The Secret of Sinbad's Cave

  Chapter 1

  The Ship of Sight

  Drake scanned the screens before her, absorbing every graph and map. Jupiter was high in the night sky and perfectly aligned with Mars and Mercury. The moon had pulled up the oceans. All indicators pointed to a brutal king tide around the country.

  ‘Access all cameras and satellites,’ she ordered. ‘When the light emerges, watch every beach and harbour. Look for disturbances or anything new.’

  Fingers scurried over keyboards. Drake surveyed her empire. The control room of headquarters had been expanded for this operation. They could not afford to let their chance slip away.

  ‘There’s a wreck in Northland exposed by the waves.’ A young man with a ponytail sat aside so she could see his screen. ‘But it doesn’t have the slender neck you described.’

  Drake dismissed the image. ‘That’s an old cream boat.’

  ‘The Ship of Sight,’ mused the young man. ‘If it was last seen in 1916, there’s a chance the sea could have completely eroded it.’

  ‘It’s there,’ said Drake. ‘Keep looking.’

  She laced her hands behind her back and began pacing the room. Everything in the sky and on earth indicated the return of the ship. The signs were unmistakable.

  ‘First reports from the East Coast are in,’ said a woman across the room. ‘There’s nothing.’

  ‘Nothing in Cook Strait either,’ said a bearded man beside her.

  Drake frowned. ‘All this gadgetry, and you can’t see what’s right before you.’

  ‘Because we’re looking for a legend,’ said the young man.

  Drake cocked her head to the side. ‘The old knowledge is powerful,’ she cooed. ‘More powerful than you imagine.’

  ‘But surely there’s no hurry,’ said the woman. ‘No one else could know this.’

  Drake’s eyes flashed. ‘Do not assume we are the only ones hunting tonight. What about the whale – anything?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said the bearded man. ‘Only three great white sharks off the Otago coast.’

  ‘Focus,’ said the man with the ponytail. ‘Sharks are irrelevant. We’re looking for the Southern Right whale.’

  ‘Tohorā,’ said Drake. ‘Also last seen in 1916.’

  Fingers around the room paused over their keyboards.

  ‘Life span for the Southern Right is estimated to be ...’ the woman paused, ‘between fifty and sixty years. Do we know if this whale is still alive?’

  ‘We do,’ said Drake. ‘He is the grandfather of all tohorā. Once a century he makes a journey to Cape Reinga. We must intercept him.’

  Drake returned to her pacing. She had faith they would find what they were looking for. The only question was whether they could find it in time. The Ship of Sight always emerged with The Hand of Shadow; the two were inextricably linked. She could bear the Shadow to gain right of entry to the Sight. But she had to be there first. Once The Hand of Shadow was imprinted, it could not be transferred.

  ‘I’ve found something!’ said the woman. An image filled the screen. Drake’s heart thumped. This was it. She recognised the detail in the dragon’s head instantly.

  ‘Where is it?’ she demanded.

  ‘West Coast, Ruapuke Beach, south of Raglan.’

  Drake smirked. Her home territory. Excellent.

  ‘Ready the chopper!’ she ordered. ‘We leave immediately.’