Where was I?
Got that sentence tangled.
Because it was such a tangle of happy riding that dragon! Not only did we escape, is what I’m trying to say: we rode dragons!
Only just got out in time. The mining Whisperers figured something was up and they were heading our way at speed. One dragon rose, two, three, four, five. Seeing this, the Whisperers stopped dead in shock. Six, seven, eight dragons up. The Whisperers started running. Sprinting even, or something like that: grown-ups don’t really know how to sprint. Nine, ten, eleven in a whoosh of hot air and a burst of beating wings. So now the mining Whisperers are shouting, roaring, galumphing along, and our supervisor Whisperers are screaming: ‘Hurry! Whisper them! Whisper the children back down!’
Dragon after dragon after dragon soaring up, all at once now, all in formation.
The Whisperers closed in right as the last dragon took off. I was on that dragon, bringing up the rear, little Jaskafar curled up in front of me, Amie, Connor and Bing ahead of him. Our dragon knew exactly what to do: shot up like a rocket, it did.
Then we were soaring!
Through the sky!
You need to ride a dragon, you really do.
Up with the stars, the ocean a sort of rumpled-up darkness way below. Its waves look like some strange little game it’s playing. Wind in your face, and sometimes a sort of misty dampness: guess what that is? It’s clouds! We were flying through clouds!
There’s the freshness of the sky, and the dragon smells like grass after rain and when it lights its way with gusts of flame there’s a wood-smoke smell, sparks curling into the sky.
You feel its wings pumping. You feel that through your body, vibrating through the dragon and into your belly.
The sky lightened to pale grey as we flew through the night. Stars faded, an orange-red glow swept the horizon, and there we were in the midst of a huge flock of dragons, their wing beats keeping time.
At one point, the dragons all banked left, a mighty turn. Ours tilted sharply so we had to cling on hard. Amie shrieked then.
‘Don’t be scared,’ I called, reaching forward to pat her shoulder, but she shrieked again and it wasn’t a shriek, I realised, it was a whoop of joy.
I joined in. We all did. Even Jaskafar straightened up enough to blink around and grin up at me.
And we whooped our way home to Spindrift.
Honey Bee
Oh, well, yes, it was fun, riding the dragon, but:
What if we fall off the dragons??! What if the dragons remember they are actually ferocious beasts with teeth and claws and flame-throwing mouths and they take us all to their caves and tear us to pieces?! What if we fall into the ocean?!
Those were the questions storming through my mind, rather, and made the experience a teensy bit less fun.
Still, there were moments when I found myself smiling, the wind sort of plastering my smile to my face so it probably looked more like a grimace. Sometimes I knew that it was going to be all right. Then I loved my dragon and all these dragons. So many dragons were flying hard and fast, and they were doing this for us, for us children, to save us.
I loved also that we were flying in formation, dragons and children, glimmers of fire now and then—bursts of flame or distant sparks like fireflies—and the silhouettes of the other children, hair streaming back as they clutched on.
We flew across the sea for most of the way, sometimes so low that waves splashed us, and once I was so drenched that I drew out the notebooks from under my pinafore, and held them in the air to dry. Then we curved in towards the coastline, and there was our Kingdom, the Kingdom of Storms, its forests and roads, hills and towns, spread out like a children’s game: toy houses, barns, haystacks, teeny little wagons wending along the early-morning roads. In the distance, I could see a crowd of people crossing the landscape exactly like slowly sliding sprinkles.
Then we flew low towards Spindrift, and there was its curly beach, the lighthouse, the tallow factory, the warehouses, the shipping yards. We swept right across Spindrift downtown: crooked houses leaning together, broken chimneys, piles of rubble, chasms where houses once stood; the enclosure circling the fairground with its rows of tents; the patchy Town Green, dotted with soldiers’ huts, and Danbury Street and Gerbera Lane, the Town Square—and here came a bucket of water splashing from the open window of someone’s house.
And soon we were across town, and there was Spindrift Lake, the Sterling Silver Depot, the grand grounds of Brathelthwaite, with its sports fields and stone walls, the nearby Spindrift Gardens, and there was the Spindrift Hospital, the Junkyard, the shrubby Oakum Woods on their low slopes.
My favourite part was when we landed. Ingeniously, Glim had led us to the playing field just behind the Hospital. Space for all the dragons to thud down, snorting and breathing dark smoke. Space for doctors and nurses to come hurrying out of the Hospital—to see what all the commotion was about, and to be horrified by a field of dragons. But then, quick-thinking, practical things that they are, the doctors and nurses gathered the sick or injured children and brought them back to the Hospital.
There was also enough space here for townsfolk, just waking up and hearing the news, to run through the streets of Spindrift, shouting, cheering and sobbing, for here were the children, all the children who’d been stolen from Spindrift, back home.
The dragons soared away, back to dragon territory, in one great swoop—Glim said they were shy and didn’t want to stay to be thanked, but we applauded, whistled and cheered for them anyway. I think they liked that.
Spindrift parents wept and hugged their children. The children had been so brave at the mines but now, with their mothers and fathers holding them, they were children again and remembered how miserable they’d been and how much they’d missed home. Most burst into tears. They were hugged more tightly.
And here was Lili-Daisy Casimati from the Orphanage! I knew she’d been ill with the Witch-made flu when we left and she did look rather thin and drawn, but she was skipping along at high speed, hooting and hollering—she swept the missing orphans up into her arms. Amie, Connor, Bing and Finlay, she whirled around, hugging each in turn, over and over. They began to look a little like rag dolls.
‘And Jaskafar?’ Lili-Daisy panted eventually, her voice suddenly frightened. ‘Where’s Jaskafar?’
Some of the orphans took her hand, and hurried her across to the hospital, where Jaskafar had already been taken.
While all this was happening, Glim sidled up to me and smiled. ‘Welcome back, Honey Bee,’ she said. ‘Are you all right?’
And she patted me on the shoulder.
I had to bite my lip so hard to stop myself bursting into tears!
Mayor Franny arrived, carrying a loud hailer, and she called for all the other children to sit on the grass around her. ‘You will all to be billeted out to local homes,’ she announced, ‘where you may have baths and breakfast. But first we must record your names and addresses so that telegrams can be sent to your parents!’
The children all cheered, partly because of the parents, but mainly I think it was the idea of breakfast.
‘It may take time to get you home,’ Mayor Franny cautioned, ‘with war on seas and land. But we’ll find a way!’
She looked to the sky then, maybe thinking that if dragons had obliged everyone by bringing the children here, perhaps they could be called upon to bring these ones back home?
It really was marvellous! People kept arriving and exclaiming. Everyone wanted to shake hands with Glim and ask her how she’d done it all. But Glim was too shy to speak and only smiled.
So the people turned to Finlay, Hamish and me, wanting to hear our stories. (I had tucked my notebooks safely away again, a little damp and singed.) We explained about the wristbands and they all took great breaths of amazement, and congratulated Hamish on figuring this out, and all of us on leading the escape!
Even Sir Brathelthwaite turned up from the Boarding School! He embraced Victor and asked
how he had helped with the escape? This really did confuse Victor for a moment. ‘I was there!’ he said eventually. ‘I was most certainly there!’
Sir Brathelthwaite hugged him again and said that Victor would probably get a medal for that.
Next thing, trumpets blared and the Queen arrived in her carriage! So the Queen was still in Spindrift, and still happily showing her face despite having locked up our local Shadow Mages and Whisperers. She stepped out, waving and smiling. Reporters from the Spindrift Daily News took pictures of her treading amongst the children, handing out cups of juice and treats, and offering blankets. It was quite warm, so nobody really needed a blanket, but it was sweet of her to offer.
So exciting.
Until the Queen crouched down by Oscar Cheo and asked how he’d got those scratches. He told her about his earlier escape attempts through the Impenetrable Forest. ‘Oh!’ the Queen said, and ‘Golly!’ and ‘What a chap you are!’
‘Now then,’ she said at last, straightening up. ‘Would you like a red or green liquorice strap?’
‘Neither, thanks,’ Oscar replied, ‘I’m not much keen on liquorice. More of a toffee boy, I am. Oh, and by the way, Your Majesty, did you know there’s a great coven of Witches heading this way?’
At this, I swung around to stare at him. Everyone within earshot did.
‘The dragon I was riding swooped low over them,’ Oscar explained, ‘close enough so I could spot their broomsticks and sandals. Biggest coven I ever saw. Marching across the countryside. Heading this way.’
Of course! The crowd of people I’d seen crossing the landscape! I’d thought of them as sprinkles!
Not sprinkles!
Witches!
Already, the Queen was stalking back through the crowd. ‘Get the Commander in Chief here!’ she barked. ‘Sound the alarms! Alert the Spellbinders! We want every Spellbinder! Go out to Brathelthwaite Boarding School and fetch all the Spellbinders-in-Training! Yes, I know that’s top secret, and nobody’s supposed to know they’re there, but I don’t give a hoot. This time we will NOT let the Witches in! Every single Spellbinder in this town will get out there NOW and stop those Witches!!!’
She paused, recovering her breath. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘and somebody get that boy some toffee.’
FINLAY
Townsfolk who lived nearby scampered off home, taking bunches of rescued kids along with them.
The rest of us headed to the basement of the hospital—the nearest shelter.
Of course, a shelter’s not much use in a Witch invasion, because you never know what spell they might crochet. Still, off we ran.
Pretty crowded in there, it was. The Queen set up shop in one corner, doing serious consultation with General Hegelwink, Mayor Franny, and a bunch of other advisors and guards.
All the patients were carried downstairs from the wards, for their safety, and tucked up in rows of camp beds—along with the sick children from the mines. Doctors and nurses scurried around, stethoscopes swinging. In the corner, Lili-Daisy was arguing with a nurse, demanding the nurse cure Jaskafar immediately. (Lili-Daisy wasn’t thinking straight.) Anita whizzed by, stopped to hug me, held me at arm’s length, nodded briskly, and carried on.
The twins were here too. Wearing white coats like proper little doctors.
‘Been here every day last few weeks,’ Eli told me. ‘So many war-wounded and Witch-made flu affected. Hospital couldn’t cope.’
‘We’re quite good at health, it turns out,’ Taya put in.
‘Diseases comes at us? We break their face,’ Eli confirmed. ‘Prince Jakob got better,’ he added. ‘Still visits sometimes though—to help out, he says, but he’s actually in love with Anita. Well, she saved his life so why not? He’s all right when he’s not trying to have picnics on Witch-spelled beaches.’
‘That was just the fever,’ Taya said sagely. ‘Don’t touch anything, Finlay.’
‘You’re covered in mud,’ Eli agreed.
‘Have a bath.’
‘He can’t. He’s in the basement.’
Both nodded, punched me in the shoulder to say welcome back and got back to work.
I looked for somewhere to sit. There were only a few seats. Sir Brathelthwaite and Victor had both ‘come over faint’ from the ‘shock of it all’, so they’d snaffled the comfiest ones. I found a crate, sat down and looked around.
Everything was good.
Queens (well, one of them, but still), rich folk, Commanders, soldiers, orphans, sick folk and the rest, here we were, all mingled together and getting along, chatting and squawking and tripping about. Someone handed me an apple, which was not the feast I’d hoped for as a welcome, but it was green and crunchy. Honey Bee pulled up a crate next to me, eating an apple of her own.
Crunch, she said.
Crunch, I said.
Crunch.
Crunch.
Then came a pounding on the basement door.
Everything went quiet.
‘Have the Witches got through? Is it the Witches?’ someone hissed.
‘Hush,’ barked the Queen. ‘Witches wouldn’t knock. It’s Colonel Spoforth, somebody open that.’
A soldier stepped in. Young guy, bristly sideburns. He bowed at the Queen, saluted the General, then spoke fast to the General.
We were close enough to hear.
‘Hostile force approaching from the north, Sir. Approaching this facility as we speak, Sir. The third and fourth regiment are in defensive position, Sir. What are our instructions if hostiles open fire, Sir?’
The General growled: ‘Instructions? Defend the town, of course, Colonel! Fire back!’
But the Queen’s face was twisting strangely.
‘Why?’ she snapped. ‘Why are you asking?’
‘It’s civilians,’ the Colonel admitted, his voice dropping. ‘The hostile forces are actually our allies, but they’re being controlled by Whisperers. We’d rather not engage, but—’ He gave a helpless shrug.
‘You mean it’s not a real army?’ the General roared. ‘Whisperers are making them attack us?’
‘Correct, Sir. Every adult citizen of the Kingdom of Vanquishing Cove—that’s a tiny Kingdom so it amounts to no more than two or three hundred people. But all are armed with bolt action rifles.’
‘We need Spellbinders,’ the Queen said sharply. ‘Spellbinders must bind the Whisperers and set the citizens free!’
‘Correct, Your Majesty. But the Spellbinders are all facing the Witches.’
‘Every Spellbinder? Surely we have a few left!’
The General’s nose twitched. ‘Every Spellbinder is dealing with the Witches in the north-east, Your Majesty. Those were your orders, if you recall.’
‘I recall,’ snapped the Queen. ‘These are innocent people, you say? And they are about to attack us?’
Colonel Spoforth nodded. ‘They’re approaching the Tulevsky farm. The third and fourth regiment are at the ready on the lower slopes of the Oakum Woods.’
So close!
The Queen turned to the General. ‘What do you advise?’
‘We have no choice here.’
The Queen pressed her hand to her forehead. ‘Innocent people,’ she murmured. ‘Only engage if absolutely necessary, Colonel. Only if they open fire first.’
The General nodded. ‘Agree, Your Majesty. I’ve no interest in a massacre of innocents. But neither can we risk the town, Colonel. You understand?’
Spoforth bowed, saluted, marched to the door and pushed it open.
Stillness crossed the basement.
Then Honey Bee leapt up, kicked aside her crate, ran to the door, and disappeared outside.
Now what in the world, I thought, is she—
‘What’s that girl doing! Come back, child!’ the Queen quavered. ‘Why would she—’
Of course.
The Kingdom of Vanquishing Cove.
Where her Aunt Rebecca lives.
Honey Bee
Quick footsteps crunched behind me.
Crunch-crunch
Crunch-crunch
Crunch-crunch
I was crossing the dragon-scorched grass of the field.
Crunch-crunch, went my running footsteps.
Crunch-crunch, came from right behind, and then crunch-crunch, as he caught up with me.
It was Finlay.
‘Go back,’ I said, not turning.
‘I’m your friend,’ he replied.
‘Go back,’ I repeated, panting. ‘It’s dangerous. I insist that you go back to the shelter!’
‘Righto,’ Finlay said.
But crunch-crunch, crunch-crunch, went his feet beside me. Then came another voice.
‘Honey Bee! Come back at once! It’s dangerous out here!’ It was Sir Brathelthwaite, stumbling along, his bald head sweaty and shiny under the hot sun, sleeves flapping about.
Good gracious, I thought. He cares about me! Perhaps it’s just the reputation of his school, but still. Good gracious.
Of course, later I found out that the Queen had barked at him, ‘Isn’t that your student? Go after her!’
Finlay and I quickened our pace, leaving Sir B far behind. The field behind the Hospital hits a small hill, which in turn gives way to more little hills, rising up into the Lower Slopes. The Junkyard is over to the left, dragon territory is to the right, but we were running through the hills in between. These are mostly bare, shrubs here and there, patches of dirt amongst the dandelions and crabgrass.
We ran up the first hill, into a valley, up the second, into a valley—and there they were: a battalion of K&E Alliance soldiers, covering the slope. Arranged in neat lines like columns of mathematical figures. Uniforms, boots, helmets strapped at their chins, guns held firm and diagonal across their chests.
I zipped through the soldiers so fast that most only had time to swing their heads sideways in surprise. At the crest of the hill, the first row of soldiers was crouched at the ready, each resting on single knee, guns raised to their shoulders, trained on the valley below.
The Slightly Alarming Tale of the Whispering Wars Page 27