Echo Quickthorn and the Great Beyond

by Alex English

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘Are you okay, Echo?’ asked the professor, as they arrived back at Hawthorn Square. ‘You’ve hardly said a word since we came out of the lecture.’

  ‘I’m tired,’ said Echo, kicking off her boots and feigning a yawn before heading up the stairs, feeling more wide awake than she ever had in her life. Her mother was in terrible danger. Kidnapped by the Black Sky Wolves! Echo had to rescue her.

  But she couldn’t tell the professor about her plans. Not yet. Even if he believed Echo, he’d never agree to a rescue mission, especially one so perilous. No, she had to work out another way to track them down. She raced up the four storeys of stairs, lost in her thoughts, ignoring Horace and the professor’s calls for her to wait.

  It was only when she’d slammed her bedroom door behind her that Echo stopped to take a breath. She couldn’t waste one second. She needed to find the Black Sky Wolves and rescue her mother, however dangerous it might be.

  Gilbert emerged from her pocket and shook himself.

  ‘I’m going to rescue her, Gilbert,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how, but I’m going to do it.’

  Gilbert gave her an enquiring look.

  Echo swallowed. ‘I know it’ll be dangerous, but I don’t care. She needs me.’

  She thought back to the lecture. Evander Jefferson had seen the Black Sky Wolves near the Violet Isles. Would their ship still be there? Would her mother still be with them after all these years? There was only one way to find out. She had to persuade the professor to take her there in the Hummerbird. But how?

  She threw a bag on to the bed and began hurling in her belongings, narrowly missing Gilbert, who scuttled to the safety of her pillow and watched her with a worried expression. If she could just get close to the Black Sky Wolves’ ship, she would find her mother. She didn’t know how yet, but she would do it. She threw in her set of spanners, Jimmy’s postal pigeon and absent-mindedly yanked an indignant Pumpernickel’s tail in her haste to cram everything in.

  There was a soft knock at the door and she turned to find Horace in the doorway.

  He cleared his throat. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Packing,’ said Echo, shutting the bag with a snap. ‘I have to go to the Violet Isles right now.’

  ‘The Violet Isles? But the professor says they’re infested with pirates.’

  Echo shrugged, although her heart secretly sparked at the idea. ‘I know.’

  Horace continued. ‘He even says he’s going to have to rechart our course back to Lockfort to avoid getting close to them. It’s a shame really. I’d hoped we might see a Greater Brimstone if we flew close by.’

  Echo stared at him. That was it! The Greater Brimstone! She raced past Horace and threw herself down the slideway, whizzing down to the parlour. She landed on the cushions, breathless. ‘Professor!’ she yelled. ‘Professor Daggerwing!’

  The professor was examining a map with his head in his hands. He looked up as Echo raced in. ‘Echo, whatever is the matter?’

  She caught her breath. ‘We have to go to the Violet Isles.’

  ‘But my dear girl, we can’t venture near the Violet Isles until the pirates have moved on. No, we’ll need to take a different route to Lockfort.’ He stroked his chin, then grabbed his fountain pen and began scribbling furiously in his notebook.

  ‘But . . . but we have to go. Now!’ Tears welled in Echo’s eyes and she crossly wiped them away with her sleeve.

  Professor Daggerwing looked up, perplexed. ‘You’re bamboozling me, Echo. I know you must be keen to get back home, but we’ll find another route.’

  ‘What about the Greater Brimstone?’ she burst out. ‘I thought you wanted to beat Evander Jefferson. You could be the first to show photogram footage at the Guild!’

  ‘Well . . . well, yes, I do agree that it would have been nice—’

  ‘But now’s your chance!’ said Echo. ‘He didn’t manage to see any, and nobody else will be going. They’re all too scared of the sky pirates.’

  ‘And with good cause,’ said the professor. ‘It’s a most dangerous situation.’

  ‘But you said yourself that you’ve had brushes with pirates before, and they mostly just go for merchant ships. They wouldn’t bother us! You wouldn’t be scared!’

  ‘Well, I . . .’

  ‘You’re braver than that Jefferson man, I’m certain of it!’

  The professor flushed. ‘Well, I don’t know about that.’

  ‘And what about Horace?’ she said.

  ‘Horace?’ The professor raised confused eyebrows. ‘He didn’t say anything to me.’

  ‘He has his heart set on going,’ said Echo. ‘He didn’t want to tell you himself. He so loves butterflies and it’s his one chance to see the Greater Brimstone before you take us back to Lockfort.’ She felt a stab of guilt as she lied. ‘He begged me to ask you.’ She finally let her tears of desperation flow. ‘Please, Professor.’

  The professor nodded gravely, running a hand through his bushy hair and looking around in search of a handkerchief. ‘Oh dear. Oh dear me. Now, please don’t cry. You know it makes me nervous. Let’s put the kettle on and we will see what’s to be done.’

  After a cup of the professor’s strongest orange peccadillo tea, Echo was a little more composed, but she still couldn’t shake the itchy frantic feeling inside that told her she had to get to the Violet Isles right away.

  She leaned over the professor’s shoulder as he studied his charts. ‘Didn’t Jefferson say the pirates were to the south of the islands?’ she said. ‘Couldn’t we fly in from the north?’

  ‘I suppose it could work,’ he said, wrinkling his brow.

  ‘Yes, look,’ said Echo, pointing at the map. ‘It’s open sky here. If there are any sky pirate ships around, we’ll be able to see them before we draw near.’

  He frowned. ‘I suppose we would be safe enough.’

  ‘We could stop off so Horace can see the butterflies and you can get your photograms—’

  ‘And then onwards to Lockfort by cover of darkness.’ The professor rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. ‘It’s not a terrible plan. Are you sure Horace will want to risk it though? I got the impression he was, well, rather a timid fellow.’

  ‘I told him it might be risky, but he’s desperate to see the Greater Brimstone.’ Echo tried to keep her voice light and stared resolutely at the map to avoid the professor’s gaze.

  ‘All right. We’ll do it. The Violet Isles and onwards to Lockfort.’

  ‘Oh, thank you! Thank you!’ Echo threw herself at the professor in a huge hug, not telling him that she had no intention of being on the Hummerbird when they went on to Lockfort and would instead be hunting for the Black Sky Wolves alone.

  The professor patted her back awkwardly. ‘We can’t be hasty though. There are still preparations to be made. If we’re venturing into sky-pirate territory, we’ll have to ensure the Hummerbird is shipshape and spotless.’

  Echo dropped her arms and nodded reluctantly. ‘So when can we leave?’

  ‘It’ll take two days to get the old girl ready.’

  ‘Two days!’ Echo exclaimed. ‘But can’t we go right away?’

  Professor Daggerwing shook his head. ‘I’m afraid that part of the expedition is non-negotiable. An explorer must be prepared, especially when there are sky pirates around.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘In the meantime, I think a good supper is in order.’

  Over a fireside supper of hot buttered crumpets with slabs of crumbling cheese and a peculiar aubergine pickle the professor had found in the cupboard under the stairs, he explained what he knew about the Violet Isles to Echo and Horace.

  ‘It’s a cluster of five islands in the Stony Sea,’ he said. ‘No population to speak of, with dense jungle. The biggest island, Amethyst, is where my good friend Doctor Beetlestone has her laboratory. We could even pop in to see her! The others – Mauve, Heliotrope, Tyrian and Magenta – are much smaller.’

  Horace looked at Echo suspici
ously as the professor described the change in plans. ‘Is it really safe, Professor?’ he asked. ‘I thought you said we had to avoid that area?’

  ‘I think I’ve found a safe enough route,’ said the professor, worry flickering across his face. ‘Or at least I hope I have. But I know how keen you are to visit before you return home, Horace, and, as Echo has pointed out, it is only a small detour.’

  Horace glared at Echo and opened his mouth to speak. ‘But—’

  ‘Why are they called the Violet Isles?’ Echo interrupted quickly. ‘Is it something to do with the plants that grow there?’

  ‘No, no, not at all. The Violet Isles are so called because of the peculiar purple fog that rolls in off the sea. It’s most unpredictable. Makes navigation quite a challenge, I can tell you!’

  Echo nodded. ‘What about the butterflies?’ she asked, licking pickle from her fingers. ‘I bet you want to know all about them, don’t you, Horace?’

  Horace frowned at his crumpet, then shrugged. ‘Are they rare?’

  ‘Frightfully rare,’ said the professor. ‘I’ve only ever witnessed them once, but unfortunately the plates I took got blown into the water by the backdraught from their wings and all my photograms were lost.’

  ‘Just think what they’ll say at the Guild if you manage it this time,’ said Echo.

  The professor flushed and stroked Fred, who had jumped up on to his lap. ‘It would be satisfying to beat old Jefferson.’

  Echo smiled and finished her crumpet, avoiding Horace’s gaze. She was getting closer to finding her mother, she could feel it. As for her mother’s pirate kidnappers, well, she’d work out what to do about them when she got there. For the moment, just getting closer was enough.

  Back in her room, Echo threw on her nightclothes and pulled up the soft eiderdown. Gilbert arranged himself on her pillow and closed his eyes, with a sleepy chirrup.

  ‘Scaly dreams, Gilbert,’ she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

  There was a sharp knock at her door and Echo tensed. Had the professor changed his mind? Was their expedition to the Violet Isles off? Instead, the door opened and Horace appeared, a suspicious frown on his face.

  Echo swallowed. Now she was in trouble. ‘What is it?’

  ‘What are you up to?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing!’

  ‘You’ve persuaded the professor to stop off in the Violet Isles and I want to know why. You don’t care about butterflies.’

  Echo put on a hurt expression. ‘I thought you wanted to see them. Can’t I do something nice without you accusing me of some sneaky plan? It’s your only chance before you go back to Lockfort.’

  Horace flushed and looked at his feet. ‘I admit they do sound interesting.’ He looked up. ‘Did you really do it for me?’

  Echo nodded, hoping the flood of guilt she felt didn’t show on her face. ‘I know how much you love them.’

  ‘Right, well . . .’ He paused awkwardly. ‘Listen, I should say sorry,’ he said, sitting down on the end of her bed. ‘For those things I said before about you not finding your mother. Or her not finding you. I didn’t mean to upset you. I know how much you wanted to find her and I’m really sorry the pin didn’t end up meaning anything.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Echo sat up and touched his hand.

  ‘And thanks for persuading the professor to take us to the Violet Isles. It’ll be great to see one last wonderful thing before we go home for good.’

  ‘Yes.’ Echo nodded guiltily. ‘Are you really looking forward to it? Lockfort, I mean?’

  ‘Of course – Lockfort’s home! Although it will be strange going back,’ he said. ‘After everything we’ve seen.’

  Echo nodded again and for a moment they just sat in silence.

  There were footsteps on the stairs and Professor Daggerwing popped his head round the door. ‘I think you two should get some rest,’ he said. ‘There are lots of preparations to be made. Those fluffle valves won’t tune themselves, you know. In fact, that reminds me! I must add barnacle grease to my shopping list. Sleep well!’ He rushed back out of the room.

  Horace said goodnight and disappeared to his room.

  But, as Echo lay alone in the darkness, she couldn’t sleep for all the thoughts tumbling round her head. She was putting not just herself but Horace and the professor in great danger. And for what? Would she really find the Black Sky Wolves in the Violet Isles? There were five islands after all. And would her mother still be with them? The chance seemed so small. And, if the Black Sky Wolves did have her mother, how was Echo ever going to rescue her?

  ‘It seems almost hopeless, Gilbert,’ she said to the little lizard.

  He gave a sleepy chirrup, which Echo thought might just have meant, A little hope is all you need.

  ‘You’re right.’ Echo yawned and stroked his scales. A little hope had got her this far after all. But, as she finally drifted off to sleep, her dreams were filled with fierce pirates and cannons and ships that sailed away from her before she could catch them, and even in sleep her fists were curled as tight as clockwork.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The next two days passed in a blur of preparations for their trip. Vinegar wafted through the house as the professor stirred a huge steaming saucepan of prickly-pear pickles. Mrs Milkweed hummed as she hunched with a sextant over the sky charts. The cats, somehow knowing that adventure was afoot, mewed and rubbed round everyone’s legs, play-stalked Gilbert with new vigour and, when it was all too much, fell asleep in a sevenfold furry heap, usually on top of a map, or in a half-packed suitcase, or among a pile of essential provisions.

  Echo couldn’t keep still. She’d been to the Mech Market to buy barnacle grease and steam oil, cleaned out the Hummerbird ’s water tank and helped the professor oil the pistons, hoping to hurry things along, but it all seemed to be taking forever. ‘Oh, when will the envelope be ready?’ she said, pacing up and down the parlour when she’d finally run out of tasks.

  ‘Please do stop stomping around,’ begged Horace, hunched over his caterpillar jar at the table. ‘The vibrations are upsetting my chrysalises.’

  There was a whirring noise outside the window and Echo looked out to see a brass postal pigeon winging its way towards them.

  ‘This must be it!’ she said, flinging the window wide and catching the little bird in both hands. She checked the scroll held tightly in its metallic claw.

  ‘Professor, it’s for you!’

  She ran through to the kitchen and breathlessly passed the message to the professor, who was spooning pickles into jars. He put down his ladle, unrolled the paper and read it.

  ‘Is the envelope ready?’ asked Echo.

  ‘It most certainly is,’ said Professor Daggerwing. ‘We just need to go to the Mech Market and collect it.’

  ‘Can I come?’ Echo said. ‘I want to say goodbye to Abena and Jimmy too.’

  ‘Why don’t we all go?’ said the professor. ‘A little outing in the fresh air will do us good. Mrs Milkweed, Horace, the new envelope awaits!’

  The Hummerbird ’s new balloon made a weighty parcel, and it took all four of them to carry it, carefully folded and tied up in brown paper, back through the streets to Hawthorn Square.

  ‘That’s strange,’ said Horace.

  ‘What is?’ said Echo, panting as they rested the parcel on the bottom step.

  ‘Look.’ He pointed at the front door, which swung open on the breeze. ‘Didn’t you shut it when we went out, Professor?’

  The professor peered through his glasses. ‘I’m sure I did.’ He left the balloon envelope where it was and ran up the steps. ‘Oh no!’ he said, gazing into the hallway in dismay.

  ‘What is it?’ Echo and the others followed him into the house. Echo gasped as she saw the chaos inside. The lock to the front door was broken clean off. Maps lay strewn all over the floor, chairs had been turned upside down and the drawers of all the cabinets hung open, their contents scattered across the rug. In the parlour, every one of the professor’s p
ickle jars had been smashed.

  ‘Who’s been in here?’ she said.

  ‘Is anything missing?’ asked Mrs Milkweed in a shaky voice. She stepped carefully between her torn maps, her eyes full of worry.

  ‘No, no, I don’t think so,’ said the professor. His face was white with shock. ‘But they were obviously searching for something. Although what, I have no idea.’

  Chills ran down Echo’s spine as she squeezed the hairpin in her pocket. She had a horrible feeling that she knew exactly what they’d been looking for. ‘Let’s check upstairs,’ she said.

  All of the bedrooms were untouched except Echo’s. Her bed had been moved away from the wall, the mattress slashed and the stuffing pulled out. Every item of clothing in her wardrobe was thrown on the floor. Stargazy shot out from under the bed and wrapped himself round Mrs Milkweed’s ankles with a terrified mew.

  ‘Poor puss,’ she said, rubbing him behind the ears. ‘What’s been going on in here?’

  There was a hammering of fists on the front door below. The professor peered out of the window. ‘It’s the Queen’s Guard,’ he said. ‘Four of them, no five. But what are they—’

  ‘Professor!’ said Echo, turning to him. ‘It’s me they’re looking for. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, but I really need to leave. I’m in trouble.’

  ‘Trouble?’ said the professor, his bushy eyebrows almost touching in a frown. ‘What kind of trouble?’

  ‘There’s no time!’ she said. ‘Please! I have to get out of Port Tourbillon. Right now. People are after me. All sorts of people. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.’

  The professor looked at her for a moment. ‘Okay, you two, get up to the Hummerbird. Echo seems to be in grave danger.’

  ‘But what about the new envelope?’ exclaimed Horace.

  ‘The old one will have to do,’ said the professor. ‘Let’s go. Follow me.’