by Michael Kerr
Many floors below them, Ganzo was in a fury. When Gorf was taken back to the dungeons, the gaoler and a soldier were found locked in a cell, and it was discovered that all the fairies had been set free.
“Find them!” Ganzo screamed at his captain of the guard, as he paced the chamber in a terrible rage. “They can’t have got far. I want them all nailed to posts in the courtyard and smothered with honey. We shall let the blazing sun and the giant ants take care of them. But spare the old fairy with the white beard. He knows where the chalice is. Let him watch the others suffer a slow and painful death. Mayhaps the sight will loosen his tongue. And I want the gaoler and soldier responsible for the escape to be put to the Test in the arena. It will show the troops that failure will not be tolerated.”
― CHAPTER THIRTEEN ―
BLOOD IN THE SAND
Tommy and Pook were waiting when Fig and Speedy led the group of fairies out of the tunnel and up the steps and into the moonlight.
“Where are Sam and Ben?” Tommy asked Fig.
“They’ve stayed to search for Gorf, and to find the crown if they can,” Fig said.
Tommy felt sick. He couldn’t imagine how his friends could avoid being captured. They had no way of disguising themselves, and would no doubt be quickly found and killed by the horgs.
“Have faith in them, Tommy,” Fig said. “Remember the dangers and many trials that you have all faced and overcome.”
“We’ve been lucky so far,” Tommy said. “But good luck is like anything else, eventually it runs out or turns to bad. I have to go back and find them.”
“And do what?” Magar said, appearing behind the group. “The horgs are most likely already making their way through the tunnel towards us. They will have no reason to think that your friends have stayed in Urucuaro. We must replace the slab over the entrance and weight it down so that they cannot reach us by this route. And they will not leave the fortress by way of the drawbridge while Juno is there.”
“Listen to Magar, Tommy,” Pook said. “There’s nothing you can do. We just have to believe that Sam and Ben will free Gorf and catch up with us.”
Tommy knew that Magar and Pook were right. “Okay,” he said. “But we can’t block the way out of the tunnel. We’d be trapping them, if they tried to come back through it.”
“Then let us hurry to the secret pathway that leads to the base of the mountain,” Magar said.
Although blind, Magar knew every inch of the woods and trails on top of the mountain plateau that was known as the Black Tower.
As the first orange glow of a new day tinged the sky above distant mountains, Magar stopped Tommy, Pook and the band of fairies in front of what seemed to be a low cliff that formed a natural rock wall around the edge of the mile-high peak. There were many crevices in the fissured volcanic rock.
“Do you see a split in the rock wall?” Magar asked.
“We can see many splits and cracks,” Fig said.
“Look for a section that has a top shaped like the head of an eagle.”
Pook saw it first. He pointed up to an enormous curved spur of solidified lava that resembled a hooked beak protruding from a bird-shaped head.
“Yes, we see it,” Tommy said.
“Then walk beneath it,” Magar said. “And beyond it to the left you will find a way down. But be sure-footed, for the trail is very steep and narrow.”
As they filed passed him, each and every one of the fairies thanked Magar, for without his help they would not have been rescued.
Tommy and Pook went last.
“We’ll wait at the bottom,” Tommy said to Magar. “I don’t want to leave without my friends.”
“If and when they return, I will show them which way you have gone, and tell them that you are waiting,” Magar said. “But do not linger for too long, Tommy. There are no guarantees that Sam, Ben and Gorf will escape. The future is unknown to us, and anything can happen. And you must warn Fig and the others to keep to the trail, for there are many dangers in the swamps that you must pass through, and you would soon become lost, wandering in circles if you left the beaten track that leads to the Land of Dreams.”
“What is the Land of Dreams?” Pook asked.
“A place bordering the Mountains of Fire, where I have heard that dreams, good or bad, can come true.”
Tommy and Pook gave the old Urucua Indian a hug, asked him to say good-bye to Juno for them, and followed the others.
Zoot made his way to stairs at the far side of the pyramid and descended to a section where the servants had their quarters. He came across a young horg mopping the floor of a corridor, and stopped.
“You,” he said. “What is your name?”
“Varek, sir,” the youngster replied humbly, wary of being approached and spoken to by a soldier.
“What rumours have you heard of the giant prisoner? And do not lie to me, for I know that there is little you servants are not aware of,” Zoot said.
“It is believed that he is a hunter from another land, and that our lord and master plans for him to be put to the Test.”
“Who told you this?”
“A st…stable hand, sir,” Varek stammered. “He heard two soldiers discussing it. One of them said that the prisoner was due in the arena when the sun reaches its highest point.”
“And what do you know of the crown that was taken from the fairies?”
“That it is being guarded night and day in Ganzo’s chambers.”
“You know too much for a lowly servant, Varek. I may arrange for you to be sent to an outpost in the Snowy Wastelands, where in times of hardship when supplies cannot make it through the blizzards, the soldiers eat the likes of you.”
“Please, sir, I beg you not to,” Varek cried, dropping to his knees and grasping Zoot around the legs. “I shall never again talk of anything that is not my business.”
“Very well,” Zoot said. “But be sure that if I hear you have a loose tongue, then a bleak future lies ahead of you.”
Leaving the trembling cleaner to resume his mopping, Zoot hurried back to where he had left Sam and Ben.
“It doesn’t look good,” Zoot said to them. “Gorf is to be put into the arena soon, where he will almost certainly meet his end in mortal combat. And the crown is at the centre of the pyramid, under guard in Ganzo’s private apartments.”
“Where is this arena?” Sam asked.
“Behind the pyramid.”
“And does everyone go to it?”
“All but a few who have duties that cannot be left unattended.”
“Is there any way that we can set Gorf free?”
“None,” Zoot said. “He will be locked in one of the holding areas beneath the arena, and there will be many soldiers present. Believe me, only by overcoming whatever opponent he is put up against, will he survive until the next time of combat.”
“Sounds like the big guy is on his own, Sam,” Ben said. “And knowing Gorf, he’ll be able to deal with whoever he is up against.”
“Not whoever,” Zoot said. “Whatever. There are wild beasts from many lands in the cages. I have never known anyone―”
Sam interrupted. “Gorf isn’t anyone. He is also a wild beast, and the match for anything that lives and breathes.”
Zoot could see that the two humans were very upset and close to tears. Gorf was lucky to have friends who cared so much for him.
“We have a choice,” Zoot said. “We can try to seize the crown while Ganzo is attending the contests, or make a bid to save your friend. Both seem impossible tasks, and I have no doubt we will be captured and put to death whichever we are foolish enough to undertake.”
“We have to get the crown back, Sam,” Ben said. “If it isn’t returned, then without its power all fairies will cease to be.”
Sam knew that Ben was right. But it wasn’t fair. Life seemed to be full of hard choices. The thought of not attempting to save Gorf made her feel terrible. He had risked his life for them so many times.
“W
ell?” Zoot said. “Make your decision.”
“The crown,” Sam said.
Captain Meeva thought that it would be easy to find the escaped fairies and the other strange beings that had set them free. He was certain that Zoot must have brought the Otherworlders into the walled city by cart, hidden under a cover. And with the drawbridge up, there was no way out. He set hundreds of troops the task of searching the city from top to bottom, street by street and house by house, not considering for a moment that there might be a secret tunnel leading out from the temple and under the moat.
“Where are the fairies and the strangelings that broke into the dungeon, Meeva?” Ganzo asked as he placed an ornate helmet on his head that was adorned with large, iridescent feathers plucked from the tail of a bird very similar to a peacock.
“We shall soon find them, my lord,” Meeva said. “There is no way they can leave the city. The drawbridge is up, and soldiers are manning the battlements. And even if they could cross the moat, who would be so foolish to venture outside, with the invisible demon still out there?”
“If they escape, then I will hold you personally responsible, Meeva. As you well know, I do not accept failure. Your scaly skin will be made into a fine pair of boots for me to wear, if you do not have them recaptured.”
Meeva bowed and left the room. Ganzo was a brutal ruler. Meeva decided that if the fairies did somehow evade him, then he would tell the other captains that their lives were at risk, and that only by killing Ganzo and taking over command, would they be safe from his terrible anger.
Above the royal apartments, Sam and Ben followed Zoot down a stairwell. Zoot stopped next to a small window that was no more than a three-inch wide slit in the thick wall of the pyramid. Through it, they could look down on the structure that housed the arena.
“It’s like a bullring,” Sam said. “Or how the Coliseum in Rome must have looked when it was new.”
It reminded Ben of a football stadium. His dad had once taken him to Old Trafford to watch Manchester United play, and he had been amazed by the size of the place. This stadium was round and made of stone, and instead of a grass pitch, the ground was covered in sand. But in a way it was the same. It was built for thousands of horgs to watch the spectacle that took place within it.
As they looked on, a line of chariots pulled by lummox’s entered the stadium through a large archway.
“That was Ganzo arriving,” Zoot said. “Once he has made his way to the royal balcony and taken his place, the Test will begin.”
Ben wanted to watch, expecting to see gladiators fighting each other with swords and nets and tridents, and slaves being fed to lions.
“Come,” Zoot said. “Load your crossbows and be ready to use them.”
Zoot led them out through a door, down another stairway, and along several corridors. He stopped at a junction. “Around this corner is the entrance to Ganzo’s apartments. There will be at least one guard outside the door, and perhaps two or three inside. Are you ready?”
Sam nodded. Her mouth had gone bone dry, and she was very scared, but determined to get the crown back. The only good thing was that they had the element of surprise on their side.
Ben felt his legs begin to shake. But a rush of adrenaline gave him the courage to confront whatever danger they were about to face. After all, they had found themselves in many life-threatening situations in Otherworld. This was just one more. “Let’s do it,” he whispered.
Zoot edged forward and looked around the corner of the wall, then stepped out into the corridor and pointed his crossbow at the guard who was standing to attention outside the door.
“Zoot!” The guard said, recognising him.
“Put down your bow and lay on the floor, Nazat,” Zoot said. “Or I will shoot you before you can blink.”
“Take it easy, Zoot,” Nazat said, doing as he was told. “Ganzo is not here, he is at the arena, and so if you came here to kill him, you have wasted your time.”
“I am not interested in Ganzo,” Zoot said. “How many guards are in his apartment?”
“Two,” Nazat said, looking up from where he lay as Zoot approached him.
Zoot twisted the crossbow in his hands and brought the knurled metal end down to connect with Nazat’s forehead and knock him out. He then opened the door and rushed into the room with Sam and Ben close behind him.
The two guards were taken completely by surprise. The last thing they expected was to be attacked. One was helping himself to a small, squawking bird from the cage next to Ganzo’s throne. The other was stretched out on a long sofa, dozing.
Once both guards had been tied up and gagged with strips of the drapes that hung across one of the walls, Zoot dragged Nazat into the room and bound his wrists and ankles.
“I shall take Nazat’s place outside,” Zoot said, “while you two find the crown.”
With the door closed, Sam and Ben searched for the crown. But there was no sign of it.
Gorf was taken to a gloomy stone cell next to the arena. In it were a dozen horgs dressed in rags, and all bar one of them looked extremely frightened.
“Ah, the main event, the seemingly uncaring horg said to Gorf. “It is said that you shall have the honour of facing Theros.”
“What is Theros?” Gorf asked the grinning horg, whose name was Kavil.
“A sabre-toothed panther that has ripped apart more horgs than there are stars in the heavens above,” Kavil replied.
“You exaggerate, horg,” Gorf said. “And as you can see, I am not one of you. This Theros has not met the likes of me before.”
“I do not doubt your courage,” Kavil said. “But you are no more than a brave fool if you think you can better the beast.”
“I am no stranger to mortal combat,” Gorf said.
Kavil laughed. “This is not combat, you fur-clad fool. You are no more than fleeting entertainment for Ganzo and the spectators that revel in bloodlust.”
“You would be wise not to call me a fool, stranger,” Gorf said.
“Whether I insult you or not makes no difference,” Kavil said. “For if you were to kill me here and now, it would save me from having to go out and face a far worse fate.”
At that moment, the barred gate was opened and two of the shaking horgs were ordered out at spear point, to be taken to another much larger gate. A guard opened it, and the two wailing horgs were prodded in the back to force them through it.
“Here,” Kavil said to Gorf. “Watch the first event through this grill.”
Gorf went over and crouched down to look out into the arena. He saw the two horgs make their way to the centre of the sand-covered circle, to stand back to back. They had been given wooden staffs to defend themselves with, and they looked about nervously as the crowd shouted and cheered.
Ganzo was sitting at a table on a balcony, and from the safety of the parapet, he raised a hand to signal the start of the first contest.
A large oak door creaked as it swung open in the wall, and a strange beast that reminded Gorf of a spade-foot Targ stepped out into the sunlight, blinking its eyes and growling. The beast walked upright, and dwarfed the horgs that stood before it. Clumps of dark brown hair hung from its thick, red hide, and the long, horny talons on its feet were as sharp as daggers.
The spectators gasped at the sight of the creature, and watched spellbound as it lowered its broad head and charged at the two horgs. One turned and ran, but the other stood his ground and readied himself to lash out with the staff.
The creature locked its eyes on the fleeing figure, and was on him in three mighty bounds.
The horg screamed as he was knocked down and impaled by the six-inch long talons. Blood soaked into the sand, and he became still. The beast bit through his neck, to make sure that he was dead, before turning its attention to the other horg, who had not moved.
Gorf looked away. He took no pleasure in watching a one-sided contest. The following bloodcurdling scream told him that the other horg had suffered the same fate as his c
ompanion.
All too soon, only Kavil and Gorf were left in the cell.
“Come, Kavil,” a guard said, opening the gate. “It is your turn to die.”
“I am not afraid,” Kavil said. “Better to get it over with quickly, than to rot in the dungeons, shackled to a wall and having to eat swill that no hog or lummox would take from their troughs.”
Gorf watched through the grill. Kavil was handed a short sword and made to face five of Ganzo’s elite guard. Gorf admired Kavil’s bravery as he thrust and slashed and fought hard, slaying one of his opponents and wounding another before being cut down.
“Now you,” the guard at the gate said to Gorf, when Kavil’s body had been thrown into a cart and removed from the arena, and two young horgs had raked the sand smooth again.
Gorf readied himself for whatever he was about to face. He believed in his ability, and was not scared of anything he might come up against. He marched out into the centre of the arena with his head held high and grinned up at Ganzo.
“You will make a fine snack for Theros,” Ganzo shouted. “Are you prepared to meet him?”
“I would be more prepared if you threw me a sword or spear,” Gorf replied.
“I think not,” Ganzo said. “I would not want to risk Theros being wounded.”
“Would it not be more sport if I had a fighting chance?” Gorf said.
“You are not supposed to have a fighting chance, Gorffin,” Ganzo replied. “You are in the arena to be killed.”
“Why not give him your dagger, master?” a very fat horg who was one of Ganzo’s advisors suggested, as he popped live beetles into his mouth from a bowl on the table in front of him. “It may make for more than just a few seconds’ of entertainment.”
Ganzo gave it some thought and decided that a dagger would not help Gorf against Theros. He stood up, removed his weapon from its sheath and threw it down, to watch it stick in the sand next to Gorf’s left foot.
“There, Gorffin. Now you are armed,” he said as Gorf snatched the knife up. “But when you see Theros, you will realise that the dagger would be better employed as a toothpick.”