The Moon Child Read online

  Tolly didn’t answer, but Jem felt his friend’s shoulders hunch together. He realised how difficult this was for him.

  “I’m going to stand up again. That’s it. Mind out for the trunk.” He tried to sound reassuring. “It’s not far down.” The boys inched a few more yards along. With difficulty, because of their bonds, they scrambled over a mound of damp sacking and slipped to the boards on the far side. Both of them landed on their knees.

  “Ow!” Tolly gasped. “I think I’ve found your broken mirror. There’s a bit of it poking into my leg. It’s just a nick – sharp, though. Here, if we move this way …” Tolly shuffled round so that Jem took his place. “Be careful. There – can you feel it?”

  Jem’s fingers closed around a jagged sliver of glass. “Got it!”

  “The light helps. I don’t feel so bad now I can see you.”

  Tolly adjusted the little lantern. His even features were eerily illuminated by the soft yellow glow. Jem rubbed at his wrists where Grimscale’s cords had dug deep into his skin. Once he had the shard of glass clutched firmly between his fingers and thumb it had been quite easy to tear at the ropes until gradually they weakened enough to free them. It had taken longer than Jem expected though, and in the darkness he had nicked Tolly’s skin and his own several times. Now, in addition to the marks from Grimscale’s knots, they both wore bracelets of tiny red wounds.

  “It was a good thing you left these here when you came down last time.” Tolly patted the tinderbox.

  “It was Pocket’s. I felt bad about leaving it here, but I had to get away from the mirror.”

  Tolly nodded and glanced up at the mirror. A crazed network of crackles showed through the gap Jem had ripped across its wrapping. He stood and pulled at the grey oilcloth so that even more of the glass was visible. “I don’t know what this thing really is, Jem, but I’m certain it’s broken. Look, it’s completely splintered.”

  The milky shattered surface of the glass glittered in the lamplight. It would never reflect anything again – and Jem was glad of that.

  “It belongs to her – Madame, I mean,” he said. “And I’m sure it was Ann’s handprint on the glass. But how did it get there?”

  Tolly was quiet for a moment. “Do you remember how Cazalon made the blood bridge to communicate with Ann’s mother?”

  Jem shuddered as he thought of the scars the count had inflicted on Ann’s arms.

  “What if Madame is doing something similar?” Tolly spoke slowly, as if he was sorting his thoughts. “What if she uses the mirror to connect with … someone?”

  “Someone like Cazalon, you mean?”

  Tolly suddenly thumped his fist against the wooden hull and Jem flinched. “It’s useless. We are prisoners. I don’t just mean prisoners down here in the hold, but prisoners aboard the ship. Even if we get out of here, what are we going to do? There’s nowhere to hide, nowhere safe to take Ann, and nowhere to go.”

  “But what about the captain? Trevanion is on our side. I’m sure of it. If we could just —’

  “Just what, Jem? I agree with you he is decent enough. But that woman has a hold over him – it’s something to do with his daughter. Have you noticed the way she always reminds him about her?”

  Jem rubbed the scratched skin of his wrist as Tolly continued.

  “The only thing we can do is wait down here until we make land. That will be our best chance to take Ann back. Madame will have to bring her out on deck. If we can get out of the hold unnoticed when we arrive at … Port Melas, is it?”

  Jem nodded. “In six days’ time according to Mingan’s reckoning. Wait – five now. But it’s impossible to have travelled this fast, isn’t it?”

  Tolly laughed bitterly. “Nothing is impossible on the Fortuna, haven’t you noticed? And there’s Cleo – we have to find her too. Trevanion is right. This is a cursed voyage, but if we can bide our time and convince anyone who comes down here that we are still prisoners tied together then we stand a chance, don’t we?”

  Jem didn’t answer. This was all hope, not a proper plan. He wasn’t convinced that any of it would work.

  Tolly continued, “Listen, we have the element of surprise on our side now. Once Grimscale takes us out on deck, we could make a sudden run for it.”

  Again, Jem didn’t say anything. He could hear the desperation in Tolly’s voice.

  A thunderous boom reverberated through the hull. The ship tipped forward and Tolly snatched the lantern before it toppled to the boards. The contents of the hold rumbled and clattered. A stray barrel rolled free, missing Jem’s legs by inches and thudding against the side. He was aware of a rushing, sucking sound from the timber wall and had to swallow hard to make his ears burst.

  The Fortuna was travelling at great speed once more.

  Something scraped along the outside of the ship. Then there came knocking, tapping and scratching from all sides. Something – many sharp-clawed somethings – trying to find a way in.

  “The merfolk!” Jem jumped away from the hull wall and stared at the black wood in horror. Five inches, perhaps six at most, was all that separated them from Madame de Chouette’s carnivorous servants.

  “Can you feel the movement of the ship? She must have fed them again.”

  Tolly nodded. “I wonder who it was this time, poor soul, and who it will be next?”

  “What if she comes down here?” Jem thought about the woman’s clawed foot and imagined it rasping across the boards above them.

  “Then we need to be ready for her.” Tolly stood up. “Remember what I said about a weapon? The staff is down here somewhere … and I’m going to learn how to use it properly.”

  “It’s no good. There’s nothing.”

  Tolly flung Cazalon’s staff aside in despair again. It clattered across the top of a pile of barrels before disappearing amongst the gloomy stacks. It hadn’t been difficult to find, wedged between two long leather trunks.

  Wearily, Jem went to collect the staff from the shadows. Just touching the blackened shark spine made his flesh crawl. As he held it up, the light of the lantern danced in the crystal eyes of the bird, making it seem alive and watchful.

  “You have to try again – just once more.” He held the staff out to Tolly, his arm heavy. He was tired – they both were.

  Tolly’s eyes drooped with misery, but he took it. Gripping it firmly in his right hand, he turned so that he was facing the sloping black wall of the hold. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tilted the staff forward.

  Rows of furrowed lines crinkled across his wide dark forehead.

  “I’d give anything to get her back, Jem, you know it.” As if in answer, there was a crackling noise and a faint, greenish glow flickered around Tolly’s clenched knuckles.

  Suddenly he let out a howl of pain. His hand tightened around the staff just below the bird head. The eyes began to spark and Jem felt a jolt of excitement. At last something was happening.

  The air around Tolly shimmered. His whole body began to glow with a pale luminescence.

  “What do you see?” Jem whispered urgently, but the other boy held up his free hand.

  A whipcrack snapped in the air. Jem’s eyes widened as he saw a point on the tar-blackened timbers begin to pulse and glow. Then, just as before, in Ann’s caravan, two beams of light arced from the crystal eyes. They hit the hold wall at exactly at the same spot. Jem could smell burning now. The beam singed a single red dot, but then it began to move, leaving a scorched trail as it twisted across the planks.

  At first it was just a network of meaningless squiggles, then, like the last time, Jem began to recognise letters. The burning dot shot upwards and then downwards, moving jaggedly to form the letter “M”. Within seconds, the word MOON glowed in the centre of the wall. The beam paused for a moment, circling and smouldering, then it began again, tracing a new pattern.

  For a moment Jem thought it was just spinning on the spot, but it continued until a large disc was singed into the wood. The circle blazed bri
ghtly for a second, before dying away.

  The beam raced on. Next the word WHITC appeared, then something that looked like RW – it was hard to make out as the planks were now covered in trailing scorch marks. There were hardly any clear spaces as the fiery point leaped to the right.

  The number thirteen glowed briefly on the wall before the beam skipped down to scorch a long line across the top of a barrel, then returned to form a clear letter “W”. It circled for a moment and Jem worried the wall might burst into flame. Instead the beam wavered and gathered pace, completing three more letters: OLF.

  The whiplash sound cracked again and Tolly gasped. Jem tore his eyes from the smouldering timbers – and saw his friend tighten his hand around the staff. Now something glittered wetly on the shark spine.

  “Stop! You’re bleeding!” he shouted, but Tolly shook his head and grimaced. Jem tried to knock the staff from Tolly’s hand but found that, just as before, he was rooted to the planks underfoot.

  The burning dot leaped to a clear space and began to loop wildly. Tiny cinders of burning red wood flew up into the air as it circled and singed. It formed another “M” then an “A” then a “G”. Now the beam began to flutter like a dying candle flame before lurching to mark four unevenly spaced stripes in the tar-coated wood: I I I I.

  The dot was suddenly motionless and the wood burned white hot.

  Jem panicked, thinking that it would surely scorch through to the ocean, to the merfolk. He glanced at Tolly, whose eyes were still closed tight. Beads of silver sweat glinted on his friend’s forehead. Gathering a last furious energy, the burning point leaped forward again leaving a distinct word in the last free space: SING.

  Tolly let out a tremendous yell of pain and dropped the staff. He curled into a ball and clasped his right hand to his stomach.

  Jem toppled to his knees and crawled over to crouch next to his friend. “Your hand, Tolly – show me your hand.” He looked across at the staff on the floor, rolling precariously to one side as the ship moved. The nubbles were thickly streaked with something that glistened blackly in the lamplight. He turned back to his friend. “Please, let me see.”

  Tolly didn’t make a sound. He rocked backwards and forwards, his back arched and his head dipped low. Eventually he straightened up. He took a deep, shuddering breath and looked down at his right hand, then without saying a word he held it out so that Jem could see.

  Jem brought his hand to his mouth in horror. The first two fingers, the ones already damaged by the ice, were now twisted, blackened stumps. Tolly’s thumb was nothing more than a shrivelled red lump of charred flesh.

  Tolly stared down at his hand and then looked up at Jem. “I can’t feel a thing. It doesn’t even hurt … now. It’s just numb.” He ran the fingers of his good hand over the injured stumps and spoke softly. “I said I’d give anything, and the staff heard me.”

  Jem was about to ask what he meant, but Tolly continued hoarsely. “The words burned into the wood. What do you see?”

  Jem tore his eyes from Tolly’s hand and scanned the wall.

  “I … I’ve got them – it goes … moon, then whitc.” He frowned. “That could be a misspelling of witch? Then a word I don’t recognise, something like RW then a ‘W’, then olf.”

  “Wolf,” Tolly murmured. “I think it’s just one word – wolf?”

  “Of course!” Jem nodded. “But the last words are a jumble. Mag? I think that’s what it is.” He went over to the burned wall and reached out to touch the letters, running his fingertips over the four sharp lines scorched into the wood. He was amazed to find they were cold.

  “Then there are these four deep marks and this last word, sing.” Jem shook his head. “But it means nothing. It’s gibberish.” He narrowed his eyes and followed the letters again. “Is it a warning?” When he got no reply, Jem turned to see that Tolly had crawled over to a pile of grain sacks. He was curled against them, his injured hand cradled in the palm of the other hand. His eyes were closed.

  “Tolly?”

  Jem woke with a start.

  Something was different. He raised his head from his knees and took a deep breath. The stink of tar and stagnant bilge was thinner somehow.

  Thump!

  Beside him, Tolly muttered in his sleep. The bumping noise came again. Now Jem was fully awake. Every nerve in his body jangled as he turned towards the direction of the sound.

  A huge shadow loomed against the wall. Someone carrying a lantern had entered the hold from the little hatch in the bilge box. Jem heard footsteps. The pool of lamplight moved over the bulky piles. Someone was searching for something.

  The little candle in their own lantern had sputtered out long ago. Jem shrank into the darkness and held his breath. If he tried to wake Tolly, he’d make a noise and that would bring whoever it was straight to them.

  Something nearby sparked in reply to the moving light. It was the crystal head of Cazalon’s staff, resting in a shallow pool of water. The staff was lodged in a gap just beyond the grain stacks where the boys had slept. Jem flexed his fingers. He might not be able to use it like Tolly, but it was still a weapon. Carefully, he reached out.

  Something furry brushed his hand. Just as he was about to swipe the rat aside, Cleo’s familiar chirrup came from the gap. Next moment she was scrambling across his lap towards Tolly. She squealed in delight and tried to burrow into Tolly’s arms.

  Tolly woke and blinked at the little creature at his side. “Cleo?” He shook his head and pushed himself upright. “Wh … What are you doing here, girl?”

  “I’ve brought her back to you. We both have,” came a deep voice.

  Jem’s head snapped up as Trevanion raised the lantern higher, casting a pool of light over their bodies. His thin face was worn and heavily lined and his grey eyes were dull. His fine velvet frock coat was shabby and stained. The captain looked like a man who had ceased to care about living.

  There was a movement behind him and Mingan stepped into view. He bowed his head and folded his arms. Cleo whickered gently and Tolly held her close. They both stared up at the man.

  “Thank heavens you are both alive.” Trevanion paused. “I wasn’t sure what we would find down here. I thought that she might …” He broke off and glanced at Mingan who nodded again.

  “Listen to me carefully, boys. There isn’t much time. The Fortuna will make land in two days.” He laughed bitterly. “Oh yes, I have the great good fortune to be the master of the fastest vessel ever to have crossed the Atlantic Ocean. But at such a cost …” He stared bleakly down at the lamp. “Such a cost,” he muttered again.

  As if she had heard his words, the Fortuna bucked and plunged and her black timbers growled. She was suddenly like a ferocious rampaging beast, not a ship at all. Cleo cowered in Tolly’s arms and Trevanion reached out to steady himself, clutching the edge of a chest. The lantern in his hands swung from side to side – one second his lean face was bathed in yellow light, the next it vanished into shadow. In that odd moment, something made Jem fear for Captain Trevanion. He knew without a doubt that the captain was slipping into the dark.

  “When you hear us lower the anchor – and make no mistake it is a sound you will know – the two of you must be ready. Mingan here will make sure that the small hatch is unlocked. You already know where that is. The rest is up to you. Make your way to the deck if you can – there will be so much activity that you will not be noticed if you hide. There will be a chance for you to slip away when the quay is crowded and busy. If you are fortunate, you might escape this … hell ship.” Trevanion paused before adding quietly, “And if you do, you will be luckier than me. We have brought food and water for you. Here.”

  Mingan handed a small leather bag to Jem.

  “I don’t understand, sir. What about the justices? You promised Madame de Chouette that you would hand us over. And there’s Grimscale too – he’s itching to see us brought to trial.” Jem looked from Trevanion to Mingan.

  Trevanion drew a short breath. �
�Two more crewmen have gone missing since you were put down here. I have broken my promise and I will pay for that. I do not think this vessel will forget the oath I swore so rashly.”

  Jem remembered the captain promised on his life that no more lives would be lost before they made land. He thought about the strange glow that had played around the man’s fingers as he spoke – as if the ship was listening to him, binding him.

  The captain continued. “If I cannot save myself, I will save as many as I can. There is too much blood on my hands already. I’ll not turn you over to the authorities at Port Melas, for I do not believe you are guilty. I won’t endanger the nephew of an old friend. James Verrers was a good man. You, boy, for all your gypsy looks, have something of his quality.”

  He turned to Mingan. “Come, we will be missed. I will leave the lamp here. Save it and use it to light your way when the time comes.” Trevanion turned to make his way back to the hatch, but Mingan lingered.

  “Wait, sir!” Tolly stood up, Cleo cradled in his arms.

  “Your daughter – what will happen to her if you let us go free? It’s why you made this voyage, isn’t it?”

  Trevanion turned back and nodded. He face was strained. “But how did you know?”

  Tolly took a step forward. “You spoke of her that first time when Grimscale found us and took us to you – and you’ve mentioned her since. She’s ill, I think? Her condition has something to do with Madame and this ship?”

  Trevanion glanced at Mingan. “No one knows of this, except my old friend here. Mingan tried to help my daughter Jane with the remedies of his tribe, but the people in Swale, they —’

  “Didn’t trust him, because he was different?” Tolly stared hard at Mingan.

  “Something of that nature, yes. It is a sea-faring port and they are used to strangers, but Mingan is very distinctive. They did not care for his looks and I sent him away. I was a fool to listen to them, but I was a bigger fool when I made a promise to that woman. The worst is that, deep down, I knew all along what she was.”