The next morning they saw no sign of the raptork bird-thing. Though it took a while for them to screw up the courage to leave the cave. Peter slipped his wheel into the carry pack and slung it over his shoulder. They picked their way down to the lagoon towards where they had hidden the outrigger. But they rationalized that since there had been no sign of the bird until sunset, perhaps now the sun had risen it had gone, and they were safe. They craned their necks for flying skyships but their limited view gave them little assurance it had gone.

‘We’ll make for the orchard, there’s food there at least,’ Peter said.

‘If we can stay out of sight,’ said Maggie.

They had just climbed into the outrigger canoe, when they heard the drums.

‘Maggs… That’s…

‘Slavers. We need to hide,’ Maggie looked back towards the cave.

‘Know your enemy?’ Peter said.

‘Not this time…’

‘We have to see what we’re up against,’ Peter insisted. ‘It might be our way off the island… or… I don’t know.’ He slipped towards the drumming. ‘And that’s the point.’

Peter moved further off a short distance and waited, with no backwards glance. He cracked a tight smile when Maggie came alongside him. Without a word they crept through the jungle towards the beach and sound of approaching drums.

The drumming reached a thunderous crescendo then stopped. The silence meant the slaver’s canoe had run onto the beach.

Peter couldn’t shake the feeling of Maggie being like a kid sister he had to protect, even if she was older. He owed her, he had put her in this danger. The manisaur had followed him to her island, and chased them to the Black Spire island. Then the flying pirates saw them on the water. It was all on him. He should keep her from harm, instead…

‘Come on,’ Peter said and he took off towards the beach.

As he ran Peter pulled his wetsuit up to protect his body from the scratchy plants but did not zip it. He crouched low and slipped along the path towards the beach.

‘Shouldn’t we get off the path?’ Maggie whispered.

‘Sure we should.’

The path met the beach and revealed a view of the sea. Peter had his eyes on the bright wide lagoon when he tripped on a root. As he toppled forward a branch ripped at the shoulder strap of his pack.

Peter landed on his face, but he saw when the wheel-thing bounced free, and spun vertically along the path like a bicycle wheel.

It flashed blue, hit a tree trunk, only to rebound and hit Peter in the chest just as he stood up. Peter sprawled on his back amazed. Spinning over his head the wheel thing had not fallen to the ground. It floated like a balloon, except the edge spun before his face like a knife. Peter rolled to the side. As the disk turned slower it dropped until it hit the ground with a bump, wobbled like a top, and rattled to a stop.

‘What the…?’ Peter back sat with a thump. When he picked up the wheel the glow within the surface dimmed a little. ‘How did it do that? Even a frisbee has to be horizontal and…’

‘Peter… That way,’ Maggie said. She pointed to a narrow furrow that lead along the beach away from the path but hidden from the water by thick twisting spiky screw-pines.

’Maggs. Did you see that?’

‘Keep your voice down.’

Peter nodded and let Maggie move ahead. She still wore Peter’s khaki Comsats T-shirt and in the forest it hid her well when she crept along in the shade. He picked himself up, pushed the wheel back into the pack. The round wheel pulled tight on the canvas and the edges dug into his shoulder blades when he hunched them back.

‘That wheel’s just not right. How the…?

Maggie glared at him and he shut up. Then he pretended to be a shadow and followed the older girl. An opening in the wall of vegetation low to the ground shone bright in the gloom of the forest edge. Maggie smoothed out the sand, removed some spiky fronds and slipped to her stomach. Peter moved next to her, but the daze of trying to understand what he had seen the disk do distracted him.

It made a strange sort of sense to him — flying mantas, flying sailing ships. Why not floating-blue-glowing-wheel-disk-things?

‘Where the heck are we that even physics is all screwed up?’ he said.

Maggie nudged him and pointed towards the beach. Her eyes were wide. Peter knew his reaction had been the same the first time he saw manisaurs up close.

‘They’re not people are they?’ Maggie said, her voice hushed. ‘I never imagined…’

From their hidden vantage point Peter watched eight figures haul a canoe from the water — a different group from the one he had seen days ago. And there were no bound slaves. Instead a group of smaller animals jumped from the canoe and gamboled about.

‘And those’re not dogs,’ Peter whispered in Maggie’s ear.

With a finger to her lips, Maggie shook his head. She was right to be cautious, no telling what the animals could hear. They acted a lot like dogs. They ran on all fours, and sniffed the air and ground — hunting for scents. But their faces were not at all dog-like, and they had no wagging tail. These animals had a small stub with a knot of small feathers. One of the animals sat on its… legs… It sort of folded its legs backwards under itself… then picked something up with its fingers to examine. It made a warbling noise of enquiry as it passed the shell from hand to hand.

‘Like little manisaurs,’ Peter said. His head bumped hers. ‘But their hands. Not the same… one thumb… and…’

A figure reared out of the back of the canoe and walked its length with long striding steps, high up, as if he stood on the crew seats. A human for sure.

‘No way…’ said Peter.

‘I think we found your pirate,’ Maggie said.

The bare-footed pirate wore breeches that only reached his calves. A wide red sash wound around his waist with a rope tied over it. Metal flashed in the sun — a sword and knives hung from loops in the rope. A broad straw hat shaded his face. The man appeared in his fifties at least, grizzled auburn and grey hair short over their head. A tattoo spiraled over their chin like a beard with lips pulled back in a grimace. Another sash hung diagonally across his body over a cream shirt cut off at the shoulders. His powerful arms and were bare and tanned a deep mahogany brown. If the sash material had been any color it might once have been red.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

‘Red-Back the pirate,’ Peter murmured. All thought of levitating wheels fled from his mind as his heart thumped in his chest.

The dangerous Australian Red-Back spider rare in New Zealand, was feared all the same as it hybridized with the native katipo to create monster spiders… or so Peter had heard on the playground. That might have been exaggeration but this pirate matched the spider well enough.

‘Red-Back,’ he said again as if to explain and make solid the fantastic sight of a real pirate. Maggie placed her hand on his shoulder. Peter got the hint and kept quiet. The wind rattled the palm fronds, and he became more concerned with the animals scenting them than hearing their whispers.

Red-Back proceeded to kick at the swarming animals when a group came too close to him. One ran with a hissing warble to the safety of a manisaur. The pirate barked commands to a pair of crewmen to retrieve cloth bound packages from the canoe. The rest of the crew formed up in two rows further down the beach. The animals fell in at their sides. Peter could count them now. Five animals, nine manisaurs, and one human.

‘So, not young ones?’ Maggie said in a whisper.

‘No. Faces are different — more animal.’

‘How does a human pirate get to command a crew of manisaurs?’ said Maggie.

‘Exactly. And what are they doing here?’

The crew with the bundles unwrapped them and passed out what looked like long, old fashioned rifles.

‘That’s how,’ said Maggie.

‘What?’

‘That’s how he commands the manisaurs. He’s got the guns.’

‘They’re off.’ Peter said. The line of manisaurs marched away towards Home Bay. ‘Just where we want to go.’ He stood up. ‘Come on.’

‘You’re not…?’ Maggie said surprised.

‘Following them? We’ve got to see where they are going, if only to know which way to run.’

‘Shouldn’t we just run in the opposite direction?’

‘Sure we should,’ Peter said even as he moved closer to the beach. ‘Except there’s that saying — fortune favors the brave.’

‘Not the foolhardy though…’

‘No. But you see the logic?’ Peter grabbed Maggie’s hand and drew her after him. ‘They’re not expecting us. We’re safe as long as we keep our distance, keep quiet, and keep to cover.’

‘For the love of… why?’

‘To see what they’re up to… and if they have anything we can use.’

’Where did they come from? The skyship? They might have seen us, and be looking for us…’

Peter dropped her hand and slipped out from the safety of the bushes.

‘Peter!’ Maggie hissed his name despite the risk.

He ran to the canoe, dropped down behind it, and peeked over the side. The pirate crew were a hundred meters distant and had just rounded the rocks into the next bay — his Home Bay.

Nothing remained in the pirate’s canoe except for some empty fruit shaped wooden things with stoppers at one end. A sort of water bottle perhaps. With the pirates out of sight, Peter motioned to Maggie to follow. He jogged off after the pirates, stepping in the water so he did not leave a trail. He hid behind the rocks on the edge of the next bay. Maggie followed, and soon caught him up.

‘We have to hide,’ Maggie said. ‘Those things, those aliens scare me.’

‘Yeah. But they are people, and that pirate deals with them so how scary can they be?’

‘Or no more scary than a crew of pirates,’ said Maggie. ‘Which is not saying much.’

‘I know pirates… and my ancestor could have been the Queen’s own pirate. Captain Drake,’ said Peter.

‘Very funny. And my grandfather was a king.’

‘Really? Royalty?’ he scoffed. ‘What’s your family name?’

‘Seddon. I’m Margaret Seddon. And my grandfather was Richard Seddon The Prime Minister of New Zealand.’

‘So not royalty.’

‘No. But everyone knew him as King Dick Seddon.’

‘Oh yes… very funny,’ said Peter.

‘But this is not. We can’t hare off after pirates. We’re just a pair of lost children on a strange shore.’

‘We’re not haring off. We’re sneaking. And we have an advantage. They don’t know we’re here.’ Peter smiled. ‘And this is Home Bay. I know it pretty well. Or well enough.’

The pirates had not once turned behind. Perhaps they had been too well drilled by their human captain. The pirates kept to the beach, and plodded along, heading towards other side of the bay.

Peter and Maggie rounded the rock, then for a moment exposed to view they crossed a short stretch of beach, and through the vegetation to a clearing beyond. Once there Peter sprinted along his old trail towards his boat, Maggie close behind.

‘We’ll race them to the next bay, see where they are going,’ Peter said when they paused to catch their breath.

They disturbed a flock of bird-things wading in the pool, but Peter raced on, across the shallows of the stream, and past where he had hidden his Starling sailing boat The Jupiter. He gave the location a quick glance and vowed to be back soon for it.

Unseen by Maggie and Peter a small figure dropped from a tree, studied the two, and then sped in pursuit. It soon outpaced them amongst the forest trails and clearings. But it kept them in constant view, its bright eyes alert, its movement quiet but speedy.

Peter ran on and only stopped once he and Maggie reached the rock promontory that defined the end of the Home Bay valley. Peter studied the face of the black rock, then moved across the steep slope. He picked his way up, along a fault in the cliff where a crack had opened up long ago. Small trees and bushes had grown within the crack and it formed an ideal hidden route to the top. Once there he turned back for Maggie. It did not surprise him to see her right behind, either as crazy as him, or perhaps determined to not get separated for even a second.

Peter did not see the bright eyes studying them from between two black rocks not far away.

‘Wait Peter. I’m out of puff.’

‘Me too. But there should be a view over the next bay just ahead.’

They crested the cliff top. A jumble of boulders and craggy splinters from the lava flow created lots of places to hide, and the two moved from rock to rock until they had a view of the beach below. The pirates had stopped. Their animals gamboled about in a wide dark circle of disturbed sand around the crew. The larger human pirate captain strode right towards a path that led to the forest interior.

‘He’s visiting the other human, Kanoodlupe or whatever. Where the orchard is,’ Peter said. ‘That’s where I wanted to go before this lot showed up.’

‘So we might have been there already, and had no warning, if we had not stopped for the night at the cave.’

‘I’m not sure if that is good luck or not.’

‘You’re not suggesting we could be friends with that pirate?’ Maggie stared at him.

‘We have no idea what he’s like. But we do know he has a way off the island,’ Peter said.

‘And we’d go as slaves?’

‘We don’t know that. Come on. We’ve got to get down and find out what’s happening.’

‘Peter! Behind you,’ Maggie said. ‘Top of the mountain.’

A shadow swung over them, and Peter saw a huge object next to the top of the Black Spire peak. The skyship.

The bow of the craft seemed to be anchored to the Black Spire peak, and a number of figures swung through the masts and spars working on the rigging high over empty air. The fall to the ground had to be a hundred — two hundred meters. Cloud swirled and hid the skyship from view once more.

‘Can they see us?’ Maggie said.

‘I don’t know. But if we can see them…’

‘They can see us.’ Maggie moved forward onto a narrow sloping ledge on the other side of the ridge. ‘At least when the cloud clears.’

‘Why this way? We don’t know where we’re going,’ Peter said.

‘At least we can hide from the skyship this side. It’s too exposed here, or the route we took before.’

Maggie led them down into the forest. The ledge widened and merged into a scree slope. They were careful not to dislodge the pebbles as they skirted it into the forest to one side. The shadowing eyes of their small watcher had disappeared once the two had begun their descent. At the bottom of the slope a trail led into the orchard and Maggie followed it away from the beach and the pirates.

‘I’d be happier if we knew if Red-Back is good or bad,’ Peter said. ‘And which side that skyship thing is on. But if we hide too well…’

‘We will miss the chance to get off this island,’ Maggie said.

Peter smiled. They had come to the same conclusion. Maggie grinned back but Peter guessed she also felt his same fear.

The first sign of cultivation was when they stepped out from a stand of bamboo onto a path and right into a manisaur.

Once over their shock Peter and Maggie turned to run. But the manisaur grabbed the back of their collars and pulled them off their feet.

‘Stay down and don’t move,’ the manisaur said with a sibilant warble. ‘Do you want us all to be captured?’