“And the twins?” asked Zakmeister.
“Who knows.”
“All we want is Nathan back. And John too of course. But they wouldn’t be joining in the party, would they?”
“Good gracious, no,” said Tryppa. “That party is something to do with Clebbster. Everyone is dressed in very strange clothes and they all carry weapons.”
“A fancy dress ball?”
“Those are real swords, not wood pretend ones,” said Granny. “And there’s nothing fancy. Half of them are in armour, though it must be extremely difficult to dance in.”
And then several things happened almost at once.
It started to rain. Through the blackness and wiping out the stars, came the continuous thump of heavy raindrops, and the roll of distant thunder.
Then Sherdam came running back. He was soaked, but didn’t seem to care, though he was entirely out of breath. “I can’t find Ferdinand,” he gasped out. “He’s completely disappeared. Not a sign of him in any bush or behind any rock. He’s just – gone.” He was finally able to catch his breath and sounded almost normal again as he said, “And one thing more. Coming past those front windows, I looked in on the party. I could see Deben drinking himself stupid, and I could see Krillester dancing with some woman in silver armour.”
“Deben again? And Krillester? Oh, that’s horrible,” sighed Granny.
“One more thing,” said Sherdam with a shiver. “There are four small coloured stars fizzing around the ceiling, and they appear to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.”
“Stars! That’s worse than Deben and Krillester,” sighed Tryppa. “This is truly a house of horrors.”
Chapter Twelve
He lay dry, warm and tight curled to John beside him. But it was pitch dark and he could see nothing. The sounds outside puzzled him for it sounded like endless waves, the gurgle of water and the splashing of it against whatever pit he lay in. Sometimes, without explanation, there was a tap, tap, tap and then the noises of sucking and slurping. Being unable to move, since there was no space, he lay still. There was nothing to explore. And whatever sounds came from outside continued, but did not seem to mean danger.
There was no smell except an enclosed stuffy staleness. No rank stink of black magic, no rotten decay and no suffocating filth. He could move his hands a little, twitch his fingers, and twist his head, but unable to stand or sit properly, he began to feel stiff and sore.
“Wow,” said John with a grunt. “There ain’t no space for naught.”
“You wriggle that way,” said Nathan, “and I’ll wriggle this way.”
It didn’t work. They bumped heads.
John sniggered, then said, “Didn’t ortta laugh. Tis rotten dangerous, ain’t it.”
“We’re in some sort of prison and I doubt we can get out,” Nathan replied. “But if you can move just a titchy bit, I could probably get to my knife, and bring some light.”
“Does we want to see?” asked John. “Might make it worst. Wot if we’s inside some monster’s belly?”
“Eaten for dinner?”
“No,” John sighed. “I reckon we needs light.” He managed to shift just a little, and that was enough for Nathan to angle one hand, wrist bent, into his inside pocket and wriggle out the Knife of Clarr. He couldn’t hold it high, but it was held up sufficient, and when he asked for light, the beam spun from the blade like a flash of sunshine.
Nathan and John looked around. It took some minutes for their eyes to adjust, and at first all they could see was their own dungeon – a tiny space of cramped darkness, smooth dark walls and nothing below. But then gradually they realised that this was actually very, very different.
The walls were glass, and outside swept the ocean. The waves and the current smashed against their glass pit and they guessed that the water was very deep. They saw the blurred shapes of things that passed, crabs, fish, and floating weed.
Their prison was narrow and cylindrical, coming to a tiny flat base at their feet. Above them it went up and up, so far up that they could not see any ending. And that was why, they both realised at once, they had felt the sensation of falling so far. It was as if they had fallen down the well, but this was no bucket. Yet luckily nor was it a descent into open water. They were trapped and climbing up would be utterly impossible with tight slippery glass walls and neither hold for their feet nor grip for their hands.
This time they were absolutely unable to escape.
“Ask the knife.” John had suddenly realised the awful truth, and was panic-stricken.
But Nathan, just as horrified, was already trying, while it seemed the knife also tried to no avail, for both of them felt tipped, pushed, lifted and shoved without any real change in where they sat. “The knife can’t do it,” said Nathan. “We can’t do a thing.”
Something hard slapped against the outside of the glass wall. It was hard to see at first, blurred and vague like a long rope in a navy blue mist.
“No, ain’t no snake,” said John. “It don’t move right fer no serpent.”
“It – it’s the octopus,” Nathan mumbled. “It has to be. Not one snake but six – seven - eight. Tentacles. And here comes the head.” The sharp beak smacked against the glass. Then the tentacles began to wrap around their prison, as though crushing it in the creature’s grasp. “Yes – do it,” yelled Nathan. “Go on, squash this horrid thing and break it. Then we can swim up.”
“No.” John yelled even louder. “You reckon this monster just wants to help? No way. Reckon it wants to eat us. Or we gets killed by broken glass. Or tis so far up to swim, we just drowns.”
“What an optimist you are,” said Nathan. “We have to get out of here one way or the other.”
Now more of the pale tentacles had slammed around the glass sides, and the prison began to creak under the strain. “Reckon tis Drassog,” said John. “T’will eat us fer sure.”
“No. Drassog is even huger than this thing.” Nathan remembered the giant creature which had taken their enemy Braxton some time ago. It had been huge and terrifying. But this was no less terrifying. It continued to squeeze, and its head, barely seen now, banged against the glass higher up.
Nathan thought he heard a crack, but no water entered. John and he clung together as the octopus clung to their strange dungeon. It was seemingly angry, accustomed to eating whatever it wished. It was a long time before its tentacles loosened their hold and finally released its prize and swam off into the darkness beyond their view.
John breathed a sigh of relief. Nathan said, “Right, well now we know this glass cave thing isn’t easily broken. There’s no point kicking it or banging at it with knives or anything. If that monster couldn’t break it, then nor can we. And since my knife couldn’t do it with magic, it must be protected by someone very strong. Now what the hell do we do?”
“Cry,” suggested John.
“I wish we had phones,” moaned Nathan. “If only we could phone up Granny or Zakmeister or someone. And we brought those funny old walkie-talkies with us, but we left them at home.”
“They doesn’t work lest we’s close by and t’other folks is listening,” remembered John. “Not much use, I reckon. And your fancy modern phones can’t work when there ain’t no lines.”
“Looks like my medieval friend knows more about phones than I do,” smiled Nathan, though John could not see the smile. The light from the knife had faded and there seemed little point in renewing it yet, since there was absolutely nothing worth seeing. They were trapped very tightly in a narrow and unbreakable glass prison deep down near the bottom of the sea. At least it seemed they were protected from the monsters of the deep, and could not be eaten by sharks or squid. Clearly Clebbster was keeping them safe – for himself.
They sat quietly as small fish swam past them, crabs waddled sideways and sometimes some huge creature passed above, showing only a long fin, or the splash of a vast tail. Both Nathan and John were too frightened to enjoy the scenery, as they desperately tried to think
of an escape route, and there was little of either colour or interest. But then, very suddenly there was a shuddering crash on the glass wall, and the whole prison shook.
It was a shark of such immensity that at first they had no idea what it was that had attacked them, but when it returned and they saw it looming up through the glass before another terrifying slam, they realised it was a huge shark.
“A hammerhead,” gasped Nathan. “And that’s just what it’s doing, bashing with its head just like a hammer.”
“Tis another monster,” moaned John. “That ain’t no shark. Has got two heads.”
“No,” Nathan sighed as he saw it turn and flashback towards them. “That’s what a hammerhead looks like. I don’t know why it looks that way, but it has that huge oblong head with eyes so far apart.”
Crash. The water spun around them like dancing fountains and the gigantic shark slammed into the glass walls like a furious mountain. Even as the shark swam away, the pounding seemed to continue, for the water rebounded in massive underwater waves.
Again. They were sure their prison would break, and this time they knew they wouldn’t last long facing the biggest shark they’d ever imagined. Yet then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the creature swam away and did not return.
“Reckon he has a headache,” said John, trying hard to laugh. But he was exhausted and the threats were too immense for him to curl and simply sleep. “We gotta get out,” he said again. “I reckon Clebbster could leave us here fer months. Starve us to death.”
“He likes games,” nodded Nathan, “and likes to watch as his victims suffer. I don’t know if he can see us here, but I bet he’s cackling away up there with all those strange visitors he’s got.”
There were no corners to their cage. It was a very long glass tube and they were wedged down into it at the bottom. There was barely enough space for both of them, and when they abruptly saw and heard the sweep and scratch of someone else descending on top of them, they were both shocked. It would be horribly uncomfortable and the newcomer would have to sit on their heads. But they both stared upwards in hope, this might be a friend and that could help considerably.
“Disgraceful. Appalling. Where? How? This is utterly crazy.” Both Nathan and John recognised the voice even though all they could see were feet.
The feet squashed John’s nose. “Move yer feet,” John called back. “Tis Ferdy, ain’t it? Yer standin’ on me face.”
The voice echoed downwards. “I am deeply sorry,” said Ferdinand. “My most humble apologies. Oh, my illustrious lord, and John, I believe. How wicked this is. I shall attempt to move.” And he did, scrambling into a squashed turn so that his feet were on John’s shoulders and not his face. This was an improvement, but not a perfect one.
John asked. “So wot happened?”
“They caught me,” Ferdinand said sadly. “The guards. I was dragged inside to Clebbster. At least he wasn’t really there, just a sort of face on the wall. Like a picture, but it moved. And through his nose I could see the door handle.” He caught his breath, but managed to continue. “He told his guards to put me with the others. I was dragged off and knocked over the head. I blacked out until I woke up sliding down here. Very nasty, but better than I’d imagined, since I expected immediate death. But the house is full of strangers.” He thumped on the inside of the wall, but quickly realised that the glass was thicker than stone or brick. “Where are we now? What is this place?”
“The sea,” Nathan answered him. “The Southern Ocean, I presume, just off Pickled coast. We’ve nearly been eaten by a giant octopus, and then a hammerhead shark, but they can’t get in. The glass is too thick and I expect its protected by magic. We must be at the bottom of the sea.”
Time seemed to move slower than he had ever known it, dripping by in slow seconds. At first they talked, explaining what had happened to them and the little they knew. They agreed that Clebbster was probably still too broken to appear himself, but could use his magic to control what he had arranged. “And,” said Ferdinand, “this will make him even angrier with you, knowing it was you who beat him into splinters.”
“It was his wife and daughter.”
“But you told them to do it.”
“He hates me anyway.”
“So I reckons we’s being kept safe fer when that pig wizard be ready to smash us,” decided John.
But after they had talked endlessly for some hours, their voices faded, their throats sore as they became thirsty, and there was nothing else to say. They were cramped and stiff, even a little hungry, but thirsty most of all. Their throats were dry and their eyes stung. Only Ferdinand could move a little, and when he did, he inevitably kicked one of the others in the head.
Finally as the day ebbed, they slept. Night seemed no different from day for darkness surrounded them at all times. Sometimes they felt a bump, and woke, startled, to see huge fish eyes staring in at them, but no other monsters attacked and they were left in terrifying monotony, without any idea of what they might try to do.
It was the next morning when a shaft of very pale light drifted through the water outside, showing just a little more of what the ocean held. The passing fish seemed brighter coloured, and a maze of white coral covered the ground some distance away, its curves and knots thick with tiny creatures.
Having sat cramped for more time than he liked to remember, Nathan, in desperation, croaked, “Oh, Knife of Clarr, can’t you help at all? Just send a message to Granny and tell her where we are and she has to come and get us.”
“Wivout no modern tellyphones, wivout no postal letter-man, and wivout no ladder nor skytrain,” sighed John, “we ain’t got no chance, have we. I reckon we’s done fer.”
Gasping for water, even though an ocean of it churned outside, all three had almost lost their voices. “I wish,” whispered Ferdinand, “I was still a frog.”
“Me too,” croaked Nathan, “then you wouldn’t have big boots on, and they wouldn’t be squashing my ears.”
“I wonder how far down we are?” murmured Ferdinand.
“Like forever,” sighed John. “We felled fer a right long time.”
“And those sort of octopus and sharks couldn’t live near the surface, or where it’s shallow. They could only survive in really deep water.” Nathan stared up. “With slippery smooth glass walls, we couldn’t climb it anyway.”
“Push me up,” said Ferdinand, “and let me try.”
It was quite an effort, but both John and Nathan tried to move, and eventually were able to push upwards, standing together and holding their hands to his boots. For a few moments he shot up high and scrabbled for something to grip and hold onto. But there was nothing, and slowly he slipped down again. “Well, at least we managed to stand and stretch,” said Nathan. “It feels a bit better not being cramped all squidged up sitting at the bottom of this tube thing.”
“Yeh.” John sniffed, trying to clear his throat. “But we still can’t move no more. Most of all, me mouth be as dry as a sand dry rock.”
“An easy way to die,” Nathan mumbled, more to himself than anyone else. “Go to sleep, suffocate, and never wake up.”
Once again they lapsed into silence, half asleep, half fainting. They were parched and although there was plenty of fresh air in the tube above their heads, they were so tightly crushed together that they felt it difficult to breathe.
Another thump and thud resounded against the glass, and with a painful jerk, everyone woke and stared through the murk, trying to see what disaster was threatening them now. The waters around them seemed particularly turbulent, with currents crashing from two directions, forcing their glass cave to rock backwards and forwards. Everyone immediately felt seasick, even john.
“I bin to see plenty times and ain’t never felt sick afore,” he gulped. “But now, squished up so tight and this blasted thing like a church bell – I feels ‘orrible.”
“Look,” cried Ferdinand.
Rushing towards them through the sweeping waves was
the octopus that had attacked them before, but this time it was not alone. There were two, and the second one, coming behind, was even larger. They seemed like two dark monsters, but then as the water calmed, they could be seen more clearly.
“That one’s Drassog,” shouted Nathan in horror. “Look, it’s big as a whale, it has to be. This is it.”
Once again he pulled out the knife, and rubbed its blade and handle, “Oh, please,” he called, “help us.” Very carefully he pushed it back into his pocket and waited quietly for whatever ghastly thing was about to happen.
“Shut yer eyes,” whispered John. “We doesn’t need to see the worst.”
But with such awful danger on top of them, no one could close their eyes, and instead stared unblinking.
The smaller octopus, which was still enormous, once again wrapped its eight tentacles around the glass tube, the suckers gripping to every part of the glass. It began to squeeze.
And then, from behind, Drassog the gigantic octopus stretched out its tentacles, wrapping them over and above the others. Both heads, their beaks rigid and terrifying, slamming on the sides, were visible, one above the other. Finally, with this terrible force, the glass began to crack.
Sitting helpless within, Nathan, John and Ferdinand gave up hope. “Tis over,” muttered John, and everyone agreed. Hundreds of great flat suckers squeezed from outside and the enormous strength of the sixteen tentacles tightened, and then tightened again.
“It’s worse than a coiled serpent,” whispered Nathan.
“Don’t give up, my illustrious friends,” squeaked Ferdinand, sounding more like a frog than a man. “When this breaks, the water will rush in. We have to aim straight upwards. The force of the waves may help. We must try, at least, and anything is possible. We could get up to the surface where these beasts can’t stay for long.”
“I’ll try,” Nathan promised, but he felt it would be impossible, and with sixteen tentacles reaching for him, he would be eaten, or drown at once.
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