“No I ain’t; ’sides, I fort we dint know ’ow to turn ’round?”
“We don’t,” Gordo said. “But I reckon all we have to do is lean the way we want to go. You know, all of us lean together, at the same time.”
The demons of Kazbrack hadn’t expected the sacrifice-delivery machine to go flying over their heads, but they reacted swiftly anyway. Within seconds, a hail of burning arrows exploded from the beach.
The sky-spinner rose and fell on the wind, which was doing its bit to put out most of the arrows before they reached the contraption.
“That last one nearly hit us,” Gape observed, pedaling through the pain barrier as the great volcano loomed toward them through the wispy clouds.
“I know, I know!” said Gordo. He peered sideways at Groan, who was still sulking over the princess situation.
The sky-spinner was drawing level with the volcano. Gape looked down and saw that the demonic natives were in pursuit, dashing up the winding path that led to the top of the mountain. Some of the less intelligent ones were still shooting at them, but the sky-spinner was way out of reach.
Then something unexpected happened.
Firstly, a series of low and heavy rumbles echoed through the volcano. Secondly, the natives stopped dead in their tracks and dropped to their knees in prayer.
“What’s happening?” Gape asked, staring at Gordo as if the dwarf constituted the standard repository of island wisdom.
Gordo shrugged. “How the hell should I know?” he snapped. “Now, on the count of three, I want everyone to lean right. Ready? One. Two. Th—”
There was an enormous, gargantuan explosion, and a cloud of dust and hot ash spewed from the top of the volcano.
“LEAN LEFT! LEAN LEFT! LEAN L-E-E-EFFFT!” Gordo screamed. The two barbarians quickly changed direction and followed his instructions, veering away from the volcano as a second wave of smaller explosions rocked the island.
Miraculously, the sky-spinner began to turn.
“It’s working! It’s working!” shouted Loogie, who, somewhat alarmingly, sounded surprised.
“KEEP PEDALING!” Gordo shouted at the two brothers, trying to keep his own pedals turning. He suddenly realized how lucky they had been to escape the first blast of ash, and quickly determined not to think about it until they were well clear of the island.
After ten minutes of incredible effort, the sky-spinner was realigned. Gape noticed that, as they zoomed back over the beach, there was no sign of the demons. Evidently, they now had more important things to do than pursue intruders. The warrior smiled with relief and returned his attention to Gordo.
“Loogie,” the dwarf was saying, “Loogie … ?”
“Hello? Yes?”
“H-how many people does it take to fly this thing, do you think?”
The head twitched its nose. “Er … well, three, obviously.”
Gordo sighed. “Do you think we could do it with two, in shifts? Otherwise, I don’t think we’ll get over the ocean.”
“Good idea,” Gape said, panting heavily, “but I’m taking the first break …”
He was about to stop pedaling, when Gordo suddenly let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I can’t go on.” He slowly stopped pedaling, then reached down and began to massage his throbbing legs.
Gape was the second to stray, and when his legs finally went, the sky-spinner dipped sharply. Groan did his level best to keep the machine in the air, but he was effectively doing the work of five people and, after more than an hour in the air, even the mighty barbarian wasn’t quite up to that.
“We’re finished,” Loogie shouted. “We’re going right into the ocean! Somebody take hold of me, quick, before I drown!”
The situation looked bleak as the sky-spinner dived once more. It skimmed the top of the water a few times and looked to all intents and purposes as if it would end up dishing between the waves. Then, as if by magic, Groan found his second wind.
It took Gape and Gordo a few minutes to realize that they were still airborne, and Loogie—whose vantage point depended on which way he rocked—had to be told the good news.
Groan’s hulking legs were pumping again with renewed vigor. The sky-spinner was beginning to climb. Relieved by their break and spurred on by Groan’s dramatic show of endurance, Gordo and Gape began driving their own pedals.
And still, the sky-spinner climbed.
“Right,” Gordo said, after a time. “Groan! Take a break.”
The big barbarian didn’t need to be told twice. He relaxed, but even though the sky-spinner dropped slightly, the others managed to keep it going. This went on for five minutes or more, after which, Groan took over and Gape had a break. It wasn’t an ideal system, but it got the team over the Nasbeck Ocean, and almost saw them safely to the banks of the Washin.
Then, on the western fringe of Rintintetly, something entirely unexpected happened.
“Ahh!”
A ring of fire had appeared around Gordo’s throat, and it took the others a few seconds to realize that it was an arm.
The dwarf stopped pedaling immediately and reached for his battle-axe, screaming as the flaming appendage engulfed him. The fire demon appeared, grinning, behind him, its eyes literally burning into the top of Gordo’s helmet.
“H-help m-me!”
Gape made to move, but Groan reached out an arm and forced him back.
Drawing his own broadsword, the giant barbarian wriggled out of his seat and tried to slash at the thing. The sky-spinner dipped considerably, and Gape gasped with effort as he tried to keep it airborne.
Groan had abandoned his sword attack and was attempting to beat the demon off using his fists. He succeeded only in scorching both hands.
Gordo, meanwhile, was experiencing the deadly combination of being choked and burned at the same time.
“I was trying to tell you earlier,” Loogie called helpfully. “They can turn into living flame.”
“Great gods!” Gape exclaimed. “They weren’t firing arrows; they were firing each other!”
“Only one of them hit us,” the head went on. “Listen, you can’t fight this thing! We need to get out now! All of us! We’re low enough—look! All we need to do is leap out—the sky-spinner will land in the Washin!”
Gape gritted his teeth. “So?” he puffed.
“So, the water ’ll kill it!”
“How come you know all this stuff?”
“It’s just common sense! Now, come on!”
Gordo was the first to take the head’s advice. He managed to slip under the demon’s throat-lock, sustaining several burns in the process. Then he threw himself forward, making a frantic grab for Loogie on the way down, and plunged headfirst into the trees, the head tumbling after him.
Gape slipped out of his seat, and felt a sharp pain as the fire demon leaped onto his shoulder and sank its teeth deep into his neck.
Groan reached out and snatched the beast by its fiery arm, burning himself badly in the process. He used all his strength to drive the creature away from his brother. Then he swiftly followed Gordo over the side of the sky-spinner before it could snatch hold of him.
Groan was hitting the first branches of the tallest trees just as Gape somersaulted after him. The three warriors crashed, crunched, and snapped their way downward.
Groan landed in a mercifully thick bush, while Gordo yelped in the nettle patch that’d broken his fall. Gape had swung a hundred and eighty degrees on a tree branch, and landed, inexplicably, on his feet, clutching at the burning wound on his neck.
There was a swift and very distant splash.
Loogie, who’d had his eyes closed throughout the fall, found himself snagged on the twig end of a thin and spindly branch. He was suspended by his left nose hole, and he was in intense pain.
“Can somebody get me down from here?” he inquired. “After all, I did get us out of a tight spot back there, and wherever you guys landed, we are very near
the Washin. That’s good, isn’t it? Hello? Anyone?”
Nineteen
THE INNKEEPER OF THE Welcroft Inn had spent most of the morning fixing his door. Not usually a man who prided himself on DIY, he was, nevertheless, considerably proud of his handiwork.
So was his wife.
“It’s as good as new!” she said, with an expanding smile.
The innkeeper beamed.
“Aye. You’d never be able to tell that someone’d kicked it in,” he said, as someone kicked it in.
The force of the blow was so great that the door came off its hinges, taking much of the surrounding framework with it.
Standing in the doorway was the most incredible display of sinews either of them had ever seen in their lives, including the awesome rabble from the previous day’s visit.
“Who—” the innkeeper began, stepping back as the first bulbous figure stepped forward, crushing the remains of the Welcroft’s door under his feet like a side of beef.
The man must have been about eight feet tall, and to say that he had muscles would’ve been the understatement of the Tri Age. He didn’t have muscles; he was muscles. They were everywhere: his neck, shoulders, chest, arms, and legs. Even his face was flexing (so much so, in fact, that it was actually difficult to see his eyes). A thatch of dark hair worked overtime to cover his cannonball skull.
The second of the three was a good foot shorter than his extraordinary companion, and looked just like an ogre in a raincoat. He had long blond hair, and the kind of face that only a lifetime of head-butts would give you.
The third man was a dwarf, but unlike any dwarf the innkeeper had ever crossed paths with. It had a fat head, a network of scars, and hair sprouting up in random patches.
All three were dressed in rough slacks, and they all wore loose vests with the arms cut out. Despite the size of the hole they’d made in the wall of the inn, they had to enter one at a time. When they were all huddled inside, the innkeeper felt as if he were a herring trapped in a net full of whales.
“C-c-can I help you?” was all he could think of to say.
The first man extended a hand and held it straight (presumably, so the muscles around his wrist wouldn’t fall out).
“I’m Mr. Big,” he said, shaking the innkeeper’s hand with such force that the man felt himself leaving the ground several times. “Nice to finally meet you.”
“You too, v-very nice.”
“This is Mr. Mediocre, an’ Mr. Titch. We’ve come for our boy Loogie. Where is he?”
The innkeeper opened and shut his mouth a few times, then glanced at his wife. She was still looking at the pathetic remains of the door.
“We know the thievin’ little wretch was ’ere,” said Mr. Mediocre. “So I suggest you start talkin’.”
The innkeeper nodded. “I, er, we, I mean they, took him.”
Mr. Big blinked, causing the veins in his eyelids to start a judo match.
“Who took him?” he barked.
“Where?” echoed Mediocre. “When?”
Titch didn’t say anything.
“He was here yesterday morning,” the innkeeper managed, quickly adding, “I gave him the money I owed you.”
Big nodded.
“WHO TOOK HIM?” he repeated.
“Two big barbarians,” said his wife. She appeared to be in a daze, and her eyes hadn’t left the floor.
“Not as well turned out as you lads,” the innkeeper stated hurriedly. “But still a fair handful, if you know what I mean. They had a dwarf with ’em; might’ve been the leader.”
“What ’appened?” Mr. Mediocre asked. The innkeeper noticed that he spoke without moving his lips.
“They, er, nicked one of my carts, then beat your man senseless and tied him to the back of it. I don’t know where they were going, but they were definitely headed toward the Washin.”
“That’s all right,” said Mediocre, smiling. “We’ve got a barge.”
Mr. Big eyed the innkeeper carefully.
“You reckon he’s telling the truth?” he said, glancing back at his companions.
They both gave a reluctant nod.
“I am, sir,” the innkeeper bleated. “Absolutely the gods’ own truth, sir.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we? Now, how many times has Loogie been here to collect my money?”
“T-twice, sir.”
“An’ you paid ’im both times?” Mediocre inquired.
“Er … yes, sir. All we could afford, sir.”
Big nodded. “I thought so. Let’s move …”
Big snapped his fingers and the other two turned and headed out of the inn.
“Thanks for your help,” he said to the innkeeper, making for the entrance hole himself. “An’ don’t worry yourself; I’ll be collecting my own money from next month on …”
The group sniggered as they loped into the distance.
Groan and Gordo were hacking their way back through the forest of Rintintetly. Gape walked a little ways behind the duo, occasionally fingering the wound on his neck. Although the bite didn’t hurt anymore, he was still very conscious of it.
“Keep alert,” Gordo warned, peering over his shoulder.
It had taken them the best part of the morning to find the path they’d used to enter the wood. Still, they’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep, and now, at last, things were looking up. They could hear the rushing waters of the Washin in the distance. Nobody wanted to talk about the fire demon or the sky-spinner. In fact, nobody wanted to talk about anything that’d happened the previous day. Besides, there were more pressing matters …
“I don’t understand it,” Gape said, kicking the odd branch as he strode along. “Why would she send us off after a lot of treasures that don’t exist?”
“Yeah, right, don’ make no sense,” Groan bellowed, but he could’ve been talking about anything.
“It makes perfect sense,” chirped the head of Loogie Lambontroff. “You’ve all been done up like a sack full of kippers.”
“I think he’s right,” Gordo added. “I just can’t work out for the life of me why the princess would have it in for all of us?”
“Maybe she didn’t,” Gape hazarded. “Maybe it’s her father or something?”
“I ain’t never done nothin’ ta Phlegm,” Groan roared.
“None of us have,” Gordo agreed. “We’ve had our problems with Dullitch—”
“An’ Legrash,” Groan added.
“And Spittle, but never any truck with Phlegm.”
The sound of the river was getting closer. Gape made a beeline for it, and the others followed.
“Curfew must’ve been pretty rattled when we broke out of his dungeons,” Gordo reasoned, thinking aloud. “And I know his uncle really hated us. Hey, Groan, d’you remember Duke Modeset?”
Groan frowned with the effort of recollection. “Didn’ ’e drop a cage over us when we saved them kids from tha’ wizard?” he said.
“That’s him,” said Gordo. “Poisoned us too, you remember?”
“What about when we first met up?” Gape said. “You remember half-inching those jeweled swords from Legrash?”
“Yeah.” Groan laughed. “We got a good price for ’em, an’ all. Wha’ ’bout that countin’ howse we smashed up in Sneeze—when Chuckbuckle or wha’ever ’is name was came after us on ’is cart horse?”
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“You know,” Gordo said. “We’ve probably upset a fair few nobles in our time.”
“Me too,” Gape muttered.
Groan swiped at an overhanging branch. “O’ course we ’ave,” he thundered. “What else is there?”
The trio emerged onto the eastern bank of the Washin, and Gape immediately began searching the ground.
Gordo and Loogie watched as the warrior hurried back and forth across the riverbank, shaking his head.
Groan frowned. “What’s your problem?” he shouted.
“The boat!” Gape cal
led back. “Someone’s taken the boat!”
“Oh, is that what it was?” said Stump, suddenly emerging from the river with a wriggling fish on a stick. “I probably shouldn’t have burned it then, eh?”
The ensuing silence was quickly disrupted.
“You did what?” Gape exclaimed, drawing both swords and striding toward the wildman.
“Sorry,” said Stump, holding his hands out apologetically. “But I needed to get a fire going, and I thought it was just boat-shaped wood.”
“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Gape muttered. “Wood formed in the shape of a boat is something we like to call … a BOAT.”
“Like I said, I’m really sorry. There’s a lot of it left. Did you lot have anything to do with the skyship that crashed into the river earlier? Frightened me out of my life, that did. I was gonna go looking for it, then I thought—”
“I know you!” Gordo said, recognizing the profile. “You’re that weirdo from the Twelve: Stap, Strop, no, Stump, isn’t it?” He turned to his companion. “You remember Stump, Groan? He was with young Jimmy that time, in the mountain.”
Groan nodded. “Yeah, he dis’peared.”
“So he did.” Gordo laughed at the recollection. “Where’d you go, Stump?”
The wildman shrugged. “Fell down a hole, I think. Funny really, because I fell down a hole in the first place, ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“Whatever,” Gape snapped, lowering his swords and slumping onto a nearby rock. “All I want to know is how we’re planning to get across the river without a bloody boat!”
“Don’t panic,” Gordo told the warrior, as Stump led him toward the smoking wreckage of what had once been their boat. “I’m sure we can still make a decent raft.”
“A raft?” Gape gasped. “When we had a perfectly good boat? We should throw this maniac in the river!”
“Thanks a lot,” said Stump grumpily. “But I’ve had enough water for one lifetime.”
He indicated the river and rolled his eyes.
Groan shrugged. “Match your bad ’xperiences ’gainst ours any day o’ the week.”
“I don’t think so,” Stump muttered, toasting his fish over the dying embers of his fire.
Shadewell Shenanigans Page 14