Sacred Wind: Book 2

by Andy Coffey

  Chapter 29 – Are the troops ready?

  A hearty meal accompanied by a healthy supply of drinks was a perfect end to the day for the Companionship; freeing their minds from worries created in times past and from thoughts of potential threats in times to come.

  ‘You know, Mr Backrasher,’ Aiden said, with a mouthful of food, ‘these roast potatoes are divine.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Peersey,’ Archie replied, with a smile and a delighted oink. ‘The secret is to soak them in pigswill for a day before roasting.’

  ‘Really,’ Aiden said, stopping in mid chew, ‘well they taste delicious.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ said Oldfart, who was sitting to his right on the huge banquet table, ‘I’ve had Pigswillian Potatoes before, but never ones with such a delicate texture and sublime aroma. You are to be commended, Archie.’

  As tummies began to fill and pallets became whetted, spirits began to rise and it was time for the pre-arranged ‘unplugged’ gig that Oldfart had promised. Olaf and Grundi sat atop two tall bar-stools, with their acoustic guitars, and Charles proudly raised his trumpet in the air, as the specially-selected guests and local dignitaries gave them a warm round of applause.

  ‘Tonight, we’d like to play you a brand new song,’ Olaf announced. ‘This is a song about a loved one in danger and in need of rescuing. A valiant companionship sets sail determined to enact a rescue, but their search is stalled because there is no light to guide their way in the dark. So, they call upon the power of their wind and a cigarette lighter to illuminate their path. This is called “Hurricane Ass”.

  She's been gone

  For so long

  Held in a tower far away

  With a man who smells quite strong

  Is she safe?

  Oh, I hope that she's OK

  Cause I'm missing her so very much

  And I want her

  I need her

  Carry me on through the night

  Across stormy tides

  Here with my friends

  By my side

  And we'll save her

  ‘And this is the chorus,’ Olaf shouted. ‘I want everyone to join in on the next one!’

  Hurricane ass

  Guide my way in the dark

  With your windy light

  Hurricane ass

  Let your flame burn bright

  Like a thousand stars

  Hurricane ass

  Show me the way to her heart

  For in my dreams she lives

  She's at my side

  For all time

  ‘Right, remember that for next time,’ Olaf said, before continuing with the second verse.

  I'm so scared

  That she's ensnared

  She's in city that's so strange

  Where the people are quite weird

  They won't care

  If she doesn't comb her hair

  She'll be locked inside a dingy cell

  But I'll find her

  I'll comb it

  Carry me on through the night

  Across stormy tides

  Here with my friends

  By my side

  And we'll save her

  As the second chorus began, the room was awash with waving arms, lit cigarette lighters and singing pigs. Crusher, Chopper and Percy locked arms and swayed gleefully together, belting out the words and the occasional oink with gusto. Archie Backrasher and his wife, Annabelle, were stood on the banquet table with their arms in the air and were soon joined by Mara and Roisin. Mr Kneepatcher was already in tears and was being comforted by Harold and Greta. ‘It’s so beautiful,’ he cried, ‘Bless you Olaf, we’ll save her!’

  However, outside the window, things were lurking in the night that had little concern for music, singing and dancing. ‘Have the security guards been taken care of?’ asked Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice.

  ‘Yes, Brother,’ replied Lieutenant Saag Bhaji. ‘They have been immobilised.’

  ‘How so, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Samurai Deep Fried Crab’s Claws have infiltrated their underpants. If they move, or utter a word, they’ll get snipped.’

  ‘Excellent. What of our other Chinese friends?’

  ‘They are outside the front entrance waiting for your signal,’ the Lieutenant answered. ‘On your command, Major Mushroom Bhaji’s Garlic and Butter Chapattis will break through the window. This will be the signal for the Chinese to charge the front door. They’ll be closely followed by Lieutenant Shami Kebab and his Meat and Vegetable Samosas. Finally my Peshwari Naans will storm the front window. They’ll be completely surrounded and unable to escape. I predict that their death will be slow and painful, but tasty.’

  ‘Ha!’ laughed Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice. ‘I’ll show Blacktie he doesn’t have to rely on a bunch of pirates to rid him of his enemies. The Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies may as well slither back to their little hidden cove in Colwyn Bay, as there’ll be nothing left for them to do when they get here other than clean up the blood.’

  ‘What shall we do with the King and Queen of Wrexham, Brother?’

  ‘Oh, I’ve already given instruction to our Chinese friends to give them special attention. I’m assured that the Ninja Vegetable Spring Rolls will make mopping them up a priority. Their plates will be that clean by the time they’ve finished with them, they’ll look like they’ve come fresh from a dishwasher.’

  Meanwhile, on the hilltop to the rear of The Pig’s Trotters, two lone curries looked down at the pub in silence. ‘Do we make our move now?’ asked General Lamb Korma-Saffron Rice.

  ‘No,’ replied General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice. ‘Let’s wait until they commit themselves. Are the troops ready?’

  ‘I believe they are, General,’ Saffy said, as he looked out over the vast sea of curries and supporting side dishes on the hill slope behind them. ‘I think Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice is in for something of a shock.’

  Inside, Charles Corriedale was blasting a soaring and emotive trumpet solo. As he reached the crescendo, rapturous applause broke out in the Snout Restaurant and he raised the trumpet in the air triumphantly… then he heard the sound of breaking glass and a vicious Garlic and Butter Chapatti appeared on his head. ‘Bless my clacky hooves, what’s going on!’ he shouted, as Olaf grabbed the Chapatti and hurled it to the floor.

  ‘We’re under attack, draw your weapons now!’ Olaf screamed, as the Chapattis continued to pour through the broken windows behind him.

  The room was a scene of chaos. Pigs, people and sheep were running around with Chapattis clinging to their faces, the smell of garlic causing many to lapse into unconsciousness. Mara and Roisin were like whirling dervishes, hovering in the air and fending off any attack with a swift kick or punch. Then, as the panicking crowd opened the main door, they were met by the hordes of the Wild Chinese hors d’ Oeuvres.

  Archie Backrasher was quickly felled as three Shaolin Crispy Wantons sliced at his trotters. A fourth hurled itself at his throat, cursing in Crispy Wantonese, before being cut off in mid flow by Aiden’s thrusting pocket knife. ‘You’ve saved my life, Aiden,’ Archie cried with relief, as Aiden kicked away the Crispy Wantons clinging to his trotters.

  A Ninja Vegetable Spring Roll flung itself straight for Archie’s wife, before Aiden caught it in the air and crushed it with his hand, its carrots and mushrooms splattering on the floor. Then the Meat and Vegetable Samosas arrived, bouncing through the room at great speed. ‘Get back!’ screamed Grundi, as he whirled the spiked ball and chain around his head, scattering the Samosas in every direction, until one caught him squarely on the nose, stunning him momentarily.

  Finally, the Peshwari Naans crashed through the front window, entering the fray with bloodcurdling screams. Cliff Corriedale quickly shielded Charles, and kicked one Naan so hard it smashed through the mirror behind the bar. Charles bravely fought off a few Naans with his trumpet, but soon got out of breath. ‘My, I’m not as young as I used to be,’ he
puffed.

  ‘Just stay behind me, uncle. Nothing’s going to happen to you while my heart is still beating,’ Cliff said.

  Oldfart managed to grab one of the Peshwari Naans that was heading straight for his neck. He held it tightly in a two-handed grip as it tried to attach itself to his face. ‘Oldfart, hold it out, away from your face!’ Olaf cried.

  With one final push of his will and his muscles, Oldfart managed to push his arms out, stretching the Naan bread wide. Then Olaf’s broadsword came sweeping down and cut it into two. ‘Thank you, my friend,’ Oldfart said, holding the two limp pieces in each hand.

  Greta and Harold held Vindy and Tikky above their heads, just out of reach from the bouncing Samosas. However, a swift slash to Harold’s ankle from a Samurai Deep Fried Crab’s claw saw his right leg buckle. ‘Harold!’ Greta shouted, as a Peshwari Naan landed on her head and began to crawl onto Tikky’s plate.

  ‘So, Queen, it would appear it is I that will get to mop you up,’ the Peshwari Naan said.

  ‘Oh, I doubt that,’ Tikky replied. ‘I’ve faced far worse than you in my time. You’re too doughy to get the better of me.’ And then she fired a boiling hot piece of chicken straight into its middle, causing it to scream and fall to the floor. As it tried to recover, Greta ground her foot into it.

  ‘For my Queen!’ she shouted, as bits of Naan bread burst out from beneath her shoe.

  ‘Are you alright my dear?’ Vindy cried, as he sent a Meat and Vegetable Samosa packing with a well-aimed piece of boiling beef.

  ‘I’m fine, darling. Now do be careful, those Naan breads might be doughy but they’re a determined bunch.’

  Crusher and Smid fought together, leaning against each other’s back. Crusher’s huge trotters crushed Crispy Wantons and Meat and Vegetable Samosas indiscriminately, as Smid’s axe sliced through Chapattis and Naans. Mr Kneepatcher had removed his cravat and had tied it in a knot, bravely swinging it in front of him with great speed. ‘Attack my friends, would you? I’ll make pie-filling out of the lot of you!’ he cried, as Meat and Vegetable Samosas fled his rage.

  However, it was soon becoming apparent that the numbers were too great. Holding them off for a prolonged period of time, at least indoors, was not an option. ‘There’s too many of them.’ Agnar said, as he pounded his hammer onto a Deep Fried Crab’s Claw, shattering it into pieces.

  ‘We need to get outside,’ Oldfart shouted. ‘We’ll have more room to move.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Olaf, ‘but the Crispy Wantons have the front door blocked, and the Naan breads are bringing up their rear.’

  ‘We’ve only one chance,’ said Oldfart, with a panicked look on his face.

  ‘No, that’s far too dangerous to try indoors,’ Olaf screamed, as he sliced through a flying Ninja Vegetable Spring Roll.

  ‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ Oldfart shouted, as he ripped a crazed Garlic and Butter Chapatti off his arm.

  Olaf steadied himself and looked over at Grundi, as he battled against four Deep Fried Crab’s Claws who were slashing away at his boots. ‘Grundi, you’re going to have to let loose your wind. I have a cigarette lighter at the ready.’

  Grundi nodded solemnly and with three swift strokes and a stomp despatched the Crab’s Claws to seafood heaven… or hell.

  ‘Tell everyone to get down,’ Oldfart yelled to Aiden, ‘and to move away from the door as fast as they can.’

  Aiden had no idea what was going to happen as he saw Grundi bend forward, with his bottom pointing at the door, but he had common sense enough to suspect that it was going to be something explosive. ‘Everyone move as far away from the door as possible, now!’ he yelled.

  ‘Smid, Agnar, you’ll need to cover us,’ Olaf shouted, as Smid and Agnar ran over to them, hacking at anything that came within reach.

  ‘I’m ready, Olaf, light the flame,’ Grundi said, his face the image of determination. Olaf clicked the cigarette lighter switch… it wouldn’t light. He tried it again, but still nothing. ‘Hurry up, Olaf, the wind is coming. Once it’s on its way I can’t do anything to stop it!’ Grundi cried.

  At the third click, the lighter finally ignited and Olaf quickly moved the flame in position in front of Grundi’s bottom. ‘Aim true, my friend,’ he said, covering his eyes.

  The front door was knocked outwards off its hinges as the intense jet of flame hit it, with the conflagration blasting through everything in its path. The smell of burnt Chinese Food and charred Naan bread lay heavy in the smoky air and Grundi stood up to survey the damage.

  ‘Right, everyone outside!’ Olaf shouted, as pigs, sheep and people bolted through the flaming remains of the door frame, crushing their charred foes with each step.

  But, the situation outside was no better. On all three sides they were completely surrounded, and Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice laughed like only a mad, despotic curry can.

  ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ he said, clapping his mini poppadoms together. ‘I salute your resourcefulness. But now I also salute your death. On my command attack, my hordes, and leave none alive!’

  ‘Er, actually can I make a suggestion,’ Vindy said, just as the combined might of Wild Chinese hors d’ Oeuvres, Meat and Vegetable Samosas, Garlic and Butter Chapattis and Peshwari Naans were about to start their charge.

  ‘A suggestion? A suggestion?!’ Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice screamed. ‘You are in no position to make any kind of suggestion, except to suggest what should decorate your plate when your ingredients are scattered to the four winds!’

  ‘Actually, I was going to suggest you surrender,’ Vindy said.

  Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice let out an insane curry cackle, and the sound of laughing in his ranks soon became an epidemic. ‘Oh, my King, you surely cannot be serious. You are truly losing your mind at last. But, I will entertain you for a moment, as I have not laughed so much in a long time. So, then, give me one good reason why we should surrender?’

  ‘Well, if you look up to the hill behind the pub, I’ll give you 50,000 reasons,’ Vindy said, as 50,000 curries, Naans and Chapattis marched down its slope towards The Pig’s Trotters. ‘And, if that’s not a good enough reason,’ Vindy continued, ‘can I suggest that the fact you are also surrounded by 1,000 of my Elite Tandoori Naans is also something you should consider.’

  The hordes of Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice nervously turned and looked at the ranks of Elite Tandoori Naans. These were not soft and doughy like the Peshwaris; these were crispy, battle-hardened Naans, their fighting skills honed by years of intense training. Anyone who knows anything knows that you don’t mess with a crispy Tandoori Naan. If you do, you’ll never be the same again.

  Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice started to boil profusely, his carrots turning wildly and his incandescent rage causing his rice to puff and pop. ‘Give it up, Brother,’ Tikky said. ‘There’s been enough fighting this day.’

  But it was too late; the curry madness had already taken him. A high-pitched scream shot through the night like a wolf with its tail on fire, and he gave the order to attack. As his hordes charged forward they were engulfed. Tandoori Naans are not known for their mercy in battle conditions and in only a few short minutes there wasn’t a Shaolin Crispy Wanton that wasn’t shredded, a Peshwari Naan that wasn’t ripped, a Meat and Vegetable Samosa that wasn’t squashed, a Samurai Deep Fried Crab’s Claw that wasn’t crushed, a Garlic and a Butter Chapatti that wasn’t splattered, or a Ninja Vegetable Spring Roll that wasn’t in pieces. Eventually, Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice found himself completely isolated, apart from his servant.

  ‘You’re going to spend a long time in the cellar for this, Brother,’ said General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice, as Saffy joined him at his side.

  ‘I will never let you take me, you fools! Do you think I’ve not made preparations for an event such as this? My time may have ended but there will be others, I can promise you that!’

  His servant placed him on the ground an
d reached into his pocket, producing a large sachet of white powder. ‘Everyone back away, he’s got baking soda with him!’ shouted Saffy, as the servant emptied the contents onto Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice.

  The explosion was spectacular, but fortunately had little distance. The bubbling and crackling carrots, rice, mushrooms and onions shot skyward, before limply falling to earth. Once the smoke had cleared, Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice’s plate was empty, although in need of a good wash… as was his servant.

  ‘Has anyone received any baking soda wounds?’ Vindy shouted, through the smoke, as Saffy and General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice surveyed their troops carefully.

  ‘It looks like we’re all clear, Your Majesty,’ Saffy shouted.

  ‘Well, that was a turn of events I don’t think anyone was expecting,’ Oldfart said. ‘Are we all okay?’

  ‘It would seem so,’ Olaf replied, as the Companionship drew together around him. ‘However, I sense there are others in need of some attention. Thankfully, though, their wounds appear mild. There are no casualties.’

  ‘How did you know your troops were coming?’ Mara said to Vindy.

  ‘Oh, Saffy got word to us earlier in the day. I think we underestimated the enemy’s numbers, but I knew there would only be one winner in this battle.’

  And so ‘The Battle of The Pig’s Trotters’ went down in folklore. Many years from now, young curries would sit listening in reverence to their grandparents as they told them the tales of bravery from that night, and how curries, men, sheep and pigs fought together.

  Word of the Brother’s demise quickly reached the ears of the Baron, who was less than pleased. ‘The fool!’ Blacktie shouted at Pimple, who cowered at his anger. ‘He had strict instructions. He knew the plan and his idiocy has cost us dear.’

  ‘Quite, my Lord,’ Pimple agreed, standing up.

  ‘This changes things somewhat,’ the Baron continued, his anger hardly abating. ‘Bring me Queen Ophelia, now.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ Pimple said, and quickly ran out of the throne room.

  Within a minute he returned with the Queen, her wings tied behind her back. ‘I gather you’ve had some bad news?’ she said, sardonically.

  ‘Oh, I’m afraid it’s bad news for both of us, my dear Queen. The time for hospitality is at an end,’ the Baron snapped.

  ‘Locking me up in your castle and denying me my comb is what you would consider hospitality, is it?’

  ‘Quite frankly, yes,’ he replied. ‘Considering how you are going to spend the next twenty-four hours or so. Pimple, what do we have in the way of dingy cells available at the moment?’

  ‘Well, my Lord, we have vacancies in all three types, the Standard dingy cell, the Superior dingy cell and, of course, the Luxury dingy cell.’

  ‘Pray, remind me of each type,’ the Baron asked.

  ‘The Standard has a mattress, a toilet and is rat-free; the Superior has a wooden bed with straw, a hole in the floor and a part-time rat; whereas the Luxury has a wooden bed with no straw, a hole in the floor, a very limited supply of toilet paper and two full-time rats, one of which is particularly tetchy.’

  ‘That sounds ideal.’ the Baron said.

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Ophelia yelled.

  ‘Oh, I think I would,’ he said, with a smile. ‘Pimple, please escort Her Majesty to the Luxury dingy cell.’

  ‘Of course, my Lord,’ Pimple said, leading the struggling Queen away.

  ‘Oh, and Pimple,’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’

  ‘Get word to Taffy Tuffy. Tell him to set sail immediately.’