ISOF

by Pete Townsend

  ‘I wouldn’t say useful exactly,’ muttered Trep, who immediately regretted uttering a single word as First-Voice turned angrily towards him.

  ‘And who asked you to make a contribution?’ he snarled.

  Trep replied with a quick shake of the head and then occupied himself with staring at the ground. Ben looked at Noj with questioning eyes.

  ‘Cutters!’ hissed Noj through gritted teeth. ‘I had no idea they’d trespassed this far south.’

  First-Voice grinned.

  ‘We’ve been given a job to do,’ he growled.

  Noj sniffed. ‘Well, we better not detain you any longer,’ he replied, barely disguising his sarcastic tone.

  First-Voice allowed a noise to pass between his teeth that might have been interpreted as a laugh by his own kind. ‘Please don’t think you’re detaining us,’ he smiled. ‘Our job is to detain you!’

  Chapter 17

  Ben felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. The whole escapade seemed to be going from bad to worse and back again. First-Voice saw the confusion that crept over Ben’s face, and gave a nasal grunt of satisfaction.

  ‘Thought you’d be pleased,’ he belched. ‘Manners!’ he added, rubbing his chest.

  Ben shook his head, partly in disbelief and partly in annoyance. He looked at Noj.

  ‘What have I got myself into?’ he hissed.

  Noj sighed and shrugged his shoulders apologetically. ‘You’re asking me?’ he replied. ‘I was rather hoping you might be able to throw some light on the matter.’

  ‘Me?’ gasped Ben. ‘What makes you think I know what’s going on?’

  Mak, kicking out at a clump of grass, jerked his head in the direction of the Cutters.

  ‘And this,’ he sneered. ‘Is all supposed to be chance?’

  ‘I told you he was trouble,’ snapped Trep. ‘I knew it the moment he was forced upon us.’

  ‘That’s absolute rubbish,’ replied Ben angrily. ‘You can’t believe for a moment I had anything to do with this.’ He jabbed a finger towards the Cutters. ‘I didn’t know these blokes existed until now.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Mak sarcastically.

  Ben looked towards Noj for support but all he got was a shrug of the shoulders. ‘Sorry, Ben,’ he said. ‘I’m beginning to have doubts about all of this myself.’

  ‘Charming!’ exclaimed Ben.

  First-Voice moved forward, waving his arms around as if he were trying to herd sheep.

  ‘Come along here, you lot. Can’t hang around here listening to you whispering sweet nothings to each other,’ he said grinning. The rest of the Cutters shuffled around with Kev making occasional threatening gestures with his dragon. Ben, who felt as if his head had been in contact with a revolving door, was beginning to get really narked.

  ‘Bunch of boneheads,’ he growled angrily.

  First-Voice folded his arms and stared at Ben. An audible gasp sounded as Mak cringed in fright. ‘Now that really was unnecessary,’ he mumbled.

  ‘So,’ said First-Voice slowly. ‘Boneheads are we?’

  Ben shrugged nonchalantly.

  ‘Consider it a compliment,’ he replied.

  A silence hung around the clearing as everyone waited for something to happen. Kev stroked his dragon’s head absentmindedly while the rest of the Cutters looked to First-Voice for guidance.

  An almost imperceptible rumble began to sound around the clearing. Slowly the noise grew until even the leaves at the edge of the forest began to flutter. Ben, whose eyes had never left the face of First-Voice, saw wrinkles begin to form on the Cutter’s face. Gradually the wrinkles spread until First-Voice’s face dissolved in laughter. Loud, echoing, raucous laughter reverberated around. The rest of the Cutters looked nervously at each other. The reaction of First-Voice was not what they were expecting. A couple of feeble sniggers joined in with the laughter.

  Noj, Mak and Trep simply stared at the scene unfolding before them. Mak gave a nervous giggle but was cut short by a stern glance from Noj. The laughter gradually subsided as First-Voice rubbed his stomach.

  ‘That,’ he said, still rubbing his aching stomach. ‘Was the funniest thing I’ve heard since mother hit my father on the head with a skillet.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ answered Ben, allowing a small smile to creep onto his face.

  ‘But,’ replied First-Voice, as he strode forward and took hold of Ben’s jaw in one hand. ‘I wouldn’t push your luck pretty boy.’ First-Voice turned, with his hand still firmly clasped around Ben’s jaw, and address the rest of the Cutters. ‘Frisk ‘em, take their sticks from ‘em and then get ‘em moving.’

  Within moments a small heap of personal belongings lay on the ground. Nestling on the ground were small pouches of coins, odds and ends of food, spare clothing and assorted junk. Pushing the items around with his foot, First-Voice nodded towards Ben.

  ‘That the lot?’

  Ben thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his cloak and nodded.

  ‘I don’t think,’ growled First-Voice. ‘Empty your pockets lad.’

  Ben turned on pocket inside out to show that it was empty. First-Voice nodded towards the other pocket. Slowly Ben turned the second pocket inside out. The ornate book that Pinchkin had given him tumbled onto the ground.

  ‘Bit fancy for the likes of you to be carrying around,’ said First-Voice, giving Ben a quizzical look. Ben tried to mumble a reply but with First-Voice’s hand still gripping his jaw, it wasn’t easy. First-Voice grinned and released his hold.

  ‘You were saying?’ he inclined his head towards Ben.

  Running a soothing hand around his jaw, Ben looked at the book, at Noj and then again at First-Voice.

  ‘It was a gift,’ said Ben swallowing hard to help soothe the words from his throat. ‘A book, nothing more.’

  First-Voice nudged the book with the toe of his boot.

  ‘A very fine book to be given as a gift to you pretty boy,’ commented First-Voice. ‘Far too fancy to be a gift.’ He looked hard at Ben. ‘I reckon you stole this fine book from someone,’ he said accusingly. He bent down to pick up the book and immediately cursed with pain.

  ‘You scheming offspring of slithering vermin, you knew that would happen,’ growled First-Voice sucking at the blood that oozed from his pricked thumb. Behind him, two of the Cutters were playing at sword fighting using Mak and Trep’s wooden staves. ‘Oi, you two,’ snarled First-Voice. ‘Stop behaving like dung beetles and get yourselves over here.’

  The two Cutters dropped the wooden staves and ran over to First-Voice. He nodded at the book. ‘Get that book open, might be something useful inside. Could be hollow with loads of lovely gems waiting for me.’

  Both Cutters took out their knives and jabbed at the book. As soon as the knife tips made contact with the book, both blades shattered into fragments. The Cutters stared at their broken knives in disbelief.

  ‘What the…’ began First-Voice with his thumb wedged in the corner of his mouth. He removed his thumb, stared at the rapidly forming bead of blood and pointed angrily at the book.

  ‘Open the damn thing,’ he shouted at Ben. Quietly, Ben took the book from the ground and held it towards First-Voice.

  ‘I don’t want it,’ snapped First-Voice taking a step backwards. ‘You open it, and no funny business.’

  Ben dutifully opened the book and held it for First Voice to look at. Carefully, First-Voice took a step forward and glanced quickly at the book. ‘It’s just a load of words?’ he spat. ‘Not a lot of good to me.’

  Ben looked into the book and frowned. ‘Well, what did you expect?’ he asked flatly. ‘It’s a book.’

  First-Voice took a threatening step forward.

  ‘I warned you,’ he said, jabbing Ben sharply on the forehead with his finger.

  Ben let out a cry of pain and immediately clutched at his head, allowing the book to fall to the ground.

  As the book hit the ground, the words appeared to bounce off the pages and then settle back to their
original place on the pages. Nobody made a move or sound, each waiting to see what Frist-Voice was going to do next. Raising his hand once again to jab at Ben’s head, a strange gurgling sound began to emerge from the book. First-Voice paused mid-strike and looked down at the source of the noise. While the odd sound continued, the letters from the book began to slither around, forming what appeared to be a dark, inky stain on the pages of the book. As the sound grew louder the stain increased in size, slipping from the pages onto the ground and quickly moved towards the feet of First-Voice.

  Instantly, First-Voice jumped back in surprise, while the other Cutters stood rooted to the spot, totally perplexed by what was happening. First-Voice pointed at the nearest Cutter.

  ‘You,’ he growled, ‘do something and do it now!’

  Looking through his moist eyes, Ben stared at the pool of dark sludge that continued to pour slowly out of the book and towards the Cutters. He pushed his finger tentatively into the liquid and immediately snatched his finger away. Where his finger had made contact with the viscous surface a large globule of a dark ink-like substance had stuck to his finger and began growing in size. Straight away Ben shook his finger to dislodge the inky globule. After a couple of shakes, the ball of thick ink flew from Ben’s finger and landed at the feet of one of the Cutters. Instantaneously, the ink rapidly grew in size to completely envelop the Cutter’s feet.

  For a moment, the Cutter watched in amazement at the ink pool forming around his feet. As soon as he realised that his feet were disappearing beneath the ink, the Cutter let out a piercing scream.

  ‘Help!’ he yelped. ‘Get it off, I’m being drowned alive.’

  Without waiting for instructions, two Cutters immediately ran over to their friend, grabbed his arms and pulled him savagely out of the dark pool. With nothing to cling to, the ink slowly evaporated leaving no more than a dirty stain on the ground. First-Voice looked angrily at Ben.

  ‘I told you no funny business,’ he snarled.

  ‘I had no idea,’ gulped Ben. ‘I didn’t know that stuff was in there, honest.’

  First-Voice curled his lip. ‘Close the book, pretty boy and put it in your cloak pocket. We’ll deal with it later.’ He turned to the other Cutters. ‘Pick their stuff up from the floor and get ‘em moving. We’ve got a long walk ahead and I don’t intend waiting here any longer.’ He looked at the Cutters who were looking apprehensively at the dark pool that had stopped moving the moment that Ben had shut the book. ‘Shift!’ yelled First-Voice.

  The Cutters moved nervously around the clearing, not quite sure precisely where they were supposed to be shifting to, and thinking it better to shuffle about rather than ask First-Voice in which direction they should move their captives.

  Noj looked questioningly at First Voice and moved his head enquiring which direction he wanted them to go. With an arched eyebrow, First-Voice made a mock bow and indicated the trail that led directly away from the forest.

  ‘If you would be so kind,’ growled First-Voice.

  The four captives began walking along the trail while First-Voice aimed his boot at the rears of two hapless Cutters and encouraged the other Cutters to move with a shake of his fist.

  ‘Get along you dozy dumps before I really lose my temper.’

  Within seconds a bedraggled looking file of walkers turned their backs on the forest and faced the meandering hills before them.

  Chapter 18

  The group trudged along a tediously winding path that was overhung with threatening branches and snatches of wild brambles. The towering vegetation obscured the landscape to such an extent that Ben only caught occasional glimpses of the rambling countryside and rapidly forming hills around them. Any brief pause in stride or hesitancy resulted in one of the Cutters giving an encouraging nudge in the back and a guttural warning to keep moving.

  As they slowly progressed along the trail, Ben saw that at no point did any one of the others appear remotely interested in finding out where they were going or why they were being held captive. Ben quickened his pace until he was half a stride from Noj’s back.

  ‘What’s going on?’ hissed Ben

  Either Noj hadn’t heard him or chose to ignore Ben’s question. He tried again. ‘Noj,’ he whispered urgently. ‘Where are they taking us?’

  Noj shook his head very slightly. Without turning around he answered Ben.

  ‘It doesn’t do to ask questions,’ he replied in hushed tones. ‘All will become clear soon enough.’ He held a warning hand towards Ben. ‘Walk without talk,’ he said sternly.

  Ben couldn’t understand why Noj and the others seemed to accept their capture without complaint. He felt completely lost, both physically and mentally. There didn’t appear to be any logical explanation for anything that he’d experienced from the time he’d apparently fallen into the fish tank until now. He sighed, bowed his head and allowed the ground to pass him by.

  After a while, the trail suddenly swerved to the left and led the group to a small clearing, with one side giving way to open sky. The group gazed out over the landscape. Outstretched before them lay wave upon wave of tiny hills, with the occasional dark abstract smudge of buildings patterning the scenery. First-Voice jerked his head and the party began clambering down a steep slope towards the valley floor where the grass became a lush green and a myriad flower heads coloured the ground far below.

  As the slope began to gradually level out, Ben became aware of a gradual humming noise, a sort of disjointed cacophony of bubble-like sounds. Continuing his haphazard descent, with a mixture of skips and skids, Ben saw that the flower heads in the valley appeared to form one large writhing mass. As he squinted, shading his eyes from the sky, he saw that the coloured flower heads were pulsating, moving to the rhythm of the humming noise that had now grown to a throbbing assault on the ears.

  First-Voice motioned the group forward and the group of bemused walkers continued towards the palpitating mass of colour.

  After a few minutes, standing where the once steep slope lost its head for heights completely, the group stopped and looked at the surrounding landscape. Ben, for one, couldn’t believe the sight that met his eyes. Stretching out before him was a river of people, dressed in an array of bizarre costumes reflecting virtually every colour of the rainbow. The figures slowly made their way along the path in a sort of jerky, bouncing motion, given impetus by the continuous throbbing sounds.

  First-Voice, along with the rest of the Cutters silently watched the bobbing procession. Eventually, with an irritable growl, First-Voice beckoned to Kev and his armful of dragon.

  ‘I reckon it’ll take us best part of the night to get through that lot,’ he grumbled. ‘Any idea how we can ease our way a little,’ he said with a mischievous grin. Kev sniffed appreciatively.

  ‘Say no more, boss,’ he replied. With all the skill of an untutored bagpipe player, Kev gave the dragon’s body a few preliminary squeezes and then, aiming slightly above the heads of the colourful crowd, he sent a jet of flame arcing into the rapidly darkening sky.

  Those nearest the source of the airborne heat instantly jumped sideways, anxious not to become any hotter than they already were. Others, further back from the flames, squealed and clapped with delight thinking it an outburst of entertainment from some enthusiastic fire-eater. First-Voice nodded to Kev and once more a burst of flames shot skywards. Unfortunately for some, the flames were aimed a little lower than before and several elaborately decorated hats began to smoulder. Several people from the crowd began flinging their hats to the ground and performing a sort of ritualistic jig on the glowing remains of their headgear.

  A third spray of fire, this time towards a path of crowded feet, proved the most effective as people eagerly evacuated the path and explored the low growing shrubs that grew profusely close by. Without any signal from First-Voice the Cutters motioned their captives forward while Kev walked in front of the whole group, the dragon held in readiness as small plumes of smoke escaped from its nostrils.

>   Even with the occasional use of the dragon’s pyrotechnics and gruff threats from the Cutters, progress through the buoyant crowd was slow. The continuous pulse of the rhythm emanating from somewhere beyond the crowd generated a sort of carnival atmosphere. At times, the dragon’s hot breath was greeted with laughter from several members of the crowd who became eager to see the animal that breathed fire. This unwelcome attention for the dragon increasingly annoyed Kev who responded by shouting at anyone who came close to him.

  ‘Make way there, gerrout ta road. Shift ya sens,’ he grumbled with a malicious glint in his eye.

  Reluctantly the river of people parted to let the group through. The dragon, which couldn’t offer anything more than a smoky sniffle by this time, had drifted off to sleep leaving Kev to physically push his way through the crowd. Although initially annoyed at the rough-handed approach of the Cutters, various members of the crowd grew inquisitive to know who was being escorted with such urgency. A couple of gaily-coloured individuals allowed their curiosity to overcome their fear as they thrust brightly decorated books towards Ben and Noj with pleas for them to “mark my book please,” which they both did with a scribbled flourish and smiled at their temporary celebrity status.

  First-Voice sidled up to Ben and Noj. ‘Don’t let it go to your heads, lads,’ he said with a bruising nudge to Ben’s ribs. ‘We don’t want anything unnecessary happening to our distinguished guests now, do we?’ He gave a rasping chuckle as a member of the crowd began making an approach towards Ben, only to meet sharply with First-Voice’s hand. Ben winced at the sound of nose meeting hand and only hoped the owner of the flattened nostrils didn’t blame him for First-Voice’s lack of charm.

  As the group continued their slow progress, Ben noticed that as soon as they had passed through a section of the crowd, it immediately closed again behind them, making any sort of escape virtually impossible. Not that Ben had thought of escape, based upon the fact that he didn’t know where he was, where he was going to and how on earth he was ever going to get home. He tapped First-Voice on the shoulder.