Behind the Sorcerer's Cloak by Andrea Spalding Page B

with confidence. He shipped the oars, pushed up the sleeves of his thick navy blue sweater and held the boat steady against the floats. “Come on. She’s quite safe.”
    â€œYou’re nearest the door. Climb out first, Owen,” instructed Mr. Smythe. “Come down the ladder to the float and hang on to a strut. Holly, you help Chantel down, and Owen and I will grab her. Myrddin, sit tight and balance the weight. We’ll go next with the luggage.”
    It took some time for the three children to disembark from the plane, balance on the float and clamber into the rowboat, but everyone managed without falling into the water.
    â€œSuper cool,” said Owen as they left the rowboat and scrambled up the harbor steps. He stared around with interest.
    The flapping corner of a poster caught his eye.
    Peel Viking Festival it announced. WANTED: Volunteers for the role of Vikings to re-enact a raid on Peel castle .
    Owen’s eyes shone. Now that was the sort of thing he would love to do. Pity they had other things on their minds. As he scanned the harbor he spotted replicas of the dragon-prowed Viking longboats, bobbing among the fishing vessels.
    â€œLook at the Viking longboats. After this is over, do you think we’ll be able to cadge a ride in one?” he asked.
    Chantel and Holly didn’t answer.
    Holly stared at the castle at the end of the causeway.
    Chantel leaned over the far side of the causeway wall, watching the breaking waves.
    â€œI’d love to be part of the Viking raid,” said Owen. He stared wistfully at the longboats, then turned his attention to the fishing village of Peel on the other side of the estuary. “We must be staying over there,” he said, pointing at the rows of stone cottages that lined winding streets. “Which do you think is our hotel?”
    Chantel joined him, but Holly never turned her head. She wasn’t interested in boats; she wasn’t interested in the town of Peel. She needed to find Breesha’s grave and she needed to find it soon.
    AARCK.
    A lone raven soared above her and disappeared over the castle walls.
    I call upon the raven to guide her. Sigurd’s words at Breesha’s graveside echoed in Holly’s mind. If the raven was a guide, she should follow it. Holly began to run.
    â€œHey up, Holly. Wait for Mr. Smythe and Myrddin,” protested Owen.
    â€œThey’ll see us. It’s not far. Come on. Follow the raven,” Holly shouted.
    Surprised, Owen and Chantel looked at each other, then across the water to the plane. Mr. Cubbon had rowed back out, and the adults were struggling to unloaded luggage from the rear of the plane into his boat.
    â€œOY! Mr. Smythe!” hollered Owen.
    Mr. Smythe turned. The rowboat wobbled, and he lunged forward and grabbed the float. He steadied himself, turned again and shook his fist.
    Owen grinned. He cupped his hands to his mouth. “We’ll wait by the castle,” he yelled and pointed.
    Mr. Smythe raised a hand in agreement and turned back to the plane.
    â€œRight. Now we’re off the hook!” Owen said, grinning.
    The two cousins raced down the causeway after Holly.

    AARK, cried the raven. He stared down from the red sandstone battlements above the castle gatehouse.
    Holly stared up. “What are you trying to tell me?” she called.
    With a creak of wings, a second bird swooped down to join him. They rubbed beaks and watched the girl with two sets of beady eyes.
    â€œYour mate is a white raven. That’s really rare!” Holly’s voice was full of awe. “Light and Dark, Dark and Light. You’re a pair of magical birds.”
    The white raven hopped along the battlement to be closer to the girl. The bird tilted her head to one side, then the other, spread her wings and flew back inside the castle.
    AARK. The black raven followed.
    â€œSo? What’s the hurry? Why did you rush off?” panted Owen as he and Chantel caught