Dave Trellis and the Allotments of Doom (22 page)

‘No, it’s not
that simple. Firstly, they have Dogs of War here. Those big lads
that tried to kill us are a completely different breed and
considered advanced weaponry. They shouldn’t be here at all; it
breaks the embargo.

Secondly, this
hidden kennels has puppies and breeding is strictly against the
protocols of residence. We’ve stumbled on the dog’s shameful
secret. It explains why they accompanied every expedition to the
catacombs, why they hid Coleridge’s notebook. The thing I can’t
work out is why they bothered.’

‘Does it
matter? With what’s going on at the minute, don’t we have more
important things to worry about?’

‘Yes. Good news
too. These dogs know the location of the Bell chamber and can guide
us there. Even better news; I persuaded them to carry us. We are
going to ride dog-back. It’s both a great honour and a thrilling
experience. We leave in a few hours.’

‘Why not right
now, we have less than a day left.’

‘Because
they’re setting up relay teams that run ahead and rest while we
travel. It’s quicker in the long run. We should be there in about
twelve hours. Here, you need to drink this.’

‘What is
it?’

‘Dog medicine.
It’ll accelerate your healing and fix any minor bleeds in your
brain. Without it, you’ll have to rest for a few days. It’ll make
you vomit, which is why I didn’t give it to you when you were
unconscious.’

‘Here’s a
bucket. After you feel better, you can eat. I’ll leave you to
it.’

‘Cheers,’ said
Fergus and drank the small bottle of medicine.

Fergus felt
much better. There was no pain and the cuts on his face had healed,
leaving pink scar tissue. His stomach on the other hand was
growling with hunger.

He found Dave
just outside the small cave, sat in front of a small log fire, with
a circle of attentive puppies around him. Dave yapped, barked, and
yowled to his audience.

The puppies
turned and stared at Fergus. One of them barked at Dave, who nodded
and barked back. The puppies bounced over to Fergus, tails wagging,
barking, and jumping up.

‘It’s all
alright, you can stroke them, they’re pups,’ said Dave.

Fergus knelt
down and ruffled the head of the nearest puppy. Overwhelmed by the
pack of pups, he stroked them and rubbed their tummies, and they
licked him, nipped him, and stood on his hands. Fergus laughed and
rolled on the ground, as the pups swarmed over him.

‘Come on boys
and girls, that’s enough. Your uncle Fergus has to eat now. Go on
skedaddle,’ said Dave and helped Fergus to his feet.

The pups kept
mobbing Fergus and Dave used his sternest voice.

‘No more. Stop
it right now, or there’ll be no more Uncle Fergus stories.’

The pups ran
off in a pack, barking and yapping. Fergus sat and helped himself
to a cup of tea from the billycan by the fire.

‘Do we have
anything to eat? I’m starving.’

‘A leg of the
finest Welsh lamb, it should be ready in a few minutes.’

‘Where did that
come from? There’re no sheep down here.’

‘I wouldn’t be
so sure about the dearth of woolly herbivores hereabouts, but this
lamb came from Butcher in Huddersfield. They’re well equipped down
here and the supplies must -’

There was an
electronic ping.

‘Ah it’s
ready,’ said Dave and stood up.

‘You haven’t
put a decent joint of lamb in a microwave?’ asked Fergus.

‘It’s no
microwave,’ said Dave as he returned with a leg of lamb roasted to
perfection on a large baking dish. ‘Tuck in lad, I’ll go and get
the other one.’

The smell was
lovely, with a hint of Rosemary. Fergus ate with determination,
ignoring table manners and sensible caution when dealing with a
roast straight from the oven.

When the roast
was down to the bone, Fergus flung it over his shoulder. One of the
puppies trotted over to the bone picked it up and carried it back
to Fergus.

‘Come on lad,
even the pups can see that cliché.’ Dave took the bone, from the
pup and stood up. ‘Would any one you youngsters like a lamb bone to
chew?’

There was some
squabbling and the two smallest pups ambled over to Dave. Dave
handed the remains of the two legs of lamb, one to each puppy. Each
barked something short and took a bone.

‘You need to be
careful. Throw a bone to a grown dog and you’ll end up in A&E
or at proctologist’s any road. Repeat after me, they are not
domestic dogs.’

‘Yes Dave,
sorry, I was pre-occupied. I suppose things have turned out ok. At
least we don’t have to worry about Azimuth any more, those Dogs of
War would make it lie.’

‘Actually he
turned up here about two hours after us.’

‘Well that’s
sorted then. Was there anything left?’

‘It was the
best punch up I’ve seen since they tried to throw Enoch out of the
Slubber’s for singing show tunes. Azimuth is stronger than he
looks, took the dogs minutes to put him down. He head-butted one of
them big lads so hard, it fell over. And what a right hook. They
had to send in a pair of armoured dogs to sort it out.’

‘So he’s gone
for good then?’

‘Nope. He’s in
a tent, recovering.’

‘What? Surely
when he comes round it’s going to kick off again?’

‘Again no. He
was suffering from an enzyme imbalance; the dogs fixed him up. He
should be right as drizzle when he comes round and I will be
offering him an allotment, so he can grow some suitable food to
prevent any re-occurrence. This is exactly the sort of thing the
allotments were designed for. I am rather chuffed seeing it all
work out so nicely.’

‘So it’s all in
hand.’

‘Aye, we could
be said to be home and briskly towelling off, but then our entire
premise may be awry. We are relying on a legend, a mythical event
that we hope to recreate.’

‘Remind me
again what you said about attitude.’

Dave grinned.
‘Good point well made. We can only succeed in our endeavour, the
rest is in the laps of those whose engineering make them appear god
like to us mere apes. Come on, get packing, we saddle up in an
hour.

The whole
kennel turned out to watch them go. There were about fifty adult
dogs with puppies milling around everywhere, barking and yapping.
In the middle of it all stood two giant dogs in full armour. Unlike
Palaver armour, it was made of segmented plates and made the dogs
look like rhinoceroses, or perhaps some arcane dog-lobster cross
breed.

The dog saddles
had a five-point harness and a roll bar. They looked like a seat
stolen from an expensive sports car.

‘Enoch would
give his left testicle to do this. Make sure you get good mileage
out of it when we get back,’ said Dave.

One armoured
dog lifted a bent leg and Dave stepped up and boosted himself into
the saddle. Fergus managed to scramble up into his saddle and
strapped himself in.

Dave barked
something and both dogs reared up. Fergus was glad of the
five-point harness. The dogs barked loudly and the crowd responded.
Then with a leap forward they were off.

With pounding
paws, the dogs charged down the tunnels at full gallop. They
twisted and turned around obstacles, and even leapt. The wind
rushed by Fergus’s face as he was thrown from side to side. With
each bound the saddle rocked backwards and forward. It was almost
like cantering on a horse. Then the cadence changed and it was back
to a full gallop.

It was
magnificent and thrilling, even Dave let out an exultant whoop when
they leapt straight off a waterfall to land splashing into the pool
below.

The first relay
stop came and went. Fergus found it hard to believe that they had
been travelling for three hours. The pounding ride went on, through
a terrifying stretch of total darkness and on, through caverns with
deep jungle and others with dank swamp. Nothing seemed to get in
the way of the racing dogs.

At the second
relay stop there was a delay. Fergus watched as surfboards the size
of refectory tables were dragged over. Each had four large loops
spread out on the top.

‘What are they
for?’ asked Fergus.

‘I’m not sure,
but I expect it’ll be for the caverns of ice, which should be
somewhere around here.’

‘Sorry?’

‘They are dog
sized snowboards.’

Fergus
grinned.

‘Here.’ Dave
threw Fergus half a towel with rough holes cut into it. ‘You’ll
need that. Put it over your face, else, by the time we get out your
face will have frozen off.’

‘So how are we
doing?

‘Just grand
lad. We should be there with plenty of time to spare.’

They climb back
into the saddles and the giant dogs trotted off, dragging the
snowboard behind. They passed out the tunnel into the caves of ice.
A vast cavern, that seemed to contain the entire Swiss Alps. The
light here was dim twilight, which made the whiteness of the snow
stand out.

The huge dogs
bounced onto the snowboards and one gave a happy, deafening yowl,
as they set off down the slope.

The journey
through the tunnels was thrilling, but this was spectacular. The
dogs let the boards build up speed and then start weaving in and
out. They picked out moguls and took to the air, cut arcing turns
in the snow that sent mountains of snow flying in huge sheets. They
dodged in and out, daring each other to get closest.

Dave whooped
and threw his arms in the air. The cold air stung Fergus’s face and
he hung on tight, a fierce grin on his face beneath the towel
mask.

They reached
the bottom of the slope and ahead a jumble of broken ice marked the
start of a glacier. With deft skill, the dogs swooped between ice
blocks and down shallow ravines, obviously knowing the route. A
massive ice bridge, across a large crevasse, came into view.
Perhaps it was hubris to cross together. The combined weight
cracked the ice and Fergus felt the snowboard lurch, as the ice
bridge gave way.

The dogs
reacted instantly and leaped. Fergus left his stomach behind as
they flew over the remaining gap and landed heavily on the other
side. The dogs sunk up to their shoulders in deep snow. Now the
dogs moved with ponderous jumps. Progress was slow.

Dave barked to
his dog. The response was long and seemed happy.

‘What was
that?’ asked Fergus.

‘Don’t worry
lad, apparently they lose their snowboards down here all the time.
They have a backup plan. I get the impression they are looking
forward to it. So chin up and keep the mask on.’

After twenty
minutes of wading through the snow, they reached to top of the
final slope. It was a steep, smooth descent to the cavern wall in
the distance. The lead dog yowled and took a huge leap forward. It
landed on its belly with paws out front and back legs splayed out.
It slipped forward on the snow and gathered momentum. Soon it was
plummeting down the mountain, like a huge, furry toboggan.

The second dog
followed. Two enormous dog ‘sleds’ barrelled down the slope,
howling and barking. Fergus was laughing so much he had to hold his
mask on with one hand. They reached the bottom, far too quickly for
Fergus’s liking. The dogs sat up and they slid gently to a stop,
right next to the exit tunnel.

The dogs walked
through the tunnel, which was lower than usual and Fergus had to
duck his head more than once. There was a background rumble, like
thunder departing on a summer’s day. It grew steadily, until it
became a roar with side tones of hiss, as if broadcast on medium
wave radio. Finally Fergus recognised what it was.

They walked out
of the tunnel onto an ice shelf, above a vast dark lake. The far
shore was lost in the dim light, or possibly it was over the
horizon. The waterfall rumbled away to their right, filling the air
with a misty cloud that stretched out over the lake. The cliff
above them was almost vertical and covered in snow. Where the
waterfall plumed down to the lake, it was coated in a thick layer
of translucent white ice.

‘The Sunless
Sea,’ said Dave, ‘Never thought I’d get to see it. The river Alf
finally makes it home, incredible.’

‘All very nice
Dave,’ said Fergus, ‘But where do we go from here?’

‘Up, I
imagine.’

‘How? Nothing
could climb that.’

‘Do not
underestimate the power of crampons.’

Fergus suddenly
recognised the metal bear traps on the floor – dog sized
crampons.

Fergus screamed
as they slipped back down the cliff, the lead dog scrabbled and
finally the crampons found purchase and they leaped forward again.
The first hundred feet were the worst, after that Fergus shut his
eyes. The dogs leapt from tiny ledge to imperceptible projection,
always moving, zigzagging up the cliff. Once or twice the dogs
crawled straight up the cliff, their bellies pressed against the
ice, with Fergus and Dave horizontal in their seats.

Dave whooped
and yelled ‘There’s a hell of a view from here. We must be miles
up.’ Fergus clamped his eyes shut even tighter.

Finally they
reached the top of the cliff. The dogs trotted on, their flanks
heaving and their breath pumping out like steam from a locomotive.
Fergus undid his harness and slid off his dog. He took a few paces
and threw up the roast lamb.

‘Well done,’
said Dave.

‘Sarcasm
doesn’t help thanks very much.’

‘No lad, I was
serious. I have no concept of what would happen if you vomited down
the side of one of these fellahs.’

The lead dog
barked and Dave replied. There was a yowl or two and Dave bowed low
to each dog. Fergus matched Dave’s bow. The dogs hunched back and
howled making Fergus and Dave cover their ears.

Then the dogs
ran toward the edge of the cliff and leaped straight off. Dave and
Fergus raced to the edge and looked down in time to see two huge
splashes. Shortly the dogs re-surfaced and paddled towards
shore.