by Sarah Driver
‘For long since you’ve all gone to rest, according to the day’s bequest . . .’
‘With gripes and growls and belly-swells!’ they roar, falling about with laughing.
I laugh with them. ‘I’ll linger long into the night, in case some shade brings forth a fight.’
‘Is that who you declare to be? Standing straight in front of me? Look inside, down to your bones, and swear above all else to rove!’
I lift my chin and thump my chest. ‘I’ll read the pictures in the lights, the gifts that tell us future Sights. My hawk soars strong of heart and claw, from summer’s freeze to winter’s thaw.’ My hawk lifts from my arm and soars above everyone, making them gasp. She comes to rest on Crow’s shoulder.
For the final part of the oath, the crew chant the words like a spell, voices rising louder and louder, and joyful enough to touch the stars.
‘Kiss your bow and wrap your scroll, heed the drum and glimpse the shoal, through the veil to a darker time, knowing no cabin can forever be thine!’ In the black sky, a long, pale fire spirit, like a plume of silver hair, begins to dance.
‘I heed the pulsing, the blue whale’s call, that every ship has a soul! ’ I tip back my head, and I howl.
Cos our song is more than fight and fire. It’s peace. It’s hope.
It’s home.
The little ’uns want another story, so below decks I go. The sea’s song fades as I descend into the gut of my ship. Every cabin door I pass gifts me a different ghost.
Oarsman Bear when he turned sixty, three moons before he passed into the Other Realm, white-haired and chuckling, clutching his birth-sun gifts to his chest.
Da chasing Hog through the passageways, when the child had six or seven birth-moons under her belt. Da again, after he wed Leopard, telling me he wanted to live with her at Hackles. Gods, how I teased him for choosing to dwell as a land-lurker!
Next comes a memory of Crow, barging out of his cabin to tell me to make anchor at the nearest dock so he could ‘eat something without gills or scales for once.’ He never quite conquered his sea-sickness.
My greatest friend. Lost so long, now. My knees creak and I wipe my hands on my breeches, bone-tired. My hands can’t hold a bow like they used to.
‘Tell us a story, Captain Mouse!’
‘Tell us about how you became the greatest captain what ever lived!’
‘Suck-up!’
‘Am not ! She is the greatest – she stopped the slave trade in Trianukka, single-handed! Without her, your grandma would’ve died in chains, dolt.’
Single-handed? Not a jot. I grip the locket around my neck, thinking of the lock of red hair tucked inside. Kestrel made it look as if the defeat of the slavers was all my work. But without her, it could never have been done. Gods. Much missed, that one is!
‘You’re still a suck-up, though. How old are you, Captain Mouse? My sister says you’re a hundred and three!’
‘You can’t ask Captain that!’
‘And how is your sea-hawk still alive? Is it magyk?’
‘Shhh! ’
‘Tell us about Captain Rattlebones!’
‘Nah, tell us about Captain Wren, when she death-walked back into battle!’
‘Tell us about your brother, the great Sea-King scholar of Nightfall!’
Sparrow. I feel a smile flood my eyes. It’s been many moons since I last shared a flagon with my brother, and I know I must see him and hear his song again before I settle my bones for the final voyage. That decides it. I will call him home one last time.
I whisper to my cragged old sea-hawk, and she swoops over, landing on my arm.
Come home, too-soon, I beast-chatter. The words scratch themselves into a piece of parchment as I speak them. Come and sing with the whales and paint hidden maps on my sails. My hawk soars away through a port-hole, the parchment scrolled around her leg. She’ll ride the sky to where my brother the Sea-King keeps order over the scholars of Nightfall.
After telling the fireside tales, I’m just laying my head down to catch a few winks when the ringing of the alarm bell shatters the silence. ‘Hell’s flaming teeth!’ I curse, bolting upright again. ‘No rest for the wicked, eh?’
I prowl from my cabin, drumming my hands against my ship’s walls. ‘To arms! Bows and bills! Come on, you belching babble of layabouts!’
‘Aye, Captain!’ boom the crew.
Heart-thanks to the unstoppable Liz Bankes, for making Storm scrub up so nicely – you are a total hero. To magical Ali Dougal and everyone at Egmont for believing in me and for helping to bring this trilogy to life. Special mention to Laura Bird, Ray Tierney, Joe Mclaren and Janene Spencer for more gorgeous artwork and another epic cover. To Siobhan McDermott for being the best accomplice on the Sky Tour (and for always providing enormous slabs of post-event cake.)
To Ruth, for the road trip to the Sedlec Ossuary at Kutna Hora, which inspired the Bone Crypts of Hackles. I love adventuring with you.
To Becca for introducing me to old Icelandic lullabies.
To Alyssa for your amazing feedback on early drafts (especially the beat-by-beat reactions in gif form. You rock.)
To the Offenders crew for critiquing (what was then) chapter one of Storm and for always being there when I need you. Your support means the world.
To Abi Elphinstone for reading the almost-final manuscript and being so enthused about it, and providing such lovely quotes.
To the Wellcome Collection for your exhibition ‘Electricity: The spark of life,’ which inspired the development of Sparrow’s powers.
To Head Falconer Gerard at East Sussex Falconry, for a brilliant falconry experience at Herstmonceux castle. Your passion and respect for raptors made Sky’s book birthday a more than memorable one.
To the wonderful folk at Ofelaš, northern Sweden, for the most magical time in the forest, under the northern lights. It was amazing to talk with you about Sámi culture, indigenous rights and Icelandic horses!
To the woman who held my hat on while we were riding the husky sled in -37 degrees. I owe you my ears and wish I could remember your name!
To my readers, including Juliette for sending me my first letter, Harry for building the extraordinary Lego model of the Huntress (and for the amazing feat of reading while tying your shoelaces), Ellen for reading along from Sky during a school visit, Eliza for going as Kestrel for World Book Day (complete with feathers, moons and stars), John for going as Mouse (complete with dragonfly brooch and amber amulet), Millie who told me she’d read Sea thirteen times . . . and every reader who has sent a letter or asked a question or waited to get a book signed or just generally been brilliant. You are the best readers an author could wish for and you all kept me going when the going got tough.
To Jay Griffiths for giving the world your phenomenal work Wild: An Elemental Journey. The book made for electrifying reading while lying on my bunk aboard the Arctic Circle Train.
It should be noted that while aspects of this trilogy have been influenced by various real life cultures, the Tribes and settings in my book are entirely fictional. If anyone would like to find out more about indigenous peoples and their ongoing battle to protect their rights and their land against oppression, I would recommend the following sources:
• Sofia Jannok, a singer-songwriter, environmental/indigenous activist and ‘yoiker’ (a traditional Sámi vocal style) born and raised in Sápmi, the ancestral lands of the Sámi peoples. sofiajannok.com
• Survival International – the only human rights organisation dedicated to helping tribal peoples ‘defend their lives, protect their lands and determine their own futures.’ survivalinternational.org
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