by Kamilla Reid
And then three of them were walking toward her.
Root tore off back down the street, this time on Stogie’s back. CPR kept close on their tracks, easily managing the sudden turns and twists down the slippery streets of the Drowned City. Unfortunately Root’s chasers were managing as well and were even gaining. They were obviously used to being under and manipulating water.
The Drowned City sped by in a swirl of greenish white sculptures and pottery and archways. Root and her mates swam as best as they could down a flight of stairs and slipped behind a door. Root held her breath behind it.
The Termites had lost sight of her and now slowed down, coming to a frustrated halt outside her door. One of them grabbed the handle and twisted. On the other side Stogie clenched it in his jaws, holding it solidly in place.
The Termite gave up. “Locked.” He gestured.
A few more muffled underwater tones indicated a new plan of action. They split off, each taking a different path. Thankfully, away from Root.
With no time to waste, Root pulled out Haverly’s Road and released it from its pouch, hoping beyond hope that it wouldn’t float away in a million gravelly pieces.
The Road fell slowly and heavily downward and landed. There was no dirt to mix with but this didn’t seem to matter as the pale, sea-weedy flooring took shape instead.
“Hello and thank you for choosing That-a-Way Roads. How may I be of service?” Somehow the Road’s words had come out full and clear.
Not so for Root. “999 Lampfire Lane!” She exploded in a watery blur. She was grateful that she had managed to memorize the address on Vulcherk’s receipt. It wouldn’t have gotten her very far to have had to pull it out under water.
“I’m afraid I do not understand you. Please try again.”
Root would never have imagined in a zillion years that she’d be underwater, with gills doing Charades for a bunch of dirt but there she was, desperately miming ‘pain’ and then counting down the letters to…
“L! Lane! You need to get to 999 Lampfire Lane?” Road asked excitedly. No one had ever made a request this way before and it was very entertaining.
Root nodded, just as excited and then pointed upwards.
“In the new Divit!”
More ecstatic nods.
“Well, let’s get on with it then, shall we!”
Root soon learned she was on the Southside of the Drowned City with an UpWest tunnel not too far away. This tunnel led to the Old Shire district of New Divit, a very wealthy neighbourhood of impressive mansions, villas and the like. When these houses were built, they spared no expense and most were equipped with their own personal landing pool with tunnel access to the Snakes. Road told Root that number 999 Lampshire Lane was nestled in the very heart of this upper, upper class neighbourhood and all she had to do was keep an eye out for its number along the tunnel wall.
“You are more than welcome! It was my pleasure, indeed.” Road said and happily twirled back into its pouch.
Root stayed close to the walls of buildings, in case a quick slip through another door or window was needed. Stogie and CPR kept her safely between them, though CPR’s natural curiosity led her slightly off the path at times. Stogie was always very good at nipping her back into line.
They followed Road’s direction without a hitch. Hopefully this meant the Termites had given up and weren’t about to ambush them. The UpWest tunnel had a screen over it, most likely for safety reasons, so one wouldn’t get unintentionally sucked in. Root snuck up to it. She could already feel the pull of its current. When no ambush was in sight, she found a prominent iron lever and with a last glance around her, pulled it down.
Whoosh!
If Root thought the last flood was fast, she was in for a surprise. This tunnel sucked them in and had them cycloning within seconds. But as Road had said, it would taper off a little farther down and then clip along at a moderate pace
They just had to get though this part.
At one point Root felt CPR brush into her. Or was it Stogie? And then the worst was over. The water calmed and gently drifted them along in the mood of a Sunday drive. Now able to get her bearings, Root could see a fleet of round openings all along the tunnel walls. These were gateways to smaller, privately owned water passages and true to Road’s words, these gateways were shwanky. The Old Shire of Divit had money, indeed. Though tarnished in the sea-green effects of prolonged desertion there was no doubt of the quality. Some of them were trimmed in brass with curls of detail along their tops. Some were gilded gold. Some welcomed them with slick marble pillars on each side. All of them were numbered. The one closest to Root had 358 next to it.
Ugh. This could take awhile.
417…589…603…721….888….
Yep. A long while.
924…997…999!
999 Lampshire Lane! Only the last one!
Root reached out and grabbed the handles on the sides of the embellished silver hatch. She turned to make sure Stogie and CPR were with her before pushing herself into what would hopefully be the last water tunnel she’d have to take for a very long time.
She hoped to avoid another geyser-ed ejection but there would be no such generosity today. She and her tunnel mates were belched out and splatted without warning in a heap. She just managed to avoid CPR’s flailing hooves. How in the world Divit people had managed years of this was beyond her.
After a hoarded moment or two, Root stood up to see where exactly she and her mates had ended up.
A yard, it would seem. A very nice, very big yard. One might even say an estate. What with the exquisitely groomed hedges, the tiers and tiers of flower beds, fountains, those cute little stone sitting benches, immaculate lawn for miles, a corner waterfall, huge clay pots springing with blossoms; yes definitely an estate.
It was nighttime.
Woah. She’d been gone that long? Lian and Dwyn would be totally freaked, looking for her.
Well, they would just have to wait a little bit longer.
She led Stogie and CPR stealthily across the grounds toward the front of the property, hiding in shadows and trespassing around an enormous manor that, despite its elegance seemed to have an unnerving dread to it. The way the gingerbread house feels to the reader who already knows the witch lives in it.
A series of lampposts cast an eerie glow upon its many features. There were turrets on each side, front and back and up all three floors. The entire exterior was of brick and, had it not been for the lamps, Root would have thought the brick to be black. But it was a deep, dark red. They walked across the cool, springy lawn. It was established with oversized weeping willows that gave nothing in the department of cheeriness. They looked like wilted ghosts. Like they wanted to ascend but something dark and powerful weighed them down. Root pulled her cloak around her, certain it was colder here than anywhere else. She never failed to be amazed by her cloak’s warmth. And she’d been even more impressed by its ability to cling like a slick, weightless second skin under water.
Special thanks to Estrella Fuffleteez.
The manor was just as intimidating up close. Probably more so. It had a grand entrance that included a pair of pillars on each side and these journeyed up all three floors. Windows were large and plenty, but every single one of them was covered by thick, impenetrable curtains. The place looked mean. Not haunted mean. Calculating mean. Cold mean.
Root pulled out Vulcherk’s receipt to double check the address. That’s when she noticed for the first time for what the receipt had been made.
Gut Oil. One Twilight’s worth of Gut Oil.
Holy Kamoly! Two hundred and fifty thousand gilds? Woah! She had no idea what Gut Oil was but whatever it was must be undoubtedly rare to cost that much.
Rare and dangerous.
What on earth was its use? She couldn’t even imagine. She looked at the manor again then turned and stretched her view past the iron walls and gate along the whole of the street. Mansions, the lot. Manicured to perfection with fresh lawns and fountains and the same unwel
come iron gates. Shadows were crawling into their corners and crooks. Here and there a lamppost would fizz and flame.
“Who lives here?” Root whispered to herself, clutching the receipt. Was it a Quest player? Was it someone else? Had she over-imagined the whole thing? And just grabbed any old receipt for some rich Divitinian with his or her own dark purpose?
999 Lampfire Lane was far back from its thick iron gate. Standing beside it, Root wondered why it even had a gate when all one had to do was Hover over it. But then she saw them.
Shields.
And realized quite shakenly that they had already seen her.
31
999 LAMPFIRE LANE
There were at least four Shields, one every second post along the fence. And just like Sir Wilbury Heart’s they were sickeningly large beasts of purple and black plumage with eyes that pierced the skin. Whoever lived here clearly was not interested in visitors.
The Shield closest to Root growled. It was a high-pitched moan that seemed to stay in its nasal cavity. Root had unknowingly come too close. She could see its feathers lift at the collar and all round its massive shoulders.
“Sorry” Root gave it a mollifying smile and backed off.
It didn’t seem quite enough. The snarling grew louder and soon there were four more yellow eyes upon her.
A deeper growl suddenly came from behind Root. Her body swung around. It was Stogie. His hackles were raised, eyes locked, ready to do some pouncing of his own.
“No, Stogie!” Root whimpered and held out her hands. But the challenge was met. The Shield locked onto Stogie and crouched low onto its stone perch. Bring it on.
When the team had stayed at Moody Bay, Stogie had spent far too many hours barking at Sir Heart’s Shield. Just standing on the ground barking, not quite brave enough to hover closer. The Shield had for the most part ignored him, having no appetite for Hovermutt. On the odd occasion when it looked fit to ‘shut that stupid mutt up!’ Sir Heart would remind it of its station with a quick sharp glance.
But this Shield didn’t seem to have been given such limits. In fact, Root figured it was probably instructed to attack anything that it felt was even remotely invasive.
And now Stogie was baring his teeth.
Definitely invasive.
Root couldn’t understand where this new bravado was coming from until she saw CPR…shrunk and trembling between Stogie’s legs.
That’s what the Shield wanted. Supper. Wild cow-pig-rodent.
The standoff mounted. Now three Shields were in on it, their eyes slanted and piercing.
Root knew she couldn’t just grab Stogie and CPR and run. The Shields would be on them in seconds. She tried to stand between them, break the focus. But it was as if they saw right through her.
The attack was one movement away. Nothing else existed but an electric silence between them.
Root braced herself.
“Ha ha ha haha..”
The yellow eyes tore away and peered down the street.
A carriage, loud and barking with laughter sauntered along…and stopped right in front of 999 Lampfire Lane. Its occupants did not notice the girl, her Hovermutt and the ugly wild creature slip away into the bushes.
Attached in front of the carriage by leather straps were two hulking beastly Hovers and a third that fit the wiener dog bill. The carriage door slid open and a boy came out.
Jackpot!
Kor Bludgitt.
He unhitched his Hover, the beastlier of the two beasts then turned back to the open door.
“I’d invite you in but then I’d have to feed you….to my Shields,” he laughed.
“That’s quite alright, Bludgitt. I’d much rather see you and your Shields starve.” Tamik’s voice was like a rush of fresh air in Root’s ears. She wished she could run right over and hug her but…uh, no.
“Har har har.” Kor jeered. “And stop laughing, Flink. You’re encouraging her!” He refocused coolly on Tamik. “Y’know, if they attacked right now, it wouldn’t be my fault.”
“Good. Then close the door so I can watch without getting your blood on my new shirt!”
At this Kor fumed. “You’re as stupid as your pathetic gewgaw friend. You don’t deserve to be on my team!”
“Well, you’re right there. No one deserves to be stuck with you! And, at least Root Karbunkulus doesn’t cheat!”
While Root positively beamed, Kor nearly exploded. He slammed the carriage door and swatted the remaining Hovers. The carriage lurched forward and lifted off the ground.
“Noon tomorrow! And don’t be late!” he yelled after it.
Root watched the carriage and wondered why her team had never used one before. It certainly would have improved things, especially during rainstorms. The fact that Lian hadn’t mentioned it, most likely meant it was too expensive.
Not so, for Kor Bludgitt, it seems.
Kor Bludgitt of 999 Lampfire Lane, Port City of Divit.
“I knew it! I knew it! I just knew it!” Root whispered. “Wait til the guys find out!”
She watched Kor, oozing with delight. The rotten, cheating Kor Bludgitt, caught like a rat. The evidence right here, in the receipt clutched in Root’s hand.
Kor stood in front of the gate until the carriage was long gone. Then he did something altogether confusing.
Once satisfied that his team was well out of sight, he mounted his Hovermutt and instead of passing through the iron gates, he tore off down the street in the exact opposite direction.
He was too preoccupied to notice Root following at a discreet pace behind him.
Root tucked in shadows and corners where she could. Thankfully Kor had not looked back. Instead he wove through Divit like a cab driver, his familiarity all too obvious. Soon the houses grew smaller and the neighborhoods more congested. Streets became littered and sour smelling in the night’s heat. If you could even call it a street that Kor had finally landed in. It was more of an alley. A dirty, cluttered path of broken down houses. Gone were the expansive green lawns and gardens, to be replaced with thick snatches of weeds and garbage and little rats’ eyes, cracked windows and shadows running to and from trouble.
Kor hid his Hovermutt in the corner of a yard with a broken fence. Or rather a pigpen with a broken fence.
“Stay down, boy!” he said and made sure no inch of his Hover was seen from any angle. Root knew that it was to make sure no one would steal him.
The yard grew, strangled and patchy around a tall dilapidated building. The front door was off its hinge. Root watched Kor swing it open and take to the filthy, torn carpet of the stairs. How could she follow him? Wait a minute; his head appeared through the grime of a portal window on the next floor. Then the next and the next. When he reached the seventh floor he turned right. Stogie took Root around the side. There, a light turned on through an apartment window smeared black with grime. It was partially open, but not enough for anyone to notice the Hovermutt and its passengers that were now edging up beside it. Root kept CPR quiet. Up close she saw that the window had no screen and moths were gathering and flies were scurrying across the pane.
“I don’t give a rat’s arse!” Root heard a voice. It was throaty and worn down by a hard life. There was cruelty in it. Root leaned in for a peek just in time to see a bottle flying right for her.
She ducked.
The glass shattered against the wall beside the window.
“Don’t you walk away from yer father, Kor Bludgitt!” called out a woman’s voice, scratchy and smoky and with the same wicked grudge against life.
“Didn’t I tell you not t’come home ‘til you had something t’bring with you, boy?”
“I just thought ‘cause I was in the area…” Kor hardly sounded real to Root. His voice was so thin. So frail.
The throaty man-voice began to laugh. Soon the other one joined in. It was ugly, mocking laughter. Terrible laughter.
“What? You thought we’d wanna see yer ugly mug?”
Kor did not reply.
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“Now you get yer bloody butt back t’that race and don’t come back ‘til y’got somethin’ t’show for it!”
Again no answer. But Root heard a door slam.
“And don’t slam that door or I’ll whup your arse worse than the last time! Y’hear me! I can still do that y’know?” The man turned his anger toward the woman. “Damn son a yours!”
“Don’t blame me fer ‘im. Ain’t my fault he’s a screw up. Just like his lazy, deadbeat dad, he is!”
Another smashed bottle.
Back on the main floor the door swung right off its last hinge.
Root tucked up tight into a shaft of darkness as Kor stomped out of the building. He launched his Hover into the air. But not before exacting a fist-sized boulder at his parent’s window. It missed Root’s head by inches. When the window opened and a man’s head threw itself out cursing, she thought she was dead in the water. But he saw nothing. Or maybe he’d had too much of what was in those bottles to notice.
Thoughts spun through Root’s head as she followed Kor. If those were his parents, then where was he getting all his money from? Money for top of the line supplies, for buying off teams, for Gut Oil?
Kor brought his Hovermutt down in front of a lively establishment with a sign overhead that said Pooly’s Drinkhouse
Questions were still bumpering around, lost and confused as Root landed inconspicuously down the road. What about 999 Lampfire Lane? If Kor didn’t live there, then who did? And why would Kor go there in the first place? There was a coincidence here that could not be ignored. Yet the connection within it eluded Root. And, most surprising of all, amongst these thoughts came an actual pang of sympathy for Kor. She would never in a million years have thought there’d be someone out there on par with the Aunts. But the cackling laughter that rang from his parent’s dingy window tonight was riddled with familiarity.
“Well, well, well…”
Root swung around. Kor was looking at her with cold, clear hatred. His eyes were red. Had he been crying?
“If it isn’t Gew Gaw.”
