The dwarf and the boy stared at each other. The same worrying thought struck them at the same instant. Pride was tempting Lar, the very person who had thwarted him up to now.
Adam thought quickly as the brownie came with a hand-mirror from behind the counter towards his victim. Then he smiled; of course, he knew which aspect of Pride’s character this was! It wasn’t that difficult; only, they had been distracted. The problem was he needed a saying when he didn’t have many to draw on. But then he remembered what his father always told him: “Excuse me, Fopp,” he said quietly, “but, you know, as my father often says, ‘The peacock forgets how well the sparrow can fly.’”
The brownie’s slatted eyes glared at Adam with so much hatred that the boy shivered, but then, to his great satisfaction, Fopp disappeared and the walls were bare. Lar stood hatless looking puzzled at his cap at his feet.
“Put your cap on, little fellow,” Palustric boomed. “It makes you look less ugly!” and the dwarf, who wasn’t likely to win (even) a goblin beauty contest, burst out laughing.
“Don’t take any notice of him,” Adam nodded towards Palustric. “It’s just that Vanity was getting the better of you, Lar. I didn’t know you were so vain. Watch out in the next room, because it was pure luck that this was an easy vice for me to recognise this time. And I’ve used up about a third of all the wise sayings I know!”
“It’s certain Pride's holding Emily back till last,” Palustric said gloomily. “It probably doesn’t matter which door we choose. We’ll have to outwit him twice more before we get to your sister, Adam.”
“In that case, that's what we’ll do,” Adam growled.
27
The next door led straight to a bridge which spanned a deep narrow chasm. The three friends stepped fearfully onto the dizzy-making bridge.
“Back off the bridge!” a rough voice commanded.
“He wasn’t there a moment ago,” Lar squeaked, his voice quavering.
A stocky, muscular figure, holding an ash staff in his hands, blocked their way. The man was dressed in ragged clothes, but it was his eyes which disturbed the three companions. They were small, but the menace and hatred there burnt like coals.
“Back off, I said!”
“But we want to cross the bridge,” Adam said. It’s like Robin Hood and Little John, Adam thought, except it’s not a shallow stream, it’s an abyss! He trembled at the thought of the fall that would follow being pushed off the bridge.
“Well, you can’t,” the swarthy man sneered, “not unless you pay for the privilege.”
“Why, is it your bridge?”
“No, but it’s my staff!” the ruffian mocked. “Let’s see, I’ll have the small fellow’s hat and the dwarf’s jerkin.” He pointed the heavy, wooden weapon at Adam’s belt. “And that horn’ll do nicely. Come on, lay them all at my feet.”
“What's your name?” Adam asked suddenly.
“The name’s Strutt. And don’t you forget it because he’s the fellow who’ll have taken your horn. An’ that information’ll cost you your sword too, my fine fellow. Now get on with it!”
“My name's Adam the Dragonteaser,” Adam said proudly. “It’s written on the horn, which is staying right where it is. I think, rather, that you can lay your staff at my feet.” He drew his sword and stepped on the bridge.
“No, Master,” Lar whispered urgently, “come back off the bridge!” He tugged at Adam’s belt. “Palustric, help me!” They tugged together, in vain, for Adam broke free and leapt toward Strutt.
Backwards and forward they parried and thrust with staff and sword. Adam took a ferocious blow to the shoulder and staggered. Strutt seized his opportunity and smote the boy a stunning blow to the side of the head. Adam’s senses reeled and he tottered into the ropes making up the side of the bridge. With a mocking crow-like laugh, Strutt stuck his staff under Adam’s armpit and heaved him off the bridge into the void. Palustric rushed to the edge of the bridge and watched aghast as his friend tumbled over and over to his doom.
The ruffian turned to face them and asked for the next to challenge him. Lar darted forward without hesitation and without stepping onto the bridge. “The crushed flower still keeps its scent! Is it not so, vile one?”
Immediately, the bridge vanished in a puff and shocked, Strutt plunged with a cry into the chasm, but as he fell, he, too, disappeared along with the chasm and all that surrounded him, while Adam landed with a thump at Lar’s feet on a level floor in an empty room.
“Are you all right, Master?” Lar peered at the boy anxiously.
Adam felt his head first with a puzzled look and then touched his shoulder. “Strange,” he said slowly, “they don’t hurt at all, but at the time I was half-dead.”
“Because, Master, ’twas all an illusion. You wouldn’t have died, but you would have lost your soul to Pride – quite uselessly, I may add.”
Adam still had an angry look on his face as if he were spoiling for a fight. Palustric turned towards Lar. “What was all that about flowers, Lar? And who was that Strutt fellow?”
“Verily,” Lar’s yellow eyes studied the dwarf, “dwarves are fine craftsmen, but don’t know much about the nature of anything!” The pixy grinned, happy to get even with his friend.
“Which vice was I about to get drawn into, Lar?” Adam asked contritely.
“That which takes the rights of others, Master—Arrogance.”
“I hate this place,” Adam said in a low voice. “It brings out the worst in my character. I never thought I was the arrogant type, but it just goes to show how weaknesses come out when you’re stressed. The more I have to do with Pride, the more I know that Deductio wasn’t exaggerating. Thank you, Lar, that was too close for comfort. You saved me from the clutches of Pride. Well, well, me arrogant!” He hung his head and Lar’s tiny hand took his and squeezed it.
“Pick up your sword, Master, I fear you may still need it, but I beg you, Master,” and his yellow eyes were imploring and at the same time full of friendship. “Only use it in the service of humility!”
Adam nodded, feeling truly humbled, picked up, sheathed his sword, and said, “On to the next room, men, and I pray that I do much better there!”
28
“Oh, dear,” Palustric said to Lar, “Adam’s head is in a state if he can’t tell dwarves and pixies from men!”
They returned to the hall where the sight of two doors left heartened them, but Adam wasn’t deluded. After failing miserably in the last room, he didn’t doubt that their adversary had something far worse in store for them. He knew that it was all illusion and that his physical well-being wasn’t at risk, but worse, far worse, would be to lose one’s soul and be taken once and for all by Pride. He hesitated before the two remaining doors, and it seemed to him that the room had a life of its own: that the room itself was sneering at them. Adam fought back his angry reaction and swallowed his pride – humility – he told himself, so he turned to Lar, saying in a humbled voice, “You choose, Lar, please.”
The yellow eyes looked at him, and Lar’s head tilted to one side, but the pixy pointed to a door and they entered with a smile as Palustric repeated: “He can’t tell pixies from dwarves!” with a deep rumbling chuckle; he found it very amusing.
Their smiles grew broader as they stepped into beautiful mountain scenery. The only sign of life was a goat that bleated and sprang away up the mountainside, alarmed by their voices. Bright sunlight bathed the magnificent landscape and picked out the tiny wildflowers that sparkled like gems among the rocks. Breathing the pure mountain air sent a feeling of well-being through their bodies as they sat on some flat rocks to admire the snow-capped peaks all around them. The clear blue sky and the splashing of a waterfall nearby completed the delightfulness of their surroundings.
Adam lay back with his hands behind his head and soaked in the warm sun. He sighed contentedly; such was the power of the illusion. He forgot the danger they were in as his body began to relax. Lar examined a small, yellow flower near Adam
’s feet and Palustric took a deep breath and let out: A-YO-DIDDLEY-AY-OH-DEE! causing Adam to leap up, spin around and stare at his friend. Before the boy could say anything: A-YO-DIDDLEY-AY-OH-DIDDLEY-DAY! boomed and echoed around the mountains and valleys in Palustric’s deep voice.
“What a voice, eh?” Palustric grinned. “You didn’t know I had such a deep, mellow, baritone voice, eh?” YO-DIDDLEY-OH-DOH-DIDDLEY-AY! he boomed again. The noise was deafening, insupportable. Lar covered his ears in pain, while Adam stared at Palustric as if the dwarf had lost his wits.
“What do you think, then?”
“Very nice, Palustric,” Adam said hurriedly, hoping to forestall another refrain.
“Nice?” Palustric repeated, looking rather hurt. “You mean glorious, surely?”
“Well—”
DOH-DIDDLEY-DOH-DIDDLEY-DOH-DIDDLEY-AY! boomed and echoed around them, drowning Adam's words.
Just as Adam copied Lar to protect his ears, another person jumped out from behind a rock. Dressed all in grey, with long, golden hair, her hands were not over her ears, but clapping enthusiastically.
“A mountain elf!” Lar shouted to make Adam hear over the dying echoes of Palustric’s booms.
As welcome silence returned, the elfin maiden cried, “Bravo, bravo! What a superb voice!”
Palustric smiled at his two friends. “There you are, I told you,” he said. “This young elf-er-excuse me, what’s your name?”
The elf smiled and curtseyed. “Coy,” she said.
“Well, Coy,” Palustric smiled, “you certainly recognise talent when you hear it. You must be very musical yourself.”
“There is a little music in my veins,” she said in a lilting voice while the upland breeze ruffled her hair.
“Mm!” Palustric scratched his chin. “Perhaps you would care to join me in a duet?”
The elf smiled. “It would be wrong. I’m unworthy of such an honour. My poor voice is more fitted to a little cave than to mountain peaks.”
“You are too modest, Coy; I’m sure you have a lovely voice, won’t you change your mind?”
“Well, if you can put up with it, I would be proud to—”
Adam groaned and covered his ears just in time as they both began:
YO-DIDDLEY-OH-AY-OOOOOOH!
HEE-OH-YEE-DOH-ee-OH-EEEEOOOOH! The elf's piercing voice joined in.
The first stones began to bounce down the mountain side, dislodging others. The din of voices and thumping rocks echoed and rumbled around them. Adam dragged Lar against the mountainside. “Avalanche!” he yelled. His ears were hurting him as he stared helplessly at Lar, whose face was a mask of panic. For the pixy, indeed, also for Adam, there was a grave risk of deafness, but Palustric was in mortal peril. Huge stones missed him by a miracle, yet he went on yodelling heedless of the danger.
A sharp stone pinged off a rock and flew at Adam’s face. He put his hand out to protect his eyes; the stone sliced the back of his hand. “Ouch!” Adam yelled and “Ouch, ouch, ouch!” echoed all around them mingling with another piercing HEE-OH-YEE-DOH-ee-OH-EEEEOOOOH!
Adam stared down at his hand. It was dripping blood at an alarming rate and throbbing painfully.
“Do something, Lar!” he shouted, pressing himself against the rock face as sharp pieces of rock showered down on them. “Do something, or Palustric is dead! And we’ll soon join him.”
“I cannot, Master,” the pixy looked anguished.
“Why not?”
“Because I do not know which vice Coy represents.”
Another giant boulder thundered down, hitting the ground in front of Adam and Lar, where it bounced and spun directly at Palustric and Coy. Adam closed his eyes, sickened, sure of his friend’s terrible end. Lar opened his wider and watched the boulder pass over the two possessed singers by a hair’s breadth. They carried on, oblivious of any danger.
HOH-DODELY-HOY!
HAY-EEEH!
“Please, Lar!” Adam begged.
“Ay,” Lar nodded, “I must risk, Master.”
The pixy ran up to the elf, Coy, tugged at her sleeve, crying, “The donkey’s bray does not reach the stars, is it not so, fair deceiver?”
The elf cried out, clutched her throat, and disappeared before another boulder could fall.
They were back in the blessed silence of an empty room. Lar’s hands were still over his ears, but Adam’s ears that were ringing and humming a moment ago were perfectly all right while his hand, he was relieved to see, bore not the slightest scratch. It was all illusion in this Theatre, but frighteningly real while you were living it.
Adam removed Lar’s hands from his ears. He could imagine how the poor pixy had suffered with his acute hearing. It must have been torture. “It’s all right, Lar,” he said to the shaken pixy. “It’s over now!” and hugged him off his feet. “Well-done, Lar, well-done!” He put the pixy down gently, “How did you get it right?”
“Master, what gave me trouble is that I forgot this vice can also hide itself in the very good and lead them astray, too: ’twas Vainglory, Master. Palustric showed it by boasting about his gifts and Coy by being falsely modest.
Palustric looked at Adam with a sleepwalker's eyes.
“Promise me you won't sing, Palustric.”
“Sing? Why should I? I've got an awful voice!”
Once again, Adam and Lar left one of the rooms laughing, but their laughter had a very strained note to it. Palustric was puzzled by his friends and declared: “I don’t know what you two are laughing at, but we’ve got our severest test now.” He shrugged his heavy shoulders. “This is the seventh door. It’s through here that we’ll find Emily or meet our doom.”
As if in answer to Palustric’s words, golden letters flashed on the last door:
GAME OVER
DEPOSIT YOUR SOULS WITHIN
29
“We'll see about that!” Adam pushed the door open so forcefully that a cloud of golden feathers flew into the air. They were in a workshop where tools and benches lay under the mass of golden feathers. A fat goblin stood knee-deep in them in the middle of the workshop. He was glueing another feather into place on a giant wing he was making.
The goblin smiled at them and, fitting the wing on to one arm, declared, “You have arrived at a historic moment. Just in time to witness the first flying goblin!”
“It won’t work,” Adam said.
The goblin looked as if the stranger had slapped him across the face. “You realise that you are speaking to Snook the Inventor?”
“Well,” Adam said firmly, “it still won’t work. The concept’s wrong.”
Snook took off the wing and laid it on a bed of golden feathers. “These are bird feathers,” he said, “and with these two wings, I’ll soar into the sky.”
“Just like Icarus,” Adam said.
“Who? Has someone else had my idea?” the inventor asked anxiously.
“Oh yes, many centuries ago. A Greek named Icarus made two wings from swans' feathers held together with wax. But he flew too close to the sun. The wax melted and he fell to his death.”
“There you are then…this Icapus—”
“Icarus!”
“Icarus wasn’t a genius like me. You see, I’m using eagle feathers. The Golden Eagle is King of the Birds, I’m using glue, not wax and—”
“It won't work! You see, the tale of Icarus is only a legend and there are scientific reasons, biological reasons why not. You haven’t got a bird’s chest muscles and you haven’t got a bird’s heart rate, just look at you…you’re fat! Not in the least aerodynamic!”
“Mm,” the inventor patted his stomach, “you have a point. I am a little overweight!”
He eyed Lar. “Now, your friend here, he’s a real featherweight!” The goblin leapt to his feet with surprising agility. “Here, try this on and this!”
Little Lar stood there, a tiny green figure with enormous golden wings.
“Try flapping them, they’re very light,” the goblin urged.
&nb
sp; Lar flapped half-heartedly a couple of times.
“Come on, we’ll go to the cliff, it’s not far!”
Adam’s eye flashed a warning, but Lar was already taking the wings off.
“An ass is still an ass, even with a golden saddle, is it not so, inexpert goblin?” the pixy fluted.
Snook and his workshop began to fade away and in one corner was a screen that also faded. Behind the screen slumped in a corner was a girl with long silver hair.
“Emily!” Adam darted forward across the bare room to his sister.
He stared into Emily’s startled silver eyes and hurried over to catch her as she stood up. She was weak and looked on the point of fainting.
“W-where am I?” she mumbled.
“Presumption took you, Mistress,” Lar squinted happily at her. “Welcome back.”
“What?”
“Come on quickly!” Adam said urgently. “We’re in danger. We’ve got to get out of here.” he dragged his sister towards the door. “There’ll be time for explanations later.”
He was too late, even as he put out a hand to open the door, it faded away and left Adam staring at a white wall. Palustric leapt forward and thumped the wall where the door had been. There was no doubt: the wall was solid, there was no way through.
30
They looked around desperately at the four blank walls surrounding them; they were prisoners.
Rather needlessly, Lar said, “Pride has trapped us, Master.”
At these words, the plaster on one wall began to bulge and ripple. As they watched, it formed into two enormous lips; it formed a mouth that spread into an evil leer. Suddenly, the room was filled with mocking laughter. Palustric leapt forward and kicked at the lower lip with all his strength. In an instant, the mouth snapped open and sucked in the dwarf’s leg to the knee. The plaster mouth smoothed out and disappeared, leaving Palustric standing on one leg, with the other embedded in the wall. The dwarf tugged, struggled and swore, becoming very red in the face, but all in vain, his leg wouldn’t budge.
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