The girl’s eyes searched Ben’s face. She tilted her head slightly to one side.
‘I’ve never heard of such a thing. Is it popular with your tribe?’ she asked.
Ben threw his hands in the air.
‘I give up. Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.’ He sat down heavily on an upturned bucket. His shoulders gave a pronounced sigh. ‘This is all getting a bit tedious,’ he breathed with hands covering his face. The old man looked at the forlorn figure of Ben and smiled. His tongue searched his gums for imaginary teeth.
‘Praps you’d be liking a drop of Pomagnade young un?’ suggested the old man producing another jug from underneath the table.
‘If it’s anything like Pugwort, count me out,’ snapped Ben. ‘I haven’t tasted anything so foul since I drank the liquid from the cup Gran used to keep her teeth in.’
The old man looked bemused.
‘Teeth?’ he queried. ‘You mean like teeth that you could take out, put in, take out and put in again?’ His hand mimicked his words as his fingers moved in a rocking motion towards his toothless mouth. Ben closed his eyes and shook his head gently.
‘They weren’t her teeth,’ he explained with a hint of exasperation in his voice. ‘She lost her own teeth years ago.’
‘What!’ the old man cried. ‘She used someone else’s teeth?’ He placed his hands over his face. ‘That’s absolutely disgusting,’ he muttered. ‘I’ve never heard anything so awful. Someone else’s teeth?’ He looked at Ben through the tips of his fingers. ‘Is that common in your tribe?’ he asked. ‘Like the Jaresh who collect any teeth they take a fancy too?’
Ben let out a long sigh. He thought things has been odd enough when he’d met Shakespeare earlier, but this was something different, this was bizarre!’
‘No, no,’ said Ben more calmly than he felt. ‘We’re nothing like the Jaresh. We don’t collect the odd tooth here and there. If we lose our teeth we get a whole new replacement set.’
The old man recoiled in horror.
‘You mean you take the whole lot?’ he asked incredulously. ‘You’re nothing but savages,’ ranted the old man. ‘No more than barbarians, worse than those dung head Cutters.’ He wagged a finger at Ben. ‘And let me tell you, that takes some doing!’
Ben felt as of his head would explode. He looked at the old man whose eyes blazed with disgust.
‘Look,’ said Ben. ‘They’re not real teeth.’
‘What?’ screeched the old man spraying Ben with spittle. ‘You just pretend you have teeth?’ He glared at Ben. ‘Madness, that’s what I call it.’
Ben used his sleeve to wipe his face. He could feel the anger building inside. His lips began to tremble.
‘Now just look here...’ he began.
‘Easy,’ soothed the young female voice as he felt a hand rest on his arm.
‘Whatever!’ growled Ben jerking his arm away from her touch.
‘I’m Alpak,’ replied the girl. ‘And this,’ she indicated with a resigned smile. ‘Is my father, who has a tendency to get things a trifle muddled.’
‘Muddled you say?’ snapped the old man. ‘Never been muddled in my life. It’s other people who don’t explain themselves properly,’ he blustered.
‘As you say, father,’ said Alpak this time her arm resting gently on her father’s cheek. ‘How are the pies doing?’
‘Aargh!’ roared the old man clutching his head. ‘While this young idiot has been talking gibberish I’d forgotten all about my pies.’ He began to trot out of the tent. ‘They’ll be burnt to a cinder,’ he grumbled.
As the old man hurried away still muttering to himself, Ben tried a smile, which didn’t seem to fit very well.
‘Don’t fret,’ said Alpak producing a smile of her own that lit up her face. ‘You should be used to being misunderstood at your age.’
Ben shrugged.
‘Being misunderstood is one thing but accused of acting like a predatory tooth fairy is another,’ he said gruffly.
‘Good grief,’ groaned Trep. ‘Ben’s off on one of his verbal fantasies again.’ He took Alpak by the hand and led her towards the table. ‘Take a seat and tell me about yourself.’
Alpak looked enquiringly at Ben who simply shrugged in reply. She turned to Trep and smiled politely.
‘We come from a land far to the west, close to the ‘Water of the Horizon’ where we once lived a peaceful existence, free from prying eyes. There the trees shimmer in the sun and then drop their leaves to form a rich carpet for our feet to walk upon. It’s a place we call home,’ she said dreamily.
‘So what are you doing here then?’ asked Trep.
‘Doing what we don’t want to,’ answered Alpak her face growing dark. ‘Father and I ventured beyond the known lands in search of fresh grass for our sheep. Before we knew what was happening a group of them hairy dung heads grabbed us and carted us away.’
‘That’s terrible,’ said Trep with genuine concern in his voice. ‘Haven’t the Cutters any sense of shame?”
Alpak shook her head.
‘We are a shy people. Around here we’re known as the Shun, famed for our culinary skills but little else.’
Ben nodded in agreement. ‘If your pasties are anything to go by I’ll second that,’ he grinned. Alpak smiled weakly.
‘And known for our natural reticence,’ she added softly. ‘Since the Cutters tasted our meat pies, they’ve dragged us around after them getting us to prepare and cook food to fill their cavernous stomachs.’
‘Never mind,’ said Trep laying his hand over hers. ‘I’m sure we’ll find a way out of all this and then you can come with us.’
Alpak smiled sweetly, removed her hand from Trep’s grasp and winked at Ben.
‘Is he always so nauseatingly charming?’ she asked mischievously.
Ben almost choked with laughter. Noj and Mak turned to face the walls of the tent but their heaving shoulders gave them away.
‘Thanks a lot I’m sure,’ snapped Trep angrily.
‘Well, that’s blown you out of the water,’ said Ben, struggling to contain a further bout of laughter.
‘You little…’ stormed Trep as Alpak quickly grasped his hands.
‘I was just teasing,’ she said softly. ‘You must understand that compared to the Cutters you’re like sunshine after the rain.’
Trep snorted. ‘Now who’s being nauseating?’
Alpak laughed gently, her eyes glistened in the dim light. A rush of cold air stole her words of reply. In the entrance to the tent stood two grizzled Cutters.
‘Oi you lot!’ growled one of the Cutters through a mattress of whiskers. ‘You’m not needed until tomorrow. You’m to be locked up for the night,’ he snapped with a jerk of his head towards the outside and the cold.
Alpak had mysteriously melted into the shadows as the four left the relative warmth of the tent. Wading through the mud, Ben could see the crowd of heads still bobbing to the throbbing rhythms. Some people had climbed onto the shoulders of their friends and were waving flags around their heads or had removed their shirts to wave. In the centre of the huge pyramid-like structure, a group of Cutters were thrashing giant metal drums with cudgels. Ben covered his ears. The noise was almost too painful to bear. The thrashing Cutters beat the drums to a crescendo and then stopped suddenly. Just as suddenly the last remaining vestiges of day disappeared to be replaced by a thick, cloying darkness. The air around them was shocked into stillness. Then, as if by some predetermined signal, the drums resumed their rhythmic pattern across the airwaves. A gigantic roar erupted from the sea of bobbing heads. Ben winced at the tide of sound that assailed his ears. Turning his head away he trudged after the others, his eyes assailed by the multitude of images that slowly slipped out of sight as they followed the Cutter’s lead.
In one particularly busy throng of people and tents, the two Cutters stopped to make sure that their charges were close by. Satisfied that the four captives were within grasping range should the need arise, the Cutters silently turned t
heir heads once more towards the seemingly endless hordes of revellers.
As if becoming gradually fatigued by the relentless journey, Mak leaned on Noj’s shoulder and began an urgently whispered conversation. Ben, intrigued and curious, edged closer to try and overhear the exchange. Mak appeared to be saying something, which Noj obviously disagreed with. After a particularly heated exchange of nods and shakes, Mak dismissed Noj with a flick of the hand and trudged forward a few paces to strike up a conversation with one of the Cutters. Without a word, the Cutter suddenly grasped hold of Mak by the scruff of his neck and hauled him between two stalls and out of sight.
Momentarily startled, Ben made to shout after the disappearing Mak but Noj quickly clamped a hand over Ben’s mouth.
‘Hush,’ hissed Noj. ‘Keep quiet and ignore it.’
After a few minutes of dodging and skipping the shuffling antics of people pretending to be interested in the produce on the various stalls, the remaining group finally reached the edge of the gathering. All around were caravans of different shapes and sizes sitting in haphazard rows. Each caravan had a covering of some metallic substance that dully reflected the newly emerged stars. Some of the vehicles supported small towers, which leaned dangerously in all directions. The scene reminded Ben of some of the holidays he’d spent as a toddler running around a caravan park and getting into trouble for knocking over gorged rubbish bins. Despite the cooling darkness of the evening, a smile crept onto Ben’s face as the memories played out in his head. Without warning a more recent memory darkened his thoughts. Slowly turning his head, Ben looked at the mass of people behind him. Each of them appeared totally absorbed in the performances going on at the various stages, the individual entertainers either juggling an assortment of kitchen paraphernalia or carrying out a range of tricks and illusions that both alarmed and astonished onlookers. Nudging Noj, he jerked his head at the crowd.
‘Did you notice?’ he asked, his voice a thin quaver.
‘Notice what?’ frowned Noj.
‘Nobody has noticed us,’ hissed Ben. He tugged at Noj’s sleeve. ‘Don’t you realise that at no point has anyone given us a glance, not even a polite nod of the head in passing.’
Noj shrugged. He seemed more concerned with the whereabouts of Mak than gaining the attention of any passing reveller. Ben tugged at his sleeve again.
‘Don’t you understand,’ he said urgently. ‘Nobody has noticed that we’re here!’
‘Well, they did earlier,’ grinned Noj. ‘Almost famous for a few minutes.’ He looked at the concern that shaped Ben’s face. ‘We’re here now,’ he added with a reassuring nudge at Ben’s shoulder, ‘that’s for certain.’
‘But if no-one has noticed we’re here,’ replied Ben, ‘then we might as well not be here.’
Noj looked at Ben curiously.
‘I think you’ve caught the sun,’ he joked.
Ben stamped the muddy ground in frustration.
‘If nobody is at all concerned about us being here, what’s to stop the Cutters making sure that we’re not here,’ growled Ben making a cutting motion across his throat.
Noj shook his head.
‘You really don’t think …’
‘Yes I do,’ interrupted Ben. He turned to look Noj full in the face. ‘Am I the only one bothered about our welfare?’
Noj put his hand on Ben’s shoulder.
‘Let’s just see what happens, shall we?’ he smiled.
Before Ben’s mouth could open to gasp in amazement at Noj’s apparent calmness, the remaining Cutter gave Trep a rough shove in the back towards a row of roughly hewn wooden caravans. Each of the caravan windows was decorated with a series of vertical steel bars, behind which hung dilapidated curtains made from hessian sacks. To one side of the caravans stood a row of cages. Within each cage lay a dozing grey shape, which gently snorted a narrow plume of smoke with every breath. Ben nudged Noj.
‘Look, they’ve got dragons in those cages.’
‘Where else are they going to keep them?’ replied Noj with a shrug of his shoulders.
‘Couldn’t they let them go free-range sort of thing?’
‘What?’ hissed Noj a hint of amusement in his voice, ‘and let them nibble and singe everything and everyone in sight?’
Ben shook his head.
‘No, just let them be natural.’
Noj could hardly contain a rumble of laughter that began to build up in his chest.
‘Eating and scorching is them being natural,’ he replied. ‘Don’t forget, they’re just young dragons, very playful and full of energy.’ Noj nudged Ben’s arm. ‘Bit of a combustible mixture eh?’ he joked.
Ben allowed his eyes to roll skywards.
‘Was that supposed to be a joke?’ he asked sarcastically. He pointed at the sleeping forms in the cages. ‘They haven’t got a lot of room to grow.’
‘Enough for now,’ replied Noj. ‘While they’re young the Cutters use them to clear the forests and to power their machines. When they get too big and old for the cages, they’re made to pull the caravans and heavy machinery around.’ Noj nodded towards the darkness surrounding the cages. ‘Look behind the cages, can you see those larger shapes held in chains?’
Ben peered into the gloom. Noj was right. Behind the smaller cages, large dark shapes loomed, their bodies rising and falling in the rhythm of sleep. Before Ben could make any further observations on the dragons’ sleeping conditions, rough hands pushed him towards a short flight of wooden steps leading to a large door in the side of the caravan.
‘Sweet dreams fellas,’ chuckled the Cutter, as the door swung open hitting the framework with a dull thud. ‘Up you go and don’t make any noise, we wouldn’t want the beasts missing any of their beauty sleep would we?’
The Cutter continued to chuckle at his own joke as the door of the caravan returned to its original position. Inside the caravan nobody dared to move in the darkness. Each was fearful of what else might be lurking in the brooding blackness. The stillness and the silence seemed to reassure the three members of the group that they were alone, very alone. Ben gave a deep sigh.
‘This is awfully familiar.’
Chapter 20
‘What’s familiar?’ asked Trep in a hoarse whisper.
‘The darkness,’ replied Ben. He sniffed loudly. ‘And the smell,’ he added.
Trep grinned in the darkness.
‘And there’s something else that’s familiar too,’ he replied.
‘What’s that?’ hissed Ben.
‘You complaining,’
Before Ben could make any response, Noj hit the caravan wall with his fist.
‘For goodness sake, you two,’ he growled. ‘Can’t you have a conversation without it disintegrating into a slanging match?’
‘Don’t lose your rag with me,’ muttered Ben. ‘It’s Trep’s mouth that needs a gag, not mine.’
Trep kicked out at Ben but only succeeded in striking Noj’s foot.
‘Do that again,’ winced Noj, ‘and I’ll insert that walking stick of yours where daylight fails to fall.’
Trep mumbled something that could have been either abusive or an apology. Whichever it might have been, Noj chose to ignore it.
‘Ahem,’ coughed Ben, desperately trying to calm things down. ‘Not only is that a tricky manoeuvre, but virtually impossible without a walking stick.’
‘That’s a thought,’ answered Noj, rubbing his foot. ‘I think they’re possibly still in the tent where the Cutters left them.’
‘That’s saved you a job,’ muttered Trep with a forced smile.
Trep was spared a reply when the door of the caravan suddenly burst open and a body was crudely thrown onto the straw strewn floor. An explosion of breath shattered the silence. Noj quickly moved over to where the body lay in a winded heap.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked. A series of gasps punctuated by straining lungs sounded in reply to his question. Slowly the body sat upright and continued its struggle to achieve any form of breathin
g rhythm. After what seemed like an age, with everyone in the caravan wrestling with their own irregular breathing pattern, the body raised its head.
‘I’m as well as can be expected,’ wheezed Mak, forcing a weak smile.
Noj picked at the dirty straw that littered the floor of the caravan. He cleared his throat and spoke into the gloom.
‘Did it do any good?’ he asked.
‘Not really,’ sniffed Mak.
‘Told you it was a complete waste of time,’ muttered Noj in return.
‘At least I tried to do something,’ growled Mak. ‘Unlike some who just seem content to let things happen.’
Noj turned to face Mak’s voice. He was finding it difficult to contain his anger as he flexed his fingers repeatedly. ‘I’ll do something when doing something is the right thing to do,’ he replied angrily. ‘Thinking you’d get anything out of the Cutters was a real no-brainer.’
‘So,’ spluttered Mak. ‘What are you trying to say?’
It was impossible in the gloom of the caravan to see Noj’s face to see what he really thought. Instead, his laboured breathing spoke volumes.
‘I’m saying,’ said Noj steadily. ‘That if we put our energy into working out how to escape rather than wasting our time negotiating with those intellectual duffers then…’
A low-pitched groan engulfed the remaining words as the floor of the caravan shuddered. The floor was still trembling as a pair of rust-covered hinges squealed their reluctance to move before finally yielding to a lower force. To the surprise of the caravan’s captives, a grey gloom partially illuminated their darkness as a section of the floor arced through the air, falling backwards, making an impression on Mak’s shin.
‘Aarrgh!’ he squealed holding his shin tightly in the vain hope of stopping the pain spreading.
‘Sssh,’ hissed a voice. ‘You’ll have every Cutter for miles coming to see what the commotion is all about.’
Through the pale halo of grey light, a head-shaped object appeared.
‘Are you alright?’ it asked. The question was met with three intakes of breath and one moaning whimper. Ben, shuffling himself backwards until he was firmly lodged against the caravan wall, swallowed to moisten a fear-dried throat.
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