Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale)

by Alan Skinner

  When she had finished, Crimson found that Kevin, too, had been busy. An awning had been attached to the front of the pavilion. Under the awning, Kevin had erected a sturdy folding table and had laid place settings for two. Crimson followed the smell of cooking to the kitchen tent.

  Kevin was at a stone oven with a bed of coals on the top for a stove. Cans, sacks and boxes were stacked in one corner. In another corner was an icebox. Crimson looked around, puzzled.

  ‘Kevin,’ she said, ‘do you think they brought all this with them? How could just the two of them get all this down through the High Mountains? I wondered when I saw the sacks of feed for the horses. It doesn’t seem possible that they did it on their own.’

  Kevin turned sausages in the pan. ‘They couldn’t have. And they wouldn’t have. Not without Beadles to help them.’ He pointed with the fork in his hand at a box of goods. ‘For one thing, that didn’t come from The Place. Everything came from Myrmidia.’ He pointed to the icebox. ‘That has fresh ice in it. This bread’s pretty fresh, too. And I’ve never seen cheese like this in The Place.’

  ‘They couldn’t have stolen all this without being seen,’ said Crimson. ‘Someone must have brought it here. Maybe that’s what they meant about the Myrmidots. But why would the Myrmidots do that?’

  Kevin dug two potatoes out of the coals. They had a crust of baked mud on the outside. Kevin tapped the crust, which broke and fell off, leaving a perfectly baked potato.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.

  Kevin had already prepared two trays. Each one was precisely laid with cutlery, a tea pot, a bowl of fruit and a napkin folded in the shape of a swan. He put the food on plates: cooked sausage, baked potatoes, bread and cheese. Crimson realised then how famished she was. She looked longingly at the trays of food.

  ‘When they have finished, our potatoes will be done,’ said Kevin. He nodded at the stove. Pushed into the hot coals, Crimson could see another two large, mud-crusted potatoes.

  ‘Thank you, Kevin,’ she said. ‘Is this how it used to be for you?’

  He nodded, sorrow on his face. ‘Always after, never as much.’ He picked up one of the trays. Crimson picked up the other.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Kevin. ‘When we serve, take the plates from the trays. Lay everything on the table, just as I do, then move away. Don’t look at them while they eat.’

  Crimson nodded, though none of it made sense to her.

  They walked to the pavilion. As they neared the awning, Hazlitt and Edith came out and seated themselves at the table. Kevin began setting out Hazlitt’s lunch. Crimson moved round to the other side of the table, holding her tray in front of her. Edith gave her a small, smug smile.

  Crimson’s body tingled. Hazlitt, Edith and Kevin watched as the Muddle dissolved in a shimmering glow. The glow lasted for only a few heartbeats and Crimson came back into focus. But Edith’s meal was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Crimson looked down at Patch’s arms. One hand was empty; in the other, there was a brass spyglass.

  ‘Oh, bother,’ muttered Crimson.

  Edith sat stunned for a few seconds, staring at her. Then her face contorted with anger.

  ‘Where is my lunch?’ she screamed.

  ≈

  Brian often felt that he had had many more experiences with Muddles than he actually wanted. He had seen the Mix several times, but still found it rather unsettling. One minute he was talking to a musician, and the next a musician, matador and scout all rolled into one.

  ‘Ow!’ said Grunge. His leg hurt. And it itched. He looked down. The right leg of the trousers had been neatly cut away above the knee. Where the trouser leg ended, a plaster cast started. ‘Oh,’ he said. Of course, Leaf had been in a wheelchair when the Mix happened to make sure she didn’t do what Grunge was about to do . . .

  With only one leg to stand on, Grunge toppled over.

  There were times, Brian thought as everyone rushed to help Grunge into a chair, that having a simple conversation with Muddles was anything but simple.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Grunge. ‘Where were we?’

  ‘You were still planning to go to the High Mountains with Slight, Eugene, Flyte and Calamity,’ Megan said. ‘Is that wise? I know you’re worried about Crimson, but we have to consider what Japes and Patch have just told us. We need to do something about the blue fire in Forge. Someone has to go back there to talk to the Myrmidots.’

  ‘You’re right, Megan. Flyte and I will go to the mountains alone. I’ll pack some things and leave as soon as Shift gets back from his rounds,’ said Grunge.

  Everyone looked at each other, and then everyone looked at Grunge.

  ‘I believe, Grunge, that you have not taken into account recent events,’ said Brian politely.

  Grunge was puzzled. ‘Do you mean all the animals?’ he asked.

  ‘Even more recent,’ said Megan.

  Absent-mindedly, Grunge poked a finger under the cast on his leg and tried to scratch. He struggled to think of anything that would make them change their plans again.

  ‘They’re talking about your leg, Grunge,’ came a voice from the kitchen door.

  Whist walked in on Patch’s slightly bandy legs. The arms that held the tray were covered by the sleeves of a thick, dark jacket, the kind worn by a firefighter.

  ‘You can hardly go to the High Mountains with a broken leg. You’ll have to wait until the Mix ends,’ Whist continued.

  Grunge gave a wry grin. ‘Kinda overlooked that, didn’t I?’

  ‘It might not matter anyway’ Whist put the tray on the table.

  Slight looked with surprise at the food on the tray. ‘I thought we were getting coffee and biscuits.’ he said.

  ‘Exactly,’ Whist replied. ‘I don’t think Crimson’s in the High Mountains. She must have been holding this when the Mix came.’

  ‘From this, it doesn’t look like she needs rescuing,’ said Brian. ‘Do people who need rescuing eat this well?’ He picked up a knife and cut himself a piece of cheese. He popped it into his mouth. ‘Hmmm, not bad. Not as good as a Mint red cheddar, but not bad at all,’ he declared. He looked longingly at the sausage still on the tray.

  ‘How do you know she’s not in the High Mountains, Whist? She could have been anywhere holding the tray when the Mix happened,’ said Megan.

  ‘That’s true,’ Whist admitted. ‘But I know food. That red cheddar Brian has just finished comes from Kiln. That’s Myrmidian dark bread. I’d say almost all of this came from Myrmidia. If she’s in the High Mountains, someone had to carry a lot of food. And the bread is quite fresh. It’s more likely she’s in Myrmidia.’

  ‘But why is Crimson drinking tea?’ asked Slight. ‘No one in the Land drinks tea.’

  ‘She wasn’t,’ said Grunge. ‘This isn’t Crimson’s lunch. She was serving someone else. Someone from The Place. Amelia had tea, remember? I think Whist is right. They’re getting their supplies from Myrmidia but they brought their own tea. So, they still have Crimson.’

  ‘And Kevin’s with her,’ added Megan. ‘Look at how everything’s laid on the tray perfectly. The napkin is folded just like Kevin does it. The way he said Amelia always made him do it. Kevin prepared this.’

  Grunge was filled with a deep and terrible dread that showed in his face as he spoke. ‘The people from The Place are Myrmidots, just like the Myrmidots here. Amelia said that our Myrmidots needed reminding who they really were. Maybe that’s what’s happened. Maybe they have been reminded.’

  Everyone was stunned at what Grunge was saying. Grunge could hardly believe it himself. He looked at Beadledom’s Factotum. ‘Brian, you must persuade Bligh to meet us here in the morning. Tomorrow we travel to Forge.’

  His mouth full of sausage, Brian just nodded.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said Grunge, ‘we find out whether Myrmidia is our friend or our enemy.’

  ≈

  With their eyes fixed on the animals coming towards them, Miniver, Eugene and Calamity didn’t notice the small white cloud shaped like
a bird that floated across the face of the sun. They felt a familiar sensation, like someone brushing their fur the wrong way, and the tips of their ears and the bottoms of their paws tingled.

  The Muddles became a glowing blur. They flickered and dissolved, then instantly took shape again.

  Any way you look at it, the Mix is a very peculiar thing. For non-Muddles, whether they be people or animals, it can be extremely disconcerting. Part of the peculiarity is that animals adjust in size, generally getting larger so that all the bits fit together. In this case, Miniver ended up with the body of Madigan the toucan, and the fire station puppy’s hindquarters – which made for a very large bird’s body and a puppy’s bottom that Calamity was sure didn’t look that big on her. Equally, Charm the rabbit’s forelegs and Clark the penguin’s rear grew considerably when they ended up with Eugene. For the animals, it was all very strange and it is little wonder that they stopped dead in their tracks, then turned and ran.

  The Muddles, of course, take the Mix in their stride and the sudden retreat of the animals puzzled them. Calamity thought Miniver looked considerably less fearsome. ‘And Eugene was not nearly so impressive with rabbit paws and penguin flippers. ‘Maybe it’s me,’ Calamity mused. She looked down at herself. ‘Flyte’s body, Eugene’s rear. Yup, it’s me. Killer pup.’

  The animals stopped a short distance away. They were faced with a difficult choice. Behind them was the place from which they had fled, a place that smelled of corruption. In front of them were three animals unlike any others they had seen before. Yet, there was no scent of danger coming from them. Their instinct was to run, but where to?

  And so they stayed where they were, a huge horde of animals bellowing, braying, barking and bleating, squawking, screeching, howling and lowing. And the Muddles drew close and listened.

  ≈

  Edith sprang to her feet, knocking over her chair. Her face was contorted with anger.

  ‘By the clouds, I’ll teach you!’ she screamed at Crimson.

  ‘Teach her to finish serving before she clears,’ Hazlitt drawled.

  Edith snatched Patch’s spyglass from Crimson’s hand. ‘This is why Muddles are useless!’ she raged. ‘You can’t trust them, even for the simplest things. Lazy and stupid, every Muddle!’

  Edith hurled the spyglass. It sailed over the pavilion and into the trees beyond.

  ‘Get me food!’ she yelled at both Kevin and Crimson. ‘Now!’

  Crimson didn’t move. She glared defiantly at Edith, trembling with fury. Kevin grabbed her arm gently but firmly.

  ‘Come on, Crimson,’ he said softly. A little nod of his head told Crimson to look behind her. Sure enough, the spoorhounds were there, snarling grins on their faces.

  Crimson felt her heart pounding in her head and chest. She counted the heartbeats, then stepped back.

  Edith smirked. ‘That’s very wise, dear. Now be a good little Muddle and get my food.’

  Crimson turned on her heel and stormed back into the kitchen tent, Kevin close behind her.

  Hazlitt watched them go, then turned his attention back to his breakfast. ‘Do you think she knows about the other one?’ he asked.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Edith snapped.

  ‘It makes sense – the Myrmidot, I mean. But a Muddle, too . . .’ Hazlitt let the thought hang in the air. He knew it puzzled Edith as well.

  ‘Who can tell anything about those damn Muddles!’ said Edith irritably. ‘We should just get rid of her!’

  ‘We will. Tomorrow, as agreed,’ said Hazlitt. ‘But Edith, we can’t risk raising the suspiscions of the Myrmidots now. That Myrmidot Beatrice, has some connection to us. From what we were told by our helpful friend, she seems to be able to sense our presence. And this Muddle. Crimson, has a very special link to the Land. What if they also have a connection to each other? If we dispose of Crimson now, we might alert the Myrmidots and risk everything we’ve done. After tomorrow, it won’t matter. We’ll wait until then to attend to that troublesome Muddle.’

  ‘Tomorrow won’t be a moment too soon!’ Edith spat.

  ‘True, my dear, true,’ agreed Hazlitt. ‘The disappearance of your lunch has made you prickly. Would you like some of mine while you wait? Here, have my sausage.’

  After lunch, Hazlitt and Edith sent their prisoners to the kitchen tent, closely guarded by the hounds. It didn’t take long before Kevin, out of boredom and the habit of a lifetime, began tidying up. He unpacked everything, made shelves and cupboards out of the empty boxes and started putting things away. There was a lot of stuff that didn’t belong in a kitchen, and these things Kevin neatly placed in a corner. Before long, the tent looked as neat as the little kitchen in the cave in the High Mountains.

  While Kevin was sorting and stacking, Crimson decided to explore the small plateau. The Mix had ended, and she zipped her fire jacket and left the tent. Chaos and Strike followed her out. Chaos had taken a particular dislike to Crimson and his eyes never left her for a moment. She had no doubt that, given the slightest chance, the hound would happily tear her apart.

  Hazlitt and Edith were sitting at their small table under the awning, writing. Hazlitt waved and smiled. A shiver went down Crimson’s spine. She found Hazlitt’s facade more chilling than Edith’s open arrogance and hostility.

  Crimson walked to the side of the plateau. It was only a stone’s throw from the pavilion. She glanced back. She could still see Hazlitt and Edith. She peered over the edge. Several metres below, the Salvation River foamed and roared, then straightened and continued south-west.

  Crimson continued her way round the perimeter. The cliffs and the rushing river below were the same on the south. From her vantage point, she saw now how the rocky plateau had pushed the river slightly off its course, forcing it to go round in a small bow. She remembered looking down at the Salvation River when she first crossed Bourne Bridge, and seeing it crash through the gorge beneath her. They were not very far from Bourne Bridge and the river still had all its frightening power. Even if they managed to get away from the dogs and climb down these cliffs, they would never survive the river.

  Standing behind the band of trees, Crimson glanced in the direction of the pavilion and realised she was hidden from the view of the camp. She was sure that Hazlitt and Edith had come to the same conclusion as she now did: being out of sight would do her no good. And besides, Chaos sat nearby, staring at her with undisguised malice.

  Crimson walked back along the western side of the plateau. The wall of the ravine on this side wasn’t too steep, but the opposite wall rose almost vertically. A few trees and saplings grew along the bottom, next to the stream, which was too wide to jump and moving much too fast to swim across.

  As she neared the front of the plateau, where they had first entered, the slope below her became a gentle incline. On the other side of ther stream, the ground flattened and melded with the grassy plain beyond. Looking back, she could see the pavilion a couple of hundred metres away.

  The only way out of the camp was the way they came in. ‘Even if we managed to sneak off the plateau,’ she thought, ‘we wouldn’t make it very far.’ From where she stood, the vast plain of Myrmidia stretched flat and clear, kilometre after kilometre. They could walk for more than an hour and still be seen from the camp.

  Despondent, Crimson headed back to the kitchen tent. She pushed open the flap and stepped inside. Kevin had found a bit of cloth and was dusting everything within reach. Crimson couldn’t help but smile as she looked around. If there was a prize for ‘Finding a Place for Everything and Keeping Everything in its Place’, she wasn’t sure who would win, Brian or Kevin.

  Then she saw something that Kevin had stowed neatly in the corner. An idea began to take shape. ‘At least,’ she thought, ‘it might be worth a try.’

  ‘Kevin, can you swim?’

  Crimson’s question, coming out of the blue, caught Kevin by surprise. ‘Well, ah, yes – sort of. I mean, I can but not very well.’

  ‘How well is “not ver
y well”?’

  ‘I can paddle around for a few minutes. But then I start to sort of sink,’ Kevin admitted.

  ‘We’ll just have to think of another way across, then,’ said Crimson. ‘I have an idea . . .’ And she told Kevin what she had in mind.

  ‘The hounds following you will make an awful din,’ he said when she’d finished.

  ‘That’s what I’m counting on,’ said Crimson. ‘With luck, the other two will hear the noise and run to see what’s happening.’

  ‘What if they don’t?’

  ‘Then we’ll have two very unpleasant dogs to deal with.’

  Kevin hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

  ‘Ready?’ asked Crimson.

  Kevin nodded and picked up his water bucket.

  ‘OK, you first,’ she said.

  Kevin stepped out of the tent, Clash and Strike following. Chaos and Spite were lying just outside the tent flap. They watched Kevin but neither made a move. When Crimson didn’t come out, Chaos pushed aside the flap and went into the tent.

  It was late afternoon and the sun was less than an hour from slipping down behind the horizon. Kevin headed for the stream, straight into the setting sun. He had only walked a few paces when Edith’s voice rang out.

  ‘Wait!’ she commanded.

  Kevin stopped and slowly turned round.

  ‘And just where are you going?’ she asked.

  ‘Water,’ replied Kevin, holding up the bucket. ‘And to have a wash.’

  ‘I should think so,’ Edith sneered. ‘Don’t be long. I want my dinner in an hour.’

  ‘Yes, Edith,’ said Kevin and headed to the edge of the camp and down the slope of the ravine to the stream.

  At the bottom he turned right and walked along the bank of the stream. The dogs followed a few steps behind. He soon found what he had been looking for and stopped.

  Kevin put the bucket down. He reached inside it and took out a coil of rope. Then he knelt on the bank and lowered the bucket into the water. The force of the stream nearly tore the bucket from his hand and he had to use all his strength to draw it from the water. He dragged the bucket on to the grass. Then he sat next to it, his back against a tall but slender sapling, and waited.