But as you and I know, Lord Aldor was not the kind of villain to be easily dissuaded. He was far too enraged to slink away to lick his wounds just yet. As far as Aldor was concerned, the games were a setback but the battle was far from over. Looking more intimidating than ever, the wizard drew himself up to his full height. His voice when he spoke shook the very hills with its power.
‘What are you waiting for?’ he roared at his diminishing troops. ‘Destroy every child and take every Fada prisoner. Do not stop for breath until this mission has been accomplished.’
Oslo, in a last effort to salvage what was left of his dignity, charged onto the battlefield—which now resembled a giant fairground—like a goaded bull. With a sword raised alarmingly in one hand and a mace in the other, Oslo hurtled towards the children. He was but inches from them when he stopped abruptly, captivated by Fidelis who stepped entrancingly in front of the cowering children to offer him a bunch of daisies. Oslo looked startled, as if trying to recall where he was and why he was feeling so hostile. The next moment, he was settled cross-legged on the ground plucking petals from the daisies with a far-away look on his weathered face. A kind young Fada offered him a cup of chamomile tea. As he plucked, Ernest could see him mouthing, ‘She loves me…she loves me not.’
When Oslo tired of this, he tucked a couple of flowers behind his ears, then began work on a daisy chain, which required all his concentration as his fingers were thick and clumsy.
Bombasta and Lampo were horrified by Oslo’s conduct. Together they strode to where the gladiator sat and attempted to lambast him to his senses.
‘Get up, you bumbling fool!’ commanded the Contessa.
‘I warn you, we’ll make sure you never work in the Realm again. You’ll be hoeing turnips for a living!’ shouted Lampo.
They jabbed at Oslo with sticks but they might have been invisible for the effect they had on him.
Bombasta shook Oslo so violently that his ponytail came free, then looked up and caught Lampo’s eye. She gave a crafty smile and tapped him suddenly on the shoulder. ‘You’re it!’ she squealed jubilantly and dashed away before he had time to catch her.
So engrossed did the pair become in their game of Tiggy Touchwood, they forgot all about Lord Aldor and his funding for the arts. In order to increase her agility, Bombasta shed her shoes and furs. With her imported silk stockings laddered and her ample bosom swinging she looked as if she had not a care in the world.
So this was the secret power of the fairies, thought Milli and Ernest, broad smiles on their faces. The Fada possessed the power to recreate childhood. Lord Aldor must have hoped that using children to launch his attack on Mirth would somehow cancel this power. It might have worked too, if one giggling child had not refused to let fear dominate her sense of wonder.
By this time it would be safe to say that Lord Aldor was beyond livid. Rage sent such tremors throughout his entire body he was not sure he would be able to conjure with accuracy. He needed to calm down and approach the problem with the stealth of a cobra. He took a deep breath, created a cloud around himself for cover, and levitated until he was floating directly above the children. Then he scanned the throng for two familiar and repellent faces.
Millipop Klompet and Ernest Perriclof stood in triumph on either side of Queen Fidelis. But Lord Aldor did not see two heroes; he saw two mewling and meddlesome terrors who had foiled his plans yet again. This time he would not be so charitable. His mission to conquer Mirth might be on the verge of collapse but these two would not escape unharmed. With the brats dispatched, any future plans stood a better chance of unfolding. Aldor had many times contemplated taking on the fairy population single-handedly, but he knew the effort would leave him drained and wasted. Magicians his age did not recover easily from such exertion. But at this moment his desire to conquer all five provinces and amass their wealth and power for himself faded into the background. What he most wanted was the necks of those two puling children who, through sheer luck and some quick thinking, had destroyed his hopes. No one was going to deny him the pleasure of seeing them reduced to a pile of ash.
Milli and Ernest were overcome with relief. Those members of Aldor’s army who had not deserted cavorted alongside them and the battle seemed to have been completely forgotten. Ernest cast an eye around for Lord Aldor, but even he seemed to have given up and retreated to his citadel.
A cluster of children formed around Milli and Ernest and began a celebratory game of Ring a Ring o’ Roses. As they danced they chanted the nursey rhyme the popularity of which had remained impervious to the passing of time.
Ring a ring o’roses
A pocketful of posies
Atishoo! Atishoo!
We all fall down.
Picking up the daisies
Picking up the daisies
Atishoo! Atishoo!
We all stand up.
Milli saw that the faces of the twirling children were bright and lively despite all they had been through. Time seemed to stand still as the children moved like a wave, small hands clasped, hair streaming. They crouched low as they feigned sneezes, then leapt up again—but as they rose a skeletal claw stretched out of the sky and snatched at them. The children screamed and scrambled to avoid the huge hand, but it was not them it wanted.
Milli struggled and kicked against the grip on the leather belt around her tunic. It was lifting her off the ground when Ernest niftily unbuckled it and helped her wriggle free.
A face formed in the clouds above and now Lord Aldor’s eyes bore into them, two bottomless red pits on a stony face. His grey lips retracted to reveal pointed front teeth like fangs and his mouth foamed in rage.
Suddenly, Fidelis was next to them. She stared unflinchingly into the cruel eyes.
‘You have no power over me, Fada Queen,’ the wizard scorned.
‘Be gone, Aldor, there is nothing for you here,’ said Fidelis, standing her ground.
‘I beg to differ,’ the wintry voice replied.
An electrical current flashed through the air and knocked Fidelis to the ground, winding her. Again the withered hand came towards them and this time it caught Milli’s bare arm in its grasp.
‘Game over,’ mocked the voice as Milli’s feet lifted clean off the ground.
‘Hang on to her! Don’t let go!’ shouted Ernest, and the children rallied to Milli, grabbling her feet and pulling her back to earth. A tug of war ensued, with Milli rising several inches into the air and the children hauling her back down.
‘On the count of three, pull really hard!’ shouted Ernest. ‘One, two, three!’
They pulled so hard that they dragged not only Milli but also the wizard into their midst. Aldor released Milli and teetered an instant before preparing to levitate again. But an instant was long enough for Ernest to grab his free hand and immobilise the deadly pinkie.
Lord Aldor’s hand was as cold as the Arctic but Ernest held on fast. Suddenly Fidelis was on her feet and looking directly at the children as the sweet notes of her voice filled the air. ‘Ring a ring o’roses,’ the queen sang invitingly. Quickly catching on, the children re-formed into a circle and threw themselves into the game with renewed vigour. Lord Aldor was carried along by the crowd, Ernest still clasping one hand and Milli the other. The magician hissed like a snake and tried to shake free but his strength appeared to be failing. It seemed to Milli that the warmth from her hand was spreading into the icy one she held.
The children sang, skipped, spun and chanted and the merriment returned to their faces. Lord Aldor turned as green as his jade citadel. He lurched and swayed and looked as if he was going to retch. The laughter of so many children roared through his head like an express train. The heat of their bodies seeped into him like a poison. Villains are not designed for play, and if forced to participate it unhinges them so they become too confused to retaliate. Villains spend their times plotting and scheming and thrive on wicked thoughts. Youthful exuberance does not agree with them, and right now it was drinking up Lor
d Aldor’s power like a desiccated sponge.
Milli watched in horror as the hand she held crinkled up like a leaf in autumn and a finger broke off. It dropped like a stone to the ground and lay at her feet, pale and wriggling. The knuckle from where it had detached was jagged like broken glass, as if Lord Aldor was merely a shell, and inside as hollow as a tambourine.
Ernest almost jumped out of his skin when something separated from Lord Aldor’s head and landed on his shoulder. It was a waxy ear! With a squeal Ernest flicked the offensive appendage to the ground.
The children’s fear turned to fascination as Aldor’s extremities continued to detach as if he were decomposing before their very eyes. The magician was bent over like an old man, his face distorted.
‘This is not over,’ he spat as his left arm dropped off just below the elbow.
Fearsome as he normally was to the children, this last statement just did not ring true. Bits of Lord Aldor were dropping off all over the place. An entire leg fell to the ground still kicking. I have heard that a headless chicken will run about for several moments after being decapitated and that is precisely what happened to the magician. His limbs refused to accept that they had been separated from his body and thrashed about as if they were still part of the whole.
The remaining conjurors watched in stunned silence. Only a distraught Lampo rushed forward and hastily began to gather the scattered pieces of his Master.
‘Stop them!’ screamed Lord Aldor, who now existed only from the torso up. With a crunch, his neck became suddenly lopsided. ‘Do something!’ But the quivering Lampo could
only catch Aldor’s pocked nose before it hit the ground and tuck it safely into his breast pocket.
Very soon all that was left of the children’s captor was a jumble of body parts collected in a wheelbarrow that had previously held army supplies. As Lampo scurried away with Lord Aldor’s head cradled in his palms, the magician still could not be silenced.
‘You will see me whole again,’ the head ranted at Milli and Ernest.
‘I will be there when you least expect it. You will live to rue this day.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Just Desserts
Having come to her senses, the Contessa flung herself back into the litter which, unable to withstand the sudden strain, collapsed beneath her, along with its bearers. For once the accident sparked no reaction from her assistants, who just rolled their eyes and continued their conversation. Gummy Grumbleguts took this opportunity to saunter casually past the Contessa sprawled on the ground. There was an eruption of sound and volley of curses when the full brunt of his weapon took effect. Tangled in the wreckage of her litter, Bombasta could not even crawl to safety. Much thrashing and gurgling followed and the Contessa broke out in a sweat. With her nostrils flaring, she was spared no layer of the fetid and stomach-turning scent. Gummy grinned sheepishly at her.
‘You disgusting boy!’ she managed to say in between gasps.
‘What can I say—it’s a gift’ he shrugged.
The traitorous Muffy-Boo, unaccustomed to seeing his mistress in a discombobulated state (which you must agree is a wonderful word to indicate feeling out of sorts) trotted disdainfully over to Milli and Ernest, who immediately released him from the torture of the breastplate. Fidelis conjured him a dish of minced steak, which was a welcome relief after the diet of caviar and chicken liver pâté he had been fed for years.
The opportunistic Mr Ledger took advantage of Bombasta’s distracted state by sidling up to Fidelis and discreetly offering his services. As the slimy Ledger was busy marketing himself, the children saw the bull-sentinel snort and begin to paw the ground. A few moments later, a yelping Mr Ledger was sailing across the battlefield like a soccer ball. He was catapulted almost as far as the Wood of Tartar where some clowns in lab coats found him calculating how much he could claim in damages.
In due course Fidelis saw fit to release Oslo from the enchantment. The gladiator had traded making daisy chains for a game of Patter Cakes with Harrietta Hapless and now stared around him in a dazed sort of way before looking extremely embarrassed. He made a growling sound at Milli and Ernest before whistling for his stallion, Fiend, and galloping away, presumably to find new troops to torment.
The stragglers that remained traipsed miserably back to Rune to drown their sorrows at the Drunken Admiral. The children had the feeling that the power of the Fada would not be underestimated again in a hurry.
Nonna Luna was the last person to scuttle across to the Queen on her stumpy legs, wheeling her precious cart and tugging a mulish Lampo by the ear. They were both warmly welcomed by the Fada, whom Nonna immediately pronounced (with a solicitous shaking of her head) as seriously undernourished or, to use her words, ‘very, very skinny’. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to pack a basket of her plaited milk biscuits, one of which was substantial enough to constitute a meal for a fairy, and promised she would have them fattened up in no time.
A great weight lifted from everyone’s minds as they stepped through the shimmering gates of Mirth. For a moment each child was rid of their memories of Battalion Minor and the hardships endured there. When their recollections did return, they felt lighter and less troubled by them.
Milli struggled to believe all they had been through was real. She thought her last adventure to the Shreckal Caverns to save the shadows had been enough to go through. Now she could claim not only to have visited another world but also to have fought alongside fairies to preserve childhood and all it encompassed. Like the others, all Milli wanted at that moment was the freedom to laugh and be a child again. Battalion Minor may have tested them but it had not succeeded in crushing them. With the Fada’s help they had managed to remain true to themselves even when faced with the prospect of annihilation. This was an important lesson. They knew now that life without nonsense and play could not be much of a life at all. Milli, herself, decided to safeguard her imagination against any future assaults. The consequences of losing it were just far too dire.
Ernest was engaged in similar thoughts. After Battalion Minor he would never think of his home as regimented again. In fact, he missed the structure and safety of it. If there was one thing he had learned during his visit to the Conjurors’ Realm it was that he was not quite ready for independence. It had never occurred to him before to consider the vulnerability of children. What would be the long-term effects on those that had seen too much for their young years? Would they ever look at games in the same way again? How long would it take before their dreams were no longer troubled and would they approach all new experiences with fear and mistrust? Innocence once lost could not be re-captured. He looked across and exchanged glances with Milli. They both knew that after this last episode, there would not be much they could not tackle together.
Although there might be disquiet in the Conjurors’ Realm again, Milli and Ernest felt that the province of Mirth was at least safe for the time being and, therefore, so too was the world of boys and girls. As for the twins, for the first time Finn’s scowl had disappeared and Fennel’s eyes were not watchful or afraid. No longer slaves of the Lampo Circus, the twins had been given choice for the first time in their lives. They had never had the freedom to decide even the smallest of things like what to wear or eat, and were very much looking forward to it. Perhaps with the help of their new friends they would be able to put past sadness behind them.
While they contemplated their future, the twins could not know that Milli had already decided she could not possibly leave them behind. They must come with them to Drabville where children were valued and protected. They could visit Peppercorn Place and see if they liked it.
To commemorate their victory over Lord Aldor, a sumptuous feast was prepared for the children at the toadstool palace. It needed only a flourish of Fidelis’s wand for them to find themselves bathed and changed into clean clothes. They were seated at tables laden with each child’s favourite treats. When they had all eaten their fill and were on the dance
floor learning the steps of a fairy jig, Milli chanced to look outside where she spied a fleet of carriages made of upturned mushrooms, high in the clouds. They had silky interiors and at the end of each stalk was a spinning silver propeller. Milli guessed this was to be their transport home.
As she stood to watch the carriages land, a girl with violet eyes approached her. She was followed by a handful of the youngest children in the group. They looked up at Milli, expectation on their faces.
‘That was a good game,’ the girl observed.
‘We gave the dragon cough medicine but he didn’t like it,’ her friend said with the air of someone delivering vital information.
‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ Milli agreed.
‘Is the game over now?’ the first child persisted.
‘It is,’ replied Milli with a certainty she had not felt in some time, ‘and congratulations—we won.’
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to everyone at HarperCollins for their continued advice and support, and a special thanks to Jenny Grigg whose original designs make the text come alive.
Thanks to my Ethics teacher, Marianne Hale, for her passion and for broadening my view of the world.
Love to Cousin Thomas for continually providing me with new material simply by being himself, and to Auntie Ida for our regular and therapeutic gossip sesssions.
Thanks to Muffy-Boo for being a substitute sibling as well as my luck-dragon.