Читать книгу Storm - Sarah Driver - Страница 17

I find the round tower room where Leo’s commanders rule over Hackles in her absence. I tell them something’s wrong, that Leo needs help, but they won’t listen.

‘How do you know?’ they ask me, eyes too calm, too blank, looking right through me cos I’m just a child.

‘I – the draggle was spooked. I mean good and proper, and I know it weren’t just storms—’

‘Draggles encounter many irregularities during a flight,’ says one, glancing at me from under big bushy brows. ‘There is no cause for concern.’

I bang through the door and run down the steps from the tower, back into the main web of passageways.

Da needs to get back here, now. He’d believe me, in half a heartbeat. But for all I know, his mission could take ages longer. I scrape my fingertips along the wall as I hurry towards my chamber. All these full-growns having secret meetings, making secret plans, getting stuff done . . .

You can still make waves.

A glow heats up my belly. What if I could assemble my own crew?

If Leo’s in danger, and no one believes me, then I could be her only hope. And if I can get to the Frozen Wastes to search for her, then maybe I can find the Opal!

Sparrow edges round the corner, using the stick Da whittled for him to help him find his way. Thunderbolt hovers in front of his face and his filmy eyeballs scan the air for me, using her light. ‘There you are!’ he huffs. ‘The ghostway spat this out for you.’ He hands me a tightly wrapped scroll sealed with a splodge of blood-red wax.

I blink at him, startled that I’ve found my way back to the door of my chamber without even noticing.

We slip inside the chamber and I snap open the seal. ‘What’s it say?’ jabbers Sparrow impatiently.

‘Gift me a chance!’ Sitting on the edge of my bed, I smooth the letter flat on my knees. Before my eyes, the runes tremble and glow moon-silver. Sparrow scrambles closer.

There are only three words etched into the parchment. Read in private!

As soon as my eyes drink them, the bright silver runes disappear with a small cracking sound, leaving a faint trace of smoke.

Then others appear. ‘It’s from Yapok,’ I whisper, realising how relieved I am to hear from the Skybrarian’s apprentice after so long. Then I remember the lemming and look quickly around to make sure no slitherers are watching from the walls, before reading Yapok’s scrawled silver runes.

The Skybrary stands strong, and we are safe enough for now. The Skybrarian and I have been travelling to seek out new manuscripts for the collection – he says we don’t have to hide so much now that the Sky-Tribes are returning.

We’ve been tracking some names of people who are known to protect books – in crowded bazaars, secret libraries, back-alley bookshops and grand houses.

And I’ve made a new discovery. I wanted you to know because of your quest. Some of the war manuscripts I’ve been looking at – I think they have much older runes hidden underneath the text.

My mind reels. Underneath?

I think I could find something helpful if I can just see beneath the writing, long enough to reveal the truth. But every time I manage to scrape away the newer runes, a strange symbol, like a strangling vine, bleeds upwards through the parchment, throttling the old runes.

Anyway, it feels like progress. I’ll write again if I discover any clues about the Crown.

A shiver ripples up my spine, as a picture of a strangling vine coils in my mind. I turn to Sparrow. ‘We’ve got to take matters into our own hands.’

I make my way to the sawbones’ nest and steal a pan of squidge ink and some brittle old scraps of goatskin and scratch my message into them.

Time’s come for a Sneaking of our own. I call a secret youth’s Tribe-Meet. Honour this law: no full-growns. Bone-crypts, after lamps out. Come if you’re brave enough.

I slip into dormitories and stuff the notes under the pillows of the biggest blabbermouths on the mountain – the kids that can’t turn down a challenge. Then I wait.

The day drags on for ever. I’m a bundle of nerves. My mind keeps straying to the seed I’ve sown. When it’s time to bed down again, I pray to all the sea-gods that my note is enough.

Then down, down, down through the murk I slip, Thaw riding the air by my side.

I scurry down to the bone-crypts, until the crushing weight of Hackles hulks overhead. The crypts are deeper than even the draggle caves, but off in a different direction. I step through an archway sculpted from thighbones and stare around. Thousands on thousands of Sky-folk shoulder blades, collarbones, fingers and toes, and piles of staring skulls boom their chalky death into the tomb-chamber. They’ve been arranged in ornate patterns to honour the dead. I feel a grin melt across my face. If we have to plan for the end of the world, this is a proper place to do it.

I settle down to wait. Thaw stays close, and I try to stroke away her frights.

But soon, I’m praying for something to move. Cos no one comes, and the cold prods my bones. Lamps must be out by now! I chatter to Thaw. Where are they? Sparrow ent even here – and he said he’d bring the kids from his dorm.

Gods. He’d better not have broken his neck on the way down here. I said I’d help him find his way, but the stubborn too-soon just said lemme be !

My eyelids are growing heavy when slowly, one by one, ghoulish shadows wisp through the thighbone archway into the crypts. My gut turns hot and tight. Thaw shuffles her wings and puffs a belch of fright into the gloom.

‘I could be at Hackles the rest of forever and still never learn all its secrets,’ lisps a Wilderwitch girl called Ibex, with hair shaved to her skull and the stubble dyed bruise-blue.

Relief whumps through me.

‘Quiet!’ shushes someone from the gloom.

‘Hope we won’t be here forever,’ mutters Ermine, from somewhere to the left of me.

‘Don’t fret,’ I husk, making him startle halfway out of his skin. ‘Soon, we rove.’

‘Mouse!’ whispers Hammer. ‘Don’t do that!’

‘I was just saying,’ says Erm, to cover his frights. ‘Aren’t you creeped out of your pelt down here?’ He scowls. ‘Just me then.’ His gaze burrows under my skin. Then he tips back his head and stares at the underside of our world.

‘I’m frighted, too,’ says Sparrow.

‘I never said I was frighted,’ spits Erm, crossing his arms.

‘This is the one who left the notes,’ Lunda tells the kids that’re trotting after her. She fixes her eyes on my scar. ‘The pearl-fisher that talks to animals.’ She stalks towards our group with a lantern raised in her hand.

My heart drums and my blood kicks for a fight. Part of me wishes I never invited her – but she’s gonna be useful.

‘Oh, you’re Sea-Tribe, aren’t you?’ asks Ibex. ‘How fascinating! I’ve never even seen the sea!’

I gift her a grin.

But Lunda chuckles coldly. ‘I’m not sure I’d call roving sea-creepers a Tribe ! And I’ve no idea why we’re giving them shelter-feather in our sky-fortress.’ She’s goading me for a brawl. A brawl I realise I’ve been thirsting for.

‘Don’t think this girl walks alone, will you?’ snarls Hammer, who’s got my back along with Ermine and Crow.

‘Aye, and she’s got more than little boys standing up for her,’ says Crow. Someone snickers. Hammer’s fine black brows quirk together in a frown as he rounds on Crow.

‘Boys fighting over her, huh?’ scorns Lunda.

‘Your words are dust to me,’ I say calmly. And I am ready for the next battle.

Thaw-Wielder chats straight into my head. ArmLAND!

For a beat I watch myself from above, through her eyes. It’s the strangest feeling, like there’s a wormy cord threading out of my belly and connecting me to my hawk. I unfurl my wrist and she drops onto it, out of the immense nothing yawning over and around us, like someone high up has dumped a bucket of feathers and claws and quickness into the air. Even Lunda gasps as Thaw resettles her feathers, twitching her head around at them all.

I smile. These kids are starting to know something about my fierce.

‘I’m not fazed by your tricks,’ says Lunda. ‘Soon, you will be dust, too. Only the strongest will survive this Withering.’ Her words wreath from her mouth like pale spekters.

I push my face into Lunda’s. ‘Either rest your jaws, or say that again – if you dare.’ I can feel my magyk pulsing in my blood and in my gut and in my dark-gulping eyes. I could do anything in this beat.

‘Mama says that’s not how girls should act,’ quavers Ibex.

I reply to her, not taking my eyes off Lunda’s. ‘Your mama needs to learn herself a thing or two.’

Lunda’s eyes are like hard blue chips of ice. ‘What are you waiting for, sea-witch?’

‘I didn’t come here to fight, spear-flinger.’

She stares at me and spills two words that sharpen the air. ‘Didn’t you?’

This night belongs to us.

I ent sure who moves first. But then all of a sudden the crypts are one giant tangled sweaty brawl and all I know is

Fists

Feet

Eyelids

Ribs

And all we are is

Clawed

Punched

Pulled

Scrambled

Laughing

Yelling

Thaw roosts atop a skull and screams encouragement, making my foes shudder.

Fists to fists, we practise our fight for the end of the world, then someone steps on a lemming and it screams and we’re all falling about in stitches of laughter. Breath-clouds puff all over the crypt.

The sharpness has been squeezed out of the air and it feels easier to breathe. Pangolin says something to Lunda and the Spearsister laughs, in a pure way I ent heard her do before. The sound gifts me heart-strength. She’s here now, like it or not. And if Pang trusts her, maybe I can learn to.

Thaw, I chatter, while the others are still laughing and a few fights are still growling, keep watch for any sneaky blighters that look like beasts but don’t have chatter. I don’t want any spies down here.

She screeches, lifting up into the air to start her patrol. Everyone turns to stare at me.

I make my spine arrow-straight. ‘I called this secret meet cos we need a crew.’

‘What is a crew?’ asks Pika.

I grin at him. ‘It’s everything – kinship, knowing how to weather storms together – storms in the world and storms in your heart. It’s having each other’s back, no matter what. It’s – it’s sharing heart-love for what matters most and gifting each other the heart-strength to fight.’

‘Pretty speech,’ snaps Lunda.

‘Why do we need a crew?’ asks a boy.

‘Naught’s going right round here. They tell us to let the full-growns save Trianukka. But who’s gonna save them?’

‘What are you talking about?’ demands Lunda. ‘You’re the one that endangered the whole Sneaking because of whatever’s going on up there.’ She gestures to the sides of her head and pulls a gruesome face.

Crow steps towards her but I hold up a hand. Da said not to reveal my chatter. But how can you make a real crew if you ent honest with them? ‘It’s true that I’m a beast-chatterer, and that my chatter can overpower me.’ I pause, waiting for the whispers to fade. ‘But it means the beasts can tell me things we wouldn’t know elsewise. Like this now – something has happened to the Protector. Something bad.’

Gasps rattle through the spaces between the bones.

Pangolin steps forwards. ‘What has happened?’

‘I don’t know. But her draggle was spooked—’

‘So would you be if you flew through those storms,’ says Lunda.

‘It was more than the storms!’ I yell. ‘I heard her! She said missing rider, torn from back. Something happened to Leo. And now I’ve got to find a way to get to her, cos none of the full-growns believes me.’

Lunda snorts. ‘Small wonder.’

‘If you don’t want to be crew, Lunda, that’s no blubber off my blade. But if there’s even a chance that something’s gone wrong, don’t you wanna be sure?’

Lunda slides down the wall until she’s sitting cross-legged. She puts her face in her hands, saying nothing.

‘So . . . what do we do?’ whimpers Ibex.

I blow out my cheeks. ‘First, I need to know who’s in. Raise your fist and thump your heart if you’re crewing up!’

Slowly, one by one, each kid in the crypt steps forwards and thumps their chest. My heart glows. Lunda stands, keeping her eyes on mine.

I swallow my pride though it snags in my throat. ‘Be part of our crew. Help us, Lunda.’ I hold my fist to my chest and she hesitates, big pale eyes wavering as the struggle under her surface rages.

Then she swears in, too. But not without another challenge. ‘Who is leader of this crew ?’ Her accent clips the word and makes it whistle through her teeth like a birdcall.

Pride punches my chest and stings my cheeks.

‘Oh, you?’ She laughs.

‘Course!’

‘Why am I not surprised that the sea-creeper seeks attention?’

‘You didn’t even know what a crew was—’

‘Hey, you two!’ says Pangolin. We turn to face her. She’s standing next to Pika and the two of them are chuckling into their hands. ‘Settle your feathers. There is room – sure, there is need – for more than one leader. I vote for one from each Sky-Tribe plus Mouse to represent the Sea-Tribes.’

I study my boots. ‘Grand idea, Pang.’

We cast votes and count them up. The three leaders are decided – me, Pika and Ibex.

Pika strides into the middle of the crypt. ‘Our crew needs a plan. If the draggle spoke true, we have to get to the Wastes and find Leopard.’

‘How?’ asks Pang.

Silence.

‘Take the draggles?’ suggests Hammer.

‘A few of us have weather-work,’ offers a Wilderwitch kid. ‘We could try to push the storms away from you.’

‘We can’t all go out there riding draggles. Someone would see!’ glooms Ermine.

I nod. But one girl . . .

Crow catches my eye and frowns. I smile at him, but it’s a proper beam by accident. Too late, I try to wipe the look off my face but he scowls. Then he puts his mouth close to my ear. ‘Gone and had a terrible idea, have you?’

I push him away, biting back my grin. Aye. And I’ll make you help me with it. I’ll need a lookout. Who better than a boy who can take the shape of a harmless crow?

I turn to Ermine. ‘Not if one girl took the journey. Alone.’ The thought makes fire stir behind my eyes and I have to breathe quick, my veins jumping with excitement.

‘Not alone,’ says Lunda impatiently.

We look at her in surprise.

‘Haven’t any of you realised it yet?’ she says, voice bubbling with irritation. ‘Even if you got as far as the Frozen Wastes, the Fangtooths would sniff out a sea-creeper. But there’s one person at Hackles who’d be admitted into their territory, bold as daggers.’

I meet her eyes. ‘Axe-Thrower!’

Lunda bites the skin around her thumb, nods briskly.

‘But she’s a prisoner,’ says Pang. ‘She won’t be going anywhere.’

‘No, she won’t,’ replies Lunda. ‘Unless we break her out.’

Crow curses all over everyone’s shock.

But the hooks of Lunda’s idea dig into my skin. Cos what if the vision Sparrow had of me in a place of sleds and reindeer skin ent a destiny that will happen to me, but a destiny that I can choose for myself ? ‘That’s a flaming good idea!’

‘It’s too dangerous,’ warns Crow quickly. ‘Your da would never let you do a foolish thing like that.’

And there they are. The words that decide it. ‘Da’s not here,’ I whisper.

Lunda grins, eyes sparking. ‘Good girl.’

The spark leaps into my chest and sets my heart drumming against my ribs.