dejectedly into his steaming cup. ‘We don’t know what’s out there, we nearly lost one of my best friends back there and, for all we know, demons or something may be about to attack us again.’
‘We’re getting close now, I’m sure of it,’ said Mahra. She looked cold and seasick. ‘Magician Pew said to sail on this heading and that was enough. I’m sure that if there had been anything more to it I’d know…but I don’t. I’m sorry.’ She searched Quint’s desperate features. ‘We have to go on.’ Draining his mug, he turned for the hatchway without saying a word.
For the rest of the day they kept going, holding as close to a heading of north-east as the heavy seas would allow. Tarent continued to visit Loras, pouring healing energies into his friend and by evening, the magician showed definite signs of improvement. Pardigan and Quint were now exhausted being the only full-time crew sailing the boat. It was almost dark when the ship's bell rang and Pardigan’s head appeared at the hatchway, accompanied by a cascade of water.
‘Land! There’s land ahead of us, I need anyone up here that can help right away.’
Everybody who could muster the energy scrambled up on deck to see what was happening. The sea was still pounding them with waves and the light of the day was almost gone. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating a boiling angry ocean and the dark shape of the island. Jagged rocks protruded from the water, like a row of vicious teeth surrounded by hissing foam, daring the boat to approach.
Quint shouted instructions and Pardigan cautiously edged his way forward through sheets of spray to look for a way through while Tarent took the wheel.
‘Bring us hard over and around those rocks,’ bellowed Quint, over the ever-increasing howl of the wind and crashing of the waves; worry for the boat’s safety creasing his face. ‘We’re losing light fast, we’re going to have to move closer to find an anchorage. Keep looking for rocks but bring us in, Tarent. There has to be a way through.’
They shortened the sails and slid towards the darkness of the island. Several times Pardigan shouted that rocks were ahead, forcing them to change direction while Quint stood in the middle of the boat with an oar, fending them off from anything they came too close to. Thankfully, as they made their way further in and past the first rows of rocks, they were more out of the wind and the sea started to become a little calmer.
They lit lanterns to help guide them through the last part and eventually dropped anchor about three boat lengths from a small sandy shore.
Once back below decks, the assembled group was a sorry sight as they stoked up the fire in the old stove. Everyone and everything was soaked and they were all completely exhausted. Much to everyone’s relief, Mahra volunteered to keep watch for the night, so after cooking and eating their first hot meal in several days, they went to their damp beds and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The Griffin lay at rest in the shadow of the Isle of Skulls, and while her crew slept, a white owl watched over her. Mahra flew over the sleeping ship and her cry sang out, echoing between the hostile rocks as she soared along the jagged rain lashed cliffs - and as she flew, she started to remember.
****
Chapter 7
Bleak F ortress
Morning found the crew chilled and miserable. Pardigan had woken first. When Mahra came down from the hatchway, she found him huddled over the stove trying to light a pile of damp kindling with numb fingers. She walked over and laying a hand upon his shoulder crouched down beside him.
‘How was the night, Mahra?' asked Quint, shuffling in as Pardigan placed a kettle on the stove. ‘Did we have any visitors?’
‘No, but I did have a chance to look around a little.’ She shivered and held a hand out to the still cold stove. ‘I also remembered more about the island. I’m fairly sure I know why we’re here and what we’re here
‘We’re getting close now, I’m sure of it,’ said Mahra. She looked cold and seasick. ‘Magician Pew said to sail on this heading and that was enough. I’m sure that if there had been anything more to it I’d know…but I don’t. I’m sorry.’ She searched Quint’s desperate features. ‘We have to go on.’ Draining his mug, he turned for the hatchway without saying a word.
For the rest of the day they kept going, holding as close to a heading of north-east as the heavy seas would allow. Tarent continued to visit Loras, pouring healing energies into his friend and by evening, the magician showed definite signs of improvement. Pardigan and Quint were now exhausted being the only full-time crew sailing the boat. It was almost dark when the ship's bell rang and Pardigan’s head appeared at the hatchway, accompanied by a cascade of water.
‘Land! There’s land ahead of us, I need anyone up here that can help right away.’
Everybody who could muster the energy scrambled up on deck to see what was happening. The sea was still pounding them with waves and the light of the day was almost gone. Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating a boiling angry ocean and the dark shape of the island. Jagged rocks protruded from the water, like a row of vicious teeth surrounded by hissing foam, daring the boat to approach.
Quint shouted instructions and Pardigan cautiously edged his way forward through sheets of spray to look for a way through while Tarent took the wheel.
‘Bring us hard over and around those rocks,’ bellowed Quint, over the ever-increasing howl of the wind and crashing of the waves; worry for the boat’s safety creasing his face. ‘We’re losing light fast, we’re going to have to move closer to find an anchorage. Keep looking for rocks but bring us in, Tarent. There has to be a way through.’
They shortened the sails and slid towards the darkness of the island. Several times Pardigan shouted that rocks were ahead, forcing them to change direction while Quint stood in the middle of the boat with an oar, fending them off from anything they came too close to. Thankfully, as they made their way further in and past the first rows of rocks, they were more out of the wind and the sea started to become a little calmer.
They lit lanterns to help guide them through the last part and eventually dropped anchor about three boat lengths from a small sandy shore.
Once back below decks, the assembled group was a sorry sight as they stoked up the fire in the old stove. Everyone and everything was soaked and they were all completely exhausted. Much to everyone’s relief, Mahra volunteered to keep watch for the night, so after cooking and eating their first hot meal in several days, they went to their damp beds and quickly fell into a deep sleep.
The Griffin lay at rest in the shadow of the Isle of Skulls, and while her crew slept, a white owl watched over her. Mahra flew over the sleeping ship and her cry sang out, echoing between the hostile rocks as she soared along the jagged rain lashed cliffs - and as she flew, she started to remember.
****
Chapter 7
Bleak F ortress
Morning found the crew chilled and miserable. Pardigan had woken first. When Mahra came down from the hatchway, she found him huddled over the stove trying to light a pile of damp kindling with numb fingers. She walked over and laying a hand upon his shoulder crouched down beside him.
‘How was the night, Mahra?' asked Quint, shuffling in as Pardigan placed a kettle on the stove. ‘Did we have any visitors?’
‘No, but I did have a chance to look around a little.’ She shivered and held a hand out to the still cold stove. ‘I also remembered more about the island. I’m fairly sure I know why we’re here and what we’re here
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