by S. B. Davies
At the second relay stop there was a delay. Fergus watched as surfboards the size of refectory tables were dragged over. Each had four large loops spread out on the top.
‘What are they for?’ asked Fergus.
‘I’m not sure, but I expect it’ll be for the caverns of ice, which should be somewhere around here.’
‘Sorry?’
‘They are dog sized snowboards.’
Fergus grinned.
‘Here.’ Dave threw Fergus half a towel with rough holes cut into it. ‘You’ll need that. Put it over your face, else, by the time we get out your face will have frozen off.’
‘So how are we doing?
‘Just grand lad. We should be there with plenty of time to spare.’
They climb back into the saddles and the giant dogs trotted off, dragging the snowboard behind. They passed out the tunnel into the caves of ice. A vast cavern, that seemed to contain the entire Swiss Alps. The light here was dim twilight, which made the whiteness of the snow stand out.
The huge dogs bounced onto the snowboards and one gave a happy, deafening yowl, as they set off down the slope.
The journey through the tunnels was thrilling, but this was spectacular. The dogs let the boards build up speed and then start weaving in and out. They picked out moguls and took to the air, cut arcing turns in the snow that sent mountains of snow flying in huge sheets. They dodged in and out, daring each other to get closest.
Dave whooped and threw his arms in the air. The cold air stung Fergus’s face and he hung on tight, a fierce grin on his face beneath the towel mask.
They reached the bottom of the slope and ahead a jumble of broken ice marked the start of a glacier. With deft skill, the dogs swooped between ice blocks and down shallow ravines, obviously knowing the route. A massive ice bridge, across a large crevasse, came into view. Perhaps it was hubris to cross together. The combined weight cracked the ice and Fergus felt the snowboard lurch, as the ice bridge gave way.
The dogs reacted instantly and leaped. Fergus left his stomach behind as they flew over the remaining gap and landed heavily on the other side. The dogs sunk up to their shoulders in deep snow. Now the dogs moved with ponderous jumps. Progress was slow.
Dave barked to his dog. The response was long and seemed happy.
‘What was that?’ asked Fergus.
‘Don’t worry lad, apparently they lose their snowboards down here all the time. They have a backup plan. I get the impression they are looking forward to it. So chin up and keep the mask on.’
After twenty minutes of wading through the snow, they reached to top of the final slope. It was a steep, smooth descent to the cavern wall in the distance. The lead dog yowled and took a huge leap forward. It landed on its belly with paws out front and back legs splayed out. It slipped forward on the snow and gathered momentum. Soon it was plummeting down the mountain, like a huge, furry toboggan.
The second dog followed. Two enormous dog ‘sleds’ barrelled down the slope, howling and barking. Fergus was laughing so much he had to hold his mask on with one hand. They reached the bottom, far too quickly for Fergus’s liking. The dogs sat up and they slid gently to a stop, right next to the exit tunnel.
The dogs walked through the tunnel, which was lower than usual and Fergus had to duck his head more than once. There was a background rumble, like thunder departing on a summer’s day. It grew steadily, until it became a roar with side tones of hiss, as if broadcast on medium wave radio. Finally Fergus recognised what it was.
They walked out of the tunnel onto an ice shelf, above a vast dark lake. The far shore was lost in the dim light, or possibly it was over the horizon. The waterfall rumbled away to their right, filling the air with a misty cloud that stretched out over the lake. The cliff above them was almost vertical and covered in snow. Where the waterfall plumed down to the lake, it was coated in a thick layer of translucent white ice.
‘The Sunless Sea,’ said Dave, ‘Never thought I’d get to see it. The river Alf finally makes it home, incredible.’
‘All very nice Dave,’ said Fergus, ‘But where do we go from here?’
‘Up, I imagine.’
‘How? Nothing could climb that.’
‘Do not underestimate the power of crampons.’
Fergus suddenly recognised the metal bear traps on the floor – dog sized crampons.
Fergus screamed as they slipped back down the cliff, the lead dog scrabbled and finally the crampons found purchase and they leaped forward again. The first hundred feet were the worst, after that Fergus shut his eyes. The dogs leapt from tiny ledge to imperceptible projection, always moving, zigzagging up the cliff. Once or twice the dogs crawled straight up the cliff, their bellies pressed against the ice, with Fergus and Dave horizontal in their seats.
Dave whooped and yelled ‘There’s a hell of a view from here. We must be miles up.’ Fergus clamped his eyes shut even tighter.
Finally they reached the top of the cliff. The dogs trotted on, their flanks heaving and their breath pumping out like steam from a locomotive. Fergus undid his harness and slid off his dog. He took a few paces and threw up the roast lamb.
‘Well done,’ said Dave.
‘Sarcasm doesn’t help thanks very much.’
‘No lad, I was serious. I have no concept of what would happen if you vomited down the side of one of these fellahs.’
The lead dog barked and Dave replied. There was a yowl or two and Dave bowed low to each dog. Fergus matched Dave’s bow. The dogs hunched back and howled making Fergus and Dave cover their ears.
Then the dogs ran toward the edge of the cliff and leaped straight off. Dave and Fergus raced to the edge and looked down in time to see two huge splashes. Shortly the dogs re-surfaced and paddled towards shore.
‘Bloody show offs,’ said Dave. ‘Come on we have about a mile to go.’
Chapter Twelve
An unfinished job has no utility
Dave Trellis
One Life, One Woman, One Shed
The cavern was small and round with a smooth floor. In the centre hung a bell the size of a church tower covered with arcane symbols, suspended from the roof by a chain. Each link was longer than a man. The cavern roof matched shape of the bell making it seem like the bell itself was an immense clapper.
Dave and Fergus stood silently gazing at the huge bell.
‘We finally made it lad, with hours to spare. Look at that thing, how are we going to ring that?’ said Dave.
‘Maybe that podium with the large lever may be a good place to start.’
‘Can’t be doing with moving levers in strange, underground places. Can start a lot of trouble can that.’
‘Not to mention the required sacrifice of a life.’
‘Aye well, always sacrificing are your Druidic religions, a tradition as it were. I choose to interpret it as more a symbolic sacrifice, like giving up fags for Lent.’
‘There’s writing on this bell,’ said Fergus, ‘See there, it’s just like that sign over the tunnel earlier.’
Dave and Fergus wandered around the bell. Inscribed was a single message in many, many languages. It took quite a while before Dave spotted one he could read.
‘Do not ring this bell. The penalty is death.’
‘It seems pretty unambiguous Dave, nothing symbolic about that.’
‘Aye well, needs must and all that,’ said Dave and walked towards the podium.
‘Hold on Dave. We need to discuss this.’
‘What’s to discuss? The allotments must be saved.’
‘I know Dave, but without you the allotments will fail. I thought about this on the trip down here and I think I should be the one to make the sacrifice.’
‘No,’ said Dave and pulled the lever.
Nothing happened.
Dave looked at Fergus, who shrugged his shoulders.
‘Wish you hadn’t done that,’ said a voice with a thick Yorkshire accent. Walking towards them was a man in a cagoule, hiking boots and a
rucksack on his back. ‘I was having a lovely walk in the Lakes.’
Even Dave was dumbfounded. ‘Ernie Farthing, what the bloody hell are you doing here?’
‘You summoned me.’
‘What?’
‘When you pulled that lever, I was whisked away from my holiday in Lakes, very reasonable rates if you stay mid-week, and deposited here to see which idiot pulled the lever. There’ll be trouble you know.’
‘I know,’ said Dave, ‘but needs must. We have a situation at the allotments.’
‘When didn’t you have a situation down allotments? Dave Trellis, always pulling levers and getting in situations. A great one for endeavours an all. Have you considered advantages of a relaxing holiday in countryside?’
‘You can stick your considerations. Any road I thought you were dead; your three score years and ten were up a while ago.’
‘Look who’s talking.’
‘Never mind that now,’ said Dave, ‘just tell me what this is all about.’
‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ said Fergus.
‘Ah, Mr Loaf, glad to see it all worked out.’
Dave glared at Fergus.
‘We met on my way to the allotments; he gave me the curry pastilles.’
‘So that’s how you did it,’ said Dave, ‘should’ve known you’d put your oar in Farthing. Never could let things lie where allotments were concerned.’
‘It’s my job to see the allotments run properly,’ said Ernie.
‘No, that’s my job.’
‘I keep an eye on things from a different perspective, to see that the machine is protected and to keep status quo which, I may say, you did admirably.’
‘Shall we get back to the point?’ asked Fergus.
‘Of course,’ said Ernie. ‘You pulled the lever, which summons me to Bell chamber. If you’d pushed it, you’d have summoned Engineer.’
‘On right,’ said Dave and pushed the lever.
‘I wish you hadn’t done that,’ said Ernie.
There was a low humming noise and Fergus’s hair started to rise. The chamber had that close, just before a thunderstorm feel.
‘We best get out before it gets going,’ said Ernie, ‘not that it makes much difference to me.’
Dave and Fergus followed Ernie Farthing into the entrance tunnel. The air started to throb and the hum was now an unpleasant rumble.
‘We need to get further away. The sub-sonics are rather nasty,’ said Ernie.
Dave glanced back; the Bell looked out of focus as it started to vibrate.
Ernie stopped about forty feet yards from the chamber. It was quieter and the throbbing stopped.
‘This is the first anti-phase resonance node.’
‘About ten Hertz then,’ said Fergus.
‘That’s about right,’ said Ernie, ‘Fortunately the frequency is too low to affect us much.’
‘Why did you say it makes no difference to you?’ asked Dave.
‘When Engineer wakes, I shall return. I’m merely a human vessel for an aspect of Engineer’s mind, a monitoring system in human form, an organic video recorder you might say.’
‘What? When it wakes, you die?’ asked Dave.
‘Yes. My consciousness will be absorbed. I will cease as my function ends.’
‘And so the sacrifice of a human life is made?’
‘Yes, but – ‘
Ernie crumpled to the floor. The bell stopped vibrating, leaving a thick silence, as if the world were under a duvet.
‘Is he dead?’ asked Fergus.
‘One can hope.’
‘Shall I get him in the recovery position?’
Dave felt a slight tug on his head, the characteristic gravity bump that accompanied the actions of the machine and the body disappeared.
‘What do we do now?’ asked Fergus.
‘I suggest we wait. I assume you have no pressing engagements.’
The dog trotted across the open ground in front of the allotments. It crossed back and forth, checking the grid of steel hawsers and fixing posts. It sat on its haunches and looked back towards the allotments. It seemed content.
Enoch and a group of Palaver strode across the bridge carrying shovels. When they reached the dog, Enoch paused. The dog sniffed and turned its head away.
‘Trenches essential,’ said Enoch.
The dog yowled, stood up and kicked grass at Enoch.
Enoch barked at the dog and brandished his shovel. The dog looked on for a moment then leaped, grabbed the shovel from Enoch and bashed it against the ground, breaking the handle off near the blade.
Enoch barked again at the dog and it barked back; the tone strained. Enoch stomped towards the allotments, leaving the other palavers standing around looking embarrassed. The dog barked at them too and they walked after Enoch leaving the dog alone. It seemed satisfied.
Sitting in the river Alf was a large baffle. It directed the waters around the central sinkhole of Black weir, flooding the Willows and making the swamp an impassable lake of soupy mud. All along the cliff face was Tangle wire in spiral loops, its razor edges flexed and its coils moved, as the robotic wire spread its self out to maximum coverage.
Fergus searched the bell chamber; he was hungry again.
‘Perhaps we should have brought our packs with us,’ said Fergus, ‘as I reckon we’re stuck here’.
‘Possibly, though I doubt it. A bunch of druids couldn’t make it up that cliff. There must another way,’ said Dave.
‘There are many,’ said a deep, formal voice behind them.
Dave turned and saw a pale man in a dark three-piece suit with a silver watch chain. His hair was short, black and slicked back. He smiled vaguely which made him look annoyed.
‘You are Trellis,’ said the man, it was not a question. ‘I am Engineer.’ He pointed at Fergus. ‘You are the sacrifice.’
‘Hold hard there a minute. I pushed the lever. I should be the one to die,’ said Dave
‘You think your opinion matters. How strange?’
Fergus disappeared.
Dave launched himself at Engineer, who waved a hand and an unseen force flung Dave right across the bell chamber.
‘Don’t. Emotional gestures are irritating.’
Engineer waited for Dave to pick himself up.
‘You woke me. Your reasons?’
‘We are about to be invaded – ‘
‘I am aware of it. Your reasons for waking me?’
‘We hoped you’d destroy the invaders.’
‘I transform not destroy.’
‘Oh aye, what about Fergus Loaf and Ernie Farthing?’
‘Farthing is transformed, as you see before you. Your companion is not destroyed, just placed where he is unlikely to return without severe transformation. I am not cruel Trellis, you acted together, you have joint responsibility.’
‘Have you considered what these invaders might do to your precious machine?’
‘The machine is precious to everyone. I am more concerned about what you may do to my precious machine. Nuclear weapons already? I will have to put up the shutters. That is annoying.’
‘Sorry?’
‘They are heavy and there are an awful lot of them.’
‘Oh. In any case, are you going to wave you magic wand and get rid of these unwanted visitors.’
‘I will consider it. Come.’
Dave’s world went black.
Enoch stood on the first terrace of the allotments looking down at the huge steel net that covering the inner courtyard. It was loose and folded over in places, allowing room for expansion. It was anchored to walls and steel posts driven deep into the rock.
He considered the arsenal of permitted arms and ammunition and planned where each cache should be and where best to site the anti-tank weapons. The preparations, excepting the lack of trenches, met with Enoch’s approval.
If they lost the allotments, they would fight back towards the head of the valley, concentrating the enemy in a narrowing field of fire. At ea
ch step they would command the higher ground and dictate the battle. Caches of weapons and ammunition stashed along the valley to supply the fighting retreat. If they lost, they would make their last stand at the cliff base and request the artillery bombardment arranged by Dave. Nothing would be left, the allotments destroyed and the inhabitants dead or gone. But with the secret kept and if Dave re-built it, they would come once more.
Enoch’s armour beeped, warning him of an incoming threat. Enoch looked up. He hadn’t planned on anything attacking from the air.
Fergus was falling again. The deja view was lovely, but the ground was approaching too fast. Fergus thought he would face death with resignation, nonchalance even. Reality has a way of changing your mind. As he plummeted towards the allotments, screaming in total panic, he didn’t reflect on his good fortune, his success, and his easy life. No. He tried to fly by flapping his jacket.
By the third scream Fergus’s throat was sore, so he stopped. It cleared his mind and he angled his body until he was falling directly towards the river. Then he remembered that hitting the water at this speed would kill him anyway, he just wouldn’t bounce. He closed his eyes, the wind was hurting them anyway.
When the impact came, Fergus was surprised the wind still roared and buffeted him.
‘Lost again little girl?’ yelled Enoch. ‘No belt, I fix.’
‘What?’ screamed Fergus. He was both relieved and confused.
Enoch undid his gravity belt and locked it around Fergus’s waist. The belt almost cut Fergus in half as it altered his speed to match its energy balance.
Enoch shot away heading downwards fast.
‘Bet swim like a-’ the last lost as Enoch entered the river with an immense splash.
A second later Fergus hit the cold dark waters and his breath disappeared. He flayed around, his clothing heavy and clinging. Kicking as hard as he could, he swam for the surface. Suddenly his hand hit the hard gravel of the riverbed.
Fergus was frightened, he had no breath, and his lungs itched to breathe in. He tumbled over and kicked off from the bottom. He swam with panicked strength, pulling hard with his arms. Then he saw a glint of sunlight on the surface. It was impossibly far away, thirty feet above him. Fergus had no choice; he struggled upwards. It was too far to reach. He pushed the last possible breath out of his lungs, ignored the urgent sensation in his bladder, and swam up towards the light.
