Septimus Heap, Book One_ Magyk - Angie Sage [33]
Although Marcia looked surprised at being spoken to so directly, she approved. Spoken like a true Princess, she thought.
“Very well,” agreed Marcia. “I could try a Fog. I can do that in fifty-three seconds. If it’s cold and damp enough.”
Muriel’s crew was sure that there were no problems with the cold and damp bit. They just hoped they had fifty-three seconds left.
“Everyone stop paddling,” instructed Marcia. “Keep still. And quiet. Very quiet.” Muriel’s crew did as they were told, and in the silence that fell, they heard a new sound in the distance. The rhythmic splash of the bullet boat’s oars.
Marcia gingerly stood up, wishing that the floor wouldn’t move around so much. Then she leaned against the mast to steady herself, took a deep breath and threw her arms wide, her cloak flying out like a pair of purple wings.
“Murken Wake!” the ExtraOrdinary Wizard whispered as loud as she dared. “Murken Wake and Refuge Make!”
It was a beautiful spell. Jenna watched as thick white clouds gathered themselves together in the bright moonlit sky, quickly obscuring the moon and bringing down a deep chill into the night air. In the darkness all became deathly still as the first delicate tendrils of mist started rising from the black water as far as the eye could see. Faster and faster the tendrils grew, gathering together and growing into thick swathes of Fog, as the mist from the marshes rolled over the water to join them. In the very center, in the eye of the Fog, sat Muriel, becalmed and patiently waiting as the mist tumbled, swirled and thickened around her.
Soon Muriel was blanketed by a deep white thickness that struck a damp chill into Jenna’s bones. Next to her she felt Boy 412 start shivering badly. He was still chilled from his time under the snow.
“Fifty-three seconds precisely,” Marcia’s voice muttered from out of the Fog. “Not bad.”
“Shhhh,” shushed Silas.
Thick white silence fell in the little boat. Slowly Jenna lifted her hand and placed it in front of her wide-open eyes. She could see nothing but whiteness. But she could hear everything.
She could hear the synchronized splash of ten knife-sharp oars being dipped into the water and out again, in and out, in and out. She could hear the swishing whisper of the bullet boat’s prow slicing through the river, and now—now the bullet boat was so close that she could even hear the labored breathing of the oarsmen.
“Stop!” the Hunter’s voice boomed through the Fog. The splash of the oars ceased and the bullet boat drifted to a halt. Inside the Fog Muriel’s occupants held their breath, convinced that the bullet boat was very close indeed. Maybe close enough for them to reach out and touch. Or close enough even for the Hunter to leap onto Muriel’s crowded deck….
Jenna felt her heart beating fast and loud, but she made herself breathe slowly, silently, and stay completely still. She knew that although they could not be seen, they could still be heard. Nicko and Marcia were doing the same. Silas was too, with the added interest of having one hand clasped around Maxie’s long, damp muzzle to stop him from howling and the other hand slowly and calmly stroking the agitated wolfhound, who had become quite spooked by the Fog.
Jenna could feel Boy 412’s constant shivering. She slowly reached out her arm and pulled him close to her to try and warm him up. Boy 412 seemed tense. Jenna could tell he was listening hard to the Hunter’s voice.
“We have them!” the Hunter was saying. “This is a Hexed Fog if ever I saw one. And what do you always find in the middle of a Hexed Fog? One hexing Wizard. And her accomplices.” His low, self-satisfied chuckle drifted through the Fog and made Jenna shiver.
“Give…yourselves…up.” The Hunter’s disembodied voice enveloped Muriel. “The Qu—the Princess has nothing to fear from us. Neither do the rest of you. We are only concerned for your own safety and wish to escort you back to the Castle before you have an unfortunate accident.”
Jenna hated the Hunter’s oily voice. She hated the way they could not escape it, the