The Land of Roar

by Jenny McLachlan

  ‘Hurry up!’ Stella calls back to us, before a wave crashes over the rock, hiding them from view.

  Win and I jump on to the last rock and run to join the girls who are bunched together in the middle. I feel exposed on this wide rock with the Crow’s Nest so near. Plus the crack runs right through it, almost splitting it in two.

  ‘Quick,’ I say to Rose. ‘Call them.’

  Rose puts two fingers to her lips and whistles. The sound is immediately drowned out by the waves.

  ‘Will that really work?’ asks Stella.

  ‘I was there when they hatched,’ says Rose, firmly. ‘My voice was the first they heard. They will hear me.’

  I look up. Rose sounds different. Rose sounds like a Master of Roar. And she’s standing like one too: on her own at the edge of the group, back straight, staring towards land and watching for her dragons.

  The rest of us haven’t quite got her confidence. We huddle up, shifting uncomfortably and willing the dragons to appear. Suddenly a lone crow circles above us. It caws, its beady eyes watching us closely. Win meets my eye. Like me, he’s wondering if this is just a curious bird or one of Crowky’s spies.

  ‘There!’ Rose points at two dots far away in the sky. ‘The dragons are coming.’

  The sight of the two huge dragons approaching is a relief, but it makes me feel more exposed. Perhaps the others feel it too, because we gather even closer together. ‘This is it,’ says Stella. ‘We need to get going, tackle the last bit of the Magic Road, but first we do our war cry. Girls?’

  The Lost Girls know what to do. ‘Lost Girls! Lost Girls! LOST GIRLS! LOST GIRLS!’ they chant, their voices rising above the sound of the sea. At the same time they stomp their feet up and down, and I can’t help glancing nervously at the crack that cuts across the rock.

  With a final yell of ‘LOST GIRLS!’ they fall silent.

  Stella turns to me and Rose. ‘Go on. Your turn. Say your thing.’

  Despite her new-found confidence, Rose develops a sudden fascination with her feet so I’m forced to lift my fist in the air and shout, ‘Hear me roar!’ I sound totally pathetic.

  ‘Rooooaaaar!’ goes Win, clawing at the air with his hands. He doesn’t help.

  ‘That’s it? ’ Stella yells. ‘We’re about to fight the scarecrow army for your grandad and that’s all the encouragement you can give us?’

  ‘I know,’ I say, my teeth chattering from the cold, ‘and we’re massively grateful, but look at the sky. It’s almost morning. You need to get going!’

  Stella opens her mouth, but before she can speak Rose steps forward. ‘I have got something to say, but it’s not the “hear me roar” thing.’ Everyone turns to look at her and she raises her voice so she can be heard over the wind and waves. ‘I just wanted to tell you that our grandad is a man worth saving.’

  ‘Go on,’ says Stella. ‘We’re listening.’

  ‘When I was little I got everyone to come and watch me fly down the stairs. Only it turned out I was just jumping with my eyes shut and flapping my arms. Grandad said that the only reason it didn’t work was because I didn’t have wings.’ She pauses and takes a deep breath. ‘So he made me a pair out of real feathers; they were beautiful and soft, and when we went to the beach and I put them on and ran across the sand Grandad said he saw me fly. He said I was magnificent.’

  The Lost Girls are listening to Rose with wide eyes, their hair sticking in wet strands to their cheeks. ‘Flying was the second best thing that’s ever happened to me,’ says Rose, ‘and it was Grandad who made it happen, just by believing in me. He’s an amazing person and he doesn’t deserve to be locked up by Crowky.’ Rose looks in turn at Win, Stella and the Lost Girls. ‘I just wanted to say that I know we can do this . . . because I believe in you.’ Her eyes settle on me. ‘I believe in all of you.’

  For a moment there is silence.

  Then the rock beneath our feet starts to shake, and a groaning comes from the sea as the water starts to froth and foam.

  ‘What’s going on?’ says Stella.

  ‘Look!’ I point at the crack in the rock. Stones and earth are bubbling up inside it as the two sides tremble and shift up and down. We’re thrown from side to side, and I’m about to turn and made a dash for the next rock, when I realise that the crack isn’t getting bigger. It’s getting smaller, and in front of our eyes it seals shut like a zip.

  ‘Imaginary,’ Win whispers.

  I sigh with relief. ‘Totally!’ Then I glance back along the Magic Road and what I see makes my blood run cold. Rock by rock, the Magic Road is disappearing into the sea.

  Rose sees it too. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I think you mended Roar,’ I say.

  ‘And now the crack’s gone, the sea is coming back!’ cries Win.

  Rose turns to Stella. ‘You’ve got to get to the castle! Quickly!’

  Stella doesn’t hesitate. She shouts an instruction and the Lost Girls jump on to the next rock and run forward.

  ‘Do you think they’ll make it?’ says Win.

  ‘Will we make it?’ I say, my eyes flicking from the approaching dragons to the vanishing rocks. A huge wave is sweeping towards us now, a tsunami, and it’s swallowing up the Magic Road.

  Rose whistles again, but I don’t think the dragons can go any faster. They’re diving towards us, wings back, snouts down, their talons grazing the sea. They’re racing the wave, overtaking it.

  We stand at the edge of the rock, trying to give the dragons as much room as possible to land. Pickle comes first, skidding to a stop by our feet. Rose leaps forward and scrambles on to his back. ‘Gobo, Gobo!’ she cries, and they’re off, clearing the rock seconds before Vlad crashes down.

  Then the wave hits.

  I throw myself at Vlad’s side and my fingers find a spike as the water sucks at my legs. Win grabs hold of a spike too. ‘GOBO! ’ I cry, and Vlad rises up in the air plucking us out of the sea. As he chases after Pickle we heave our soaking bodies on to his back.

  I look down. The Lost Girls have almost reached the Crow’s Nest, but the wave is catching up with them. Stella is at the front. She takes a giant leap, landing on the rock that forms the base of the castle. As the rest of the Lost Girls pile after her, the castle’s doors swing open. A scarecrow appears in the doorway, then another, and another, and then they’re pouring out, charging straight towards the Lost Girls. Crows follow them, bursting out of the door and the windows of the castle and diving after the scarecrows.

  There is one girl left on the Magic Road. She jumps, her braids flying behind her. Then the wave hits.

  Vlad sweeps round the side of the Crow’s Nest and the Lost Girls are hidden from view.

  Rose takes Pickle out to sea, and we follow.

  The sight of the last girl disappearing behind the wave is seared on to my mind. My instinct tells me to go back, but I tell myself that the Lost Girls look after each other and Stella wouldn’t lose one of her girls.

  Right now it’s Grandad who needs me.

  ‘Fobastober!’ I shout. But I barely need to instruct Vlad. He’s flying so fast that his nose almost brushes Pickle’s tail. Ahead, Pickle starts to turn, rising up at the same time. I know what Rose is doing. She wants Pickle in the perfect position ready for the dive towards the cave.

  ‘Can you see it?’ calls Win.

  I scan the rocky cliff below the castle, looking for the entrance to the cave, but before I’ve even spotted it Rose yells, ‘Foborwobard!’ and commands Pickle to dive straight towards the cliff face. Vlad follows. At first I think we’re heading towards sheer rock, then I see a black opening, more a crack than a cave. ‘Dobive, DOBIVE!’ cries Rose and the dragons throw back their wings as they shoot towards the crack.

  Win grabs my shoulder. ‘Arthur . . . I’ve got a bad feeling about this!’

  My hands tighten on the spike. The air screams past me. Like Win I can’t quite believe this is going to work. The cave looks tiny, and the dragons’ wings are so wide. We can’t
enter the cave head on, but if we tilt, we might make it.

  ‘I’m shutting my eyes!’ Win cries. ‘I can’t watch.’

  I can’t shut my eyes. Even if we wanted to, we’re going too fast to turn the dragons now, and Rose is already urging Pickle further and further over until his wing is pointing towards the sea. ‘Lobeft . . . Lobeft.’ I press my leg into Vlad’s neck. I’m not sure if I need to. Already he’s started to turn. I squeeze my hands tighter round the spike and Win clings on to me.  This is it, I think as the cliff looms up to meet us.  This is it.

  With a cry Pickle soars inside the cave. At the last second he throws out a ball of fire and I have no choice but to fly Vlad straight into the flames. I shut my eyes and brace my body, preparing for anything. I feel burning flames brush over my skin followed by blackness and then blissfully cool air.

  I open my eyes. ‘Win, we’re in the cave!’ My voice echoes in the darkness. ‘We did it! WE DID IT!’

  Vlad roars, lighting up the tunnel and I see that we’re still flying over the sea. Ahead Pickle is preparing to land next to the huge bulk of the Raven.

  ‘Vlad, slobow dobown!’ I shout as we shoot past the Raven. Vlad pulls in his wings and stretches out his talons.

  ‘Can I look?’ Win yells.

  ‘Not yet!’

  Vlad lands with a crash, sending me and Win tumbling to the rocky ground.

  Rose pulls us up. ‘Can you believe it?’ her whispered voice echoes around us. ‘We actually did it!’

  I look up. The Raven towers over us. The ship is tall and narrow, the perfect shape to slip in and out of the cave. She sways gently in her mooring, her ancient timbers creaking as waves lap against her side. Water drips and the cave is filled with the Raven ’s smell of tar and tanned leather.

  Finally we’re inside the Crow’s Nest . . .

  ‘We have to move fast.’ I half run towards the back of the cave and Rose follows. ‘Even if Crowky didn’t see us on the dragons he’ll know that the attack has got something to do with us. He’s probably searching the castle right now!’

  Win calls after us, ‘Do I have to stay here?’

  ‘Yes, we agreed,’ says Rose. ‘You have to look after the dragons. They’re our getaway vehicles.’

  ‘But why me?’ Win stares back at the Raven. ‘That thing gives me the creeps.’

  The ship’s sails are down, but there’s still something chilling about the way the oily leather ripples in the breeze, like she’s a sleeping creature waiting to spring into life. We’ve never seen the Raven like this, inside the Crow’s Nest.

  ‘It’s a boat,’ I say, ‘that’s all . . . She just looks menacing.’

  Win nods, then runs over and pulls us to him. ‘Be careful. I want to see three of you coming back, not two . . . and definitely not zero.’

  It isn’t like Win to be so worried. But I understand. This place feels rotten. Even the dragons look unsettled. They’re pacing the flat rock, deep growls rumbling inside them and smoke seeping from their mouths.

  ‘We will,’ I say, then we wriggle from his arms and run towards a wide stone staircase. It’s lit by flickering torches and as we go up, taking the stairs two at a time, our long shadows dance along the wall.

  ‘Don’t let those dragons go anywhere!’ Rose calls back, then we turn a corner and we’re on our own in the Crow’s Nest.

  The staircase turns in a wide spiral.

  Each time we go round a corner we’re expecting to come face to face with a scarecrow, but no one is there. We don’t stop to think about what’s happened to Crowky’s guards, we just take our chance and run as fast as we can.

  The walls are splattered with crusty white goo, feathers and dirty straw. The muck spreads under our feet, muffling our footsteps. We climb higher. The air gets colder. Soon I can see puffs of mist each time I breathe out. At the top of the staircase we burst out into a round, dimly lit chamber with passageways leading in all directions. It’s vast, like a cathedral, and it’s filthy and smells unmistakably of bird.

  Rose looks dismayed. ‘Which way do we go? We need a map!’ Her voice echoes around us.

  A map . . . I feel in my back pocket. ‘We’ve got one!’

  ‘That can’t help us,’ says Rose. ‘We’ve never been here so we won’t have put these tunnels on the map.’

  But I’m already unfolding it, remembering something odd that I saw in Grandad’s attic. I hold the map up to the light of a torch.

  ‘There.’ I point at the picture of the Crow’s Nest. Just below it is a series of squiggly lines. My eyes flicked over it in the attic, but now I see that these aren’t random scribbles at all: they show the tunnels we’re standing in.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ whispers Rose. ‘Mitch must have told us about this. She’s the only one who came in here.’ With her finger she traces the narrow entrance of the sea cave to a tiny set of stairs. ‘We’re here.’ She points at a spot where six passageways lead off in different directions.

  ‘And look.’ I’ve found a circular chamber with ‘dungun’ written above it. I trace backwards from the dungeon to the point on the map where we are standing, like I’m doing a maze in a puzzle book.

  ‘It’s that one.’ Rose nods towards the opening directly in front of us.

  I stuff the map back in my pocket – secretly thanking Mitch, wherever she is – and we run into the wide passageway. Like the stairs, it curves round and round and seems to rise upwards. The walls are coated in the same feathery muck and every now and then my feet slip in something, but we keep going until we turn a corner and enormous pale moths with milky eyes flit around our heads.

  ‘Seriously creepy,’ whispers Rose.

  I nod, batting the moths away. I can’t shake the feeling that something about this feels wrong, and it’s not just the giant moths. It’s too quiet down here. Would Crowky really leave his dungeons unguarded? The silence makes me jumpy and I start to see movements in the shadows and imagine scarecrows creeping up behind us, or worse, Crowky.

  ‘Come on,’ says Rose, pulling me on.

  The passageway straightens out into a gloomy tunnel with thick wooden doors set into the walls. Each door has a rusting lock and sliding hatch. They look like cells and strange sounds drift from behind some of them: flutters and stamps and scratches. Rose and I look at each other. Grandad could be behind any one of these doors.

  Trying to make as little noise as possible, I slide back the hatch on the first door and peer inside. Cool air brushes against my face and in the gloom I see cages lining the walls. At first I think they’re empty, but then shapes creep forward and eyes blink back at me. Two wings emerge from a cage and curl round the bars like fingers. I’ve never seen creatures like this in Roar. They’re like crows but far bigger.

  ‘There are cages,’ I whisper to Rose, ‘lots of them, with birds inside. At least, I think they’re birds.’

  I step back so she can see.

  She shakes her head. ‘Whatever they are, they shouldn’t be locked up in this disgusting place. We have to let them out!’

  She goes to try the door handle, but I pull her back. ‘No. We don’t know what they’ll do. We can’t do anything that might stop us from finding Grandad!’

  Reluctantly Rose nods, and we continue down the passageway, peering into each chamber as we go. We don’t find Grandad, but we see a lot of unsettling things: a workshop with a collection of half-made scarecrows propped against the walls and sack heads arranged on a shelf; a laboratory with potions bubbling in flasks; there’s even a room filled with dusty-looking creatures – a mermaid with peeling scales, a unicorn resting against the wall, a whole line of tiny furries.

  ‘I think these are all things that got stuffed and stayed stuffed,’ I say, then we check carefully to make sure Grandad isn’t propped up in there with them.

  It all feels horribly unfamiliar. Until now, no matter how strange everything has been in Roar, Rose or I have had a connection to it. Even Crowky is made up of things I hate. But these
cells have nothing to do with us. We’re in Crowky’s world now.

  The last cell is different. It contains nothing but cardboard boxes.

  I know these boxes are important, but I can’t remember why. Just the sight of them sends a shiver slipping down my spine. I slam the hatch shut.

  ‘He’s not in there,’ I say. ‘Let’s go.’

  But Rose isn’t listening. She’s staring at something scratched into the wall of the tunnel. ‘Pictures,’ she says, and in the dim light I see them too: a jumble of images and symbols scored over and over again on the walls.

  Rose seems hypnotised by them. ‘Come on.’ I pull her away. ‘We’ve wasted enough time here already.’

  We run away from the cells down the passageway. It’s even wider here, and colder. A lone moth brushes against my face.

  ‘Look!’ says Rose.

  Up ahead is a huge doorway. It rises to the ceiling and has a shape burnt into it: two upturned wings that seem to form a smile. We rush forward and Rose has to use both hands to pull back the bolt. Then we push against the door. It won’t budge, so we throw all our weight against it, again and again. Until it bursts open with a deafening squeal.

  And there, standing on a stone platform, his arms outstretched, his eyes staring into space and his ankles clamped in chains, is Grandad.

  ‘Grandad!’ We tear across the chamber and clamber on to the platform.

  Grandad doesn’t move – he can’t move – and as I throw my arms round him I realise how cold he is. It’s like I’m hugging a scarecrow dressed in Grandad’s clothes. I even hear the crackle of something that might be straw when I squeeze him tight.

  ‘We’re here, Grandad.’ Rose’s voice trembles as she tugs at his cardigan. ‘We’ve come to take you home.’

  I cup my hands round his face. His beard feels spiky. His cheeks cold as stone. His cardigan smells faintly of coffee. ‘Grandad . . . can you hear us?’