Chapter Seven

Harriet came round with the wind rushing against her face. Her eyes watered. A muscle spasm cramped her right thigh. She was still in the net. There was nothing she could do but clench her teeth and wait for the pain to go away.

The net swung through the sky, suspended beneath an ornithopter, she and her crew bundled up like a catch of airborne fish.

At least they ain’t killed us yet.

The forest sped below them, a green blur. They were packed in too tight to move. Harriet twisted her head to one side and found herself nose to nose with Sibelius. It was pointless to try and speak. He winked at her. She winked back. We’ll get out o’ this scrape, Sibelius, she thought. I just dunno how.

Leaving the forest behind, they flew over multi-colored meadows. Herds of unicorn grazed; golden peacocks fanned their tail feathers; rainbow salmon leaped glistening from the river. They gained altitude, climbing the side of the mountain.

Waterfalls cascaded down the rocks. Shaggy goats with curling horns bucked over the slopes, nibbling on stubby plants pushing from the cracks.

As they flew over the city walls, Harriet saw paved streets and houses with leaded windows; gardens and bathing pools; ladies, children, dandies and gentlemen about their daily business in sunlit squares and cobbled courtyards. People stared, shading their eyes against the sun and pointing, as Harriet and her crew swung overhead.

The palace soared skyward, its pinnacled towers bejeweled by a thousand windows. Blimey, makes any Up-Topper’s place back in Lundoon look like a hovel.

The ornithopter slowed, approaching a wide oval surfaced with white sand, encircled by a marble wall. Harriet’s stomach lurched as the aircraft swooped downward. S’going to be a bumpy landing, I reckon. She braced herself. A yard above the ground, the hook released. The net dropped. Harriet and the others landed with a thud! Harriet spat sand and blinked. Another couple o’ bruises won’t make much difference, I s’pose. The ornithopter banked round and sped away, back into the blue.

The net loosened and Harriet struggled free.

It was hot. The sun reflected on the sand, dazzling them; but at last, sweating, bleeding, bruised, weakened and ragged, her companions struggled to their feet, dragging themselves clear of the knotted ropes.

The chack-chack-chack of guns being primed echoed around the oval. A harsh voice shouted, “Stand your ground!”