by Michael Kerr
Under the calm surface, two huge creatures felt the pressure waves generated by Squill waggling his tingling toes. Slowly, with lazy swishes of their long and muscular tails, they crossed the lagoon, to stop very close to the dozing fairy.
“Do you think Squill will fully recover from the effects of the poison?” Speedwell asked as he tore a finger-shaped yellow fruit from a cluster that grew under an umbrella of palm leaves at the top of a tree.
“Yes,” Figwort answered. “There are very few things that can finish us off. He’ll be fine within a turn of the moons.”
“We have no immunity to the poison of the snork that the horgs coat their weapons with,” Speedwell stated.
Figwort looked solemn. “This is true. But the snork is an exception to the rule. It is said to be the most venomous creature in Allworlds. Just one drop of the poison it ejects from its fangs would stop an army from breathing. Our magic is not the most powerful force in creation, Speedwell.”
“Then isn’t the task ahead of us an impossible one? We cannot cast spells against the horgs, and have no protection against the snork poison they use.”
“I have an idea that may work,” Fig said. “One that I will share with you and Squill when we reach our destination.”
The loud scream was cut off abruptly. Figwort and Speedwell dropped the fruit they had picked and flew back to where they had left Squill, but he was nowhere to be seen. His pointed hat was floating on a circle of water that was no longer covered by the weed.
Squill had not seen the four ridges that rose up in front of him. Only the unblinking eyes below them and the very tips of the monsters’ snouts were above the surface. The thick-skinned bodies, tails and short, web-footed legs of the amphibious tropical saurian predators remained unseen. The colossal crocodiles had lived in the lagoon for a hundred harvest terms, spending their time laying in wait for, and catching any life form that came within reach.
The water had exploded upwards, and Squill had let out a scream that was cut short as the open jaws snapped together and he was almost cut in two by the dagger-sized teeth. As the beast that had taken him sank back beneath the surface, only the fairy’s legs were protruding from its mouth, and they were quickly bitten off by the other croc.
“What happened to him?” Speedwell said, staring at the cloth cap.
“Something that lives in the lagoon has snatched him,” Figwort replied. “He was weakened by the poison-tipped dart, and a little confused. It is obvious that he could not react quickly enough to cast a spell and protect himself. He is gone.”
“But...But we must do something,” Speedwell said, readying himself to dive into the murky water.
Figwort gripped him by the arm and held him back. “No, lad. We are but two now,” he said. “Our mission is too important for us to risk our lives on a lost cause. Come, we are almost there. We shall keep fond memories of Squill in our minds, and never forget him.”
Speedwell began to sob, and his shoulders shook as he came to accept that young Squill was no more. The loss of another fairy was an uncommon occurrence. Very little could harm them or make them ill. The magical powers they possessed made them almost immortal. But away from their own land were many dangers that they had never had to face.
Speedwell would not leave until he was absolutely sure that Squill was not going to reappear from the depths of the lagoon. Figwort waited patiently, and eventually, with heavy hearts and desperately saddened by their loss, the two fairies continued on their way, flying through the jungle beneath the thick canopy, ever watchful for more Bulunga, or any other danger that might present itself.
The day was coming to a close as Figwort and Speedwell saw the mighty face of the Black Tower rising high into the sky in front of them. They knew that at its top was the fortress city of the horgs, and that they would all too soon be in the midst of creatures that were immune to their magic, and would, like the Bulunga, eat them if they got the chance.
“Dare we risk flying up to the summit?” Speedwell asked.
“No,” Figwort said. “If we are to have any chance of success, then we must surprise our enemy and use trickery against them. There must be a trail that winds up around the mountain. We shall find it and use the cover of night to make our way to the top.”
“And then what shall we do?”
“All in good time, Speedwell. As I told you, I have a plan of sorts.”
High above them, the horg fortress was readying itself for the night. The drawbridge over a deep moat was raised, and torches were lit around the top of the walls. Guards kept a watchful eye across a rocky expanse of land that had been cleared of all vegetation. Behind the barren ground was a forest that covered the plateau, and within it lived a strange beast which hunted at night, and that even the horgs feared. It was an invisible demon that could not be slain.
Figwort and Speedwell reached the top before sunup and took shelter in a cave that reminded them of the one in which the spiders had attacked them when they were with Sam and the others, on their journey to the Crossroads of Time.
“This cave stinks,” Speedwell said, wrinkling his nose and looking up into the shadows, just in case there were giant spiders waiting to drop down on them.
“It’s cool, and safer than being outside during daylight,” Figwort said. “We’ll rest until moonshow, then find the fortress and a way to get inside it.”
As the light faded, they heard what sounded like a loud yawn. The noise seemed to come from the rear of the cave, and was followed by a hot blast of air that smelled of bad breath.
“What was that?” Speedwell asked, looking all around.
“Just a gust of wind swirling through the cave, I should think,” Figwort said.
The deep rumbling sound that followed changed his mind. Whatever they could hear was very close to them, and was moving.
As they watched, large footprints appeared in the dust on the ground, and particles of rock were crushed under the weight of an unseen creature’s feet.
They stayed motionless, until a loud bellow deafened them, and another exhalation of breath as powerful as a desert wind knocked them over, causing them to roll back and slam against the wall of the cave.
― CHAPTER NINE ―
THE BLACK TOWER
Gorf knew that any action he might take would result in Tommy being killed. He wanted to leap at the horg who was pointing a crossbow at him, sure that with one bound he could be on the lizard man. But it was not just his own life at stake, and so he glared at the horg for a few seconds and then reluctantly obeyed and stretched out on the ground with his hands behind his neck.
“Very wise, tall one,” Shak said. “What kind of strange creatures are you? And where have you come from?”
“I am Gorf, a hunter from the Desert of Storms,” Gorf said. “And my companions are humans from another world.”
“I’m not human,” Pook said. “I’m a teddy bear that was once a toy, until a great wizard brought me to life.”
“And why are you all heading along this highway towards the stronghold of the horgs?” Krul asked.
“We are lost, and trying to find a way back to our own world,” Sam lied.
“You would have fared better to get lost somewhere else,” Shak said, and made a strange whooping sound that was in fact laughter. “For you are now our prisoners, and will be taken to the fortress to be questioned.”
With Shak still holding the crossbow to Tommy’s head, Krul ordered Gorf to take his bag, bow and quiver from his shoulder. He then opened the bag, found the cord, and using his sharp, serrated teeth he bit lengths from it, which he used to tie their hands behind their backs.
Gorf almost smiled. They had no idea how strong he was. He knew that he could snap the rope whenever he chose to. He would wait for the right moment, catch these creatures off guard, and take them apart with his bare hands.
“That hurts,” Pook said to Krul. “It’s so tight that I can’t feel my paws.”
“Be quiet, bear,”
Krul said. “Or I shall skin you alive and eat your raw flesh.”
Pook clenched his teeth together and swallowed hard. He knew that the horg meant what he said.
“Why are you doing this to us?” Sam asked the other horg. “We’re not your enemies. We’ve done nothing to deserve this treatment.”
“Anything that isn’t a horg is our enemy,” Shak said. “Our leader plans to rule Allworlds and destroy all other life forms that are not worthy to take up valuable space in his empire. Before long, only our kind will exist: One people in the universe, all loyal to the Great Ganzo.”
Sam giggled. “Who is the Great Ganzo? A trapeze artist in a circus, or an escapologist like Houdini?”
“You will soon meet and kneel before the son of the Dark One,” Shak said. “And may get the chance to ask him your foolish questions, before he has you destroyed.”
The mention of the Dark One struck fear to the hearts of Sam, Ben and Tommy, for it was he that they had foiled by returning the chalice to Sir Gregory, the Keeper at Iceworld.
“I see the name of our glorious leader’s father has chilled the marrow in your bones.” Krul said. “If you are strangers here, then how have you heard of him?”
“We passed through the kingdom of the fairies,” Ben said. “Their houses and the palace had been burned to the ground, and many of the fairies were dead. A survivor told us that they had been attacked by soldiers loyal to the Dark One, and that he was an evil being.”
“Did the fairy mention something called the Chalice of Hope?” Shak asked Ben.
Ben shook his head. “No. He died without saying another word. What’s the Chalice of―”
“It is of no concern to you,” Krul said, before lifting a horn to his lips and blowing into it. The low booming note travelled far through the jungle, and was a summons for other horgs.
Not long after, a large cart appeared on the road and rattled towards them, coming to a stop beneath the treetop guardhouse. There was a cage on the back of the cart, and one by one they were roughly manhandled, or ‘lizardhandled’, up two steps into the back of it and locked in.
The creature pulling the cart had great curved horns that would have made a cape buffalo, a Highland cow or a Texas longhorn steer jealous. It was humpbacked and had thick fur and the facial features of a giraffe, with large brown eyes and floppy ears.
“What kind of animal is that?” Tommy asked Gorf.
“A lummox,” he replied.
Tommy managed a smile. “Where we come from, a lummox is a clumsy or stupid person.”
“Then these beasts of burden are well-named,” Gorf said. “For they are as dense as blocks of wood.”
“Hey! Reality check,” Ben said. “Forget the animal. We’re locked in a cage and being taken to the headquarters of Lizards-R-Us. We’ve got to escape before we reach there, or we’re jam.”
“Good idea, Ben,” Sam said. “Just how do you suppose we do that? Our hands are tied, we’re in a cage, and there are two creepzoids up front and another two walking behind us. And all four of them have got crossbows and spears.”
“I’ve got a penknife,” Tommy said. “I found it in a pocket of one of the pilots’ jerkins, so we can cut ourselves free.”
“That’s brilliant, Tommy, I don’t think,” Sam said. “Then what? Do you plan to try and squeeze through the bars and scare these talking geckos off by waving a rusty little knife at them?”
“Have you got a better idea?”
“I have, Tommy,” Gorf said. “The cart will have to follow a mountain road to reach the top of that plateau. When we are half way up, I will break out of this cage and deal with the horgs.”
“All four of them?” Ben said.
“Yes. They will not expect my attack.”
The road led up through the jungle, higher and higher, and when they reached the base of the Black Tower, it narrowed and became a trail not much wider than the cart. On one side was the fissured rock wall of the mountain, and on the other, nothing but a sheer drop. The lummox plodded on, following the trail round and round, ever upwards.
“Oh dear, oh my,” Pook wailed, looking down through the bars to forest that stretched away far below them, and at the hazy peaks of the Mountains of Fire in the distance. “I’m scared.”
“What of?” Tommy asked. “Falling off the edge?”
“No. Of what the sudden stop would do to me when we hit the bottom.”
“You could squeeze between the bars and get away, Pook,” Ben suggested.
“And go where?” Pook asked.
Ben shrugged. “It was just an idea.”
“Not one of your better ones,” Pook muttered.
In the same second that Gorf decided to make his move, there was a loud crack as the cart lurched sideway towards the edge of the trail and tilted precariously. One of the back wheels slipped over to spin in mid-air.
Tommy and Pook both screamed with fright. Ben closed his eyes and once again wished that he’d never followed Sam and Tommy back into Weirdworld, and Sam grasped hold of a cage bar with one hand, and her necklet with the other. “Please don’t let us all be killed,” she whispered. “Help us to somehow save the fairies, get the crown back, and return safely to where King Ambrose is waiting for us.”
The cart creaked and slipped a little further over the precipice. The weight of the five of them was causing it to tip.
“Get to the other side of the cart,” Gorf shouted.
They all did as Gorf ordered, and the cart swung back, but not enough.
The two horgs that had been following on foot discarded their weapons, to rush forward and wrestle to keep the vehicle from falling. And the driver whipped the lummox and urged it to take the strain. The animal’s muscles rippled as it braced itself and took one step at a time, its body and legs trembling with the effort, as inch by inch it pulled the great weight back onto the trail.
Safe from immediate danger, the horgs examined the underneath of the cart and discovered that the axle had snapped.
“We will have to walk the rest of the way,” the driver said.
The other horgs smiled at each other. It pleased them that everyone else would also have to walk.
It was when two of the soldiers began to unhitch the lummox from the now broken cart, and the other two turned their backs to retrieve their bows, that Gorf sprang into action. He snapped the cord from his wrists as if was no stronger than spaghetti, ripped one of the tall bars from the cage and jumped down, holding the sturdy pole two-handed at one end, to use as a weapon to swing at two of the lizard men, catching them across their backs and sending them shooting forward, off the ledge, and out into space to fall a thousand feet to their deaths.
Even as the other two realised what had happened, they were too late. Gorf lashed out with the pole, cracking one horg’s head like an egg. The last one standing put his hands up, to show that he admitted defeat.
Gorf cast the cage bar aside and rushed forward, to pick the frightened driver up and hoist him high above his head as he walked over to the edge of the trail.”
“No, Gorf. Don’t do it,” Sam shouted as she jumped down to the ground.
Gorf hesitated. “Give me one good reason why I should spare his scaly hide?”
“He can tell us the layout of the fortress,” Sam said.
“And where the fairies are being held,” Ben added.
“And where the crown is being kept,” Tommy said.
“That’s three good reasons,” Pook said.
Gorf reluctantly lowered the horg to the ground and then stepped on his throat and applied enough pressure to make his slanty eyes bulge.
“Do you want to live and tell us all you know?” Gorf asked the wheezing lizard man. “Or would you rather remain loyal to Ganzo and die where you lay.”
The horg, whose name was Zoot, could not breathe, let alone answer. He made a raspy sound that might have been someone gargling with battery acid, and lost consciousness.
“Ease up, big guy” Tomm
y said. “You don’t know your own strength.”
Gorf grunted something and reluctantly took his foot away.
When Zoot came to, his arms were tightly bound behind him, and he was sitting with his back up against one of the cart’s wheels. Gorf had untied the others, and they were all standing in front of Zoot, looking down at him.
“What’s your name?” Sam asked him.
“Zoot,” he replied. And his voice was like a snake’s hiss.
“And are you going to help us? Or should we let Gorf toss you over the cliff to join your friends?” Sam asked.
“I’ll tell you all I know, but it will do you no good,” Zoot said. “There is no way that you can save the fairies from the dungeons, or reclaim the crown. The fortress is manned by thousands of soldiers. You are but five, and unarmed. You will end up as part of Ganzo’s banquet. Turn back and return to where you came from.”
“Thanks for the warning, Zoot,” Sam said. “But we didn’t come all this way to give up and leave empty-handed.”
Gorf threw the lifeless body of the horg with the split head over the side of the mountain road, and pushed the cart over as well, after taking his bow, arrows and bag from the driver’s seat. If the dead horgs and the wreckage were ever found in the jungle far below, then it would appear as if it had been an accident.
“What about the lummox?” Gorf said. “Should I throw the stupid beast over? Or should we keep it to eat later?”
“Neither,” the lummox said. “And I’ll have you know that I’m not as stupid as I look.”
“You can talk!” Sam said.
“That’s right. All lummoxes can, though we rarely do. It is better that these murderous lizards think we are as dumb as bat drummins. If they knew we are quite bright, then they would most likely treat us even worse than they already do.”
“Have I not treated you well?” Zoot asked. “Not all of us are as bad as our reputation would suggest. We have to appear to be totally loyal to Ganzo and his trusted captains. One word against him, and we are made to fight to the death in the arena. You know that.”