The Last Of The Sky Pirates Part 9

aJust look at him,a said Magda. aHe makes it look so easy.a She shook her head. aWhoad have thought it, eh? Quiet little Xanth, the best flyer of us all.a aBeginneras luck,a said Rook, and smiled. aIall race you to the landing, come on!a 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 a" sleek and swift a" tilting into the wind.

aHeas coming in too fast,a said Rook.

aOh, heall be all right,a Magda called back. aLook at him, heas in control.a 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.

aIs he all right?a asked Magda.

aHeall live,a said the figure, without looking up. aBut heas broken his leg badly. This is one apprentice who wonat be flying again for a long time to come.a Xanth groaned and opened his eyes. aIt hurts,a he said miserably.

aItas all my fault!a said Stob, running up, red-faced and with tears in his eyes. aWe were waiting for the flight instructor, but he didnat show up, so I thought it wouldnat do any harm just to take a short flight round the lake and back.a He shook his head. aIf Iad only known it would end like this aa He sank to his knees and grasped Xanthas hand. aIam sorry, Xanth. We should have waited for that stupid flight instructor. Now weall have to postpone our first lesson.a I donat think so,a said the figure, standing up and turning to face them. aI am your astupida flight instructor.a Stob groaned; head done it again.

aPerhaps youave heard of me,a she said. aMy name is Varis Lodd.a Rookas jaw dropped. So this was the great Varis Lodd. Felixas sister. The librarian knight who had rescued him from the Deepwoods all those years ago. He wondered whether he should say something to her a Then again, he thought, she didnat even seem to recognize him a" and why should she? Head been a child of four when shead rescued him, and she hadnat seen him since. He bit his tongue.

aAnd as for your first lesson aa 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. aYou have just learned it.a 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 friendas 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 Rookas 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.

aThe Free Glades,a he whispered, as he steered the little craft over each of the three glistening lakes in turn, past the towering Ironwood Glade and back down towards New Undertown.

He skimmed over the Lufwood Tower, the building that had so impressed him when he first arrived in the glades: how long ago that now seemed! Over the hive-huts and the tufted goblinsa long-houses he flew, and round the gyle-goblin colony where small groups of the bulbous-nosed goblins were wending their way home from the surrounding fields a" back to their Grossmother and a supper of sweet gyle honey.

The moon rose higher. Tacking expertly against the gathering wind, Rook swooped down over the Tarry-vine Tavern, meeting-place for creatures from the farthest corners of the Deepwoods. How head loved sitting in its dark corners, listening to the tales of the old times, before stone-sickness, when the great sky ships had sailed the skies.

And now, here he was, in his own skycraft, with the moonlight in his eyes and the wind in his hair. He smiled, re-jigged the sails, stood up in the stirrups and flew up high over the tavern and beyond.

There were the timber yards, and the woodtroll villages beyond. aFarewell, Oakley,a he whispered, remembering the kindly, tufty-haired old woodtroll. aAnd thank you.a There, beneath the huge Ironwood Glade, was the entrance to the Gardens of Light. How many times, labouring over his varnish stove, had he dreamed of this very night. But now the time had come, he knew he would miss the beautiful shimmering gardens a" and his ancient spindlebug tutor. aFarewell, Tweezel!a Rook whispered.

And there, shrouded in a fine red mist, the slaughterers camp. The huge fires were blazing beneath the sleeping hammocks, already swaying with waking slaughterers, making ready for a hard nightas work. Rook could almost taste the spicy tilder sausages head eaten so many times. aFarewell, Brisket!a he whispered. aEnjoy your breakfast, kind master.a He coaxed his craft into a long, slow turn, and headed back towards Lake Landing. In the distance, the Silver Pastures glistened in the moonlight. Theyad never looked more beautiful, thought Rook. aFarewell, Knuckle a" my friend,a he said softly.

As he approached the Central Lake, Rook spotted Magda and Stob circling the landing, waiting for him to join them for their final descent. They, too, had been saying their last goodbyes. A lump came to Rookas throat.

There was heavy, arrogant Stob on his solid Hammelhorn. Quick to anger, slow to forgive a" but now, Rook realized, for all his faults, like an older brother to him. And Magda, serious, sensitive Magda, on her Woodmoth, fluttering delicately on the wind. She was like a sister, sharing his triumphs and disasters alike, and always ready with a word of encouragement or a sympathetic look.

The three of them twisted down through the air in perfect harmony, furling their sails gracefully as they came lower, and landing in front of their flight instructor and the High Master soundlessly.

aWell done, all of you,a Varis Lodd said quietly. aThat was magnificent.a Glowing with pleasure at her words of praise, Rook smiled. He remembered how haughty and aloof he had initially thought Varis Lodd to be. Yet how wrong head been. On that first morning, as she had turned and walked away, head run after her, keen to announce himself.

aIam Rook Barkwater,a he had told her.

And she had turned, placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled warmly. aI know,a shead said. aIad know those deep blue eyes anywhere. But look at you! What a fine young apprentice youave turned into. Go and get your skycraft, Rook Barkwater, and then we shall have lunch together at my table.a Ever since that moment Rook had felt close to her, as if the bond between them a" established all those years ago when Varis had discovered him in the Deepwoods a" had never been broken. Sometimes she reminded him of Felix, humorous and playful. At other times she could be as earnest and exacting as Alquix Venvax. Throughout it all, however, she had always been there for Rook; teaching him well and spurring him on to ever greater feats of achievement. And now here he was, standing before her, having completed the final flight of his studies.

aYou are all now ready,a she said, bowing her head formally. aIt is time for you to embark on your treatise-voyages, friends of Earth and Skya Parsimmon bowed his head in turn. aGood luck in all your travels, and may you return safely to us in the Free Glades, my dear, precious librarian knights.a Rookas heart was thumping fit to burst. He felt like shouting out, with relief, with joy and antic.i.p.ation, but instead he followed Stob and Magdaas lead, bowing low and saying quietly, aBy Earth and Sky, we shall not fail you.a Just then the heavy creaking sound of rough wheels on the lufwood decking interrupted the quiet ceremony, as a hammelhorn cart drew up, accompanied by two Free Glade guards on prowlgrins. Rook looked round.

A young apprentice lay groaning softly in the back of the cart, a dark stain spreading across the knife-grinder robes he wore. Parsimmon hurried over.

aWe found him on the Northern Fringes,a the first guard, a gnokgoblin, reported, saluting the High Master. aHe says he was one of a group of apprentices from Undertown ambushed by shrykes. Says they knew they were coming.a aIs this true?a said Parsimmon, kneeling down beside the stricken apprentice.

aYes, master,a the apprentice whispered, his face pinched and white from the pain. aThey picked us out in the Eastern Roost, surrounded us on the upper gangways, and hacked us down, one by one aa Parsimmon patted his hand. aThere, there, the journey is a terrible one indeed, but you have made it. Thatas the important thing. We will look after you now. You are very precious to us.a He motioned to the guards. aTake him to the tower, and fetch Tweezel a" we donat want to lose this brave young apprentice.a The guards hurried off. Varis walked stiffly over to Parsimmon. aI donat like it,a she said tersely. aThat is the third group that has been ambushed. We canat afford these losses, High Master. The Guardians of Night are growing stronger. I sense their hand in this.a Parsimmon nodded sagely. aYou may be right, my dear Varis, but that is a matter for the Free Glades Council and our masters back in Old Undertown. Tonight, let us salute our brave young friends here, and talk no more about it.a He turned to Magda, Stob and Rook. aGo now,a he said. aSupper awaits you in the upper refectory.a As he turned to follow the others, Rook caught sight of Xanth, half-hidden in shadow, his face ashen, his lips thin and bloodless. Their eyes met. aXanth,a Rook called out.

Xanth looked away shiftily.

aXanth!a he called, louder.

aCome and join us.a aLeave him,a said Magda. aHe knows where to find us if he wants to. He must be feeling pretty miserable at the moment a" wishing his leg would mend, wishing he was us.a Rook nodded. But though he knew Magdaas words made sense, he didnat believe them. It wasnat sadness or regret, or even envy, that he had seen in Xanthas eyes. It was guilt.

fter a wild storm that raged through the night and late into the morning, the weather had finally cleared around noon. In its wake came fluffy white clouds which scudded across the gleaming sky seemingly buffing it up as they pa.s.sed, while down in the Deepwoods, it looked to Rook as if every leaf of every tree glinting in the shafts of silvery sunlight had been freshly waxed and polished.

He steered his skycraft expertly round a great lullabee tree and on low over the jagged thickets of razorthorn beyond, his heart racing with the excitement of it all. He could hardly believe it; so soon after his final flight as an apprentice, here he was with the great Varis Lodd and his best friend, Knuckle the slaughterer, flying through the Deepwoods on a raid!

Darting swiftly and silently through the dappled light of the forest, the three skycraft a" the Windhawk, Woodwasp and Stormhornet a" kept low in amongst the towering trees. Rookas hands played with the rope-handles, coaxing the skycraft this way and that, up, down and from side to side. It was difficult flying, demanding his constant attention.

Every so often a" more from nervousness than necessity a" his hand would pat his flight-suit, checking that all the unfamiliar items of flight paraphernalia were still in place: his grappling-hook and a coil of rope; his water-flask and a" Sky and Earth forbid he should ever need it a" his lufwood box, courtesy of Tweezel the spindlebug, with its bandages, potions and salves. On his chest he wore his telescope, compa.s.s and scales; at his side, his knife, Felixas ornate sword and, slung through a leather loop on his belt, one of the small razor-sharp axes carried by all skycraft pilots. Now he felt like a real librarian knight, equipped for any eventuality. If only the uneasy fluttering in the pit of his stomach would go away.

Dense forest ahead, Varis Lodd signalled to her two companions and, as one, she, Knuckle and Rook soared up high into the air and burst through the forest canopy.

Rook gasped with wonder as the tops of the trees spread out all round him. He stood up in his carved stirrups and, with the warm wind in his face, gave the Stormhornet full sail. The skycraft trembled for a moment before throwing Rook back in his seat and leaping forwards.

Stay low, Varis signalled silently. It was important that they werenat spotted.

Rook pulled at the looped pinner-rope. The Stormhornet swooped down obediently, and skimmed over the top of the watery forest, just like its yellow and red striped namesake that Rook had watched skimming the surface of the lake. How long ago that seemed now. Rookas thoughts began to wander.

He went back to the previous evening when, just as he had been about to turn in for the night, he had heard a light tap-tap-tap on the door of his sleeping cabin. It was Varis Lodd, her flight-suit fully equipped and a loaded crossbow at her side.

aCome with me,a shead said. aI have something to tell you.a He had followed her down to Lake Landing, where Knuckle was waiting for them, twirling his la.s.so. Below them, the dark, turbulent waters of the lake surged and swelled; above, dark, boiling clouds tumbled in from the west. Varis had turned to address them both, her face sombre, her voice trembling with emotion. Rook had never seen her so upset.

aYour young friend, Xanth, approached me this evening,a she began. aSince his injury, heas made himself useful by, shall we say, gathering information.a aSpying?a said Rook, faintly shocked.

aYou could call it that,a said Varis. aIn our war against the Guardians of Night and their allies, we need to be vigilant. Anyway, young Xanth had disturbing news.a aGo on,a said Knuckle, letting the rope fall.

aSlavery has returned to the Foundry Glade.a Knuckle shook his head bitterly. aWill the Foundry Master never learn?a Varis put a hand on the slaughtereras shoulder. aLike you, Knuckle here lost his family to slave-takers,a she said to Rook. aWe thought wead taught them and their goblin allies a lesson last time we raided, but it seems theyare back to their old ways.a aThese slaves,a Rook remembered asking, aare they slaughterers? Gnokgoblins?a And Varis had shaken her head. aTheyare aa She had turned to Rook, her eyes filled with a mixture of anger and sorrow.

aWhat?a aBanderbears, Rook,a she had said. aBanderbears.a The Stormhornet juddered as the memory of Varisas words made his fingers tremble. Banderbears! How could anyone enslave such mighty, n.o.ble creatures? The very thought of it made his blood boil. Yet that is exactly what Hemuel Spume, the Foundry Master, had done. What kind of an individual must he be to keep banderbears in chains?

aYou love banderbears as much as I do,a Varis had said. aI knew youad want to help rescue them.a aAnd Stob and Magda?a Rook had asked.

Varis had shaken her head. aThe fewer the better on this sort of raid,a shead said. aAnd you two are the best flyers in the Free Glades.a She had paused. aIf youare with me, weall need to fly into the Foundry Glade under the noses of Spumeas goblin guards, release the bander-bears from their slave-hut and get away before weare discovered. It wonat be easya aWeare with you,a Rook and Knuckle had both replied at the same time. It was then that Rook had first felt the fluttering in the pit of his stomach.

As the sun darkened and slid down towards the horizon, Rook felt the wind getting up once again. He trimmed his nether-sail and tightened his grip on the pinner-rope. Although the stiffening breeze would make their flight much quicker, it also made the skycraft skittish and wilful.

There it is, Knuckle signalled, signing the words quickly, thumb and forefinger coming together to form the unmistakable signal for glade.

Rook looked ahead. Far in the distance, he saw thick black smoke belching out of the tall foundry chimneys and staining the sky above with a dark smudge of filth. His heart missed a beat.

Tack down! Varis signalled urgently, the Windhawk darting back down into the forest.

Rook shifted the rope-handles, bringing in the nether-sail and letting out the loft-sail while, at the same time, shifting his balance in the stirrups and slowly raising the pinner-rope. He chewed his lower lip nervously. The Stormhornet dipped forwards and dived down through a break in the canopy of leaves. As it entered the protected shadowy half-light below, the wind immediately dropped and the delicate craft trembled and dropped. Rookas fingers darted round the ropes and levers. The skycraft righted itself and swooped on.

Varis flashed a quick signal a" Outstanding flying, Rook! a" and smiled.

Rook found himself grinning broadly then flushed as blood rushed to his cheeks. He felt suddenly so proud that the great Varis Lodd should compliment him on his skill. He patted the Stormhornetas prow. aWell done,a he whispered.

The light began to fail as they journeyed on. Time and again, Rook had to swerve to avoid the trees and their great spreading branches which suddenly loomed up out of the gloom before him. Just ahead, he noticed an oily yellow light glowing between the trees.

Follow me, both of you, Varis signalled over her shoulder.

She flew steeply upwards and landed silently on the broad branch of a huge, ancient ironwood tree. Rook and Knuckle came down beside her. Varis signalled to the other two and pointed towards the source of the light ahead.

Rook unhooked his telescope and raised it to one eye. Peering through the overhanging branches, he studied the glade before him. Vast, sick, scarred, the clearing was like a great festering scab on the surface of the forest. It stank of sulphur, of pitch, of molten metal. It echoed to the percussive sounds of hammers clanking and wood being chopped; to the roar of the furnaces, to the whipcrack and barked commands of the goblin taskmasters, and the synchronized crunch of spades and pickaxes digging deep down into the ore-pits.

Beneath it all, like a dark mournful choir, was the sonorous groaning of the labouring goblins. Rook trembled. What those poor, miserable creatures must be suffering to produce so terrible a sound a Just then, cutting across the cacophony of heavy toil and deep despair, there came a long creak, followed by a dull thud. Rook swung his telescope round. A cloud of dust, billowing up at the edge of the great clearing, settled to reveal the latest felled tree lying on the ground where it had crashed down. Already, a team of goblins were scampering over its immense trunk, stripping it bare.

The beautiful forest! Rook signed.

Hemuel Spume, Varis signalled back, and drew a finger in a cutting motion across her throat.

Rook nodded.

Apart from the ash-heaps and earth-mounds which erupted from the bare earth like boils, there were also mountains of stripped logs, each one serving one of the foundries. Teams of stooped, bony goblins a" their hooded robes tattered and their skin ingrained with years of grime a" were removing the logs, one after the other, and dragging them with ropes and hooks towards the foundries, and inside. Work-team after work-team, log after log a" yet the tall, unsteady heaps never diminished in size, for no sooner was one tree-trunk removed, than it was replaced by another, newly felled, as the cancerous glade ate further and further into the surrounding forest.

Where are the banderbears? Rook signed, shoulders shrugging.

Knuckle tapped him on the shoulder and pointed.

A banderbear! Heart beating excitedly, Rook shifted his telescope round and homed in on the banderbear emerging from the bottom of the tall, bulbous foundry to his left. The sight shocked him to the marrow in his bones.

The poor creature, with its jutting ribs and sunken cheeks, looked half-starved. Its mossy fur was singed and l.u.s.treless; all over its hunched, cringing body, bare patches of red-raw skin showed through. Shackled at its ankles and wrists, the banderbear was being escorted by two goblins, each one armed with a long, heavy stick a" which they used often and with obvious relish. The banderbear took the blows, neither reacting nor resisting. And as Rook watched it slowly shuffling on towards the slave-hut, he realized that the creatureas spirit had been crushed.

Five more banderbears appeared, one from each of the foundries. If anything, their condition was even worse than the first. None of them seemed able to move any faster, despite the vicious blows and angry oaths that rained down on them. One was limping badly. Another had an angry weeping burn on its shoulder. All of them were shivering violently, freezing cold now after their hours spent in the blistering heat.

Rook turned to Varis. Her eyes were blazing; her jaw clenched and unclenched. She gripped her crossbow in both hands. Rook a" his pity turned to anger a" felt for the dagger and sword at his belt, then looked back at the glade.

As he watched, the banderbears were led into the slave-hut and chained to the central pillars within. Despite the roof, the open-sided building offered no shelter from the biting wind, and the six shackled banderbears huddled together for warmth at the centre of the mattress of filthy straw, mute and trembling, their eyes lifeless and dull.

Rook scanned the glade through the telescope. It seemed almost empty. With the banderbears no longer stoking the furnaces, the foundries had fallen idle, and the last of the ore-workers, tree-fellers and log-pullers were disappearing inside their long-huts. The goblin guards followed them, laughing and joking.

Soon the only remaining individual to be seen was a lone guard, asleep at his post at the top of a look-out turret. An eerie silence descended over the Foundry Glade. Varis turned to Knuckle and Rook, her face suddenly serious.

Remember, she signalled. We fly in, we fly out. No sound.

Rook and Knuckle nodded.

Come, Varis motioned, raising her sails and flying up from the branch. Weare going in!

As the Stormhornet rose up from the ironwood bough, the fluttering in Rookas stomach disappeared. Keeping close to Varis and Knuckle, he steered the skycraft through the last fringes of foliage, and into the desolation beyond. A calm, icy fury wrapped itself around him as he flew silently into the evil glade.

Varis and Rook swooped down over rows of long-huts and covered wagons, and hovered beside the bander-bear slave-hut. At the same time Knuckle darted up towards the top of the look-out turret where the goblin guard was snoring noisily, winding the end of his la.s.so round his hand as he went. Rook watched as the slaughterer swooped in close and tossed the la.s.so. The spinning loop disappeared from view behind the parapet. Rook held his breath.

The next instant the la.s.so reappeared, a large bunch of keys held in its tightened knot. The sleeping guard had not stirred.

Well done, Rook signalled, awestruck by the slaughtereras skill.

Rook, Varis motioned urgently. Here. She threw one end of her tether-rope to him.

Rook caught it and secured it round the neck of the stormhornet figurehead, binding the two skycraft together.

Varis swung her feet round and dropped down from the skycraft to the ground.

The Windhawk bucked and lurched, tugging on its tether-rope. The Stormhornet reared up in protest. Rook shifted in the stirrups and gripped the straining pinner-rope grimly as he struggled to keep both skycraft balanced and ready for their getaway.

aSteady,a he whispered softly. aEasy does it.a Knuckle swooped down close to the ground, tossing the bunch of keys to Varis as he flew past, before soaring back into the sky to keep a look-out for goblin guards. Inside the slave-hut, Varis set to work.

There was a click, followed by the clatter of falling chains. Then a second click a Above Rookas head, Knuckle was slowly circling, keeping his eyes peeled.

With a final click and clatter, the last shackle tumbled to the ground.

aGo,a Rook heard Varis urge the banderbears. aYouare free!a The poor creatures seemed dazed at first, but slowly a" agonizingly slowly it seemed to Rook, who was battling to keep Varisas skycraft steady a" first one, then another banderbear, climbed gingerly to its feet. Slowly, cautiously, they emerged into the glade, followed by Varis.

aMake for the tree-line,a Varis urged the shuffling giants desperately.

At the same moment a m.u.f.fled sound came from the line of covered wagons. Rook spun round, his heart racing. Something was wrong.

All at once, the tilderskin tarpaulins flew back to reveal row after row of armed goblin guards.

aItas a trap!a Knuckle bellowed down. aGet out of there!a As one, the long-haired goblins drew their jagged-tooth rapiers and, with a bloodcurdling battle-cry, sprang forward.

The banderbears threw back their heads, bared their fangs and howled. Rearing up on their huge hindquarters they lunged forwards, blind with rage, their great, sabre-like claws slashing through the air, desperate to get to the safety and freedom of the forest.

aLeave the banderbears!a shouted a voice. aItas Lodd that weare after!a Rook turned back to see a thin, wizened individual with long, coiling side-whiskers, a pinched face and darting eyes standing alone on one of the wagons. It was Hemuel Spume himself! He banged his heavy staff noisily on the boards. aGet me Varis Lodd!a he screeched.

Varis let fly a bolt from her crossbow. It thudded into the side of the wagon, inches from Spumeas head. The Foundry Master squealed and leaped for cover. Varis raced over to where Rook held her skycraft ready. The goblins advanced, brandishing swords and a heavily weighted net. The tether-rope leaped from Rookas hand just as Varis clasped the Windhawkas prow, and the sky-craft lurched to the side, throwing her to the ground.

Rook groaned. From behind him there came a loud howl of derision from the gleeful goblins.

aWeave got her now!a one of them shouted.

aThe great Varis Lodd!a taunted another.

aThatall teach her toa"Unnkh!a Rook looked round quickly. One of the goblin guards was lying on the ground, a bolt sticking out of his chest. Two more were crouched down beside him. Above them, crossbow raised, was Knuckle, coming in for another attack.

aUnnkh!a A second goblin crashed to the ground, blood pouring from the bolt in his back.

aRook,a came Varisas voice, as she struggled awkwardly to her feet. aRook, help me.a Rook reached forwards and grabbed the Windhawkas tether-rope, wrapping it back round his hand. The weight of the second skycraft almost pulled his arm out of its socket. Wincing with pain, he held on grimly. aGet on board!a he shouted at Varis. aQuick!a The guards screeched with rage and surged forwards.