by Simon Cherry
“Done,” she said.
“Now you,” said Eddy. “And quickly.”
The chick was getting closer, snapping at the air with its beak.
Hen turned.
“There isn’t time to put my wings on,” she said. “If we try, it’s going to get both of us. You’ve got to go.”
“No,” said Eddy. “I can’t leave you.”
“It’s better that one of us manages to get away,” said Hen, her voice catching in her throat. “Go.”
Eddy pulled himself up onto the rim of the nest.
“Come here,” he said, dragging Hen up after him. “I’m not going anywhere without you.” He held his arms out towards her. “Oh dear. Look. I know you’re a girl and stuff, and I’m a boy and…” He could feel himself blushing. “And my hands are all covered in bird muck… But do you mind if I…um…hug you?”
“Yes, I do,” said Hen. “I know what you are doing. And we don’t even know if these wings will take the weight of one of us, never mind two. Just go.”
The chick was almost on them, its beak jabbing towards Hen.
“Well, then, I’m very sorry,” Eddy stammered.
He grabbed her with both arms.
“I said no,” said Hen. “Save yourself.”
But Eddy held on to her as tightly as he could.
And jumped.
They were falling.
They were holding on hard to each other, the wind was WHOOSHing in their ears, and they were falling fast through a bright, clear sky.
Eddy could feel his heart pounding in his chest. And Hen’s heart pounding against it.
They had tried their best idea, and it looked like it just wasn’t best enough.
Flap, flap, splat, Eddy thought.
Or in this case, whoosh, whoosh, bash.
And then suddenly there was a pull on his shoulders, a pull that tugged them back so hard that he thought his arms might be dragged from their sockets.
And then the wind was not whooshing so strongly.
And they were floating.
“They work!” Eddy yelled. “The wings work! Wooooooo-hooooo!”
“Ow!” said Hen. “That was right in my ear. But I’ll let you off. Wooooooo-hooooo!”
“Any idea how to steer?” said Eddy.
“That’s something for the mark 2 design,” said Hen. “We just have to hope the wind treats us kindly.”
It did.
They began to spiral downwards, towards the open plain.
“I’ve thought of something else for mark 2,” said Eddy. “Landing gear. Hang on!”
The ground rushed up towards them. Eddy felt it scrape against his toes, and started running as fast as he could. The wind lifted them again for a moment, and then they crumpled down and slid across the dry floor. One wing snagged on a large rock, spinning them round as they came to a halt.
They let go of each other and lay on their backs, with the sun on their faces.
“I feel a bit sick,” said Hen. “It was all that looping round that did it.”
“Sick is good,” said Eddy. “Because it means we’re alive.”
Hen sat up slowly.
“I’m afraid you’ve got a lot of bird poo on your back,” said Eddy. “From where I was holding on to you with my grubby hands.”
“Never mind that,” said Hen. “We did it.”
“You did it,” said Eddy. “With your brilliant design.”
“We did it,” said Hen. “With your idea.”
“Hey!” Six appeared from behind a nearby pile of boulders, followed by Claudius, with Mitzee on his back. “We saw you coming down. That was amazing. Are you okay?”
“Very okay,” said Eddy. “But we need to get out of here and away from those birds. I don’t want to have to go through anything like that ever again.”
“Keep to where the boulders are,” said Six. “We can pick a path through them. That way, the birds won’t be able to see us most of the time. And if they do see you, you can huddle between the big stones where they can’t reach you.”
And that was how they made their way across the plain towards Grimglower Castle. Three times they saw a great bird circling overhead and hid from view, and once they were spotted and had to take shelter until their attacker gave up trying to grab them. But eventually they left the plain behind, and travelled along a green river valley until they arrived safely at a clump of trees that gave them a clear view of the castle.
It stood on a hill ahead of them, a sprawling, squat black building surrounded by a tall wall. A large iron gate set into a guard tower offered the only entrance.
“Now,” said Eddy. “We need to work out how to get in.”
“Piece of cake,” said Six. “These people are amateurs. Over there.” He pointed to a stretch of wall. “See that fig tree? You can put up as much wall as you like, but if you leave a tree growing just outside like that, you might as well post a big sign saying ‘Come on in’. We climb the tree, hop over the wall, and bingo. All we need is a distraction to make sure the guards at the front gate are looking the other way.”
“That sounds like a job for me,” said Mitzee.
“Are you sure?” said Eddy. “What are you going to do?”
“You’ll see,” said Mitzee. “I can be very distracting when I try. ”
“But first we’ll have to sit here quietly and wait for it to get dark,” said Six. He glanced up at the sky. “It shouldn’t take long. Round here the sun sets very suddenly.”
Eddy, Hen and Six watched from a distance as Mitzee led Claudius towards the front gate of the palace.
“Halt!” shouted a guard. “Sorry, miss. But you can’t come in without a pass.”
“I don’t want to get in,” said Mitzee, with a sob. “I just need some help. I think my camel has got a puncture, and I’ve no idea what to do. Boo-hoo, boo-hoo.”
“Why does she have to pretend to be like that?” said Hen. “I’m a girl so I’m just pretty and helpless! It’s rubbish. She was just the same with that man at the shoe stall in the market.”
Mitzee was already surrounded by guards who were all eager to sort out her problem – and paying no attention to anything else around them.
“Rubbish or not, it’s working,” said Six. “Time to go.” Leaving Mitzee and Claudius to their job, he ran towards the fig tree in a low crouch. Eddy and Hen followed. It took seconds for them to clamber into the branches, hop onto the top of the wall, hang down on the other side and drop to the ground.
“And there we are,” said Six. “What did I tell you? I may be getting old, but I’ve still got it.”
At that second, a glare of light flooded the patch of ground they were standing on.
“Actually,” a deep, gruff voice boomed, “I think you’ll find that we’ve got you.”
Eddy peered through the glare of the light that was shining in his eyes. He could just make out the figure of the big, burly guard who had spoken. He could also make out the shape of the long sword in his right hand. And the other guards standing behind him.
“The old fig tree trap,” the Chief Guard said. “Works every time. We don’t even bother posting anyone around the rest of the palace. Everyone who tries to break in comes that way thinking they are being really clever. Until we grab them.”
“Ah,” said Six. “Ooops.”
“But we weren’t breaking in,” said Eddy, trying to think of something that might get them out of the mess they had just blundered into. “No…um…our kitten climbed up the tree and fell over the wall and we came to look for her. Have you seen her, please? Small? Tabby? Mews a lot?”
“Yeah, right,” said the Chief Guard, utterly unimpressed. “Still, it makes a change. Most people say they’ve kicked their ball over. Come on, we’re taking you to see the Duke.”
Surrounded by guards and with no chance to escape, Eddy, Hen and Six tramped down the dark passageways of Grimglower Castle. From floor to ceiling everything was black. About as black as the thoughts in Eddy’s
head.
He remembered how sour the Duke of Grimglower had been when they had met him in the Emperor’s palace. Then again, he thought with a sudden burst of hope, the way the Emperor had treated him was enough to put anyone in a huff. Maybe the Duke wouldn’t turn out to be so awful after all.
“How is the Duke today?” he asked. “Is he in a good mood?”
“HA!” the Chief Guard snorted with laughter. “Good mood? The Duke? Hey, lads, how can you tell if the Duke’s grumpy?”
“Check if he’s breathing!” the guards chorused back.
“I heard he’s in a particularly bad mood today,” said the Chief Guard. “Something to do with a tin of baked beans he can’t open.”
“Why doesn’t he just have spaghetti hoops instead?” asked one of the guards.
“If your brain was any smaller,” the Chief Guard said to him, “we could stick you in a pot and use you as a plant. Hup, two, three, four!” he added, in time to their marching.
“You’re in trouble, that’s for sure!” the guards responded.
“Five, six, seven, eight!”
“You’re going to meet a dreadful fate!”
“That’s really not helping,” said Eddy.
“I know,” said the Chief Guard. “That’s why we do it.”
They rounded a corner and entered a huge room. The Duke was sitting on a raised platform. His right foot, which was wrapped in a black bandage, was resting outstretched on a small black stool. Attendants clustered round him.
“Halt!” the Chief Guard instructed his men. “Your High and Mighty Worshipfulness, may I—”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” the Duke shouted back, without so much as a glance in his direction. “I’ve got a tin that I can’t open and my foot hurts!”
“He tried kicking the tin earlier,” one of the attendants muttered to the Chief Guard. “It didn’t go well.”
“So,” said the Duke, “we have tried hammering this tin, we have tried drilling into it, we have attacked it with saws, dropped rocks on it from the tallest tower in the castle, had guards jump up and down on it in heavy boots, shot it with muskets, beaten it with sticks, poked it with pickaxes and had an elephant sit on it – how is the elephant, by the way?”
“Bottom still very sore, Your Mightiness,” one of the attendants replied, “but the ointment seems to be working.”
“HMMPF!” the Duke hmmpfed. “Have I missed anything out?”
“Kicking it, Mightiness,” said another attendant.
“Which we will not mention again,” said the Duke. “And after doing all that there is still not a single scratch, not a single dent, and not a single crack in this wretched tin. Has anyone got any other ideas?”
“Yes, Mightiness,” came a voice from the ranks of the guards. “Spaghetti hoops.”
“Take whoever that was,” said the Duke, “put him somewhere dark and damp and feed him bread and water for a week. Oh, and make sure that wherever you put him has got lots of spiders in it. Now – anyone else?”
“I think I have the answer, Mightiness.” A man wearing a shining breastplate and helmet stepped forward. There was a drumming of footsteps and rumble of wheels on the black marble floor, as a group of soldiers appeared through a doorway. They were hauling a carriage with a long cannon mounted on it, its mouth shaped like a dragon’s head.
“I present the pride of the army, the mighty thunderer, frightener of foes and spitter of fire – the dragon cannon! I propose that we load the tin into it and fire it at the wall. Surely nothing could withstand such a blast?”
“Then what are you waiting for, General?” said the Duke. “Get on with it.”
On the word of command, the soldiers pointed the cannon at the far wall of the room. Then they pushed the tin into the cannon’s open mouth, rammed it down the barrel, lit the fuse and stood back.
There was a flash of flame, an almighty
BOOM,
a thunderous CRACK,
and a billow of smoke. The boom echoed off the marble walls, setting Eddy’s ears ringing, and almost deafening him.
Almost.
He could just hear the Duke shouting.
“That noise has given me a terrible headache! My foot hurts and I’ve got a terrible headache!”
The smoke slowly cleared, revealing the far wall. With a bit missing.
“You’ve blown a hole in my castle!” the Duke yelled. “My foot hurts, I’ve got a terrible headache and there’s a hole in my castle! I hope for your sake, General, that you’ve done the trick with that tin. Go and find it!”
The gun crew clambered through the hole in the wall, bumping into each other and getting wedged together as they tried to get away from the angry Duke as quickly as possible.
“Now then!” the Duke spun round on his chair to see what was so important that the Chief Guard had interrupted him. His sore foot fell off the stool it had been resting on and bumped on the ground.
“Ow! I really, really wish I hadn’t done that,” he shouted. “So who have we got here then?” He looked down at Eddy, Hen and Six.
Eddy sensed that this might not be absolutely the very best time to be brought in front of him.
And he was right.
“They broke in,” said the Chief Guard.
“I tried to explain,” said Eddy. “Our kitten climbed over the wall…”
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” said the Duke. “Do I look like a fool?” He stared hard at Eddy. “I’ve seen you before. And the girl. You were at the Emperor’s palace. I suppose he sent you to get his genie back. Are you really the best he could find? Two children and an old man?” He snorted down his nose, making a sound that was almost a joyless laugh. “Well, he’s going to be very, very disappointed.”
“We’ve found the tin!” a voice yelled from the far end of the room. The General trotted up, puffing slightly from his short run.
“Did it work?” said the Duke. “Is it open?”
“Um…” the General hesitated. “Not quite.”
“How not quite? Battered? Dented? Scratched?”
“It’s a bit sooty on one side.”
“Sooty! That’s not not quite! That’s nothing! Give it to me.”
The General handed it over. The Duke held it up.
“This is what you came for, isn’t it?” He waved it in front of Eddy, Hen and Six. “Well, you’re not going to have it.”
“It’s no use to you,” said Eddy. “You’ll never get the Genie out. Why not do the decent thing and give it back to the Emperor so he can carry on providing everything his people need?”
“I’m not interested in decent,” said the Duke. “Decent is weak – just like the Emperor and his pampered people. Treat them mean, that’s my way. If I can’t have the Genie, nobody will. You see that hole over there?” He pointed across the room to where a large iron grate had been placed over a dark, round opening in the ground.
“The old castle well. Do you have any idea how deep it is?”
“No,” said Eddy. “But…”
“Quiet!” shouted the Duke. “General! Take this wretched baked bean tin and drop it down the well.”
“Wait!” said Eddy.
But the General didn’t. He took the tin, trotted over to the well, pulled back the grate, and dropped it.
There was silence for a few seconds.
And for a lot more seconds.
And it still hadn’t quite finished.
“That’s how deep it is,” said the Duke. “Deep enough to make sure that tin and its genie will never be seen again.”
“Why…?” Eddy began.
“Stop bleating,” said the Duke. “Guards, take them away.”
The guards grabbed Eddy, Hen and Six by the shoulders and marched them out of the room.
They were just passing through the doorway when the Duke called after them.
“Oh, and I almost forgot. Execute them at dawn.”
“I’m sorry,” said Eddy. “It’s all my fault. First the
mess in Tidemark Bay, and now this.”
He, Hen and Six were sitting on the floor of a dim and dusty room in a far corner of Grimglower Castle. Two guards stood inside the room by the door.
No one replied to Eddy. Hen and Six were too scared and gloomy, and neither of the guards had anything to say. The only sound in the room was one of a stone rubbing along the blade of a sword as one of the guards sharpened it.
“Could you stop that, please?” said Eddy. “It’s really getting on my nerves.” He was trying to think of something – anything – that might get them out alive. But all that was in his head was that repetitive rasping sound.
“Bit touchy, aren’t you?” said the guard.
“Are you surprised?” said Eddy.
“And after all we’ve done to make you comfortable,” said the other guard.
“Comfortable?” said Eddy.
“You’ve got your bed, haven’t you?”
“It’s a blanket on the ground,” said Eddy.
“That’s all we get,” said the guard. “If it’s good enough for us, it’s good enough for you.”
“Besides,” said the second guard, “it’s only for one night.”
The pair of them chuckled.
“What about a last wish?” said Six. “Don’t condemned prisoners always get a last wish?”
“Go on, then,” said the first guard. “Tell us what it is and we’ll see what we can do.”
“You’re going soft,” said the second guard.
“I’ll tell you what I want,” said Six. “I want to swap places with you.” He pointed at the second guard.
“Nice try,” said the second guard. “No chance.”
“What about you two?” The first guard looked at Eddy and Hen. “Have you got any last wishes?”
Wishes, thought Eddy. It was wishes that had got them into all this in the first place. What could he do with a wish now? No magic this time. But could he trick the guards into bringing something that they could use to get out of there? This was his one chance. He racked his brain trying to come up with an idea.
