Clash of the Sky Galleons by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell

pulled his dagger from the assassin’s chest, wiped it on his trousers and returned it to its sheath at his belt. Wind Jackal laid a hand on Quint’s shoulder.
    ‘It’s as I suspected all along, Quint, my lad,’ he said. ‘Another one of Smeal’s traps. But this time, thanks to our waif friend here, we outwitted him.’
    ‘You knew it was a trap all along,’ sighed Quint, a huge wave of relief washing over him. ‘I wish you’d said something before. Maris and I were so worried!…’
    ‘He couldn’t say anything,’ Menisculis’s voice sounded in Quint’s head, ‘or you would have given the game away to this waif assassin here. As it was, the hatred in your thoughts was a perfect cover for me, Master Quint, to assassinate the assassin.’ A thin whispery laugh sounded in Quint’s mind, making him shudder.
    Quint looked across at his father, who was smiling grimly. In the distance there came a low rumble.
    ‘Father!’ Quint gasped. ‘What … what’s that noise?’
    Coming towards them like rolling thunder was a rumbling, rushing, roaring sound.
    ‘Water!’ cried Menisculis.
    The next instant, there was a grinding sound of metal against stone. The sluice gate was being raised. The noise from beyond became tumultuous. Quint turned and peered into the darkness of the tunnel - and then he saw it. Bubbling, frothing, foaming; a vast torrent of water hurtling down the pipe towards them.
    ‘Run!’ bellowed Wind Jackal.
    But it was already too late. The wall of water surged towards them, picking them up and tossing them forward as it gushed towards the end of the tunnel. Menisculis disappeared from view; then Wind Jackal, his arms still waving frantically. Then Quint himself went under, and was rolled over and over, unable to see, unable to breathe …
    Oh, Maris, he thought. Maris …
    All at once, he burst out of the pipe, like a bubble from a bottle of sparkling winesap, out into the open air.
    Falling … He was falling …
    Thunk!
    And then he was falling no more, but was trapped in some kind of net, with the water still pouring over him, passing through the holes in the net and down, down, down into the endless void beneath the Edge. Beside him lay Wind Jackal. From far above them, Quint heard a familiar voice cry out and, looking up, he saw the small sky ferry - the Edgehopper - hovering overhead. It rose up above the SluiceTower and away from the torrent of water still gushing from the pipe. The faces of Maris and Tem, worried but smiling, peered down at them.

    ‘It’s all right,’ Maris shouted back. ‘We’ve got both of you! You’re safe.’
    Quint gripped his head in his hands and moaned softly. By the look on Wind Jackal’s face, and on those of the crew who now appeared at the cliff-edge wall, they heard it, too. In the Edgehopper, Maris and Tem exchanged shocked looks with the gnokgoblin pilot and buried their heads in their folded arms.
    Far below, falling into the endless night, yet in all of their heads, was the voice of the nightwaif, Menisculis, crying out to them - but growing fainter by the second.
    ‘Help mel Help me. Help … ‘

• CHAPTER SIX •
IMBIX HOTH
    Halt!’ The g ruf f com mand cut through the cold, early Lmorning air. The academic -at-arms, in the h eavy armour of a rock guardian, levelled his crossbow at the leaguesmaster in the high hat before him. ‘Nobody enters the Stone Gardens while the rock harvest is in progress!’
    The guard was tall, but slightly built, with piercing grey-blue eyes and a shock of brown, curly hair that fell down over one side of his wide forehead. He was also young, yet the look in those eyes, betraying the dark horrors he had witnessed, seemed to belong to someone twice his age. Behind him, fifty of his comrades stood shoulder to shoulder, their full-length shields emblazoned with the red oval insignia of the Knights Academy.
    Imbix Hoth looked the academic-at-arms slowly up and down, his high hat wobbling and being steadied by his