The three balls swooped upon them in rage, reaching the end of the sandy enclosure in seconds. Large ant abdomens burst open into flames, and black sticky juice sprayed in all directions. The Malcos hovered directly above the deadly giant ant army, firing lethal red laser beams in all directions.
The ants continued blindly devouring trees, with absolutely no response to the deadly onslaught. Legs, heads and bodies went flying in every direction, as hundreds of mutilated black beasts reached their end. The ants were driven by black magic, which made destroying them a very time-consuming process. They proceeded without fear or pain. If a head were blasted off, the remainder of the body would continue forward, attacking a tree in vain.
Zen stopped firing at the beasts, and transformed himself into a blazing ball of fire. Spinning down towards the enemy, he sliced through one of the creatures from the front to the back, splitting it in half. The two smouldering halves marched forward totally independent of each other, with black molten goo oozing from the centre. Zen surged forward like a miniature sun, roasting dozens of determined ant fiends into separate halves. The divided tree munchers marched forward on three legs, groping hopelessly at branches and leaves with their one remaining pincer.
Zet and Zip continued firing laser beams in all directions, decapitating large ants by the hundreds. Thousands of legs were severed from mutilated bodies, and wriggled about the soil, with full intent of causing more destruction.
After quite some time, thousands of fried body parts lay scattered in all directions in large dissected heaps. Heads, abdomens and legs squirmed about the grass, eager to unite and continue with their business. Every single gigantic ant had been blasted into pieces, bringing an abrupt halt to any further destruction of the woods.
The trio bounced off each other for a job well done. Chimzen could magically remove the squirming remains when he returned. If only he had been there in the first place, the ant problem would have been resolved in seconds.
Anyway, the trio had certainly put an end to the destruction, even though it was a bit messy. Sadly, about a third of the woods had been reduced to sawdust: Chimzen would certainly be very upset when he returned.
The Malcos spun off back to the tree house, desperate to return to their master.
‘Look over there Zen!’ Zip squeaked out loudly, spinning in the direction of Mathias’s underground home. The other two balls followed Zip. Mathias sat on the edge of an enormous trench with his feet dangling over the edge, gazing dismally into his wrecked abode. He had used long lengths of tree trunk as rafters to form a roof for his underground shelter. Unfortunately for the wicked wizard, his scheme had backfired. His wooden roof had been completely devoured by the beastly ants, together with all the twigs and leaves he had used to disguise it with. His precious home had been reduced to a gigantic sandpit; and the better part of the surrounding area as well. I guess this brings us back to the good old saying: “What goes around comes around”.
Mathias looked up at the trio momentarily and gave them a blank stare. He returned his gaze to his destroyed shelter without even moving or saying a word. Completely aware of what the trio had just accomplished, he showed no sign of gratitude. Instead, he resented them all the more. Ultimately he blamed Chimzen for the damage to his home and would see to it that his cousin suffered the consequences thereof. After all, if Chimzen hadn’t stayed in the woods, he wouldn’t have had to set the ants on his tree house in the first place, hence his underground home would have never been destroyed. It was entirely Chimzen’s fault, and it was no use telling Mathias otherwise. He was a bitter man with a heart of stone, and he needed to be taught a lesson for his wicked behaviour.
The Malco trio returned to the tree house, eager to get back to planet Floran and find their master. They spun through the little window in the tree house, and quickly formed a line next to the little green planet. Going through the planet teleport procedure, the three balls promptly disappeared.
Chapter 12
The three stood back to back, eagerly waiting to return home. Frank and Philip absolutely glowed with excitement at the thought of seeing their families and schoolfriends again.
‘Mission successful!’ Chimzen shouted with joy, patting the two boys on their arms. The wizard was very pleased to have the boys restored to people once again and hoped that he would never have to return to Floran ever again. The three waited anxiously. A few minutes had passed which seemed like an eternity.
The trees and plants of the forest fluttered their leaves in the dark, seemingly unsettled. Long thick creepers slid around tree trunks like constricting anacondas. The green life seemed to come alive, rustling to each other in some kind of a foreign plant code. The three shining balls had demonstrated danger to the creepy life, making them feel threatened and keeping them back. Things were different now that the deadly silver balls were no longer present. Unaware, the three were left open for brutal attack.
Chimzen gazed into the forest for the last time, and breathed a big sigh of relief. Suddenly six long leafy creepers with stems as thick as a man’s arm shot out from the top of a large overhanging tree, lashing out their long lengths towards Chimzen at a tremendous speed. The six leafy vines groped at the unsuspecting wizard, clutching him with tremendous force. Before he could respond, the thick vines had coiled several times around his waist, strapping his hands to his sides and binding his staff tightly to his chest. The more the wizard struggled to free himself, the tighter they bound him, forcing his chest inwards, and making it very difficult for him to breathe.
They reeled him in like a big fish, yanking him back towards the forest. The wizard slid along the grass gasping for breath, trying desperately to call for help.
Philip and Frank turned around in absolute horror as they felt Chimzen being pulled away with the crack of a whip. The boys bolted after the creeper bound wizard, trying their best to catch up with him. In a matter of seconds he was hauled up the enormous tree, leaving the boys far behind, panting for breath.
The vicious creepers flung the unsuspecting wizard into the air where he was smartly collected by another five or six intellectual beast vines. As they released him, he quickly snatched his staff before it fell to the ground, with his heart almost pounding in his throat.
The creepers continued with their carefully coordinated attack, swinging Chimzen like Tarzan of the Apes, all the way to the outer edge of the forest. There was a fairly wide gap between the circular expanse of trees and the adjoining one, which served as no problem for the creeper brigade. Once again, another six long creepers flew out from the adjoining forest, gripping the wizard tightly around the waist. He came crashing to the ground, and was dragged across the opening on his belly, tilting his head carefully so as not to burn his face on the grass. The vine pulled in the slack once again, reeling him up a tree. Again he was swung across to the next lot of creepers for collection and so it went on.
After an exhausting session of playing Tarzan swings, the poor wizard swung to a staggering halt at the top of a very large oak tree with purple leaves. He gently swayed from side to side, suspended from six thick creepers, which had his hands tightly strapped to his sides. The wizard shook his head and gasped for air, regaining his senses from the nasty ride. His staff lay strapped tightly between his right hand and his side, something he must hold onto at any cost.
He shook his head in dismay, not really believing what was happening. ‘I wonder what’s going to happen to those poor boys. I’m the one telling them not to worry, and I will protect them. How will I protect them now, stuck in a tree?’ His stomach was knotted from worry; he had been taken so far away from the enclosure that he had no idea where he was anymore.
The creepers slid around his waist like slippery snakes, slowly worming their way around the tree and back again. The lengths above Chimzen slithered past his face and wrapped themselves tightly around his mouth. The green life was certainly very aware of his powerful tongue, and now there would be no chance of him attempting t
o utter any kind of magic.
He lay there, strapped high up against the large oak tree, unable to move a limb. What on earth was he going to do now?
Chapter 13
Frank and Philip gazed upwards in disbelief, watching Chimzen disappear through the trees. Suddenly, several strange looking plant beings sprang out into the opening and surrounded the boys. The excited plants screamed loudly, slapping their little mouths as they ran. They were rather unusual, with spongy cactus like bodies without any thorns. They were about one foot tall, with a thick green spongy stem forming their body and face, as well as spongy little green arms and legs protruding from their stems. They looked quite similar to the gingerbread man, only not quite so flat. Their faces had very basic features, with little black beady button eyes and a small round hole for a mouth. Short colourful slanted stripes were painted below their eyes as well as on the ends of their arms and legs. A colourful array of petals sprouted from their waists like little skirts, flapping up and down as they ran. Bright red petals sprouted from the tops of their stems, tied together with a piece of thin green vine, forcing them to point up perfectly straight like a headdress. The funny plant beings looked very much like little Red Indians, with more and more of them leaping out from behind the trees, screaming their little green lungs out. The Indian plant had developed ways very similar to those of tribal Indians on earth, something the boys couldn’t understand as being at all possible.
Frank and Philip took a step back, staring down at the peculiar plant creatures in horror.
‘Run, Philip, run!’ Frank screamed, standing with his fists clenched at his sides, half ready to put up a fight.
‘It’s too late, Frank!’ Philip shouted in response, completely engulfed by hundreds of little screaming Indian plants. A large number of the little critters carried a small bow made from bamboo, strung with a thin piece of vine. Strapped over their left arms and around their stems, they carried little bags made from woven leaves, filled with sharpened sticks for arrows.
‘Stand dead still Philip! Don’t even try and run! These plants are going to kill us if we try anything!’ Frank pointed at one of the armed little Indian fiends. The boys stood dead still in take off position, looking anxiously to their left and right, with perspiration soaked faces. Crowds of petalled warriors dashed around, screaming fear into the boys. It was completely hopeless! What on earth were they going to do now?
The boys stood watching the evil parade, hoping desperately that Chimzen would somehow come to their aid. There was no chance of that happening though; the wizard had already been very well taken care of.
The tribe of screaming Indian plants went suddenly quiet, and arranged themselves into several perfectly formed wide circles around Philip and Frank. There must have been at least two hundred or more colourful Indian plants, spread out into perfect circles; it really looked quite spectacular.
Frank and Philip gazed down at the quiet colourful formation, uncertain of what they were up to. The circular plant formations spread out slightly and spread open on the side where the forest lay, forming a pathway to the centre where the boys stood. The boys gazed down the open aisle in silence, not quite sure what to expect next. A large Indian plant appeared at the mouth of the opening and walked slowly down the aisle towards them. He appeared quite similar to the others, except he was about half a foot taller, and he had a variation of long multi-coloured petals sprouting from the top of his stem, which flowed right down his back to the ground like a spectacular headdress. The long mane of colourful petals was held back in place by a rounded wooden band, which displayed some kind of foreign emblem in front.
‘Let me guess: Indian plant chief,’ Frank muttered to himself, watching the endless rows of green warriors bow before their leader. Majestically the big chief walked down the aisle with his green arms tightly folded, not impressed with the sight of two foreign beings.
Frank and Philip looked at each other, unsure of whether to bow down or stay standing, feeling threatened by his superiority. The boys decided to get down on their knees; maybe they would gain a pardon with a show of respect. The green chief reached the front, staring at the boys with beady deadpan eyes.
‘Whah!’ he screamed in a deep mature voice, bringing the tribe to their feet with their arms pressed firmly against their sides. Frank and Philip looked around at the upright plants, surprised by their immediate response to the chief’s command.
‘Whoh whah!’ the chief screamed, while the two boys attempted to stand up.
In an instant Frank and Philip were seized by dozens of vicious Indian plants. The critters mounted the startled boys, and shoved them over backwards with brute force. They lay trembling in fear, with hearts beating frantically. Then the vicious little Indian plants forced their arms and legs together, and bound them tightly with thin lengths of strong vine. They completely surrendered themselves,, knowing that they would only get hurt if they put up a fight. They were just far too outnumbered.
* * * * * * * *
Several feisty plant creatures forced their little green arms underneath each of the boys and lifted them off the ground. They were shoved straight into the air, rested firmly on a spongy bed of Indian plant arms, and speedily marched off into the forest. The little plants were surprisingly strong for their size, and carted the boys with ease. Under different circumstances, they would have actually quite enjoyed the ride. Things weren’t all that great now though.
Occasionally a couple of them fell away from their holding positions and were immediately replaced by others. The system was quite clever, with each tribe member doing his fair share of PT by having his turn at helping carry one of the boys. It worked very much like the military; everything was coordinated carefully and done with perfect timing. The only difference was that the Chief was the only one considered suitable for rank, while the others toiled under slavery. The poor Indian plants carrying Frank seemed to tire very quickly, with him being quite a lot heavier than Philip.
The Chief marched far ahead, while the tribe members struggled to keep up, carrying their heavy cargo.
‘So this is the intelligent plant life Chimzen warned us about,’ Philip thought, staring at the bright blue moon in despair.
The tribe continued through the forest, scattering colourful fallen leaves in all directions. The trees and plants rustled in the darkness like a secret conversation of faint whispering. Frank and Philip noticed plants unearth themselves and shift to the side, making way for the little warriors. The dense forest had completely cleared the way for the oncoming plant tribe, allowing them to march through without a spot of trouble. It was quite clear to the boys now that the forest was filled with intelligent life, very different from the ones back home. The green life had an effective means of communication with each other, and worked hand in hand as a team. The boys were absolutely petrified, understanding the full extent of the trouble they were in.
The Indian plants marched through the forest like a horde of programmed robotic fiends and eventually reached an open clearing. They continued forward, showing tremendous stamina, entering into the next clump of dense plants and trees.
Once again the settled bushes and plants uprooted themselves and shifted to one side, leaving an open path for the tribe to pass through. The forest was very dense and stretched out over a large area. Frank felt an itch on his chin and reached up to scratch it with his tied hands. The Indian plants reacted immediately, with one on either side jumping onto him and forcing his hands back to where they had been. Frank lay there feeling rather annoyed; his chin was begging for a scratch. He was rather surprised at how alert they were, and decided to play it safe.
* * * * * * * *
A few large wild fig type trees stood blocking the pathway, shaking their leaves as if they were angry about something.
‘Whoh whah whoh!’ the Chief cried out in three short bursts. At once the tribe started screaming and slapping their little mouths, hastily backing away from the annoyed trees.
&nbs
p; ‘They don’t seem to all agree on everything in this forest,’ Frank thought, not really understanding what all the fuss was about. The boys lay back tensing their bodies, in fear of the outraged trees trampling them to death.
Several thick vines lashed out on either side, clutching at the trunks and branches of the annoyed wild fig trees. The vines wrapped themselves firmly around the unsuspecting victims, loosening their soil embedded roots. The fig trees clutched at the earth in vain, desperately trying to plant themselves more securely. They were no match for the powerful vines though, and were smartly towed off the path still shaking their leaves in rage.
The plant chief gave the command and the tribe went instantly quiet. The boys felt themselves mobile once again, and soon passed the newly cleared area and on to the end of the forest. There were no more hiccups along the way, and if there were, the vine police would have had no problem taking care of them.
Approaching the end of the forest, the Chief signalled the tribe to halt. He stood facing his tribe, and looked up into the overhanging trees. The boys noticed that they were heavily laden with some kind of strange fruit that looked quite similar to plums; only these were bright blue.
‘Whoh, Whoh, Whoh!’ the Chief screamed, giving the boys a nasty fright. The Indian plants with bows and arrows immediately spread out and loaded their little weapons, standing ready to fire.
‘Whah Whah!’ he yelled. At the command hundreds of tiny arrows were fired into the air, nailing the blue plums with brilliant accuracy. A shower of fruit fell from the trees, landing in every direction like a sudden hailstorm. Unfortunately for Frank and Philip, they were stationed in the line of fire and were smacked by several sticky blue missiles. They yelled in agony, unable to use their hands to avert the bombardment of fruit, and were smacked repeatedly all over their vulnerable bodies. Many of the plums splattered open, leaving them in a sticky mess. One of the plums burst open on Frank’s mouth causing him to yelp in pain like a wounded puppy. He licked at the sweet juice on his throbbing lips, knowing well that he would never have the pleasure of eating one. The little plants rushed in all directions, grabbing the plums off the ground and shoving them into their little arrow bags.