Hide & Seek

by Barbara Gaskell Denvil

  “Hello. Whoever. Passleram, please come to see us. We’ve come all the way up here for a very special reason. Are there any kindly stars? Parrots? Eagles? Even Jellies?”

  After a long silence, it was quite a shock when a very large blue feathered eagle swooped from the sky and stood high before them. “You are Lashtang folk,” it said with a slight nod. “I wasn’t on this meteor when it landed on your world, but you are not parrots nor jellies nor stars, so you must be people.” It scratched the blue feathers behind one large golden eye, and continued, “I am Shockloft, one of the senior parrots and I sit on the new council. You call for Passleram, but he’s away on business at meteor 532”

  Secretly pleased at this news, Zakmeister said, “Can we meet those of authority here? We wish to discuss what we can all do to overcome the imminent war on Lashtang. This need not concern you if you wish to keep separate, but we’d be much obliged if you agreed to help in any manner.”

  Shockloft nibbled a claw. “I heard of your war, and would be pleased to help,” he said. “I’ll arrange a meeting with the elders.”

  “This,” said Zakmeister, presenting Nathan who was staring absently up at the clouds, “is the Lashtang empole. A highly important young man. But we are asking for aid, and that is up to you to give or deny.”

  But Nathan was pointing upwards. “There’s a balloon coming down to land. It’s the same balloon but not the same passengers. It doesn’t look like Brewster and it can’t be Wagster.”

  Zakmeister sighed. “But someone from the Hazlett side.” He turned back to the eagle. “I’m afraid, sir,’ he said, “you are also being visited by one or more of our enemies. They may well be asking for your help against us. This makes it a little difficult for everyone, but I’d appreciate a quick visit to your elders.”

  “Madam, not sir,” said the Eagle. “But I’m not offended. You human type people are very ignorant about other species. And yes, come along with me. We’ll help no one who befriends Yaark.”

  Without mentioning that the Hazletts mostly hated Yaark as much as everyone else, Nathan hurried to follow, but Shockloft took off with a short run and swept into the sky. It was extremely difficult to follow him on land. “Can’t we do one of your zooms?” he asked Zakmeister.

  But Zakmeister refused. “We could bump into the balloon. I’m taking no chances.”

  Eventually it was behind them that the balloon landed with quite a few shouts and shrieks of the occupants who had obviously never flown a balloon before. The others followed Shockloft’s shadow on the ground, over the rocks, over the grasses and over the blackened ground until they came to a small circle of short stumpy trees, and amongst them were several large tents made from wood and feathers. This time the noises were quite different with a good deal of squawking and wild eagle cries.

  Shockloft landed and strutted towards the largest tent. She pushed open the flap with her beak, and Sam, Zakmeister and Nathan followed the bird inside. Immediately all sound stopped, and everyone stared.

  In the centre of the tent was a long table and here, half on chairs and half on the table itself, sat five parrot eagles, and five brightly coloured stars. They were being served with steaming hot bowls of something by a troop of jelly-oxen. But now everyone had stopped drinking too and even the jellies somehow managed to look startled.

  “These are newcomers from Lashtang,” announced Shockloft. “Yaark still lurks the perimeters of Lashtang, and Yaark’s accomplices still rule there. Who agrees we should take a party down to help finish them off?”

  There was a very satisfying roar of approval and the eagle-parrots flapped their wings in approval while the stars hopped up and down. Whilst the eagles were all black and blue feathered, they came in different sizes from average to huge, whilst the stars were many coloured. They came in black and silver, blue and green, navy and turquoise, brown, purple, plum, scarlet and pink. There were some glossy yellow stars, and some which seemed to have arms in a different colour for each. One very chocolate coloured star gave a hop and a skip, and said, “We will send a troop of well-trained jelly-oxen. They fight well when trained, although they have no initiative and can only do what they’re told. But we’ll come too.”

  “How about a hundred parrots?” suggested one of the eagles.

  “And two hundred stars?” Said an orange star, flashing lights.

  “And three hundred trained jellies,” said a rather small eagle. “I’ve trained at least

  that many.”

  But in the middle of the cheering that followed, the tent flap was again pushed open and two strangers in armour marched in. They glared at everyone, but especially at Nathan and Zakmeister. The tallest said, “I am Dragster, and this is my grandson Libester. We are mighty wizards of the ruling family Hazlett. Once we were emperors, but we died long since. We have returned to bring justice, and wipe out the attempted usurpers, the family Octobr.”

  Nathan wished he had more back up, but he immediately stepped forwards. “My family were the emperors of Lashtang long before you came along. It’s the Hazletts who are the usurpers.”

  “You were emperors hundreds of years ago. Five hundred. Six hundred. And poor rulers at that. You surrendered to my great ancestor Lester. You have no further right to the throne.”

  “Your rulers are cruel and destructive,” shouted Zakmeister.

  The whole tent was in chaos. Bowls of steaming black liquid were spilled across the table, burning some of the stars’ arms, while others were spilled on the floor, causing everyone to slip and slide. The jelly oxen were sliding so badly, many ended up on their backs with their legs waving helplessly in the air.

  The eagles were screeching, while others were puzzled, having no idea what was going on. Even Libester and Dragster appeared confused. They had not known about the meteors before Yaark, and disliked the look of little fat red jellies wobbling and slipping, large eagles glaring and becoming fierce, and stars far too like Yaark to seem friendly.

  “Look, a blue one,” yelled Dragster. “That must be the creature so much hated by Clebbster.”

  Shockloft interrupted. “Yaark is Clebbster’s accomplice,” she said crossly.

  “Certainly not,” Libester objected. “Yaark has attempted to take Clebbster’s throne, and is a criminal under sentence of death.”

  Then everybody started talking at the same time and it was impossible to hear what they said. Eventually, although he felt it was not his proper place, Zakmeister clapped his hands loudly and called for silence. “Let me be clear,” he said. “There is war coming, and although it does not need to affect the meteors, it may do so with explosions and storms. There are two obvious sides. These two men, long dead and returned from long ago, are part of the Hazlett clan. They usurped our throne hundreds of years ago, and have been tyrants ever since. They are cruel to everyone and are much hated by their own people.” The two wizards looked very angry at this but they allowed Zakmeister to continue. He said, “We are representatives of the Octobr side, the rightful rulers, and ready to rule well and judge kindly. We have already succeeded in improving the lives of many on Lashtang, and the Empress Messina will sacrifice her life to rule well. But first we must get rid of the Hazlett wizards. So we ask for your help to ensure our victory.”

  “Just as we do,” said Libester quickly.

  One of the larger stars, very vivid blue with all his six arms whizzing around, flew into the air over the table, calling, “We have no detailed knowledge of either side, but we can make a clear decision, for I know Yaark has sometimes worked together with the wizard Clebbster. And so I choose to back the Octobrs. Now, make up your own minds quickly, and we can take a vote. The most votes wins.”

  Feathers and glittering arms were raised, until once again Zakmeister shouted, “First, who votes for us?” And almost everyone voted immediately.

  “And who votes for us?” shouted Libester. But only one eagle and one star voted, and even they looked embarrassed. And turned away at once.

&nb
sp; “So we get the vote,’ yelled Sam, getting quite excited.

  Without time to blink, Libester drew his sword, and Dragster pulled his axe from his belt. They both ran at Zakmeister and Nathan, and waved their weapons. Zakmeister responded with his own sword, and a knife in the other hand, but Sam had no weapons on his, and Nathan tugged at his sword three times before he managed to pull it out of the scabbard.

  Zakmeister slashed both his blades sideways and then up, but Libester danced backwards, calling, “This is the dark-skinned one who won the tournament. He’s a great warrior. Use magic against him, not force.”

  A flash of great black smoke sprang towards Nathan and Zakmeister, but Nathan managed to dodge, and Zakmeister answered with his own magic as a mighty wind blew all the smoke into Libester’s eyes, and lifted him from the ground. For a moment he flew and then landed heavily on top of the table. Dragster pulled his grandson from the table, but at once they were faced with ten large red jelly-oxen, mouthless and eyeless, who nevertheless seemed to see very well. They began to wobble forwards, and both Hazlett emperors fell, squashed beneath their weight.

  As the two wizards, wheezing and choking, managed to crawl out from the squeeze, gasping for breath and looking very red in the face, Libester rolled over and pointed one long finger. “Freeze,” he croaked, “and die.”

  But the spell hit neither Nathan nor Zakmeister, it hit one of the jellies, who tumbled over on top of Dragster again.

  “How dare you kill my servants,” said Shockloft in fury, and rushed over to Libester, pecking at his face until it was scratched and bleeding all over. Two other eagles managed to roll the jelly from Dragster, but they also pecked.

  “Get up,” Nathan yelled at him. “Fight fair.” But as he raised his sword, the wizard grunted, waved his blade, and called out, “Bald, chicken pox, two bruised knees, hiccups and a belly ache. Go on, you wretch. Suffer!”

  Dropping his sword with a clatter and clash, Nathan doubled over with a hand around his stomach, heaving and feeling sick. Meanwhile he developed a terrible case of hiccups and between the hiccups and the groans, he couldn’t say anything else. He was already covered in a dreadful red rash, his lovely bumble-bee hair was falling out in great chunks, and his knees were so painful he soon fell to the ground.

  Hurrying over, Sam and Zakmeister ignored everyone else and helped Nathan up, looking in horror at his suddenly bald head. Zakmeister muttered three words under his breath. “Turn everything back.” And immediately Nathan jumped up, feeling fine but very angry. The rash had gone, all his hair was back, and clearly he wanted to fight again. He found his sword and picked it up, running over to Dragster who was still on the floor.

  The scuffle, the thrown magic, the shouting and the thumps and falls all made the problem worse, but soon Nathan had pinned Dragster to the side of the tent, his sword to the wizard’s neck. Libester, meanwhile, was flat on the ground with Zakmeister’s foot very firmly planted on his back.

  “Game over,” called Sam, running over. “You’ve both lost. Give up.”

  But as he spoke, Dragster ducked, bending to dislodge the sword at his throat, grabbed Nathan’s hand and shook it so that once again the blade clattered to the floor. Nathan’s wrist was in great pain from the wizard’s twist, and falling backwards, Nathan banged against the table, bounced, and landed on one of the jellies. The jelly politely waited until Nathan managed to stand again.

  Beneath Zakmeister’s foot, Libester tried to roll, but couldn’t move, soon he had the point of Zakmeister’s sword on the back of his neck, and called out for mercy. He was freed, and allowed to stand. Yet once back on his feet he cried out, “Earthquake. Storm.”

  As the thunder rumbled behind the clouds, the earth beneath them began to break in a huge crack immediately beneath Libester’s feet. Lightening sprang in forked glitter while the rocks rose up to meet it. The meteor seemed to be breaking apart. Rocks flew and the crack burst open to become a chasm, wider and wider, deeper and deeper.

  Nathan ran to Zakmeister, who was trying to reverse both storm and earthquake, but the rumbling and grinding continued. It was now too far advanced to stop, and Libester, with a terrifying shriek, disappeared into the mighty black hole just as the rain began to hurtle down upon them.

  Running, frantic, screaming and begging for help, Dragster raced from the ruin of the meteor, and with a wail like a drowning tiger, he leapt and disappeared.

  Everyone was preparing to abandon the meteor. “We must take our places on the other meteors,” cried Shockloft. “Sometimes this happens. The meteors are not stable, and they often erupt. We’re used to this sort of thing.” He turned to the parrot-eagles, shouting, “Fly off, my friends. We’ll meet up again soon.” Then to the stars, which were already disappearing fast, he called, “Go back to other friends. The closest meteor to us now is Number 994. It’s larger and comfortable with running water and a lake. I’ll meet you all there.” Finally he turned to Zakmeister, who was preparing to magic himself, Nathan and Sam back to Lashtang, and shouted above the roaring and tumbling. “Come to planet 994 if you want to discuss the same problem. But we may not be able to help. It will take us some time to settle and make new homes.”

  The jelly-oxen were curling up onto red wobbly balls, and tipping themselves into the air like so many red rubber footballs. They rolled through space as if on wheels, and were soon lost to view. “I suppose they know where to go?” asked Sam.

  “Oh yes,” said Shockloft. “We’re all safe. We often have our meteors explode beneath us. But I believe your two dearest friends Libester and Dragster are lost forever.”

  Zakmeister laughed as Shockloft spread his wings and flew off. He took Sam’s hand in his, placed the other on Nathan’s shoulder, and whizzed them back to Lashtang as the meteor 869 burst into three crumbling pieces. Rock, grit, solid pieces of earth and stone all splattered into the air.

  “My goodness me,” said Granny. “What a surprise. Ready for tea?”

  Meanwhile laboriously climbing the ladder, a large group of Sicilian bandits were appearing one by one in the back garden.

  Alfie behind, Alice in front, Captain Jim in the middle in hoots of laughter as he struggled up, watching everybody else standing on everybody’s fingers while the ladder grumbled and tipped purposefully to one side, a small family of seagulls appeared and complained there was no sea, and Hermes, flying beside them all, kept resolutely silent as if he didn’t want to be seen as part of the same party.

  Finally Alice tumbled over onto the grass with a gasp of relief. The others tipped off with grunts and Sicilian swear words, and in the end it was Alfie who jumped from ladder to land with a whoop of success.

  “We got ‘em all,” said Alfie. “More than we met last time. They all said they wanted freedom. The local baron was after them and they wanted to get away.”

  “No thieving here,” said Alice with a frown. “But there are nice houses waiting in Bymion. But haven’t any of you got wives?”

  “No one’d have us,” said one man.

  Jim was still laughing. “Reckon I’ll walk ‘em off to Bymion,” he said. “Wine ‘em, dine ‘em, and put ‘em to bed in their own cottages. They didn’t like that ladder, not one little bit.”

  “And the ladder didn’t like them,” added Hermes, fluffing his feathers and stalking off to the kitchen.

  It was the next day when Richard III marched through the back gate into the garden, looking really pleased with himself. Beside him walked Arthur, with an even bigger grin on his face. John came just behind, laughing to himself. And then, in a long, long line came a hundred or more mighty trees of all sorts. They strode in great strides, using their roots as legs, and waved their branches as they sang marching songs and songs of battle and ambition.

  Sing of the root, the bough and the bark on our timber.

  Sing of the leaf and the bud.

  March across hills we do not remember,

  Our trunks to the sky and our roots to the mud.

&n
bsp; Over the grasslands and through the mountains cold,

  Drinking both rain and shine,

  We sing the songs that once we were told.

  Recalling the youth that was mine.

  To be leading a fabulous and mighty army of trees was not something Richard had ever expected to do, and he was delighted. Arthur had never known anything like it, was so proud of his son, and was enjoying himself enormously, while John was simply having a great time as usual. They approached the cottage, and the trees, led by Soar the huge and ancient oak, began to circle round until there was no way in or out unless a tree stepped aside.

  “Well,” smiled Granny. “That’s one way of keeping safe.” She carried in the tray of teapots and mugs, and set it down on the living room table. “Cake coming next,” she said, and called out, “Jellywop, bring in the cakes.”

  Jellywop trotted in with a large platter of different cakes on its back, which Granny grabbed and also put on the table. She handed Jellywop one of the cakes and smiled at everyone else. Then she shifted Mouse who was curled up on the big squashy armchair and sat down herself. “Two more days,” she said. “And it will be spring.”

  “And on the first day of spring, the hand to hand Dual will be held outside Pickles.”

  “But I am fairly sure,” continued Granny, “that Clebbster will attempt every way he can think of to cheat. And the most obvious way is to try and keep all of us busy watching the Dual, while he sends off all his own people behind our backs, to start the war uninterrupted.”

  “But naturally,” smiled Sherdam, “we shall not permit it. We have plans for everything. So enjoy your cake. We have just two days of peace left to us.”

  Henry VIII, being the only one who had gone nowhere and done nothing, was sitting on the large couch, transfixed by a photograph of himself at the tournament, which had been secretly taken by Nathan. Henry stuffed two cakes into his mouth and wiped the crumbs and spit from his photo. “Marvellous invention,” he mumbled, trying not to lose too much cake down the front of his satin doublet.