by Michael Kerr
“You have always kept me well fed and groomed, and my stall mucked out, and the hard ground covered with plenty of fresh, dry straw. And you have never been cruel,” the lummox said. “Apart from whipping me at times to go faster.”
“Had I known that you could understand, then I would have been able to ask you to get a move on when it was necessary, and not tickled your hairy hide with the end of the whip.”
“Tickle?” That rawhide is as painful as a bogfly bite.”
“Okay, you two” Gorf said. “Enough. Let’s get to the top and find somewhere to hide out and make plans.”
“Untie my hands, please,” Zoot said to Gorf.
“And risk you getting up to some mischief? I think not.”
“I am now as much Ganzo’s enemy as you are,” Zoot said. “To have let you escape and get the better of us is not something that would be forgiven. I am now an outcast, and so will help you if I can. And in the unlikely event that we succeed and get off the Black Tower in one piece, then I will lead you back to your own land by way of an easier route that skirts the Mountains of Fire.”
Sam thought that Zoot was being truthful.
“Release him, Gorf. Let’s show him some trust,” she said.
Gorf hesitated and looked toward the lummox. What do you think, lummox? Is this horg to be trusted?”
“I am known as Ramuf,” the lummox said. “And, yes, Zoot will die in the arena if he is captured. Failure is not acceptable to Ganzo.”
Gorf removed the rope from Zoot’s wrists.
“Thank you,” Zoot said. “Although I fear I may come to wish that you had thrown me down the mountain. For at least it would have been a quick end.”
“Make your mind up,” Gorf said. “If you would prefer to go over the edge, then I would be happy to give you a helping hand.”
Zoot shook his head. “No. Life is too precious to throw away an instant of it before you have no choice in the matter.”
They collected up the crossbows and spears and headed off up the trail, following Ramuf who had allowed Pook to hitch a ride on his back.
Almost at the top, Zoot stopped. “There is a checkpoint up ahead around the next bend,” he said to the others.
“Is there a way to get past it?” Sam asked.
“Yes, along a narrow ledge. But Ramuf will not be able to go that way.”
“I shall gallop through the checkpoint and wait for you in the woods at the side of the road to the fortress,” Ramuf said. “The guards are fat and lazy, and will not care that a lummox has passed by them.”
Ramuf watched as the others lowered themselves down onto a projecting lip of rock. He then turned away and trotted towards the curve in the trail that would take him to the checkpoint. When it came into view he increased speed and charged towards it at a gallop, to smash through the single wooden pole barrier and veer off the road to vanish into thick woodland.
“Stupid lummox,” one of the guards shouted.
“Must be a wild one,” another horg said. “It probably got spooked by a snake.”
The ledge was no more than two feet wide. Pook sat on Gorf’s shoulders and gripped the thick, muddy-brown hair with both paws. He kept his eyes scrunched shut and thought of pancakes and maple syrup to keep his mind off the situation.
The ledge was covered in small boulders and loose stones that had fallen from above. They shuffled along it sideways, facing the black rock and trying to hug it as they slowly followed it round and up. Zoot led the way, and being very reptilian, was an expert climber and able to cling to and scale almost smooth surfaces if need be.
Tommy was at the rear. He thought that the wind would blow him off, and saw an image of him falling, tumbling over and over through the air, before being dashed to pieces on the rocky ground far below.
It was as if thinking bad thoughts made bad things happen. Part of the ledge crumbled beneath Tommy’s right foot and he lost his balance and fell. Pure instinct took over, and his hands grasped the edge, but not before the strap of his newly acquired crossbow slipped from his shoulder. The heavy weapon dropped like a stone, and Tommy watched it became smaller and smaller as it hurtled down the side of the Black Tower.
Hanging on for dear life, Tommy was too frightened to move or even call out. None of the others even knew what had happened. He tried to scream for help, but only a strangled squeak escaped his lips. No one heard him.
Scrabbling with his feet, he found a crevice and stuck his left foot into it. At least he had some support now, but climbing back up proved awkward. Being almost paralysed by terror didn’t help matters. Tommy’s arms were locked straight, supporting his weight, and his fingers were aching and beginning to lose their grip. Taking a deep breath, he hauled himself up in the same way he would heave himself out of a swimming pool, and rolled back on to the ledge and lay panting, hardly able to believe that he had not plunged to his death.
A voice came from somewhere out of sight in front of him. “Tommy, are you still there?” Sam shouted. She remembered how he had been petrified when he had to cross the rickety rope bridge after escaping from the gargoyles, and that it had given way. He had fallen into the raging river below, and the incident had left him with a serious phobia over heights. She should have gone last on the ledge, so that she could keep him in sight.
“I’m right behind you,” Tommy called. “No problem.”
The ledge did not go all the way to the top. It ended abruptly, as if someone had built a wall in front of them. There was only one way to go, straight up.
Zoot made it look easy. He found small crevices and spurs of rock, and climbed the vertical cliff in seconds. Gorf followed, and using the remainder of the rope he had taken back from the horg he had brained with the cage bar, he tied a loop in one end of it and threw it down.
“Put your foot in the loop, and then hold on to the rope and I’ll pull you up,” he shouted down to Ben.
One by one, Gorf and Zoot hauled them all up to safety. They lay in thick grass to rest for a few minutes, but a rustling noise made them sit up. Gorf fitted an arrow to his longbow, and Sam and Ben loaded the crossbows.
Something was moving through the thick gorse bushes in front of them. The noise grew louder as whatever it was approached.
― CHAPTER TEN ―
MAGAR AND JUNO
Figwort jumped up and watched the ground. Another huge footprint appeared in front of him. Whatever was in the cave was invisible. He willed it to appear, so that he and Speedwell would be able to see what threatened them and have a chance to escape. Nothing happened. Perhaps whatever it was did not have any shape. No. It must have, or it wouldn’t make footprints.
“Ugh! That smells foul,” Speedwell said as he climbed to his feet.
The hot stink of bad meat hit them like a smelly draught of warm air. Figwort knew that it was breath. Some creature’s open mouth was directly in front of them.
“Leave,” a soft, low voice said from the gloom. “Sit, boy.”
There was a loud whine, followed by a dull smack as something solid hit the ground and sent up clouds of dust.
A voice asked, “Who are you?”
Figwort and Speedwell turned to where a small figure was making its way across the floor of the cave. It looked very similar to them, and but for the pale-blue colour of its wrinkled, ancient face, could also have been a fairy. Its ears were long and pointed, and its eyes were as white as freshly fallen snow, with no pupils. It was dressed in a very thick, long grey robe that covered its feet, and it held a staff made from a stout tree branch.
“We are fairies,” Figwort said, and told the strange being their names.
“I am Magar,” the old cave-dweller said. “The last survivor of a great civilisation that lived in this city until the horgs arrived and killed all but a few of us, who managed to flee and find places to hide from them.”
“And what might your unseen companion be?” Speedwell asked.
“What do you mean, unseen? Juno has just approache
d you, if I am not mistaken.”
“True. But he is invisible to us,” Figwort said.
“My, my, that is a surprise,” Magar said.
“You mean to say that you can see this Juno? Figwort asked.
“No. I can see nothing with these sightless eyes. You are as invisible to me as Juno is to you. In fact more so, for I have touched Juno and formed a picture of him in my mind.”
“So what is Juno?” Speedwell asked.
“An enormous furry beast resembling a night wolf. But ask him yourself, for he can talk if the mood takes him.”
“I can also be seen if I choose to show myself,” Juno said in a very deep, rumbly voice.
“Then show yourself, Juno,” Magar said. “It must be unnerving for these fairies to be confronted by you, but not be able to look you in the eye.”
The air in the cave shimmered, and a ghostly apparition began to appear. At first only the outline was visible, but soon seemed to fill out to become solid. Juno towered above them, even sat on his haunches. He was one of the largest creatures that Figwort or Speedwell had ever seen; bigger than the beaded scorpions that had attacked them in the Desert of Storms, but a little smaller than the Dragon that Gorf had slain.
Juno blinked at them with bright red eyes as big as dinner plates. His coat was glossy black, and huge yellow fangs curved out from a mouth that could have closed over both Figwort and Speedwell with room to spare.
“You are indeed an impressive individual, Juno,” Figwort said. “Where did you come from?”
“A land known as The Wilderness, where I was the smallest of a pack that hunted the great timber elks. There was no rain for a long time and food was scarce, so we travelled far and wide in search of a new home. I climbed up to this plateau, was attacked by the horgs and almost died from my injuries. I escaped them by becoming invisible, found this cave, and Magar nursed me back to health. And now I have made the top of the Black Tower my home.
“But surely there is not enough wildlife up here for you to hunt,” Speedwell said.
“Not true,” Juno said. “I hunt horgs, and have acquired a taste for them. They believe that I am a supernatural beast, and rarely venture off the main road that leads down to the valley floor, or travel at night.”
“So how do you catch them?” Figwort asked.
“With ease. I lay by the side of the road and wait until a group of them pass by, then snap up the ones at the rear. And sometimes I charge through the trees to scatter them and pick off any that panic and make a run for it. When they see the treetops part and hear my paws thudding on the ground, they act more like scared birds than soldiers.”
“It would appear that they have no defence against you,” Speedwell said.
“Not in fine weather. For what they cannot see they cannot shoot their poison-tipped arrows at. Only when it rains are they safe from me.”
“Why is that, Juno?” Figwort asked.
“Is it not obvious? When the rain hits me, it discloses my shape.”
“And what of you, Magar?” Speedwell asked. “Why do you stay here?”
“Because it is the home of my ancestors, and I hope to live long enough to see...or should I say hear of the horgs’ downfall. But why are you here at the Black Tower?”
“We are on a mission to free the fairies that the horgs brought here from our land, and to take back a crown made of horn that is the very foundation of our power,” Figwort said. “Can you tell us of a way that we might get inside the fortress, and mayhaps draw us a plan of it.”
Magar nodded, and his large, paper-thin ears quivered. “I can show you the entrance to an underground passage that leads into the vaults beneath the Temple of Urucuaro, which is within the walled city, next to the sacred Pyramid of the Moons. That is where Ganzo rules his empire from.”
“Thank you, Magar,” Figwort said. “And where inside it will we find the place he is holding his prisoners?”
“In crypts that he has made into dungeons. I will describe the buildings and the rooms within them, and if you have parchment and an implement to sketch with, you can make a map.”
Speedwell went outside and found a tree trunk with thin, loose bark that was peeling off. He ripped a large piece free and went back into the cave. Within a circle of blackened stones were the ashes of a fire, and from it he picked up a burnt twig that was now a stick of charcoal.
Magar gave a detailed description of the inside of the temple and the pyramid, and Speedwell made a drawing, so that they wouldn’t get lost, if and when they got inside it.
“When do you intend to enter the fortress?” Magar asked.
“At moonshow,” Figwort said.
“Don’t shoot, it’s me,” Ramuf said, poking his head out from between two bushes to see the bows pointing at him.
“You should have called out,” Zoot said. “Sneaking up on us could have been the death of you.”
“I was not sneaking,” Ramuf said. “I knew you were here, and made a lot of noise.”
“How did you know where we were?” Sam asked the lummox.
“I have a very acute sense of smell.”
“Are you saying that we stink?” Tommy said.
“Yes. Everything does. I could have found you with my eyes closed.”
They set off again, keeping well away from the highway that the horgs used. After a while, as dusk fell, Ramuf stopped and sniffed the air.
“What is it?” Zoot asked.
“I don’t know,” Ramuf said. “Something living, and very close by.”
With a loud thud that shook the ground, a footprint appeared in the soil next to Zoot, and something unseen struck him in the back and knocked him down.
Zoot curled up in a ball and waited to be eaten. He knew that this was the invisible monster that hunted and devoured horgs.
Another footprint appeared, and Gorf aimed an arrow at a point in the air above it.
“Don’t shoot him, Gorf,” a voice called out.
They all turned to see Figwort, Speedwell and a strange little blue-skinned figure standing at the mouth of a cave.
“Fig! Speedy!” Sam shouted, and ran towards them, followed by Ben, Pook and Tommy. Ramuf bolted in the opposite direction, to vanish among the trees.
Gorf hesitated, and a giant paw he could not see whooshed through the air and knocked the bow from his grasp.
“Do not harm him, Juno,” Figwort implored the giant animal. “He is our friend.”
“The beast is between me and a horg,” Juno said. “If he moves aside, he will come to no harm. But the horg must die.”
“This horg is now helping us against Ganzo,” Sam said, looking at the spot where she now knew some invisible animal stood.
“You cannot trust these cold-blooded murderers,” Juno said. “Move aside or I will—”
“Let him be,” Magar said.
Juno growled, and then loped away from the fallen horg, into the trees, uprooting two as he pushed between them.
“And don’t eat the lummox,” Magar added. “I don’t want our guests to think you are no more than a savage killer.”
Gorf pulled Zoot to his feet and helped him over to the others. “What was that thing?” Gorf asked Figwort.
“Something similar to a night wolf, but many times larger. And it has the ability to become invisible. And this is Magar,” Figwort said, introducing everyone to the old, blind man.
“Come into my cave,” Magar said. “I shall make some herbal tea, and you can tell me what you are and what strange land you come from.”
“Can you believe we’re all back together again?” Tommy said, grinning at Fig and Speedy.
“No, Frog,” Figwort said, using the nickname that Tommy hated so much. “I thought you three whortles had returned to humanplace.”
“I’d prefer it if you called me Tommy,” Tommy said. “We were in our own world. But the necklets of red stones that King Ambrose gave us started glowing, and so we went in search of the portal, found it, and came back t
o Otherworld, only to find the kingdom of the fairies burned to the ground.
“We met the King,” Ben said. “He told us where you were heading, and that you hoped to be able to free the fairies taken prisoner and find the crown.”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “And we thought we might be able to help. So we looked up Gorf and Pook in the Land of the Vampires, and hey presto, here we are.”
“You mean well, but it is not your concern,” Figwort said. “We know that there is little chance of us being successful in our quest. You should go back while you can.”
“It is our concern, Fig,” Sam said. “We involved you when we came to your world with the Chalice of Hope. It’s because you helped us to return it that the Dark One sent the horgs to burn down Fairyland.”
“That’s right,” Zoot hissed. “Ganzo was ordered by the Dark One to find out where the chalice was taken. He will have all the other fairies tortured for information.”
“But the only fairies that know its exact location are Speedwell and me,” Fig said.
“Then we’d better move quickly and hope that the others haven’t been harmed yet,” Sam said.
There was a loud panting sound from the mouth of the cave. Juno entered, sat down and became visible to them. He stared at Zoot and licked his lips.
“By all that is sacred!” Zoot cried, backing away from the giant hound. “Keep this slobbering demon away from me.”
“I am not a slobbering demon, you ugly little lizard,” Juno said. “And if you would prefer not to be my supper, then I suggest you mind your manners and not insult me.”
“I would take heed of what he says, horg,” Magar said. “For Juno hates your kind almost as much as I do.”
“Why would you hate someone you do not know?” Zoot asked.
“I know you well enough. You are a soldier in service to Ganzo. One of the many that attacked our city and killed most of my people.”
“I was not even an egg when this city was taken. But the troops that did invade would have been following orders,” Zoot said.
“That is hardly an excuse.”
“I know that. But any disobedience is punished by a very painful execution. I am sorry for what happened to your people, but like anyone else, I have a very strong desire to keep breathing and not suffer great pain.”