ALLAN JONES GARY CHALK
EPIGRAPH
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Epigraph
Prologue
1. On the Twelfth Day of Greengrow
2. Plum Cake and Strawberry Tea
3. Aunt Millie Knows Best
4. The Raven Messenger
5. The Worshipful Guild of Observators
6. Over the Rooftops
7. Trundle the Brave!
8. The Highmost Chancellor Takes a Nap
9. Percy Helps Out
10. The Red Feather
About the Author and Illustrator
Credits
Copyright
About the Publisher
PROLOGUE
The legends say that once—long, long ago—there was a single round world, like a ball floating in space, and that it was ruled over by six wise badgers. The legends also tell of a tremendous explosion, an explosion so huge that it shattered the round world into a thousand fragments, a vast archipelago of islands adrift in the sky. As time passed, the survivors of the explosion thrived and prospered and gave their scattered island homes a name—and that name was the Sundered Lands.
That’s what the legends say.
But who believes in legends nowadays?
Well … Esmeralda Lightfoot, the Princess in Darkness, does, for one. According to Esmeralda, the truth of the ancient legend was revealed to her in a reading of the magical and ancient Badger Blocks—a set of prophetic wooden tokens from the old times. And her reluctant companion, Trundle Boldoak, is beginning to believe, as well—especially as they have already found the Crystal Crown, first of the six lost Badgers’ Crowns. They also have a new friend to accompany them on their quest—a light-hearted minstrel by the name of Jack Nimble.
But there is a problem. Someone else is also hunting for the six Badgers’ Crowns. His name is Captain Grizzletusk, and he’s the meanest, bloodthirstiest, wickedest pirate ever to sail the skies of the Sundered Lands. And worse than that—he’s hot on their trail. In fact, he’s right behind them!
“Hold on tight!” yelled Esmeralda. “We have to tack! Release the windward jib sheet and keep your head down!”
“What?” screeched Trundle, clinging on for dear life as the little skyboat heeled over and made a tight curve around a chunk of floating rock. “I don’t know what that means!”
“I do!” shouted Jack. “Leave it to me!”
He snatched hold of a rope and raced from one side of the skyboat to the other, dragging the long boom along behind him. The sail snapped and emptied of wind, falling slack against the mast.
The skyboat stalled in the air, throwing Trundle forward so he bumped his nose on the mast. “Ow!” he yelped. “Steady on!”
“Well done, Jack!” yelled Esmeralda. “Now transfer the sail!”
Jack raced back, almost trampling on Trundle on the way.
“Hey! Careful!” Trundle yelped, ducking as the boom came sweeping back over his head.
The wind caught it, and they were off again, darting like an arrow through the rock-strewn sky.
“Nice going, Jack!” howled Esmeralda. “That’ll show ’em!”
Trundle peered over the stern of the skyboat. For a few moments, all he could see was the fast-receding chunk of rock, but then a fearful sight hove into view: a great ironclad pirate windship, its bloodred sails billowing and straining, its hull bristling with cannon.
“They’re still coming!” howled Jack.
“I’ll jibe ’em till their eyes spin!” shouted Esmeralda. “We’ll fill the sail on a new tack, then we’ll run before the wind!”
“But that will mean going straight into the middle of the Goills!” shouted Jack, sounding alarmed.
“I know!” hollered Esmeralda. “That’s the whole point!”
Clutching on to the mast, the wind whistling about his ears, Trundle turned to look ahead. His legs buckled and his prickles stiffened with fear at the sight that met his eyes.
The whole sky ahead of them teemed with massive rocks and boulders, and with great fists and crags of stone that stretched out in all directions.
This was the dreaded Goills—a scattering of sky rubble into which no sane sailor would ever venture. Trundle had read about the place in books, but he had never imagined being taken into it.
Especially not by a reckless Roamany girl who was more than half out of her mind! They’d be driven onto the rocks by the vicious whip of the wind. They’d be smashed to fragments.
Esmeralda leaned hard on the tiller, and the tall sail filled with wind. Ropes strained. The mast creaked. The boom shuddered.
A lump of rock the size of a house loomed up straight ahead. Trundle huddled down and closed his eyes tight. He felt the skyboat swerve to one side, and when he looked again, the rock was behind them and they were racing through the Goills like a feather on the wind.
“You’re crazy!” yelled Trundle.
“I’m brilliant!” shouted Esmeralda, her eyes gleaming.
“She’s both!” hollered Jack. He laughed wildly, pointing back. “Look at ’em! They daren’t follow us! We’ve done it, we’ve outrun ’em!” And he fell on his back in the keel and waggled his legs in the air.
He was right. The Iron Pig had come about, its red sails quivering as they lost the wind. The pirate ship was too big and unwieldy to venture into the Goills.
A figure stood at the bows of the dreadful ship, and a voice came howling across the air to them. “This ain’t over, you scurvy snippets! Run while you can! We’ll feast on your livers yet!”
Filled with a sudden angry courage, Trundle got to his feet, hanging on to the mast with one hand, shaking his fist and yelling at the top of his voice.
“Come on, you cowards! What’s wrong? Scared of a few pebbles, are you?” He took a deep breath. “You can’t sail for toffee!” he bellowed into the wind.
“Don’t taunt the pirates,” warned Esmeralda. “They have long memories, Trundle, and they’re not going to give up.”
Trundle looked uneasily at her. “But we’re safe now, aren’t we?”
Esmeralda nodded. “I think so,” she said. “Safe from Captain Grizzletusk and his scurvy crew, at least. But we’re not out of trouble yet. Jack! Get up and man the boom, there’s a good fellow! The Goills isn’t known as the windships’ graveyard for nothing!”
It was tricky going at times, but with Esmeralda yanking on the tiller and yelling commands, and with Jack hauling at the ropes and Trundle hanging on for all he was worth, they eventually emerged safe and sound on the far side of the Goills.
With danger left far behind and with a fresh wind blowing into its bulging sail, the Thief in the Night went skimming jauntily along through a clear, pirate-free sky.
It was at about this point that Trundle ventured a question or two.
“Where exactly are we going?” he asked, looking hopefully at Esmeralda. “Only, I was thinking, I’d quite like to pop back home … just for a little while, you know. For a bit of a rest after all we’ve been through.”
“I’m all for rest and relaxation,” said Jack, lying in the bottom of the skyboat with his arms behind his head and his feet up on the bow rail. “I know a tavern keeper in Hernswick Town—a sweet soul called Corrie Cutthroat. You’d like her, she’s a sport! She’d give us a fair deal on bed and board. Why, there was this one time—“
“Sorry, no can do.” Esmeralda interrupted him. “We’ve got to find Aunt Millie first and show her that iron key we found with the Crystal Crown. My guess is it opens a secret room or a locked chest where the Iron Crown has been hidden for thousands of years. And I’m betting Aunt Millie will know just exactly where it is! With
her help, we’ll track down the rest of the crowns in no time!”
“Yes, but…” Jack and Trundle began together.
“I’m going to take us to Tenterwold,” said Esmeralda. “The Roamany caravans will be there—and so will Aunt Millie!”
“How do you know that for sure?” ventured Trundle.
“Because it’s almost the twelfth of Greengrow!” said Esmeralda. “The Roamanys always arrive in Tenterwold on the twelfth of Greengrow for the start of the Annual Port Tentercombe Cheese Fair!” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything?”
Three days out from the Goills, early on a bright and sunny morning, Esmeralda suddenly let out a yell and pointed over the starboard side of the skyboat.
“We’re here!” she whooped. “That’s Tenterwold. Can I navigate, or what?”
Trundle and Jack peered over the bow. A lush green island was rising rapidly up beneath them. From that height, it seemed to be a land entirely made up of gentle hills and valleys and of patchwork fields and cultivated woodlands.
“Sweet!” said Jack, winking at Trundle. “Sweet as a nut!”
Making easy landfall, they moored their skyboat at a quay on the outskirts of a charming little town that lay in a wide valley of meadowlands and pastures. Forested hills rolled along the far horizon, and the sky above was bright with fluffy white clouds.
Trundle gazed happily around himself as they headed into the bustling town of Port Tentercombe. The crown and key were stowed safely away in a sack that hung over his shoulder. How very pleasant, Trundle thought to himself, sniffing at the fragrant air. And such a change from the stinky, crime-infested warren of Rathanger and the dark and dismal mines of Drune!
A festive crowd of friendly folk surrounded them, buzzing with excitement and anticipation. The big event was about to get under way. The whole town was festooned with garlands and bunting in bright greens and yellows, and with banners and posters proudly proclaiming:
“And the twelfth of Greengrow is today,” Esmeralda told them. “And it’s a tradition among us Roamany folk to roll the first new cheeses of the season. The caravans should arrive anytime now! Aunt Millie would never miss the opening day of the Port Tentercombe Cheese Fair!”
Trundle looked thoughtfully at her. She was convinced that her aunt would help them in their search for the magical crowns of the badger lords of old. What Trundle hoped was that Esmeralda’s aunt would prove to be a sensible and level-headed woman who would tell her to stop chasing fairy tales and who would take Trundle back home.
Well … part of Trundle hoped for that—the cautious part of him that he had spent most of his life listening to. But deep inside him, there was another Trundle, who yearned for far horizons and bold adventures and noble quests.
Sometimes Trundle really wished his inner Trundle would just shut up and go read a book or something! But then Trundle’s paw would stray onto the hilt of his newfound sword, and heroic thoughts would bubble up in him and make his head feel a little woozy.
It was all rather confusing really, and Trundle was torn between wanting to thumb a lift on the next windship back to Shiverstones, and a rather worrying desire to follow this mad quest through and find the other five crowns.
As though in response to his thoughts, Jack began to sing at the top of his voice.
The Badgers of Power, they had six magic crowns
Of crystal, iron, fire, cold ice, wood, and carved stone.
And brave is the beast who can hunt the crowns down—
But no beast can do this who travels alone.
O’er stepping-stone islands, by skyboat and sail,
Pure must the hearts be that follow the trail.
For great is the treasure that waits at quest’s end—
The sundered worlds bonded, the bad spell to mend.
So quickly, you brave hearts, lest evil gets its hour,
For great is the measure of Badgers’ old power.
As the song came to an end, a passerby tossed a coin.
“Thank you kindly,” Jack called, catching the coin with a deft flick of the wrist. “Ah, but it’s grand to be able to sing again!” A hint of regret entered his voice. “I’d give these fine folk a merry tune, too, if only my dear old rebec hadn’t been smashed by those filthy rotters in the mines!”
Trundle was about to ask what a rebec was when Esmeralda let out a triumphant whoop. “Aha!” she hollered. “Just what we need!”
She was pointing toward the ornate white stone facade of a large shop that loomed ahead of them like an extravagant wedding cake. A sign hung above the pillared entrance.
“I’m sick of these rags and tatters we’ve been wearing!” Esmeralda added, marching across the road. “Let’s get kitted up!”
Trundle had to admit she had a point—Esmeralda’s and Jack’s clothes were filthy and torn from their time in the mines of Drune, and even his own jacket and trousers looked much the worse for wear following their recent escapades.
“Follow me!” she called over her shoulder, running up the marble steps and pushing through the double doors. “Service!” She flourished a wad of paper sunders. “Come along—shake a leg! You’ve got customers here!”
They left the Port Tentercombe Gents’ and Ladies’ Outfitters some two hours later, decked out in the very finest explorers’ clothing. They had also arranged for a whole heap of goods and provisions to be taken off to Pooter’s Quay, where the Thief in the Night was moored.
Feeling rather smart with his sword hanging from a brand-new shining leather belt, and with the Crystal Crown and the key tucked safely away in a multipocketed backpack, Trundle headed along the high street with Jack on one side and Esmeralda on the other. The hunt was now on for an inn or hostelry where they could get something to eat and drink while they waited for the Roamany caravans to arrive.
They decided against the Stinky Blue Tavern and the Cheese That Walked Alone Hotel and opted instead for the Bountiful Udder Inn. A few minutes later, they were sitting in the beer garden, basking in the sunlight, eating cheese rolls and swigging fresh milk and watching the clouds go waltzing across the sky.
But delightful as all this was, Trundle couldn’t help himself from occasionally looking up uneasily into the vast, endless skies of the Sundered Lands. He could see a few of the neighboring islands hanging in the deep blue, some so close he could actually make out shapes and colors, others so far away that they were no more than black dots.
He was scouring the sky for a big ironclad windship with bloodred sails and a crew of savage, murderous pirates. One or two windships were scudding blithely among the clouds, their sails plump with the wind, their flags fluttering. But of the fearsome Iron Pig, there was no sign. So far.
“Are you sure we lost them?” Trundle asked for probably the fiftieth time in the past few days.
Esmeralda Lightfoot sighed and rolled her eyes. “Trundle,” she said, “you’re a good fellow, but you’re such a worrywart! I told you—there’s no way the Iron Pig could have followed us here.”
“She’s right,” added Jack Nimble, giving Trundle an encouraging grin. “We outran them salty bilge rats, sure and certain.”
Trundle eyed the traveling minstrel uneasily. Jack was always optimistic. Trundle found it hard to trust someone who constantly looked on the bright side. It wasn’t natural.
Esmeralda gave Trundle an encouraging pat on the back. “Have some faith,” she said. “Have I ever let you down?”
Trundle gazed at her. “You dragged me from my home and almost got me killed by a mob of rampaging pirates,” he reminded her. “Then you hauled me off to the mines of Drune, where I was chased from teatime till breakfast by an angry mob, almost carved into slices by a demented bosun, nearly squished flat by a cave-in, and then all but blown to smithereens by blackpowder.”
“All true,” Esmeralda admitted. “But it was the prophetic Badger Blocks that set everything in motion. You know that. And we did find the Crystal Crown.”
“Yes, w
e did,” Trundle conceded.
“And there was a clue with the crown to help us find the next one.”
“There was a key,” said Trundle. “As to whether it’s a clue…”
“It is,” insisted Esmeralda. “Trust me!”
“If you say so.”
“And on top of that, we freed the slaves from the mines,” Esmeralda added.
“That you did!” said Jack. “And right glad I am of it, I can tell you! All that dust and grime—it was playing havoc with my vocal cords!” He coughed and thumped his chest. “But I can feel them improving by the hour!”
“And did I get us away from Grizzletusk?” Esmeralda continued. “And did I navigate safely through the Goills? And did I bring us here on the very day that Aunt Millie and the Roamany caravans will be arriving?” She beamed at him. “Look around you, Trundle! This is a lovely place. Relax! Enjoy yourself! Everything is fine. Nothing can possibly go wrong!”
Trundle took a long, deep breath. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was fretting over nothing. He returned his gaze to his plate and took a large bite of his cheese sandwich.
“I say!” announced Jack, pointing up into the sky. “What’s that?”
Trundle almost choked. “What’s what?” he coughed, staring up in alarm. “Pirates?”
“No,” said Jack. “That! Or rather—them!”
A murmur of excited voices was rising up all around them as other people looked to see what was approaching.
Trundle peered upward, shading his eyes with one paw. He let out a breath of relief. He couldn’t quite make out the new arrival, but it certainly wasn’t the Iron Pig.
At first it looked like a string of dark pearls, threading its way across the high sky. Then, as it snaked and looped down between the bubbling white clouds, it looked more like a collection of matchboxes tied together.
And finally, as the procession swooped and dived right over the rooftops of Tentercombe, Trundle saw with a thrill of delight and excitement that it was a linked line of colorful Roamany caravans, drawn along by a windship with crimson sails. The caravans shone with reds and greens and blues and yellows, their sides picked out with scrolls of painted woodwork and covered with swirling patterns and designs and big, bold lettering. And instead of wheels, Trundle saw that all the Roamany caravans had long wrought-iron skids.