The Land of Roar

by Jenny McLachlan

  Only it doesn’t appear, and after half an hour all that’s happened is Win’s done some more rubbish magic and I’ve got an achy bum. ‘It’s just waves, Win,’ I say. ‘Loads and loads of waves.’

  ‘Look . . .!’ He scrambles forward and points. ‘There it is: the Magic Road!’

  All I can see is the sea, same as before, but then a wave sucks back and I spot something just under the surface. It’s a big flat rock covered in seaweed. And then I see another and another, until the waves roll over them and they disappear.

  ‘They’ll come back,’ says Win. He’s right. Slowly the tide goes out, making the sea level drop until a whole line of rocks is revealed. The rocks stretch all the way to the Crow’s Nest.

  ‘I found it the day after the ground cracked open,’ says Win. ‘This is where the crack runs out across the sea and somehow it pushed the land up, although you can only see it at low tide.’ He nudges me and grins. ‘If we follow it, we can stroll up to the Crow’s Nest and walk right in!’

  I look at the chain of rocks. They do lead to the Crow’s Nest, but it’s not like any road I’ve ever seen. A road is smooth and covered in tarmac, and you can travel along it safely. But these rocks have great big gaps between them – like giants’ stepping stones – and in some places the road is just a pile of boulders covered in seaweed. I squint into the distance. ‘You really think we can go along there and get to the Crow’s Nest?’

  Win nods confidently. ‘I know we can. I’ve done it!’

  ‘Really? You climbed over all those rocks, jumped over the gaps, and got to the castle before the tide came in?’

  ‘Well, not all the way,’ Win admits, ‘but close. It was getting dark and I was hungry and I saw this massive octopus.’ He shivers. ‘It really freaked me out . . . but I’m sure I could have done it if I’d wanted to.’

  I lean forward. The road starts about halfway down the cliff. ‘How did you even get on to the first rock?’

  Win’s eyes light up. ‘That’s the best bit: to get to the Magic Road we have to go down the Magic Tunnel!’

  Of course we do. Before I can even ask what the Magic Tunnel is, Win’s jumped up and climbed on his bike. ‘Come on,’ he says.

  I cycle after Win back the way we’ve just come. After a few minutes he stops and points at the ground. ‘Look.’ The crack disappears into the rock face at this point, but when Win lifts a curtain of shrivelled ivy I realise that it’s actually cut a narrow tunnel right through the rock.

  ‘Behold the Magic Tunnel,’ Win says, then he pushes off and cycles between the leaves.

  I follow him down the dripping tunnel, the wheels on my bike slithering over wet stones. Win starts whooping as our bikes shoot along, getting faster and faster.

  ‘What’s so magical about this tunnel?’ I shout, ducking to avoid a dangling root.

  ‘It’s so steep!’ Win cries, and I see that he’s right. The tunnel is sloping dramatically downhill. I squeeze my brakes. Then I remember that I don’t have any brakes.

  My bike picks up speed. ‘Win . . . where does this tunnel come out?’

  ‘Here!’ he cries, hitting his brakes. ‘Right on the Magic Road!’ I swerve to the left and zoom past him. Directly ahead is the opening of the tunnel. ‘Mate!’ Win calls. ‘You might want to slow down!’

  I put my feet on the ground, but all this does is make tiny stones fly up in my face. ‘I CAN’T!’ I yell and my bike hurtles out of the tunnel straight towards a thin spit of rock covered in seaweed. I see the flash of waves smashing against it as I shoot straight across it

  ‘Keep pedalling!’ yells Win. ‘And don’t look down!’

  I do what he says. I don’t have any choice. I zoom along the spit of rock until it opens out into a lovely wide space. Suddenly the wheels of my bike skid on a fat bit of seaweed, the bike slips out from under me and I crash down. Sea spray rains down and the wheels on the bike spin.

  Win laughs. ‘SO GNARLY!’

  I lift up my head and see him standing at the mouth of the tunnel. After carefully propping his bike up, he picks his way over the narrow rock, avoiding the worst bits of seaweed and pausing whenever a particularly large wave strikes.

  He helps me to my feet. ‘That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I was tempted to try it myself, but, you know . . .’

  ‘You didn’t want to die?’ I pull seaweed out of my hair and shuffle towards the middle of the rock where it feels a bit safer.

  ‘Yeah, something like that.’

  ‘So what now?’ I look along the line of rocks that leads to the Crow’s Nest. From down here the castle manages to appear both enormous and unnervingly far away. Mist drifts across the sea and starts to roll over the Magic Road.

  ‘We start jumping,’ says Win. ‘It’s fun.’

  He walks to the edge of the rock we’re standing on and takes a big leap, landing on the next one.

  I go to follow him, but when I get to the edge, I stop. The rock I’m standing on is big and flat. It feels safe, but the next rock is about a metre away and it’s small and curved. Win made it look easy, just jumping across like that, but now my toes are hovering on the edge I’m not sure if I can make it. And when the waves pull back I see the drop.

  Win shouts back, ‘Do you want to save your grandad, Arthur?’ and then he’s off, leaping from one rock to the next.

  So I focus on Grandad trapped somewhere inside that castle, arms outstretched, cold and alone, and I jump across the gap. I land clumsily, my knees slamming down and my hands scraping across barnacles, then I get to my feet. One down, only another fifty or so to go. ‘I’m coming!’ I shout.

  We don’t just get to jump over rocks, we also have to climb a small cliff, inch our way along a rock so narrow it’s like walking a tightrope (a tightrope covered in seaweed) and scramble through a tunnel dripping with seawater. But still the Crow’s Nest doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.

  Once, when Rose and I were staying with Grandad, we swam out to a diving platform in the sea. From the beach it looked easy, but I soon got tired and only managed to reach the platform because Rose kept me calm. There’s no Rose to keep me calm now. Just Win, a wizard-ninja who keeps shouting, ‘MAGIC!’ at the top of his voice and laughing like a maniac whenever a big wave hits us.

  Win also does a lot of reminiscing, and seems keen to focus on all the terrible things we’ve done to Crowky. ‘Do you remember when Rose stole his head?’ he calls as he walks along a rock, his arms out for balance. ‘She put it on a unicorn’s horn and the unicorn ran into the forest and Crowky went dashing after it, bumping into trees and falling over. Oh, and then there was that time we nicked the Raven because Crowky had been terrorising the mermaids. You must remember that!’

  ‘Kind of,’ I say weakly.

  Now the mist is so thick I can only see the rock that’s directly in front of me. The Crow’s Nest is completely hidden from view. This doesn’t slow Win down. If anything, he starts to jump between the rocks even faster. ‘We tied Crowky to the mast,’ he shouts. ‘Remember? It was so funny. A bird stole some of his straw to make a nest and the mermaids came to jeer!’

  Win cackles, but I don’t. We pause on a rock high above the sea. ‘Win, don’t you think Crowky will have a serious grudge against us?’

  ‘Definitely!’

  ‘But when we get to the Crow’s Nest you’re sure we can, you know, beat him, like we used to? Even without Rose?’

  ‘Yeah . . . probably!’

  ‘Probably? Win, all we’ve got to help us fight Crowky – a scarecrow who can drain our energy just by placing his twiggy fingers on us and squeezing – is a wooden sword and some apples!’

  ‘Don’t forget my lethal wakizashi and my even more lethal magic!’

  I shake my head. ‘We’ve not thought this through properly. Rose used to come up with our best ideas. Maybe we should . . . I don’t know . . . come up with a better plan?’

  ‘A better plan than going along the Magic Road, getting int
o the Crow’s Nest, whacking Crowky and saving your grandad?’ Win slaps me on the shoulder and the mist twists around us. ‘It’s an AMAZING plan, Arthur, and don’t forget I’m half wizard. Since you’ve been gone, I’ve learned some wicked new spells.’

  ‘Really?’ This sounds promising.

  ‘Yes, I can even make fruit change colour. In fact, I’ll get into wizard mode right now so that I’m ready.’ With one hand, he pulls his hood up so that it makes a pointed hat.

  Suddenly the reality of what we’re about to do sinks in. ‘Win, this thing my grandad has, asthma, it makes it hard for him to breathe. If Crowky’s stuffed him, what will that do to his breathing?’

  ‘Well, I’ve never been stuffed, not properly, but when Crowky drained me I felt everything sort of, slow down, my breathing, my heartbeat –’

  I shake my head. ‘Win, we can’t risk mucking this up. Let’s go back and find someone who can help us get in the castle, because if Crowky catches us too, there will be no one to save Grandad, or us!’

  ‘Umm . . . Arthur?’ Win is staring ahead. ‘I think it’s too late for that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I peer into the thinning mist. At first I can’t see anything, but then I make out a black shape. It’s a figure standing dead still on a rock, arms outstretched, stick fingers spread wide. It’s wearing a black leather coat, ragged and torn, which swirls in the mist. Its head hangs forward and a pair of wings tremble in the wind. A solitary crow sits on its shoulder.

  ‘Is that . . .  Crowky ?’ I whisper.

  ‘Yep,’ says Win, and automatically we shuffle closer together.

  ‘He’s like those scarecrows we saw earlier, right?’ I stare at the top of Crowky’s head. ‘Right now he’s asleep, not at home.’

  ‘Crowky’s always at home,’ says Win. ‘Maybe he’s having a rest? Or doing it to freak us out?’

  In a flash, Crowky’s head snaps up and a pair of round button eyes lock on to mine. Win and I grab hold of each other as Crowky’s stuffed arms flop down and his wings spring open on his back. The crow takes off with a shrill caw, then Crowky’s twig fingers curl into fists and a grin spreads across his pale sack-like face.

  ‘Definitely doing it to freak us out,’ whispers Win.

  In one swift movement, Crowky crouches then springs forward and starts to jump effortlessly from rock to rock, moving closer towards us.

  ‘Crowky’s just a boy like us,’ I say, gripping Win’s arm.

  Win laughs weakly. ‘Not really a boy. More a scarecrow with wings.’

  I force myself to smile. ‘You’re right. He’s just a big straw bird!’

  ‘With powerful legs and life-sapping hands and a deranged mind and –’

  ‘Not helping, Win.’ I squeeze his arm tighter to stop my hands from shaking.

  Crowky pauses in a crouch, then bounds forward again.

  Win nudges me. ‘Don’t worry, mate. He’s outnumbered!’

  ‘But I’m no good at fighting,’ I say, my voice a whisper, even though Crowky is still a few rocks away. ‘In fact, I’ve never properly thumped anyone in my life!’

  Win snorts. ‘You’ve thumped Crowky a hundred times.’

  ‘I mean, I haven’t thumped anyone outside Roar.’ In real life, I add in my head. ‘And I don’t want to thump anyone, not even Crowky.’ My voice rises in panic. ‘At school I was a playground mediator!’

  Win’s eyes flick back to me. ‘What are you on about, Arthur?’

  ‘I’m trained to sort situations out using –’

  ‘A bag of rocks? Your fists? Nunchucks?’

  ‘No! Words.’

  Crowky takes a flying leap and lands on the rock immediately opposite ours. His shoulders are hunched and his head is angled down again. Mist wraps around him.

  ‘Words, Arthur?’ says Win. ‘Words? Crowky will eat your words, before stuffing them back into your mouth and dumping you – and your words – into the sea!’

  ‘Words are actually very powerful.’

  Crowky’s head lifts.

  ‘But are words as powerful as him ?’ Win hisses.

  Crowky’s stuffed body ripples in anticipation and his wings pull back. He stares at me and his grin spreads even wider across his moon-like face.

  I’m so scared I have to remind myself to breathe.

  ‘Arthur Trout! ’ he rasps.

  I blink and try to swallow away my fear. Underneath his leather coat Crowky’s wearing ripped black jeans with straw poking out of the holes and black hi-tops. His dirty yellow hair sticks out as wildly as his feathers.

  ‘When did he get so muscly?’ I whisper to Win. Crowky’s arms look over-stuffed, bulging with straw.

  ‘When he started eating mermaids.’

  ‘What?! ’

  He smiles weakly. ‘Joke.’

  I feel faint. ‘Win, do me a favour? Don’t do any jokes, just for a bit.’

  ‘OK, but you need to say something. This is getting weird . . .’

  He’s right. It is. Crowky is grinning at me in silence. I clear my throat and force myself to look into his hard eyes.

  ‘Hello,’ I say in a small voice.

  Win thumps me. ‘Hello? Say something tougher than that!’

  ‘Um . . . Crowky, we’ve not come to cause you any trouble –’

  ‘We have!’ shouts Win. ‘Massive trouble!’

  Now it’s my turn to thump him. ‘We just want my grandad back. I don’t want to blame you for something you haven’t done, but all the evidence seems to point towards you having stolen him . . .’ Crowky still doesn’t speak. He just watches me, his button eyes glittering. ‘Maybe “stolen” isn’t quite the right word. I mean, maybe you were trying to help him? Was that it? If so, thank you for helping my grandad, but I’d like to take him home now . . . please. Perhaps we could all go back to the Crow’s Nest and collect him?’

  Crowky raises a hand and points a knobbly twig finger at me. ‘I am going to get you, Arthur Trout.’ His voice is a rusty-nail snarl. ‘I am going to get you and your sister just like I got your pathetic, snivelling Grandad!’

  Something hot, like fire, stirs inside me, a flicker of something that I haven’t felt for a long time. I let go of Win and step forward. ‘My grandad has never snivelled in his life!’

  The wind whips my words away and Crowky’s eyes widen in delight. ‘Oh yes he has. He snivelled when I found him in that tunnel and pulled him into Roar, he snivelled when I chained him up in my dungeon, and he snivelled when I ripped this off his back!’ He flings open his jacket to reveal that he’s wearing Grandad’s ‘NO PROB-LLAMA!’ T-shirt.

  I shake my head in horror. ‘What sort of . . . weirdo steals an old man’s T-shirt?’

  Crowky laughs and points at himself with both twig thumbs. ‘This sort of weirdo! But he still didn’t shut up, Arthur, so today I was forced to drain all the moaning and snivelling out of him.’ As he says these words his hands press together in front of him, like he’s reliving the moment he crushed the life out of Grandad.

  ‘You stuffed my grandad?’ My voice is weak.

  ‘Oh yes, Arthur!’ he says with delight. ‘He’s a scarecrow now.’

  Horror crashes through me as hard as the waves hitting the rocks by my feet. Win puts his hand on my shoulder, keeping me steady on my feet.

  ‘Where’s Rose by the way?’ says Crowky, his eyes flicking behind us. ‘I thought I’d be catching two little Trouts today. Don’t you two come as a pair?’

  I lift my chin up. ‘Rose isn’t here,’ I say, and I’m actually glad she didn’t crawl with me into the camp bed. No matter what Rose has done, I never want her to feel this scared.

  Crowky smiles. ‘Then I’ll have to make do with what I’ve got. Do you think your grandad would enjoy a dip in the Bottomless Ocean?’ He peers down at the crashing waves. ‘It’s difficult to swim when you can’t move a muscle.’

  I lunge forward, but Win pulls me back, shouting, ‘Weapons, Arthur, weapons!’

  I stick my hand into
my rucksack and pull out a wooden sword. Win holds his wakizashi in one hand, and his wand in the other.

  ‘Wait!’ he whispers. ‘I’ll hit him with a snaring spell. He won’t be able to move and you can go up there and thump him.’ Before I can say anything Win has leaped forward, raised his wand high above his head and cried, ‘Pigeon fudge!’

  There’s a bang, and stars and smoke burst from his wand. When the smoke clears we see that the wakizashi is now tightly gripped in Crowky’s hand. With a cackle he swishes it through the air.

  ‘I think I did the sharing spell by mistake,’ cries Win. ‘Did I say “pigeon fudge” or “smidgen fudge”?’

  But we don’t have time to discuss Win’s spectacularly rubbish magic, because Crowky has raised the wakizashi high above his head and is already leaping through the air towards our rock.

  ‘RUN!’ I yell.

  We turn and run.

  But we’ve only taken a few steps before we realise our path is blocked.

  The rock behind us is now packed full of scarecrows. There are more than I can count and they are pushing and shoving at each other, apparently desperate to get at us.

  ‘Where did they come from?’ I whisper.

  ‘The Raven,’ says Win.

  Further along the Magic Road Crowky’s battleship is tethered to a rock. It must have crept up in the mist and now it’s creaking and groaning as waves smash against it. Crows circle around the sails, their caws sounding like laughter. I see more scarecrows jump from her deck, then like a swarm of scurrying creatures they rush to join the pack standing opposite us. The scarecrows stare through mismatched button eyes. Wisps of straw float off them as they hunch forward, preparing to attack. Some smile.

  Some snarl. Their stick fingers twitch.

  Crowky is behind us, his army is in front of us, and all around are the waves of the Bottomless Ocean. We’re trapped.

  ‘The mission hasn’t quite gone according to plan,’ says Win as the scarecrows inch closer.