The Lampo Circus (25 page)

One fairy whistled a jovial tune and a stall sprang from the ground complete with a spinning tub that produced whopping great cones of mouth-watering ice-cream drizzled with hot fudge sauce and sprinkles. An elf in a tunic blew up colourful balloons and twisted them into the shapes of assorted animals that paraded around making their own distinctive
sounds and jostling one another for air time. A canary tried to peck a worm and the two began to bicker in Balloonspeak, which sounds like a lot of huffing and squeaking. Two sprites pulled little square cushions from their satchels and engaged in a friendly pillow fight. They enjoyed it all the more when the cushions burst and covered them in feathery down. One curly-haired Fada twirled around and from her hair burst a great cloud of exotic butterflies. They landed on the shoulders of the stunned children and tickled them under the chin with their antennae. A little dryad carrying a tin watering can poured water onto the cracked ground and a rosebush sprang up with buds made of fairy floss. The dryad picked some buds and tossed them to the children before trotting off to create a candy-cane shrub.

Some clever dwarves had gathered clumps of dry wood and chiselled and hammered them into clockwork toys. Fidelis herself commanded the clouds above to first darken and then morph into blue whales that spurted water from their blowpipes (aimed strategically at Oslo). Somebody conjured up a slippery slide, whilst
others engaged in games of blind man’s buff and hide-and-seek. Instead of the dust and clatter of battle, the air was filled with cheerful sounds and was abuzz with enchantment. The whole place was so riotous with frivolity the children did not know where to look first and simply stood there in open-mouthed amazement.

Fidelis’s dragon was seized by a volley of uncontrollable sneezes and this time streams of white powder flew from his nostrils and rained over the battlefield. Some of Aldor’s supporters hid behind their shields but could not escape being covered in the floury substance. Gummy Grumbleguts cautiously licked his lips before breaking out in a grin.

‘It’s sherbet,’ he announced, ‘and it’s delicious.’

Thus encouraged, many of the children bent to scoop up the powder in handfuls. They lapped it out of their palms like kittens and squealed in delight as it had been so long since they had tasted the fizzy sour sweetness of sherbet. And this was no cheaply manufactured sherbet that keeps dentists in business; it was the real deal, unlike anything you or I have ever tasted.

Finn and Fennel were the first to peel off their armour and discard their weapons. They dropped them to the ground without a second thought and marched across to join the Fada. More clangs and clatters followed as other children abandoned their weapons. They seemed to forget their fear and darted from one enticement to another, openly tasting the marshmallow blossoms growing on trees. Oslo, Bombasta and Lampo bellowed threats at the children but dared not cross over into the enchanted province.

When Fidelis summoned them, Milli and Ernest wasted no time in running to her side.

‘So this was the plan,’ Milli said, looking at the mixture of relief and glee on the faces of the children around her. ‘But how did you know it would work?’

‘Fairies and children share the same thoughts,’ Fidelis replied simply.

‘Does this mean your magic is stronger than Lord Aldor’s?’ Ernest asked.

‘Smarter, not stronger,’ said Fidelis. ‘If there is one thing villains have difficulty dealing with, it’s anyone having fun. Innocence can be a very powerful weapon—remember that.’

It appeared that Fidelis was right. Lord Aldor’s army were at a loss. Some were already beginning to turn back, their dejected expressions revealing that next time they would think more carefully and ask more probing questions before following their self-professed leader. To the children it really did seem that victory was theirs. What was left for Aldor and his entourage to do other than beat a hasty and humiliating retreat? Hopefully they would return to Rune and never trouble Mirth again.

But as you and I know, Lord Aldor was not the kind of villain to be easily dissuaded. He was far too enraged to slink away to lick his wounds just yet. As far as Aldor was concerned, the games were a setback but the battle was far from over. Looking more intimidating than ever, the wizard drew himself up to his full height. His voice when he spoke shook the very hills with its power.

‘What are you waiting for?’ he roared at his diminishing troops. ‘Destroy every child and take every Fada prisoner. Do not stop for breath until this mission has been accomplished.’

Oslo, in a last effort to salvage what was left of his dignity, charged onto the battlefield—which now resembled a giant fairground—like a goaded bull. With a sword raised alarmingly in one hand and a mace in the other, Oslo hurtled towards the children. He was but inches from them when he stopped abruptly, captivated by Fidelis who stepped entrancingly in front of the cowering children to offer him a bunch of daisies. Oslo looked startled, as if trying to recall where he was and why he was feeling so hostile. The next moment, he was settled cross-legged on the ground plucking petals from the daisies with a far-away look on his weathered face. A kind young Fada offered him a cup of chamomile tea. As he plucked, Ernest could see him mouthing, ‘She loves me…she loves me not.’

When Oslo tired of this, he tucked a couple of flowers behind his ears, then began work on a daisy chain, which required all his concentration as his fingers were thick and clumsy.

Bombasta and Lampo were horrified by Oslo’s conduct. Together they strode to where the gladiator sat and attempted to lambast him to his senses.

‘Get up, you bumbling fool!’ commanded the Contessa.

‘I warn you, we’ll make sure you never work in the Realm again. You’ll be hoeing turnips for a living!’ shouted Lampo.

They jabbed at Oslo with sticks but they might have been invisible for the effect they had on him.

Bombasta shook Oslo so violently that his ponytail came free, then looked up and caught Lampo’s eye. She gave a crafty smile and tapped him suddenly on the shoulder. ‘You’re it!’ she squealed jubilantly and dashed away before he had time to catch her.

So engrossed did the pair become in their game of Tiggy Touchwood, they forgot all about Lord Aldor and his funding for the arts. In order to increase her agility, Bombasta shed her shoes and furs. With her imported silk stockings laddered and her ample bosom swinging she looked as if she had not a care in the world.

So this was the secret power of the fairies, thought Milli and Ernest, broad smiles on their faces. The Fada possessed the power to recreate childhood. Lord Aldor must have hoped that
using children to launch his attack on Mirth would somehow cancel this power. It might have worked too, if one giggling child had not refused to let fear dominate her sense of wonder.

By this time it would be safe to say that Lord Aldor was beyond livid. Rage sent such tremors throughout his entire body he was not sure he would be able to conjure with accuracy. He needed to calm down and approach the problem with the stealth of a cobra. He took a deep breath, created a cloud around himself for cover, and levitated until he was floating directly above the children. Then he scanned the throng for two familiar and repellent faces.

Millipop Klompet and Ernest Perriclof stood in triumph on either side of Queen Fidelis. But Lord Aldor did not see two heroes; he saw two mewling and meddlesome terrors who had foiled his plans yet again. This time he would not be so charitable. His mission to conquer Mirth might be on the verge of collapse but these two would not escape unharmed. With the brats dispatched, any future plans stood a better chance of unfolding. Aldor had many times contemplated
taking on the fairy population single-handedly, but he knew the effort would leave him drained and wasted. Magicians his age did not recover easily from such exertion. But at this moment his desire to conquer all five provinces and amass their wealth and power for himself faded into the background. What he most wanted was the necks of those two puling children who, through sheer luck and some quick thinking, had destroyed his hopes. No one was going to deny him the pleasure of seeing them reduced to a pile of ash.

Milli and Ernest were overcome with relief. Those members of Aldor’s army who had not deserted cavorted alongside them and the battle seemed to have been completely forgotten. Ernest cast an eye around for Lord Aldor, but even he seemed to have given up and retreated to his citadel.

A cluster of children formed around Milli and Ernest and began a celebratory game of Ring a Ring o’ Roses. As they danced they chanted the nursey rhyme the popularity of which had remained impervious to the passing of time.

Ring a ring o’roses

A pocketful of posies

Atishoo! Atishoo!

We all fall down.

Picking up the daisies

Picking up the daisies

Atishoo! Atishoo!

We all stand up.

Milli saw that the faces of the twirling children were bright and lively despite all they had been through. Time seemed to stand still as the children moved like a wave, small hands clasped, hair streaming. They crouched low as they feigned sneezes, then leapt up again—but as they rose a skeletal claw stretched out of the sky and snatched at them. The children screamed and scrambled to avoid the huge hand, but it was not them it wanted.

Milli struggled and kicked against the grip on the leather belt around her tunic. It was lifting her off the ground when Ernest niftily unbuckled it and helped her wriggle free.

A face formed in the clouds above and now Lord Aldor’s eyes bore into them, two bottomless red pits on a stony face. His grey lips retracted to reveal pointed front teeth like fangs and his mouth foamed in rage.

Suddenly, Fidelis was next to them. She stared unflinchingly into the cruel eyes.

‘You have no power over me, Fada Queen,’ the wizard scorned.

‘Be gone, Aldor, there is nothing for you here,’ said Fidelis, standing her ground.

‘I beg to differ,’ the wintry voice replied.

An electrical current flashed through the air and knocked Fidelis to the ground, winding her. Again the withered hand came towards them and this time it caught Milli’s bare arm in its grasp.

‘Game over,’ mocked the voice as Milli’s feet lifted clean off the ground.

‘Hang on to her! Don’t let go!’ shouted Ernest, and the children rallied to Milli, grabbling her feet and pulling her back to earth. A tug of war ensued, with Milli rising several inches into the air and the children hauling her back down.

‘On the count of three, pull really hard!’ shouted Ernest. ‘One, two, three!’

They pulled so hard that they dragged not only Milli but also the wizard into their midst. Aldor released Milli and teetered an instant before preparing to levitate again. But an instant was long enough for Ernest to grab his free hand and immobilise the deadly pinkie.

Lord Aldor’s hand was as cold as the Arctic but Ernest held on fast. Suddenly Fidelis was on her feet and looking directly at the children as the sweet notes of her voice filled the air.
‘Ring a ring o’roses,’
the queen sang invitingly. Quickly catching on, the children re-formed into a circle and threw themselves into the game with renewed vigour. Lord Aldor was carried along by the crowd, Ernest still clasping one hand and Milli the other. The magician hissed like a snake and tried to shake free but his strength appeared to be failing. It seemed to Milli that the warmth from her hand was spreading into the icy one she held.

The children sang, skipped, spun and chanted and the merriment returned to their faces. Lord
Aldor turned as green as his jade citadel. He lurched and swayed and looked as if he was going to retch. The laughter of so many children roared through his head like an express train. The heat of their bodies seeped into him like a poison. Villains are not designed for play, and if forced to participate it unhinges them so they become too confused to retaliate. Villains spend their times plotting and scheming and thrive on wicked thoughts. Youthful exuberance does not agree with them, and right now it was drinking up Lord Aldor’s power like a desiccated sponge.

Milli watched in horror as the hand she held crinkled up like a leaf in autumn and a finger broke off. It dropped like a stone to the ground and lay at her feet, pale and wriggling. The knuckle from where it had detached was jagged like broken glass, as if Lord Aldor was merely a shell, and inside as hollow as a tambourine.

Ernest almost jumped out of his skin when something separated from Lord Aldor’s head and landed on his shoulder. It was a waxy ear! With a squeal Ernest flicked the offensive appendage to the ground.

The children’s fear turned to fascination as Aldor’s extremities continued to detach as if he were decomposing before their very eyes. The magician was bent over like an old man, his face distorted.

‘This is not over,’ he spat as his left arm dropped off just below the elbow.

Fearsome as he normally was to the children, this last statement just did not ring true. Bits of Lord Aldor were dropping off all over the place. An entire leg fell to the ground still kicking. I have heard that a headless chicken will run about for several moments after being decapitated and that is precisely what happened to the magician. His limbs refused to accept that they had been separated from his body and thrashed about as if they were still part of the whole.

The remaining conjurors watched in stunned silence. Only a distraught Lampo rushed forward and hastily began to gather the scattered pieces of his Master.

‘Stop them!’ screamed Lord Aldor, who now existed only from the torso up. With a crunch, his neck became suddenly lopsided. ‘Do something!’ But the quivering Lampo could

only catch Aldor’s pocked nose before it hit the ground and tuck it safely into his breast pocket.

Very soon all that was left of the children’s captor was a jumble of body parts collected in a wheelbarrow that had previously held army supplies. As Lampo scurried away with Lord Aldor’s head cradled in his palms, the magician still could not be silenced.