The Eye of Neptune (13 page)

‘On this island?’ Dakkar said, smirking despite the strangeness of the situation. ‘We’re a long way from where lions and tigers roam!’

Suddenly the undergrowth shuddered and something burst out in a flurry of leaves and twigs. It squealed and yelped as it ran across the clearing at the foot of the cliff.

‘It’s a wild boar,’ Georgia gasped. ‘It looks terrified.’

More branches shifted and Dakkar saw a round eye, feathers and a cruel yellow beak. The creature’s scream resounded across the island and into the cave.

‘It’s a bird,’ Dakkar said. ‘A huge bird. But I don’t think it’s the chicken you might have had in mind.’

The bird broke the cover of the trees and Dakkar caught his breath. It was immense, as tall as a large horse. A wicked, curved beak curled from a head that reminded Dakkar of an eagle. Stubby feathers stuck out of an ugly red neck. It bobbed, its yellow eyes fixed on the fleeing pig. Two huge legs powered the bird after its prey, long black talons scraping up chips of rock from the ground as it ran.

The bird’s cry was echoed in the distance.

‘I don’t think it’s alone either,’ Georgia said, breathless.

With a flap of its stubby wings, the bird jerked its head forward. Dakkar gave a grimace as the sharp beak sank into the tough hide of the wild pig.

The boar squealed as the bird lifted it high in the air and then slammed it hard on the ground. For a second the pig lay stunned but as the bird threw its head up to cry out, it revived and scrambled to its feet. The bird snapped at it but the pig moved fast despite the gouts of blood that coated its back. With a squeak, it scampered across the clearing.

‘It’s going to get away!’ Georgia gasped, grabbing Dakkar’s arm.

But as the boar reached the edge of the clearing another black, feathered head flicked from the bushes. This second bird stood even taller than the first. It slammed a clawed foot on to the poor animal’s back and pinned it to the ground.

Dakkar and Georgia watched in horror as the two birds tore their prey to pieces. They snapped and pulled, blood matting the short, stubbly feathers around their beaks. Soon only a dark stain on the rough ground gave any clue as to what had just happened. The birds stood, basking in the warm sun, preening and shaking their black and white feathers.

‘That’s what I heard screeching last night,’ Dakkar whispered. He gave a shudder. ‘And to think we slept out in the open.’

‘Perhaps the fire discouraged them,’ Georgia whispered back. ‘But what shall we do now? Unless they move on we’re trapped.’

‘If they’ve just eaten,’ Dakkar reasoned, ‘then they might not be a threat to us. We could try to sneak past them.’

‘Are you crazy?’ Georgia hissed. ‘Did you see what they did to that pig? They don’t look like the sort of critter that ever stops being hungry.’

Dakkar nodded. One of the birds let out an unholy shriek and fixed a yellow eye on him as he leaned out of the cave. ‘If we shoot, we might attract more birds,’ he whispered. ‘Stealth is our best tactic.’

They slung their rifles on their shoulders and climbed out of the cave on to the steps.

The birds lifted their heads but remained motionless.

Without saying a word, Dakkar and Georgia inched downward, step by step.

The nearest bird inclined its head.

Another step. They were five narrow stairs from the bottom now.

With a deafening shriek, the nearest bird launched itself towards them. Dakkar turned and stumbled on the bottom step. He fell flat on his stomach as the birds closed in.

Chapter Fifteen

The Terror Birds

Dakkar scrambled to his feet and leapt up the steps. He heard the clack of the sharp beak catching the cold stone where he had just been. With a yell, he threw himself forward two, three steps at a time until he reached the cave’s mouth and Georgia dragged him in.

They lay breathless on the sandy floor, listening to the hiss and screech of the birds below.

‘I guess . . . they’re still . . . hungry,’ Georgia panted, trying to catch her breath.

‘Maybe . . . if . . . we could shoot them,’ Dakkar suggested, crawling to the edge of the cave and pulling back the flintlock on his rifle.

‘So much for stealth,’ Georgia said. ‘The birds are so huge, what if we only wound them and they run into the jungle? I’ve got a better plan.’

The birds were returning to the edge of the clearing now, worrying at the roots of their greasy-looking feathers with their nasty, curved beaks.

She took one of the small barrels of powder and hurled it down into the clearing. The birds jumped and flapped, strutting towards the barrel and pecking at it curiously. After a moment’s investigation, they went back to basking in the sun.

‘Do you think this is wise?’ Dakkar murmured as Georgia loaded one of the rifles.

‘It’ll frighten them away,’ she said, taking aim. ‘And we can run back to the beach.’

A loud crack lanced Dakkar’s ear, followed by a buzz as the shot cut through the warm air. And then the clearing erupted into a roaring maelstrom of flame and smoke. Dakkar felt weightless for a second and then his head hit something. Stars splintered his vision and he wondered why he was lying at the back of the cavern, buried in boxes and rifles.

For a while an incessant whining filled his ears. He lay there, coughing out the stench of singed feathers and roasted flesh.

‘Oops,’ Georgia spluttered, crawling over to where Dakkar lay. ‘I think I underestimated the amount of powder in that keg.’

Dakkar groaned and heaved a case from his legs. He stumbled over to the cave’s mouth, nearly lurching out and falling headlong into the clearing.

A thin black mist still floated over the scene of devastation. Two smouldering carcasses lay at the edge of the clearing under the blasted undergrowth. A fire crackled on one side of the treeline and it was quickly taking hold.

‘Just a suggestion,’ Dakkar said, nodding at the ever-growing flames. ‘But I think we’d better get back to the
Liberty
!’

‘Good idea,’ Georgia muttered.

They scrambled down the stairs, flinching at the flames that snapped at them from the bush. Dakkar could see that the fire was spreading rapidly.

‘The path to the beach is still safe,’ he yelled. ‘We must hurry!’

As he finished speaking, a chilling screech filled his ears and he turned in time to see a flurry of black and white feathers come leaping over the flames and land right in their path. The bird was singed and charred from the flames but it was still dangerous. It stretched its neck out and gave a hissing scream at them.

‘Another one?’ Georgia whimpered.

Dakkar unslung his rifle and brandished it like a staff. ‘You load up,’ he said to Georgia. ‘I’ll try to hold it off.’

He could hear Georgia fumbling at her belt and loading her rifle but he didn’t take his eyes from the bird.

‘Quick as you can,’ Dakkar said, parrying the bird’s snapping beak with the butt of his rifle.

The bird lunged again. A stink of rotten meat drifted from the creature, cutting through the acrid smoke.

‘I’m loadin’ as fast as I can! Damn!’ Georgia cursed behind him, and the sound of metal rattling on stone told him she had dropped a musketball.

Dakkar could feel the heat of the fire scorching his back now. He swallowed and swung the rifle at the bird’s head. It made contact with a loud crack and the bird staggered drunkenly for a second. In another situation it would have looked comical, but Dakkar knew that with one lash of its powerful legs the bird could spill his warm guts on to the rocky ground.

It edged nearer and then reared up. Dakkar thrust the rifle butt out again as the bird brought its savage beak down. Pain lanced through his arm and then it went numb with the impact as he hit the beak. He dropped the rifle and stumbled back a little.

The bird did a tight circle back on itself and then began to run towards Dakkar. There was nothing he could do – his arm hung uselessly by his side. The bird gave a hop and extended the other leg, swiping its largest talon forward. Dakkar could see that its trajectory would bring it straight into his stomach.

Then another bang rang out almost right next to his left ear and a cloud of musket smoke choked him. The bird’s head snapped back and Dakkar saw a gory hole where its eye used to be.

Although the bird was dead it still moved. Dakkar scurried to one side but crashed into Georgia. The bird’s legs had lost their strength and buckled, sending it veering into them. Suddenly a mass of stinking feathers buried them, pinning Dakkar to the ground.

‘I seem to be doing a lot of this,’ Georgia grumbled, dragging at the dead bird’s leg.

Dakkar struggled to his feet. His arm tingled as the feeling came back to it.

The flames grew higher, and further into the wood something crashed to the ground. The smoke thickened into a smothering fog. He snatched up the rifle and followed Georgia through the forest.

‘And . . . don’t . . . mention it,’ Georgia panted.

‘Mention what?’ Dakkar gasped back.

‘Me . . . saving your . . . life . . . again!’ Georgia said, grinning.

Wild pigs scurried past them and smashed their way through the vegetation, desperate to escape the fire. Monkeys chittered and squealed above them in the high canopy. Brilliantly coloured parrots flapped and squawked through the leaves. Everything ran and flew to escape the heat and smoke.

Dakkar leapt over logs and stumbled on vines that snarled his feet on the ground. At one point a leopard hurled itself over his head. He even saw another of the giant birds stuck in the fork of a tree, snapping at anything that passed it.

At last the smoke thinned and the undergrowth lightened and he found himself staggering across the shingle towards the
Liberty
with Georgia. He threw himself on to the beach.

‘Safe!’ he cried.

‘No – look!’ Georgia yelled.

Flames still leapt from the trees and thick smoke obscured much of their vision but Dakkar could just make out a thin trail of smoke spiralling from one of the cave entrances.

‘Sparks from the fire must have blown into the gun-powder barrels,’ Dakkar gasped. ‘But we’re far enough away –’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Georgia breathed, pointing at the treeline. ‘I meant
that
!’

Another giant bird was charging straight down the beach towards them, enraged, panicked and intent on destruction.

Dakkar tried to scramble to his feet but he slipped on the shingle. He was exhausted. His arms and legs ached with the exertion of running and fighting and being crushed by giant carnivorous birds.

‘Load the gun,’ he yelled at Georgia, who fumbled with the powder belt and the rifle.

The bird’s curved claws kicked up the pebbles and grit as it sprinted towards them, head bobbing, beak gaping.

‘I haven’t got time,’ Georgia grunted through gritted teeth. ‘You’ll have to fight it off.’

‘I can’t,’ Dakkar screamed. ‘It’s moving too fast. It’s going to jump and –’

The bird took a leap, spraying rock behind it. A muffled boom accompanied its take-off and Dakkar saw the caves behind it vanish in a huge cloud of black smoke.

Chapter Sixteen

San Teresa

As the bird reached mid-flight, stones rained down from the exploding cave, stinging Dakkar’s head and forcing him to curl up tight. He glanced out from under the protection of his arm. The bird hung in the air but something else cast a dark shadow.

The bird twisted its head round and gave an outraged squawk as a huge slab of rock smacked it into the pebbly beach. Dakkar screwed his face up against the spray of stones, blood and feathers that enveloped him.

For a second, he knelt as if in prayer, motionless, staring at the rock that had buried the bird in front of him. Then he turned to Georgia, who stood with her jaw dangling slack at what had just happened.

‘Does this kind of thing happen to you a lot?’ he asked.

‘What do you mean?’ she said, frowning at him.

‘Well, you know, going to fetch some firewood and ending up fighting off giant, man-eating chickens, being caught in forest fires and nearly getting crushed by exploding cliffs.’

‘Erm, no,’ she replied, dazed. ‘I have had a few adventures but they don’t generally involve giant, man-eating chickens, forest fires or exploding cliffs.’

‘Oh,’ Dakkar said. ‘Me neither.’

Georgia broke into a smirk and then Dakkar felt a hysterical giggle force its way from the pit of his stomach. Soon the sound of their laughter echoed across the devastated island.

The submersible’s repairs proved fairly simple. Georgia stood guard with all rifles and pistols loaded while Dakkar worked on the boat but they saw no more giant birds. Once they had made a fire to soften the tar that they needed to waterproof the
Liberty
, they were soon back at sea.

Dakkar manned the helm while Georgia consulted the charts.

‘Our course is clear,’ she said, running a finger along the map. ‘But what we haven’t thought of is what we do when we get to San Teresa.’