by Ken Spargo
About the Author
Ken lives in Vermont, Victoria, Australia.
During the 1970s he travelled overseas and lived in Austria, England, Papua New Guinea and New Zealand for six years. He spent three years as a European tour guide on camping tours. He is a practicing accountant and has managed his own business for the past thirty years. His interest in travel, sports, theatre, literature and raising his two children led him to writing many short stories; his first crime novel – Stumped, and now his first fantasy novel – Davidia and The Prince Of Triplock.
Published in Australia by Sid Harta Publishers Pty Ltd,
ABN: 46 119 415 842
23 Stirling Crescent, Glen Waverley, Victoria 3150 Australia
Telephone: +61 3 9560 9920, Facsimile: +61 3 9545 1742
E-mail: [email protected]
First published in Australia January 2012
This edition published March 2012
Copyright © Ken Spargo 2012
Cover design, typesetting: Chameleon Print Design
The right of Ken Spargo to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales are entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Spargo, Ken
Davidia and the Prince of Triplock
ISBN: 978-1-921829-11-6
Digital edition published by
Port Campbell Press
www.portcampbellpress.com.au
ISBN: 9781742981598 (ePub)
Conversion by Winking Billy
To my daughter, Sophie, who inspired me to enter a
child’s world to relive my childhood imagination.
C o n t e n t s
1. Attic
2. Rock of Yocklaw
3. Valley of Gragslew
4. Valley of Rintslip
5. Valley of Undonko
6. The Dark Zone
7. Valley Of Nitpickle
8. Irridon
9. Valley of Triplock
10. The Challenges
11. Home Again
A t the time of the Great Split, unhappiness permeated the everyday life of all life forms in the ancient Valley of Triplock. A cataclysmic disagreement between the two most powerful life forms erupted into unbridled rage. Good was being held to ransom by evil. The two emotional sides could not agree on the raising of a small life form.
‘He stays with me,’ boomed the loud voice of the King.
‘I will raise him how I feel,’ boomed the very strong voice of the Queen.
‘He is safer here than anywhere else.’
‘We’ll see.’
The Queen stormed off in a huff, unable to console her evil thoughts. Her head brimmed with an army of them. She couldn’t ward off their evil attacks on her mind. She grumbled to herself that this young life form would not stand in her way. She thought that she was the future rightful ruler of Triplock and every other valley. No obstacle or hurdle would be foolish enough to bar her access to her perceived destiny.
The King sat dejectedly, eyes downcast, rueing the impasse he had to solve.
‘Why is it so difficult to raise young life forms, when the valleys can accommodate all manner of things?’ he mumbled to himself. The King was a fair and wise ruler; however, his Queen had been mentally menaced by desires he knew nothing of. Evil wasn’t a friend of his. It wasn’t initially a friend of the Queen’s either, but whisperings into her ears at a moment of low emotional resistance, allowed her mental landscape to alter and not for the better.
‘We can rule together,’ whispered the wind. A cold breeze enveloped the Queen. She shuddered.
‘What do you mean?’ she answered into the floating breeze.
‘If we achieve my goals, then it’s that simple.’
‘Who are you?’
‘I am an enemy of the King. He won’t allow me into the Valley of Triplock, but with your help, I can succeed. I promise you will be installed as ruler of all the valleys.’
The Queen’s smile spread across her face like a widening river gorge. It had been a while since her face had parted in such a manner. The view was pleasant, but the meaning was sinister. After that meeting, the Queen plotted the downfall of the King, with the assistance of her new “friend”, The Murmur.
They hatched a plan to snatch the young Igloid before he came of age as an Iglood, when it would be too late for their plan to succeed.
In the Cave of Murm where The Murmur lived, a young life form that had been tricked to stray outside the palace walls was brought yelling and kicking.
‘You snivelling, little life form, how dare I risk you to form into an Iglood and threaten me with the power and control of the Valleys. I curse you to be banished forever. You can’t be killed, so this is the next worst thing that can happen. Say the curse, you windbag.’
The Murmur whispered in a cold, deep, throaty voice, ‘Be gone oh yonder life form. May the Nettles of Neverness sting you, the Sprig of Spruce change your shape, may the Voice of Vanishment snuff out your sounds and the Dirt of Disaster, send you to a life of Gloom.’
An explosive wind suddenly whirled around the caves, picked up the young Igloid and swallowed him whole.
What had happened to the small life form?
'D ad, can I play in the attic, please? Miss Percival needs to have her hair done. It’s raining outside and I don’t have anyone else to play with,’ said Davidia, with her bottom lip pouting as if it was about to fall off.
Dad couldn’t deny his beautiful twelve year old daughter’s pleas. He was a sucker for a soft voice and angelic looks. Davidia lived with her parents and older brother, Dan. Their house was an old style Tudor house with painted wood angling in all directions, white rendered walls and an upstairs attic, which seemed to dominate the house. It was Davidia’s favourite playing area. She and Miss Percival would often be found ferreting through old boxes of clothes her parents had stored. They played dress-ups and were like two sisters, even though one was a special doll.
One day, when mum and dad were out and she was in the care of Dan, a large, grey cloud hovered over the street, blacking out the power source. The air was moist with water vapour and a chill wind ran the length of the street. It felt like winter in the middle of summer.
‘Dan, I’m going to play upstairs in the attic,’ said Davidia, knowing that it was usually warmer than the rest of the house.
‘Mum and dad will be home in an hour, so I suppose it’s okay, but don’t open any of the windows,’ replied Dan. He often wondered what his little sister found so interesting in the attic. He was a fourteen-year-old grappling with his development as a teenager. The attic to him was old hat for amusement.
Davidia slowly climbed the attic stairs. A frightened spider scampered along its web, fearing it would be squashed if it had been seen. The door to the attic was closed. It was usually left slightly open. She pushed against it. Her young frame couldn’t make it budge.
‘You have to turn me,’ said a voice.
‘Turn what?’ answered Davidia amazed to hear the comment.
‘The doorknob.’
‘Is that the den
ted, round thing poking out?’
‘Yes it is. I am very useful. You can’t come in unless you turn me. Go on, give it a try.’
Davidia gave the rounded brass fitting a solid twist. It didn’t move.
‘I can’t open it.’
‘Yes you can. Push me in first, and then twist me anti-clock-wise,’ the doorknob directed.
‘What’s an anti-clock thingamy?’ asked Davidia.
‘You turn me in that particular way.’ The doorknob seemed to move slowly, hinting at the correct procedure.
Davidia, who was as sharp as a tack, quickly grabbed the doorknob and gave it a solid push and twist. It opened instantly.
‘That wasn’t fair,’ whined the doorknob, who was now left alone to hang silently until someone else wanted entrance.
‘That stupid doorknob! It’s my daddy’s and mummy’s house and I can go where I like,’ said Davidia to herself. ‘Miss Percival, we shall play over there today behind those boxes.’ Davidia went to the far corner of the attic, where many boxes were stacked. She began to remove them one by one. She left the heavy ones where they sat. One particularly large box caught her attention. It was tied up with a pink ribbon. A label was written in red ink and read, “Split Personality. If you have one, dare to open me.”
Davidia didn’t quite understand what that was, but she was an adventurous young girl so she untied the ribbon. It was a magical moment. As soon as the ribbon was undone, the sides of the box automatically fell away revealing a small, odd shaped chair. It had a twisted back, a bumpy seat and only three legs. At the foot of the chair were two books, one with the letter S engraved on it and the other engraved with the letter P. She loved reading books. At her sixth year of school, her reading level was excellent. Long words hadn’t yet been fully mastered, but she did try.
‘Miss Percival, you sit over there whilst I sit in the new chair and read the books. I hope the words are small and simple for me to understand,’ she said. ‘I wonder if the chair was to be a present from mum and dad. It’s exciting, isn’t it,’ giggled Davidia.
She moved the chair to the window for more light with which to read. The sun didn’t shine anywhere. The street was still covered in a grey mist, which blotted the warm rays from penetrating into the attic. Davidia picked up a warm scatter rug and then sat in the small chair. She leaned forward and picked up the book with the letter S. The pages suddenly opened automatically as if by magic. Her arms were instantly pinned to the chair’s armrests and she couldn’t use her hands. When the book’s pages had finished turning, her arms were freed to use again. She leaned over to pick up book P and the same thing happened. Davidia was immobilised. Where was the robot controlling her movements? Once the second book had been read and returned to its original place, a cold, swirling wind tapped at the attic window. Dan had warned her not to open it. Davidia, being a curious and adventurous twelve year old, also thought that she saw a face in the mist which intrigued her, so she opened the window ever so slightly. The wind howled in anger. The window was suddenly wrenched open and Davidia flew through it, sucked into the darkness. It was pitch black. She had been swallowed, but by what? After what seemed to be an eternity, the howling wind scaled down to a blistering breeze and dumped Davidia with a solid thump onto the ground.
'W here am I? Am I hurt? Where’s Miss Percival? Where’s mummy and daddy? I should have listened to Dan,’ wailed Davidia. She was in a strange land that she had never seen before. Her tears made the front of her dress all soggy. She suddenly felt alone. Her dress was soiled, her shoes were scuffed and her blonde hair was ruffled. It took a few minutes for her to survey her new surroundings.
The Valley of Preciousness spread before her eyes. It was a place of beauty, reminiscent of similar scenes depicted in prestigious oil paintings by well – known masters. It was a spellbinding view. At the beginning of the valley, a fabled stone known as the Rock of Yocklaw sat high on a hill standing as a sentinel guarding the Town of Importance based at its feet. Myths abounded in the valley and it was believed that the Rock of Yocklaw possessed an aura of protection, having existed for so long. It was said that it possessed special powers.
‘It is so beautiful,’ said Davidia. Her voice was lost on the breeze as there was no one else to talk to. For her years, Davidia was a confident, young girl and when confronted by a problem, she tried to understand and resolve it. Her parents always encouraged her to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so there was no need for lies. Davidia didn’t fully understand the impact of lies, but knew bad things could happen if you used them.
‘That rock is tall,’ she said pointing at the Rock of Yocklaw.
A crevice, or was it a crack, in its surface momentarily appeared into what she thought was a smile. She waved, but only the wind blew the tree canopy in response.
Davidia had no idea what to do next. This was her first experience of being totally alone. She walked around the Rock of Yocklaw, hoping to meet someone or something. The ground was covered in small stones. She aimlessly kicked at them as she walked.
‘That’s another goal for the girl’s soccer team,’ she yelled.
‘Don’t do that, it hurts,’ said a tiny voice.
‘Who said that?’ asked a startled Davidia.
‘I did. Look down at your feet,’ a small voice continued.
Davidia could only see a mass of small stones all lying completely still. She raised her foot to kick at another stone, when she noticed a tiny hole appear in its surface.
‘Did you say that?’ asked Davidia.
‘Yes I did. You must stop kicking us. We are not meant to move and if we do, bad things can happen.’
‘But you are only stones,’ she said. ‘How can you talk? We throw stones at home. My brother, Dan, is a menace with them. He broke Mrs Zincloss’ window, but we never told dad,’ said Davidia divulging a secret, but it was the truth.
‘Be careful. Do not disturb something you don’t know about. You think I’m talking to you, but I’m not. We communicate by touch. When your foot touches me, we can understand each other. Take your foot off me.’
Davidia removed her foot, saw the hole in the stone’s surface and heard nothing. As soon as she placed her foot on the stone again, they could communicate.
‘At home we don’t communicate by touch, but by using words.’
‘What’s a word?’ asked the small stone.
‘It’s how people talk to each other by sound without touching,’ replied Davidia.
‘Oh. We don’t use them here. There are no people here in the valley. Is that what you are, a people?’
‘Yes. I am a people, a girl people, but by myself I am a person. A people are many of us persons together.’
‘It’s understanding feelings that we use. Do you know why you can understand me?’ asked the small stone.
‘No, I don’t.’
‘You have good feelings. If they were bad, then we couldn’t continue communicating with each other.’
‘Where am I?’ asked Davidia. ‘What is this place?’
‘Stand on me a little harder, so I can communicate better. This is the Valley of Preciousness where light and sunshine is for everything. That over there is the Town of Importance where many life forms live.’
‘That nice rock, what is it doing here?’
‘We understand it is a relative of ours, but we don’t know how close. It has been there a long time. Stay away from it. Strange noises come from within it and we don’t know what makes it.’
‘Does it have a name? Everything has a name.’
‘It is known as the Rock of Yocklaw.’
‘It’s huge. Come with me and take a closer look.’
‘I can’t. It’s forbidden for me to move. I’m a stone and this is where I stay.’
Before the small stone could offer an explanation, Davidia had removed her foot and communication ceased. The day was clear. She had no idea of the evils and myths that abounded in her new world. She went explorin
g around the base of the huge rock.
Suddenly and without warning, a grey, cold, thick, swirling mist blanketed the landscape, snuffing out any light.
‘Who turned out the lights? It’s not my bedtime yet,’ she complained. ‘At home I always read a bedtime story by myself when it got dark.’ This was too early in the day. ‘I don’t have any books here. Brrr, its getting cold.’ Davidia vigorously rubbed her arms. The cotton summer dress she wore retained very little warmth.
She shuddered and fell silently to the ground, a pillow of peace. Nothing stirred in the valley. It was ghostly silent. The moist mist had a deathly feel to it. It was The Evil Mist which had been creeping over many lands, growing stronger from its destruction of all life forms. It gorged on darkness and misery to everything. It had finally arrived in the Valley of Preciousness after years of previously failed attempts. The size of the evil demon that lived within the Evil Mist had grown progressively more powerful with each conquest. He was an unhappy demon who had in earlier times been ridiculed by his peers as unworthy of possessing a nasty personality. He was out to prove a point.
‘I’ll rule the world,’ he boomed in anger. His sinister eyes scanned the ground for any movement of life. He vacuumed the surface with his gigantic mouth, detecting any living organism. ‘I’ll destroy every living thing. Nothing will ever survive in this valley again.’ No one knew from where it had originated.
The mist had a long, wet tail and as it passed over the landscape – it applied it as a painter does a brush stroke, loose application with plenty of paint – however, in this case, it was wet dew, which stayed permanently on the ground. It never dried.
Davidia looked like an angel as she lay down on the cold, wet ground surrounded by dewdrops. She appeared to be at peace.
Inside the Rock of Yocklaw slept a strange creature of bulbous proportions, which existed for the protection of good. No life form knew of its existence, but there were rumours. It was awoken by the irritating, small mist puffs from the mist, as they attempted to invade the inside of the rock. Each mist puff was delivered by a mobile mist germ which had no eyes, but possessed a crooked mouth from which to expel a deadly mist puff. They were spat at any organism and once inside its body, it sent them to permanent sleep. The creature inside the rock had an army of internal germ squashers that roamed its system, possessing a special hunger for bad things. It had special glands that could fend off the evil mist puffs by converting them into clean air as it exhaled, whilst rolling along.
