“And?” Karen prompted.
“Both versions ended badly. The ships smashed and broke up on underwater rocks, and the sirens ate the sailors.”
“So, how did Jason and his shipmates escape from the same fate?”
“They stuffed their ears with wax and cotton so they couldn’t hear the sirens.”
“Well, I wish the Salamanders would just shut up and leave us alone!” Karen declared.
Oh-oh. Several things happened all at once.
First, Carl realized that Karen had inadvertently used up her last wish.
Second, the jabbering of the annoying Salamanders had ceased. The last sound that came out of the creatures was something between a sigh and a high-pitched shriek. But certainly, none of the Salamanders were speaking any more.
And, third, all of the Salamanders had turned into stone!
“That solves the mystery,” Uniqua announced as she stepped back to talk to the children. “I have been wondering why these silly creatures were so eager to grant wishes and, at the same time, who made all these stone creatures along the pathway.
“It was a trap,” she explained. “If anyone asked them for a wish, they would have been turned into stone instead.”
“Uh, why wasn’t I turned to stone?” Karen asked breathlessly. She felt kind of frightened. If they had listened to the Salamanders, they would never have gotten home.
“Because you didn’t ask them.” Uniqua pointed to the nearest stone Salamander with her horn. “It was very foolish to waste one of your wishes,” she said reprovingly. “It will make the rest of our journey more pleasant; however, I just hope your wish was for the good and we won’t need it later on.”
Happily, the Group moved on until they came to a bridge that spanned Wish River, wide enough to allow two people to cross side by side. It was one of those bridges you see in the movies: made of ropes slung from one side of the river to the other with wooden slats for a floor.
“It looks old,” Cassandra remarked glumly.
“And no one has crossed it in a long time,” Carl enjoined.
“Carl, think positive thoughts, please. We may be the first in a long time to get this far,” the Unicorn observed. “Our predecessors may have succumbed to the wiles of the Salamanders.”
“We go first,” the Bunnies announced, and without waiting for a “go-ahead” from Uniqua, they bounced across the suspension bridge and back again. They were especially energetic about it, so as to test its integrity.
“Sways a lot,” they said upon returning. “But it’s safe.”
“Children, you go first,” Uniqua decided. “Bunnies, you follow. Tiny, wait until the children and the Bunnies are across. Since you are the heaviest, I want to make sure the children reach the other side safely. If the bridge should break—” she shook her head so as not to think bad thoughts. “The children will be safe. After all, this is their adventure, and they must succeed.
“Prince Bot, you will follow Tiny. I imagine that since you hover, you will apply the least amount of pressure on the bridge. Cassandra and I will cross last.”
Suspension bridges can be both fun and scary at the same time. It was not that far down the river ran, but the flowing water was still very fast. The swaying of the bridge as they walked across it was probably the scariest part, but once the twins got the “hang of it,” walking across it was kind of fun.
Everyone held their breaths, though, when Tiny stepped out onto the first wooden slats. He was not too keen of walking “on air,” as he described it later on. And, the swaying made him a little seasick. The scariest part for all of them was the loud creaking of the planks when he stepped on them. They did not appreciate his weight as he gingerly made his way to the other side.
Prince Bot effortless glided across the bridge. Devoid of any fear emotion, the chasm below the bridge did not bother him in the least.
Finally, Cassandra and Uniqua joined the Group. The Unicorn had to keep reminding the little Dragon not to look down. But even so, Cassandra made these funny whimpering sounds with each step, which—and everyone tried not to laugh about it later—made her sound a lot like a scared chicken.
“This is not the same thing as flying,” Uniqua told her dearest friend. “Just keep looking at the slats. One foot forward. Keep moving. That’s it.”
The scenery on the west side of the river was no different than the east side. There were, of course, no stone structures. The Salamanders preyed successfully on the travelers trying to get to the bridge and never crossed over it themselves.
A path led from the bridge to the south. Although it had probably not seen a traveler in a long time, nevertheless it was well-marked.
“What do you remember, Carl, from Mr. Who’s wall map?” the Unicorn asked.
“We should be very close to a dock,” Carl answered. “Although, I don’t know what we should expect when we get there.”
“Onwards, then,” and she once again led the Group.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THE DOCK
There are many kinds of docks. Some are very large, where huge ships tie up to load and unload their cargo. It is kind of fun, sometimes, at least for a while, to see how many different flags fly from the ships.
But when I usually think of a dock connected with a rural setting, I think of a small one, a very short pier sticking into the water in a secluded, wooded area. The pier would be made of wood, standing on several wooden legs, the kind where we could walk out on, sit down, and enjoy a few hours on it with our fishing poles. The water would most likely be a lake, and it would be calm and beautiful. The weather would be perfect: not too hot, not too cold, with a slight breeze to freshen us up a bit. There might even be a dingy or small boat tied up next to the dock.
Well, this dock in our story was almost like that. It was small, and a single wooden pier stuck out a short ways into the water. But the water was not a lake, but a part of the great moat that surrounded the Lord of Power’s islet. There was no dingy next to the dock. Instead, a fairly large wooden raft was tied up, which was better than a small boat, because otherwise it would have been very difficult for Uniqua and Tiny to get into.
As the Group neared the dock, they could see little people mingling around two squat buildings—the only structures around—near the dock. At first, these figures looked like children. But then Carl exclaimed:
“They’re Dwarfs!”
“You take that back!” demanded a little man. He seemed to have sprung up from the ground right next to him! None of the members of the Group had been aware of him. One moment, he looked like part of the ground and the short or stunted trees that sparsely populated the area. The next moment he was eyeball to eyeball, glaring at Carl.
“We are Dwarves!” the little man corrected Carl.
In truth, the Dwarve (that is the singular form they used) appeared quite different from the Dwarfs at FOB. The color of his skin was more like that of gray iron. His skin also appeared rather metallic, and when he moved or made facial expressions, it seemed oddly fixed or quite inflexible. His hair and beard were copper-colored, and under all the coarse hair, eyes of cobalt blue burned in an icy stare.
“We apologize for making a hasty judgment,” Uniqua began.
“Apologies are like running water,” the Dwarve cut her off. “Here now; gone soon after. And, just as spurious.” He gave every member of the Group a baleful stare, as if their very presence was an affront. “State your business or be on your way.”
As the Group later learned, the Dwarves were not social creatures. They also did not like to waste their time chitchatting or engaging in frivolous matters.
Frivolous, as you know, refers to something silly, unimportant, and a wasting of time, which could be used to do something more constructive. That’s why parents might feel that watching TV or playing computer games to be frivolous. They would prefer us to be studying or reading a good book. And, of course, being outside getting plenty of fresh air and exercise. What was iro
nic was the Dwarves did have a lot of time on their hands, and there was not a whole lot to do on the dock. So, their frivolity consisted of standing around in pairs or threes muttering about really nothing important.
“We seek passage to the Great Wall of Centaurs,” Uniqua answered. She remembered that the only remaining way to get to the Lord of Power’s castle was by this road built atop a high wall. It began on the west side of the Islet, and as they stood on the southern end, at this moment, they were as close to the wall as the Earth is to the Moon.
“Well, good luck,” the Dwarve ended the conversation. He turned to join his fellows standing near the dock.
“Wait!” Uniqua said.
“What about the raft?” Cassandra interjected. Her keen Dragon eyes noted everything.
“Raft is for ferrying,” the Dwarve stated.
“And could you perhaps ferry us to the Great Wall?” Uniqua asked politely. She was showing a great deal of restraint. The others were becoming much more agitated and tired because of the already long adventure. There is a truism whereby “honey catches flies more than vinegar,” and Uniqua’s approach to dealing with people—especially difficult people like these Dwarves—seemed to work best.
“Ferrying costs a lot of time and work,” the Dwarve said. “We don’t have a lot of time, and we don’t like unnecessary work.”
Carl laughed under his breath. “They got nothing but time around here.”
“You, boy!” the Dwarve exploded. “Yes. I know your kind: lazy, lay-about who wastes his time all day doing frivolous things. When you learn to do a good day’s work, you’ll learn to keep your mouth closed and your mind open to learning.”
“This is true, Carl,” Uniqua agreed gently. Carl was a bit shocked by her words, but the Unicorn addressed the Dwarve. “May we address you properly by name, please?”
A little bit of the fire left the little man’s eyes. “I am Number Ten,” he answered at length and somewhat slowly.
“Nice to meet you, Number Ten. We, too, have much work to do. Unfortunately, we have so little time.”
“Ah. Negotiations. It’s good to meet someone who understands the importance of time and work. We need to discuss this with my brothers.”
Number Ten led the Group towards the dock where nine more Dwarves just stood like statues. Two were looking out at the moat. Two others stared at the building to the Group’s right, while two more stared at the building to the Group’s left. Two Dwarves just stared at each other. The final Dwarve stared at the approaching Group.
To describe the Dwarves more, first they all looked alike, identical copies of each other. It was as if someone had taken a cookie cutter and cut out ten look-alike Dwarves out of stone. When we use the phrase “cut from the same cloth,” we are usually referring to people who look alike or act alike or talk alike or even think alike. In this case, however, they had all been cut from the same rock—literally—and they did act, talked, and thought alike.
“I am Number One,” the solitary Dwarve announced himself to the Group. He listened first to the whisperings of Number Ten, which were surprisingly short. (I would think that rocks—and trees, for that matter—who are around for a very long time—would take their time in conversation. After all, creatures with short lifetimes talk very fast and have to do a lot of things in a very short time. But these Dwarves spoke crisply, in short syllables that expressed ideas and thoughts very quickly.)
“Ferrying takes a lot of time and is a lot of work.” He echoed Number Ten’s words. (Maybe that is why the Dwarves did not talk much, and when they did, they just repeated what someone else said a long time ago and repeated a million times. In essence, Dwarves do not have a whole lot to say.)
“How may we acquire your time and work?” Uniqua asked.
Number One raised his left hand to touch his beard. This seemed to signal the other nine Dwarves to stop their staring and gather around him, appearing much like an American football huddle rather than a European rugby scrum.
“This place looks like it needs a woman’s touch,” Cassandra remarked aloud. Looking around, the dock was not messy. But it did look too masculine for her tastes. There was very little color or décor, nothing to make it very attractive or appealing. “Just like men!”
The Dwarves quickly looked up, and Number One spoke.
“There is nothing you can give us that we don’t already have.” The Group looked disappointed. “Except one: wives.”
Now the members of the Group looked stunned.
Uniqua was about to say that they did not have any Dwarve wives with them. Much less, they did not know where they could find wives suitable for Dwarves.
“We will ferry you to Dark City,” Number One expounded, stopping Uniqua from speaking her mind. “We were formed by the Magicians of Dark City. We are brothers, and we are alike in every possible way. Thus, we are very compatible and get along very well.”
“You are very homogenous, that’s for sure,” Carl remarked under his breath.
“What do you mean?” Number One demanded sharply.
“It’s just a big word that means what you just said,” Karen quickly explained.
“You two seem to me to be too young to say anything,” Number One chastised the children. Then, to Uniqua, he added, “What do you say? Agreed?”
“You want us to ask the Magicians of Dark City to find you wives,” the Unicorn answered.
“Not ask them,” Number One told her irritably. “Make them!”
“Why is it called Dark City?” Tiny ventured a question. He was still remembering the unpleasant memories he experienced in the Ogre’s tunnel.
“Because it’s dark!” Number Ten barked, and he gave Tiny this look to say he thought the Giant was the most stupid creature on Earth. (I am afraid that we humans have learned to believe all Giants are stupid. But thanks to our meeting and getting to know Tiny, we know that Giants of any kind are not stupid at all. Besides, I thought Tiny had asked a very good question. Sometimes when we think about the word “dark,” we tend to think of bad or evil things hiding in the dark.)
“Sounds simple enough,” Uniqua recentered the focus of the negotiations. “We will ask the Magicians of Dark City to make you wives.”
“Not try,” Number One emphasized. “You must make them make us wives. Otherwise, no ferrying.”
Oh, dear. This is surely what Uniqua was thinking. Asking someone to do something is the polite way—the correct way. Making someone do something creates a lot of problems. It usually makes a lot of people angry and resentful. And, it is the worst way to make any friends.
“Agreed,” Uniqua finally said, reluctantly. I am sure she was thinking that once they reached Dark City, the situation would be better. If they could not get the Dwarves to take them all the way to the Great Wall, they might find an alternate way to get there from Dark City.
The Group numbered nine persons, and all ten of the Dwarves wanted to come along on the trek to Dark City. The raft did not seem to be all that big at first glance, but it surprisingly accommodated all nineteen persons. With five Dwarves to a side, they used long poles to touch the moat’s bottom and move the raft in the right direction.
In the real world, you can take a map and estimate the distance between two points and calculate an approximate time needed to travel that distance. But on the Island (including the Islet), what might look like a very short distance could either take a couple of minutes to traverse or days or anything in-between.
It certainly seemed to the children that they had already sat on the raft for hours. Carl looked back a couple of times and thought the dock was still the same size and distance away. In other words, while the raft seemed to be moving across the water, either the Islet was turning with them, or they were not really moving on the water at all. Then, the last time he looked back, the dock was gone, and he could see a glimpse of a large cave opening ahead.
At the same time, the current of the water was moving faster. Also, up to this moment, every
thing was kind of quiet. Now, the air became extremely noisy, like when a lazy stream gurgles across small rocks but turns into a raging roar when scraping against huge boulders, which we call rapids.
“Hold on!” someone cried out, but whoever it was, his or her voice was drowned out by the great explosion of noise.
As the gaping cave entrance yawned off to their right ever larger, the Group realized in a panic that the current was carrying them right into the mouth of the cave. And there was no way the Dwarves could halt their progress.
When that seemed to be the worst of their worries, another sound split the air: a monstrous roar full of fear-invoking terror. Not only did the sound scare everyone close to death, but the creature who made the sound would have made the bravest man in the world cry like a baby. A horrifying head the size of a school bus rose out of the moat water just beyond the cave entrance. Up and up it rose on a neck that would not end. The head towered high above them as it looked down on the raft, virtually blocking the sunlight. Its yellow eyes saw our dear friends and the Dwarves as mere morsels of food, easy-pickings on a runaway raft. Then the monster opened its jaws so wide it could swallow two or three school busses at the same time. It roared with an ear-piercing shriek, just before its cavernous maw came falling down upon them.
“Every man for himself!” Number One yelled, and the Dwarves leapt off the raft as one.
The current moved even faster towards the cave. At first, the cave’s opening looked so ominous, another maw waiting to swallow them up whole. Now, it looked like a refuge.
The great monster’s head dove for the raft, but it miscalculated its strike and missed the raft completely, crashing into the water instead just behind it. A huge wave billowed up from displacement and violently shoved the raft right into the cave, almost at right angles with the river, and a good long ways into the tunnel before subsiding. Maybe it was by design, but the Group was now deep inside the cave, surrounded by an impenetrable dark, rudderless, at the mercy of the current, and everyone completely soaked through and through.
Potlendh Page 32