Stormchaser (41 page)

Twig beamed proudly as he stared up at the broad, white sails and criss-cross of spotless rigging. Together, they pulled the sky ship down the ramp-rollers, out of the ramshackle building and into the night. A full moon gleamed down on the polished masts and hull, on the silver lamps, on the burnished instruments and bone-handled levers.

‘All aboard,’ cried Twig, as he had heard his father cry so many times before. ‘Take to your posts.’

The sky pirates leaped to obey. Twig went to the bridge, gripped the helm and waited for the Stone Pilot to signal that the flight-rock was ready.

The signal came.

‘Unhitch the tolley-ropes,’ Twig shouted. ‘Raise the mainsail. Steady on the boom.’ The
Edgedancer
began to rise. Gently, Twig realigned the stern- and prow-weights. The bow rose and the sky ship soared up into the air.

Twig laughed for joy. The sky ship handled like a dream. Unlike the
Windcutter
. He lowered the port hull-weights and adjusted the mainsail a fraction. And yet, he thought as the sky ship glided obediently round to the left, had it not been for that perilous journey across the Mire and over the Edge in the crumbling sky ship, he would never have learnt to master the controls. Now, with the experience of the
Windcutter
behind him, flying the
Edgedancer
was a piece of pie.

As they swooped down low over the Bloodoak tavern, Twig saw Mother Horsefeather peering up at him from the doorway. ‘Tarp,’ he called. ‘Spooler. Start emptying the sacks.’

‘Aye aye, captain!’ they called back and, leaning over the back of the aft-deck, began throwing handful after handful of the envelopes to the air, where they fluttered, flapped and floated down to Undertown below. The sky pirates watched as the Undertowners ran this way and that in the oily, yellow lamplight, seizing up the curious folds of paper which had appeared as if from nowhere.

‘Begging your pardon, captain,’ said Tarp, as they circled the town for a second time. ‘But what exactly are we doing?’

Twig grinned as the Bloodoak tavern came back into view. ‘We are ending a monopoly.’

‘Captain?’

‘Each envelope contains a crystal of stormphrax and instructions for the safe production of phraxdust. It was
the only way I could make sure that
everyone
would have access to pure, clean water once again.’

‘Oh, I like that, captain,’ Tarp cried. ‘I like that a lot. That's fair, that is. My brother, Tendon, would most definitely have approved.’

‘Which is more than can be said for Mother Horsefeather,’ Sleet observed. ‘She looks fit to explode.’

Twig laughed and replied to her clenched and shaking fists with a wave. ‘It was high time for that avaricious bird-woman to get her come-uppance,’ he said. ‘She's ruled the Undertown roost for far too long.’ He glanced round. ‘How are those sacks coming along?’

‘Nearly done, captain,’ came the reply.

Twig smiled. He too was nearly done. With the stormphrax in place, the chain-building would cease, the pollution would stop and the Edgewater River would, once again, run clean enough to drink. The vicious circle gripping Sanctaphrax and Undertown was almost at an end.

As the last envelopes fluttered down, Twig turned the helm to port. It was time to sail away from Sanctaphrax, from Undertown. He raised the sails and lowered the stern-weights. The
Edgedancer
leapt forwards. And, with the wind gathering strength and singing in the rigging, Twig closed his eyes and threw back his head, giddy with elation.

He had done it! He had achieved what his father, Quintinius Verginix, had set out to do all those years earlier. Perhaps that was the way it was always meant to be … Who could tell?

Whatever, Twig had chased a Great Storm to the Twilight Woods in search of stormphrax and, although he had ultimately come by the sacred substance in a different place, come by it he certainly had. Having departed as a stowaway, he had returned as a captain – victorious and triumphant. A hero.

The wind caressed his face and tousled his hair. Could there be anything more exhilarating than soaring across the endless expanse of blue? A broad grin spread across his face. No, nothing, he realized. Nothing in the world. After all, he had been born to it.

And at that moment Twig felt himself to be the most fortunate person who had ever lived.

‘Skysailing in my own sky ship,’ he murmured, his chest bursting with pride. ‘The
Edgedancer
.’

All at once, the air around him became loud with a great wheezing and flapping of wings. He heard the sky pirates cry out in fear and alarm. Twig opened his eyes.

‘You!’ he exclaimed.

‘Indeed,’ the caterbird replied, as it shifted round on the balustrade and thrust its beak forwards.

‘Are you all right, captain?’ came a voice. It was Tarp Hammelherd. ‘Or should I sink an arrow in the creature's scraggy neck now.’

Twig spun round to see Tarp's crossbow lowered and pulled. ‘Avast!’ he screamed. ‘All weapons down.’

The caterbird's eyes swivelled round. ‘A fine welcome, Master Twig,’ it sniffed. ‘Yet perhaps it is in order, for I bring bad news.’

‘News? What news?’ Twig asked uneasily.

‘It is Cloud Wolf,’ it said. ‘Your father is in grave danger.’

‘Danger?’ said Twig anxiously.

‘The Great Storm never released him from its terrible grip,’ the caterbird explained. ‘When I last saw him, he was being carried off. I followed as far as I dared …’

‘Where to?’ said Twig.

‘Far from here. Too far.’

‘Not …’

The caterbird nodded. ‘Over the Edge, Twig. Farther than anyone has ever been before, deep deep into uncharted sky.’

Twig stared ahead, heart thumping wildly. His father, out there, lost in the monstrous, misty wasteland beyond the Edge – it was too appalling even to consider.

‘I must try to rescue him,’ he said resolutely.

‘It will be a perilous undertaking, Master Twig …’ the caterbird began.

‘
Captain
Twig,’ Twig interrupted stiffly. ‘And there are no perils great enough to keep me away. The
Edgedancer
is ready. The crew are ready. And so am I.’

‘Then we will set forth at once,’ said the caterbird.

Twig started with surprise. ‘We?’ he said. ‘Do you intend to travel with us?’

‘You were at my hatching,’ the caterbird reminded him. ‘I am bound to watch over you – always.’ It sighed. ‘Sometimes I wish it were not so … But enough of all this. We must make haste. Find a rope. Tether one end to the bowsprit, the other round my belly. I will track your father across open sky.’ It paused and shuddered. ‘It will mean flying further than even I have been before – but I will lead you to him. Sky willing we will not be too late.’

‘Sky willing,’ Twig repeated softly. Then, without another word, he lowered the starboard hull-weights and shifted the rudder-wheel.

‘All set,’ cried the caterbird. It leapt up from the balustrade and flapped off ahead. As the tether grew tighter Twig pulled down hard on the helm. The
Edgedancer
leapt forwards.

With the caterbird in front, the sky ship sailed closer and closer to the Edge. Below it, the water of the Edgewater River fell abruptly away and cascaded down for ever through dark sky. The wind blew, the sails billowed and the
Edgedancer
soared out –
over
the Edge and beyond.

‘Sky protect us,’ Twig whispered. ‘Sky protect us all!’

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

PAUL STEWART is a well-established author of books for young readers – everything from picture books to football stories, fantasy and horror. Several of his books are published by Transworld, including The Wakening, which was selected as a Pick of the Year by the Federation of Children's Book Groups.

CHRIS RIDDELL is an accomplished graphic artist who has illustrated many acclaimed books for children, including
Something Else
by Kathryn Cave (Viking), which was shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway Medal and the Smarties Prize and won the Unesco Award.
The Swan's Stories
by Brian Alderson (Walker) was shortlisted for the 1997 Kurt Maschler Award and, in 2000,
Castle Diary
(Walker Books) was also shortlisted for the Kate Greenaway Medal.