Sarah Driver - Sea

To Mum, Dad and Nick, for sailing through the storms with me

First published in Great Britain 2017

by Egmont UK Limited

The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN

Text copyright © Sarah Driver, 2017

Illustrations copyright © Joe McLaren, 2017

Additional interior illustrations by Janene Spencer

First e-book edition 2017

ISBN 978 1 4052 8467 7

Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1763 2

www.egmont.co.uk

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

CONTENTS

Cover

Title Page

Dedication and Copyright To Mum, Dad and Nick, for sailing through the storms with me First published in Great Britain 2017 by Egmont UK Limited The Yellow Building, 1 Nicholas Road, London W11 4AN Text copyright © Sarah Driver, 2017 Illustrations copyright © Joe McLaren, 2017 Additional interior illustrations by Janene Spencer First e-book edition 2017 ISBN 978 1 4052 8467 7 Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1763 2 www.egmont.co.uk A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Stay safe online. Any website addresses listed in this book are correct at the time of going to print. However, Egmont is not responsible for content hosted by third parties. Please be aware that online content can be subject to change and websites can contain content that is unsuitable for children. We advise that all children are supervised when using the internet.

Map of Trianukka

The Huntress

PART 1: We Rove

1 Terrodyls

2 Alone at Sea

3 A Flaming Earful

4 The Western Wharves

5 The Stranger

6 A Paw Print in the Ice

7 A Skilful Captain

8 Hunter’s Moon

9 The Frozen Wastes

10 Mouse Arrow-Swift

11 Whale-song

12 Aches and Pains

13 Storm

14 Turning Tides

15 The Unseeing Eye

PART 2: Winter’s Prowl

16 Dragonfly

17 Dread’s Eve

18 The Stone Circle

19 The Merwraith

20 Cut Adrift

21 The Hunter

22 Dungeon

23 Endless Night

24 Bad Blood

25 Moonrise over the End of the World

26 Hawk-courage

27 True-Tribe

PART 3: Flight

28 Rattlebones

29 Thunder Heart

30 What the Sea Spat Out

31 Crow

32 Labyrinth

33 Wreckers

34 One Boss

35 Crew

36 Bony Isle Bound

37 Devil’s Hag

38 Hooked

39 Blood-magyk

40 Song of Sorrow

41 Battle Scars

42 Castle Whalesbane

43 Dead Reckoning

44 Storm-brewing

45 Tentacles

46 Free Flight

Acknowledgements

Back series promotional page

The beasts are coming.

I’m below decks in the gloomy kitchens, helping Pipistrelle salt raw reindeer steak, when the first call hacks through the air. As the sound fades, my fingers stop dead and cold chunks of salt dig into my skin. My bones turn to water but I won’t let my knees buckle. Pip stops his tuneless whistling and scowls. My heart barely thuds before the clanging of the alarm bell shatters the silence.

Grandma always tells me I’m not to go out on deck when the great winged terrodyls come near. Two summers gone, they killed Grandpa. But this time I’ve got to keep our ship safe.

I stick my knife in my belt and let out my fiercest battle-howl.

‘Mouse!’ Pip grabs for me but his hands are slimy with reindeer blood and I wriggle free.

I run from the kitchens, tear through the murky passageways and into the armoury, with its stink of rot and rust. Spears, daggers, axes and harpoons gleam as I pass. I fling open an elm chest, grab my longbow and a quiver full of arrows dipped in poison-frog venom. Then I burst up the stairs onto the storm-deck.

The deck’s a-flurry with running boots and sweeping cloaks. We’ve been caught unprepared cos the terrodyls should be making for their nests now that winter’s prowling closer.

The battle-horn moans. ‘To arms! Bows and bills!’ Grandma shouts, from the fore-castle above. ‘Come on , you belching babble of layabouts!’

‘Aye, Captain!’ boom the crew.

Shadows thicken as the sun drops towards the horizon. Grandma’s black-cloaks stand along the port and starboard sides. There’s a whish as they draw arrows from their quivers. The oarsmen have left their benches so the Huntress sways in the sea, buffeted by the waves. I’ve not been on deck longer than a few heartbeats when a freezing shock of seawater smashes over the rail and drenches me.

The sound comes again, a hideous whip-crack caw. It makes me stagger and throw myself flat with my hands over my ears. My bow clatters to the deck. A shadow falls across me, cast by a pair of vast, hairy wings. They beat, drowning out my heart.

‘Mouse!’ a shaky voice cries. Slowly I turn my face towards the stern. The hatch is open a sliver and Sparrow’s teary brown eyes peer out.

‘Sing! Sing to the whales!’ I call to my brother, my voice fear-scratched. Sparrow’s gifted with the whale-song. Grandma says it’s an offering to the whales – the gods of the seas – to keep us safe. Terrodyls hate the gentle whale-song, so might be it’s the only thing that can save us, out here with no other trading ships close by.

As I watch, Sparrow opens his mouth and pours his song into the night. The wind gusts and carries his voice over the sea, pulling more strands of song from his mouth – the notes shiver and glow bright blue.

Another scream strikes deep into my brain. A three-strong hunting pack of ten-foot-long terrodyls circles overhead. Their beast-chatter is tangled into one hateful cry of killdeathdiepaindrownstrikedeathscuttlekill!

One of them dives towards me but I roll, quick, and its claws tear gouges in the deck. It screeches and comes at me again. I try to stand but bash into its wing, and it sends me crashing into a barrel of salted herring.

There’s a thud as the hatch bangs closed. Sparrow must’ve let it fall shut and now his voice is muffled. Will the whales hear him?