"Five, four...fasten seat belts, please," said Miarr. "All crew must wear their seat belts."
Lucy and Wolf Boy fumbled with two thick leather straps and buckled them across their laps. Lucy realized that something must have told Miarr that they were fastened, as the cat-man did not look around but continued his countdown.
"Three, two, one - release!"
The Red Tube set off deceptively slowly along the first twenty feet of rail, then it tipped forward. Lucy felt sick. Wolf Boy screwed his eyes shut tight. There was a jarring clang as the boat's nose hit the rails - and they were off. The Red Tube was down the rails in less than two seconds. They hit the water with a deafening bang and then - to Wolf Boy's horror - they kept right on going, down, down, down into the blackness, just as he had done so many years ago that night in the river when he had fallen from the Young Army boat.
And then - just as had happened on that night in the middle of the river - the terrifying dive leveled off, the water loosened its hold and, like a cork, they began to rise to the surface. Beautiful green light began to shine through the tiny windows and, a moment later, in a fountain of dancing white bubbles, they broke the surface and sunlight flooded in.
Wolf Boy opened his eyes in amazement - he was still alive. He looked at Lucy. White-faced, she managed a flicker of a smile.
"Launch complete," said Miarr, his voice still eerily crackly. "Surface successful. Hatches secure. Commence controlled dive."
And to Lucy and Wolf Boy's dismay, the Red Tube began to sink once more. The sunlight changed to green, the green to indigo and the indigo transformed to black. Inside the capsule a dim red light began to glow, giving a contradictory warmth to the chill that was seeping in from the cold depths of the sea.
Miarr twisted around to speak to his passengers. His sealskin cap blended into the shadowy background and his flat, white face shone like a small moon. His big, yellow eyes were bright with excitement. Miarr smiled and once again his two lower canine teeth edged over his top lip. Lucy shivered. He looked very different from the pathetic creature collapsed on the bunkroom floor whom she had so much wanted to help. She began to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake.
"Why have we...sunk?" she asked, trying to keep a tremor out of her voice and not entirely succeeding.
Miarr was obscure. "To find the Light, first we must enter the dark," he replied, and turned back to his control panel.
"He's gone bonkers," Lucy whispered to Wolf Boy.
"Nuts," agreed Wolf Boy, who knew he had been right all along about the coffin.
"Totally raving, screaming nuts."
Chapter 31 Syrah Syara
N either Jenna, Beetle nor Septimus saw the arrival of the Marauder that morning - they were all fast asleep in the hideout. The thick layer of grass that Septimus had laid over the canvas had protected them from being woken by the heat of the sun, and they had finally emerged close to midday.
Beetle had waded out through the retreating tide to a large rock with a flat top that he already thought of as his fishing rock, and within half an hour landed three of the black and silver fish they had enjoyed so much the previous day. While Beetle fished, Septimus had rebuilt the fire on the beach, and now he was slowly turning the fish over the glowing embers of driftwood. Beetle was idly drawing in the sand with the WaterGnome, while Jenna stood, gazing out to sea with a frown.
"That's odd," she said.
"It's meant to be the Wizard Tower sled," said Beetle, "only the water keeps splashing and making the lines go funny."
"No, not your drawing, Beetle. Out there." Jenna pointed out to sea. "Look..."
"What?" said Beetle, who was a little shortsighted.
"The lighthouse," she said. "It's dark."
"Yeah," said Beetle, trying to get the sled runners right in the sand. "They cover them with tar. Helps stop the seawater getting into the bricks."
Septimus stood up and shaded his eyes. "The light's gone out," he said.
"That's what I thought," said Jenna.
"I wonder why?"
"Maybe the sun's too bright..."
"Maybe..."
They ate the fish with more of Marcia's StayFresh bread and some of Jenna's hot chocolate. Beetle decided that he wanted to catch some bigger fish.
"There's some really deep water over there," he said, pointing to the Pinnacle. "I bet there are some big fish. I wouldn't mind seeing what I can catch out there. Would anyone like to come?"
"I'll come," said Jenna.
"Sep?"
Septimus shook his head. "No, I'd better not."
"Come on, Sep," said Jenna. "You haven't been anywhere yet."
"No, Jen," said Septimus a little regretfully. "I think I should stay with Spit Fyre. He doesn't seem too good, and he hasn't even drunk any water this morning. You and Beetle go."
"Well...okay, Sep," said Jenna. "If you're sure..."
Septimus was sure that he should not leave Spit Fyre, though he was not so sure that he wanted to be left alone once more. But that, he told himself, was just being silly. "Yep, I'm sure. I'll be fine with Spit Fyre."
Septimus watched Jenna and Beetle set off briskly along the beach. At the end of the bay they clambered up the line of rocks and waved. Septimus returned their waves; he watched them jump down onto the other side and disappear from sight. Then he turned to attend to Spit Fyre.
First he checked the dragon's tail. The HeatCloaks were dark and, when he touched them, were stiff and stuck fast to the scales. Septimus was not sure what to do. He was afraid that pulling them off would do more harm than good, so he decided to leave them be. He sniffed. Something did not smell too great, but he told himself it was probably the seaweed that he had packed over the wound. He decided that if the smell got worse by the afternoon, he would have to investigate.
Back at the bucket end of the dragon, things did not look a lot better. Spit Fyre's eyes were firmly closed, and however much Septimus prodded him and told him, "Spit Fyre, wake up and drink," the dragon would not respond. Septimus hoped that maybe Spit Fyre was sulking because of the bucket on his head, but he was not entirely sure. He thought the dragon's breathing seemed a little labored and wondered if he was hot, but the rocks provided almost complete shade and his scales felt quite cool. Septimus picked up the WaterGnome. He pulled Spit Fyre's lower lip out a little and drizzled some water into his mouth, but he was not sure whether the dragon actually swallowed it, as much of it seemed to dribble back out and land in dark patches on the rocks. Disconsolate, Septimus sat down. He stroked Spit Fyre's nose and murmured, "You are going to be all right, Spit Fyre, I know you are. And I won't leave you until you're better, I promise."
Suddenly Septimus heard a movement in the sand dunes behind him. He jumped up.
"Come out, wherever you are," he said with as much confidence as he could muster, scanning the apparently empty dunes. He half-closed his eyes - all the better for Seeing things, as Marcia often said - and there, in the dunes not far away, he did indeed See something. A girl - he was sure it was a girl - in green.
As if she knew she had been Seen, the girl began walking toward him. He watched her head bob through the sand dunes, and as she stepped from the cover of the last dune onto the beach below, Septimus saw a tall, thin, barefoot girl wearing a tattered green tunic.
Septimus skirted Spit Fyre's bucket and jumped down onto the sand. The girl walked slowly toward him and, as she drew closer, Septimus could see that she was wearing what looked like a very old-fashioned Apprentice tunic from the time when they still embroidered them with Magykal symbols. Two faded purple stripes on the hem of each sleeve proclaimed that she too was a Senior Apprentice. Her thin, straggly dark hair framed a careworn face covered in freckles. Septimus had the distinct feeling he had seen her before - but where?
The girl stopped in front of him. Her green eyes regarded him a little anxiously and then she gave a small formal bow with which, he suddenly remembered, Apprentices in Marcellus's Time would greet each other. "Septimus Heap," she stated.
"Yes?" Septimus replied warily.
"We have...met before. It is...good...to see you again." The girl spoke, Septimus thought, as though she were unused to speech.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"I...am Syrah. Syrah Syara."