by SJB Gilmour
‘There. All done.’ Demeter held out her hand and her basket drifted up off the ground and floated over to her grasp. ‘Beetroot?’ She offered Mel. She turned to Sarah, who had resumed her human form and was trying to get dressed again. ‘Beetroot?’
Sarah and Mel both took a beetroot and thanked the goddess gratefully. Sarah bowed again. When she looked up again, Demeter was gone.
‘Well, ladies,’ Angela announced in a much brighter voice, ‘we’ve got what we came for. Time to rejoin the others!’ She clapped her hands and then created another portal. Sarah and Mel followed her through to portal to Benjamin’s house in Gembrook.
‘You don’t understand.’ Uncle Benjamin was arguing with Melanie’s parents David and Susan. ‘We can’t just arrive on Cromwell’s doorstep and expect him to take us in to browse his library. We’ll have to have a good reason.’
Sitting around the table was also Aunt Roberta, Uncle Robert and lounging indolently with his feet up on the table was James.
David looked sideways at his pregnant wife. ‘Suz, he has a point. Mel’s education could do with his input.’
Susan sighed. ‘Very well. You let Mel study under him, but only if Angela and Sarah stay with her.’
Benjamin chuckled. ‘As if we could separate them.’ He paused as Sarah, Mel and Angela appeared. ‘Did you get it?’ he asked, forgetting all about his discussion with Susan.
‘What did Apollo want in return?’ Aunt Roberta asked.
‘Where did you get those?’ James demanded, scrambling to his feet.
Angela smiled and handed him her beetroot. Sarah and Mel also gave him their dirt-covered vegetables.
‘We got the piece,’ Angela reported, gesturing to Mel who now dangled the amulet out for everyone to see. ‘What Apollo wanted and what He got don’t matter right now and we got the beets from Demeter. She’s been in Her garden patch again.’
James’ eyes went wide as he gazed at the beets. ‘Oh, I gotta propagate these!’ He gathered the three beets and turned for the door.
‘Not so fast, cousin!’ Angela stepped in front of him. ‘Did you get us that ship?
James nodded. ‘Yeah, yeah. We leave on the morning tide.’ He really wanted to get to one of his greenhouses.
‘Which tide, James?’ Angela pressed, stepping in front of him again.
James rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
‘Portsmouth. There. You happy? We leave from Portsmouth in the morning.’
Angela thought for a moment. ‘Well,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s three o’clock here which means it’s five in the morning in England. We’d best get a wriggle-on.’
James nodded. ‘That’s why I want to get these divided and planted as soon as possible!’ he exclaimed. ‘Get outta my way, will ya?’
‘Won’t you be joining us?’
‘I’ll meet you there!’ James yelled over his shoulder as he rushed from the hall.
‘Ship?’ Sarah asked Angela.
‘Portsmouth?’ Mel asked.
Angela nodded at them. ‘If I’m right, and sometimes I really wish I wasn’t, I think the ship James has organised for us belongs to a very unsavoury character.’
‘Who?’ Sarah was just itching to know. Even though many of the people and creatures James did business with made her quite nervous, she loved to meet them (even though she preferred to stay upwind of most of them).
Sarah’s Aunt Roberta, who was still occasionally protective of Sarah and had a dim view of nearly all of James’ associates, growled disapprovingly.
‘Who else?’ she snarled. ‘A pirate.’
Chapter Four
‘I think he prefers the term “buccaneer,”’ Angela observed to Roberta as they approached the ship. The cold morning air in Portsmouth England was misty and heavy with the scent of the sea.
‘I don’t care what he calls himself. He’s not to be trusted.’ Roberta was looking at the ship with a disapproving expression.
Sarah looked up through the mist at the ship. It appeared most out of place, moored at the dock alongside a container ship and a fishing trawler. This ship looked as though it had sailed right out of a pirate movie. Its wooden hull was battered and patched and on the prow was a statue of a woman, nude from the waist up with a mass of snakes on her head for hair. On the side of the ship was a weathered brass plaque.
Norse Wind 1672
Proudly Enchanted by
Ottispuschenshuffen, Ottispuschenshuffen and Ottispuschenshuffen.
‘We can trust Captain Thunder,’ James argued from behind them. He had appeared out of a portal of his own and was hurrying to catch up. ‘It’s his code. Once the contract’s signed, he’s as good as one of us.’ He strode past the group and up to the side of the ship where the gangplank could be lowered from. ‘Oi!’ he yelled. ‘Thunder! You gonna let us on-board or what?’ He leaned out and kicked the side of the ship, making a loud thumping noise that was sure to be heard all through the ship.
‘Who goes there?’ an angry voice yelled out.
Sarah blinked in surprise and immediately changed form into her Golden Mane werewolf shape.
A moment later, a greasy-looking, shaggy-haired member of the crew peered over the side. He glared at them all suspiciously, with one hand resting on the hilt of a short sword belted at his side. His one good eye relaxed somewhat when he recognised James. The other eye was all grey-ish white and didn’t appear to be much use to him.
‘Oh, morning to yer, Master Isaacs, Sir,’ he called down. ‘I’ll let the Captin’ know you’re ‘ere.’
James nodded at him then turned to the others. ‘That’s Fingers,’ he told them. ‘He’s the Bosun.’
Another person peered over the side of the ship. This man had scraggly black hair tied back in a loose ponytail and an even more scraggly goatee beard. He wore a fine-looking red coat with big brass buttons which was an odd contrast with the rest of his clothes which weren’t much more than rags.
‘Ho Isaacs!’ the man yelled down in a huge voice, also an odd contrast with his slight frame.
‘G’day Thunder,’ James called back amiably. Then he turned to Sarah. ‘That’s Captain Thunder. Little bloke, big voice. Hence the name.’
‘Fingers!’ Captain Thunder yelled to his Bosun. ‘Get ‘em aboard!’
Fingers rallied several more members of the crew, each just as scraggly as he, (and all in need of a good wash, Sarah couldn’t help noticing) and the gangplank was lowered to the dock. Nobody seemed the least bit surprised at the odd assortment of passengers. Evidently, they had all probably seen werewolves, gnomes and all manner of other enchanted beings in their time.
Once everyone was on board, the plank was hauled up again and the First Mate, an enormous dark-skinned pirate dressed in flowing red pantaloons and nothing else, began bellowing orders for the crew to ready the ship to set sail.
Sarah’s eyes widened in awe at the huge man. His head was shaved and large gold earrings glinted from each ear. He appeared unarmed, though he was so hugely muscled, Sarah could imagine him hurling fully-grown men about like rag dolls.
‘That’s Whitey,’ Fingers told her in a conspiratorial whisper. ‘First Mate. Best not to get on his bad side.’
Mel was also admiring the enormous man. ‘Does he have a good side?’
Fingers grinned, showing several gaps in his smile where teeth had been knocked out.
‘Nup. C’mon, Missy. Cabins are thisaway.’ He waved at them to follow him.
As he waved, Sarah noticed why he was probably called Fingers. His left hand ended in a stump and his right had only two fingers and a thumb.
Captain Thunder stood by the ship’s helm, issuing curt orders to Whitey who then bellowed them out in a much louder voice. The crew, who to a man, seemed to be the last people likely ever to take orders from anyone, all obeyed with almost frantic speed. Sarah was relieved to follow Fingers below decks so she wasn’t in their way.
Down below, Sarah discovered most of the space
inside the ship was taken up by the cargo hold which was stuffed with bales of coffee beans, all of which were marked as different blends like “Java”, “Joe”, “Columbia” and even “Brazil”. These seemingly common names for different blends of coffee beans, Sarah knew, did not relate to the type of coffee in the bales. Rather they were code for the kind of spices smuggled within them. Java was for Nutsmeg. Brazil was for Wolfsbane and Joe stood for Strangleweed. She had no idea what Columbia represented, but she was certain it was some exotic and quite probably illegal spice from James’ plantation, Sundew Farms. The rest of the cabins and galley were all very cramped indeed.
As they made their way to their cabins, they passed a row of open lockers full of ropes and pulleys. One locker was empty and dark. It also smelled quite awfully. As they passed the empty locker, a long grey hand shot out and grabbed at Fingers. He swore and swiped at the hand with his stump.
‘Get back, you,’ he snarled. The hand shrank back and something in the shadows within the locker moaned and whimpered.
‘That’s our Imp, Engelbert,’ Fingers told them over his shoulder. ‘He stinks, but he’s harmless. Don’t worry about him.’
‘Why do you keep that thing in there?’ Ronny asked the Bosun with a grimace.
Fingers shrugged. ‘Keeps the rats under control. Less trouble than a cat, I guess.’ They came to their cabins. ‘‘Ere we are.’ Fingers then stamped away, muttering something to himself about ignorant land-lubbing gnomes.
They eased out of the harbour just before dawn. Within a few hours, the ship was bucking and rolling through vicious black waves as they steered directly southwest into the Atlantic Ocean. It was the middle of winter and the cold, wet and windy deck was an unpleasant place to be. The deck itself was slippery with icy slurry that was part snow and ice, part seawater. Ice cracked on the black ropes and the sails boomed noisily. Every now and then, chunks of ice would fall to the deck from the booms and beams.
After everyone had stowed their baggage and settled in, Benjamin, Aunt Roberta and Uncle Robert decided it was time to relax in their cabin. Sarah and Melanie of course were far too excited for that. They ventured back up to the top deck and managed to find a place near the aft of the ship where they weren’t in the way of Captain Thunder and his crew. James and Ronny arrived on the deck shortly after the girls. They wandered over to the rail to stand beside them. Unlike Mel and Sarah herself, James and Ronny both seemed used to being at sea.
James peered up at one of the masts and shrugged.
‘Well, it’s bound to be noon somewhere,’ he muttered and dug a flask out from his vest. ‘Here,’ he offered. ‘Have a rip of this.’ He held out the flask, shaking his head occasionally as snowflakes batted against his bald scalp. His eyes were a little wide and despite his experience at sea, he seemed just a little more unsteady than everyone else, especially when he tipped his head back to have a drink from the flask.
‘Isn’t it a bit early for booze?’ Sarah asked James, wagging her tail.
James made a face. ‘Maybe,’ he shrugged. ‘Maybe not.’ He took another drink.
‘I’ll have some,’ Ronny told him, holding out his stubby grey hand.
‘I’m going downstairs, Mel told him. ‘You two can get drunk all you like. I want to have a look at that tome you gave me.’
‘Tome?’ James asked, blinking in confusion. ‘I didn’t give you any tome.’
Sarah cocked her head to one side. ‘Yes you did. Back in the shed. You gave me a healing tome and Mel a dark one.’
Just then, Angela appeared behind them. ‘What’s this about a dark tome?’ she asked James. She glanced at the flask he was holding but said nothing.
James gave her a bewildered look. ‘I dunno. Must have done it in that bit of time I can’t remember after I got bit by that snake.’
Angela sighed in that age-old ‘why me’ manner and held her hand out to Mel.
‘Do you have the tome, dear?’ she asked calmly.
Mel nodded. ‘It’s in my rucksack.’ She concentrated for a moment and then muttered the incantation ‘Hubler’ which roughly translates to ‘give me that thing’. The tome appeared in her hand and she then handed it to her aunt.
Angela took the tome, her eyes serious. ‘I think you girls had better come below decks with me. It’s not safe to open this out here.’ Somehow, she managed to imply that it wasn’t safe with James while he was drinking with his gnomish buddy. Sarah’s tutor turned and led the girls below decks.
Once down in her cabin and with the door securely closed, Angela sat on the bunk and examined the tome before she opened it. Sarah changed form so that she could use her hands to hold the tome if it were passed to her.
Suddenly, Angela gasped and looked at the tome with a look of profound disgust.
‘Now that’s just awful!’ she declared, dropping the tome on the floor. ‘Annullarikus!’ she commanded. The tome gave an angry hiss and began to wriggle and writhe as smoke puffed out from the cover and from in-between the pages.
‘Wash your hands now ladies,’ Angela told them crisply. She nodded at the floor and a large basin of warm soapy water appeared. She immediately began scrubbing her hands meticulously. Sarah and Mel were very surprised, but they did as they were told.
‘What’s going on?’ Sarah asked.
‘Yeah?’ added Mel. ‘What was wrong with the tome?’
‘Girls, unless you want your hands covered in cold sores, keep scrubbing.’ Angela seemed mightily offended for some reason. ‘There are all kinds of nasty enchantments on that tome, but the one I just broke was a spell called the herpeticus curse. It’s a nasty little job that’ll infect anyone who touches an object it’s applied to with the herpes virus. People who read books and tomes tend to lick their fingers when turning pages.’ She looked at Mel. ‘Did you touch it with your bare skin?’
Mel shook her head. ‘Not until just now. I never even opened it. When James gave it to me, I was wearing Jildish knife-fighting gauntlets.’
Angela gave her a stern look.
‘I was just looking at his knives,’ Mel protested. ‘I wasn’t using them. Castor and Pollux wouldn’t let me.’
‘James touched it though,’ Sarah told Angela, earning a grateful glance from her friend. ‘He gave me a tome on healing by Jasper Jones and he gave Mel that one. That’s when I noticed he smelled like snake, though I didn’t know what it was until Wolfenvald told me. Will he be okay?’
‘Never mind about James. He’s immune.’ Angela nodded at Mel as she scrubbed her hands. ‘That was lucky. If you hadn’t been wearing those gloves, your hands would be a frightful mess by now.’
‘What does the herpeticus curse do?’ Sarah asked.
Angela shrugged. ‘Cold sores,’ she replied curtly. ‘Nasty. Very nasty.’
Sarah was shocked. She looked at Mel, expecting her friend to be just as alarmed. Mel, however, had repeated the name of the spell to herself and obviously stored it away for future possible mischief. Then it dawned on Sarah. She gaped at Angela.
‘Do you mean that—?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Angela replied. ‘That’s how cold sores got started. A few sips from cursed coffee cups or trips to cursed loos were all it took. It was the favourite prank of the day back in the twelve and thirteen hundreds. Of course, back then Rufus was still in charge of The Guild. He banned the use of the spell, but by then it was too late. At the time, there were only about four or five hundred mortals infected but the silly fools went and kept spreading the virus. Now about one in seven mortals get cold sores and they have absolutely no idea why. Keep scrubbing!’
When the three of them had scrubbed their hands pink and clean, Angela waved at the tub of water and it disappeared. Then she picked up the wriggling tome and blew the last wisps of smoke away from it.
‘This is the Serpentine,’ she told the girls. ‘It was written several thousand years ago by an oracle who worked for a strange group who worshipped some sort of snake demon called Herpethia.’ She firmly
held the wriggling tome in her hands and opened it to the first page. The enchanted book gave a startled hiss. The pages were a mouldy yellow colour and the Magaeic script was painstakingly crafted so that every letter was a snake. The girls peered over her shoulder to get a better look at the tome.
Read on ye necromancers and ye prophets and ye sorcerers, alle. Folk of Were and First and Last. Fear not for the prophecy and enchantments within will harm ye not. The Last shall be The First.
Sarah gave a start at the tome’s words.
‘Never mind all that,’ Angela said dismissively. She turned to the next page. There lay a living picture of a small mottled green snake with green glowing eyes. It writhed against its own coils making a harsh rasping sound. It raised its scaly head and stared back and forth from Sarah to Melanie and back again.
‘Ah,’ the snake on the page hissed. ‘The First and The Last!’
Sarah felt an icy chill go down her spine. It was all she could do to keep from changing form and growling.
The snake hissed again. ‘It has begun!’ The snake then turned to look about. It regarded Angela with cold eyes. ‘The Marked One,’ it observed flatly.
‘What’s all this?’ she demanded of the snake. ‘Last time I read this tome you weren’t here and there was just a bunch of very average, nasty little spells.’
The snake turned to regard Angela coldly. ‘The secrets you seek are not within these pages, Marked One,’ it said. Then the tome snapped shut and refused to open again.
‘I don’t get it,’ Sarah muttered. ‘Which one of us is The First and which is The Last?’
You’re probably The First,’ Mel told her. ‘I’m The Last Daughter of Troy.’
Angela’s eyes narrowed. ‘Never mind that right now. I’m more interested in how James got this tome. First he gets bitten by a demonic snake then The Serpentine shows up...’ She put one finger to her chin thoughtfully.
‘He’s acting funny,’ Mel remarked. ‘I mean he’s always been nuts, but it’s like he’s stoned.’