Paul Collins - The Spell of Undoing

Philmon pushed his way in front of the girls. ‘Nonsense,’ he said.

‘We're trapped like rats,’ wailed Fontagu.

‘Look!’ cried Philmon.

Rising into view beyond the balcony's rail was an old rowing boat. Unseaworthy, with ragged tears in its planking, it nonetheless floated in mid-air. Tab looked at it doubtfully. It didn't appear sturdy enough to carry the five of them.

Amelia wove her hands in the air and the boat drew closer, and bumped into the balcony's rail. One of its planks popped out from the impact and fell into the street far below.

Fontagu pushed past the others and climbed unsteadily into the boat. It tipped and yawed with his weight. ‘Hurry, you fools!’ he screamed.

The children needed no urging, for just then, the stairway door crashed in. Yells and curses followed, and bodies falling over one another, then pounding feet coming straight for the balcony.

Philmon dragged Tab into the boat and Amelia vaulted the railing and joined them. The rowboat shuddered and started to pull away from the balcony, but with agonising slowness. They weren't going to make it.

At the same moment, Tab realised Torby wasn't with her. She spun wildly. He wasn't in the boat. ‘Amelia, stop!’ she shouted frantically. ‘Where's Torby?’

‘There he is!’ yelled Philmon. Tab gasped. Torby was standing in the middle of the balcony. When Tab cried out his name he turned and looked at her with his owl-like eyes. Then the Tolrushians rushed them.

There was a blinding flash of light. Then nothing. The balcony was empty.

‘Wh-what? What happened?’

The boat rocked as though a large wave had hit it.

‘We have to go back!’ yelled Tab.

‘We can't,’ said Amelia. ‘Tab, I'm sorry. It's all I can do to get us home – and I may not be able to do that… ’

Tab stood up, went to leap back to the balcony, but suddenly Fontagu's arms were around her, dragging her back into the boat. ‘He's gone, Tab,’ he screamed. ‘He's gone. We must think of ourselves!’

In another moment the crisis had passed. The rowboat was now too far from the balcony for anyone to think of jumping to it.

Tab slumped against Fontagu. She had promised Torby that she would protect him, no matter what. And he had trusted her…

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She felt awful. Was it always this easy to betray someone?

Fontagu produced a monogrammed silk handkerchief, the kind that equalled a week's wages for a poor Quentaran, and dabbed the perspiration from his brow. Noticing Amelia and Philmon glaring at him, he offered the handkerchief to Tab. She snatched it from his hand and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she offered it back to Fontagu.

He eyed the dampened handkerchief with disdain. ‘Consider it a gift,’ he said through gritted teeth.

The boat picked up speed as it sailed out over the rooftops of Tolrush, avoiding Kull's castle which protruded from the portside like a dark tumour.

‘I'm glad that's over,’ said Philmon, breathing a sigh.

But he had spoken too soon. A flurry of arrows suddenly whizzed past them. Several twanged into the bottom of the boat and one came whistling through the gap where the plank had fallen off.

‘They're firing from that rooftop,’ said Tab, pointing.

Amelia muttered something, wove her hands in the air. The boat tossed and twisted, nearly flipping over at one point. Philmon and Fontagu looked ill.

‘You idiot!’ Fontagu screamed as the boat spiralled downwards instead of up. ‘We're doomed! Oh! Oh!’

The boat righted itself and began to fly straight, though it sagged alarmingly at the stern. Everyone had to hold on tight to stay aboard.

‘I'm falling!’ Fontagu screamed piteously. Tab grabbed him and tugged. The boat suddenly veered into a clear area, away from the higher towers, but several planks popped their rivets and were snapped away, as if torn by a buffeting wind.

‘We're breaking up. Do something!’ cried Fontagu.

‘Yeah,’ growled Amelia, ‘somebody do something. Gag him, so I can concentrate.’

Philmon awkwardly clamped a hand across Fontagu's mouth. Over the top of Philmon's hand, Tab could see Fontagu's eyes bulge.

Amelia was struggling to keep the boat moving and under control. They began to lose height, though they were still high above Quentaris.

Faster and faster they fell. The ground appeared to rush up at them. Then, just as a crash-landing seemed inevitable, they veered off towards Quentaris. Amelia groaned and her eyes rolled back.

By now Amelia was white-faced and shaking from trying to keep them in the air. The boat continued to lose height in an alarming fashion.

Tab didn't think Amelia could hold out for much longer. Fontagu's extra weight didn't help either. A sudden thought smote her. Had Torby known that his added weight would have doomed them?

She looked over the side. Quentaris was appreciably closer, but still a long way down. Then, clutching the gunwale, she peered back at Tolrush, hoping beyond hope to see Torby. She gasped loudly. Tolrush had vanished!

Philmon looked over her shoulder and nodded. ‘It's cloaked, like we said. That's why Quentaris isn't piling on the canvas and getting out of here.’

Tab's chest hurt. If Tolrush was still there, then hopefully Torby was too, but it felt as if a piece of her heart had disappeared.

Behind her, Philmon said, ‘Hey, look at that!’

Though there were few clouds about, lightning struck suddenly across the broiling grey sky. Thunder rumbled. As they watched, a fog appeared from nowhere and began to envelop Quentaris.

They were now almost over the city and as they drifted in amongst the swathes of canvas, masts and rigging, the fog thickened. Suddenly, Amelia cried out. At the same moment she lost control of the boat, which began to spin, dropping faster and faster. Everyone grabbed the gunwale and held on for dear life.

‘We're going to die!’ wailed Fontagu, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. The boat lurched, nearly spilling them into the air.

Everyone screamed.

‘Hold on!’ shouted Tab.

The boat bucked frenziedly, as if it were trying to shake them out of it. It whizzed amongst the rigging and whirled around the First Mast six times until everyone on board was dizzy.

The boat banked sharply, dropped still lower, and accelerated towards the mainmast. ‘We're going to crash!’ yelled Philmon. ‘Hard over, Amelia!’

‘The rigging!’ cried Tab. ‘We've got to jump!’

The boat zoomed towards a tangled spider's web of rope work. ‘Not yet!’ yelled Tab. She forced Fontagu unsteadily to his feet. The others were already poised to leap. As the boat soared past the rigging, Tab half leapt and half fell out of the boat. From the corner of her eye she saw Philmon and Amelia make it safely but Fontagu had waited too long. By the time he jumped the boat was nearly past the last cord and he had barely managed to grab hold of it.

‘Help me!’ he shrieked, hanging by one hand as he dangled six hundred feet above the deck, as the ground level was called. Tab scrambled across the rigging, mindful she didn't plunge through one of the large gaps. She managed to reach him just as his grip started to slip.

She grabbed his wrist and hung on, her injured hand burning. Behind her, the boat crashed into the mainmast in a shower of splinters.

Then Amelia and Philmon were beside her and between them they yanked Fontagu onto the rigging where he sat, pale and gasping, not daring to look down.

‘Now what?’ Amelia gasped. She didn't look any happier than Fontagu.

‘Just follow me,’ said Philmon. ‘This is my territory.’

He led them, slowly and carefully, up the rigging that was like a big sloping ladder made of rope, to a cross-spar. The spar, which held the great billowing sail in place, was almost as wide as a lane and led straight to the mainmast. From there they could make their way down to the deck.