by Vashti Hardy
Arthur pulled at his shirt to open another button. The heat was blistering and sweat trickled the length of his spine, but that didn’t dampen the joyful feeling of freedom being atop this glorious creature. It travelled at a slow pace, and there was something calm and rhythmic in the way it moved. All around, the crew were riding the roamers. The scent of peppermint mixed with dry grass caught on the wind.
Their roamer took them in a circle then back to the northern edge of the bowl where it stopped and sniffed loudly. It made a curious noise very unlike the contented low of before; this was a bleat of distress.
“What’s wrong with it?” Arthur called.
“I don’t know,” Harriet said. “But it seems pretty focused on that area over there.”
Suddenly, the roamer reared back and turned. As it did, Arthur caught sight of smoke rising from the grass. Terror clutched his chest.
“Fire!” he yelled. But his words were lost in the rumble of hooves as the whole herd sensed the danger and began charging away. The previously smooth loll of the roamer was now a frantic, bone-rattling gallop. After just a few seconds of holding on, Arthur and Maudie fell from the creature’s back, landing with a harsh thud on the parched ground. They rolled to the side, instinctively covering their heads from giant hooves not far away. Harriet was thrown just in front.
“Get back to the Aurora!” she yelled to the crew, who had all fallen off. “Skirt north-east around the fire; if it catches the sky-ship before us, we’re done for! Rope together in two groups!”
Everyone scrambled to their feet as Harriet and Maudie took rope from their tool belts. “Hurry, grab on to each other.”
A thick plume of smoke swirled in their direction.
Harriet left her rope with the other group and ran to Arthur and Maudie. “The wind is changeable. We need to hurry, I’ll tie on at the back; Welby, take the front.”
They chased after Welby into the long grass. The crackle of fire wasn’t far away, and the smoky air was choking. Arthur ran until his legs felt as though molten lava flowed through them. He glanced over his shoulder. The rope tied to him was suddenly slack. Panic rose in his throat. Where was Maudie? He yelled her name into the smoke.
Welby grabbed his arm. “Keep running! Harriet won’t leave her!”
“What if they’re separated?”
“Harriet won’t let it happen.”
Welby grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him with surprising force, and Arthur had no choice but to keep going. They ran from the grass up to the Aurora as the second group emerged not far away and hurried up the gangplank. Sweat poured down Arthur’s sides as he looked frantically at the approaching fire and the edge of the grass. Suddenly, Maudie and Harriet burst into the open. Welby gave the signal to start the engine and everyone rushed to their places for take-off. Within moments Harriet and Maudie were on deck.
As they rose, Harriet began pointing and speaking hurriedly with Welby, then she beckoned to Maudie and Forbes. “We’re going to double back and release some of our water over the fire and try to stop it spreading.”
“How much?” Forbes asked, her voice panicked.
“Just keep the reserve tank. That will get us to the mountains where we can replenish.”
Forbes nodded.
“Arthur, I want you to direct me from the prow; we need to be exactly above the fire, and I won’t be able to see as clearly from the wheel. Welby, you’ll ensure the timing is right by relaying the message to the engine room at precisely the right moment.”
Welby took his place and Arthur hurried to the prow. Arthur could see from above that the fire was spreading fast. Harriet banked the Aurora around in a tight circle then flew back, taking the ship low.
“Further to portside!” Arthur called. “That’s it… Steady… Not too far! Over the fire in ten, nine, eight…” His heart pounded against his ribcage.
“Signal to release at three,” Harriet called to Welby.
“Seven, six, five, four…”
“Release the water!” Welby bellowed.
There was a clank from below and the cascade of water, followed by hissing and the rush of smoke behind them. Harriet took them up and Arthur dashed to the back of the Aurora to see.
“You did it!” he called.
They circled around to survey the impact.
Welby took the wheel so that Harriet could join Arthur. She patted Arthur on the shoulder. “We all did it!”
Maudie ran from below deck. “How did we do?”
“Luckily, it didn’t have time to spread too far, so it looks as though it’s suppressed.”
Below, the herd of roamers were safely to the south.
“Will it be all right? Do you think it will happen again?” Arthur asked Harriet.
“These things happen, especially during electrical storms. The stems beneath the soil are unharmed. The rains will return, and the damaged grass will grow again. I guess we were just unlucky.”
“I knew I should’ve taken my spoon out with me,” said Felicity.
“Forbes is a bit worried about only having the reserve water for the engine now. She wants us to get to a lake as soon as we can,” said Maudie.
Harriet nodded. “I’ll check the map and speak with Gilly. Arthur, help Welby at the wheel.”
Arthur looked to Maudie, who was twisting her binoscope to focus on the herd.
“I thought I’d lost you back then.”
“I swear, you run faster than a bolt of lightning! The rope slipped from my hands; I didn’t exactly have a choice…”
He swallowed hard. She looked at him and put a hand on his arm. “We’re safe,” she said.
The tension in his chest faded.
Arthur turned to Welby. “What do you think started it?” he asked.
“Sometimes they simply occur naturally, ignited by heat from the sun or a lightning strike.” Welby indicated the sun-drenched air around them. “I think we can safely say that the sky overcame the land today.”
CHAPTER 8
THE VOTARY OF FOUR
The crew of the Aurora spotted a lake on the other side of Ishia, refreshed their water supply, then set out in a south-easterly direction again. Arthur sat on the deck and opened his journal to a list he’d made: Octavie’s ring, the Bestwick-Fords, the triangle symbols, the word Erythea. Harriet and Maudie were unconvinced by any relevance to the symbols, arguing that perhaps Eudora was mistaking them for an indication of further lucrative pitch mines somewhere in the Stella Oceanus, as they did look rather like mountains. He turned the page and decided to write an account of the fire in Ishia in his journal. After writing for a while he flipped back to his list, which he couldn’t get off his mind. He was about to cross out Bestwick-Ford – he couldn’t remember why he’d put it there – when Harriet called over to him.
“Why don’t you come and take the wheel again? The wind is picking up and it’ll be good for you to feel the difference in control. It’s still over a week’s travel to our first official search island of Montavo, so plenty of time to practise.”
He stood beside her and grasped the wheel.
“You did a great job directing me back at the grassland fire,” she said.
Something in her words dislodged a thought. Fire. “The name of the Bestwick-Ford’s sky-ship – it’s the Fire-Bird, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” Harriet said. “Named after the mythical bird of the east.”
He looked at her, an idea exploding in his mind. “Harrie! Do you think that could be the bird on Octavie’s ring? Do you think that’s what Ermitage Wrigglesworth was looking for?”
She thought for a moment. “I suppose it could be what’s on the ring, but the fire-bird is a myth, Arthur.”
“But thought-wolves are real. Why not a fire-bird?”
She smiled but shook her head. “I’ll tell you why. It involves the story of how the Bestwick-Ford sky-ship got its name. The fire-bird myth was essentially created by Eleana Bestwick-Ford two generations ago. Eleana tr
avelled extensively in the Stella Oceanus at the same time as Ermitage Wrigglesworth and Octavie when they were first setting out as the next-generation heads of the families. You could say that they had something to prove and there was a certain element of friendly competition between them. Eleana had heard a story about a fire-bird that supposedly existed on the last island, Nova, and she convinced them all to race there. When they reached it, they found no such creature, and Eleana, still fiercely competitive, so the story goes, sailed further east, even though there are no more islands and the sea is endless and she’d likely run out of pitch. Of course, when she’d gone far enough to realize there was nothing but water after all, she turned back. But then she got disorientated in sea mist and was ship-wrecked. Many of the crew lost their lives and the crash was so bad that those few who washed up on Nova’s shores had a lot of injuries – including brain injuries. Eleana had no memory of who Wrigglesworth or Octavie were, who she was, who her family were, even why she was there. Except for one thing – she kept repeating ‘fire-bird’.”
Arthur was hanging off every word. “Maybe she saw it?”
Harriet shook her head and took her uniscope from her belt. She looked to the horizon.
“Perhaps she had that ring made after all the fuss?”
Harriet glanced back. “Her memories eventually came to her, but the fire-bird became something of a sensation in Lontown for a brief period of time, with various stories made up about it. But it turned out to be a small red bird native to the last island of Nova. It was what the people of that island called it. Quite amusing, really! We’ll likely see some of the birds when we eventually land in Nova.”
Arthur felt the heavy rock of disappointment land in his stomach. If this was true, then he would have to cross it off his list of possibilities.
A warm breath of wind ruffled Harriet’s choppy hair. She studied him for a moment. “Look, if you’re really interested, Welby keeps an archive of Lontown Chronicles and you may be able to find something in there about it. I’m sure he’ll let you look, if you work hard on your studies.” She paused. “He says you are finding it hard to focus.”
“I’m not!” Arthur protested, making an effort not to shuffle his feet uncomfortably, because he knew it was true: his brain wouldn’t stop buzzing with all the other questions that were demanding answers.
So in his lessons that afternoon, Arthur tried to concentrate as hard as he could.
“An improvement, I must say,” Welby said, arching his white eyebrows high. “Although you will need to show consistency if you are going to achieve.”
“I will.”
“Why be satisfied with scraping through when you could excel, Arthur?”
Arthur imagined that Welby had found it easy to do everything since the moment he was born into his privileged Uptown life.
“I think that’s enough for today.”
Arthur coughed. “Harriet mentioned you have some old Lontown Chronicles I could look through. I thought there might be something we’ve missed about Ermitage Wrigglesworth in there.”
Welby thought for a moment. “I’m sure there won’t be, but I suppose it won’t do any harm as you’ve worked hard today. Follow me.”
They walked down the hall to Welby’s room. It was well-organized and modestly decorated with a small oak desk and several framed pictures on the dark-green papered walls.
“Is that Harriet as a child?” Arthur asked.
“Yes, her first day at school.” Welby smiled wistfully. “Her mother and father were very busy at that time, so I looked after Harriet a lot.”
Welby opened a cupboard door and revealed a stack of boxes.
“These are the papers I’ve held on to. I’ve kept each of them for a reason, perhaps an interesting article on navigation, or about the Culpeppers, or a significant moment of discovery. Leave them in the order you find them, please.”
Welby left Arthur in his study. Arthur took the first batch of papers and laid them on the table.
After a few chimes he had been through the first box. Some newspapers were extremely old at around seventy years, and when Arthur touched them, he thought they might crumble to dust. He was about halfway through the second box when a picture on one of the covers made him stop in his tracks. The headline read, City Celebrates Its Top Graduates. Among the group was a woman who looked very much like Harriet except the year was long ago. He read the picture caption. Left to right: Eleana Bestwick-Ford, Octavie Culpepper, Ermitage Wrigglesworth. Arthur’s heart gave a little jump. He picked up the magnifier from Welby’s desk and looked closely. They all had the triangle tattoos on their wrists! He read the article:
… The three friends have been inseparable since they started at universitas and graduated with the three equal highest grades. They put their success down to a rigorous study pattern together.
The outcome was a surprise to those who had hotly tipped the prefect Thaddeus Vane as the likely high-score champion. Griselline Vane, esteemed explorer, and mother of Thaddeus who graduated fourth highest in the year, said, “Of course the achievements of an individual who has succeeded by his own merit rather than the dilution of teamwork, is in my eyes the winner of the year.”
Arthur shook his head and muttered, “Typical Vane.”
When asked of their ambitions following universitas, Bestwick-Ford, Culpepper and Wrigglesworth stated, “We plan to head east as far as we can go, to the ends of the very Wide.” Sources say that the three even have a secret club, formed in their first year called the Votary of Four. A strange name, one would think, for a club of three, but the four refers to the peculiar tattoo they each sport with four slightly different triangles. When pressed, the three refused to say any more, except that Lontown should watch their progress in the east with interest.
“The Votary of Four?” Arthur looked at the picture with the magnifier again and sketched the symbols as best he could in his journal.
The symbols matched what he’d seen in Wrigglesworth’s stolen journal: a triangle pointing upwards, a triangle pointing downwards, a triangle pointing upwards with a horizontal line through it, and lastly a triangle pointing downwards with a line horizontally through the bottom.
He hurried up on the deck to find Maudie and share his findings. He could hear her tinkering behind the tent, where she’d been all day.
“Maud, you’ll never guess what I’ve found,” he called, sorely tempted to just whip back the canvas.
“Arty, I’m busy. Can it wait? And don’t even think about peeking.”
“No, it can’t wait.”
“Well, it’ll have to. I want to try this when we land in Mysa in a week, and I still have so much to do and I’m right in the middle of…”
Banging resumed.
Arthur huffed.
CHAPTER 9
MANGROVES
As the days unfolded, the climate became increasingly humid and the islands further in the south-east became a more lush green colour. There were now hundreds of them as far as the eye could see, like a giant’s footprints showing the way. As they travelled towards Mysa, they stopped at some of the smaller islands for food and routinely asked if anyone had seen Ermitage Wrigglesworth. At first, there had been very welcoming towns and villages, and Harriet and Welby were good at speaking the common language of the Stella Oceanus, but the further they went, the islanders became more wary of strangers and unsure of them. In fact, on several occasions, Arthur had the distinct impression they were being watched, although Maudie told him it was likely because the locals hadn’t come across many from Vornatania and they were merely being cautious.
On the island of Montavo, Welby had found a lead: a woman who said that Wrigglesworth had travelled to Mangrove Island, a small island on the map officially marked Salicia. The woman had traded supplies with Wrigglesworth, she said, not more than ten moons previously. She had supplied him with some tools to build a hut.
Arthur looked over the side of the sky-ship as they approached Salicia, which
at first glance looked dense and uninhabited. The heat of the sun was on his shoulders and the humid wind drifted across him, warm and salty, giving his chestnut hair a messy, tousled look. Maudie approached him and ruffled it even more.
“Your hair’s got a life of its own. You’re becoming like Welby: more breezy the further from Lontown you are.” She smiled.
“We’ll circle the island and see if there’s any sight of this hut,” Harriet called to him.
The island was small, a land of mangroves, dense foliage, some pools, and a few sandy-looking patches. They all searched keenly below.
“There it is!” shouted Harriet. They could see a small wooden structure below, not too far from the coast. “There’s nowhere big enough to land the Aurora. Arthur, make a quick sketch of the channel ways so we can follow the easiest route. We’ll set down as near as we can – that inlet there – but I don’t want to stay here long. Our freshwater drinking supplies are low; Gilly says there is nothing but saltwater in these swamps, and I’d rather not use the salt filters for drinking water if I can help it. I’ll head for the hut with Gilly, Felicity, Arthur and Maudie. Welby, I’d like you to you to remain with the others here.”
“Do you mind if I stay and do the final touches to my—” Maudie stopped herself again. “I want to try it in the morning.”
Harriet nodded. “Of course.”
With an inquisitive squawk, Parthena asked if she was going too.
Arthur stroked her head. “You sit this one out in the shade. Mangroves don’t look like a great place for a bird your size to get stuck, and we won’t be long.”
Wearing lightweight beige trousers and shirts, the expedition group set out in the direction of the hut. They waded through the sea grass towards the mangroves, the water up to Arthur’s thighs.
“I’m hoping there might be some new tropical ingredients to discover,” said Felicity. “Sometimes the best herbs and spices are found in the most unexpected of places.”
“No wonder no one lives here,” Arthur said, struggling to get his leg untwined from a piece of sea grass. “It’s impossible.”