Voyage of the Owl Read online

  The only way to cool off was to dive off the back of the boat and swim in the ice-cold ocean.

  Jack warned them constantly about sharks and Octomon and other sea monsters, so they never swam for long. They tried to pass the time by telling stories and jokes, while they did their chores.

  ‘What has three heads, two hands, eight legs, two tails and two wings?’ asked Saxon chirpily.

  ‘A dreadful sea monster?’ guessed Lily.

  ‘A weird kind of dragon?’ asked Roana.

  ‘A hunter, riding a horse with a falcon on his wrist!’ laughed Saxon.

  Lily and Roana giggled helplessly.

  ‘Why did the hobgoblin cross the river?’

  ‘To get to the other side!’

  Ethan groaned and threw his scrubbing brush at Saxon’s head. Saxon caught it deftly and, with a loud chuckle, threw it back.

  ‘Have any of you thought of an answer to Fox’s riddle yet?’ Saxon asked.

  ‘No,’ Roana grumbled. ‘It is too hot to solve riddles.’

  Aisha flopped in the shade, her tongue panting, and refused to move.

  Fox had already decided to ration the fresh water in case the Owl was becalmed for days. He wanted to ensure they had enough fresh water for the sail back to Tiregian.

  Everyone quickly grew short-tempered and touchy. To avoid petty arguments and discord, Fox set them to work practising their fighting and climbing skills.

  He organised a series of archery competitions, where everyone took shots at a small empty keg that was bobbing behind the Owl on a long rope. After each round, Fox retrieved the keg and counted the different coloured arrows. Ethan usually won easily, although Lily and Roana also scored well.

  ‘A lucky shot,’ cried Jack, as Ethan’s tenth arrow in a row hit the bobbing keg, while Jack’s last shot was floating away towards Tiregian.

  ‘Yes,’ Fox replied, clapping Ethan on the back. ‘And I think you’ll find, young Jack, that the more Ethan practises, the luckier he’ll get!’

  Fox, Otto, Carl and Jack practised sword fighting, their cutlasses whirring in the air with silver flashes. The deck rang with the blows of metal upon metal, and Lily was certain she would be stitching up bloodied wounds on all the combatants. They were all skilled at practice fighting, though, and no-one was seriously injured.

  Otto alone seemed to fight as if he really wanted to kill someone, but Fox was obviously the stronger swordsman and fought him off easily.

  None of the children had ever fought with a sword, so Fox taught them the rudimentary skills, using wooden swords that Ethan and Saxon nailed together from offcuts of timber. Soon the four children were enthusiastically feinting and thrusting.

  ‘Sword fighting is all about speed, timing and balance,’ instructed Fox. ‘Speed, timing and balance. You need to practise and practise. The swordfighter who wins is the one who practises the most.’

  Fox demonstrated – darting forward in a lightning riposte, balancing deftly on the balls of his feet and stopping short, gently pressing the sword tip into Saxon’s chest.

  He started the four children doing exercises, attacking a sail bag hanging from a spar. They had to lunge and retreat, lunge and retreat, responding to Fox’s shouts to aim low or high. Fox instructed them on their breathing, speed and choreography. Finally, after a few hours of fighting the sail bag, Fox paired them up – Saxon fighting Ethan, and Roana fighting Lily.

  ‘Breathe, Rowan,’ bellowed Fox. ‘You can’t fight well without breathing. No, breathe deeply, from your stomach. Attack on the exhale, it will give your thrust more power.’

  ‘I can’t fight and breathe at the same time,’ Roana laughed, dropping her sword.

  ‘Then Lily will beat you,’ Fox retorted. ‘You are learning to fight, not learning to bash swords together!’

  He looked over to the other pair. ‘Stop thinking, Ethan,’ Fox instructed. ‘You don’t have time to think. You need to react instinctively, like you do when you are firing an arrow. Let your muscles fight while your mind just observes. Yes, that’s better.’

  The boys continued, Saxon leaping forward to thrust wildly at Ethan.

  ‘No, no, no, Saxon!’ Fox roared. ‘Keep those big feet of yours on the ground. You need to slide and glide just above the ground, or your opponent will knock you off balance and have you flat on your back with the cutlass at your throat! Glide, like this!’ Fox danced across the deck, graceful as a ballerina, his cutlass flashing like lightning. ‘Again! Yes, that’s more like it.’

  He turned back to the other pair. ‘Much better, Lily.’ Fox nodded approvingly. ‘You are light on your feet, but work on your timing. Read your opponent. See how Rowan shifts his weight and drops his shoulder? Anticipate that attack and block. Watch his eyes. They will tell you a lot, but don’t forget to observe his whole body movements.’

  The four children worked hard, keen to please Fox with their improvement, and enjoyed the exercise after a few days of resting on board ship. They practised for hours, especially in the cool of the morning and the early evening. The practice broke up the boredom of the long, windless days, and made them feel as if they were doing something useful.

  At first they were all quite clumsy and slow, but they soon learnt to move quickly and defend themselves. Saxon, in particular, loved fighting with a sword and learnt swiftly, his athletic frame moving gracefully.

  Aisha whined pitifully as they battled, circling the sword fights with her tail between her legs. She could not understand why her beloved family were fighting their best friends.

  Once, Roana lashed out at Lily, and Lily lost her balance and slipped over, rolling deftly out of the way. Aisha leapt at Roana, growling warningly, her hackles raised and her teeth bared ferociously. Roana dropped her sword in shock.

  ‘Stop, Aisha,’ laughed Lily. ‘I’m all right. It’s just a game.’

  Aisha was reassured by Lily’s tone and returned to the shade to watch, her head on her paws and her eyebrows wrinkled attentively.

  ‘Aisha really frightened me,’ Roana gasped. ‘For the first time ever, I thought she might hurt me.’

  ‘She was just warning you,’ Lily reassured Roana. ‘But you can understand how she can frighten off thugs, like the bandits who ambushed us on the way to Tira.’

  Everyone grinned at the memory of their victory over the lawless highwaymen who had tried to steal their horses.

  On the twelfth day, Roana, Saxon, Ethan and Lily were scrubbing the timber decks with buckets of seawater when Otto bustled past them. As usual, he made a grimace as he saw Lily working, and he made sure to walk as far as possible from where Charcoal was curled up in the shade on a coil of rope. His fingers automatically curled up into a ball, with the two outer fingers making horns, warding away Lily and Charcoal’s malevolent presence.

  Saxon grimaced behind Otto’s back, imitating the bo’sun’s strutting swagger. He made the same warding sign at the tattooed dragon shimmering in the sun. The others giggled quietly, their shoulders shaking in their effort to keep their laughter silent. Saxon pulled out a pencil and a scrap of paper from his pocket. He scrawled a quick note in their secret backwards code and showed it to the others.

  Niaga snomel no gnikcus neeb s‘yggard dneirf ruo

  Roana, Ethan and Lily giggled loudly. Roana took the pencil and added:

  Lrig reiracs a tem reve evah i kniht ton od i .Tirips

  live na ro hctiw a si ylil skniht eh

  All four laughed out loud, hunched around the paper. Ethan grabbed the pencil and scribbled:

  ? hguot yllaer kool mih sekam ti skniht

  yggard kniht uoy od ? speerc eht uoy

  evig oottat nogard taht t‘nseod !

  gniyfirret si retsis ym

  Lily took the pencil.

  gnimmiws s‘eh nehw sretsnom aes eht ffo eracs ot

  s’ti ebyam. pinrut a otni uoy nrut dna uoy esruc ll ‘i ro

  nahte tuo hctaw retteb uoy

  Everyone laughed again, their heads together over the p
aper, their scrubbing brushes and buckets lying forgotten beside them. They were so distracted with their coded messages that they didn’t notice Otto creeping back, until he pounced.

  ‘Caught you – shirking duty again,’ Otto yelled. ‘I told you lazy landlubbers to scrub this deck, not scribble on it. Fox must have sea fever to have let you brats on board.’

  The four children stared up at Otto, guilt etched on their faces, the incriminating paper between them.

  ‘And what have we here?’ Otto gloated, as he grabbed the paper from the deck. His self-satisfied smirk turned to a puzzled frown as he stared at the meaningless letters. The four children grinned conspiratorially.

  ‘Get back to work.’ Otto scowled menacingly, scrunching up the paper and throwing it overboard. The dragon on his back flexed its wings, shining with sweat, as he stomped aft to the steering wheel.

  On the evening of the thirteenth day, Saxon and Jack climbed down into the rowing boat to fish. The lines bobbed uselessly. Without the movement of the Owl, the fish ignored them, but the boys had nothing else to do except enjoy the peace and glorious sunset.

  Jack was playing softly on his harmonica, a beautiful song of longing and love.

  ‘I’m playing the fish to come to us,’ Jack whispered.

  ‘Watch out you don’t play that wicked monkey to come to us instead,’ Saxon grinned. ‘I don’t feel like having my hair pulled, or my nose tweaked! I’d rather relax.’

  Saxon lay back in the boat, his eyes half closed, enjoying the soothing rocking of the boat as tiny waves lapped against the hull. He was nearly asleep when the line jerked suddenly, nearly pulling Jack into the sea. He dropped his harmonica into the bottom of the boat and stood up to pull the line in.

  Saxon sat up, starting in horror. A huge face lifted from the sea, barely three metres from the boat. Water streamed from its scaly flat head, and cascaded back into the sea. Huge, milky grey eyes stared unblinkingly into the boat.

  ‘Barramon!’ Jack screamed.

  Eight metres away the creature’s long tail broke the surface, lashing angrily. Its middle humped up out of the water like a long thin bridge, rippling back down its length.

  Saxon and Jack scrambled back away from the creature, yelling loudly. The Barramon opened its mouth wide, revealing a double row of needle-sharp teeth and a forked tongue. The tongue flickered, spraying the boys with slimy spit.

  Saxon grabbed up an oar from the rowlock and threatened the monster, but he was just out of reach.

  ‘Get back,’ yelled Jack, desperately trying to drag Saxon away. ‘It breathes –’

  The monster inhaled deeply then roared. Rank hot breath hit the boys in the face, scorching them with its smelly heat. Then a flame shot from its mouth, incinerating the fishing rods and lines. Jack’s clothes caught fire. His hair smouldered. His skin blistered.

  Faster than an eye blink, Saxon grabbed Jack by the hands and threw him overboard. He threw him in on the side away from the monster, plunging him deep under water to extinguish the flames. Saxon hauled Jack up again, drenched and dripping, and dragged him back into the boat. Saxon turned to face the monster again. This time it was closer.

  Jack cried and moaned, his body quaking with shock. Saxon stared straight into the milky eyes of the monster glaring relentlessly at him. Those eyes seemed mesmerising.

  You could get lost staring into their cold, merciless depths. The monster opened its mouth again. Saxon could almost count the teeth. He felt the hot breath gently ruffle his hair. He saw the start of the red hot flame spitting from the Barramon’s mouth.

  ‘Saxon! Get down!’ screamed a voice behind him. The shrill voice broke the spell and Saxon stumbled and collapsed into the bottom of the boat. The flame licked and flickered over him. His clothes singed and smoked.

  At the same moment, there was a series of sharp pings, a whirring noise and a swift breeze disturbed the air. Saxon could make no sense of it lying in the bottom of the boat. Yet his fall seemed to have saved him from the worst of the flame. Instead of excruciating burning, he felt only a rather pleasant warmth.

  Up on the stern of the Owl a huddle of people stared in shock at the scene below them.

  Ethan stood alone – feet apart, bow steady, arrow nocked. He had already let off a stream of arrows – a dozen in just over a minute. The second had found its mark, down the creature’s throat. One had hit a huge milky eye, bursting it like a jellyfish. The others had stung its head, neck, spine.

  The Barramon paused in the middle of its torrent of flame. It shook its flat serpentine head, bristling with arrows, then dived, deep down to the bottom of the ocean. Ethan, Fox and Carl scrambled down the rope ladder to haul the rowing boat in. Aisha whined and cried, running back and forth across the stern.

  Otto abandoned his post at the steering wheel, lashing the wheel on one side. The sails hung limp and airless. With no wind the boat did not really need steering. Lily picked up her skirts and ran as fast as she could to the sail hold to fetch her pack.

  ‘Roana – help me,’ yelled Lily. ‘Fetch blankets and sailbags and some fresh water.’ Roana ran below deck to gather what she could find.

  Together Ethan, Fox and Carl carried up Jack first and then Saxon, and laid them gently on the deck. A nauseating smell of wet smoke, singed hair and burnt flesh enveloped them.

  Lily hurried back, panting. She dropped to her knees and carefully, gently examined each boy. Charcoal ran over and sat beside her, fascinated, her tail carefully tucked around her body, as if she too were examining the patients.

  Jack was unconscious. He had fainted dead away from shock. His face was pale, with a bluish tinge around the mouth. His breathing was laboured and his skin felt clammy and cold. Lily gently covered him up with a blanket. She piled a couple of sail bags under his knees and feet to raise his legs above his heart.

  Saxon lay shivering and moaning and his eyes stared around in horror as if searching for the terrifying Barramon here on the deck. While his clothes and hair were singed, he was not badly burned. His drop onto the floor of the boat, and Ethan’s arrows, had saved him from the worst of the flame.

  Lily covered him with blankets, moistened his mouth with water and made him as comfortable as possible on the deck.

  ‘Don’t try to move,’ she whispered gently, stroking his fringe out of his eyes with her fingertips. ‘Just rest quietly for a little while. You’ll be fine.’

  Saxon smiled weakly and closed his eyes. His heart still fluttered uncontrollably in his chest. Gradually his breathing quietened.

  When Saxon was settled, Lily turned back to Jack. His left arm and shoulder had taken the full force of the flame. Lily carefully cut the blackened sleeve of his shirt and peeled it away. The skin beneath was raw and blistering. She dribbled cold rain water over the burns. Jack flinched and woke up, his teeth chattering.

  ‘Poor Jack,’ whispered Lily. ‘You are fine. I am cooling down your burns with cold water. We’ll just keep you here for a little while until you are feeling a bit better. Are you thirsty? Would you like a sip of water?’

  Jack nodded painfully, so Lily let him slowly sip. She kept gently soaking water over the burns for several minutes.

  Fox, Carl and Ethan carefully carried Saxon down into the cabin and settled him in a hammock. Aisha followed anxiously, her tail between her legs and her ears cocked.

  Otto did not go back to the ship’s wheel. He hung about, stepping from one foot to the other, glancing nervously at Lily and Jack, the tattooed dragon’s head peeking out from under his rolled-up shirt sleeves.

  ‘Rowan, could you please fetch me some more water for Jack?’ asked Lily. ‘I want to dress his burns now.’

  Roana obediently ran forward to the cabin.

  Lily delved into her pack and found a large jar of honey that Saira had given her when they left Mereworth. Using a spoon, she began to dribble honey from the jar over the burns. Then she covered up each burn with a clean cloth dressing. Lily sang quietly to herself, lost in the f
amiliar harmony of tending to the wounded.

  ‘Stop your witching,’ Otto yelled, lunging forward to grab Lily. He hauled her up by her hair and she yelled in pain.

  ‘No more of your evil potions,’ he snarled, clapping his filthy hand over her mouth. Lily could see the snake-like head of the tattooed dragon glaring at her. It was so close she could see the minute details of the creature’s scales and gleaming fangs. ‘I knew I should have gotten rid of you right away.’

  Otto jabbed his sharp dagger against Lily’s throat. ‘There’s no business for females on board a ship, especially a little witch. We’ve had no wind for days, then you tried to kill Jack by calling up a Barramon. When that didn’t work you try to kill him with some putrid poisonous potion!’

  Otto started to drag Lily towards the side of the boat.

  ‘There’s only one way to save Jack now and that’s to slit your throat and throw you and your black cat to the Barramon.’ Otto spat on the deck. ‘The sea spirits will be appeased and the wind will come back.’

  Lily struggled and kicked, gasping for breath. The smell of the filthy hand over her mouth made her want to vomit. The sharp dagger pierced her skin and she could feel a warm trickle of blood sliding down her skin and onto her linen shift.

  Lily felt overcome with fear. There was no-one else on deck but the unconscious Jack. Uselessly she tried to scream and struggled harder and faster. The boat rocked sickeningly.

  There was a hideous yowl. Otto stumbled, slipped and yelled. He had trodden on Charcoal’s tail, and the kitten had retaliated with a vicious swipe of claws across Otto’s bare ankle. Otto’s fingers slid for a moment from Lily’s mouth. Lily bit hard and tasted blood in her mouth. Then she screamed. She screamed as loudly as she could.

  Otto swore. He dropped the dagger from Lily’s neck, pushing her towards the rail at the side of the Owl. Lily bent backwards, feeling the hard timber of the gunwale behind her and the sickening sweaty body of Otto pressing against her, pushing her backwards towards the sea and the fire-breathing Barramon lurking in the depths.