Driver - Sky

To Granny, for inspiring me to rove the great wide and knowing the sea like you were Sea-Tribe.

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 8468 4

Ebook ISBN 978 1 7803 1764 9

www.egmont.co.uk

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

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Contents

I stand on the deck of the Huntress,blinking snowflakes from my eyelashes. In the palm of my hand rests a green jewel. When I peer inside it, my own grey eyes stare back, jolting ripples of shock through my chest in time with the oarsmans drum.

The jewel turns cold, wet and blubbery. Then it grows a spotted skin, like a whale shark. Gills wheeze open in its surface, oozing foam.

I know, sure as the Sea-Tribe blood in my veins, that Im holding the Storm-Opal of the sea.

And I know I have to protect it, with every stitch of me, but the burden presses on my shoulders, heavier than the beat of the drum.

The jewel splutters and a speck of saltwater prickles my lips. It needs the sea.

We need the sea.

I raise my arm to throw the Opal overboard, its gills struggling against me, but freeze when an urgent voice coils through the roots of my mind, like fog.

Keep this hidden, Little-Bones. I cannot return, there is grave danger. Seek the scattered Storm-Opals of Sea, Sky and Land, before an enemy finds them and uses them to wield dark power. Take them to the golden crown before all Trianukka turns to ice, trapping the whales beneath a frozen sea. Remember the old song? The song will make a map. Keep your brother close by your side, and know youre never alone. I will find you when I can. Da.

A ragged breathing makes my skin shiver, as though spiders are tiptoeing along my spine. As I turn my head towards the noise, my ship begins to shift until her deck is slick with blood and her flanks are studded with huge, fire-spitting guns.

A face blurs into focus. The eyes dark and full of rage, the brows heavy and black, the thin lips pulled into a sneer.

The face belongs to the murderous-false captain; the man in a red cloak and boots with brass buckles, the navigator who stole our ship. The one who took Grandma away.

Stag.

Even in the dream-world my muscles squirm to run from him.

A stooped man in a cloak of purple lightning appears by Stags side. Stag whispers in his ear. Then the two of them raise their arms slowly to point at the Opal in my hand.

I close my fingers around the jewel and tuck it close to my heart. My bones feel scalded. I wish their greed-filled eyes never touched the Opal.

Theres a flurry of movement and when I look up Stags pointing a gun out towards the plank. My eyes follow his to a bundle of rags huddled there.

Grandma.

Before I can move, or shout, or anything, fire explodes from the gun and the grey world is streaked with splashes of red. The sky blinks, and the edges of the dream wobble like air above a flame, and then my hands empty. And the loss makes me stagger. The Opal spins away and suddenly its in Grandmas eye socket. But shes falling, crashing into the sea, wrenching out my heart as hers drowns.

Mouse!

The pull to her is oar-strong but when I strain to reach her, hands hold me back.

Im hollow. Cold and numb. Im too small. My voice is trapped under layers of ice. Im frighted. I cant get to Grandma. Shes gone.

The hands loosen and Im sprawling on the deck. I run, painful slow, then pitch fast off the plank, diving through the sea, stretching my fingers into the blackness. She should be here. Where is she? Grandma!

For the first time ever, the sea is a dead place where naught lives. A crust of ice shuts out the light from above.

Do you remember, when the sea, lay, still, in wait for me?drifts a voice.

Dont you remember?

I thrash, reaching for the surface. The dream pinches my brain. I struggle in the grip of the dream-sea, fighting the water, clawing until my muscles scream... then finally rising up, up, up, through ice that thickens with every thump of my heart.

My spirit thuds into my body and I jolt awake, gasping, neck stiff and sore.

Im slumped over a creatures back, and my legs are hanging in thin air. As I scrabble to clutch onto something solid, my fingertips scrape a scaly hide and the memory of where I am seeps through me.

The young terrodyl streaks through a sky fat with snow. Fastestfastestfastest, gabbles his beast-chatter. Fastest beast of all! I dig my knees into his bristles to keep from falling off. My little brother Sparrows arms are wrapped round my waist and his heads pressed against my back. Hunched behind him is Crow, the ship-wrecker boy who I still ent heart-certain we can trust, though he helped me rescue Sparrow from Castle Whalesbane.

I remember flying all day; over a sea, a forest and a smog-shrouded city. Then I mustve dozed off. Now the suns barrelling for the horizon again.

Dream fragments are still thudding around my head like trapped moonsprites. The Sea-Opal! I quickly pat down my pockets, whistling in relief when I feel the bump of the gem through the cloth. But my dream-dance has left me drained and hollow. I remember for the thousandth time that Grandmas dead, and its the same sharp, sick pang, followed up with guilt that I ent told my brother yet and I dont know how.

Finally, the rat awakes! calls Crow. Any clue where we are? He snorts loudly and then spits into the air.

I twist round to reply, and wince as the bandage on my face pulls at the wound that slashes down my right cheekbone to the corner of my mouth. I dont know, I shout, as a fresh wave of pain sears through me. Happens the worlds a flaming bigger place than even a Sea-Tribe girl couldve guessed!

Aint it just, Crow bellows.

The terrodyl thrashes his head from side to side. Where go where go now? he rasps.

I tell the beast what Ive been telling him since we took flight. All I know is we have to fly as far and fast as we can from Castle Whalesbane. My tongue wraps itself around the raw, earthy words, tasting the wildness of my beast-chatter.