Trolls Fly by Night
By
Suzanna Stanbury
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
PUBLISHED BY
Suzanna Stanbury on Smashwords
Trolls Fly by Night
Copyright © 2012 Suzanna Stanbury
Smashwords Edition
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A glossary of troll words and information can be found at the back of this book.
Chapter One
The Prophesy
When the sun sets over the beautiful city of Venice, under each of its 400 bridges something begins to stir. As the city quietens, far below the canals and waterways, the secret caves and tunnels are filled with the sound of noisy yawning.
The Bridge Trolls are waking up. And at dusk the first thought on any troll’s mind is food and for the Bridge Trolls this mainly consists of big, fat juicy rats. After munching down their nightfeast, the trolls emerge from their caves, swimming up through thick gloopy waters to spend the night happily playing tricks on any hapless person who passes over their bridge.
One fine summer’s evening as the full moon was on the rise, Crankio, a bright young troll of just 74 years of age, broke the surface of the water with a plop. He sighed deeply as the chewy night air filled his lungs and he let out a burp which echoed under the stone supports of his bridge. Crankio swam to the wall, his claws scraping until he located the neatly hidden rungs. His stomach rumbled loudly causing him to mutter crossly under his breath.
“I’m starving – not enough nightfeast again. Take heed Crankio – cook more food!” Footsteps echoed overhead, someone was coming down the passageway leading to his bridge. Crankio quickly scaled the wall, climbed over the parapet and crouched waiting in the shadows.
The pitter, patter grew louder and soon a pair of shiny leather boots appeared through the archway. Crankio grinned, swinging to the wall with a smooth swoop he scraped a handful of dripping, sticky moss from the wall and with an upwards twist he threw it right onto the shiny boots.
“Urgh! Urgh! Urgh!” cried the owner of the boots. Crankio smiled a wicked smile and just about managed to keep from laughing out loud. The clod of moss was kicked over the side of the bridge, missing him by a rat’s whisker. He ducked in time and the moss plopped into the water. Choking back his giggles Crankio watched the figure hurrying away still trying to remove the gunge and tripping with every other step.
“Hoy!” Crankio turned around so quickly he nearly lost his balance and almost toppled over the stone balustrade into the water.
“Che cosa…?” Leaning out he stared along the stretch of dark water and could just make out an arm waving to him from under the next bridge.
“Nozio!” he grumbled. “Pestiferous, Nozio.”
Crankio wondered idly if Nozio had any food left. Very swiftly he climbed down the rungs under the bridge and reaching underneath he pulled something away from the wall throwing it onto the surface of the water with a splat.
THUMP! Crankio landed on his Gondo-board. With a swift kick he powered the board up. The motor made a noise like an asthmatic toad, skimming away over the still waters towards Nozio’s bridge.
“Ave, Nozio,” called Crankio, slowing the board and bumping into the wall.
“Ave to you too, Crankio, how are you this fine night?”
“Hungry,” replied Crankio, tucking his board under his arm and swiftly scaling the wall.
“You’re always hungry.” Nozio swung down to greet his friend.
Nozio’s bridge was the last before the salt-water lagoon. His job as sentinel was to guard the undercity and to report any signs of danger or unwelcome visitors. Nozio and Crankio had known each other for a very long time and although Nozio often despaired of his friend’s greediness and peculiar habits he preferred Crankio’s company to most of the other young trolls.
“What’s that in your fur?” asked Nozio.
Crankio looked down. “Moss, I expect, from pranking.” He picked the green lumps out, flicking them into the water. “Got any rat left, Nozio?” Crankio docked his Gondo-board on Nozio’s gleaming new board rack, scratching the shiny surface as he shoved it into place.
“Careful!” said Nozio, leaning down to inspect the damage. “That’s the very latest from the trorge.”
Nozio was tall and well built – while Crankio was small and wiry. Nozio liked to dress smartly in neat, grey shorts worn with a black leather belt while Crankio’s shorts were made of grey and white pinstripe material and were always slightly grubby.
“So – do have you any food left?” Crankio rubbed his stomach hopefully. “I know you never eat all your nightfeast.” He grinned.
“You’re in luck,” replied his friend.” I did cook too much nightfeast and kept some back for a snack.” Unravelling a piece of oilcloth, Nozio displayed a large portion of rat pasty.
“Can I have all of that?” Crankio reached out, grabbing at the pasty.
“Half,” Nozio clung tightly to one corner of the food. Crankio lunged and a tug-o-war ensued, back and forth went the pasty until at last Crankio gave his corner a mighty heave and it flew out of Nozio’s hand. Crankio shoved the pasty straight into his mouth.
Whack!
Nozio shoved him over the parapet into the water.
SPLASH! Crankio sank rapidly. A few bubbles popped on the surface, a sure fire sign he was still busy chewing the pasty underwater. When he’d finished, Crankio re-emerged to find Nozio had gone.
“Hoy!” shouted Crankio. “Nozio, where are you?”
“Sssh!” Came a hiss from the bridge above his head. Crankio swam to the wall and climbed back up, trailing weed and a few twigs with him. When he reached the bridge he discovered Nozio staring out towards the salt-water lagoon.
“Listen,” he said when Crankio landed beside him with a squelch. “I think I can hear a Bog-board coming.”
Crankio pulled at his ear, shook out a watersnail and listened. The humming sound was growing louder. The bright moonlight picked up glints in a mass of red hair on the chunky troll riding towards them. The buzzing Bog-board entered the waterway, coming to a halt under Nozio’s bridge it spluttered into silence.
“It’s Magma,” said Crankio squinting down. “I wonder what she wants?”
“Why don’t you wait and see?” Nozio was still cross with him for pinching his snack.
“Ave, Bridge Trolls,” called a loud, haughty voice.
“Ave, Magma,” chorused the Bridge Trolls in reply.
“I have come with a prophesy from the Tritch,” shouted Magma.
Crankio groaned. “I hate the Tritch – she gives me the creeps.”
There was a creak as Magma climbed the rungs. “The Tritch is all knowing and all seeing,” she said docking her Bog-board on Nozio’s rack with an almighty clonk.
“I know, that’s why she gives me the creeps,” called back Crankio.
One of Magma’s enormous hairy legs swung over the side of the bridge, grunting she climbed over and stood up. Bog Trolls were a good head taller than Bridge Trolls and were much broader. Magma poked her spreading nose into the air, smoothed her wild hair behind her whooping great ears and huffed down on their heads.
“Look – do you want this prophesy or not?” she said crossly. “I didn’t come all the way from the Festrin Bog for nothing, you know.”
“Go on then, let’s get it over with.” Crankio frowned up at her.
*
The Festrin bog lay not far from the city. It was a bleak and soggy place lurking in the shadows of Mount Melba – a medium sized volcano. Italy has many volcanoes, some that are known and some that are not and at the top of every one lives a troll witch. Tritches have the gift of foresight. Each night they sit inside their volcanoes gazing into the bubbling, sulphurous ooze looking for signs of a vision – sometimes a vision will appear quite soon after the last one, or it may take many years before another rises to the surface of the ooze.
When a vision does arrive the Tritch immediately will become very excited. She will caper about, rush outside her cave, set a torch aflame then wave it over her head while shrieking:
“I have seen, I have seen!” Far below her at the base of the volcano, the local trolls will have gathered to argue and fight about who should climb the volcano to hear the latest prophesy.
*
This time at the trollony by the Festrin Bog, Magma had lost the fight. She took a deep breath to prepare and clearing her throat with a series of rasping noises she began.
“Troll’s must act by the turn of the moon,
Or the city will sink beneath the lagoon…”
“Is that all?” Interrupted Crankio. “The city’s always sinking – it’s been sinking since the beginning of troll time.”
Nozio punched him. “Let her finish, she hasn’t finished.”
Magma cleared her throat again. There was a loud splash as she spat over the side of Nozio’s bridge.
“A lake is long lost; its scales have all fled,
To seek a new and watery bed.
Trolls must seek the river’s source,
To stir the beast who blocks its course.
Trolls must hurry to find the black mass,
Entice them home to make their green gas.
If trolls do fail in this their quest,
They must find a new home to take their rest.”
“What on earth does that mean?” asked Crankio scratching his head.
“I have no idea,” said Magma, tossing her hair. “Its your prophesy.”
“Well, it’s a stupid prophesy and I think you should take it and stuff it…” Nozio clamped his hand over Crankio’s mouth to shut him up.
“Thank you, Magma,” he said politely. “We will, of course, have to tell the Trouncil, after all it’s my duty as city sentinel to deliver bad news.” Nozio beamed at her. “Err, Magma…” he said.
“Che cosa?”
“I wondered…as you are so very good at speeches. I thought, perhaps… well, the prophesy would sound much better if you told it to the Trouncil. They would be very impressed to hear your wonderful voice.”
Magma fluffed her hair again. “Many trolls have commented on my voice,” she preened.
“This will be the perfect opportunity for you to delight us with your-err-forthright tones,” said Nozio.
“Oh, all right,” said Magma, “If you insist.”
Crankio put his hands around his throat behind Magma’s back, stuck his tongue out and began making choking noises. She whirled around, glaring at him.
“I’m just so excited I can’t keep still,” said Crankio showing his teeth in a very false smile.
Magma snorted, grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shove forward. “Come on then,” she ordered. “Show me to the grand chamber.”
Chapter Two
The Trouncil
The troll council of Venice had been meeting in times of trouble, or of direst emergency, for nearly a thousand years – the fact that there had only been eight meetings in all that time tells you that on the whole trolls don’t really have very much to worry about.
It was 300 years ago this very summer that the worst of the problems had occurred. Flabio, one of the greediest trolls to ever live, had gained so much weight he fell through his own bridge. Stuck tight in the wooden slats, Flabio began wriggling and the more he wriggled the tighter he became wedged. There he dangled over the canal, half in and half out of the bridge, waggling his legs and moaning as the planks dug ever tighter into his fat stomach.
The Trouncil was duly called and they gathered together agonising over what to do to free Flabio from his bridge. The trolls knew they must succeed before dawn broke over the city, or Flabio’s plight and his existence would confirm to all the humans of Venice that there were trolls living amongst them.
One idea after another was tried and failed. Trolls jumped on Flabio’s head attempting to force him through the hole. They poked him with long sticks from below to try and prise him out – but nothing worked. It was just before dawn that a troll called Mello came up with the bright idea of pouring olive oil over Flabio. Jugs were fetched and up-ended over his head. Slowly, the oil dripped down, soaking his fur and drenching his shorts. When Flabio had become truly saturated, there was a loud squelching noise and he slipped through the slats, landing in the water with an enormous splash.
When the sun rose over the city it revealed nothing but a greasy hole in the middle of a bridge.
*
But now, on this particular night, 14 of the oldest and wisest of the undercity’s troll elders had gathered around a wheel shaped stone table. The Trelders all had lustrous heads of silver hair, and their great age and experience was reflected by the wearing of corduroy. In the galleries at the edges of the stone chamber were seated the lesser trolls. There had not been a prophesy reading for some time and each Tresser was listening intently to the Trouncil, watching the proceedings with excitement, nibbling on snacks as the Trelders munched their way through a lavish feast.
The wheel shaped table was covered with rat-based delicacies: there was rack of rat, rat-au-vin, ratatouille, rat omelette, rat kebabs, rat fricassee, and rat pizza, all washed down with jugs of troll wine. The Trouncil chamber was filled to its rocky extremities with the sounds of chomping, burping and squabbling and the smell of sweaty troll fur had created a fug in the air. When the food was mostly consumed and the Trouncil members had slumped replete into their chairs, one large troll lumbered to his feet, banging on a plate with his tankard.
He was the great Merkio, the grand troll councillor. Merkio was 500 years old and a magnificent figure with his bouffant silver hair, green corduroy capelet and matching shorts. Aside from a touch of arthritis and raging gout, Merkio was still quite sprightly for grand Trouncillor.
“Order, order!” he bellowed. “Let’s have some quiet, if you please.”
The Trelders calmed down to a grumbling hum.
“Well – ahem,” said Merkio. “This meeting has been called as we have received grave news from the Mount Melba Tritch.”
Muttering started up again immediately and Merkio had to bang his tankard again to regain silence.
“The Mount Melba volcano has burst forth with a dire warning and the Tritch has produced a new prophesy for us, the Bridge Trolls to heed. This is a serious matter indeed. Izio, what say you?” Merkio shoved the troll next to him. Izio, who had been lolling languidly on his chair, snorted and almost tumbled from his seat.
“Whassit? What’s that you said, Merkio? Speak up will you.” Izio took a large gulp of trine from his tankard and began choking. A small piece of rat pizza flew out of his mouth hitting Merkio in the eye.
“Eeep!” said Merkio rubbing his eye. “Izio!”
“What is it?” shouted Izio wiggling his fingers in his ears. “I can’t hear you.”
“For the sake of the Holy Troll!” said Merkio, clouting Izio over the head with a trine jug making two chunks of wax fly out of his ears. One piece landed with a plop on Merkio’s plate.
“Can you hear now?” bawled Merkio, flicking the wax from his plate.
“Stop shouting I’m not deaf, you know,” said Izio, wincing.
“Ratti santi!” groaned Merkio. “Izio, what you think we should do about the prophesy?”
Izio thumped his fist down on the table. “That Tritch sits up there in that volcano of hers, night in and night out gazing into her sulphurous ooze – I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she’d acquired rat-fever of the brain by now.”
Merkio grasped Izio’s shoulders. “It could be news, Izio, that the humans have discovered our presence and are going to hunt us.” There was a collective gasp of horror from the galleries. The Tressers all blinked, staring at Merkio, wide-eyed. “Or it could be news of Sicilian Rat Disease come North to wipe out our favourite food.” Merkio swished back his capelet, waving his arms in the air. “We may have to exist on canal-frogs!” Worried moans and whimpers burst forth within the chamber.
“I say we should listen to the prophesy before we panic about what the warning could be.” A wide, wrinkled troll called Warzio stood up. He glared at Izio, who aimed a punch at Warzio’s shoulder. Warzio dodged, growled deep within his throat then let forth a mighty bellow of rage before banging a serving platter over the top of Izio’s head.
“Order, order!” howled Merkio, bringing his tankard down with such force that the pewter plate in front of him broke into two pieces.
“Bring in, Magma!” he shouted over the racket of Izio whacking Warzio repeatedly over the head with a trine jug.
There was a creak. The door opened and Magma entered the cavern. She paused in the doorway, smoothed down the skirt of her flouncy red, ra-ra skirt and gave the hem a little shake. Magma waited until each and every Trelder had stopped what he or she was doing and the Tressers were slumped over the railings, gawping at her. Finally she flicked her hair over her shoulders and stepped forward. Her large, long-toed feet pounding on the stone floor as she advanced across the cavern.
“Oo-ee!” purred a Tresser, reaching out of his gallery seat he tried to pat her. Magma gave him a hefty clout sending him reeling backwards. On reaching the stone table, a Trelder, unable to resist the gently swaying satin hem of her skirt, reached out to touch it. Magma slapped him so hard he squeaked. A buzz of chatter filled the chamber as she walked around the table towards the great Merkio.
“What a trolless she is,” muttered a drooling Tresser.
“Those ears!”
“That nose!”
“Those legs!”
“Silence from the galleries!” Merkio banged his tankard down again. “Ave, Magma,” he said. “Welcome to the grand Trouncil chamber of the undercity of Venice.”
“Ave, Merkio,” said Magma, shoving a couple of Trelders out of the way.
“Thank you for bringing the Tritch’s prophesy,” said Merkio. “Even though bad news is unwelcome we must rise to the challenge and deal with it immediately – or it will only get worse. Enter the circle please.” All eyes were on Magma as she hitched up her skirt and vaulted over the table. Once in the middle of the circle, Magma inflated to her full height, spread her nostrils and put her hands on her hips.
“Ahem!” she said, looking round to check that she had the full attention of her audience.
“Troll’s must act by the turn of the moon,
Or the city will sink beneath the lagoon.
A lake is long lost, its scales have all fled,
To seek a new and watery bed.
Trolls must seek the river’s source,
To stir the beast who blocks its course.
Trolls must hurry to find the black mass,
Entice them home to make their green gas.
If trolls do fail in this their quest,
They must find a new home to take their rest.”
The Tressers began to chatter, nudging one another while the Trelders just fidgeted in their seats. Izio could be heard spouting about false prophesies and soon another fight broke out between him and Warzio.
“Stop it!” bellowed Merkio, hurling his tankard at Izio, who shielded his face with a plate. The tankard bounced onto the floor with a loud clatter. Izio emerged from behind his plate to see Magma standing before him.
“If you were to listen to me instead of fighting all the time, you may be able to save Venice from sinking and squashing your home.” She leaned across the table and poked Izio in the chest.
A soft-faced troll called Flopio sighed wistfully. He’d been gazing adoringly at Magma and when, with green eyes flashing, she grabbed Izio and lifted him out of his seat, Flopio groaned, collapsing face first into the table.
“I agree with Magma,” said Merkio. “We should stop fighting at once and work out what to do.” He stood up, waving a finger in the air. “All of this arguing will save no cities.”
“Trollswallop!” yelled Izio, stretching a leg over the table he crept up behind Magma, shoving her so hard she fell over.
Magma whirled around and punched him.
“Ouf!” cried Izio falling over backwards.
“Stop this!” Aubretia creaked to her feet. At 700 years of age she was the oldest of all the Trelders present and was riddled with wisdom and chock full of opinions.
Aubretia wore her silver hair so long it touched the ground. Her ra-ra skirt was fashioned from the finest purple velvet corduroy and she wore a matching capelet. Purple crystals sparkled in her ears, the lobes of which draped over her shoulders.
“I think we should look more closely at the riddle,” she said. “Discover what is this lost lake of which the Tritch speaks.” Her wheezy words made sense and the Trelders began to nod and chunter. Aubretia gave them a wise, knowing smile then sat down again, farting loudly upon landing.
Realising she had lost her audience Magma got up, using Izio as a platform.
“Blerghle,” said Izio.
“Thank you for your wise words, aged troll,” Magma simpered. “It always takes the brains of a trolless to tackle a problem sensibly.” She closed her eyes, revelling with smugness until Izio bit her foot.
“Rat droppings!” he grumbled from the floor as Magma hopped past him. “I was going to say about the riddle!” moaned Izio. “Aubretia must have heard me.”
“If you had spoken, you bawling, stringy troll we would all have heard you!” Magma pushed him over, jumping up and down on him until Izio caught her foot and she fell over with a deafening crash.
Flopio sighed dreamily, watching Magma as she struggled back upright, caught Izio by his belt and hauled him towards her, slapping his bald head like a fish on a dock.
“Ahh, what a vision she is,” dribbled Flopio. “Magnificent, see how her hair flows as she punches Izio.”
“Stop fighting!” bawled Merkio.
“I think,” said Aubretia in the loudest voice she could muster, “we should consider our nearest lake.”
The whole chamberful of trolls fell silent.
“Rat droppings,” muttered Izio crossly.
“How much has the city sunk of late?” asked a Trelder from the far side of the table.
“Show-off,” said the Trelder next to him.
“At least I asked something sensible,” said the first Trelder.
“Ratsbreath!” came the reply.
The sound of the ensuing punching made Aubretia hit the table with a brass trine urn. But the other Trelders had also joined in the fight and her wheezy voice was lost amidst the sound of scrapping trolls.
“Stop fighting!” Merkio’s shout was also drowned as the rumpus went on around him.
Bored by the fighting, Magma leaned against the table and began picking her nose. Stretching out a long green string she gasped when a cave-fly buzzed up her other nostril. She flattened one side of her nose and tried to eject the fly by snorting it out.
“Stop fighting!” screamed Merkio thumping his trine jug on the table so hard it made sparks fly up into the air. The Trelders began to calm down and watched as he tipped a trine jug over the smouldering table-cloth.
“Continue, Aubretia,” said Merkio glaring around the table at the Trelders.
“The lake, Merkio, the lake,” wheezed Aubretia.
Merkio’s eyes rolled around his head “Of course!” he shouted. “I know the nearest lake.” He pointed at the stone floor. “It’s down there and its the snake lake!” A murmur raised its ugly head in the chamber. It grew wings and began to incite fear amongst the Tressers as they whispered about the snakes.
“Some of ‘em are as big as a Bog Troll,” said one.
“Vicious they are, with great big fangs!” quaked another.
“Their venom is so deadly, just one drop can kill a full grown troll,” said a third. Merkio banged his tankard down again until the table cloth burst into flames. The trolls quietened to a low grumble, as Merkio doused the fire with a jugful of custard.
“Silence in the galleries.” He waved a leathery palm at the muttering Tressers. “All right you able young trolls at the back – who is going to volunteer to go down to the snake lake?” All the trolls, both Tressers and Trelders, became as still as stones. Not one mumbled sound was uttered, there was not a cough or a burp to be heard anywhere in the chamber.
“Oh, come on – there must be someone – how about you, Izio? You always have a lot to say.”
Izio remained very still, sitting silently in the centre of the stone circle. A sudden noise made every head in the chamber turn towards the great doorway. Crankio and Nozio had been hiding in the shadows, listening quietly to the meeting when a painful spasm of cramp had stabbed through one of Crankio’s legs. Shaking his leg wildly, a toggle from his shorts had snagged on Nozio’s belt bringing both trolls crashing to the floor.
“You two over there by the door, come here at once.” Merkio beckoned to them. Very slowly, Crankio and Nozio slunk into the cavern and with eyes downcast they stood by the great Merkio’s chair.
“I do believe we have found our volunteers.” Merkio smiled at the cowering trolls.
“No!” Crankio exclaimed. “Please don’t send us down to the snake lake, Merkio. I mean, oh, great Merkio. I hate snakes. They are nasty wriggly things that bite your feet and make them sting. Urgh!”
“I’m Nozio,” said Nozio stepping forward. “I’ve always wondered what lay below the undercity. A snake lake, you say?”
“That’s correct, young troll.” Merkio patted him on the shoulder.
“Then we say yes, oh great Merkio,” said Nozio, “We’ll do it.”
“Nozio!” Crankio wailed, his eyes wide with fear at the very of thought of a writhing, wrigglery of snakes.
“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a few little snakes, Crankio,” Nozio nudged him, then added artfully: “A fearless troll like you.”
“Well no, not really…” murmured Crankio going red in the cheeks and looking round to see who was watching him.
“Come on then – let’s do it!” Nozio pulled at his arm.
“My, you are a keen young troll,” Merkio was impressed. “What’s your name again? Nizzio, was it?”
“Nozio.” Nozio bowed politely to the grand Trouncillor. “And the brave one here is Crankio.”
“Ave, your honour,” Crankio bowed low and farted loudly.
Chapter Three
The Snake Lake
Two Trelders showed Crankio and Nozio the way to the ante-chambers. The higher cavern was a circular room with shelves around the walls holding treasure chests filled with glittering troll gems.
“Ooh, sparkly,” said Crankio reaching out an eager hand.
“Don’t touch the trems,” ordered a Trelder, slapping him on the wrist. “It is forbidden to even look at the trems.” Holding up his lantern, the Trelder pointed to a hole in the centre of the room. Attached to the side was a stone ladder heading down into the darkness below.
“It’s down there,” said the Trelder. “Off you go.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” asked Crankio, still trying hard not to look at the gleaming trems.
“We go no further than this point,” said the Trelder holding a lantern on a pole. “Our aged legs do not like to climb.”
“And our aged arms do not like to carry heavy weights,” muttered the other Trelder shoving a glass and metal lantern into Nozio’s hands. “Here take this!”
“Gosh, that’s heavy,” said Nozio steadying the lantern until the flickering candle flame calmed itself.
“Descend the ladder and enter through the arch.” Instructed the, now lantern-less, Trelder. “At the end of the passageway you will find a shaft with a rope ladder – climb down to the cavern at the bottom. The snake lake is at the far side.”
“How deep is the shaft?” asked Nozio.
“Take these.” The Trelder handed him a large bundle of candles from a box by the ladder. “They ought to last you.”
The Trelders shuffled away, the dim light of their lantern growing fainter until they disappeared around the corner of the passage leading back to the Trouncil chamber.
“Come on,” Nozio stepped onto the stone ladder. “This is so exciting. It’s a mission, Crankio – an important quest.” He jumped down from the bottom rung and gave a gleeful skip, the swaying lantern sending shadows leaping around the walls of the cave. “Crankio, why aren’t you moving? What’s wrong with you?”
Crankio had stepped down from the ladder and was looking around the cave nervously, the furrows on his forehead deepening in the gentle lantern light.
“Wriggly snakes biting my feet and poisoning me,” he muttered. “That’s what’s wrong with me.” He shuffled his feet, stirring the sand on the rocky floor.
“Come on, Crankio,” said Nozio pulling at his arm. “This is a chance for adventure, don’t you see?”
“I can’t see,” grumbled his friend. “It’s too dark.”
Nozio lit a candle, shoving it into his friend’s hand he hurried down the passageway. A short while later his voice echoed along the tunnel.
“Get a move on, Crankio,” he said crossly. “Where are you?”
“Here.” Crankio shuffled up. “I don’t like it, Nozio; those snakes are nasty vicious things. Snap, snap, snap, they go.” He made his hand into a striking snake shape and poked Nozio with it.
“Get off! How can you be scared of a tiny little snake? Look at the size of you – one stomp of your foot and that little snake’s history.” Nozio stamped his foot down on the floor of the passage to mime the squashing of a snake.
“Wha-wha-what’s that?” Crankio pointed towards the floor of the passageway where a few feet away a green glow could be seen shimmering.
“It’s the light from the shaft!” In his excitement Nozio almost dropped the lantern. “Hurry, Crankio, let’s climb down!”
Nozio pulled the rope ladder away from the side of the shaft, tied the lantern to his belt ready to begin the climb. When Crankio rushed away from the hole, Nozio reached out and grabbed his ankle, giving it a sharp yank.
“Oh no, you don’t!” he cried as Crankio fell flat on his face. There was a slight scraping noise as Nozio pulled him towards the shaft.
“No, Nozio!” he spluttered, his mouth full of sand. “The snakes!”
“Oh, don’t be such a silly troddler. Little snakes – big trolls.”
Crankio dug his claws into the sandy floor but Nozio was much bigger and stronger than he and soon he was dragged into the hole after his friend and had to cling to the rope ladder to stop himself from falling. He could feel Nozio climbing below him, the ladder swaying gently as he moved down the rungs. Every time Crankio attempted to climb back up, Nozio pulled on his ankle until he took another step down. Eventually they reached the bottom of the shaft and stood there gasping with the effort after their long and arduous climb.
Crankio pulled his candle out of his ear and held it up, looking about the cavern, imagining he could hear the hiss of snakes – but the only sound he heard was wheezing as Nozio got his breath back.
The cavern was a large one. The strange green glow on the walls shimmered eerily. A dark band towards the centre appeared to be the edge of the snake lake, stretching almost to the far wall.
Nozio headed towards it, being careful not to trip on the uneven rocky floor.
“Ow,” yelled Crankio from somewhere in the greenish darkness.
“What have you done?” Nozio called, wandering towards the source of the moaning.
“Fell over,” called Crankio. “My candle’s gone out.”
“Come and light it then – although you hardly need it, the glow from the walls is bright enough to see where you’re going.”
“Ow,” said Crankio.
“What’ve you done now?”
“Something bit me,” said Crankio.
“Really?” Nozio swung the lantern towards his friend’s foot. “Are you sure you didn’t walk into that big rock?”
“No. It was definitely a snake.”
“That’s strange, Crankio and I’ll tell you why – because if you look into the snake lake you will find it’s completely empty not only of water but also of snakes.”
Very cautiously, Crankio peered over the edge of the lake. “It’s empty,” he said.
“That’s what I just told you,” said Nozio. “Look around you – the lake’s nothing but a vast dried-up bed of cracked mud.”
All that remained of the lake was a yawning hole in the rock with thick carpet of dark green flakes covering its base.
Crankio shuddered. “Where have all the snakes gone?” he asked, looking anxiously over his shoulder.
“I’ve no idea. Jump down and see what all that green stuff is,” Nozio gave him a little push.
“Are you sure there are no snakes down there?” asked Crankio, stiffening.
“Can you see any snakes?” Nozio swung his lantern around.
“No, but they could be hiding in that green stuff.”
“Only one way to find out, isn’t there?” Nozio grinned.
“No, Nozio!” Crankio let out a wail and there was a crunching sound when he landed on the lake bed.
“Can you see anything?” shouted Nozio.
“Only flakes of weed,” said Crankio wading about in the crunchy mass that came almost up to his knees. He kicked it about like fallen leaves, throwing heaps of it into the air.
“What is this stuff?” He held up a big handful and poked his tongue into it. “Errgh,” he wailed. “It tastes really bad!” Crankio spat out his mouthful of weed, paddling desperately at his tongue to remove the bitter tang.
“I think it may be algae,” said Nozio picking up a piece which had landed at his feet. “Algae’s a bit like seaweed. I’ve heard that snakes love it. I expect they’ve lived down here for thousands of years munching happily and now the water’s gone they’ve gone too. Hmm, I wonder where the water went? Can you see any holes down there, Crankio? Where it may have leaked out.”
“No, only green stuff.” The sound of a loud fart echoed from the lake bed.
“I’m going to explore.” Nozio began to prowl around the cavern. “Crankio stop it, I can smell you up here!”
Nozio sped away from the lake-bed, a short while later he gave a shout.
“Hoy, Crankio! Get out of that hole and come and look at this.” Crankio’s feet slipped on the crumbly dried mud as he climbed up the side. He lumbered over to Nozio, who was standing by a fissure in the rock face.
“What is it?” he asked trying to peer under Nozio’s armpit.
“This must be where the water came in to feed the lake.” Nozio traced a line of sparkles in the rock with his claw. “These are mineral deposits probably left by a once continuous flow of water and if the water was coming in, it must also have been going out.”
“Eeh?” Crankio scrunched his nose up in puzzlement. “I don’t understand.”
“Well, dopey, if the water was flowing it would still be here, wouldn’t it? So where has it all gone?” Nozio waved his arm around the waterless cavern. “Any ideas?”
“Oh, oh.” Crankio pulled at Nozio’s arm. “I understand some of the prophesy. I know what it means. The bit about the lake is lost.” He pointed at the dried-up lake bed. “And the scales are all gone; that must be the snakes because they are all scaly – and they’ve all gone.” Crankio looked very pleased with himself.
“I guessed as…” When Nozio saw Crankio’s look of fast fading glory he quickly changed his words. “…er, the bit about the lake being lost. Well done for working out that scales meant snakes. That’s very clever, Crankio.” The smile reappeared on Crankio’s face.
“Go on, Crankio,” Nozio poked him. “Can you work out the next bit? About the new and watery bed? I wonder where that is?”
“Not in here, there’s nothing in here.”
“Hmm.” Nozio wandered away mumbling under his breath while Crankio trailed along behind him.
“There were a lot of snakes in that water, Crankio.” Nozio stopped and began to wiggle his fingers. “Thousands of them, maybe even millions of them. One big, heaving, writhing mass of snakes. Where on earth have they gone? And for that matter, how did they get out?”
A strange sound echoed through the cavern – Crankio’s knees had begun to knock. He clapped his palms over them to still the knocking then shuffled around to check just in case the million snakes had all reappeared and were wriggling in a towering pile behind him waiting to strike.
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” he wailed, letting out a puff of relief upon finding there were no snakes behind him and when he turned back Nozio had disappeared.
“Nozio,” he said in a panic-filled voice. “Where are you?”
“Over here,” came the echoing reply. Crankio quickly scuttled over, stepping behind a rock he found Nozio in the entrance to a low tunnel leading away from the lake. Nozio gave a little wave and disappeared inside.
“Nozio, come back! Don’t leave me!” Crankio rushed forward, making a frantic grab at Nozio’s hair he pulled him backwards.
“What are you doing?” Nozio struggled to stay upright and gave Crankio a jab in the ribs with his elbow.
“There may be snakes down there, Nozio!”
“That, my brave friend, is exactly what I’m hoping to find.” Nozio smoothed his hair flat. “Now will you hurry up, we’ve got to find where the water’s gone.” He grabbed the shivering Crankio and pulled him down the tunnel.
*
“How far is it Nozio? I don’t like walking,” moaned Crankio. “My feet ache.”
“I expect we’re under the sea now.”
“The sea?”
“Yes, the sea – just keep walking.”
“Nozio?” said Crankio a long while later.
“What is it now?”
“Is it much further? This is the longest night I’ve ever known and my feet really hurt now and my back aches.”
“Well at least your tongue is still okay,” said Nozio.
“That’s not fair,” said Crankio speeding up and thumping him. He tripped on a rock and moaned.
“My knees hurt,” said Crankio a while later. “The snakes couldn’t have gone this way or they would have worn out by now.”
“Hah! Look,” said Nozio. “They did come this way, and you were right they did wear out – I just found a snake-skin.”
“Let me see,” said Crankio, snatching the skin and sniffing it.
“That proves they came this way and the water must have too. Where’s the snake-skin?” Nozio looked at his friend. “Oh, Crankio, you didn’t eat it, did you?”
“I was hungry.”
“You’re unbelievable!”
After a lot more walking the passage began to drop downwards. As the slope dropped, the sand beneath their feet rolled silkily under their toes. Crankio shook his shoulders, moaning loudly.
“Are we there yet?”
“Not far now, just around this corner.”
“What corner? We’ve been walking for ages and there are no corners.”
“There will be soon, the tunnel can’t go on for ever, can it? It must have an end, nothing is endless.”
“This tunnel may well be the one thing that is endless,” grumbled Crankio. “We may walk and walk until we wear our legs out and we are just two bodies stuck in the sand.”
“Oh, stop whining,” Nozio turned around, put down the lantern and gave Crankio a shove. Crankio pushed him back and soon, they were rolling over and over on the tunnel floor, grappling wildly at one another.
“Crankio – stop,” cried Nozio. “Look – I just found a snake!” He held up a small black body, dangling it in front of Crankio’s nose.
“Get it away from me,” he screamed. “It’ll bite me with its poison fangs.”
“This one won’t – it’s dead. Look!” Nozio swung the snake, which was as stiff as a stick, round and round his head. “But you know what this means, don’t you?”
“No, what?”
“We’re still on the right trail. Come on, we must be close now.”
“Close to what?” Crankio picked up his fallen candle and got to his feet. “More tunnel, more rocks – I bet that snake died of boredom from this stupid, endless tunnel, I bet he couldn’t take it any more and he just…”
“Look!” squealed Nozio. “I can see sunlight ahead of us.”
“That means its daytime and I should be asleep,” said Crankio.
“Oh, come on!” Nozio dragged his moaning friend out of the tunnel.
“Wow, mountains,” said Crankio, looking around. “Big ones.”
They stood blinking in the brilliant rays of sunshine bathing the mountainside where they had emerged. Far above their heads soared snow-tipped peaks. Regular beats were echoing through the mountain passes and getting louder as they came closer.
“What’s that noise?” Crankio gripped Nozio’s arm. “Is it snakes?”
“Snakes don’t have feet, Crankio, but I think whatever it is, is coming this way – quick hide behind that rock.”
The trolls threw themselves behind a craggy boulder and held their breath as the sound grew louder.