by Clive Mullis
‘Oi!’ shouted Frankie as the footsteps turned into a frantic running away.
Then another noise came, this time, from further away, presumably another blast of gonepowder and a further collapsing of the tunnel.
‘Hear that?’ asked Frankie, concerned.
‘Yeah, it seems someone don’t like us much, do they?’
‘It appears not. Let’s hope that’s the last one.’
They ran after the disappearing footsteps and the person making them, ignoring the origins of the latest explosion.
‘Where’s this lead to?’ asked Frankie, ducking his head to miss a low bit.
‘The river,’ answered Gigali. ‘The tunnel under the river.’
After a few more minutes, there was still no sign of the owner of the footsteps and Frankie couldn’t understand why. They weren’t far behind him when they set off and should have caught up by now. They came to a junction and slowed to a stop.
‘Which way?’ asked Frankie urgently.
‘This way,’ said a voice in the dark. ‘Youse gets yer arses down ‘ere.’
‘That you Fluffy?’
‘‘O do youse fink it is, then?’
Yet another explosion came and this time it sounded close, coming from the tunnel directly in front of them, the one that Fluffy wasn’t in.
‘Down ‘ere quick,’ said Fluffy. ‘There’s two of the buggers now and one o’ ‘em’s that bastard Phimp.’
Chapter 42
The Warden lay flat on his back, a couple of promotion seeking juniors tending to him.
Brooksturner and his associates stepped back into the avenue of torches and one of them struck a match, then leaning forward, bent down, shoving the lit end into a crevice in the wall.
He wasn’t lighting a cigar.
‘Interesting,’ said the Bagman turning to the earl. ‘I wonder if—’
An explosion came from one of the tunnels leading off the main chamber, interrupting him. A collective gasp came from all the people as eyes switched from the drama with the Warden, to the tunnel from which the noise erupted.
The torches around the chamber flickered as the walls shook.
Someone screamed and pandemonium broke out as the dignitaries began to panic again.
Then came a further explosion but this time louder and definitely closer, if fact, it came from the chamber itself. Above the steps which had recently seen a tumbling Warden, the wall and the mouth of the tunnel erupted in a shower of rock and dust. Everyone dived to the ground, hands covering their ears as the shockwave rebounded inside the chamber.
The Bagman and the earl were the only two humans standing as they observed the destruction of the way out.
‘As I was saying,’ said the Bagman. ‘I wondered if they were going to do something like that.’
A smattering of little rocky shards landed at their feet, bouncing and rolling and making a ticking noise, which sounded remarkably like heavy rain.
The earl leant down to Maud, who had taken evasive action and helped her to her feet. She turned, sniffed, and then brushed herself down.
‘I slipped,’ she announced, daring anyone to contradict her.
A smile briefly flashed on the Bagman’s lips as he angled his head to look around the earl.
Maud stared resolutely ahead as the pitter-patter of the little stones ground to a halt.
‘I can see we might have a little problem now,’ observed the earl as people began to become aware of their predicament.
‘Ah, yes. Then let’s hope your son can stop the Sterkle from coming to join us,’ said the Bagman, concern remarkably absent from his tone of voice.
Cornwallis scrabbled in the dirt for a bit and then moved around on his hands and knees until he felt a leg. The light had gone out.
‘Rose?’ he asked, the concern evident in his voice.
‘That you, Jack?’ replied Rose, a little further away.
‘Yes, so this must be…’
‘Er…’ said Bracic
‘What are you doing, Jack?’ asked Rose.
‘Er… nothing, I just thought Bracic was you.’
‘Then why is he swearing?’
‘Don’t ask.’
As they scrambled to their feet, it became apparent that it wasn’t now as pitch-black as they thought. Just the slightest indication of a glimmer radiated from the tunnel in front of them, so low as to be almost imperceptible, but in these circumstances, it was like a beacon of hope.
Cornwallis, Rose and Bracic stood up, picked off bits of the debris that now adorned them and moved forward, Bracic taking the lead.
They moved towards the glow, walking steadily, aware that there could be danger just around the next corner. The further forward they went, the greater the glow became, until a sharp turn came up and the glow flickered menacingly, sending long shadows onto the wall. They tentatively turned the corner to find that the sun had somehow made its way underground.
‘Who’s there?’ demanded Cornwallis as his eyes adjusted to the light.
‘Who’s asking?’ came the reply.
‘I am,’ answered Cornwallis, stepping forward.
‘That don’t give me much of a clue.’
Cornwallis hesitated. ‘Is that you, Frankie?’
‘Jack?’
Cornwallis stepped closer and now he could see Frankie standing next to the lantern held up by Gigali.
‘You haven’t caught him yet, then?’
‘No,’ replied Frankie. ‘What you doing down here?’
‘Phimp.’
‘Oh, right. Well, you’ve come to the right place. He’s down here somewhere with that Clarence.’
‘Is he now; you saw him?’
‘No, Fluffy did.’
‘Fluffy? You found him?’
‘Well, actually, he found us, but it amounts to the same. Phimp and Clarence are heading for the tunnel under the river.’
‘That’s where Trugral went, isn’t it?’ asked Rose.
‘Yes, along with a few other dwarfs, so I don’t think those two are going to get away, not with Trugral, anyway.’
‘We’re not wet yet, and I suspect, not likely to be, not with them two still down here,’ said Frankie. ‘They ain’t volunteered to get drowned, have they?’
‘Not by their choice,’ said Cornwallis. ‘But perhaps Brooksturner has decided otherwise. Come on, let’s get down there and find out what’s going on.’
‘You mean up,’ said Bracic. ‘We’re down and we need to go up to get to the tunnel under the river.’
‘Pedant,’ said Cornwallis.
‘Just saying as it is,’ replied Bracic.
Bracic was right: the tunnel sloped up which meant that the water, should it come, would flow down. Cornwallis wondered if MacGillicudy had succeeded, maybe the lack of water indicated he had stopped the crew on the ship from doing whatever it was that they were doing. He just hoped that he had, or they were all still deep in the shit, metaphorically, and if the Sterkle came down, then literally as well.
Two ghostly eyes appeared in the tunnel and rapidly approached. ‘Is youse lot coming or what?’ asked Fluffy, padding to a stop just in front of them.
‘We’re coming,’ answered Cornwallis quickly.
‘Good, ‘cause pretty soon there ain’t gonna be a place to go to.’
‘What’s happening?’ asked Rose, hurrying forward.
‘It’s the wet, is what it is, an’ it looks like it’s gonna get wetter.’
They rushed forward, hearts pumping in anticipation, or dread, at what they might find. The reality of their predicament hitting home as each of them, both dwarf and human alike, as well as the cat, realised that getting out alive might prove to be a lot harder than getting in.
Fluffy was right, puddles were forming on the floor of the tunnel and little rivulets trickled along the crevices.
The tunnel opened up into a big cave with several little caves branching off and up ahead a another tunnel, which, over the proceeding days, had be
en enlarged to cope with the track and train; now it was ablaze with light, burning brands of torches lined all the way through.
‘That’s the bit that goes under the river,’ explained Gigali, not stopping but increasing his pace.
Bracic hurried too, but Cornwallis, Rose, Frankie and Fluffy all took a moment to look at each other, aware, that perhaps, this would be the last time they could.
Cornwallis grabbed Rose’s hand and squeezed it tight. She reciprocated and a message passed between their eyes. They didn’t hesitate; they had a job to do.
The dwarfs in the tunnel under the Sterkle were remarkably calm. They ran about with ladders and lumps of wood and various bits of metal sheet, but it wasn’t chaotic, there was an order to it, just simple calm detachment as if their own mortality didn’t really matter. The light from the torches illuminated the work they were doing: trying to shore up the roof.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Frankie as they tried to take in the situation.
‘Some bastard is drilling in from above. Every time we plug one hole, they drill another,’ explained the nearest dwarf.
Along the tunnel were four metal plates stuck to the roof with wooden beams propping them up. Just as Cornwallis managed to register the situation, a shout went up and then a whirly pointy thing came spinning into the tunnel. Water came with it, dribbling along the flanges to land beneath it in rapidly increasing amounts. The drill stopped, then reversed and the water started to pour in.
Trugral rushed towards the hole as another dwarf arrived with a ladder; he grabbed a metal sheet then rushed up the rungs and slammed it up as another dwarf rammed a wooden prop beneath it. Immediately the flow of water lessened and then slowly trickled to a stop.
‘Jethro hasn’t got to them,’ said Cornwallis dejectedly, looking at the damage already done.
‘Yet,’ added Rose. ‘He will, he promised he would.’
Cornwallis nodded, his friend had promised; time hadn’t run out, they were all still alive, and as the old saying went: where there’s life, there’s hope. ‘How do they know where to drill?’ he asked, looking incredulously at the roof. ‘They hit the mark every time.’
‘We’ll have to find that out later,’ said Rose, her eyes wide. ‘At the moment we need to find Phimp.’
‘Yes, and Clarence,’ said Frankie. ‘They should both be here.’
‘Yes, but where? And where has that bloody cat gone to now?’
‘He were here a second ago,’ said Frankie, looking around.
‘Trugral,’ yelled Cornwallis. ‘You seen a man who looks like a dwarf without a beard and with him a man who looks like a stream of piss?’
Trugral climbed down the ladder, looked at the sheet he’d just rammed up and nodded to himself, then bolted over. ‘No, but we’ve been a bit busy down here.’
‘You reckon you’ll be able to keep the river out?’
Trugral nodded. ‘As long as they only do one hole at a time. The trouble is all these holes are weakening it all, so who knows what’s going to happen.’
‘That’s reassuring,’ remarked Frankie.
Trugral shrugged just as a loud screeching noise like a banshee on an acid trip came hurtling towards their ears from behind; then came a wail, which rose in volume and tone until it seemed certain their ears would bleed. And then came the running: footsteps pounded and splashed and then Phimp and Clarence came tearing towards them, an angry maniacal expression on both their faces.
Clarence had hold of an iron bar which he wielded about his head in a manner contrary to health and safety.
‘There’s the little bastards,’ said Frankie, turning and balling up his fists.
‘And there’s Fluffy behind them,’ observed Rose. ‘He’s flushed them out.’
The cat’s screeching only stopped when he leapt at the fleeing Phimp. Claws out, he jumped, just as the secretary reached the first prop, which Clarence attacked with the iron bar. Fluffy’s claws dug into his shoulders, the talons penetrating the cloth of his jacket, and Phimp threw his head back in shock at the unexpected assault and the pain as the flesh began to rip. Just as he threw his head back, Fluffy opened his mouth and sank his teeth into his ear, shaking his head and ripping a great big chunk out of the earlobe. Phimp yelled and spun around, trying to remove the demonic feline from around his neck.
Clarence battered at the prop, trying to move it by sheer brute force; and it appeared that he might well succeed.
‘Stop him,’ yelled Trugral. ‘He’ll have the bloody roof down.’
‘I think that’s the idea,’ said Cornwallis, rushing forward along with Frankie and Rose.
With one final heave of the bar, Clarence succeeded in shifting the prop and water began to pour in as the metal sheet clanged to the floor.
Phimp managed to dislodge the cat from his shoulder and then turned and lashed out with his boot connecting hard with Fluffy’s vulnerable midriff, the weight of the kick launching the cat into the air and sending him rolling backwards.
Rose screamed in anger and then ran at Phimp like an avenging angel with toothache.
Clarence moved towards the second prop as Cornwallis and Frankie stepped to block his progress. Trugral and two more dwarfs sidestepped the swinging iron bar and went to repair the damage before it got too wet from the Sterkle pouring in.
Eyeing up the dwarfs, Clarence suddenly changed the direction of his attack, the hatred of dwarfs evident from his look of distaste and the continuous snarling that leached through his gritted teeth. He yelped with glee as the bar connected with the head of his target and the dwarf dropped like a sack of spuds, unconscious before he hit the ground.
Phimp held his hand up to his damaged ear and then yelled defiance as he saw the blood dripping from his fingers. He turned and then rushed forward, only half-regretting that Rose positioned herself to stop him: she blocked his path and crouched low, ready to spring as he sprinted towards her.
Clarence swung again, connecting to the stomach of another dwarf who stumbled into Rose just as she was about to launch her attack on Phimp.
Phimp lashed out and his elbow dug fiercely into Rose’s ribs, she grunted and bent double and Phimp registered an opportunity to get through the melee to the other side so he could sprint to freedom down the river tunnel and get out on the other side.
Cornwallis saw Rose’s predicament and changed direction, leaving Frankie and Trugral to deal with Clarence. He dived at Phimp as he pushed Rose aside and managed to grab hold of his ankle. Phimp stumbled and fell to his knees; he turned quickly and kicked out with his unencumbered foot, catching Cornwallis on his head. Cornwallis relaxed his grip and Phimp managed to tear his foot away and then scrambled back to his feet.
Confronted by Frankie and Trugral, Clarence eyed them both up menacingly just as three more dwarfs came rushing to help. Frankie leapt at the iron bar in Clarence’s hand at the same time as Trugral charged at the diminutive man. Clarence roared as Frankie caught hold and he tried to swing the bar with Frankie still attached. Trugral shouldered into him, and it felt like hitting a bag of concrete. Clarence took a step back and Frankie managed to use the impetus to spin him around and hook his leg behind his knee. The three of them tumbled to the ground. Clarence managed to raise his head up but Frankie could feel the power in the madman’s arm and decided the best course of action was to use one of the city’s time-honoured traditions: Frankie snapped his head forward and connected fiercely with Clarence’s in a Gornstock kiss, just as the three other dwarfs arrived, punches raining, as they dived onto the now semi-conscious man.
Cornwallis made a grab for Phimp’s ankle again but missed, giving the man a chance. He rose, but then he slipped in his haste to get away, he scrabbled again then finally managed to get some purchase with his feet, just as Rose and Cornwallis managed to gain theirs. He ran, with Rose and Cornwallis setting off in pursuit just as a ginger blur came tearing from behind.
Just ahead of them, the rest of the dwarfs were shoring up the roof the be
st way they could. Phimp drew level with them, but his progression halted as the ginger blur morphed into Fluffy the cat, then feline claws and teeth sunk deep into Phimp’s undefended rear end.
Phimp squawked, Phimp screamed, Phimp ranted and then he spun around but the cat was like a limpet once he caught hold and the more Phimp struggled the more Fluffy’s bite and claws sank deeper into the flaccid flesh.
As the dwarfs finished subduing Clarence, Frankie got up and chased after Cornwallis and Rose. He saw a line of rope and picked it up as he ran, but as he looked up, the drill began to enter the tunnel again.
Phimp rolled on the ground trying desperately to squash the cat just as Rose and Cornwallis jumped on top of him.
Fluffy grunted as the weight began to tell but he still clung on.
The spinning drill sunk deeper and deeper into the tunnel and water began to trickle in around it.
‘Stop it!’ yelled Cornwallis, more in hope than expectation and Frankie, seeing that Phimp no longer posed a problem, ran to the drill.
He flung the rope around the shaft and tied a slip-knot up as high as he could and pulled tight, hoping to stop the thing from spinning. Two dwarfs rushed to help and all three pulled on the rope as hard as they could, trying to break the thing free from its mooring up in the ship.
Phimp groaned and finally Fluffy relinquished his grip.
‘You’ve had it now, you bastard,’ sneered Cornwallis triumphantly.
‘Can’t hold it, Jack,’ yelled Frankie. ‘It won’t break off and the friction’s making it burn.’
The drill spun and then began to retract, the trickling water hitting the smouldering bit of rope making it smoke and steam.
Cornwallis and Rose took their attention away from Phimp for just long enough for Phimp to realise that he had one last chance.
He took it.
Phimp kicked out and then jumped up ready to sprint away once more, just as the drill reversed into the roof, but he didn’t see the trailing rope on the ground and he stepped into the little loop. The rope went up and pulled the loop tight around Phimp’s ankles.