The Wrath of the Lizard Lord

by Jon Mayhew

  ‘Get ready to duck,’ Mary said in a low voice. ‘Duck and run. NOW!’

  Dakkar threw himself on the ground as Mary pulled the trigger. He saw her leave the ground as the explosion from the gun filled the clearing. An even more deafening roar answered the dying blast.

  Turning, Dakkar saw an enormous yellow eye, rows of teeth the length of steak knives and a drooling red mouth. It was a huge lizard and reminded him of the beast he’d seen in Elba, but this one stood some ten feet high when it reared up. Dakkar scurried over to Mary. Pulling her up by the arm, he dragged her through the undergrowth. She stumbled after him, leaves and fronds whipping in her face. But Dakkar couldn’t stop. The earth shook as the creature gave chase. Trees groaned and splintered as the monster thrashed through the jungle after them. Dakkar tripped over a root, pulling Mary down too.

  ‘Get up, you idiot!’ she screamed, dragging at his sleeve.

  Dazed, Dakkar staggered to his feet and started running again. The giant lizard was gaining on them. Dakkar could hear its growling breath and smell the rank odour of rotten meat that surged ahead of it.

  ‘We . . . can’t outrun . . . it,’ Dakkar panted, glancing desperately around for a place to hide, a hole in the ground, anything.

  ‘That tree!’ Mary yelled.

  Ahead of them, the jungle fringed the thick trunk of an old fir tree. It soared above their heads but the branches stuck out at regular intervals, making it easy to climb.

  The lizard roared again. Dakkar glimpsed red on its shoulder where Mary had winged it with the blunderbuss. It hadn’t slowed down, though.

  Dakkar reached the base of the tree and pushed Mary up as she leapt for the lowest branch. Leaves and saplings were torn aside as the lizard drew near. In a moment, it would reach Dakkar. He could see its claws now and the brilliant green of its scales between the foliage.

  Mary cleared the first few branches and Dakkar hurled himself upward to the bottom boughs. The trees around them swished and the lizard’s head grazed Dakkar’s boot as he climbed up to the next branch.

  ‘Keep climbing!’ Mary screamed.

  The lizard coiled itself for a leap. Dakkar could see its powerful back legs and wondered just how high it could jump. He dragged himself upward, glancing down in time to see the lizard spring up. Its snout and teeth grew larger as it hurtled towards Dakkar. The stink of the creature enveloped him and he leapt himself, ignoring the danger. For a moment, he felt weightless, expecting to be snatched back to earth by those vicious, snapping jaws. The next branch up drew near and Dakkar gripped it as tightly as he could, hoping that the weight of his body wouldn’t break his grip. His shoulders burned as he swung on the branch, dangling like a tempting titbit for the lizard. But he was out of reach. The lizard snapped on thin air and then tumbled to the ground, falling heavily.

  Dakkar’s heart hammered against his ribs. He heard Mary give a nervous laugh and grinned up at her.

  A low growl returned Dakkar’s attention to the base of the tree. The lizard was back on its feet and glared up at them, growling.

  ‘Now what do we do?’ he said under his breath.

  The monster wasn’t going away. They were trapped.

  Chapter Twelve

  Trapped

  Mary Anning scowled down at Dakkar from her perch a few branches above him. Below, the huge lizard hissed and snapped. Every now and then, it would circle the thick trunk as if trying to find a way up.

  ‘This is all your fault,’ Mary said, throwing a pine cone at Dakkar. ‘If you hadn’t chased me down here, shouting like a lunatic, that lizard would never ’ave bothered.’

  Dakkar snatched the pine cone from the air as it sailed past his head. ‘You say the most obvious and pointless things,’ he said. ‘Of course the lizard wouldn’t have chased us if we hadn’t come down here.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ Mary snapped, narrowing her eyes.

  Dakkar looked down at the lizard. From his vantage point, he was able to take in more detail: the strong back legs that pushed the creature upright, the long tail that tapered to a point and seemed to act as a counterbalance to its huge head. Its tiny arms hung stubby and useless in front of it.

  ‘What is that thing?’ Dakkar whispered to himself.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Mary said, launching another pine cone. This one missed entirely and bounced off the lizard’s head, making it rear up and hiss. ‘It’s a big crocodile. I’ve seen pictures of ’em in a book.’

  ‘I’ve seen real crocodiles,’ Dakkar said, rolling his eyes. ‘And they don’t generally walk on two legs. Have you still got the blunderbuss?’

  ‘Yes but I ain’t usin’ it up ’ere,’ Mary said. ‘It’d blow me out of the tree! I’m not savin’ you from that monster by breakin’ my neck.’ She launched a pine cone at the lizard, clipping its nose and making it snap at the air with its razor teeth.

  ‘Well, antagonising the beast won’t help matters!’ Dakkar grumbled.

  ‘It makes me feel better, though,’ Mary said, flinging another cone. The lizard caught the pine cone in its mouth, crunching it to splinters and shaking them out of its mouth. ‘Maybe it’ll get fed up of being pelted with cones and go away.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ Dakkar replied. He heaved a sigh then looked up at Mary again. ‘Do you have powder in that satchel of yours?’

  ‘Course I do,’ she said.

  ‘Pass it all down here,’ Dakkar replied. ‘I’ve got an idea. Keep throwing things at it.’

  Mary eyed him suspiciously but climbed down a few branches and swung the satchel by the strap towards him. Dakkar grabbed it, hugging it to him in case it spilled its contents to the ground.

  The creature clashed its razor teeth at them as Mary continued to drop pine cones on to its head.

  Rummaging through the satchel, Dakkar found a case full of black powder for the blunderbuss, some lead shot, flints and some wadding. The powder case was flat and triangular with a spout at one end for pouring the contents into a gun barrel.

  ‘Perfect,’ he muttered, pushing the lead bullets into the powder case and shaking them so they mingled with the contents. He ripped the wadding into strips and poked them into the spout of the powder case.

  ‘What’re you doin’?’ Mary called down, craning her neck.

  ‘You’ll see,’ Dakkar replied, wedging the case full of powder between his knees so that the ragged strands of cotton poked up towards him. He took the flints and began scraping them together. Sweat slicked his palms and fingers, making Dakkar slip. He cursed as he scraped his skin. Blood trickled down on to the case as he struggled to get a spark.

  ‘Why don’t you use the flintlock on the gun?’ Mary said, leaning forward and holding the blunderbuss out to him.

  Dakkar pursed his lips but reached up, nearly dropping everything. He slung the satchel over his shoulder. Their movements made the giant lizard lash its tail and glower up at them.

  Dakkar settled back on to his branch and pulled the lock back on the blunderbuss.

  ‘Flintlocks work by striking stone against metal,’ he said to Mary. ‘The spark ignites the powder in the pan at the side of the gun which in turn causes an explosion in the barrel. That fires the bullet out. If I can just get the spark to light the wadding . . .’ He held the side of the unloaded gun against the wadding and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked. He did it again and again, sweat dripping from his brow.

  ‘I know how a flintlock works. Do you want me to try?’ snorted Mary.

  ‘Shut up,’ Dakkar hissed, and pulled the trigger again. This time a small flicker quivered in the ragged cotton threads. He gave a grin and blew. Soon the heat of the burning cotton singed his cheek. ‘Hey!’ he shouted, half standing on his branch and waving the powder case. The lizard swung its head up and Dakkar thought it grinned at him.

  Then the world turned upside down. Dakkar’s foot slid on the bough beneath him. Mary screamed as he pitched down into open space. The lizard hissed and leapt up to meet him, its mouth a man
trap ready to spring. Once more the rancid stench of rotten meat overpowered Dakkar as the yellowed incisors grew ever larger. He hurled the flaming powder case as hard as he could into the gaping maw of the beast and then closed his eyes, expecting to follow it inside.

  Pain stabbed across his chest and under his right shoulder as Dakkar’s fall was abruptly halted. He opened his eyes again.

  The lizard stood beneath him, bobbing its head repeatedly as it choked on the powder case. Dakkar dangled from an overhanging branch by the strap of the satchel. He gripped it with both hands and swung his feet up, desperate to get back into the tree.

  With a triumphant gulp, the lizard swallowed the powder case down and threw its head up towards Dakkar.

  Dakkar scrabbled and kicked, managing to hook one knee over the limb from which he dangled. Now he hung upside down, his head perilously close to the scaly jaws of the creature.

  A dull rumble brought the lizard to a dead stop. Dakkar fancied that its eyes widened. Then the tree shook and the clearing beneath it filled with fire and noise as the powder in the creature’s stomach exploded. The blast swung Dakkar upward, coating him in a shower of guts and blood. Something wet and slimy slapped into his cheek. An eyeball bounced off one of the branches. Half a jawbone whirled mere inches past Dakkar’s ear, like some gory boomerang.

  The echo of the blast grew fainter. Bits of bone, hide and flesh thumped to the ground, followed by a shower of pine needles. A smell of charred meat hung in the air. Dakkar stared at the scattered remains that littered the clearing below. Somehow the blast had ripped through the upper part of the lizard, and the creature’s lower abdomen and legs still stood, blackened and smoking. It would have looked vaguely comical if it hadn’t been so disgusting. Mary peered down at Dakkar. Smoke from the explosion blackened her face and her eyes were wide.

  ‘That’ll teach ’im not to bolt ’is food,’ she muttered, grinning.

  Dakkar, still dangling upside down, broke into a giggle and couldn’t help laughing along with Mary. Then the satchel strap snapped.

  Dakkar tumbled, weightless, through the air. He scrabbled at the few low branches and twigs that whipped past him but gravity wrenched them from his feeble grasp. Then the hard ground punched the air from his lungs. He lay, gasping and dazed, staring up at the branches.

  Mary’s face appeared high up above him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she called down.

  Dakkar opened his mouth but no words came out.

  A few minutes later, Mary appeared beside him.

  ‘I think . . . we should try . . . and find another cage,’ Dakkar said in a hoarse voice.

  But Mary didn’t reply; she only stared into the undergrowth. He pulled himself up into a sitting position, his bruised back stiff and aching.

  The leaves and branches shook as something approached them – several somethings, judging by the movement all around them.

  ‘Not more of the beasts?’ Dakkar groaned, climbing to his feet and preparing to drag himself back up the tree again.

  ‘Worse, I think,’ Mary whispered, and pointed.

  The green, glossy leaves of the jungle were swept aside by a dark, muscular arm. A human arm. Enormous and covered in fine, black hair. The rest of the giant pushed his way through the foliage and stood glaring at Dakkar and Mary. As tall as the lizard they had just slain, his thick black hair tumbled on to his shoulders and down to his waist. His dark eyes glittered under heavy brows. Animal skins covered his body, some scaly and reptilian, others the fur of some kind of mammal.

  He raised the huge club in his hand and bellowed in an incoherent language. Suddenly more of the giants appeared, all clad in furs and skins, all carrying spears and clubs, all looking menacingly at Dakkar. The giants closed in on them.

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be getting back to Lyme for some time yet,’ Dakkar said.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Gog

  The giant glanced around at the lumps of flesh scattered on the ground and the two legs standing at the base of the tree.

  ‘Saranda!’ He grunted, shaking his club at the smouldering ruin of the lizard. ‘Ung!’

  ‘What’s he sayin’?’ Mary said, her voice quavering. ‘He sounds angry.’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ Dakkar snapped back. He gave a bow to the giant and pointed at the lizard. ‘Saranda!’ he said, copying the giant.

  The big man frowned and tilted his head to one side then stepped forward, jabbing a huge, stubby finger into Dakkar’s chest. Dakkar gave a gasp and fell on to his backside.

  ‘You,’ he said. ‘Kill Saranda?’ He stabbed his finger at the lizard, a look of bewilderment on his face.

  Dakkar stared up at the giant that loomed over him. ‘Y-yes,’ he stammered. ‘I killed Saranda.’

  The giant narrowed his eyes, jutting his big chin forward. Dakkar could see his crooked brown teeth poking over his cracked lips.

  ‘Rarrgh!’ the giant shouted. He said something else and the gigantic group pounced on Dakkar and Mary. A thick net made of vines dropped over them both. With the pull of a rope, it tightened round them, dragging them off their feet.

  Rough hands grabbed and bundled them up, still in the net. Two poles slid through the net holes above them and they found themselves suspended, carried by four of the huge men.

  ‘I think you said the wrong thing,’ Mary whispered.

  Dakkar kept quiet, watching the party of savage giants behind him picking up lumps of the charred lizard and stuffing them into sacks made of hide.

  The jungle slid past as the party carried Dakkar and Mary along. Large, glossy green leaves, vines dotted with flowers and fruit, and scrubby, thorny bushes all scraped by as the giants moved with surprisingly little noise.

  ‘Can you move your elbow just a little?’ Dakkar whispered to Mary. ‘It’s digging right into my back.’

  ‘No, I can’t,’ Mary hissed back, wriggling to illustrate how cramped she was.

  ‘Where are they taking us?’ Dakkar said, trying to arch his back to escape Mary’s sharp elbow.

  ‘To their camp, I reckon,’ Mary said. ‘I ’aven’t a clue where we are now, though.’

  The jungle grew thicker and Dakkar lost all track of time. A deep growl in the depths of the forest made the party freeze. The biggest giant peered into the press of trees and muttered something, readying his club.

  Silence fell over them. Dakkar held his breath, trying to see what the giant could see, but darkness and shadows swirled between the tree trunks.

  Then Mary gave a scream as a huge head thrust out from the gloom, snapping its teeth, its yellow eyes shining. Dakkar’s heart pounded. Trapped in the net, they were helpless. What if the giants just dropped them and ran? The chief giant skipped back, raising his club and then pounding it down. The night echoed with a sickening crack and the lizard crunched to the ground, dead.

  They hurried on, not pausing to inspect the fallen monster. Dakkar looked back and saw that something squatted, already tearing at the carcass of the animal. This is a deadly land, he thought. Everything is trying to eat everything else!

  As they journeyed on, Dakkar scanned the shadows of the jungle closely. He shivered, thinking that something could jump out at any second. They stopped several times on hearing growls or something thrashing about in the undergrowth nearby.

  Finally, the trees and bushes thinned and Dakkar smelt woodsmoke. They entered a large clearing, dotted with huge huts made of mud and leaves. Fires burned between the huts and Dakkar could see more giants – women and children – tending to the fires. They looked like slighter and smaller versions of the men who had captured them. Their brows were low and heavy, their noses large. Wiry hair sprang from their huge heads and hung about their fur-covered shoulders.

  A crowd gathered around Mary and Dakkar. A confusion of curious faces, poking fingers and grunts made Dakkar flinch.

  The men carrying the net dumped it on the ground, spilling Dakkar and Mary out. For a moment, Dakkar thought th
ey would be trampled by the onlookers. He curled into a ball, covering his head.

  The giants dragged Dakkar to his feet and, with Mary at his side, he found himself propelled across the clearing to a huge throne by a roaring fire. The chief giant sat on the massive chair, glaring at them.

  ‘I Gog, Chief of Gulina People,’ he said, raising his chin. He pointed at Dakkar. ‘Who?’

  Dakkar gave a short bow. ‘My name is Prince Dakkar of Bundelkhand,’ he said. ‘This is Mary Anning of Lyme Regis. We mean you no harm.’

  ‘I can speak for myself, you know,’ Mary hissed.

  ‘You stone girl,’ Gog said, pointing at Mary. ‘We watch . . . many days . . . you collect stones. Why?’

  ‘I sell them,’ Mary said. ‘Up there.’ She pointed to the clouds that swirled and crackled above their heads.

  ‘Sell?’ Gog looked confused. ‘Sky?’

  ‘Our people,’ Dakkar said. ‘They live up there.’

  ‘Praya vasadi agaza!’ Gog announced in a loud voice to the crowd that surrounded them. Laughter rippled across the clearing but Gog’s smile dropped. ‘You lie,’ he said, banging his fist on the arm of the chair. His eyes darkened and Dakkar thought he saw pain in them. ‘All small ones lie. Lagu gara!’

  At the last words, three giants sprang up and grabbed Dakkar and Mary. Dakkar struggled but the iron grip on his arms did not break. The guards dragged them to a hut and threw them inside. Dakkar ran at the door but it slammed shut in his face, sending him sprawling back on the dirt floor.

  ‘Well, this ain’t so good,’ Mary muttered, putting her hands on her hips.

  Dakkar scanned the room. The hut was circular and very bare apart from a pile of animal skins that lay in a heap, forming a rough bed. He pressed his palms against the walls. They were solid and thick, offering no chance of escape.

  ‘It looks like we’re prisoners,’ Dakkar said, examining the door. ‘Unless I can cut through the reeds that bind the planks of this door.’

  ‘That shouldn’t be ’ard,’ Mary said. ‘’Ave you got a knife?’