Cursed Fire: The Dark Sky Chronicles - Book One by Daisy Dyson

Author:Daisy Dyson [Dyson, Daisy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-06-09T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The River Tybark, Whinsill Fell, Hadrixia

The sun bleached down from the aquamarine canopy overhead, its arched canvas dotted with cotton wool clouds and wisps of hazy vapour. As the breeze changed direction, the boom of what sounded like cannon fire could be heard in the far distance to the south.

‘We should go back!’ Theo shouted, glancing over his shoulder and slowing his speed.

‘What would that achieve?’ snapped Zara, as she overtook him at full pelt in their dash towards the River Tybark whose tumble could be heard directly in front of them. ‘Come on, we’ve got to get across the river before they catch up with us!’

‘It’s always your call, isn’t it?’

‘Stop it, you two!’ Aimie cried, her heart ramming her ribcage so hard she thought it might escape and head for the hills. ‘Look, we’re here; that must be where the Bridge of Enigord stood before it was destroyed.’ She pointed to a crumbled stone turret built into the river bank over to their left. ‘How are we going to get across?’

She watched Quinn trot down the steep embankment, his arms outstretched for balance, brushing aside the tall red bulrushes and the water-loving shrubs and weeds until his feet began to sink into the glutinous mud, while everyone else huddled together higher up the bank waiting for his return.

‘Got them!’ Quinn hollered from his position at the edge of the fast-flowing river, then making his way back up the bank. ‘There are three rafts but they’re small – only large enough to carry one person, the size of a Kolve Underling, really.’

‘No worries, I can swim,’ Theo announced, dragging off his trainers and stowing them in his rucksack before diving confidently into the river. ‘See you on the other side.’

Quinn held out one of the mats to Zara, but she too shook her head.

‘I can swim, too!’

Aimie was surprised to see Quinn’s face morph into seriousness. ‘This river is inhabited by the Tarquid – a type of water demon. If they smell your skin they will attack, and even a dose of Semyon’s potions would struggle to repair their inflicted wounds. A Tarquid’s bite leaves a globule of their saliva in the puncture hole which, when it becomes infected, devours the flesh over a period of weeks. It is a slow and painful death. Take it! It will quicken your crossing.’

‘Fine.’

Zara snatched the mat from Quinn’s hand, whipped her mass of copper curls in his face, and, missing his amused smile, trotted down the bank to slosh her way into the river. Next, Quinn and Oscar busied themselves with a length of reed and Oscar’s pen knife. Quinn twisted the sturdy grass into a rope whilst Oscar exhibited the knot-tying skills he had obviously learned from his many scout expeditions by connecting two of the miniature rafts together.

‘What was that?’ Aimie leapt back in horror.

‘What?’

‘That, that!’ she screamed, pointing into the dense tangle of grasses at her feet.

‘I can’t see anything,’ said Oscar, squinting to where she was stabbing her finger.

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