The Boy Who Went Magic Page 11

  The Professor slung a metal chain over the rope.

  “You’d better go first,” said the Professor. “Hold on tight, and it will slide you right onto the deck. Let go, and it’s a long way down. My men will catch you at the other side.”

  Bert looked back to make sure Norton was with him and then took hold of the chain. He stood on the edge of the six-story drop. The ground below seemed to swim in his vision.

  “Take your time,” said the Professor. “No rush.”

  Bert suddenly remembered the Professor’s tricks. “Don’t push—”

  But it was too late. The Professor shoved him out into space.

  Bert’s stomach lurched and the airship rushed toward him. He could make out figures on the deck reaching for him. The tangle of ropes shot into view.

  He hit the netting with a thump and felt strong arms pulling him down to safety. In another moment he was on the deck, breathing heavily but otherwise unhurt.

  Norton landed beside him and muttered something about feeling dizzy. He staggered over to the edge of the deck as the Professor and Finch slammed into the rigging.

  “Well done, everyone,” said the Professor. “You actually caught us.”

  Finch cut the rope away. “We’re detached,” she said.

  “Get us away from here, Mr. Peel,” yelled the Professor.

  “Yes, sir,” called a grizzled-looking man at the ship’s controls.

  The engines of the airship rose to a roar and the deck swayed beneath Bert’s feet. He could see the lights of the prison fading behind them and the occasional flash as a guard fired a shot. But the bullets came nowhere near. The full sense of triumph didn’t sink in until Finch helped him to his feet and led him to the front of the ship. “Welcome aboard,” she said.

  Bert laughed and looked down. He saw the world sailing swiftly beneath them. The trees looked like little models in the moonlight, and the clouds were close enough to touch. “So this is what it feels like?” he said. He looked around the airship and the smiling crew. He was free.

  The following morning Bert sat in the Professor’s cabin, wearing an oversize woolen sweater over his regular school shirt and trousers, giving an account of the prison to Finch and her father. Through the rear windows the ocean passed peacefully below.

  “The doctor was executed?” said the Professor.

  Bert nodded grimly.

  “It’s a shame,” said the Professor. “It was brave of him to contact me the way he did. I’m sorry I didn’t explain earlier, Bert. I was trying to protect the two of you.”

  “Did he tell you about the spirit?” asked Bert.

  “No. I suppose he didn’t have the opportunity to sneak a longer message to me. He just sent me the key to Voss’s vault and instructions to get you away from Penvellyn as soon as possible.” He rubbed his chin. “I also suspect he didn’t know exactly what Voss is planning with the spirit. You mentioned something about a weapon?”

  “That’s what he told me,” said Bert. “Just before they took him away.”

  The Professor nodded. “I suppose that makes more sense than Voss wanting to gain magic powers himself. I mean, no offense, Bert, but taking on the powers you have wouldn’t exactly make him an unstoppable force. There has to be something more.”

  “He is crazy though,” said Finch.

  “Good point,” said the Professor.

  “There was something else,” said Bert. “He said he wanted to capture the spirit in this dark crystal. It sounded like that was what he was planning all along.”

  “That sounds troubling,” said the Professor. He looked out the window. “Anyway, Bert, it’s good to have you back with us. I would never live it down with my crew if I’d let you save my life like that and then left you to rot in Grimwater Prison.”

  Bert nodded. “Thank you. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d stayed. But how did you know where to find me? Did the doctor tell you that too?”

  “No,” said the Professor. “I don’t believe he could have smuggled out another note, or planned a jailbreak. And the method of contacting us was different.”

  “We landed at one of our pirate havens,” explained Finch. “And there was a messenger pigeon waiting for us. It had a note that told us which cell you were in and when to rescue you.”

  Bert was confused. “So we don’t know who helped me?”

  “There can’t be a shortage of people that hate Prince Voss,” said the Professor. “I suppose another one of his men is trying to get in the way of his schemes. Good luck to them, I say.”

  Finch nodded. They didn’t appear overly concerned.

  Bert was uneasy about their complacency. The more he thought about Voss’s words, the more he sensed a wider danger. “We have to stop him,” he said.

  The Professor glanced at Finch. “I’m not sure we want to pick a fight with the man in line for the throne of Penvellyn just now, if we can help it, Bert.”

  “But he’s already picked a fight with us,” said Bert. “We can’t let him do what he wants. If he catches this spirit, and uses it with this weapon, something terrible might happen. And if he wants to catch the spirit, he has to catch me too.” He shuddered. “I don’t think he’ll just give up.”

  “Well, you’re not wrong there, Bert,” said the Professor. “Voss is almost certainly chasing us. And he has a very good airship with which to do it. All I mean to say is, we shouldn’t actively look for a fight with him right now if we can help it. Our priority is to find out what’s happened to you, and see if we can fix it. I’m pleased to say we’ve made some progress.”

  Bert leaned forward as the Professor opened a file.

  “These are from the notes you stole from Hammerton National Bank,” said the Professor. “The doctor directed us to these for a reason. I don’t think he knew what Voss was aiming to do with the spirit exactly, but he seemed to think it would help to find out where Bert’s mirror came from. These records explain which adventurer found the mirror and brought it to Penvellyn. If we can gather their version of events, we stand a much better chance of understanding it.”

  “But who found it?” said Bert.

  “That’s where things get tricky,” said the Professor. “Captain Amleth, the legendary early explorer of Ferenor ruins, was the one who found the mirror. It seems it was one of the last things he ever did. He went out on a return voyage and never came back.”

  “Do the notes say where he found it?” asked Bert.

  “No,” said the Professor. “But I think we can do better than that. I know where Captain Amleth’s airship crashed. It’s in a remote region of Ferenor—the Sethera Mountains.”

  Bert was confused. “But if the captain is dead, and his ship is gone, how are we supposed to find out where he got the mirror? Doesn’t that mean the secret is lost for good?”

  “Actually, no,” said the Professor. “You see, Bert, all captains keep notes about their adventures in a ship’s safe. No one has ever searched the wreck of the Erebus—Amleth’s ship. If we can find those notes, we should be able to find all of the information we need. He was the greatest adventurer of his time. He might even know more about this business than Voss.”

  Bert nodded. “Why has no one searched the wreck before?”

  The Professor glanced at Finch. “Well, it’s not exactly an easy place to get to. There are crosswinds that make it impossible to land an airship. And the forests below are impassable—the farther we stay away from them the better. It’s not going to be easy getting down there—”

  “Also, the ship’s haunted,” interrupted Finch.

  The Professor looked annoyed. “It’s supposed to be haunted,” he said. “I’m not convinced that anyone has gotten down there to find out. Probably just aeronauts’ tales.”

  Bert wasn’t convinced. Something in the Professor’s tone suggested he was trying to play down the danger. But he couldn’t help being excited about the prospect ahead—it felt like he was going on his first real adventure.

/>   “How long until we get there?” he said.

  “We’ll be at the Ferenor coast in a few hours,” said the Professor. “After that, it depends what the weather is like. I think we’ll be over the Sethera Mountains by this afternoon.”

  Bert nodded. “And I can search the wreck with you?”

  The Professor looked unsure.

  “He’s done fine so far,” said Finch. “And he has more at stake than any of us.”

  Bert was pleased to have her support.

  “All right,” said the Professor. “I was thinking of taking you with us anyway.” He rubbed his chin and looked at the map again. “But it will be a dangerous landing. I’d better start planning.”

  Bert was thrilled. “What should I do in the meantime?”

  “You can do some research,” said the Professor. “We’re going to be crossing the coast of Ferenor very soon, but there’s a little time to see if you can dig up anything about spirits or mirrors from the ship’s library.” He nodded to Finch. “If you can remember where that is?” he asked with a grin.

  Finch gave the door of the library a strong kick and a waft of stale air rushed out to meet them. There were bookshelves running all around the small cabin, with strings lashed across to stop the books from falling out. Bert ran his finger across the nearest set of spines and read the titles. He was surprised to find that Norton was already sitting there, in the dark, holding a book.

  “How can you read in this light?” asked Bert.

  Norton shrugged. “Some poetry you can just feel.”

  Bert couldn’t help pulling a face, but he was glad that Norton didn’t seem to have been affected by his time in prison. In fact, he seemed more like himself than ever.

  “There,” said Finch, igniting the amphor lamp.

  Norton blinked in the light. “I prefer the gloom,” he said. He stretched and headed for the door. “If you want me, I’ll be with the accordion player.”

  Finch paid no notice to his exit. She patted her hands and glared at the books as if they’d offended her. “Couldn’t we just say we looked?” she said. “I want to do sword practice.”

  Bert could see that she wasn’t happy about reading. Ever since their brief time at school together, he’d had the impression that study was one of her least favorite activities. “Aren’t you even a little curious about what’s happening to me?” he said.

  “Fine,” said Finch grumpily. She took out a handful of titles and sat on the floor. Bert did the same. But it quickly became clear that finding the right information wouldn’t be easy.

  “There’s just so much useless nonsense,” whined Finch.

  Bert nodded. His initial excitement was damped by the musty old pages filled with descriptions of ancient court rituals and people with odd-sounding names. But eventually he managed to find some details about mage powers and how they manifested. He read on, trying to find his symptoms in the description. But the more he saw, the more his hopes sank.

  Finch peered over his shoulder. “What does it say?”

  Bert frowned. “I don’t understand it,” he said. “I’ve read through all the types of mage it has in this stupid book and there’s nothing that sounds like me. There’s no mention of blasts of power coming out of people’s palms or any of the things I’ve been feeling.” He put his head in his hands. “What if this is all some terrible accident and the mirror at the museum really was just broken?”

  “Let me see,” said Finch. She ran her finger over the different titles: “Fire mages, mind mages, rock mages, metal mages …” She scratched her head. “This all sounds like nonsense.”

  Bert pushed away the books in disappointment.

  “It’s not surprising really,” said Finch. “These are all books written by people from Penvellyn. There isn’t much real writing from Ferenor left, and it seems like it’s kept secret. But there are one or two people that have studied the old ways. They might have some answers.”

  “You mean like Voss?” said Bert, glumly.

  “I suppose,” said Finch. “But there are friendly people too, like Hermatrude who lives out in the grand forest of Ferenor. She knows all about this kind of thing.”

  Bert felt a little better, but he was beginning to worry about the spirit that he had seen. He couldn’t deny that it had helped him, but what did it want? Voss had talked about it like it was a bundle of energy, and the doctor had said it could alter people’s minds. But they both seemed convinced that it would try to contact him. The fact that it hadn’t was unnerving. To make matters worse, the books said that if a spirit stayed in our world too long, it became dangerous.

  That didn’t sound particularly reassuring.

  “I just wish I understood what was happening,” said Bert. “I’ve gotten you and your dad into so much trouble already. I don’t want to be a liability.”

  Finch looked thoughtful. “You know, my dad has been different since we’ve been helping you.” She paused. “For the first time in a while he seems more like his old self.”

  Bert was surprised. He could tell that Finch wanted to tell him something.

  She looked at her metal feet. “There was an accident, two years ago,” she said. “An explosion in the hold. We still don’t know what caused it. My mom was killed. I lost my legs.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Bert.

  Finch was quiet for a while. “We always take risks,” she said. “I just want to see him get excited about things again, like when we were off looking for treasure.” She seemed distant, as if she was deep in some memory. “There’s really nothing like treasure, Bert.”

  Bert wanted to comfort her. Even though thoughts of treasure were far from his mind, he knew he should show interest. “Are we likely to find any treasure?”

  Finch smiled. “I don’t know whether you will,” she said tauntingly. “But I think I’ve got a pretty good chance. And you’d better hope it’s good, because we’ve done a lot of work for free already.” She seemed to cast away her misery, and helped him to his feet. But Bert detected a lingering sadness about her. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get some fresh air.”

  Bert followed Finch out onto the deck. The sky was clear and the airship rocked gently in the breeze. Beneath their feet, the amphor engine rumbled, pumping warm air over the planks and keeping them powering toward Ferenor.

  “I could get used to it here,” said Norton.

  He was lying on the side of the hull, while an aeronaut played an accordion nearby. It was a sad song, about someone’s death. It seemed to appeal to Norton’s miserable tastes.

  Bert smiled. “You look like a regular pirate,” he said. He was pleasantly surprised with how easily Norton took to airship life, but he still felt guilty for getting him involved. “Is there anyone that’s going to miss you, Norton?” he said. “You never talked about your family.”

  Norton shook his head. “Not really my thing.”

  Bert wasn’t sure that answered his question.

  “What are you doing daydreaming over there?” called Finch from across the deck. She was holding a pair of dueling sticks and tossed one of them to Bert.

  Bert caught it clumsily. “Is this really necessary?” he said. “I mean, we only have a few hours. How much can I really learn about fighting that I don’t already know?”

  “Would you rather just sit around?” said Finch.

  “It’s a good place to do it,” said Norton.

  “I just escaped from prison,” said Bert.

  Finch didn’t appear to be listening. She stepped in and swung at Bert’s head. The sticks met with a sharp thwack. For the next few minutes they focused on the duel.

  “Could we slow down a bit?” said Bert.

  “This is me slowed down,” said Finch.

  Norton let out a long yawn.

  Bert winced and blocked another sharp swing.

  After they’d trained for a while she finally relented and let him get a drink. They walked together to the front of the ship and looked over the blue h
orizon. Finch seemed pleased. “You know, you’re not bad at the basics,” she said. “You just need confidence.”

  “How do I get that?” asked Bert.

  “You just do,” said Finch. “You’ve got to control your feelings when you fight. It’s not enough to be frightened, or angry. You have to have an idea of how you want to feel.”

  Bert considered her words. “What kind of dangers are you expecting?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” said Finch. “Whenever you’re in Ferenor, you’re in wild country. There are creatures there that you won’t find anywhere else in the world. Natural hazards too. And, of course, the possibility of finding some unstable artifact that still has magic power in it. But mostly you have to watch out for other people—scavengers and pirates, like us.”

  “Why did you become pirates?” said Bert.

  “My father didn’t have a choice,” said Finch. “He was a legitimate explorer once. But then the government outlawed non-government exploration of Ferenor. He either had to give up everything, or break the law.” She shrugged. “It was no choice at all really. And of course, that meant there’s never really been a choice for me either. Not that I’d change anything.”

  “What’s the island actually like?”

  Finch looked distant. “It’s wonderful,” she said. “There are these stretches of nothing—just wild land. And then you’ll come across a ruin, and you’ll see all these empty buildings, and monuments, and you get a sense of what it would have been like, when it was alive. But you won’t find anything like Penvellyn City there. It was an older kind of living—full of warriors and mysticism. I suppose the best way I can describe it is like you’re stepping back in time.”

  Bert felt like he knew what she meant. It was the same kind of excitement he had felt reading stories about Ferenor as a child. The sense of reaching into the past.