Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ - Chapter 14 Part 2"
’Beyond the Hedge’
Sandy gave the dog a veiled look. “Thank you, Pongo, I didn’t realise that question had my name on it. I can’t blame you for wondering what this is all about. It’s quite straightforward, Pigsblanket. We’re off to rescue Leo, and Gilbert as well, if we can.”
Jamie was studying his right front foot. He spread his toes like a fan and bit off a skliff of ragged nail. “Why does that put me in mind of the ‘Wizard of Oz’? Something about the rhythm.”
The boy’s steady gaze made Sandy uncomfortable and the parrot’s fiercely protective expression brought on a guilty squirm. The smile melted from her face. “You think we’re running away, don’t you?”
Pongo nibbled Sandy’s ankle, trying to prevent her from blurting out the truth. “Pigsblanket hasn’t accused us of running away,” he said. The unspoken ‘yet’ hung in the air.
The cabin boy’s confidence had grown since he’d escaped the clutches of Pestilence Grimshaw.
“You’re settling in, haven’t even finished unpacking when you decide to go for a swim. A short while later, Will comes to deliver the message that you’re to return home and finds nothing but a pile of soggy towels. It’s a reasonable conclusion. Who tipped you off?”
Pongo started to hum and began rooting around in some pebbles.
“I should have known the dog was responsible.”
“There, you lot, did you hear that? At last, someone who appreciates my finer qualities. Good to have you onboard, lad.” The boy couldn’t help ruffling Pongo’s mop of curls. “I thought the nautical reference would go down well, you being of the naval persuasion. What say we chuck a few anchors around and take it from there?”
Pigsblanket’s amused ‘yes’ was met with joyful relief.
Sandy found herself dancing a Highland Fling, with a jubilant lobster on her back, thanks to the boisterous reactions of the kilt and sporran, united briefly in the unsurpassed joy of Scottish country dancing.
Peg Leg whisked Conchita into the air and whirled her round his head while Pongo bounded around barking at the top of his lungs. It was great just to be a dog sometimes. Jamie watched from the sidelines, controlled as ever.
Pigsblanket tried to shut them up with frantic hand gestures but they assumed he was joining in the celebration.
The penny dropped first with the purse. “That’s torn it, Vince. We’re supposed to be keeping a low profile. Talk about announcing our presence.”
“Never mind that, you wee pain. What’s torn? Are you trying to put the wind up me?”
“Kilts by their very design are prone tae turbulence. Surely you don’t need me to tell you that but, dinnae panic, yer precious wee pleats are intact.”
“This is not a game!” One by one they fell silent, chastened by the Pigsblanket’s angry words. “I think it would be for the best if I took you all back to the palace.”
Pongo’s world crashed around him. His miserable expression said it all.
“Don’t look at me like that. You brought this on yourselves.”
Gilbert trotted across the foredeck towards the bowsprit. “Why’s Captain Grimshaw’s ladylove turning somersaults out there over the reef?”
“It seems she got carried away.”
“This is no time for larking about. I thought she was of a more serious disposition. Still, you never can tell.”
The cat padded wearily towards his friend. “You’re far too gullible to be a rat, sometimes verging on downright silly which is very unratlike indeed.”
Gilbert tried to find a sustaining morsel of meat in a sentence full of dry bones. “Gullible I could learn to live with, but silly is altogether more wounding.”
Leo regretted his choice of adjective. “What I mean, Gilb, is that your innocent approach to life may put you at a disadvantage sometimes. Take now, for instance. Maligna’s in the grip of a twister and lucky for us that she is. And what made you think she was Captain Grimshaw’s girlfriend, for goodness sake?”
“The way she treats him. He’s henpecked. It’s a dead giveaway.”
Leo chortled. “I see what you mean, but it’s much more complicated. There’s some seriously scary stuff going on and it’s down to that creature. She’s very bad news.”
“It’s as well she likes you then, dear wee chum.”
“There you go again, always seeing the good in everyone.” Leo’s exasperation was manifest. “The Harpie couldn’t care less about me, Gilbert. I’m of use to her in some way or another. Her relationship with Minxie’s a bit of a puzzle. I reckon we ought to watch our backs where that wazwatt’s concerned and, as for Cahoots, how come he thinks Maligna’s his Mum?”
“I’m not going to be the one to set him straight, are you?”
“Certainly not, we’re in enough strife as it is.”
The air behind them was ripped apart by an anguished scream from the dragon. Cahoots thumped past them, wings flailing furiously. “Hold on, mother. I’ll save you.” He was in such a flap he failed to take off and plunged straight into the harbour.
“Dearie me, what does that nincompoop think he’s up to now?” The wazwatt flew off to assess the damage with a bewildered Gilbert and Leo in her wake. They hung out over the gunnel as Minxie zipped back the way she’d come. “Dragon in the drink!” she yelled. “Fetch a boathook!”
Jedediah Malahyde broke into a run and Leitzoff tossed him a hook with a long length of rope attached to it. Several members of the crew deserted their posts to take advantage of the free entertainment.
Cahoots was caught up in a vicious undertow and was likely to drown with the weight of water on his wings.
“Trust you to jump into the briny before you’ve learned how to swim. Grab hold of the boathook!” The wazwatt urged the exhausted dragon forward. “That’s it, you can do it, you big daft fire-hazard.”
Pestilence Grimshaw came up behind the First Mate and the Bosun as they reeled in a bedraggled Cahoots. “Great heavens, what’s he doing out there? I assumed you were disposing of the Giant Rat somewhat prematurely. That bally tornado’s preventing us from putting to sea but at least it’s keeping ‘Laughing Girl’ out of my hair.”
Gilbert’s jaw almost hit the deck and he stared goggle-eyed at Leo. Malahyde gestured with a desperate flick of his head. The cat received the message loud and clear but Gilbert was rooted to the spot and Leo had to nudge him repeatedly before he so much as twitched. “It’s time to make ourselves scarce,” he whispered, “or you’ll be dangling on a length of anchor chain on a one-way trip to the bottom.”
Maligna had planned to launch her offensive against Celestina before the Fairy Queen discovered she was already in Corvine. The tornado had upstaged the Harpie but she wasn’t going to let that stand in her way. She had to destroy the Sapphire and its Protector. Get rid of the gem and the snake, then dispose of Celestina and the rest of her clique one by one.
When the tail tightened around her neck Maligna knew some clever shape-shifting had given her enemy the upper hand. From tornado to flying lizard in the blink of an eye was impressive.
The reptile swung the Harpie out over Fractal Reef and dashed her on the malicious rocks at the northernmost point.
Maligna exploded with incandescent rage when the Lizard Queen, protected by her white winged rooks, made a dive for the anklet which tightened protectively around her leg. She gave an enraged scream. “You’ll pay for that with your life, just like your wretched mother.”
The Harpie hurled a fireball through the air which engulfed the birds but the lizard doused the flames with a torrent of seawater. The rooks were sucked under the waves and spewed out again in a fountain of foam, shocked, singed but very much alive.
The Prince and the Royal Raven watched the battle unfold from the balcony outside the solarium. Hamish was encouraged and said as much.
“The Harpie cannot be defeated so easily, sir. I’ve seen her in action before and, believe me, this is not typical. She hasn’t even begun to show what she’s capable of. Her Majesty is the only one who can stop Maligna now. The combined military might of Sylvania is as nothing before one such as her. The young Queen has a long, lonely night ahead of her and the outcome is by no means certain.”
The grave expression on the Royal Raven’s face tightened the knot in Hamish’s stomach. “But surely my wife’s tactics have disadvantaged the Harpie?”
Indigoletta’s intelligent eyes rebuked him for his naivety. “I know it’s hard for you to imagine the all-consuming evil we’re facing. Those of us who witnessed Queen Daria’s brutal death have never truly recovered. Such horror diminishes the soul.”
“Sylvanians are a peace-loving folk. It’s hard to imagine why anyone would wish to destroy us.”
“Indeed, sir, and Maligna came so close to achieving her ambition. You cannot imagine how hard it was for us to defeat her. We were very nearly overwhelmed and have never regained our former strength. The damage she inflicted endures.”
Hamish brushed his hand against her cowl of feathers, risking her annoyance should she find the gesture over-familiar. The huge bird moved closer and rested her head against his arm. “All we had to do was keep the Harpie and the anklet apart and we couldn’t even manage that. It’s disgraceful.”
“No one can take the blame for what happened. The earthquake surprised us all and we’ve yet to discover how Maligna came by the anklet. It could have been a simple accident of fate.”
Little did he know then how close he was to the truth.
The sky darkened ominously over the reef as the raven sank further into a pit of despair.
The fog round the castle was spreading out over the harbour and the capital was virtually deserted. There hadn’t been time to put a curfew in place but fear had emptied the streets.
A stray dog mooched her way along the docks picking over scraps of fish the harbour cats had left in their hurry to get away. She was crunching a herring skull when she noticed a slight movement by the waste-bins behind the fish-packing sheds. The bins were no more than twenty paces from where she was foraging and they were in deep shadow. The dog slunk behind a crate and waited to see what would happen next.
She was on the point of giving up when a large mass detached itself from the darkness and passed right in front of her. She swallowed hard as it moved off towards the breakwater at the harbour entrance. Its progress was slow and surreptitious against a backdrop of shifting shadows. The creature slunk onto an exposed stretch of wharf as the moon burst through a gap in the clouds.
Now she ought to be able to make out what it was and from a safe distance. The dog shifted her weight onto her front paws in anxious anticipation, but the wharf remained exactly as it was, deserted. Nor was there a trace of the stealthy being that had captured her attention for so long.
The stray turned her back on the harbour and made straight for the town and the company of the other homeless dogs who lived alongside her in the sewers.
The air was damp and moisture from the trees dripped off the feathers on Alfie’s hat and trickled down the back of his neck. He stuffed the hat in one of the saddle-bags and pulled the hood of his cloak up over his head.
Old Rook Wood was pin-drop silent. The only sounds came from the elf and his pony as they made their way through the trees. The crow continued his aerial surveillance but no longer called out his position to Alfie. Why risk playing into the hands of something that might wish them harm?
Jock dropped onto the pommel of the saddle, taking care not to scare Celia. “Have you an earthly clue where we are, WAE? You know this wood like the back of your hand.”
“Not anymore. I don’t profess to have a Sylvanian clue, never mind an earthly one. If I didn’t know better I’d say we slipped into another dimension.”
“Heaven forfend! Two dimensions are more than enough for me.”
Alfie suggested they stop briefly to rest the pony. The mist showed no signs of dispersing so they chose somewhere open to avoid being ambushed. The rising moon filled the clearing with cool amethyst light. The elf dismounted and led Celia down to the stream for a drink. He unloaded the picnic basket and took out a large pie embellished with his initials in pastry. There was a bulging linen napkin with Jock’s name embroidered on the corner which he opened on a tree stump.
The crow watched him attentively. “Would you look at that; a veritable mound of chuckleberry and haggis patties,” he said, demolishing three in the blink of an eye.
“Impressive picnic, and no mistake. Trust old Sammy.” The elf bit into an aubergine fritter before cutting himself a generous slice of pie. He savoured his first bite. “It’s pumpkin and pineapple. What a treat.”
“Did you say pumpkin and pineapple, dear boy? How yummy.”
The words came from the opposite bank of the stream where an old elf sat cross-legged on a slab of rock. Alfie turned away from Jock. “Uncle Angus, is that you?”
“None other. Now how’s about a nice slice of pie? There’s far too much for you to manage on your own.”
“What are you doing here when you’re supposed to be at home staying out of trouble?”
“Pie first, talk later,” replied Angus in a sing-song voice.
“Talk first or no pie,” said Alfie irritably.
Jock was gripped with anxiety. He moved out of the moonlight and skirted the clearing until he was right behind Angus. He flew up into an oak tree and positioned himself in an overhanging branch.
“I’ve come to help you, nephew dear. It seems to me you’re in a heap of trouble so show some respect, you ungrateful little creep.”
“That’s enough,” said the elf, tightening his grip on the knife. “You’ve talked yourself out of a slice unless you come over here and apologise at once.”
Angus smirked. “Make me!”
“Don’t be silly. It’s been a long day. Why don’t you have some pie and we’ll leave it at that.”
“Not unless you bring it yourself.”
“Fair enough,” sighed the elf, playing for time. The second he took his eyes off Angus, all hell broke loose.
Celia was brought to the ground by a pair of wild-eyed wolverines who’d crept up on her under the low blanket of mist. She let out a very un-ponylike wail which alerted Alfie. He threw off his cloak and dived into the fray, knife blade glinting as he plunged it into the shoulders of the beast that was going for Celia’s throat.
Jock began a frenzied attack on the other wolverine, ripping chunks out of its pelt with his diamond-hard beak. He’d had plenty of practice clearing up roadkill down the years but it was a bit more challenging when the target was still moving.
The pony’s instinct for survival kicked in; she lashed out with her hooves and dealt one of her attackers a hefty blow in the ribs. The beast was winded and Celia managed to roll over and trap it underneath her belly. Jock tore at its exposed throat and it howled in agony.
The other wolverine let go of the pony’s neck and went to the aid of its trapped partner. Alfie slashed at its hindquarters while Jock pecked holes in its shoulders like a demented sewing-machine.
Angus sat impassively throughout with a horrible grin on his face until he realised the wolverines were in serious trouble. He leapt down from the rock with an agility he hadn’t displayed in years and, springing across the brook, jumped his nephew from behind.
“Get off me!” shouted the elf. “You’re in the way.” He could feel Angus’s rasping breath on his cheek. His uncle let out a hideous shriek and Alfie found himself looking into the bloodshot eyes of a foul-smelling scrogwit. It screamed triumphantly and caught him in an armlock.
The wolverines limped off into the wood while Alfie was wrestling with the demon. They’d had more than enough for one night.
Celia staggered to her feet wondering what she could do to help. Her coat was slicked with blood but she had well and truly overcome her fear. She felt the satisfying crack of bone as her jaws closed round the scrogwit’s ankle. The demon tried to kick her with its free leg but the pony jinked clear.
The fight between Alfie and the scrogwit was fast and furious, but Jock managed to inflict a series of wounds, one of which demolished the scrogwit’s right eye. Still it showed no signs of giving up, if anything it was growing stronger and more persistent.
Jock was devastated when he realised it had bitten Alfie’s neck. The poison quickly worked its mischief and the elf’s eyes rolled back in their sockets as he slipped into unconsciousness.
The scrogwit whooped with delight, its job done.
The beast’s triumph was short-lived. Jock was so distraught he went for its remaining eye and it lurched off into the trees clutching the bloody remains of its face. Its enraged cries were cut short in one grisly, strangulated howl.
Celia stood over Alfie sorrowfully. It was a distressing picture, the injured pony and the dying elf.
Jock was numb with despair. He stood helplessly waiting to see what was crashing towards them through the trees.
..........and if you just can’t wait for each weekly episode, you can buy ’Beyond the Hedge’
here
