Flight to Bilmoni - 2nd installment

Hi all this is the second half of Chapter 2 of Flight to Bilmoni, a children's book for 9-12 year olds. Would be great to hear what people think. Please note the comments up to my comment on 4th March refer to my last posting.

Malachy sat back. He choked back a lump that had formed in his throat. If he hadn’t gone to football practice that day his mother would still be alive. He often thought that. He nearly hadn’t gone that day, for he’d been battling with a nasty cold all week. He knew the accident hadn’t been his fault but he couldn’t help thinking like that time and again. The sound of screeching metal filled his head once more, making them burn. His heart beat faster, blood pumped in his ears. His vision began to distort and turn blue so he closed his eyes. So much blood… scraping, twisting metal…

Seconds later, an almighty screech sliced through the graveyard. Malachy thought he must be hearing things and the only reason he knew that the sound was real was because he had sensed his brother nearly jump out of his skin beside him. Malachy snapped his eyes open.

‘What was that?’ asked Damon, now sitting bolt upright, eyes wide, the look of a startled rabbit about him.

‘I have no idea…’ replied Malachy, sitting up slowly. They both sat tall, their senses on full alert, their hearts racing.

The awful noise sounded again. It echoed around the graveyard, bouncing off the gravestones in a staccato rhythm. No it wasn’t the sound of grinding metal after all. It was some kind of animal sound, but like no animal Malachy had ever heard before.

‘I think it came from up here, round the other side of the spire,’ Damon suggested. ‘It sounded high up.’

Damon stood up. His legs were shaking. He tried to stop them wobbling for fear he might fall off the ledge at any moment. Without hesitation, he started to inch his way along the narrow stone slabs, steadying himself as best he could against the rough, slate spire.

‘Damon, what are you doing?’ Malachy hissed, reaching out to grab the back of his brother’s school jumper. He missed by a hair’s breadth. ‘Get back here!’

‘Come on, don’t you want to know what that was?’

‘I do, but what if it’s dangerous?’

‘Well we won’t know if it’s dangerous until we see it. I’m going to take a look, you coming or not?’

Malachy rolled his eyes and cursed his wayward brother. Damon’s fearless attitude was dangerous rather than admirable. But Malachy had no chance of coaxing him down, so instead he stood cautiously and inched along the narrow ledge, regretting each small step. Who knew what lay in wait around the corner.

After tiptoeing along the ledge just a short way a dark creature gradually came into view. It looked like a raven, with deep black feathers and a long grey beak that shone metallic in the bright sunlight. But there was one obvious difference between this bird and normal ravens; it was about ten times the size and stood taller than Damon. The narrow ledge was barely big enough to accommodate the bird’s giant feet, which sported enormous black claws with frighteningly sharp tips.

The bird stared at the boys with one black, glassy eye, its head cocked to the side. Its eye was so huge that Damon could see his own face reflected back at him, his features warped by the bird’s cornea. The boys stared open-mouthed at the creature.

‘What the bloody hell is that!’ exclaimed Damon, finding his voice at last, not caring what his brother might think of his cuss.

‘Keep your voice down, you might scare it.’

‘Yeah I’m sure he’s petrified of us,’ said Damon sarcastically.

‘Well cows get scared of people sometimes. When cows get scared they can stampede and trample you to death.’

‘This is a bird dummy, it can’t trample us.’

‘No but look at its claws you idiot. They could rip us to shreds!’

The bird silenced the boys’ squabbling. It ruffled its feathers and spread its enormous wings, which measured several metres from tip to tip; a wingspan that could have easily rivalled the size of a hand-glider’s wing.

From out of nowhere, three more black birds swooped down from above, all as large as the first. Their wings flapped like the fabric of a parachute. Two of them landed on the ledge, while the third perched awkwardly on the spire, its huge body all but blocking out the sun.

Damon started to inch away, finally realising the danger they might be in. ‘I think we should go now…’ He had barely uttered the words when all four birds took flight in perfect synchrony. The sound of their wings was deafening. It reminded Malachy of a time he’d gone sailing when the wind had been so strong that he thought it would rip the sails clean off the mast.

The nearest bird stretched its talons wide and flew towards Damon. Before he could react the bird had his shoulders clasped firmly in its grip. The bird let out another violent screech. It pumped its wings and Damon’s feet began to leave the floor. All Damon could do was holler in fright while he tried to twist out of the bird’s vice-like grip. Struggling was a bad idea for each small movement made the points of the bird’s claws dig into his flesh painfully.

‘Damon! Dammit Damon I told you this was a bad idea!’ Malachy cried with exasperation.

‘Well it’s a bit late for that now!’ Damon yelled.

Malachy reached out and grabbed his brother’s legs. He pulled with all his might in a futile attempt to return him to the safety of the ledge. The bird was strong, very strong. It barely had to strain against Malachy’s pitiful efforts.

‘Hang on Damon!’ yelled Malachy as he rushed back along the ledge the way they had come. He grabbed his school bag and ripped it open so quickly that he nearly broke the zip. He searched its contents and withdrew a compass and a ball point pen; the only items he had that vaguely resembled weapons. He looked at them meekly and then heard the great flap of wings behind him. Before he had time to turn around, he felt the sharp talons of one of the birds close around his shoulders. As the bird began to rise, Malachy jabbed the compass into its foot. Even though he put all his strength into the attack, the point of the compass simply bounced right off, leaving the bird completely unscathed. The raven’s feet had tough, impenetrable skin like the hide of a crocodile. He tried stabbing the bird with the pen but it snapped in half like a matchstick when he brought it home. The bird didn’t even flinch under Malachy’s attacks and it lifted him into the air without hesitation.

Now both boys dangled helplessly above the ledge. Malachy tried to hook his foot around a piece of scaffolding but failed miserably.

Before long the two remaining birds grabbed the boys’ legs so that they were suspended face down above the graveyard. The birds held the boys effortlessly and squawked amongst each other, as though they were talking in a strange language. Their chatter was loud, but mercifully quieter than the great screech the brothers had witnessed moments ago.

‘I wonder what they want with us!’ Malachy exclaimed, trying to resist the urge to struggle, for it was a long way to fall and he too was experiencing the pain of razor sharp claws digging into his skin.

The birds rose and took off across the graveyard. The sudden rush of movement reminded Damon of being on a white knuckle ride at a theme park. He normally loved the speed of a rollercoaster, but this ride was altogether more dangerous and terrifying. He fought back the desire to be sick.

Malachy glanced back and saw their school bags slumped on the ledge. He looked at them longingly, wishing they were still relaxing on the ledge. The church spire quickly receded as they flew out over Cleavecott. Mossy rooftops whizzed by and they soared above their own house, heading for the wheat fields beyond. It took seconds to cross the entire village. Malachy wondered what would happen if someone saw them. Who would believe their eyes if they saw four giant birds carrying two boys over the Hertfordshire countryside?

Damon’s clothing flapped wildly. He felt his stomach lurch with each beat of the birds’ wings. ‘Maybe we should’ve gone to school after all!’ he shouted at his brother, but his words vanished amidst the roar of air racing past. He hated school, but in that moment he would rather be there doing the most difficult test of his life.

Malachy tried to force himself to relax. He figured the birds weren’t here to hurt them otherwise they would have done so already, and they clutched his body so delicately in spite of their huge talons. It took a while but once he got used to the sensation of being propelled through the air by two giant birds, Malachy actually started to enjoy himself, and let out a great whoop as he rose over a clump of trees. ‘We’re flying! We’re actually flying!’ he exclaimed.

As they flew, the birds took the two brothers over villages and towns, some of which they recognised, others that they didn’t. For a while they didn’t see any houses at all and crossed vast distances of nothing but fields and forests. Malachy wondered where they could possibly be. They were covering such great distances that he wondered if they were even still in Hertfordshire.

After what seemed like hours, the monotonous fields were interrupted by two hills with a line of dead trees joining them. Behind the line of trees a great swathe of grey fog hung between the two hills. The fog seemed out of place in the bright summer morning. As they approached, the vastness and density of the patch of fog became apparent. It was so thick that it was more like a cloud resting on the ground.

The birds started to descend into the fog and Malachy was gripped by fear once again. He just had time to look across and see Damon’s white face disappearing into the fog.