Voyage of the Owl (21 page)

Queen Ashana bit her lip until a drop of crimson blood ran from her mouth.

‘Nonetheless, we can do nothing, until Caspar is safe,’ Queen Ashana reiterated. ‘Perhaps Albert and his informants can discover where Roana and Caspar are. Perhaps the rebels can help my children, but they can do nothing for me until they are safe.’

Marnie thought of her own children, wherever they might be.

‘You are right, your majesty,’ Marnie replied. ‘We can do nothing which might endanger the children.’

The return voyage to Tiregian was calm and uneventful, with a fair wind most of the way. Seven nights after they left Sedah, Jack softly called, ‘Land ahoy.’

The four children ran to the gunwale to look for the welcoming lights of the port of Tira. Fox ordered Carl to change course to north-west. The
Owl
crept close to the shore. The children could hear the waves crashing on the rocks, and smell the familiar scent of earth and grass and animals above the briny smell of the sea.

Sinking to the west, the gibbous moon beamed
benevolently, tarnishing the sea with its silvery path.

Jack climbed up into the rigging with one of the ship’s lanterns, its flame carefully shielded by black shutters. On Fox’s whistle he carefully flashed the lantern to shore, opening the little door to reveal the flame. The signal flashed – one short, one long, one long, one short. Nothing happened. There was only darkness from the clifftops.

Fox whistled again. Jack repeated the series of flashes. This time there was an answer.

Two short flashes blinked back from the cliff tops.

Fox sighed in satisfaction. He whispered orders. This was the part of the
Owl
’s journey that was the most difficult and the most nerve-racking for Fox – to land his illicit cargo on Tiregian’s shores and spirit it away to be hidden and dispersed.

The experienced crew ran to do his bidding. The rowboat was lowered down from the deck with a gentle splash. Roana, Lily, Saxon and Ethan stood at the stern wrapped in black cloaks with black woollen hats on their heads, pulled down low over their ears. Lily had her long hair tucked up into her hat to hide its pale colour, and Charcoal curled inside her pocket. At their feet lay their grubby
packs and Aisha, her head on her white-tipped paws, waiting patiently.

Fox watched the dark coast carefully, waiting to recognise the shape of a rock or cliff that would lead him where he needed to go. At last he saw it, a misshapen boulder that squatted against the starry sky. He gestured to the children to clamber down into the rowboat with their packs. Aisha leapt down eagerly, followed lastly by Fox, with Mia clutching onto his shoulder.

At Fox’s signal, Jack cast off the mooring rope, and Saxon and Ethan rowed strongly for shore.

The cliffs towered above them, soaring sheer, stark and slippery twenty metres into the air. Fox directed them to a tiny beach. The waves surfed them in onto the gritty sand. Everyone leapt out and dragged the boat up out of the water. Fox showed them where to stow the boat behind a boulder covered in smelly brown weed.

It felt good to have solid land beneath their feet once more, the solid and familiar sand of Tiregian. Once again, their legs swayed and buckled, unused to the lack of rolling motion.

The girls looked around apprehensively. In the moonlight they could see no path, no way up the cliffs from this exposed stretch of sand. Fox led
them around the rocks. They tripped and slid in the darkness, clumsy with the many hidden obstacles.

At last Fox climbed up behind some huge boulders at the base of the cliffs. For the first time he risked opening the door on his shuttered lantern. The rays revealed a round black hole in the base of the cliff, about two metres high, completely hidden from the seaward side by the boulders. Above the round hole was carved a delicate depiction of a fierce dragon in flight. The carving seemed to dance in the flickering light.

‘The worm hole,’ whispered Fox, ominously. ‘The hidden smuggler’s way. In we go, my lovelies.’

Fox led the way, Mia jumping up and down on his shoulder, making strange misshapen shadows on the smooth golden rock of the tunnel. The round tunnel wound gradually uphill, its sides slightly rippled, probably by centuries of running water from an ancient underground stream.

Roana went next, keeping close to Fox’s heels, the powerful gems sewn into the cloak in her pack, giving her immeasurable comfort. Ethan, his bowstring held taut, could hear his heart hammering in his ears, as if it was the sound of the ancient phantom stream. Lily nibbled her thumb nail with nerves, one hand on her smooth Merrow
pearl, as Aisha paced beside her. Saxon brought up the rear, his eyes darting from side to side, his hand nervously clutching his dagger.

All the children remembered their last voyage underground in the caverns under Tira, and the dangers they had faced there – thousands of scuttling cockroaches, a plague of ferocious rats and a throttling hobgoblin with searing acidic protrusions on its skin. Underground tunnels made them nervous.

The worm hole wound up, up, up for about a kilometre. At last Fox stopped abruptly, shining his lantern up at the ceiling. The tunnel continued on, until it snaked around a corner and out of sight. Fox was examining some rusty iron staples embedded in the rock wall. They led up through a wide shaft and into the darkness.

‘Up we climb,’ Fox whispered encouragingly. ‘Not far now. We are nearly there.’

Two kilometres away, in a clearing in the forest was a rough camp, with three tents set up around a glowing fireplace.

‘Sniffer. Sniffer, I saw it,’ Burgis burst into the silent camp yelling.

Sniffer emerged from his tent, his black eyes blinking with sleep and his nose twitching.

‘Saw what?’ Sniffer grumbled irritably, rubbing his eyes and stretching.

‘The lantern signals,’ Burgis cried enthusiastically. ‘Out at sea. One short flash, two long flashes, then a short flash, just like Stumpy said.’

Sniffer snorted joyfully.

They are back
, he thought.
Finally all the patient waiting has paid off. The
Owl
is back.

Burgis waited impatiently, like a puppy longing for a pat.

‘Good work, Burgis,’ said Sniffer. ‘Wake the men. We have a trap to set.’

Burgis ran eagerly to do as he was bid. Sniffer sat quietly, running over the details of his plan.

The children climbed up the iron staples, through the shaft and into a deep cellar. At the top were a winch and a canvas sling. Aisha was hauled up reluctantly in the sling, with Lily climbing up beside her to keep her still.

The cellar was large, containing only a few barrels and bales. The smell in the cellar reminded
them of the exotic waft they had first smelled in the
Owl
’s storage hold – brandy, tobacco, silk and chocolate.

Fox did not pause to examine the cellar, but immediately headed over to another ladder, leading up to the ceiling. He closed the shutter on the lantern, dousing the light. He climbed up in the darkness, unlatched a trapdoor above and climbed through. Ethan, Lily, Saxon and Roana quickly followed.

This ladder led up to the floor of a building, which smelled of horses, straw, leather and manure – a stable. The smell made Lily think of their own barn at home in Kenley. Fox listened carefully – the only sounds were the gentle snuffling of horses and a quiet stamp of hooves. Fox opened the lantern shutter, flooding the space with golden light.

Fox gestured for them to hurry and to be quiet. Saxon and Ethan hauled Aisha up the ladder between them. They all climbed out of the trapdoor, cleverly concealed in the bottom of a feed bin.

The building was indeed a stable, with rows of stalls along each side. Curiously peering over the door of each stall was a sleek black pony’s head, with their round bodies swathed in canvas rugs.

‘Quickly,’ whispered Fox. ‘Take off the rugs, but leave on the boots. Careful not to get grease all over you.’

Everyone set to work with a will. Lily gasped in amazement. Each pony was the same: small, strong and sturdy and black as pitch. Each wore little boots, made of leather and canvas, blackened with tar, over their hooves. Black bandages were wound around the fetlocks, up to the knees.

The ponies’ coats shone in the lamplight. Each one was shaved, almost to the skin, from forelock to tail, and then greased thickly with lard. The manes were shorn, and the tails cut short and tightly plaited. Each pony wore a black leather halter, but with no bits to jingle or jangle.

Fox directed everyone to saddle up a pony each. The saddles were exceptionally small and smooth, with narrow girths and short stirrups. Fox swiftly tied five of the ponies together with lead reins to make a string of horses.

Lily looked at Fox enquiringly.

‘My little beauties,’ Fox smiled. ‘They are as black as night, as fast as eagles and as slippery as eels. They are almost impossible for a coast guard to catch, which suits me very well.’

‘What about bridles?’ asked Roana nervously.

‘Too noisy. Besides, these darlings are trained to follow the lead mare, and to respond to voice commands, which will be given by me, and me alone,’ Fox ordered severely.

The children nodded to show they understood and mounted their ponies, each gripping onto the very short reins. Fox checked that the trapdoor to the cellar was safely hidden, doused his lantern and opened the stable door.

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘The moon has set, so we have darkness to cloak our journey. Lily, make sure all your hair is hidden by that hat.’

He peered out into the darkness, swung up into his saddle and led the small parade out into the stable yard. The leather boots muffled the noise of the ponies’ hooves on the cobbles, so there was hardly a sound. With black horses and black-clad riders, and no moon, they slipped almost invisibly through the night. Fox led, followed by the four children on their ponies, followed at the rear by the five riderless ponies.

They padded through the darkness at a brisk walk for fifteen minutes, with Aisha trotting between Lily and Ethan. Frogs croaked rhythmically in the woods, singing raucous love songs to their mates. Black branches spread against the sky,
forming lacy patterns against the paler clouds. Lily shivered in the chilly air, burying her hands in the folds of her cloak for warmth.

Fox had made this journey on pony back at least fifty times, but his adrenalin still surged, his heart pounded and his ears and eyes were peeled for any sign of danger. Even so, he did not hear the soft rustle of soldiers in the undergrowth. He did not smell the strange scent of Burgis hiding behind a tree. He did not see, until it was too late, Sniffer skulking in the shadows.

Sniffer could not see the contingent of dark ponies, or even really hear them. But he did sense something different in the air – a mixture of sweat and leather and greased horseflesh. His nose alerted him that something was coming. Something that made his spirits soar and his heart beat faster. Then he saw a shadow move and heard a faint muffled sound, coming down the woodland track. Aisha caught a whiff of danger skulking in the bushes and barked sharply.

Sniffer stepped out into the roadway, his hand raised officiously, a lantern in his other hand. The sudden light of the lantern was blinding and harsh in the dark peace of the woodland night.

‘Halt, Fox, in the name of Emperor Raef,’ Sniffer
ordered, his voice gloating, and his eyes gleaming as he spied the smaller figures swathed in their black cloaks. The children recognised the dreaded voice at once and sank hopelessly into their saddles.

Roana wanted to weep. She could feel the gems burning through the cloak at her back. She could never, ever give them up to the Sedahs. She straightened her back. She would not show despair in front of this snivelling Sedah, Sniffer. Ethan itched to grab his bow and arrow. A quick glance into the undergrowth showed him that there were soldiers on both sides.

Fox raised his right hand in a gesture of submission, showing that he held no weapons.

‘Whoa, girls, whoa,’ he ordered loudly and calmly. Mia clung tightly to his neck.

At once all ten ponies surged forward into a frantic gallop. Roana, Lily, Ethan and Saxon had to use all their riding skills to stay on, as the ponies streamed away, their necks stretched out and their short legs pounding. Lily’s pony ducked past an overhanging shrub, sweeping the black woollen hat from her head. Her long hair tumbled down her back, streaming out behind her in the breeze.

Lily saw Sniffer’s eyes widen in shock. His reactions were delayed for a moment as his brain
refused to accept what was happening. Sniffer analysed the scene before him, then leapt for Lily’s pony, his eyes boring possessively into her face.