Web of Fire Bind-up (44 page)

‘Let me ask another question, then. Have you ever read the Book of Incantations?'

Firebrand nodded, recalling the book of prophecies which Odoursin had stolen from the Olumnus tribe.

‘You know I have.'

‘Yes. Well. In that case perhaps you are familiar with the passage about a certain Dreamwalker's Child.'

Firebrand's heart leapt as he remembered how the book had foretold of Sam's arrival in Aurobon, but he forced himself to remain impassive.

‘What of it?'

‘Well, let me see. According to my research, I understand that this person was someone you had rather a lot to do with. Am I right, Commander?'

Firebrand shrugged.

‘Listen, why don't we just cut to the part where you beat me up or shoot me or whatever else you have planned? Because whatever was written in that book is in the past now. None of it made any difference and it no longer matters to me. Nothing matters any more.'

‘On the contrary,' said Krazni. ‘I think it matters to you a great deal. But at the moment you consider yourself a man without hope. And curiously, that puts you in rather a strong position.'

Firebrand stared at the floor.

‘I have no idea what you are talking about.'

‘You believe everything you ever cared about is lost. So there is nothing left that we can take from you except your life which – I suspect – no longer means as much to you as it once did. From our point of view, such a situation is … how shall I put it… rather inconvenient.'

‘At last,' said Firebrand. ‘Some good news.'

‘Oh no,' continued Krazni. ‘The good news is still to come.' He moved several steps closer to Firebrand and when he spoke again it was almost in a whisper.

‘You see, you are such an
obstinate
man, Commander. So very stubborn. So I said to myself, what does this man value? What remains in this world for him to care about? And the more I thought about it, the more it seemed that there was nothing. The war had taken away your treasures, severed the last of your foolish attachments. That, at least, was the conclusion I reached.'

He paused for a moment, letting his words dissolve in
the cell's stagnant air.

‘But I was wrong. You see, this afternoon I received a very strange and interesting piece of news which I believe may be of interest to you.'

Firebrand glared contemptuously at Krazni.

‘There is nothing of interest that you can tell me now.'

‘Oh, but I think there is,' said Krazni with a smile. ‘You see, we have found your Sam Palmer, and he is still alive. The girl too – let me think now, what was her name – ah yes, Skipper, that was it.' He paused to let this latest piece of information sink in. ‘Don't you think that's amazing, Commander?'

Firebrand stared at Krazni as though he had seen a ghost.

‘You're lying,' he said. ‘You know as well as I do that they were both killed.'

‘Yes, that's what we all thought at first. Then, when we found the boy had returned to his Earth body we decided we'd all be better off if he stayed there. But surprise, surprise, he seems to have found his way back into Aurobon again. So who knows – if things go according to plan, we might all be having a little reunion. Won't that be fun, Commander?'

As the heavy metal door slammed shut, Krazni knew that he had him.

He had found the chink in Firebrand's armour.

However hard they appeared, Krazni knew he could always crack them in the end. They were all the same
underneath. He would have Firebrand begging to tell him where the enemy base was by the end of the week. And once that was destroyed, there would be no one left to challenge their supremacy.

The Vermian Empire would reign for ever.

Sam was just helping Skipper to untangle the ropes from his backpack when she nudged him and pointed over his shoulder.

‘Hey,' she said. ‘Look.'

Just beyond the leaf, where the stalk met new wood, a large green caterpillar was shuffling along the branch towards the tree trunk.

‘Perhaps we won't be needing these ropes after all.'

Sam watched the emerald-coloured grub as it negotiated its way unhurriedly around the base of a twig. Tiny ripples of movement undulated like waves along the length of its ribbed, rubbery back.

‘Why's that, then?' he asked.

‘Simple,' replied Skipper. ‘The caterpillar wants to go higher up the tree, right? Just like we do. Only difference is, he's looking for fresh leaves and we're looking for hornet eggs. And whereas we've only got slippy-soled boots on, he's got a whole bunch of grippy little feet tucked
underneath there – feet which'll carry him up that tree trunk faster than a rat on roller skates.'

Sam frowned.

‘Skipper, anything would be faster than a rat on roller skates. He'd just be slipping around at the bottom. Swearing, probably.'

‘OK, bad example. But anyway, listen – we just climb on board, sit back and enjoy the ride, then jump off when we reach our stop.'

‘Hornet City,' said Sam.

‘Exactly. The city that never sleeps.'

‘More's the pity.'

‘What do you think? Beats climbing, doesn't it?'

‘Yeah, I guess. We'd better take these with us though.' He picked up the tangle of ropes and began stuffing them back into his backpack. When that was done he peered uncertainly over the side of the leaf at the long drop down to the forest floor. Then he looked at Skipper, glanced over at the caterpillar in the middle of the branch and gestured towards it with his hand.

‘After you, dear,' he said.

Skipper closed one eye and squinted up at him in the bright sunlight.

‘Always the gentleman.'

She pushed him lightly aside with the tips of her fingers, walked past a little way and then looked back at him with a little smile.

‘Watch and learn,' she said.

Then she did a handstand on the edge of the leaf,
arched her back and curved her legs gracefully over onto the leaf-stem behind her. As she continued to move across the surface of the stem in this way, Sam was reminded of the toy springs that walked down stairs on their own. The way she seemed almost to pour herself from one place into the next made the whole thing appear smooth and effortless.

Sam knew, however, that it wasn't so easy. At least, not for him. The stem was reasonably thick and under normal circumstances, he would have happily sauntered, skipped or even somersaulted across it with barely even a thought for what he was doing.

But it was very different when you were this far above the ground.

His pulse racing, Sam edged slowly towards the end of the leaf and took his first, tentative steps on the stem. A breeze rustled the leaves and he felt the air gently buffeting him. Swaying unsteadily, he dropped onto his hands and knees and felt his heart thump against his ribs like a clenched fist.

‘Come on, Grandma,' Skipper called. ‘We don't want to miss the bus.'

‘OK,' said Sam, shutting his eyes. ‘Be with you in a minute.'

Above the humming of hornets he could hear the sound of birdsong floating down through the forest canopy and the notes calmed him a little. With a sudden feeling of lightness he stood up again and walked quickly over to where Skipper was standing. He half expected
her to make a joke, but she just looked at him with serious blue eyes and gave him a small, reassuring smile.

‘Come on,' she said, and she held out her hand. ‘Let's go.'

It really was the strangest feeling, like sitting on a lilo with a constant stream of water being pumped through it. When they had first climbed onto its back, the caterpillar had reared up, twisting its head from side to side. But after a while it settled down again, resuming its slow, shuffling progress along the branch. Now it reached the main trunk of the tree and began to move upwards.

‘Hold tight,' shouted Skipper, ‘we're going vertical!'

Sam squeezed his knees against the caterpillar's rubbery sides and leaned forward, pressing his face against its rippling back and gripping the fleshy ridges tightly in both hands. As the caterpillar moved up the trunk he felt gravity pulling him backwards and was quite relieved to hear the buzzing of the hornets grow louder above their heads. Soon, one way or another, it would be over.

Lifting his head from the caterpillar's back he was puzzled to see Skipper lean over and plunge a long silver knife into the tree trunk. Grasping the handle firmly, she slid sideways off the caterpillar until the only thing preventing her from tumbling to her death was her tenuous grip on the knife. She swung back and forth like a tiny pendulum before pulling another knife from her belt and stabbing it into the tree next to the first one.
Suspended between the two handles, she twisted her head round to look at Sam.

As the caterpillar shuffled forward and drew level with Skipper, Sam could see the look of urgency on her face and decided that she must have slipped. Grasping the caterpillar's skin tightly in his left hand, he leaned over as far as he dared and stretched out his arm.

‘Quickly, Skipper!' he shouted. ‘Grab hold!'

To his surprise, Skipper took hold of his arm and pulled so hard that he was wrenched violently from the caterpillar's back. With a shout he found himself scrabbling frantically for something to stop him from falling. Then he hit the side of the tree trunk with such force that it knocked the wind out of him. He just had time to feel Skipper's arm grip him firmly round the waist and notice that the knife she clutched at with her free hand was bending under their weight before there was a loud buzz, a snap of metal and he was falling like a stone. He slammed into something green and spongy and as he grabbed hold of it, he realised it was the caterpillar which was now, incredibly, flying through the air. The buzzing grew louder and the world spun into a whirl of sound and colour until suddenly he landed with a smack and everything around him was bathed in a dim, grey light.

He sat up and rubbed his forehead, feeling a big egg-shaped lump where he had whammed into the side of the tree.

‘Ouch,' he said. ‘What happened there?'

A hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and
dragged him backwards just as something very large scuttled past.

‘Sam, are you all right?'

‘Skipper!' breathed Sam, the relief apparent in his voice. ‘Is that you?'

‘I think so,' came the reply. ‘It's a bit hard to tell in this light.'

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and rested his head on his knees for a few moments in an attempt to get his breath back.

‘What happened there?' he asked. ‘Why did you jump off?'

‘Didn't you see it?'

‘See what?'

‘The hornet. It came round the back of the tree and I figured it wouldn't be long before it spotted the caterpillar and took it back to the nest to feed to its grubs. So I jumped off and grabbed you just before it hit. Then as the hornet took off again, I made sure we jumped back on and hitched a ride. It was a perfect way in, really. The guards never even noticed us.'

‘Perfect way in?' said Sam. ‘Perfect way in where?' But as he listened to the powerful humming that reverberated through the gloom and felt the scratch of the curved, papery wall behind his head, he realised that it was a question he didn't need to ask.

‘Oh,' he said quietly. ‘Oh, wow.'

‘We've done it, Sam,' said Skipper excitedly. ‘We're sitting inside a hornets' nest!'

Sam held out his hand and touched the smooth, papery sides of the nest. He noticed the stripy pattern and realised that each different coloured stripe represented the pulp from a different tree, fence, or telegraph pole.

‘This is beautiful,' he said. ‘It's like a work of art isn't it?'

‘I guess so,' said Skipper. ‘Wouldn't want it hanging on my wall, though.'

They crouched behind a raised layer of waxy cells and felt the breeze from a thousand hornet wings, blowing through the nest and cooling it.

‘Where do you think they keep their eggs, then?' asked Skipper.

Sam thought for a moment.

‘Wherever the queen is I suppose. She's one big egg-laying machine. If we find her, we find the eggs.'

They were interrupted by a ripping, squelching sound away to their left and as Sam peered through the
dimly lit nest he could just make out the face of a giant hornet. It was the same one that had carried them into the nest and now it was using its powerful jaws to tear the still writhing caterpillar apart. As Sam watched in horror, it pulled off little pieces of the caterpillar and began to feed them to the larvae which twitched and squirmed in the hexagonal cells beneath it.

‘Oh lovely,' said Skipper.

As his eyes became more used to the gloom, Sam saw that there were several other large hornets moving across the tops of the cells, stopping every now and then to distribute another chunk of unfortunate grub or insect to the hungry larvae.

‘You know what I think?' said Sam.

‘No,' said Skipper. ‘Oh
gross
!' She grimaced as the first hornet proceeded to snip off the caterpillar's head. ‘I think I might become vegetarian.' She glanced at Sam and noticed that he was looking slightly exasperated. ‘Sorry Sam. I
am
listening. Tell me what you think.'

‘I think,' Sam continued in a low voice, ‘that all the eggs must be down on the next layer.'

‘Like chocolates,' said Skipper, looking back at the hornet.

‘Eh?' said Sam.

‘You know. The horrible ones are always left at the top and the ones you want are always down on the next layer.'

She paused.

‘Mind you, it'd be one hell of a shock if you got given a box of these for your birthday.'

‘Skipper,' said Sam. ‘Can we just forget about the chocolates for a minute?'