The Dragon's Gold Page 3

  Once they’d left the bay behind and Cloudcatcher’s motion had steadied, Horace finally dared to open them again.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Echo asked, as they whirred onwards.

  ‘Mount Flameflux.’ Bulkhead pointed one gloved finger at the horizon, where the volcano squatted, belching out plumes of smoke. Above it, Echo saw a purple-grey mass of clouds building.

  ‘But… but isn’t that dangerous?’ said Horace.

  ‘Sky pirates ain’t afraid of danger!’ said Bulkhead. He steered the little vehicle out over the water, letting its nose drop into an alarming roll.

  ‘But I’m not a sky pirate!’ squeaked Horace, gripping the edge of the seat with both hands.

  Echo grinned. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me,’ she said.

  * * *

  As they approached Mount Flameflux, the storm crackled round them. Echo felt her hair stand on end with static. Horace squealed as a peal of thunder seemed to rumble right through Echo’s bones, shaking the little flying machine and charging its frame with electricity. Gilbert ducked down in her pocket, putting both front feet over his eyes.

  Bulkhead drew out the aethernet he’d taken from the bag and unrolled it on his lap with one hand while steering the little craft with the other. There was a huge crack of thunder and a bolt of lightning zigzagged down to the sea. The aethernet fizzed with electricity and Echo saw white sparks race along its fibres.

  ‘Hold these,’ said Bulkhead, swivelling the joysticks in Echo’s direction.

  Echo grabbed one in each hand, wrestling to control them as Cloudcatcher was buffeted on the air currents.

  Bulkhead leaned out of his seat and whirled the aethernet round his head like a lasso, releasing a torrent of silver sparks that spiralled into the air. The net emitted a high-pitched whistling noise and the storm seemed to intensify, blowing Cloudcatcher here and there.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Bulkhead, as Cloudcatcher bucked and dropped, sending Echo’s stomach into her mouth.

  Horace let out a yelp that was lost in a great rumble of thunder. Lightning snapped round them, searing the sky with a blinding flash of white light that sent static crackling across Echo’s scalp.

  Bulkhead swirled the net one more time and let it go.

  There was a flash as the net made contact with the cloud, but it slid off and the cloud seemed to roll away from them. Bulkhead reeled the net back in.

  ‘Take her in closer,’ he said.

  Echo leaned forward over the controls, edging Cloudcatcher nearer to the eye of the storm. The closer the little vehicle got to the clouds, the harder it was to steer. Echo’s very bones tingled as she grasped the controls.

  Bulkhead threw the net for the second time. ‘Aaaand gotcha!’ The net let out a dazzling spray of sparks as it snared the cloud, which bucked and writhed inside it like a wild animal.

  Bulkhead pulled on the net, reeling it in.

  Echo struggled to control Cloudcatcher, as the storm and the entangled cloud tossed them from side to side.

  ‘Hold her steady!’ shouted Bulkhead, as he fought with the net.

  ‘I can’t!’ Echo grappled with the controls.

  ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ moaned Horace.

  Gilbert’s scales turned a terrified white and he dived head first into Echo’s jerkin pocket.

  ‘Gah!’ As the little vessel tipped on to her side, Bulkhead’s hand slipped on the net and the cloud burst free, sending Cloudcatcher ricocheting backwards.

  How stupid of her! Echo flushed with disappointment as she wrenched the controls down. Cloudcatcher spun through the air until, finally, Echo steadied their course and got them level again.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered.

  ‘No worries,’ said Bulkhead, panting. ‘One more try and we’ll have it.’

  ‘Oh no,’ groaned Horace. ‘Can’t we just go back?’

  But his voice was lost in the wind as Echo glared at the boiling mass of clouds and steered Cloudcatcher back into the storm.

  ‘Third time’s a charm,’ said Bulkhead, whirling the net round his head again. He let it go. There was a bang and a bright shower of sparks erupted from the aethernet as it sprang open and snared the cloud.

  ‘Gotcha!’ whooped Bulkhead, pulling back on the net with all his strength.

  The cloud bucked and crackled, as if furious to be caught. Bulkhead wrestled with the net as Cloudcatcher was tossed about in the storm.

  ‘Keep her level!’ he shouted.

  Echo fought against the juddering controls and tilted Cloudcatcher into the wind, where she could hold her steady against the violent breeze.

  ‘That’s it,’ said Bulkhead, bracing his feet against Cloudcatcher’s metalwork and hauling the net in, hand over meaty hand.

  The cloud tried to dodge this way and that, but it was well and truly snared. It hissed and fizzed, sending out showers of angry sparks, but it was no good.

  Bulkhead deftly knotted the ends of the net round the writhing cloud, gave it a tug to make sure it was secure, and fastened it to one of Cloudcatcher’s struts. He slumped back in his seat and took back the controls.

  Echo flexed her aching fingers. Her palms were slick with sweat and her curls were plastered to her forehead. She grinned in relief and glanced over at Bulkhead.

  ‘Nice work,’ he said. ‘That is how we catch a cloud.’

  * * *

  Back on the Scarlet Margaret, Spud and Skillet had been busy in the galley, making a supper of crispy fried starfish, grilled squid tentacles and wedges of fresh watermelon. Once Bulkhead had stashed the fresh thundercloud in the hold, Lil and all the rest of the crew gathered round the makeshift table on the main deck, while Slingshot served out great spoonfuls on to their tin plates. Gilbert scuttled down to the table from Echo’s shoulder and Slingshot tossed him a crispy tentacle.

  ‘Told Horace about the treasure you dug up this morning?’ asked Flora.

  ‘You said you didn’t find anything!’ Horace turned to Echo, his eyes sparkling. ‘What was it?’

  The rest of the crew chuckled and Echo felt her face turn hot as she remembered the embarrassment of her discovery. ‘Nothing,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Just one of those things,’ said Bulkhead, nudging her kindly. ‘Tuck in, girl.’

  But Echo suddenly didn’t feel like eating. She pushed her plate towards him. ‘You have mine.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be melodramatic,’ said Lil. ‘Horace, Echo found a chest, but it was empty. It happens all the time. We’ll find another, don’t you worry.’

  ‘I’m really not hungry,’ Echo said. ‘It’s nothing to do with the treasure chest.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ Lil smeared her starfish with a spoonful of sea-tomato relish and took a greedy bite. ‘Sky pirates need to keep their strength up. Who knows what might be round the corner? How did you find the cloud-catching, Horace?’

  ‘It was… eventful.’

  ‘We did a’right in the end though, didn’t we?’ said Bulkhead, looking at Echo.

  Echo flushed even redder as she remembered how she’d lost control of Cloudcatcher and the cloud had slipped out of the net. Being a sky pirate was harder than she’d thought. She took a quick glance at Lil, but her mother was absorbed in her meal and hadn’t noticed Echo’s red face. Echo sighed and nibbled at a wedge of watermelon.

  ‘Come on, Echo, dig in,’ said Slingshot through a mouthful of squid.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Flora. ‘Are yer a pirate or a princess?’

  A good-natured laugh rumbled round the table as they all grinned at her. Even Horace had a big smile on his face.

  Echo lowered her gaze and stared sullenly at her plate, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. More princess than pirate? She might have grown up in a castle, but she was one of them – a Black Sky Wolf! – wasn’t she? A flicker of fear ran through her. Maybe they were only humouring her because she was Lil’s daughter.

  She scrubbed her eyes with her sleeve and after a few moment
s dared to look round the group. Nobody had noticed that she was upset. Horace was eagerly devouring his bowl of starfish. Bulkhead and Beti were laughing over a shared joke. Lil was leaning across the table to pour more grog into the grown-ups’ tankards, her gold earrings glinting through her dark curls. Even Gilbert was too busy nibbling on a melon seed to notice how miserable Echo was. A wave of loneliness washed over her. Maybe none of them cared.

  Flora caught her eye and grinned at her, and a flare of irritation lit in Echo’s belly. She was no princess – she was a pirate. And she would prove it to them all, just as soon as she’d worked out how.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next morning, Echo woke to a chorus of birds and the chirrup of toads. She stretched, pushed off the covers and climbed out of her bunk, scooping up a sleepy Gilbert and curling him round her neck. It was early, five bells according to the ship’s clock, and the airship was still very much full of sleep. The boards beneath her feet reverberated with soft snores from every direction.

  As she got out of bed, Horace stirred in the hammock they’d made up for him in Echo’s cabin.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he whispered.

  ‘Up to see the sunrise. I do it every morning. Want to come?’

  As they crept above decks, Echo peeped into her mother’s quarters. Lil lay on her bunk under skull-and-crossbones blankets, one arm flung out above her head and the other clutching her cutlass. Her mane of dark curls had been tamed into a thick plait that hung down over the side of the bunk. She twitched but didn’t wake. Echo smiled and crept up the stairs, followed by Horace. She eased open the bolts to the hatchway, pushed aside the trapdoor and shivered in delight at the rush of cool morning air.

  Up on deck, the birdsong was even louder. Echo crossed the deck, careful not to slip on the fine mist of dew that glazed the boards underfoot. The sky was a pale lilac, just woken, and the palm trees rustled softly to themselves. Along the bay where they were moored, Echo could see that Sleepy Palms was still in darkness. Only the fisherfolk rose earlier than Echo, their airships tiny dots out on the horizon. It seemed everyone else in the world was still asleep.

  ‘I love this time of the morning,’ she whispered. ‘It feels like it’s all ours.’

  ‘It’s amazing,’ said Horace.

  Gilbert, who by now was clinging to her shoulder with one sleepy eye open, blinked, yawned and shut it again. Echo grinned. The day felt brimful of possibilities, wide open and untouched. She unrolled the ship’s rope ladder and sent it unfurling down the hull, until the end landed on the sand below with a soft thud.

  ‘Wait, what’s that?’ asked Horace.

  Echo squinted as she peered in the direction he was pointing. Just above the palms, a tiny black dot was heading towards them. Echo shaded her eyes with her hand. From this distance, it looked like a postal pigeon. ‘But who would be sending us a message here?’ she said.

  Horace’s eyes sparkled. ‘Perhaps it’s an update from the professor on the stinkbeetles!’

  ‘As long as it’s just a message and not an actual stinkbeetle,’ said Echo, wrinkling her nose. She ran to the gunwale and leaned out, ready to catch the bird. But, as it got closer, she realized it wasn’t a postal pigeon at all. It was a mechanical bird all right, but much larger than a pigeon, with a long tail and a beak that was curved like a sickle. As the bird got closer, its metallic scales gleamed scarlet in the early-morning sun.

  ‘I think it’s a… a parrot,’ said Echo.

  ‘I do believe you’re right,’ said Horace, squinting. ‘But a postal parrot? How peculiar!’

  Echo staggered backwards as the bird hovered above the Scarlet Margaret’s navigation point, the metallic transmitter that allowed them to receive postal pigeons wherever they were. After a moment, its mechanical eyes whirred into focus as it zoomed in on first Horace, then Echo. There was a small beep and the bird swooped down towards Echo.

  ‘Pieces of eight,’ squawked the bird, as it landed on Echo’s outstretched arm. She goggled at Horace. It talked!

  The mechanical bird cocked its head at Echo and the eyes whirred again.

  ‘Indigo Lil,’ it squawked.

  Echo stared in astonishment. She had thought postal pigeons a marvel when she’d first seen one at the Mech Market in Port Tourbillon. The way you could dial in coordinates, write your message on a scroll of paper, put it in the pigeon’s claw and send the little mechanical bird flying off to your chosen destination. But a talking parrot! This was a completely different machine.

  ‘Message for Indigo Lil,’ the bird squawked.

  ‘But… but I’m not—’

  ‘You are summoned to a meeting of the Seven Skies Alliance,’ the bird carried on, ignoring Echo. ‘The meeting is at the ice fortress on Shark’s Fin Peak, midnight tonight. Transport will be provided from the drop-off point at Filigree Ridge. Come alone. No weapons. No exceptions.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘This message will self-destruct in five seconds. Please stand clear.’

  The bird gave one last caw and swooped into the air, before exploding in a cloud of gunpowder and cogs.

  Gilbert jerked awake, his scales paling in surprise. Horace ducked as a spring whizzed past his ear.

  ‘But I’m not Indigo Lil!’ said Echo in exasperation. ‘And what is the Seven Skies Alliance?’

  ‘We’d better wake your mother and give her the message,’ said Horace. ‘Can you remember what it said?’

  ‘I think so.’

  They raced back down the hatchway, Echo’s mind spinning with this strange new information. Postal parrots, ice fortresses, the Seven Skies Alliance! What could it all mean?

  * * *

  ‘But how can it have given you the message?’ said Lil, when she’d been shaken out of her sleep and they had gathered with Bulkhead in the captain’s quarters, with its flickering gas lamps and dark, wood-panelled walls.

  ‘Is it because I’m wearing your hairpin?’ asked Echo, touching the gold-and-emerald wolf pin she always wore.

  ‘Postal parrots use facial recognition.’ Lil frowned from where she sat behind her wide oak desk and drummed her fingers on a sky chart. ‘Only sky pirates use them to communicate with one another.’

  ‘Echo does look a lot like yer,’ said Bulkhead. ‘Them facial recognition valves ain’t foolproof, yer know. Anyway, that’s by the by. Who are we gonna send?’

  Lil leaped to her feet and strode up and down the cabin. ‘It has to be me.’

  ‘But what if something happens—’

  ‘I’m the captain. I’ll go.’

  ‘It could be a trap. Remember the time you were tricked by Madame Maja? Yer nearly ended up drowning in quicksand,’ said Bulkhead.

  ‘I got away, didn’t I?’

  ‘Only by the skin of yer teeth.’ Bulkhead rubbed the back of his thick neck.

  ‘Another reason that it should be me who goes.’ Lil shook her head. ‘What puzzles me is why the Seven Skies Alliance is meeting after all these years. What is Old Gus up to?’

  ‘It’s not him yer wanna watch out for, it’s that Viper Voss,’ said Bulkhead darkly.

  ‘I can look after myself,’ said Lil. She stabbed a finger at the chart. ‘Filigree Ridge is only a couple of hours’ flying time from here. You’ll need to drop me there and collect me in the morning.’

  ‘But who is Old Gus? And Viper Voss?’ Echo asked. ‘And what is the Seven Skies Alliance?’

  Lil jerked her head up, as if she’d forgotten Echo and Horace were still there. ‘Nothing to concern you two,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you both go out and… swab the decks or something?’

  Echo folded her arms. Swab the decks! Why wouldn’t her mother let her in on these secrets? Was she a Black Sky Wolf or not?

  ‘You never tell me anything!’ she snapped.

  ‘Echo, this doesn’t need to concern you.’

  ‘Because you think I’m more princess than pirate!’

  ‘Of course not!’ Lil’s voice softened. ‘But pirates f
ollow their captain. You need to trust me on this.’

  Echo sniffed and looked up at Bulkhead’s kind face and Lil’s unreadable one. Uncertainty squirmed inside her. Did Lil even want her here? Was Echo just a nuisance to her? She glanced at Lil’s sword gleaming in her belt and tears threatened to build behind her eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Lil.

  ‘You don’t think I’m a real pirate.’ Echo forced her voice not to wobble. ‘I don’t even have a cutlass,’ she mumbled. ‘Flora does, and she’s younger than me. It’s not fair.’

  ‘Flora earned hers, Echo,’ said Lil sternly. Then her frown relaxed. ‘But you’re right. It is about time you learned to use a blade. I think we need to get you a cutlass of your own.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Later that morning, when the sun was up and the monkeys were screeching in the coconut groves, Echo followed Lil through the wobbly treetop walkways of Sleepy Palms until they came to a part of town she’d never explored before.

  Lil pushed the palm leaves aside to reveal a shop built of intertwined bamboo tubes.

  ‘Captain Custard’s Cutlass Emporium,’ Lil said. ‘The finest sky-pirate outfitter in all the Eastern Isles.’

  Echo gasped, wishing Horace could see it too. She followed Lil inside and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. The walls were lined with shelves piled high with long, slim boxes. Nobody seemed to be in the shop, but Echo heard a metallic thrumming sound and voices that seemed to be coming from a back room.

  Lil marched straight up to the counter and rang the bell. A moment later, a tall red-haired woman emerged. She pushed back her welding mask with calloused hands to reveal a pale face with a broad, freckled nose and shining green eyes. The woman grinned and thrust out a hand to shake Lil’s. ‘If it isn’t Indigo Lil!’

  ‘Good to see you, Concetta.’ Lil slapped the woman heartily on the back.

  ‘In need of a new scimitar to add to the collection? I’ve a fine Bonneville steel with a cherrywood grip. Or perhaps you’d like something more traditional?’