Cavern Of Fear

11 - A Friend in Need

The head Granous placed a small wooden board on Lief’s lap. The board was very old, and beautifully crafted. Many squares of wood, each one bearing a painted letter, had been arranged upon it in rows.

‘Where did you get this?’ Lief exclaimed.

‘We have had many visitors before you, king!’ the Granous giggled. ‘Now! Your first question is—what are the only useful things about you? The answer is hidden on the board. It may run up, down, sideways, or all three. Go!’

At once, the other Granous began to clap and chant. ‘Twenty. Nineteen. Eighteen…’

Lief stared at the board. The letters seemed to swim before his eyes. He blinked, trying to clear his head, searching desperately for a starting point.

Words seemed to jump out at him. GET. TI?. BENT. BASE. PAN. But they led nowhere.

Up, down, sideways, or all three…

‘… Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve…’ The counting was growing louder.

Lief glanced desperately at Barda. Barda, squinting at the board, trying to make the letters out at a distance, shook his head. Beyond him, Jinks, his face fixed in concentration and shiny with sweat, was staring straight ahead. But then Lief saw that one of the acrobat’s hands, narrowed to a claw, was moving—twisting rapidly.

Jinks was trying one of his old tricks. And this time it was not for the entertainment of others, or for a bet, but to save his life. He was trying to slip out of his bonds while the Granous were not watching him. Lief looked quickly back at the board, his heart thumping.

The Granous leader pretended to smother a yawn, tapping its gaping mouth with its hand. The wicked teeth were razor sharp. Sharp enough to shear through flesh and snap through bone.

The only good things about you…

An idea flashed into Lief’s mind. Feverishly he searched the board.

‘Six. Five. Four…’

And suddenly, there was the answer, coiled within the mass of letters, crooked as a snake.

Ten fingers and ten toes!’ Lief shouted.

The chanting stopped, dissolving into a chorus of disappointed groans.

Lief risked another glance at Jinks. The little man had managed to free his hand, and was cautiously feeling for the dagger at his belt.

‘No doubt you think you are very clever, king,’ said the first Granous sulkily. ‘We will see. Here is your second question. Listen carefully.’

It folded its hands over its belly, and recited:

A king dined with his sister,

His friend and his friend’s wife.

All of them were greedy beasts

Who loved food more than life.

At last three pies alone remained.

There wasn’t any knife.

How did they all have equal shares,

And save themselves from strife?

The chorus of counting began again. Lief tried to forget about Jinks and concentrate on the rhyme.

Three pies. No knife. Equal shares for four people. It sounded impossible! But he knew that such apparently impossible puzzles always contained a simple trick.

The chanting of the Granous pounded on.

‘… TWELVE. ELEVEN. TEN…’

‘Lief!’ Barda whispered urgently. ‘Perhaps one of the four was killed by the others. The verse says they loved food more than life.’

Lief shook his head. ‘It says they all had equal shares,’ he whispered back. ‘All of them. The king, his sister, his friend and…

A thought stirred in the back of his mind.

‘… FIVE! FOUR!…’

Barda cursed under his breath.

‘THREE! TWO!…’

‘The king’s sister was married to his friend!’ Lief cried. ‘That is how the pies were equally divided. There were only three people at dinner all the time!’

This time the counting broke off in howls of frustration. The head Granous scowled as the others began shouting at him, criticising his choice of questions.

Lief slumped back, pretending relief, and slid his half closed eyes in the direction of Jinks’ tree.

The acrobat had gone! The vines with which, he had been bound were lying loose on the ground. He must be even now creeping through the bushes behind Lief and Barda, dagger at the ready to cut their bonds.

Hurry, Jinks! thought Lief. The Granous were still arguing, paying no attention to the prisoners. Jinks would never have a better chance than this.

Barda drew a sharp, hissing breath. His eyes were fixed on a rocky hill that could just be seen over the trees on the other side of the clearing. Lief followed his gaze.

A small figure was scrambling up the hill. Jinks!

Far from remaining to save his companions, Jinks was running away as fast as he could.

One of the Granous suddenly screeched and pointed. ‘Prisoner escaped!’ it howled. Instantly the whole group plunged off into the bushes, following the acrobat’s scent.

‘I hope they catch him, the vile little worm!’ muttered Barda, struggling violently against the vines that bound him. ‘How could he leave us here?’

A vine weaver bird flew down from the tree above Barda and perched on the log to which his right hand was tied. It put its head on one side, and regarded him with a sharp black eye.

It nodded as if satisfied. Then it hopped onto his wrist and began pecking at the knotted vine.

‘Lief!’ Barda whispered in astonishment. ‘Look!’

The knots were loosening! The bird’s long, expert beak was doing what all Barda’s strength could not.

In moments, his right hand was free. The bird began working on the knots that bound him to the tree while he sliced through his other bonds with his sword.

He scrambled stiffly to his feet, and staggered over to cut Lief loose. Then, with the vine weaver swooping ahead of them, they both stumbled out of the clearing and into the undergrowth.

The bird darted on, plainly expecting them to follow. Even when the ground began to climb steeply it did not slow, whistling impatiently whenever they paused for breath.

At last they reached the top of the hill and slumped to the ground, panting. The air was filled with bird calls, and when Lief raised his head he saw why.

Not far below them was a thick mass of treetops, ringed by the peaks of other grey hills. Birds in their thousands were busily weaving their nets or feeding on the yellow berries that covered the trees.

Lief and Barda’s guide darted around their heads, calling urgently.

It is foolish to think that the bird is leading us to Jasmine, Lief told himself as they followed it down to ground level. Jasmine is searching for a valley, not a high-ground forest.

But hope still flickered as he followed Barda into the trees, his feet sinking deep into the thick carpet of rotting leaves that covered the forest floor.

Then he saw, just ahead, dozens of birds swooping around a small bush which was thrashing violently from side to side for no apparent reason. The vine weaver sped towards the place.

And there, her chain caught around the bush, was Fury.

She was living up to her name—twisting and lunging, her huge fangs snapping. Her trailing chain had become tangled around the bush, and was holding her fast.

Lief swallowed his disappointment. The vine weaver, it seemed, thought one good turn deserved another. It had freed them. Now it wanted them to remove this unwelcome visitor from its forest.

In moments Barda had untangled the chain. The instant Fury felt it loosening she made a wild dash foward, almost jerking him off his feet. Lief felt hope flare all over again.

‘She is still following a scent!’ he shouted over the excited shrilling of the birds. ‘Glock’s spider must have passed this way!’

With a call of thanks to their relieved vine weaver guide, they plunged after Fury into the trees.

As they moved deeper into the forest it grew darker and more silent. The only living creatures to be seen were fat, gold-coloured moths that blundered about in the dimness like stray scraps of sunlight.

For a long time, Fury did not pause. Then, abruptly, she stopped. She rose up on her back legs, her fangs clicking together, her front legs frozen in the air.

‘What is she doing?’ Lief whispered.

He and Barda moved cautiously forward. Several of the big yellow moths were fluttering close to the ground just beyond where Fury was poised.

‘She must be hungry,’ said Barda.

Fury lowered her front legs once more and began creeping towards the moths. She had almost reached them when Lief noticed something odd.

There were more moths than before. Yet he had not seen any new ones fly down to join the crowd.

Then he realised what was happening. The moths were fluttering around a hole in the ground. And more moths were rising out of the hole every moment.

‘They must lay their eggs down there,’ murmured Barda. He shouted in annoyance as Fury suddenly jumped forward and scuttled into the hole, disappearing deep inside.

The moths scattered, bumbling out of the way. Barda tugged vainly at the spider’s chain, cursing it and ordering it to come back. But Lief’s heart was thumping as he threw himself to the ground, scraped the disguising piles of leaves away from the sides of the hole and peered into its depths.

When he looked up his eyes were shining.

‘Barda!’ he exclaimed. ‘Barda—you are not going to believe this!’

And without another word, he swung his legs into the hole, and followed Fury.