The acrobats muttered among themselves. Blart tugged desperately at the rope. The last loop began to come loose.
‘We think you did say Pig,’ said Gordo, ‘which is very interesting because we have been looking all over for a flying horse called Pig. But we thought this one was called Diablo.’
‘Really?’ said Princess Lois. ‘What a coincidence.’
With a final tug Blart undid the last loop and Pig the Horse was free. Or at least he would be once he was outside the tent. Unfortunately, between Blart, Princess Lois, Pig the Horse and the outside of the tent were ten angry minions of Zoltab.
‘If you know this horse is called Pig,’ said Gordo, ‘then you must also know about the terrible injustice he was part of when our Master was cruelly kidnapped.’
Princess Lois and Blart feigned innocence.
‘Could it be,’ said Gordo, ‘that we are face to face with Blart the evil goat boy and Lois the evil Princess?’
Blart could take being called evil but to be called a goat boy was more than he could bear.
‘I’m a pig boy,’ he announced defiantly.
‘Then prepare to die, pig boy,’ said Gordo. ‘For we shall avenge our Master by killing those who took him from us, and then we will fly to his rescue on the back of the horse.’
Things looked grim. They were outnumbered ten to three, which is an unhelpfully complex ratio – so suffice it to say, they were going to lose.
Except that suddenly there was a hubbub outside. A minion of Zoltab stuck his head out of the tent.
‘Beserker and the Chigorin Brothers are coming,’ he cried.
‘Get the horse,’ ordered Gordo.
Two minions of Zoltab pushed Princess Lois to the floor whilst another leapt in the air, spun round artistically and kicked Blart in the face.
‘Ow!’ said Blart, collapsing in a heap.
Gordo grabbed Pig’s reins and began to pull. The great horse resisted with all his might. Two other acrobats joined Gordo and together they pulled even harder. The reins were connected to the cruel bit in Pig the Horse’s mouth. With each vicious tug the bit cut into Pig. Without it, he would have held out whether twenty or even thirty acrobats were pulling. But with it he was forced to follow them out of the tent. The remaining acrobats rushed after him.
‘Get up!’ shouted Princess Lois.
‘He kicked me right in the mouth,’ said Blart.
‘Forget about your mouth,’ said Princess Lois, who had seen the cruel bit doing its evil work. ‘Think of Pig’s mouth. We must rescue him.’
Princess Lois rushed from the tent. Blart followed, wondering why his suffering was always seen to be less important than anybody or indeed anything else’s.
Once outside the tent he was met by an amazing sight.
Ten minions of Zoltab were on Pig the Horse’s back. Though Pig was indeed a massive horse even he did not have a wide enough back for ten. However, the minions of Zoltab were also acrobats. Four of them sat on Pig’s back. Three balanced on the shoulders of those four. Two balanced on the shoulders of those three. And one balanced on the shoulders of those two.
It was a terrible sight. A pyramid of minions charging across the field on the back of Pig the Horse. But there was an even worse sight. Beserker and the Chigorin Brothers, their large moustaches billowing in the breeze as they ran, were heading across the field towards them.
‘What have you done to my horse?’ yelled Beserker. ‘If that horse isn’t back in that tent soon then the big cats will be eating your limbs for their dinner.’
Pig the Horse reached maximum speed as he thundered across Gibb’s Pasture. From beneath his belly there suddenly emerged his mighty wings. They flapped once. They flapped twice. Pig took off. The minions of Zoltab were lifted into the air. Their leader, Gordo, looked down at Blart and Princess Lois and they could see the sneering laugh on his face. The minions had beaten the questors to the last link to Zoltab’s prison. The questors would never be able to clear their names. The minions would free Zoltab and he would once again attempt to lay waste to the world. And the Chigorin Brothers would tear off Blart’s arms and legs and feed them to the big cats.
Things looked grim.
Chapter 30
Pig the Horse rose higher. Beserker and the Chigorin Brothers got nearer.
‘I think we might be in trouble,’ observed Blart.
‘Don’t be so pathetic,’ said Princess Lois with the confidence of royalty. ‘Beserker and his walking moustaches would not dare harm us.’
Blart looked at the furious faces of Beserker and the Chigorin Brothers with the lack of confidence of pig boys. He was certain they would dare. He wondered when Princess Lois would remember that she wasn’t royalty here but just a normal person with normal limbs that could be torn off and fed to the big cats just like everybody else. Blart took a moment to say goodbye to each of his arms and legs. They were ugly but he was still going to miss them.
Suddenly Beserker stopped running towards Blart and Princess Lois. Behind him the Chigorin Brothers stopped too – their moustaches drooped. They all looked upwards. Above them was a sight to behold.
Pig the Horse was doing loop the loops.
It was magnificent.
Unless you were a minion – for every time Pig looped upside down they were forced to desperately cling on. The four minions actually sitting on Pig had the best grip. The one minion on the top had the worst.
Pig looped. The one minion at the top lost his grip and tumbled to the earth with a fearsome cry.
Pig looped again. The next two minions plummeted towards the ground.
Pig looped a third time. A further three minions of Zoltab hurtled down from the sky.
Only four minions remained.
‘Why didn’t you do loop the loops for me?’ demanded Beserker, waving his fist at Pig far above him in the sky. ‘I could have charged more for tickets!’
Pig looped once more. The minions held on. Pig twisted. He shook. He kicked out.
One by one the remaining minions could hold on no longer. They shot through the air and landed with sickening crashes in Gibb’s field.
‘Try and steal my horse, would you? I bet you would have taken him to Crazy Mike’s,’ shouted Beserker. ‘I will feed you to the lions and tigers.’
The lions and tigers were going to need hearty appetites because they were most certainly going to be well fed that evening.
Pig the Horse flew back towards the field and prepared to land.
‘Look at this,’ boasted Beserker to some members of the ex-audience who had found their way into the pasture. He pointed towards the horse. ‘This answers those do-gooders who say that animals aren’t happy in the circus. This beast could have been freed and he is coming back of his own free will. He loves it here, I tell you.’
Pig the Horse landed. His gallop became a canter, his canter became a trot and his trot came to a stop right next to the Princess and Blart.
Pig bent his great legs so that they could climb on easily.
It dawned on Beserker that Pig was not quite so fond of the circus as he had suggested.
‘Stop them,’ he ordered the Chigorin Brothers.
Blart and Princess Lois mounted. The Chigorin Brothers sprinted, their moustaches streaming out behind them. Pig the Horse stood up and began to move. Faster and faster he charged. The Chigorin Brothers were left behind in a cloud of dust that doubtless meant they would all have to wash their moustaches later.
Pig the Horse’s hooves drummed louder as he approached the edge of the pasture. Nearer came the hedge that marked its end, faster went Pig, and suddenly they were free of the ground and rising high into the air, propelled upwards by the majestic swooping of Pig’s magnificent wings.
‘Well done, Pig,’ said Princess Lois. ‘You have saved us.’
Far below the tiny figure of Beserker looked upwards, shaking his fist at Blart and Lois. His anger, that had once been terrifying, was now reduced to nothing more than pathetic comedy �
�� his purple face growing ever darker as Blart made rude gestures towards him from above. Meanwhile the Chigorin Brothers were rounding up the acrobats.
Princess Lois leant over Pig’s neck and pulled the cruel bit from his mouth. Along with the reins it was dropped to the ground far below. Pig gave a neigh of pleasure to see it go. There would be those who would wonder how a horse could be directed without reins, yet the matter was simplicity itself. Just by putting gentle pressure on one side of Pig’s head or the other, the Princess was able to guide him towards the other side of town, where, in a small copse, the other questors awaited them.
Pig landed gently and smoothly.
‘Well done,’ said Capablanca as he and Uther and Beo rushed up to them.
Princess Lois wasted no time in telling the other questors the terrible news.
‘Zoltab’s minions were at the circus,’ she announced.
‘Minions of Zoltab?’ repeated Capablanca in shock.
Princess Lois told them how the acrobats had tried unsuccessfully to steal Pig with the intention of using him to rescue Zoltab.
‘I fought them off,’ claimed Blart. ‘There were ten of them and only one of me.’
‘One of you is one too many,’ commented Beo darkly.
‘This is very bad,’ said Capablanca, reflecting on the news that the minions of Zoltab were nearby. ‘They have obviously recovered far more quickly from the defeat at the Terrorsium than I would have thought possible. Their influence will have spread like plague through the land.’
‘I don’t think we need to worry about the minions of Zoltab,’ said Uther. ‘We must worry about finding Zoltab himself.’
‘Exactly,’ said Capablanca. ‘Before the minions find him.’
‘That’s what I meant, of course,’ said Uther.
‘Let us go,’ said the wizard.
The five questors climbed on to Pig. In the front sat Capablanca, then Princess Lois, then Blart, then Uther and finally Beo. No ordinary horse would have been able to carry five riders, especially when one of them had a body that was as fond of pies and ale as Beowulf the Warrior’s. But of course Pig was no ordinary beast. He was twice the size of a normal horse and powerful muscles rippled through his flesh from his shoulder to his fetlock.
Yet even to such a strong beast as Pig the Horse the burden of five riders was heavy. But not only did Pig have strength he also had spirit, and once they were on his back he summoned all his energy and began to canter and then gallop out of the copse where they had met and through the wood. Trees sped backwards past the charging horse and they had to hunch low to avoid being hit by branches. But the great horse never once faltered as he thundered through the trees and then suddenly shot out of the wood, his riders blinking in the sudden sunlight. Almost immediately Pig’s wings unfurled and he rose into the sky, leaving the ground behind them. Uther was the only questor who had never previously flown on Pig the Horse and the experience overcame even his normally cynical demeanour.
‘This is fantastic,’ he shouted as they rose ever higher. ‘This is tremendous. This is … oh.’
Uther clasped his hand to his stomach. That part of his body seemed less convinced that the flight was fantastic and tremendous and more of the opinion that it was disorientating and upsetting.
‘Ugh,’ said Blart, watching the contents of Uther’s stomach plummet to the earth and, just for once, he spoke for all his comrades.
Chapter 31
‘Is there no way we can get him to understand?’ asked Princess Lois, pulling irritably at a loose thread on her red dress.
‘The horse must surely be more intelligent than Blart,’ maintained Beo the Warrior. ‘And he can understand.’
‘It is so frustrating,’ explained an exasperated Capablanca. ‘If I could use a spell then I could explain what we want him to do.’
The questors were sitting by a stream. Pig was nearby drinking from it. They had spent the past few hours trying desperately to communicate to Pig that they wanted him to take them to the place where Capablanca had imprisoned Zoltab. They had flown back to the crossroads where Pig and Capablanca had separated from the other questors – Pig showed no signs of recognising the place. They had reconstructed the way that they had all dismounted and waved Capablanca off before turning their backs so as not to see which way he took. This, too, had failed to have any significant effect on Pig.
‘Is it possible that you cast the Great Spell of Fog on the horse as well?’ asked Beo.
‘I am sure I would not have done,’ said Capablanca. ‘If we could only establish some form of rudimentary communication with Pig, he would take us to Zoltab’s prison,’ said Capablanca.
The questors all looked at Pig the Horse, who, after his exertions of earlier in the day, was still drinking heavily from the stream.
‘Perhaps I could help,’ said Uther.
‘You can talk to horses?’ asked Beo.
Uther shook his head.
‘I am no more than a humble merchant and businessman,’ he said, ‘but I have travelled widely and I have heard men speak –’
‘And women,’ interjected Princess Lois.
‘I do not listen to women,’ answered Uther loftily. ‘In my experience they do not have heads for business.’
Princess Lois fixed Uther with a glare that suggested she disagreed.
‘I have heard men speak,’ continued Uther, ‘of a strange old crone who can shout at horses and understand their replies.’
‘Can she shout to pigs too?’ asked Blart eagerly.
‘Where is this woman that you speak of?’ asked Capablanca.
‘I have heard it said,’ answered Uther, ‘that she dwells in the enchanted Forest of Arcadium.’
‘There is no time to lose,’ said Capablanca. ‘Flying on Pig we may be able to reach the forest by tomorrow morning. Not only does the destiny of Illyria lie in our hands, there is also the threat that Zoltab’s minions will manage to interfere with our plans.’
‘They will surely have given up after being outwitted at the circus,’ said Uther confidently.
‘You are wrong,’ said Capablanca. ‘They will never give up.’
Uther looked as though he were about to disagree with Capablanca but then changed his mind. ‘Let us get going, then,’ he said instead.
As soon as they had all mounted, the great horse once more accelerated and rose into the sky. Already the daylight was beginning to fade and after Capablanca had directed Pig to fly to the east the sun set rapidly behind them. The blue sky grew orange and then red as the sun disappeared, and then the red became purple, and finally the purple turned to black. The stars and the moon were the only lights they could see, but Capablanca had studied the stars when he was a younger wizard and their presence was enough for him to navigate by.
Slowly lulled by the easy beating of Pig’s wings and fatigued by a day spent being heroic, Blart’s head became heavier and heavier and before long he was asleep. All the other questors except Capablanca were soon sleeping too, each leaning forward and resting their heads on the comrade in front of them.
Up front the wizard kept a lonely vigil. There was a weariness in his body that he had never known before and he secretly feared that he would not live to see the end of the quest. He was worried about the news of Zoltab’s minions, anxious that the kingdom of Illyria might be doomed, nervous about the unknown dangers which might lurk in the enchanted forest of Arcadia, and absolutely terrified that he might never regain his magic powers or have a commemorative chair carved for him or wipe the superior smirks off the faces of all the wizards who were delighted by his downfall.
Chapter 32
All through the night the great horse flew. At last, far in the distance, the first weak rays of light streaked the sky. The questors woke up cold and stiff. They stretched and yawned and shivered and muttered to themselves. Blart, his fingers cold and white, found a pair of gloves in the pocket of his trousers, and put them on. He hugged himself for warmth and thought of how
happy he would be at home by a fire, with pig snuffling noises outside his kitchen window.
And indeed all the questors’ minds were drifting off to visions of home. Princess Lois remembered her bedroom with its ‘No Fruit Beyond This Point’ sign on the door, Beo thought fondly of his happy days as a debt collector and Capablanca remembered his commemorative chair in the Cavernous Library of Ping. But as the sun rose higher and its warmth penetrated their bones they shook off their visions of sleep and thought more of the challenge that lay ahead of them.
‘There it is,’ said Uther. ‘The Forest of Arcadia!’
They looked down. Below them, stretching as far as the eye could see, was a vast unbroken canopy of green. It disappeared over the horizon.
‘You’ll never find one person in there,’ said Blart.
Capablanca nudged Pig the Horse’s head to encourage him to circle, hoping that he could spy some gap in the canopy where they could land. But despite all the questors looking as hard as they could no gap appeared.
‘We will have to land on the edge,’ said Capablanca and he guided them down to a stream. Pig immediately trotted over to the stream for a drink and the questors followed the horse’s lead.
‘I’m hungry,’ announced Blart once he had drunk enough.
‘We have no food,’ said Capablanca regretfully.
‘I’ve got some lard,’ Uther interjected. ‘You can each have a bite but it will cost you five crowns a mouthful.’
‘Five crowns!’ said Capablanca. ‘That is an outrageous sum to charge.’
‘Market forces,’ said Uther with feigned regret.
‘What do you mean “market forces”?’ demanded Beo.
‘We’re miles from a market so I can force you to pay what I like,’ explained Uther shamelessly.
‘But we are comrades,’ said Capablanca. ‘We will share all the perils and all the triumphs. Surely we can share the lard?’
‘No, no, no,’ answered Uther forcibly. ‘Once you start sharing things you’ve no idea where it might lead.’
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