Return to Roar, page 5
It’s much easier for Rose. She simply steps onto Pickle’s dipped head, walks along his neck, and settles down behind his ears. “Lobet’s gobo!” she says, and obediently Pickle stands up and starts to trot across the meadow.
“Lobet’s gobo!” I say to Vlad, imitating Rose’s confident voice.
Vlad stays exactly where he is.
Last time we were in Roar I discovered that all I needed to do to speak Rose’s mysterious dragon language was add “ob” before each vowel sound. Only this time it doesn’t seem to be working. I try again. “Lobet’s gobo, Vlad!”
He turns to look at me. Smoke seeps from between his teeth and a rumble starts somewhere deep inside him. This means he’s building up a great big bellyful of fire. I really wish he’d move his jaws away from the direction of my face. “Gobood boboy,” I say patting his head. “Robise.”
Still he doesn’t move a muscle. He just stares at me as if he hates my guts and is really angry that his brother’s got Rose on his back while he’s stuck with me and Win.
“Arthur, are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asks Win.
I nod. “I’ve just got to show him who’s boss,” I say, then I clear my throat, sit up a little taller, and shout, “Robise! ROBISE!” Vlad’s rumble has reached a crescendo and my body is vibrating so much my teeth are chattering. His jaws creep open and I see fire glowing in his throat. Desperately I add, “Plobease!”
With a flick of his head Vlad decides to obey. He stands, huffs out some smoke, then starts to jog after his brother.
Win and I slam up and down on his hot scales. Ahead of us Pickle jumps and takes off, flying low to the ground. I squeeze my knees around Vlad and hold on tight to the spike. It’s almost impossible to believe that this huge, heavy creature could ever lift up in the air, but after a few more steps, he leaps forward, stretches his wings . . . and we’re off!
“We are flying a dragon!” shouts Win, followed by a loud “WAHOOO!”
Vlad beats his wings and we climb higher into the sky.
We’re following Pickle, and as the ground drops away beneath us I fight the temptation to shut my eyes. I used to be terrified of heights—and right now we’re very high indeed—but I’m flying a dragon, and it’s so amazing that I don’t want to miss a single second.
I lean forward, pressing myself close to Vlad, and I only loosen my grip when the two dragons level out. It’s like that moment on an airplane when the seat belt light pings off, and suddenly everything feels much safer. Only now do I look down at the ground.
And what I see is incredible.
Roar is spread out beneath us: the islands of the Archie Playgo, the swaying trees of the Tangled Forest, and, up ahead, the rocky mountains in the Bad Side. My shoulders relax. We’re flying away from the message and Crowky, and Vlad feels steady and strong. Right now, even though I’m high in the air, I feel safe.
When we reach the Bottomless Ocean we follow the line of the coast. My face is frozen by the cold air, while my body burns from the fire raging inside Vlad’s belly. He growls. Quietly at first, but it gets louder and louder until fire explodes from his mouth and flames roll past me with a sulfurous whiff.
A smile spreads across my face. This has got to be the best feeling in the world!
It’s obvious that Rose feels the same way. Pickle is flying next to us, and Rose is sitting on his back and grinning. Behind me Win cackles with laughter.
As the dragons’ wings fall into a rhythm, my thoughts return to the Box.
Like everything in Roar, it began as a game in Grandad’s attic. Grandad got a new fish tank and it came in this massive cardboard box with a cartoon goldfish printed on the side. He gave us the box to play with and Rose and I pretended it was a boat, then a house, then a cave. Then we forgot all about it.
Until Rose decided to play a trick on me.
The next time I went into the attic, the Box was sitting in the middle of the room with the message What’s in the box, Arthur? written on the side in blue felt-tip pen. Of course, I had to have a look. When I pulled back the cardboard flaps, I saw a clown sitting inside and grinning up at me. “Hello, ARTHUR!” it cried . . . or, rather, Rose cried.
Rose had put on a yellow curly wig and drawn a clown smile on her face with one of Nani’s lipsticks. When she jumped out of the Box, I discovered she was wearing Grandad’s “smart” shoes. For some reason it was these pointed shoes that freaked me out the most. Even now, the thought of her chasing me around the attic in those clomping shoes sends a shiver down my spine.
Of course, I got my revenge. A few days later I scribbled out my name and wrote Rose on the Box instead. Then I hid inside dressed as her scary gymnastics teacher, Bendy Joan.
Next Rose got into the Box dressed as a ghost (a sheet with holes ripped in it).
Then I hid inside wearing Grandad’s wetsuit and a skeleton mask.
It went on like this until the Box was covered in our crossed-out names and we’d run out of scary things to dress up as.
But that wasn’t the end of the Box. The next time we crawled through the cot and into Roar, a cardboard box was sitting there waiting for us. It was big and square, and it had a jolly goldfish printed on the side.
“Arthur!” Rose’s voice pulls me back to the present. Vlad and Pickle are flying so close that their wings are almost touching. “We’re nearly there!”
While I’ve been daydreaming we’ve flown into the Bad Side of Roar. Sheer cliffs have replaced the sandy beaches, waves rise out of the water, and thick clouds have swept over the sun. I shiver and wonder how the Lost Girls put up with the gloominess, but then I remember that they used to live in the Tangled Forest. Perhaps they like it in the dark.
“There it is!” shouts Win, leaning past me and pointing down at the huge waves.
At first I think that the shape rising out of the sea is a lump of twisted rock. But as we fly closer, the Crow’s Nest takes shape. I see twisting turrets, each topped with a tangle of branches, and stone walls studded with glowing windows. Two colossal wooden doors dominate the front of the castle.
Then I spot something new: a long drooping rope bridge runs from the jagged rocks at the base of the castle, all the way across the sea to the top of the cliffs. The bridge is huge and dips in the middle. It looks rickety, and slippery, and the last time we set foot on one of the Lost Girls’ bridges we almost died, but it’s got to be safer than flying the dragons into the sea cave or trying to land them on the sharp rocks.
But we do have to land them somewhere . . .
“Rose!” I shout. “Where are we landing the dragons?”
She turns to me and grins. “Where do you think? On the cliff!”
And amazingly Rose and I do land two dragons on top of a cliff.
It’s not elegant, and Win nearly falls off, but somehow we get Vlad and Pickle to crash down on a strip of grassy rock.
“Gobood boboy,” I say, patting Vlad’s neck. “Thobank yobou.”
He turns to me and growls a puff of smoke in my direction. Quickly I slide off his back and go to join Rose and Win at the start of the Lost Girls’ bridge.
“Isn’t it cool?” says Win, giving the ropes a shake. “Remember, I built loads of this!”
Rose and I take in the uneven planks of wood and the rope handrails that stretch into the distance. I really hope Stella didn’t let Win do any of the rope knotting.
“It looks good,” says Rose, giving a plank an experimental poke with her foot.
“Wait until you’ve seen its bounce,” says Win, and then he’s off, running along the bridge, deliberately making it wobble up and down.
At first, Rose and I follow more cautiously, holding tight to the handrails and stepping from one plank to the next. But then we realize Win’s right, the bridge does have a good bounce, and we start running too, taking big leaps and trying to knock each other over.
A massive jump of Rose’s sends us all crashing down onto the planks.
We pick ourselves up, out of breath from laughing and running, and carry on along the bridge. And then, because I’m sure we’re all thinking about it, I say, “We need to talk about the Box.”
“The Box was fun!” says Win.
I shake my head. “Win, you’re only saying that because it was never your fear that came out.”
“It was scary and fun,” insists Rose.
I suppose I did enjoy it when Rose’s name appeared on the side. Who doesn’t enjoy seeing their brother or sister scared? It’s brilliant! But when it was my name it was a different matter . . .
“Remember how the words showed up?” I say.
“Like magic,” says Rose.
When it first turned up in Roar, the Box looked just like the one in Grandad’s attic, right down to the fat goldfish on the side, but when we stepped closer the words What’s in the box appeared in shining, golden letters. Then there was this stomach-churning pause before Arthur or Rose was added along with a jaunty question mark.
I was always so relieved when I saw the R for Rose, but it if was an A for Arthur my chest would squeeze tight and my heart would beat like a drum as I tried to work out what could possibly be about to jump out. The worst thing about the Box was that it was clever: it knew when Rose and I were nearby, and it knew exactly what we were scared of.
Rose looks at me and grins. “Hey, Arthur, remember Candyfloss?”
How could I forget Candyfloss? He was the first thing to come out of the Box, but he was nothing like Rose’s clown in Grandad’s attic. For one thing he was real, an actual clown with masses of curly yellow hair, face paint, and a red nose. Plus, he had this creepy swooping voice and whenever he saw me he’d say, “Hellooooo, Arthur!”
Rose bursts out laughing. “Remember his nose? It was so big!”
“Not as big as his feet,” says Win.
“He used to step on me with those big feet.” My words make them laugh even more.
“Hellooooo, Arthur!” says Rose, doing an, admittedly, very good impersonation of Candyfloss.
“What about Bendy Joan?” I say. “You didn’t find her so funny, did you?”
Rose stops laughing. “That’s because she could fit in the tiniest places. I never knew when she was going to jump out at me. Have you ever had an old lady jump out of a tree and land on your back, Arthur? It’s much scarier than a clown!”
“Remember the giant cat?” says Win. “His purr was intense.”
“Urgh,” says Rose with a shudder. “Smokey!”
And for the next few minutes, as we walk along the swaying bridge, we reminisce about all the strange and weird things that came out of the Box: the hundreds of stripy bee-spiders, Rose’s tiny ghost-vampire, the gloved hand that used to skitter around after me.
“How did we get rid of them all?” I say.
“I don’t think we did,” says Rose. “Didn’t they just wander off into Roar when they got bored of scaring us?”
Our fears only came out of the Box if someone opened it, but the problem was, someone always opened it—it was just too tempting—and soon we had lots of creepy things running around Roar. But the Box really stopped being fun when Crowky became interested in it. He would sit up in a tree cackling when he heard our screams, and we realized that if he ever got hold of it, he’d have a weapon he could use against us, again and again. That’s when we knew we had to get rid of it.
So we tried to destroy it. We jumped on it. We threw it in Win’s bonfire. We even dropped it down the waterfall, but it was weirdly strong. Nothing could dent it. Then Rose asked Mitch to hide it for us, and that was the end of the Box . . . or so we thought.
“Do you think there’s any chance Crowky could have found it?” I ask.
“No way,” says Rose firmly. “If he’d found it, he would have opened it right there in front of the fire. He’s just trying to scare us and it’s worked, hasn’t it? You should see your face, Arthur!”
“Um . . . You two,” says Win. He’s stopped walking and is staring down at the sea. “We should probably get a move on. The tide’s coming in.”
“Why does that matter?” says Rose.
“Because soon the middle of the bridge will be underwater and then it will be impossible to cross.”
I look down and realize that the sea does seem to be closer to the bridge. “Win, why didn’t you tell us?” I say.
He looks confused. “I just did.”
I look back toward land. A thick fog has rolled across the cliffs, hiding the start of the bridge from view. “Anyone could creep up behind us,” I say.
The three of us stand in silence as fog twists around our legs and waves break beneath us. The bridge creaks, and then Win says, “How long do you reckon it would take Crowky to get from my cave to here?”
No one answers. Instead we all start running as fast as we possibly can along the bridge, desperate to beat the tide.
“I think we’re too late!” shouts Rose. Up ahead, water has started to wash over the middle of the bridge. It bubbles and foams between the planks, before sucking away again.
A particularly big wave breaks beneath us, sending icy water shooting over our feet. “Come on,” I say, leading us forward. “We can climb along the handrails if we have to.”
Soon our feet and then our ankles are underwater. This slows us down, and so do the waves, but we cling to the ropes and keep wading on until the bridge starts to rise again.
“We’ve done it!” I yell.
And that’s when Win shouts, “HAIRY OCTOPUS!”
At first I think he’s done a spell, and I hold my breath, waiting for the inevitable puff of smoke or explosion of stars. But instead I feel something extremely soft wrap around my ankle. I look down and gasp. A tentacle covered in gray speckled fur is winding its way up my leg . . . Win wasn’t shouting a spell. He was shouting a warning!
I lurch forward, trying to tug my leg free, but the octopus just tightens its grip. In their panic to get away, Rose and Win shove past me and run higher up the bridge.
“Wait!” I shout. “It’s got me!”
But Win scurries even farther away, yelling, “I hate them! I hate them! I hate them!”
“Don’t panic,” says Rose, and I honestly can’t tell if she’s talking to Win, or me—the person with the octopus attached to his leg.
Suddenly the octopus’s huge fur-covered head slides out of the water. It stares at me with moist yellow eyes and I push my fingers underneath the tentacle, trying to loosen its grip. I can’t help noticing how incredibly soft the gray fur is.
The head moves toward me. “Do octopuses have teeth?” I shout. “Quick, one of you, tell me!”
“Yes!” yells Win, followed by a “No!” from Rose.
The octopus disappears under the water and I feel myself being dragged down into the sea. “Rose . . . Win!” I cry. “HELP ME!”
Rose wades back down the bridge and wraps her arms around my waist. “I’ll pull and you push,” she says.
I push with all my might, using my hands to try to pry the tentacle off my ankle. Suddenly the octopus loosens its grip and I yank my foot free. Rose and I scramble up the bridge, only stopping when we’re high above the water next to Win.
The octopus vanishes in a rush of bubbles.
“Sorry I couldn’t help, mate,” says Win, “but I flipping hate octopuses. They’re so wriggly and twisty!” He’s properly scared: trembling and peering down into the water for any sign of the octopus.
I rub at my leg, then try a few tentative steps. Except for a red mark around my ankle and a racing heart, I’m OK. “I didn’t think you were this scared of anything,” I say.
Win shudders. “I got squeezed by an octopus down at the Archie Playgo and nearly drowned. It was the furriest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” We carry on along up the bridge and Win puts his arm around my shoulder. “Sorry, mate.”
“You’ve already said that.”
“I know . . . but, still, I’m sorry.”
Then Rose sneaks up on Win and strokes his arm, and he screams, then falls over, then laughs. And then we’re all laughing, and the bridge is shaking, and it’s like the whole octopus incident never happened.
“It looks cozier than I remember,” says Rose, staring up at the tall towers of the Crow’s Nest with their twinkling windows. We’re close to the end of the bridge now. The fog has overtaken us and, up ahead, the Crow’s Nest looks like it’s floating on a cloud. The hundreds of windows dotted across the walls used to give me the creeps—it felt like Crowky could have been peering out of any one of them—but knowing the Lost Girls are inside makes the castle look almost welcoming.
The fog thins and we see a small figure sitting cross-legged at the end of the bridge.
“Who’s that?” I say
“The lookout,” says Win. “She’ll have a knife and if she doesn’t like the look of us”—he pauses here to mime slashing the ropes—“down we go.” Win cups his hands around his mouth and bellows, “It’s me, Wininja, and I’ve got Rose and Arthur Trout with me!”
The girl jumps to her feet and squints into the fog. “What?” she shouts.
“I said, it’s me, WININJA, and I’ve got ARTHUR and ROSE TROUT with me!”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” she yells back. Then she pulls something out of her pocket—a penknife—and her hands become a blur of movement.
Panic rises inside me. “What’s she doing?”
“I don’t know,” says Win, “but we need to get off this bridge!”
We start running, the planks bouncing up and down beneath our feet, and we don’t stop until we tumble off the bridge and onto the safety of solid land.
The Lost Girl stares at us from under a messy fringe. It’s Hansini, one of the older girls. “Hello,” she says, then she holds up a long, curling apple peel. “Look. I did it all in one piece!”
Rose does a shaky laugh. “We thought you were going to cut the ropes!”
She bites down on the apple and jams her penknife into her belt. “Thought about it,” she says.
