“Hold on!” he yelled over the wailing and the crash of the waves. David had wrapped a bit of rope around his wrist and was slung about the deck. Max leapt over a barrel that had broken free from its fastenings and climbed the deck that rose again before him. Wind screamed through the sails and rigging as Max clambered forward. As the ship tapered toward the prow, he was able to seize the railing and pull himself up.
The figurehead, a stern-looking hawk carved of dark wood, bobbed just beyond reach. Max leapt and grabbed hold of it as the ship crashed against the sea again, nearly flinging him over the prow. A metal ring on the figurehead’s arched back grazed Max’s hand. His fingers felt the perimeter of a circle, carved like the lid of a jack-o’-lantern into the back of the figure. He tugged at the metal ring, but the lid remained fast—glued shut with grime and salt that had accumulated over the years. Max gritted his teeth and gave a tremendous pull, wrenching the lid open but throwing himself backward in the process.
He crashed onto the deck and braced himself to be flung overboard. Nothing happened, however. The terrible wailing subsided to a sigh, and the Kestrel settled back into its berth like a hen returning to its nest. A few residual waves slapped the ship’s side, and then the ocean was calm. Max scrambled quickly to his feet, clutching Bram’s Key. He turned to see David tangled hopelessly in netting like a towheaded fish.
“What made it stop?” Max asked as snow fell peacefully once again upon his shoulders.
“I don’t know,” panted David, untangling himself.
Suddenly, the ship was bathed in light as though a hundred spotlights had been turned upon it. Max shielded his eyes, stumbling toward the rail to see what was happening.
Standing on the beach, beneath floating orbs of light, was Ms. Richter, flanked by Commander Vilyak and other members of the Red Branch. Curious spectators were streaming down the stone steps, wrapped in robes and blankets to assemble on the beach. Max saw his father among them, hurrying down the steps with Bob, who clutched a lantern.
“Max!” his father called. “What are you doing? Is that David ?”
“Hi, Mr. McDaniels,” said David, waving weakly.
“David Menlo, explain yourself,” said Ms. Richter, looking tired and grim.
“I’m sorry for all the trouble,” said David. “But Max and I have to leave now. Don’t be too hard on Connor and the others. They only meant to help.”
“McDaniels!” shouted Vilyak. “Disembark from that ship immediately! That’s a direct order!”
“Max,” called his father, looking horror-stricken. “Please come down here.”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” said Max, ignoring Vilyak while he handed Bram’s Key to David. “I’m off to find Mom.”
“Then let me come with you!” cried Mr. McDaniels hoarsely, hurrying through the crowd and sputtering clouds of frosty air.
“You can’t,” said Max, shaking his head. “You can’t come with me this time, but I’ll find her. I promise! Look after Nick!”
Mr. McDaniels stopped, his mouth agape as he stared up at his son.
Vilyak barked an order to his Agents, who began striding purposefully up the dock’s steps.
“Stop!” said Ms. Richter. The Agents halted at her command, alternating their gaze between the Director and Commander Vilyak. Ms. Richter turned from them and gazed back at Max. The Director gave a sad but understanding smile. Her voice carried, clear and strong, in the wintry air. “You carry our fortunes with you. Go with our blessings and look after David. You must be his keeper.”
Max nodded and waved good-bye. Behind him, David lowered Bram’s Key into the figurehead’s opening. As soon as he did so, there was a single beautiful note, pure as a struck bell. It seemed to hover, taut and trembling, in the sudden stillness.
Max hurried over to stand by David. The two watched as the rings began to spin, each silvery orbit accelerating until the sphere became a single blur of silver. A shiver ran through the ship. Icicles from the masts and rigging rained upon the deck and shattered as the Kestrel ’s great sails unfurled of their own accord. Lines snaked about, heaved to by brisk and invisible hands. As the topgallants were lowered, the mooring ropes snapped.
From the beach there was a collective gasp as the Kestrel lifted from the sea to hover in the air. David’s face was aglow with excitement. Snowflakes clinging to his lashes, he gazed up at the sails as they rippled and stretched taut in the breeze.
Max glimpsed something fluttering near his ear. He turned and saw a gypsy moth with a singed wing spiral precariously onto his shoulder.
“You’ll need me!” squeaked the moth, its feelers twitching in the cold.
With a quick glance at David, who remained transfixed by the Kestrel, Max plucked Mr. Sikes from his shoulder and stowed the imp in his coat’s warm woollen pocket. The moth peered at him from deep inside, snug in its new burrow.
Banking slightly, the ship began to pivot and swing its prow slowly toward the open sea. Max ran back to the stern and looked out upon the assembled crowd. He spotted his father once again and waved, smiling through his tears, as the ship pushed off, sailing out over the dark ocean on a gentle rise to meet the sky.
15
AMONG THE SIDH
The two boys stood at the prow. While David rummaged through his pack for warmer clothes, Max stared out over the glittering ocean, speechless, while the ship sailed up toward winking stars and a moon that shone bright as a pearl. David poked his head through a fisherman’s sweater and pulled on a navy woollen coat, slowly fastening the toggles with his left hand.
“Where are we going, David?” asked Max.
“I don’t know,” replied David sleepily, breathing deep and gazing up at the tall mast and its white, smooth sails.
Max yawned and marked the constellations in the sky as the ship rose higher. He peeked inside his pocket and saw Mr. Sikes, now in the form of a field mouse, curled up in a snug little ball. Max imagined he was curled up, too, warm in his sleigh bed, watching the stars through the glassy dome of his room back at Rowan. They sailed on, and the earth appeared no more than a miniature. Peering over the side, Max saw cities arranged like so many toys sprinkled over continents where moonlit clouds drifted like migratory herds. The air was cold and the stars impossibly bright as the Kestrel sailed on toward Orion.
“There’s Betelgeuse,” murmured David, pointing at a large reddish star. “And Rigel and Bellatrix. Some call Orion’s belt the ‘Three Magi,’ you know. . . .”
Max nodded dreamily and hugged his coat closer about him.
The stars grew to the size of pumpkins and the moon seemed beyond all reckoning as it bathed the sails and deck in a milky radiance. Gazing over the side again, Max saw nothing below them: no clouds, no land, and no dark swirls of ocean. Then he became afraid, thinking that they might sail on forever, severing all ties to their world as they drifted into the ether.
Whether they had sailed for hours or days or a lifetime, Max could not tell. He was conscious only of the sky becoming thin, its matter stretched beyond capacity, until Max swore he could see tiny gaps in its delicate black weave. He laughed and clutched the rail, leaning forward as the slivers of color became bigger, revealing a hazy wash of blue and green.
Night gave way to day, and now the Kestrel seemed to glide upon currents of air and wisps of cloud that raced along the prow, like porpoises. A landscape came into view—emerald hills, tilled fields, and rivers that coursed and snaked through resplendent country. Small towns clustered about tall, slim castles unlike any Max had ever seen. The wind picked up, and the Kestrel began to buck and wobble.
They clung to the railings as the Kestrel shook and groaned, her timbers threatening to snap like matchsticks. Blobs of deep green became forests, forests became trees, and then the very treetops scratched at the Kestrel ’s keel as she skimmed above them. There was a tearing sound, and Max saw the topgallants ripped from the mast, floating in their wake like sheets blown free of a clothesline. David yelled something, but
Max could not hear him above the whipping wind and the furious rippling of the mainsail. The ship rolled slightly as it cleared the forest, dipping down toward the fields of a farm. Max threw David beneath him and covered their heads.
There was a sudden jolt, followed by another and another as the Kestrel bounced across the field like a skipping stone. With a terrible crack, Max felt the mainsail settle over them like a tented sheet as the ship slid across the field in a spray of cabbages and damp black soil. Groaning, the Kestrel came to a sudden halt, rolling onto its side and spilling the two boys onto the ground.
They lay there for several moments, breathing hard and regaining their senses. Max struggled to his feet and backed away from the ship to assess the damage. Snapped wood, frayed rope, and tattered sails had been left in their wake, a trail of nautical carnage. He peeked into his pocket to see Mr. Sikes trembling with fright but apparently unharmed and clinging on inside. Limping around the ship, Max saw that the Kestrel ’s hull had been shorn away, leaving only a skeleton of her upper decks and what remained of her snapped and broken masts. David hobbled around to join him, scratching at an impressive lump on his forehead.
“Guess we’ll have to find another way home,” he said.
Max nodded, running his hand along a jagged hole of splintered wood.
“I wonder whose fields these are,” Max said, glancing around. There was no person or building to be seen. “Probably best not to find out,” he added, wondering how they could possibly explain a shipwreck amidst a stranger’s cabbages.
“Where should we go?” asked David.
Max glanced up at the morning sun, rising in the pale sky. He removed his coat and stuffed it in David’s pack, carefully stowing Mr. Sikes in his pocket while David surveyed the landscape. Straightening, Max followed David’s gaze to a distant hill that rose high above its neighbors.
“Let’s climb up there,” Max suggested. “At least we can have a look around.”
Shouldering their pack, Max led the way. The two hurried off the cabbage field, mindful not to cause any more damage, and walked instead along a packed dirt road that wound like a ribbon among low hills thick with wildflowers. At a small creek, they crossed a narrow footbridge, and then began to climb steeper hills while the sun rose behind them. Max’s stomach growled and he came to a sobering realization.
“I forgot to pack food!”
“Oh,” said David, nursing his bump and looking thoughtful.
“I’m an idiot,” moaned Max, kicking at a stone.
David said nothing and continued walking. Max poked at his stomach and willed it into submission.
As it turned out, their destination was farther than it had initially appeared. Hours of brisk walking passed before they finally saw the hill looming before them. It seemed to be a landmark of sorts; other roads converged upon the hill, and Max spied something rocking in the wind at its crest. David had to pause to catch his breath several times as the pair climbed many switchbacks on their trek to its summit.
Once on top, Max saw that his choice had been a good one. The rocking object he had seen was, in fact, a signpost, and the hill a sort of crossroads. From this height, Max could look upon rolling greenery and white-fenced fields that stretched to the horizon. For several moments, Max and David stood in silence, reading the strange names painted on weathered wood signs that pointed in eight directions:
SIDH FIONNACHAIDH
SIDH BODB
SIDH BRI LEITH
SIDH AIRCELTRAI
SIDH RODRUBN
SIDH EAS AEDHA RUAIDH
SIDH MEADHA
SIDH BRUGH NA BOINNE
“Which do we choose?” asked David.
“I don’t know,” said Max, stepping over to inspect them more closely. His eyes locked on the sign pointing to Brugh na Boinne—Astaroth had said he would find his mother there. Max was just about to speak up when he felt something scurry up his arm. Mr. Sikes whispered urgently, his whiskers tickling Max’s ear.
“Danger approaches, Master McDaniels!” piped the imp.
Max turned to look back in the direction from which they’d come. There was someone in the distance, walking along the same road they had taken. Something about the far-off figure filled Max with loathing. Tapping David, he pointed at their apparent pursuer, who was now nearing the footbridge they had crossed only an hour earlier.
“We need to get moving,” said Max.
“I agree,” said David, shivering in the wind. “Which way?”
Max was about to speak again when the imp’s urgent whispers made him pause.
“Not Brugh na Boinne!” pleaded the imp. “Not yet! It is to Rodrubân you must go!”
Max ran his hand along the sign pointing to Brugh na Boinne. He felt the mouse’s tiny claws prick at his neck in protest.
“I vote for Sidh Rodrubân,” said Max at length, succumbing to Mr. Sikes’s urgent counsel.
“Why?” asked David.
“For one thing,” replied Max, “it leads directly away from whomever that is. And it’ll be hard to see us from up here.” David looked out at the wooded paths beneath them, sloping away into the trees. He glanced back at the mysterious figure, which had now crossed the bridge and seemed to be gaining steadily.
David nodded and clucked his tongue in agreement. The two boys scurried down the slope, following the path as it plunged into a wood of tall beech and twisty oak.
Summer showers pattered softly on the leaves while Max and David stole along the forest floor. They had been walking for what seemed to be hours, trying to make good time, but pausing occasionally to marvel at the landscape around them. The air was clean and fragrant, the colors more vibrant than Max had ever seen. He felt as though he were experiencing trees and grass and flowers and clouds for the first time, marvelous shapes and hues that brimmed with life and vitality. Packed dirt gave way to clean cobblestones as the forest opened onto rolling hills where flocks of white sheep grazed on close-cropped pastures.
The sun hovered directly overhead when the two reached the crest of a hill crowned with cherry blossoms. A rabbit observed them on its hind legs, twitching its whiskers. Max eyed it hungrily, and it promptly dove into its burrow.
“How far do you think Sidh Rodrubân might be?” asked Max, thinking of dinner.
“No idea,” said David. “Have you noticed how deceptive the distances are? Or maybe it’s time that’s deceptive. I don’t know.”
Max glanced at his watch, whose readings advanced and retreated seemingly at random. He turned to gauge the distance they’d already traveled, his eyes wandering west, where a silvery mist was settling in the hollows of the hills.
There he saw a chilling sight: the same dark figure, standing on a hilltop.
Max abruptly pushed David to the ground and flattened himself against the grass off the path.
“What—” sputtered David, flicking a cherry blossom from his nose.
“Over there,” whispered Max. “On that hill. Do you think he’s seen us?”
David gazed out at the figure that leaned on a tall walking stick. The two boys heard faint laughter carry toward them on the breeze. The silhouette acknowledged them with a wave and began a brisk descent down the hill. The blood drained from David’s face.
“I know who that is,” whispered David.
“Who?” asked Max.
“Astaroth,” croaked David, pushing up from the ground.
“How could he get here?” asked Max.
David’s reply was to run as fast as his short legs could carry him. Max followed his roommate, who gasped and sputtered with terror as they fled up the road until they had run what seemed to be several miles. David collapsed in a heap, wracked by a violent fit of coughing.
“I can’t run anymore,” he wheezed. “I have to rest.”
Max nodded but looked warily behind them. He could feel terror rising—cresting—in a slow, sickly wave within him. He glanced at the crown of the last hill. The Demon had not yet come, but Max
was suddenly aware that no birds called above and the docile flocks of sheep had retreated until they appeared as tiny dabs of ivory scattered at the horizon.
“Let’s at least get off the road,” said Max quickly, helping David to the far side of a great willow tree, whose branches overhung a small green pond. David leaned his back against the trunk and took a slow, deep breath.
“This reminds me of the Sanctuary lagoon,” he said with a weary smile.
Max reached into their pack for a towel. Dipping it into the cool water, he wrung it out and placed it on his friend’s forehead the way his father did whenever he was sick.
“Five minutes,” said Max, watching the hill. “Then we get moving again.”
David shook his head.
“Running won’t matter,” whispered David, closing his eyes. “We might as well stay here.”
Max did not like that idea. He peered around the broad willow and gazed back at the road. While David rested, Max waited, listening to the drone of crickets and the chirruping call of pond frogs. Fear continued to well up within him, as if a dropper of poison were filling up his mind. He had a sudden urge to hide, to dig down deep into the earth and wait until the pursuing evil passed them by. He glanced at David slipping into sleep, felt a frantic scurrying up his arm. Mr. Sikes’s whiskers twitched with panic.
“We must keep going,” hissed the imp. “This is a perilous place to rest!”
“Why?” asked Max, rubbing his eyes.
“He is coming!” squeaked the mouse. “It is the Demon that follows you!”
Max shook his head.
“David needs to rest,” he murmured. “And I’m watching.”
Closing his fingers about the gae bolga, Max leaned heavily against the tree and watched the lonely road. Mr. Sikes lingered a moment on his shoulder and then scurried back to Max’s pocket with a squeak of reprimand. A breeze gently shook the willow branches. There was a soft splash in the pond and Max imagined that he was a frog, safe beneath the water and kicking about the reeds.
The Second Siege Page 29