The Salt Krasnals

by Richard Monte

  He had not gone far, when he froze, hearing a deep groaning sound coming from further off. The air smelt smoky and Hrapek crept forward until he could hear the awful noise so loudly he began to imagine that a nasty creature might spring out of the trees and snatch him up.

  “Quick Hrapek! Get out of the way!” he exclaimed to himself, but his feet wouldn’t move.

  There was no sign of any horrible beast lumbering through the pine trees, and Hrapek began to wonder if the groans he was hearing were in fact coming from someone who was hurt. Slowly he edged forward, circling a dying fire and moving out towards the trees ahead of him. No matter how quiet he tried to be, dry twigs kept snapping under his little feet. Hrapek held his breath. To his surprise the groaning stopped for a moment and a desperate voice called out,

  “Help!… Is anyone?… Help!”

  Without even thinking whether this might have been a trick, Hrapek walked right out into the open and there he was struck by a terrible view. A funny creature with mossy green hair had one of his legs caught in a sharp metal trap, his face riddled with pain and his hands pulling at the green clump on his head.

  “You… You’re… back again… so quick! My… good… fellow, please… help me… I’m… in agony,” he stuttered.

  The wretched thing kept moaning so pitifully that Hrapek could hardly make sense of his words, but one thing he knew instinctively was that the funny little figure needed help.

  “Fetch… my… wife! Old… stump!… door… left!”

  Hrapek had great difficulty understanding the plea, but managed to work out that he had been asked to find the creature’s wife, and the door to their house was hidden in an old tree stump on the left. He knocked hard on the bark and a few moments later it was opened by someone with ribbons in her green mossy hair.

  “Mossypot!… Oh it’s not you,” she said seeing Hrapek standing on her bark doorstep.

  “You must come quick! Your husband has his leg caught in a trap! Listen, that’s him groaning over there,” the krasnal urged.

  The stout little creature had no sooner heard her husband’s cries for help than she dropped her rolling pin and ran to his aid.

  “Mossypot! I said be careful. I said watch out for the rabbit traps,” then turning to Hrapek she snapped,

  “Well, make yourself useful and help me get my husband out of this!”

  Once they had freed the leg, not without a lot of shouts and screams from Mossypot, they discovered the wound looked nasty.

  Hrapek knew of the healing herb called plantain and asked if it grew in the forest.

  “I’ve got some in the house. Help me carry him back and I’ll wash and dress the cut,” said Mossypot’s wife.

  She was a strong little thing with a dark green mop of moss for hair like her husband. Hrapek lifted Mossypot’s head and shoulders while she took the legs and very carefully they carried him back to the house under the tree.

  Once Mossypot’s injured leg was washed, dried and dressed, and the poor creature was sitting up in his favourite armchair by the fire, his wife thanked Hrapek.

  “You must be from the salt mine. I hope you are not in such a rush and can join us for supper?”

  Hrapek felt a bit guilty at the thought that Gappek and Bulbek were probably battling their way through the dangerous world and here he was mulling over whether or not to accept an invitation of supper in the very warm and comfortable Mossypot home. The smell of herbs and spices coming from Mrs Mossypot’s kitchen was in the end far too tempting and the lazy krasnal soon convinced himself that he really needed some extra strength and energy before continuing any further with his journey. Besides another bowl had already been set at the table.

  “Soup all right?” asked Mossypot’s wife as she bustled back into the kitchen to attend to the bubbling pot.

  Soup! Of course it was all right. Hrapek suddenly realised that he hadn’t had a meal since breakfast and in all the hustle and bustle dressing Mossypot’s wound, he’d actually forgotten to eat! Forgotten to eat! Which for any krasnal is almost an impossibility. But there it was and now Hrapek sat with his legs crossed on the floor, his back to the fire, waiting patiently for supper, while old Mossypot, who loved a bit of gossip piped up,

  “You won’t be able to believe it, but a couple of chaps just like you passed this way the other day! A bit less grey, but you look like three birds from the same nest!”

  “A bit less grey!” exclaimed Hrapek before he had time to digest the rest of the news.

  “Who cares about colours? I’ve got green hair. So what?”

  Mossypot’s remark made Hrapek blush.

  “Oh no…” he stammered, “What I meant… I’m so relieved to hear you met my brothers, because I need to catch up with them as soon as possible!”

  Mossypot shook his head in disbelief.

  “And you think you’ll catch them up by lounging around my house eating herb soup!”

  Hrapek began to feel a bit guilty again.

  Mossypot leaned forward in his chair, wincing as he moved his injured leg.

  “I know the thought of that soup is mouth-watering, but aren’t you worried your brothers are getting too far ahead… What you need is a short cut!”

  “But I don’t know the way,” lamented Hrapek.

  The smell of piping hot nettle soup hit his nostrils and a moment later in came Mossypot’s wife, carrying three bowls, each with a sprig of rosemary sticking out of the top. The soup was so good that Hrapek even wiped his bowl clean with hunks of fresh bread.

  “A short cut… Yes, that’s right…” Mossypot spoke with his mouth full and pointed to a red door behind the krasnal at the end of the long living room.

  A string of little oil lamps hung in a row above a shelf.

  “Don’t forget I also live underground. I have access to a network of winding tunnels that lead to all the houses under this forest. I don’t usually let strangers through my red door, but on this occasion I’m prepared to make an exception.”

  “How will I know which way to go?” asked Hrapek, suddenly a bit worried that he might get lost underground and never find his way out of the forest.

  “That’s where my precious lamps come in,” explained Mossypot.

  “Each one burns with a different coloured flame. Salt crystals hang along each of the tunnels. You will take the lamp which burns with the green flame. Only the green salt crystals will glow when the light shines upon them. The lamp will lead you out of the forest in no time,” reassured Mossypot.

  “At the end of the tunnel you will find a little box. Open it and hang the lamp on the hook inside. Be sure to close the box. These lamps have gone missing before. A hairy ogre with a crystal eye is rumoured to roam in these parts. He lights forest fires and lays traps to catch unwary creatures, then burgles their homes.”

  Mossypot sniffed and looked down at his poor injured leg.

  “I’ve caught him snooping around this forest once or twice. I suspect he took one of my lamps for it disappeared mysteriously. His eye can spot the shiny glint of polished metal and the sheen of a precious stone for miles. They say the walls of his cave are lined with all manner of earthly objects and that anyone who strays in there does not come out alive. The creatures of this forest have had no end of things go missing: oil paintings, handmade jewels, wooden trinkets – little keepsakes – priceless in their own way. Well, I never leave the house unattended nowadays. Let’s hope your brothers are safe and sound.”

  “You don’t know krasnals. I suspect my brothers will be very near Krakow by now,” said Hrapek, not wishing to hear any more frightening stories about glass-eyed ogres!

  “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must be on my way, or I will never catch up with them.”

  Mossypot called his wife who unlocked the red door. Hrapek took the green lamp from the shelf and thanking the Mossypots for their kind hospitality wished the husband a speedy return to health, and disappeared along the tunnel looking for the green salt crystals which glowed al
ong the walls above him.

  The Ogre’s Cave

  A thick, white, soupy fog was clinging to the top of the hill like a head of hair on an old man. Gappek and Bulbek trailed behind, following a rocky path which wound its way towards the summit.

  “Nasty looking fog,” remarked the ogre. “Sinking towards the ground.”

  The two krasnals could hardly hide their disappointment.

  Gappek squinted and tried to peer through the dense mist.

  “They say on a clear day you can see the lofty spires and towers of Krakow.”

  “And the White Forest, away towards the west,” added Bulbek.

  The krasnals sighed with resignation – they had been speculating on the size and shape of the salt queen’s castle, and hoped to get a peep at it from the hill.

  “We could easily get lost in this mist,” observed Bulbek.

  “Never mind. The fog won’t last forever,” said the ogre, hurrying upwards in his eagerness to get on.

  Suddenly the air was filled with a wild screeching sound. Gappek tumbled over a rock, his legs and arms waving and his bottom in the air, causing Bulbek to trip over him. The ogre turned his head towards the clouds and peering through the mist with his crystal eye, detected that the whole sky was bright red. Above he could see the crimson tips of an eagle’s enormous wing and watched as she swooped down over the hill. The two krasnals covered their eyes, as the great bird circled round them and rose up again into the thick fog.

  “What was that?” asked Bulbek, recovering his wits and picking up the leather bag which Gappek had dropped in panic.

  “The White Eagle. You must have heard of her,” replied the ogre.

  “They say she lives in Gniezno, in a great nest in the sky. I have seen her flying over Krakow before. She once had friends and relatives in the White Forest, but there are rumours they’ve all been captured by the wicked witch…”

  Gappek, hardly listening to these remarks, started brushing down his waistcoat.

  “Well, I wish this enormous bird had a bit more respect for the smaller creatures in this world. I could have broken a leg,” he said contemptuously.

  But as they picked themselves up and continued on their way, no one spotted the salt globe rolling quietly downhill. It had slipped out of Bulbek’s bag when he’d dropped it and was now lying under a fallen tree trunk.

  The ascent was getting steeper and the krasnals stumbled again, rolling downwards.

  “It must be difficult for you to negotiate your way in the mist.

  “Pass me your rope and we’ll use it to keep ourselves together,” suggested the ogre, gently looping the cord around their little waists.

  “Good job we brought this,” said Bulbek.

  “When we get to Krakow safe and sound, we must ask the salt queen to reward you.”

  As they got nearer to the top of the hill Gappek was convinced that the mist was getting thinner. Soon it was apparent to them all that the sun was breaking through.

  “Just a few more steps…” muttered the ogre, looking over his shoulder to make sure the two krasnals were keeping up.

  Bulbek was puffing and panting and wiping his yellow fringe away from his eyes.

  At the top they wanted to stop and eat, but the ogre did not need to rest and promised them a big feast once they were on flat ground. He knew a place where succulent fruit trees and juicy berry bushes grew by a clear stream and although it took some convincing, the krasnals decided it sounded worth the wait. So on they went, down the other side of the hill, letting the ogre lead them. It was much easier now all three were tied to the same rope. They weren’t far from the summit, when Gappek gasped. He’d spotted a hole in the mist and a feeling of relief washed over him. As the krasnal squinted and looked hard he thought he could see the spires and churches of Krakow.

  “Bulbek look! The queen’s city!” he called out with glee.

  The ogre seemed more eager to pull them along a dusty track down the steep slope, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

  “There will be plenty of time to gaze in wonder, when we reach the city,” he insisted.

  “You can let us walk by ourselves now. We’ll be all right going downhill.”

  Gappek felt a bit uneasy. He detected a slight note of irritation in the ogre’s tone.

  “Keep together!” barked the reply.

  “The rope stays, until we reach our destination.”

  Gappek looked round nervously at his brother.

  Bulbek stared through the thinning mist. Away to the west dark clouds were gathering beyond the city.

  “Looks like there’s a heavy storm coming,” he warned, pulling the rope as he was speaking.

  “It always snows in the White Forest,” the ogre replied calmly.

  “But those enormous black clouds are moving so quickly,” warned Gappek.

  “They are being blown towards Krakow. They say it has been hit by wild poppy seed storms recently,” replied the ogre.

  Gappek was busy searching the ground.

  “This path – where is it leading us? Shouldn’t we be heading that way?”

  He pointed north, where the terracotta spires of Krakow were still visible.

  “You must be starving by now. I can hear my own stomach rumbling. The best thing would be to stop at my house for a while.”

  They didn’t know what to think, but the prospect of some delicious food, perhaps cooked over an open fire, convinced them that it might be worth stopping off at the cave. Bulbek even began to imagine he could smell garlic and mushrooms in the air and was soon following the ogre with the eagerness of a half-starved wayfarer.

  The next moment they were plunging downwards. The mist seemed to be getting thicker again and once more they were having trouble seeing where they were going. A huge shadow loomed up in front of them and before they knew it, the ogre had disappeared into a dark tunnel. The drops of mist were swirling all around their feet and the blue sky, the lofty spires and pale wintry forest they had seen a moment before, had vanished as if they were little more than an illusion. Somewhere above them, they heard the drum-beat of wings, but now they could see nothing beyond the opaque mist which clung to the rocks ahead. Perhaps it was that great eagle they had seen before following the path. The rope became slack and the ogre turned on them.

  The two krasnals peered apprehensively into the dark, gloomy opening of an enormous cave. Sharp edges of rock stuck out from the sides, making it look like a mouth with teeth. Gappek shivered, wishing once again he was tucked up safely in the little salt house, as far away as possible from this horrible place. What fate awaited them inside they could hardly guess, but it was not likely to be anything fortuitous.

  “Welcome to my cave little krasnals. Please make yourself at home while I get you some food.”

  As he said this the ogre undid the twisted rope, tied it firmly round a pillar of rock and then scuttled off into the dim shadows of the eerie cave. Gappek couldn’t prevent his knees from knocking together, he was so frightened. There were shapes and shadows on the walls, dancing in the flickering candlelight. Even Bulbek had difficulty convincing himself they were not real. The air was stuffy and the whole place was filled with a sinister, haunting feeling. Gappek closed his little eyes and tried to think of the salt house. Bulbek, a bit bolder than his brother in this instance, peered into the gloom and found himself looking at shelves and cupboards full of the strangest objects he had ever seen. Gold framed paintings, marble sculptures, cuckoo clocks, silver bells, bronze swords, copper coins…

  “Look at all this stuff…” whispered Bulbek.

  Gappek opened one eye gingerly.

  “He takes things, doesn’t he… This ogre steals from others…”

  As he spoke a cold sweat broke out over Bulbek’s little body. He fumbled desperately in the backpack, feeling for the hard round ball of salt. He scrabbled in the corners, beneath the carry mats…

  “Gappek! It’s gone! He’s taken it from us!”

  “What fools
we’ve been my brother. What fools!” lamented Gappek.

  “There must be a passage at the back of the cave. We’ve got to think of some way of getting out of here,” insisted Bulbek,

  “We’ve got to find that globe!”

  A Shadow in the Oak Tree

  Hrapek was convinced that whoever dug out these tunnels had taken their inspiration from the salt mine. The narrow winding burrows reminded him of the long passageways he had often wandered along in Wieliczka. Then there were the salt crystals hanging like lights along the upper walls, without which it would have been pitch black. Mossypot’s lamp was an ingenious device, lighting up just those passages which glowed green and directing the krasnal quickly beneath the forest. Once or twice he stopped at a crossroads and wondered who lived along one of the other tunnels. His boots were making so much noise as he ran, that on a few occasions green doors were thrust open and the angry voices of voles and badgers bellowed out,

  “Hey, keep the racket down. We’re trying to get some sleep in here!”

  Hrapek muttered his apologies and even took off his boots and tiptoed past the doors, then put them back on again so his feet didn’t get sore.

  Before long, he came to the end of the green tunnel and found the box which Mossypot had described. Hanging up his lamp and closing the door behind him, Hrapek stepped out once again into the open world and hastened on his way. He was fast when he put his mind to it. There was an urgency about his movements and he soon left the pine forest far behind.

  “They’ll not be calling me an old krasnal when they realise how quickly I caught up with them,” he muttered to himself as his little feet covered the ground.

  But it wasn’t long before Hrapek began to doubt himself once more. The world was a big place. What chance had he of finding his brothers out here in the vast forests and rolling hills beyond the salt mine?

  “The trouble with you Hrapek is that you are a dreamer. It’s all very well striding out into the world on your own, but what makes you think you can find Gappek and Bulbek without any help?”