by Michael Kerr
“We will soon be rich beyond our wildest dreams, my little friend,” Pintello said, a second before he turned his attention to where a loud cry came from farther along the dock.
Ben had taken a running jump, and waved his arms and screamed all the way down, drawing his knees up just before hitting the water to make as big a splash as possible.
“Ugh!” Turquin exclaimed. “That water is full of fish guts and garbage and half the town’s sewage.”
“Then the boy should have been more careful,” Pintello said. “Maybe he’ll drown and make good eating for the crabs.”
At the very moment that everybody, including the jester and dwarf, was watching Ben, Gorf struck from behind. He ripped the bag from Pintello’s shoulder, snapping the strap. And as it came free, Sam and Tommy shoved the pair off the pier.
Pintello knew at once it must be them. He took a deep breath before he went under the water, sank ten feet, and then swam back up to the surface.
Turquin was not so lucky. He landed head first on the splintered top of a submerged wooden post and was immediately killed. His body drifted down to be caught in the current and swept out into the vast lake, never to be seen again.
Pintello climbed up onto the pier and stood dripping and coughing, looking all around to try to catch sight of the group that had stolen the chalice back from him. But there was no sign of them. The boy! It had been a trick. One of them had screamed and jumped into the water on purpose to attract his attention. He ran to the spot where the lad had climbed back up. There was a trail of water leading to an open-sided warehouse. He followed it, but for only a few feet. Inside the building workers were packing fish into crates, and the ground was soaked. The band of misfits had fooled him, but he would not accept defeat. He knew that they were trying to reach the Crossroads of Time. He would make his own way there and steal the chalice back again.
Returning the way he had come, Pintello expected to find Turquin, who he thought would now be on the pier and complaining bitterly about the diseases he might have caught from swallowing the soupy harbour water.
“You lookin’ fer yer friend?” a sailor with a wooden leg asked.
“Yes,” Pintello answered. “Have you seen him?”
“No, an’ I doubt anyone will ever see ‘im agin in this life. He didn’t come up. ‘e’s another soul lost to the sea. All I saw were a few bubbles.”
Pintello felt a coldness enter his heart. The group who had been responsible for Turquin’s death would pay heavily for what they had done. He did not intend to just take the chalice from them the next time they met. He now intended to kill them all.
― CHAPTER FOURTEEN ―
THRUM THE FERRYMAN
Ben hid under a table in the warehouse next to the dock for a while. He spotted Pintello looking for him, but the jester saw all the water on the floor and knew that it was impossible to pick up any trail. After he had gone, Ben tugged off his jacket and wrung it out, then did the same with his trousers. When he put them back on, they were still soaking wet, but not dripping. He waited a little longer, until he was sure that the crafty thief had really left, before sneaking out of the building and heading back to the café.
Sam opened the bag as she walked. The chalice was inside, along with a few items of clothing, including the jester’s diamond-patterned tunic and the three-pointed hat with bells on. Digging deeper, she found a leather pouch. It was heavy. Undoing the thong that held the top closed, she looked inside and saw that it was full of gold coins.
“We’ve got more than enough money here to pay for a ferryman to take us to the Crossroads of Time,” Sam said to the others.
They reached the café, went inside and found an empty table near the window that faced the street.
“What can I get you?” Morgana asked them.
“Do you have pancakes and maple syrup?” Pook asked hopefully.
“I’m afraid not,” Morgana said. “We have banana fudge, pumpleberry blancmange, and sugar-frosted caramel cake.”
“I’ll have a large bowl of blancmange and a glass of lemonade, please,” Pook said.
“Do you have tea?” Sam asked Morgana.
“Yes. We have nettle tea, ginger tea, and even seaweed tea.”
“I’ll try the ginger tea if I may,” Sam said.
“So will I,” said Tommy.
Fig and Speedy ordered cider. Gorf wasn’t thirsty.
Half an hour passed before Ben came in.
“You look like a drowned rat,” Sam said. “What kept you?” She had been worried that Ben had been hurt, or even drowned when he jumped in the harbour.
“I hid for a while. Pintello was looking for me. And on the way back I heard people talking in the street, saying that a dwarf had drowned in the harbour.”
“Oh dear, I pushed Turquin,” Sam said, putting her hands up to her face. She was absolutely horrified and felt terribly guilty. “I killed him.”
Gorf put an arm around her shoulder and held her close. “We did what we had to, Sam, so don’t start feeling guilty,” he said. “You didn’t mean him any harm. If they hadn’t stolen the chalice from you in the first place, then none of this would have happened. They brought it upon themselves. Remember that.”
Sam knew that Gorf was right. They had faced so much danger, and were so close to their destination now, that whatever action they found necessary to take to return the chalice to the Keeper, they would. The future of everything depended on them, and so anyone who got in their way would have to be dealt with. She had to be brave in mind and spirit.
“Right on, Gorf,” she said. “Now stop hugging me so hard, and let’s figure out what to do next.”
“We need to find the ferryman to take us across the lake,” Tommy said.
“I don’t think it’s a lake,” Ben said. “The water tasted salty. It must lead out to the sea. And the trip will cost a lot of money. What do you suggest we do, rob a bank?”
Sam smiled. “No problemo. There was money in Pintello’s bag. Lots of it.”
After they had finished eating, and Pook had scoffed a second helping of blancmange, Sam paid Morgana and asked if she could talk to Silas.
“Yes, my friends,” Silas said, peering at them through his new glasses. “What is it you wish to discuss?”
“We need to get to the Crossroads of Time,” Sam said. “Do you know the ferryman, who we were told would take us there?”
“There is only one ferryman who believes that such a place really exists,” Silas said. “He is a strange fellow, who answers to the name of Thrum. He lives out on the shore road in a shack made of driftwood. I would advise you not to go there, for he is known to be very unpredictable, and has two guard boars that he has trained to attack strangers.”
“We have to try to reach the Crossroads if they do exist,” Ben said. “We’ve come too far to give up now.”
“Then do not part with any money until you are sure you have reached your destination,” Silas advised them. “For Thrum might drop you off on a deserted island and leave you marooned, if he already has your ducats.”
They thanked Silas, asked him not to tell anyone of their intentions, and left the café to head out of town, following a path that took them through grass-topped hummocks and out onto a pebbly beach.
They could see the shack from half a mile away. Smoke was curling up from a hole in its roof, and a large sail boat was moored up to a rickety jetty nearby. When they got to within fifty yards of the shack, Gorf stopped.
“Lets not go any closer,” he said, taking the bow from his shoulder. “He may set his boars on us if we surprise him.”
“Hello,” Sam shouted. “We wish to be taken on a boat trip. We have money.”
After a minute passed, a silvery-grey door made of planks opened, and a face with wild looking eyes and a mass of bushy black hair and a long, straggly beard, appeared around it.
“Show me the colour of your money,” Thrum said in a throaty whisper that somehow drifted to them on the bre
eze.
Sam held up the heavy pouch and shook it.
“I said show me,” Thrum said. “That could be a bag full of nails or bent washers. Do you take me for a fool?”
Sam tipped a few of the coins out onto the palm of her hand.
Thrum nodded and came out of his shack. He was dressed in an outfit made from animal skins, and was very nearly the same height as Gorf.
“Are your boars chained up?” Fig asked him.
“They would be, if I hadn’t eaten them,” Thrum wheezed. “Business has been bad, and I was in need of fresh meat. The stupid animals spent all day and night eating and sleeping. They had become too fat and lazy, and so I have feasted on salt pork for every meal these last few weeks. Where do you gwains wish to be ferried to?”
“To the Crossroads of Time,” Sam said.
“That will cost you a great many ducats,” Thrum said. “For the island where all worlds meet at its centre is eight moons sailing from here in fair weather.”
“Will you take us there?” Sam asked.
“Yes. But you will have to give me money to buy provisions, Thrum said as he approached them. “We will need enough food and barrels of fresh water to get us there and back.”
“We won’t all be going” Ben said. “And those of us that are will not be coming back.”
“I think we should stay with you until the...the mission is completed,” Fig said.
Speedy nodded in agreement.
“Count me in, too,” Gorf said. “I have no wish to try and return to the Desert of Storms. I’d much rather see how this turns out.”
“While you argue among yourselves, I shall take my cart and buy what I think we’ll need,” Thrum said. “You are welcome to wait inside my shack. I won’t be long.”
Sam gave Thrum three of the coins, but he asked for two more. Maybe he was cheating them, but she didn’t care, as long as he took them to where they wanted to go.
After Thrum had left in a cart pulled by an old horse with a limp and a sagging back, they all went inside the shack and were surprised to find it clean and tidy. The ferryman had built a sturdy table and chairs out of driftwood, and in the corner of the big room was a bed with a mattress of sailcloth, most likely stuffed with straw, or perhaps horse hair.
“We need to talk,” Sam said to the others. “If we ever get to Iceworld and return the chalice to the Keeper, then he may be able to help us find our way back to our own world. But what would you all do?”
“Make our way back to the Oak Palace,” Fig said, speaking for himself and Speedy. “Or at least try to.”
“I might stay close to Ujimar,” Gorf said. “I could live in the mountains, hunt, and perhaps build myself a cabin. I don’t think I want to return through all the lands we came across, and have to try getting past those dragons again.”
“What will become of me?” Pook asked. “I don’t belong anywhere. If I leave this world I might become unalive again.”
Tommy picked up the little bear and cuddled him. “I’ll stay here with you, Pook,” he said. “Maybe we could live with Gorf in his cabin. Would that be okay with you, Gorf?”
Gorf grinned. “That would be fine by me. In fact I think it an excellent idea. I’ve begun to realise that it’s no fun being on your own.”
“What about your mum?” Ben asked Tommy. “Think how she would feel if we went back without you.”
“You’d have to tell her I’m okay, and that my leg is better, and that I don’t need to wear glasses anymore.”
“We can’t tell anybody anything about what happened, Tommy,” Sam said. “No one would believe us? They’d think we were stark raving bonkers if we started talking about fairies and Gorf, and Charlie the vampire, and dragons, and all the other things we’ve seen, and the strange places we’ve been.”
Tommy knew that Sam was right. But he didn’t want to leave Pook and Gorf, or go back to being a spotty, four-eyed nerd with a limp.
“You have to come back with us, Frog,” Ben said. “We couldn’t explain what had happened to you.”
“That’s your problem,” Tommy said, his mind made up. “I don’t have to do anything. I wouldn’t be happy back in Grassington. I have a choice, the same as you two do. And I choose to stay here.”
Thrum returned within the hour. The cart had eight large barrels of water on it, and sacks of fruit, loaves of bread, smoked fish and cured meat.
“Help me store these provisions in the hold of the boat,” Thrum said to them. “And then we will have supper and get a good night’s sleep before setting sail.”
The boat was similar to a small fishing trawler, but with sails, not an engine. There was a wheel-house at the stern, and a deck with a hatch on it, covering a deep hold.
After loading the food and water, they ate pork, and although it tasted good, Sam could not help but think that it was from the boars that had until recently guarded Thrum’s shack. Maybe they had had names. She didn’t ask.
Early the next morning they boarded the boat, which Thrum had christened Maid of the Lake.
The first day was fine and sunny. The great lake was quite calm, and a steady breeze took them from sight of land before midday.
Gorf and Pook stayed in the wheel-house with Thrum, but the others enjoyed the sunshine and fresh air, and watched pink dolphins swim in the bow waves.
It was on the fourth day that they heard the distant roar. They all stopped talking and listened.
“That is the Great Whirlpool,” Thrum said. “It’s a long way west of here, but if I sailed any closer to it, we would be drawn round in circles, ever faster, before being sucked down into the very heart of it.”
They sailed on, and eventually the sound of the whirlpool could no longer be heard.
“Not long now,” Thrum said. “With a fair wind you will soon be at the place where all time and places meet and part.”
A flimsy veil of sea fog hung over the glassy surface, and the sails hung limp, but Thrum fully expected the sun to quickly break through, and for the sails to be puffed out by a southerly wind. Instead, the fog thickened unexpectedly, the air temperature dropped, and thunder and lightning heralded the onset of a storm.
“Best get in the wheel-house, now,” Thrum called out to the others, who were all keeping a lookout for dolphins, and the island. “It’s going to get a little rough.”
The storm hit, and conditions got much worse.
“We’ll be through this in no time,” Thrum said, peering out at a wall of fog. No worries, he thought, but felt an edge of uneasiness as the sea was whipped up into sharp, foam-laced peaks, and the helm became harder to hold on course.
Pook screamed as a large shape detached itself from the fog bank only yards ahead of them.
There was no time to react or manoeuvre. The object crashed into them, tossing the boat aside, and ripping its prow off.
The Maid of the Lake wallowed, turned onto her side and began to sink, as the giant whale that had hit it slid away into the murk, not even slowed by the collision.
Sam was suddenly spinning through the air, to cartwheel over the wave tops, before slamming into a grey, marbled wall of water and crying out as her arm was whipped back and dislocated at the shoulder. Dazed, she began to sink, choking painfully on the frigid liquid, fully aware that she was drowning.
Jerked upward, Sam broke the surface coughing and spluttering. Gorf had dived down and saved her. He held her tightly as they bobbed like corks between the peaks and troughs of the angry sea.
“What happened?” Gorf shouted in her ear, to be heard above the noise.
“We...We got run down by a whale,” Sam croaked. “We’ve got to find the others.”
They called out, and as the storm passed the fog lifted and the sea became calm again. The boat had gone, leaving only scattered flotsam to show its passing into the deep. Sam and Gorf could see Ben and Tommy, who were close by and clinging to a large piece of broken mast. And farther away, Speedy and Pook were hanging on to one of the water b
arrels. But there was no sign of Fig or Thrum.
Paddling with their hands and kicking with their feet, they came together amid the floating wreckage and shouted Fig’s and Thrum’s names until they were hoarse. After an hour passed they stopped calling. It was obvious that their good friend and the ferryman had drowned.
Thrum had held onto the helm as the boat came apart around him. Only as the shattered hull sank, and he was underwater, did he let go of the wheel and swim out of the submerged cabin. He broke the surface, but was immediately pulled under again as a piece of tangled rope wrapped round his leg. On the other end of the rope was the heavy anchor, and as it plummeted down, Thrum was dragged with it on a long and final journey to the sandy bottom a thousand feet below.
Speedy was absolutely heartbroken. He could not believe that Fig was gone.
“Did you see it?” Tommy said. “It was massive, just like Moby Dick.”
“What’s Moby Dick?” Gorf asked him.
“A giant white sperm whale,” Tommy said. “A man called Herman Melville wrote a book about it. And then they made a movie of it.”
Gorf had no idea what a sperm whale or a movie was, and didn’t ask.
Sam groaned. Her shoulder hurt so badly that she thought it must be broken. She couldn’t move her left arm.
“Let me look at that,” Gorf said, and as gently as possible he ran his hand over it and decided that it had been knocked out of joint. “Take a deep breath, Sam, and I’ll pop it back in place.”
Before Sam had time to think about it, Gorf jerked her arm sideways and upwards. She screamed and nearly passed out on the spot, but a second after it was done, the pain was much easier to bear.
“All fixed,” Gorf said.
“Thanks,” Sam whimpered through gritted teeth.
The one stroke of good luck was that Sam had been wearing the bag containing the chalice like a backpack. And now, even in the cold water, she could feel a warm glow from it, which she knew was healing the torn muscles in her shoulder.
They drifted for hours and hardly spoke. They were all thinking about poor Fig, and missing him. He had lost his life by coming with them, and they would never forget him. Speedy couldn’t stop crying.