The Last Reckoning
The exhilarating conclusion to the critically acclaimed THE LUCK UGLIES series.“The Luck Uglies has it all: a feisty heroine, monstrous creatures, and a brimful of humor, and horror, to keep the readers turning the pages.” Joseph Delaney, Author of the Spook’s Apprentice seriesRye feared her father, Harmless, might be lost forever after he was driven into the forest Beyond the Shale by his deadly enemy Slinister Varlet. Now Slinister is making moves to claim leadership over the Luck Uglies. Can Rye find her father, save her village and put an end to the fighting for good?Thrilling adventure, impossible choices and an epic battle with very highest stakes.
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Childrenâs Books 2015
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The Luck Uglies: The Last Reckoning
Text copyright © Paul Durham 2016
Map of Village Drowning © Sally Taylor 2016
Map of Beyond the Shale © Pétur Antonsson
Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers 2016
Cover illustration © Jeff Nentrup
Paul Durham and Sally Taylor assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
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Source ISBN: 9780007526949
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007526956
Version: 2016-03-15
For the Durham girls, always. And for
Shadow, our own Gloaming Beast, whoâs
been previously neglected in
these dedications.
CONTENTS
14. SERPENTS OF LONGCHANCE KEEP
22. TRUTHS OF THE HIGH CHIEFTAIN
25. BATTLE FOR THE DEAD FISH INN
30. AN HEIR OF UNKNOWN INTENTIONS
Banter like a Local: A Touristâs Field Guide to Shale Lingo and Lore
A wise man once said that heroes canât be painted in black or white, they come to us in shades of grey. For the choices they make are hard ones, and the actions they take leave consequences that canât be undone.
But wise men are prone to speak in riddles, and true words should be plain to understand. Hear these instead.
There are no such things as heroes. After all, for every man we call a hero, is he not cursed as our enemiesâ greatest villain?
So don your mask, young master. Donât be afraid to bend the laws of shadow and light. And leave it to history to brand you as it deems fit.
â Last words of Grimshaw the Black
(as quoted in Tamâs Tome ofDrowning
Mouth Fibs, Volume II)
RYE OâCHANTER CREPT through a dense maze of leafless branches sharp enough to skewer her. The towering pines in this stretch of wood were charred black like victims of a great fire, yet they hadnât been burned. It was as if the dark soul of the forest had poisoned the ground itself and bled into their roots, staining the trees forever.
Ryeâs nose twitched at the smell of a cook fire wafting from the small clearing ahead. She was confident that sheâd visited this spot once before and found it empty, but sheâd need to check more closely to be certain. The forest Beyond the Shale hid countless invisible secrets, its rolling hills and dense stands of pine and hemlock disguising hollows you might pass right by without a second glance. She understood now how the Luck Uglies, and others like them, might disappear into the forest for months, years, or even forever.
Rye listened carefully as she dug a rotting toadstool from the ground and rubbed it over her sealskin coat. The leather was already caked with the remains of smashed birdsâ eggs, mud from a beaver dam and dung from some unknown animal. The stains hadnât got there by accident. If her friends Folly and Quinn could see her now, they would think Rye had gone daft, but the mixture of forest smells served to mask her own scent. Beyond the Shale was teeming with keen but unseen noses, too many of which might come calling if they caught wind of a human.
Satisfied that the small camp was unoccupied â at least for the moment â Rye stepped forward to inspect it. A tent made from animal hide housed a fur bedroll. Several small pots were arranged around the remains of a fire and the blade of a hand axe lay embedded in a fallen log. Ryeâs excitement grew. These were the types of supplies that could be packed and transported in a hurry â just the type of camp her quarry was likely to make.
She circled the clearing, pausing when she found the familiar trunk of a thick pine. There was her symbol in the bark: a circle with a capital letter
