Voyage of the Owl

by Belinda Murrell

  The four children looked at each other, torn with indecision. Ethan raised his eyebrow. The others nodded.

  ‘The Moon Pearl,’ Ethan explained solemnly. ‘The Moon Pearl and Star Diamonds from the Sun Sword. We need to get them back if Tiregian is to have any hope of defeating the Sedahs.’

  Fox laughed. ‘You’re joking! Four children raiding a Sedah warship to steal back one of the country’s greatest treasures?’

  The children nodded. Fox stared at them in bemusement.

  ‘How do you know the Moon Pearl is even on that ship?’ Fox asked.

  ‘We don’t know for sure,’ Saxon replied, ‘but we decoded a secret message from Lord Lazlac’s desk that said they would be.’

  ‘You decoded a secret message from Lord Lazlac’s desk?’ repeated Fox in disbelief. ‘It said the Moon Pearl would be on the Sea Dragon?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lily confirmed, her face pale and earnest.

  ‘If the Moon Pearl really is on the Sea Dragon, it could be anywhere,’ Fox argued. ‘You would need to get on board, without being seen, and search the ship – it is virtually impossible.’

  ‘You are probably right, Fox,’ Roana agreed. ‘We may very well fail. It would be much easier to simply give up and let the Sedahs win. However, the Sedahs will destroy Tiregian and everything we love if we do nothing to stop them. Please, Fox. Please help us try.’

  Fox fingered his beard, thinking deeply.

  ‘I must be mad,’ Fox replied finally. ‘Alright, we’ll spend one more night searching for the Sea Dragon.’ Fox examined the map once more.

  ‘Presuming they followed a similar course to us, with any luck we may be able to intercept the ship tonight if we patrol back and forth here from east to west.’ Fox indicated the planned course on the map. ‘I know it is a long shot, but this is our only hope of catching the Sea Dragon before it reaches the safety of Sedah.’

  ‘Thank you, Fox,’ cried Lily. ‘Thanks for giving us a chance.’

  The children shivered with excitement and relief. Perhaps the Moon Pearl was finally within reach.

  Lord Lazlac preened himself in front of the mirror. He was wearing his best clothes. His sallow face was freshly shaved. He twitched his black jacket, straightening the severe lines. When he was satisfied with his appearance, he set off for the herb garden.

  He nodded to the Sedah guards, who saluted smartly and stepped aside to let him pass through the gateway. Queen Ashana was walking around the walled garden with Marnie, chatting about herb-lore.

  ‘Rosemary is one of my favourite herbs,’ Marnie explained. ‘It is wonderful for general health if eaten regularly. I use rosemary oil salve for rheumatism, wounds, sores, eczema, and bruises, even bad breath! It is even said to prevent baldness if used as a hair wash!’

  ‘Perhaps Lord Lazlac could use some,’ giggled Queen Ashana.

  At that moment, the man himself wandered over to join them. Lord Lazlac bowed stiffly, inclining his head slightly. Queen Ashana hid her surprise. It was the third day in a row that Governor Lazlac had come into the herb garden to chat with the prisoners.

  ‘Good morning, Lord Lazlac,’ she replied politely, with a nod, mindful of Lazlac’s threats against her son and her retainers.

  ‘Lady Ashana, how do you do today?’ Governor Lazlac grimaced.

  ‘Quite well, considering,’ Queen Ashana responded icily, irritated as usual by Lord Lazlac’s refusal to acknowledge her title.

  ‘I thought you might like to walk with me, a bit further afield today,’ Lord Lazlac suggested. ‘There is a rose garden on the other side of the kitchens which is quite lovely.’

  It was on the tip of Queen Ashana’s tongue to haughtily refuse. Then she thought longingly of her beloved roses. It would be nice to have a change of scene, however briefly, even if it meant the company of this odious enemy.

  ‘Thank you. That would be delightful,’ Queen Ashana concurred.

  ‘Madam, perhaps you would be so kind as to join us,’ he said to Marnie. She had no doubt that it was an order. Together the three of them walked through the guarded gate of the enclosed herb courtyard and into the grounds outside the kitchen.

  The large kitchen garden grew many of the fresh vegetables used by the palace – spinach, lettuces, tomatoes, capsicums, cucumbers, strawberries and beans. The area was neatly maintained, with raised vegetable beds mulched with straw. One of the gardeners was at work weeding.

  He bowed low when he saw the queen, his hand over his heart and his eyes lowered.

  Queen Ashana gazed longingly at the wide windows in the palace wall. She saw a large round figure inside, peering out the windows. The figure waved frantically.

  The queen’s heart leapt. Cookie! Queen Ashana maintained her dignified face, but hidden behind her back she made a secret thumbs-up gesture towards the palace kitchen windows. Cookie waved back in acknowledgement.

  On the other side of the kitchen gardens was another high stone wall with a wrought-iron gate. The motifs of the sun and sickle moon were wrought into the design. A waft of delicious perfume escaped through the gate as Lord Lazlac opened it and waved them through.

  ‘The Garden of Sun and Moon,’ murmured Queen Ashana softly.

  Marnie stopped, in awe of the charming landscape design before her.

  High stone walls sheltered the rectangular area from the wind. There were two large circular plant beds, surrounded by low box hedges, both filled with rose bushes laden with spring blooms. In one circle, the roses were pure white, while in the other circle the roses were rich gold, tinged with orangey red.

  The smell was divine, heavy and rich.

  A pathway of white stone flagging circled the gardens, surrounded by velvet green lawns. The very centre of the design was a circle of white paving with a tinkling sun fountain. On each side of its base were carvings of the moon in each of its different phases – full, sickle, waxing and waning.

  ‘The Garden of Sun and Moon symbolises the harmony between light and dark, day and night, male and female, water and earth – equal and opposite powers, without which we could not survive,’ Queen Ashana murmured.

  Marnie nodded appreciatively, overcome by its tranquil beauty.

  ‘Quite,’ replied Lord Lazlac shortly. ‘Actually, I am planning to dig up this particular site. I am going to build a small temple to Krad here. Of course the main temple will be built down in the city. We have already started to raze blocks of houses on the south side of the city.’

  Queen Ashana’s eyes filled with tears. She remembered many delightful afternoons sitting in the sunny garden, with her husband, King Radnor, at her side, talking about the day’s events, and planning court policies. Many times Roana and Caspar had run, laughing and playing on the lawns, throwing balls and playing chasings.

  Now this man wanted to destroy her favourite refuge and build a temple to his own dark god.

  Lord Lazlac continued talking, oblivious to the feelings of his two companions as he enthusiastically expounded on his plans for the temple.

  ‘The main temple will be built from black basalt and will cover most of the site. A statue of Krad, six metres high, will be carved from solid stone, and will be hoisted into place,’ Governor Lazlac boasted. ‘I have calculated that I will need two hundred slave labourers to complete the job in time.’

  Queen Ashana was too upset to speak. As a queen, she was a master of hiding her true feelings. Summoning all her poise and composure, she smiled brightly and falsely, murmuring empty pleasantries.

  All the time she was thinking, I hate this man. I hate this man!

  It was with great relief that Queen Ashana and Marnie returned to their companions in the herb garden.

  ‘Why does that dreadful man torment me so?’ Queen Ashana whispered to Marnie when he had left them.

  ‘A small man makes himself feel greater by tormenting those who are powerless,’ Marnie replied. ‘In his case, though, I think he really believes he is being pleasant to you.’

  Queen Ashana shr
ugged in disbelief. Her steps were heavy and troubled as they walked back down to the darkness of the dungeons.

  Lord Lazlac’s steps were light and cheerful as he climbed the stairs back to his chambers. Things were going rather well, he thought to himself. Things were definitely going well.

  Far to the north, Caspar huddled closer to the meagre fire. Outside, snow howled around the tower. The cold rose up from the stone floor like a live creature winding around his ankles.

  His eyes ached and his lids felt heavy. The book in his hand was a dreary tome about the Great War, when Emperor Raef subjugated the land of Sedah and conquered the Nine Isles. It was full of gory descriptions of battles and boring lists of dates.

  Later, the priests of Krad would grill him about these statistics. His hand still smarted from the caning he had received that morning for dripping ink on his religious essay. His brain was numb and foggy with grief and boredom. The dates simply would not stay in his head but slid away like slippery eels.

  The priest of Krad came up behind him, a parchment in his hand.

  ‘Ah, Boy. How are you progressing with the Great War?’ the priest asked.

  Caspar shrugged, showing him the page he had tried to read six times.

  ‘Very good, Boy,’ the priest muttered impatiently. He knew very well that Caspar had been reading the same page for half an hour.

  ‘I have received a message from Governor Lazlac about you,’ the priest continued. ‘He says you are to be sent to the court of Emperor Raef in a few weeks.’

  A spark of mild interest came to Caspar’s eyes. I am to leave this cold, dull place at last, he thought.

  ‘You will like it in Sedah. It is very beautiful and warm and sunny there.’

  ‘Warm?’ asked Caspar, his brain struggling to remember warmth and sunshine.

  ‘Yes, very warm,’ the priest agreed. ‘You will be sent to Emperor Raef’s palace to continue your studies in the ways of Krad and Sedah. At the court you will be treated like a prince.’

  Caspar doubted it, after the way the priests of Krad had treated him so far, but anywhere must be better than here. Despair welled up in him again. He just wanted to go home, to be back with his family and his pets and his own room in Tira.

  ‘Governor Lazlac wishes you to write a letter to the former queen informing her that you are going to live with Emperor Raef,’ the priest said.

  An image of his mother rushed into his memory. Where was she? Why hadn’t she come for him? Did she think of him as often as he thought of her? The tears welled up and Caspar blinked rapidly to hide them from the priest. Caspar shook his head to dispel the memory and the tears.

  The priest of Krad picked up his short thin rod and pointed to a clean sheet of parchment. Caspar’s hands clenched involuntarily, anticipating the sudden swish and pain of that vicious cane.

  ‘Governor Lazlac has dictated the letter he wishes you to write,’ the priest purred. ‘We will begin now.’

  Caspar sighed and picked up the quill. He would be careful not to spill ink on this parchment.

  Queen Ashana’s hands shook as she held a parchment covered in big round childish handwriting. Great sobs racked her and tears spilled down her face.

  She turned away from Captain Malish, who stood smirking at her side, enjoying the Queen’s discomfiture.

  Marnie rushed across the cell to the queen’s side. ‘Your highness, what’s wrong?’

  Too distressed to speak, Queen Ashana thrust the parchment into Marnie’s hands.

  To Ashana, Former Queen of Tiregian, I am writing to you to bid you farewell. In a few weeks I will be leaving my home here with the priests of Krad and travelling to join his royal and most fearful majesty, Emperor Raef, in Sedah.

  I am very excited about going to Sedah. I am told it is very beautiful there, with glorious palaces. I am learning much about the ways of Krad and of the emperor’s court, so I am very eager to see Sedah for myself.

  I will not be writing to you again as the priests of Krad wisely believe it is better for me to forget my old life and embrace my new role at the emperor’s side.

  Farewell and goodbye.

  Yours sincerely,

  ‘What short memories the young have,’ sneered Captain Malish. ‘No gratitude, any of them! A couple of weeks and he forgets his own mother.’

  Marnie looked murderously at Captain Malish, who sniggered again and then left the cell.

  Marnie went over to where Queen Ashana was sitting despondently in the corner, twisting the silk of her skirts between her agitated fingers. Marnie dropped down next to her and returned the parchment.

  ‘The letter means nothing, your highness,’ Marnie said confidently. ‘He may have been coerced into writing it. It was probably dictated to him. At least you know he is alive and well.’

  Queen Ashana sobbed again at the dreadful thought of her youngest child coerced by his kidnappers in some faraway place.

  Marnie read the letter again. She noticed the large looping signature, so different to the neat round handwriting above it.

  ‘Your highness? How do you spell Caspar? I thought it was C A S P A R?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ snapped Queen Ashana. ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, Caspar has signed the letter C A double-S P A R,’ Marnie replied. ‘It is a little unusual. I think he was trying to tell you something. Also, there is this ink blot on the R at the end of his name. It looks suspiciously to me like a little love heart.’

  Queen Ashana snatched the letter back and studied the signature closely.

  ‘You are right,’ the Queen agreed thoughtfully. ‘That is not his usual signature, or his usual handwriting. It is so neat and grown up. Caspar always wrote in a hurry, smudging the ink and making a mess of his letters.’

  Marnie smiled.

  ‘I think he is trying to tell you that he is not quite as compliant as our gaolers would have you believe,’ Marnie whispered. ‘I think he is trying to tell you that he still has some spirit left despite what Governor Lazlac tells you. I think he is trying to tell you that he still loves you.’

  Queen Ashana smiled through her tears and picked up the parchment as though it were a great treasure. She read it again and again, then tucked it away into the bodice of her dress where she could feel it next to her skin.

  During the afternoon clouds started to gather on the horizon, slowly building up into a dark mass.

  ‘Do you think we will have another storm?’ asked Roana nervously.

  ‘No, not tonight. These clouds are too high. In fact, these clouds are good,’ Fox observed optimistically. ‘They’ll hide what little moon there is and make it harder for the Sedahs to see us.’

  From midafternoon, the Owl no longer skimmed south, but bobbed in the ocean. Fox sent orders for all the sails to be dropped and folded, put away and replaced. The new sails were all black – painted with diluted pitch.

  ‘My invisibility wings,’ Fox joked. ‘With the moon’s face hidden, all the lanterns doused and black sails, no-one will be able to see us until it’s too late.’

  Fox suggested that everyone except Jack should try to sleep, to prepare for the hoped-for arrival of the Sea Dragon sometime in the early morning.

  When Jack came to wake them at midnight, it was chilly. Everyone dressed quickly in black silk shirts, black woollen caps and black cloaks over their usual breeches and skirts.

  Ethan made hot coffee and cold beef sandwiches. Everyone was too nervous to eat much but they sipped on the coffee gratefully, as the warmth woke them up.

  The sails were hoisted once more, and the Owl set off sailing back and forth, east to west and back again. All hands were on deck, eyes peeled to the north, searching for a sign of the Sea Dragon.

  Fox gave orders that everyone was to be totally silent. The ocean was calm tonight and sounds would carry a great distance. Fox wanted nothing to give warning of their presence to the Sea Dragon.

  One hour crawled by. Two hours crawled by. Eyes strained through the darkness. Many
times someone gave a quick breath, only to strangle it as they realised the flash of white was not a sail but merely a splash of foam and spume.

  Slowly the waxing crescent moon started to rise over the horizon. The roiling clouds scudded across the fingernail moon’s face, making it flash from dark shadow to pale silvery light.

  The excited nervous feeling turned to a sick dread. What if they had missed the Sea Dragon in the storm? What if their whole voyage had been a waste of time and it was already too late?

  Everyone huddled into their cloaks. It was getting colder, standing still in the breezy night air.

  It was Jack, with his sharp eyes, who spied it first. He cried out softly and pointed to starboard. The horizon looked just the same – dark and empty. Fox sprang over to take a closer look. In a few moments, everyone could see what Jack had spied.

  There was a light. A cheery, warm fairy light that bobbed and disappeared again, then reappeared on the northern horizon.

  Was it the Sea Dragon?

  ‘It’s about four nautical miles away,’ Fox whispered. ‘It should be upon us in less than an hour. Remember, absolute silence and no lights.’

  Fox signalled orders to trim the sails and come around. With her pitch black sails, and the cloud cover, the Owl was truly almost invisible. Everyone watched anxiously as the little light slowly bobbed closer. Soon they could pick out a pale smudge of sails against the night sky.

  Half an hour later, a breath of excitement flickered around the Owl. In the darkness, Jack had finally recognised the distinctive figurehead on the prow of the ship – a proud carving of a sea dragon. It was the ship they had been dreaming about for days – the formidable, fully armed Sedah warship, the Sea Dragon.

  Fox watched the approach of the ship carefully, so he could choose when to slip behind the Sea Dragon. He hoped to come up as close as possible without being seen, then use the rowboat to come aboard.

  Fox whispered orders and everyone leapt to obey. Roana had to fetch an iron pot from the galley, filled with hot coals, and a couple of flares. Lily had to fetch a shuttered oil lamp, with the flame hidden inside, and a bundle of the fire arrows that were fitted with tufts of hemp soaked in sticky black pitch. These were stowed in the rowboat.