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Rampage!

Page 19

by Wills, Julia; Hartas, Leo ;


  He clacked the ball through the last hoop.

  ‘Bravo!’ said Walter, slapping his left hand against his thigh, a rather unpleasant sound and nothing like applause, but which had remained the old man’s only option since his execution had obliged him to use his right hand for carrying his head centuries ago.

  Dropping an elaborate bow, Wat was mid finger-flourish when he noticed the topiary44 squirrels fronting The Orangery beginning to twitch. He straightened up abruptly, feeling his eyes widen in alarm as the twiggy creatures then raised the nut-shaped clumps of privet clasped in their paws to their mouths.

  ‘Zooks!’ he gasped, as behind him the lake exploded with the trumpeting of hundreds of ducks lifting off the water.

  But before he could twist round to take a proper look, something blazingly bright slammed into his stomach like an invisible cannon ball and flipped him off his feet to hoik him up, up and further up into the air. Flapping his arms uselessly, he stared down, horrified as the castle shrank beneath him, framed by his splendid purple shoes. Far below, his mother toppled backwards in a flurry of squeals and petticoats, whilst beside her Walter bellowed, holding his head high over his stumpy neck for a better view.

  Sucked up into a tunnel of lightning, Wat spun through the air for several minutes, toppling cape over puffballs, to finally land with a dismal squelch. Dazed and blinking through a last drift of stars, he noticed his mud-soaked hose45 and instinctively dabbed them with his silk handkerchief. Then he heard the chirruping cicadas whose tune had replaced the familiar chatter of sparrows. A lyrebird trilled high above him. As the last wisp of smoke vanished around him, he spied the buttress roots of a mahogany tree a few metres away, standing like polished walls around the base of the enormous trunk. Half-remembering it, he felt his bones chill beneath his phantom skin and, tilting his head back, he followed its column up with his eyes, knowing he would see a cloud of leaves halfway up, ringed by blood-red flowers. They were still there.

  Just like on the day of his funeral.

  ‘Welcome back,’ said a woman’s voice.

  Jerking his head round, he saw Medea standing over him and felt his ghost heart begin to thump.

  ‘Seamstress?’ he gasped, fingering the soot-edged hole in his jerkin and rising to his feet. ‘Witch maiden! Vile conjurer of curses! Architect of mine own death!’

  Ah, yes …

  ‘Minx of the stitching needle! Dreaded embroiderer of the Fleece …’

  … Whilst he’s going on, I’d better explain.

  You see, ghosts have lots of spare time and they tend to get rather bored. Even floating around the ceilings of Buckingham Palace and sneaking in free to the movies becomes rather dull after the first hundred years. So, to jolly things up a bit, they like to throw parties. Of course, meeting all those new guests with a ‘Hello and how did you die?’ it wasn’t long before Wat and his father discovered that lots of other spooks, despite living centuries apart from them, were all dressed in clothes fashioned by one and the same person: Medea. Strange enough in itself that a Roman emperor should find himself kitted out by the same woman who’d sewn an astronaut’s socks, but odder still when they all discovered the cusps of golden wool sewn into the linings of their last-gasp clobber and found out what they meant.

  ‘Jinxer with the Fleece! Dire mistress of evil! Demon-dabbler of decoration!’ spluttered Wat.

  ‘And it’s lovely to see you again too,’ said Medea, holding up her hands to stop him. ‘But really, we don’t have time for all this flattery.’

  Flicking his eyes sideways, he spluttered to see a red-haired girl step out from behind the sorceress. Odder still, she seemed to be peering back at him, as though she could actually see him. Snatching up the head of his mallet, he jabbed its handle towards her, prodding the air around her, as though at an unwelcome mouse in the castle larder. She flinched. And so did he. Clearly, he realised, the Greek witch had granted the girl some sort of magical clear-sightedness to see things hidden from ordinary mortals.

  ‘What vile trickery be this?’

  ‘No trickery,’ shrugged Medea. ‘Her name’s Rose and she’s my apprentice.’

  ‘Apprentice?’

  Wat inspected the girl more closely. With her wide brown eyes and startled expression, she looked far too kindly to be tangled up with the sorceress. Worse, she appeared to be little more than a child, and now, despite his own shock, he felt thoroughly dismayed that she should be out here in the middle of the jungle in the company of such a dreadful woman.

  Around him the cicadas began to roar in his ears and somewhere near by a woodpecker drilled into a tree, seeming to rattle his very bones. He hated this place and, feeling slightly dizzy with the heat, loosened his ruff with his finger. Sticky with heat, it prickled like a sleeping hedgehog against his neck.

  ‘Why hast thou summoned me to this abominable spot?’

  ‘Because we need your help.’

  ‘Me?’ spluttered Wat. ‘Help the foul witch of Kolkis?’ He felt a bitter laugh rise up his throat. ‘Assist a lizard of deception, a rat in the barrel of ––’

  ‘Oh, don’t start all that again,’ snapped Medea. ‘We don’t have the time.’

  ‘Then play me not as a ninny, madam!’ cried Watt. ‘Return me henceforth to mine estate!’

  ‘No,’ said Medea.

  ‘No?’ A tingle of icy shock rippled from his toes to his brow. ‘Prithee?’

  ‘Not until you take us to the lagoon of El Dorado.’

  Wat’s mind reeled. For nearly four hundred years he’d forced the memory of the place from his mind. Now, he felt himself whirled back, his head filling with images of dark water, ringed by caimans with snouts like tooth-filled mantraps. Trying to control his rising alarm, he lifted his chin defiantly. ‘For what purpose, madam? Pray, what can such a vile place mean to you?’

  ‘That’s none of your business,’ said Medea.

  ‘Then,’ said Wat, more boldly than he felt, ‘perhaps I shall choose not to assist.’

  ‘And perhaps,’ returned Medea, ‘I shall choose not to return you home.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Ever.’

  Wat heard Rose snatch her breath and knew that he had been right, that the fledgling witch’s heart was not yet as stone-hard as her mistress’s. He turned back to Medea.

  ‘Thou wouldst tether me to this place, madam? Forever prey to the frenzied rattle of wasp? The velvet taps of a spider’s midnight rambling? An eternity beset by a veritable armada of ants? Thou surely wouldst not!’

  Medea raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms firmly over her chest, in a gesture that said she most surely wouldst.

  Swallowing hard, Wat heard the parrots in the treetops above burst into a riot of shrieks and trills as though mocking the dishonour of helping such a woman. Yet if he refused, he’d be condemned to this everlasting prison of green, wishing every moment to see his parents, the castle, even the lemon-faced gift-shop assistant whom he loved to annoy by hiding the pencil-sharpeners shaped like cannons.

  Finally, and with what he hoped was a defiant flick of his cloak, he turned back to Medea.

  ‘If I must,’ he muttered. Then hoisting his mallet high in the air, he stepped towards the trees, aware of his fine purple-shoed foot slithering into the mud. ‘This way, madams.’

  42 Not even if you ask the recorder group to join in.

  43 The water bird, not the one you find on building sites.

  44 Topiary is the name for cutting hedges into amusing shapes such as giant rabbits, vampire bats and typewriters.

  45 For those non-historians among you, this is the correct term for the stockings seventeenth-century men wore. I’m just pointing this out in case you thought he’d brought something to water the jungle with.

  GREECED LIGHTNING

  Alex’s feet were even wetter.

  So was his hair, his face, his clothes, his arms and his legs. This was because for the last half an hour, whilst Jason had marched on ahead, Alex had been leading Aries down the craggy st
aircase of rock that edged the waterfall south of Tatu and he was now drenched in the pounding spray exploding up from the furious cascade. His hands ached from holding Aries’ horns and his ears were ringing from a torrent of the rudest rammy words you’ve ever heard, or rather you won’t as I certainly shan’t be repeating them here.

  Rams, you see, are much better at climbing up things than picking their way down them. Worse still, once a ram starts sliding down a slope, it’s anyone’s guess where he will stop46 and rocky ridges bordering waterfalls, splashed in water and steeped in moss, are the most treacherous descent of all for rams.

  Of course, the waterfall was a much more dramatic affair than the little spurts of water that dribbled down hillsides in the Underworld, and despite the nerve-racking, slip-sliding, fly-shocking, tail-whipping trip down, Alex had been awed by the torrents of water thundering into the river below. But now at the bottom and gasping for breath, he was even more delighted to be leaving the fuming eddies behind.

  Ahead of them the ground slowly levelled out. And, even better, the slippery rocks gave way to a spit of sandy land that ran along the river like a wide ribbon of beach.

  For most of the day, the jungle had been slowly shrinking away from the river. Gingerly picking their way down, Alex had noticed that the bigger trees were thinning out, drawing the sweltering canopy away with them, and leaving clumps of bamboo and twisted shrubs in its wake. Now, down here on the lowland, the scene had changed again. Glossy ferns shimmered close to the river, hanging with clusters of dark purple fruit. Beyond them, a scrubland of hip-high grass, yellow and dotted with prickle thorns, opened up. Green mountains, wreathed in cloud, stretched away in the distance.

  As Aries bustled down to the river’s edge, muttering something about washing the tropical hoof-mange off his feet, Alex tilted his face upwards. Above them, the sky was a perfect, dazzling blue. Bright green parrots soared against it, stretching their wings wide, gliding on the warm updrafts of air, and for a few blissful moments Alex felt the sun pouring down on to him and let his aching limbs relax. Distracted from the need to talk to Jason again about having a proper plan and the worry that had gnawed at him all morning, he sank into a mixture of exhaustion and excitement, knowing that this feeling was what had been missing from his life back at the zoo. Or at least he did until the Grass Snake, who’d been sunning himself on the front of the shield, which was now hanging over Alex’s left shoulder, unfurled himself and jabbed him impatiently in the ear.

  ‘Are we there yet?’ he demanded, stretching out to stare up from the tip of Alex’s nose, his little black eyes twinkling enquiringly.

  ‘Soon,’ said Alex.

  ‘What?’ murmured Cobra, slithering up to drape himself over Alex’s other shoulder. ‘Back in Old Greec-c-ce?’

  ‘Of courssse not!’ snapped Viper, whipping up beside him. ‘Doesss thisss look like Athensss to you?’

  Cobra narrowed his eyes and jabbed his snout at the horizon behind them. ‘Well, is-s-sn’t that the Acropolisss?’

  Rolling his eyes indulgently, Alex turned round to look.

  And blinked.

  A few hundred metres away, Pico da Nuno lay basking in the sunshine. Feeling his heart punch behind his ribs, he pulled the magazine page out of his pocket, and, smoothing it flat, saw the perfect match of the mountain with its picture: the rock, piebald with moss, the sprigs of thin, pale saplings at its summit, the shape of its soft hump soaring from the scruffy vegetation about it like Scylla’s back curving out of the water as she dived into her tank. He read the familiar caption beneath it, even though he already knew what it said:

  ‘Pico da Nuno lies four miles west of Tatu Village.’

  He turned to Aries, or rather the ram’s rump, now waggling high above the water’s edge and slapped it.

  ‘Aries!’

  Flinging up his head in alarm, Aries hoofed backwards and swung his head round.

  ‘Look!’ cried Alex. ‘We’re nearly there!’

  Beaming, Aries stamped the sand with his hoofs. Yet, as well as the look of sheer triumph on the ram’s face, Alex now saw something else: how absolutely exhausted Aries looked. His brow was scorched with sunburn, his face covered in scratches. Long stripes of pink chafed his shoulders beneath the harness and his skin was covered in mud and sweat. And, feeling a sudden flood of affection for his best friend, knowing just how much it had taken for him to come this far – the jungle heat, Jason, the insects, Jason, the discomfort, Jason – he threw his arms around the ram’s neck and hugged him. His cheek against the ram’s gritty skin, Alex let his mind run on, imagining how it would feel for the two of them to charge into the village and see the appalled look on Medea’s face as the dog-headed women exploded from the Nemesis statue and dragged her down to Tartarus. Picturing Rose, ecstatic that the sorceress was finally banished from Earth, he felt a jolt of excitement shoot down from his head to his toes and, pulling away from Aries, he looked further down the river to see Jason cooling down with a swim, crossing the water with long easy strokes.

  He would talk to him right now.

  This quest wasn’t about him and his glory. It was about dealing with Medea properly. And it was about protecting Rose. After all, she was their friend, he reflected. Not Jason’s. They hadn’t come back to Earth to be manhandled, locked up and trek through the sweltering jungle just to tremble like sparrows outside the village whilst he swaggered in and dealt with things himself. Not when they were the ones who could back him up and make sure that his plan worked so that the quest was a success. After all, that was the only thing that truly mattered.

  He set the shield down beneath the shade of a nearby palm and rubbed Aries’ ear.

  ‘Wait here.’

  It was a long walk and by the time he reached him Jason had stepped out of the river and was smoothing the water from his hair with his hands.

  Summoning up his courage, Alex glanced back at Aries.

  And froze.

  Something was moving through the expanse of high grass towards Aries, carving a path through the burnished yellow stalks towards him.

  ‘Jason,’ he hissed, unable to drag his eyes from the movement.

  Hearing Jason gasp behind him, Alex held his breath, watching as the disturbance reached the edge of the grass cover and three black noses edged out, noses that sloped up into three big, angular heads, each as hefty as Hephaestus’s anvil, but covered in gold, black-spotted fur.

  Panic exploded inside him as he took in the broad snouts, the white chins, the drooling mouths, fleetingly recalling the pictures of jaguars he’d seen in Hazel’s book.

  ‘Aries!’ he yelled, ‘Run!’

  Startled by the boy’s shout, Aries clopped back from the water’s edge and looked towards him. Then, catching a flash of amber movement, he spun round and snorted in alarm as the jaguar glided out, its three heads sprouting from the same massive pair of shoulders.

  Alex flinched in disbelief. The creature was weird and unnatural, clumsy as Cerberus, the guard dog of hell, and far more like a Greek monster than anything he’d seen in Hazel’s book. Now, feeling a cold wash of dread, he knew instantly whose handiwork lay behind it.

  ‘We have to help him!’ said Alex, his voice tight with fear, watching as Aries brayed wildly, stepping back towards the water as the terrible creature slunk towards him. From beneath the tree he saw five dark wiggles drop down from the shield in alarm. ‘Come on!’ demanded Alex, reaching for an arrow from the quiver on his shoulder. ‘Let’s go!’

  But glancing back at Jason, he felt his breath stop in his throat.

  The Argonaut was standing rigid with fright. Terror glittered in his wide, appalled eyes.

  ‘Jason?’ urged Alex, feeling shock slam into him like a punch. ‘Come on!’

  Slowly shaking his head, and without taking his eyes away from the monster-cat circling Aries in the distance, Jason took a big step backwards. Then another. And another.

  ‘We have to help him!’ insisted Alex.

&nbs
p; Behind him, Aries’ war-bellow ripped through the hot air.

  His mind reeling, Alex pointed down at the Argonaut’s sword, willing him to step forward, to pick it up, to do something. But instead Jason made a small grunting noise and, looking at him one last time, his face a mask of horror, spun around and ran, as fast and as hard as he could, away from Alex in the opposite direction along the river bank.

  Alex’s stomach lurched. For a second he stared incredulous at the sand flying up at the Argonaut’s heels, as the terrible reality slammed into his brain.

  Jason was running away.

  Jason was saving himself.

  Winded, Alex felt a maddening rush of hot tears flood his eyes.

  Jason was leaving them to be extinguished.

  The thought sent a freezing bolt of determination through him. Adrenaline surged through his veins, energizing his muscles, and, spinning round, he saw Aries thundering towards the big cat, horns down. As the ram slammed into the creature’s broad chest, sending it toppling over backwards, Alex began to sprint hard over the ground towards them. Furiously blinking away his blurred vision, he reached back for an arrow, skidded to a halt and fired. The arrow whistled through the warm air, arced down and struck the jaguar’s shoulder as it twisted back up on to its paws.

  ‘Yay, Artemis!’ cried Alex.

  Raising a fist, Alex thanked the goddess for her gift and reaching back for more arrows, sprinted along the sandy spit towards Aries. The big cat roared furiously, momentarily hurling its bouquet of heads round to glare back at Alex before turning back to Aries, who was already braced and quivering, head down, ready for him.

  As the cat slunk towards him, Viper and Adder spiralled up from the grass, and flung themselves around its back legs, coiling over the bristling fur, hissing and jabbing their fangs into its thick skin. Krait rocketed out and latched on to its soft belly, biting hard. Yet it stalked on, as untroubled as if the snakes were no more than bothersome midges.

 

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