by Royston Wood
Chapter Seven
Tim Armadillo
Bobbing up and down in front of me, with leathery wings beating the air, Bunsen leads me through a maze of corridors. Eventually we reach a spiral staircase and start to climb. Round and round and up and up we go. Looking out of the small, slit like windows as we pass them, I can see the roofs and courtyards below us getting smaller and smaller the higher we go.
Victor’s body is really strong and fit but I’m breathing heavily and just about to start moaning when we finally reach a wooden door at the very top of the stairs. Bunsen raps a claw sharply against the ancient wood and moments later the door swings silently open to reveal a large circular room.
It’s hard to see much in the room because most of it is covered in drifts of paper, half-constructed models and plates of unfinished food. So it’s kind of like my room at home, except there’s a fire blazing in the fireplace and some comfortable looking chairs set before it. Sat in one is an armadillo. That’s right – an armadillo. One of those small armour plated mammals that eat ants and bugs and stuff. The only strange thing about this one (other than being sat in a chair) is that it is wearing a long wizard’s robe and has a pointy hat on its head. It’s only a guess but I’m thinking this might be the wizard, Tim Armadillo.
“Ah Bunsen! So good to see you dear boy. Come in, come in. Take a seat,” says Tim, waving at a seat opposite him. “Take the weight off you feet.”
Bunsen flutters across the room muttering, “I’m flying so I haven’t got any weight on my feet! Not that I have much weight these days anyway, thanks to you!” and plonks himself in one of the chairs.
As I stand awkwardly in the doorway Tim Armadillo waves me in.
“Come on in, Victor! It’s not like you to hang back.”
As I step into the room, Tim picks up a wand from the arm of his chair and flicks it at the door, which swings shut behind me. Cool trick!
“Here, Victor, have a biscuit,” he offers, a tin of biscuits appearing out of nowhere in his paw. My eyes light up; biscuits at last!
“Why haven’t I seen you for such a long time, Bunsen?” asks Tim.
“What are you talking about?” hisses Bunsen as I eagerly pluck a biscuit from the tin. “You saw me this morning, when you cast the spell to send Victor to block Cretin’s escape.”
“Ah yes! Of course! I forget things these days. Did you capture him Victor? Are we safe?” asks Tim, turning to me, his face full of worry.
“Er...no and no,” I manage whilst trying not to smile. Behind Tim’s back Bunsen is tapping the side of his head with a claw whilst crossing his eyes and hanging his tongue from the side of his mouth.
“Then we must prepare for war!” exclaims Tim, jumping to his feet.
“That’s why we’re here,” grumbles Bunsen. “We need to get to Cretin’s stronghold to shut down the Portal before he can get too many werebeasts through from Horrorville.”
“We need you to make Bunsen big,” I add, plucking another biscuit from the tin that Tim has left lying on the arm of his chair.
“No! We need you to return me to my proper size!” snaps Bunsen, puffing a cloud of black smoke from his nostrils.
“Er...sorry,” I say, biscuit halfway to my mouth, “what’s going on?”
Bunsen stares at Tim with a sneer on his face. “This old fool was the one who made me so small!” he snaps.
“Bunsen, for heaven’s sake, it was only a teeny little mistake! A very small thing.”
“Are you trying to be funny?” snarls Bunsen.
“Look, I’m sorry I made you really tiny, instead of extra spiny. It was just a slip of the tongue.”
“You made Bunsen small?” I ask, popping the biscuit into my mouth.
“It was just a little mistake…” starts Tim.
“Don’t listen to this old fraud!” snaps Bunsen.
Tim scowls but says nothing.
In the uncomfortable silence I take another biscuit. The raisins are really crispy! I pick one from between my teeth and flick it on the floor before saying, “So, you made him small but can you make him big again?”
“Of course! It is a simple spell. If Bunsen had come to see me sooner, rather than sulking, I could have put him back to normal long ago.”
“I’m not letting him cast another spell on me,” growls Bunsen. But I can see from the hopeful look in his eyes that he will, if it means he can be a proper sized dragon again.
Tim Armadillo obviously feels the same way because he starts bustling about the room, grabbing random bits of stuff. “Just relax there, Bunsen whilst I gather the things I need,” he calls over his shoulder.
Brushing crumbs from the front of my leather jacket, I reach up to deal with any crumbs on my chin and recoil from the touch of my beard. Urrgh! That feels weird! I’d forgotten I had a beard.
Reaching over to the tin left on Tim’s chair I grab another biscuit. Biting down hard, my tooth crunches against another raisin. They’re really hard! Tasty though.
Clearing a small table of debris by sweeping it onto the floor, Tim dumps an armful of stuff onto it. Mumbling under his breath he begins to shuffle the stuff about.
Bunsen’s head has sunk down on to his chair seat and he’s casting nervous glances at Tim. Trying to distract him from the spell casting I say, “These biscuits are really nice. Why don’t you try one?” I finish mine and reach for a fifth. “The raisins are a bit hard though.”
“Oh, they’re not raisins, they’re ants,” says Tim, looking up from his spell preparations.
The biscuit drops from my limp fingers back into the tin; I’m suddenly feeling a bit ill. Bunsen seems to have cheered up though; he’s grinning at me.
“Right! I think I’m all ready,” says Tim waving his hands dramatically at the small table upon which he has arranged an elephant’s foot, a magnifying glass, a foot pump and a telescope. “Ready to make you disappear!”
“Er…get bigger,” I say. “You mean ready to make you big again!”
“Bigger? Oh! Of course, just my little joke! Victor, come and stand behind me, by the door. Bunsen, can you sit in the middle of the room, please.”
We take up our positions and Tim starts chanting and waving his arms around as if he’s being attacked by a swarm of wasps. As he chants he points at the elephant’s foot and a white light shoots from his finger and blasts the foot into dust. He then moves onto the magnifying glass, foot pump and telescope, repeating the action. All the while he seems to be growing, sort of swelling, like he’s absorbing the power of these things. Arms held aloft, head thrown back, his chanting gets louder and faster. I can see that his eyes have rolled back in his head so that only the whites are showing. Weird!
Abruptly, his arms snap down, pointing towards Bunsen, and with a final shouted word, streaks of purple lightning crackle from his hands and smash into the dragon’s tiny body.
As the lightning continues to blast into him, Bunsen begins to swell and grow. At the same time, Tim starts to shrink down to his normal size. All the while Bunsen
RRRRROOOOOAAAAARRRRRSSSSS!!
Pretty soon Bunsen is nearly filling the room and the lightning is still pouring into him. Yanking the door open, I’m about to grab Tim by the back of his robe and haul him out of the room before we’re crushed, when the lightning finally sizzles to a stop.
Staggering, Tim almost falls but manages to grab the edge of the small table the spell stuff was on to steady himself.
Bunsen is almost crushed, the spikes on his back and head speared into the wooden ceiling and his wings crumpled up against the walls.
“Er…do you think we should have done this outside?” I venture. “How are we going to get Bunsen out of here? He’ll never fit though the door!”
“Hmmm, yes, you might be right!” mumbles Tim looking with dismay at the broken remains of his furniture, sticking out from under the vast bulk of Bunsen.
“Ha ha, wizard!” booms Bunsen.
“Serves you right!! And with another roar he stretches his wings. The ceiling starts to shake and the thick stone walls begin to crumble. Bunsen surges up with his powerful legs and suddenly the whole top of the tower explodes around him.