Roger looked behind him and saw that the convoy of jeeps and lorries had all now halted and the men had got out and were all standing there, just watching them cross over the bridge.
“Do they know something that we don’t?” Roger thought glumly to himself.
However, it wasn’t the bridge that was the real threat. The helicopters were now coming in closer and Roger could see they indeed were fitted with large nets, slung beneath their undercarriages.
Each Chopper had two men, hanging from each side of their craft, obviously ready to swoop down and drop their nets right over them.
“I wish I had my old bat wings,” thought Roger.
“I wish you did too!” Mary telepathed weakly.
“Well I gots wingsh an’ I can’t uses ‘em yets an’ itsh not fair!” sulked Regor to both.
“We need more than a pair of wings to get us out of this fix!” Grannie Maddam replied to all three of them. “We’d need a whole blasted blizzard of wings!”
“What are we going to do, Gran? We can’t just stay here an’ let ‘em catch us” Mary cried. Then turning to Roger, asked pleadingly, “How about a magic token, Roger? Have you got one of them token thingies from the Tree King? That could help us now, couldn’t it?”
“I d-d-don’t think so,” stuttered Roger, “anyway Mary, I really think it’s too late!”
“Watch out, dears ‘ere come those nasty Choppers with their nets!” cried Gran.
“Oh my Holy Hoyle!” gulped Roger.
CHAPTER 7:
A LIGHTER SHADE OF DARK
Roger tightly gripped hold of his hanky, the one full of the magic tokens he’d stuffed into his pocket before leaving home. But not a tweak or a twinge was to be felt from any of them.
“Definitely no help from that quarter then,” he grimly thought.
Meanwhile Grannie Maddam was desperately searching through her copious handbag to see if there was anything there she could use. But she was very badly hampered by the fact of Jericho bumping her up and down as he bounded across the log bridge.
“Oh what can we do – they’ll get us on this bridge for sure?” Mary cried out.
“Steady now, girl, don’t be too quick to pluck yer own feathers, dearie, they ain’t cooked our gooses yet, ‘avs they?” Grannie called back to her as soothingly as she could.
“Oh fiddlesticks and’ fairy-fazookers!” Gran swore. “What aves I got ‘ere, eh? A bag of What-Knots, a Can of Cannots, Scoop of Poop-Corn, a Bag of Hum-Bugs, a Metric Tape-Worm! Now where the blazes is that bothersome box of Smoke-Screams? That might just do the trick!”
But Roger could see that there was now no time left. One of the helicopters had positioned itself above the far end of the bridge in front of them and the other above and behind them. He could see there was no way the helicopters could miss them.
Jericho had seen the Chopper’s maneuvers too and skidded to a halt in the middle of the bridge.
The helicopter straight ahead began its swoop downwards and towards them, nets at the ready.
Roger looked wildly around. There was nowhere to go.
“We’ll have to jump fer it!” Grannie Maddam yelled. “Quick now, over the side of the bridge with me, all of yer.”
They jumped from the back of the Sabre Tooth Tiger and ran to the wooden rail of the bridge. Roger could see the swirling waters of the Quaggy sweeping along below him. He well knew that staying on the bridge wasn’t going to save them. Roger gulped, he hated heights but knew with a cold certainty that on the bridge they were done for. The only choice seemed to be down.
“I hope Gran has something better in mind than us just jumping for it,” he thought.
Then two things happened one after the other.
First a loud rumbling noise began. Roger’s jaws dropped in disbelief. For it was a large troop of Goat-men. Over a hundred pairs of cloven hooves were now galloping across the bridge towards them. It was the very same Hircumen of the Great Forest of Lundun that he and Mary had only just recently encountered before, at the Court of the Tree King.
Roger could see they were all armed with curiously wrought cross-bows and metal tipped staves; these last, they were madly waving in the air keeping the Chopper and its net at bay. There were at least a hundred of them and the courageous Captain Caprinus was at their head, leading their thunderous charge across the wooden bridge.
“I can’t see how threatening those Choppers with wooden sticks is going to stop them for very long though,” Roger whispered to himself.
“Don’sh yous wowwy, Wodger, we’ll finks of sumfin else!” answered Regor bravely.
But they didn’t have to. A second noise, that began soon after the helicopters appeared over the bridge, now impinged even more heavily upon him. This was a most curious and loud whirring noise, like a million humming bees, or even a swarm of locusts; but he really couldn’t tell what it was or where it was coming from at all.
“Look!” Mary called out to him. “Over there, to the west; it’s coming from that large grey cloud over there, above the forest, Roger.”
Roger quickly looked, and she was right. To the west of them, downstream of the river Quaggy and high up over the trees, swirled a vast, grey cloud that was drawing ever nearer. But just then his attention was taken from the cloud as Captain Caprinus arrived with his Goat-men. Roger now sighed with much relief, after getting all prepared to throw himself over the bridge rail.
“Master Roger, Mistress Mary. We meet again!” Caprinus boomed with a polite bow. Then turning to Grannie he gave an even deeper bow, saying, “And to you too of course, Madam Maddam. I am most pleased to find you in fair fettle. We are here to assist you, as you see.”
“Are yer indeed, young man, er, I mean Hircuman. Well, I s’pose we could do wiv a …”
But then Roger suddenly realized what the whirring cloud was and loudly cried out to them, “Look, Gran, Cap’n Caprinus, look! The cloud! It’s not a cloud … it’s b-b-birds!”
And indeed, birds it was! A huge and amorphous mass of them that swirled around in the sky over their heads like dancing smoke. The cloud of birds was a vast murmuration of Starlings.
Roger had never, ever seen such a wild and awesome spectacle performed by birds before.
“There must be thousands upon thousands of them,” he gasped.
“Yep, told yer we’d need a whole blizzard o’ wings didn’t I?” Gran laughed.
The huge cloud of Starlings filled the sky above them and totally engulfed the two hovering Helicopters. The birds somehow seemed impervious to the chopper’s whirling blades, Roger noted, as the swirling mass of birds now formed themselves into ever differing shapes.
“Alright then,” Caprinus shouted, “let’s not hang about here gawping at these birds, they’re giving us a chance, so let’s get across this bridge quick. Charge!”
“Back on Jericho everyone, quick!” Gran commanded. “We’ve gotta hightail it out of ‘ere and get across the Quaggy!” And with that they were off once again.
Jericho once more thundered across the trellis log-bridge with the tribe of Hircumen now right behind him. Roger turned and saw that the column of Humdrum lorries and jeeps and their loads of jeering men were also crossing the bridge. He could hear the loud rumble of their engines and their wheels drumming over the wooden logs, even over the clattering hooves of the Hircumen.
As they galloped on, above them wave on wave of starlings, rippled and crashed across the sky, just like huge ocean waves breaking on some distant sea-shore. Then they changed shape yet again, this time taking the form of giant, rippling ribbons, then into sky-high snakes that coiled and curled, twisting and turning about the diminutive helicopters, left buzzing and bucking in the mad rush of air like two helpless insects.
The pilots were blinded by the birds’ display. They were getting very confused and losing control. Finally, they gave up and flew off. There was no way they could fly safely in such conditions. The murmuration of Starlings then all came together in one
final and enormous apparition in the shape of a huge fire breathing dragon, spouting great gouts of starling-formed flame, as the two defeated helicopters hurried away. The Starling-swarm then swooped over the Quaggy bridge, swirled about their amazed observer’s heads and then headed off back to whence they’d come.
“WOW!” Was all Roger could manage to say, as they disappeared over the trees.
As they paused at the far end of the bridge watching them go, one solitary bird remained and it wasn’t a Starling. It was Jemima, Gran’s South Amerigan Parrot. She had returned from her messengering mission for Grannie and had brought back with her the huge flock of starlings. The arrival of those Starlings had been no accident. Jemima flew down and perched on a wooden rail next to Gran. She pecked at Gran’s elbow, cocked her head, ruffled her colorful feathers and then commenced giving a full report by means of much chirruping, chirping and raucous squawking.
“Can you really talk with her, Gran?” Mary asked incredulously, when she’d finished.
“Of course, dearie; but befores I didn’t want ter attract too much attention to us, now did I? Fer yer sakes as well as me own. Now it ain’t no matter who ‘ears us!”
“Oh, I always thought it was just your normal parrot talk,” Mary said. “Like the pretend
talkin’ an’ the mimicry that all parrots do. Can you teach me Parrot talk, Gran?”
“Yes, dear, but right now we’ve got more troubles! Ol’ Jemima’s juss told me that there’s even more nasty Humdrums on their way, comin’ around both sides of Hooter’s Hill ‘ere from their new Wood-Mill Base Camps they’ve set up in the burnt out Bad Woods; one t’ the East an’ one t’ the West. They’re bringin’ along some ‘eavy lifting and cuttin’ machinery too, she says.”
“That’s right,” boomed Caprinus, “we know about those camps. If we stay here we’ll all be trapped in a three-way pincer movement from those two columns as well as the one behind you! Look across the bridge, they’re coming after us again! There’s only the one way we can go now and that’s straight up the side of Hooter’s Hill!”
“But that’s a newly erupted volcano!” Roger yelped.
“No time ter argue, lad,” cried Gran, “we’re goin’ up that there volcano, like it or not!”
“Well at least there are no more Helicopters for the moment anyhow,” Roger thought.
As if Grannie had read his mind, she called out to them all as they thundered up the sloping hill, “We gotta be careful on these ‘ere volcano slopes coz some of it’s very exposed from the eruption an’ fire an’ those Helly Coppers can gets us again if we don’t watches it!”
“Yes, let’s make for that stand of large trees up on the side over there,” Caprinus pointed. “They’re still standing even if they are burnt out hulks, they’ll at least give us some air cover.”
Roger shuddered, remembering vividly how close both he and Mary and Regor the Dragon Egg, had come to total and painful oblivion on the side of this fire-shattered hill. As they galloped on and up the side of the hill he saw how all the trees had been burnt, blasted or covered with magma and hot ash. There were no healthy living trees left at all on Hooter’s Hill. In fact the stand of trees they were heading for were the tallest remnants of that once thick and proud woodland where all the sentient birds of the Bad Wood had once lived and been so well and wisely ruled by the Giant Owl’s Parliament.
Then Roger gasped out loud as he realized that was in fact exactly where they were heading. That stand of trees was where the old Oak stood that had housed the Parliament Tree of Owls!
“Oh no!” Mary likewise gasped with horror, “look at what those horrible Fire-Worm monsters have done, Roger, it’s so awful!”
“I can seesh wif my mind, Marewee, an’ I don’t wanna seesh wiv my eyesh even when I can opens ‘em. Those Fly Wurms are ‘owwible, tewwible cweechers!” Regor added glumly.
“Well it’s up to us do something about it, I s’pose.” Roger replied to them both.
“OK, me ducks,” came Grannie Maddam’s calming tones as they raced on and up the hill, “let’s not worry ourselves ter death over them beasts that ain’t even wivs us right now eh; they’ll pay fer their deeds, but right now let’s make our deeds keep us alive an’ able to fight another day, eh?”
Jericho and his saddle-sore passengers now arrived at the stand of trees, along with the troop of Hircumen, hard on their heels. They quickly set up camp around the oak that stood like a black finger, pointing in silent accusation at the darkening sky. Roger realized that they were in for a long, arduous night of it, trapped as they were on the side of this black and blasted volcano.
He could see that below them the convoy of jeeps and trucks had organized themselves into a sort of siege camp. They were setting up tents and lighting fires. The Humdrums were obviously intent on seeing that they didn’t sneak back the way they’d come under the cover of night.
“It looks like a stand-off at the moment to me,” whispered Mary. “They’re not following us up here though. I think they’ve got something else planned. What do you think, Roj?”
“I think you’re right, Mary. They know we’re trapped up here now, so they know they don’t need to rush. They’re obviously organizing themselves. I reckon they’ll wait till morning and send in the heavy stuff to cut and burn us out then.”
Roger and Mary had dismounted and were standing next to Gran and Jericho. Gran was busy whispering something into Jemima’s ear and when the Parrot had flown off, she dismounted too.
Then Captain Caprinus trotted up to them and gave another polite bow to Gran. “Greetings, Madam Maddam, I’ve ordered sentries posted all round this grove of trees; they’ll still give us enough air cover if they decide to send in those Helicopters again. We’ve also got the high ground, so that helps. What worries me is that soon as we try and leave here we’ll just be exposed again and be open for attack from above as well as below.”
“Yers Cap’n, I know,” replied Grannie gravely, “we’re in a right ol’ pickle gherkin an’ no mistakes! I’ve sent word of our plight, but meanwhiles we best come up wiv some sort o’ plan.”
Grannie Madden then quickly turned to the children and said, “Howz about you two find a cosy spot for us to bed down fer the night while me an’ the Cap ‘ere mull over some ideas. Now don’t worries none. I’m not gonna decide anything without going over it wiv yers first; but makes good sense ter get what home comforts we can, don’t it?”
“Righto, Gran, we’ll look around in the old Owl Parliament tree too, maybe there’s still a way in to somewhere suitable there; there was last time we were here,” Mary answered.
With that Roger and Mary wandered off towards the nearby Parliament Tree while Grannie and Caprinus sat themselves on a nearby log and began discussing battle tactics and stratagems.
The summer evening stars were coming out now and the atmosphere within the old oak grove was full of mystery as well as moonlight and mist. Even though it was a warm summer’s eve, Roger still felt a chill in the air as he strode around the oak tree looking for a means of entrance. The chill was more to do with the silence of the place though and the sad memories it evoked.
“It was so full of noisy birds before when we were flown in by the Giant Owls,” he muttered, “but I bet this tree has all sorts of hidden doors and such. It was the Bird’s seat of Government after all, and it was a lot bigger inside than outside. Do you remember, Mary?”
“Of course I remember!” Mary answered a bit testily. “I remember it all very, very well!”
“Well, let’s see if we can find a way in then, shall we?”
Roger took out his torch and pointed its pale beam around the broad trunk of the oak. It was full of gnarled old whirls and cracked and blackened platelets of crumbling bark. It was a very large and very old tree indeed.
“There, Roger, look, between those roots: there’s a tunnel there!” Mary suddenly shouted. “I hope it isn’t like the one under the Smoking Tree that I fell down!” she added with a
larm.
Roger got down on his hands and knees and peered down into the tunnel. He played the beam of his torch as deep into it as he could. There was definitely something down there. He could just about see it, and it looked like a little, round, wooden door.
He lowered himself further into the tunnel and could now see that there was indeed a small, wooden door there. It was just big enough for them to enter by, if they crouched down.
He could clearly see that it was a broken and buckled door, hanging askew from its hinges and beyond it there seemed to be a faint green glow from the interior. He recalled how well the green light had lit the inside, from the Guest Nest they’d been taken to when they’d last visited.
“Door must have been damaged when the volcano erupted,” Roger thought.
“I’m right behind you, Roj, let’s go in further and explore,” Mary called from behind him. “If anywhere could be a safe haven on this God-forsaken hill then it’ll be this place.”
“I’m wight behine yous too, Wodger,” Regor chimed in, “as long as yoos are warewing that Wucksack wiv my egg in it, then I’ll always be wight behine yoos, won’ts I?” he finished, chuckling to himself.
Roger entered, pushing the buckled door to one side. He found himself in a dimly-lit wooden hallway; to one side was a spiral stairway going up and on the other side a spiral stairway going down. The whole area was bathed in the gloomy, greenish glow that seemed to emanate from the wooden walls. Everything there had been carved from the innards of the giant oak and just as Roger recalled, it was far, far bigger on the inside than looked at all possible from the outside.
“Let’s have a look upstairs,” Roger whispered to Mary.
“Righto, O bold knight, lead on!” Mary answered trying to sound as jovial as she could.
They mounted the stairs and as they reached the floor above, they felt the creeping change in the atmosphere around them. The air grew more dank and chilled and as Roger looked up he saw all the devastation that had been wrought in this once magnificent tower of avian wit and wisdom.
Dragon's Flight Page 7