Tyger Pants - Cretin the Cruel

by Royston Wood

Chapter Twelve

  Werebeast Army

  Like some weird clockwork toy, Bunsen, Tim and I slowly turn around in perfect time with each other and stare wide eyed at the scene before us. Still in perfect synchronism we take an instinctive step back in fear and surprise.

  When we charged into the room we were so keen to get the door shut and locked that we didn’t even glance at what was inside it. It’s more of a hall than a room: grey stone walls and a high, vaulted, wooden ceiling, like the inside of a church. But what has us wide eyed is the sight of Cretin the Cruel standing beside a large shining disk of light which is hovering upright, a few inches above the floor. Beside it sits the Portal of Infinite Power.

  Actually, it’s amazing that it’s this sight that catches our eyes and not the twenty or so werebeasts standing menacingly in front of it. It’s probably because of the colourful shimmer the shining disk of light makes each time another werebeast steps through and joins the crowd.

  Cretin stops clapping and sneers at us. “Look lads,” he growls to the werebeasts, “it’s Loser the Loser.” This poor joke is greeted with growling laughter. “I thought I’d killed you! Seems you’re harder to kill than I realised. Good! With my stronghold full of werebeasts and any army the Fantasy Realm can raise far away, I’m not in such a rush as when we last met. I can take my time and slice you up bit by bit!”

  The werebeasts begin to howl and dribble with excitement. It goes on for some time. Meanwhile the disk of light shimmers every few seconds as another werebeast emerges from it.

  When they calm down, Cretin continues, “And who are these other great heroes? Why it’s Bite-size Bunsen and is that...yes it is...it’s Dim...Dim Armatillo.”

  “Actually it’s Tim, ” says Tim, “Tim Armadillo.

  “Shhh!” I hiss, as the disk of light shimmers again as another werebeast steps through. “He’s trying to be funny. Ignore it. He’s a bully: the more you moan the more he’ll tease and poke fun.”

  “Poke fun! I’ll poke him if he’s not careful - with a sharpened stick!” snarls Bunsen, totally ignoring my advice. “Bite-size Bunsen!” he shouts, hopping up and down in rage. “You’ll regret that when you feel the size of my bite!!”

  “Howhowhowhowhowllll!! I’ve got fleas that can give me a bigger bite than you, likkle ikkle Bunsen,” Cretin says in a voice you might use when talking to a baby. The slowly growing mass of werebeasts howl, growl and squeak in laughter, slowly working themselves up into a frenzy.

  “Yeh that’s right, have a good laugh, Cretin!” shouts Bunsen above the din. “But at least when I’m my normal size and shape I’m not a flea ridden mangy mutt you...you...bottom sniffer!!”

  The disk of light shimmers once more and a werebear shambles through and joins the back of the throng.

  “At least I’m tall enough to sniff a bottom, squirt!” Cretin hurls back.

  “Squirt! I’ll...”

  “Bunsen, shut up!” I snap. “He’s trying to stall us so more werebeasts can come through the doorway.”

  As if to prove my point the disk of light shimmers again and a wererat scuttles through.

  Bunsen scowls at me but shuts his jaw.

  “We need to close that doorway quickly, before the room is jammed to the roof with werebeasts,” I hiss at Bunsen and Dim, sorry, Tim.

  “Easily said,” says Bunsen, “but there’s a whole lot of fur and snarling teeth between us and the Portal!”

  It’s a good point. We can’t fight our way through that lot!

  The disk of light shimmers again and a wererabbit hops through.

  But we have to!

  “Bunsen,” I hiss, “we have to use your size to our advantage.”

  Bunsen frowns at me. “What is this, Bash Bunsen Day? I’ve had enough teasing about my size from Cretin without you joining in!”

  “No! Listen! You’re really small...”

  “Right, that’s it...” begins Bunsen but I ignore him and carry on.

  “...so you’ll be really hard hit or catch. You can fly over the werebeasts and shut down the doorway whilst Tim and I distract them.”

  Bunsen ponders this whilst another werebeast steps into the room. Cretin is frowning at us, starting to realise that we might be up to something.

  “It’s a good plan,” Bunsen says with a frown, “but I don’t know how to shut the doorway down: I’m not a wizard.”

  “Oh, that’s easy!” says Tim. Then he leans down and whispers something in Bunsen’s ear.

  Bunsen grins and launches himself into the air just as Cretin shouts, “Get them!”

  The werebeasts surge forward, a mass of muscle, fur and snarling jaws. The clashing sounds of pounding paws, scraping claws and howls and roars hits me and I stumble back.

  But then my body takes over. My sword hisses from its scabbard and sweeps before me, keeping the charging horde away. My other hand releases a knife from the bandolier strapped across my body and stabs out, cutting into a werewolf’s arm. He howls in pain and steps back into the mob but is instantly replaced by a snarling wererat.

  “Tim, get behind me!” I shout, bringing my sword down to block a thrust from a werebear that would have skewered him where he stood. Tim darts behind me muttering and waving his arms about. Hopefully he’s casting a spell and hasn’t just gone totally mental on me.

  Victor is magnificent! His feet move left and right, back and forward, keeping his body in perfect balance as he cuts, thrusts and blocks with sword and knife. It feels weird sitting in my head watching it all happen but, remembering what happened before, I resist the urge to take control.

  Suddenly Tim shouts from behind me, “Victor, get down!”

  I hit the floor just as Tim finishes his spell.

  “Monstrous beasts from hell so deep, I’ll send you all to leap!” he shouts, and a flash of light streaks over my head, striking the snarling mass of werebeasts.

  As I scramble back to my feet all the werebeasts start to leap about the room, uncontrollably. The rabbits shoot off like rockets, crashing into the vaulted wooden ceiling ten metres above us. I guess they’re naturally leapy anyway. They’re not so bouncy when they crash, unconscious, back to the hard stone floor though.

  “No...I said sleep! I’m sure I did!” says Tim.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say, lowering the tip of my sword to the floor. “It’s done the trick. The wererabbits are knocked out and the others can’t fight us whilst they’re leaping about.”

  Although they snarl and slash frantically with their claws the other werebeasts can’t get us if we keep dodging them as they land and spring back up into the air again.

  I’m just beginning to think things might be going our way when there’s a loud thud from behind us making the door rattle and the grandfather clock, and my heart, lurch. I’d forgotten about the werebeasts on the other side of the door! For all we know there may be hundreds, or even thousands of them. And it sounds like they’ve found something to use as a battering ram!

  At the same moment a flying weresheep slams into Bunsen, knocking him out of the air. He lands heavily but scrambles to his feet, right in the middle of the madly leaping werebeasts, like a mouse on a bouncy castle at a kid’s party.

  Seeing his werebeasts either comatose on the cold stone floor or leaping around helplessly, Cretin howls with anger and charges towards Tim and me, batting aside wererats and kicking unconscious wererabbits out of his way as if they’re cuddly toys.

  Ducking under a wererabbit that Cretin has booted at my head, I bring my sword back up into a defensive position in front of me and brace for his attack. With Victor’s fighting skills I feel confident and I take a moment to glance over to see how Bunsen is doing. He’s skipping and dodging about, making slow progress towards the Portal of Infinite Power. Luckily he’s so small he’s a hard target to land on.

  Suddenly Cretin is upon me!

  How did he move so quickly?

  Almost faster t
han my eye can follow, his massive arm lashes out, muscles bulging, trying to rip his claws across my face. Reflexively my sword flashes up to block the attack but his other hand is already slashing towards me.

  Cretin is too fast!

  I duck and roll forwards on my shoulder to come up behind him. In a panic I swing the sword at his thickly furred back. It’s a clumsy blow and I only hit him with the flat of the blade. In my panic I must have taken control of Victor’s body again!

  The blow makes Cretin stumble but he recovers quickly. Crouching down, he whirls around with lightning speed, sweeping one leg out in a circle, low to the floor and knocks my legs from under me. I land on my back, the air exploding from my lungs leaving me gasping. My sword flies from my hand and I hear it clatter away across the stone floor.

  With a howl of glee Cretin leaps upon me, clawed hands stretched like a striking hawk’s talons and slathering jaw wide open, ready to tear out my throat.