by Walter Moers
Smyke drew a deep breath.
‘When the final hammer blows died away, the furnaces went out, and all the alchemists’ potions were used up, a brand-new, spick-and-span army stood arrayed in that clearing in Nurn Forest. Because it was the fashion in those days to embellish armour and weapons with decorative designs in copper, and because that reddish metal glinted and gleamed so brightly, the creators of the bionic soldiers christened them the Copper Killers.’
‘Ah,’ said Rumo.
‘But the army simply stood there. It stood there quite motionless, like a gigantic war memorial. The watchmakers murmured, the surgeons whispered together, the locksmiths swore. At length one of the alchemists, Zoltep Zaan by name, stepped forward and spoke: “This army will never move unless it’s ordered to. Soldiers are like that – they need a commander.” Zaan pointed to the remaining pile of armour, limbs and weapons – leftovers for which no use had been found.
“Let’s manufacture a commander out of those,” Zaan went on. “Let’s make a general for the Copper Killers, and in place of a heart, brain and soul I’ll insert a nugget of zamonium.”
‘Zam what?’ asked Rumo.
‘Zamonium, the rarest element in Zamonia! In addition to being able to think, it’s reputed to be insane. I told you this was the craziest story of all.’
Rumo did his best to memorise the word ‘zamonium’, but it eluded him like a slippery fish.
‘The surgeons, alchemists and armourers spent the rest of the night fitting the remaining bits and pieces together. They were so keen to use up the last little screw, the smallest spring and tiniest cogwheel, that their bionic man grew steadily bigger and more intricate.
‘The crowning moment came when Zoltep Zaan added the nugget of zamonium to the last of the Copper Killers. He made a big thing out of this operation, which he performed under a blanket so that no one could see exactly where he inserted it. When the warrior was complete, the experts stepped back and inspected their latest creation. It was twice as tall as the rest and looked even more terrifying. The creature raised its head, opened its mouth, which was lined with razor-sharp blades, and spoke in a metallic voice punctuated – as if by hiccups – by the ticking of a clockwork mechanism inside it. “We have been [tick] created [tock] to kill! We are [tick] the Copper [tock] Killers!” Then it smote its breast with its fist. The other warriors did likewise, again and again, until the whole of Nurn Forest rang with the sound and all the birds flew off, squawking in alarm. “We are the Copper Killers! We are the Copper Killers!” they chanted.
‘Their leader raised his hand in a soothing gesture and they all fell silent. “I,” he proclaimed, “am [tick] the greatest [tock] of all [tick] Copper Killers [tock]. Call me General Ticktock!”
“General Ticktock! General Ticktock!” the Copper Killers shouted, beating time on their shields.
‘Now they all waited for General Ticktock to issue his first order. The gigantic Copper Killer levelled his finger at the surgeons and watchmakers, alchemists and craftsmen to whom he owed his existence.
‘“Those [tick] men there,” he cried, “created us [tock]. They created us [tick] to kill [tock]. We mustn’t [tick] disappoint them! [tock] Let’s kill them! [tick] Let’s kill them [tock] good and proper!”’
Rumo gasped. What a devil he was, this General Ticktock!
It hadn’t escaped Smyke that Rumo was finding the story quite harrowing enough, so he decided to spare him the details of the ensuing butchery.
‘It was a frightful massacre, but it lasted only a few minutes. The men were slaughtered like cattle. Only a few of the weaponsmiths, watchmakers, surgeons and alchemists managed to escape and spread word of what had happened in Nurn Forest. Zoltep Zaan, the inventor of General Ticktock, was among them.’
Smyke drew another deep breath.
‘Well, that was the story of the Battle of Nurn Forest. But the story of the Copper Killers has only just begun.’
‘Go on!’ Rumo said coaxingly.
Smyke sighed. ‘Do you realise that this is the third story in succession and we still haven’t finished the story we began with?’
‘Never mind! Go on!’
Smyke inclined his head in a submissive little gesture.
‘Very well. This army of invulnerable, invincible fighting machines roamed Zamonia for years on end, spreading universal fear and trepidation. The Copper Killers captured every town they besieged, slaughtered every living creature within its walls and ended by razing it to the ground. They didn’t murder and pillage in order to survive, for they weren’t really alive any more. They didn’t steal in order to eat and drink, for they were immune to hunger and thirst. They simply killed for killing’s sake. The Copper Killers were like fate – like a natural disaster that occurred without warning, suddenly and for no reason, with the merciless fury of war itself. Their victims heard a distant ticking, a distant clatter and there they were. And, sure enough, there came a day when these copper devils, under the command of General Ticktock, appeared outside Lindworm Castle.’
‘Wow!’ said Rumo.
‘Exactly! That’s more or less what the Lindworms must have said when they saw the Copper Killers march up to their gates. The air was filled with metallic, mechanical, electrical noises: the creak of hinges, the wheezing of bellows, the crackle of alchemical batteries, the ticking of the mechanisms that served the Copper Killers as organs, sinews or muscles. It sounded as if an army of clocks had deployed outside Lindworm Castle. Bells chimed and alarms rang and the army came to a halt. All that could now be heard was the thousandfold whirring of clockwork devices and the rhythmical pounding of pistons.’
Smyke bent over and blew his nose into the pool.
‘The warriors’ polished copper accoutrements glittered in the sunlight,’ he went on, ‘and their black pennants fluttered in the wind. They conveyed an impression of absolute invincibility.’
‘Pitch!’ cried Rumo. ‘Boiling water, molten lead!’
Smyke grinned. ‘Although the Lindworms were impressed, they were very far from being intimidated. They had become accustomed to the sight of fearsome-looking warriors marching up to their stronghold armed to the teeth and they were just as accustomed to seeing them withdraw, demoralised and defeated. So they leant nonchalantly over their battlements and called down, “Push off! Beat it, you tinpot twerps! You’re only wasting your time here. Others have tried what you have in mind and they all beat a hasty retreat – if they could still walk. As for us, we’re still here, as you can see. So take your warlike toys and push off. Go raid a few defenceless villages in your usual style.” So saying, they chucked some flowerpots at the Copper Killers and laughed.
‘For a while the army stood quite still. The Lindworms were just wondering whether flowerpots would be sufficient to put these creatures out of action when a terrible clatter filled the air. It sounded as if a huge machine had been set in motion. Metal clanked against metal, hinges creaked, and the Copper Killers’ ranks parted to reveal a fearsome-looking warrior twice the size of the rest. He marched up to the foot of Lindworm Castle and spoke in a metallic voice: “I [tick] am General Ticktock. We [tock] are the Copper Killers. You [tick] are conquerable. We [tock] are invincible. You [tick] are mortal. We [tock] are immortal.”’
Smyke threw up his fourteen arms. ‘At that, pandemonium broke out. The Copper Killers hammered on their shields with their swords, clubs and axes, and fanatical cries issued from their iron throats.’
Rumo shuffled excitedly to and fro.
‘The Lindworms, who had heard many such impudent speeches from besiegers in the past, were not overly impressed by General Ticktock’s threats. They blew raspberries and showered the Copper Killers with pebbles that noisily rebounded off their armour. Thoroughly amused by the way the metallic creatures simply stood there without moving, the Lindworms proceeded to boil some pitch. The besiegers continued to stand there – excellent targets, as the pitch boilers appreciatively noted. Having positioned their buckets far m
ore accurately than in the case of moving targets, they yelled defiance and deluged the attackers with pitch.’
‘Ha ha!’ said Rumo, smirking.
‘But the Copper Killers didn’t budge an inch. They simply stood there with the molten pitch congealing on their armour. At a signal from General Ticktock they all proceeded to shake themselves, and the solidified pitch simply cracked and fell off. Then they began to burnish one another with metal polish.’
‘Molten lead!’ cried Rumo.
‘Well, the Lindworms weren’t at a loss for long: buckets of molten lead were already bubbling away. They tipped generous helpings of it over the Copper Killers and waited for the usual cries of agony to ring out. But the Copper Killers just stood there, let the lead cool and peeled it off their armour. They were quite unscathed. General Ticktock signalled to them to storm the main gate.
Rumo was breathing heavily.
‘The Lindworms assembled in the market place. They had poured away all their pitch and their lead, and boiling water would have been useless under the circumstances. That appeared to have exhausted their methods of defence, because fighting wasn’t one of them. No Lindworm had ever taken up arms. Literature was their forte, not warfare! The mayor of Lindworm Castle, a many-horned black lizard of the Styracosaurian family, stepped forward and spoke in a voice trembling with agitation.
‘“This”, he said gravely, “is the Unwelcome Moment!”
‘“The Unwelcome Moment!” repeated the inhabitants of Lindworm Castle, for they were now performing a well-rehearsed ritual.
‘“We all hoped it would never occur,” said the mayor, “but we hoped in vain.”
‘“We hoped in vain,” chanted the Lindworms.
The music of the stars
‘“Inhabitants of Lindworm Castle!” boomed the mayor and his voice carried to the Copper Killers waiting below. “We’re on the brink of the abyss. What shall we do?”
“We shall dance to the music of the stars!” chorused the Lindworms.’
Rumo looked at Smyke, but the Shark Grub seemed to be lost in another world – far, far away from Roaming Rock.
‘Well,’ he went on, ‘it was broad daylight. There wasn’t a star to be seen in the sky, nor could any music be heard, far less the music of the spheres. But that wasn’t the point. “Brink of the abyss” and “music of the stars” were metaphorical phrases devised many years before by some Lindworm poets who wanted to lend the ritual a solemn, sophisticated character. Well, the metaphors weren’t all that sophisticated – they were rather banal, in fact, but they served their purpose: they put the Lindworms in a belligerent frame of mind appropriate to the gravity of their predicament.’
Rumo opened his mouth to ask what ‘music of the spheres’ and ‘metaphorical’ meant, but Smyke steadfastly continued his account.
‘Then the Lindworms proceeded to dance. Some of them seized musical instruments – tambourines, flutes and guitars – and struck up a lively tune that went straight to the legs. This, too, was part of the ritual. The melody and rhythm were strictly preordained, and every inhabitant of Lindworm Castle had been drilled in the dance steps at school, the essential thing being to stamp as hard as possible.
‘The Copper Killers, listening far below, were puzzled. “They’re making music,” one of General Ticktock’s aides whispered to him.
‘It wasn’t the music that alarmed General Ticktock, it was the rhythmical stamping that was giving him food for thought.
‘Why? Because the walls shook when a dinosaur danced. When several dinosaurs danced they produced an earthquake. And when all the dinosaurs in Lindworm Castle danced at once the world itself began to crumble.’
Rumo gasped.
‘Quite suddenly the sky seemed to fall in. A chunk of rock the size of a house came hurtling down and struck the ground not far from General Ticktock and his aides – not without burying twenty Copper Killers beneath it.
‘“They’re throwing stones!” cried one of the general’s aides.
‘“They’re throwing boulders!” cried another.
‘“They’re throwing mountains!” cried a third. There was a “whoosh!” as if a flock of birds were swooping down on him, and a boulder hammered him ten feet into the ground.
‘“Damnation [tick]!” cried General Ticktock. “Withdraw at once [tock]!” And he turned about and clanked off.
‘The Copper Killers were completely flummoxed by this order. They had never retreated before, always advanced. Had they misheard? Instead of promptly obeying the general’s word of command as usual, they marked time for a few seconds. It was that moment of indecision which sealed the fate of the majority. There was another even louder, even more ominous rumble as if the bowels of the earth were in turmoil. Then they saw, descending on them from Lindworm Castle, a huge grey avalanche of rock. It engulfed the Copper Killers like a curtain and relentlessly crushed them into scrap iron.’
Smyke emitted a weary sigh.
‘Two thirds of the Copper Killers’ army was destroyed within seconds and buried beneath many feet of debris. The remainder, including General Ticktock, managed to escape. He went straight to hell, so it’s said.’
Rumo gasped. The villain had got away. That wasn’t right.
‘Well,’ said Smyke, ‘that was the story of the Copper Killers, but it wasn’t the last time Lindworm Castle was besieged, not by a long chalk.’
Rumo was flabbergasted. Would another army – an even more fearsome army than that of the Copper Killers – come marching along? He prepared himself to hear the worst.
‘No, that was only the last military siege of Lindworm Castle. After the way they’d dealt with the Copper Killers, not even the boldest mercenaries in Zamonia would have dreamt of attacking them again. On the contrary, for a long time life in Lindworm Castle was very, very uneventful. Nobody ventured near the place and the inhabitants began to get bored. Indeed, they even began to yearn for the old warlike days.’
The drums had started up again outside on Roaming Rock, far enough away to be muffled by the thunder of the surf.
The Smarmies’ stratagem
‘Then along came the Smarmies, and with them the first peaceful siege of Lindworm Castle.’
Rumo pricked up his ears. A peaceful siege? Was that possible? Still, anything seemed possible on this night of wondrous stories.
‘Yes,’ Smyke went on, ‘the Smarmies came in peace. A motley bunch of vagabonds from all parts of Zamonia, they dressed in clothes of many colours. The Lindworms’ poems and other writings, which had now been circulating for decades, had clearly gained a lot of admirers. What was more, accounts of the sieges they underwent had earned them a heroic reputation. The Lindworms had never picked a fight with anyone, they had merely defended themselves. And, heedless of these incessant threats, they had bravely continued to turn out literary works. No wonder they were idolised.
‘The Smarmies pitched their tents around Lindworm Castle, tossed bouquets and eulogies over the battlements, proclaimed that the Lindworms were geniuses, read aloud from their writings and held poetry festivals in their honour. The Lindworms leant over the battlements and watched this spectacle – sceptically at first, being experienced in the ways of besiegers. However, the Smarmies’ motives seemed irreproachable. Around the castle they set up small print shops devoted exclusively to publishing the Lindworms’ writings, as well as glowing reviews of the same. The Lindworms threw down handwritten poems, which were ceremoniously read aloud and guarded like precious relics.
‘After a few weeks’ mutual observation and cautious contacts, the Lindworms conferred in the market place and resolved to send some delegates to check on the situation. Five Lindworms made their first exit from the castle for a long time. Having received a rousing ovation from the Smarmies, who strewed flowers and laurel leaves in their path, they were escorted into the tent of the Smarmies’ leader – a rather portly individual, so it’s said.
‘“Dear Lindworms,” he said, “let’s forget all th
at nonsense about the treasure hidden in your castle. It’s just a fairy tale designed to appeal to demented Yetis. The treasure you really possess is of far greater value.”
‘The Lindworms stared at each other in surprise. The Smarmy’s tone conveyed less respect than they were accustomed to.
‘“This,” he said, picking up a sheaf of their poems, “is the true treasure of Lindworm Castle.”
‘The Lindworms were flattered, but they wondered what he was getting at.
‘“Cards on the table, gentlemen. I’m a publisher. I publish books and I make money out of them. A lot of money.”
‘The Lindworms winced at the note that had suddenly come into his voice.
“Heroism, martyrdom – those are what win literary prizes. What you write about isn’t so important. Celebrity – that’s the magic word.”
‘The Lindworms were still at a loss for words.
‘“Yes, celebrity and popularity, that’s what constitutes your treasure. A whole castle full of heroes who write poems – what better authors could a publisher wish for? My dear Lindworms, your poems coupled with my printing machines and the Smarmies’ word-of-mouth – that’s better than a licence to mint money. I would ask you to think it over carefully.”
‘The Lindworms were furious. The Smarmies had duped them, wounded their literary self-esteem and made them an insulting offer. Fuming, they left the tent and returned to the castle to inform their fellow dinosaurs of what had happened.
‘The other Lindworms were just as infuriated. One or two ultra-radical artistic souls advocated tipping molten lead over the Smarmies. An argument broke out and one of the dinosaurs ventured to predict what would happen if they drove the Smarmies away: they would withdraw, leaving Lindworm Castle to stew in its own juice. No one would besiege it any more, not even with peaceful intent. They would read their poems aloud to each other until they dropped, and one day in the not far distant future the Lindworms would become extinct, like their stupid ancestors. They would sink into oblivion. That was one possibility.