Doyle - The Lost Tide Warriors

Praise for The Storm Keepers Island

W INNER OF THE B OOKS A RE M Y B AG Y OUNG R EADERS A WARD

S HORTLISTED FOR THE I RISH B OOK A WARDS C HILDRENS B OOK OF THE Y EAR

N OMINATED FOR THE CILIP C ARNEGIE M EDAL

The Storm Keepers Island will blow you away. Magical in every way Wise, warm and wonderful

Eoin Colfer, author of the Artemis Fowl series

Doyle has taken an ancient story and found something new and bold and wild in it Only real bone-deep writers and storytellers do that

Katherine Rundell, author of The Explorer

Funny, dark and blazingly beautiful, The Storm Keepers Island is a thrillingly inventive adventure

Kiran Millwood Hargrave, author of The Girl of Ink & Stars

Flickers with a rare and wonderful magic An unforgettable story

Abi Elphinstone, author of Sky Song

Gripping, poignant and beautifully written Destined to become a modern classic

Louise ONeill, author of The Surface Breaks

A book of storms and heart and magical islands that sing your name through the rain and beckon you through layers of time A stunning story of courage and hope

Cerrie Burnell, author of Harper and the Scarlet Umbrella

Deep and lyrical Love and hope communicated is perhaps the greatest magic of all, and thats what Catherine achieved in this book

Hilary McKay, author of The Casson Family series

An incredibly special and magical book! I was spellbound

Katherine Woodfine, author of The Sinclairs Mysteries series

The Storm Keepers Island is unforgettable the kind of story that will grab you by the heart and not let go

Katie Tsang, co-author of Sam Wu Is NOT Afraid of Ghosts

Funny, heartrending, terrifying Im on tenterhooks for the next book

Lauren James, author of The Loneliest Girl in the Universe

A magical rush of an adventure story about family, bravery, and harnessing the storm within

Anna James, author of Pages & Co.

For Jess

Books by Catherine Doyle

The Storm Keepers Island

The Lost Tide Warriors

On a frosty winter morning, in the waters of a half-forgotten island, a merrow was swimming far from her home. Mist hung like a veil over the sea, clinging to her skin as she broke the surface: first a crown of coral and bone, then yellow eyes as wide as moons. A pale scar traced the curve of her jaw.

She stilled in the water.

There was a boy standing at the edge of the ocean. She could smell the sea-salt in his blood.

She licked her lips.

Storm Keeper.

She remembered him.

The boys eyes were shut, his breath puffing from him in a trail of clouds. He stuck his hand out and wriggled his fingers above the water. For a moment he stood completely frozen. Then his body hiccoughed violently, as though something inside was trying to punch its way out. He snapped his eyes open, fear threading itself into his frown.

Magic.

The merrow drifted closer. The sun was climbing into an ivory sky, and soon the island would be full of people bustling along the strand, cars sputtering into life as shop windows lit up like lanterns. She shouldnt be here, by the shore so near the voice that had been whispering to her from its depths. But she had come anyway to gaze upon the boy who had stirred Morrigan from her endless sleep.

After all these years, he had finally come.

The boy groaned as a spark jolted from his fingertips. Come on! He kicked a clump of seaweed into the water. Come on, you stupid thing!

Trapped magic.

The merrow frowned. Time was wearing thin. She could sense darkness moving beneath the horizon, swelling like a sea of its own as it made its way across the world. Towards the island. Towards the boy. This boy.

Foolish Dagda. He will lead us all to ruin.

The boy picked up a rock and flung it into the air. The merrow followed its arc, her lips twisting as it landed with a plop! right beside her head.

One heartbeat two heartbeats and then he spluttered into life. He charged towards her, the water sloshing around his ankles and then his knees and then his hips.

The merrow hesitated for the briefest moment, before her senses reclaimed her. She dipped under the next wave, her tail disappearing in a sheen of burnt silver.

Not now, she thought, as she speared her way back to the undersea. Not yet.

Her warriors were bound to another.

They would have to wait. For ruin, or the Tide Summoner.

Whichever came first.

Fionn Boyle lay sprawled on an old, threadbare couch and tried to scream himself awake. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was dreaming, but he couldnt open his eyes. He could only listen to the crooning voice that had made a home inside his head. It was hissing like a snake, burrowing deeper into his brain.

Tick-tock, the voice whispered. Can you hear me, little Boyle?

Fionn could see Morrigan in his minds eye her leering grin, too wide in her angular face.

Tick-tock, crumbling rock.

Three days, watch the clock.

She cackled, and a shadow came skittering towards him, its fingers reaching through the blackness of his mind. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock The words grew frenzied, the pitch climbing until it was no longer a laugh but a scream. TICK-TOCK, TICK-TOCK, TICK-TOCK.

Get away from me! Fionn tried to yell, but the words bubbled in his throat.

His body was spinning like a tornado, his arms thrashing blindly as he tried to pull himself back to consciousness. The couch groaned underneath him, the rusted springs heaving from the effort. Help me! Shes going to claw my eyes out! Please

There was a loud splat!

Fionn jerked awake as something cold and slimy slid down his nose.

He sniffed. Was that ?

Ham, came a familiar voice. Its crumbed.

Fionn peeled the slice from his face.

His grandfather peered over him, his blue eyes twinkling in the dawn light. Im afraid you were cycloning again. In one hand he held an open packet of sliced ham, and in the other a bright orange block of cheese. I thought the ham might be more humane.

Fionn pushed the matted hair from his eyes. A familiar fist of heat was blazing in his chest, the knuckles of it rolling against his ribcage as if saying hello. The Storm Keepers magic awake, just as he was.

Fionn sighed. Couldnt you have called my name, like a normal person?

When have you ever known me to be normal? said his grandfather, nibbling a corner off the block of cheese. But besides that, I called your name eight times. I poked you three times and I shook you by the shoulders exactly once. The next logical step

was ham, said Fionn, dragging himself into a sitting position and laying the offending slice on the armrest.

Im afraid so, lad. His grandfather was watching him too closely, his brows raised above the tip of his horn-rimmed spectacles. Was it the same again?