‘Well, I’m Cordelia,’ she said extending her hand for him to shake.
‘Pleasantries are all very nice but it doesn’t solve our problems,’ Monty pointed out as he stood up and flicked on the switch of the kettle.
Jebediah also rose from the table. He’d heard enough and couldn’t bear to listen to the Leprechaun talking any more. He needed to be alone to think. ‘I’m going for a shower,’ he said glumly. ‘If I’m not back in twenty minutes don’t worry. I’ll have just drowned myself that’s all,’ he added and left the room, his shoulders hunched and his feet dragging on each step as though the effort were too much.
‘Oh, poor Jeb, he’s really depressed,’ Cordelia said sympathetically as she watched his back disappear up the stairs.
‘What do you expect?’ Alex rejoined. ‘If anything happens to his mum and dad he’ll have to live with his nan and, believe me, faced with that prospect I’d drown myself.’
Seamus rubbed his head which ached maddeningly, the sounds of breathing and simple movement now magnified a hundred times. Shuffling to the edge of the table, he sat down on the chair that Jebediah had vacated. His legs dangled high above the floor like a small child’s.
‘Tell ye old Uncle Seamus ye worries little missy.’
Cordelia bit her lip and looked at Monty who shook his head in a warning way. Ignoring the boys she told him, ‘Jebediah’s parents have been kidnapped by a political faction of Ogres and unless we find five thousand Groobles from somewhere they’ll … they’ll kill them.’ She finished the last part of the statement on a slight sob.
Seamus ran his fingers through his mop of flaming ginger hair. ‘I be seeing ye problem.’ After a moment the grin was back. It was so wide it threatened to split his face in two. ‘There could be a place ye could get tat money.’
On hearing this from the Leprechaun, Monty stopped putting sugar into the cups and said, ‘Really?’ his interest now rekindled, ‘Do tell us.’
Captivity
Farooqi strolled lazily between the primitive wood dwellings of the Ogres, a smile playing about his thin, cruel lips. So far it had all gone according to plan-surprising, as it had been carried out in the main by the Ogres.
He knew that the Sorcery Police would send in Icarus Llewellyn-Aspen, their so-called best Wizard, to solve the case. He had waited for a long time to meet him and would allow nothing to go wrong or get in his way. The Ogres, he mused, were the perfect race to take the blame.
Coming to Ergot’s decrepit house, he opened the door to find two hostages, a man and a women, sat with their hands tied behind their backs, a dirty rag just visible covering their eyes.
Stepping into the room he beckoned Ergot to him and pointed silently outside. The Ogre didn’t catch on to what the series of hand gestures meant and so sat staring at the Dark Elf with a vacant expression. Farooqi raised his eyes skywards and rolled them in exasperation.
‘Get outside,’ he hissed as silently as he could.
Ergot heaved his enormous bulk out of the chair and waddled towards the door, the wooden floorboards shaking from his immense weight as he went.
Outside, the Elf turned to him and whispered in a low, steady voice, ‘Are the guests conducting themselves well?’
Ergot scratched his scalp, wobbling the few measly, wire-like hairs to and fro that stuck up vertically as he pondered the question.
‘Ergot not have guests today. Farooqi said nobody know about the prisoners.’
Taking a number of deeply inhaled breaths through his nose to calm his rising temper the Elf replied, ‘I was referring to the prisoners.’
‘Prisoners guests now?’ Ergot asked in his laborious way. ‘Should Ergot untie prisoners now?’
‘NO!’ Farooqi shouted and then cursed himself for perhaps allowing the prisoners inside to hear his voice. ‘No, you will not untie them because if you do they will run away and we don’t want that do we?’
Ergot screwed up his face, his dense brow furrowed in thought as he asked, ‘What prisoners?’
Gnashing and grinding his teeth together in sheer frustration, which sounded like chalk being scraped down a blackboard, he lifted a long, slender finger and pointed at the Ogre’s house. ‘The ones in there.’
Ergot shook his head. ‘Ergot got guests, Farooqi said.’
Clenching his fists he stared at the Ogre and wondered why he had ever chosen him to be part of such an important crime. ‘The people in there are the prisoners.’ As Ergot opened his mouth to speak Farooqi put his hand up to prevent him. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘you must not untie them because if you do they will run away and if that were to happen you would have the Sorcery Police down on you quicker than a Griffin swooping on its prey and, believe me, nothing they could do would ever match what I have in store for you if you mess this up in any way.’
He spoke in such a way that an onlooker merely hearing the conversation would automatically assume that he was speaking to a child and not a fully grown creature nearly fifteen feet in height with a weight akin to a baby whale.
‘Have they spoken to you at all?’ Farooqi asked, his eyes all the time keeping a close watch on the door.
‘Woman never shut up,’ the Ogre replied. ‘Called Ergot bad names and tried to bite so Ergot made her quiet.’ As he spoke, the last part a grin widened over his gormless face indicating that he was very pleased with himself.
Images of what the Ogre could have done flashed through the Elf’s mind. Whatever happened he needed them to remain alive until the handover. Rushing into the house he approached the two occupants with caution. The man heard the movement and tilted his head to one side in an attempt to distinguish the source of the noise.
He hadn’t wanted to get this close, as any Witch or Wizard worth their salt would be able to recognise the aroma that surrounded Dark Elves. It was something that had developed over years of living in dark, dank, decaying cities away from any chance of sunlight and fresh air.
Tiptoeing round to where the woman sat hunched up on the floor, he saw the toe end of a filthy sock rammed into her mouth. Swallowing hard, he tentatively pulled the sock away and dropped it on the floor before making a hasty dash outside, leaving the woman to gasp for air.
‘Remember to feed them,’ he snarled, stalking away and wiping his hands down his cloak.
Ergot watched him for a moment and then made his own way back into his hut.
The two hostages sat on the floor heard the heavy footsteps. The woman, now the rag was removed, seized her chance.
‘I don’t know how you think you’ll get away with it but I can assure you now that you’re going to be in very serious trouble.’ Her voice was firm, but an underlying anxiousness betrayed the fear she felt.
Ergot didn’t answer as he lowered himself down into the chair. He picked up another log and threw it onto the fire, sending sparks whizzing into the air. With the flames licking up the side of the bricks, he lifted a heavy pot and placed it on the iron bars that ran horizontally halfway up the inside of the fireplace. Stirring the watery liquid round, a few roughly chopped vegetables bobbed to the surface.
‘You know, we could sort all this out,’ the man said as he twisted his hands in the bindings in an attempt to free himself. The action chafed his skin, digging the rope in even further. ‘I’m sure we can come to some sort of reasonable arrangement,’ he added with false calm.
Ergot listened to the man, a petulant look about his face. ‘Witches and Wizards not listen to S.N.O.T.’
‘What’s S.N.O.T.?’ Mr Humphries asked with fake interest.
Ergot knew that Farooqi would be extremely angry if he spoke to them, but the organisation was very dear to his heart and he didn’t want to lose any chance he had of promoting it to anyone who would listen - no matter who they were.
‘It’s the Society for Nonconformist Ogre Tribes,
’ Ergot replied, struggling over the word nonconformist.
‘And I take it you’ve kidnapped us because you want the Wizards Council to listen to your proposals?’ Mr Humphries countered.
‘Yes,’ Ergot replied simply.
‘Well, I’m from the Council so why don’t you talk to me now?’ he offered.
His wife, who had remained silent during the exchange, suddenly spoke. In actual fact it had taken all her self-reserve and much biting of her tongue to keep quiet. ‘I write for the Cauldron Chronicle which has a readership of nearly one million creatures throughout the country. I could always write an article on you and your organisation.’
Ergot wasn’t sure and he needed time to think. It was too much information for his underdeveloped mind to take in at once.
Continuing to stir the grey liquid around in the pot he grunted, ‘Be quiet now, Ergot thinking.’
It was a start, Mr Humphries thought to himself. Perhaps it wasn’t quite the breakthrough he had hoped for but it was still a start. Staff at the Council were trained for this type of situation, well most were. He wished vehemently that he had now attended the seminar on hostage situations and not spent the afternoon playing golf.
Seamus’s Ridiculous Plan
Jebediah made his way back to the kitchen after having a shower and changing into a faded blue T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
‘The bathroom is free if anyone wants a shower,’ he said, refastening the strap of his watch.
Looking up, he saw that nobody was listening to him. Instead they were all talking animatedly among themselves.
Sitting down at the table he asked, with a touch of sarcasm, ‘Is this a private discussion or can anyone join in?’
Cordelia turned to face him, her eyes bright. Clapping her hands together she exclaimed in excitement, ‘Seamus knows where we can get the money.’
Jebediah had very serious reservations about the Leprechaun’s ability to put anything forward that would actually come to fruition. He stared at Seamus in his ridiculous suit that looked like a reject from the seventies and shuddered inwardly.
‘If it’s that easy then why haven’t you taken it yourself? After all, you didn’t mind stealing your family’s fortune,’ he asked, looking him straight in the eye.
Seamus looked down at his feet which swung back and forth, a shame-faced expression taking over at the mention of his dishonest activities.
Cordelia rubbed her hands together as though trying to postpone the inevitable. ‘Well, admittedly we can’t just walk in and take it but between the six of us it shouldn’t be too difficult.’
She had tried to make the plan sound more appealing but Jebediah was still dubious.
‘So where is this place and, more importantly, who does it belong to?’
Fixing the smile back that had slipped momentarily she stuttered, ‘W-well, w-what it is … you see...’
‘Look, there’s no point in beating round the bush old chap,’ Monty cut in, ‘we’re going to break into Ganoobis.’
‘WHAT!’ Jebediah screamed. ‘You want to break into the head of the Gnome Mafia’s house?’
‘Not want to, need to,’ Chester said urgently.
Jebediah shook his head. He couldn’t believe what his friends were suggesting. ‘This is madness,’ he spluttered. ‘Do you have any idea what the Gnomes will do to us if they catch us?’ Without waiting for them to answer he carried on. ‘They have torture methods,’ he began, his brow breaking out into a cold sweat, ‘that make Trolls look like tame, cuddly animals.’
The criminal underworld was controlled by the Gnomes and nobody, absolutely nobody, ever messed with them and lived to tell the tale. It was a suicidal mission and how any of his friends could be sucked into thinking that it was a great idea was beyond him.
‘Listen,’ Monty said, cutting through his thoughts. ‘The Gnomes wouldn’t suspect us and to make sure we’ll leave something that throws the suspicion onto someone else.’
Monty made it sound like it was the most normal thing in the world but Jebediah still wasn’t convinced.
‘Like who?’ asked Jebediah suspiciously.
Monty leaned closer to Jebediah, his arms inching further across the table towards him. ‘Goblins,’ he said. As Jebediah started to open his mouth he continued, ‘Cordelia knows a few words of Goblin which we’ll write on a scrap of paper and leave at the scene. Simple!’ he concluded, smiling and throwing his hands up as though it was all settled.
It wasn’t though.
‘Just hang on a minute you lot,’ Jebediah said, halting his friends’ obvious exuberance. ‘Just how are we going to get into this place? I’m damn sure it’s well guarded.’ Looking Seamus straight in the eye, which was no mean feat in itself because he was nearly three feet shorter, he asked, ‘Have you ever been to Ganoobis Hall?’
‘Aye I once did at tat’ he replied.
‘So how do you know about the money and how can you be sure it’ll still be there?’
‘Ah, it twas a business transaction it twas,’ the Leprechaun began.
‘Yeah, but how do you know the money will still be there?’ he asked again.
‘Oh, it twill, it twill,’ Seamus replied. ‘Tis all the money they collect each week.’
The once insane plan was taking a turn for the worse.
‘You mean,’ Jebediah started with such calm to his voice it was frightening, ‘that you propose to steal not only from the Mafia but steal all the money they collect from their casinos and protection rackets?’
As the others struggled for something to say Alex, piped up, ‘Who cares where it comes from as long as we get it and get your parents back.’
Jebediah’s eyes had glazed over, prompting Alex to lean across and click his fingers. ‘Come on now, don’t start going off into happy La La land now.’
It was like his brain had disengaged completely. It all seemed so unreal. He wished he could stop time and step outside his body. Before he knew what he was saying the words had tumbled out of his mouth. ‘So when do we go?’ As soon as he had said them he physically cringed.
A smile ran through the group and Monty slapped the table. ‘Yes!’ he shouted triumphantly. ‘This is how we’re going to get in,’ and he ran through the plan that he and the others had concocted while Jebediah had been in the shower.
The balmy summer nights meant that it was almost eleven o’clock before the assembled party gathered in the kitchen in preparation for their departure.
Jebediah had loaned them some of his clothes so that they could change from their distinctive purple robes into something a little less conspicuous.
Monty was fractionally taller and a little wider than Jebediah and so the trousers he had been given sat inches above his ankles and strained around his thighs while Cordelia needed a belt to keep hers up. Chester faired a little better being almost the same height as Jebediah.
A tense excitement ran round the group as they checked and double-checked their plans. Monty was to go into Ganoobis Hall with Jebediah, and Seamus was to accompany them, showing the way to the room containing the money. Jebediah felt petrified by the impending robbery but he didn’t want to say as much and prayed that his face, which was luckily normally white, didn’t convey the fear he felt to his friends. He needn’t have worried because they all felt the same tremor of fear running through them.
‘Does your dog normally do this?’ Monty asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.
‘Eh? You what?’ Jebediah replied as the sound of dripping water filled the now silent room.
Everyone stared towards the location from which the sound was emanating to see Rotten with his leg cocked up, peeing down Monty’s leg, a pool now forming by his foot.
‘Rotten!’ Jebediah hollered as he ran forward and heaved the dog away, leaving a trail o
f urine across the floor. ‘I’m really sorry about that...’ he mumbled.
Cordelia sniggered behind her hand and Chester turned his back to hide his mirth, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth.
‘It’s nothing,’ she said dismissively, ‘it’ll dry while you’re flying.’
Monty looked down with disgust at the now sodden and stinking trouser leg and muttered darkly under his breath as he stormed out of the back door.
The rest followed with undisguised smiles dancing upon their faces; all except Jebediah who cursed everything that belonged to his family.
Alex, as before, climbed on the back of Monty’s broom, careful this time to keep well away from the wet trouser leg.
Jebediah mounted his broom and pulled Seamus onto the back. As he had already been to Ganoobis Hall he was to give directions.
Jebediah may have as much sense of direction as a blind hedgehog in a sack, but as they lifted above the treetops and skimmed the hedgerows he knew they were heading further north. The open ground started to give way to rolling hills, forests and lochs. They had dropped their height once away from the cities and towns.
Stags darted about as they swooped overhead and wild rabbits scampered in and out of their burrows searching for food. The scenery was beautifully serene and peaceful. Jebediah sat back and enjoyed the ride, his mind momentarily diverted from the task in hand.
Seamus suddenly leaned forward unbalancing Jebediah and sending his heart into his mouth. Stretching out his arm he pointed to a sprawling black mass that loomed up over the horizon.
Ganoobis Hall was a large country mansion that had touches of a gothic castle about it, only the proportions being scaled down to suit more the stature of the Gnomes. Mullioned windows with stone mantels faced out and several chimneys billowed smoke.
Landing with a thump, Jebediah sent Seamus tumbling over the handle and into some bushes.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered as he helped the Leprechaun to his feet.
The others came down in a more controlled fashion and huddled together behind a group of oak trees, affording them a safe place in which to view the hall without giving their position away.
S.N.O.T. Page 8
