by Michael Kerr
At the far end of the arena, a massive gate slid back, and from the darkness came a tremendous roar, followed by the appearance of a beast that made Gorf’s stomach knot and his heart race. He might have been facing one of the dragons that he and the others had encountered on their previous quest. He needed his longbow and the magic arrow that Mephisto had given him, if he was to have any hope of vanquishing the animal before him. The dagger clenched in his fist was smaller than one of the claws on the paws of the giant cat-like beast that was now circling him.
― CHAPTER FOURTEEN ―
THE CROWN
Sam and Ben searched everywhere. The crown was nowhere to be seen. Ben went over to the guard that Zoot had knocked out, and who was now awake and groaning. “Do you want to live?” he asked Nazat.
“Considering the alternative, yes,” Nazat replied.
“Then tell me where the crown is, and we will spare your life.”
“I said I wanted to live,” Nazat said. “If I tell you where the crown is, then Ganzo will kill me, and in a way that I don’t want to even think about.”
“Your choice,” Ben said, and aimed his crossbow at the horg’s head, between his eyes, and started to squeeze the trigger.
“Wait!” Nazat hissed. “If I tell you where it is, will you spare my life and set me free?”
“No. You’d sound the alarm and have us captured. We’ll take you with us, away from the city, and then release you.”
“I would not be able to return if you escape with the crown.”
“You’d be welcome to come with us, then. If Zoot thought that we could trust you.”
“The crown is behind a panel on the wall, behind that old statue,” Nazat said. “Pull the right arm down and it will open.”
Ben walked over to the statue of a priest holding a sword in one hand and a scroll in the other. He reached out and grasped the figure’s wrist.
“Stop!” Sam said. “It could be a trap.”
Ben pulled his hand back. Looked around, and saw a spear leaning against the throne. He picked it up and used it to reach out and press the heavy tip onto the statue’s arm. A small square panel shot back, and in the space behind it was the crown.
“Reach in and get it, Sam,” Ben said.
“No way,” Sam said. “Anything could happen.”
“It is safe to remove it,” Nazat said. “If anything happens, then shoot me for lying to you.”
Sam carefully reached out, snatched the crown and jerked her hand back. Nothing happened. Nazat had been telling the truth. Ben drew back the spear, and as the arm rose back up to its original position, the wall panel closed.
Sam held the small crown in her hand and examined it. The first time she had seen it, King Ambrose had been wearing it on his head. She smiled as she recalled that it had been perched at an angle over his eyebrow, almost falling off. That had been when Fig had told them to stand on one leg and bow their heads three times when they were introduced to the king. He’d said that it was the custom. The old fairy had a weird sense of humour. She swallowed hard, and hoped that they would all survive and be together again. If they made it back to the forest with the crown and found King Ambrose, then everything might be okay. Although the fairies that the horgs had killed could not be brought back, and Gorf was probably dead.
Her smile faded as black thoughts overwhelmed the good ones.
“Come on, Sam, let’s get out of here,” Ben said.
They went across to Nazat, intending to untie his ankles, but not his wrists. They knew that if he got the chance to stop them taking the crown, then he would be a hero, and Ganzo would not harm him. They would free his arms once they were off the mountain and a long way from Urucuaro.
“What about the other two?” Nazat said as Sam paused to stuff the crown in the shoulder bag she had brought with her.
“They stay,” Ben said.
“But Ganzo will have them―”
“I don’t care what Godzilla does to them,” Ben interrupted. “You horgs are nothing but murdering lizards. You deserve all you get. We watched you making fairies jump into the pit in the temple. And don’t tell me that you only follow orders. If you could, you’d kill us now to get the crown back and save your skin.”
Sam had never seen Ben so angry. She watched as he tore another strip off the curtain and tied it tightly round the horg’s pointed snout.
“I take it he isn’t coming with us after all,” Sam said.
“That’s right. I don’t trust him.”
“But you trust Zoot?”
“Yes. I think that if he had intended to betray us, then he would have come back up to the top of the pyramid with a bunch of armed geckos.”
They went to the door and tapped softly. Zoot opened it.
“Did you find the crown?” he asked.
“Yes,” Sam said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Zoot led them back the way they had come, and they were soon at the door leading out to the courtyard. They could hear the shouts and cheers from the arena, and knew that even as they made their escape, Gorf might be fighting for his life.
“It looks to be clear,” Zoot said, but don’t run, just walk slowly along the walkway lined by pillars to the temple.”
They reached the temple and made their way to the secret door that Gorf had marked with a cross. It had been left open a fraction. After going through it, Zoot closed it properly, hoping that it would not be discovered.
They rushed down the steps to the vault beneath the temple, walked between the lava glass coffins and entered the tunnel that led under the moat to freedom.
“Ugh!” Sam exclaimed as Zoot snatched up a fat rat that ran too close to him, and bit its head off.
“Sorry,” Zoot mumbled as he munched. “But I’m starving.”
By the time Zoot had finished noisily eating the rodent, they were back at the steps that led up to the surface.
When they reached the top, the slab flew back and sunlight dazzled them. Juno had pawed the large piece of rock aside, and was visible, sitting on the ground, though his head was so high above them that it was touching the leaves of a tree, and he looked as though he had a mop of green hair, which made Ben smile.
“Welcome back,” Magar said. “Did you manage to recover the crown?”
“Yes,” Sam said.
“And where is your other friend?”
Sam couldn’t speak. Her throat felt as if a rock was blocking it, and her eyes stung with hot, salty tears.
“Gorf didn’t make it,” Ben said. “Ganzo had him put in the arena.”
“Do not give up hope,” Magar said. “Juno has told me that Gorf is a powerful-looking creature. He may overcome whatever trial he has to face, and escape those weak-brained reptiles. If he does, I will point him in the direction you have gone.”
“Thank you,” Sam said to Magar and Juno, even though she had all but accepted that she would never see Gorf again.
“You are welcome,” Magar said. “Any enemy of the horgs is a friend of ours. Now follow me, and I will show you the trail that the fairies took down to the bottom of the tower. Tommy said that he would wait for you there with Pook.”
As they came to the rim, Juno shouted, “Hide”, and became invisible as Magar, Sam, Ben and Zoot crawled under some bushes.
A large, black shape soared high above them and cut off the light from the sun as it passed by.
“What was that?” Ben asked.
“The Dark One,” Zoot said, his voice trembling with fear.
Sam risked moving out from under the bush and standing up to see the creature. With slow wing beats it was heading for the walled city. It was as big as a plane, and as black as tar. Sam shielded her eyes, but it was too high up and already too far away for her to see it properly.
“Wow! He’s ginormous,” Ben said, standing up next to Sam.
“And now that he is here, we are all doomed,” Zoot said from where he was still crouched under cover, shaking so much that the leaves
on the bush were quivering.
“What makes you think that?” Sam asked.
“Because when he learns that you and the fairies have escaped, and that the crown has gone, he will give crows and other birds the power to reason, and send them out in every direction to find us. Once he knows our whereabouts, then there will be no escaping him.”
“Move quickly,” Magar said, pointing to the gap in the rocks that led to the trail. “At the bottom of the mountain, you will enter swampland. The thick cover of mangrove trees may hide you from the sight of anything flying over it. Good luck, my friends.”
They said good-bye to the ancient, blind Indian and the giant dog creature, before hurrying through the split, finding the trail and rushing down it as fast as they dare, wanting to find shelter before the Dark One found out what had happened.
Gorf tensed his muscles and waited. The sabre-toothed panther seemed in no hurry to attack. It was used to facing horgs, but was not sure what Gorf was.
“Can you speak, Theros?” Gorf asked it. There was no reply, save for a deep snarl and the flash of scimitar-shaped fangs that he was sure would be the death of him.
Theros moved with fluid, rippling movements of its sleek, muscular body. Gorf reckoned that its shoulders were as high as his head, and that it was three times as long as he was tall. Its fur was smooth to its body and a glossy blue-black. The almond-shaped eyes were a vivid orange, and did not blink as it studied him.
“Come on, you overgrown jungle cat,” Gorf said. “It’s too hot out here to waste time sizing me up.”
Quick as a shooting star, Theros leapt through the air, and as Gorf struck out with the dagger, the panther twisted to the side and lashed him with its thick tail.
Gorf felt as though he had been struck in the ribs by a tree trunk. The force of the blow sent him tumbling head-over-heels across the baking sand. He jumped to his feet and turned, just in time to see the brute leap again. He dropped down beneath claws that were outstretched and raking the air where an instant before he had been.
“You are a more worthy adversary than any I have met before,” Theros said in a husky whisper. “What are you?”
Gorf was getting sick of being asked what he was. Especially as it was a question that he could not answer. “I am Gorf, a hunter from a far-off desert,” he said. “And I think you would make fine eating, if you continue to attack me and force me to kill you.”
“And how do you suppose you would kill me, Gorf?” Theros asked, all the while prowling around him, closing the gap between them. “With that tiny blade you hold?”
“Your questions are boring me,” Gorf said. “I do not wish to talk anymore with the trained pet of a murderous lizard.”
Anger flashed in Theros’s eyes. He pounced straight at Gorf, who was expecting the attack and jumped out of the way, swinging his knife hand as he dodged the big cat.
Theros roared in pain. The sharp blade had split his nose open, and blood spurted from the wound. He licked at it with his long, pink tongue, and backed away to gather his wits.
“Kill him! Finish it,” Ganzo screamed from the balcony. “Or you will be whipped to the bone and not fed for seven turns of the moons.”
“Your master is displeased,” Gorf said, taunting Theros, knowing that anger was no match against calm, cool thinking. He had drawn blood and hurt the panther, but did not underestimate it.
Theros moved towards him in a blur, like a bolt of black lightning.
Gorf dropped to one knee, scooped up a handful of sand and threw it with all his force into the eyes and the gaping mouth that was so near to him that he could smell the panther’s breath.
Choking and blinking his eyes, Theros was blinded for a second, and Gorf took advantage and drove the blade of the dagger into one of the watering eyes.
A blood-curdling shriek echoed around the coliseum, and the spectators fell silent as Theros leapt back in pain and began to paw at his bloody eye.
“You useless, pitiful creature,” Ganzo bellowed, now on his feet and leaning over the parapet. “If you do not tear this hairy ape to pieces, now, I will have you slaughtered and served up as stew at my dinner table.”
Theros made ready for a final assault on Gorf. He did not leap or run, but walked slowly and purposefully towards his quarry.
“You may kill me, Theros,” Gorf said. “But with my dying breath, even as I am being crushed in your jaws, I swear I will blind you in your other eye. And what use would a sightless beast be to Ganzo? Can you not see that it is he who is your real enemy?”
Theros stopped. He knew that what Gorf said was true. He had been captured by falling into a pit that the horgs had covered with thin branches and sods of grass. Once netted and taken up to the top of the Black Tower, Ganzo had told him that he would be spared if he fought in the arena. His life was spent locked in a large cage, when not killing enemies of Ganzo in combat.
Theros nodded to Gorf, and in the next instant turned, raced towards the wall of the arena and sprang up through the air, to grasp Ganzo with his claws and drag him down from the balcony and onto the ground.
“NOOO!” Ganzo cried as Theros gripped him in his jaws, bit down and began to scythe his teeth through flesh and bone.
A hail of arrows rained down to pierce Theros. And as both he and Ganzo died, Gorf ran to the tall gate that Theros had entered the arena through, and which had been left ajar. He squeezed through the gap and found himself in a cavernous chamber. There was straw on the hard floor that was littered with animal bones that he thought might be those of lummoxes.
At the far end of the dimly lit room was a barred gate, and behind it a line of horgs, all armed with crossbows. There was no way out.
― CHAPTER FIFTEEN ―
GORF IS MISSING
As Sam, Ben and Zoot made their way down the trail on the side of the mountain, they could see the tops of trees and shining patches of water far below them through thin bands of cloud. Steam was rising up from the marshy land, and long before they reached ground level, Sam and Ben were covered in sweat, and their clothes became damp in the humid heat. Zoot was not affected. He loved the tropical, wet warmth.
At the base of the tower, beyond a slope covered in boulders and loose stones, they could see a break in the dense wall of mangroves. At one time there had been a wide, raised trail leading through the swamp, but now it was almost overgrown, and only a narrow path led between the tangles of vegetation that grew in stinking, brown, brackish water.
“Hey, you made it,” Tommy shouted, running towards Sam and Ben as they were about to enter the swamp, from where he and Pook had taken shelter from the burning sun under an outcrop of rock. Pook ambled along behind him, and they were soon all hugging.
“Where’s Gorf?” Tommy asked.
Ben slowly shook his head.
“What does that mean?” Tommy asked. “Is he...?”
“It means that there is absolutely no way that your friend could have survived the Test in the arena,” Zoot said in answer. “And even if by some miracle he had, Ganzo would then have had him killed.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Tommy shouted. “We have to go back for him. He wouldn’t have left us behind.”
“There was nothing we could do, Tommy,” Sam said. “You know that we would’ve helped him if we could have.”
“All I know is, we’re his only chance.”
“Believe me,” Zoot said. “Gorf is no longer alive. To go back would be more than foolish, it would be suicidal. Especially now that the Dark One has arrived.”
“The Dark One?” Tommy asked.
“Didn’t you see him fly over?” Ben said. “He looks like a giant bat, as big as a jet plane”
Tommy shook his head. “We were sheltering under a ledge.”
“Did you get the crown?” Pook asked.
Sam nodded.
“So show it to me. I want to see what Gorf might have died for.”
Sam removed the crown from her bag and handed it to Pook
. He turned it round in his paws and frowned. “It doesn’t look magical to me,” he said. It’s just part of some old animal horn with a few pieces of coloured glass set in it.”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Ben said.
“What has a book got to do with it?” Zoot asked.
“Nothing, Zoot,” Ben replied. “It’s another one of our sayings. It means you can’t go by looks. A lot of things are not what they seem to be.”
“Where are Fig and Speedy and the other fairies?” Sam asked Tommy.
“They went on ahead,” he said. “Into the swamp.”
“We’d better catch up with them,” Ben said.
Tommy put his hands on his hips and glared at Ben. “You mean we just forget about Gorf?”
“No, Tommy,” Sam said. “We’ll never forget him. But we have to accept that he’s gone. Remember telling us about Prince, your dog, and how he got run over, and that you cried for weeks and couldn’t believe you were never going to see him again?”
“Yeah. And I still miss him.”
“I know, Tommy. But whenever you talk about him, it’s always good memories of how high he could jump to catch a Frisbee, and how he used to wake you up licking your face every morning, and―”
“What’s Prince got to do with anything?”
“It’ll be the same with Gorf,” Sam said. “We all have great memories of him.”
“That doesn’t help,” Tommy said. “If only we hadn’t gone back to Charlie’s place and found him, he would still be alive.”
“My dad once told me that ‘if only’ is one of the most stupid things you can say,” Ben said. “He said, ‘What is, is, Ben. Things happen, and some of them are sad and bad. But you can’t go back and change one second, so wishing that you could, or saying if only I’d done that, or not done this, or whatever, is just a waste of time and doesn’t help’. He said that without being able to see into the future, we have to remember that the decisions we make are based on what we know at the time we make them.”
“Your dad was probably right, Ben,” Tommy said. “But being right doesn’t make something rotten that has happened feel any better.”
