Voyage of the Jaffa Wind (The Secrets of Droon #14) Read online

  “After the Star!” cried Keeah.

  Instantly, the Jaffa Wind crashed high over the waves in hot pursuit.

  Twinkling and blazing, the Sapphire Star zipped ever faster across the dark sea.

  “The Star is swift!” said Friddle, urging the ship over the crashing waves.

  “The Jaffa Wind can be just as swift,” said Keeah. Smiling, she dug into her supply sack and pulled out the magic harp that had once belonged to her mother. She handed it to Batamogi. “The Oobja are great harp players,” she said. “I’ll do a spell for a swift voyage, if you’ll play.”

  “Absolutely!” Taking the harp, Batamogi began to strum and sing. His song was of a future time when Droon would finally be at peace. Shago sang together with him.

  Keeah murmured softly, and the wind seemed to sing along with them, driv­ing the ship even faster over the waves.

  Eric felt chills seeing the magic that Keeah ­could do. “That’s awesome,” he said.

  “Yes, quite,” said Galen, pacing the deck impatiently. “But now that we are under way, what’s this I hear about a hammer, hmmm?”

  First Eric, then Julie, then Neal told the wizard every­thing they had seen, describing as much about the hammer as they ­could remember.

  “It was ­really huge,” said Neal. “The Ninns must be building something ­really big with it.”

  “Big and definitely bad,” added Julie.

  “Hmmpf!” Khan snorted and crossed his arms. “The Ninns are terrible builders. They are far better at destroying things.”

  Galen stroked his beard slowly. “Quite right,” he said. “But I suspect this hammer is neither for building nor destroying. The Ninns are bringing it to Sparr, so its purpose must be a darker one.”

  “Darker?” asked Keeah, turning to the wizard.

  Eric searched the wizard’s eyes for a clue. But if Galen knew what Sparr’s purpose was, he did not say so. He merely wrapped his robes around him and went back to his pacing.

  “He’s worried about Max,” said Julie. “I mean, what if we lost one another? I don’t know about you, but I’d go crazy. Then I’d go find you.”

  Neal nodded. “Ditto for me. I’d never stop looking until we were all together again. I mean, we can’t break up this incredible team, right?”

  “Sure,” said Eric. He saw the worry in the old wizard’s face. But there was something else there, too. Something Galen wouldn’t talk about.

  Not yet, at least.

  Cold waves splashed up the sides of the ship.

  “Oh,” said Friddle. “That’s not good. Look.”

  Ahead lay two great masses of rocky land. The sea narrowed to a slender channel between them. The Star dipped and entered the channel.

  “It’s very close up there,” the inventor said. “I worry about the ship running against the rocks.”

  “We have no choice,” said Keeah. “We have to follow it. It’s our only way to find Max —”

  “Slow the engines,” said Galen. “Trim the sails.”

  While Julie, Neal, and Eric climbed the rigging and tied up the sails, Friddle shut off the engines.

  The Star moved slowly through the channel ahead, and the ship drifted behind it. As it passed between the cliffs, the kids spotted bits of wood, planks, rigging, shattered masts, and torn sails clinging to the rocks on either side.

  “The remains of busted boats,” whispered Neal. “Is this some kind of warning?”

  “A warning it is,” said Batamogi, turning pale. “There is an old legend about giant bulls that come down to the sea and crush ships on their horns.”

  “But it’s just a legend, right?” said Neal. “Legends aren’t true, right? I mean, legends are made-up stories, right? Why isn’t anyone agreeing with me?”

  “Because of that,” said Julie.

  Just ahead, the jagged rocks on either side of the narrow passage were carved into the shape of heads. Giant bull heads. Each had three eyes made of bright red rock. Twin horns, all jagged and black, jutted out from each head. The fangs sticking out from each jaw were white granite.

  Eric gulped. “I guess the thing about legends is that sometimes … they’re true.”

  “The Horns of Ko!” said Shago. “They are nasty heads enchanted by the sorcerers of Goll.”

  “Enchanted?” asked Julie. “Enchanted how?”

  At that moment the bull heads suddenly jerked out from either side of the channel and crashed into each other — ka-dooom!

  “Holy cows!” cried Neal. “Turn back. We’ll be crushed!”

  The giant heads pulled apart again. But before long they smashed together once more, sending bits of stone exploding onto the deck of the approaching ship.

  “Back up!” said Neal. “This is a warning, all right. We’ll take the long way. Map, please?”

  “No,” said Friddle. “I believe I have a plan. But our sails and steam engine won’t help us now. We’ll need to row! To the oars, ­everyone. Row ­toward the rocks!”

  “Toward them?” asked Khan. “But … but …”

  Friddle grinned and took out a pad and pen. “Do as I say. Put your backs into it. And Batamogi, strum that harp!”

  As he said this, the rocks pulled apart and the passage was open again.

  Slap! Swish! Slap! Swish! Everyone sat in the oar seats and pulled on the oars, as Batamogi took up Keeah’s harp again and strummed it.

  Thrumm! Thrumm!

  Three more times the giant heads clashed and separated, as the Jaffa Wind rowed ­toward them.

  Finally, Friddle waved his pad. “Twenty-seven thrums! There are twenty-seven thrums of the harp between each clash of the Horns of Ko. So after the next clash, we need to row quickly through the channel — in less than twenty-seven thrums — before the next clash of the heads. Or crash, or smash, whatever word you like —”

  “I don’t like any of those words!” said Khan. “I don’t like being wet! If we clash or smash or crash, it’s all the same to me. I’ll get very wet! And when I’m wet I don’t dry out for weeks!”

  Galen shook his head. “Let us do as Friddle says. Everyone together now — row!”

  Full of fear, but trusting the wizard, the crew did as he said. Julie and Eric sat side by side. Neal and Keeah rowed across from them. Behind them were Khan and Shago. On the far side, Galen rowed alone.

  Their arms stretched, their backs ached, but they rowed with ­every ounce of strength they had. All the while, Batamogi kept plucking the harp in slow, measured beats.

  Thrumm! Thrumm!

  “Eleven,” said Friddle. “Twelve …”

  Splash! When the rocks pulled apart, a swirling dip in the waves drew the ship ­toward the opening.

  “We’re doing it!” cried Julie. “We’re almost through the opening! I can see the far side.”

  She spoke too soon. Icy waves from beyond the rocks sent the ship tipping back between the horns — just as the rocks began to close.

  “Our ship will be crushed into toothpicks!” Shago said, his slender arms pulling on the thick oar. “Toothpicks for mice!”

  Friddle stood at the wheel, calmly making notes on his pad. “Eighteen, nineteen …”

  Eric looked to his right. The giant red eyes and black horns of the monster bull were plowing ­toward the ship. On the left, the other bull was doing the same. “We’re doomed!” he cried.

  “Twenty-two, twenty-three …”

  The horns were inches from punching holes in the ship when, with a final thrust of the oars, the Jaffa Wind scraped between the thundering rocks.

  KA … DOOOM-OOM-OOM!

  “And … twenty-seven!” said Friddle, grinning over his pad. He looked up and sighed.

  “Now tell me the truth, my friends — was that so hard?”

  The sea on the far side of the Horns of Ko was as dark and as thick as oil. Waves crashed and heaved, and the wind gusted from ­every direction at once.

  “This is a bad place for sure,” said Shago, folding a blanket around him. �
�I don’t like it a bit.”

  With the air turning blacker and windier by the moment, Friddle fought to keep the blue Star in sight and the ship following at a good pace.

  “My mirror shows nothing….” said Galen. “But perhaps a vision of Max will show him to be well?” He turned to Eric and looked at him searchingly.

  Eric felt nervous, all of a sudden. There was no flash of light in his head. He felt normal and regular. But he closed his eyes tight and clenched his teeth to try to make a vision come to him.

  He tried hard, but it was no use. He opened his eyes. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “But I’m sure Max is okay. He’s a tough little guy.”

  Galen breathed in deeply. “Yes, of course.”

  “We have to be cheerful,” said Julie. “And try to look on the bright side, you know?”

  Neal glanced up at the gray skies. “Except this place is so foggy and dark, it probably never had a bright side!”

  “Under the cloak of darkness, much evil can happen,” said Khan.

  Eric frowned. “Wait … under the cloak of …”

  A bright light flashed suddenly behind his eyes. He shut them tight and saw not Max as he hoped, but the many-colored scarf Max had woven for Queen Relna. The scarf whirled before him, then faded.

  Eric staggered and sat on the deck.

  “What is it?” asked Keeah, coming to him.

  He opened his eyes. “The scarf. Max’s present for your mother. Why am I seeing that?”

  “Ah!” said Galen. “There is a clue here, if only we unravel it! A scarf, eh? What can it mean?”

  “I don’t know what that means,” said Friddle, suddenly jumping to the wheel. “But this means trouble. Look!”

  A heavy mist was rolling over the waves. Friddle’s slender hand pointed to the sky. “I can barely see the Star!”

  “Better slow down,” said Keeah.

  “Hush! Listen!” said Galen.

  Eeee … eeeee …

  “What’s going on?” said Julie.

  “Is it sea monsters?” asked Neal. “I knew it. Giant bull heads weren’t enough, now we have sea monsters attacking our boat —”

  “Attacking our ship,” said Julie.

  Eeee … eeeee … The sound was closer now. And the waters off the side of the ship churned.

  Khan scampered to the rail and leaned over. “It sounds like wood creaking.”

  “And rope straining,” whispered Batamogi, climbing down to the deck. “It ­almost sounds like another ship — oooomph!”

  The small king of the mole ­people slammed to the deck as if someone had knocked him over. An instant later, Shago was tossed into the air — “yeow!” — and flew up into the rigging.

  “It’s not sea monsters!” Friddle cried. “It’s fog pirates! Off the port side! We are being attacked by the fabled … fog pirates!”

  “Fog pirates?” said Neal. “What are — hey!”

  Neal was thrown to the deck. “Who did that?”

  “Me!” growled a rough voice.

  “Fog pirates are invisible!” said Galen, making jabs in the air with his hands. “On guard!”

  There was a low, nasty chuckling sound just before Galen was hurled back into Keeah and Friddle.

  All three of them tumbled roughly to the deck.

  “Eric, use your fingers on them!” said Julie.

  Eric looked around. “Sure, but where are they-y-y-yeow!” He was lifted and heaved into Khan. “Ooof!” They were both thrown across the deck.

  More unseen boots thumped onto the ship.

  “This is so not fair!” said Julie as she was flung against the rigging and bounced across the deck.

  “The better for us,” growled one invisible pirate. “Come on, mates, take the ship!”

  Neal was hurled into the mast, upsetting Khan’s bundle of juice pouches. Suddenly, he jumped. “I have an idea!” With his arms full of the leather pouches, he ran back to Eric and Julie.

  “Khan’s juice!” he said. “It stains —”

  “Neal!” said Julie. “We’re being attacked by a bunch of see-through pirates and you’re — thirsty?”

  Khan was thrown over to them. He bounced once, then leaped up. “But Neal’s idea is brilliant!” He grabbed a pouch, opened the spout, aimed into the air, and started spraying.

  Ssssss! Suddenly, there was a purple pirate standing in front of them.

  He had the furry head of a skunk, wore an assortment of rags, and had a patch over one eye.

  “I’m wet!” snarled the pirate, wiping gizzleberry juice from his good eye.

  “Not half as wet as you’re going to be!” said Julie. And with one push — “oomph!” — the skunk-headed pirate went flying over the side.

  Thud-thud-thud! Three more fog pirates came swinging over from their ship to the Jaffa Wind. This time the crew was ready for them.

  Grabbing a juice pouch, Shago flew up on his magic rope and spritzed the pirates from above. “Peekaboo, we see you!” he squealed.

  Batamogi, being short, whacked the pirates’ knees with stout pieces of rigging. The attackers fell to the deck, sliding on their own wet boots.

  “Score three for us!” the Oobja king chirped.

  Moving swiftly and deftly, Galen battled four pirates who had tried to take control of the ship’s wheel. With one, two, three quick jumps on his feet, he sent the attackers spinning over the side.

  “Ah, the smell of gizzleberries in the air!” Galen cried. “I know we shall soon find Max!”

  “But Lord Sparr told us to sink you!” growled one pirate as Keeah sent him swinging back to his own ship. “He says you are getting too close —”

  “No, fool!” shouted one, who seemed to be the captain. “They aren’t supposed to know that!”

  “Thank you for the clue!” Galen chirped merrily. “And thank you for a new chapter in my history of Droon! ‘Battle on the Black Waves,’ I shall call it. Oh, what a victory!”

  Friddle turned the wheel sharply, and the Jaffa Wind pulled away from the pirate ship.

  The wizard cheered as he hurtled one last pirate into the ocean. “You shall not stop us now!”

  “We can try!” growled the pirate captain. “Ready, mates. Take aim, and … fire!”

  Poooom! A fiery ball shot up from an invisible cannon on the pirate ship. It soared in a high arc over the Jaffa Wind and struck the Sapphire Star.

  “No!” cried Keeah.

  The Star wobbled in the air for a moment, then fell through the mist in a swift blue streak.

  “Where did it go?” shouted Galen. “Where?”

  “Lost at sea!” boomed the captain. “And now, you will be, too. Ready — fire!”

  A second poom of their cannon sent a low blast over the deck of the Jaffa Wind.

  Eric saw the fiery ball heading for Julie and Neal. He rushed to them. “Out of the way!”

  Then he felt something hot explode near him. He heard the cracking of wood, and the deck seemed to vanish beneath him.

  “Eric!” screamed Keeah.

  But he was hurtling down away from the ship.

  The crashing waves surged up at him.

  And his eyes closed in pain as he struck the black water.

  Bubbles rushed up at Eric as he plunged deeper into the cold sea. It felt like powerful hands were pulling him under. He ­couldn’t breathe.

  This isn’t happening! he thought. But the water grew blacker and he sank deeper.

  Then light broke across his eyes.

  Everything stopped moving and rushing around him. Was he somehow back on the ship?

  He looked up. No, this wasn’t the ship.

  He was inside … somewhere.

  And it was smoky and hot around him.

  “Where am I?” he tried to say, but no sound came out.

  Then he saw a small figure crouching nearby, his eight legs twitching furiously by a red light.

  “Max!” Eric said. “Max! I found you!”

  But Max didn’t hear him. He was b
usy weaving a dark fabric of spider silk. It was a cloak of midnight blue entwined with bloodred threads.

  Suddenly, Lord Sparr was there. He laid his hands on the cloak, and the red designs sparked and glowed. The cloak seemed alive with magic.

  Eric gasped. “A cloak! Sparr wants a cloak! And Max is weaving it for him!”

  Someone grabbed his arm from behind. He was pulled back. “Let me go!” he cried.

  “Eric!” said a voice. “Wake up!”

  He opened his eyes. He was on a sandy beach. Neal was tugging him out of the water. So was Julie. He was soaking wet, gasping for air.

  “What … what?”

  “Those nasty pirate dudes blasted us right off the boat,” said Neal.

  “Ship,” said Julie. “Right off the ship. And into the water. Luckily, we all washed up on some kind of island. Lots of trees and plants and stuff. And you were mumbling something, as if you were dreaming….”

  Eric sat up on the sand. “It wasn’t a dream. At least I hope not. I think I had another vision.”

  “I hope not about sea monsters,” said Neal.

  Eric shook his head, and water came out his ears. “No, a different kind of monster. Lord Sparr. I saw him. And I saw what Max is doing. I know why Sparr kidnapped him.”

  “Tell us on the way,” said Julie. “I spy some lights up on a hill beyond the trees. It might be a house. Maybe they can help us find Keeah and the others and to get back on the ship.”

  “Boat,” said Neal. “I ­really think it’s a boat.”

  It was nearly nighttime when they made their way from the beach and into the island’s thick forest, always keeping their eyes on the lights twinkling atop the hill.

  “Sparr is forcing Max to weave him a cloak,” Eric said as they trudged through the woods. “And he’s loading it up with evil magic.”

  Neal swatted away the leaves of a large bush that blocked the path. “Why can’t Sparr just go to the sorcerer shop for an ­extra-large evil cloak?”

  Eric shrugged. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But why does anybody need new clothes?”