Read Online Freeglader by Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell - Free Book Online

hard against the rock. Hands seized him by the shoulders, rolled him round and dragged him up over the lip of rock and onto solid ground. Then they released him.
    Wriggling round awkwardly, Rook managed to loosen the rope and slip free. He climbed shakily to his feet, his stomach churning, his ears ringing. Looking up, he found himself standing in the shelter of a great angular crag of rock, carved and weathered by the Edgeland winds into a monstrous hunched form.
    ‘The gloamglozer,’ Rook whispered.
    The brightly glowing sepia storm was swirling round it on both sides as it poured out over the Edge. Xanth, he saw, was standing beside him, bent double and panting noisily. Straightening up slowly, he put his hands on his hips and took a long, deep breath.
    ‘Thank Sky the mist cleared when it did,’ he said at length, ‘or I'd never have spotted you.’ His face cloudedover. ‘Oh, Rook, I'm so sorry I ran off …’
    Rook silenced him with a wave of his hand. ‘Just thank Sky you were top of the class at ropecraft,’ he said. ‘And that this rock was here to shelter behind …’ His voice faded away. He was feeling increasingly light-headed, and his arms and legs were beginning to ache. ‘It's strange,’ he said softly, ‘but I think I know this place.’
    The pair of them looked out. Even as they had been speaking, the great waves of dust-laden storm-ripples were losing their power, the sepia storm exhausted. And as the roaring softened, the torrent shrank to a trickle and the sparkling light grew dim.
    ‘Come on,’ said Xanth quickly. ‘There's still a chance we can catch up with the others…’
    He stopped and stared at Rook, who had dropped to his knees and was peering cautiously down over the cliff-edge.
    The wind had abruptly changed direction, and was driving in from beyond the Edge once more, icy cold and heavy with moisture. From below, there came eerie sounds of chains clanking and something tap-tap-tapping against the rock-face, while behind, the northerly winds howled through the cracks and crevices of the huge, monstrous-shaped rock.
    Despite the dull pain behind his eyes that made it so difficult for him to focus, Rook was more certain than ever that he knew where he was. He leaned over a little further and…
    Yes, there they were; the great mooring-rings driveninto the rock that he remembered seeing once before. Most were empty, some bore ropes or chains, while from others, there hung the shattered remains of sky pirate ships that had been destroyed where they were moored, swaying in the storm winds like great, bleached skeletons.

    ‘I do know this place, Xanth,’ he called back hoarsely. ‘Wilderness Lair, it's called. The mighty sky pirate fleets used to take refuge here, clinging to the cliff-face like rock-limpets.’
    Xanth made no reply.
    ‘It's the place where the Skyraider was moored,’ Rook went on. He was finding it difficult to catch his breath. ‘You remember the Skyraider ?’ he added, turning to see whether Xanth was paying attention.
    His friend was staring at him, his eyes wide.
    ‘Captain Twig's sky pirate ship,’ Rook said slowly, softly. ‘The one that launched the attack on the Tower of …’ His voice faded away completely. ‘Xanth?’ he said. ‘Xanth, what is it?’
    ‘It … it's …’ Xanth faltered. He looked Rook up and down. ‘You're …’
    Rook gasped. He could see for himself now. Climbing shakily to his feet, he raised a hand to his face. Then the other. Both were glowing. As were his arms, and his chest, his body, his legs…
    ‘Xanth,’ he breathed, as the glowing grew more intense, ‘what's happening to me?’ His head was spinning. His legs turned to jelly. ‘Xanth…’
    He saw his friend running towards him, his arms outstretched, his face creased with concern. Inside and outside, the light grew brighter; dazzling him, blinding him, till he could take no more.
    ‘Help me,’ he whispered, his last words as he crumpled to the ground in