by Paul Stewart
The sky pirates turned to look at him. ‘Without the cap’n?’ said Tern, horrified.
‘We have no way of knowing where the captain is,’ said the professor. ‘And in his absence, I recommend we elect a new captain. Someone to whom we all pledge our allegiance, someone who will lead us to the edge of the Twilight Woods.’
Tern shuffled about awkwardly. ‘Who then?’ he said gruffly.
‘Why, Twig, of course,’ said the professor. ‘Who else? As the erstwhile captain’s son and heir …’
The sky pirates gasped as one. Tern Barkwater shook his head in disbelief. ‘Son and heir?’ he exclaimed. ‘What, young Twig? But, he can’t be.’
‘Are you doubting my word?’ the Professor of Light demanded stiffly.
‘No … Yes … I mean …’ Tern bumbled.
‘Quintinius … that is, Cloud Wolf told me himself,’ the professor said. ‘That is why he intended leaving the lad back in Undertown. For his own safety’
Tern whistled through his teeth. ‘I remember the cap’n once telling us about a child born to him and the lady Maris,’ he said. ‘They had no choice but to abandon him to his fate in the Deepwoods …’ He turned to Twig, who nodded.
‘I was that child,’ he said.
Tern stared for a moment, nonplussed. Then, abruptly, he drew his sword, raised it high and fell to his knees. ‘To you, Captain Twig, son of Cloud Wolf, I pledge my life.’
Seeing his example, Spiker, Stope Boltjaw and the Stone Pilot followed suit. Twig reddened. It was all happening so quickly. Sky pirate captain and he didn’t even have a sky ship! Nevertheless, as custom required, he drew his own sword and crossed it with the raised swords of the sky pirates, one after the other.
‘And I to you’ he said. ‘And I to you.’
The sky pirates replaced their swords, raised their heads and cried out, ‘Captain Twig, we await your word.’
‘Yes, well, I…’ Twig faltered. His face turned redder still.
‘There is a star’ the Professor of Light interjected. ‘The East Star. Not only is its light a constant amidst the shifting passage of the constellations, but it is also bright enough to be seen by twilight.’ He bent his knees and looked up awkwardly into the sky. ‘There,’ he said, pointing. ‘There it is.’
The sky pirates all turned and looked. One after the other, they too saw the East Star, twinkling softly in the golden glow. Twig nodded. It was time for him to assume the control he had been given.
‘If we keep the star in front of us,’ he said, ‘it will ensure that we are walking in a straight line. Sooner or later, we are bound to reach the edge of the Twilight Woods. Are you with me?’
‘Aye aye, cap’n,’ they replied. ‘We are with you.’
‘Then let us go,’ Twig said. ‘Professor, you walk with me. Hubble, you bring up the rear. Make sure no-one straggles or strays.’
‘Wuh-wuh,’ the banderbear replied.
They set off once more, with Twig feeling more confident than at any other time since his arrival in the Twilight Woods. He had a purpose now: an aim, a destination. What was more, he had responsibilities beyond himself. He glanced back at the crew as they waded after him through the thick, liquid air.
They had all suffered injuries during their emergency escape. Spiker’s arms and face were badly bruised, Tern Barkwater’s nose looked broken, the Stone Pilot was limping awkwardly, while Stope Boltjaw had lost his makeshift lower jaw, leaving his head gaping open in a permanent, empty grin. Worst of all, however, was Hubble.
At their initial reunion, Twig had been too overjoyed to notice. But now, as he looked at the banderbear, he saw that he was in a sorry state. The white fur down his front was stained and matted with blood, and he wheezed noisily with every step he took. Twig could only pray that his old friend’s injuries were not as bad as they appeared.
Twig turned back, and checked they were still heading towards the star. ‘It was good of you to accompany us,’ he said to the professor.
‘Ah, well,’ he said. ‘My motives were not altogether selfless, for I too need to find the edge of the Twilight Woods.’
Twig was surprised. ‘But I thought you intended staying here,’ he said.
‘Indeed I do,’ said the professor. ‘But if I am to calculate the number of Great Storms I must first establish the total area of the Twilight Woods. And I can’t do that by remaining somewhere in the middle.’
‘No,’ said Twig absent-mindedly. ‘I suppose you can’t.’
Something had occurred to him something worrying. Assuming they did make it to the edge of the Twilight Woods, what then? The Mire was notoriously dangerous even to fly over; how much more dangerous it would be to cross on foot. What was more, as captain, he would be responsible for his crew’s well-being. Shivering with anticipation, Twig turned back to the professor for advice.
‘What the … !’ he exclaimed. The professor was not there. He spun around in a panic, and saw him several paces back, crouched down stiffly on a bank beside a tree.
‘To see a world in a grain of stormphrax,’ he was saying. ‘To hold infinity in the palm of one’s hand …’
‘Professor!’ Twig shouted, and shook him firmly by the shoulder.
The Professor of Light turned and stared into Twig’s eyes. Slowly, slowly, there was recognition. ‘Twig,’ he said. ‘I … I am so sorry,’ he said. ‘Let us continue,’ he said.
‘Thank you, Professor,’ said Twig. ‘I…’ He paused and turned to the others. ‘This is too hazardous,’ he said. ‘We must make sure that none of us wanders off even if his mind does.’
‘I rope,’ said Spiker.
‘Of course!’ said Tern Barkwater enthusiastically, as he swung his own coil of rope down from his shoulder. ‘We must all tie ourselves together in a line.’
Twig nodded and supervised the operation. He kept Hubble at the back, tying the rope right round his immense waist. Next, at regular intervals, he made slipknots, got the sky pirates to put their left hands through the loops and tightened them around their wrists, one after the other. Tern Barkwater, Spiker, Stope Boltjaw, the Professor of Light. Lastly, he tied the remaining length of rope around his own waist.
‘Right,’ he announced. ‘Onwards!’
Bound together, the ramshackle crew continued through the Twilight Woods, on towards the distant star twinkling far, far in front of them. Twig shuddered. ‘I hope the end is not too far,’ he whispered.
‘… too far …’ the air whispered back.
Just then, a sudden commotion erupted behind him. Twig spun round and looked down the line of sky pirates. Someone was missing.
‘Where’s Stope Boltjaw?’ he demanded, as he strode angrily towards the empty slip-knot.
‘Gone,’ said Spiker.
‘Gone?’ said Twig.
‘Kept muttering about how he couldn’t, how he wouldn’t leave his precious jaw behind. The next thing I know, he’s trotting off into the undergrowth.’ He pointed. ‘Over that way’
Twig shook his head and turned on the others furiously. ‘How could you have let this happen?’
‘Wuh-wuh, wuh,’ the banderbear explained.
It was then that Twig realized Hubble was not merely standing beside Tern Barkwater, but was holding him tightly. He, like Stope Boltjaw, had broken away from the rope.
‘What is it? What happened?’ he said. ‘Tern? What’s the matter?’
But Tern would not return his gaze. ‘Leave me be!’ he snarled. ‘Let me go.’ His eyes suddenly focused on something to his left. ‘Cal!’ he shouted out. ‘Don’t go without me.’
Twig turned, but there was no-one there at least, no-one visible to him.
‘Cal!’ Tem shouted. ‘Wait for me. Oh, my poor, wonderful brother it has been so long.’ He thrashed violently in Hubble’s arms, ‘LET ME GO!’ he roared, ‘NOW!’
Twig stared at the huge, red-faced sky pirate struggling in Hubble’s arms like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum, and shook his head in dismay. The Twi
light Woods were taking their toll on the crew’s sanity far more quickly than he had thought possible.
‘My brother,’ Tem was ranting. ‘I have searched so long …’
‘It’s an illusion, Tem,’ Twig said. ‘A trick. There’s no-one there.’
‘Cal!’ he cried out. ‘Cal, answer me,’ and he began struggling all the more violently, ‘LET ME GO!’ he boomed.
Twig bit into his lower lip. Ever since he had first met up with the sky pirates, Tem Barkwater had always been so good to him how could he now abandon him to the Twilight Woods? Yet, in his present state, he was a danger to them all. Certainly Hubble, injured as he was, would not be able to hold him for much longer. He turned to the banderbear sadly.
‘Let him go, Hubble,’ he said.
The moment Hubble released his grip, Tem calmed down. He looked round about him blindly for a moment then smiled. ‘Cal,’ he cried, and trundled back the way they’d come. ‘Cal, wait for me.’
As Twig watched him lumbering away, tears welled up in his eyes. Big old dependable old Tern Barkwater was going. ‘Bye bye, my friend’ he called. ‘And may you find who you are looking for.’
He felt a soft but heavy hand on his shoulders. It was Hubble. ‘Wuh-wuh,’ the giant creature said softly.
‘i know,’ said Twig. ‘We’ll all miss him.’
Down in number, and in spirit, the party continued in the direction of the East Star Spiker, the Stone Pilot and Hubble, with the Professor of Light and Twig up at the front. They walked in silence. They walked alone. The abandoned rope lay on the ground far behind them, already gathering dust. Twig gripped his sword and gritted his teeth.
How did such a fearful place ever come to exist? Twig wondered miserably. He turned to the others. ‘Come on,’ he urged. ‘Keep up. It can’t be far now.’
‘Right behind you, cap’n,’ said Spiker, breaking into a trot.
‘Wuh-wuh,’ added Hubble and lumbered wheezily after him.
The Stone Pilot, on the other hand, must have misunderstood what Twig had said. He stopped and began waving his arms and stomping his feet as much as the heavy overcoat and heavier boots would allow. Sepia dust rose up in clouds. The glass eye-panels set into his hood gleamed dazzling gold.
‘Oh, no,’ Twig sighed. ‘Not you, too.’
The Stone Pilot the most practical and loyal of all the sky pirates had also ended up succumbing to the immortal madness of the Twilight Woods.
‘Wuh-wuh?’ said Hubble.
‘i don’t know,’ said Twig. He approached cautiously. With the Stone Pilot’s head completely hidden beneath his long heavy hood, it was difficult to guess what might be going on in his mind. ‘Can you hear me?’ he bellowed. ‘Are you all right?’
A gruff and muffled grunt emerged from the hood, and the Stone Pilot pushed Twig roughly aside and pointed.
‘I know,’ said Twig. ‘I have also seen …’
‘GRURRGH!’ the Stone Pilot grunted impatiently. He spun Twig round and grasped him by the head.
‘What the… !’ Twig exclaimed. ‘Have you gone mad? Hubble! Help!’
The Stone Pilot grunted again, and twisted Twig’s head around, forcing him to look where he’d been pointing. Hubble came trundling headlong towards them. ‘WUH!’ he roared.
‘Gruuh grunh!’ the Stone Pilot’s muffled voice insisted.
‘Oh!’ gasped Twig as he finally realized what the Stone Pilot had seen.
Hubble lunged awkwardly at the Stone Pilot.
‘It’s OK!’ Twig screamed. ‘Look!’
All of them turned and stared ahead. And there, between a gap in the trees directly beneath the East Star, shone a patch of bleached brightness.
‘It’s the Mire,’ Twig whispered. He turned to the others excitedly. ‘We’ve made it! We’ve reached the edge of the Twilight Woods and …’ He paused. Were his eyes deceiving him once again, or was there someone there? He peered more closely. Yes. There was no doubt. A gaunt, angular figure, hands on hips and legs astride, was standing silhouetted against the brightness beyond.
Hubble sniffed the air and growled uneasily, his wispy ears fluttering with suspicion. Unaware of the banderbear’s misgivings, Twig strode ahead with the Professor of Light.
‘I’m leaving!’ he called into the dancing patterns of light and shade. ‘And I won’t ever come back.’
‘… come back … come back …’ the woods called back, coaxing, cajoling.
Twig fixed his gaze giddily on the stooped figure up ahead. The air whispered and shimmered as, all round, the squirming, swirling mist of ghostly creatures struggled to steal him away once and for all.
‘… come back … come back …’ they echoed.
‘Never,’ Twig cried, and fumbled for his sword. ‘Never!’
‘… ever … ever … ever …’ the woods replied.
•C H A P T E R S E V E N T E E N•
THE MIRE TAKES ITS TOLL
Screed Toe-taker watched the approaching party from under hooded eyes. A mixture of amusement and disdain played on his thin, white lips.
‘Well, well, well,’ he rasped. ‘What have we here?’
As a rule, the travellers who passed his way journeyed in groups of their own kind. A gang of darkridge goblins, a gaggle of barkelves, a family of woodtrolls or, he remembered with a smirk gnokgoblins.
But this shower!
He stooped and squinted. There was a youth. And an elderly character perhaps his grandfather who looked as if some tree or other had taken root in the back of his white robes. Then a small creature an oakelf, by the look of him. And someone or something in heavy hooded clothing. And … Screed groaned. ‘A banderbear,’ he muttered huskily.
Screed Toe-taker was wary of banderbears, and with good reason. Not only were the creatures prodigiously strong, but they were also oddly intuitive. Only once before had he tried to take a banderbear’s toes it had almost cost him his life.
Screed smirked. ‘Almost!’ he whispered for, as always, the element of night-time surprise had proved too much for his victim. ‘Mind you,’ he said, ‘he wasn’t nearly as big and mean-looking as this character. I’m going to have to watch my step.’
Those last few steps were proving the most challenging of all for Twig. As he stumbled onwards the spectres, wraiths and ghouls taunted him wickedly. ‘Your father, Cloud Wolf,’ they whispered. ‘Will you leave him here? Alone? Without his only son?’
‘I have no choice,’ Twig muttered tearfully.
‘Come on,’ he heard the professor saying. ‘Put on your gauntlet and raise high your sword. You can make it, Twig. You can break free of the Twilight Woods.’
‘Yes …’ Twig said uncertainly. He did what the professor had told him. ‘Yes, I can I will make it.’ He paused. ‘Are the others with us?’
‘We’re all still here,’ Spiker confirmed.
Twig looked up ahead. At the end of the long swirling tunnel of his vision hung the star. Below it stood the pale, angular figure. Step followed faltering step as Twig kept on towards them both.
‘Not far now,’ the professor said encouragingly. ‘Soon be there.’
Twig spun round to face him and grasped him by the arm. ‘Then you must stop,’ he said. ‘If you go too far you will die.’
From his position at the edge between the Mire and the Twilight Wood, Screed Toe-taker was growing impatient. ‘Oh, for Sky’s sake, what’s going on now?’ he grumbled angrily. ‘If it isn’t one of them, it’s the other.’ Then, noticing how the banderbear’s ears were fluttering, he changed tack.
‘Come on!’ he yelled. ‘I only want to help you before It’s too late.’
As the words from outside the Twilight Woods echoed round Twig’s head, the spectral voices and visions finally released their hold over him. His ears cleared. His eyes unmisted. He recognized the woods for what they were a tawdry place, glittering yet gloomy, heavy with torpor and the reek of decay.
The Professor of Light looked up at Twig. ‘I’m all right to go a litt
le further,’ he said.
‘Are you certain,’ said Twig.
The professor nodded. ‘Quite certain,’ he said, and turned away. ‘Come on.’
Remembering that he was captain, Twig straightened up and called back as Cloud Wolf would have done. ‘Greetings!’ he said. ‘I am Twig, sky pirate captain. State your name and business.’
Screed sniggered unpleasantly. ‘A whelp with the words of a woodwolf,’ he muttered under his breath. He raised his head. ‘My name is Screed,’ he replied. ‘And my business is to guide travellers across the treacherous Mire.’
The banderbear snarled ominously.
‘Though perhaps you have no interest in my services,’ Screed continued, his eyes skittering back and forth under lowered lids. ‘Perhaps you already know all about the Mire, with its sinking-mud and poisonous blowholes, its muglumps, oozefish, white ravens …’
‘No, no,’ said Twig. ‘I might well be interested.’
He walked the last few yards of the Twilight Woods and halted at the very edge. Screed one step away was standing in the Mire. Between them lay an invisible line separating the two places. For a moment, they stared at one another in silence. From far away over the bleached wasteland came the sound of raucous cawing.
‘White ravens,’ said Screed. ‘Fighting over a carcass the smell of blood drives them to a frenzy’
Behind him Twig was aware of the others’ unease.
Screed smiled craftily. ‘Sometimes they don’t wait until you’re dead to attack,’ he rasped.
Twig winced. The Mire was as he well knew a harsh and perilous place, yet he did not trust this Screed character with his deathly pallor and sly bloodshot eyes.
Oh, Sky above some sky pirate captain I am! thought Twig miserably. And he found himself wishing once again that his father was here with him. He’d know what to do.
For the third time since Twig had been elected captain, it was the Professor of Light who came to his aid. Stepping forwards, he stood next to Twig.
‘So how much do you charge, per individual?’ he said.