Troll's Treasure

by Steven Butler

  ‘’Ello,’ the guard said, looking Neville up and down as if he was wondering what he tasted like. ‘You’ve been the talk of the Clunk for yonks and yearlies, you ’ave.’

  ‘Why?’ said Rubella, scowling.

  ‘Why?’ laughed the prison guard. ‘We heard ole Jaundice had waffled off and become an overling. When we found out that her nipster was comin’ to pay her a visit, we all took bets on what you might look like.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Neville. ‘And do I?’

  ‘Do you what?’

  ‘Do I look like you thought I would?’

  ‘Well, it’s hard to say,’ said the guard. ‘I was imageratin’ you might be a lot taller … what with you overlings not havin’ a ceilin’. Is it true you lay eggs?’

  Rubella smacked her hand over the guard’s mouth and leaned in close. ‘We’ve had a bad day,’ she growled. ‘A VERY BAD DAY! Are you goin’ to let us see Jaundice or aren’t you?’

  The prison guard peeled Rubella’s stumpy fingers away from his face and frowned. ‘Of course,’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘Where’s my manners? I’m Bile … Prison Officer Bile. Come in and make yourself at home.’

  ‘About blunkin’ time,’ Rubella huffed. She pushed past Bile and clomped in through the open door. ‘Dungle droppings!’

  Bile smirked at Neville for a second, then turned and followed Rubella, leaving Neville alone on the office front step.

  Neville looked up one last time at the terrifying building that vanished into the darkness. Every little bone of his body told him not to go up there … but he had to. The Bulches were depending on him, and Lady Jaundice was the only one who might know how to get them out of the gundiskump.

  ‘Think of Captain Brilliant,’ Neville whispered to himself, then he took a deep breath and stepped inside.

  Jaundice’s Cell

  The office was small and cramped and smelled of old books. All around were piles of yellowing papers, and the ceiling was covered in hundreds of hooks, from which dangled huge bunches of keys.

  ‘Now then,’ said Officer Bile, dragging a huge dusty book off a shelf. He hauled it on to an old desk and flicked through the pages. ‘Sign your name here, please.’

  Neville glanced at the empty entry in the book that Bile was pointing at and signed his name. Across the top of the page were the words LADY JAUNDICE: THIEF, GONKER, TRUCCANEER – VERY DANGEROUS. Neville gulped.

  ‘We’ve got to go right to the top floor,’ said Bile, closing the book and dumping it back on the shelf. ‘Look lively.’

  ‘What?’ Rubella grunted. She still had beads of sweat trickling down her face from all the steps. ‘I ain’t climbin’ any more stairs!’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Bile, grabbing a bunch of keys from a hook and fastening them to his belt. ‘We’ll take the trollevator.’

  Neville and Rubella looked at each other and frowned.

  ‘This way,’ Bile said. He led them out of the office and back along the path to the foot of the tower. ‘I expect you’ve never been in a trollevator before.’

  Neville shook his head and huddled close to Rubella as a line of grizzly guard-trolls tromped past with grim expressions.

  ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything,’ Bile said. He unlocked a small gate in the barred wall and stepped inside. ‘It’s just in here.’

  Neville stepped through and looked up in amazement. They had entered the huge circular tower. It was like staring straight up through a vast metal chimney. Round the outside of the room were row upon row and floor upon floor of guard stations stretching up and up as far as Neville could see. He couldn’t spot any cells for prisoners at all.

  ‘There are so many officers,’ he said with wide eyes.

  ‘Well, Jaundice is a right bad’un,’ said Bile. ‘We’ve got to make sure she don’t get out.’

  ‘And where are all the other prisoners?’ Neville asked.

  ‘There ain’t any!’ Bile replied. ‘There ain’t any other troll as terribonk as your grandmooma.’

  Neville turned round slowly and took in the endless upward spiral of sentries and officers and heavies. There were faces peering down from all around and it made him feel nervous.

  ‘Who’s that?’ shouted a voice. ‘Bleuuch! Overlings!’

  ‘Oy, Bile,’ shouted another. ‘What you doin’ lettin’ tourists in at this time?’

  Bile put his hand on Neville’s shoulder. ‘Take no notice,’ he said. ‘Us guards get very bored standin’ around all day.’ Then he walked Neville and Rubella towards what looked like a big wicker basket dangling on a chain. Neville’s heart started to quicken as he realized what he was looking at. The basket chain was attached to the highest girder far above.

  ‘’Ere we are,’ said Bile as they reached it. ‘The trollevator. In you get.’ He patted the edge and smirked.

  Both Neville and Rubella stopped and stared at the contraption. It looked like it might fall apart at any second.

  Bile grinned at Rubella and winked. ‘It’s better than takin’ the stairs.’

  Rubella needed no more persuasion. In an instant she flopped herself over the edge and slumped head first into the trollevator. Neville watched her bulbous legs kicking in the air as she wriggled right-side-up. She reminded him of a boiled ham in a dress.

  ‘Come on, Nev,’ Rubella ordered. ‘Stop being such a squirmer.’

  Neville reluctantly clambered into the basket and nestled in one of the corners. After nearly being eaten alive and drowned in one day, the trollevator couldn’t be that bad, he supposed.

  ‘Righty-ho,’ said Bile. He pulled on a lever inside the basket and the grating of gears and whirring of cogs suddenly sprang into earshot from somewhere high overhead. ‘To the top.’

  The trollevator took off at great speed, twisting and jerking in mid-air as the chain was winched upwards. Neville watched as rows of angry-looking guards blurred past. His dooda was right, the Clunk was the most spookery place he’d ever seen.

  ‘Almost there,’ Bile shouted over the rushing and whirring.

  They were so high, Neville didn’t dare look down. The trollevator was now up among the rafters, whizzing past metal joists and steel beams at a frightening pace.

  ‘I don’t like this place,’ Rubella mumbled in a low voice. Neville nodded to her in agreement.

  ‘Let’s ask Grandma Jaundice about the gundiskump and then get out of here,’ Neville mumbled back.

  There was an almighty jerk and the trollevator emerged out of the metal tower into the open air above. Neville looked down at the ocean far below and was very nearly sick.

  ‘’Ere we are,’ Bile said and nimbly hopped out of the basket on to a narrow landing platform next to Jaundice’s cell. ‘This way, you two.’

  Neville gingerly stepped on to the metal ledge and shuffled towards the cage, followed by Rubella.

  Jaundice had smashed all the lanterns inside her cell, but Neville could already see what waited for him in the shadows.

  ‘What now?’ Rubella said as she reached Neville’s side. ‘Are we –’ Then she saw it too.

  Like a bad dream waiting in the dark, Neville could see the distinct copper glint of a pair of beady troll-eyes glaring at him. Then, in a voice like torn paper, came the words, ‘Well, if it isn’t my disgustin’ snot of a grandson! Fancy seein’ you here!’

  ‘Hello, Grandma!’

  ‘WHAT DO YOU WANT?’ Jaundice bellowed from the shadows. A half-chewed bone from something she’d eaten for dinner flew through the bars and just missed Neville’s head.

  ‘That’s enough of that!’ Bile ordered in his best I’m the leader around here voice. ‘Close your goblet.’

  ‘Who are you?’ Jaundice’s voice cackled.

  ‘Prison Officer Bile,’ said Bile.

  ‘Oh!’ Jaundice snickered. ‘I knocked the front teeth out of the last prison officer that told me to be quiet.’

  Officer Bile gulped and took a step back towards the trollevator. ‘Well, Neville,’ he said. �
�I suppose I should leave you to talk to your grandmooma.’ Then he leaned in next to Neville’s ear and whispered, ‘Don’t get too close to the bars.’

  Neville nodded.

  ‘I’m off to do my rounds of the other officers,’ Bile said as he hopped back into the trollevator. ‘Just give a yell when you’re done.’ With that, the basket disappeared below the landing platform, leaving Neville and Rubella alone at the top of the tower.

  ‘Well?’ came Jaundice’s voice again. ‘Aren’t you goin’ to come and say hello to your little ole grandmooma?’

  Rubella walked over to the torch by the landing platform and took it down. Then she approached the bars. Neville gasped as the cell slowly filled with light. Lady Jaundice stood in the centre of the room, with the kind of smile on her face that a crocodile pulls just before it gobbles down its prey. The carrots on her shoulders and the twigs in her hair were massively overgrown and sprouted through her striped prisoner uniform like an abandoned garden. She was like a walking salad.

  ‘Hello, Grub,’ she said, not taking her eyes away from Neville.

  ‘Hello, Grandma,’ Neville said. ‘How’ve you been?’

  ‘HOW DO YOU THINK I’VE BEEN?’ Jaundice bellowed and ran at the bars. She banged them with her fists and growled like a wild animal. ‘WHAT DO YOU WANT, YOU LITTLE FOOZLE FART?’

  ‘Erm …’ Neville said. He noticed Jaundice was still wearing her elbow-length gloves and pearls. Some things never change.

  ‘Tell her,’ Rubella whispered, nudging Neville. ‘Tell her what happened.’

  ‘TELL ME WHAT?’

  ‘Well, Grandma … We need your help!’

  Jaundice burst into fits of hysterical laughter. ‘You want me to help you? You must be knocked in the noggin.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand,’ Neville said, and ran right up to the bars of the cell. If his grandma knew a way to get Clod and Malaria out of the gundiskump, he had to make her listen.

  ‘WHAT don’t I understand?’ Jaundice hissed, pressing her pointy nose against Neville’s.

  ‘We were coming to visit you today because … because … well, because you’re the only person we can turn to.’

  ‘FAT CHANCE!’ Jaundice screamed. ‘I’d rather eat a bogle’s bumly bits than do somethin’ for a slug like you.’ Jaundice looked up the hallway to the landing platform, then back at Neville. ‘Where’s the rest of you, anyway? It’s been ages since I’ve made anyone cry.’

  ‘Well, that’s just it,’ Neville exclaimed. ‘On our way here, the boat got swallowed by a gundiskump … and Mooma and Dooda too.’

  ‘AND PONG!’ Rubella butted in. ‘AND PONG!’

  ‘Ha ha! I bet they tasted greasy,’ Jaundice chuckled to herself.

  ‘The old boat-troll said you might know a way to get them out. Please, Grandma Joan?’

  Jaundice grabbed Neville by the collar of his sweater and lifted him into the air.

  ‘Don’t you ever call me by that name,’ she barked. ‘I AM LADY JAUNDICE!’

  ‘OK,’ Neville whimpered. ‘Please, Lady Jaundice … you have to help us.’

  ‘I MOST BLUNKIN’ WELL DON’T HAVE TO HELP YOU!’

  ‘Please.’ Neville started to cry as he dangled in his grandma’s hands.

  ‘EUUCH! You’re such a whelp,’ Jaundice said. ‘How did a grandson of mine turn out to be so nervish?’

  ‘THAT’S ENOUGH! LISTEN TO ME, YOU PUFFLUMPIN’, WRINKSOME, OLD GURNIP!’ Rubella shouted.

  Lady Jaundice dropped Neville to the ground with a look of shock on her face. No one had ever stood up to her like that before.

  ‘IF YOU DON’T TELL US HOW TO GET OUR MOOMA AND DOODA OUT OF GREAT GURTY, I’M GOING TO COME IN THERE AND –’

  ‘What did you say?’ Jaundice’s face turned from shock to excitement.

  ‘I said I’m going to come in there and –’

  ‘No, no, no – before that. Did you say Great Gurty?’ Jaundice asked.

  ‘Yeah, why?’ Rubella looked confused.

  ‘Your folks were eaten by Great Gurty?’

  ‘Yes,’ Neville said, clambering back to his feet and wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind!’ Jaundice said. She looked like she was about to explode with excitement. ‘I’ll help you get your moomsie and doodsie.’

  ‘You will?’ said Neville. Something felt strange. ‘Why?’

  ‘They don’t call me “Marauder of the Mud Beds” for nothing, boy! I LOVE a challenge!’ Jaundice bellowed. ‘Great Gurty is famous to us seafolk.’

  ‘Tell us what we have to do,’ Rubella said. ‘How do we get them out?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Jaundice said, crossing her spindly arms. ‘There’s a condition.’

  ‘What?’ said Neville.

  ‘I won’t tell you how to get your parents back, but I’ll show you.’

  ‘How?’ asked Rubella.

  ‘If you want to see your mooma and dooda again, you’ve got to break me out.’

  ‘What?’ Neville’s heart sank. ‘We can’t break you out of prison.’

  Jaundice leaned through the bars as close to Neville as she could get. A leer spread across her face like a rash. ‘You scratch my warts and I’ll scratch yours.’

  Meanwhile

  On the beach below the Clunk, at the foot of the cliffs, Old Barnacle clambered over the rocks. He wasn’t as young as he used to be and cursed to himself as he stumbled on a giant clamshell.

  When he reached the far edges of the rock pools, he stopped to catch his breath, then rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a small wooden whistle.

  ‘This one’s for you, Captain Jaundice,’ he mumbled, then blew a long, high-pitched note across the water. ‘It’ll be squibbly to do some swashbunglin’ again.’

  Break Out

  Prison Officer Bile was in the trollevator, swinging from guard post to guard post, when a loud rumpus started banging and echoing down the tower. He could hear shouting and screaming and all sorts of other horrible sounds. ‘Oh, pook,’ he grunted to himself, ‘that was the overling’s voice.’

  Bile jammed the lever as far as it would go to take him to the top floor. ‘Stay away from the bars! STAY AWAY!!’

  As the chain clanked and jangled the basket up against the landing platform, he peered around nervously for signs of the little boy and his chublet of a sister. Where were they? The landing torch had been extinguished and everything was very dark.

  ‘YOU’RE TOO LATE!’ Jaundice cackled from inside her cell.

  ‘What d’you mean?’ Bile asked as he clambered out of the trollevator. ‘Where’s that Neville?’

  ‘They got too close to the bars,’ Jaundice sneered. ‘I ATE THEM.’ Then she licked her lips with a sickening slurp.

  ‘What?’ said Bile. A look of horror spread across his face. ‘How?’

  ‘When you’re as old as I am, you can chomp your way through anythin’,’ Jaundice chuckled. Then she belched.

  ‘Oh, I’m in trouble,’ Bile whimpered, cradling his head in his hands. ‘I can’t have visitors being eaten on my watch. I’ll never be head officer now!’

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ said Jaundice with a knowing wink. ‘I won’t tell anyone. Who’d miss a lonely little overling, anyway?’

  Bile thought for a moment. Maybe she had a point?

  ‘I saved the best bit for last,’ Jaundice teased. ‘His little left sock.’ She pointed to a small blue sock, discarded on the filthy floor just beyond her cell. ‘In all the rambunkin’ it flew through the bars and now I can’t get it. Please don’t take the left sock away, officer … please.’

  A smile crept in at the corners of Bile’s mouth as the deliciously stinky scent of left sock tingled his nostrils.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t let you have that,’ he said, trying to look official. ‘I can’t have you litterin’ up the hallways with bits of overling. I’ll have to take it away and … dispose of it.’

  ‘OH NO!’ Jaundice cried, dramatically slapping the bac
k of her hand against her forehead. ‘PLEASE!’

  ‘No,’ said Bile. ‘I’ve made up my mind.’ He turned his back on Jaundice and smirked. Forget the boy, that sock is mine, he thought. It was rare for such lummy tidbits to make their way into the prison.

  ‘THAT SOCK BELONGS TO ME!’ Jaundice screamed and started rattling the bars of her cell. ‘HOW COULD YOU?’

  ‘Shut up!’ Bile ordered and stooped to pick it up, grunting as he went. His stumpy fingers just had time to wrap themselves round the woollen snack, when he caught a glimpse of ten chubby troll-toes poking out of the shadows just beyond it. Next to them was another pair of much smaller, pinker feet … one in a shoe, the other bare. ‘What the –?’

  CRRRAAAAACCCKKK!!!

  Rubella, concealed in a dark corner, brought her spade-sized fist down on the top of Bile’s head with a wallop. The poor troll grunted loudly and fell to the floor, out cold.

  ‘I’m not sure about this,’ Neville said. He jumped out of his hiding-place and snatched his sock from Bile’s limp hand. ‘Doesn’t this make us criminals?’

  ‘Nonsense, m’boy,’ Jaundice laughed. ‘You’ll make a fine truccaneer yet!’

  ‘Yeah! Clam up!’ Rubella snapped. ‘You want to see Mooma and Dooda again, don’t you?’

  Neville nodded, but still didn’t feel any better.

  ‘Quick, Grub,’ Jaundice whispered, ‘get the keys. We don’t have much time.’

  Neville rolled Bile over on to his back and fished the big bunch of keys from the loop on his belt. He eyed them suspiciously. There were hundreds of them and they were all different shapes and sizes.

  ‘I don’t know which one,’ Neville said.

  ‘Well, get to it,’ Jaundice barked. ‘Start tryin’ ’em.’

  Neville started trying to fit the keys into the big keyhole on the door of Jaundice’s cell. Most of them didn’t go in at all and the ones that did wouldn’t turn.