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Guron | The Battle of Farrowfell | E-Book | sack.de
E-Book

E-Book, Englisch, Band 3, 304 Seiten

Reihe: The Thief of Farrowfell

Guron The Battle of Farrowfell


Main
ISBN: 978-0-571-37125-9
Verlag: Faber & Faber
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, Band 3, 304 Seiten

Reihe: The Thief of Farrowfell

ISBN: 978-0-571-37125-9
Verlag: Faber & Faber
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark



Jude Ripon must fight to defend Farrowfell in its darkest hour. The thrilling finale to the epic fantasy series from bestselling and award-winning author, Ravena Guron. Jude is living happily with Moorley, Uncle Runie and Spry. But then the Dark Rivers start failing and raw magic is everywhere. The Consortium jumps into action and assures everyone that the situation is under control, but the people they are arresting are never seen again. And anyway, Jude knows better than to trust those in power. Jude and Moorley must find a way to reverse the effects of the raw magic. Consortium guards are everywhere and all their usual leads are sending them to dead ends, until Jude meets a strange boy called Darcius who seems to know far more than he should . . . Can they resist the temptation of raw magic and save Farrowfell once and for all? Readers love the world of Farrowfell: 'Very exciting. I love the edible magic.' 'I absolutely adored it.' 'Highly recommended.' 'A very entertaining, well plotted and fast paced story.' 'The idea of edible magic was original and inspired.' 'Hugely imaginative.' 'Great world-building.' 'Superb.' 'Very original.' 'I was hooked. 10/10.'

Ravena Guron is a British Indian biochemist turned lawyer turned MG author, a superb new voice who brings her own captivating brand of energy, wild adventures and joy to the genre. The Thief of Farrowfell is the first in the series following Jude Ripon, and was shortlisted for Penguin's WriteNow scheme, as well as being highly commended in the FAB Prize. Ravena also writes YA, including the acclaimed This Book Kills. Ravena is a Londoner through and through: born, raised and educated in London, she lives there still.
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Jude woke late. She stretched, not particularly refreshed after the snatches of sleep she had managed, but more alert than she had felt in ages.

Normally she would be up early to get to Dockledair School which – unlike Ricklewood, the posh school she’d attended while she and Moorley lived with their friends Fin and Eri Weston – she actually enjoyed. One of her favourite subjects was Theory of Magic-Making, in which her teacher encouraged everyone to invent the most incredible magic – though the calculations aspect was still quite tricky, figuring out what quantity of raw magic and ingredients she needed. Another favourite lesson was History of Farrowfell. Jude especially liked learning about explorers who blazed new trails, going where no one had ever gone before.

But it was the Gathering holidays, so-called because it used to be when children stayed off school to help their parents collect raw magic from where it fell in the Wild Lands. Now it was just called the summer break. The dangerous task of collecting raw magic was given to gatherers who were well trained in the job. Jude had weeks of freedom ahead of her and she allowed herself to smile. Even if she liked her new school, it was nice to enjoy a lie-in—

An alarm pealed. The walls of the house glowed red.

She leapt to her feet, her heart hammering.

‘Get back!’ someone shrieked from downstairs. Jude raced out on to the landing and looked over the banister to the living room below. Spry, her eighteen-year-old cousin, was holding up a dinner plate like a shield against a noxious-looking bright green gas that billowed from a small metal ball.

Moorley’s bedroom door slammed open as she ran out, already dressed for the day.

‘What’s going on?’ she said.

‘Looks like another one of Spry’s inventions has gone bad,’ said Jude, as the gas took the shape of a small human-like figure and began to circle Spry. Their older cousin loved inventing things, and more often than not they all had to put up with the consequences of his latest bizarre creation. He turned, still holding up the dinner plate.

‘How long do you think he’ll last?’ said Moorley.

‘Could one of you help?’ called Spry. ‘I think it’s trying to kill me!’

‘Two minutes,’ said Jude decisively. ‘That green thing is probably quite deadly, but Spry’s quick so he’s got that in his favour.’

‘What’s going on?’ said Uncle Runie, emerging from his bedroom.

‘Please, someone help!’ said Spry. ‘My invention has gone terribly wrong!’

‘At least it happened when I was already awake,’ said Uncle Runie with a sigh. ‘Much more convenient.’ He leaned on the wood, resting his head on his arm.

Spry picked up a cushion from the couch and threw it at the gas creature, but it just passed straight through. The creature opened its mouth and let out a high-pitched shriek that made Jude clamp her hands over her ears.

‘Try throwing the plate,’ yelled Jude, struggling to hear herself over the wailing.

‘No, he shouldn’t throw anything,’ called Uncle Runie, his voice half drowned out by the gas person shrieking louder. ‘That clearly won’t help!’

‘Water!’ said Moorley. ‘That’ll do it.’

Their helpling came out of the kitchen, its hands on its hips in apparent disapproval. Helplings were servants made of raw magic, and they were supposed to help around the house with chores and cooking and all the boring stuff no one really wanted to do. Jude hadn’t had much luck with helplings – the ones at her old home in Ripon Headquarters had been stubborn and never did their jobs properly. They often got important details mixed up, like adding chalk to food instead of cheese. And the Weston helplings had never liked her either. To be fair, though, the first time she met them she had been trying to steal from them.

But Uncle Runie’s helpling was strangely good at its jobs – it kept the house tidy, scrubbing away and pausing to glare at Jude if she ever returned home with muddy trainers. It wore a brown cloak with the hood up over its face and had a habit of skulking around the house, popping out at the oddest times. Jude would have thought it took delight in scaring her if helplings had the ability to feel emotion. Its weakest point was cooking – separately, all its food was delicious, but it combined the oddest things. Last night’s dinner had been chicken drowning in what Jude had thought was gravy … until she took a bite and realised it was melted chocolate.

Eri had remarked that it was probably the most responsible person living in their house – which was slightly concerning, considering that it wasn’t a person.

For the past six months, Jude and Moorley had been living with Uncle Runie and Spry in the village of Crickmedow. Their current relationship with the rest of the Ripon family was … not the best. The Ripons ran a criminal empire and spent their time drinking illegal raw magic to increase their power. And of course there was that time when Jude had accidentally got Grandleader trapped in a star, which hadn’t been great for family relationships. Uncle Runie and Spry weren’t the most conventional parental figures in the world – they also still dabbled in criminal activities – but they cared, and that was what mattered.

The helpling went back into the kitchen and re-emerged with a jug of water which it threw over the green gas person. Immediately the creature vanished, the noise cutting off abruptly.

‘Thanks—’ began Spry before the helping chucked the rest of the water over him. Jude and Moorley sniggered as he spluttered. ‘There was soap in that!’ he said to the helpling’s retreating back.

‘Maybe you need a wash!’ called Uncle Runie, which made Jude and Moorley laugh properly.

***

Spry was always inventing things to help him and Uncle Runie in their business – stealing rare magic from wealthy members of the Consortium and other rich families of Farrowfell – although he had also started selling some of his less dangerous inventions, which was also illegal as none of them had been approved by the Consortium. But he was bringing in a decent amount of extra money and, as he said, no one had exploded yet.

Jude had got used to waking up to loud bangs or Spry claiming his life was in danger. Their neighbours in the village had been concerned at first, coming to check they were OK. But they’d quickly come to realise that the family who lived at the top of the hill were an odd bunch. Jude was often met with disapproving looks from the other villagers.

But they weren’t completely shut out from their neighbours – Holsy, who lived just down the hill and also went to Dockledair, had become a close friend. Life was good.

Uncle Runie and Spry were busy, and Moorley planned to go to higher education after the Gathering holidays. Jude didn’t understand why Moorley wanted to leave – they had never been happier. She liked her new school, she liked living with Uncle Runie and Spry. There was no Grandleader to worry about impressing, there were no strange rumours of dangerous monsters roaming Farrowfell. Things had finally settled down – why would Moorley want to change that?

Sometimes Jude got twinges of longing for parts of her old life. Mostly thieving. Jude missed the rush of adrenaline that only came from escaping what seemed like an impossible situation. She had spent years honing her skills as a thief – she was good at it. The occasions she got to help Runie and Spry didn’t really feel the same. They never let her take charge on account of her ‘only being thirteen’ and ‘needing to do her homework or something.’

‘Why do you have to go so far away?’ said Jude to Moorley as they sat down to a breakfast of toast and butter and some odd blend the helpling had made, which may or may not have been jam. Jude slathered a bit on because the helpling was watching. ‘And why do you need to move there?’ They had had this discussion before but she lived in hope that Moorley might suddenly come to her senses.

‘I want to go to the best place,’ said Moorley. ‘And as much as I love you, I’m not doing a four-hour round trip.’

‘Surely they could sort the port system out,’ said Jude. The ports were Farrowfell’s transportation system. Each port had tamed magic in it that could take a traveller to another port that was linked to it within Farrowfell. But it was not the best system; the ports were randomly linked, so that what could have been a short journey would sometimes take twice as long.

Moorley’s chosen university was in East Farrowfell near the sea, as far away from their home as it...



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