Freeglader Read Online Free PDF

his left he heard commands being issued and he spotted Deadbolt Vulpoon striding through the encampment, barking into a raised megaphone.
    ‘Mud-shoes and mire-poles for everyone!’ he instructed. ‘And eye-shields. Those without should improvise. There's plenty of timber to be had from the old Mire Road.’
    There was a feverish scramble for scraps of wood and, all over the encampment, trogs and trolls, goblins, ghosts and librarians – all aided by the sky pirates – began lashing lengths of wood to the soles of their boots, cutting down sticks to the right length and fashioning eye-shields that would, they hoped, protect them from the dreaded mire-blindness.
    ‘Batten down all crates and boxes!’ Deadbolt's amplified voice continued. ‘Charge your brazier-cages with lufwood, and fix runners to the bottoms of every cart and carriage!’
    Again, there was a scramble for wood, and the air was soon echoing with the sounds of chopping and sawing and hammering as every vehicle had its wheels removed and stowed, to be replaced with long, curved runners which, Earth and Sky willing, would glide effortlessly over the treacherous mud.
    ‘Those with prowlgrins, put them in harness!’ Deadbolt's voiced boomed as he continued marching through the bustling encampment. ‘Those without willhave to strap themselves in. Always pull! Never push!’ He caught sight of a herd of hammelhorns standing forlornly in a shallow pool. ‘And hammelhorns may not , I repeat, not be used for pulling the sledges. They'll only sink. They must be tethered together and led.’ He paused and stood looking round, his hands on his hips. ‘ And get a move on! ' he roared. ‘ We depart at midday! ’
    Rook found Xanth sitting on the remains of the hammelhorn cart, which had been completely stripped of wood for mud-shoes. He was surrounded by four huge mountains of shaggy, mud-caked fur, and smiling broadly.

    ‘I can't understand a word they're saying,’ he laughed as Rook ran up.
    ‘Wumeru!’ Rook shouted out in delight.
    The banderbear turned. ‘Wurrah-lurra! Uralowa leera-wuh!’ she roared, her words accompanied by arm movements, curiously delicate for one so large. Greetings, Rook, he who took the poison-stick. It is good you are back with us.
    ‘Wuh-wuh!’ Rook replied, his hand lightly touching his chest. It was good to hear his banderbear name again. ‘Wurra-weeg, weleera lowah.’ Greetings, friend. Together we shall face the journey ahead.
    ‘Wurra-weeg, wurra-wuh!’ the other banderbears joined in, clustering around Rook in an excited group. There was Wuralo, who he'd rescued from the Foundry Glade; Weeg, with his great, angry scar across one shoulder, and old Molleen, her single tusk glinting in the low sunlight as she tossed her head animatedly about.
    ‘What are they saying? What are they saying?’ said Xanth excitedly, joining the throng.
    ‘They're saying,’ laughed Rook, ‘that they've been searching the camp and have been trying to ask you if you'd heard of me – but you didn't seem to understand a word they said. Molleen here thinks you seem rather stupid, but that it isn't your fault – it's because your hair's so short!’
    Xanth burst into laughter, and the banderbears yodelled in unison.
    ‘Tell her,’ said Xanth, ‘that I'll grow my hair just for her.’
    As the sun rose higher in the milky sky, the chaos of the Mire encampment gradually took on a semblance of order. Every cart was laden, every backpack stuffed full; at Fenbrus Lodd's command, the prowlgrins had been harnessed up to the sledges carrying the precious library crates.
    An hour earlier, following Deadbolt Vulpoon's orders, the Undertowners had started to rope themselves together in groups of twelve. Now, they were all taking up the positions allocated to them by the sky pirates in a huge column, with the family groups and the Great Library at the centre, the sky pirates themselves at thehead and the Ghosts of Screetown bringing up the rear.