Rampage!

by Wills, Julia; Hartas, Leo ;

  E

  !

  Alex, Wat, the Gorgon and snakes were finding it almost impossible to breathe inside the shrinking bubble. In fact, Alex was so dizzily close to fainting that he could hardly be sure that he hadn’t just imagined seeing Rose drag herself out of the lagoon, blinking and dripping, a few metres away.61 Beside him, Wat lay half-dazed, slumped in a heap, mumbling under his breath whilst the snakes drooped like wilted asparagus.

  But luckily, Medea was busy.

  And I say ‘luckily’ because she was so occupied in chanting and scrunching her eyes closed as she whipped up a storm of magical energy to create her getaway vehicle that she didn’t see Rose tiptoe past. Nor, with her head filled by the sort of bone-rattling bangs and hisses that conjuring up a magnificent Greek chariot out of thin air always produces, did she notice the strange trembling that Alex now felt quivering the sides of the bubble. Or hear the rising chucka-chucka-chucka noise, raucous as a dumper truck tipping its load of shale, as the Lake Guardian thundered down the rocky ridges towards her.

  In fact, it was only when what the lyre finally flew off the Guardian’s snout and twanged past her, that Medea spotted the creature at all …

  … spinning like a gigantic totem pole of rock towards her …

  … its tail a blur of pebble-grey

  … just before it walloped her sideways into the water and crashed on to her spanking new chariot, smashing it to smithereens.

  Stumbling to its feet, the Lake Guardian lumbered groggily forward, groaning as the two dragons took gustily to the sky and flapped away. Then, catching a glint of the gold, his gold, still clutched in Medea’s hand, it scrambled after her.

  Now Alex saw Rose sprinting across the shore. She leaped over the Guardian’s swishing tail and for a split second Alex met her panic-stricken eyes before she hurled something wet at the bubble. It splashed against the gelatinous sides, dragging them outwards, stretching them, straining and squealing, until the bubble burst with a deafening bang. Reeling, Alex and the others were hurled to the ground, free.

  ‘Yes!’ shrieked Rose.

  Gasping, Alex glanced up at the rock bluff and, seeing Aries there, stamping his hoofs, safe and victorious, felt a fresh surge of determination. Searching about him, he blinked furiously, scanning the ground for the Nemesis statue. Above his head, the bubble skin spun back out into its original sheet of light and exploded in a shimmer of grey. Momentarily, it lit up the statue’s base, and Alex lurched after it. Sensing him, the Lake Guardian swung its head back and snapped ferociously. Desperate, with his sword and shield flung beyond his reach, Alex held the statue out in front of him, swinging it from side to side as the monster lizard plunged forward and clamped its jaws around the statue’s head and snatched it from his grasp. Then, seemingly amused by Alex, standing there wholly defenceless, it bit down hard.

  There was a sharp crack.

  The air bristled as a sudden chill swept over the shore and three heart-freezing screeches rang into the night. Alex gasped, all thoughts of the spoiled weapon lost as the terrible screaming filled his ears, and he scrabbled backwards and grabbed the shield, gaping, as a trio of shadows swept into the air. Bathed in the flood of blood-red light that now poured from the broken statue, the Erinyes hunched together, floating in a circle over the Lake Guardian’s head. A low thrumming filled the air and, as Alex watched, three pairs of bat wings emerged from the Erinyes’ smoky forms. Black gowns wreathed beneath their feet. Scorpions dripped from their whips and scuttled over the Guardian’s back.

  Slowly, horribly, the three dog-headed women tilted their snouts to the sky. Now Alex could see their eyes, blazing and red, and their muzzles, matted with rough fur, silhouetted against the dazzling light as they keened together before suddenly snapping their heads down in unison and diving like cormorants for the Guardian. Two slid their hands beneath its front legs, the third seized its tail and together they dragged it into the air, squirming and snapping like a live battering ram. The Guardian twisted and wrestled. It writhed, it wriggled, it roared. But there was no escape as the Erinyes tightened their hold and sped away, rocketing across the lagoon to vanish in a fiery glow.

  For a second, Alex stared into the darkness, his ears roaring with his own horrified breathing and the shocked gabbling of Rose and the others behind him.

  Then, his eyes glimpsed a movement in the water.

  The sorceress was crawling out of the shallows and on to the shore. Weed slithered from her hair. Filthy water streamed over her face, making white streaks in the smears of mud.

  Backing away towards the others, Alex watched as she rose slowly to her feet and stood, head down, shoulders hunched, eyes blazing. When she spoke, her voice was low and guttural and spine-freezingly cold.

  ‘How do you plan to send me to Tartarus now?’ she asked, clawing the curtain of sodden hair from her face.

  Knowing that Jason must have told her about their plan, Alex felt a flash of fury, but it was immediately swept away by fear when he noticed the gold eagle, smaller now from all its magic, still clasped tightly in her hand.

  She smiled gleefully. ‘Now that you’ve managed to lose the statue? And got rid of that tiresome old tooth-bag, too?’

  Alex raised the shield, holding it up in front of them all like a writhing, hissing wall.

  Medea tipped her head, mocking the squirming snakes with her eyes.

  ‘Alex Knossos, potter, zoo hand and have-a-go hero. Still running around with that ridiculous lump of mutton? Busy poking your nose into my business a second time?’ She scowled. ‘And you, Rose. Can’t you see what a mistake you’re making when you have the makings of a truly great sorceress? But then, you’re not what you seemed, are you? Or you,’ she scowled at Wat, rolling her eyes at his tattered, puffball pants. ‘Just look at the three of you. On the outside you’re a fop, a fledgling sorceress and a pint-sized hero. But, on the inside you’re all the same. Monkeys.’ She tapped her nose with her finger, scowling. ‘Meddling and sticking these in, trying to mess things up! How very deceiving, don’t you think?’ Smiling darkly, she stroked the curved beak of the eagle gold. ‘All that pretending to be something you’re not. After all, monkeys on the inside really ought to look like monkeys on the outside!’

  She looked up, her eyes flashing with cold fury, mouthing a curse as tendrils of slime-green light began curling from the gold in her hand.

  ‘No!’ yelled Alex.

  Instantly knowing what the sorceress was doing, he thrust the shield high in front of the others. ‘Get down!’

  Pushing Rose and Wat backwards, he lifted the shield high over their heads as the sorceress unleashed a bolt of stinging magic at them. Yet, in that split second he saw the snakes, dark as an after-image, scrunch-faced, bracing themselves against the rancid green glow hurtling towards them and, realising their danger, his mistake, he flipped the shield over.

  Instantly there was a heavy metallic clunk, like a sword crashing against the shield, sending Alex and Rose toppling over backwards to land on Wat. The snakes reared up, wailing and snapping around the Gorgon’s face as the spell slammed into the mirrored back of the shield, denting it – and, bouncing back, reflected straight into the sorceress’s chest.

  ‘Nooooooo!’

  Medea’s scream ripped through the night, high and shrill. Then her voice began to waver, sliding down the octaves, lower and lower, until there was nothing left but a low, excited grunt.

  Blinking against a thick swirl of black light, Rose, Alex and Wat peered out from the rim of the shield to see her staggering backwards, the golden eagle falling from her furry hand. Shaking, her arms and legs splayed out like a star, her fingers fluttering madly, her head tossing from side to side. But now, her legs began to shrink and bow out. Lurching from side to side, she stared down, appalled, as her arms grew longer, until her knuckles touched the mud on either side of her. Tufts of russet-coloured hair sprouted from her face as she shrivelled further down, hunched beneath wide shoulders, her cries gr
owing deeper and louder and thicker, as she began to hoot and yammer.

  Gaping, Alex helped Rose to her feet and they stood together, staring in astonishment.

  In the place where Medea had been standing, a howler monkey stretched up on to its back feet and, seeing them, began to thump its chest. Its eyes grew huge, as it swung its head, its huge mouth barking and howling and sending spittle flying into the night. Moonlight danced off its flame-red fur – and the single streak of purple that ran down the left side of its body. Stepping back, Rose and Alex edged away as the creature threw itself into the mud and hammered wetly with small, tight fists.

  With a start, Rose noticed the golden eagle lying close by its feet and, darting forwards, snatched it up and hurled it far into the lagoon. Then she tossed in the shields and scattered coins and jewellery too. Out in the water, the caimans stopped fighting over the floating gold and swam quietly away in the darkness.

  Roaring in fury, the howler leaped on to its back feet, took one last belligerent look at them and spun away. It lumbered into the rainforest and, hurling itself at the first tree, raced up into the leaves before looping away through the branches, into the night.

  ‘Who needs statues or Tartarus?’ yelled Alex, throwing his arms around Rose and Wat. Together they jumped up and down, cheering and laughing and gadzooking at the top of their voices.

  Seconds later, there was a heavy thrumming of hooves as Aries galloped over the shore towards them, in a blizzard of sprayed mud, and their loud yelps of delight sent the vultures flapping off the trees.

  Rose and Alex threw their arms around him and hugged him, too. Even Wat managed a gentlemanly pat on the head or two.

  In fact, they were so busy congratulating each other and cheering that no one actually realised that Jason had arrived down from the bluff until he spoke.

  ‘Well done, team!’ he announced.

  At which nobody took any notice at all.

  ‘Athena will be so pleased with me,’ he continued. He ran his hands through his hair, gazing out over the water, now lying still beneath the moonlight. ‘Such a huge quest, filled with danger and ending with me choosing to square up to the cruel sorceress of Greece all alone,’ he said, beginning to rehearse his story for the Underworld. ‘Oh, how the goddesses will swoon when I tell them I trusted to love, only to have Medea viciously try to destroy me. Yet I managed to break free, despatch the monster and, battered and bruised, raced down the bluff to snatch the shield from your trembling hands.’

  Behind him, Alex, Rose, Aries and Wat exchanged looks of absolute disbelief as Jason leaped backwards, holding an imaginary shield in his hands.

  ‘Of course, since you’d wasted the Nemesis on the monster,’ he went on, staring out at the water, ‘I was forced to think on my feet. But that old Perseus shield-flip, eh, Alex? They’ll love that. Oh, wait till I tell Apollonius. What a flourish he’ll end my tale on!’

  Laughing, he glanced back over his shoulder.

  And found he was standing completely alone.

  60 In case you’re wondering, this is the frenzied spinning that caimans use to pull their prey down under the water, whipping them round faster than a washing machine, until their dinner has less fight left than a pair of soggy underpants.

  61 Swimming in the opposite direction from the churning gold, you’ll be relieved to hear that she’d been able to keep a safe distance from the caimans. Not to mention setting a new speed record for the under-fourteens’ crawl.

  EPILOGUE

  HOMEWARD BOUND

  A few days later, Rose stretched luxuriously in her pink squishy chair, smiling as the air stewardess walked towards her, carrying a tray of lime-green mango coolers. Picking up a glass, she took a long sip, feeling the citrus tingle on her tongue, and watched her father, seated beside her, gazing out of the window, transfixed by the river, twisting through the rainforest below.

  Surprised?

  Rose was.

  Suddenly her father glanced back at her over his shoulder and pointed to something through the aircraft window.

  ‘Jabiru stork!’ he cried, his cheeks flushed. ‘Rose! Come and have a look!’

  Setting down her glass, Rose jumped up and pressed her forehead against the window. Beneath them, a flock of great white birds flapped and wheeled, their black heads gleaming in the sunlight.

  ‘They were believed to be almost extinct!’ he said. ‘This is amazing!’

  Rose turned back to her father, beaming. His eyes were bright, glittering with excitement.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, feeling her heart soar like the birds outside. ‘It is!’

  She sat back down and listened as he gabbled on about flight paths and nesting sites, delighted to hear the warmth in his voice, brimming with all the old enthusiasm she’d missed for so long, and felt a wave of pure joy engulf her.

  Even now, she could hardly believe all the remarkable things that had happened since they’d defeated the sorceress. Starting with the realisation that she’d been right about her own magic. You see, when she’d splashed her spell over the bubble, reversing Medea’s murderous magic to save Alex and Wat, she’d proved that her magic and Medea’s were two very different forces.

  The sorceress’s magic was big and world-changing. It was driven by the sort of gold that should stay locked in tombs, or left at the bottom of lagoons, because it conjured up murder, mayhem and misery, and ruined people’s lives. Rose’s magic was smaller and more personal. Most importantly, it was kinder, just like the gold given with the love that fuelled it.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, feeling the sunshine stream through the window, warming her face. Drifting into her thoughts, she felt an even bigger glow inside, certain now that her worry earlier that week – that dabbling in magic would make her as cold-hearted and selfish as Medea – was completely unfounded. She could stay the same old Rose as she’d ever been, but with her own magic too, magic that would do good things.

  Better still, Alex and Aries had believed it too.

  Which was why for the last few days they’d helped her brew enough potion to take her father safely back to London.

  She stifled a giggle, thinking back to Aries, who’d become quite the celebrity in the village, all decked out with garlands of orchids and his face striped with ochre, stirring the potion in the big scrying pot, a long spoon in his mouth, twirling his tail round and round in concentration. Meanwhile, Wat had busied himself finding the ingredients and Alex had trimmed phoenix feathers, sneezing in a blizzard of copper-brown tendrils.

  Jason, as I don’t suppose you’ll be at all surprised to hear, had been about as much use as a concrete kite. Choosing to spend the time waiting for Eduardo to come to collect them lolling beneath the trees drinking milk from coconut shells, he’d boasted to any passing villager who’d listen. And, oh, how the tribeswomen had swooned when he told them about killing the three-headed cat, simpering at how he’d survived the swarm of army ants and sighing at how boldly he’d led a boy and a ram through the jungle.

  Meanwhile, Rose had found it horribly difficult to concentrate on spell-casting, her blood boiling at overhearing his tall tales whilst she’d worked inside Medea’s hut. How dare he, she’d riled, carry on lying and cheating and making himself the big, clever, hero when he’d really done nothing but run away and abandon the others? As you might imagine, she’d had just about enough of people warping the truth lately and yet here he was, bragging and swaggering, leaving her, frankly, flabbergasted that he’d ever become the long-remembered Greek hero up on Earth, fearless and undaunted, in books and movies. At least until the others explained that his fame rested solely on some ridiculous old poem written years after the actual voyage of the Argo, because the ship’s log had been lost overboard at sea.

  Lost?

  Tossed, more like, she decided, and, thinking back to what she’d read about him in the journal-scroll, imagined him flinging it into the waves himself, in a rage at reading the true account of his ‘courage’. Only
for a slim, white hand to dip into the green and retrieve it as a fond keepsake for years afterwards.

  ‘Penny for your thoughts,’ said Hazel, jolting her from her light doze.

  Rose opened her eyes to see the pop star walking back into the cabin from the sleeping quarters at the back. She still looked exhausted and pale, and when she smiled, Rose noticed that it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

  ‘I want to thank you,’ said Rose.

  Hazel sat down beside her, a little awkwardly, biting her lower lip, and Rose realised that even now Hazel still felt ashamed about leaving her alone in the jungle to find her father. Yet Hazel had tried to be a good friend, she really had, Rose knew that, but Medea was just too smart and spiteful an enemy. She thought back to the spider scuttling over the cabin floor towards Hazel, and shuddered, certain now that the sorceress had sent it, transformed into a lily, simply to split the two of them up. After all, Rose thought, Medea had always known exactly which buttons to press to make people do precisely as she wanted, and Hazel had been easy prey to her.

  ‘I mean it,’ said Rose earnestly. ‘For everything you’ve done. For getting me here, for busting Alex and Aries out of the police station and helping them find me, and for flying Dad and me home. And, especially,’ she smiled, remembering the sound of the cheering crowds filling the Manaus Opera House, ‘for last night.’

  Hazel shrugged. ‘It’s the least I could do.’

  ‘Hardly,’ said Rose, handing her a drink from the tray and knowing how far Hazel had gone out of her way to help, offering to throw the freebie concert at the opera house, calling in lots of favours from her musicians scattered all round the globe and flying them back to work day and night through the weekend to make it a success. Meaning that, for the first time since the disastrous first night of Madama Butterfly – whereupon Rosita de Bonita had fled to Venice to rest her arias – the building had been opened up again. Hazel had performed to a delighted crowd, distracting just about everyone, simply so that a gang of ghosts could sneak in, unnoticed, to hurry to the statue of Orpheus on the first floor.