Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 12 Part 1"
’Beyond the Hedge’
“Mr Malahyde, where the devil are you and what have you done with the sea slug? Send him in here at once. You’ve monopolised him long enough.”
The First Mate steadied himself with a belt from his hipflask and stepped into the cabin. “Don’t get yourself in a state, Cap’n. Sit down and I’ll fetch you a sloeberry rum.”
Grimshaw smelt a rat and it wasn’t Gilbert. “Is there something you want to tell me, Jedediah? Might it involve that brat Pigsblanket?”
Malahyde’s hands were unsteady when he poured the liquor from the decanter. “Get this down you,” he said, holding a brimming rummer towards the buccaneer.
Pestilence inspected the contents. “What you’re about to tell me must be horrendous, judging by your generosity with my booze.”
“Pigsblanket’s gone missing. I waited as long as I could. It’s murder on shore and the whole of Corvine’s gone nuts, so anything could have happened to him.”
The cabin boy’s note was burning a hole in his pocket.
“Jedediah, what do you take me for? I didn’t sail into Corvine on a giant cabbage leaf. Pigsblanket’s jumped ship.”
“I wouldn’t say that…”
“He didn’t leave a note, then?” Malahyde twitched guiltily. “Of course he bally well didn’t! Deserters don’t as a rule.”
“He may yet turn up.”
“We can’t hang around to see if he does and he’d have to be a pretty good swimmer unless he commandeers someone else’s rowing boat. The little blighter’s likely to betray me. I should have silenced him when I had the chance.”
“Who’ll listen to the lad? He’s not in the best shape.”
Grimshaw had a dangerous glint in his eye. “Meaning what, Mr Malahyde?”
“I reckon he was sickening for something’s all I meant.”
“When I catch up with Pigsblanket, he’ll wish he’d died a slow death of the plague. It would be preferable to what I’ll do to him.” Grimshaw drummed his fingers on the table. “We’ve got to leg it. Leo might yet be a valuable asset. Once we’re clear of the harbour, chuck ratty overboard and, being as rats are renowned for their swimming abilities, make sure you wrap him in anchor chain. We don’t want the old devil blabbing about the time he spent with puss on my brigantine.”
Malahyde felt a stab of anxiety for Gilbert which mortified him. Somehow the galumphing great beast had managed to get under his skin. Was he getting soft? That didn’t sit well with his self-image.
Jedediah crossed his fingers behind his back. “I’ll see to it myself. We’ve some stout chain that’d sink a rat twice his weight.”
“Make sure I have the best view on the ship. I can’t think of anything more entertaining unless it were Pigsblanket and Gilbert going into the drink together.”
The dragon was fast discovering how much he’d grown since leaving Maligna. With the increase in size came greater strength and a distinct improvement in his flame-throwing abilities. When he found obstacles blocking his way through the caves he was able to remove them easily with a slap of his tail or a thrust of his shoulder. In places he burned his way through old tree roots that impeded his progress. Cahoots could scarcely believe he’d been so small so recently.
The dragon reached the crack in the limestone that opened into the sinkhole and put his ear to the gap. He could hear his mother breathing rhythmically. He managed to dislodge some stones and squeeze his head through the opening.
“I’m back, Mother,” he hissed. “I’ve something for you from Uncle Pestilence.”
The Harpie was instantly awake. She eased herself onto the rock floor and ducked under the bed. Maligna lit a candle stub and found herself nose to nose with Cahoots. “Look at the size of you,” she exclaimed.
The dragon was clearly agitated. “How am I going to get back into the sinkhole? I could blast my way through.”
“There’s no need for that. If you’ve brought what I think you have I’ll be able to leave this dungeon. I’ll take the parcel and you must wait for me at the northernmost tip of the island. I’ll join you as soon as I can, darling one.”
Cahoots was overjoyed to hear this and.his head was swiftly replaced by the leg with the parckage attached to it.
The Harpie and the anklet were about to be reunited and she was shocked by the strength of its power. She carefully removed the package and crawled out from under the pallet.
Maligna shivered with anticipation as she unfolded the black velvet cloth. Spears of light shot out from the anklet and lit up the sinkhole. She hastily wrapped it up again and the dungeon returned to its former gloomy state.
The guards were too scared to investigate and huddled together over their game of peggity.
The Harpie experienced a surge in her depleted powers. It was time to take control of the anklet once more and bend it to her will. The long separation had increased its confidence and the roles of servant and master were dangerously blurred.
Maligna willed it inconspicuous and, removing the cloth, clasped it round her left ankle. It thrummed gently against her leg, indicating its acceptance of her control and then grew still.
The force of the volcano tore the dark heart out of the Island of Long Forgotten Dreams and spewed it into the sea. The sinkhole collapsed in on itself killing the two guards.
Cahoots flew out over the reef dodging rocky debris as it plunged through the waves which churned and boiled with molten lava. The dragon was in a desperate state as regards the fate of his mother. He was sure Maligna could not have survived the volcano and facing life without her was a bleak prospect indeed. So much for Uncle Pestilence’s present.
When it was safe to do so he searched the island from the air and was distressed by the extent of the destruction above the dungeon. He made several circuits hoping to find Maligna miraculously unscathed.
Exhausted, Cahoots landed at the appointed meeting-place and gave himself up to unfettered grief. Tears poured down his scaly face and splashed into the sea.
“That’s no way to behave,” said an old grey seal lying on the rock opposite. “Come and give your mother a kiss.”
The seal faded from view and in its place stood Maligna. She was taller than he remembered but the ragged dress was the same as before and she was still pale and gaunt.
Cahoots was overwhelmed and his sobbing increased. His relief at finding her alive emphasised the enormity of his attachment to her and the horror of what he had so recently faced.
The dragon finally calmed down enough to ask how she’d managed to survive the volcano. He was also curious about her shape-shifting abilities but that could wait.
“I was the volcano. That present you brought helped me to escape. She pointed at the anklet and Cahoots sniffed it suspiciously.
“It’s just a piece of jewellery, isn’t it?”
“Don’t ever be disrespectful. The anklet’s a relentless, unforgiving enemy. You’re only young so it will make allowances for you.”
The dragon’s face grew serious. “I meant no offence. Please tell it I’m sorry.”
“The anklet understands everything anyone says or thinks in its presence. It senses your fear at this very moment.”
Cahoots tried to banish dangerous thoughts to the back of his head and replace them with inconsequential trivia.
“Don’t distress yourself. It can’t harm you without my permission. Now let’s take our leave of this sorry place. They’ll think I was destroyed by the volcano which gives me a huge advantage over my enemies.” She clapped her hands together and Cahoots noticed the jaundiced talons had gone. Her fingers were slim and elegant. “I’d like you to fly me to Corvine. I have urgent business with Pestilence Grimshaw.”
“Jock Craw delivered it personally,” said Will, handing Pogo the letter from Alfie. “There have been some new developments we could well do without, and who booked the volcano?”
“The roaring sound earlier was a volcano?”
“There’s been an eruption on the Island of Long Forgotten Dreams of all places.”
Pogo sank back into the cushions on the couch. Her face was grey as watery porridge. “I’ve been worried about something like this happening. I’ve had this unshakeable sense of dread.” She fingered the letter nervously. “Where are the others?”
“I left them settling into their new accommodation. Lorimer and Pongo were off for a dip in the guest spa with Peg Leg. Sandy plans to join them when she’s finished unpacking.”
The pixie settled down to read the letter but her concentration was broken by a kerfuffle outside. Indigoletta flew in through the open window with Jock and Crawford. She settled on the back of a chair with the two crows flanking her.
“Dire news, I’m afraid, but then you know that already.” The raven inclined her head towards the letter in Pogo’s hand. “Scrablings in a cupboard at ‘Woodburn’. That portal has been sealed off for an age of ages. I’m ashamed to say most of us had forgotten it even existed. Ralph wants Sandy and Jamie home immediately and Her Majesty is of the same mind.”
The pixie gazed at a distant point on the intricately patterned rug, trying to make sense of what was unfolding in front of her. She raised her head and looked right into Indigoletta’s fearsome eyes. “The Harpie’s escaped, hasn’t she?”
The air was sucked out of the room, right down to the very last gasp, and Pogo’s words echoed eerily in the vacuum.
The Royal Raven had grown in stature and exuded an awesome, formidable power. The purest white light flowed out from her and enveloped Jock and Crawford, turning the trio into one phenomenal entity.
Indigoletta’s impassioned response rattled the windowpanes and the crystal in the chandeliers. “Maligna will never prevail!”
Pongo had nipped back to the bathroom to fetch a towel for Sandy who was enjoying a swim in the spa. He’d promised to enquire about Leo and Gilbert’s imminent rescue and was on the point of doing so when he caught a snatch of the Royal Raven’s words which stopped him in his tracks. Sandy and Jamie were to return to ‘Woodburn’ at once. The dog sank to the floor in an agony of disbelief but there was no mistaking what he’d heard. White light was streaming out of the main living area and he baulked at the sight and sound of Indigoletta.
The dog grabbed a fluffy towel from the pile in the bathroom and bounded back to the spa taking care not to trip over it as he ran along.
Sandy dried herself and followed Pongo to the rest area where Jamie was curled up on one of the loungers.
“There’s nothing for it, we’ll have to go back,” said the cat matter-of-factly and, registering the dog’s stunned expression, swiftly added, “I’d rather we didn’t have to, of course.”
“We have no other choice,” Sandy said miserably. “If that’s what Dad wants, and the others agree, then what else can we do?”
Pongo rubbed his nose against her leg sympathetically. “What about Leo? You said you’d never leave without him.”
“I meant that.”
“And there’s Gilbert, too.”
“I know, but I can’t defy everyone.”
“You won’t have to defy anyone if you get a move on.”
Sandy’s eyes lit up like sparklers and common sense was sent to the back of the queue. “If we do a bunk before they tell us we have to go home then, technically, we haven’t defied anyone.”
“Now you’re talking, let’s burn rubber.”
“Give me a minute, boy. I can’t go like this.” She dashed off towards the changing rooms.
Jamie was far from happy. “I’m here to take care of Sandy and help her find Leo, but this really does smack of irresponsibility on my part if I go along with your hare-brained scheme.”
“She’ll only go without you,” said the dog in a ‘so there’ sort of tone.
The Siamese cat’s tail twitched angrily. “Don’t threaten me with that.”
“It’s not a threat. It’s a fact.”
“I know that,” said the cat with resignation. “But you shouldn’t have egged her on.”
Sandy rushed back to join them, brimful of derring-do.
“I’m not sure whether I’m glad you’re wearing Vince and Florin or not. I hope they haven’t given you a false sense of security.”
“Be fair, Jamie,” said the kilt. “We’re here to protect her and that’s what we’ll do.”
“Vince is right,” said Florin emphatically. “Now then, what’s the plan?”
Pongo gave one of his endearing, trademark grins. “I forgot that little detail in all the excitement.”
Creel watched billowing plumes of ash rise over Long Forgotten Dreams from the headland above the beach. The island was a grey shape against the horizon but he could clearly see the unfolding disaster against the darkening sky.
The old fisherman had been there most of the day, lost in memories, his mind taken up with long-suppressed thoughts of Feya. He was sitting under the Sylvanian pine by the carpet of flowers that marked her grave.
Kedda didn’t understand her husband’s closed-off emotions. In her freely-given opinion a burden of grief was something to be shared and she couldn’t make sense of his quiet detachment.
He was a reluctant visitor to the spot, usually when his wife’s carping got the better of him. Creel would snatch up his hat, slam out of the cottage and trudge off up the cliff path to get away from her constant reminders of what had been.
Today was different. He had chosen to be there, hoping to rid himself of his increasing preoccupation with Feya by confronting his guilt.
Depression and ill-health had chipped away at Kedda and she rarely felt strong enough to take on the steep, winding path, something for which Creel was profoundly grateful. The terrible secret he’d kept from her weighed him down and the shadows lengthened in his heart with the passing years.
Kedda’s mind had been wiped clean of the sinister side of life with Feya and the months of mental torture were nothing more than fragments of barely remembered nightmares. Hardly a day passed without her recounting some anecdote or other about their beautiful, headstrong daughter.
Creel pulled his hat down over his ears. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and reached for the binoculars on the bench beside him. He trained them on an object above the reef which slowly swam into focus.
He was amazed to see a dragon flying towards him from the north west. The fisherman watched fascinated as the beast drew nearer. It flew over his head, briefly obliterating the sun. Creel’s heart lurched when the hunched creature on its back turned and looked straight at him. The binoculars fell to the ground and he covered his face with his hands.
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