Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) (30 page)

‘Grunge, what is happening to the Myrmidots?’ asked Bligh. ‘This isn’t like them! They’ve lost their minds!’

Hazlitt and Edith steered their horses between Achillia and the angry townsfolk. Everyone – Myrmidot, Beadle and Muddle – watched them. Hazlitt waited until the noise had died.

‘Friends,’ he said, ‘you are Myrmidots – good and clever people who want only what is best for everyone. But maybe you have not been led as you should have been. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps you should elect a new Lord Mayor.’

That certainly gave the Myrmidots something to think about. Before they could respond, however, a voice came from the far side of the crowd.

‘Hello,’ cried Kevin. ‘Something happening?’

Chapter 15

A Pillar of Blue Fire

H
azlitt’s eyes widened in surprise. Kevin strolled towards the mound, as if he was returning from an afternoon’s walk. Behind him trotted Flyte and Clash. Quick fluttered above the Muddles, then swooped down and landed on Reach’s shoulder.

‘Hi, Brian,’ Kevin said, waving to Beadleburg’s Factotum. ‘Hello, Megan.’

Megan ran to him and hugged him. ‘Oh, Kevin, I’m so glad you’re OK. We’ve all been so worried!’

Brian truly was happy to see Kevin. But as he watched Megan hug the long-lost Beadle, he couldn’t help wishing that Megan wasn’t quite so happy to see him.

‘Kevin!’ called out Bligh. ‘Thank the bells you’re OK.’

Grunge rushed from the mound. He stumbled, rolled and came to rest in front of Flyte.

‘Where’s Crimson?’ he asked anxiously.

‘She’s OK, Grunge. She’ll be along. But don’t say anything when they ask Kevin,’ Flyte growled softly.

‘I see you picked up another Muddle in your travels,’ said Hazlitt. ‘And my spoorhound.’

‘Where is Spite?’ asked Edith, her voice hard.

Kevin looked at her. She was too angry to see it but there was sorrow and regret in the Beadle’s face. ‘I’m sorry. Spite . . . he’s dead.’

Edith’s eyes went cold and she stared at Kevin. Then her eyes fixed on Flyte. ‘You killed my hound, didn’t you?’ she said. Her voice was low and full of menace.

‘She didn’t want to,’ said Kevin. ‘She didn’t have a choice.’

Edith didn’t answer but the look she gave Flyte made it clear that she intended to make the wolf pay for Spite’s death.

Hazlitt interrupted. For the first time, there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. ‘You left with another Muddle, Crimson. Where is she?’

‘We were separated. I’m not exactly sure where she is right now,’ Kevin replied – which was the perfect truth. He knew Crimson planned something, but he had no idea what it was.

Edith looked from Flyte to Clash. ‘Clash, here!’ she commanded the spoorhound.

Clash took a step towards Edith, hesitated, then sat next to Flyte.

It was the last straw for Edith. Her fury bubbled over. ‘See!’ she screamed. ‘The Muddles have stolen my hound! Like they stole your pets!’

Hazlitt laid a hand on Edith’s arm. She turned on him, her face contorted with anger. Even Hazlitt’s dark, warning glare wasn’t enough to calm her. She wrenched her arm free and pointed to Kevin.

‘And they stole my Beadle!’ she shouted.

Everyone stared at her. They were angry, they were irritable, and they didn’t know why they were angry and irritable, which made them all the more angry and irritable. But none of that anger was enough to overcome their belief that people do not belong to someone else. They knew that as certain as they knew . . . well, what a fulcrum was, the weight-to-effort ratio of a three-cog pulley and lots of other things that were dear to a Myrmidot’s heart.

‘How exactly is he yours?’ asked Piper from the crowd. ‘Kevin is the . . . the . . .’

‘Factotum,’ prompted Brian. ‘Just of Mint,’ he added quickly.

‘. . . Factotum of Mint. So, if you say he’s yours, how did you come by him?’

Edith knew she had gone too far.

‘I didn’t mean I own him,’ she started to explain. ‘But we had him. He was in our custody – I mean, our protection.’

‘Did you need protecting?’ Copper asked Kevin.

‘No,’ said Kevin. ‘I’m pretty sure I didn’t. But perhaps it would be a good idea to ask them why they would want me at all.’

‘Well?’ said Bligh. ‘Of what interest is Mint’s Factotum to you?’

Anger is not like a river that flows in one direction. Anger is more like a mist: it goes in whichever direction the wind blows it. And the prevailing wind suddenly changed. It was blowing directly towards Hazlitt and Edith. And the pair knew it. With that one simple statement, they had made the Myrmidots stop arguing with each other. They had made the Myrmidots forget about a new Lord Mayor and about the Muddles.

Hazlitt tried to regain control. ‘Kevin broke the law of The Place. It was our job to take him back.’

‘What law was that?’ asked Bligh.

‘He betrayed his Factor,’ said Hazlitt. ‘A treacherous, murderous betrayal.’

‘You’re talking about Amelia!’ Brian shouted. His memories of Amelia dangling him over the blue fire were still very fresh. ‘He didn’t betray Amelia. If it wasn’t for Kevin, she would have roasted me!’

‘I will not argue with a Beadle!’ Edith yelled. ‘Who cares about one marshmallowed Beadle?’

Hazlitt tried to restrain her. ‘Edith, be quiet. Let me handle this.’

Edith turned on him. ‘Handle this! This isn’t going to work! If we had done things my way we wouldn’t be wasting time arguing with a bunch of stupid Beadles and these traitorous Myrmidots!’

‘Now, Edith . . .’ Hazlitt began, but Edith pulled her horse away from him.

‘I want them punished! All of them! That’s what we came here for!’ she cried. ‘Amelia was our sister!’

Edith whirled her horse round so that she faced Kevin. She stood in the stirrups and pointed her crop at him. ‘The hounds could have dealt with him. And then they could have dealt with every one of those who killed her!’ She pointed her riding crop at Grunge. ‘You!’ She waved her crop at Brian, Copper and Dot. ‘And you three!’ she cried. ‘And that silly hag Aunt Mag! As for you,’ she said fiercely, looking at Miniver, ‘you would have been no match for the hounds. And that would have left just Crimson.’

Edith turned savagely on Hazlitt. ‘But no, you wanted to take Kevin back to The Place to make an example of him to all our Beadles! And you wanted to punish Myrmidia for what they did hundreds of years ago! You’re a fool, Hazlitt, just like our sister Amelia was. But I will have justice!’

Edith pointed her crop again at Kevin. ‘Chaos! Strike!’ she called to her hounds. ‘NOW!’

Like bolts from a crossbow, the hounds sprang. It was no more than fifty paces to Kevin but before they had gone ten, Clash was in front of the Beadle. Flyte was there, too, and Miniver and Eugene. Yet the hounds came on.

Clash barked sharply once, then twice. Chaos and Strike skidded to a tumbling halt at his paws. Clash bent his head and nuzzled his brothers. Soft whines and growls came from his throat. Chaos and Strike rose to their feet. Chaos’s hackles were still up, stiff and spiky along his neck, but Strike bowed his head and his soft growls joined those from Clash.

‘Chaos! Strike!’ Edith screamed. ‘Get him!’

‘No!’

The familiar voice rang across the field. Crimson stepped from an alley between the factories and walked to the hounds. Muddlemarsh’s fire officer knelt beside Clash and rested one hand on his head. Her other hand reached out and scratched Strike’s ear. She looked at Chaos. The hound stared back at her and Crimson could see doubt and sadness in his eyes. Clash continued to nuzzle and growl gently, and eventually Chaos lowered his head. When he looked up, he licked Clash’s face and growled softly. Then the hound spun round and sped towards Edith.

‘Oh, Chaos, no,’ murmured Crimson. ‘Don’t.’

Edith saw her hound streaking across the grass. She watched, unable to believe what was happening, as Chaos uncoiled his hind legs and leapt straight for her throat.

Before Chaos could reach her, Hazlitt was there. The hound was in mid-air when Hazlitt hit him with the heavy butt of his riding crop. Chaos yelped. His body twisted and flipped and he crashed to the ground next to Edith’s horse. The mare reared and bucked in fright. Still stunned, Chaos struggled to stand. Again, the horse lashed out in panic. A hoof struck Chaos’s head. The hound was thrown through the air, and thudded lifeless on to the grass.

Crimson held Clash and Strike. ‘No, don’t,’ she whispered to them. The two hounds stood quivering, looking at Chaos’s body. Then they lifted their muzzles and howled, Crimson’s arms round their necks.

Edith’s face was white. She looked down at Chaos’s still body. She screamed, the sound carrying over the howl of the hounds. Then she spurred her horse into a run, straight at Crimson.

The Land erupted. The dome of grass and concrete covering the underground furnace shook. Rumbling tremors, like the shuddering footsteps of a giant, came from the room below. Everyone on the mound scattered. The Myrmidots heard their factories groan as the tremors grew. The animals reared, took flight or crouched on the ground, trembling.

Edith saw Crimson and the other Muddles run in the direction of the factories. With her knees, she guided her horse towards Crimson. As she passed the mound, an explosion from below ripped it apart. Soil and concrete spewed skyward. A cloud of soil, metal and concrete dust shot forth, raining debris on the field.

Edith’s horse slewed sideways and lost its footing. Edith kicked her feet free of the stirrups and threw herself from the saddle as the horse sprawled on the quaking ground. Shards of concrete and slivers of metal showered her, cutting her face and hands. The dust filled her eyes and blinded her. Winded from the fall, Edith gasped for air. Dirt filled her mouth and throat and she coughed and retched. The explosion had deafened her and everything was silent.

She staggered to her feet. She could feel the trembling of the ground under foot lessen as she lurched forward. She stumbled on a piece of concrete or rock. She thought she heard someone calling her name, but it was dull and faint. She strained to hear it. Again, She thought she heard her name. It sounded like Hazlitt. Where was he? With the hem of her jacket, she wiped her eyes. They watered as she smeared dirt across them. But that grey blurriness was better than the black of blindness and she wiped her eyes once more.

Slowly, the world came back into focus. For the third time she heard her name. She was sure it was Hazlitt and his call sounded like a warning. About what? she wondered. At last, the swirling grey and brown was clearing. She blinked rapidly several times and the last of the dirt that blinded her was washed away.

She stood on the edge of a huge crater, looking down into the ruins of the furnace room. Her heart pounded as she realised how close she had come to falling into it, down on to the concrete floor many metres below, among the twisted pipes and broken gauges.

A glow in the centre of the room caught her attention. The furnace was a melted mass of white-hot metal, so hot that it was almost transparent. Edith could see the outline of the fire stone under it, freeing itself from the metal. She heard a water pipe creak, then saw it burst apart. She watched as the last thin membrane of metal melted and the fire stone finally escaped; and the water from the pipe flowed towards it.

Edith heard Hazlitt call her again. And in that same instant, she knew what would happen next. She turned to the sound of his voice and saw him staggering towards her. She held up her hand to stop him . . .

Air fed the stone and a column of blue fire exploded from its surface. Straight as a laser beam, the pillar of flame rose up out of the room and through the crater in the roof. Seconds later the water reached the stone and washed over it. All the power of the fire rock was unleashed and the pillar became a blazing tower of blue.

Hazlitt saw Edith, her hand raised as if to stop him, silhouetted for a moment against the terrible wall of blue fire that rose from the crater. Before she could utter a sound, the flames engulfed her, and she was gone. Hazlitt sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands.

Myrmidots, Muddles and Beadles watched in horror and awe. Even from a hundred paces, they could feel the heat of the fire. Some stood like stone statues, not believing what they witnessed. Some cried and some turned away, stepping back into the shadows of the factories. The animals gathered on the field beyond fled in terror. Pets clung to their owners or scratched and bit to get free so they, too, could run. Nobody believed it was possible to stop what had been unleashed. Except one.

Crimson felt the fire calling to her. She could hear its voice as clearly as she could hear the screams and cries of the people around her. But it wasn’t the time. Grimly, she concentrated on locking the voice of the blue fire into a corner of her head. Right now, she had something else to do.

She scanned the row of factories, down to the far corner where they lined the riverbank. There, waiting for her as she had asked, were Touch and Cres. Both stood transfixed by the blue fire. She ran to them.

‘Did you have time?’ she asked.

They continued to stare at the blazing tower.