Hide & Seek

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  Grey light in a grey room, and the creature bending over her was a grey wad of bulging fat, a grey maggot of enormous size, with a tiny head which seemed screwed into the top of the neck. “I,” spoke the maggot, “am your queen, your conqueror and the one who will eat you, piece by piece.”

  Then Poppy realised that the head which she had supposed to be tiny, was indeed the termite. Minute, dark grey, legs and body so absurd compared to the great slimy mass it dragged behind it, this was the creature itself. The giant wobble of maggot it dragged behind it, was its belly. She heaved, trying to turn away, but still could not move. But she managed to look sideways sufficient to see both her mother and father lying, eyes closed, but breathing. Poppy turned back to the termite queen.

  “I’m no goblin,” she said. “I’m a very special person too, like you. I’m a – princess. And this is my mother the queen of Lashtang, and this is my father, the king.”

  The light went out. The voice became harsh. “You lie.”

  “I promise I’m not lying. We are the royal family of Lashtang.” She grunted, unable to look or even sound regal beneath the mound of sticky bindings. “We came especially to meet the queen of the termites. But this is no regal greeting.”

  The queen’s voice echoed, spiteful and menacing in the blackness. “Then I shall enjoy a royal dinner.”

  “We could help you with many things,” Poppy insisted. “We could bring other great families to bow down before you. We could make you – a crown. A throne.”

  “What are those things?” the queen demanded.

  “Proof of royalty,” Poppy said, her voice fading again. “Do you have a fire here? Why is it so hot?” For a horrible moment she wondered if there was a cooking fire waiting to boil her alive. She’d been threatened with fire before and it had become her nightmare.”

  “This is the queen’s lair,” the termite said. “We are deep in the earth where the great weight of the ground keeps warmth close. I need warmth for my thousands of children to hatch. Where did you hatch, if your mother is a queen?”

  “People don’t hatch in the outside world,” Poppy said. “We don’t come out of eggs. And we don’t eat each other.” And then she heard a loud gulp and fast breathing and knew her father was awake. “Dad,” she called, “I’ve told the queen that you’re the king. She’s the termite queen. But we came here to meet her, didn’t we? One queen to another.”

  Bayldon paused, thinking, then said, “But I forget, my dear. Which termite queen is this? We have met and paraded with so many.”

  There was another pause. The sound of the termite’s mounting fury was like a pot of water boiling over, and finally she spoke, her voice shaking with anger. “I am the only termite queen,” she screeched. “There are no others. I am Izyx the Mighty. What others claim a title they have no right to claim?”

  “Um, Shagrag, queen of termites in Sparkan,” said Bayldon carefully. “Then there was Mary, the most beautiful queen I’ve ever met. She ruled the termites of Clarr. I liked Spotty. She was most humorous. Queen of the Desert.”

  “And when we leave here,” added Poppy, “we have a special date to meet the most powerful queen of all, er – Chocolate Cake – she’s queen of almost everything and she has an army of millions. She’s invited us to a big party next week. If we don’t turn up, she’ll be furious and come looking for us.”

  “She wants to eat you at her party?” demanded Izyx, still spitting fury.

  “No, no,” said Bayldon mildly. “She’s having a party eating cakes and other things. But she has invited us as her guests of honour. She’ll get very fierce if we don’t turn up.”

  “I have no idea what cake is,” spat the termite, “but undoubtedly she intends you to be the feast. Why shouldn’t I eat you first?” There was the sound of spitting and sliding, and Poppy could imagine the greasy trail this termite would leave as it moved. “Besides,” continued the voice, booming suddenly directly over her, “there are no other queens. They lie.” And the spit of slime slipped over Poppy’s face. She was unable to wipe it off and felt very sick once again., but quickly closed her mouth in case the drips of oozing mulch fell into her mouth and spurted down her throat.

  Bayldon said quickly, “Majesty, how can you be sure? Have you travelled widely as we have? Can you say you have visited every part of Lashtang? How deep is this lair? Do you even know the surface of the land under the sun?”

  “My domain,” Izyx snapped, “is more than a kilometre below ground. I was hatched here. But my slaves and my husbands live high, and when they swarm they fly through the sky. They come back and report what they have seen. So I know what is up and what is down. I know what is north, south, east and west. I know all the land and all the sea, and I know I am the most powerful, and the only one with the right to call herself queen.”

  “These flying husbands of yours,” said Poppy with a gulp, “do they ever let you out of this lair? Haven’t you ever seen the sky? Haven’t you ever seen the great plains with their flowers and trees? Haven’t you ever seen the ocean and its beautiful splashing waves? Or have they got you trapped down here in this sweltering heat?”

  “Then you are just as much a prisoner as we are,” said Bayldon. “What life is that for a great queen?”

  “Izyx the great?” teased Poppy, taking the risk. “No. You’re Izyx the blind idiot, stuck away here just hatching eggs. The termites don’t worship you, they despise you and keep you locked away.”

  With a sudden stab of pain, Poppy felt another jab into her side. “Quiet, goblin,” ordered the queen. “You lie. But I shall test you. Two of you will stay here, and one will come out to show me this sky and flower you talk of. Give me proof, and I may save your lives.”

  “Yes, yes,” Poppy was immediately delighted. “Take my father. He knows everything.”

  But the queen tittered. “No, foolish goblin. You are the weakest and the smallest. I shall take you.”

  Excited by the thought of freedom, Poppy was also disappointed. She was sure her father could have overcome the queen and escaped, then come back to release her and her mother. She wasn’t sure she could do the same. The queen had seemed enormous. But she waited, making plans in her head but not daring to say anything of them aloud to her father.

  It was Bayldon who said, “Show this great queen what you can, my dear. Take her, if you can, to meet Granny.”

  “I’ll – try,” said Poppy. But that seemed too far away, and she doubted the queen would allow her such a distance.

  She lay still, waiting for the web of slime to be removed, and hoped desperately it wasn’t a trick. Then, after a long pause, she felt the clip clip of pincers cutting through the sticky threads around her face and neck, and then lower around her shoulders. The pincers scratched her and jabbed into her skin, but she didn’t think that mattered as long as she’d soon be free.

  The pincers went on cutting. Now she could move her head. She rolled it side to side, stretching her neck which was painfully stiff. Then she suddenly felt her arms free and lifted them, flexing her fingers.

  Immediately she felt something disgusting. It seemed like vomit. She pulled her hand away with a gasp. “How dare you touch me, vile goblin,” declared the queen, and the pincers snapped her cheek, digging into the flesh near her eye.

  Poppy yelled. Then she realised that what she had thought were scissors were, in fact, the termite’s own claws, being the front part of her tiny head. “I didn’t mean to touch,” said Poppy at once, which was perfectly true. “I can’t see anything in this darkness.”

  And the queen brought back the pale grey light she had used before, and then continued cutting through the web that held Poppy paralysed. Now she could sit up. The termite cut the very last threads. Poppy was entirely free. But she faced her captor, who terrified her. She bent over Bayldon, whispering, “I’ll be back to free you and Mum,” and with her back to the queen, she scratched at the threads around one of her father’s hands. She was able to rip most of the bonds away
, and simply hoped this would give Bayldon some chance of slowly freeing himself. Then she stood, and turned back to Izyx, who towered over her. The maggot body was as long as a snake and as high as the ceiling, wide as the tunnel and oozed grey slime that stank in the heat. Poppy swallowed hard. She couldn’t risk being sick here.

  The queen shoved her from behind, the pincers sticking sharp and persistent into Poppy’s back. “Get on, goblin,” the queen said. “Down that tunnel. There’s a long path if you want the land above.”

  “I can walk on my own,” Poppy said. “Don’t push me.”

  “And let you try to run away?” demanded Izyx. “Oh no, goblin. I control where you go and what you do. Now walk.”

  Poppy walked. She could hear the squelch and her own legs felt wobbly and weak after being tied up for so long. She was feeling dizzy and the darkness left her blind. She walked on because she was pushed from behind, and hoped that the termite queen wouldn’t walk her into a wall. “How do you know where to go if you’ve never been here before?” she asked.

  “I follow the tunnels, fool,” the queen answered. “Now, hurry. I don’t want to leave my eggs for too long. If they get cold, they may not hatch.”

  “Your lair is like a furnace,” Poppy objected.

  But she felt the force of the maggot mass behind her, so very much larger and heavier than herself, and hurried, longing for the cool fresh air on her face.

  No fresh air. Through one tunnel, along another, and into a third. The fourth tunnel continued endlessly and Poppy was frightened that she would never find her way back to release her mother and father. They finally reached a fifth tunnel which rose sharply, then bent, and rose once more. It was wider. Poppy wondered how fast this creature could move.

  She walked faster. Her legs were no longer stiff or weak, and she was not dizzy anymore. She felt well, strong and determined. Testing the termite queen, she walked as fast as she was able, almost running.

  But the queen kept up. Rolling and wallowing, it was able to drag its weight behind it at a pace which Poppy would not have believed. She started to run. Three sharp jabs in her back slowed her down. “On and up,” Queen Izyx snapped, “on and up. But don’t try to race me, goblin, or I’ll snap your stupid head off.”

  She knew she was lost. She knew she would not find her way back to rescue her parents. She was crying inside, trying to wipe her eyes on the back of her hand as she walked, when she began to see a little, faded light and the occasional glimpse of what was around her. She hoped the light was daylight from above, leaking in to show she was near the end, but she couldn’t be sure. It was, whatever else it was, a great help.

  The tunnel was clearly built by the termites. It was rough walled and the roof was uneven and flaking. The ground beneath her feet was smoother but seemed to be made of sand, earth and grit. But she didn’t turn for she had already seen the queen and thought it one of the most disgusting creatures she had ever seen, and perhaps the ugliest anyone would ever see. The maggot body was huge, it filled the tunnel, and its stench was rank as vomit.

  And then, quite suddenly, Poppy saw another turning ahead. Sharp left, it ran up again, off the main tunnel. It was narrow, but if she bent her head, she thought she could creep up. More importantly, she knew it would be too small for Izyx. Poppy walked on, felt her heart pumping like a drum, held her breath, hoped and hoped and hoped until she felt sick again, and then turned into the narrow space as suddenly as she could, and immediately started to run. Head down, hands clenched, she raced into the darkness.

  Behind her, she heard the queen screech. It was a long peel of a screech, but it faded into the shadows behind her. She’d been right. The huge ball of billowing slime was too fat and wide to follow her. She kept running.

  Neither followed nor interrupted, there seemed to be not a soul nor a termite in this tunnel. It continued upwards until eventually it swelled into steps. Poppy climbed the steps, up and up and up. She had no choice although now she was exhausted. But she kept climbing.

  The steps stopped. In front of her Poppy saw a vast chamber, a room not made by termites, but obviously made by man. The walls, the floor and the top step were all marble and the marble, although rich polished black, shone in a glimmer of light. The light came from the far wall, right at the back of the room. Poppy walked towards it.

  Very slowly and cautiously, Poppy moved closer, and began to hear faint music and see moving colours. The music was soft and did not sound like the lute, the harpsichord, or any modern instrument that she knew. She was desperate to stop and catch her breath, to rest her legs and make sure she wasn’t being followed, but her curiosity was awake, and too vivid to be kept waiting. For something at the end of the room called to her. No voice, just faint music, but she knew it called her.

  The colours grew brighter and the music grew louder. It became more beautiful, almost like a dream she wanted desperately to enter. And then she quickly realised what it must be. The Chord of Destiny had always been deep in Bymion Palace, and now the palace had been utterly destroyed, it had been pushed downwards. But not ruined. It still lived here, deep in the old palace’s foundations. In spite of her tiredness, Poppy started to run.

  The beauty, the magic, the mystical music and the cool freshness finally stopped her and she stood still and gazed. Then, without really knowing what she wanted, she stretched out her hand. The screen she saw had no substance, and her hand passed right through, feeling nothing. But the pictures started to change. At first there had been birds, flowers, butterflies and vague shapes blowing as if in the wind. But now there were pictures, and Poppy stared, fascinated.

  She saw herself as a small child, behaving badly of course. She didn’t want the porridge Granny had made her for breakfast. She looked, she supposed, about four years old, delightfully sweet but horribly naughty. She threw her spoon and screamed, “I hates powige.”

  Granny pointed one cross finger, and Poppy shut up at once. Granny said, “You know what’s for pudding tonight? No, you don’t. And you never will unless you eat that.”

  The child ate, scraped the bowl and licked her recovered spoon. “Chocolate cake?”

  “Wait and find out. As long as you are good.” And the picture disappeared.

  Another formed, it was transparent and shimmered, not always easy to see. But Poppy knew what it was. “One day,” Granny was saying, “Mummy and Daddy will come back. I’ve told you before, they’re on holiday. You have to be patient.”

  The child, now about six, answered, “Jenny at school has a mummy on holiday too. Her mummy’s gone away with a man called Rod who has lots of money. But they were only away for a month. My mummy’s been away for years. I don’t remember what she looks like.”

  “She looks beautiful,” said Granny, ‘and she’ll be back one day.”

  Again the picture changed. Darkness loomed, and Poppy saw both her parents lying trapped by the termite web. Her own figure in the middle had gone and only her parents remained. But then she saw her father struggling to use his one free hand to reach over and free his other hand. After some time of tugging and wriggling his hand, he managed to free both hands and one arm. That was enough, and within seconds he was entirely free, and had started breaking the threads that held Messina. She woke slowly, winced in pain, but then stretched up and embraced Bayldon.

  Poppy, watching, smiled and continued to watch.

  Both free, Poppy’s mother and father jumped up, and with Bayldon’a arm around her shoulders, they searched for the way out, and eventually found the tunnel where the queen had taken Poppy. But at that moment the Queen reappeared, snarling, biting and shouting that the little one had escaped, and how did these two elders manage to free themselves of the bindings. Behind her came a hoard of tiny grasping termites. There seemed to be thousands of them, and the queen continued to rage and shout, ordering the following army to bind the prisoners again and never let them go.

  But Messina, tired of her broken wrist and thumb, and the obvious pain the
y caused her, managed to raise both arms and shout the words, “Firma. Stop. Go back. You cannot touch us.” And immediately every single tiny creature stopped, staring out, astonished but immovable.

  The Queen also stopped in her tracks, still screamed shrilly and raved on about her mighty powers and the never-ending right she had to rule. But she could neither come forwards nor back. Even her maggot body no longer wobbled nor shed the slime in her creases.

  So Messina, ignoring the agony which still showed on her face, once again raised both arms and muttered something which poppy could not hear. At once Messina and Bayldon disappeared.

  Then, with a shock of confusion, Poppy found that she was also disappearing. In the middle of a hiccup, she looked down and saw that she had no feet. She was floating. Then her legs began to fade up to her knees. She reached out to grab at something – anything – and saw that her hands, and then her arms were also now invisible. She couldn’t see the pictures in the Chord of Destiny, she couldn’t see the great dark room, and she couldn’t see most of herself.

  She blinked, half excited and half frightened. And then the blink turned into light. She opened her eyes wide and realised that she was back home in the cottage, being hugged tightly by her father.

  “Well,” said Messina over Bayldon’s shoulder, “you’ve been very brave. But now I’m going to bed.” She turned to Granny, who was hurrying over. “If you come with me,” she said quickly, “perhaps you can mend my broken bones. Hurry, because I’m going to faint again.”

  Chapter Eight

  Hermes stopped at the front door, and Alice and Alfie climbed off his back, thanking him very much for the ride, and then tapped lightly on the great front doors of the Parry Household in medieval Bishopsgate.

  The steward Hawking came immediately to the door and opened it, his frown turning to a huge smile when he saw Alfie and his mistress. He ignored Hermes since a very large talking goose was not an easy thing to accept.