The Lightning Key by Jon Berkeley Read Free Book Online

peered through his goggles, concentrating on keeping clear of the ditches and hoping that the road would remain empty of other vehicles until he “got the hang of it,” as Baltinglass had put it. Behind him Little sang a driving song that harmonized perfectly with the engine, and in their wake small birds fluttered dizzily to the ground.
    They made good time along the highway, and after a while Miles began to feel more confident.His shoulders relaxed and he allowed himself to blink now and then. Under Baltinglass of Araby’s shouted tuition he learned to use the gearshift, and to slow down on the corners so that he no longer made the tires squeal and chickens and children dive for cover. The smile on his face grew and grew as Little’s song threaded its way through the morning and the car ate up the road like an insatiable beast. By midafternoon he felt like a king on a well-sprung throne.
    â€œWhere are we now?” shouted Baltinglass of Araby, jerking out of one of his frequent naps.
    â€œWe passed through Nape a little while ago,” said Miles.
    â€œHah!” said Baltinglass, clapping his hands together. “A sterling effort, boy. Pull over when you see a shady spot and we’ll break out some vittles. My tongue’s as dry as a bushman’s ankle and I could eat a small bison on toast.”
    Miles pulled off the road and they rolled to a halt beneath a large oak tree. Baltinglass of Araby hauled the duffel bag from the trunk and before long they were eating tomato bread and vinegar fish, and washing the dust from their throats with parsnip wine. After so many hours of driving Miles could still see the ground rushing toward him, andhe closed his eyes to rest them.
    â€œA Tiger’s Egg, eh?” said Baltinglass at length, wiping his wrinkled lips with his sleeve. “You’re full of surprises, Master Miles. Did you win it in a raffle?”
    â€œIt belonged to my mother,” said Miles, sitting up. “At least, she had it on loan from the Fir Bolg. Have you heard of them too?”
    â€œâ€™Course I have. Hairy little fellas. In fact, I made those ones up myself to liven up a quiet watch on board the HMS Calamity , if I remember rightly.”
    â€œI don’t think so,” said Miles. “I’ve met them.”
    Baltinglass pushed back his woolly hat and scratched his head. “Funny. Did you meet the three-eyed baboons who live underwater in a giant banjo?”
    â€œNo,” said Miles.
    â€œMust have been those that I made up,” said Baltinglass. “So how did your mother persuade the Fir Bolg to part with a Tiger’s Egg?”
    â€œShe made a deal with them,” said Miles.
    Little leaned over the back of the bench seat. “Did you find out what it was?” she asked, showering him with bread crumbs.
    â€œI’m not sure if it’s meant to be a secret,” said Miles hesitantly. He had been reading the diary his mother had kept when she met the Fir Bolg allthose years ago, and though she had died when he was born he still felt a little uncomfortable at the idea of sharing its contents.
    â€œYou can tell us,” said Little. “We won’t tell a soul.”
    â€œYour secret’s safe with me, boy,” yelled Baltinglass in a voice that could be heard half a mile away. “I can’t even remember what I had for supper last night.”
    â€œIt’s hard to make out,” said Miles. “Her writing is strange, and she mixes in a lot of words and symbols that I don’t understand.” He felt inside his coat pocket, where Tangerine was tucked up with Celeste’s worn leather diary. He took it out and thumbed through the closely written pages. “The Fir Bolg can’t stand the light,” he said. “They’ve lived underground for as long as they can remember and can only come out on moonless nights. As far as I can tell, they asked my mother to find a way to cure