Elfbones was the last to board the ship. The huge metal door slammed shut as soon as he cleared the threshold. There were no windows here. There were lights at knee height along the walls. Their weak, yellow light bounced off the floor. It gave the corridor an uninviting pallor.

  Those in front of him had hurried ahead. The corridor opened out into a large room and everyone was congregating there. Everyone seemed well acquainted. Despite the jovial atmosphere, Elfbones felt reluctant to join them. He stood next to the outer door, watching and willing himself to move forwards. The professor’s advice echoed inside his head.

  After he had plucked up the courage to emerge from Onslow’s pile of hay, a surprise greeted Elfbones. He was at the Riiktigendslig docks. Various crates and netted stacks surrounded him. He took shelter behind a nearby crate and surveyed his surroundings. Dockworkers were loading the contents of the various stacks onto trucks. They then pushed these up one of several gangways and into an enormous steel ship. This ship was the only one docked. It had to be. It was that big - the biggest Elfbones had ever seen, in person or in the illustrations of a book.

  Elfbones stared in wonder at the bulbous hull towering over him. But its size wasn’t the main thing that caught his eye. It was its orientation. This ship was sitting in the Riiktigendslig dock upside-down. Its twin propellers - each the size of a house - idled in the air high above. They strobed the docks, casting them in shade, then sun, in a slow rhythm.

  Elfbones looked perplexed.

  “You’re in the wrong place, or you’re slackin’ off,” came a voice from nearby.

  Elfbones turned to see a dockworker with a pitchfork. They stood over the pile of hay he had recently been hiding under. He winced as they plunged the pitchfork into the pile.

  “From your dress, I’m guessing you might be better off over that way.”

  The man nodded towards the far end of the dock. Elfbones peered around his crate and saw a line of very well-dressed people.

  “Might want to…” the dockworker pointed at Elfbones’ clothes. He then brushed his chest with one hand. Elfbones looked down at his own chest to see that hay covered his clothes. He nodded to the dockworker and moved away towards the line of people.

  As he neared them, the situation made more sense. A sense that filled Elfbones with terror. These were High Akalodgians. These were the High Akalodgians from the ball. He couldn’t risk any of them seeing him. They would be sure to recognise him and alert the authorities.

  Short of dropping me at the palace gates, Onslow couldn’t have put me in more danger. What was he thinking? thought Elfbones.

  Just then, he heard a call that seemed to come from somewhere near the ship, below where he could see, at the waterline. He couldn’t make out what it had said, but its tone was official sounding. It reminded him of being called into class at the end of break.

  Then there was movement. The well-to-do crowd at the other end of the dock was making its way towards some stone steps. The steps plunged into the water alongside the ship. One after another, they descended. When they reached the water - with one foot on the last step - they each toppled forward. They fell face-first into the water and disappeared below the surface. It was a graceful fall - no tripping, no flailing - as though a mere continuation of their journey.

  Unbeknownst to Elfbones, that was exactly what it was. As each guest vanished beneath the water, they pivoted about the last step and landed on another set of steps. Or rather, the continuation of the steps as they inverted. A mirror image of the steps above the water line travelling back on itself. Each passenger continued to climb these steps upside-down. Down they went, into the depths of the harbour waters until they reached the deck of the inverted ship. Here, the ship’s captain greeted them and they climbed aboard.

  To Elfbones’ eyes, this madness was another reason to avoid that end of the dock completely. He backed away, feeling his way around the stacks of cargo waiting to make their way onto the ship. It was hard for him to stop watching as passenger after passenger took the plunge into the harbour. With his attention elsewhere, he tripped on the errant handle of a very fine travel case. He stumbled a few steps before a muscular arm caught him across the chest.

  “Whoa there, son.” It was another of the dockworkers.

  Elfbones regained his balance and attempted to stand straight, preparing profuse apologies.

  “You nearly clobbered one of our esteemed passengers.”

  Blood rushed to Elfbones’ head and his field of vision became narrow and blurry. Before him stood a well-dressed figure - that much he could make out. The figure seemed to say something, but the ringing in Elfbones’ ears drowned it out.

  The dockworker gave Elfbones a firm pat on the shoulder and returned to his business.

  “This is the one?” he asked as Elfbones’ head cleared.

  “Yes, that’s it. Do you have somewhere safe onboard?” said the figure.

  “Of course, sir. There is a compartment for fragile cargo. I’ll see that it doesn’t get so much as a scratch. Even if there’re rough seas ahead.”

  The figure grasped the dockworker’s hand. “Good man, good man.”

  The dockworker looked at what had been placed in his hand and replied enthusiastically, “Thank you, sir!”

  “You are more than welcome. And I’ll double that when we arrive if you are as good as your word.”

  With that, the dockworker lifted the case with great care. He placed it on his shoulder and made for the gangway leading up to the ship’s cargo hold.

  Elfbones didn’t know what to do. He willed his legs to move, but they refused. They, like him, were sure they were in the presence of someone from the ball. He thought he recognised the voice. If he couldn’t run, then this would be it - his arrest was unavoidable.

  He brushed the cold sweat from his brow. As his vision cleared, the figure turned to him and spoke.

  “My dear boy! You look truly awful.”

  Elfbones had recognised the voice. It was that of Professor Longview. The professor helped Elfbones to sit on a nearby case.

  “Forgive me, but I am honestly astounded that someone hasn’t caught you yet. The whole of the royal guard are out looking for you.”

  “All of them?” said Elfbones, feeling an unwelcome churning in his stomach.

  “It’s quite remarkable. Tell me, how have you evaded capture this long?” said the professor. “No! Not yet. There isn’t time. We need to get you to safety.”

  Elfbones felt the crushing weight of his predicament ease.

  “You won’t turn me in?” he said.

  “Good lord, no. What do you think of me?” The professor lowered his voice. “The king’s behaviour towards you is quite ridiculous. Ridiculous, but very serious all the same. You’ve done well to come to the docks. If we can get you onboard…”. The professor lost himself in thought, gazing at the upturned hull of the ship. “The cargo hold is out of the question. You would be far too conspicuous. And, if suspected of stowing away, they would return you to these very docks to face the royal guard, anyway.”

  He was silent again for a minute. Elfbones didn’t have a plan of his own at that moment. But he felt he should show willing and proffer an idea or too, no matter how useless. It seemed only polite. He opened his mouth to speak.

  “Ha!” The professor surprised himself with the volume of his cry. He lowered his voice as he cast a quick glance around them. “The solitary nature of your friend, the professor, is a boon for you yet again.”

  The professor was very excited. This made Elfbones excited. Though he didn’t know why. He was enjoying the brief respite from the stress, anxiety and dread he had been feeling up to that point.

  “You see that gangplank? The smaller one, below the one they are using to load the cargo,” said the professor.

  Elfbones noted the empty gangplank. It led down to a small, but bulky, door a little above the waterline.

  “Once the VIPs (not that I think of us that way) are on board, many of the servants will board there. A handful of maids and butlers stay with their masters and mistresses, but the rest bunk on the lower decks. Or the higher decks in this case. Such a ridiculous thing to do. You know, this is the king’s finest ship - named it after himself, of course. He’s so desperate to curry favour with the High Akalodgians that he had it inverted and insisted that they sail home aboard it. Thinks they’ll appreciate it. None of the akalodgians I know would care about a day’s sailing above the waves. You remember the spray in the ballroom? He could have done the same thing on the ship. But no, he had to show off. ‘Look what I’m capable of…’”

  He noticed Elfbones watching with expectant eyes.

  “Right. So, I travel alone. But I have the option to bring along a helper, or servant - as some would prefer to call them.” The professor took Elfbones by the shoulders. “You can be my helper! You’ll have a bunk out of the way of anyone from the ball who might recognise you. Then, when we disembark at the other end, you’ll have nothing to worry about. You will be out of the king’s reach.”

  Elfbones thought it was a good plan. At least, in the short-term. “How will I get home? Back to Kern.”

  “Well, that will take a little more thought. Thankfully, we have a whole day of sailing ahead of us. By the time we reach our destination, I’m sure one of us will have the answer.”

  Another bark came from the far end of the dock. The professor produced a small tin from his pocket. From inside, he took a large pill and swallowed it with haste.

  “I have to board now.” He pulled a large sheet of paper from another pocket and ripped it in half. He handed one half to Elfbones. “You can use this to get on board. Just wait for the helpers and follow their lead.”

  With that, the professor rose to his feet. “I will see you again on the other side of the sea.” Then he scuttled off to board with the rest of the passengers.

  Elfbones did exactly as the professor had said. He waited until he was sure the last servant was making their way down the gangplank, then joined them. Handing over his boarding pass had been a nerve-wracking moment. He needn’t have worried - the attendant had waved him aboard without a second glance.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  There was a communal area at the end of the gas-lit corridor. Its walls lined with benches and tables. Doorless passageways interrupted them at intervals. These lead to smaller rooms filled with stacks of bunks four-high. The rest of the room was an open space - except for the light fitting protruding from the centre of the floor. Laughter and conversation filled the entire room. Everyone shared the ebullience of a respite from formality and procedure.

  Elfbones slid onto the nearest bench to the doorway. The joyful camaraderie was infectious. Yet he was reluctant to join in. Not only because he was still fearful of identification, but also because there was something else he wanted to do.

  So much had happened to him in the past day or so. Yet he had documented nothing since he first met Professor Longview. He was desperate to write an account of what had happened. Particularly as he wasn’t yet out of the woods. A clearly written account of the events of the last few days could be useful should he be discovered before the ship reaches its destination. He didn’t have any paper, though. Or anything to write with.

  After a while, a dull rumbling developed in the floor and walls, signalling that they were on their way. Elfbones lay his head against the wall and closed his eyes. The vibrations from the engine room realised a fatigue within him he had been trying to ignore.

  When he opened his eyes again, the room was quieter. Most people were sitting in small groups, talking. Others had retreated to the bunks.

  Elfbones felt refreshed. And with this new vigour came confidence to interact with his fellow passengers. There was a small group at a table nearby. They were playing cards. Elfbones slid along the bench next to them.

  “Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt. Do any of you have a pen and paper I could borrow?” he said. A sea of silent, somewhat irritated, faces turned to stare at him.

  “No, mate,” came the eventual reply.

  “Okie dokie. Sorry again for the interruption.”

  Elfbones shuffled off his bench and scanned the room for any less hostile looking faces. A small group in conversation on the far side of the room looked the most agreeable.

  As he crossed the room, he noticed a set of eyes following him. And below them, whispering lips. He tried not to feel paranoid. As a new face in this crowd, there was bound to be some intrigue about who he was. He ignored them.

  He had no luck at the far end of the room - out of the five people he asked there none had any paper, pens or pencils. At least they had been friendlier than the card players across the way. The card players who were at that moment listening to a conspiratorial whisper. One that had travelled along the line of benches and was working its way around the room. Each member of the group had taken their eyes off their cards and was looking at Elfbones.

  It’s nothing to worry about, thought Elfbones, just carry on.

  “I don’t suppose any of you have something to write with?” Elfbones tried the next table along.

  “Like a pen or a pencil?” replied the nearest of the three men sitting at the table.

  “Either would do,” said Elfbones.

  “You don’t have a preference?”

  “No. As long as I can write with it.”

  “But you’d need something to write on? Some paper?”

  “Ideally.”

  “I haven’t got no paper,” said the man.

  “I have,” said the furthest of the three as he produced a scrap of paper no larger than the palm of his hand.

  “Oh, well, that would be a start. Thank you,” said Elfbones. He turned to the nearest of the three. “And if you have a pen or pencil…”.

  “Haven’t got either,” said the man.

  Elfbones tried not to show his exasperation.

  “Use your blood,” said the furthest of the three.

  “Pardon.”

  “Your blood. Prick a finger and there you have it - a pen.”

  “Don’t be dumb,” said the nearer man. “You wouldn’t be able to achieve a legible level of writing like that. The line would be thick, uneven, and prone to smudging. And the writing would have to be comically large. Certainly too large for that piddling little scrap that you’re offering. Plus, with any sizeable missive, there would be a real risk of passing out.”

  The further of the three men looked dejected.

  The nearer man continued, “What you could use is your own cr—” The clattering as someone at a nearby table accidentally knocked a tin cup to the floor drown out the end of the sentence.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Elfbones.

  The middle of the three men had woken up and produced something from his pocket. “I’ve got a pen,” he said in a slow drawl. A drawl that suggested he had been drinking something stronger than the water.

  “That isn’t any better,” said the further man, ignoring his colleague with the pen. He thrust a finger at the nearer man. “You’d still have a problem with line width and smudging.”

  “It doesn’t work, though,” said the man in the middle with a shrug.

  “Well, you don’t use your finger. We’re not animals.”

  “What do you use, then?”

  “You could use this.” The nearer man snatched the pen from the middle man’s hand. The middle man immediately fell back to sleep. “Just dip the nib in and…”

  The further man screwed up his face. “No-one’s going to want to read a letter written like that.”

  The nearer man turned to Elfbones, “Who is the letter for?”

  “My parents.”

  The man slipped the pen into the sleeping man’s breast pocket. “Yeah, maybe not.”

  These three were of little use. Elfbones made his way around the room in an unsuccessful hunt for a pen and paper. A wave of whispers and dark glances followed him.

  Elfbones was about to engage an elderly butler he was sure would have some writing paraphernalia. But before he could, he found himself propelled through a nearby doorway.

  Holding him against the cold metal wall was a handsome young footman.

  “You’re in a lot of trouble,” the young footman said.

  “What? Why?” said Elfbones.

  “You are the young man from the ball? The one on the run?”

  There was a commotion in the communal room.

  “What are you doing, Peppard?” came a demanding voice from within. Elfbones watched in fear as shadows crowded into the corridor, their owners close behind.

  The young footman dragged Elfbones by the collar. At the other end of the corridor, a ramp led up to another large metal door. The footman heaved it open and the two of them hustled through.

  As he closed the door behind him, the footman produced a large pill from his pocket. It was the same as the one Elfbones had seen the professor take on the docks. He sliced it roughly in two with his thumbnail and swallowed half. The other half he offered to Elfbones. Elfbones’ instinct was to pull away.

  “There is no way forward without it,” said the footman, pushing the half tablet into Elfbones’ hand. “And if we don’t move forward, you’ll have to deal with that lot.”

  As he spoke, the door handle turned. The footman held onto it, preventing the door from opening. “It’s up to you. Pill or mob.”

  Elfbones did not know what the pill was or how it could help him. He knew he didn’t want to find out what the mob on the other side of the door was going to do to him, though. Plus, he didn’t think it was too risky if the professor had taken one. He popped the half tablet into his mouth and swallowed hard. After a second or two, he felt a fizzing in his chest and a pleasant lightheadedness.

  “Good man,” said the footman. “We’re going in there.” He pointed to an area several feet away, where a staircase descended from the ceiling into a pool of water. “Stand on the edge and fall forward. Just like they do when boarding.”

  Elfbones understood where they were going. This was the waterline. He moved to the edge of the pool of water and tried to prepare himself for the plunge.

  “Go!” The footman was losing his grip on the door handle.

  Elfbones fell forward into the pool. As he plunged into the water, the world rotated about him, throwing his equilibrium out for a moment. He floated in a corridor much like the one above. He knew he was upside down, only everything here was the right way up.

  A flurry of bubbles accompanied the footman as he fell into the water next to Elfbones. His feet found the floor, and he tugged a still floating Elfbones away from the stairwell. Hands reached into the water from the corridor above, grasping at the two of them.

  With his feet on the floor - once the ceiling - Elfbones regained his equilibrium.

  “You OK?” said the footman, the words bubbling from his mouth. Elfbones nodded, instinctively keeping his mouth closed. It then dawned on him that he was breathing. He was underwater but breathing.

  “The tablet,” he said as he gestured to his chest.

  “It’s an odd feeling, isn’t it? Half a tablet should be enough to see us through to Akalodgia.” The footman extended a hand. “Tedric Peppard.”

  Elfbones shook it, “Elfbones.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, not really, but—”

  “It doesn’t matter. Elfbones it is. Listen, we need to get out of this section of the ship. Once we’re outside, we’ll be in a better position to discuss the situation. OK?”

  Elfbones nodded.

  “Quietly then.” And Tedric led Elfbones down the corridor away from the staircase and the angry mob.

  The pair crept through inner rooms and corridors. They then emerged from a doorway onto an open deck.

  “Usually, we lowly servants would be free to use this deck on a voyage such as this. But when you submerge half the ship and cheap out on tablets…”. Tedric trailed off. “You never answered me.”

  Elfbones wasn’t listening. He was staring up into the inky abyss below the ship. Tedric gave his shoulder a shake.

  “Are you the boy? The one they’re looking for?”

  Elfbones nodded. “How do you — how do they know about that?”

  “You made quite a splash. Word gets around.”

  “But,” said Elfbones, “I mean, how do they know it was me? The king didn’t allow servants into the ballroom. None of you would have seen my face before.”

  “They summoned one of the old boys to bring chalk tablets for his master - a severe case of the indigestion, I believe. They allowed him as far as the main ballroom door, but he glimpsed you as you ran for it. Once he clocked you here, word soon spread.”

  “They were so angry.”

  “More at me than you. There’ll no doubt be a healthy reward for whoever turns you in to the authorities. I’m guessing they thought I was making a play to keep the whole thing to myself.”

  “That’s not what you’re doing?”

  “No. Well, probably not. Come here.” Tedric walked Elfbones over to the guardrail, then turned and pointed to the upper levels of the ship. Light spilled out of them. The light reflected off a multitude of precious metals and gemstones. As much as the lower decks were steel, rust and grease, the upper decks were gold, rubies and diamonds.

  “One level down from the main deck, two portholes in. Do you see?”

  Elfbones squinted and counted the portholes. The second one in was open.

  “The open one?” said Elfbones.

  “The very one. My mistress’s room. It’s always the same room whatever ship we sail on. A superstitious old boot, she is. And always an open porthole. For the fresh air. Or, in this case, the fresh water.” Tedric leant his face close to Elfbones’. “There will be a mahogany box on a table, dresser - whatever is closest to her bed. Inside is an emerald the size of your fist. Take it and replace it with something of equivalent weight.”

  “Wait. What?” said Elfbones.

  “Get up there and steal the emerald,” said Tedric.

  “I will steal nothing.” Elfbones backed away from Tedric until he bumped against the guardrail. He gripped it so, that flakes of rust crumbled from it.

  “You’re on the run from the royal guard. Old Jasper wants your head. What are you risking? Just grab it, then lie low down here until we dock. Find a cupboard or something. Chances are she won’t notice it’s gone until she returns home, and you’ll be away and free by then.”

  “I have done nothing wrong,” Elfbones protested. “I’m not about to change that.”

  “There’s very little risk. It’s dinnertime. The room will probably be empty.”

  “Probably?”

  “It will be empty. Climb up there (easily done underwater), snatch it, keep it safe until dock, and I’ll find you, relieve you of the burden.”

  “I won’t do it,” said Elfbones, folding his arms.

  “Look, either I get emerald rich tonight, or I get bounty rich.”

  Elfbones’ face dropped as he saw the bind he was in.

  “Which is it?” said Tedric.

  With an exasperated sigh, Elfbones mumbled, “Emerald rich.”

  “Good man. Good man!” Tedric seemed fit to burst. He turned to look up at the upper deck, “Oh, what a day. This,” he threw his arms wide, as though attempting to embrace the entire ship, “this is how I will travel from now on. But up there, in the finest suite with the finest view. I will know every port and travel far and —”

  He turned to face Elfbones, then stopped. The guardrail had snapped. It left behind only a rusty, jagged protrusion and a space. A space through which Elfbones had fallen. Fallen after Tedric had flung his arms wide and hit Elfbones square in the chest.

  Tedric peered over the side of the ship and saw Elfbones falling past the hull towards the surface of the sea. He panicked and looked about for a member of the crew. Seeing no-one - no witness to what he had done - he sighed with relief. He slipped back inside the ship to tell the other servants of his brush with death. Of how he had grappled with the ferocious fugitive Elfbones. And of how he had tried, but failed, to prevent his escape.

  Elfbones grasped for the ship’s hull, but it was out of reach. He couldn’t understand why he was falling upwards. If he was going to fall anywhere, it would be towards the sea floor, surely. Then he remembered the fizzing sensation in his chest. Something that he had become accustomed to in the time he had spent with Tedric. But, now that he thought about it, he noticed he was being lifted towards the surface by his chest. A chest filled with air from the half-tablet he had swallowed.

  It was also this that made it difficult to swim. It took enormous effort to move closer to the ship, which was only several feet away. Elfbones made frantic pulls and kicks against the water. In time, he got close enough to put his hand on the hull. He had risen now to a point where the ship’s hull was smooth and featureless - no portholes, nothing much to grab hold of. His hand slid across its surface, the friction unable to slow his ascent.

  As he breached the surface in a flurry of bubbles, Elfbones thought he saw his hand grab hold of the ship. The thought was fleeting, as he realised both hands were empty. That hand he had seen gripping the hull belonged to another. It was claw-like and had a firm grip on the smooth metal surface. Elfbones couldn’t make out much more than a tall figure who seemed to climb aboard the ship from the sea. But, for the life of him, Elfbones could not see a boat anywhere from which they may have alighted.

  Caught up in the ship’s wake, he bobbed and turned. He struggled to keep the figure in sight as it climbed with relative ease up the exposed hull.

  Soon the wake dissipated and Elfbones floated alone. The King Jasper sailed on towards the horizon. Atop its inverted metal bulk stood a dark figure, joined by two identical others. Who, or what, they were, Elfbones wasn’t sure. But, in that moment, Elfbones felt more concern for those onboard the ship than for himself. Even as he drifted alone on the vast ocean.