by Ken Spargo
‘I didn’t quite hear what it said,’ said Grunt, who wasn’t paying attention at that particular moment. Neither did the others. ‘Rest. The light will show us the way.’
Irritron’s fully flared nostrils sucked in the air at an amazing rate. Its smell centres translated the oxygen into identifiable patterns, particular to individual life forms.
‘There are two definite recognisable life forms; however, there is a non-recognisable finer smell. It might be another. They are nearing the Waterfall of Wetness. If they escape, we might all be smelling an unpleasant part of our anatomies.’
The group “ooh ah’d” at that comment.
‘Are we near them?’ asked a battle-hardened Irrid, who had been in battle mothballs for quite some time. It wanted some hunting exercise and couldn’t wait to flex its bad attitude and weapon.
‘The dark has protected them so far. When it is light, we will strike with such ferocity we will enter the annals of folklore. There must be dozens of them. The finest four nasties might not have told the truth just to give us the surprise of a larger challenge.’ The leader was known as Irriot. His behaviour at times tested the saneness of his decisions. ‘In the light we can lop off what we like.’
At light, the miserable landscape hadn’t improved.
‘Time to find our way out of here,’ said a yawning Grunt.
‘Is it early or late?’ said Davidia. There was no way in telling whether it was or not.
‘It makes no difference, we must go.’ Grunt fiddled with his necklace again. His hand seemed drawn to it. The T began to twirl. He grabbed it. A darkness consumed him. ‘It’s time,’ it said. Grunt saw vast fields of healthy crops, when suddenly it was slashed in half. From the cut emerged a nasty figure. It was about to speak, when a child’s voice interrupted the dream sequence. Grunt awoke with a severe jolt.
‘I hear snorting noises.’
‘Hide behind those rocks over there.’
Davidia and Grunt ran quickly into a huge cluster of smooth rocks. They slipped at first, until they steadied their pace to gain a safe foothold. They looked behind them and could see many shadow-hoppers, who were running erratically. The stooped Irrids were in irridication mode, waving their weapons with expectation and authority.
‘I sniff them. They are here,’ yelled an excited Irritron. He pointed his nose upwards for a massive whiff, which would indicate exactly where their prey was hiding. Batbit had only been a mere observer until this time and suddenly he saw his chance to be a useful pest again. He flew directly at Irritron. His sharp claws slashed at his flared nostrils, resulting in a squeal of pain. The other Irrids were transfixed with surprise.
‘My face is leaking,’ groaned Irritron. His sniffing nostrils were now so tender he could no longer perform properly. He suffered excruciating pain each time he tried to flare them for a huge sniff. His mind was elsewhere. ‘Something has damaged them. Look,’ he said, pointing at himself.
‘Is that what is inside us?’ asked Irriot, the leader. ‘Let’s hope we don’t all leak that mess. Where are those life forms? There must be dozens of them nearby. They can’t all hide.’
‘My nose is too sore to locate them. I wonder what scratched me?’ In the dark mist it is difficult to see anything clearly.
‘Spread out. They might be able to hide, but they can’t stop smelling. Prepare your sniffers.’
The Irrids went into vacuum cleaner technique, noses just above ground level, identifying any locatable scent. Nothing was left unsniffed.
‘Over here,’ called an excitable irrid. ‘They were here at this spot. That green moss substance has their smell. Take a sniff.’ All of them took a compulsory whiff.
‘That’s not so offensive,’ said a mild sniffer. ‘The dozens of them must all smell the same. There are only a few different scents.’
‘It’s their plan to confuse us,’ said Irriot, wondering where they had all gone. ‘Be ready for any attack.’ The Irridicators milled uneasily.
‘Well done, Batbit,’ said Grunt, beaming with pride at the cleverness of his little friend. ‘They will be occupied for a short time. We still have to find that Path of Slip.’
‘All these stones have slippery surfaces,’ said Davidia, as she tried to remain upright. They walked carefully in the dimness, further into the centre of the huge rock formation. Nothing guided their way.
‘Look,’ said Davidia. ‘That rock over there has a smiley face. It must be misplaced. There’s nothing to smile about here.’
‘It’s not a face,’ said Grunt. ‘It looks more like a scarred opening across the rock face.’
‘It’s a smiley face.’
‘No it’s not.’
‘It is.’ Davidia was becoming upset.
She let a gentle teardrop fall. Nothing impeded its gravitational drop. It hit the rock surface and spread like a squashed lemon. The teardrop had splattered into even smaller water droplets with each one trying to escape down a crevice. Gravity was sweeping them up. Grunt closely observed their behaviour. At first, it was a caring look that Davidia was upset enough to release her own water from within, then later it turned into a quizzical one as he noticed that the slippery land surface had tried to rejoin them into the original teardrop, with all the droplets rolling along towards the one crevice in the scarred face of the rock. Surprisingly, the teardrop was whole again. Then it vanished.
‘Batbit, can you take a closer look?’ asked Grunt.
‘You want me to fly into a dark cave?’
‘You’re a bat. It will be like going home.’
Batbit had almost forgotten what he was.
‘That’s right.’ He tweaked his sonar and rocketed into the darkness. He soared through the dark caverns. They all sloped downwards. The inside rock surfaces were all slippery looking. Any light reflection indicated it was so. He stopped a few times on the cave floor, only to be instantly hurtled downwards. There was nothing to grip onto. The floors were slippery. After a few minutes he returned to the surface. He impulsively screeched with delight at his little adventure as he flew out of the cave.
‘That was so refreshing. It was like old times again,’ he said.
‘What was in there?’ asked Grunt.
‘Darkness and more darkness. It was bat heaven. It’s an ideal place to take Mrs Batbit for a holiday. There were so many caves to explore. If only I had more time.’
‘Should we dare venture in?’
‘The rock surfaces were all shiny and smooth. The cave floor is slippery.’
‘Do you think it could be the Path of Slip?’
‘It’s possible, but without a guide book, clear directions and better light, it’s difficult to tell.’
‘Let’s take a closer look.’
They had almost made it to the cave’s entrance, when the bloodcurdling screams of the Irridicators echoed off the rock surfaces. Batbit’s impulsive scream of delight had told the Irridicators where they were. They had hopped towards them as quickly as they could. Only the slippery rock surfaces had delayed them pouncing on them earlier. Footholds were uncertain accomplishments.
‘There they are,’ boomed the voice of Irriot. ‘Cut them down into smaller pieces. Let’s lop off what we can.’
It was a frightening scenario that followed. Grunt knew that they were in mortal danger. None of their limbs would regrow if they were removed.
‘I’m not afraid,’ said Davidia. ‘I have played Dan’s horror vampire videos. It’s all make-believe.’
A weapon had been thrown at them, with the sharp point embedding itself in a crevice. It clanged with such a strong vibration, the rock crumbled.
‘We have no choice now,’ said Grunt. ‘Go.’
He hurriedly pushed Davidia into the cave. He was just in time as the Irrids had almost made it to the entrance and were within striking distance. Irriot swung his weapon at Grunt with full force. It just missed him and banged against the rocks. Grunt took a step forward and one of his legs exploded like a cannon ball. It hit I
rriot in the stomach so powerfully it repelled him into his nasty band of Irridicators. In the ensuing mayhem, Irridicators accidentally lopped off some of their own body parts and were left languishing in a crumpled mess. Irriot was last seen berating his band of reduced Irridicators.
Inside the cave, Davidia slid downwards all alone into an abyss of darkness. All she could hear were the screeching sounds of a bat. It reminded her of the big slide at Wonderworld, when her dad had accidentally pushed her and she had a scary ride. Her eyes were shut tight. The Wisp of Wischink appeared in her mind. It smiled a comforting smile as she plummeted downward over hard, bumpy rocks. Would it ever end?
Grunt followed and he too disappeared into the bowels of the earth.
Had they accidentally found the Path of Slip?
Irridia, the leader of all Irrids, was incensed with the failure of her Irridicators.
‘These life forms seem to be far more dangerous than I had given them credit for. There must be an army of them to decimate my elite squad of Irridicators like that.’
She felt that her world was now under serious threat. A showdown would determine whether the life forms were strong enough to challenge her. It would be the final battle for someone. Irridia had never lost a battle or a challenge. She thought that “someone” loser wouldn’t be her. She stared over her mist-covered lands, safe in her stronghold hidden high in the mountains. ‘I must give those intruding life forms a series of nasty surprises. They were fortunate to escape this time.’ Her brooding mind was a steel trap that nothing had ever tested. The coldness of her eyes held fear because of everything they saw. There was an absence of any goodness. Once, it had been different.
'T hat hurt,’ complained Davidia, as she landed in a river bed at the bottom of a huge waterfall. She was spat out of a rock formation, as if expelled from an individual’s mouth as an inedible, cherry pip. The river bed was dry and littered with pebbles, stones and rocks of all sizes. Age had worn many of them into round, smooth shapes. Not one droplet of fresh, running flow cascaded over the lip of the falls. ‘Am I bruised?’ She checked her extremities. There were no bluish markings on her body to suggest bruising. ‘My dress is ruined.’ She shed a few tears. Frayed edges had formed at the base of her dress. The cotton had begun to unravel. ‘I don’t want a mini skirt. Where am I?’
She thought that she was alone when she heard a familiar, high-pitched shriek. Batbit went shooting by as if shot from a cannon. He was trying to regain control over his batwings after the fantastic ride he had just experienced. He thought that the next time he did that he’d bring Mrs Batbit along for the ride. What exhilaration!
‘Davidia, it’s me,’ he yelled breathlessly. His adrenalin rush hadn’t subsided.
‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she said. ‘Where’s Mr Grunt. We haven’t lost him, have we?’
Overhead, something that looked like a hot air ball momentarily blocking out the sun, floated by.
‘Is that Mr Grunt up there?’ she asked. ‘It certainly looks like him. He might be playing the balloon game. You know, the ones filled with hydrogen and released to float skywards.’
Batbit flew up to investigate. Sure enough, it was the huge puffball himself. He slowly floated to the ground. Pop. All his external pieces suddenly reclaimed their site on his body.
‘That was close. The Irrids almost caught us. Where are we?’
‘We don’t know. The sun is shining. There’s green on either side of the riverbed and we can see clearly at last,’ said Davidia. ‘I’m not going back to that other awful place again. I like it here.’
‘If we follow the river bed it must eventually lead us to a town. Batbit, you can act as scout again.’
Grunt nervously surveyed his surroundings. A comfort blanket of good feelings wrapped itself tightly around him. He remained nailed to the spot. His body relaxed completely as he flopped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The pebbles beneath embraced themselves in anticipation of a crushing.
‘Get off us. We don’t mind being brushed with running flow, but to be covered with such a large, heavy outer? It’s not acceptable,’ said a pebble, or was it a stone?
‘It’s pitch black now. What an impertinence to cover us without permission,’ said another pebble … stone … or was it a small rock?
Grunt couldn’t hear the protests. He was experiencing warm emotions denied to him long ago. This valley seemed very familiar and messages from the past were twirling inside his head. Uncertainty reigned about what they meant. He was in a world of his own.
‘Mr Grunt, are you awake?’ asked Davidia as she prodded him.
Grunt returned from dreamland to confront more pressing matters.
‘Uh! What’s happening?’
‘You had an “older life form moment.” You fell asleep,’ said Davidia.
‘I had some strange things occur inside my head. A confusion of thoughts.’
‘Do you know where we are? It looks like a nice place to enjoy.’
‘I think I have been here before, but can’t remember when. Did we pass through the Waterfall of Wetness?’
‘There isn’t any waterfall. See, it’s empty.’ Davidia pointed to where they had exited from. It definitely was once a waterfall, but now it was dry.
‘That’s the border between the two valleys and an entrance through which I must return.’
‘What are you rabbiting on about now? We just left that dreadful place and were almost lopped up.’
‘I don’t understand why I said that, but something made me say it.’
A loud squawk split the ambience of the day. They looked up. High above the Waterfall of Wetness, sat two large, feathered life forms with huge beaks, ideal for ripping apart their prey. Two sets of eyes bored into them. Suddenly, one took flight and landed nearby. It sat ungainly on its clawed feet, eyeballing them cautiously. It was as tall as Davidia.
‘Hello there,’ it said. The ground communicated the thoughts of the visitor.
‘Hello to you too,’ replied Davidia.
‘May I ask the reason for visiting this valley and why you came via the Waterfall of Wetness?’ It tilted its head to one side as a form of habit. It became light-headed once a few words had been spoken.
‘It’s all his fault,’ replied Davidia, pointing a finger at Grunt.
‘Me? You hit the ejector stones first to send us hurtling everywhere,’ said a defiant Grunt.
‘Tut, tut, now. We mustn’t display any hostility in this valley. It’s not the right thing to do. This is a peaceful place. You still haven’t answered my question. Try again.’
‘We were chased by shadowy, crazy things called Irrids. The ground directed us to the Path of Slip and here we are.’
‘You haven’t changed life form to infiltrate the valley, have you? Mmm!’
‘Certainly not! I’m a girl. My name is Davidia. What’s yours?’
‘I’ll ask the questions, thank you. What is your purpose here?’
‘My tourist visa ran out and I’m going to apply for another,’ said Davidia.
‘Don’t be so silly. There are no tourists here, whatever they might be. I need to know your purpose. Nothing that has ever come out of the Waterfall of Wetness has been good to anything. You may be a spy in a different life form.’
Grunt stepped forward.
‘We definitely are not spies. For some unknown reason that we haven’t quite worked out yet, we have been sent here from many valleys away. I hold this unusually shaped form for a reason even I don’t understand. Are you a guardian of sorts?’
‘I can answer that question. Yes. We protect the valley from the bad that can escape through the Waterfall of Wetness. Nothing is as it seems.’
Grunt almost fell over in disbelief. That phrase was one that kept ringing in his head on many occasions. Had it emanated from here? The huge, feathered life form was an imposing figure. His companion tensely watched proceedings from its safety ledge.
‘Where are we?’ asked Grunt.
&n
bsp; ‘Who will you tell?’
‘No one. We want to know where we are. It might mean something.’
The feathered life form abruptly took flight. Dust particles tried to follow, but it was only the instant flurry of flapping wings that momentarily encouraged them. It flew up to its companion. The two of them nestled for a while, discussing the ground-based life forms.
‘Are they a threat?’
‘I don’t think so. They seem acceptable for entrance into the valley.’
‘They don’t have the smell of an Irrid. Besides, the ground and plants in Irridon wouldn’t have directed them safely here if harm was their intent.’
Both feathered life forms lifted their huge claws and gave their chins a scratch. It was the signal that they had agreed on something. The feathered life form with the questions flew down again.
‘It is agreed that you can stay. This is a peaceful valley. Make sure you obey the rules. There are other life forms that way.’
‘Thank you, Twit,’ blurted out Grunt, without thinking.
‘What did you say?’
‘Mr Grunt called you Twit. Is that your name?’
‘How do you know that?’
‘It just came out. Is your friend up there called Twirp?’
The huge bird was amazed that any life form entering the valley would know their names. It thought that there must be a trick to it. Once, only a small Igloid called Ignatus, who had played near the Waterfall of Wetness when it was free flowing, had ever known their names, but that was long ago.
‘Who told you?’ Twit didn’t know if he was a Twirp, or was it that Twirp didn’t know he was a Twit.
‘A thought from my past. I keep having these weird thoughts, ideas and visions filtering through my mind like fine mist. I can’t understand it all yet, but they seem to be stronger in this valley.’
Could it be that the oddball-looking life form, in a shape never imagined, once knew them? It was very unlikely. Something must have told him.