HE BOAT ROCKED WILDLY FROM SIDE TO SIDE AS DELPHI landed. It tipped down into the ocean, taking on water as it righted itself. An oar slipped from Oland’s grip with the fright. Delphi caught it before it fell. But there was no laughter. Oland knew that Delphi had just risked her life by jumping across water on to a moving boat. And Delphi had just encouraged Oland to carry on with a journey she felt was doomed.

“Thank you,” was all Oland said.

“I hope Standback will wait for us,” she said. Then she looked out at the sea, quietly troubled by the pockets of black sand bursting beneath the surface.

 

They reached Curfew Peak as darkness was falling. Their faces were rough with sea salt, their eyes stinging. Their arms ached from rowing, but still they pulled the boat to the shore and secured it in a sheltered cove. A line of wooden stakes stretched along the beach, just below the dunes. As the sky was turning its darkest grey, the sound of half-broken voices drifted down from behind them.

“The Pyreboys,” said Oland.

Oland and Delphi crouched down and watched as six skinny boys in long grey robes appeared at the stakes. They all looked to be somewhere between twelve and nineteen years old, with straight hair to their shoulders, alabaster skin and dark shadows under their eyes. They wore red kerchiefs tied in a knot around their necks.

Each had a bag filled with birch twigs slung across his body. They collected sticks and branches from the dunes and set them in a pile by the rocks not far from where Oland and Delphi were hiding. One of the Pyreboys took out a tinderbox and, before long, the fire was lit and the boys’ faces were illuminated.

They each held a twig to the flames, then set about lighting all the torches along the shore. They returned and gathered around the fire. One of the boys, who looked to be about seventeen, sat cross-legged, clutching his ankles. His hunched shoulders and sunken chest making him appear more timid than he sounded when he spoke.

“Welcome,” he said dramatically, and as if he had never met his fellow Pyreboys before. He raised his eyebrows, and looked each one of them in the eye. “Have you ever heard the legend of… Praevisia?” He said the name in a whisper.

“No,” said the other boys.

“Blaise, it’s my turn to tell a story,” said the smallest boy. He was waiflike, like something carved as an almost life-sized figurine. As he turned, it was clear that he was missing his right forearm.

“It’s not your turn,” said Blaise. “The last time you told a story, Frax, it was about the drogues. Again. Not tonight. Tonight you need to listen to a different legend.”

“Sorry, Blaise,” said another boy. “It is Frax’s turn.” He gave Blaise a worried look over Frax’s head, as if it would be wise to do what the small boy wanted.

“Frax it shall be!” said Blaise, his eyes wide in mock enthusiasm.

Frax leaned into the circle and began, his lips barely parting as he spoke. “On a wild, hot night, a prison ship rocked up on an island shore, and a stowaway emerged from below deck with a box under his arm. He was met by a band of dastardly boys! But then he knew he would be met by them! They were no surprise. They were exactly what he was here for. They were the Pyreboys of Curfew Peak.

“‘For the volunteer brave among you,’ said the man, opening his box and revealing rows of glass vials, filled with a cloudy liquid. He pulled one out. ‘Try this,’ he said. ‘It has the power to transform your miserable lives. If the magic captures you, you shall have the chance to leave this island before your sentence ends.’

“Four boys stepped forward and each drank a vial. The man smiled, and it was a terrible smile.

“‘But what do we do next?’ said one of the brave boys.

“‘You simply wait, and you will know,’ said the man. ‘Ownership of Curfew Peak has passed on to me. I will return, and I will assess your… transformation.’

“‘What kind of transformation?’ said one of these four boys.

“‘If I told you that you would forever be free,’ said the man, ‘what would you say? If I told you that you could go to places where no one else had been, what would you say?’

“‘I would say “yes”,’ said two more boys, stepping forward to join the others. Only a handful remained behind – they were the older ones, close to being released, with no need to take a risk.

“The man with the magic began to leave, but turned towards the peak instead of the sea.

“‘Wait,’ said one of the boys, ‘where are you going?’

“‘To explore my island,’ said the man.

“‘No one explores Curfew Peak,’ said the boy. ‘It’s not safe.’

“‘I’m not afraid of criminals,’ said the man.

“‘There are more than just criminals to fear,’ said the boy.

“The man laughed. He grabbed a bunch of birch twigs from one of the boys and took a light from the fire. Away up the peak he walked with his makeshift torch. Before long, he was just a shadow.”

Frax turned and traced his hand across the dunes behind him.

“But,” he said, as he turned back to them, “the story was not over yet! For, high on a ridge above him, one by one, six silhouettes slowly filled the dying white circle of the moon; drawn to him like… drogues to a flame.”

The Pyreboys gasped.

“You just threw in that last part about the drogues!” said Blaise.

“And what of it?” said Frax. “Did I not end it in style? Or do you want to hear what happened after the drogues pounced?” Frax’s eyes moved as if they were each travelling to different parts.

Blaise stood up. “I’m hungry,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“But wait!” said Frax. “Don’t you want to hear the cruel, cruel trick that the magic man played—”

“Why would we want to hear that?” said Blaise, turning on him. “You are insane!”

“Oh, Blaise, we all know it has a happy ending!” said Frax. “After, of course, the six brave boys were caged. Yes! Can you imagine? The magic man offered them freedom, but when he saw how well his magic worked, how free they would really be, they were all caged… them and all the brave boys who followed them!” He howled with laughter.

“Blaise, sit down, tell us your story,” said another of the Pyreboys.

“Later, Stoker,” said Blaise. He began to walk away.

“I’m sure it will be gripping,” said Frax, darting in front of Blaise, shooting forward and clutching his throat with his one hand.

Blaise pushed him away, knocking him off balance. “Get away from me, you lunatic.”

But Frax was already running ahead, laughing a high, curious laugh.