Storm. Sarah Driver

the Opal’s still there . . .’

      ‘Cos the map’s broken.’

      I nod again. The map got so broken, when Stag kept trying to unlock it, that all the runes on it died. None of the Runesmiths at Hackles could revive them – not even Egret. ‘So, that leaves the Crown.’

      ‘The Crown’s in a whale’s belly, ent it? That’s why Stag was dredging all them whales.’

      ‘That’s what the legend says, aye. But the Skybrarian reckons it’s a lie, that Rattlebones never hid the Crown in belly of a whale. And that whale that swallowed me said that Glint-of-gold cannot adorn a man’s head, so we know there’s more to the mystery than just finding some rusty old normal crown.’

      Sparrow’s mouth opens but before he can reply Thaw screeches, thumping down out of the darkness to peer under my bed.

       Thaw?

       Sneakythinglurks!

      A beast? I listen past her chatter for what type of thing might be lurking under there – and slam against the same void as before. The void where beast-chatter should be.

      A lemming shoots out from under the hanging blankets. Sparrow shrieks.

      Thaw ducks low to grab it in her talons, but it changes into a slug, lengthens itself on a strand of slime and drops away into the darkness of the floor. I sink to my knees, waves of horror stroking up and down my spine.

      That ent no natural creature. And I’ve never seen anyone have a choice of shapes before. I try to find the thing and close my hand over a lump of hard, slimy flesh, but it shrinks suddenly down, and it’s become a thick-legged spider. I lunge for it, both hands outstretched, but it scuttles through a wormhole in the wall. I rock back onto my heels, swallowing a mouthful of spew.

      What is going on here? I whisper.

      Baaaaaaaaad-featheredblunderings, breathes Thaw, landing on my arm and snuggling her head under my chin.

      Me and Sparrow face each other, his eyes pinned to the air next to my head. He opens his mouth, but a horn bellows outside, smothering his voice. Then shouting echoes off the rocks. I press my eye to an arrow-slit in the wall and gasp as I see the black outline of a draggle, wobbling towards the stronghold, caught in the mouth of a storm. I run, ignoring Sparrow’s questions.

      Folk yell at me as I barrel past them. It feels like an age before I reach the lower levels.

      I jump down the steep steps into the guts of the mountain and tear past a startled Lunda – then double back and catch her wrist.

      ‘Is it Leo? Where is she?’

      A look of disgust traces her features. ‘It’s “the Protector”, to you.’

      ‘Where is she?’ I hiss again, through my teeth.

      ‘She’s not here,’ says Lunda, wrenching back her wrist. ‘Her draggle returned with a message, is all.’

      I push past her and tear to the draggle caves. A few snoozing draggles crack open their eyes to peer at me. Coati and Crow are trying to tether Leo’s draggle. It’s the one she always rides, with a stripe of silver fur through the orange. I step closer to the draggle to listen to her chatter.

      She’s so strongly frighted that I can feel her chatter pulling on my brain and crowding my bones. I try to breathe, putting out a hand to steady myself.

      ‘Grab the other wing, boy,’ gruffs Coati.

      ‘I’m trying!’ says Crow, eyes flashing. He’s been helping with the draggles cos they’re the closest things to horses, in a Sky-realm.

      I take a deep breath and try to tune to the chatter again. It takes a few beats to untangle even a word of sense.

       Fleefleefleebloodhandssilverflashmissingriderwhere?

      I force my mind back from hers, then reel, leaning on the wall for support.

      ‘Mouse?’ says Crow, noticing me for the first time.

      ‘I need your full attention here, lad!’ commands Coati. Eventually they get the draggle tethered.

      ‘She won’t settle,’ says Crow in concern, stroking the beast’s muzzle. She knocks his hand away, eyes rolling back.

      ‘Must’ve had a bad flight though the storms,’ says Coati. ‘Get her warm and watered, then keep watch over her until she settles – they always do. Strong of spirit, each one.’ He turns towards the tack room and almost crashes into me.

      ‘Watch where you’re treading!’ he says. His arms are full of saddle, but a crumpled piece of parchment pokes through the gaps in his fist.

      I point at it. ‘What does the message say?’

      ‘Just that the Protector has reached the Wastes and started secret talks with the Chieftain,’ says Crow, still trying to soothe the beast.

      ‘Why didn’t she send one of her warriors?’ I ask doubtfully.

      ‘Guard your own business and I’ll guard mine,’ says Coati, eyeing me stonily as he steps past.

      Crow rolls his eyes behind the grumpy old man’s back. ‘She needs her warriors by her side, Mouse. Everything is fine.’

      But that’s not the message I’m getting from the draggle.

       Tornfrombackdragawaychiefmangonegonegone – chief man gone!

      Chief man? I whisper, stepping closer and putting a gentle hand on her flank. The Fangtooth Chieftain? Gone where?

      Coati emerges from the tack room and starts to trundle around the caves, whistling as he feeds the draggles.

      ‘How do you know that message is really from Leo?’ I whisper to Crow.

      ‘I read it,’ he says, shrugging. ‘It was signed by her, and stamped with her own mark. There’s nothing to fret about.’

      Doubt plagues me. I shake my head. ‘I don’t think so. That’s not what the draggle is say—’

      I’ve forgotten to keep my voice down. Before I can blink, Coati’s looming over me. ‘Child, I won’t have you practising your dark jargonings in my draggle caves. Off with you to supper!’

      He ushers me out of the cave.

      I find the round tower room where Leo’s commanders rule over Hackles in her absence. I tell them something’s wrong, that Leo needs help, but they won’t listen.

      ‘How do you know?’ they ask me, eyes too calm, too blank, looking right through me cos I’m just a child.

      ‘I – the draggle was spooked. I mean good and proper, and I know it weren’t just storms—’

      ‘Draggles encounter many irregularities during a flight,’ says one, glancing at me from under big bushy brows. ‘There is no cause for concern.’

      I bang through the door and run down the steps from the tower, back into the main web of passageways.

      Da needs to get back here, now. He’d believe me, in half a heartbeat. But for all I know, his mission could take ages longer. I scrape my fingertips along the wall as I hurry towards my chamber. All these full-growns having secret meetings, making secret plans, getting stuff done . . .

       You can still make waves.

      A glow heats up my belly. What if I could assemble my own crew?

      If Leo’s in danger, and no one believes me, then I could be her only hope. And