The Garden of Unearthly Delights (39 page)

And it
was now or never.

Maxwell
didn’t want to do it, but he knew he had no choice.

Dragging
the very last piece of mileage that could possibly be dragged from a single
item, he tore the magic pouch from his pocket and held it open in front of his
face. The creature swept into it and Maxwell drew the draw string tight.

And
then MacGuffin’s magic faltered, coughed and died.

And
went to Hell.

The
manse hovered a moment in the air.

Maxwell
scrambled up and dived towards the crystal globe.

And
then the manse plunged down.

It
missed its former foundations and fell upon Budgen’s.

Which
cushioned its fall. Though not by a lot.

The
roof caved in, the dome collapsed, columns buckled, walls bulged and burst.
Dust and bricks and rubble, falling timbers, ruination, mangled bits and bods
and bodies.

And
then just a bit of a hush.

They dug Maxwell’s corpse
from the wreckage. There was no way he could have survived. They hauled him
into the ruined high street and stood about, making respectful faces and
wondering who would be the first to say what a good fellow he’d been and so lay
themselves open to standing the cost of the funeral.

Not
Dave.

He was
going through Maxwell’s pockets.

‘He
owed me three gold coins,’ said the lad, who had worked a few things out for
himself. ‘Hello, what’s this?’ He prised a crystal globe from Maxwell’s dead
fingers and held it towards the light.

A tiny
Maxwell stared out at him and waved its hands about.

‘Aaaaagh!’
went Dave, dropping the globe to the ground.

There
was a crash, a flash and a sound like rushing wind.

Maxwell’s
soul swept from the fractured globe and shot back up his left nostril.

Maxwell’s
eyes blinked open. He coughed and groaned and breathed the air. ‘I am alive,’
he said, which was reasonable enough. ‘And I am whole. I have my soul, I can
feel it, I can feel it. Praise the Goddess. Praise the Goddess.’

And in
the rubble something stirred.

Though
nothing nasty.

Something
somewhat Goddess-like raised its golden head from brickdust. ‘Oh Aodhamm,’
purred Ewavett, ‘did the earth move for me that time, or what?’

29

They carried Maxwell
shoulder-high around the village. Young women threw petals and kisses. Old folk
cheered and children danced a jig.

There
was laughter, there was joy.

Maxwell
was the hero of the day.

And
he’d really done it. All on his own with no-one to help him. He had triumphed.

He had
scored the winning goal. Max Carrion, Imagineer.

‘I love
you all.’ And Maxwell waved and folk waved back and cheered some more.

‘I’m
his closest friend, you know,’ Dave confided to a young waving woman who looked
like she might settle for second best.

‘Piss
off!’
said the woman. For looks can sometimes be deceptive.

Hoorah
and cheer and clap. ‘Max-well. Max-well. Max-well.’ Oh happy day.

And
folk came running. Men in farmers’ smocks. ‘Stop!’ they shouted. ‘Hold on,
stop.’ Maxwell waved and called, ‘Hello, hello.’ But, ‘Stop,’ they shouted.
‘Cease all this at once.’

‘Whatever
is the trouble?’ Maxwell asked, and he was not alone in this.

‘MacGuffin’s
magic is no more,’ cried the farming types.

‘Too
right,’ called Maxwell. ‘I have slain MacGuffin. His magic has died with him.’

‘Then
we are all doomed,’ the farming types called back.

‘Oh yes
and why?’

One
farming type held up a withered parsnip. ‘MacGuffin’s magic made the land
fertile. Now the crops perish and rot.’

‘You
will grow new crops,’ Maxwell called. ‘You are free men now and you may grow
whatever you will.’

‘Not
round here, mate. Even the grass where your pavilion landed has turned to
brown. It’s wasteland here. We are doomed.’

‘Nonsense,’
said Maxwell, as he was dropped from shoulder height. ‘Don’t you understand?
You are free now, free from enslavement. No more the chattels of MacGuffin.’

‘Better
a chattel with a full belly than a free man free to starve,’ called someone,
who favoured a nice turn of phrase.

‘Oh
come off it. I have saved you all. Rejoice that the wicked magician is dead.’

‘I
quite liked him actually,’ someone said.

‘Me
too,’ said someone else. ‘When my cat had the mange he prepared me a magic
potion.

‘He
cured my warts,’ said someone else again.

‘He
honked my wife,’ said yet another someone. ‘You couldn’t help liking him
though.’

‘Too
right. Too right.’

‘No,’
cried Maxwell. ‘This is madness. I have saved you all. You are free men. Free
men, do you hear?’

‘Maxwell
has destroyed us all,’ cried several farming types in unison. ‘Slay the
assassin who has wrought this ill upon us.’

‘No,’
said Maxwell. ‘No.’ But it was
yes.
‘Slay the assassin.’

‘You
ungrateful bastards.’ And someone threw a stone.

Maxwell
ran, the villagers in hot pursuit.

But
Maxwell was well practised in the art of running, and he soon left them some
ways behind. He turned and shook his fist, raised his hands to the sky, shook
his head and then ran on once more.

This
time towards the east.

30

It was hardly a ‘feel
good’ ending.

And
this was hardly fair.

Over
yonder hill ran Maxwell and down the other side.

And
here he came upon Aodhamm and Ewavett, walking hand in hand. And still with not
a stitch on.

‘Ahoy,
Maxwell,’ called Aodhamm.

‘Now
listen,’ said Maxwell, ‘if you mean to set upon me because of what MacGuffin
did to your girlfriend, forget it. I’ll fight you if I must, but I’d rather
run. It’s been a trying day.’

‘He
doesn’t want to fight,’ said Ewavett. ‘He just wants to say thank you. And so
do
I.
’ Ewavett kissed Maxwell
on the cheek, which made the lad go wobbly at the knees.

‘My
pleasure,’ said Maxwell. ‘I’m glad I’ve made someone happy.’

‘You
have,’ Aodhamm smiled. ‘But what of you now? Where are you going?’

‘I
think I’ll just run on for a bit. The villagers will shortly be saddling
horses, I’ve been through this before.’

‘Come
with us,’ said Ewavett. ‘We travel to the world of the silver sun. That’s where
MacGuffin and Count Waldeck snatched us from by magic. You’ll be made welcome
there, hailed as a hero.’

‘A
hero?’ said Maxwell.

‘And
there are many women there who will be eager to make your acquaintance.’

‘Golden
women?’ Maxwell asked. ‘As beautiful as you?’

‘Me
beautiful?’ Ewavett laughed. ‘Where I come from I’m considered rather plain.’

‘So
what do you say?’ asked Aodhamm. ‘Will you come with us, or what?’

Maxwell
grinned and nodded. ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll,’ he said.

THE
END