The Firebird Chronicles

by Daniel Ingram-Brown

  ‘I told them they shouldn’t enter the Southern Ocean. I said as how it’s accursed. The commander accused me of stirring up sedition, provoking rebellion. But I had to speak, sir. It was my duty. And I was right. We never should have entered these waters.’

  ‘Why were you aboard the Red Hawk vessel?’

  ‘I was the ship’s doctor, sir. Just a poor old man, wanting to help those around him.’

  ‘There you are,’ said Pierre, ‘he was trying to help. It sounds as though he was trying to help us too.’

  The pirate grunted. ‘Very well. Roll down the ladder and help the man aboard. Tie his skiff to the stern. When he’s aboard, bring him to my quarters. I have more questions.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the Boatswain as the pirate strode away.

  Turning to Freddo, the Boatswain gave the order to lower the ladder.

  Once the skiff was secured, the old man climbed up. He moved slowly, painfully. As the Boatswain grabbed his hand to pull him aboard, he flinched and stepped back. The stranger collapsed onto the deck.

  Nib moved forward to help. ‘Thank you, my boy,’ said the stranger, softly.

  Taking the old man’s arm, Nib shuddered. ‘You’re cold to the bone.’

  As the old man straightened up, Scoop glimpsed his face. She stepped away. His skin was wrinkled, his eyes almost hollow in his skull. For a moment, she thought she recognised him. But how? From where? Quickly, he pulled his hood down again. Scoop realised she was shaking.

  ‘We need to take you to the pirate,’ said Nib. ‘This is his ship.’

  ‘Of course,’ said the old man. ‘But first, I have something to tell you.’ He stared out across the water. The cloud had thickened. In the darkness, there was a dim flicker of lightning.

  Nib reached out to take his arm again. ‘I really think we should—’

  ‘You will want to hear this,’ interrupted the stranger.

  Scoop’s chest tightened.

  ‘What? What will we want to hear?’

  ‘While aboard the Red Hawk galleon, I overheard a conversation.’

  The Boatswain, Nib, Pierre, Freddo and Fletcher edged closer. Scoop felt a tug of intrigue. She wanted to hear what the old man had to say. But something fought that desire. She froze, torn between the two impulses. Who was this man? What news did he bring?

  ‘What?’ Nib stammered. ‘What did you hear?’

  Below his hood, the old man smiled. ‘I heard their plan,’ he whispered.

  ‘Then tell us!’ the Boatswain cried. ‘By gods, man, tell us what you know!’

  The old man leaned forward, his voice like ice. ‘Their plan was to deceive you, to lay a trap.’

  Scoop’s heart was thudding.

  ‘How?’ Freddo hissed. ‘What do they plan to do!’

  ‘Their plan was to make it look as though they had turned away, but really …’

  ‘Really what?’ The Boatswain’s voice was hoarse.

  ‘But really, they have continued to track you. They are in the cloud.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘They plan to ambush the Black Horizon when you are least expecting it. They will come upon you, cloaked by fog.’ The old man spun round and pointed into the gloom. ‘There! Look! They come!’

  There was another flicker of lightning. In the dimness, Scoop thought she saw the outline of a galleon. It was ghostly, its flags like fire. It disappeared into the fog again.

  Instantly, panic fell upon the crew.

  ‘Curses!’ the Boatswain yelled.

  Freddo thumped the rail. ‘How can it be!’

  Nib was trembling. ‘Did you see the size of that ship?’

  ‘Get the pirate,’ the Boatswain barked. ‘Now!’

  Fletcher turned and pelted across the deck.

  ‘What will we do?’ Nib cried.

  ‘What can you do?’ the old man whispered. ‘See, there are the cannon!’

  The galleon appeared again. It was alongside now, a row of black barrels trained on them like caged creatures, watching, ready to pounce.

  Scoop screamed. Nib backed away. Freddo and the Boatswain drew their weapons.

  The pirate strode across the deck. ‘What’s the meaning of this commotion?’

  ‘Behold your downfall!’ cried the old man.

  The pirate froze. ‘By thunder! They’re upon us!’

  ‘They are! Your end has come! See, there are an army of soldiers, too many to overcome.’

  Scoop could see. There were hundreds of Red Hawks aboard the galleon. They manned the cannon, swung from the rigging, lined the decks, muskets in hand. Their coats smoked in the fog.

  The old man didn’t leave time to think. ‘Behold their arsenal. Their fire torches are ablaze.’

  They were. Vast piles of shot were ready to smash through the Black Horizon. Torches flared to life in the hands of the Red Hawks manning the guns.

  ‘The Storyteller save us!’ Pierre hissed.

  ‘No!’ roared the pirate. ‘I will not allow this ship to go down without a fight. To your stations! Nib, Rufina, clear the decks; Alfa, Sparks, close the quarters; Knot, Fletcher, Scoop, lower the Storyteller, Princess and Yarnbard into the skiff – keep them safe at all costs; Freddo, Pierre, Boatswain, with me – defend the ship!’

  Scoop fled towards the captain’s cabin. Behind her, Freddo and the Boatswain roared as they ran to the higher deck.

  Scoop’s mind was racing. We must get out of here! How has this happened?

  She flew into the cabin. Fletcher and Knot were already there untying the bodies.

  Outside, the old man yelled, ‘Look! A warning shot!’

  ‘Brace yourselves!’ the pirate barked.

  Scoop gripped the wooden bunk. She found herself face to face with the Storyteller. Help! Help us, won’t you?

  ‘See, the cannon is lit!’

  BOOM! The blast rumbled across the waves.

  ‘Behold – a direct hit!’

  The Black Horizon quaked with the impact. Scoop stumbled, scraping her knee.

  ‘Quick!’ Fletcher shouted. ‘We need to get them out of here! Now!’

  Knot grabbed the Princess, sweeping her under one of his arms. He picked up the trolleys in the other hand. Fletcher and Scoop struggled to lift the Storyteller.

  Together, they dragged the bodies out of the cabin. Scoop’s ears were ringing. There was a crater in the centre of the deck where the cannon ball had hit. They headed towards the stern, where the skiff was secured.

  Scoop glanced up.

  What on earth … She froze.

  ‘What are you doing?’ yelled Fletcher.

  There was no galleon there, just sea wreathed in cloud.

  The old man’s voice cut through the mist. ‘Watch! The galleon will show no mercy.’

  There it was again, fearsome on a war footing.

  ‘Come on!’ yelled Fletcher.

  Scoop stumbled on, trying to keep up. Her hands were sweating. The Storyteller almost slipped from her grip. She pulled him up, straining with all her might.

  ‘See,’ the old man cried, ‘the battle begins. Ten cannons are lit. Twenty!’

  No!

  Reaching the stern, Knot grabbed a rope, tied it around the Princess and began to lower her. The air was thick with the whizz and crack of cannon. Great plumes of water exploded around them.

  ‘Someone down there in the skiff,’ Knot panted. Fletcher jumped onto the rail and began to scale down. Leaping onto the little boat, he grabbed the Princess and guided her aboard. Knot passed the trolleys down after her.

  ‘Behold, the mast is struck!’

  BOOM! The ship shuddered again, listing dangerously. Wood whined under stress.

  ‘See, it splinters!’

  CRACK! The ship reeled like a whale struck by a harpoon. Scoop clung on as the Horizon plunged. The hull slapped the water, sending a vast wave crashing across the deck.

  There were shouts of horror as the mast moaned. It was still upright, but it wavered like a dying man already shot
. Scoop felt the Black Horizon tremble.

  ‘Behold the mast fall!’

  It toppled, mighty as a tree. The air whirred, ropes snapping like threads. The mast hit the deck with a terrible boom. Beneath Scoop’s feet, the deck buckled. She lurched backwards, falling against the ship’s rail. A splinter of yardarm crashed down, narrowly missing her. There was a scream from below. She looked down to see Fletcher, his hand impaled by the wood.

  ‘Argh!’ he yelled, yanking it from his flesh. He was bleeding profusely. ‘Come on,’ he yelled. ‘We need to get out of here!’

  Scoop turned back. Knot was struggling to tie the rope around the Storyteller’s body. He stumbled as the deck tilted, the stern lifting. She pushed herself across to him and together, they looped the rope around the Storyteller’s body.

  ‘See, the hull is breached!’ The old man was standing by a gash in the core of the vessel. Seawater was gushing in. He stood with his arms outstretched, as if summoning a demon, the hem of his robes wet, as water rose about him.

  Knot looked at Scoop, his eyes wide. ‘Yarnbard!’ he said.

  The old man was still in the captain’s cabin.

  ‘Oh no! Go!’

  Knot scrambled back across the quarterdeck, disappearing below.

  ‘Behold, the ship is snapped in two!’

  The Black Horizon shook as water flooded its main deck. The hull cracked, wood snapping, rivets exploding, beams crumpling. The pirate bounded across the deck, leaping over the gash in its centre and scrambled up the steps towards the quarterdeck. He was just in time. The stairs broke loose, swinging from their fastening. The pirate launched himself up, his feet swimming through the air. He landed on the deck. Clinging to it, he pulled himself towards Scoop.

  ‘Quickly!’ Fletcher yelled from below. Scoop looked down. The bow of the little skiff was being lifted as the Black Horizon’s stern rose from the water.

  As the pirate reached her, they began to lower the Storyteller. His body knocked into the side of the ship. When he reached the skiff, Fletcher untied him.

  It was hard to stand now, the angle of the deck steep. Below, the sea raged as the vessel plunged into the water.

  ‘See, the Black Horizon is wrecked!’ yelled the old man. ‘She sinks! She sinks!’

  He was right. The ship was sinking. It was in two pieces. At the bow, Freddo, Pierre and the Boatswain were fighting for their lives. In the chaos, Scoop couldn’t make out who they were battling. Was it Red Hawks? Or was it the cloud itself? And where was the Red Hawk galleon? She couldn’t see it. The cloud swirled around the Black Horizon, twisting everything. There was a crack of thunder. Through the gloom, Scoop could see Nib, Rufina, Alfa and Sparks running to join the Boatswain. Scoop watched as they lashed out, hollering and shrieking. A wave of horror hit her. Mr Snooze was already in the sea, clinging to a small piece of wreckage. He kicked, trying to stay afloat, but the current was strong and he kept disappearing below the waves.

  Behind him, the mist parted. Two sheer rock faces appeared, rising from the water. They framed the sinking ship.

  The South Bookend Isles.

  There was a strong current. It swept everything towards the gap between the rocks. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked around them.

  Knot emerged onto the main deck again, carrying the Yarnbard. He tried to scramble up to the quarterdeck but the steps had been washed away. He slipped, his great body lurching as the sea leapt up to grab him.

  ‘Get into the skiff!’ the pirate yelled.

  ‘But Knot! The Yarnbard! We can’t––’

  ‘Get into the skiff!’

  ‘I can’t hold on much longer!’ Fletcher yelled. ‘Quickly, or the Horizon will take us down with her!’

  Knot staggered, slipping.

  ‘No!’ Scoop cried as he toppled into the churning waves.

  She watched him grab a piece of fallen mast and heave himself onto it, pulling the Yarnbard up with him. He looked directly at Scoop.

  ‘Go!’ he called, the storm swallowing his voice.

  She hesitated.

  ‘Go!’ he cried again.

  She climbed onto the rail. It was nearly horizontal now. Grabbing the rope, she clambered down, tears stinging her eyes.

  Scoop leapt onto the skiff, the pirate behind her. The little boat was straining as the Black Horizon pulled it from the water.

  ‘Untie us,’ bellowed the pirate. Fletcher picked up an axe, his hand bloody. He swung it at the rope that fastened the skiff to the ship. Half the twine snapped, groaning under the pressure. Fletcher brought down the axe again. This time, the rope snapped. The skiff plunged down, hitting the sea. Icy water poured over its sides. Juddering, the boat rose back up.

  The pirate threw Scoop a bandage. ‘Bind his wound!’ He waved at Fletcher’s hand. Then, picking up a coil of rope with a small anchor attached, he swung it around his head. Releasing it, the anchor flew across the sea.

  ‘Help us!’ the pirate roared. ‘By the Storyteller, help us!’

  CLANG! The anchor hit something solid. Was it rock? Scoop couldn’t see through the storm. The skiff lurched, but the anchor held tight.

  The wreckage of the Black Horizon moved away, flowing towards the gap between the South Bookend Isles. Pieces of broken hull rose on monstrous waves, vanishing again into dark valleys of water. A strong wind had picked up, blowing everything towards the rocks. But the skiff held firm, anchored to whatever rock the pirate had found.

  Scoop looked on helplessly as her friends struggled. The Boatswain, Freddo, Rufina, Alpha, Sparks and Pierre, were all clinging to the same piece of broken mast. They had managed to pull themselves across to Knot and the Yarnbard. Nib, however, floated on his own, struggling to swim to them.

  ‘We have to help them!’ cried Scoop.

  ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ yelled the pirate.

  ‘But we can’t leave them. They’ll die.’

  ‘If we let go our anchor, we’ll be pulled down with the wreckage too.’

  Scoop watched her friends battle the waves, calling out, trying to help each other. Knot was holding the Yarnbard’s head above water. Alfa was struggling to pull Sparks onto the mast.

  The old man was in the water too, clinging to a piece of broken hull. Scoop looked at him with hatred. This was his doing, she knew it.

  The old man pointed at Nib. He was still alone, fighting the current. ‘Look!’ he gasped. Sharks!’

  ‘No!’ screamed Scoop, reaching out.

  Nib’s eyes darted, wide and fearful, searching the water around him. He tried to scramble higher onto the piece of wood he was clutching. But his body jerked. Scoop watched in horror as he was yanked down. The sea around him churned. His arm appeared, thrashing, then vanished.

  ‘No!’

  Scoop willed him to emerge, to leap back onto the wreckage and pull himself to safety. She scanned the water, looking for a glimpse of an arm or knee.

  Anything.

  Any sign of hope.

  But there was nothing.

  And then she saw it – blood. The surf was stained red.

  ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Nib!’

  There was one more violent swirl, and then the ocean fell still.

  She leaned forward, looking for a sign of life, searching for her friend. But there was no movement.

  Nib had gone.

  Rain pelted Scoop.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, again. ‘No, no, no!’ Her words became a wail.

  A sudden rush of wind swept everything towards the gap between the Bookend Isles. It was irresistible. Even the cloud couldn’t fight the current. The ocean seemed to swirl into a ball of wind and cloud, a vortex that hung directly between the rocks. The air roared. Scoop watched as the battered remains of the Black Horizon were dragged between the islands.

  Through the maelstrom, she thought she saw the old man transform into a large, black bird. It fought the wind, its wings pounding, but it wasn’t strong enough. There was a rushing, sucking, slurping noise and wit
h a jolt, everything disappeared between the rocks.

  It was as if Scoop had jumped from a cliff. The roaring stopped. A silence, as violent as any bomb blast, engulfed her.

  ‘What?’

  The sea was empty. Everything had vanished – the remnants of the ship, the crew, the cloud, and the black bird – all had been swept through the gap between the Bookend Isles. All had vanished to nothing.

  ‘What?’ she said again.

  With sickening speed, the water fell still. Ahead, the South Bookend Isles rose, a granite doorway in a clear ocean.

  The picture of a sinking stone filled Scoop’s mind. It sank down through the sea, down through jade-green waters, until it disappeared into darkness.

  She and Fletcher, the pirate and the skiff, were left alone. The others had vanished.

  Chapter 16

  Interlude

  A hand reaches into a hollow.

  ‘Letters?’

  The floor thuds.

  ‘Help her. She’s fallen!’

  The scene shifts to a chair by a patio door.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?

  You didn’t want to worry me?’

  Disbelief. Anger.

  Cherry blossom falls.

  Spring snatched. Short. Too short.

  Machine’s beep.

  The church is cold.

  And then … nothing.

  Libby wakes, a cold sweat pouring from her.

  She rolls onto her side and closes her eyes again.

  Chapter 17

  The Merking

  ‘Where are they?’ yelled Scoop, leaning over the side of the skiff, frantically scanning the ocean. ‘What’s happened?’

  The pirate stared at the South Bookend Isles, his face ashen.

  ‘What have you done with them?’ Scoop thumped his arm. ‘Where have they gone?’ The pirate was so fixed on the rocks, he didn’t seem to notice. Scoop pounded his arm and then dissolved into tears, her head slumping onto his shoulder.

  The sea lapped the boat gently, as if mocking them.

  ‘Where are they?’ she sobbed.

  Fletcher pulled her away and she collapsed into his arms. He held her for a moment. He couldn’t take in what had happened. All around, the sea was flat, grey and empty. ‘What on earth’s happened,’ he asked, quietly.