Free The Frost Child by Eoin McNamee Page A

tops of their masts on the horizon. He felt a thrill of fear. Even from this distance the Harsh fleet was impressive. He examined the chart and the Mortmain. They couldn't be far from the Workhouse, and as he came closer, he saw that there were Harsh standing in the rigging of the great ships. Ready to take in sail , he thought, and when they did, they would emerge at the Workhouse.
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    As the Wayfarer rose and fell jagged fragments of spray struck the chain-mail armor and his face mask, but still he urged her on. On the first ship, a sail was run down and then another, but he was still too far away to attract their attention. He looked around wildly, then saw the magno gun. He grabbed it and fitted one of the glass missiles. Shooting one-handed from the bucking deck of the Wayfarer , he wasn't likely to do much damage, but he might attract their attention. He put the gun to his shoulder and fired. The missile arched into the air and exploded. As the magno spread in the shimmering sky, it pulsed a deep blue. The Harsh stopped what they were doing and looked up. It bought Owen a precious minute. By the time they bent back to the sails, he was within hailing distance.
    "Hey, you!" he shouted. "Hey!"
    The Wayfarer sailed under the bow of the lead ship. The Harsh were high above him, but he could see a group of them clustered round the wheel. They were in their true shape of ancient kings and queens, haughty and evil-looking, but the Harsh in the rigging were in the form of teenagers--young men and women with spoiled faces.
    The Wayfarer tossed wildly in the bow wash from the massive ship. The dark planks of the ship's bow reared above him, and Owen could see that there was ice between the planks, as though it held the ship together. Fighting to keep on his feet, he reached for the magno gun again. He fitted a missile and fired wildly in the
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    direction of the ship. The bolt glanced harmlessly off the ship's planks and exploded in the air. Three of the younger Harsh ran to the side and looked over.
    "Come on, frostface!" Owen shouted, wheeling the boat around. "Come down and fight!"
    Above his head, a gun port opened and the muzzle of a cannon appeared. Owen barely had enough time to turn away before a bolt of ice flew over the top of the Wayfarer's mast with a vicious buzz.
    I don't want to be shot at , Owen thought. I want to be followed! As far as he could see, the rest of the ship's crew were ignoring him. In fact, more sails were coming down, the fleet slowing as they did so. He needed something more.
    Easing the Wayfarer back around the bow of the lead ship, out of range of the cannon, he found himself looking up at a group of the Harsh. And in the middle of them stood the Harsh queen.
    "Down here," he shouted, "down here!" His voice sounded shrill and small, but the wind died a little and the queen looked down. Owen lifted the mask so that she could see his face. The queen gave a silent bellow of rage, sending an icy blast of air downward, spinning the Wayfarer around and heeling her over so far that she almost capsized. Owen was thrown against the rail, cracking his head. He tried to stand up but swayed. The pirate queen turned to the helmsman. He spun the wheel. Owen looked up and saw the massive bow of the ship turn toward the Wayfarer . She had righted herself,
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    but he couldn't reach the tiller and the boat was sailing right under the Harsh ship's bow! With a sickening crunch the iron bow of the ship struck the Wayfarer's rail. The wood buckled but held, though great splinters flew off into the air. As Owen finally reached the tiller, he thought that he could feel the Wayfarer's timbers shiver and flinch.
    The Wayfarer leapt free of the ship and within seconds she was a hundred yards ahead. Owen looked back. The fleet was turning slowly to follow him. His plan had worked. He had a good start, but then the entire Harsh fleet was on his tail. They were raising sail again. The chase was on.
    Shortly after Owen