100% Hero

by Jayne Lyons

  Freddy pushed out his chin and his tongue in reply.

  'So-ooo pathetic.' Priscilla shook her head.

  'Muzic!' Madam called and the twins began to play.

  As Freddy hopped around on pointy toes, Priscilla skipped elegantly across the floor and launched herself through the air.

  'Oh, stinky feet!' Freddy's eyes goggled as the girl flew towards him. To the gasps of the ballerinas, he caught her with both hands above his head. 'Oh no!' he groaned, feeling his non-existent muscles giving way.

  'Hold ztill and turn!' Madam cried, banging her stick.

  Sweat ran down Freddy's face. He turned and saw Vinny and his friends peering in the window, leering and laughing.

  'Groof!' Freddy lost his concentration and collapsed in a heap, dropping Priscilla on her bum, their arms and legs in a total tangle.

  'You idiot!' she cried.

  'Ow,' Freddy groaned. 'OW!' he groaned again, as Priscilla trod on his head.

  'Practice makes perfect. Again!' Madam called, unmoved.

  'No way, he's a total shrimp!' Priscilla cried. 'He can't do it!'

  'Oh, yes I can!' Freddy jumped up to the challenge. He glanced nervously at the window but the boys had gone. It may be a sissy girly ballet, but nobody called a Lupin a shrimp and got away with it. 'Let's go, Cinders, or are you chicken? Hi-ya!'

  By that evening he was exhausted and every muscle in his body ached. Dancing was much harder work than he would ever have dreamt.

  'Must have food . . .' he croaked as he and Ginger entered the dining room.

  'What's this?' He slumped on the table in despair, and held up the slop in his spoon.

  'Lentil and brussels sprout curry,' the dinner lady replied, shovelling more in his bowl.

  He managed to raise his head. 'Need meat.'

  'No meat, laddie – lentils!' The grumpy lady pushed the bowl under his nose just as Freddy's head flopped down again. His face splattered into the bowl. He was too tired to care.

  'Up you get, foolie.' Ginger laughed and hauled his head out of the mush.

  'Sausages,' he whimpered.

  'Open up.' Ginger wiped the lentil curry off his face with a spoon and held it in front of his nose. 'You have to keep your strength up.'

  'Won't.' Freddy shook his head. He had never eaten a lentil in his life – he wasn't going to start now.

  'Choo-choo!' Ginger started weaving the spoon towards him. 'Here comes the train into the tunnel.'

  Freddy clamped his mouth shut and went crosseyed as he focused on the approaching spoon. Ginger suddenly clasped his nose in her other hand.

  Not fair, he couldn't breathe – he had to open his mouth.

  'Aha!' Ginger whipped in the lentil curry.

  Freddy was about to spit it out again when he paused, his taste buds waking up. It was actually nice!

  Freddy perked up. He ate three bowlfuls before he spoke again, and that was to ask for more.

  'Feel better now?' Ginger asked.

  'Better!' Freddy nodded and carried on eating.

  Freddy ate almost his own body weight in curry and afterwards had to lie down, while Ginger fanned him with a magazine.

  'Perhaps I'll die here,' he said weakly. 'And never see my family again.'

  'You're just full of lentils, foolie,' she assured him.

  'Tired now. Must sleep. Go bed.' Freddy carried his swollen tummy in his hands, and wandered from the room in a daze.

  'Hey, Frederick-smell-of-sick . . .' the twins began.

  Freddy didn't care; he staggered to his tiny room and fell facedown onto his mattress, already unconscious.

  Once the train had begun to pull away, Batty emerged from her bag. She climbed out onto the loaded luggage, and watched the countryside flashing by. She had had no idea that the world was so enormous. So many green fields, forests, houses and roads. How was she ever going to find Freddy in so big a place? Still trying to be brave, she sank down to sleep and wait.

  It was many hours later that the train began to slow and pull into Inverness Station. Safely back in her bag, Batty was unloaded and placed on a trolley, which was taken into the parcel room and locked until morning. When all was quiet, Batty snuck out and inspected the dark room. How hungry she was. She lay on her stomach and wondered if Freddy was nearby. Then she dreamt about sausages.

  Freddy was likewise dreaming – that he was a wolf running through the forests, howling at the moon. He twitched in his sleep and gave little howly moans. The lentils were having a most unusual effect on his brain, for it was not a food meant for Fangen. The next moment he was a wolf in a pink tutu, dancing across the stage. In the bed, Freddy threw his hands up over his head and pointed his toes. Next he was a sausage dog – running around sizzling hot, while the Baa-Van came screeching down to suck his blood dry.

  Freddy shot up in bed, still in a dream but with his eyes open. His Fangen blood was stirring and he shifted his nose from side to side, sniffing the air. The curry had filled his stomach but not satisfied his need for real food. The scent was faint, but distinct to a wolf – red meat. In a strange waking sleep Freddy, his arms reaching forward, opened the door and walked down the corridor. The old clock on the wall struck midnight as he opened the heavy front door and stepped onto the gravel driveway. The wind battered his hair to and fro and, in the distance, away on the moors, was the sound of a lady laughing eerily – but Freddy heard nothing.

  'Sausages,' he mumbled vaguely and stepped like a zombie down the driveway into the dark.

  In the boot camp, Vinny and his friends were cooking sausages on the campfire for a midnight feast. Their faces were painted with black cream, like all action soldier guys. They had been on adventures all day and were relating the great stories, interrupted by many loud burps.

  'Argh!' Two of the boys leapt up in fright as a zombie entered the circle of light.

  'Sausages . . .' the creature of the night moaned, its blank eyes staring and its deathly arms reaching forward.

  'Hoo-aah!' Vinny tackled the creature and they rolled over, in a struggle to the death.

  'Great howls!' Freddy awoke in total confusion, lying on the ground. He seemed to be in a camp, with Vinny's nose on his.

  'What, how, why, when?' he cried.

  'Chill out, lads.' Vinny laughed and let him go. 'It's just the sissy girl again, dressed in a skirt.'

  'It's not a skirt, it's a highland warrior's kilt.' Freddy leapt up, readjusting himself.

  'Warrior?' Vinny snorted. 'We saw you dancing, fluff bunny.'

  'It's harder than it looks,' Freddy said defiantly.

  'What a wimp!' one of the boys roared.

  'Say that again if you dare, human!' Freddy pulled himself up to his full height. He just about came to the boy's shoulder. His eyes opened a little wider.

  'Wimp!' the boy repeated, bending down.

  'Hi-ya!' Freddy leapt high in the air with a karate kick, and the boy jumped back in surprise.

  'Oh yes! Do not underestimate the power of the Fangen.' Freddy sprinted forward and grabbed a string of sausages. 'I owe you one,' he called over his shoulder as he ran.

  'Get him!' Vinny roared, as Freddy disappeared down the road into the dark.

  'Don't mess with the second greatest sausage thief in Milford,' he called back.

  Batty had trained him well. There was one thing Freddy was good at – running. He ran now, as fast as he could, back towards Drumbogie House.

  'Hoo-aah!' The tough boys were in pursuit.

  'Eat my snot, losers!' Freddy yelled behind him as he ran. There was no way they would ever catch him.

  'Groof!' Freddy tripped over his trail of sausages and rammed his chin into the ground. With a gasp of fright, he rolled into the ditch to hide. The boys roared past. Freddy took a moment to gather his breath – and eat a sausage or two – then he carefully began to sneak his way back.

  Freddy was almost back at Drumbogie when he heard a wolf's howl. He froze and looked up at the sky. There was no full moon – it wasn't
possible! And as a human he shouldn't be able to understand Wolfen. And yet there was no mistaking the words in the howl . . .

  'Run, laddie! Run!'

  Then he heard her laugh. It was like a high scream of hysteria. The Baa-Van.

  Freddy's scalp went tight with fright, and he sprinted for the house. He collided with Vinny running in the opposite direction, his eyes wild.

  'Argh!' the two boys yelled.

  'Shssh!' they hissed at each other.

  'There's a ghost. I saw her.' Vinny pointed to the moors.

  'She's not a ghost, she's a bloodsucking vampire-witch- fairy-thing,' Freddy corrected him.

  'That don't make me feel better.' Vinny jumped up. 'Because she's coming this way.' He made to run, but Freddy stopped him.

  'You'll never make it back to the camp; she'll get you. Where are the others?'

  'They turned back ages ago – wimps,' Vinny scoffed.

  The Baa-Van's laughter came again from the moors, very close.

  'Quick, this way,' Freddy yelped and ran down the rhododendron drive to the house, with Vinny close on his heels.

  'Did she see you?' Freddy asked breathlessly as they ran.

  'No, not in my camouflage,' the boy replied. 'Why?'

  'You don't ever want to look into her eyes, because –' He stopped dead in surprise.

  'Argh!' Vinny yelled in horror.

  There, standing on the gravel drive, his finger raised and pointing at them, was not the Baa-Van but a creature like nothing Freddy had ever seen – but he had heard tales of them. It had the body of a normal-sized man, but the head of a wolf. It was a creature of myth and fairytale, a wulver, neither human nor Fangen. Its blue eyes were looking straight at them. Vinny was frozen with shock, but Freddy was not afraid. This must be the wolf he had heard howling. He was sure it was a friend.

  Vinny stared with newfound respect as Freddy stepped towards the wulver and held up his hairy palms to show his Fangen blood. The wulver was wearing Hunting MacLeod tartan, just like Freddy.

  'Fangen,' Freddy said quietly.

  'Run, laddie,' the wulver growled. 'She's coming for you. I'll guard your back.'

  Freddy turned – and flinched. Down at the far end of the tunnel of rhododendrons he could see the pale glow of the Baa-Van. Her green dress and red hair billowed around her as if she were floating in water. Her beauty mesmerised him. Her eyes caught him and, like before, flashed red, then her fiery black pupils were all he could see. She raced towards him, her arms reaching out.

  'Run, fathead,' Vinny cried and pushed him down the path. The Baa-Van screeched in fury.

  'Thus far and no further, my dear,' the wulver said calmly to the Baa-Van.

  The boys didn't wait to see what happened. They crashed through the back door and into the kitchen, bolting the door behind them. Vinny pushed the table against the door for extra comfort.

  'I wasn't scared!' Freddy declared, puffing out his chest.

  'Neither was I!' Vinny agreed, flexing his muscles.

  Then they collapsed with laughter.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Home – Danger – Quick

  Far away, in the dungeons of Farfang, Chester Puceley was becoming very irritated with Sir Hotspur. It was the second night they had been sneaking around, holding the map and lighting their way with torches. Still they had not found the Hidden Halls, which they believed lay below the castle.

  'Great horned toads, this is useless!' he cried. 'I only helped you escape Dundaggard because you said you knew how to find the entrance.' Chester sat down on a stone bench in a strop.

  'More fool you, sir!' Hotspur scowled. 'The key to finding the doors must be the symbols.' He tore the map from Chester's hand and poked his finger at the drawings. 'A Moonstone, a full moon and a Blavendoch.'

  'I had worked that much out already,' the other cried. 'I should have left you in Scotland to rot.'

  'Beware of how you address a wolf, sir.' Hotspur stepped closer.

  'And beware how you address a Squire of the Boldovian Court.' Chester jumped up.

  'Shh!' Hotspur scowled and held up his finger, his bushy red eyebrows raised high.

  'Is there anyone there?' Mrs Mutton's voice called down the stairs from the corridor above. Her shuffling footsteps started to descend. Both men crouched in the dark, staring like startled children.

  'What do we do?' Chester hissed, looking around the small stone cell. 'There's nowhere to hide.'

  'Quiet, you fool,' Hotspur hissed.

  'Who are you calling a fool?' Chester whispered in outrage.

  'You, sir!' Hotspur pushed him with his finger. 'Who else is here?'

  'You take it back, you great buffoon!' Chester prodded his cousin back.

  'Buffoon?' Hotspur cried. 'Never prod a Fangen, sir!' He pushed Chester.

  'Never push a Weren!' Chester prodded him harder.

  'Yes, I will, sir!' Push.

  'So will I!' Prod.

  'Take that!' Hotspur twanged a hair out of Chester's moustache. The Boldovian gasped in outrage. He gave Sir Hotspur's eyebrow a yank.

  In a second, the two men were rolling around on the floor fighting.

  'Oh, Mr Puceley, I'm so disappointed in you,' Mrs Mutton's voice broke out in the stone cell. 'And Hotspur! Once Laird McDaggard told the Fang Council that you'd escaped, I knew you'd turn up here. You'll be seeing the wooden spoon before too long.'

  The two men looked up from the floor of the cell to see the housekeeper slapping the cooking utensil into her hand.

  The next morning when the train porter opened up the luggage room, he had a bit of a surprise. Sitting quietly with a luggage tag in her mouth was a sweet, hairy mongrel. When he looked at her curiously, she flopped her head from side to side and wagged her tail.

  'Well, and are you lost, sweetie? Where are you trying to get to?' He took the label from her mouth. 'Drumbogie? Why, that's some drive. But let me finish here, and we'll see what we can do, eh?'

  Batty gave a bark.

  Freddy groaned himself awake. What very strange nightmares he had had, and now there was the most appalling smell under his nose – like a thousandyear- old cheese and onion pie. He opened an eye and found Vinny's toe up his nose.

  'Erg!' Freddy jumped off the mattress that the boys had shared. 'Get up, butt-breath.' He nudged Vinny with his foot. 'You'd better go before everyone wakes up. It's light now, so the witch'll be gone.'

  Vinny yawned and forced himself up. He didn't look quite so fierce now.

  'What was that language you was speaking to that wolf thing last night?' he asked, pulling on his boots.

  'English,' Freddy replied, slipping on his ballet shoes.

  'It were no English I've ever 'eard.' Vinny stood up.

  'Dunno then.' Freddy shrugged. He didn't understand how he had talked with the wulver either.

  'So why do you want to dance ballet, then?' the boy asked, scratching his fingers through the bristles on his head.

  'Oh, der!' Freddy scowled. 'I don't! I was kidnapped and they burnt my clothes.'

  Vinny laughed.

  They snuck out of the room and headed for the door. Vinny stopped, however, to look at the pictures on the wall.

  'Like, so-ooo lame,' Freddy snorted.

  'I think they look sorta . . . nice. Beautiful and stuff.'

  Freddy flared a nostril in disbelief.

  'I always liked the idea of being a dancer, like. We used to do it at reform school.' The large boy practised pointing his toe in his big boots.

  'But you called me a sissy!' Freddy recalled.

  'Yeah, so what? You are one, but I'm not. I could be a dancer if I wanted,' Vinny decided. 'Throwing girls up in the air and that. I'd be right elegant, I would.'

  'But everyone would laugh at you!' Freddy roared, almost bursting with hilarity.

  Vinny turned to him menacingly.

  'No one would dare laugh at me,' he corrected the younger boy.

  'No, of course not,' Freddy squeaked. 'You'd better go .
. . I mean, before everyone arrives,' he finished in a deep, manly voice.

  Only after Vinny had disappeared could Freddy laugh. What a ridiculous idea – no tough guy should ever dance ballet. But then he remembered that that was just what he was about to do. That confused him a little – for surely he was a tough guy too?

  By the end of that morning's rehearsal, Freddy could hold Priscilla high without dropping her. She, however, still shuddered when he touched her.

  'The champion!' He grinned as he caught the flying girl. The twins scowled.

  'Once a poodle, always a poodle,' Priscilla whispered in his ear as they danced away.

  'And now for ze final zcene: Prinze Charming takes ze zlipper . . .' Madam called as Freddy skipped and twirled around with the glass shoe. 'And he zlips it on Zinderella's tiny foot.'

  Priscilla sat on the bench and held out her dainty toes.

  'Oh, cheesy,' Freddy said under his breath, as he placed the slipper on her.

  'Loser,' Priscilla whispered.

  'And zen the Prinze takes her in his ztrong arms . . .' Madam called.

  'As if I would . . .' Freddy smiled, embracing her.

  'Wimp.' She pouted.

  'And for ze grand finale – he kizzes her!' Madam cried.

  'He what?' Freddy looked up in shock and dropped Cinderella onto the floor. 'No way!'

  'Ow, idiot.' Priscilla jumped up, outraged.

  'But Charming must kizz Zinderella!' Madam insisted.

  'I'd razzer kizz ze ugly zisters,' Freddy declared, his hands on his hips.

  Those two ballerinas stepped forward eagerly.

  'Erm, not really.' Freddy jumped to safety.

  Priscilla was stunned – how could a boy not want to kiss her? She was beautiful!

  Madam's hairs flew out to him in annoyance. 'Idiot boy!' she cried. 'After lunch, you vill kizz ze girl, or you know vhat!' She took the folded photograph of Freddy and his Blavendoch from her pocket.

  With a heavy heart, Freddy slumped outside into the garden to sulk. There was no escape from this nightmare.

  Dougal shuffled around the corner, carrying a heavy sack. The old man looked up at Freddy with piercing blue eyes.

  'It's you!' Freddy grinned and ran to him. 'Are you really a . . . a wulver? My dad says they're only a fairytale.'