Contents of article "’Beyond the Hedge’ Chapter 2 Part 1"
’Beyond the Hedge’
The Island of Long Forgotten Dreams is a desolate, forsaken place off the west coast of Sylvania. It lies due north of Corvine and is protected by a reef of jagged rocks whose treacherous currents and deadly whirlpools are un-navigable for all but the most skilled mariners.
Needless to say, Long Forgotten Dreams is not the No.1 destination for Sylvanian holiday-makers. It’s virtually unoccupied and is likely to stay that way. The very atmosphere is poisonous, not just in the physical sense, but spiritually as well. The island is draining, debilitating, barren, bleak and, as such, is a magnet for all negativity and despair. It induces melancholy and feeds greedily on depression and neurosis. It is a place to be shunned as several unfortunate souls have found out to their cost. Shipwrecked sailors who have managed to survive the malevolent reef and reach the shore almost immediately begin to feel wretched and lethargic. They gradually lose the will to live and soon die of despair and extinguished hope.
It was not always like this.
The benevolent Isle of Muckle Mirth was once home to a prosperous population of fairy folk, but those days were long gone. The island had found itself at the centre of a dispute between an ancestor of Queen Celestina and a brilliant spell-weaver with an over-inflated sense of his own worth which convinced him he was more powerful than anyone else. When the wizard was challenged and ultimately proved wrong, he invoked an immutable curse which blighted the island he had longed to possess.
In the decaying heart of Long Forgotten Dreams is a deep, dank sink-hole where Maligna the Harpie has been imprisoned for years. The source of her power is an engraved anklet of black gold studded with clovenstone from the ancient, now defunct mines in the shire of Kelpien. The Harpie has been deprived of this precious item which is kept at a secret location far from the island.
Sylvania’s future hinges on Maligna never being reunited with her precious anklet, so naturally that is her sole preoccupation. She has thought of little else since the first day of her incarceration. But what can she do? She is alone in her deep dungeon and can never escape unless her fortunes change dramatically.
The Harpie is a resourceful creature who has tried to bribe the only people she has contact with, namely her ever-changing shift of guards. No jailer is left exposed to her wiles for more than a day or two and they must also be protected from the island’s increasingly negative influence. She can be very persuasive and silver-tongued when she wants to be, with or without her anklet, but she has never made any progress and is pretty well resigned to her fate.
Maligna has been in female form for so long she’s experiencing a rising sense of panic. On top of that, she’s suffering from the first symptoms of claustrophobia in her wretched, disgusting sink-hole.
Her preferred incarnation is that of a sea serpent. It’s invigorating and revitalising to take to the waves whenever you fancy a change. How she misses and longs for the oceans, the freedom of skimming through the water, racing schools of dolphins and swimming with mermaids. Maligna has enjoyed these simple pleasures for she has no grudge against the creatures of the deep. The sea runs in her veins.
Sometimes in the dead of night when the relentless wind drops a little, Maligna is sure she can hear the waves breaking on the reef. It’s a comfort to her and brings her solace. On those rare occasions, lying on her wooden pallet in the dark, she resolves never to give up hope.
Sammy Slithering Snake managed to catch up with Wee Alfie Elf in no time, thanks to the accuracy and precision of his third eye. Had it not been for this rare gift, he might well have been a prisoner to his job. As it is, he can be wherever he needs to be and still keep tabs on the Cave of Sublime Spirit and its fabulous centrepiece, the Giant Sapphire. He can also move at incredible speed and be back at the cave almost before he’s left it.
Alfie’s first priority had been to locate his meddlesome uncle who, as luck would have it, is a creature of habit. His stomach’s requirements come way in front of his good common sense.
Angus felt he’d stayed out of sight long enough for the heat to have died down. Well, that’s what his stomach was telling him for pressing reasons of its own.
Alfie knew his uncle’s weakness for food and visited a couple of his preferred taverns on the outskirts of Corvine. He caught up with him at The Staggering Parrot, an out-of-the-way inn to the east of Old Rook Wood in the hamlet of Skelter.
The old spell-weaver was holding forth in his usual booming tones to some of the locals who were gathered round his table with suitably impressed expressions on their faces.
Angus was in his element and enjoying a fine supper as well. He plunged a fork into a plump, juicy ‘Kilted Sausage’. For the uninitiated, a ‘Kilted Sausage’ is a banger wearing a skirt of bacon, skewered with a generous slice of grilled tomato.
“Goodness knows what else might have gone wrong if I hadn’t been there to salvage the situation.”
Before he could say another word, his nephew’s voice rang out across the crowded tavern. “What’s that you’re saying? I suppose you’re explaining your part in today’s events. From what I just heard I’m not sure your version matches anyone else’s.”
Angus’s face turned beetroot red. “Now, be fair, WAE, you weren’t even there.”
The old elf had been revelling in all the attention and his nephew had just managed to ruin his moment of glory.
Alfie’s features grew less severe. “You still have a fair few sausages to get through. What say I get us an ale and we can have a proper chat later?” He drew closer and lowered his voice. “We think it’s best if Estella goes to stay with Pogo’s brother and his wife. They’re far enough away from the trouble that’s brewing here in Crawdonia.”
Angus’s face lit up at the mention of his great niece.
“She wants to see you before she leaves. Pogo’s preparing a special supper tonight, Estella’s favourite carrot and walnut loaf with mashed peas.”
“Carrot and walnut loaf, eh? Perhaps I’ll skip pudding. It’d be rude to sit back and watch you three tuck in. I wouldn’t want to offend Pogo.”
“Of course not, but I’m not sure Pongo will see it that way,” he muttered, watching his uncle guzzle the rest of the sausages.
The dog would be majorly miffed if Angus deprived him of his usual big bowl of nosh. It was one of Pongo’s ‘Top Ten Teas’.
Alfie reacted to a loud hiss as they left the tavern.
Sammy slipped out of a tree by the inn porch. “We need to talk. I felt it was best if I waited outside. I didn’t want to cause any panic, folks are nervous enough as it is.”
“We’re on our way home,” replied the elf. “Have you time to come back for a spot of supper? We can have a pow-wow afterwards.”
“That would be most agreeable, WAE.”
Angus puffed vigorously on his briar pipe. Telling Alfie what he’d been up to was bad enough, but to have to do so in front of the snake was going to be seriously unpleasant.
Perhaps Pongo was not going to lose out on the grub front after all.
It had been a long, horrid day. All Leo wanted was to be back at ‘Woodburn’ with the Henderson family, safely curled up on the hearth rug with Jamie, the Siamese cat, and Trixie, the boxer dog.
What had happened to change his well-ordered existence? Where was Sandy? And, even more pressing, where was he now and how was he to get home again?
The cat shivered as he considered his predicament. A familiar face or voice would be so good. But there was nothing familiar, reassuring or welcoming in this peculiar place.
A pair of curious, pink eyes were watching the cat from the cover of an elderberry bush. The eyes belonged to the Giant Rat, the most misunderstood creature in the land, Public Enemy No.1, until recent events had wrenched this dubious honour from his claws.
Gilbert was forever finding himself in incriminating situations. There was the time he blundered into the Cave of Sublime Spirit after a few too many ales and, tripping over an enormous pile of doubloons, knocked himself senseless and was discovered with his front paws wrapped around the Giant Sapphire and a silly big grin on his face.
Sammy Slithering Snake had seen the whole thing through his third eye and knew the daft beast meant no harm but many fairy folk were prejudiced against Gilbert simply because he was a rat and Sammy was finding it more and more difficult to protect him.
In the end the Giant Rat himself deemed it sensible to lie low for a while, particularly as the dust had not quite settled from his latest catastrophe with explosives.
Gilbert has always been fascinated by anything that goes BANG, particularly if it looks spectacular as it does so.
He almost destroyed one of the bridges over the Sprinting River when he overdid the gunpowder in a mortar while setting off the most splendid array of fireworks to celebrate his own birthday.
It had been seen initially as a possible act of war by an unidentified enemy.
When Gilbert was discovered with gunpowder burns all over his fur, it was hard to convince anyone that he was having a birthday party for one.
“Aye, that’ll be right,” was the general feeling, “and I suppose the band played ‘Believe It If You Like’, eh rat?”
But it was true; Gilbert had no friends.
For all that, the Giant Rat is a decent, caring soul and he immediately identified with the plight of the cat.
Gilbert is intelligent but lacks that important commodity, common sense. He tends to be a trifle ingenuous and hapless. It was time to get a grip on himself, stop making so many mistakes and definitely stop messing around with explosives.
More than anything Gilbert wanted a pal, someone to look after and share things with. Perhaps this kitty might fit the bill. If anyone needed a friend it was the little cat, but the rat knew he must tread carefully.
He sat back on his ample haunches and, with his whiskers twitching busily, put on the rat equivalent of a thinking cap.
Indigoletta arrived at the boundary fence with her attendant, a young hooded crow who sported a pair of fancy gold epaulettes. Jock and his cousin Crawford were deep in conversation, so much so they didn’t notice their royal visitor, resplendent in her own exquisitely coiffed feathers. Indigoletta was not impressed and the young ‘hoodie’ stepped in at once. He coughed discreetly. “Ah’hem, gentlemen, the Royal Raven is here and wishes to speak to you urgently.”
Jock and Crawford jumped in surprise and nearly tripped over each other in their rush to greet their eminent visitor. They bowed deeply and Jock took the initiative. “At your service, ma’am. May I say it’s truly wonderful to see you. It’s been far too long. And, might I add, you look absolutely magnificent.”
Indigoletta smiled her most radiant smile then fixed the swaggering crow with her steady gaze. “I thought I was never going to clap eyes on you again, Jock Craw. I’ve felt positively abandoned. It’s not good enough. It’s time you took notice of my position in the royal household.”
“Oh but I do, you know I do, ma’am.” He executed a natty little pirouette and advanced towards her. “I worship the ground you walk on and for that matter the very air you fly in.” Jock bowed for a second time and made as if to kiss her outstretched wing-tip.
“Steady on now, don’t overdo it. I might think you were indulging in idle flattery.” Indigoletta inclined her magnificent head coquettishly. There’s no fool like an old fool, she thought, but she wasn’t about to complain. Jock’s approach made a refreshing change from palace protocol.
Crawford sighed and shook his head ruefully. What was it about his cousin that made birds of the female variety go weak at the knees? Whatever it was, he wished he had some of it. Jock’s raffish, flirtatious quality appealed to the ladies. It really was most annoying. Crawford felt decidedly cheesed off. He straightened his bow tie irritably.
“Ah’hem, will that be all for now, ma’am?” asked the ‘hoodie’ politely, taking a couple of steps backwards.
“Thank you, Cough. I’ll deal with this.”
Indigoletta instantly became distant and professional. “Now, Jock, you must go back to ‘Woodburn’ straight away and prepare Sandy and Jamie for their visit. The Queen insists on being here to greet them. It will take some time to organise Her Majesty’s entourage and, taking that and the time difference into consideration, Sandy and Jamie ought to come through late afternoon Irvine time, say five o’clock. If all goes to plan that should coincide exactly with Queen Celestina arriving here. There will be the full royal reception, of course.”
Jock’s beak dropped open. “I’ll need longer than that to sort everything out.”
“Out of the question,” snapped the imposing bird. “I suggest you get a move on unless you’d prefer to fly to the palace and tell the Queen personally that you’re unable to meet her schedule.”
The dazzling raven turned her attention to Crawford. “I’m relying on you to make sure everything goes seamlessly at this end. You know how Her Majesty hates inefficiency.”
Jock gave her a cheeky salute and, with a nod to his cousin, rose into the air and flew back through the arch.
The Royal Raven walked over to the crow who was dwarfed by her sheer size. “Well, good luck, Crawf.”
Jock’s cousin practically swooned on hearing her use the familiar version of his name. Who was going weak at the knees now? “Thank you so much, Your Majesticness.” He felt frivolous and light-headed and had to take a couple of steadying breaths.
Indigoletta signalled to Cough that it was time to go. The expression on Crawford’s face was one of pure rapture and she barely managed to suppress a giggle. Ah, the power she could command when the notion took her. It was fortunate she didn’t believe her own publicity.
The little crow watched until Indigoletta and Cough were two distant points on the horizon. Crawford was besotted and, as such, beyond hope.
Estella galloped round the kitchen of ‘Corbie Cottage’ with an exuberant Pongo barking up a storm in her wake.
“Don’t forget your new pogo stick, the one with built-in stabilisers,” said her mother, battering the peas into submission.
“I won’t, Mum. I’m getting to grips with it, aren’t I, Pongo?”
The dog belted out into the hall and grabbed the pogo stick between his perfect white teeth. He rushed back into the kitchen and dropped it at Estella’s feet. He was so full of beans it seemed as if the tail was wagging the dog.
“There you go, and don’t let that cheeky nephew of mine give you any trouble when you’re staying with your Uncle Mervyn.”
“Scruggs will be no bother. He’s related to you after all.” The child’s eyes twinkled wickedly.
“That’s what worries me,” said the hairy wee dog, glancing up at Pogo. “We’re not renowned for our quiet temperaments and rational behaviour.”
“That’s as may be, boy, but your family are good to have around when the going gets tough, and you know it. Scruggs is an excellent chap, very like you, come to think of it.”
The dog gave a self-conscious smirk. He hopped into his basket, turned round several times and settled into his crocheted blanket.
Estella and Pogo nearly jumped out of their skins when he suddenly let rip with a barrage of extremely loud barks, announcing the imminent arrival of Alfie and his guests.
The pixie rounded on the dog. “Good grief, Pongo! Can you not be a bit more subtle?” She scanned the kitchen in an exaggerated, theatrical manner. “Where’s my wee bairn? Oh my, there she is up on the ceiling; where else would she be after your performance?”
The child and the dog were rolling around on the floor, overcome with hysterical laughter. “Stop it, Mum,” gasped Estella. “My ribs are aching.”
Pongo recovered enough to dash to the front door. “Great to see you, Dad,” he quipped. “Uncle Angus, too. How nice.” The dog was about to follow them into the kitchen but stopped when the snake swished past him into the hall. “SSS, it’s always a pleasure. You’re looking bewitchingly well.”
Sammy acknowledged him with a hiss and a gracious nod of his head before going into sidewinder mode round the kitchen table.
“Snazzy manoeuvre…”
“It comes in handy s-sometimes. I learnt it from my cousin in Aridzonia.”
Pongo was amazed that the snake’s headgear stayed firmly in place throughout. “Lovely crown, can I try it on?” He was pulling out all the stops on the cute and appealing front, something that came naturally to him. “Oh, go on, plea-s-se.”
Pogo was affronted. What if Sammy thought the dog was being over familiar or making fun of the way he spoke? “Pipe down, for goodness sake. What do you think you’re playing at?”
The pixie rushed forward to kiss her husband and his uncle but stood uncertainly in front of the snake. She couldn’t shake hands with him and kissing him might be construed a bit forward.
The Prince of Cobalt-Sibilance took charge of a potentially awkward moment with a deft double coil of his tail round her outstretched arm. “You look radiantly well, Pogo. It’s wonderful to see you.”
The serpent spun himself into a multiply coiled figure of eight on the kitchen rug.
“I’m glad we’re not standing on ceremony,” trilled the dog. “Do make yourself at home, SSS. Mi casa, su casa.”
That was the last straw but before Pogo could react the others started to laugh.
“What a character,” chortled the snake. “I didn’t know he spoke S-s-spanish.” Sammy flicked the crown from his head in the direction of the dog. “Here, Pongo, catch!”
“No problem!” The dog hurled himself into the air and caught it neatly between his teeth. He placed the crown carefully on the floor in front of him. “Anyone going to help me put it on?”
Sammy gestured to Estella with his tail. “Would you oblige, my dear?”
She dived across the room and, in a perfectly choreographed sequence, curtseyed to the snake, picked up the crown and placed it on Pongo’s curly head with mock reverence.
“There you go, my wee lamb, or should I say, Your Highness?”
Estella then joined the serpent on the rug. She felt rather shy being so close to him but that didn’t prevent her from asking if she could sit next to him at supper.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, s-sweetie,” he replied gallantly.
It was a jolly affair and Estella had the sort of send off that was just right. She’s so smart that any other way might have aroused her suspicions and she could well have suggested she ought to stay right where she was after all.
When she was safely tucked up in bed, the two elves, the pixie and the snake sat down to discuss the situation threatening their security. Pongo lay quietly in his basket listening to what they had to say.
Angus confessed to his part in the events that had led to Leo’s unexpected arrival. What else could he do with the cold, dead eyes of the Prince of Cobalt-Sibilance gazing at him hypnotically from a mound of cushions on the sofa?
“I thought I was helping with the dress rehearsal for Sandy’s visit. A bit of extra magic to ease things along. I’m as excited as everyone else that the time is right for her to come here. I have wonderful memories of her Dad’s visit. My heart was in the right place, but sadly my brain was on a day off.”
Pongo raised a sympathetic eyebrow.
Angus gave an involuntary shiver, struggled to his feet and walked over to the kitchen range to warm himself. “I simply didn’t know the cat was there. That’s no excuse. I should have seen him but I didn’t.” The old elf was choking with emotion. “I’m so dreadfully sorry. I shouldn’t have been there, I knew the arch was out of bounds, but I let pride colour my judgment. That poor cat must be very frightened.”
Alfie rose from his chair and embraced him. “Please don’t distress yourself. We’ll sort this out, and find Leo, but there are even more pressing concerns tonight.”
Sammy slid from the couch onto the floor. He too was affected by Angus’s plight and found himself in an uncharacteristically untidy heap at his feet. “The cat’s arrival was unprecedented, but it’s happened so there’s no point dwelling on it. We must do our best to limit the damage and stop those who are determined to destroy all that we love and cherish.”
The snake’s sibilance vanishes when he’s under pressure.
“I’ve stepped up security at the vaults, particularly in the chamber that contains the anklet. Maligna is secure on the Island of Long Forgotten Dreams but the guards have reported a distinct change in her behaviour. Her despondent mood seems to have lifted and wild, disturbing laughter has been heard in the dead of night.”
Earth tremors are not that uncommon in Sylvania but earthquakes are rare. It so happened that the forces of good and evil came together one night and brought about a small seismic shift that was enough to alter the Harpie’s circumstances. It was not immediately apparent that she might benefit from the quake as she was consumed with fury at being woken up and thrown so violently from her hateful pallet bed.
The earthquake lasted no more than a few seconds and the guards in the chamber above her dungeon shone strong-beamed torches through the huge metal grating that sealed the sink-hole. Everything seemed to be in order and there were no obvious signs of damage.
Maligna was flustered and angry. She was trying to salvage a modicum of dignity from a particularly undignified situation. Once the guards were satisfied they exchanged grins and went back to their game of peggity.
During the day a dim shaft of light shone through a gap in the rocks above the sink-hole. It was feeble at the best of times but the Harpie was grateful for it nonetheless. She had a small supply of candles which she could light at night but they were strictly rationed and she was reluctant to use them.
Maligna knew every inch of her prison and had no trouble finding one. She carefully lit the candle and, waiting for her eyes to adjust, glanced round to see if anything had changed.
At first she thought it was just the same dreich dungeon but then she spotted something lying on the rock floor partially concealed by the blanket which had slipped from her bed. She glanced up at the grate high above her head to make sure she wasn’t being spied on.
The Harpie pushed strands of lank hair back from her dark, soulless eyes and moved the blanket aside. The object rolled towards her. On closer inspection she discovered it was an egg and a large one at that. She knelt down and shone the candle at the wall underneath the bed. There was a hole in the limestone which hadn’t been there before.
Maligna rocked back on her heels when she noticed a small crack developing on the surface of the coarse shell. She stared in fascination as a split appeared in the inner membrane and a head popped out.
“And who might you be?” she asked in a hushed, reverential tone.
She crouched down, with her hands cupped under her chin, and found herself eye to eye with a baby dragon.
The creature was cautiously unfolding his scaly wings when he noticed Maligna’s intense gaze. He smiled his very first dragon smile. “Hello, Mum,” he said with relief and pleasure.
Maligna managed to stifle what would have been a very loud laugh. Fate had just been kind to her for the first time since her incarceration.
“Hello, my darling boy. I’m so glad to see you.” She extended a translucent, bony hand and patted him lightly on the head. “You’ll have to be ever so quiet, I’m afraid. No one must know you’re here. They’ll take you away from me if they find you and we’ll never see each other again.”
The tiny dragon tried to scramble onto her lap.
“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they don’t find you, but you must always do as I say.”
She clutched him to her scrawny chest and blew out the candle.
“I need to rest now. There’s much to think about, not least of all how to feed and take care of you without the enemy finding out.”
Maligna placed him carefully on the bed between her two soiled pillows.
“Have a sip of milk, that’s all they’ve left me with.” She fed him small droplets from a chipped cup. “You must rest now. Good night, darling one.”
The dragon cuddled up next to his ‘mother’ and fell into the deep, contented sleep of the very young.
No more than a few feet away, on the other side of the rock wall, a scattered clutch of dragon eggs was starting to hatch. The adult dragon was distracted and anxious as she tried to rescue her offspring and failed to notice that one of her eggs was missing.
..........and if you just can’t wait for each weekly episode, you can buy ’Beyond the Hedge’
here
