by Michael Kerr
They talked through the night, and then bid Charlie farewell at daybreak and made their way back to the opening in the hollow tree that led down to the underground boat station. Lutt was waiting for them, and once they had boarded, the tunnel began to spin again, and the bone and hide canoe sped through it, to return them to Lava Bed Central.
― CHAPTER FOUR ―
THE CACTUS CREATURES
Figwort, Speedwell and Squill flew north, making good time at night, but sheltering through the heat of the day. The Mountains of Fire came into sight as the sun sank on the fourth day. But darkness never came. The flaming mountain range turned the sky a bright red.
“How do you suppose we’ll get across those fiery peaks?” Squill asked Figwort.
“Not by flying over them,” Figwort said. “We could not soar high enough to be safe from the poisonous smoke, or the burning heat. And it is said that they stretch for such a great distance that to go around would take us an age. Speed is of the essence. We must find the way through that the horgs use, and try to catch up with them before they reach their fortress.”
Continuing on at moonshow, they flew along a canyon that was enclosed by sheer-faced mountains at either side. It was Speedwell that found the footprints of horgs, the deeper hoof marks made by the long-horned Lummox’ that some of them rode, and the tracks of cartwheels.
“Over here,” Speedwell called, and the other two joined him and landed next to where he was knelt examining the indentations in the dark lava sand.
“Well spotted,” Figwort said. “Let’s follow the tracks. We can’t be too far behind them now. With any luck they will be camped up ahead, and we’ll be able to sneak up, set our people free and find the crown.”
They flew along the winding canyon till sunup, but did not set eyes on the horgs. They were not to know that horgs were almost immune to the burning heat, and travelled by day and night without stopping to either rest or take shelter. They were creatures that walked upright, but in no other way resembled fairies or humans. Most horgs were almost as tall as Gorf, and had tough, scaly skin covering their muscular bodies from head to foot. They thrived on the heat that warmed their cold, green blood. Their faces had large, pointed muzzles, and their eyes were slanting and bright yellow. Each of their hands had two thick fingers tipped with razor-sharp claws. And the toes of their large, flat feet were linked together with flaps of skin. Horgs feared nothing, and lived only to serve their master, Ganzo, who was the son of the Dark One, and a cruel and murderous ruler who was not truly happy unless he was attacking other lands and expanding his evil empire.
Gorf – who still did not know exactly what he was, but had been told by a steward at the tournament at Chimera that he was neither hairy troll or goblin, but most likely a close relation of the animal that in Humanplace was known as Bigfoot – carried Pook strapped to his back, so that the little bear would not slow them down.
Like the fairies, Sam and the others also travelled at night, as they had done in the Desert of Storms. If anything, this terrain was even more inhospitable. The lava beds were not flat. There were a great many tall, tangled clumps of rock, misshapen and looking like twisted spires and curved archways. Smaller formations had been sculpted by hot winds as they cooled and became hard, to resemble lopsided mushrooms and other extraordinary shapes that had been carved by the hot gravel that was whipped up to blast them. The roasting volcanic rock was crumbling away under the ferocious heat that split it to form wide crevasses and deep valleys. And the only life forms to roam its surface were reptiles, sand rats, some leathery beetles, that were also forced to take shelter for much of the day, and a colony of life forms that Sam and the others would soon wish they had not had the misfortune to meet up with.
They slept fitfully under a large canopy of shiny black lava glass that jutted out from a cliff. Only Gorf remained awake, crouched above the others on a bluff, his longbow and quiver of arrows by his side. He didn’t feel safe. His instinct told him that they were not alone in the wilderness, and experience had taught him that it was best to treat any strangers or unknown creatures as being a potential threat to their lives.
It was almost midday when Gorf saw movement from the corner of his eye. He searched the shadows as he fitted an arrow to his bowstring. There! Again. The slightest of movements from what appeared to be a tall pole-shaped object. And then he saw another, and another. The shapes were slowly, silently approaching, gathering to form a large semicircle around his friends.
“Wake up,” Gorf called as he leapt down to join them.
“What the matter?” Tommy asked.
“They are,” Gorf replied, pointing to the densely packed figures that had stopped no more than twenty feet from them.
“Oh-oh,” Pook said. “Here we go again. More trouble.”
Sam, Ben, Tommy and Pook climbed to their feet and faced the strange beings that had found and surrounded them.
“They’re cacti,” Tommy said. “Where did they appear from?”
“It doesn’t matter where they came from,” Ben said. “It’s what they plan on doing that worries me.”
“Can you hear us?” Tommy shouted at the nearest cactus, which resembled a giant saguaro. It was green, covered in spines, and had several upturned branches or fingers growing from its main pillar. This was the sort of cactus that he knew grew in Arizona, which he had seen featured in almost all the Western movies he’d ever watched.
“Food that talks,” the cactus said, and all the other cacti made a gasping noise.
“We’re not food,” Sam said, her voice sounding a little shaky.
“You are from where I am standing,” the cactus creature replied. “We need the moisture from your bodies.”
“So go find a river, and drown in it,” Tommy said. “We have places to go and people to see.”
The green giant shifted forward. It had no feet, but somehow slid across the black sand, leaving a deep groove behind it.
Gorf fired an arrow into the creature’s leathery, green skin, and it shuddered and came to a stop as the shaft passed through it. A milky sap dribbled from the wound and ran down to pool around the base of its trunk.
“We cannot be destroyed by being pierced,” the cactus said through a small vent that opened near its top. “For we do not have a heart like other life forms.”
“What’s Plan B?” Tommy asked, directing the question at Gorf. “‘Cause if we don’t have a flame thrower...and we don’t, then we could end up being breakfast for ‘Spikey’ and his gang.”
A large orange and black banded snake appeared from the shadow of a rock and slithered across the ground in front of Spikey.
The lowest arm of the cactus shot down, and several of the two-inch long spines on it punctured the snake’s body. It writhed and curled around the limb, sinking its fangs into the fleshy stem. But its efforts were to no avail. With a loud sucking sound the hollow spines began to draw the blood and all other body fluids from the unfortunate serpent. Within seconds the snake was drained, and resembled a long, flat, colourful balloon that had not been blown up.
“Awesome,” Ben said. “We really don’t want to be here. Somebody think of something, and quick, or we’ll end up like empty sausage skins.”
“Climb up the cliff,” Sam said as she picked up a thin sliver of lava glass that was almost transparent.
Tommy didn’t need to be told twice. Pook jumped on his back and wrapped his arms around Tommy’s neck and hung on for dear life as Tommy scrabbled up the almost sheer volcanic rock, with Ben alongside him searching out hand and footholds.
Gorf fired another arrow at the cactus, as Sam held the glass out and tilted it to catch the sunlight and direct a narrow beam onto the creature. The bright circle of light magnified the heat, and the leathery skin of the strange being began to smoke, and then burst into flame. With a loud wail the cactus toppled over, crackling and popping, to become no more than a pile of ashes that were soon blown away by gusts of hot desert air.
&nb
sp; The other cacti moved back a few feet, and Gorf and Sam climbed up to where the others were standing on a narrow ledge.
“Wicked, Sam,” Tommy said. “Spikey is toast.”
“But there are dozens of them,” Sam said, looking down to where a large crowd of the cactus creatures was now gathered. “We can’t go back down there till they go away.”
“And we can’t stay up here,” Ben said. “It’s already as hot as a sauna. We’ll fry if we don’t find shade.”
“Burn up a few more of them,” Gorf said. “And they may go and look for easier prey.”
Sam held up the glass again, and had soon set fire to another four of the cacti. The others did not move. They didn’t seem to know what was happening, or worse, they had no fear of being destroyed.
“I think they plan to wait us out,” Tommy said.
“Then if we cannot go down, we must go up,” Gorf stated.
They all craned their necks to look up, squinting into the sun at the top of the ridge over a hundred feet above them.
“This isn’t like a regular climbing wall,” Tommy said. “There are no decent hand holds. We should think of something else.”
Gorf grinned and showed his sharp yellow teeth and navy-blue gums. “Fear not, Tommy. I have rope in my bag. I shall climb to the top, then throw it down for each of you to climb up.”
Leaving them without any further discussion, Gorf scaled the rock face with ease, tied one end of the stout cord to a crag, and threw the plaited coils down to where Ben caught the lifeline.
“Tie it round your waist, and I’ll pull you up,” Gorf shouted.
“You first,” Ben said to Sam.
Sam didn’t argue. She looped the cord around her waist, tied it with a slip knot and told Gorf that she was ready. As he heaved her up hand over hand, she leaned back and walked up the steep wall.
Tommy went next, with Pook still clinging to his neck and almost strangling him. Ben came up last, and they sat on the ridge and looked back down to where the cactus creatures were still standing unmoving, as if they were ordinary cacti, rooted to the ground.
“How could they talk and move about?” Tommy asked.
“Beats me,” Ben said. “We should know by now that in Weirdworld anything can happen. It’s no use trying to make sense of it. Remember those stone Gargoyles on Doom Mountain. They could move, talk and fly.”
“Let’s just hope that these things don’t sprout wings and fly, or this adventure will end here,” Sam said.
Gorf peered out over the rim at the other side of the narrow bluff. At the bottom he could see a trail leading off between solid walls of the volcanic rock. He threw the rope and watched it snake down to the ground. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s climb down and find somewhere else to shelter. We can’t travel very far in this heat.”
One at a time they made it safely down to the ground. Gorf shook the rope free from the outcrop it was looped over, wound it up and stuffed it back in his bag.
The five of them hurried on, not realising for a while that the walls at either side of them were becoming higher and steeper. Or that the sandy path was becoming narrower. Only when they reached the mouth of a dark cave did they stop and consider their situation.
“We should go back,” Sam said. “I don’t think that going into this cave will lead us to where we want to go.”
“I agree,” Gorf said. “But it will give us shade until sundown. Then we can retrace our steps and get back on track.”
They settled just inside the opening. It was cool and protected them from the broiling heat.
Much later, as the temperature dropped and the light began to fade, they made ready to go.
Tommy saw them first. The cacti were less than fifty feet away, filling the only way to freedom from wall to wall. And they were moving slowly but steadily, shuffling forward.
“Now what?” Tommy asked.
“We see how deep this cave is,” Sam said. “After what we saw Spikey do to that snake, I don’t intend to hang about and wind up sucked dry.”
They stumbled along deeper and deeper into the dark tunnel like blind mice, bumping into each other in the pitch blackness.
“Slow down,” Gorf said. “Less haste, more speed. My eyesight is keen, and I can see a faint glow of light up ahead. Feel your way along the walls, and we might reach wherever this leads to without falling down and breaking bones.”
After a while, the light was bright enough for them all to make out the shape of the tunnel. High above them were holes in the lava roof that let the fading sun’s rays filter down like torch beams. The tunnel narrowed to a width that they could only pass through one at a time, before widening out into a large chamber.
Gorf came to a sudden stop. “It’s a dead end,” he said.
Sam couldn’t believe it. Gorf was right. The tunnel ended in a solid rock face thirty feet in front of them. There was nowhere to go, and behind them the cactus creatures were drawing nearer. They could all hear the sound of the hollow, hypodermic spines scraping against rock walls as they approached.
― CHAPTER FIVE ―
THE MOUNTAINS OF FIRE
Figwort, Speedwell and Squill flew till the heat of the morning sun grew so fierce that they were forced to seek shelter. They found refuge under a mantle of rock that over a great period of time had been carved back by grit-filled and gale force winds.
“I wonder how far ahead of us the horgs are,” Squill said.
“Who knows?” Figwort said. “They must march by day, or we would have surely caught up to them by now.”
“But how could they travel in such scorching heat?” Speedwell said.
“You didn’t see them, Speedwell. They are very lizard-like, and are probably cold-blooded. The heat obviously doesn’t affect them.”
“Now that it’s light I shall fly up high into the sky, above the tops of the mountains, and mayhaps I will be able to spot them,” Speedwell said.
“Very well, but be careful, lad,” Figwort warned. “And do not be tempted to go any distance if you cannot see them. This great heat would soon overcome you.”
Speedwell crawled out from the shady niche and flew upward, higher and higher into the sky. He hovered in the scorching air to look down, and saw a far-off cloud of dust being thrown up. It was the horgs on the move, and he guessed that they were at least half a day ahead. Tipping forward, he flew down in a steep dive, and spotted two figures on a ridge. They were dressed in black tunics and wore pointed helmets on their heads. From Figwort’s description, Speedwell knew that they were horgs.
A short arrow whistled past his face, and as another sped towards him, Speedwell zigzagged in the air and flew faster. He hit the ground hard, fell onto his side and rolled under the shelf that Figwort and Squill had been looking out from.
“What happened?” Figwort asked. “You seemed to be trying to evade something.”
“I saw the horgs. They’re marching north,” Speedwell panted. “And as I began to descend, I saw two of their soldiers on a peak above us. They had crossbows and tried to shoot me down.”
“They must be lookouts,” Figwort said. “Posted up there to watch out for anyone entering this pass through the mountains.”
“They may light a beacon to signal that we are in pursuit,” Squill said.
“I very much doubt that the sight of Speedwell would worry them enough to raise the alarm,” Figwort said. “But we must pass with care at moonshow, and keep an eye out for others.”
High above them, outside a small hut made from logs and covered with a mixture of Lummox drummins and volcanic sand – which kept the structure cool throughout the day and warm at night – two horg soldiers were arguing.
“You missed it by at least two cart lengths,” Molok hissed.
“Rubbish,” Fang replied. “I missed it by a Targ’s whisker. If the sun had not been in my eyes, I would have brought it down. It is you whose aim is so poor that anything you shoot at is in no danger.”
“You mu
st be as scrambled as a beaten hawk’s egg. I am a far better shot with a crossbow than you will ever be.”
“Only in your dreams.”
“Then we shall put it to the test,” Molok hissed, and strode off fifty paces along the ridge, to take the plump body of a sand rat from a pouch looped to his belt and place it on top of a rock.
“There,” he said, returning to stand alongside Fang. “See if you can hit a dead rat, which will not try to dodge the bolt from your bow.
“If I hit it...and I will, then the snack is mine. Agreed?”
“Only in the unlikely event that I miss, which I won’t.”
“Then take the first shot.”
Molok wound back the string, placed one of the short arrows in the groove, put the wooden stock to his shoulder and took careful aim before smoothly pulling the crossbow’s trigger.
“Ha! You missed,” Fang said.
“Rubbish. I clipped its ear. That counts as a hit.”
Fang fitted an arrow to his own bow, and fired without any hesitation. The sand rat was hit dead centre, to be lifted off the rock and carried through the air another ten paces.
“That’s a proper hit,” Fang said, running to the rat and pulling the arrow from it, before holding the furry morsel up by the tail and dropping it into his mouth.
“What of the fairy you missed, that is now back sheltering below us with two others of its kind?” Molok said. “Should we go and deal with them?”
“No. It’s a long hike down to the canyon floor,” Fang mumbled as he chewed up the rodent and poked out his long, purple tongue, to curl round the tail that was protruding from his mouth and draw it inside. “It’s not worth the effort. Let’s wait until they set off again, and tip rocks down to crush them.”
“Why do you think they are here? Do you suppose they are following our army to Farland?”
Fang swallowed the remains of the rat and belched. “Who knows? But if they are, then they are more stupid than I thought them to be. Fairy spells do not work against us. And what could three of them do against the might of the Horg Empire?”