Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 14 Part 1"
’Beyond the Hedge’
Celia clearly enjoyed her food. She’d made short work of the apples and carrots and was eyeing up a nosebag of bran and sultana mash Sammy had laid on for the trek to Corvine. There was also a net of hay and a bunch of carrots behind the saddle.
Alfie jumped on the pony. “What about me, SSS?”
“You eat raw carrots, don’t you?”
“If there’s nothing else going.”
“Then you’d better take this with you.”
A rattan picnic hamper materialised in front of Alfie. He let go of the reins and caught hold of the basket. “There are some treats in there for you too, Jock, in case you find foraging too much of an effort.”
They parted in high spirits but they each knew it was a pretence.
The journey to Corvine was likely to be difficult. The freak weather had created havoc and chaos was the order of the day. Pockets of evil were full to bursting and no longer confined to the shadows. They were multiplying at a terrifying rate throughout the land.
Sammy wanted Alfie reunited with Pogo. His place was with his wife since the situation in Crawdonia had gone so far wrong. It was comforting to know that Estella was safe in Skirl with Mervyn and his family.
The Prince of Cobalt-Sibilance watched his two friends from the ancient tree by the mouth of the cave. The snake was loosely coiled through the branches in a relaxed manner which belied his inner feelings.
Sammy felt lonely and crushed by the weight of his responsibilities. Queen Celestina was preparing to face the creature who had killed her mother and he had to come up with the right combination of magic to protect her. He wondered if he were up to such an onerous task.
The snake slithered down from the tree and entered the cave with a reluctance he’d not experienced before. He sent Morgana home to be with her family. The bird polished the Giant Sapphire before she left, talking quietly to it, like a mother reassuring a child facing its first day at school. There was a special bond between the jewel and the magpie and Sammy sensed the Sapphire’s sadness and knew it was already pining for her.
“It’s down to us now, my dear friend.”
“And me,” said Spondoolicks, dropping down on a thread level with the snake’s eyes. “I’d play some rousing reels and jigs if I thought it would cheer you both up. Maybe later, eh? I can see you’ve work to do.”
There was an explosion of light at the centre of the Sapphire. The gemstone was rocked by the force of the blast and the air round it hissed and crackled like a bonfire.
Spondoolicks sought refuge in a nearby chest of doubloons and Sammy flung himself round the base of the Sapphire to prevent it from flying across the cave. The jewel was numbingly cold but he had no time to dwell on that. The endgame had started.
Jedediah Malahyde wasn’t about to jeopardise the crew’s safety. He caught the Bosun by the scruff of the neck as he ran across the deck. “What going on, man? We can’t leave the harbour in conditions like these. It’s the worst storm for years. Have you taken leave of the little sense you had?”
Leitzoff wasn’t the brightest penny in the pile but he’d had enough. “That’s as maybe, Mr Malahyde, but I’m only obeying orders and they ain’t from the Cap’n. In case you haven’t noticed, the ship’s no longer under his control.”
Malahyde grabbed the Bosun and shook him vigorously. “So it’s mutiny now, you miserable wretch.”
The sailor’s teeth should have been rattling but poor diet had seen most of them off years before. “Course not,” he said indignantly. “But where waz you when I needed you? In yer cabin feelin’ sorry for yerself, that’s where. I knows you’re upset about young Pigsblanket, but it’s not on. Me and the rest of the crew’s come to depend on you and things’ve got a might peculiar. Have you seen her in the white robes, Cap’n Grimshaw’s squeeze? It’s bad luck to allow womenfolk on board and this one’s not backwards ’bout coming forwards, she’s already callin’ the shots.”
Jedediah’s nerves were frayed like worn elastic bands. They snapped and he clouted Leitzoff to shut him up. The Bosun rubbed his jaw and mumbled an apology but his defiant expression painted a different picture.
Malahyde was white with anger but Leitzoff persisted. “You’ll be tellin’ her we’re not sailing after all, will you? Cap’n can’t stand up to her so I doubt you’ll be able to. It’s them eyes of hers, they’d put a starved cat off a bowl of clam chowder.”
“That’s enough, man.” The First Mate was weary but did his best to hide it. “What’s wrong with her eyes?”
Leitzoff winced at the memory and his hand strayed to the charm he wore round his neck for protection. “They’re the black eyes of the damned.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Malahyde, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. “Superstitious nonsense like that has no berth on this ship.”
The Bosun remained boot-faced, Jedediah’s words weren’t about to float his boat. “I knows what I saw and I reckons we’re done for. I don’t mean to be disrespec’ful but Cap’n Grimshaw doesn’t half pick ’em. He’d be dating yon Harpie if she wasn’t rotting in that smelly old dungeon.”
Jedediah’s frustration boiled over. “Damn it, man, are you really such a lunk-head?” Leitzoff shrugged and shuffled his feet awkwardly. “Who do you think’s at the helm of our beloved ship? The cat’s auntie wearing a pair of striped pyjamas!” The Bosun blinked foolishly and looked hopeful. “Why didn’t you bring this to my attention earlier?”
Leitzoff’s eyes were glazing over. He’d done more than his fair share of thinking for one night and couldn’t believe he was now being accused of dereliction of duty.
‘The Cheeky Monkey’ pitched heavily to port at the harbour mouth as the twister whipped across her bows. Malahyde stumbled and landed awkwardly on his right knee. The pain shot up into his hip and he let out a string of curses. By the time he’d recovered Leitzoff had melted away.
Maligna was outlined against the ruptured sky, her ghostly robes flapping in the wind.
“Jedediah, not before time. Someone I have respect for at long last. There’s really no need to kneel, but I’m flattered all the same.”
Peg Leg scanned the culvert from every conceivable angle. He listened out for sounds which might indicate what was happening further along the tunnel.
The gull neatly dodged a clutch of stalactites and, rounding a blind corner, found himself flying towards a multitude of scrablings who were blocking the tunnel. He swiftly concealed himself in a cranny before the preoccupied beasts caught sight of him.
“Now what?” said Snuck, the leader of the horde. “We’ve followed Balebreath’s orders and what good’s come of it? The big palooka’s done a bunk and left us here to defend the drain.”
“It all started to go wrong when we came across that portal,” said Meesles, her second-in-command. “We’ve always been too nosey for our own good. I was biting chunksies out my nailsies when those ninnies decided to sample life on the other side. That snaglip’s several ribs short of a rhino but he was right when it comes to dodgy portals. I doubt we’ll see those foolish artichokes again.”
The remaining scrablings swung from right to left in stacked rows, singing lustily. “Gone for ever, we’ll not see them again, they’re in clover with Rover and good luck to them.”
Snuck spluttered with exasperation. “When you hear drivel like that, lieutenant, you know extinction is imminent.”
“Indeed so, ma’am.” Meesles rolled on his back and set about sharpening his incisors with his front claws.
The commander stared at him hoping he’d substituted ‘artichokes’ for ‘articles’ in the heat of the moment. She was unconvinced.
Meesles burbled on happily. “We’ve fine weapons for our size but brainsies bigger than apple pipsies would’ve been handy.”
Snuck wished she had not been cursed with intelligence. What a miserable state of affairs to be in such glorious isolation.
The gull slipped out of the cleft in the rock and flew back along the tunnel wondering what he’d stumbled upon. Not the wisest critters in Sylvania, that was for sure.
Peg Leg was describing what he’d seen when Pongo’s body suddenly stiffened. The dog cautiously looked back along the tunnel. His ears flicked forward and his tail dropped.
Something was closing in on them from behind. They were fast becoming the filling in a sandwich. Who was going to take the first bite and from which direction was more than a bit diverting. He sniffed the air, analysing the scent. It was not one of the familiar pongs stored in his nasal filing cabinet but it was one he recognised.
“Well,” whispered Sandy, “any ideas?”
“Yes, as it happens. Back in a tick.” The dog padded off into the tunnel with Jamie beside him.
Lorimer gave Sandy’s ear a gentle tweak. “Who do you think it might be? It can’t be someone who’s angry with us for doing a runner. Pongo wouldn’t be so chipper if that were the case.”
“That’s good to hear, barnacle chops, I’m not ready tae confront the bagpipes just yet.”
“What are you bletherin’ on about now, Florin?”
“…facing the music, Vince, in an unprepared state.” The kilt scowled but not so you’d notice unless you happened to be a sporran. “Don’t sulk, you big balloon, it makes your pleats saggy.”
Pongo and Jamie burst out of the darkness into the starry spotlight. A small, lean figure was following on behind. The stars widened their beam to accommodate the new arrival.
“Pigsblanket, is that really you? You look so different, so well!” The lad nodded and smiled at Sandy, revealing a fine set of teeth. Her brief memory was of someone horribly disfigured.
Pongo grinned his toothiest grin. “The denture fairy paid him a visit while he was asleep.”
“Surely they hurt your gums after the beating you took?”
Pigsblanket moved Conchita from his wrist to his shoulder. “He’s pulling your leg, Sandy.”
“That’s better than pulling your teeth, I suppose,” said the kilt, taking its first tentative step towards humour.
“You mean to say those are proper teeth? That’s truly amazing.”
“Not really, kiddo,” said the dog. “This sort of thing’s pretty run of the mill in fairyland. Gnashers are two a penny here. Easy come, easy go, easy come again.”
“Not much work for dentists then?”
“Not if you have the right connections or are blessed with perfect teeth like mine which Pogo brushes regularly for me.”
Pongo was interrupted by an ecstatic Peg Leg. “Conchita, you look gorgeous! I’ve seen less colourful rainbows.” He flew towards the parrot who instinctively ducked, not that there was any need for concern; the gull landed neatly in the crook of Pigsblanket’s arm.
Lorimer yanked himself further up Sandy’s back to see what was going on. “You don’t think Peg’s got a crush on the parrot, do you? I wouldn’t like to see him get hurt. You never know where you are with exotic flibbertigibbets. These flashy types can be very unpredictable.”
“You should know,” she replied with a smirk.
The lobster waved his feelers. “I’m not with you…”
“On the contrary,” said Pongo. “I’ve never seen a lobster more with anyone.”
Pigsblanket struggled to overcome his natural shyness. He cleared his throat. “Right then, you lot, what are you up to?”
“Would you like to field that question, Sandy?” The dog plonked himself sack-of-spuds style at her feet with his eyes fixed on the ground in front of him.
Alfie and Celia were making reasonable progress with Jock as their aerial scout. If there was trouble brewing, the crow might just spot something the elf was unaware of from the ground.
When they first set out they were determined to skirt Old Rook Wood. A shortcut through the ancient forest was tempting, it could save them time, but it was a risk neither wished to take. The wood was no longer a friendly place.
Debris from a landslide eventually forced them off the only remaining track which ran cross-country from Moonglow Lake towards Corvine. They picked their way through marsh and moorland, inhospitable terrain the elf wouldn’t have dreamt of visiting unless he was being pursued by an angry wild boar who’d mistaken him for the hunter who’d put an arrow in its rump.
The crow directed operations from above, staying close enough to be heard over the rising wind. The weather was demanding attention again and rogue slivers of lightning flitted across the brooding sky, adding to Jock’s sense of unease.
In places the marsh was so treacherous, Alfie had to dismount and lead the pony by the reins. Celia’s distress was barely contained; she rolled her eyes fearfully as he coaxed her across narrow spits of peat bog. The pony’s hoof prints filled up with brackish water with each reluctant step she took. When she lost her footing and sank into the mire Alfie tightened his grip on the reins and wrenched her forward.
Jock spiralled down and landed on a blackthorn bush. He tugged distractedly at his rosette of white feathers. The bird’s demeanour was that of a general breaking bad news to his troops.
“Something weird’s going on. You know how accurate my sense of direction is but we’re being drawn towards Old Rook no matter what I do.”
Alfie tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice but his laugh was hollow. “You’ll have a bald spot if you don’t pack that in.”
The crow felt the first drops of rain on his head. He spat out a feather which was carried off on the wind. “You’re not wrong, WAE, but I have to tell you I’m worried. Whether we like it or not, we’re going to end up in the wood. I was considering turning back but I don’t believe that’s an option now.”
Celia had picked up on their mood and Alfie tried to cheer her up with a handful of carrots. The pony didn’t attack them with her usual enthusiasm; she ate one after the other, her eyes anxiously following his every move.
“I suggest we take the path of least resistance. That way we can shelter, not that I need to being one hundred percent waterproof.”
“Show-off!” Alfie was relieved to hear Jock more like himself again. “Celia’s coat’s as good as a thatched roof and I did bring my struntie wool cloak. It’s strictly a winter garment and took some finding without PP there to point me in the right direction. Let’s face it, we both know the rain’s the least of our worries but surely to goodness Old Rook hasn’t been overwhelmed by a bunch of dodgy scrogwits? It’s far too venerable and wise to let rabble like that get the better of it.”
The crow frowned under his feathers. “Let’s hope you’re right. Age can have its limitations.”
The decision to accept the inevitable removed all obstacles from their path and they entered the wood on the first stroke of dusk.
Jock flew into the tree canopy with the silent stealth of an owl, a smudge of shadow against the inky backdrop. Alfie quickly lost sight of him but the crow cawed now and then to let him know he wasn’t far away.
They had hoped to leave the marsh mist behind but it drifted in through the trees just above ground level. Alfie soon lost sight of his feet and Celia appeared to be floating along beside him. She shied away when he tried to mount her. When it came to invisible feet, Celia didn’t want hers to be the only four.
Sylvanian ponies, unlike their larger equine cousins, rarely talk and their understanding of other languages is extremely limited. Alfie dredged his memory and came up with a few words of reassurance in her own tongue to steady her. He thrust his foot in the stirrup and swung himself into the saddle.
The mist stretched out in all directions, covering everything beneath its ghostly shroud. The unnatural silence was eerie. This was the hour when the nightshift took over from the dayshift which invariably refused to go quietly. It was often as not a rowdy business undertaken with garrulous enthusiasm, but not on this occasion. Everyone had decided to have an early night.
When Jock flew towards roosting birds they shrank away from him into the leafy gloom. They didn’t answer when he called out. They were clearly terrified and his presence increased their fear.
Where were the hooties and dusky hawkmoths, the silvery screech-bats and diamond-slippered fireflies? Even the twilight chorus of speckled salamanders was muted.
Old Rook’s night patrol should have been tending the boundary hedge which dissects the wood, but there wasn’t a hairy hedgehorn to be seen.
The Prince of Cobalt-Sibilance hung onto the Sapphire with all the strength he could muster. On every facet of the stone was a flickering image of ‘The Cheeky Monkey’ in the grip of a ferocious funnel-cloud. Sammy was in no doubt Celestina had made the first move in her deadly encounter with Maligna.
The temperature in the cave plummeted and the stone shrunk in on itself. The gem gave a sickly shudder and the light at its heart grew dim. Sammy cradled the Sapphire in his coils and rocked it like a baby.
Maligna looked out at him from inside the stone. “Save yourself the trouble, serpent. It’s as good as useless. The anklet is the supreme source of magic in Sylvania now. Why should I waste time playing tiddlywinks with you when I can capture your precious little Queen in the ultimate game of four-dimensional chess? Your footling spell-weaving is no threat to me.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” hissed the snake, “and Queen Celestina already has the upper hand, something she won’t fail to capitalise on.”
A huge lizard’s tail coiled around Maligna’s neck. Her enraged scream was cut off as it tightened and she was snatched from view.
The jewel was flooded with indigo light. “Welcome back, dear friend. It will take a great deal more than boastful words to defeat us.”
Rays of light from the Giant Sapphire illuminated even the darkest corners of the cavern.
The spider crawled out from his hiding-place and scurried along the edge of the casket. “That put her gas at a peep, SSS.”
“How right you are, Spondoolicks.”
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