Dragon Rider – Part 31

Dragon Rider

Chapter Thirteen Continued

Fire and Water

Drake turned his attention to the map.  He could clearly see the exit Gizmo had been talking about; it was located two floors below, on the opposite side of the boat and, luckily for them, an elevator shaft, situated just above it, would lead them straight down to it.  He spun around, the map still superimposed on his vision and headed back to Willow and Pyro.

Willow looked even worse than he felt; her eyes were heavy and she was still cradling her head in her hands.  ‘Come on,’ said Drake pulling her to her feet, ’you’ll feel better once we get outta here.’

They left the steam room and entered the gym where the man in the Bermuda shorts had another towel in his hands to put in the dirty laundry.  His eyes were black, unseeing, so they left him to it and exited into the corridor.

‘We just need to get to an elevator shaft on the opposite side of the boat,’ said Drake leading them off down the corridor.  The elevator shaft was positioned exactly as the map had shown; in a hallway by one of the ship’s many kitchens.  It looked as if the shaft was used to transport food deliveries as it was small and had a single door that dropped from the ceiling.

They all piled in and Drake pressed the large green button on the wall.  The door clattered shut behind them, enclosing them in a small steel box lit only by one sickly yellow light on the ceiling.  The elevator ground down the two floors and spewed them out into a large storage area filled with stacks of wooden boxes stamped with the cargo’s contents and origins; there were fine wines from the New World and expensive champagnes from what used to be known as France.  In the corner, puffs of smoke escaped from the chugging machine which extracted the Lethe from the Lake of Forgetfulness.  The room smelled like Pyro; petrol and gas with the hint of sweat alongside the addition of wet dog and musty cardboard.

The large service exit was located straight opposite.  Drake scanned the shadows for the operating panel, still trying to work out exactly how he was going to get them all out of the cargo hold alive.  If only there was some kind of breathing apparatus or…

Brilliant white light flooded the cargo hold as the steel doors at the side of the room were thrown open.

‘Leaving so soon?’ came the voice of a man silhouetted against the light.

‘Morpheus?’ said Drake, unable to keep the bitter sound of frustration from his voice.  Once his eyes had adjusted to the brightness he could see Morpheus was flanked by a whole army of personal guards dressed from head-to-toe in black, holding AK-47s pumped for action.

‘Did you really think you could get away that easy?  And you,’ he said turning to face Willow, ‘are a sore disappointment.  Trying to leave without saying goodbye, where are your manners?’

‘I-’

Morpheus raised his hand, dripping in platinum, to his mouth to silence her.  ‘It is too late for apologies, my dear.’  Morpheus sighed.  ‘It gives me no great pleasure to do what I must but, as you have tried to leave without payment, I must take what is owed by force.  Your dreams are what is required, alive or dead, we can extract them either way.’  He shrugged and turned to one of his guards, ‘Let him lose, come back and check on them in half an hour.’  And with that, Morpheus was gone.

‘Shit!’ exclaimed Drake, as a guard was hauled in by a three-headed black dog on a thick iron chain, his tattooed arm bulging from beneath his short-sleeved tee-shirt.  Drake was vaguely aware of Willow letting out a little squeal beside him and the sound of Pyro hyperventilating.

‘Say hello to my little friend; Cerberus,’ said the guard with a toothy grin as he unhooked the iron chain from the dog’s studded leather collar and backed quickly out of the room, the steel doors clanging shut behind him.

The dog’s black hackles were raised, his black eyes bulging with excitement as he eyeballed Drake, Pyro and Willow.  The dog’s three heads snarled, great pools of drool dribbling from the corners of curled lips.

Drake stood his ground, his fists clenching and unclenching at the side of his body.  ‘Willow, Pyro,’ he whispered through clenched teeth, ‘back up slowly, get up high, on a stack of boxes, be quick!’

Willow and Pyro scrambled up the nearest pile of boxes just as the dog lunged forward.  ‘Come on you oversized mutt!’ yelled Drake, as he darted to the left, away from Willow and Pyro.  The snarling dog followed, its black eyes locked onto him.

Drake dived over an empty crate and headed for the Lethe extractor in the corner of the room.  Cerberus bounded after him; Drake could hear it advancing upon him, its claws scratching at the wooden floor, its tail smacking into the rows of wooden boxes.  When Drake could feel the warm acrid breath of the beast, he suddenly dived to the right.  Cerberus tried to follow but its body skidded as he tried to turn, its claws failing to find grip, and it collided with a wall of boxes, which exploded, sending bottles of wine crashing to the floor.

Concentrating on a thick steel chain hanging from the ceiling, Drake ran at the port-side wall and bounced off it, throwing himself backwards and upwards to grab the chain.  He caught it and clung on tight as he flew over Cerberus’ great black heads.  As soon as his feet touched the machine he forced himself back over Cerberus’ snapping jaws until he had enough momentum to land like a cat on top of the Lethe extractor.  He let the chain go and it smashed into the side of the boat with a loud clunk.

Cerberus lunged at the extractor, his middle head just about reaching the top of the machine, his six eyes blazing with madness and fury as it kept lunging at the extractor.  Its terrifying bark ripped through the hold like thunder echoing through a mountain pass and with every attack the machine crumpled further in on itself.

Drake steadied himself on top of the swaying and creaking extractor.  He couldn’t reach the chain from where he was perched and the only other way off the machine was down, and into the jaws of Cerberus.  He looked over to Willow and Pyro, and held out his hands in supplication, hoping that for once they’d come up with the goods and get him out of this.

He could see from Willow’s expression and the movement of her lips that she was trying to cast a spell, trouble was, she didn’t have a spellbook and whatever spell she was trying from memory didn’t seem to be working.  Pyro stood at the top of his pile of boxes looking as gormless as usual, his arms outstretched in a half-hearted attempt at a shrug.  He really was going to strangle the djinn with his bare hands, if they ever got out of here alive.

Think! shrieked the voice inside Drake’s head.  I would, if I could, he shouted back.  If only that stupid dog would stop barking for one millisecond.

He banged the heel of his hand on forehead.  Damn it!  Dragons, djinns, demons; no problem.  Oversized dogs?  The Zephyr was out; it would knock everyone out and he couldn’t drag everyone to safety.  He had to get down, he had to face Cerberus somehow, he had to defeat him.

The machine groaned as it scrunched even further into itself.  And then the answer flew at him.  Three bars of purple-covered chocolate floated in front of him.  He looked over to Willow who just shrugged at him and smiled weakly.

Without a second thought, he grabbed one of the bars, ripped the foil off it and threw it to the floor.  The middle head snarled as it laid its head protectively over the bar, the other two heads snarling back in reply.  Drake unwrapped the other bars and threw them down on the floor where they were devoured by the other two heads.

Once the chocolate had been devoured the dog sat down, his thick black tail sweeping excitedly along the dusty wooden floor.  He sniffed up at Drake, its huge mouths panting excitedly.

‘Got any more?’ asked Drake.

Pyro and Willow both shrugged in reply.

Drake took a deep breath and leapt from the top of the machine, landing lightly at the side of Cerberus.  The dog collapsed onto the floor and sighed happily before rolling over, each of its long, pink, slimy tongues lolling out from the corner of his mouths.  Drake shook his head; this couldn’t be happening, right?  Things were never that easy, were they?  He leaned forward and ran his hand over the dog’s tan coarse belly fur.  He could feel the thrum of the dog’s heart in his chest and hear the contented purr as Cerberus’s eyelids drooped shut.

‘I think you can come down now,’ whispered Drake, as Cerberus began to snore like a freight train.

‘I can’t believe it ate all the chocolate,’ sighed Willow, ‘oh, it smelt so good.’

Drake stared at her with a look of disbelief.

‘What?’ she asked, shrugging, ‘I eat when I’m stressed.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Pyro, ‘I’ll get you some tasty chocolate when we get out of here, great mounds of the best stuff you’ve ever tasted.  I know a guy, a shyster called Jack the Eye, he works for a guy, who knows a guy that drives for a guy who owns a chocolate factory.  He owes me-’

‘Pyro,’ snapped Drake, ‘not now, eh?’

‘Okay, okay.  I was just saying.’

‘We’re going to have to move him-’

‘Move him?’ asked Willow with disbelief.  ‘He probably weighs a ton, how‘re we going to do that?

‘Well, we can’t leave him to drown can we?’ snapped Drake back at her.

‘You don’t have to,’ said Pyro, grimacing as he lifted up one of the dog’s lips to reveal its yellowing, plaque encrusted teeth, ‘take him with you, set him free.’

‘What?’

Death’s Apprentice – Part 48

He didn’t blame Hades for falling to sleep. Joe had to admit this cottage was pretty snug and homely. He yawned loudly before he shovelled the last spoonful of stew into his mouth. He dropped the bowl onto the floor and stood up to stretch.

Yep, this place was rather nice; too many knick-knacks for Joe’s liking but still, it was more homely than he’d ever considered his own home to be. Yes, this was more like it.

He looked around for Hel. Where had she got to? He looked at Hades. Hades didn’t look worried as he lay there snoring his head off so why should he be worried? Maybe Hades had got the right idea. Maybe that’s what Joe needed, a nap. The bed did look really inviting, and it wouldn’t hurt to rest for a few minutes, would it?

He flopped onto the bed which seemed to cocoon him as he fell, like some giant cuddly arms. Oh, it felt so comfy, so warm…

 

Jow woke with a start. He gasped for air. That was one Hell of a dream. He’d been dreaming that he was being held prisoner by a woman with a knife.

His heart jumped into his throat as a woman’s head swooped into view, her features covered by her thick red hair.

‘And what do you think you’re doing on my bed?’ she demanded, whilst thrusting a silver knife to his throat.

‘I…I was just…’

‘I know what you were doing,’ she boomed, letting the sharp blade rest on his skin, ‘you were sleeping. ON MY BED!’

‘I’m sorry, I just…’

‘I just…I just…stop snivelling like a child. Actually, now I come to think of it, I’m quite partial to children. I like to cook them and eat them in a stew for my dinner.’

Joe’s stomach rolled. Acidic bile rose up into his throat. He hadn’t had he? The stew…? Eugh!!! He hadn’t eaten human flesh? Had he?

‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ he squeaked.

Suddenly the witch threw her head back and began to laugh. She dropped the knife onto the bed stand and climbed off Joe. She rolled over and lay beside him, clutching her stomach as she laughed.

‘That was too funny,’ said another voice. This one he recognised.

‘Hel?’

Hel came into view, her eyes streaming with tears of laughter.

‘What? You…?’ He sat up, his pride stinging with indignity. ‘You…what’s going on?’

‘We’re only having you on! Sorry.’

But, Joe could tell Hel wasn’t sorry. No, not at all. She was laughing now but he’d get her back. Yep, at some point, he was going to get her back for that.

‘Couldn’t resist, sorry. It was too easy,’ said the other woman who was still lying next to Joe. She turned her head to face him, her hand outstretched. ‘The name’s Agnes, pleased to meet you.’

Dragon Rider – Part 30

Dragon Rider

Chapter Thirteen

Fire and Water

Pyro propped Drake up as they staggered through the bar.  It was Pyro’s idea; they had to make people believe that Drake was still under the influence of Lethe, it was the only way, he argued, to get past Morpheus and all the swaying bodies.  Trouble was Drake wasn’t pretending, his head throbbed worse than usual, he was struggling to focus properly and he couldn’t contain the tremors that were erupting all over his body.

The only thing that he could hear above the thump, thump of the music, was that little voice in his head which he tried so hard to keep hidden.  It was nagging at him, asking him how he could’ve been so stupid as to believe that taking a ride on the Arcadia was going to be easy.  Look, it said, at the people, they were nothing but shadows, zombies whose eyes stared at fading memories on the edge of their consciousness, too far out of reach, lost to the Lethe.  Their features were distorted and twisted, like the Gods that kept them enslaved on the boat for all eternity.

Drake thought he could hear their cries, their pleas for mercy, for peace, mingling in with that annoying nagging voice.  How could you have fallen for it?  Free us.  Please?  Are you so consumed by the need for vengeance that you would lead Willow into a trap rather than listen to Pyro?

He felt like screaming as the voices became louder, drowning out even the sound of the music.  Faces leered at him, strangers mocked him.  Stupid boy!  Come and join us, be one of us, forget your troubles.  Drink the Lethe!

A girl in a long black dress and heavy eye make-up grabbed him and he stumbled.  ’Dance!’ she giggled as Pyro fought to keep hold of him.

‘Out of the way!’ screamed Pyro.  ‘He’s going to be sick!’

The girl didn’t seem to register what Pyro had said, her eyes were dead like nothing existed behind them, but she continued whirling across the dance floor in a Bacchanalian trance, asking people to dance.

Drake shuddered.  He could feel zombified hands grasping at his clothes, pleading with him to save them.  But he knew it was no good; they were already dead.  He closed his eyes and let Pyro lead him across the room.

As soon as they’d exited the bar area, Pyro let Drake go.  ’It’s just back there,’ he said pointing down the corridor to the back of the boat.

Drake leant his head against the wall, allowing the cold to penetrate through his skull, to dissipate the mayhem there.  He stood up and rubbed his forehead like he was trying to iron out the creases.

‘Come on!’ snapped Pyro.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Drake.  He took a deep breath and followed Pyro down the corridor, through the gym and to the steam room.

‘In here!’ hissed Pyro as a man in Bermuda shorts strolled past them with a rolled-up towel in his hands.  Drake didn’t fear being seen by the man; he was as dead as the rest of them.

Willow was slumped on a slatted wooden bench, her head squashed up against the wall, her pink hair stuck to her face.  Luckily the steam had been turned off else her make-up would’ve been running down her face with the slug trail.

Pyro sat next to her and, tilting her head back, tipped the contents of the can of pop into her mouth.  As soon as the first sip of the fizzy brown liquid had been swallowed, she opened her eyes and groaned.

‘Where am I?’ she said, slurring her words.

‘Safe,’ whispered Pyro as he stroked her back.  ‘Have some more of this,’ he said, making sure she drained every last drop from the can.

‘My head feels like it’s been used as a football.’

‘Eat this,’ said Pyro stuffing chunks of chocolate into her mouth.

‘You alright?’ asked Drake, propping himself up the wall.  He had to get a grip.

‘Yeah,’ nodded Willow, cradling her head with her hand, ‘I think so.’

Drake took a deep breath and forced himself to stand up.  ’Sit there, eat some more chocolate.  We need to you to be as alert as possible if we’re going to get off this boat alive.’  He turned and closed his eyes momentarily, allowing the dizziness to subside.  He pressed the button on the side of his watch and waited for Gizmo to answer.

‘Gizmo?’  There was no reply, just a dull buzzing of a dead line.  ‘Must be the room, I’ll go out and try, give me a mo.’  Drake stepped outside, steadied himself up the wall, and tried again.

‘Gizmo?’

After a brief pause Gizmo’s smiling face appeared before him.  ‘Hi Drake, how’s it…’ said Gizmo, pushing his glasses back up his nose and squinting, ‘oh, you look a bit rough.’

‘I’m okay,’ replied Drake, his voice calm but slightly betraying his lack of control.  But, even with his Lethe hangover, he could sense that Gizmo was more relaxed with him.  Maybe Gizmo losing Falkor had thawed him out a bit.  ’I need you to do something for me.  We’re stuck on a boat called the Arcadia, got any info on how to get off it?’

‘Can‘t you just get off the deck by the gangway?’ asked Gizmo, his usually smooth brow creased with lots of wrinkles.

‘It’s a bit more complicated than that.  Is there another way?’

‘Just a sec.’  There was silence on the line as Gizmo disappeared.  ‘Okay,’ he said reappearing a few seconds later, ‘according to this, the Arcadia was a mega-yacht owned by the Russian Billionaire Vladimir Berezovsky, hang on, no, that doesn’t make sense.  Drake?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Berezovsky drowned along with over two-hundred partygoers when it vanished in Bermuda in 2011.’  Gizmo looked up at Drake, his face draining of colour as this information slowly sunk in.  ‘Drake, where are you…exactly?’

‘Like I said, it’s complicated.  Can you find any plans?  Any info on how to get off it?’

‘Yeah, the plans are floating in cyberspace.  Hang on.  Okay, here you are; there’s a service exit on the third level below deck, at the back of the ship, port side,’ he said, as the plans of the Arcadia appeared, before Drake’s eyes, superimposed in blue upon his vision.

‘Okay, thanks,’ said Drake, cutting Gizmo off.

Death’s Apprentice – Part 47

Joe paused.

What he got to lose? His life was pretty fucked up already. I mean, everyone hated him in the upper world. And here?

Well, no one hated him here. Yet. But what kind of loser ends up in the Underworld when they’re still alive? And, even though he was still alive, that could easily change and he could end up dead.

But then, he was in the right place for it.

And, his life had kind of been a waste up until this point.

The only thing he’d got going for him was Lola and sometimes he thought she’d be better off without him. He often thought of all the nice families she could’ve ended up with, with big gardens, nice comfy dog beds and a shitdad that didn’t hit her.

What kind of miserable person was he? He kept Lola because of his own selfishness. And he knew it. He was alone in the world and Lola made him feel that little bit less alone but was it worth her being mistreated?

Joe’s heart sank.

He really was a piece of shit, wasn’t he?

Joe pushed thoughts of Lola from his mind. He couldn’t help her down here so he had to forget her for a bit then, when he got back he’d….

No, he couldn’t think of that, not yet.

He climbed the steps and entered the cabin, with his heart feeling like it was in his feet.

Colour and smells seemed to assault him from every direction. His stomach groaned loudly again as he smelt the stew. Beef, he thought, with…carrots…and dumplings. God, he thought it smelled so good that he’d probably commit murder just to have some. His mouth began to water.

He looked over to the black cauldron bubbling in the hearth. Beside it, in the coals, sat a large black iron kettle. On the mantelpiece sat loads of knick-knacks – cat statues, a small crystal ball, a figurine of a naked woman, and some jars filled with what looked like black gloop and a strange clock with lots of dials and fingers and moons. A crooked broomstick leaned up the side of the brick fireplace.

The walls of the cabin were made from a silver-coloured wood that had been covered in colourful drapes and tapestries. And over at the far side of the single-roomed house sat the comfiest bed Joe had ever seen. It was covered with a thick layer of blankets and furs. He yawned. It sure did look inviting.

‘Here you re then,’ said Hel holding out a wooden bowl of steaming stew.

The saliva was beginning to pool at the corners of his mouth.

He took the bowl and began to shovel it into his mouth before he even sat down on the wooden chair placed next to the hearth.

Hades yawned and stretched out his front paws before he circled around in front of the fire several times. He crashed to the floor in a big dog-doughnut and before Joe had taken two mouthfuls of the stew, he was snoring loudly.

So, You Want to be a writer? Six tips to get you on your way.

So, you want to be a writer?

Here are six tips to help you on your way!

  1. Read. A lot!! I love reading so this isn’t a major issue for me. Reading will make you a better writer. You need to learn somewhere, right? So why not learn from those who came before you? It’s amazing what you can get from other writers. You’ll pick up writing techniques, grammar tips and vocabulary as you go. Learning by osmosis – what’s not to love? And, reading can mean comic books, newspapers, and online articles (like this one :)) so there’s no excuse!! Except, if you have no time, but everyone can make five minutes a day to read, can’t they?

    person holding book
    Photo by fotografierende on Pexels.com
  2. Get yourself a notebook and a pen, go somewhere quiet and write! You don’t need any expensive gadgets to start. Just time, inspiration, and a notebook and pen (there are some gorgeous notebooks out there. And, have you seen some of the beautiful pens you can buy? My personal faves are the coloured biros by Bic, especially the purple ones). It doesn’t even matter if you think it’s bad. Write anyway!

    pencil on spiral notebook
    Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com
  3. Practice. And Practice. And practice… Once you begin writing, keep going. The only way to get better at anything is practice. Maybe take a writing course to hone your skills. Writing courses come in many shapes and sizes. Some are free and some are run by fabulous, well-established writers (Neil Gaiman, I’m looking at you!).
  4. Get feedback. This gives you an outsider’s perspective of your writing. People can tell you where your weak points are, but also when you’re doing something right. You could join a local writing group for this. I did and it improved my writing considerably.

    “Remember, you’re not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s okay!”

  5. Get a thick skin. You’re not always going to write fabulous prose. Sometimes your work will be utter crap. Don’t be afraid to face that fact. And even when your work is absolutely amazing and fabulous, people will tear it apart and make you feel like dirt. Unfortunately, this is something we, as writers, have to live with. Not everyone is going to love what you write and you need to learn to live with that. Write anyway! Remember, you’re not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. And that’s okay!
  6. Write! Make sure you write, even if it’s just a few words every day. Don’t just talk about it. Write! Write your first draft even if it’s utter rubbish. Don’t worry, everyone’s first draft is crap (I mean, have you read my first draft of Death’s Apprentice, written here on my blog as I go? Try reading it, you’ll see what I mean :)). But as they say, you can’t edit a blank page! You can edit your writing though. And edit. And edit. Rewrites will make your writing shine!

    wood light creative space
    Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on Pexels.com

As Charles Buckowski said:

“There is no losing in writing, it will make your toes laugh as you sleep, it will make you stride like a tiger, it will fire the eye and put you face to face with death. You will die a fighter, you will be honored in hell. The luck of the word. Go with it.”

 

Dragon Rider – Part Twenty-Nine

Dragon Rider

Chapter Twelve Continued

Dreams

‘I’ said Pyro weakly as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to try and stem the feeling of nausea, ‘am a djinn and NOT a demon!’

‘If you say so,’ said Morpheus, his arm still protectively around Willow.  ‘It doesn’t matter.  If you don’t want to ride with us that is your prerogative but I suggest you look at what you’ll have to contend with down there before you decide.  Shall we go and sort the music out?’ he said, turning to Willow.

Willow nodded and giggled like a little girl.

‘Oh, help yourself to a drink from the bar below deck,’ shouted Morpheus over his shoulder as he walked away with Willow.

‘Blackthorn, I don’t think-’

‘When are you going to get it into your thick skull that we don’t want you to think, eh Pyro?’ said Drake, tapping Pyro on the side of his head.

‘Blackthorn, think about this!’ pleaded Pyro, ‘Willow is acting bizarre, why would she just walk off with a stranger?’

‘I don’t know,’ shrugged Drake, as he strode over to the side of the boat.  ‘Maybe she’s also fed up of hanging around you.  Besides, this boat will get us to the Fortress quicker than fighting through that lot,’ he said, pointing to the ground below them.

Pyro gulped loudly as he glanced fleetingly over the side of the boat.  From this vantage point, he could see a whole menagerie of monsters lurking in the labyrinthine Forest, from a Nemean Lion and a Chimera, to a flock of Stymphalian birds feasting on the flesh of a man.  ‘I think I need to sit down,’ said Pyro, ’this is just turning into the worst day ever.’

‘Well, I’m going for a drink,’ said Drake.  He turned and walked away, leaving Pyro curled up at the side of the boat.

Drake wound his way through the mass of dancing bodies and down the short staircase at the front of the ship just as the music changed.  He smiled in approval as Skulls of Destiny’s “Trash-time Valentine” blasted from the upper deck just as he grabbed a tall glass of clear liquid from the bar.

He took a huge gulp of the soothing drink, which tasted like cotton candy, and slumped into the nearest comfy chair.  He was so damn tired.  Why couldn’t he just go to sleep, forget everything, just be normal for once?  He took another gulp of his drink.  God, it was good, but he was so sleepy.

But something didn’t feel quite right.  It was if he could feel all of his worst fears, his nightmares, closing in around him, dancing at the very edge of his consciousness.  He could almost taste Fenrik’s cigars, could hear Vigor rasping, could taste Willow’s tears, feel the pain as Falkor was ripped to pieces.  He didn’t want to close his eyes, to see the phantoms plaguing his dreams.

‘It’s okay.’

Drake’s eyes shot open.  Had he already fallen to sleep?  He looked at the pretty girl sat next to him, dressed in black with long purple hair.  He was sure she was the girl that had winked at him before, but it couldn‘t be.  He shook his head and tried to dispel the mist that was beginning to cloud his mind.

‘It’s okay,’ she repeated, ‘everyone feels like that at first.  Take another sip, it will make it better and it will all go away.’  She smiled sweetly and lifted Drake’s glass to his mouth.  ‘Go on,’ she soothed, ‘take a sip.’

Drake took another swig.  He was so sleepy…

*****

‘Blackthorn, Blackthorn!’

‘Go away!’ snapped Drake.  He didn’t want to wake up, not yet, sleeping was just too good.  It was bliss not having to think.

‘Hey Blackthorn, get up!’

‘What do you want Pyro?’ groaned Drake, not wanting to open his eyes, ‘Can’t you just leave me alone?’

‘Blackthorn, we’re in danger,’ said Pyro, shaking Drake, the sharp edge of urgency in his voice, ‘I need you to snap out of it now!’

‘Where’s the fire Pyro?  Ha!’ grinned Drake stupidly, ‘You should know, you probably started it!’

‘You’ve been drugged!  Come on!  If you stay here much longer you will forget everything.  That drink you’ve got is Lethe-’

‘Lethe?  I don’t care what it is, it’s like ambrosia for the Gods.’  Drake hiccupped, ‘I think I need another one!’

‘Blackthorn, you idiot, Lethe is the water from the lake the boat came from, the Lake of Forgetfulness-’

‘Forget about it, Pyro, chill man!’ said Drake trying to tap Pyro on the shoulder but missing.

‘DRAKE BLACKTHORN!’ screeched Pyro, ’wake up now!’  He grabbed a silver bucket of ice from the wooden bar and threw it at Drake.

‘Wow! What was that for?’ asked Drake looking down at the water dripping from his head onto his black tee-shirt and coat.

‘And you think I’m stupid.  Look, I know you don’t like me but I really need you to listen to me now, AND FOCUS!’ said Pyro, slapping Drake across the cheek.

‘Hey!’ said Drake feeling the side of his face.  He looked up at Pyro in a sulk, ‘What was that for?’

‘I‘ve been knocking around for a good few millennia, and you need to trust me when I say that, in my time, I’ve met a few shysters-’

‘Like me?’ asked Drake, thumping his chest with his hand and slumping back on his velvet-backed chair, grinning.

‘No, not like you.  I mean guys that would pull your eyes out just for the pleasure of it.  Don’t you think it was funny Willow just walking off like that?’

Drake shrugged.

‘Or that all the monsters we saw in the Forest of Suffering were all from Greek and Roman mythology?’

‘So?’

‘So, when I said I knew that guy when we came aboard, you know, Morpheus?’

‘Morpheus,’ repeated Drake, nodding.

‘Well, I do, and that DJ guy, Hypno, they’re Greek Gods, brothers from like way back in time.  They prey on abandoned souls and steal their dreams, that’s what keeps them immortal.’

Drake guffawed.  ‘What?  No!’

‘Yeah, so you can imagine how they felt when we came aboard.  Two live ones to feed off.  Your dreams would keep them going for a very long time.’

‘What about your dreams Pyro?  Do you dream in fire?’

‘Can’t feed off a djinn, we don’t dream in the same way you do.  Lucky for you too, else you’d be gone.’

‘Gone?’

Pyro nodded and run a finger across his throat.

‘Why are you dressed like a pot plant?’ asked Drake, his face screwed up in confusion as he stared at Pyro.

‘Because,’ said Pyro, closing his eyes with a sigh, ’I am trying to go incognito, so they don‘t recognise me.’

‘I don’t think it suits you, green just isn‘t your colour.’

‘Come on,’ said Pyro, grabbing Drake’s Zephyr from the floor in one hand and Drake with the other.  He propped Drake up, managed to get the Zephyr onto Drake’s back, and then dragged him across the bar and into a hallway behind it.

‘You’ve got to get a grip!’ said Pyro, looking anxiously up and down the hallway, ’If Morpheus finds us-’

Drake smiled gormlessly at Pyro and slid down onto his bottom with a thump, his Zephyr squealing in pain as it scraped off the wall.  ’I love you Pyro.’

Pyro shook his head and tutted.  ’Stay here,’ he ordered, ’and don’t move.  I need to find some Dandelion and Burdock, and chocolate, that’ll sort you out.’  Pyro took one last look at Drake, shook his head again and disappeared off down the hall.

Drake remained seated on the patterned carpet, which looked as if someone had been sick all over it, and smiled.  He felt really sleepy and really happy as he stared at the white walls.  It was like heaven; he could stay here forever, no problems.

‘Hello again!’ he said, as Pyro reappeared ten minutes later, minus the greenery, glowing slightly orange and looking rather harassed.  ‘Did you miss me?’  Drake winked and gave Pyro a toothy grin.

‘Get this down you,’ said Pyro, tipping the contents of a brown can into Drake’s mouth.

Drake took a big gulp.  ‘Pyro, what are you doing?’ snapped Drake, shoving Pyro’s arm away before clambering up from the floor.  ’God’s sake,’ he said cradling his head in his hand, ’What the hell has happened to me?’

‘Good to see you’re back to your normal “happy” self, eat this,’ replied Pyro, unwrapping the purple foil off a chocolate bar and handing it to Drake, ’Don’t thank me for saving your butt!’

Drake shrugged.  ‘Okay,’ he said.

‘Next time maybe you’ll give me a little more respect and listen.’

Drake stared at Pyro but said nothing.

‘I did warn you not to come on this boat.’

Whatever.  ‘Where’s Willow?’

‘I locked her in the steam room for safety.  It’s on this floor, at the back.’

‘Let’s go, got any more of that stuff ?’

Pyro tapped his trouser pocket.  ’Yeah, only one can and four chocolate bars so don’t take anymore Lethe.  Come on,’ he said, leading Drake down the corridor.

‘Do you know how to get off the boat?  If it’s in the air we’ve got serious problems-’

‘It’s not in the air,’ said Pyro sheepishly.

‘Good, it’ll be easier to sneak off-’

‘Or maybe not.’

‘What do you mean?’ said Drake grabbing Pyro by the collar and pulling him around to face him.  ’Pyro?’

‘Blackthorn, you’ve been out for ages.  The Arcadia is submerged in the Lake of Forgetfulness.’

‘What?’

‘We’re totally submerged,’ said Pyro, holding out his knobbly arms, big sweat patches under his armpits on either side of his blue shirt.

‘What?  We can’t be!  How the hell are we going get off?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Pyro shrugging.  ‘And Anyways, I don’t think we’re supposed to.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Drake, ‘take me to Willow.’

 

 

Death’s Apprentice – Part 46

Joe’s stomach groaned as he neared the cabin and smelled… His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. Stew. It was stew! His absolute favourite. Winner, winner, thought Joe, stew for dinner. Get in!

The log cabin looked well cared for and, if Joe was really honest, exactly what a cabin in the woods belonging to a witch should look like. It had a rocking chair on the porch with a patchwork quilt of browns and oranges and reds, carefully folded upon the seat. There were pots of plants on either side of the cabin door. Probably herbs, thought Joe, as this house belonged to a witch.

The garden was just as well kept. There was a well-tended pumpkin patch with pumpkins of various sizes and colours. There were rows of carrots, what looked like rhubarb, and potatoes. There was a small section of the garden fenced off with what looked like willow twigs that had been woven together. Behind the fence, were strange-looking plants with gnarled branches and bizarre flowers and plants that just looked like lots of twisted thorns.

‘Are you coming in or what?’ asked Hel, standing in the open doorway of the house.

‘I’m coming,’ he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets as he had an attack of conscience. It didn’t feel right just walking into someone else’s house. Having said that, he kind of hoped she wasn’t in there either. ‘Is…is she in there?’ He stepped onto the first step and stopped.

‘Who?’

‘The witch.’

‘No. At least…I don’t think she is.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ snapped Joe. Being hangry and anxious was not good for his mood.

‘Well, I can’t see her but she’s a witch isn’t she? So she could be a slug, or a frog, or anything, couldn’t she? So, I think you need to hurry up and eat already because if she catches you…’ Hel drew a small finger across her pale throat. ‘She might end up putting you in the stew…if you’re lucky…’

There was a pregnant pause interrupted by the sound of a frog croaking then Joe’s stomach groaning.

‘What?’ asked Joe.

Hel shrugged, turned, and went back into the cabin.