by Ken Spargo
Suddenly, Scatter ceased floating abstractly. He focused on the sound of the voice within his wet covering. His anger erupted into dropping further droplets of suffocation over the landscape. He had heard of the Rock of Yocklaw, which protected the valley. There was no other explanation for the rhythmic sound that he had just heard.
‘Where are you, you myth?’ he grumbled to himself, with his agitated moisture particles angling for a fight. ‘I can defeat anything.’ His ego was insatiable. There was complete silence. The rhythmic rhyme echoed again. His water droplets were primed for a nasty show of force. He returned to the Rock of Yocklaw area and saw a small, living creature, miming words while standing perfectly still.
‘Didn’t I dispense with you a few moments ago?’
Scatter had never had a confrontation with a young human before; however, he treated every living thing as an enemy. His eyes glared hatred at Davidia. She smiled.
‘Hello, Mr Mist,’ she said politely. ‘My name is Davidia.’
Scatter stared in astonishment. He wondered what this speaking creature was. He blew a puff of icy wind at her. Her clothes fluttered, her hair teased on the breeze, but she stood still and continued to smile as best she could. She didn’t wilt under the icy blast. Her immobility was due to her prepared – ness for the question that would hopefully release the valley from its icy torment. She only had one shot at the lie, otherwise the valley and its inhabitants would be lost forever.
‘What do you want?’ he growled.
‘The view from here is grey and there is no one else to speak to. My family are elsewhere.’
Scatter smiled to himself. The damage he had inflicted was a success and soon he would rule unhindered in an uninhabitable environment.
‘Mr Mist, couldn’t you leave the valley and holiday elsewhere?’ asked Davidia retaining his attention.
‘I like it here. It’s cold, bleak, grey and always moist. It’s perfect for a nasty character like me. I enjoy gloom because it matches my personality,’ he replied.
‘Wouldn’t you like to be nicer?’
‘Never. It’s time you disappeared too and leave me to float and roam as I please.’
‘Don’t you have any friends?’
‘I don’t need them. I’m tiring of all this time wasting. Time to say goodbye.’
Scatter inched closer to the Rock of Yocklaw, preparing to strike at Davidia. Her antics of not succumbing to his almighty presence and superiority were wearing thin. He had havoc to wreak. Davidia was interrupting his progress. His impatience was on thin ice, as thin as the ice sheet that he had covered the landscape with. Davidia felt a tug at her foot. Grunt was gesturing that she climb out of the bush and into the rock for safety. Her slim frame and innocence suddenly had no fear.
‘Mr Mist, do you like to explore underground as well as above? Mr Grunt and I live in a space we are sure you will enjoy,’ encouraged Davidia.
Scatter remembered his previous internment underground, but that was by far a more formidable opponent than someone so small. His initial reaction to the question was fear and uncertainty; however, the size of his opposition charged his confidence. He believed that nothing could stop him. On land, he had a long wispy tail that followed him everywhere like a bad smell. Underground, only his head could travel safely. Scatter was too cunning to be trapped again.
Davidia suddenly disappeared into the bush; however, before she did, she waved, smiled and threw her yellow hair ribbon into the mist. Scatter found the colour attractive, which surprised him immensely, as grey and black were his usual favourite doom and gloom colours. He knew that he was too powerful to be destroyed, but didn’t know that he could be. He thought that he was invincible. For a few minutes, he floated around aimlessly like a lost soul assessing his next move. His ego of nastiness grew like uncontrollable laughter at a good comedy festival. The opening of the Rock of Yocklaw was still visible. Suddenly, he plunged straight in, leaving his tail behind. He was now rudderless. His nasty mist puffs jumped up and down, annoyed that they couldn’t participate in the hunt.
Scatter hunted Davidia, like a slimy snake down a rat hole. No child was going to beat him. He hadn’t been without a tail before. It left his rear vulnerable. He felt lonely, which was no worse than what he had made many others feel. A tapping sound could be heard. He followed it. The caves felt unfriendly. Ego is not a dirty word and to munch on it everyday fed his self – confidence. Around a corner he abruptly halted. There sat Davidia and Grunt, throwing small pebbles onto the rocks toward the Tunnel of Appraisal. He had them cornered like a square.
‘Hello, Mr Mist. This is Mr Grunt,’ said Davidia smiling. They both stared confidently at him. Scatter rolled his eyes like pinballs; then suddenly they stopped moving and stared threateningly at them.
‘This is goodbye,’ he boomed. His voice echoed so loudly the bats from a few caves away shrieked with fright.
‘What’s the commotion?’ said Batbit, who flew in to investigate the loud noise. As soon as he saw Scatter he flew madly down the caves to escape permanent damage.
Davidia and Grunt edged backwards. Scatter began to puff up his cheeks; however, without his tail in support, he exhaled a paltry amount of mist.
‘That was pathetic,’ interrupted Grunt. ‘A big head like you can do much better.’
He teased Scatter, who puffed up again, his cheeks growing darker. This time, his puff was no better. His steely eyes dripped venom. He began to move closer.
‘Stop,’ said Davidia putting out her hand.
Scatter stopped dead in his tracks.
‘That wall over there is yellow,’ said Davidia, pointing to a sidewall. ‘Mr Mist, I believe that wall is yellow. It is my favourite colour. My dress isn’t yellow. Do you like it?’ Her dress was yellow, however that was an additional lie of her own, which Grunt had told her earlier that she had to have one of her own, otherwise the Evil Mist couldn’t be defeated.
Scatter knew that he had to answer. Inside the Rock of Yocklaw, in its mythical past, there was a code of mythical conduct that any question asked within its caves, had always to be answered by the truth. But to agree with a lie meant disaster and banishment. Before he could reply, Grunt spun on his legs like a spinning top on the wall in question. The friction he created gave the impression it was yellow. Grunt moved at lightening speed. Scatter couldn’t see what generated the effect. It seemed to be true. The cave instantly lit up like a beacon, then faded into darkness.
‘See, Mr Mist. That wall is yellow,’ repeated Davidia.
Grunt again repeated his demonstration of friction antics. The wall did look yellow.
‘Please answer me, Mr Mist. Then I can tell all my friends that I spoke to you. They would be most impressed.’
Scatter was tiring of the stand – off.
‘I agree with you, Davidia,’ replied Scatter, none too convinced that what he said was the truth. The shock answer of agreement to the lie caused Davidia to fall over flat on her back.
An extra leg began to grow from her stomach. She transformed into an Igloid like Grunt. It took only a few seconds. Davidia now had a mouth as large as a dinner plate. She opened it wide to see what it felt like. It created an enormous draught. The tonsil tango was about to happen. Scatter’s eyes revealed surprise. The young girl had become a hideous creature like Grunt. Even with his nasty attitude, two of the same were too much to bear.
‘Where am I going? What’s happening?’ Scatter complained as his head and eyes became elongated and distorted. He was being drawn into the abyss in Davidia’s face. Her mouth oper – ated as a huge, industrial vacuum cleaner. Scatter was being drawn closer and closer.
‘Not the Rock of Yocklaw,’ he screamed as Davidia completely inhaled him. Scatter ceased to exist.
Grunt immediately took Davidia by the hand and they ran down the Tunnel of Appraisal. Their many legs rotated like spinning wheels.
‘Stop,’ yelled Grunt. He thumped her on her back so hard, that she exhaled Scatter like a ni
ne force gale into the Tunnel of Appraisal, gone forever.
‘Did you have to hit me so hard?’ whinged Davidia, breathless after having ejected all that wind. ‘Why do I feel so strange?’ She hadn’t seen herself in Igloid form before.
‘That’s the last we’ll see of that nasty demon,’ said Grunt, pleased that they had tricked it. ‘The valley and town are saved.’
‘I can see in the dark,’ said a surprised Davidia. ‘How far into the tunnel are we?’
‘We must leave immediately before The Tunnel of Appraisal takes us too.’
The two Igloids headed toward the central cave to safety. Davidia walked past a small alcove in the wall.
‘What’s that, over there?’ she said, pointing with one of her many hands.
Grunt pretended he didn’t notice the alcove. He walked past it. Davidia’s sense of curiosity was pricked. She entered the alcove to find a shelf with a battered tin sitting there, covered by the dust of time.
‘I wonder what this is.’
She picked up the tin, opened the lid and inside there were five trinkets, each made into a letter, all joined together on a chain. Her fingers carefully felt each of them. In her excitement to show Grunt, she whirled quickly around tripping on the floor. She put out her hands to brace for the fall, when she pushed against five jutting rocks each consisting of a cluster of five small stones. They gave way with her weight. She had unknowingly pressed the Ejector Stones of ancient times, placed there for the purposes of discovery when Grunt’s duty of guardianship was to be terminated.
Everything went black and silent. Davidia felt she was flying. All occupants of the caves were tossed skywards into the unknown. What had she done?
'What did you do?’ asked Grunt, as he tumbled along the ground like a bowling ball.
‘I fell,’ replied an indignant Davidia, who had regained her body shape into that of a young girl. The strangest thing of all was that she could now communicate with Grunt and all other life forms by thoughts alone, without touching. Her transformation in and out of being an Igloid had endowed her with this extraordinary ability.
‘What’s that you are holding?’
‘I found it. It’s mine.’
‘May I see what it is?’
‘Yes, but it’s still mine.’ Davidia’s possessive power of “finder’s keepers” was a child’s game in learning about ownership.
‘Do you know what it is?’
‘It’s a dirty old tin, see,’ she said, offering it to Grunt.
He opened it. Inside, there were five small items attached together on a silver chain, tarnished from years of neglect.
‘That’s a necklace,’ said Davidia. ‘I want to wear it.’
Grunt’s fingers caressed each item carefully. As he did, a strange feeling overcame him. Tears began to roll off his body. He shook uncontrollably and before long he was standing in a huge puddle.
‘Mr Grunt, you are leaking water everywhere. Can’t you turn off your tap?’
He didn’t fully understand what had happened to him, but the feeling of family invaded his soul. It was a feeling he had never experienced before. What did it mean?
‘Can I wear it, please, Mr Grunt?’ pressed Davidia.
‘No. Somehow I feel that this is mine from long ago. I can’t explain it.’
Davidia pouted. Her angelic looks didn’t win her the prize this time.
‘Look, it spells your name. G is a grate, R is a rake, U is a …, I don’t know that one, N is a nail and T is a talisman. My mum told me what a talisman is. She wanted to buy one for my next birthday. She might have it for me when I return home. Do you have birthdays, Mr Grunt?’
‘There seems to be many differences in our worlds. I can’t remember much about mine. I can only recall my life in the Rock of Yocklaw. Do you think there was anything before that?’
‘We all start somewhere, Mr Grunt. I began when I was born. I suppose we all began somewhere.’
Grunt placed the necklace around his neck. He felt it belonged there. Unknown to him, it sent messages through time to a far away place, where his progress could be followed. His father had the necklace placed in the Rock of Yocklaw at the time of his banishment, in the hope that one day, if ever found, it would lead Grunt to discover who and what he really was. He had to trace his path and regain the memory that had been denied him. Homesickness would have hindered his task of being a guardian for good. He had now embarked upon a journey of no return, not understanding what it was about, or aware where it would lead. A blank canvas needed to be covered in positive brush strokes. His painting would be his memories. A foreboding feeling ran through the Irrid camp. The loss of Scatter was harshly felt by the evil forces who wanted to conquer the five valleys.
‘They will pay for this,’ said the head Irrid. ‘No place is safe from our evil. We will destroy the goodness in them.’
A small airborne missile dive-bombed them a few times. It was Batbit trying to attract their attention. His unmistakable screech finally succeeded.
‘How did we end up here? What are we doing here? It’s a dangerous land. I have flown around for a look and I don’t like what I see. We might be in danger.’
‘Davidia gave us the flight plan to allow the visit.’
‘Next time try another flight path. This destination is going to be unhealthy. I feel it in my wings. Look, they are ready to fall off.’
Batbit was aerodynamically designed to fly so fast he was invisible in flight. Only his screeching indicated where he was. He was a conniving, clever, army general of Batforce, who had in their transfer into the new valley, been transformed elsewhere. His two extra large revolving eyes gave 360-degree vision at all times. Grunt was his only true friend and now Davidia was added to the list.
‘Be careful,’ warned Batbit, as he zoomed off to undertake further surveillance.
‘I’m hungry,’ complained Davidia. ‘Where are the fast food outlets? Dad always took me there once a week for a treat.’
‘I doubt if you will find one of those here, whatever they might be,’ replied Grunt.
‘I want something to eat.’
‘Stop the demands. We have to work out what this odd place is.’
‘There’s a sign over there.’
It read, The Valley of Gragslew (also known as Halfwit Valley). Rules of entry. There are none.
‘It’s a silly name,’ said Davidia.
‘Silly or not, we have to discover where we are and what it means.’
‘It means I go hungry.’
The landscape consisted of a patchwork of square shaped paddocks, all the same size. There was an enormous tree in one corner of each square. A small dividing fence half a metre high was the perimeter of every paddock. The fields were under cultivation. Crops of many different grass varieties proliferated. There didn’t seem to be anyone working in the fields. It was a picture perfect, angelic countryside.
‘This is beautiful,’ said Davidia, feeling happier now that her hunger pangs were disappearing.
‘Batbit said we should be careful. If he doesn’t like it, then we should take notice.’
‘What nonsense.’
‘When we arrived did you see any life forms?’ asked Grunt. Physically they were alone, but it didn’t feel like they were. The many pores on his body bristled with uncertainty. His body censors were on high alert. He carried no weapons to defend himself, but an Igloid carried a peculiar form of defence; momentary invisibility and ability to communicate to land forms, such as the ground, trees and any life form.
‘It might be uninhabited,’ said Davidia, enjoying a playful run amongst the crops.
Suddenly, Davidia tripped over something hidden in the crops. She heard a hiss and saw the crops being flattened as something ran quickly toward a tree. Grunt turned just in time to see her fall over. He ran to her rescue.
‘Are you okay?’
‘It happens all the time when I play hide and seek. Did you see it?’
‘See what? I only saw
you fall over.’
‘Something ran over to that tree. Let’s take a look.’
They walked cautiously over to the tree, when suddenly from the trunk out ran three creatures hissing as they went, jumping over the fence and into the next tree.
‘What were those things?’ asked Davidia, never having seen such unusual shapes before. ‘How rude to hiss, it’s not good manners.’
Grunt stopped dead. He had no desire to chase them. It felt like trouble.
‘Hisssslo,’ said a strange voice nearby.
They turned to be confronted by a creature swaying like a palm tree in high wind. It circled the two of them from a safe distance. It was assessing their danger levels to it. A short time passed. It was like a stand-off in an old western, with no one daring to make that first fatal move.
‘Hisssslo,’ it repeated.
‘Maybe it’s saying hello,’ said Davidia. ‘Hisssslo to you too.’
The creature sneered. Its eyes kept a fixated stare at them. What was it thinking? Grunt approached it. The creature jumped backwards in fright, fearing an attack. Grunt stood still.
‘Hisssslo to you,’ said Grunt.
This settled the timid creature.
‘Can you tell us where we are? What is this place?’ asked Grunt, hoping that a chat would allay any fear of a fight. The creature understood.
‘This is the Valley of Gragsssslew. We are called Grags. My name is Gragga. This is a stepping stone valley, the first of five in our world. I haven’t visited any of the others yet, but I’m sure there are edibles there too. You look delicious. There are many meals in you. My fellow Grags love a good roast and so do I.’ He began to salivate at the thought.
‘Not this dark, Gragga, we are visiting. Perhaps tomorrow,’ said the other half of Gragga.
‘Who are you? Where did you come from?’ asked Davidia stunned that a second creature was communicating from the same body frame. The second conversation was with Gragga’s other half.
‘I’m Gorgo, the dominant female side of the family. Gragga is all male and needs advice most times.’
‘I do not,’ he replied.
