by Ben Walsh
Chapter Four
Stan found he could move much faster without Marvin slowing him down. He tried to push the worst thoughts from his mind, but this was made impossible by the cavern’s deafening silence. There was no roar of a huge fire breathing dragon in pursuit of a young boy. No crashing as piles of gold tumbled to the floor, knocked by a running Edgar. His brother’s singing and chanting had stopped, and Stan couldn’t help but fear his brother had been permanently silenced. He thought back to the sound of Edgar mocking him as he failed to catch any fish the first time their father took them out on his little boat, causing him to cry all night at the taunts and smirk on his face. How he would love to be taunted by his brother now.
“You know Edgar, Stan”, he muttered under his breath. “He’ll be ok. He wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to laugh at me.”
He skimmed through the entry cave and surged through the door without hesitation, back into the enormous chamber. Now that the door had been opened, there was a slight gushing as the wind blew in and out, which somehow made the cavern even eerier.
Stan crept through the chamber, stepping around the gold he had gleefully played with earlier. He passed the stairs they’d tumbled down, and continued, past the spot where he’d tripped over Gordon’s tail.
After nearly an hour scouring the cave without sign of Edgar or Gordon, Stan was bracing himself for the reality of having to give up when he spotted something out of the corner of his eye that made his heart drop. Slowly, as if scared of what he might view, Stan turned his head to the shadowed area of the lair, where the torch had somehow been extinguished. Lying just inside the dark area was what appeared to be worryingly similar to the shape of a body, strewn at a funny angle. Stan’s stomach churned as he sprinted over towards the body, praying for it to be anything but what he feared it was.
As Stan approached, he noticed the singe marks on the wall, and as he breathlessly arrived at the body, his eyes confirmed what he had known all along. The body belonged to a boy, with a shaven head, a crooked nose and a deep scratch across his face, running from chin to ear.
Stan sunk to his knees, and felt his eyes welling up. Before he knew what was happening, his body was shaking, as he sobbed uncontrollably.
“Please Edgar, please wake up,” Stan moaned through tears, shaking the body. “You have to wake up, we’ve got to leave, we aren’t safe here!”
Forgetting where he was, Stan started to scream at his lifeless brother, begging him to wake up and calling out his name over and over again, pounding Edgar’s chest with a clenched fist in despair.
“EDGAR! EDGAR WAKE UP NOW!”
Stan was brought back to his senses by the sound of gold crashing to the floor behind him. He turned to face his would be attacker, but to his relief saw that the pile of gold had fallen due to an entering bird clipping a gold tin, creating a mini avalanche of gold coins. Nevertheless, it was clearly time to go.
Stan squatted down and picked up Edgar’s limp body, draping it over his shoulders. He struggled beneath the weight, but thoughts of leaving his brother’s body were refused entry into Stan’s mind. He slowly began to carry his brother out, carefully retracing his steps.
“Maximus will know what to do, he’ll cure you. I’m taking you to him right now, don’t you worry, he’ll make you all better.”
Hurrying to get his brother to help but having to be wary not to make noise and alert Gordon to his presence proved difficult for Stan. Furthermore, he was struggling with his brother’s substantial weight. He was soon sweating and lost within the chamber, and was beginning to wonder whether he’d ever see the light of day again. It was while he pondered the notion of death within the vast cavern that he unexpectedly stumbled upon the Great Door.
Getting Edgar through proved difficult, as he was too wide to fit while hanging from Stan’s back, so in the end Stan dropped him on the floor and dragged him through, determined not to leave his brother behind to be eaten by Gordon.
As he emerged into the sunlight, Stan saw Marvin sat where he’d left him. Behind him the sun had now risen fully, shining brightly over the lake and stretching out into the Great Sea in the distance, the sun glistening on the water.
Not that Stan noticed any of this.
“Marvin, come and help me, we need to get Edgar to Maximus, he’s the only one who can save him,” Stan said urgently.
“Are you sure he can be saved, he seems pretty dead?” Marvin replied, casting a wary glance at Edgar who had turned a ghostly pale.
“No, he can be saved, come on and help me, please,” Stan begged.
Marvin took half of the weight of Edgar onto his shoulders and the two of them continued, not daring to turn back at the mountain for fear of seeing Gordon the Gruesome pursuing.
The boys flew down the mountain like a rabbit fleeing from a rapidly descending eagle, moving quickly and without any thought for falling. Miraculously, they managed to negotiate the descent without falling and breaking an ankle, despite the weight of Edgar draped around their shoulders. Furthermore, they had managed to escape without catching the attention of the repugnant dragon. The boys were sweating in the early morning heat, but after a while, a small hut became visible in the distance.
“Look, Stan there it is, we’ve made it!” The two boys diverted off of the main path, and descended into a thick bunch of trees, which blocked out the sun and sent a shiver down Stan’s spine. They temporarily lost sight of the hut, but continued heading in the direction they’d seen it. Soon enough, the hut was back in sight, and the boys were descending a small hill to reach it, cutting through the shrubbery to speed up the journey.
The hut was small and made almost entirely of wood, with a petite metal chimney from which a flurry of smoke escaped. The windows were covered by curtains, but a light shone through from inside. The front garden contained overgrown plants and trees which blocked the path. The boys struggled through the overgrowth towards a small staircase, which they ascended, before Stan reached out and banged the grubby gold knocker on the wooden door.
“Are you sure he’ll be able to help, Stan? This place is a bit… run down.” Marvin whispered.
“We’re here now, and everyone knows he’s one of the best wizards alive. He’s our best shot.” Stan tried to come across as confident, but his tentative voice and trembling hands suggested otherwise. Edgar was his brother, and as mean as he was he always looked out for him.
They waited for over a minute, before Stan knocked on the door again, harder. He continued to do so, eventually resorting to kicking and thumping the door when still no one answered.
“It doesn’t seem like anyone’s in mate.”
Stan brushed off Marvin’s comforting hand and wheeled round, marching down the stairs and towards the back of the hut.
“He must be here somewhere, come on.”
Once behind the hut, Stan came across a vegetable patch, where sure enough he found a large, old man. He was stooped over with his back to him, muttering to himself.
“Maximus, we need your help, my brother, he’s been hurt!”
The old man ignored him, continuing to tend to what looked like a row of carrots.
“Maximus, please, he’s been hurt badly!” Stan repeated, growing increasingly frustrated. Marvin hung back by the hut, unsure as to whether he should approach.
“Stan, he clearly doesn’t want to be disturbed, maybe we should just leave?”
Stan spun round, and glared at his friend.
“I am not giving up on my brother. If we leave here we have no other options, nobody else who can help us. Get that into your stupid head,” he shouted, before turning back to the old man, “hey you, stop looking after your carrots and come and help my brother now, why are you ignoring me?”
Stan grabbed the man on his shoulder and pulled him round, revealing a toothless mouth, one which formed part of a shrivelled, wrinkly face which bore a confused expression.
Stan had just enough time to register that it wasn’t Maximus who was tending
the carrots before the man punched him in the face, leaving Stan knocked out cold on the ground.
