The Last of the Sky Pirates (27 page)

‘Come and join us,’ said Xanth. ‘Your flight-suit’s by your door.’

Sure enough, hanging from the iron hook outside his cabin was a green leather flight-suit with pockets and loops, as yet unfilled with equipment. Wooden leg-shields and arm-protectors dangled from their cord straps beside it. With trembling fingers Rook seized them and, fumbling clumsily, pulled the soft, burnished flight-suit on over his night clothes. His first flight! He was about to go on his first flight! Pausing only to adjust his new goggles, Rook dashed down the tower walkway to join his companions on the landing.

‘Where are our skycraft?’ he asked breathlessly.

‘Over there,’ said Magda, nodding towards the four skycraft, still tethered to the back of the lufwood stage.

There, gently bobbing in the breeze, was the
Ratbird
, the
Hammelhorn
, the
Woodmoth
– and the
Stormhornet
. Rook grinned. ‘They look good, don’t they?’ he said.

‘They’ll look even better up in the sky,’ said Stob. ‘Where’s our flight instructor? I thought he’d be here by now.’

‘Patience,’ said Magda. ‘We’ve waited long enough. A few more minutes won’t make any difference.’

As the early dawn mist began to lift over the lake, and the sounds of hammelhorn carts rumbling down the woodtroll paths towards the timber yards echoed through the air like distant thunder, the apprentices began to get impatient.

‘Sunrise, the High Master said, didn’t he?’ said Stob. ‘So where is our flight instructor?’

‘Perhaps he overslept, whoever he is,’ said Xanth.

‘Forgotten all about us, more like,’ said Stob irritably.

‘Well, I’m not going to stand for it. How about you three?’

The others shrugged.

‘Just once round the lake and back again,’ Stob said. ‘It can’t do any harm. Who’s up for it?’

‘Me,’ said Rook and Xanth together.

Magda nodded. ‘All right,’ she said quietly.

Rook ran to the
Stormhornet
. Now that it had been decided, he couldn’t wait to be up in the sky. He released the tether, jumped up onto the saddle and, feet in the stirrups, grasped the two wooden rope-handles.

With nimble fingers, he raised the loft-sail and lowered the nether-sail – keeping a hold of the upper nether-sail rope as he did so. The two sails billowed out in front of him, just as they had so many times before, when he had been perched on top of the training block. This time, however, his craft was not secured to the ground.

With a tremble and a sigh, the elegant
Stormhornet
rose from the platform. For a second, it hovered there, its sails fluttering and flight-weights swaying.

Then, as the wind took it, Rook pulled on the pinnerrope, and the skycraft suddenly came to life and surged upwards into the crisp morning air.

Nothing could have prepared Rook for the thrill which raced through his body as the skycraft climbed ever higher. Not the buoyant lecterns, nor riding the prowlgrins as they leaped from tree to tree – nor even his brief flight with Knuckle. This time, he was in control. The
Stormhornet
responded to his every movement, dipping and swooping, rising and looping, utterly obedient to his command. It was exhilarating. It was awesome.

Once round the lake
, Stob had said, yet now he was airborne, Rook had no intention of landing so soon. He looked round at the others. Stob was some way to his left, his flight steady and arrow-straight, the heavy hammelhorn prow seemingly butting its way through the currents of air. Magda, in contrast, seemed almost to be fluttering; this way and that she went, darting through the air, catching each gust and eddy for just a moment before changing course. Rook realigned the weights and sails, pulled the pinnerrope to his left and swooped down towards her. As their eyes met, they both burst out laughing.

‘Isn’t this the best thing ever?’ said Rook, his voice snatched away on the wind.

‘Incredible!’ Magda shouted back.

Xanth, sleek and poised on the
Ratbird
, swooped down low over the lake, his trailing flight-weights skimming the still surface. Rook gasped at the elegance
of his friend’s flight. Xanth twitched the ropes and flew off, laughing.

Standing up in the stirrups, and tugging hard on the pinner-rope, Rook gave chase. Up to the top of the trees they flew, then, twisting round, they hurtled down, down like stones, before pulling out at the last moment, skimming the water again, and soaring back into the sky.

Xanth glanced round, his face glowing with excitement.

‘Whup! Whup! Wahoo!’
Rook cried.

‘Wahoo!’
Xanth bellowed and, turning away, darted back off towards the trees, looping the loop twice as he went.

This time Rook did not follow. Pulling the
Stormhornet
round, he flew back across the lake.

All at once he heard a cry of alarm, and spun round to see Stob and the
Hammelhorn
hurtling straight towards a great ironwood tree on the far edge of the lake. His hands were a blur of movement as they leaped around the ropes and levers, but the
Hammelhorn
was not responding. With a sickening crunch, the skycraft struck the tree’s massive trunk, and fell.

Rook gasped and, distracted, let go of his own sail-ropes. The next moment he felt a heavy drag below him. Looking down, he saw, to his horror, that the nether-sail was half immersed in water. Desperately, he tried to raise it, while at the same time giving full head to the loft-sail. But it was no use. With a loud splash, the
Stormhornet
struck the lake.

The icy water snatched Rook’s breath away and
chilled him instantly to the bone. He struggled desperately upwards, fighting against the weight of his wet clothes, and emerged next to the
Stormhornet
, which was bobbing about on the surface, pinned down by its sodden sails. Gasping with relief, Rook grabbed hold of the tether-rope, and clung on tightly.

Overhead, Magda seemed to stall. Her sails collapsed and the
Woodmoth
lurched to one side. With a shrill scream, she tumbled down towards the lake. There was a resounding
splash
, followed, seconds later, by coughing and spluttering as Magda surfaced beside Rook.

‘It’s all your fault, Rook!’ she laughed. ‘You put me off!’

The
Woodmoth
dropped slowly down towards the surface of the lake, landing close to the base of the iron-wood tree where a disgruntled Stob sat rubbing his head ruefully Xanth swooped in from overhead. ‘Are you two all right?’ he called. ‘It’s a bit cold for a swim, if you ask me.’ He flew off with a laugh, circling the lake effortlessly on the soaring
Ratbird
, before turning back towards Lake Landing.

‘Just look at him,’ said Magda. ‘He makes it look so easy.’ She shook her head. ‘Who’d have thought it, eh? Quiet little Xanth, the best flyer of us all.’

‘Beginner’s luck,’ said Rook, and smiled. ‘I’ll race you to the landing, come on!’

He and Magda splashed through the cold water, with Magda soon pulling in front. Ahead of them, Xanth was coming in to land, the
Ratbird
– sleek and swift – tilting into the wind.

‘He’s coming in too fast,’ said Rook.

‘Oh, he’ll be all right,’ Magda called back. ‘Look at him, he’s in control.’

The skycraft swooped low in an elegant arc and descended steeply. Just as it did so, a lone figure emerged from the Landing Tower and strode across the lufwood decking. At the sight of the figure, Xanth seemed to check his descent. The
Ratbird
reared up, its sails collapsed and the smooth arc turned into an ugly tumble. The next moment the skycraft crashed heavily into the landing, splintering its slender mast and throwing its rider clear.

Rook and Magda kicked out for the landing. The figure was crouching over the stricken body of their friend as they approached. At the same time Stob was running from the far edge of the lake, dragging the
Hammelhorn
behind him. Wet, breathless and shivering from the cold, Magda and Rook heaved themselves up onto the landing. Behind them, their skycraft bobbed on the water.

‘Is he all right?’ asked Magda.

‘He’ll live,’ said the figure, without looking up. ‘But
he’s broken his leg badly. This is one apprentice who won’t be flying again for a long time to come.’

Xanth groaned and opened his eyes. ‘It hurts,’ he said miserably.

‘It’s all my fault!’ said Stob, running up, red-faced and with tears in his eyes. ‘We were waiting for the flight instructor, but he didn’t show up, so I thought it wouldn’t do any harm just to take a short flight round the lake and back.’ He shook his head. ‘If I’d only known it would end like this …’ He sank to his knees and grasped Xanth’s hand. ‘I’m sorry, Xanth. We should have waited for that stupid flight instructor. Now we’ll have to postpone our first lesson.’

I
don’t think so,’ said the figure, standing up and turning to face them. ‘
I
am your “stupid” flight instructor.’

Stob groaned; he’d done it again.

‘Perhaps you’ve heard of me,’ she said. ‘My name is Varis Lodd.’

Rook’s jaw dropped. So this was the great Varis Lodd. Felix’s sister. The librarian knight who had rescued him from the Deepwoods all those years ago. He wondered whether he should say something to her … Then again, he thought, she didn’t even seem to recognize him – and why should she? He’d been a child of four when she’d rescued him, and she
hadn’t seen him since. He bit his tongue.

‘And as for your first lesson …’ Varis was saying. She paused and looked along the line of apprentices, one red-faced, one open-mouthed and one shivering; and at Xanth, prostrate on the landing, and moaning with pain. ‘You have just learned it.’

As the moon peeked up above the horizon, broad and creamy yellow, Rook soared into the sky. Below him on Lake Landing, Varis Lodd and Parsimmon grew smaller and smaller.

Far to his left, a great caterbird, its black plumage and huge curved beak magnificent in the moonlight, flapped slowly across the sky. Xanth would have loved the sight. Rook remembered his friend’s proposed treatise and wondered whether he would ever achieve his dreams. Poor Xanth. Even now, six long months after the terrible crash, he still walked with the aid of a stick, and had become even quieter and more haunted-looking, if that were possible.

Rook had always made a point of seeking Xanth out and including him in all the talk of sail-craft, flight-signing and wind-riding that accompanied their flight training. But there was no escaping the fact that whenever he, Magda and Stob took to the air, Xanth was left behind, his pale face and dark eyes betraying his hurt and disappointment.

Tonight had been especially tough for Xanth because it was the night of their final flight. After this, Magda, Stob and Rook would be fully-fledged librarian knights,
ready to embark on their treatise-voyages. The thrill of it coursed through Rook’s body as he realigned the sails and pulled hard on the pinner-rope. The skycraft shifted round, swooped down lower in the sky and skirted the fringes of the vast island of light and prosperity nestling in the dark, mysterious Deepwoods.