Read Hercufleas Online

Authors: Sam Gayton

Hercufleas

Contents

Cover

Also by Sam Gayton

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Super Fleas

About the Author

The Snow Merchant

Lilliput

Also by Sam Gayton

The Snow Merchant

Lilliput

This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781448187805

www.randomhouse.co.uk

First published in 2015 by
Andersen Press Limited
20 Vauxhall Bridge Road
London SW1V 2SA
www.andersenpress.co.uk

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

The right of Sam Gayton and Peter Cottrill to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

Text copyright © Sam Gayton, 2015
Illustrations copyright © Peter Cottrill, 2015

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data available.

ISBN 978 1 84939 636 3

For Rita, both of you

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost…
Proverb

Prologue

G
reta hurried over the bridge, autumn leaves crunching under her clogs like beetles. The full moon shone in the sky above and wobbled on the water below. She stopped for as long as she dared and stared down at the river's silver ripples, trying to make herself see the past: Mama chopping wood, Wuff with his paws crossed by the fire, Papa stirring soup on the stove. He had told her once about the magic in a full moon's reflection. If you looked long enough, it made a mirror to times long gone. Greta only ever saw her own face stare back. Green-brown eyes, freckles like sawdust, wild brambly hair she never bothered to brush.

She shook her head and blinked until tears rolled down her nose and into the river. It was tradition to cry when crossing the bridge called Two Tears that led to the jetty linking Tumber to the wide world beyond. Her salt mixed with the town's salt, so even though she left, part of her would always be there until she came back. If she made it.

Across Two Tears, the trees began and the rows of little boats bumped against each other in the shallows. Greta untethered one and lowered in her axe and satchel, checking over her shoulder each time. No one chased across the bridge after her. On the far side, the town lay empty and dark. Only in the ruined Church of Saint Katerina on the Hill were the tinderlamps lit. Tonight was a good night to be a thief. By the time the funeral ended, Greta would be halfway to Avalon with the florins.

She unfurled her fist to look at them again. Three glittering coins. The last of Tumber's gold.

Slipping her heel from one clog, she tucked the florins one by one under the leather insole for safe keeping. Then, clonking her feet into the boat, she turned to push herself out onto the river.

Tap tap.

Greta froze. At the end of the jetty stood Miss Witz in a black mourning dress, leaning on her cane. The minuscule copper bell hung from her ear on a hoop. A gypsy had charmed it so lies made it ring. When Miss Witz had been her teacher at school, Greta had set the bell chiming many times.

‘Those florins are kept in the stone vault below the mayor's house,' Miss Witz said, her walking stick rapping on the wooden boards, ‘which can only be unlocked by the golden key he wears on a chain around his neck. They cannot have been easy to steal.'

All the old babushka had to do was shout. The Tumberfolk would come running down from the church and Greta would be caught. But for now Miss Witz's voice was just a whisper. Greta kept her hand on the jetty, feeling the current pulling at the boat, but she did not let go. She did not do anything except sit very still and listen to Miss Witz, the way she had in school.

‘I suppose you waited until tonight because the mayor is in the ruined church, mourning with the rest of Tumber. And since he is only wearing black, I imagine he left his key in the hidden drawer of his desk. But you wouldn't know any of that. Unless, of course, you've been spying on him.' She cackled softly. ‘And I wouldn't know any of it either. Unless, of course,
I've
been spying on
you
.'

As she spoke, Miss Witz hobbled closer. Her hair was like a roll of chicken wire and her eyes shone the same steely colour.

‘So I suppose what I want to know first,' said Miss Witz, ‘is where you are going with all that gold.'

‘What gold?' Greta said.

The copper bell gave a tinkle. Miss Witz raised her eyebrows that were drawn on with charcoal and gave Greta a very long stare that seemed to say,
And now the truth, please.

Greta felt her cheeks go hot. ‘I'm not stealing it.' The copper bell rang again. ‘Well, I am stealing it, but for good reason, miss. I'm going to Avalon, to buy Tumber another hero.'

‘The mayor chooses which heroes will guard us,' said Miss Witz. ‘Not you.'

‘The mayor chooses wrong,' Greta blurted.

Miss Witz frowned, but this time the copper bell did not ring. She half smiled. ‘So you believe what you say. But that does not mean you are right. It means you are either a very astute girl, or a fool.'

‘I tried telling him,' Greta said, ‘but he doesn't listen. The heroes he brings back—'

‘Are the strongest in all Avalon, child. And the strongest in Avalon are the strongest in the world.'

‘We don't
need
the strongest,' said Greta. Why was she the only one who understood? ‘It isn't about being strong. Papa was strong. Mama was stronger. But the strongest will always be Yuk.'

At the sound of his name, Miss Witz flinched. She looked away, pulling at a wispy hair on her chin.

‘Remember the Crimson Knight?' Greta said quietly. ‘With his sword of boiling lava? Yuk guzzled him, then used his sword as a toothpick. Remember the Stone Golem, chiselled from granite and brought to life with alchemy? Yuk crushed him into gravel with his heel.'

In the Church of Saint Katerina on the Hill, the mourning bell began to toll from the broken spire. It rang once for every life Yuk had taken. Greta sat in the boat, counting each faint chime. On and on the bell went. Even when the tolling ended, Greta knew it had not. It would never end. Next month when the moon was new Yuk would come again – and only one thing could stop him.

‘Every month that passes, there are fewer of us left,' Greta said. ‘Fewer florins. A little less hope. It has to be me who goes to Avalon. Tumber doesn't need a
strong
hero, it needs a
giant-slayer.
'

Miss Witz snorted. ‘What a ridiculous idea.'

But Greta smiled, because below her teacher's words, she heard the tintinnabulation of the copper bell.

‘You believe me too—'

‘
Enough
, child,' snapped Miss Witz. ‘You are being very foolish. And making me very ashamed. Who was it that taught you to steal in this way? Not I.'

Greta scowled.

‘You were clever in taking the florins,' Miss Witz continued, coming right up to the boat, ‘but you did not think through your escape.'

She twisted the fox-head handle of her walking stick. With a click, a small silver tongue sprang from its mouth: a hidden blade. ‘Did you think no one would come for you when your thieving was discovered?'

Other books

Her Rebel Heart by Alison Stuart
Dog Gone by Carole Poustie
Exile by Rebecca Lim
The Fireman by Stephen Leather
Love My Enemy by Kate Maclachlan


readsbookonline.com Copyright 2016 - 2024