by SJB Gilmour
‘And you think the trolls and the strange behaviour of the Guild might be connected?’ Benjamin surmised.
Sarah told Benjamin what Cassandra had said. He nodded. ‘Hmm, the only concrete data there is the reference to the trolls,’ he muttered.
Sarah didn’t understand. She cocked her head sideways at her uncle.
‘“Those whom water burns,”’ he quoted. ‘Trolls burn when they get wet.’
‘Who’s this Usurper then?’ Sarah asked him.
Benjamin shrugged. ‘Whoever’s leading the trolls, probably,’ he answered.
Now that Benjamin McConnell’s raging had subsided for some time, Mel and Nathan had re-emerged and were waiting patiently for the Golden Mane and the Silver Shroud to finish their conversation.
Sarah nodded. The two looked at each other for a moment. ‘We’d better get to your aunt and uncle as soon as possible then,’ Benjamin decided. ‘Once we’ve made sure everything’s alright, then we’ll all go looking for Rufus together. If we can’t find him, we need to at least find out what the trolls are doing and why.’ He patted Sarah on the shoulder proudly.
The group all looked at Sarah, making her feel very self-conscious. Curiously, they seemed to be waiting for her to make a decision. She swallowed nervously. A quick glance at her Uncle Benjamin, who gave the slightest of nods, gave her all the direction she needed.
‘Umm,’ she began. ‘Maybe we should all stick together?’ she suggested to the group. ‘I think we should all go as one pack and join back up with Roberta and Robert.’
Gravely the rest of the group nodded and one by one they wordlessly embraced Sarah then went to prepare their things.
Mel’s own anger had subsided and now she was simply pale and oddly calm. She nodded at Sarah with a slightly awed look on her face. ‘So it’s happening,’ she observed flatly.
‘What?’ Sarah asked curiously.
Mel shrugged. ‘Golden Manes are natural leaders,’ Mel told her. ‘Guess it’s just a matter of time before you’re the boss and Aunt Angela and Master McConnell are all following your orders.’ She forced herself to smile. ‘Besides, you’ve already got more power than just about everyone else.’
‘That doesn’t mean I know what to do with it,’ Sarah said glumly.
Mel was determined to remain positive. ‘Betcha,’ she stated. ‘You’ll be the boss soon.’
Sarah sighed. ‘I hope not,’ she confessed. ‘I dunno the first thing about taking charge of anything. I don’t want to make any mistakes.’
‘If you do,’ Mel said, giving Sarah a friendly nudge, ‘we’ll make ‘em with ya.’
At that moment Sarah felt particularly glad she had such a friend as Mel. She gave a low cry and hugged her friend. Then the two pushed themselves apart, slightly abashed at their girly display of affection. In a much more mature manner, the two girls walked back through the corridor to the elevator.
‘Can’t you two use the stairs?’ it complained. ‘Up and down! Up and down! All I ever do is cart you people up and down! Why don’t you get some exercise for a change?’
That was it! Sarah glared at the elevator. ‘You listen to me, you dumb piece of tin!’ she shouted. Mel backed against one shimmering wall in surprise. ‘I’ve had enough of you and your stupid grumbling! It’s your bloody job! We all have to do stuff we don’t like! It’s part of life! If you don’t like what you do, then quit!’
‘But…’ the elevator began to protest.
‘I don’t care!’ Sarah almost screamed and stamped her foot on the floor. ‘I’ve been nice and polite to you and every other elevator I’ve ever met! You’ve all been nothing but nasty and rude. If you can’t be civil then I’ll turn you into a bloody cabbage!’ Outside in the tunnels, thunder boomed and echoed.
After a moment or two of silence, the elevator gave a slight shudder. Then it asked in a much more polite tone, ‘Where would you like to go, Miss Coppernick?’
‘There,’ said Sarah. ‘That’s better. We’d just like to go to our rooms, please.’ She popped another silver Gnumphlatia Manor coin into the elevator’s mouth.
‘Right away!’ the elevator replied with its mouth full. It seemed very anxious to hurry up and deliver Sarah and Mel to their destination.
When they reached their rooms, Mel and Sarah both burst out laughing. ‘I’ve never seen you that angry without changing form!’ Mel chortled at her friend. ‘I thought you were going to blast it right then and there. When I heard that thunder outside, I nearly died!’ She chuckled. ‘I bet it made all those gnomes crap their pants.’
‘Sorry about that,’ Sarah mumbled, embarrassed. ‘I don’t know about the thunder. As for blasting it, I was tempted.’ She slumped down on one of the beds. ‘I wouldn’t know what to blast it with… Can we really turn things into cabbages?’
Mel nodded. ‘Haven’t you noticed? When most witches get really mad, there’s thunder. You probably only noticed Master McConnell giving off sparks.’ She looked down at herself for a moment. ‘I did too, probably. It happens when we get mad. Some sort of energy discharge. When we’re angry and really controlled, it doesn’t happen so much.’ She grinned. ‘When mum gets mad, she grabs a spark or two and throws ‘em about!’ Then she waved outside. ‘Out there, there was thunder too. Must’ve scared the crap out of those gnomes.’ Mel grinned. ‘I’ve never seen anyone turn anything into a cabbage, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Normally, when a witch or sorcerer gets real mad, they blast things with lightning.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ve never done it, but,’ and now she gritted her teeth as her anger began to show itself again, ‘the next time I see a troll, I’m gonna give it a go.’
‘Well, I don’t know how to,’ Sarah confessed. ‘But if I did know how, I might have.’
‘Then it’s a good thing you didn’t,’ Angela remarked dryly from the doorway.
Sarah and Mel looked up at their teacher. Her dark blue eyes were serious. She walked in and sat down in one of the chairs at the writing table.
‘Elevators consume silver. If you blow one up, that means silver shrapnel. If it gets into your blood, it suffocates you and you die.’ She pointed one finger at Mel. ‘No blowing up elevators, young lady!’ Then she smiled at them. ‘Now pack your things, girls. We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready.’
The two girls then rushed about, gathering their things as if it were a race. They each pelted into the elevator at the same time and were still panting when it delivered them to the foyer.
‘Great!’ Angela announced. She and the others had assembled with their satchels. ‘We’re all ready to go!’
‘And so am I!’ declared Ronny the gnome from the hallway. He marched forward, also carrying a satchel.
‘What?’ both girls exclaimed at once.
Ronny was dressed for travel with heavy linen cargo pants, hiking boots and a thick cotton shirt under a leather vest with an assortment of pockets and a fisherman’s hat complete with a variety of lures and flies. He dumped his satchel on the floor and placed his gnarled fists firmly on his hips.
‘It’s about time I got to go on an adventure!’ he told them decisively. ‘This is going to be fun!’
‘Absolutely not!’ Rudolf interrupted, aghast. ‘I’m not having you traipsing off all over gods know where with this lot. You’ve used up all your sick and holiday time already, Mason!’
Ronny sighed and fished a small leather-bound tome out of one of his many pockets. He pushed it through the air towards his boss. The tome opened itself in front of him.
‘What is this?’ Rudolf demanded gruffly.
‘I’m the Gnomish Accommodation Almanac,’ the tome replied. Then, in a very officious-sounding voice, it began to quote:
‘Halfling High Council Ordinance eighty nine, subsection twelve B: Should any guest of a Gnomish accommodation become besieged, beleaguered, befuddled, belosted…’
‘Hang on!’ Sarah protested. ‘‘Belosted’ isn’t even a real word!’
‘And we’re not hal
flings!’ Mel added.
‘It’s in me!’ snapped the tome, ‘so it must be. Besides, that one doesn’t apply to you. You know exactly where you are. You’re not belosted at all! And I didn’t say anything about what species you are, either. The laws affect the halflings and until someone adds another metre to them, gnomes are halflings! Now please don’t interrupt.’
‘Belosted, blasted, beaten, bested, broken, bruised, beheaded, betroubled, or bewitched, a representative of that accommodation must accompany said party until such time as the party in question is no longer in danger.’
The tome huffily concluded this statement then promptly floated back to Ronny who stuffed it back into one of his pockets.
‘See,’ said Ronny. ‘I have to go. Sorry boss. I suppose the union might be able to get me out of it…’
Rudolf raised his eyes skywards. ‘Oh shove it, Mason. You know I’m not going to drag the blasted union into this.’ He waved at his cousin angrily. ‘Go on,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll give you one month. After that, you’re on your own.’ His expression changed to a sneer. ‘I know all about your cosy little arrangement with McConnell and Harding here, so don’t pull any more of your officious rubbish. I’m only going along with it because your mother and mine were sisters. Now get out of here before I change my mind.’ With that he turned on his heel and marched off as fast as his stubby little legs could take him, fuming all the while about how he knew he should never have hired members of his family.
Angela flashed him a dimply smile and patted him on the cheek. ‘Welcome aboard, Master Mason!’ she said warmly. She then turned to the rest of the group. ‘Now, I can see we’re almost ready,’ she announced, looking at everyone. They were all dressed for travel and had soft leather satchels at their feet, ready to be slung over their shoulders. Nathan, of course, didn’t have a satchel. He had new glasses with hinged shade lenses, a large straw hat and his red bandanna in place of his bow tie.
Angela then clapped her hands together brightly. ‘Right! Everyone outside!’ She led the group outside into the bustling tunnel. She drew a large nonagram on the ground. Then she handed everyone a portal stone. ‘Now,’ she instructed. ‘Put these in your mouths and join hands.’
Sarah popped the stone into her mouth and immediately wished she hadn’t. It tasted awful and tingled on her tongue as if it was both hot and cold at the same time. It felt very much like she was licking a battery.
Nathan quickly shrank back down to pencil size. ‘Just pop me in your satchel, Miss Sarah,’ he told her in his squeaky, shrunken voice. ‘I’ll be quite cosy in there!’
Chapter Nine
When the group stepped out of the portal, the first thing they all did was spit out the awful-tasting portal stones. Then they looked about.
‘Back in the “land of men”,’ Mel murmured to Sarah.
Sarah wasn’t so concerned about that. She was however very grateful to be back on the surface, regardless of what planet she was on. Being underground wasn’t too bad for a short time, but she had begun to feel more than a little claustrophobic at Gnumphlatia Manor. They had come through the portal into a small hospital room, which suddenly seemed to be awfully crowded. The natural light streaming in through the window made Sarah feel much more relaxed. Then she noticed the smell.
In two beds, side-by-side lay Mel’s parents. David and Susan Hazelwood were both covered liberally in the foulest smelling goo Sarah had ever encountered. It was worse than a gungy sponge she found under the kitchen sink one time. It was worse than the smell of the dead bird Mr Jamieson’s horrid cat had once left on her doorstep. It was worse than poo.
‘Ugh!’ was all she could manage. David and Susan woke up, as did Roberta and Robert, who had both been sleeping on the floor next to the bed.
‘Hullo there, Sis!’ Mrs Hazelwood said when she saw Angela. ‘And Mel, darling!’ She tried to sit up but had to lie back down. Like Mel’s father, she had a number of stitched cuts on her face and neck and bandages on her arms and legs.
Ignoring the awful pong, Mel gingerly took one of her mother’s bandaged hands in her own and looked at her with a very worried expression. ‘Are you going to be all right, Mum?’ she asked in a quiet voice.
Susan Hazelwood smiled gently at her daughter. ‘Of course, sweetheart. Thank you for coming! Shouldn’t you be in school?’ Her breathing was laboured and sweat beaded on her forehead.
‘Mel,’ agreed her father. ‘You haven’t burned this one down too, have you?’ He too was obviously straining hard to speak.
Mel flushed guiltily, then smiled as she saw the mischievous glint in her father’s eyes. The others found chairs around the two beds. Mel’s excitement couldn’t be contained, and she began to tell her parents all about their adventure so far. The conversation did not last long, however. A few minutes of talking soon exhausted them and they collapsed back into unconsciousness. Careful not to disturb the sleeping patients, the group then filed past the beds and out into the hall.
As he walked out of the room, Ronny paused to examine the charts at the end of the each bed. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘Not exactly the treatment I would have prescribed, but as long as it gets results, I suppose. Troll poison can be very tricky.’
‘What do you mean?’ Mel whispered to the gnome. ‘How bad are they hurt?’
Ronny put the charts back and motioned for her to follow the others into the hallway. Once he had closed the door behind him, he turned to Mel.
‘Medicine’s not really my bag,’ he confessed. ‘I trained as an illusionist, but you don’t live as long as I have without picking up a few things here and there. Mel, your parents both received some very nasty wounds,’ the gnarled little gnome told her. ‘They’ve been infected with troll poison. If they hadn’t been found when they were, they might have died.’
‘What do you mean about the treatment not being what you would prescribe?’ Mel pressed.
Ronny shrugged. ‘Humans aren’t much different from gnomes, really. Apart from gnomes being immune to radiation and our extra heart, we’re both about the same. That means we’re all vulnerable to troll poison. Aside from the usual healing charms and spells, the only stand-alone cure I know of is Golden Mane hair combined with essence of rhubarb. The balm alone is sometimes enough but if the wounds are severe,’ and he nodded back at Mel’s parents, ‘sometimes it’s not, no matter how much they smother on the victim. In this case, it seems to have halted the course of the poison.’
A black-robed witch approached them from one end of the hall. Around her neck hung a stethoscope that clattered against her star-shaped amulet. She was carrying a tray with two large jars full of more of the same purple balm and fresh bandages.
‘Correct, Master gnome,’ she said sadly to Ronny. ‘We’re doing the best we can, but our healing enchantments are being inhibited by the poison. Until we get that under control, it’s touch and go, I’m afraid.’ She turned to the rest of the group. ‘I’m the Hazelwoods’ doctor, Amelia,’ she introduced herself. ‘Master of Healing here at Bodaybo Witches Hospital.’
Angela quickly introduced the rest of the group.
Amelia looked critically at them without smiling. ‘If you wait here for a few minutes, I’ll just change their dressings and then we can talk.’ Then the witch quickly stepped into the room and shut the door behind her.
Sarah and the others waited for what seemed like ages for Amelia to re-emerge. Sarah herself felt very nervous and a little helpless. Finally, Amelia stepped out and put one finger to her lips to motion them all to silence. Then she gestured for them to follow her down to an office at the other end of the hall. Once inside, they all found seats while Amelia put two charts of the human body up on a wall. Then over those, she placed two transparent charts with lines of stitches drawn on them to represent where Mel’s parents had been injured. Under the feet of each outline were the names D Hazelwood and S Hazelwood.
‘As you can see,’ Amelia told them, ‘their wounds were extensive. Mrs Hazelwood has all that
lovely Troy blood in her veins. I’m sure she’ll recover nicely in time all by herself.’ Amelia turned to Mel. ‘It’s your father that I’m concerned about. He’s just an ordinary wizard. Right now they both look pretty much the same, but Mrs Hazelwood sustained far greater injuries than her husband. She’s recovering faster. He’s not.’
An idea occurred to Sarah. She opened her satchel and peered inside. When she had first received the wondrous gift from Ronny, the contents were all jumbled together in a most disorganised fashion. Now Nathan had set himself up inside Sarah’s satchel, he had made a few changes. All her clothes were ironed and hanging tidily in a freestanding cupboard. The camping and wet weather gear was sorted into piles. Nathan had even produced a large reading chair and several bookshelves, which were all now neatly stacked with tomes and scrolls.
The purple bookwyrm was coiled quite comfortably on the armchair with a large goblet of red wine resting neatly on one arm, while a tome hovered just in front of him. His bald, purple head was glowing. It gave off plenty of light inside the satchel.
Nathan looked up to see Sarah peering in. ‘Oh hello, Miss Sarah!’ he said brightly. ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’
Sarah stared at the bookwyrm. ‘Umm…’ She stammered. ‘Have you seen a little glass jar?’
Nathan smiled. ‘Of course. Here.’ The little glass jar with the golden hairs inside drifted off one of the bookshelves and up out of the satchel, which promptly closed all by itself. Sarah handed the jar to Amelia.
‘Will these help?’ she asked politely.
Amelia squinted at the jar. Then her face paled as she recognised its contents. ‘Miss Coppernick!’ she breathed in an awed voice. ‘Wherever did you get these?’
‘I brushed them out of her the other night,’ Mel confessed in a small voice.
‘Out of whom?’ Amelia demanded, surprised. ‘The only Golden Mane I know of is Rufus, and from what I understand, he’s missing.’