Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 13 Part 1"
’Beyond the Hedge’
“I want you to put to sea at once,” said the Harpie. “You must take puss to a safe hideout until I need him. Meanwhile, I have unfinished business to take care of up at the palace.”
The buccaneer looked doubtful. “There’s another storm brewing. I hope we can make it through the reef. The weather’s been crazy recently.”
“You’ll just have to risk it. There’s a battalion of uniformed imps assembling on the docks. Most likely a boarding party heading your way.”
“Pigsblanket must have squealed, I should have done for him long ago.”
“You’re a sham, Grimshaw. Where’s that ruthlessness you’ve built your reputation upon? Believe you me, it’s the only way.”
Cahoots landed with a thump at Maligna’s feet. “I’ve had a brilliant time flying with Minxie. She’s taught me lots of tricks. Watch this.” The dragon flipped upside down and zoomed round the Harpie at waist level. “Look out, here she comes now,” he yelled, still the wrong way up but managing to put a safe distance between himself and the wazwatt.
Minxie smacked into the Harpie, catching her right between the shoulder blades. Maligna didn’t flinch but the air whooshed out of Grimshaw like a burst balloon. Surely there could be no doubt the little pest had overstepped the mark this time?
“Crumbs!” said the wazwatt, righting herself. “I’m terribly sorry, I was blown off course at the last minute.”
The Harpie was furious until she saw the dragon rolling around on the deck consumed with mirth, and Minxie’s expression of impertinent horror dampened the flames of her anger.
The buccaneer had the temerity to take her on. “What was that you were saying about ruthlessness?”
Maligna’s eyes narrowed until they were glittering, black slits. “Have a care, Pestilence, or I might show you what ruthless really means. You’re dangerously close to being surplus to requirements.”
The way she spat out his name made Grimshaw’s flesh crawl.
Minxie flew past the pirate and hissed, “Not so self-important now.” She landed beside Maligna. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to catch up with Gilbert and Leo.”
“What a good idea. Send for them at once.”
The wazwatt treated the buccaneer to a sly, sideways glance. “They’re under lock and key as it happens.”
Grimshaw wanted to strangle her, something not lost on the Harpie. “Lay one finger on Minxie and I’ll tear your hand off.” She called out to the Bosun who had just come on deck. “Release the prisoners at once.”
Leitzoff quailed at the sight of the Harpie and looked to Grimshaw for guidance.
“Do as she says,” snarled the buccaneer.
“You what, Cap’n?”
“Fetch the cat and the scabby rat,” he bawled, lashing out at Leitzoff and biting a chunk out of his own tongue in the process.
Maligna snorted. “That’s more like it! Will you issue the orders to sail or shall I?”
He did before she could.
The rodent arrived shortly afterwards with Leo following on.
Minxie grinned at Gilbert and waved a paw in the vague direction of the cat who was watching a dust devil whirl across the deck in front of him. “Have you two met Maligna?” Her feigned innocence was barely concealed. “She’s a friend of Captain Grimshaw.”
The tall figure in the flowing white robes had her back to the rodent. Gilbert rushed forward to greet her as she turned to look at him. The rat bowed and beckoned his pal towards him. “I’m Gilbert and this is my wee chum, Leo. That’s an interesting name you have…” The rat was mid sentence when he saw her eyes for the first time. “Dear me, I quite forget what I was saying, what an empty-headed ninny.”
“Ninny?” The Harpie’s voice was toneless.
The rat tittered nervously. “I meant me, of course.”
“No change there then,” said Minxie impudently.
Leo had never seen a living being with blank eyes like a Greek statue in an unremitting shade of black. The only way he could tell whether she was engaging with him or not was from the angle of her head.
“The infamous little cat from Irvine. You’ve caused quite a stir by all accounts. Don’t you have anything to say for yourself?”
Leo didn’t respond. The eyes had done for him.
“Don’t tell me the cat’s got the cat’s tongue.” The smile was glacial. “We’ll just have to get acquainted some other time. I’ll send for you when I need you, in the meantime Captain Grimshaw will take care of you. If there are any complaints, refer them to me.” She nudged the buccaneer’s arm. “Keep Leo under constant surveillance but no locking him up when my back’s turned.”
“I can’t wait for her back to be turned,” mumbled the rat.
“You find my eyes unsettling, Gilbert?”
Leo went to the aid of his bumbling sidekick. “Don’t mind him. He often opens his mouth and lets his brains rattle.”
The dust devil was growing in size behind the Harpie and had already taken on the characteristics of a mini tornado. Maligna’s hair blew about in snakelike tendrils and her billowing robes flapped against her meagre frame.
Deckhands ran hither and thither as the Bosun issued orders. Matelots scampered up the rigging to unfurl the sails. They shrieked and hollered like over-excited cockatoos as they ran along the spars, nimble as circus tightrope walkers. The sails, dyed to match the ship’s turquoise, pink and canary yellow paintwork, billowed and swelled in the wind. ‘The Cheeky Monkey’ swung to starboard and pulled against her moorings. The brigantine was ready to put to sea.
“We could do with a torch or something. I can’t see my hand in front of my face.”
Pongo snorted. “Don’t you mean your sporran in front of your kilt?”
“It’s a good thing your faithful stars decided to tag along,” said Lorimer from his comfortable position on Sandy’s back where he hung like a rucksack.
“They did?”
Jamie’s voice came out of the dark. “Isn’t that them forming a halo above your head?”
“Why so they are,” she exclaimed. The stars quickly regrouped into a jaunty ‘hello’.
“Clever wordplay,” said the cat, acknowledging their collective intelligence.
The stars spelt out a neat ‘thank you’.
“D’ye think you might make yerselves useful for a change and stop showing off? I cannae see too well in the dark and Sandy’s already made her position plain.”
The stars rushed ahead and formed themselves into the stellar equivalent of a strong torchbeam.
“Now yer talking. How’s that for you, Vince? Do try tae keep up.”
The kilt didn’t dignify Florin’s jibe with an answer.
Peg Leg returned from his sortie through the tunnel. “It doesn’t look too bad up ahead. We can press on for now and, before you ask, Thermidor, I haven’t seen any eyes.”
Sandy reached behind her and gave the lobster’s tail a reassuring tweak. “D’you think we’ve been missed yet? I’ve lost all track of time.”
“You betcha,” said Pongo. “Indigoletta wasn’t about to waste a moment packing you off home. She had more than enough on her plate as it was and now some volcanic eruption’s added itself to her list of problems.”
Sandy was regretting her impetuous behaviour. “They’re probably worried sick. I should have left a note telling them not to panic.”
“A fat lot of good that would have done,” said Pongo pragmatically. “They’d still be up to high doh.”
“At least they’d realise we haven’t been abducted.”
“Let’s hope they think that’s exactly what’s happened to us,” said the Siamese, dodging a puddle. “If the Royal Raven knew we’d scarpered to avoid being sent home she’d be livid.”
Pongo was loving every second of it. “We’re in for a severe ticking-off when this is over. It’ll be tail between legs and no mistake. I’m pretty good at grovelling.”
“You’ve had a lot of practice no doubt.”
“Shssh, I thought I heard something moving up ahead,” hissed the kilt.
“Stay where ye are and I’ll have a dekko,” urged Florin in a stage whisper.
“How do you propose to do that unless Sandy and I come with you?”
“And we’re not about to do that, are we, Vince?”
The gull took to the air and flew silently round the next corner, leaving them all frozen to the spot. The stars turned themselves off, plunging the little group into pitch darkness.
“Good plan, twinklies,” whispered Pongo, “if a tad unnerving.”
“At least you can see in the dark,” said Sandy, crouching down to give him a cuddle.
“Trust me, that’s not always a good thing.”
Lorimer tightened his grip round Sandy’s neck. She stifled a cough and struggled to loosen his claws.
The blackness pressed in on them and they moved closer together in the claustrophobic silence.
Cassandra listened to the conversation going on around her. The hare felt groggy and lay on her side with her eyes closed. The infirmary staff were discussing the disappearance of the girl from Irvine and her friends while they were cavorting in the guest spa.
“I ask you, where could they have gone?” said one of the nurses, smoothing the blanket of notes which was playing a soporific melody to comfort the beast. “There’s such a to-do but no one’s found a trace of them.”
The other nurse leant across Cassandra and pulled her colleague towards her. “Have you heard the latest rumour? They say Maligna the Harpie has escaped.”
“Never!”
The hare’s eyes snapped open.
“Hello dear,” said the first nurse, “how are you feeling? You’ve had a rough time.”
“I’ll warm up some broth for you,” said the other. “You’ll need to build up your strength.”
Cassandra’s voice was weak and reedy. “Has Maligna really managed to escape?”
“So they say, but don’t you worry about that. You’re safe here with us.”
“I’m not worried for myself,” said the hare quickly.
“Good for you,” said the nurse, patting Cassandra’s head. “You’re a very special patient, you know. The Queen doesn’t invite help from corncobbers for just anyone.”
At the mention of Celestina, Cassandra grew agitated. “You must tell Her Majesty the cat from Irvine’s on Grimshaw’s brigantine, I saw him with my own eyes.”
“Keep your hair on.” The nurse chortled at her unintended pun. “That’s old news, I’m afraid. Was there anything else, dearie?”
Cassandra slumped back on the bed. She’d nearly died conveying a message no one wanted to hear.
Pigsblanket woke feeling better than he could ever remember. He was used to sleeping in a hammock in the most squalid conditions. The cotton sheets on this bed were crisp and smelt of fresh herbs.
The lad lay on his back staring at the ornate plaster mouldings on the ceiling and laughed out loud at the sight of Conchita perched on the chandelier, cleaning her beak on the sparkling crystal centrepiece.
The parrot’s feathers were vibrant shades of scarlet, mauve and emerald and the boy almost didn’t recognise her. The Conchita he knew was the faded colours of a long-dead, stuffed bird that would have been right at home on a dusty shelf at The Mischief Maker.
“Look at you!” he exclaimed, grinning all over his face.
Pigsblanket braced himself for the customary pain when he swung his legs out of bed but his ribs were cradled in a loosely woven bandage of struntie fleece and he was able to stand up without even a twinge of discomfort.
The boy caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror. He was wearing a striped nightshirt.
“That can’t be me,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “I’m in a awful state.”
Pigsblanket waved his arms around to check the data being presented to him but the mirror continued to show a boy of his age waving his arms around. He moved closer and peered at his reflection. The swelling had gone down and the bruises were barely visible; even the split lip had healed.
There was a knock and Will popped his head round the door. “Would you like a spot of breakfast?”
“Yes, please.”
“And the parrot? I see she’s polished off the bowl of seed I left her. How about some fruit?”
“She’d like that, thanks.”
“The bathroom’s over there,” said the imp, pointing to a panelled door. “I laid out some clothes for you while you were asleep. They ought to fit.”
Will broached the subject of Sandy’s departure when he returned with a large cooked breakfast and a generous pile of hot buttered toast. He was pretty sure the boy had slept through the whole thing which turned out to be the case.
“I bet they’ve gone off to rescue Leo.”
“That would be my guess, too, but there’s no sign of them between here and the harbour. Corvine’s crawling with troops and there’s a boarding party heading for the brigantine if the weather ever settles down. They’re such a distinctive group. It ought to be hard to miss them. I’ll take you down to the spa when you’ve scoffed that little lot. A fresh pair of eyes might pick up something I’ve missed.”
“You’re sure I can have the clothes?” Pigsblanket had never worn anything so splendid. Even Grimshaw’s togs couldn’t live up to these and the buccaneer always dressed to kill.
“Aquamarine suits you.”
“You think so?” The boy tugged at the lace shirt-cuffs and straightened the collar on his silk frock coat.
“Without a doubt.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“Of course I am but your new rigout is a distinct improvement on its predecessor. I binned your old clothes, that was the right thing to do, wasn’t it?”
“I’d have torn them to pieces then chucked them in the bin.”
“Thank you for the message, Cough,” said the Prince of Cobalt-Sibilance. “Tell the Royal Raven I’ll contact Ralph and report back.”
The hooded crow withdrew, leaving Sammy, Alfie and Jock profoundly shocked. The Giant Sapphire poured out spirals of rosy light to soak up the negativity unleashed by the news of Sandy’s disappearance.
“What on earth are we going to tell him?”
“The truth, WAE.”
“Sammy’s right,” said Jock. “It’s the only way.”
“He asked us to send Sandy home and offer some advice on dispatching those little horrors in the cupboard. We’ve blown it on both counts.”
“Not entirely, Alfie. I’ve sealed off the portal. No more scrablings can slip through but Ralph still has the problem of what to do with the ones that are already there. At least there’s good news as regards Leo, as long as we manage to rescue him.” The snake took a turn round the Giant Sapphire to focus his mind and stopped in front of his two friends. “I suggest we get this over with.”
The elf reluctantly took the cowrie shell from his tunic pocket and placed it to his mouth. “Here’s goes.”
“Once you’ve made contact, I’ll do the explaining,” said the serpent. “I feel somehow responsible, although I truly believed they’d be safe at the palace.”
..........and if you just can’t wait for each weekly episode, you can buy ’Beyond the Hedge’
here
