Fleeced (20 page)

Except that his heart wasn’t in it.

Because, quite frankly, when you’re certain you’ve lost your best friend and are up to your chin in something green and toothy, you’re just not in the mood for fancy words.

He stared down.

Even the tank of bacteria wasn’t listening. Having stopped bubbling altogether, it now lay as still as a swamp.

Then he heard a voice.

“Is that the only bit of the speech you know?” it said.

Aries jerked his head up. It sounded like Alex’s voice and, feeling his heart leap, he scanned the room as the voice went on.

“The next bit goes, ‘For Zeus and Athena have willed it.’”

Aries twisted round to look but the room remained gloomily empty. Freshly disappointed, he decided that the bacteria must be busy after all. They’d simply taken a short cut down his ears and chosen to start their dinner party with his brain cells, which explained why he was hearing voices.

“Oh, Alex,” he sighed to himself. “Even at my darkest moment, it’s your voice I hear.”

“That’s because I’m here, you great steaming dollop,” answered the voice.

Flinging his head up a second time, Aries squealed with delight as Alex appeared in the doorway of the storeroom.

“Alex!”

Aries bounced madly in the mixture – not easy in a halter and floor-stirrups combo, but spectacular in terms of the froth it generates – as Alex hurried over. Plunging his arms into the goo, he laced his arms through the cage bars and wrapped them around Aries’ neck.

“I’ve missed you, too!” he laughed as the splatter dribbled down his face. “We tried to free you last night but she’d put some enchantment on the cellar door. We had to wait until now. Oh, I’m so glad to see you!”

A moment later he drew back, his face pale and anxious (and a little bit green). Laying a hand on the ram’s mottled brow he softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Aries,” he said. “I don’t know how to say this… But, your fleece, it’s all gone.”

“Oh, Alex!” gushed Aries. “I already know!”

“You do?” said Alex, astonished to see that Aries’
excitement hadn’t diminished at all.

“And I’m the one who should be sorry,” said Aries. “Sorry for all those years I spent pining after it. I’ve been so stupid.” He sighed. “Proud and foolish. It doesn’t mean as much to me as…” Aries paused, feeling his face grow pink, “well, other things. I’m sorry I dragged you back to Earth, back here to this place. Can you forgive me?”

“But it means so much to you,” said Alex.

Aries shook his head. “Meant,” he corrected. “Once—”

Aries stopped. Because what appeared to be a weed-covered loofah was now rising from the green liquid around him.

“Have you two quite finissshed?” hissed the loofah, spitting out a straw.

Aries looked questioningly at Alex.

“It’s Hex,” said Alex. “Remember him?”

Aries brought his lips up to the cage bars, closer to Alex’s ear. “But he’s one of hers,” he whispered.

“Not any more,” snapped Hex. The snake’s eyes glittered indignantly behind the mask of dripping goo. “No, now I’ve been promoted to hiding in cake mixture—”

Aries’ ears flew up. “Cake mixture?” he said and licked some off his muzzle. He took a second
mouthful. “It’s delicious!”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Last night, whilst Fred wandered around the garden looking for Hex and Pandemic guarded Rose upstairs—”

“Rose?” demanded Aries, between mouthfuls. “Is she all right?”

“For the moment,” hissed Hex.

“Go on,” urged Aries.

“Hex told me what Medea had planned for you,” said Alex. “We tipped the real gold bugs down the drain and refilled the tank with what we could find in the kitchen. Flour, water, eggs and butter, anything that made it lumpy and thick and then loads of mashed cabbage and sprouts to make it green.”

“But the bubbling?” said Aries.

“Hex,” said Alex. “He hid at the bottom of the tank and spun round to make it churn.”

Aries looked at the mamba. “What about the gold ore turning to stones?”

“Easssy,” replied Hex. “The mistresss lovesss the way the bacteria do that. I knew ssshe’d have to ssshow off, ssso I took a tail full of plain rocksss with me.”

“Oooh!” squealed Aries. “I could kiss you!”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” said Hex coolly and
slithered hastily out of the tank. He lowered himself onto the white floor and slid towards the winch, leaving a green smear in his wake. “In fact, if you two are quite finissshed with the big sssoppy reunion, maybe we could think about getting out of here?”

Even though boys aren’t as strong as Cyclopes and mambas have a tendency to accidentally wind themselves around rope winches only to spool out giddily, ten grunting, groaning and griping minutes later, Aries was free. And, having told Alex all about what Medea had used the fleece for, the boy was now thinking hard.

“I should have worked out what she was up to,” said Alex, as Hex shot out into the corridor, tasting the air for the scent of Cyclops and worse, his basket. “I mean, it’s what the Scroll was trying to tell us all along, wasn’t it? ‘Her power’s in the stitches.’ Remember?”

“Power’s in the stitches, my hoof,” muttered Aries, shaking his head and sending a spray of green into the air. “The Scroll’s answers were fuzzier than a statue in Athenian fog. You should have let me eat it.”

“All clear!” muttered Hex, bolting down the corridor like a grey-green lightning streak.

Alex and Aries hurried after him out of the room.

“Imagine all the hurt she’s caused,” said Alex
crossly, now breaking into a jog to keep up with Hex who whipped over the stony floor ahead. “All those people she killed.”

“And Hazel’s next,” wheezed Aries. “Whoever she is.”

“Hex!” shouted Alex. “Who’s Hazel?”

“Ssssh! Keep your voice down!” hissed Hex, coiling back at them. “Ssshe’s a sssinger and her film premiere’sss thisss afternoon. Ssshe’s going to sssing a few sssongs before they ssshow it. Medea will have taken Rossse there.”

He flicked his tail and slithered on.

“So, how does Medea intend to kill her?” cried Alex in a loud whisper.

“No idea,” replied Hex, vanishing around the next corner. “And neither hasss ssshe. Ssshe never knowsssss how the curssse will work. Ssshot,
ssstabbed, hanged, beheaded, assssssasssssinated,” he shuddered, “finding out isss all part of the fun for her.”

Alex ran after him and turning the corner recognised the same dreary passageway that Medea had led them down the day before. The one that led to the villa’s entrance hall.

And out!

His heart soared. They were almost free!

Which was when he realised that Aries wasn’t behind him any more.

XXV

W
HAM
! B
AM
! T
HANK
Y
OU
, R
AM
!

Well, whilst they’re retracing their steps and slithers, I can tell you that Aries had turned and
doubled-back
to the sheep prison. Now, lowering his head, he aimed his horns at the middle of the locked door and leaped, hurling his huge bulk against it. There was a crunch as the wood cobwebbed into splits beneath his bony brow. Snorting furiously, he stepped back and threw himself at the door a second time. Now it gave way, exploding in shards of flying wood that disappeared into the gloom beyond as he skidded through the hole to a halt at the top of the stairs.

Startled, the sheep stared up at him, like a display of woolly statues
30
. Only Olaf moved, bustling past the others to the edge of the stall. Then, stepping up onto its lowest bar he raised his head and regarded Aries with eyes as round as cattle cakes.

“Golden ram, you have made of da escape?” he said in disbelief as Aries clattered down the stairs, scattering scraps of wood behind him. “Why den come you here?”

“Because no sheep should be kept away from the fields!” said Aries. “I’ve come to set everyone free!”

The word galvanised the sheep like a lightning
storm. Suddenly alert, they bobbed and jostled, pushing against each other, eager for a better view of Aries as he turned towards Martha’s and Toby’s stall.

The hefty bolt on its gate reminded him of the one on the door of the harpies’ enclosure, and he’d certainly seen Alex open that often enough to know what to do. Taking it in his mouth, he slammed it back. For a moment everyone held his or her breath as Toby stepped forwards and nudged open the gate before wobbling out on long gangly legs, beaming.

At which the cellar erupted into a cacophony of bleats and shrieks of delight. Horns crashed against bars. Hooves clattered against the stone floor. Everywhere, the sheep bounced up and down like woolly seesaws, their tails spinning with delight.

For a moment, Aries stood. Glowing inside, he felt the sort of happiness that he hadn’t known for years, not since he’d worn his fleece.

Turning to Olaf’s stall he was surprised to see a look of admiration on the Icelandic’s face. He paused, watching as from the opposite side of the bars, Olaf lowered his horns slowly, which in
sheep-speak
means an apology.

“Misjudge you I did, golden ram,” he said over the din. “And sorry I am.”

Aries lowered his head in response, which is
sheep for ‘thank you’ and ‘you did have a point’ and ‘let’s put it all behind us’ and lots of other things like that. However, as I’ve told you before, this story doesn’t have time for sloppy bits and standing around going, “Ooh, bless!” and neither do we.

A moment later Aries had released Olaf and the two of them, together with Martha, started freeing everyone else. Sheep surged out of stalls and milled together in a flossy tide, nuzzling relatives and friends, brushing horns and flanks amiably.

Of course, needless to say, in all this sheepy excitement, no one noticed Alex and Hex step through the broken door into the cellar.

Alex stopped and stared down, surprised.

And small wonder.

After all, he knew that the Aries of only a few days ago wouldn’t even have stopped long enough to smile at an ordinary sheep, never mind risk his own safe escape for them. He smiled in surprise.

Hex didn’t.

Not that snakes tend to smile very much anyway, but as he quickly unwrapped himself from Alex’s neck and lunged out onto the banister, his brow was furrowed with worry as he scanned the merriment below. And much as I hate to be a spoilsport, he did
have a point. After all, they were still in a sorceress’s house, weren’t they?

“Will you lot be quiet!” he hissed, whizzing towards them like a long, thin and rather rubbery bobsleigh.

Except that since no one could hear him, no one did what he asked.

Instead, spotting the upturned tin bath of the night before, Aries stamped on it with all four hooves, flattening it into a tray. He booted it over the floor so that it rattled wildly. Delighted, the others copied, snapping paddles in two and butting the dark machines hanging on the walls before sweeping the counters clear with their horns, sending electrodes and pots of oily grey liquids spinning to the floor.

“I sssaid ssstop!” yelled Hex, looping his tail around the banister and swinging his body out over their heads.

Finally a few of the sheep saw him and froze, shocked to see the sorceress’s familiar back amongst them. Backing away, they bumped into the others, and a nervous hush fell over the herd.

Seeing the sheep’s faces, not to mention hearing the splash of nervous wee on the floor, Alex hurried down and raised his hands to calm the sheep.

“Hex is with us now,” he explained quickly,
lifting the snake from the banister and wrapping him around his neck again. “And he’s right. This place gives me the creeps. Come on!”

Now, it’s never easy to hurry harried sheep up a staircase, but with a mixture of coaxing, flank-patting and hoicking the most reluctant by their horns, Alex ushered the flock out of the cellar and drove them clattering back down the underground passage towards the main house.

Aries ran with Alex at the back. “Where shall we take them?”

Before Alex could answer, Hex swung down, and bouncing against Alex’s chest, frowned at Aries. “You didn’t consssider that before you let them all out?” hissed Hex, his eyes glittering.

“I knew Alex would come up with something,” said Aries loyally.

Alex frowned. “Hex, is there safe grazing near here?” he said.

“In central London?” Hex’s mouth bunched up in disbelief. “There’sss a park at the end of the road.
We’ll herd them there.”

“Will they be safe?”

Hex nodded. “Don’t worry. The park keeper will call the police the minute a hoof touches his grassss.”

And he was absolutely right because this particular park keeper prided himself on his
prize-winning
Californian roses, blooms that had already suffered one attack of vandalism that week leaving three holes, littered with razor-edged feathers and goat fur, where his Belles of Los Angeles used to grow.

Excited bleating bounced off the walls as the sheep surged ahead, their hooves rattling over the flagstones to freedom. Which was rather unfortunate since such a sheepy rumpus of delight made it quite impossible to hear anything else like, for example, the unpleasant
clacketty-slapping
sound now echoing from the other direction.