Return to Roar, page 16
“He’s so close I can actually see the straw flying off him!” he says.
Mitch drums her webbed fingers on the floorboards. “I’ll swim straight after the Alisha,” she says, “sneak on board, grab Rose, and bring her back.”
“But you can’t swim back with Rose,” I say. “She’s not like you. She’ll freeze in the water!”
Mitch’s face lights up. “I saw this boat-swan thingy. I’ll take that.”
Just then Win gasps. “Crowky is FLYING, Arthur! Nope. He’s down again.”
I shake my head and try to ignore Win and focus on what Mitch is saying. “Look, even if you do manage to get Rose off the boat, it won’t help. Rose can’t run away from Hati Skoll if she’s going to get rid of her, she’s got to stand up to her.”
Mitch groans with frustration. “How do we get Rose to do that? And why didn’t she do it the moment Hati Skoll climbed out of the Box? Hati’s a girl. Rose controls dragons!”
“We’ve not got long until they are here,” says Win. “Do you think it will be your fear coming out of the Box, Arthur?”
I take a deep breath, and try to push down the panic I’m feeling. But it’s as out of control as the situation we’re in. I know I should be worrying about the Box, but right now all I can think about is the fact that Rose is gone and unless I can speak to her she might never come back.
“Mitch, I think I know what to say to Rose, but you’ll have to get me to her. Can you do that?”
Mitch frowns. “Maybe . . . Give me a minute to think.”
Win thrusts the telescope into my hands. “You’ve got to see this.”
I lift the telescope and run it over the plain. Suddenly Crowky’s face appears—wild, excited, straw hair flying behind him. Clutched in front of him is the Box. My hands tighten on the telescope. “Mitch,” I say, “maybe we should hide while you do your thinking.”
She slams her tail on the floorboards, making the room shake. “I have never hidden from anyone in my life, and I’m not about to start doing it because a scarecrow wants to open a box in front of you!”
“I get that,” I say, “but it’s not your fear that could come leaping out of the Box, is it? And if my fear does come out, then I won’t get to the Alisha in time and Rose will be GONE!”
Mitch reaches forward, grabs me by my onesie, and pulls me close. “Calm down, Arthur Trout, because I need to go foraging.”
“Foraging?” I don’t believe this.
“Yes, foraging, I have to find some ingredients so I can make a fog spell that will hide the swan-thingy from my magnificently armed warship, making sure you don’t get blown to pieces by a cannon—GOT IT?” I nod. “Good. And that means I need you, Arthur Trout, Master of Roar, not to hide, but to buy me a bit of time. Create a distraction, fight those scarecrows, basically do anything that will let me find three sea urchins, a strand of toadflax, a pinch of starfish spit, and seven grains of rice. Do you think you can do that?”
I swallow. “Yes.”
“Good!” She lets go of my onesie and I stumble backward. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”
“How?”
She runs her fingers through the vials around her neck, then pulls one out. “With a rainbow,” she says. Then she rolls across the floor, flops through the open trapdoor, and lands in the sea with a splash.
I turn to Win. “You heard her. We’ve got to create a distraction or fight them off . . . any ideas?”
“We need weapons. What have we got to work with?”
We go to the window. Barracuda Bay looks even more desolate this morning than it did last night: the Bucket of Blood sign creaks in the wind and flurries of snow blow down the street. In the distance I can see Crowky and his army. Soon they will reach the path that leads to the village.
Win’s eyes light up. “I know what we’ve got tons of—snow! We can have a massive snowball fight!”
“Isn’t snow a bit soft?” I say, thinking of the scarecrows’ iron strength and Crowky’s energy-sapping hands.
Win nods. “Very, but I literally have no other ideas at all.”
Neither do I. “A snowball fight it is,” I say, hoping Mitch does her foraging really, really quickly.
“YESSS!” shouts Win, and we turn and run down the rickety wooden stairs and through the bar.
“Morning, Carol!” says Win cheerfully.
The bear scowls and continues wiping a cloth around a smeared glass. I’d assumed Hati must have tied her up or locked her away somewhere, but I get the feeling she’s been down here the whole time. It just goes to show that all pirates, even ones called Carol who wear flowery dresses, are totally untrustworthy.
Outside the air is so cold it’s like breathing ice, but we don’t hesitate. We run to the edge of the village and duck down below a low wall. Then we start gathering snow and patting it into balls.
We stack them on the wall, working as fast as we possibly can. Better than nothing, I keep telling myself, all the time glancing up in the sky, looking out for Mitch’s rainbow. I imagine the golden letters appearing on the Box and Crowky’s hand reaching to open it, then SPLAT! He gets a snowball in the face. It could work, maybe, and this thought is enough to keep me scooping up handfuls of snow.
Soon we have a decent collection of snowballs and when we peer over the wall we see Crowky is a few minutes away. That’s when Win comes up with the idea of doing his hanky paws spell.
“It’s nothing special,” he admits, “but it works every time. Basically it gives things a nice crust. I usually use it on toast or marshmallows but I reckon it would work on snow.”
We agree that he should do a test and he places one snowball on an abandoned cart.
“Hanky paws!” he says, thrusting his wand forward. Purple smoke pours from the wand and the snowball trembles, then falls still. He runs forward and picks it up.
“Did it work?” I say.
“Let’s see.” He turns and chucks it straight at me.
It’s like a rock smacking me on the cheek. “Yeah . . . It worked,” I say, rubbing my face.
Win gleefully starts hanky paws-ing every snowball we’ve made and soon a thick purple smog hangs over the entrance to the village. It’s bright, but at least it hides us from view and we’ll be able to launch a surprise attack on Crowky.
Then I spot the old cart and I have an idea. One end rests on the ground so that the bed forms a slope . . . a slope that leads directly toward the path that Crowky and his scarecrows are coming along.
Instead of adding the snowball in my hands to the pile, I roll it along the ground. It quickly picks up more snow, and I pack it down until it’s as big as a football.
“Arthur, what are you doing?” says Win.
“I’m making a surprise for Crowky,” I say, then I explain my plan, all the time glancing back to the shore, looking for any sign of the rainbow.
“That’s brilliant,” declares Win, and together we roll the snowball around and around until we’ve got a great fat ball.
I look at the sloping bed of the cart. “If we make it any bigger, we won’t be able to push it into place.”
Win peers over the wall and through the thinning smoke. “We need to get it up there right now,” he whispers. “They’re close.”
I look toward the shore: still no rainbow. “Let’s do it.”
We push the giant snowball up onto the cart. It’s gigantic, massive, but there’s just one problem: now we’ve got it up on the cart, we can’t move. As we struggle to hold it in position, Win looks at me with a grin. “I know this is scary, Arthur, and that Rose has gone, and that something bad might be waiting for you in the Box, but I can’t wait to see this baby fly. It’s going to be like bowling scarecrows!”
“That’s the plan,” I say, keeping my eyes glued on the figures moving toward us. We can see them, but I don’t think they can see us. The smoke has cleared now, but our onesies are white and it’s begun to snow. We’re camouflaged. Even so, I feel exposed as we stand by the cart, our arms quivering under the weight of the snowball.
“They’re nearly here,” I whisper, and Win gets out his wand, ready to do the hanky paws spell.
Crowky is at the head of the pack. He’s leaping forward, half running, half flying. The only thing slowing him down is the Box. It’s big and it slips and slides in his hands. His scarecrow army jog behind him, trying to keep up.
Snow sticks to my eyelashes and face, but I don’t move. When Crowky reaches the signpost to the village, he stops and looks around. His button eyes move slowly from left to right, then they settle on us . . . I hold my breath.
“Now?” whispers Win, wand ready.
I shake my head because Crowky’s eyes are moving again. The snow and our fur onesies have made us invisible. He hoists the Box in front of his face, and strides straight toward us. He’s in the perfect position.
“Now?” asks Win.
“No,” I whisper. “We need him to be close so he can’t jump out of the way.”
Win’s eyes widen. “Got it! But I’ll do the spell now so the snowball is rock hard and ready to go.”
“No, Win, the smoke!”
But already he’s tapping his wand and hissing, “Hanky paws!”
A puff of bright purple smoke billows around our faces and the snowball trembles. Crowky looks up and a smile creeps over his face. He puts the Box on the ground. “I spy Arthur Trout!” he cries.
Win gasps. “I’m sorry, Arthur!”
“Just . . . don’t say or do anything else,” I say.
Crowky’s eyes are fixed on the snowball. If we let it go now, he’ll just grab the Box, open his wings, and swoop out of the way.
His twig fingers rest on the lid. “Come on . . . ,” he snarls, eyes flicking to the side of the Box. He’s willing the message to appear. “Come on!”
There’s no point running. Crowky would just catch me and then I’ll never get to Rose. This giant snowball is my only hope. I just need Crowky to be distracted.
Suddenly a golden light gleams on the side of the Box. It’s happening. It knows I’m close. Crowky’s eyes widen and he grins. “I’ve got a feeling it’s your turn, Arthur Trout!” he says, staring intently at the light.
This is the moment I’ve been waiting for.
“NOW!” I shout.
We let go of the snowball and it shoots down the sloping cart, along the path and straight toward Crowky. He looks up, and instinctively his wings open. He’s about to fly up in the air when he remembers the Box. He reaches for it, but he’s out of time. The snowball smacks into him and there is an explosion of straw and feathers. The Box flies to one side as Crowky is caught in the snowball and rolled around and around. He knocks into his scarecrows, scattering them in all directions, and keeps rolling down the hill until he hits a rock. The snowball collapses and for a moment Crowky just lies there, his wings sticking out at strange angles.
I look up in the air. What’s Mitch doing? We need that rainbow!
Shaking snow from his body, Crowky jumps to his feet and utters a scream of rage. His scarecrows pick themselves up and start running toward us, but Crowky goes for the Box. The light is still there, shining bright, pulsing, and now the letters have started to appear.
“Arthur!” shouts Win. “Snowballs!”
We grab the snowballs and throw them. Win focuses on the scarecrow army, while I aim for Crowky. I get him on the shoulder and he staggers to the side. My next snowball misses, but my third hits him in the face, knocking him to the ground. But it’s no good: immediately he’s up and on his feet, sprinting toward the Box.
And then colored light washes over us as the most magnificent rainbow I’ve ever seen bursts across the sky. The snowy plain turns into a patchwork of color. It falls over me, Crowky, and the Box.
Everyone stops to look, even Crowky.
I grab Win. “GO!” I yell, and we turn and run toward the waiting paddleboat.
We’re nearly at the shore, steps away from Mitch and the paddleboat, when I feel the scrape of twig fingers on the back of my neck.
“Jump!” yells Mitch.
Win and I leap in the air and crash down in the paddleboat. Mitch tosses something white and sparkly in the air, then dives under the water and starts swimming. She’s holding a rope and she’s going so fast that Win and I are thrown to the back of the paddleboat. Blood pounds in my ears as icy water splashes over me. Then I scramble up and look at Barracuda Bay.
Already Mitch’s spell is working. A thick fog billows across the sea, hugging the shore and rising around the scarecrow army. Their ragged clothes blow in the wind and their eyes glitter as they stare after us. Crowky pushes his way through them, the Box clutched to his chest. The golden letters have disappeared. The look of rage on his face tells me that I got away just in time.
The distance between us grows and the fog becomes thicker, until Crowky and the scarecrows disappear from sight.
Win and I pick ourselves up from the bottom of the boat and sit on the fiberglass seat. I flop forward and I laugh, because I’m so exhausted and so amazed that we got away from Crowky.
“Where’s the Alisha?” says Win.
I pull the telescope out of Mitch’s bag and train it on the horizon. The fog is still spreading around us, but it hasn’t reached the Alisha yet and I can see the ship racing out to sea. I track its progress. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but the distance between us seems to be growing. Then the fog thickens and I lose sight of them.
We start to slow down and Mitch bursts out of the water. She leans on the side of the paddleboat, dripping water over me and Win.
“It’s no good,” she says. “We can’t catch up with them. I can’t swim fast enough.”
Tendrils of fog swirl around us and I notice that frost has crept over Mitch’s eyelashes and hair. It even dusts her brown tattooed arms, turning them a silvery gray. “What can we do?” I ask. “Can we help paddle or something?”
Mitch dismisses my suggestion with a wave of her hand. “No. We need magic.”
“Yes!” says Win, pulling out his wand.
“Put it away,” says Mitch, picking through the bottles hanging around her neck. “Marshmallows won’t help us here.” She finds the bottle she’s looking for and tugs out the cork. “To be honest I wanted to save this for emergencies—like this pile of junk springing a leak—but I guess this is an emergency.” Her voice is even throatier than usual, a ragged whisper.
“Are you all right, Mitch?” I say. “Is the water too cold for you?”
“Too cold? Ha!” she says, but her teeth are chattering and her fingers shake as she pours the contents of the bottle on to the frilled edges of her tail. Immediately the liquid turns bright blue and starts to fizz. “Ooh . . . ow! That’s a bit cold,” she admits with a sheepish smile.
“What does it do?” asks Win.
“It freezes stuff,” she says, then she slaps her tail down into the water, once, twice, three times. And stuff starts to freeze.
There’s a cracking sound and the water around the boat turns to ice. Mitch thwacks her tail up and down, beating it away from us. “I don’t want you here,” she mutters. “I want you over there!”
Suddenly she stops pounding the water and turns to us. “Listen carefully. This ice is going to spread out to sea until it traps the Alisha—fantastic—but unfortunately it’s also going to trap you two in this swan-thingy in the sea as well.”
“What?” I say.
“I know, not so good. The thing is, confession time, my magic is flipping awesome, but once I let it go, I can’t really control it. So in a moment I’m going to swim like mad and get you as close to the Alisha as possible before you get stuck.”
“What happens then?” asks Win.
“I’m going to find warmer water and air, and you’re going to get out and walk to the Alisha.”
“Will the fog last long enough to hide us from view?” I say.
“Probably,” she says, then she grins and dives below the water.
Mitch does swim like mad. Her tail cuts through the water so fast that it’s a blur and her hair streams out behind her. We bash through the ice and water sprays up around us. The paddleboat has become a speedboat. Mitch only slows down when the ice becomes too thick to smash through. Then she guides us down ever narrowing channels.
I’m not surprised when the swan’s puffed-up chest hits a chunk of ice and we come to a juddering halt. Within seconds the water around us has frozen, locking us in place. The fiberglass body of the swan starts to make alarming cracking sounds and when I peer over the side I see Mitch waving at us from under a thick layer of ice. Her hair wraps around her webbed fingers and I see her blue lips mouth, “That way!” as she points in the direction the boat is facing. Then, with a flick of her tail and a blown kiss—or maybe an escaped bubble of air—she’s gone.
Now Win and I are alone in the middle of a frozen ocean. The silence is uncanny. Fog rolls over the side of the boat and the paddleboat groans.
“Let’s go and get Rose,” says Win, and together we climb onto the slippery ice and walk into the fog.
We walk as fast as we can, our feet slipping and sliding. I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead, not daring to move my head in case we start walking in the wrong direction.
“Shame Hati smashed that compass,” says Win, followed by, “Do you think Mister Flambaygo would help us here?”
I glance at my feet. Colorful fish swim beneath the ice and below them the dark sea stretches down and down. “I think the fewer holes in the ice the better,” I say. “And Win, we need to be quiet. We could be getting close.”
“Got it!” he says loudly.
“Shh!”
We’re both relieved when a black shape rises out of the fog. It’s a ship, and it’s tilted to one side and trapped in the ice. A howl echoes from somewhere on the deck, and when we see the silhouette of a prowling wolf we know for certain that we’ve found the Alisha.
We run forward, hoods pulled low, until we’re hidden by the side of the ship. Then we work our way around the hull, looking for the rope Mitch promised would be hanging from her cabin window. This is how she climbs on board the ship and it’s how I’m planning to get to Rose.
