by Lorna Reid
Warehouse buildings spewed their contents all over the dockside and the wide harbour walk – boxes, bales, sacks, and piles of ore, scrap, lumber, and produce all competing for space.
A sweet smell hung in the air, like fruit that was about to turn bad, but quickly mingled with the scent of fresh paint, sawdust, and grease. Trollies and barrows ferried cargo to and fro, from boats and ships to warehouses and back again. It was like watching a hive of ants, with a hidden purpose embedded in the chaos.
Larger ships sailed in and out of the harbour, while a few fishing boats and light skims made their way inward, ferrying their catches to the main body of the port.
Behind them, the port town streamed down from the hills and crowded up to the very edge of the bay. Warehouses, taverns, and businesses jostled for space with houses and shops, while streets snaked between them to the waterside where large stone spits thrust out into the sea. Ships and boats of all sizes hugged them, ropes tightening and slacking with the mesmerising blue swell as they creaked gently.
‘We’ll head up Cutter’s Lane; there’s a lovely little tea shop and I’m dyin’ for something hot to drink,’ Patches said. Russell couldn’t argue with that, and he tore himself away from the view to trot up a narrow lane to a small shop, whose owner was already doing a roaring trade.
Patches found them a table under the tattered green awning and handed round a small leather-bound menu, whose edges were frayed and worn.
‘This pass you mentioned … is that how we get to Varron?’ said Katrina, wondering exactly the same thing as Russell. Please say no, he thought.
‘Yeah,’ Patches said, taking a tiny swig from his flask.
‘Is it a shortcut or something?’ said Poppy.
‘Shortcut to oblivion, if you’re not careful. The Black Pass is one of those dark places.’
‘The Black Pass?’ Danny leapt in.
‘Aye, you’ve surely heard of it.’
‘Yes,’ he said, quietly. ‘I heard that magic can’t reach there. Like the Great Watchtower.’
‘Aye. You can use magic there, and it has magic all of its own, but you can’t use portal magic to drop in there just as you please. They say it was when the Old World was ripped apart. Some places became sort of swallowed up and twisted; it became like a pocket of magic, rippled and warped.’
‘So, what is it, exactly?’ pursued Katrina.
‘Not really a pass, as such – nearly a Land in itself, albeit a buried one. No one really knows the full extent. A vast series of underground sea caverns, passages, falls, and pieces of land, enclosed in the pitch darkness. Some of the nastiest, roughest waters you’ll ever sail. Most folk don’t bother. They go around to get to where they’re going.’ He smiled to himself.
‘Folk like us use the Pass. We know it. We know where the entrances and exits are, which Lands they spits us out into. We know her waters well, and even we probably don’t know the half of it.’
He glanced at the menu and, after a quick consultation with the others, in which he brushed off concerns about payment, ordered them all hot drinks. ‘Aye, the Black Pass used to be a popular shortcut to many Lands, years ago, until the disappearances and worse stacked up and the stories got around.’
‘Like what?’ Russell hated to ask.
‘Deaths, phantom ships, and things you wouldn’t want to meet in your worst nightmares. Place is full of whispers, shadows, and strange lights. Not many folk risk the Pass now, except for a few travellers, smugglers, and folk on the run maybe looking for a new life away from prying eyes,’ Patches said.
‘People live in a place like that? You said it was enclosed and in darkness?’ said Poppy.
‘Aye. There are towns and outposts down there, even in the deep. Some farms and even small industries – we help export for them. Braver souls than me. We know them well – they’re like family. They rely on ships like ours for trade. Good folk.’
‘If it’s sort of enclosed, then how do you sail … I mean, is there weather down there, wind?’ Katrina said.
‘Aye.’ Patches smiled. ‘Weather all of its own. Some natural, some … magical, I suppose. And it’s as much a pain in the arse as it is overland.’
Patches sipped at a large mug of tea that had been set down in front of him. ‘So, you still needing to get to Varron urgently?’ His eyes bored into Russell and something clicked in the back of his head. Was Patches testing them? Had all that stuff been true?
‘Yes. We’re not making it up. We’re not on the run or something. If we don’t get to Darrant Ridge, our friend could die. And who knows how many others.’
‘Look, we can’t pay you,’ said Poppy. ‘For any of it …’ She waved at her drink and looked embarrassed, but Patches was quick to wave it off with a smile. ‘But we need help. We need to get there, quickly. I don’t know how long it would take our friend’s company.’
‘Good few days. They wouldn’t take the Pass for anything. If they left just before you, they’d perhaps arrive first, but not likely. It’ll take us days to get to Varron as it is.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘The Riana sails for the Pass this afternoon, but I’d likely never get the Captain to take you.’
‘Sneak us on,’ said Katrina.
‘That’s what I had in mind. You sure you want to do this? This is your last chance.’
‘If we don’t, we’re throwing someone’s life away. The Oracle can’t be wrong, and I know what I saw. Whether we save her or get someone else to do it, we can’t not try,’ said Russell.
Patches swilled the decision around in his head, staring into his tea. Poppy shared Russell’s concerned look. If he said no, or changed his mind, then Russell had no idea what they were going to do. Even Danny, who was almost mindlessly impulsive, looked worried.
‘Right. The ship’s going to Varron. From there I’ll help you get to the Ridge.’ He tossed a few coins on the table and, not for the first time, Russell felt guilty about not being able to pay their way.
‘The crew will be loading up, so I can’t get you on just now, and I can’t wait until the last drink in The Rusty Cup because we’ll have a watch posted. So …’ He looked apologetic, and Russell had a nasty feeling. ‘I’ll need to put you on as cargo. Sorry.’
‘Cargo?’ Suspicion leapt out of Poppy’s voice. I knew it was too good to be true, thought Russell, imagining hiding inside a box of mouldy vegetables. ‘In a box or something? All of us? For how long? What if we need the toilet?’
‘It won’t be for long. Just until the ship is underway. The crate I’ve got in mind will be heavy anyway, so shouldn’t raise questions. You just need to keep quiet until it’s loaded.’
‘Yeah, Poppy,’ muttered Danny.
‘Shut up,’ she snapped, looking less than enamoured with the plan.
‘And we can’t sneak you into the crate right away, not until light starts to go, so you’ll have to wait for me near the ship while I meet up with the Captain.’
The harbour walk was a long one, but Russell was grateful after a long journey in the confines of the train carriage. He enjoyed the hardy but worn port town – the bustle, the noise, the life. Colourful window shutters and intriguing shop fronts lined tantalising little lanes and streets, which twisted away behind the crowded front. Shops and stalls, vendors selling from barrels, boats, and suitcases on boxes littered the walk; people fought, bantered, and barged while the gulls wheeled above.
Patches led them to the far end of the walk where a cluster of ships was berthed in a sheltered nook of the bay. The port seemed older here, but full of character, with wide timber beams and latticed windows appearing regularly.
Patches left them in the safety of a small café, tucked around the corner from the front, leaving a heap of coins, some papers, and the directive to stay put. He popped back to check on them regularly, and they whiled away the afternoon people-watching, chatting, and devouring the papers with all their oddities; the unfamiliar places, people, news, and even the odds in the classifieds seemed exciting.
Eventua
lly, Patches collected them and led them along the docks. Skulking hulls of creaking ships loomed nearby. Russell and Katrina craned their necks upwards, looking at the intricate webs of rigging stretching across the darkening skies until Katrina nearly fell over a stray dog, which, to Russell’s disgust, had been carrying a dead rat in its jaws.
‘Right,’ Patches said, coming to a halt. ‘Light’s on the way out, which is in our favour, but we don’t have much time. We traditionally take a last drink in The Rusty Cup before setting sail. The crate you’ll be riding in is an important one, and big. It’ll likely go on after we come out, as it’ll be first off when we’re in the Pass.’
They wove around piles of scrap, past boxes of overflowing produce and mysterious containers, and stopped further along the dock beside a ship. It was smaller than some of the others, but sleek and smart. Russell could just about make out the name in the fading light: Riana. So this was the one. His stomach flipped and he nearly missed what Patches was saying.
‘The watch are turning now and the patrol from the Port Guards are down the other end of the road. No one about … Now.’ He dashed over to the enveloping shadows of a large crate and they scuttled after him.
It was well over Russell’s height and at least three times that in length. The sides were slatted, but they could only see darkness when they tried to peer inside. It smells funny, he thought.
Poppy didn’t look too impressed either – the smell had evidently reached her nostrils and she was trying to catch Patches’ attention, but he was busy opening the end of the crate and casting glances up at the silent decks of the Riana.
‘Hide under the straw, keep still, and keep quiet.’ Night was beginning to settle in now and the docks were bathed in a patchwork of long shadows and light from the nearby buildings.
Patches ushered them inside. ‘This is a serious business, remember. If you get caught before we’re clear, you’ll be dumped back at the port, and that’s if you’re lucky.’ They exchanged glances. Russell had a fleeting image of the four of them bobbing like corks in the dark, choppy sea.
Patches handed Danny, who was closest, a small dagger before swiftly shutting the door on them and locking the catches. ‘Use that to cut the loading rope once you’re alone. I’ll leave you a light and some other bits in the hold – it’ll do until I can come for you.’
They peered through the slats at him. Russell’s heart was pounding. What if they had been seen getting into the crate? What if they were caught? Butterflies filled his stomach and he couldn’t keep still.
‘Stay quiet. I’ll come and move you to a more comfy place as soon as I can.’
They whispered their thanks over the background of music and chatter drifting lazily on the evening air, and with a brief glance around, Patches vanished from sight, leaving them alone. The fear began to gnaw into Russell. Had they done the right thing?
Chapter 16
◊
EVERYONE BEGAN TO BURY themselves in the straw as quickly and quietly as they could. The rustling went on for several minutes while they got settled, but finally there was silence.
The smell of the fresh straw filled his nose and Danny shifted to get comfortable. There was a chill seeping in from the slats as the world outside their hiding place grew colder with the encroaching night.
Voices and laughter filtered in from time to time; sounds from rowdy passers-by grew closer and faded once more into the night, and the steady stream in and out of the taverns and inns that propped up the neighbouring warehouses and shopfronts created a constant chatter of distant noise. Danny felt his eyes getting heavier and was on the verge of dropping off to sleep when someone groaned.
‘Shhhh!’
A wet snort made his eyes snap open again.
‘Shut up!’ Poppy whispered again.
‘It wasn’t me,’ hissed Danny.
‘Something just touched my leg!’ squeaked Poppy.
‘That wasn’t me, either,’ whispered Danny, making Katrina laugh.
‘Shut up everyone,’ breathed Russell. ‘They’ll be moving us soon.’
‘There’s something in here with us,’ hissed Poppy. ‘I can hear it moving.’
‘I’ve got a little key-ring torch,’ Katrina said.
‘It’ll stand out like a beacon!’ whispered Russell, a little louder than intended, and was shushed by Poppy.
‘The slats are close together except for the door, so it’ll be okay. Besides, I’ll cover it,’ said Katrina.
‘That’s no good. We won’t be able to see it, then, will we?’ hissed Poppy, swearing at Danny, who had shushed her, noisily.
‘Fine. Let whatever’s in here with us eat your bag,’ snapped Katrina, getting shushed by everyone. Poppy squeaked again and was rocked by a barrage of shushes.
‘This is getting ridiculous,’ muttered Russell. ‘We’ll be dragged out of here any minute.’
Katrina sat up and draped a tissue over the tiny light before clicking it on. The blue tissue cast out a small glow, lighting a tiny circumference of straw around her. She cast the light around and they soon saw what had made the noise. A pair of small creatures were lying half-buried in the straw near the far end of the crate, staring at them with big cow eyes. Their long necks craned toward the light, revealing a small hump on their backs.
‘They look like mini camels,’ she said.
‘Urgh. What are they?’ Poppy scooched backward and bumped into Russell, who shushed her violently.
‘Well, they haven’t eaten us yet, have they?’ said Katrina, dripping sarcasm, and reached out to touch one. The nearest one let her pat it, and she stroked its thick, coarse-looking fur.
‘That’s what the smell was,’ she whispered.
‘It smells like cornflakes,’ said Danny, debating whether or not he could be bothered to move and touch one.
‘Do you think we should name them?’
‘No. And it’s slobbering on my bag!’ snapped Poppy, trying to shoo the other one away. It moved its head, leaving a string of saliva trailing from its mouth to Poppy’s bag, much to her horrified disgust. Poppy scrubbed at it furiously with a handful of straw, making Danny and Katrina laugh.
‘Someone’s coming,’ whispered Russell. All giggling, shushing, and bag scrubbing stopped immediately and Katrina clicked off the light and reburied herself.
Danny’s heart began to pound and he waited for some alarm, some shout to say that something was wrong. Through the background noise spilling from the nearby buildings, voices were drawing closer. Could you go to prison for trying to stow away? What would happen to Isa and the Crowmount fragment if they were discovered now? What about his mother? Patches would certainly be in trouble, and after all the help he had given them it would be a poor way to pay him back. Danny tried to crush all the thoughts away, but failed.
A light came on outside, trickling through the slats. Danny held his breath and hoped he was covered enough but didn’t dare move to try and drag more straw over himself. His ears strained, listening to the banter for any sign that something had gone wrong. He jolted when something heavy thudded on the top of the crate. It’s just rope, he thought. They’re going to haul us on board. The crate tilted slightly at one end and there was a lot of scraping before the other end jerked and was raised.
‘Get the wheels on and latch ’em tight,’ came a voice. ‘Captain wants to press on. We’re running late.’
‘Patches was late back, that’s why. It’s not like him,’ said another voice.
‘He’s the only one who can probably get away with it, though, but he’ll still get a quiet talking to, ship’s second or not.’
‘Yeah, you know how the Captain gets.’
‘Just hurry up. I don’t want to hold us up. We’ll end up on kitchen duty if we faff about much longer, and you know what that’ll be like – Stamp’ll be in a fucking arse of a mood, you can guarantee.’
After more fiddling, the crate eventually lurched around and rumbled across the dockside. Danny shivered; t
he warmth of the four of them and the camel things wasn’t enough to keep the sea chill away anymore. The straw was making his scalp itch, the dust had got into his eyes, and he was fighting the urge to pull more straw around himself for warmth.
There was a hollow rumble and the crate tilted and moved slowly up an unseen ramp. Danny could feel the tension as they tried not to move, not to breathe, not to think about getting caught. He fixed his mind on his mother’s face, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to ignore the pounding of his heart until, finally, they stopped.
‘They weigh a lot for two little Chams, don’t they?’ grumbled someone. Danny’s blood froze, and he could only imagine what was racing through the minds of everyone else.
‘They’re fatter than a merchant’s wallet, that’s why – they never stop eating.’ The light and chatter faded as the men moved off, leaving them alone in the darkness. Danny waited just as long as he could stand before sitting up. He picked straw from the neck of his top and peeped through the slats.
‘Let’s get out of here before anyone comes back,’ he said, shuffling to the door and starting to saw at the rope through the gap. The blade was sharp, and within less than a minute it had done its job.
He fumbled around through the wide gaps in the door to find the catches and managed to undo them. Poppy followed him out and Russell and Katrina shuffled after them.
The cavernous blackness was overwhelming. For a moment it seemed to wrap around them like a suffocating cloak. ‘Put that torch on, put it on,’ hissed Russell. Katrina clicked it on and Russell was drawn to the tiny glow like a moth. He looks terrified, thought Danny. I just hope the batteries don’t go.
The same thought also appeared to have occurred to Russell, who was trying to get as close to the light as he could without actually stepping on Katrina. The hold wasn’t just dark, it was pitch black. They were all just barely illuminated whispers in the dark.
Danny knew that Russell didn’t like the dark. Even if he was somewhere he knew, when the lights went out, it changed suddenly. Russell once told him it felt like being surrounded. Danny looked around, trying to pick through the blackness, but failed. Russell was right. Something could be right in front of him, staring him in the face, and he wouldn’t know. Or worse, behind him.