Читать онлайн «Faerie Wars»

Henry got up early on the day that changed his life. He was making a cardboard sculpture and he'd left it the night before for the glue to dry out. All he had to do now was add a toothpick shaft and some decorations and the flying pig was finished. Three weeks' work, but today he'd turn the handle and the pig would take off, flapping cardboard wings. Pigs might fly. That's what it said on the base.

He was out of bed at seven, dressed by three minutes past and testing the set of the glue just one minute after that. It was solid. What else would it be when you left it overnight? That was the secret of cardboard models -never hurry. Take your time with the cutting out. Proceed stage by stage – which was what it said in the instructions: proceed stage by stage. Leave lots of time for the glue to set. Just do those three things and you ended up with cardboard sculptures that were as solid as the Taj Mahal. He had seven in his room already, including one that really was the Taj Mahal. But the flying pig was his best yet. It had a mechanism inside, made up from cardboard cogs and shafts. The mechanism raised the pig from its base and caused the wings to flap.

At least that's what it said in the instructions. Henry was about to find out.

Using a small nail, he bored a tight hole and inserted the toothpick. It was the last thing he had to do, if you didn't count the decorations. But it was tricky getting the toothpick seated just right. Trouble was, you couldn't tell until you tried it. And if you tried it and it wasn't right, it could wreck the mechanism.

He thought he had it right.

Henry looked at his handiwork. The base was a black cube with nothing on it except the handle and the wording Pigs might fly. The pig itself crouched on the top, all pink and porky. Its wings were so cleverly folded you couldn't see them. The model was finished except for the last few stupid decorations. But he might even forget about those. The decorations didn't have anything to do with the mechanism. This was the real moment of truth.

Henry held his breath, reached out and turned the handle.

The pig took off smoothly on its pillar, onwards and upwards, unfolding cardboard wings. As it reached the end of the pillar, a hidden cog fell into place so that it stayed aloft, flapping. It would stay there until you turned the handle backwards. But Henry didn't turn the handle backwards. He kept the old pig up there, flapping, flapping.

Pigs might fly.

'Yes!' Henry exclaimed, punching the air.

His mum was in the kitchen, sitting at the table staring into a cup of coffee. She looked wretched.