Charlie and the judge shook their heads at the idiocy of city folk.
“A big cruiser with blue and white markings?” Ascott said, a sense of dread rising in his throat.
“That’s the one. Why, he a friend of yours?” the judge asked.
“No, not a friend. Not a friend at all.” Ascott handed the binoculars over to Charlie. “I have to go,” he said.
“We doing this thing or what?” Shoal asked when he returned.
“Kalim AarI’s boat is out there in the channel. He’s been caught up in the migration. This is my chance to get on board and get Tacus back.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t go out there, it’s the migration. If you drive a boat into that you’ll get killed, or worse.” Shoal looked furious at him for even suggesting the idea.
“If we don’t go now, we’ll lose them. They’ll either head out to sea, or disappear into the islands.”
“Let the Seaguard take care of it,” Shoal said.
“There’s no time. Like you said, they have their hands full with people celebrating the migration.”
“Competitors! Take your starting positions!”
“Go, win the race. I’ll work something out,” Ascott gave Shoal an encouraging smile.
Nine people lined up: two women and seven men, all with the same grim, focused expression.
A minute passed, then the shell horn blew and all nine plunged into the water.
Charlie began his commentary. “All racers are in the water and making good time for the first of the whales. The field is neck and neck!”
Ascott felt a ball of tension building in his stomach. The idea of Kalim Aari taking Tacus away burned like acid. Forget the treasure, forget everything else, Tacus was his friend and the only company he had day in, day out on the island. He may have failed Charlotte, but he would not fail the lisping parrot.
“No,” he said aloud.
A discarded pair of whale running shoes lay on the barge. Ascott strapped them on and tossed his t-shirt aside. Taking a deep breath he ran to the edge of the barge and dived.
Charlie broke off mid-spiel. “What the haberdasher was that?!”
“Man overboard!” someone shouted.
Chapter 12
Ascott surfaced and swam hard in the wake of the racers, who were already climbing over the first of the whales. The currents in the channel were strong and the swirling water was colder than he was used to. He pushed on, kicking hard, feeling the milknut-fibre soles of his shoes working like fins against the water.
The surfacing whales blocked his view. Kalim’s cruiser was out there somewhere—he just had to find it.
In front of him a massive shape broke the surface, a seemingly endless rolling curve of glistening dark skin, a serpent large enough to swallow the world whole. With a whooshing roar the whale breathed out. Water sprayed down in hard drops around Ascott, who forgot to breathe in his astonishment.
So this is how I die, he thought calmly. Other whales were now surfacing; the outer fringe of the pod blocked his way forward and Ascott plunged into the foam. Approaching a whale that was still on the surface he reached out and gripped the dorsal ridge, pulling himself up in a surge of adrenalin. The cool touch of the night air swept the water from his skin. The milknut fibre sandals gave some grip on the slick surface of the whale’s skin. With seconds remaining before the beast dived again, Ascott peered out into the darkness and saw a flickering light out in the channel: Kalim’s cruiser, trapped fast by the migrating behemoths.
The whale shuddered underneath him. Ascott crouched and then threw himself forward. He landed with a wet slap against the side of the next whale and clung desperately to the triangular humps that ran down its back. His feet scraped against the leathery hide that flexed and rippled underneath him. With a grunt of effort he pulled himself up and crouched on the beast’s back. The light was further away; the whales were taking him in the opposite direction. Leaping again, Ascott slapped down on the broad back of a whale and felt the air punch out of his lungs. Groaning and gasping, he crawled to his feet and leaped again. This time he missed, his fingers scrabbling at the whale’s flank as he plunged into a swirling tempest of foam and bubbles.
The whales plunged and surfaced around him. At any moment a house-weight of whale could crash down and crush his skull. The night sky vanished under the shadow of their passing and Ascott swam for the nearest creature. Grabbing hold, he pulled himself out of the water and clung to its lower back, gasping for breath.
In his panic he had gone the wrong way and now had to jump again, this time landing on a younger whale. Without pausing he took three running steps and leaped across the churning chasm to the next beast. This one was much older, its hide roughened with barnacles and the scars of a lifetime spent surviving in the deep oceans of the world. Ascott panted for air as he pulled himself up and ran along the whale’s broad back. He felt it begin to dive as he jumped again. Plunging into the water, he draped his arms over the tail of a svelte female, her flukes rising as she dived. A helpless Ascott was thrown skywards and with all four limbs flailing, he dropped down on the whale’s far side.
The splash of his landing barely registered in the turbulence. He struggled to the surface, taking a salty breath and then staring in shock as the biggest eye he had ever seen blinked slowly at him. A giant whale, the lead bull of this pod, regarded the tiny human with an incalculable expression. Ascott stared deep into the darkness of the titan’s eye and felt a crushing sense of scale. What was he compared to a leviathan like this? The eye contact lasted only a second, but Ascott felt it burn deep inside his mind, the moment inscribing itself on his memory forever.
The whale surged past Ascott, who frantically swam to keep his head above water. Swimming in the whale’s wake he felt the air crack as the giant’s tail struck the water with explosive force. The wave and spray sent Ascott tumbling into the side of another whale. He climbed up on to its back and tried to work out where he was.
Two more whales, then there was a break which he could swim through to get to the boat. Maybe. With his arms and legs burning from the effort, Ascott stood up and took a running jump. This time he landed well enough to belly flop spread-eagled on the whale’s back. It promptly dived and he scrambled off the other side, jumping into the water and swimming for the next one.
How did Shoal manage to do this twice? In one day? Ascott inhaled salt water and coughed, wishing more than anything that he could have a break, crawl on to something that wasn’t moving and just breathe. The next whale curved downwards, sending its tail skyward in the classic slap position. Ascott took a deep breath and dived. Staying on the surface would get him slapped into a bloody paste. Straining against the current he swam down into the dark. Grabbing a bulbous piece of coral for support, he felt the water around him rock with the force of a tail strike. The fish had all gone. Because they’re not stupid, Ascott told himself.
The song of the whales vibrated through the water around him. They spoke in long melodies, from almost dirge-like moans to shrill whistles, their voices going up and down the scale.
In the swirling aftermath of the tail, loose debris and sand swirled up from the bottom. Ascott lost his air when a limp form spun out of the mist of silt and struck him with a flopping arm. He had time to register the body as one of the male finalists before he needed to push for the surface.
Please let Shoal be all right. If ever there was a time for Drakeforth to make an appearance and do something godly, this is it, Ascott prayed as he broke the surface.
The cruiser was closer now; the whales were swimming past it, or underneath it. The boat rose and fell on the heaving swell as Ascott struck out across the churning water. The running lights and some internal lights shining through the portholes suggested someone was on board. Trying to keep his panting to a minimum, Ascott let the current pull him towards the dive platform at the ba
ck of the boat. If Kalim had set a guard, then Ascott was in trouble.
A careful peep over the top of the dive ladder revealed that Kalim didn’t think anyone would be able to make it out to the middle of the channel that evening. The deck was deserted.
Climbing on board, Ascott crouched down. The low calls and whistles of the whales singing to each other vibrated through him; and over that noise, he thought he heard the muffled sound of Tacus cursing angrily.
Chapter 13
Ascott crouched on the deserted deck, catching his breath and hearing snatches of laughter and voices from below decks. Kalim’s dive crew were talking down there and the sound of cutlery on plates suggested they were eating.
Great, Ascott thought. Now what? With nowhere else to go, he tried a recessed door at the back of the cabin. The handle twisted and he felt the door slip open under his damp palm. The door opened silently and closed with a slight click after he passed through. The room beyond was decorated in wood panelling and held a curving bench seat with matching table clad in leather upholstery, all coloured in a dark wine-red shade. A glowing chandelier rocked overhead in time to the rise and fall of the boat, sending the shadows swooping like the silhouettes of children playing on a swing.
At the end of the room was a door of flimsy wood and slats, almost like the door to a wardrobe. Ascott pulled it open and peeped through to a narrow corridor. The voices were louder now and laughter punctuated the sounds of dishes. A light came on as a door opened. Ascott pulled back, closing the slatted door to a crack.
“I’ll buy you a whole bar!” a sailor said to someone in the room he was stepping out of, to the loud amusement of the others. Ascott waited with his heart in his mouth as the guy turned and stumbled down the corridor away from him on some unknown errand.
Ascott plunged through the door and moved down the corridor. Somewhere, a toilet flushed. Ascott looked around and tried a door opposite the dining room. It turned out to be a kitchen, which, Ascott supposed, made sense and convenience. If convenience could be made, rather than just occurring naturally.
Ascott, he told himself, you’re babbling.
“I do that when I’m terrified,” he muttered.
The door up the hall opened again and Ascott ducked into the kitchen and watched. The sailor came down the narrow hallway and went back into the dining room.
“Hey, where’s the javas?” a voice demanded. The sailor stopped and waved a hand.
“Keep your cufflinks on,” he said and turned back to the kitchen.
The door opened before Ascott could come up with a genius plan. Instead he squeezed into the space behind the door. When the sailor came into the kitchen, Ascott slipped out behind him and went exploring deeper in the boat.
The first few doors he found were locked. The toilet door smelled like it should stay locked, perhaps permanently. The final door, located at the end of the corridor, opened when Ascott tried it.
This is what people mean when they refer to staterooms on boats, he thought.
The room was as large as the deck area at the back, the windows hung with rich fabric drapes; an even grander crystal chandelier swayed from the ceiling and wood-panelled cabinets, some with glass doors, displayed bottles of expensive liquor and crystal goblets. The walls were decorated in homage to pirate fashion, with crossed swords on the walls and a pirate flag showing a white silhouette of a sinking ship over two crossed cannons on a black background: the infamous Jolly Steve.
A table to one side was covered in chewed pieces of crayon, scattered sheets of paper and guano. Feathers of various colours were scattered on the floor and from somewhere nearby a familiar voice was singing:
“No matter where—HIC!—we looked
“We couldn’a found her.
“Thacked up with the cook
“That—HIC!—bleedin’ bounder
“Now Cap’nsh lyin’ on hith bed,
“Flat ath a flounder…”
One of the wood-panelled cabinets shook with a thud from inside. Ascott crouched down and opened the door. Tacus regarded him with one bleary eye from where he crouched in a spreading pool of rum.
“Fin’ your own lav—HIC!—lav-tree. Thith oneth occu—HIC!—pied,” the parrot scolded.
“Tacus…” Ascott whispered, in concerned relief. “What did they to do you, buddy?” He lifted the drunken parrot out of the cabinet gently and stroked what remained of his once dense plumage.
“They flogged me featherth, Cap’n. Ne’er thaid…Ne’ever thaid nuffin. Thecret’th thafe with—HIC!—me.”
“Let’s get you out of here.” Ascott held Tacus against his chest and then had to clamp his beak shut as the bird launched into another verse of The Captain’s Wife.
Hearing voices approaching up the hall, Ascott squeezed himself into a storage cupboard. Tacus’ head flopped on his shoulder. “I love—HIC!—you man…”
“Shh…” Ascott hissed. The door to the stateroom opened. Ascott heard Kalim’s voice. “What a mess. Where did you put the parrot?”
Another voice replied, “In the liquor cabinet. He was trashing the place.”
Footsteps strode over the floor and Ascott heard the cabinet door jerk open.
“He’s gone,” Kalim said. “Find that bird!”
Even in a room as luxurious as the stateroom on Kalim’s cruiser, it would take about twenty seconds for someone to wrench open the cupboard door and find them. Ascott mentally prayed for a miracle. Drakeforth? Arthur? Help?
There was no immediate response. Tacus roused himself and squawked loudly, “Keep the noithe—HIC!—down out there!”
The door opened and one of Kalim’s crew blinked down at them both.
“Surprise!” Ascott shouted and burst out into the room. He struck the sailor with his shoulder and the man went down with a loud OOPH!
Kalim yelled and lunged at Ascott, who, with no other ideas, tossed the half-plucked Tacus down the narrow corridor like a long pass in football.
“Banz—HIC!—haaaiiiiii!” Tacus shrieked and flapped his wings. His lack of feathers put him into a lateral spin; he torpedoed into the deck, where he flopped onto his back and lay there, giggling.
“So, you think you can steal the treasure map away from me?!” Kalim yanked a sword down from a display on the wall and thrust it at Ascott, who yelped and fell backwards, crashing into a liquor cabinet and sending bottles tumbling across the floor. Kalim roared and stabbed downwards. Ascott picked up the nearest bottle by the neck and it clanged against the sword’s blade. Scrambling to his feet, Ascott swung at Kalim’s head. The pirate blocked with his sword and took a vicious swipe at Ascott’s legs.
Ascott jumped and found himself sitting on the top of the cabinet, swinging wildly with the bottle. An angry slash of the sword and the bottle shattered, spraying white spirits everywhere. Ascott scrambled for a better weapon, his skin stinging from a multitude of nicks and cuts from the broken glass. He grabbed the first thing that came to his hand. A set of metal coasters, stamped with the Jolly Steve emblem. They were square and not particularly sharp. Their corners, however, were pointy. Ascott hurled the first coaster and it spun through the air to thud into the wood panelling like a well thrown knife.
Inspired, he threw another one. Kalim moved his head and the coaster clattered against the wall. With a snarl he raised his sword to cut Ascott down.
Ascott chucked the third coaster blindly and Kalim howled in pain, dropping the sword to clutch at his face.
Taking his chance, Ascott ran out the door and slammed it shut behind him. Scooping up Tacus, who immediately squawked “Again!” Ascott ran to the back of the boat and jumped into the whale-tossed surf.
Chapter 14
The water was colder than Ascott remembered and twinges of cramp spasmed through his legs. He surfaced, treading water and lifting Tacus high to keep him as dry as
possible.
“Man overboard!” Tacus squawked, his wings flapping uselessly as the swell swept over Ascott’s head.
“Ascott!” Shoal yelled. He wanted to call back, to shout that he had done it, he had rescued Tacus, but the water gagged him. He spat it out and took a wet breath. Torchlight swept over the water. The last whale pod had passed, and now the channel was clear the cruiser was moving off, picking up speed and heading for open water.
“Ascott!” Shoal yelled again.
“Parrot overboard!” Tacus yelled, lifting one foot at a time out of the water and trying to climb onto Ascott’s head.
The torchlight swept over them, then came back and held the pair in its beam.
“There they are!” Shoal shouted. A boat engine hummed and soon hands were reaching down to pluck them from the water.
“Tacus knows,” Ascott said through chattering teeth. “Tacus knows where the treasure is buried.”
Charlie drove the boat to the shore of the island of Saint Amoeba. A camp had been set up on the beach to receive the competitors at the end of the race. Whole fish roasted over a warm fire, and plenty of java, were being consumed by the spectators enjoying the after-party.
A medic tended Ascott’s wounds as he sat wrapped in a towel and a blanket near the fire. A gash on his forehead was quite deep and they glued it shut with tree resin before applying a bandage. Tacus lay snoozing in his lap, swaddled in a towel of his own.
After the first aid had been applied, Ascott sat alone on the beach as thoughts gingerly tip-toed around his head, avoiding the more painful parts and talking quietly amongst themselves.
Kalim called Tacus the treasure map.
Tacus likes to draw…amoeba?
Islands?
…Treasure maps?
Shoal came around the fire and sat down next to him.
“What do you mean, Tacus knows where the treasure is buried?” she asked.
Pisces of Fate Page 9