The Ice Gate of Spyre (3 page)

“Well, we can’t stay here,” Esmeralda said after taking a few long, slow breaths to help her calm down. “The
Thief in the Night
is a total wreck, of course. We’ll have to abandon her. It’s a long climb down, but we’ll salvage what we can and make our way out of here on foot.” She glared daggers at Ishmael. “Thanks to you,
nitwit
!”

“Many a mickle makes a mackerel,” Ishmael remarked.

“Oh, shut up!”

“Pardon me,” said the first bat. “I really wouldn’t go down to the ground if I were you. That’s not a good idea at all.”

“We have to get to Downtown,” said Jack. “We’re on an important quest.”

“How thrilling!” said a second bat. “But the night is drawing on, and the beasts will soon be waking up.”

“And if you go down there,” the first bat added, pointing groundward and shuddering, “you’ll get eaten all up right down to your toe bones.”

“Yes, that’s right,” chorused more bats, gathering around them. “They’ll chew you up and spit out the gristle. It’s what they do, those beastly beasts!”

“They eat the flowers of the dark lotus plant,” said the first bat. “And the dark lotus does fearful things to even the most sweet natured of folk!”

“It drives them out of their minds,” said bat number two. “Mad as a dancing plum cake!”

“Then Ishmael should be right at home down there,” grumbled Esmeralda. She eyed the bats. “Are the beasts really that dangerous?”

“At night they are,” said the first bat. “But they sleep during the day, so you’d probably be safe once the sun comes up again.”

“Spend the night up here with us,” suggested another of the bats. “You can set off at first light.”

“And you could have a nice cup of tea before you bed down,” said another.

“Yes—our special tea,” said yet another.

“Our special tea is our specialty,” chorused the rest. “Oh, please, don’t go! We so seldom have guests. Please stay!”

Trundle and Esmeralda and Jack looked at one another.

“Oh, why not?” said Esmeralda. “I could just do with a nice cup of tea, as it happens. But we do need to be up and away first thing!”

“Ouch!” grumbled Trundle, wriggling under his blanket. “Stop it!” Something was tickling his neck just under his right ear. And he had been so happy and cozy, dreaming pleasant dreams about cream buns and feather beds. He had quite forgotten that he was sleeping in a bat house at the top of a jungle tree. Being woken by some dratted insect nipping at his neck was just too much.

“Don’t wake up,” whispered a voice close to his head. “Nothing’s going on.”

“Eh?” Trundle turned over, to meet the round amber eyes of one of the bats. He blinked a couple of times, gazing in a puzzled and sleepy way at the creature’s mouth, which hung open to reveal a pair of long white fangs with drops of blood on their tips.

“Hey! What are you up to?” Trundle yelled, pushing the bat away. He put a paw to his neck and felt two little puncture marks. “Were you drinking my blood?”

“No, of course not,” said the bat, wiping its mouth. “The very idea!”

“Yes, you were!” howled Trundle. He took a mighty breath. “Help! Help! Vampire bats! Dirty great blood-sucking vampire bats!” And with that, he leaped out of bed, grabbed his sword, and waved it at the disappointed-looking creature.

“Don’t be like that,” the bat said. “We’re not greedy. We only want half a cup of fresh blood from each of you. Just to flavor the tea!”

“Fiends!” Trundle heard Esmeralda shout from a nearby house. “Fiendish blood-sucking fiends!”

“Unfang me, you cad!” Jack roared from another part of the tree.

“A curse on your poultry old beanbag!” hooted Ishmael. “That’s my favorite throat you’re chewing on!”

Trundle poked his sword at the retreating bat. “Get back, you monster!” he shouted indignantly. “You’ll get no more blood out of us. It’s an outrage—feasting on guests, indeed! I’ve never heard the like!”

A bat came somersaulting out of Esmeralda’s house and went crashing away down the tree. She emerged, dusting her hands together. “Time to get out of here, folks!” she said. “Beastly beasties are better than bloodthirsty bats!”

“I’m terribly sorry about the inconvenience,” said Trundle’s bat. “But the simple fact is”—and his eyes shone with a dangerous orange light—“we … need … blood!”

And all of a sudden the tree was filled with staring orange eyes as the dark and shambling bats came swarming in from every direction.

“We … need … blood!” they chorused.

“Not on your nelly!” Jack cried. He grabbed Ishmael by the collar and scrambled over to where Trundle was standing, still waving his sword. A couple of moments later, Esmeralda had also joined them.

The bats were closing in. “We … need … blood!” they all sang out.

“Down we go!” announced Esmeralda, and without further ado, the four companions began a frantic and hectic descent of the tree.

“Don’t go!” howled the bats, climbing down after them and getting a bit too close for Trundle’s liking.

“We … need … blood!” they sang out. “We … need …
blood
!”

T
hinking about it later, Trundle was amazed that he and his friends didn’t break their necks, the way they went hurtling down that tree. But fortunately it offered plenty of handholds on branches and hanging vines, which they were able to grab as they flung themselves downward, the bloodthirsty bats racing after them.

Trundle wondered at first why the wicked creatures didn’t simply take to the wing to catch up with them, but he quickly realized that there were far too many obstacles in the way. Any bat trying to fly would simply have crashed into the tangled branches.

As they drew closer to the ground, the bats became fewer and fewer until only one remained, goggling dejectedly down at them. “Aww!” it shouted. “No fair! Come back, tasty guests. Don’t go getting eaten by beasties! It’ll be such a waste of good blood. Come back!”

“Flap off, fang face!” called Trundle as he clambered from the final branch and dropped lightly onto soft, mossy ground.

The others came plopping down around him.

“Well, here’s a fine pickle!” Esmeralda stared at the others. “Who’s got the crown?”

There was an awkward silence, broken by Ishmael.

“An empty vessel gathers no moss,” he said helpfully.

“We
were
in a bit of a rush,” Trundle said unhappily, remembering that the precious biscuit tin had been in his possession when he had gone to sleep.

“Oh, marvelous!” groaned Esmeralda. “Well, it can’t be helped. And we can’t go back up for it now. I’m sure the Fates will show us how to retrieve it later.” She patted Trundle on the shoulder to let him know she didn’t blame him. “So? Anyone see any beasties?”

They all stood very still, hardly even breathing as they stared through the jungle for any sign of movement in the deep darkness.

“There’s no smoke without weasels!” Ishmael said loudly.

“Will you pipe down?” growled Esmeralda. “Do you want every beast for ten miles to hear you?”

“What’s that over there?” asked Trundle. He pointed away through the great tree trunks. “It looks like lights.”

“Ohhhh, yeeeeessss,” breathed Esmeralda. “Kind of purpley-mauvey-violety lights. I see them.”

“A town, perhaps?” suggested Jack. “Full of civilized people who don’t bite a chap in his sleep?”

“Or full of fearsome beasties who will eat us up to our toe bones,” Trundle observed.

“I’m not at all sure there are any beasties,” said Esmeralda. “I think those dratted bats made them up to keep us in their tree. Come on, everyone—let’s go check it out. Jack, keep an eye on Ishmael. He’s a pain in the prickles, but I wouldn’t want him to go wandering off and fall in a swamp.”

They set off toward the light, Trundle in the lead with his sword ready—just in case the beasts were real. He advanced cautiously, his eyes constantly scanning the jungle for any glimpse of savage beasts. Not a peep. If there were any beasts at all, they must have been busy somewhere else.

It wasn’t long before they found themselves heading down into a long, steep, narrow valley. The violet lights were dead ahead, glowing a little eerily in the deep, dark jungle night. As they approached, it became obvious that these were not the lights of a town at all. In fact, the weird gleam came from the large, hanging flower heads of a colony of tall purple plants.

“Uh-oh!” murmured Jack. “I think these are dark lotus plants. We’d better not get too close. Remember what those bats told us—eating them drives people crazy.”

“I hardly think we’re going to stop off for a petal sandwich,” said Esmeralda.

“You can’t believe everything you read in rooks,” Ishmael remarked.

“I don’t fancy climbing all the way up that hill again,” Trundle added. “And there’s no other way forward. Look, there’s a path through the flowers! We’ll be fine.”

Esmeralda picked up a long stick from the ground. “If any plant tries to give us a hard time, I’ll whack it on the stamen!”

Forming a line, they began to make their way through the towering ranks of the purple-petaled flowers.

Trundle wrinkled his nose. There was a musty and moldy smell in the air. He heard rustlings and creakings. The looming plants leaned over them, their petals like fleshy lips, their leaves twitching like thin fingers.

“I’m not sure this was such a very good idea after all,” he said. “Perhaps we ought to go back.”

“Oh, dear,” said Jack, looking over his shoulder. “I’m not sure we can.”

They all looked back. The plants had moved, blocking the pathway behind them.

“Oh, no, you don’t, you weirdo weeds!” exclaimed Esmeralda. She hefted the stick in her two paws and gave the nearest of the dark lotus plants a hefty swipe right across the side of its flower.

The rustling and creaking grew louder as fine purple pollen came raining down over the four companions from the head of the walloped flower.

“Not sure that was a great idea,” Jack said uneasily.

Half blinded by the pollen and sneezing frantically as it filtered into his snout, Trundle blundered about, waving his sword randomly and yelling. “Get your filthy fronds off me, you perfidious plants! Have at you! Have at … have at—
atchoo
!”