by Ken Spargo
‘This is the Valley of Triplock inhabited by friendly life forms. Keep to the rules and you will be safe.’
‘How do we know what the rules are?’ asked Grunt, feeling empathy with the two huge feathered, and to him, cuddly, life forms. In Davidia’s world they were known as birds of prey.
‘They have a habit of following you. Be safe.’
Twit flew up onto the ledge again to gaze over the valley it protected. It wondered again how the funny-looking life form knew their names. Grunt didn’t represent their memories of a small Ignatus playing freely under the care of his parents. The two life forms bore no resemblance to each other. It must have been a mistake or coincidence that it knew their names. Their world resumed its quietness.
Grunt, Davidia and Batbit headed off towards where it was assumed a town and other life forms existed. They were oblivious of an important role that they would have to play out one day soon. The river bed was their guide. The running flow had stopped flowing as its origins were from Irridon where it had been frozen. This was cause for dissent in the Valley of Triplock against their neighbour. Irridon was growing more powerful and its aim was to capture Triplock when they were of sufficient strength. It was nearly that time now. Irridia had been carefully enhancing her army of Irridons for that final push into Triplock. She would then, hopefully, savour the thrill of total victory. If she succeeded there, then the other four valleys, which Grunt had passed through, would collapse like dominoes. The act of revenge had been a long time in the planning. Sadly, she was once a loving and caring life form, but a chance meeting after the Great Split with The Murmur, determined her future, destructive course.
‘My feet ache,’ complained Davidia. ‘These stones are too hard to walk over. When are we resting? Mr Grunt, you have many more feet than me to use.’
‘Those small growths over there are waving at us. We’ll rest there.’
‘I didn’t see them waving.’ They were all perfectly still according to Davidia.
Batbit flew over them. Nothing stirred. Was anything hiding there? Batbit again flew over the small, stubby growths. Nothing stirred again. As they approached, they felt many eyes were observing them. A comforting rock offered the premier seating available. Davidia wasn’t waiting for the courtesy of “old age first”. It was her spot. Grunt made do and Batbit nestled on a small branch.
‘Are you one of them or one of us?’ It was a tiny voice whispering.
‘One of what?’ replied Batbit.
‘A Twixer.’
‘I don’t know what a Twixer is.’
‘It’s one of them or one of us,’ whispered a chorus of tiny voices.
Batbit looked through the branches and couldn’t see anything at all.
‘Who’s whispering to me?’ asked Batbit, alarmed at the lack of any visual contact.
‘We are.’
Suddenly, from underneath the tree branches out popped many sets of eyes all facing upwards. They were all attached to long, thin bodies clinging to the underneath of each branch. No wonder they were invisible. Batbit almost lost his grip.
‘What are you?’ he asked.
‘We’re Elongators, but sometimes we are known as Stretchers. Our bodies extend like so,’ they answered, stretching their bodies to demonstrate. ‘We wriggle along branches from underneath, trying to avoid being a food source for other larger life forms. Two large feathered life forms that live that way often eat our relatives, so we climb upside down to avoid being consumed,’ they continued, pointing to the direction that the three of them had come from.
‘Are you delicious to eat?’
‘We think so, otherwise there wouldn’t be such an intense interest in our wriggling abilities, would there? We don’t do anything else but eat and wriggle.’
Batbit’s stomach writhed in pain at his mention of the word delicious. Could he consume any of them? He was terribly hungry. For the moment, he would have to forego his personal needs.
‘I would love to sink my teeth into one of those delicious elongators,’ he said to himself. His bottom lip trembled at the thought of the opportunity for food that he had just lost.
‘Where are you headed?’
‘Along the river bed to wherever it leads,’ replied Batbit.
‘The life forms are larger there.’
‘Is there any danger on the way?’
‘Can’t say whether there is or not. Twixers are everywhere. You have to choose the right one each time you meet them.’
Suddenly, the sky went momentarily dark as two huge-winged shadows crossed the landscape. Twit and Twirp were out hunting and landed closely to where Batbit was resting. He peered out from his vantage point and noted their hunting technique to eat elongators. They shook a branch with their huge talons and the elongators fell helplessly to the ground. Then it was a mad scramble for survival. Their huge beaks shovelled in the frantic elongators. ‘Yum, yum,’ they said. Batbit clung on tightly in case he was mistaken for food. Soon, they were gone.
‘Our relatives have gone. We told you so. Must go. We need to produce more elongators to replace our losses. We’ll be busy for quite some time.’
Batbit saw a long line of elongators trail into the distant woods. He had just seen breakfast, lunch, dinner, a late supper and snacks wriggle out of sight. In the meantime, Grunt and Davidia had recovered from their tiredness. Batbit dropped down to join them.
‘Do you know what a Twixer is?’ Batbit asked Grunt.
‘Should I?’
‘Those elongators said that they live in the valley and that we might meet them on our journey.’
Grunt had no idea what they were. Davidia was clueless and Batbit’s knowledge wouldn’t make a dent in a pea.
‘There must be a town around here somewhere,’ said Grunt, wistfully.
The three friends arose and followed the river bed, traversing from side to side to avoid the large boulders. They rounded a corner and there they saw it. A fortified wall. It was in the process of construction from dirt and large boulders. It seemed there was no unemployment here. Many life forms were busily adding their efforts. They watched safely from a distance and wondered what all the frantic commotion was about. They were completely ignored.
‘Mr Grunt,’ said Davidia, ‘do you know where we are?’
‘Not a dropsy, dripsy or drapsy,’ came back the unusual reply.
‘That doesn’t make any sense. Are you confused?’
‘This valley is affecting me and I don’t know why. Perhaps those life forms over there might make it clearer.’
‘Shouldn’t we ask someone?’
‘Those two are taking a break. Let’s see what they are up to.’
The three friends walked directly over to them. The two startled life forms jumped up in fright and stood ready with their arms. The friends stopped dead in their tracks. No prong was worth poking into their bodies no matter how well it was made.
‘Stay and state your piece, otherwise you will be full of skewer holes and aerated in a series of thrusts,’ bellowed the closest one. The other life form ensured they didn’t move by placing his pronger point into the ground in front of them. The fierceness on their faces upset Davidia. She began to sob.
‘Is that running flow?’ asked one of the life forms, surprised.
Davidia nodded slowly.
‘We must tell King Iglandus at once that there is a life form that leaks running flow. You must stay here. Any attempt to escape is impossible.’
‘But they are only tears,’ she sniffled.
‘Have you many of them?’
‘Only if I cry a lot when I am upset. That’s all.’
‘We might need every one of them. Have you given them to anything else?’
‘Certainly not! I don’t like crying.’
Grunt also thought that it was a strange phenomenon that Davidia could make these water droplets seemingly from nothing. It was perplexing to understand. He thought this human girl life form was certainly an oddity.
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bsp; ‘Is there a panic on? Why is everyone working so hard?’
The two armed life forms refocused on Grunt.
‘Our valley will soon be attacked by an insidious, evil force from Irridon. We are building defensive walls to protect ourselves.’
‘We have just come from Irridon,’ said Grunt.
Two prongers were suddenly thrust at Grunt just touching his circumference. It was a defining moment in survival.
‘Could either one of you be called Prongsy or Poiksy?’ Grunt questioned them, while one hand held his necklace. His fingers felt like they had been burnt.
The two life forms looked at each other in amazement. How was it possible he knew who they were?
‘Are you an Irridivisor, trying to pass yourself off as a new life form and infiltrate our valley? Explain quickly, otherwise its aeration for you.’
‘We entered the valley via the Waterfall of Wetness after escaping from the Irridicators. The ground, stones and foliage guided us safely to here. Without them, we would have been destroyed,’ explained Grunt.
The life forms thought for a moment. They had never heard of anything ever making it safely through Irridon and no one outside of the valley would have any idea about their names. Further investigation would be required. The Irrids were experts at camouflage and no risk was worth not investigating.
‘You need to be taken to King Iglandus, who rules the valley. He will know what to do with you.’
‘What sort of king is he?’ asked Davidia, now that her running flow had stopped.
‘Wise and caring,’ replied Prongsy, or was it Poiksy?
‘At home, mum and dad always talked about a king. His name was Elvis. I didn’t know who he was. Apparently he sang songs and played a guitar. Mum said he often acted as stiff as cardboard in films,’ said Davidia. She knew they didn’t understand what she meant. They wouldn’t have any of his records.
‘This way.’
The three friends followed the plodding Prongsy and Poiksy, whose legs were like stunted elephant legs with huge, soft pads for ease of walking. They were so quiet whilst in motion that it felt like they were in a silent movie. The landscape everywhere was still a flurry of activity. Preparations were being made for the great encounter yet to eventuate. Grunt noticed that he had no resemblance to any of the life forms here. Somehow, he thought that it would be different.
‘I don’t look like anything here,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry, Mr Grunt, all of us are different.’
‘Back in your world Davidia, others look like you as if you all came out of the same pea pod. Nothing looks as ballish and unpleasant as me.’
‘You have extra legs, eyes, ears and noses we don’t have and you have special powers too. You should be proud to be what you are. An Igloid, isn’t it? There could be some more here in hiding. We just haven’t seen them yet. Cheer up.’
Davidia had a way of uplifting a sad moment.
‘You’re right. I am important. I got us all here safely so far. Our physical differences shouldn’t be what we are judged by.’
‘Did you say an Igloid? How ridiculous! He doesn’t look anything like those ancients. Who is he kidding? One of our rules is to tell the truth and this time to say you are one of them is an insult to our king. He is an Iglood from an ancient race that oversees the valley. They live up there in the mountains and protect us all. You don’t look anything like them,’ said Prongsy, with a look of disbelief.
‘He might be on that imaginative juice,’ added Poiksy.
They both grinned through their thick beards. Their day had been made.
‘Mr Grunt,’ said a stunned Davidia, ‘why don’t they believe you?’.
‘Maybe I got it wrong after all that time inside the Rock of Yocklaw. The memory that I took with me said I was one. I’ve never seen, nor remember any similar life form members. Maybe there aren’t any others like me.’ Davidia noticed his skin pores all moisten up. His emotions were trickling out. Davidia shed another tear or two.
‘Don’t waste those running flows. They might be useful,’ said Prongsy. ‘You won’t run out, will you?’
‘And if I did?’ Davidia was catching on that they might be important.
‘We haven’t had any running flows for quite a while. The Waterfall of Wetness used to provide plenty of running flow, but now it’s dry. Any running flow is precious. If it doesn’t start again soon, the valley may be lost to the evil of Irridon.’
‘Oh! So we are important then?’
‘Maybe so, maybe not. King Iglandus will determine your fate.’
‘I bet he can’t sing,’ said Davidia, humming to herself.
The trek was long and mostly uphill. On the side of the roads, heavy wooded areas flourished. Life forms seemed to thrill at their freedom. Batbit kept an eye out for any dangers. Grunt’s sense of smell made his finely tuned air receptors twitch endlessly. The journey made them all perspire. Their body odours danced on the breeze. Prongsy and Poiksy carried a lot of body fur, which made them perspire at an accelerated rate. Poiksy kept nervously turning his head toward them. He played with his pronger, seeming unsure what to do with it. Grunt’s nasal detectors gradually filled with an insidious odour. Grunt wondered whether someone had forgotten deodorant that day. The smell was somewhat familiar. Batbit’s nostrils also became agitated. He stressed out at the offensiveness of the smell. What was it that made his ears stand upright like steel spikes? He hopped onto one of Grunt’s arms. Davidia was blissfully unaware of the growing strength of the odour. She was walking quietly enjoying the greenery.
‘Can you smell that?’ Batbit whispered.
‘Yes,’ replied Grunt, ‘it’s not pleasant, is it?’
‘Haven’t we smelt that before in the valley of Irridon? Those Irrids possessed that very same smell.’
‘They might have relatives here.’
‘That Poiksy seems unsettled. Maybe it’s him.’
‘Or, it could be they all smell like that here also. Get a closer sniff.’
Batbit flew above Prongsy and took a few real deep breaths. Not bad, considering all that fur it carried. The smell almost choked his ability to continue breathing.
‘Did you get a whiff of that? It was fearfully awful. I couldn’t do any form of embrace with that swirling around me. Yuck!’
‘Do you think he is for real? He couldn’t be an Irridicator could he, sent to destroy us?’ Grunt was now monitoring Poiksy’s every move. Something just didn’t sit right. Prongsy was walking confidently forward, not bothering with checking on them. The pressure of discovery often instigated errors if someone was an undercover agent. Grunt had to find out before they reached King Iglandus’ home. Maybe he was the target and the means of access to him was via Grunt and Davidia. Suddenly, Davidia, sometimes not known for her tact, she was only a young girl, uttered the obvious. Prongsy was upwind so he couldn’t smell anything.
‘What is that awful smell? Pooh! My pet dog Hero used to make those when we chased him around the yard. He’s not here, so it can’t be him,’ she said, screwing up her nose.
The group stopped. Suspicion fell on everyone.
‘Let’s rest for awhile,’ said Prongsy, as he placed his large frame on a tree stump. Poiksy stood erect with a firm grip on his pronger. Grunt, Davidia and Batbit sat facing upwind for relief.
‘We’ll soon be there. Not much longer now.’
‘Prongsy,’ asked Grunt, ‘have you ever come across any Irridicators in the valley?’
‘Sometimes we do. They are dispensed with fairly quickly to avoid any trouble.’
‘How can you tell one is in disguise? I assume that’s what they do. Are they Twixers?’
‘Where did you hear that term? It’s not used here. It’s dangerous. Once spoken of in a serious manner, you must prove what you have said is correct. They are the rules; otherwise untold punishment is dealt on the accuser. If you are sure of your comment, please repeat it.’
‘Is Poiksy a Twixer?’
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nbsp; Prongsy fell off his tree stump with a thud. Poiksy stood firm with weapon raised.
‘I am not a Twixer,’ said Poiksy, with the conviction of a judge meting out a death sentence.
‘Are you one, Prongsy?’
‘Definitely not,’ he replied calmly, because he said he wasn’t.
It was a stalemate. There was no way of proving who was or wasn’t because both had said that they weren’t. Grunt had a dilemma. If one was a Twixer, how could he prove it? Davidia was restless.
‘Let’s keep walking. I want to meet a real king,’ she said.
‘Hold it,’ yelled Poiksy.
He raised an arm to inhibit her advance when his furry covering accidentally flicked across her face. A wispy, thin, dry, fur hair flicked the outer surface of her eyes. They instantly revolted against the approach by becoming itchy. Davidia whined a little as she rubbed her eyes with a two-handed fist wipe. A few tears of protection formed on her fingers and she flicked them off. The teardrops made a small arc of droplets as they arched through the air. Splat, splat. Some landed on Prongsy who brushed them off. A few landed on Poiksy, who froze as if thrust into an iced bath. The droplets began to disintegrate his fur. It fell off in heaps to the ground. His outer covering was undressing him. Below the fur, it soon became obvious that he was different. He must have had iglood poo attached to his feet. They were stuck fast. The truth had been uncovered. The evil head, stooped body and rough covering were all revealed. He was an Irridicator impersonating as Poiksy. Prongsy was lightening fast. He threw his pronger at the impostor. It disarmed him and his pronger fell useless to the ground. He began to snarl. They thought it was in anger, but it wasn’t. It was in pain. Davidia’s tears were slowly destroying him.
‘Mr Grunt, he’s disappearing. Can’t you save him?’ protested Davidia.
‘It’s too late. He’s an evil Irrid who wanted to destroy the king and this valley. Prongsy, did you know?’
‘It is impossible to tell. A true Twixer is too devious to be caught out.’
‘Where would the real Poiksy be?’