Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 12 Part 2"
’Beyond the Hedge’
Minxie stood on the gun deck of ‘The Cheeky Monkey’ watching Cahoots circle over the brigantine. His landing was faultless, considering he was carrying his first passenger.
Maligna stepped down from the dragon’s shoulders.
The buccaneer rushed forward, his arm extended, but she merely gazed at him impassively, refusing to take the proffered hand.
Undeterred by the snub, he bowed extravagantly. “Captain Pestilence Grimshaw, at your service, now and forever more, dear lady. I’ve waited a very long time for this pleasure.”
“No one has waited for anything longer than I have.” The Harpie’s black, featureless eyes slipped past him and settled on the wazwatt. “Minxie, it’s good to see you outside the confines of that stinking prison.”
“Likewise,” said the grey furry one. “You’re in better shape than you were but that frock doesn’t do anything for you. To be honest, it makes you look dowdy.”
Grimshaw aimed his boot at the wazwatt but Maligna restrained him so violently he almost fell over. The buccaneer laughed uncertainly. No one had dared take him on before.
“Don’t ever do anything like that again,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
Minxie could sense the pirate’s confusion and thought she detected the first signs of fear.
The dragon was so pleased to see the wazwatt he missed the incident altogether. Minxie struggled to free herself from his scaly embrace. “Steady on, furnace face, you’re suffocating me.”
“No need for introductions there then,” said Maligna with a thin-lipped smile.
“Minxie helped me find my way out of the caves,” he said eagerly. “I couldn’t have done it without her, Mum.”
The wazwatt stared at Cahoots. “There’s something wrong with my ears, I could swear you just called Maligna ‘Mum’.”
“He did and I am, is that a problem?”
Minxie realised frostbite was an option if she persisted on that tack. “Absolutely not. Why don’t we go below deck and see if we can find you something to wear? It’ll be a challenge in this all-male establishment.”
“Don’t trouble yourself. I’d forgotten I was wearing this disgusting rag.” The Harpie snapped her fingers and the torn frock was exchanged for white, flowing robes trimmed with grey mink-like fur.
“Wow, you look fabulous!” said the dragon with an appreciative puff of smoke.
Minxie was furiously comparing her own fur to that on the Harpie’s ensemble. “I’d have thought black was more your style.”
“Too predictable. In any case, I’ve spent enough time deprived of light. I see you’re interested in the trim, Minxie. You’ll be relieved to hear it’s fake wazwatt. Very realistic and an identical colour match.”
The little beast took to the air and flew round the Harpie to see for herself. “That is good and in better condition than mine. I’m a bit rough round the edges just now, what with one thing and another.”
Pestilence Grimshaw found himself in a supporting role on the ship where he was usually centre stage and couldn’t think of a single line to give himself. He had expected gratitude at the very least from Maligna; instead he was treated to contempt bordering on outright loathing.
Drooling, dribbling spectres of evil shuffled towards the palace. Crouched on the slates, wriggling along the gutters, lurking in dark corners on the battlements. Celestina could feel them closing in. They couldn’t harm her, but their gloating presence was a distraction. The Fairy Queen knew she had to fight, possibly to the death, to save her people.
Long Forgotten Dreams was not a volcanic island. Maligna had most likely caused the eruption to mask her escape so it was fair to assume the Harpie and the anklet were back together again.
In the silence of her private chambers the Queen faced the full implications of defeat at the hands of this powerful adversary and what it would mean for her subjects should she fail them. Daria, her mother, had been the ultimate force for good and she’d barely managed to defeat Maligna before dying of the wounds inflicted upon her by the Harpie.
Celestina was half the age her mother had been when she took on the creature and half as experienced. She sat by the mullioned windows overlooking Corvine harbour, knowing Maligna was out there somewhere preparing to unleash her wrath.
All non-essential members of the household had been sent home or were in the underground bunker accommodation. Tabitha and her nurse were there too. Hamish insisted on staying with his wife and she’d reluctantly agreed to this if he swore he would escape with their child should the Harpie look like winning.
The Queen’s heart was aching at the thought of never seeing her daughter again. She rested her head on the back of the chair and, closing her eyes, indulged in a moment of self-pity.
Celestina wasn’t sure when she first became aware of the scent of bluebells in the room. The perfume wrapped around her and she grew stronger with every inhalation. She rose from the chair and followed the fragrance across the room to its source on the dressing-table.
An unfamiliar glass bottle sat on its own in front of her other toiletries. The stopper lay beside it. The Queen lifted the bottle to her nose and breathed in the glorious aroma. She had a vision of herself as a child skipping along beside her mother who was gathering armfuls of bluebells. They were Daria’s favourite flowers, something she’d long since forgotten.
The Fairy Queen was filled with a renewed determination and resolved there and then to take the fight to the Harpie and not wait for Maligna to make the first move.
Lorimer scuttled across the marble floor of the spa with Peg Leg flying sedately above him. The lobster was agitated which conveniently took the heat off Pongo who was fresh out of escape plans.
“Thermidor saw something nasty through that big grating at the far end of the pool where the water’s pumped in. How many eyes did it have?”
“Too many,” said the crustacean, nervously pinging a strap on his swimsuit. “Ooh, it was awful.”
“One look at you and the poor thing couldn’t get away quick enough,” said the gull ruefully. “I expect it was those goggles of yours or that scary bathing costume you’ve got on.”
“What’s scary about a bathing suit with a three-dimensional picture of me on it?”
“You need to ask? Two for the price of one is way too much for most of us. Consider those poor souls who’re meeting you both for the first time.”
“Shoosh, you two,” said Pongo, in full bustle mode. “I think you’ve just solved the problem of how we’re going to get out of here.”
“I don’t want to leave. I love it here,” said the lobster, scooping up his towel with the royal crest on it. “Besides we’ve only just arrived.”
“Pongo overheard the grown-ups saying Sandy and I have to go back to ‘Woodburn’ right away and, despite my better judgment as ‘chaircat’, the assembled committee has decided we’ll do the mature thing and run away.”
“Not without us,” said the gull, “We signed up for the total experience.”
“No question about that,” said Lorimer, chucking the towel over his shoulder. “Have I time to pack an overnight bag?” This was met with disbelieving looks, an angry accordion of pleats and sporran gestures best left to the imagination.
“That’s a ‘no’, is it?” Lorimer tried to hide his disappointment. “I’ll just fling on my St Andrew’s flag cozzie. It’s confidence-building and might come in handy if we find ourselves in difficulty. Solidarity of clothing and all that.”
Peg Leg cackled with mirth. “The kilt, the sporran and the bathing-suit. I can see the headlines now.”
Pongo herded the little group towards the deep-end of the pool. “Right, you lot, it’s time we vamoosed.”
Lorimer was still fazed from his scary eyes experience and was eventually flung in at the deep end when all other forms of persuasion failed.
Jamie stood at the edge of the pool. “What do you think? Is it feasible to go out that way?”
“I don’t see any immediate problems, or eyes, thankfully.”
Peg Leg joined the lobster and they both peered through the grating. There were sluice gates to control the flow of water in and out of the spa, and a raised walkway shadowed the culvert.
Queen Celestina’s decree to seal the tunnels meant no one could come in. It didn’t prevent anyone from trying to get out.
Sandy crouched down on the wet tiles and took hold of the top of the grating. She gave it a good rattle followed by a quick chug to see how secure it was. It came away easily and flew up in the air with Sandy still attached. She staggered backwards and knocked Pongo into the pool.
Jamie jumped clear. “For pity’s sake, child, you nearly had my eye out.”
“You don’t know your own strength,“ said Florin. “Vince’ll need counselling if you carry on like that. He can’t bear being made to feel inadequate.”
The kilt rustled with irritation and Sandy giggled. “I thought the grating was screwed onto the tiles but it just slots in.”
“Makes cleaning and maintenance easier,” said Pongo, treading water. “I don’t suppose you fancy getting your tootsies wet, Jamie. You can sit on my head if you like.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not that precious. What you’re doing doesn’t look that difficult.” The Siamese cat dived into the pool and, stifling a gasp, managed to pull the whole thing off pretty well considering he’d never had a swimming lesson in his life.
Pongo was a panting paddle-steamer, all froth and curls. “That’s it, Jamie, keep those paws moving, doggy paddle’s always served me well enough.”
Sandy was last through. She clambered in feet first and reached for the grating which slotted back into place with a satisfying clunk.
She waded towards the others, who were waiting for her up on the walkway, wondering what on earth they were going to do next and wishing she’d not been quite so headstrong or impulsive.
The Attendant to the Royal Raven pushed his way through the swing doors that led to the guest spa. The imp was struck by the lack of noise; no yells, no splashing, in fact virtual silence.
Discarded towels lay in damp heaps on the tiles and the water in the pool was still agitated from recent activity.
Will called out and his words came back at him from the polished granite walls. The spa had been vacated so recently he almost convinced himself he could hear the dying echo of their voices. There was only one way in and one way out, and he hadn’t passed anyone.
The imp headed back to the guest suites to see if they were there. Indigoletta would be hopping mad if she were kept waiting. Her temper wasn’t at its best and Will knew she didn’t relish having to break the news to Sandy and Jamie of their imminent departure.
“Well, where are they?” she asked briskly.
“I’m afraid I don’t know, ma’am.”
The raven’s feathers were spiky with irritation. “What do you mean by that?” she snapped.
“I can’t find any of them. Actually, that’s not strictly true. Pigsblanket and Conchita are fast asleep in one of the bedrooms but other than that the guest wing’s deserted.”
The Royal Raven grew in stature. “Impossible!” she barked. “Look again and this time more thoroughly.”
Will was stung by her tone and the raven was immediately ashamed of herself for being so tetchy. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
The imp smiled warmly. “That’s OK, ma’am. I’ll give it another go but I’m pretty sure they’re not here.”
“No need, Will, I’m sorry I doubted you. Run and tell Twitchett I want the whole complex searched from top to bottom. They can’t have gone very far.”
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