Willow sat up fast, her heart thudding in her chest. Was the kobold right? She thought about her friend, Nolin Sometimes, and tried not to think, while she attempted to summon him from the clutches of his kidnappers.
Then …
‘Rats!’ whined Oswin as the mound of cushions disappeared with a loud pop. Then he scowled at her, his fur turning bright orange. ‘DIN’T I JES SAY IT ’APPENS WHEN YEW DON’ TRYS?’
‘Sorry, yes, you did,’ said Willow. She was forced to share the blanket with Oswin, who glared at her in annoyance for five minutes straight before he finally turned to go to sleep, muttering something about cumberworlds.
9
Magic Ahoy!
Morning came early on the bath-boat, with the sound of birds flying overhead and river weeds rustling as they cut through the water at a steady speed.
Willow sat at the helm with a cup of pepper tea and watched the sky turn from pink to gold as the world went by, her ears steaming slightly from the hot drink. Her body ached from its uncomfortable night on the copper floor of the boat. Unfortunately, the cushions had only reappeared at dawn.
Holloway stood by the wheel, his face turned towards the sky. ‘Can’t bottle that – been a long time since I felt the wind on me skin.’
Willow grinned. ‘Where will you go now that you’ve got your freedom?’
‘Anywhere me heart takes me. That’s the beauty of it.’
She nodded. That was. It made her think of poor Sometimes, captured and taken who knew where. Willow frowned. She just hoped that when she got to Wisperia there would be some clue as to where he was. She looked at her hands and sighed. If only her magic would just work.
In the distance, she could hear the strange cries of a raven. She looked up, thinking of the group of birds that had forced her off course and into Pimpernell’s path, and saw there were some circling the boat. She breathed easier when they flew on overhead.
Oswin’s grumbling stomach told her to think of more earthly pursuits, and she attempted to rustle up something for breakfast. She found a dented, dusty old tin of ven beans right at the back of one of Holloway’s mostly empty cupboards.
‘Beans for breakfast it is,’ she said with a slight grimace.
It was past noon when Holloway took out a copper spyglass and looked not at the horizon, but up above, at the whale weathervane, which was currently pointing to M.
‘M?’ Willow asked, peering at it.
‘Magic,’ he said. ‘It’s a useful guide at times. I got it from the town of Library. Fascinating place, not like you’d imagine. It’s where they keep all the magical books in Starfell. I reckon if ya wanted to know any of Starfell’s secrets, particularly about magic, that’s the best place for it.’
Willow’s eyes widened. That was where Moreg had got the StoryPass too. It sounded like an interesting place to visit.
She looked up again at the weathervane and her brow furrowed. The ravens were back. They were circling overhead, and she remembered what Moreg had told her once.
‘A group of ravens are often called an “unkindness of ravens”, but I prefer the less well-known term, a conspiracy.’
A conspiracy of ravens had always sounded like trouble, and Willow felt the hairs on her neck stand on end.
‘It’s strange for them to be out here,’ Holloway mused, raising his spyglass to have a closer look. But, as soon as he did, the ravens vanished in a flash. Willow blinked. Were they following her? But that was mad … wasn’t it?
The air filled with mist as afternoon descended, and a single raven emerged from the gloom above, making a strange, almost warning cry. It was followed by several more, and she almost fell over.
‘Great Starfell!’ cried Holloway.
The ravens seemed to be carrying something. As Willow squinted into the mist, she thought she saw something long and thin, and … were those white feathers at the end?
Then, the next thing she knew, whatever the ravens were carrying landed with a soft thump on the deck in front of her. She looked up and saw that they were all departing, apart from one raven with glossy black feathers. One of its wings was strange, almost as if it were smudged, or made of dark blue smoke. It landed on the lip of the bath-boat and let out a hoarse caw, pointing its beak towards the floor.
Willow looked down, then gasped. ‘Whisper.’
‘Why must we whisper?’ hissed Holloway, eyeing the raven, who was staring at them very solemnly.
‘It’s my broom – it’s called Whisper,’ she said, picking it up reverently. Then she looked in shock from it to the bird, except, suddenly, there wasn’t a bird there at all.
There
was
a
boy.
10
Sprig
They stared at the boy in shock. He was scrawny, with dark eyes and hair. His clothes were old and tattered, yet it was his left arm that drew Willow’s eye. It looked like it was made of blue-black river sand, as the skin was pebbled and marked with concentric scores. As she stared, he made to cover it with a shirt that had been tied round his waist and she felt bad for staring.
‘You’re Willow?’ he asked.
His voice was like the raven’s cry, low and oddly haunting.
She nodded. ‘H-how did you know?’
‘Moreg.’
Suddenly Willow remembered something. It was a morning she would never forget, when she’d left her cottage with Moreg to find the lost day. Ravens had circled above them then too, in the dark woods. Among them Willow had seen a strange one with a dark, smoky blue wing … and then the witch had raised a finger and seemingly made the bird disappear … This was him.
Willow stared as she realised. ‘Moreg sent you?’
‘Yes. She told me to give you that,’ he said, pointing at the broomstick in her hands. ‘Said you’d need it.’
Then he turned to leave, and a shudder went through his body, followed by a ripple and a flash. For a moment there was a trace of feathers, then his body shuddered again and he was back to being a boy.
He sighed and sat down by the side of the boat. ‘Would you mind if I rested here a while? It’s been a long journey.’
Willow shook her head. ‘Of course not.’
She looked at Holloway for confirmation, who nodded and said, ‘Stay as long as ya need, son.’
Willow went to fetch the boy a glass of water, which he accepted with gratitude, downing it in one. ‘Thanks,’ he gasped.
What did it mean, Moreg asking this boy to bring her broom, Whisper? Where was the witch? Did she know about Nolin Sometimes? Why hadn’t she come herself?
‘Do you know where Moreg is?’ Willow asked. ‘Can you take me to her? I need her help. Our friend has been taken – it’s really important.’
The boy looked up at her, his eyes glazed with fatigue. ‘She—’ His eyelids started to flicker. He was struggling to keep awake.
Holloway said, ‘Poor lad looks tuckered out. C’mon, it can keep a little while. I’m sure he’ll tell ya everything when he’s rested.’ And he led the boy below deck to sleep.
The boy slept well into the evening, while Willow paced outside the bedroom, waiting.