The Firebird Chronicles

by Daniel Ingram-Brown

  Chapter 2

  The Guardians Flee

  On the moor, to the north of the Creativity Craters, three figures – a man, a woman and a girl – moved hurriedly along a rocky ridge. The first, a rugged fellow, wearing a grimy shirt and carrying a leather backpack, leapt over a boulder. He landed on a pathway that had been hidden by gorse bushes. Stooping, he studied the track.

  ‘Quickly, this way,’ he whispered.

  Turning back, he held out his hand. An older lady, white hair pulled back into a bun, seized it and heaved herself over the rock, panting with the effort. ‘I wish I’d worn better shoes for this.’ She laughed nervously, nodding at her wellies.

  ‘It’s not as if we had much time to prepare for the journey now, Felda, is it?’

  ‘No, Christopher, we certainly didn’t.’

  Felda looked over her shoulder at the girl who was following them, jumping from rock to rock. ‘We’re with the right person though, aren’t we?’ she called, trying to sound upbeat.

  ‘If you say so,’ the girl replied. A little bird settled on her shoulder and she stroked its feathers.

  ‘I guess we need some luck.’

  ‘I’m not used to relying on luck,’ Christopher said, beginning to push through the gorse bushes along the path. It zigzagged down the steep slope of the moor.

  Felda shook her head. ‘None of us are.’

  The girl looked down from where she was balanced on a boulder. ‘Do we have to go that way? The bushes will sting my legs!’

  ‘This is the way,’ Christopher replied, not looking back.

  ‘Who made you leader?’

  ‘He is the Guardian of the Highways, dear,’ Felda said, and began to follow him. ‘We should probably take his advice.’

  ‘And I’m Wisdom. You should listen to me too. And I don’t like my legs being stung.’

  ‘You’d think Wisdom would know better than to keep shouting and that she’d get a move on,’ Christopher said, testily. ‘They’ll be after us, you know. And they move quicker than we do.’

  Felda’s face flushed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m slowing you down. You go on without me. I’ll catch you up.’

  ‘We’re not leaving you,’ Christopher snapped. ‘We’ve left too many already.’

  Wisdom leapt down from the boulder and the little bird flitted away. ‘At least we agree on one thing.’ She started to skip and jump along the pathway. ‘Ouch!’ she yelped as the gorse scratched her legs. ‘Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!’

  ‘Shh!’ Christopher hissed.

  ‘But it hurts!’

  ‘Well if you have to wear such flimsy clothing!’ He waved at her green tunic. It looked as fragile as a leaf.

  ‘These clothes are as tough as I am, I’ll have you know! And they help me move with the wind.’

  ‘They don’t look very practical to me.’

  ‘And you don’t look very elegant to me. Ouch!’

  Felda stopped. ‘Will you two stop arguing! If it isn’t enough to be ambushed by Red Hawks and imprisoned by that ghastly woman, I must put up with you two constantly bickering. It’s too much, too much!’

  ‘Sorry,’ Wisdom muttered.

  Christopher grunted.

  ‘Oh, it’s alright.’ Felda sighed. ‘It’s just a lot to take in.’ She paused. ‘What do you think happened back there, to the Red Hawks I mean? They just …’

  ‘… vanished,’ Wisdom said, staring out across the valley. ‘Disintegrated to dust.’

  ‘Such an eerie sight. Though quiet somehow, almost peaceful.’

  ‘Until all hell broke loose,’ Christopher added. ‘And I don’t have to remind you that only half of them vanished. The others are still there. So, let’s not get carried away.’

  Felda nodded. ‘It was chaos after, wasn’t it? Soldiers running, shouting. It was when I saw them abandoning their posts and fleeing into the forest that I knew I had to take a chance. I just ran. I didn’t have time to think, though. To take it in.’

  ‘Some of the soldiers had the wherewithal to stay,’ Christopher said. ‘To keep their guard. Otherwise more of us might have escaped.’

  ‘Is it really only the three of us who made it?’ Wisdom asked.

  Christopher nodded. ‘From what I could see. The others were still being held.’

  Felda stared at the ground and shook her head.

  For a moment, the three walked in silence.

  ‘I thought,’ Felda said, quietly, ‘that maybe our powers would return, you know, after the Red Hawks vanished, but …’ She stopped and gingerly stretched out a green-gloved hand, touching a nearby bush that looked withered and brown. She closed her eyes and waited for a moment, as if willing life to pour from her fingers. Then she opened her eyes again. Seeing that there had been no change in the colour of the bush, she quickly withdrew her hand, a look of panic on her face. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘What’s to become of us? What’s the use of being Green Guardian if you can’t restore life to things?’

  Christopher looked grave. ‘What’s the point of being Guardian of the Highways when you must navigate by your eyes, just like everybody else?’

  ‘And what’s the use of being Guardian of Hidden Treasure, when you’re unable to call help from the deep?’ Wisdom added.

  ‘We might be free,’ Felda said, ‘but our home is still in terrible danger. The Red Hawks may be diminished, but our ability to maintain the balance of the island has gone. We need help. We need to consult something greater than us, something beyond even our power.’

  ‘I agree,’ Wisdom said. ‘And I think we know what.’

  Christopher nodded. ‘The Well Whisper.’

  ‘Yes.’

  The Well Whisper was the voice of the island itself, constantly guiding the stories of its inhabitants to their conclusions.

  Wisdom stared across the valley. In the distance, the Three Towers of the Academy rose from the jumble of streets that made the village of Bardbridge. ‘That’s where we need to go,’ she said, pointing. ‘The Well Whisper rises from the Central Chasm, right there in the centre of the Three Towers.’

  ‘But the Red Hawks,’ Felda said. ‘Grizelda. They’ll still be there. It would be madness for us to try and sneak into the heart of the Academy when the village is under their control.’ She looked at Christopher for assurance, but he shook his head.

  ‘The girl’s right,’ he said. ‘What choice do we have? We could try to hide, but what good would that do? Perhaps they’ll be too distracted by whatever’s happened to notice us.’

  Felda nodded nervously.

  Wisdom looked at Christopher. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’ she said. ‘Lead the way.’

  With the trace of a smile, Christopher began along the path again. Wisdom and the Green Guardian followed, the three of them heading towards Bardbridge and the Academy’s Three Towers, unsure what dangers they might find when they got there.

  Chapter 3

  The Parley

  Alfa wrapped her fingers around the cup. It was warm.

  ‘Spiced Poppin Brew,’ a rake of a man with a pencil moustache said, smiling toothily. It was the ship’s cook, Pierre. He spoke with a flourish. ‘It will make you feel good. It will make you want to laugh until you float, or to run out and fly a kite.’

  Alfa smiled back. She didn’t believe Pierre, but the smell of the drink was comforting. She breathed in deeply, for a moment catching the scent of autumn leaves and log fires. Another of the crew, Freddo, was playing the accordion softly. Its notes flitted on the crisp sea air. Alfa took a sip of the drink and let her body relax, attuning to the gentle rhythm of the sea. For a moment, she allowed herself to forget the challenges ahead, and imagined dancing on a rooftop, chimneys puffing merrily around her.

  She opened her eyes again and looked up. Through the rigging, the night sky sparkled with unnumbered stars. They were so much brighter in the ocean. Those on the horizon looked like diamonds, almost close enough to touch. Alfa breathed out and watched her breath swirl into the air, making the
starlight hazy.

  Tonight, the crew of the Black Horizon were gathering on deck. Gradually, they emerged from the cabins or stalked down the ropes to take their places in the circle that was forming in front of the mast. Knot and the Boatswain perched on one of the hatches. Fletcher, Scoop, Sparks, Nib and Rufina sat cross-legged on the timbers. Above, lanterns threw dancing light across the ship, making the mainsail flicker. It looked like a burning ember on the black ocean.

  As the crew gathered, they glanced apprehensively at one another, exchanging half-smiles. The Boatswain sat awkwardly, as if he might get up at any moment. Sparks’s legs jittered. Scoop studied her nails.

  Alfa tried to ignore the others. The glow of the lanterns, the soft sound of the accordion, the twinkling stars and the scent of the Poppin Brew, reminded her of lazy winter nights on the verandas of the Botanical Gardens back on Fullstop Island.

  The Dark Pirate’s voice shattered her daydream. ‘Well,’ he growled. ‘We all know why we’re here.’

  Alfa glanced nervously at Sparks. They did know why they were there, why they had been summoned for a Parley. Over the past two days, ever since the Black Horizon had made it out to the open ocean, there had been rumblings aboard, mutterings of discontent.

  The cook sat down, having finished handing out the mugs of Poppin Brew. The smell of the spices was thick in the air.

  Freddo stopped playing the accordion.

  ‘Well?’ the Dark Pirate said. ‘Who has the guts to speak it out in an open assembly, rather than whispering behind my back?’

  Alfa listened to the sound of waves slapping the hull as the ship cut through the water.

  After a moment, Freddo stood. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll say it. I’ll say what most of the crew on this ship are thinking.’ He looked from Pierre to Mr Snooze. The old man turned quickly away. The Dark Pirate glared at Freddo. The accordion player was a short man with long ginger hair and gin-soaked whiskers.

  I bet he punches above his weight in a fight, Alfa thought.

  ‘Many of us,’ he began, ‘think we’re heading in the wrong direction. We believe we need to plot an alternative course, one that considers we don’t have unlimited supplies.’

  The Dark Pirate grunted.

  ‘We don’t even have enough supplies to make it to the South Bookend Seas. The course we are on is ill-advised at best. At worst, it is––’

  ‘I’ve heard enough of these complaints,’ the Dark Pirate interrupted.

  Freddo shook his head. ‘They are not complaints! I’m voicing an opinion many have. I have the right to speak!’ Sparks shifted uncomfortably. ‘I should not have to remind you that the Black Horizon is free from a captain’s command. You said yourself – we are equals.’

  ‘Equals, yes!’ The Dark Pirate raised his voice. ‘Equals in terms of value, but not in terms of experience! And, I should not have to remind you how long I have been sailing these seas, what challenges I’ve faced and what obstacles I’ve overcome in this very vessel.’

  ‘We are all very aware that you are the most experienced sailor ––’

  The Dark Pirate thumped the mast. ‘Pirate!’ he growled.

  ‘Yes, pirate!’ Freddo corrected. ‘You are the most experienced pirate among us. But that does not mean you are always right! Myself, Pierre and the Boatswain have also risked life and limb at the mercy of the sea!’

  The Dark Pirate looked at the Boatswain. ‘You as well?’ he snarled.

  The Boatswain leaned forward, his face kind beneath his bushy beard. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid so. I’ve taken an inventory of our stocks. With the best will in the world, we will not make it beyond the Basillica Isles without rationing food. We risk falling into a state of hunger and ––’

  ‘Hunger?’ The Dark Pirate snorted. ‘What have I done to be lumbered with such weak-willed landlubbers.’

  Freddo stepped forward. ‘Landlubbers?’

  The Boatswain’s face reddened. ‘We have children aboard, I will not––’

  ‘Don’t bring us into this!’ Fletcher said, springing to his feet. His fists were clenched. ‘I can go hungry if that’s what’s required!’

  ‘You should listen to the boy,’ the Dark Pirate said. ‘He has more bottle than the lot of you.’

  There was a murmur of outrage. Freddo pointed. ‘You are not the captain of this ship!’

  The Dark Pirate stood, followed quickly by the Boatswain, who stepped between the two men spreading his hands to hold them apart.

  ‘No, I am not the captain,’ the Dark Pirate snarled. ‘That is why I called this Parley. That is how we make decisions aboard the Black Horizon – in an open assembly.’ He stepped back and scanned the circle. ‘We will hear each speak in turn. State your opinion and the decision will be made by the majority. Do we sail directly to the Threshold, as the Storyteller charged, or do we take the soft option and look for somewhere to restock before completing our mission?’

  ‘I wondered when we’d get to speak,’ Alfa said under her breath. Her voice was obviously louder than she’d intended. She blushed as all eyes turned to her.

  The Dark Pirate grunted again. ‘Very well. You speak first, young lady.’

  Alfa looked momentarily thrown, but then composed herself. ‘Well …’ She hesitated.

  ‘Out with it, girl. Do we sail or do we stop?’

  ‘Sail. I agree with Fletcher. This is too important for us to be faint-hearted.’

  Sparks sighed. The Dark Pirate turned on her. ‘Do you have something to say?’

  She shrank back.

  ‘Speak, girl!’

  Sparks folded her arms and pursed her lips. ‘Well, I think we should stop for supplies. If the Boatswain says we need them, we need them.’

  ‘Well said!’ Freddo exclaimed. ‘Better to get there a few days late than not at all!’

  ‘I think we know which way you are going to vote,’ the Dark Pirate said.

  ‘You do.’

  In turn, each of the circle spoke. Rufina was for sailing on. To her consternation, Nib voted to restock. The Boatswain and Pierre agreed with him. Knot looked unsure, but after a few minutes of hectoring by Fletcher and the Dark Pirate, he voted to sail. Mr Snooze, who looked as if he were about to cry, registered his vote in favour of stopping.

  ‘Well,’ the Dark Pirate said, ‘that’s six votes to five. It looks as if we’ll be plotting a new course for––’

  ‘This is crazy!’ Fletcher interrupted. He turned to Freddo. ‘This isn’t your quest! It’s ours!’ He signalled to Scoop. ‘We’re the ones who’ve been told to sail to the Threshold. We’re the ones who must cross it. We’re the ones who have to give up everything to try to save this world from the sickness. And you’re worried about a few missed breakfasts!’

  The Boatswain stepped towards him. ‘It’s not just a case of missed breakfasts, laddie!’

  ‘I don’t care! This is our quest, not yours! We must get to the Threshold. Have you forgotten who’s in there?’ Fletcher pointed at the captain’s cabin. ‘Have you forgotten what’s at stake?’

  ‘Nobody’s forgotten anything!’ The Boatswain raised his voice. ‘We all have friends, people we hold dear, who have fallen under the curse of the sickness. I won’t be lectured by––’

  ‘Excuse me!’ a voice cut in. Scoop was standing in the centre of the circle. ‘I haven’t been given my opportunity to speak yet.’

  ‘Sorry, missy,’ the Boatswain said. Shaking his head, he retook his seat.

  ‘Good!’ Fletcher said. ‘Perhaps you can talk some sense into these numbskulls!’

  Scoop composed herself. ‘You’re right, Fletcher. This is our quest. But it’s not just yours and mine. This is bigger than us. I won’t risk the lives of the people on this ship. I won’t risk the life of Sparks or Mr Snooze––’

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying I agree with the Boatswain. We should stop for supplies.’

  Fletcher opened his mouth to speak but the Dark Pirate he
ld up his hand. He turned away in disbelief.

  Annoyed, Scoop crossed to him. ‘It’s like Freddo said, it’s better to get there alive than dead. Who’s that going to help?’

  Fletcher glared at her. But Scoop stared back, resolutely.

  Behind them, the Dark Pirate spoke. ‘Then it is decided,’ he said. ‘We’ll stop for supplies on the way to the Threshold.’

  The ship fell into a tense silence. Fletcher broke Scoop’s gaze and looked away, staring out to sea. The quest had not started well. They were already at each other’s throats. Scoop recalled something the Yarnbard once said: “A house divided against itself will not stand.”

  I hope that doesn’t apply to ships too, she thought, as she walked away from her brother.

  Chapter 4

  Last Song of the Fable Fish

  Having made the decision that the Black Horizon should stop for supplies, the Dark Pirate pulled a scroll from his cloak. Crouching, he unrolled it on the deck. It was a beautifully decorated map of the Oceans of Rhyme. He looked up. ‘The next question is, where should we stop?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that.’ Freddo walked forward and crouched next to him. ‘I think we should plot a course east, to the Storyless States.’ He traced his finger across the map. ‘We can restock at Beurocropolis and then follow the coast until we’re south of the Basillica Isles. From there, we can head west.’

  The Dark Pirate shook his head. ‘No. If we are to stop, we stop here.’ He jabbed the map.

  Freddo rose. ‘The Basillica Isles?’

  ‘No!’ the Boatswain exclaimed. ‘That’s madness!’ He joined Freddo.

  Pierre got to his feet. ‘Are you crazy? That’s where the Red Hawks are from! It will be swarming with them!’

  The three men stood in a line, facing the pirate. He straightened up. ‘It’s the fastest route.’