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By Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell

Due to the fact that his youth within the DeepWoods, younger Twig has continuously longed to start above the wooded area cover and discover the sky. Now a team member on his father’s sky pirate send, the Stormchaser, his dream turns out fulfilled. yet a miles larger future awaits Twig. The lofty urban of Sanctaphrax—built on a huge rock, floating excessive within the sky—is on the element of catastrophe. The city’s destiny depends on stormphrax—a beneficial substance to be had simply from the guts of a superb typhoon. And basically the Stormchaser, with Twig onboard, may well hazard coming into a hurricane. . . .

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Can’t say as i love this over-much,’ he grumbled because the sparking blue mild performed all around his fingers. Stope Boltjaw regarded up from the skysail he used to be busy repairing. ‘It’s ah taking part in ha-fl/i-voc with my ah jaw,’ he gasped. Tern grinned. ‘It’s now not ah fu-ah-nny! ’ he complained. ‘But it truly is! ’ Tern Barkwater chuckled as his shipmate’s reduce jaw persevered to open and shut with a will of its personal. Years prior, Stope Boltjaw had misplaced his reduce jaw in the course of a fierce conflict among his sky pirate send and league ships. A notoriously ruthless leaguesman by means of the identify of Ulbus Pentephraxis had crept up on him along with his looking awl, and struck him a savage blow which had stuck him sideways on, slightly below his ear. whilst he recovered, Stope had shaped a alternative from a bit of ironwood. as long as he remembered to maintain the bolts good oiled, the fake jaw served him good adequate – not less than, it had performed up beforehand. From the instant the Stormchaser penetrated the good typhoon, the curious electric strength had prompted it to gape large and slam close, repeatedly – and there has been not anything Stope Boltjaw may well do to prevent it. ‘How ah for much longer ah is that this happening? ’ he groaned. ‘Till we get to the Twilight Woods, I reckon’ acknowledged Tern Barkwater. ‘Which should be in nearly … 9 minutes,’ Spiker known as down from the rigging. ‘Nine minutes,’ Slyvo Spleethe repeated gleefully below his breath. The quartermaster, who were despatched to ascertain that the mooring-cleats have been maintaining up, yet was once now leaning opposed to the poop-deck handrail staring at idly into the hypnotic swirl of the clouds all around them, glanced around. ‘Keep it up, Quintinius Verginix,’ he sneered. ‘Complete your trip to the Twilight Woods. recuperate the stormphrax. Then I shall make my circulation. And woe betide someone who…’ He gasped. ‘What in Sky’s identify? ’ The sight of Twig, status within the doorway of the little cabin above the staircase, stuffed Spleethe with an out of control rage. If Cloud Wolf must also see him, then all will be misplaced. with no moment’s inspiration, Spleethe dashed off in the direction of him. Twig appeared approximately him in a nation of bewildered pleasure. His slender break out from the flat-head goblin had left him breathless and edgy. Now, as he took in his atmosphere, his center clamoured extra urgently than ever. The air used to be crimson; it smelled of sulphur, of burnt milk. all over the sky send, the enveloping clouds boiled and writhed and crackled with blinding lightning. His physique tingled as tentacles of blue gentle wrapped themselves round him, inflicting each hair to face on finish. This used to be stormchasing! The workforce have been feverishly busy, with Hubble, the ferocious albino banderbear, tethered to the helm, and Cloud Wolf totally fascinated about the sail and weight levers as he struggled to take care of either velocity and raise. What a time to need to demonstrate that he had stowed away on board; what a second to need to holiday the inside track of the approaching mutiny. ‘Yet i've got no selection’ Twig muttered grimly. Already, he might pay attention the wood hatchway splintering lower than him.

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