by Lari Don
“Stop whispering and mumbling,” said the voice. “We want to hear the wind on our hillside, not your moans.”
“Stop talking or what?” yelled Innes. “What can you do that’s worse than trapping us here to rot?”
“We could pull you apart. You can stay on our hill forever just as easily in bits as you can in your current shapes.”
The grey men flexed their fingers and cracked their knuckles. Silently.
“No more talk,” whispered Beth. “I’d rather die now attacking these things, than wait for them to pull us apart.” She stood up.
Theo sighed. “There’s no need for everyone to risk themselves until we see what I can manage.” He laid the palms of his hands on the earth under the heather.
Then he stood up. He pressed his hands together and drew them slowly apart. A bright golden chain appeared between his palms, with flames flickering along its links. He pulled his hands wider apart. The chain grew longer, with more and more burning links.
Then his arms were at full stretch and the chain was drooping under the weight of its burning golden links.
He flicked his right hand and the chain fell away. He grasped it in his left hand and whirled it above his head. The chain grew even longer and the flames burnt taller.
Molly, Innes, Beth and Atacama ducked as the chain scalded the air above their heads.
Theo whirled the chain faster and longer and hotter. Then he threw it up into the air.
He kept his left hand circling and the chain whirled above them, creating a burning hoop in the air. The chain rose and the circle grew.
The small voice squealed, “What are you doing? Stop it! Sit down and die quietly!”
The loop of flaming chain rose higher than the grey men’s heads and grew wider than the circle they stood in.
The grey men, roaring noiselessly and flapping their hands, stepped forward, foggy fingers reaching out for the group on the hilltop.
“Stop it!” the high-pitched voice screamed.
Theo lowered his hand.
The loop of chain dropped to the height of the grey men’s shoulders and started to tighten round them. They shrieked silently and stepped forward again, bashing into each other.
“You’re pulling them towards us,” yelled Beth.
“Sorry, it’s the only way…” Theo flicked his hands.
The red-gold flames turned orange, then yellow, then the fire-chain was burning white hot.
The grey men stumbled inwards, trying to get away from the heat.
Molly and Beth wrapped their arms around their heads and crouched down as the giants’ huge feet crashed closer and closer.
Molly heard a hissing sound and looked up. Where the chain touched the grey men, the mist was burning off, steaming into cloudy wisps then vanishing. The giants’ heads and bodies were fading away.
But their feet were still stomping, stamping and shaking the ground.
The voice was screaming, “NO, STOP, NO!”
Theo brought the chain lower and lower, burning hotter and hotter, until the giants’ legs were steaming away too.
Molly rolled out of the way of a pair of massive panicking feet. She banged into Atacama, as the feet hissed and steamed then slowly vanished.
The chain fell to the ground with a thud, burning its way into the heather. A few final misty toes bounced about, then disappeared in a puff of steam.
The chain sank into the earth, leaving a fiery circle in the heather. Innes and Beth stamped out the flames.
The voice squealed, “You’ve scarred my beautiful hill!”
Molly saw a small grey knobbly man, running away downhill, wailing and hitting his own head. “That’s what attacked us? A little gnome thing?”
Beth said, “We have to get away, before he finds more weather to trap us with. Thanks for giving us this chance, Theo.”
Innes nodded. “I admit the toad-boy did find their weakness. I might even shake his hand, but… where is he?”
They looked round the summit.
Theo had vanished.
Chapter Thirteen
Molly pointed to the ground. “Theo’s here. But he doesn’t have a hand for you to shake. He’s a toad again.”
They crowded round the warty sand-coloured toad, who was squatting in the centre of the smoking circle.
Beth sighed. “Poor thing. But we can’t stay here.” She lifted the toad up, shoved him in her pocket and led the way as they all ran down the slope, still following the wyrm’s trail.
They didn’t stop running for half a mile.
Beth gasped, “I think that’s a safe distance. Should we continue the wyrm hunt or take a look at Theo?”
Molly said, “Theo first.”
Beth put the toad on the ground and they all sat in front of him.
They stared at the toad. The toad stared at them.
“How do we change him back?” asked Molly.
“Do we have to?” asked Innes.
“Don’t be horrible,” snapped Beth.
“No, really,” said Innes seriously. “I actually prefer him like this. It’s quieter, isn’t it? No one bossing us about or showing off. He’s a restful sort of toad. I always liked him when he was a toad. Let’s just, you know, leave him as he is. Not interfere with the natural way of things.”
“He did this to save us from the grey men,” said Beth. “We have to turn him back.”
Molly said, “Talk to us, Theo. Tell us what you need.”
Innes snorted. “He can’t talk. That’s one of the nicest things about him right now.”
“He can communicate,” said Molly. “We’ve done it before. A croak for yes, silence for no?”
The toad croaked once.
Molly asked, “Can you turn back by yourself?”
The toad stayed silent.
“Can we help you turn back?”
Silence.
“Would another stone egg help?”
Silence.
“What about a kiss?” said Innes. “So you can turn back into the charming prince we’re all so fond of.”
The toad crawled towards Innes, stared at him, then crawled away again.
Innes laughed. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t offer.”
Molly sighed. “Could we donate some life energy to you?”
“Stop offering him your life-force,” said Innes. “There’s lots of power in the hills around us. He just can’t use it. Can you?”
More silence.
“You can’t use the raw power,” said Beth. “You need stored power.”
The toad croaked.
“He stored power in his hair,” said Beth. “And since we first saw him, his hair hasn’t started growing back. Not even stubble.”
“Gosh, is he going bald already?” said Innes. “At the age of what? Twelve? Thirteen? That’s a bit embarrassing.”
“It’s not a joke,” said Beth. “If his hair doesn’t grow back after the attack, he might never regain his full powers.”
“If someone else gave you a lock of hair,” said Molly, “could you store power in that?”
The toad croaked, then shrugged.
“That’s a maybe. It’s worth trying.” Molly looked round. Her own brown hair wasn’t even shoulder-length, Innes’s blond hair was cut close to his scalp and Atacama’s black fur was smooth and short. But Beth…
“Beth, you have lots of lovely long purple hair.”
“Yes, ok. Anyone got scissors?”
Molly shook her head and looked at Innes. “Could you use your fish teeth again?”
Innes pulled a small red penknife from his pocket. “I didn’t want my pike jaws to be the team’s portable sharp object again, so I brought this. It’s my mum’s old hoofpick, but it has a wee pair of scissors too.”
He handed it to Molly and she eased the tiny scissors out.
Then she lifted up Beth’s mass of long fine hair. “If I cut some from underneath, it won’t show, much.”
“Just get on with it.”
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Molly hacked off a length of soft purple hair. “We should plait it, so it stays together.”
“This isn’t just a way of storing power,” said Atacama. “This is also a gift from us to Theo. I know we don’t always like his attitude—”
“Or his curses,” muttered Innes. “Or his ambushes. Or his icy cages. Or his voice. Or his face.”
“But we’re a team,” said Atacama. “So we should weave hairs from each of us into the plait. Molly, can you pull a few hairs from my tail?”
Molly tugged gently at the tip of his tail, and pulled out half a dozen silky black hairs.
Then Beth chopped a lock of brown hair from behind Molly’s right ear.
They all turned to look at Innes.
“Really? You think I want to give toad-boy anything of mine?”
Beth said, “If we want to keep working together, this has to be from all of us.”
Innes sighed. “I suppose he can be quite useful. And it’s probably no fun being stuck as a toad.” He leant forward and Beth hacked pale hairs from the nape of his neck.
Molly held the top of the long lock of purple hair, while the dryad plaited. Beth twisted in short hairs from Atacama, Molly and finally Innes. Then Molly tied the plait loosely round the toad’s saggy neck.
They all stared at the toad again. He stared back.
Nothing happened.
Innes said, “If toad-boy really can absorb power from the hills, he can do it while we’re walking through them.”
So Molly picked the toad up, and they trudged along the wyrm’s trail, muttering about lunch (which no one had brought) and tea (which wasn’t likely to be any more filling than lunch).
Every so often Molly put the toad on the ground. “If you’re going to change, I’d rather not be carrying you when you do!”
But he didn’t change. He just looked resigned and floppy. So, each time, she put him back in her pocket and kept on trudging.
“How far have we walked now?” she asked.
“Hundreds of miles,” said Innes.
“No more than ten miles,” said Beth. “It feels like more because of all the up and down.”
“We don’t have to go much further,” said Atacama. “I can smell it now. Not the trail, but the wyrm itself. We’re very close.”
They stopped and looked round.
They could see sloping hillsides, tussocky grass, dry heather, grey stone. No scales or tails.
“Where does the trail lead?” asked Molly.
Beth pointed past some crushed grass. “Up there.”
They looked up the slope to the low round hill ahead. But they couldn’t see a wyrm.
On a green field last week, the wyrm’s purple, russet, grey and gold scales had been bright and obvious, but on the hillside they would be perfect camouflage. The wyrm was the same colour as the heather, bracken and stones.
Molly half-closed her eyes. There was a strip of hill where those landscape colours were arranged in diamonds and lines, where she could almost glimpse the smoothness of scales against the roughness of the ground either side.
“I see it. It’s coiled round the summit.”
Molly walked a few steps up the slope. Now she could see spikes lying flat against the wyrm’s spine and the ruff of skin gathered against its neck.
The wyrm was huge. And asleep.
Molly sighed. “We’ll have to wake it up…”
She turned round. Her friends were behind her, looking nervous.
“It will remember us, won’t it?” she asked.
“I’m sure it will,” said Beth.
“But will it remember us before or after it’s swallowed us?” murmured Innes. “I’ll wake it, if you want.”
“You yelled at it; I spoke to it politely. It’s safer if I wake it.” Molly took another step forward, then stopped. “If it’s going to eat me deliberately, it seems a shame for it to eat Theo accidentally as well.” She took the toad out of her pocket and put him on the ground.
The toad crawled away from the wyrm.
“Coward,” said Innes.
The toad crawled further away and collapsed, all four legs splayed out. Molly saw the plait of hair round the toad’s throat glow, then spark, then crumble. The toad squirmed and grew, sprouting toes and fingers. Suddenly Theo was sprawled on the heather.
He curled up, moaning. Beth ran over to him. “Are you ok?”
Theo took a deep breath, uncurled and stood up. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
“Did you break the curse again, with the plait?” asked Molly.
“No, that wasn’t the curse. All the raw power ripping through me to control the fire-chain weakened me. I think the toad form was waiting to ambush me when I couldn’t resist. So it’s not the curse, more an echo of the curse. But your gift allowed me to store enough power to change back. Thanks! And you’ve found the wyrm?”
Molly nodded. “I’m going to wake it up.”
She climbed the slope and laid her hand cautiously on the huge scaly head. “Hello, Mr Wyrm. Sorry to disturb you, Mr Wyrm.”
The wyrm’s eyes opened, its head rose and its ruff flicked out.
Molly took a step back. “Hello, Mr Wyrm. I hope you remember us. We freed you from the curse at Cut Rigg. We’d like to ask a favour.”
The wyrm tipped its head to one side.
“Do you understand me?”
The wyrm yawned.
Molly tried to keep her voice steady as she looked at the wyrm’s spear-length fangs. “We’re searching for an ancient rainbow-maker toy, created by the first snake. Have you heard of it?”
The wyrm flicked its tail. Atacama leapt into the air sideways, to avoid being knocked over.
Molly looked at her friends. “Even if it can understand me, how can it answer me?”
Theo said, “Let me try.”
“The wyrm won’t recognise you as one of the curse-lifting team.” Molly turned to the wyrm. “This boy was the toad who built the outhouse.”
“He built the toilet,” muttered Innes.
As Molly stepped back, Theo sat cross-legged in front of the wyrm.
Then he spoke. Not in English, nor in a sibilant snaky language. He spoke in a language with high clicks, deep burrs and a rhythm that matched no language Molly had ever heard. Even so, she felt she almost understood.
After Theo introduced himself, the wyrm answered, in a hissier voice, but with the same clicks and rhythm. Molly almost grasped that too. Were they chatting about the weather?
Then Theo spoke more firmly, with rising inflections. Asking questions. Asking favours.
The wyrm answered.
Molly whispered, “I think the wyrm knows where the rainbow-maker is.”
Innes said, “Yes, I almost understood that.”
“I never thought I would hear this,” said Atacama. “It’s like something out of the old myths.”
Theo bowed his head and the wyrm bowed back.
Theo stood up and walked to the others. “The wyrm owes us gratitude and a favour. She thinks the circling snake, the oldest serpent she knows, may have played with the rainbow-maker in his youth. She’ll help us find him.”
“What language were you speaking?” asked Molly.
“I was speaking the first language, the language all our ancestors spoke before they built the tower of Babel, in your Biblical times. I’m not fluent, but it can be useful.”
“Where is the circling snake?” asked Atacama.
“On the coast.”
“The coast!” said Beth. “But we’ve just walked towards the heart of Scotland, directly away from the sea.”
“I can go on my own,” said Innes, “or carrying a couple of you.”
“We’re all bound to this quest now,” said Theo. “Anyway, the wyrm can only speak to me and she’s most attached to Molly.”
“Even though I called her Mr Wyrm…” murmured Molly.
Beth said, “So we must all go.”
“How?” asked Innes. “I can’t carry a
ll of you.”
Theo spoke to the wyrm again.
She nodded.
Theo smiled. “The wyrm will carry us north on her back. I hope everyone has good balance and no one gets travelsick, because this could be a bumpy ride…”
Chapter Fourteen
“I can gallop as fast as this wyrm can slither,” said Innes. “I’ll follow and pick up anyone who falls off. Atacama, will you run with me?”
Atacama shook his head. “I would be honoured to travel with this noble wyrm.”
Innes smiled. “Probably wise. Cats are built for quick hunts, not endurance running.”
Molly and Beth looked at each other, then at the wyrm’s wide spiky back.
“It might be a rollercoaster ride,” said Molly, “but I’ll give it a go.”
“Me too,” said Beth.
But it wasn’t anything like a rollercoaster ride, because the wyrm didn’t move up and down, she moved from side to side.
The serpentine movement might look smooth and elegant to any witnesses on the summits of the surrounding hills. But for the passengers on the wyrm’s back, with hands clutching onto spines or claws hooked over scales, it was an extremely disorientating way to travel: constantly jerking from left to right as well as forward, at breathtaking speed.
Molly felt dizzy if she looked down at the ground under the wyrm, so she tried to keep her eyes on the horizon, even though that meant Beth, Atacama and Theo were whipping in and out of view in front of her.
Eventually she got used to the wyrm’s rhythm and learnt to move her shoulders to compensate, so her head wasn’t jerked about. She started to enjoy the scaly sprint through the landscape and she was almost sorry when they arrived at the coast.
Molly could see a fishing village to her left, but the wyrm avoided it, just like she had avoided all the towns on the way.
Then the wyrm paused at the top of a cliff and nosed through the gorse on the cliff edge. She found a narrow gully, at a slightly shallower angle than the steep rockface, and slid down to the beach below.
“That last bit was too much like a rollercoaster,” Molly gasped, as she clambered down. Theo, Beth and Atacama joined her on the sand.
The wyrm twisted her head and looked along her own curved body, then bit off one of her own spines. She spat the spine at the sand in front of Molly’s feet.