The belligerent Skullcap goats had decided right from the start that if they were going to mutate, then they would damn well decide what changes would be made. Hence the improved strength of the creatures, the fuller beards, the attractive gold plumage with silver spangles. Hence also their powerful suction-capped hooves, which allowed them to climb almost anywhere, and their built-in safety raft which, due to a miscalculation, was located somewhere in their spleen.
Music and laughter and juggling bears trickled out of the Lordling’s carriage as it clattered upwards. Fredgic had an allergy to mutated goats with gold plumage and silver spangles. He sat in the bouncing carriage with a heavy heart, a runny nose, a droopy hat and a collection of clockwork nets.
They were underground, but these caverns were different to those of the Hidden Army. For a start, they were on fire. Flames flickered along every surface except the floor. The heat was stifling.
And there were stone seats everywhere, looking down to a wide stage. It was a cavernous theatre, lit from within by layers of flame. Even the seats had burning cushions.
A voice echoed sharply through the theatre of the firebrands. “Ferdiiiiinand Firebrand! Get here now!”
“It’s the Mater,” said Ferdee apologetically, taking off his dark glasses and hiding them in a fold of his flickering body. “See you later,” he added, and vanished.
Aragon contemplated their situation. “What now?”
Kassa wasn’t sure if he was addressing her or himself.
It was getting even hotter than hot. Ash rained down upon them. Kassa held her bound wrists against a flaming cushion, waited until her bindings caught alight and then pulled them apart, sending sizzling rope sparks everywhere.
Aragon turned his attention to his crossbow, which was gone. So was his rapier. And the gargoyle. “Shall we be allies until this crisis is past?” he suggested.
Kassa laughed scornfully. “Why should I help you, or even trust you?”
“Suit yourself.”
A long, silent moment went by. “Have you noticed?” said Kassa after a while. “There aren’t any doors.”
And it was still getting hotter.
At least claustrophobia wasn’t a problem. It was so dark that they couldn’t see how small the space was. Daggar was trying vainly to create a relaxing atmosphere. “I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D.”
“Shut your face before I pull it off,” was Zelora Footcrusher’s reply.
“Can’t guess, can you?”
“Darkness.”
“Your turn.”
She shifted restlessly. “Why haven’t they found us yet?”
“Maybe they’re not looking.”
There was a long pause.
“I could always flirt with you,” Daggar suggested. “That would pass the time.”
“No man would dare attempt to flirt with an executive mercenary of the Hidden Army without her written permission,” said Zelora sharply. “There are punishments expressly designed for that sort of thing.”
“You don’t have a sense of humour, do yer,” Daggar noted darkly.
Zelora’s voice was as dry as bone. “I have never had occasion to find out.”
“Tee-hee!” said the sacred bauble of Chiantrio.
Reed glared through his one good eye as only a pirate really can. He had been riding after the flying orb all night. It kept slowing down teasingly and then zooming away at top speed, giggling wildly.
Now it was hovering halfway up a steep cliff. Reed had been shouting at it for some time. “How am I supposed to get up there?”
The bauble giggled again.
“Excuse me, sirrah,” said a rather wheezy voice behind him, “Are you a pirate?”
“I’m not giving autographs,” snapped Reed, absorbed in trying to figure out how to scale the cliff.
Half a second later, a clockwork net grabbed hold of him and flung him into a tree. Reed gnarled and gnashed at the sniffling warlock whose trap it was. “I’m going to eat you alive, you little gonk,” he snarled.
“How interesting,” said Fredgic, considering all the diseases and viruses contained in an average person’s stomach. “Do you happen to have any other pirate friends? Ideally, I’m supposed to be capturing a whole gang, but I suppose you’ll do for a start. The Lordling will be ever so pleased. Over here, Lord! I’ve caught one, I’ve caught one!”
“Gnahhhhhh,” growled Reed ferociously.
It was then that a curvaceous firebrand fluttered out of nowhere to blink winsomely at them. “Come one, come all!” she cried in a welcoming voice, “To the Firebrand Hall. A show, a show! Would you like to go?”
“No, thank you,” said Fredgic grumpily. “I’m trying to capture this pirate, please don’t interrupt. Over here, your Lordship!”
Reed thought fast. It was what he was best at. “I’ll come to your show,” he volunteered.
The firebrand girl clapped her hands, which fizzled. “Calloo, callay! Come, come this way!” she said delightedly.
And then she vanished. So did Reed, along with the clockwork net that Fredgic had spent hours setting up.
“Oh, bother,” said Fredgic, too disgruntled even to sneeze.
“What ho, Flutedrip,” called the Lordling as the carriage appeared from behind the rocks. “Well done, you. Where’s my new pirate, then?”
The theatre slowly began to fill up. Firebrands of all sizes and all colours of flame popped in to their seats, chatting noisily, chewing lumps of coal and toasting marshmallows on each other.
The stage was not as far away as Kassa had first thought. It was just that the seats became smaller further down. Despite this courtesy, it seemed that the firebrands deliberately chose seats randomly so many of the large ones were perched on teeny chairs near the front, and many of the smallest ones were lost upon the larger chairs near the back. Many ignored the seats altogether and just hovered near the ceiling where the view was best.
Aragon and Kassa were not prepared to risk the flaming chairs, so they moved towards the stage where the heat was less intense. Hundreds of firebrands in one room provided more than adequate central heating.
Finally something began to happen. A golden light flooded the stage and a low voice declared, “Welcome to the Firebrand Show!”
Everyone clapped and cheered and threw balls of fire at the stage.
“This evening weeeee present the old favourites: Frio the Water Swallower!” Everyone cheered. “Also Fontze the Interior Decorator, Fieorella and the Froo-Froos, Fatricia’s Flying Salamanders and Federick Fyne hosting your f-f-favourite game show: Blind Scorch!”
The audience went mad.
“Buuuuuut first,” announced the voice. “Please give a warrrm welcome to our visiting acts: the most entertaining strangers of all time!”
“That would be us,” muttered Aragon.
“Ladies and fire-hazards, we present: Kassa Daggersharp!”
Kassa looked up, and suddenly she was standing on the stage. The golden spotlight came from several yellow firebrands who hovered upside down from the curtain rail, almost blinding her.
There was no curtain. Even firebrands have some safety standards. Ferdee stood next to her in a tuxedo made from green flame. “Any props you need?” he asked, grinning toothsomely at the audience.
“Bells,” said Kassa.
“How many?”
“How many can you get?”
Ferdee gestured, and hundreds of little silver bells swept across the floor in a wave.
Kassa eyed them critically. “That should do.”
Ferdee vanished. Kassa removed her over-dress and petticoats, revealing her dance costume of knotted silk. She scooped up handfuls of bells, dropping them down her bodice, tucking them into hidden pockets and sliding them into her hems. Every movement she made caused a massive amount of jingling.
“Music!” she called out, and a slow, rhythmic beat filled the theatre. “Faster!” she commanded, and the music changed to a quick, pulsing beat
. “House lights down,” she commanded, and all of the firebrands in the audience dimmed their flame.
She paused for a handful of beats, listening to the wild pattern of the music. And then she began to dance.
It was a wild dance, of curves and high kicks. The bells flew into the air and Kassa juggled them, catching them on the tips of her toes or fingers and sliding them across her wriggling limbs. The bells had a beat of their own, but it matched the firebrand music closely. The tiny balls of jingling gold rippled down her back, circled around her waist, and slid down across her feet.
She stood on her hands and turned cartwheels and leaped, still dancing with perfect control, and the bells danced with her. She started to sing a bright, colourful song, and the bells sang with her. Even when the audience flared up with excitement, even when they threw balls of fire at her in appreciation, even when hot coals skidded across the stage, Kassa Daggersharp kept dancing.
And then she stopped. The music stopped. The last batch of airborne bells landed neatly into her cupped hands. Not a sound came from the audience. For a fraction of a second. And then they reacted.
With roars of delight, a huge wave of flame hurtled towards the stage. It was a wave of congratulations, but pure flame nonetheless.
“Help!” screamed Kassa, seeing imminent death at the hands of adoring fans.
The flame bounced harmlessly away. A small firebrand woman, as wide as she was tall, stood with her hands on her hips and a grim expression on her face. “Ferdinand Firebrand, what do you think you are doing?” she demanded.
“Aw, Mum, we’re just showing our appreciation,” Ferdee said shamefully, stepping forwards.
“By trying to kill the girl? That’s not manners,” Mrs Firebrand snapped. “Let her pick her prize and send her on her way.”
“Okay,” said Ferdee grudgingly. “Mistress Daggersharp, for participating in our show, you can pick a graaaaand prize!” He swept his arm around half-heartedly, only just failing to set fire to Kassa’s already singed hair, and a wall of shelves opened up in the middle of the stage.
There were Ferdee dolls, fireworks, bags of flame treats, and bottles of fire water. Only three items on the shelves were not visibly made out of fire. Aragon Silversword’s crossbow, Aragon Silversword’s knitting needle rapier, and the small grey statue of a grimacing gargoyle.
Kassa considered her choice. “The flaming hair accessories are tempting, but I think I’ll take the gargoyle,” she said casually.
Below the stage, Aragon Silversword lunged forwards, but he was suddenly surrounded by big, muscular firebrands. “Not your turn on stage yet, sonny,” they teased, spitting droplets of flame out of their mouths as they spoke.
Kassa smiled nicely down at Aragon and accepted her prize. “Free to go,” said Ferdee generously, trying to ignore his mother’s withering glare.
Suddenly, a man tangled in a net dropped out of nowhere, stopping several feet above the stage and hovering there.
“And now for our next act, the amaaaaazing Reed Cooper!” announced Ferdee. He leered at the wriggling net. “What’s the act, Reedy, escapology?”
At the mention of Reed Cooper’s name, Kassa whirled around, her eyes flashing vengefully. “What?” she shrieked, but she was already gone, vanished back to the mundane world.
Through the webbing of the clockwork net, Reed Cooper saw Aragon, and his single uncovered eye narrowed. “A duel to the death,” he snarled.
“I accept,” replied Aragon Silversword.
9
Shopping with Ice
When the delegation had departed, Lady Talle turned to face her remaining visitor. She moved past him to the window seat, and perched there with her elegant knees tucked up to her chin. “Well, Agent Camelot? What can you do for me?”
“Call me Griffin,” said the urchin. “Camelot is my spy name, but I’m not wearing that hat right now.”
Talle blinked slowly, lowering her lashes and raising them again with perfect timing. “So if Camelot is a spy, what does Griffin do?”
“Have you ever heard of PR?” asked the urchin.
Lady Talle gave him a sideways smile. “Why don’t you tell me?”
“I would be glad to,” he said grandiosely. “My dear Lady Emperor, PR stands for Public Relations. To be more specific, it stands for the subtle art of propaganda.” His smile became wider, and somehow more genuine. “I’m going to make you so famous that the people of Mocklore will not only want your pretty head on their coinage, they’ll want you to personally open every concert, village school and supermarket from here to Axgaard and back!”
Talle frowned precisely. “What is a supermarket?”
“It doesn’t matter,” said Griffin dismissively. “The point is, you are going to be adored and worshipped beyond your wildest dreams. Just how popular would you like to be, Lady Talle?”
Talle’s blue eyes flashed suddenly, aglow with her lust for success. “What have you got?”
The two men faced each other, balancing on the narrow bridge that swooped above the stage. Reed Cooper gripped the prime sword of the pirate Vicious Bigbeard Daggersharp. Aragon Silversword held a glorified knitting needle.
“Any additional props?” offered Ferdee Firebrand, still playing the role of Master of Ceremonies.
“A better sword would be good,” suggested Aragon between gritted teeth. He didn’t really expect a response, but the knitting needle was suddenly a proper rapier, balancing perfectly in his grasp. Tiny blue flames flickered along the edge of the blade. Aragon almost smiled. “That’s more like it.”
Kassa was still hot. She had no idea where the firebrands had put her, she knew only that she was back in the Skullcaps, and she desperately needed to cool off. Her hair was singed, her clothes were heavy with smoke and she was very, very thirsty.
The trees whispered that there was water further along the path. Kassa listened to them absently, and wandered on.
Sure enough, as the purple path curved a waterfall came into view. Kassa approached it cautiously, the gargoyle tucked under one arm. There was something strange about this particular waterfall. The water made no noise as it tumbled over the rocks and splashed into the wide pool beneath. Not a sound.
Not that she cared, really. She just wanted to wash the smell of fire out of her hair. She brushed one hand into the water, and recoiled at the heat of it. Moments later, she tried again and it was icy cold.
A sudden absence of noise bothered her for a moment. It was as if a twig had not snapped. Why should that disturb her? The next silence did not convey the gathering of tiny feet. Not at all.
Kassa tried to convince herself that she was being paranoid, but her argument lacked conviction. Feeling edgy, she started to turn around.
Many tiny hands pushed her in the small of the back, sending her sprawling into the water with a splash of resounding silence.
“Very interesting,” commented Aragon. Slash, attack, guard, defend. “You don’t fight like a pirate.”
“You’ve fought many pirates?” sneered Reed Cooper.
“Ever hear of Evil Lackbeard Buttspike?” Guard, guard, parry, swipe.
Reed stepped out of range. “You fought Buttspike?”
“I killed him,” said Aragon.
“That’s interesting,” said Reed dryly. Step, cut, parry, slide… “So did I.”
“When would a cabin boy get a chance to kill a pirate like Lackbeard?” Jab, twist, thrust, dodge…
“Ever heard of Bigbeard Daggersharp’s one golden rule?” smiled Reed tightly. Parry, parry, block left…
“Tell me,” countered Aragon.
Reed’s one good eye glittered. “Never hire a cabin boy who hasn’t killed at least three Pirate Kings,” he said with relish. Slash, cut, parry, don’t fall off the bridge…
At this point, Aragon realised that he was going to have to do something special. The odds were against him. Reed Cooper was ten years younger and had been trained by Vicious Bigbeard himself, but he was also insu
fferably arrogant. Parry, slide, block, block, defend…
Aragon Silversword slid back out of range and bowed his head in defeat. Taken aback, Reed Cooper grinned wildly and lowered his sword in a mocking salute.
It was at this point that Aragon Silversword started fighting dirty.
Tiny, grabbing hands tangled in Kassa’s hair and clothes, pulling her up until she exploded through the surface of the pool, gasping for air.
In the firebrand hall, she had been hot. Now she was cold. Very cold. The trees around her were bleached white, and there was ice everywhere. Kassa couldn’t help thinking that she was on the other side of the waterfall.
For the second time that day, she found herself surrounded by a group of sprites. These were white and icy, regarding her with unfriendly expressions.
Clotted with spare magic since the days of the Glimmer, the Skullcaps were now the perfect habitat for sprites and magical creatures of all kinds. But to encounter both firebrands and icesprites in one day was more than unlucky.
Kassa knew about as much about icesprites as she had about firebrands…enough to know that there was no point looking forward to this encounter.
Aragon was on the attack now. He did not speak, he did not smile. His face remained calm, eyes flicking from left to right as his sword moved with practised swiftness. Just as Reed countered one of his particularly fine combinations, Aragon twisted the blade and shoved. Reed Cooper lost his balance and fell from the bridge. The prime sword of Captain Vicious Bigbeard Daggersharp fell with him, clattering harmlessly on to the stage.
Ferdee Firebrand bounced across to peer at Reed. “Alive!” he announced, and the audience cheered, throwing flame balls at the stage and each other. They preferred their entertainers to survive, because a clean-up crew was always selected from the audience. Dead bodies made nasty stains.
Aragon looked down from the bridge. The fall hadn’t been too bad. Reed Cooper was already conscious, muttering something at Ferdee. All the better. Aragon wanted him to hear this. “I claim my opponent’s weapon as my prize!” he announced, his eyes on the glittering rubies of Vicious Bigbeard Daggersharp’s prime sword.
Mocklore Box Set (Mocklore Chronicles) Page 9