“You,” called one of the tallest boys. “We only served the wizards because they paid us well, and we were starving. We’ve been living a rough life for years.”
“Then welcome to the good life,” grinned Zakmeister. “Stop this fight and then I’ll take you somewhere comfortable and warm where you’ll certainly be welcome. Instead of being the odd one out, we shall become the special people, and everyone will want to look like us.”
John had already run over to greet the boys, some of whom were about his own age, although others were younger. “I were like you once,’ said John. “In a street gang and mighty hard to steal enough fer eating. I’m John.”
“I’m Zimmer,” called one boy.
“I’m Bob,” yelled another. “But we gotta get rid o’ these Hazletts first.”
They danced around, stabbing out suddenly, taking the older men by surprise. “You’s good fighters,” shouted John, turning as he saw another of the enemy fall to the ground.
“We has to be,” called the boy nearby, “or we doesn’t get naught to eat.”
But then with a sound of galloping thunder, hooves over cobbles and the shouts of a man, a great brown llama came racing from one of the side streets, and the fierce rider swung his sword at Zakmeister. The llama kicked out, twisting and then leaping back. The rider, his helmet covering his face and chain mail covering his body, was sitting low in the saddle and leaning over the llama’s neck, then swept the road with his scimitar, almost cutting the legs from one boy. But the boy jumped out of the way, and immediately Zakmeister swung himself up behind the rider, sitting hard on the animal’s rump, and pulling the rider to the ground.
The llama snorted and raced back into the shadows as Zakmeister and the unseated rider fought, sword to scimitar. For a few brief moments the two men fought on the ground, rolling twice in the mud, puddles and collected rubbish. Then Zakmeister half stood, bent to catch his breath, and stood straight, looking around. “No more fools, coming to risk their lives?” he called.
Nobody answered. The streets were quiet as dusk sank over the rooftops. And as dusk sank, so smoke rose from many chimneys as it was still cold in the nights.
John lounged back against the dusty wall and kicked at the rubbish left lying. “I liked being a kid wiv friends,” he said. “But I likes it better being cosy with food and cake and a mighty good bed. You gotta come wiv us when we goes home. But where did yer all come from?”
It was the tall boy Bob who answered, saying, “Over the water. There’s other lands out there you know. Lashtang ain’t the only one – nor the best. But we got no fathers, so we come over to see where we eats best.”
“I likes sailing, and so does me dad,” John said. “Reckon we should go sailin’ wiv a new boat and explore like Columbus.”
But the Tyrells had never heard of Columbus.
Now Zakmeister now looked down on the small crowd of Tyrell boys. “You have no homes?” Zakmeister asked. They all shook their heads.
“When did you eat last?”
They looked at each other, trying to remember. “Two days ago?”
“No, three.”
“No, only two. We had bread and took a turnip to share from them llamas.”
“Then you come home with me now,” said Zakmeister. “Although there’s little room in the cottage, you can have a choice between a couple of tents outside, the llama stables, or cosy home in the Bymion Village nearby.”
They were staring, mouths open, as if this was a dream come true.
“So reckon we best get going,” grinned John.
The flocks of birds, squirrels and bats who had been asked to fly over the land, looking down for any signs of attack and fighting. But they almost missed the battle that had started in the north.
As the huge trees returned to Sharr and were striding across the forest shadows, making their way back to their rooted homes, so they heard a great chorus of bird song, angry alerts and the high shrill cries of eagles. The trees bent their boughs and looked up, then down. Then they realised what was happening, for the bird calls were drowned out by the thunder of hundreds of llamas galloping across the leaf-strewn ground. They were aiming for the Epilog village where the trees did not often gather, but now they turned and headed back. Their roots made vast strides as they swung their branches and rumbled in anger. Their great trunks swelled, the bark stood out ready to scratch and pound, and every tree called it’s battle cry and the slow tree-words for war and defence.
Two hundred of the Hazlett mercenaries were surrounding the underground villages, having clearly been shown where to go by some Epilog spy. The fighting llamas kicked out, reaching to bite and spit. The Epilogs rushed from their homes, brandishing knives and axes. The fighting men screamed threats and insults. “Come and face us. Fight us, you invisible cowards.”
Clearly they could not see who they fought, but the llamas did, leading their riders directly against the frightened Epilogs.
But the trees arrived. Ten giant oaks reached down, grabbing the mercenaries and swinging them high into the air, catching them with their roots, and throwing them again into the sky. The trees trampled and squashed everyone in front of them, and a high wind whistled through their leaves like a declaration of war.
As the fighting continued, so the Epilogs who had gone to the duel between Clebbster and Granny came rushing back into the forest, hearing the clash of steel against steel. They rushed the fighting men, a crazy scene of seemingly unaimed swords springing from numerous invisible hands.
Many of the llamas turned, bucking and tossing their riders as they galloped back into the fields. The Mercenaries lay on the ground where they had tumbled, and were soon squashed under the weight of the marching trees. Roots squirmed across the fallen bodies, burying them deeply into the earth. Soon the llamas had all sped off and the riders all lay dead. The Epilogs were so grateful, they embraced the trees and swore always to treat them well.
Further south lay the small village of Ubillon, and walking quickly across the long grasses came three tall men. Dressed in cloaks, long to the ground, they approached the village and called, “Come out and face us. We are friends of the Hazlett Wizards. Anyone who supports the Octobrs must face us first.”
The three men wrapped their cloaks around themselves, one purple velvet, one black satin, and the last was scarlet silk. They turned, twisting around so their cloaks flared out. They looked fearsome and the villagers were shy folk, neither rich nor important, and were frightened of the three strangers.
But then, calling loudly, came three Lava wolves, racing through the grass, and leaping into the village square. In their three-headed wolf shape, they could speak. So they called out, telling the village not to worry as they would be protected and they need not fear anything. Then the wolves rushed on the three cloaked men and chased them away. They ran and ran until they ran them down, and tossed all three men into the deep ocean beyond the cliffs where the village had been built.
More mounted Mercenaries invaded Peganda, bursting through the main gates, blowing trumpets and threatening the people. But most of the city folk were on the Octobr side, and they ran through the streets, calling and screeching, refusing to be frightened away. They also came galloping along the cobbles on fierce war-trained llamas, and as they fought, so the llamas were as dangerous as the men. They snapped, bit and kicked against the other Llamas and men as well, and soon there was blood on the cobbles.
Then, finally the men of Peganda drove the others away, giving chase through the city gates and on into the countryside until they all ended in the river, splashing and falling as their llamas stampeded and raced away, leaving their riders straggling in the water, still fighting.
“Why back those wicked Hazletts?” called one man. “We all hate them.”
“They told us the Octobrs will be worse,” called back one of the mercenaries.
“Rubbish,” called the other man. “Back off, then wait and see.”
Within moments the Ha
zlett supporters had surrendered, were quickly disarmed and then led away.
Gradually all across the land, the fighting faded and ceased. The mercenaries had either been killed or chased away, taken to prison or thrown to the wolves, the dragons or the Quosters.
Indeed, the Quosters had been fighting a terrible skirmish between themselves through the hot water on Sparkan. As giant serpents they crushed each other, as men and women they stabbed and chocked. The bitter fighting continued for many hours on Sky Island, for there had long been enmity between the Quosters which supported the Hazletts and hated men, and those who felt the opposite. Now they fought without mercy, changing shape to gain the upper hand.
Then in flew the dragons. Called by Wuz, who had only just returned home, a hundred dragons swept into the fight, although they could not enter the hot water without injury. Great loops of scaled serpents rose from the water to attack the flying dragons, but the dragons blew fire, burning the scales and faces of the snakes.
It was a long battle but slowly the dragons and the Quosters which followed Hexaconda and Laksta, began to prove themselves the stronger, Finally they lay breathless and wounded, but victorious. Not only had the Octobr supporters won the battle, but something else important had been achieved, for the Quosters and the dragons were now friends and allies for life.
The battles had been many but no Hazlett supporters won their fights, for they were always outnumbered. Even most of those who had once sworn to back the Hazletts were now sorry, and slunk away, for they knew that both the great tournament and the magic duel had proved the Octobrs the greatest fighters and the strongest in magic.
“Did I even achieve anything?” demanded Granny, hands back in her apron pocket. “I won the Duel, which was a risk, but I made it. Clebbster cheated as we expected, but he was known as the loser and I’m still very much alive. So! Hooray – let’s go and claim the throne.”
“Alright,” said Sherdam, sitting beside her at the kitchen table. “So it isn’t that simple but we knew it wouldn’t be. The fact remains that by absolute right of the victor, you could do that if you wished.”
“And be dead within five minutes. Most of those resurrected wizards are still lurking in Pickles.”
“Not so many,” Sherdam decided. “I believe at least eight are now dead. Krillester and Deben were gone some days ago, and now Zakmeister and the others have claimed at least six.”
“Which leaves seven of them plus Clebbster himself,” Granny sighed.
“And Brewster.” Poppy poked her head around the door. “No one has seen him since his twin died. Is he alright?”
“Hopefully not,” said Alfie with a sniff.
“That’s unfair,” Poppy insisted. “He’s not come to us, but he hasn’t fought with his father either.”
Messina came through the outside door from the garden. “Now then,” she said. “Clearly we can’t go building a palace and demanding to sit on the throne, but in all fairness, we won the Duel.” She noticed the gleam in Granny’s eye and shook her head. “Yes, of course, you won the Duel, mother dear. With magnificent courage and skill. I thought you were wonderful. So now the throne is ours whether we can go and sit on it or not.”
“So you can call yourself empress, my dear,” Bayldon grinned.
“I can do more than that,” said Messina. “I’m going to start putting Sharr Forest back into its proper shape. I want the waterfall back, the river, the hot lakes, and the Quosters. It has to be done soon. After all, the Quosters and the trees backed us. Now we have to back them.”
“Very true,” said Bayldon with delight. “Off to the forests tomorrow, then. You and your glorious magic, my dear, while I work with spade and broom.”
“Oh, my goodness, I’m not ready for such hard work so soon,” said Granny with a frown as she pushed her glasses up further onto her nose.
“After the Duel? Certainly not,” said Tryppa, bustling in with her lute under her arm and Peter at her heels. “You need a long rest, my dear, and must stay here to look after anyone else who stays, and the animals too. But I intend going back to Sparkan with Peter, and Sam, and Alice and Alfie say they want to come as well.”
“That’s where Clebbster is at the moment,” said Zakmeister. “He’ll be sweating in the hot lakes and basking to get his strength back and heal his wounds. I’d wait until he leaves before you go up there if I were you.”
“We’re going to wait,” said Alice, hurrying in with Jellywop at her side. “And I don’t want to leave just yet because something absolutely lovely has happened.”
“Tell us,” said John. “Wot? Yaark’s turned up fer a cuppa tea?”
Alice giggled. “No,” she said. “But Mouse has just had two more kittens.”
That night, cuddled up on her bed with Mouse and two tiny little balls of white fluff, Poppy was interrupted by the door opening very quietly, and Nathan popping his head around the door. “You asleep?” he whispered.
“Yes, of course I am, fast asleep and dreaming,” she told him. “But come and see these wonderful babies.”
Nathan sat on the side of her bed and stroked the little squeaking fluff-balls. “I’m going somewhere special,” he said. “I want to leave soon before anyone tries to stop me, and I wanted to know if you’d like to come?”
“Of course, I’ll come,” Poppy said, looking up, eyes wide. “But where?”
“Fiblick,” whispered Nathan.
Poppy’s eyes widened even further, and they glittered with excitement. “I’m coming. Give me five minutes to change.”
He almost laughed. “An hour. We leave at midnight.”
Poppy thought of something. “It’s a long way. We have to walk?”
“Silly, no,” said Nathan. “I’ve asked Hermes. He can carry us both. He came with me the last time I went to Fiblick, and we had a terrible time. Hermes almost died. I wasn’t much better. So this time we have to be really really careful. But you know why we’re going, don’t you?”
“Brewster.”
Nathan nodded. “That’s right. I feel sort of responsible. I mean, I never did the tournament and it certainly wasn’t me who killed Wagster. But Brewster was really getting to be a friend, and we didn’t help. He was in a horrible position being friends with us when his father hated us. So I want to make sure he’s alright.”
“I want to do more than that,” said Poppy. “I want to make him happy and really be a proper friend. So come and get me as soon as you’re ready.”
They slipped outside together in the pitch-black night. With neither moon yet risen, they had to tiptoe because they were frightened of knocking something over. It was impossible to see. Hermes, ruffling his feathers to keep warm, was waiting outside. The wind was blowing in their faces, so they were flying in the opposite direction, Hermes reminded them, and the wind would help carry them faster.
Nathan and Poppy both climbed on, nestled deep into the goose down, and waited while Hermes did a fast wobble to the garden gate, then spread his wings, and soared into the blackness.
Fiblick had once been a castle of great size and beauty. It stood overlooking the western ocean, the dark stone swept by wind and waves. Originally there had been huge towers, but now most of the stone was broken and lying in piles of rubble. The place was a ruin. But Nathan remembered the whispering ghosts and the threatening voices which had terrified him the first time he had come here.
They saw its shadow on the horizon before they saw the collapsed towers, the broken walls, crumbled stone stairs now leading nowhere and the ruined arches opening to nothing.
Last time Hermes had landed on the top of one tower, but this no longer stood, so he landed on the cliffs beside the ruins, and both Poppy and Nathan climbed off and looked around.
“It’s horrible,” muttered Poppy. “And in this darkness, it looks even worse.”
“We had to come at night or Dad would have stopped us,” said Nathan. “But I brought a torch. It’s really strong – look.” He turned it on and a h
uge beam of light flooded the courtyard and its smashed rubble.
“Excellent, Nat,” Poppy said, running forwards to look at everything in the new light. “Perhaps you should have bought a walkie-talkie too – or a bell – or something in case we get separated.”
But Nathan shook his head. “We have to stay together. I know it’s risky, but I wanted you to come because you really get on with Brewster, and besides, I need two pairs of eyes. A lot goes on in this weird place. But you mustn’t go off on your own.”
“I suppose.” She didn’t think she’d want to go off on her own, for the dark and threatening ruins looked horrible, but she knew how anything could happen in places like this. “Come on then,” she said. “Let’s explore. You said you found Wagster here last time, so where was that?”
“Fallen down,” Nathan said, pointing to the strewn stone. “But I think there’s still some rooms in place. And don’t get frightened of howling voices. They aren’t real.”
“Yuck,” said Poppy, and started walking.
Although the torch beam was wide and golden, it was hard climbing over the broken stone, for often the piles collapsed underfoot and other piles were high and sharp-edged. While climbing over one dark heap of ruined tiles, there was a sudden cry which made everyone jump. Even Hermes squawked. But the magical voice faded away into the wind, and ended in a noise like hiccups.
Pace by pace Nathan and Poppy managed to explore to the cliff edge and then back again, covering all the mountains of shadows, while looking for a corner which might still hold a room, the entrance to a cellar, or some steps leading somewhere. Falling and scraping their hands and knees was the biggest risk, but at one moment Poppy climbed right to the top of a huge pile of stone bricks, waved her arms to joke about being on top of the hill, when she fell and rolled all the way to the bottom again.
“Wow, that hurt,” she moaned, scrambling up. “And it wasn’t me being silly. Someone tripped me, I’m sure of it.”
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