Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) (32 page)
Read Furnaces of Forge (The Land's Tale) Online
Authors: Alan Skinner
Tags: #novel, #Childrens, #12+, #Muddlemarsh, #Fantasy, #Muddles
After a breakfast of coffee and muffins there is music and dancing and games. The entertainment lasts far into the night, when story-telling takes place. Not even the youngest Muddle has ever fallen asleep before the last ‘The End’ has been said and the last camp fire has gone out.
On this particular Roasting Day, the Muddles had taken special pains to invite some of their neighbours. For on this Roasting Day, the Muddles had decided they had something else beside the harvest to celebrate.
When dawn came that morning, the Muddles had greeted the Beadles’ red bus. Bligh, Brian, Megan, Kevin and Aunt Mag had been met with cheerful hellos and heartfelt hugs. A few minutes later, Shift had arrived with the guests from Forge: Achillia, Beatrice, Copper, Dot, Touch and Cres. There had been more hellos and many, many more hugs.
With breakfast over, the games had begun. Wave had just put his shooter to his mouth when a small bird-shaped cloud had drifted across the sky. The air had been filled with a hazy shimmer as the Mix came over the Muddles.
So Wave had won the Bean Shoot, though Copper did point out that Cape competed twice, or at least, one-and-a-third times.
The Bean Run was next and a horde of Muddle children persuaded Achillia to compete. Contestants had to run from the kiln to the coffee plantation and back again with a coffee bean balanced on their nose. Young Kite was expert at the Bean Run and was favourite to win. And win he did, though he was hard-pressed to hold off a determined challenge from Forge’s Lord Mayor, who discovered that a slight bend in her nose was the perfect size for a coffee bean.
After the race, Achillia found a place under a tree, where she sat to catch her breath and watch. Nearby, she saw Dot with Leaf, Reach and Miniver, receiving her first make-over. She smiled to see Beatrice sitting in the middle of a circle of Muddles, playing Grunge’s clarinet while the Muddles sang. She watched Patch throwing a ball for Clash and Strike to chase. They had taken a liking to Muddlemarsh’s pirate and now everywhere Patch went, the spoorhounds trotted beside him.
In a clearing at the end of the plantation, she saw Touch and Cres surrounded by a group of young Muddles. The Muddles were urging the apprentices to tell them how they had made a prison to hold the stone of blue fire.
‘It was nothing,’ said Touch. ‘Really, we didn’t do much.’
‘Please,’ urged the young Muddles, who thought Touch and Cres were pretty cool. ‘Tell us how you helped captured the blue fire.’
‘OK,’ said Touch, ‘but first, I have to tell you that it was Cres’s idea.’
‘Ooooh,’ said one of the Muddles, who seemed to be a very small blacksmith. ‘I wonder where I can find an idea just for me?’
‘Well,’ said Touch, ‘everyone knows that the blue fire burns most when it has air. And when it has water and air, it burns so that there’s no stopping it. So Cres said we should make sure it can’t get any air.’
‘But there’s air everywhere,’ said a Muddle. ‘Everywhere.’
Touch winked at him. ‘That’s perfectly correct. That’s why Cres said we should make a place where there isn’t any air. So, we took a metal box –’
‘Metal’s the only thing that takes ages for the blue fire to burn,’ explained the little blacksmith, in case any of his friends didn’t know that already.
‘. . . and we made sure that no air could get in.’
‘But it already had air in it,’ said one of the youngsters.
‘That’s right, and that’s where Cres’s brilliant idea came in. She worked out how to get the air out of the box.’ Touch leaned into the circle of Muddles. ‘She took a pair of bellows and fixed them so that instead of blowing air when you squeezed the handles, they sucked air. And we put a small hole in the metal box, just big enough for the tip of the bellows, and when the blue stone was in the box, we squeezed the handles and sucked all the air out of the box. And the stone couldn’t breathe.’
‘Did it die?’ asked one of the Muddles, sounding a bit sad.
‘No, it didn’t die. It just went to sleep so we could take it back where it belonged,’ said Touch.
‘But how did you get it into the box?’
Touch leaned back. ‘I’ll let Cres tell you that part,’ he said.
‘When the great tower of blue fire disappeared, we pulled the wagon carrying the box into the furnace,’ Cres began. ‘It was terrible down there. The room was sooo hot, and the walls and floor were charred and cracked from the heat of the fire. But there, in the middle of the room, was the fire stone.
‘It had been in a thick metal furnace, thicker than any metal ever made, but had burned right through the bottom and was burrowing into the Land itself. But that didn’t stop Touch. He grabbed a long metal bar and pushed it under the stone. And he rested the bar on a broken piece of the furnace and pushed down with all his might. But the stone wouldn’t budge.
‘We were frightened because we knew that at any moment the stone could come to life again. We both pushed on the bar, as hard as we could. Then the stone began to glow very, very faintly and we knew we didn’t have much time. But we also knew we would never get it into the box.’
All the Muddle youngsters sat silent and wide-eyed as Cres went on with her story.
‘We were just about to give up, when a huge paw pushed us gently out of the way, and there was Miniver. She leaned on the bar with all her strength, and suddenly, the stone popped out of its hole. It soared through the air and landed right in the middle of the box.’
‘Like a tiddly-wink!’ cried one of the Muddles.
‘Like a tiddly-wink,’ Cres agreed. ‘After that, it was easy. We closed the box and sealed it; then we squeezed the handles of the bellows until all the air was sucked out. And the blue fire stone was our prisoner.’
The young Muddles cheered and yelled. They cheered Touch and they cheered Cres and they cheered Miniver.
But there was one thing that Cres hadn’t told them, because she and Touch weren’t really sure it had happened. When Miniver had first moved Touch and Cres aside, she had looked at them and growled.
‘Is she here?’ the bear had asked. Touch and Cres pointed to Crimson asleep against the wall.
‘Thank you,’ Miniver had said to them.
Touch and Cres had understood each word Miniver had
growled . . .
From her spot under the tree, Achillia listened to the cheers. She leaned against the trunk, feeling happy for the first time in weeks. She smiled and closed her eyes.
‘Getting refreshed for the next event?’
She opened her eyes. Grunge and Copper grinned at her and sat down.
‘I think I shall retire from sports as undefeated runner-up,’ said Achillia. ‘Thank you for inviting us Grunge.’
The musician smiled. ‘Copper just told me the news of his election,’ he said. ‘Chief Engineer.’
‘He was the right choice after Leonardo had the good sense to resign,’ Achillia replied.
‘He meant well,’ said Copper. ‘He thought Hazlitt and Edith wanted to make up for what Amelia had done.’
‘Do you think Hazlitt has gone back to The Place?’ asked Grunge.
Copper nodded. ‘There’s no sign of him anywhere. When we took the stone back, we looked, but I’m sure he’s gone.’
A group of Muddles called to them to come and join their game of crickle. They looked over. Young Kite chased the crickle ball. He scooped it into his hand, then turned and threw it back to the batter.
Crimson watched the ball coming to her. She swung the bat and watched the ball sail straight past her into the hoop behind her.
‘Another point for me!’ yelled Kite.
Crimson laughed. ‘I think I throw better than I bat!’ she said.
And so the afternoon was spent playing games, eating, drinking bubble water and talking to friends.
When night came and the lanterns shed a golden glow and the light of the campfires danced on their faces, the Muddles gathered to tell their stories.
‘Who will tell the first tale?’ asked Grunge.
At once all the Muddles called out, ‘Patch! Patch can tell the first tale!’
As he did every year, Patch settled himself on a big log in front of the biggest campfire and cleared his throat.
‘OK, me shipmates. What story shall I tells yer?’ he asked.
But Patch knew there was only one tale they wanted that night. And under the pale, grey moon, Patch told the story of how a Muddle called Crimson brought the Meddle River to Forge.
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