters of the harbour desperately, praying that the serpent had not been harmed. ‘Sabre!’

  ‘Quinn, come on!’ Tom called.

  A long groan from above. The mainmast of the ship was slowly toppling.

  ‘It’s coming straight for us!’ Sebastian gasped. ‘Quick!’ He seized his oar with renewed energy, paddling madly.

  ‘We’ll never get away in time!’ Elanor cried, covering her head with her arms.

  With a hideous crack, the mast plummeted towards them.

  In a welter of foam, Sabre reared from the water, his long sinuous body arching high above the coracles. The mast smashed down upon his coils. The sea-serpent shrieked in pain, as the mast broke in two and disappeared into the water. With a last great effort, the sea-serpent flicked his tail. The four boats were flung high into the air. Elanor screamed in terror. The little round boats whirled through the air, then landed, spinning, on the stone causeway. The children lay gasping as the last pieces of the warship’s mast hit the water where they had been moments before, sending up great gouts of spray.

  ‘Sabre! You saved us!’ Quinn exclaimed, scrambling to her feet. The serpent bowed his head to her. Dark blood stained his scales.

  ‘I take it all back,’ Tom gasped. ‘He is my friend. Right now, he’s my best friend.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Elanor said. Sebastian nodded, trying to catch his breath.

  Red rays of light pierced the mist once more, stabbing, searching.

  Quinn risked a look up at the tower. Mistress Mauldred and Lady Mortlake stood side by side, their arms flung high. The light blazing from their rings filled the night with a ghastly reddish glow. Behind them crouched an old hunchbacked woman, leaning on a staff. It was Wilda, the witch of the Witchwood. The giant rats would be her doing, Quinn thought.

  ‘Rex!’ Tom shouted. ‘Come to me.’

  The flapping of great wings sent the mist swirling away as the g
riffin swooped down out of the darkness. Tom leapt onto his back.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Quinn shouted.

  Tom pointed up at the tower. ‘I’m going to stop those witches!’

  ‘No! It’s too dangerous!’ Quinn called back.

  But the griffin was already soaring towards the tower, Tom crouched on his back and fitting an arrow to his bow.

  Tom gripped his knees tightly into Rex’s feathers.

  Flaming arrows zinged towards them, but the griffin swerved around them.

  ‘To the tower!’ Tom cried. Rex soared into the sky.

  The red light hurt Tom’s eyes. He averted his gaze and saw—hanging on the side of the tower—a cage made of iron. Someone was crouched within.

  Tom had no time to do more than glance. Giant ravens swooped out from the tower, claws raking. Rex dived away, then spun and shot up past them. The ravens attacked from all directions as the griffin fought back. Ravens shrieked. Black feathers spun in the wind.

  Talons tore at Tom’s shirt and he cried out in pain as they wrenched him sideways. Helpless, Tom slid off Rex’s back. He dropped his bow, reaching desperately for something to grab.

  There was nothing but air.

  Tom tumbled down, down, down.

  Red rays of light pierced the mist, stabbing, searching.

  ‘We need to get under cover,’ Elanor cried. ‘They know we’re here, they’re looking for us.’

  And then they heard it, muffled and faint, as though from far away.

  Slap, slap, slap.

  Snuff, snuff, snuff.

  The bog-men were coming.

  Through the dizzy reel of red-hued darkness, Tom saw the iron cage spinning towards him. He reached out desperately. One hand managed to catch at the bars. Just as his fingers slipped free, he caught another bar with his other hand. The cage swung wildly. Tom risked a glance down. Darkness yawned below him. The warship was as small as a bath toy, and the flaming arrows shooting from all directions were as tiny as sparks from a campfire.

  He must not fall.

  Sebastian caught Elanor’s hand. ‘Run!’

  She gathered up her wet, ragged skirts and bolted along the causeway. Fergus snarled as bog-men loped out of the darkness. He and the wolf cub leapt for two of the bog-men’s throats, bearing them down to the ground. Quinn vaulted over the fallen bog-men, running as fast as she could. Behind her, the sea-serpent hissed in pain as an arrow pierced the torn skin of its back. Quinn faltered and looked back. ‘Go, Sabre!’ she screamed. ‘Get out of here.’

  The sea-serpent thrashed from side to side as more arrows pierced its flesh. Then it sank away under the black waters, froth churning up around as it disappeared.

  ‘Sabre!’

  As Quinn shouted, she was suddenly seized from behind by two skinny, leathery arms. She smelt the stink of the swamp. Desperate, she fought to break free, but the strength of the bog-man’s arms was astonishing. Slowly, she was forced down to her knees, the sharp point of its spear at her throat.

  ‘Grab my hand!’ a voice cried.

  Looking up, Tom saw a dirty white face peering at him through the bars of the cage. A small hand reached down for him. With a great effort, Tom managed to catch hold of the outstretched hand. He’ll never be strong enough to drag me up, he thought grimly. But the hand gripped his with surprising strength.

  Tom was dragged up and managed to get one foot in through the bars of the cage. A raven swooped at him, but he managed to swing away. Tom looked at the boy in the cage for the first time. He saw a filthy ragged creature with tangled dark curls and bright black eyes and a wicked-looking grin that Tom knew all too well.

  It wasn’t a boy at all.

  ‘Jack!’ Tom cried. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I guess you didn’t come all this way to rescue me.’

  ‘Well, no … we thought you were miles away! What happened?’

  ‘I was caught trying to get to Sebastian’s father. They dragged me back here. Lady Mortlake was not pleased to see me. They locked me in this cage and lowered me over the edge of the tower. I think she hoped you’d come back to try and rescue me, then get caught in her trap.’

  Tom had first met Jack when she’d jumped out of a pie at the midsummer feast more than a month ago. Lord Mortlake had gifted Jack to Elanor to act as her fool, to amuse and run errands for her, but in reality Jack had been the Mortlakes’ spy, sent to help them invade Wolfhaven Castle. But Jack had not wanted to help her cruel masters, so she had slipped away during the invasion, taking Wolfhaven’s silver with her. Later, she’d helped the children defeat the Beast of Blackmoor Bog and escaped with them. It was then they had learned that Jack was not a boy, but a girl in disguise.

  She’d left them to take the news of the invasion to Sebastian’s father, Lord Byrne of Ashbyrne Castle … but obviously had never made it.

  The giant ravens were all around the cage now, wings flapping, beaks snapping. Tom’s arms and legs were bruised and torn.

  ‘I guess I’d better rescue you then,’ Tom said. ‘Can you get out of the cage?’

  ‘That’s not the problem,’ Jack replied, and wriggled her thin body through the bars of the cage. ‘There’s no cage that can hold me. I’d have escaped ages ago if I could work out some way to get down to the ground without killing myself!’

  ‘Rex!’ Tom called.

  The griffin swooped down on the cage, his talons sending one of the ravens tumbling away. Tom leapt onto his back and in an instant Jack was behind him, gripping him tightly around the waist. ‘Let’s go!’ she shouted and Rex soared away.

  ‘Stop them! Kill them!’ Mistress Mauldred screamed from the tower. A murder of ravens swept upon them. Tom could see nothing but black feathers and hear nothing but raucous shrieks.

  Elanor spun on her heel. She saw Quinn in the grip of a bog-man. Bending, she picked up one of the heavy boulders from the side of the causeway and flung it with all her strength. The rock hit the bog-man in the side of the head, knocking him down. Quinn scrambled to her feet and raced to join her friends.

  With the wolfhound and wolf cub leaping ahead of them, and Beltaine swooping above their heads, they reached the safety of the narrow streets of the town. For a moment, Elanor thought they could escape into the misty darkness. But then a ray of red stabbed at them from the tower height. They were lit up in a circle of malevolent light.

  The rats raced towards them, shrieking.

  Tat-tat-tat! Tat-tat-tat!

  The bog-men struck their spears so hard against the ground a little thunder rose into the sky. Looking up, Elanor saw hundreds of bog-men swarming down the rocky cliffs from the castle. They scuttled as swiftly as spiders.

  Tat-tat-tat! Tat-tat-tat!

  The mist swirled, showing just snatches of the bog-men’s stick-thin leathery limbs, their bony eye sockets, their flared black nostrils. Closer and closer they came.

  Elanor felt faint and dizzy. Quinn caught her by the arm. ‘Cover your mouth,’ she hissed. ‘Try not to breathe in the mist.’

  Obediently, Elanor folded a corner of her wet ragged dress over her mouth and stumbled on. Rats swarmed up out of the dark waters of the harbour, filling the night with their hideous squeaks. Bog-men slithered down the walls and bounded out of every courtyard and alley, long spears held high. Slap, slap, slap …

  Far above, ravens wheeled and squawked.

  Then Elanor heard a high cry of pain.

  Jack screamed as a raven stabbed her upper arm with its sharp beak.

  ‘Hold on!’ Tom shouted. He wheeled the griffin about. The great beast swooped and swerved and fought his way free. Higher and higher they soared, till the red searchlights of the witches’ rings were lost far below them. The ravens fell away as the griffin burst through the red-hued mist. Above, an arching dome of radiant stars; below, a white landscape of soft, billowing clouds.

  Tom’s arms and legs were trembling, and he gripped as tightly as he could to Rex’s feathery neck. He never wanted to fall ag
ain.

  He heard Jack sniffle.

  ‘Is all well?’ he asked.

  ‘More than well,’ Jack answered, wiping her nose on her tattered sleeve. ‘It’s just … oh, Tom, I always try to be brave, but I was so afraid you wouldn’t come!’

  ‘I’m sorry, we didn’t know you’d been captured.’ He added, with as much nonchalance as he could muster, ‘So I guess this means Sebastian’s father and his army are not riding to help us?’

  ‘No,’ Jack said. ‘I’m so sorry. I tried to get away, but there were too many soldiers.’

  Tom’s thoughts were racing. ‘I have to go back,’ he said.

  ‘But … no!’

  ‘I need to be with the others—we need to awaken the sleeping heroes. Do you think you could fly with Rex to find Sebastian’s father, and get him here as fast as you can? It’s several days’ march … but you’ll get to him tonight if you fly the whole way.’

  ‘Would—would the griffin let me fly on his back?’ she asked hesitantly, not at all her usual cocky self. ‘Without you?’

  ‘If you ask him nicely,’ Tom replied with a grin. The griffin shrieked and bucked, so that Jack screamed and wrapped her arms tighter around Tom’s waist.

  Tom sobered. ‘Don’t be afraid. I think Rex understands how important it is. I will play to him and try and make him understand.’

  He fumbled in his pocket and found his flute. Then, gripping tightly with his knees so he would not fall, he lifted the flute to his mouth and began to play. He tried to pour all of his hopes and fears into the tune he played—his longing to see his mother again and his fear that she may have been hurt; his anger at the cruel way Lord Mortlake and the witches had imprisoned all the castle folk; his desperate hope that he and his friends may succeed in their impossible quest and raise the sleeping heroes of legend. The music rose high into the starry sky, wild and sweet, and the griffin glided, his head turned so he could fix Tom with one hooded golden eye.