The neon purple power surge leaped up, extending outwards like an electrical disruption at a power station, with neon purple and white tongues of deadly voltage licking at the surroundings in white flames of swooping vengeance. The incredible sound was earthshattering, like witnessing a powerful thunderstorm directly below the crashing clouds. A mighty wind blew over the forest, generated by the magnificent rush of neon purple energy.
Chimzen stood his ground firmly while the staff wheel rose higher into the air. It generated a powerful gusting wind, forcing him back like a powerful helicopter taking off in an open field. His robe and hair slapped wildly against his body while he leaned forward to try and maintain his balance. The spinning staff no longer rotated with an unstable wagon wheel rhythm; instead it spun like the wheels of a formula one racing car taking the bends at 200 miles per hour. It appeared as an enormous glowing neon purple disc with powerhouse voltage lapping in between its tremendous velocity, with neon light arms of super electrical current spreading across the land like crashing tsunami waves of destruction. The blast was like nuclear fission, with everything in a mile’s radius completely incinerated – trees and plants there one moment, gone the next, completely incinerated.
Before they could even see it coming, the electrical surge blasted across the leafy ball army like a tidal wave of nuclear destruction, roasting them in entirety within a second. They approached the wizard with blind fury, having no clue as to the magnitude of his power. He had harmed their kind and this was payback for them. Little did they know, they had chosen the wrong wizard to pick a fight with.
Nothing was left of the cabbage troop other than ash and several shells of hollow teeth.
Trees and plants of every description all received the electric chair for their wicked behaviour. All that was left was an enormous circular field of ash, a clear starry sky, and a bright shining moon.
The little fiery sword returned to its master, unscathed by the potent electric storm.
Chimzen reached out his hand to receive the helpful little fighter, looking pleased by its determined efforts. Grabbing the little sword by the handle, he rubbed it in a circular motion with his thumb, three times anti-clockwise and three times clockwise. Immediately the fiery sword transformed to a short steel blade, and was restored to an ordinary little pocket knife in an instant. Letting out a big sigh, he returned the magic blade to his pocket and continued wearily with his journey.
Chapter 15
The trio passed through the little earth ball entering back into planet Floran. Unfortunately the earth ball wasn’t in Chimzen’s pocket any longer; he had accidentally dropped it in the enclosure when he had been whipped up by the creepers.
‘Oh no! I wonder what has become of our beloved master!’ Zen squeaked in distress, spinning frantically in circles around the other two Malcos.
‘Well it’s no use stressing, Zen, we just have to explore our options!’ Zip snapped, spinning in front of the two. ‘Let’s split up and all go separate ways. We have a far better chance of finding them that way with so much land to cover.’
‘You are right Zip, we can just signal each other if one of us has any luck,’ Zen agreed, half admiring the lady Malco’s wisdom yet never willing to admit it. ‘What do you think, Zet?’
‘That’s cool with me balls,’ Zet answered, usually content with the other two’s decisions.
‘Let’s meet back here in two hours; if we haven’t had any luck we can move to plan “B”,’ Zen stated, trying to sound in control of the situation.
Without another word spoken, the radiant trio shot off in opposite directions in search of their master and his friends.
Even though the balls travelled at a tremendous speed, the area they were trying to encompass was endless and they were way off course. They glowed brightly like large fireflies, zipping speedily in and out of the trees. The forests were vast, with endless similar stretches, and the trio must have mistakenly covered many areas a few times during their frantic search.
Two hours had passed and the frustrated trio returned to the open enclosure, unsuccessful with their search.
‘Well, what was plan “B”, Zen?’ Zip squeaked, sounding hot and bothered.
‘I er uh! You know!’ Zen answered, glowing red with embarrassment.
‘No I don’t know!’ Zip snapped, brushing against her brother ball in anger. ‘That’s why I asked you in the first place, you oval twit!’
‘That’s enough!’ Zet interrupted, much to their surprise. ‘I have a plan “B”!’
Zen and Zip hovered in silence, anxiously waiting for Zet to continue. Zen breathed a low sigh of relief, glad to be rescued from the hot seat.
‘You see, it’s like this; our master is aware that we are looking for him, and I’m quite sure that he will give us a sign of some sort. What we need to do is split up as before, only this time we must hover over the forest instead of in between the trees. That way we will spot him if he sends up a smoke signal or something. I’m quite sure that he will; he’s very wise you know, I mean he did create us after all, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, but what if he’s trapped somewhere and can’t move?’ Zip asked, not at all happy with Zet’s idea, mainly because it wasn’t hers in the first place.
‘I think it’s a great idea!’ Zet exclaimed, always keen to agree to disagree with his sister ball. ‘Has our master ever had a problem escaping from trouble in the past?’
‘I guess you’re right,’ Zip answered, sounding a bit hesitant. Having a pair of male balls taking the victory over her wasn’t her idea of fun. It was difficult for Zip to take a stand, being outnumbered like that.
‘Let’s go then! We’ve wasted enough time already!’ Zen screamed, flying off in a hurry.
The trio shot off in opposite directions at the speed of lightning, flying straight up into the sky to capture a clear view of the forest below.
‘This seems like a silly idea to me,’ Zip muttered, flying past a dark patch of trees below. ‘This has to be an utter complete waste of time. My poor master is most probably being suffocated by some horrid plant beast as I speak.’
* * * * * * * *
No sooner had she spoken, than an enormous electrical fire storm erupted in the distance, triggered by Chimzen in his furious rage.
The aerial view was quite spectacular as the electrical light surges spread out across the forest like deadly tongues of neon purple fire, incinerating everything in sight. The little ball gasped in fright as she watched the sudden explosive blast erupt over the forest below, generating a mighty wind that nearly blasted her off course. Zip launched forward like a bullet to gain a clear view of the destruction below.
She gazed down at the enormous circular stretch of desolate black earth in amazement, knowing only one person could be responsible for such an act of power.
‘Master! Master! I’ve found you!’ she cried, rocketing downwards, overjoyed to have finally found the wizard. The other two Malcos could hear the distant rumbling, and without a second invitation they spun back in the direction of the violent tremor.
Zip carefully pinpointed the centre of the gigantic circular ash heap, and released her control, allowing gravity to pull her downwards at a constantly increasing speed.
‘That’s him! That’s my master!’ she screamed, noticing the neon purple staff rotating calmly above Chimzen’s wispy white head. A few seconds later the little ball popped in front of her master, bobbing up and down with glee.
‘Ah ha ha! It’s good to see you again, my precious Zip!’ the wizard cried out in surprise. The dismal look of despair disappeared in an instant and his face came alive with an exploding smile.
‘He he! I’m so glad to see you alive, master!’ Zip squeaked, rolling herself affectionately against his chest.
‘Where are the other two?’
His face was as white as a ghost and he stared about the ash piled land, looking very disoriented and confused.
‘Don’t worry master, they will be here
soon; we had to split up to try and find you.’
‘That was your idea, no doubt?’ he asked, stroking the little ball lovingly in one hand with his fingers.
‘Well of course, master, I’m the lady with all the brains,’ Zip replied shyly, rattling inside his hand and giggling softly. She was chuffed with all the attention she was receiving. It always felt good to have favour with her master, even though it meant telling a little white lie.
* * * * * * * *
Unfortunately the trio were constructed from the finest magical ingredients of truth and Zip’s little lie reflected from her shimmering body like tiny festering black spots which only Chimzen could see. Zip’s little sin weighed her down like a ball and chain, polluting her goodness to the point of becoming unbearable. He noticed the little lie choking the silver ball, but decided to let it do its work in her as a one time lesson. She was not entirely to blame though; it would be difficult for anyone to remain pure in such a treacherous place, a planet capable of draining the goodness from anything.
Shortly afterwards the other two Malco balls were reunited with their master. He was beginning to feel a lot better than he had been now that he was united with his precious friends. He was very worried about Philip and Frank though, not knowing how he was to locate them, or if they were still alive.
He looked up and addressed his staff, rattling off in a foreign language. The magic stick spun to a halt and returned to its usual dull finish. He reached out and grabbed it, placing it smartly at his side.
‘Hopefully I won’t be needing purple power surges again,’ he said, gazing across the gloomy stretch of desolate land, and shaking his head in disappointment.
Chapter 16
The fire spread across the chunks of dry wood rapidly, and the boys held their legs up in absolute horror, choking on the thick rising smoke. The billowing smoke burnt Frank’s eyes, forcing him to look up, away from the rising flames. Philip’s eyes were also stinging and he was finding it difficult to breathe. Coughing and spluttering, Philip looked away from the raging fire and blinked rapidly to soothe his aching eyes.
After blinking his eyes clear, Frank glanced forward and noticed several long shadows stretching out over the field.
‘What can those possibly be? Please save us someone, please save us’ He desperately wanted to be free of this nasty predicament. The poor boy burst into a fit of coughing, smothered by dense smoke. He could feel the intense heat of the raging fire below and was nearing panic stations. He noticed the shadows lengthen, approaching eerily yet suddenly from the far end of the forest.
Philip on the other hand didn’t notice much at all, only that the thick smoke was going to kill him before the fire had a chance to, which wouldn’t have really been such a bad thing. He exploded into a violent fit of coughing as the pagan Indian plants screamed war cries of death below.
It was absolutely unbearable; the intense heat caused them to sweat like a pair of mine workers. It felt to them as if their blood was beginning to boil, and their clothes were so sticky and hot on their bodies that they would surely burst into flames at any moment.
* * * * * * * *
Long streaky shadows headed towards the smouldering fire at the centre of the open field.
‘What’s that?’ Frank exclaimed, spotting a vague image through the wispy white clouds of thick smoke. ‘It looks like a walking tree! Yes, it is a tree! In fact it’s a whole group of trees!’
That is exactly what they were – a group of at least twenty wild fig trees, protesting the use of deadly fire. The forest had given the Indian plant “written in the soil consent” to use fire in an open area of safety, strictly for religious purposes only. However, the fig trees were up in branches over this, knowing very well how environmentally destructive the flame could be to Floran, with massive destruction caused in the past by its careless misuse. The determined trees were planted firmly in their beliefs and would stop at nothing to put an end to this vicious crime.
The thick-barked protestors leapt forward on their sturdy roots, shaking their shiny display of colourful leaves in anger as they marched. They arrived at the centre of the fire within seconds and each one bravely leapt onto the glowing coals in turn, scattering small pieces of burning embers in all directions, shortly putting an end to the dangerous fire. Fortunately, their large spread of roots were all packed nicely with mud, making the procedure as painless for them as possible.
The Indian chief raised his arm, and the screaming plant tribe quieted immediately. The plant chief was furious and let out a spine-chilling cry, lashing his arm forward viciously towards the wild fig trees. The little tribe responded, racing towards the protesting trees, and screaming at the top of their little lungs.
Frank noticed what the trees had done and screamed out loudly, ‘Over here trees! Over here! Please put out this fire! Please!!’
Philip held his legs up high, but was not coping very well with the intense heat, and felt nauseous from the overwhelming thick clouds of smoke. The poor boy was semi-conscious and confused as the result of an oxygen shortage, and he didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on.
The Indian plant tribe quickly prepared their little bows and fired dozens of sharp arrows in the direction of the fig trees. The trees were nailed with the arrows and shook their leaves in rage. They flung their spiked trunks forward and dashed towards the screaming tribe, using their bushy leaves as shields. The little Indian tribe was no match for the furious group, jumping to the side as the trees’ enormous roots came crashing down on them.
Several more little arrows were fired, spiking the trees like a dart board. The little Indian plants were quite determined to have the victory. The little arrows only made the determined trees extremely angry, and they crashed forward like a herd of stampeding elephants crushing several unsuspecting Indian plants along the way. A tree of that size could quite easily squash at least ten of the little critters underneath its large spread of roots, crushing them into a sticky green pulp with colourful stripes and tattered petals.
The Indian plant chief gazed over the remains of his precious tribe and realized it was time to admit defeat.
‘Whah! Whah! Wheh!’ he screamed, hastily summoning his tribe to surrender. He turned around and dashed off into the forest, followed by the remainder of his defeated tribe.
The boys were really starting to feel the heat by now and they both hung with their legs pulled right up. That wasn’t helping them very much though; they were stinging from the heat and it was becoming quite unbearable. Philip was trying his best to stay alert for as long as possible by taking slow deep breaths to prevent himself falling unconscious.
In between the coughing and spluttering Frank enjoyed a moment of satisfaction, when he noticed the sticky remains of half the plant tribe scattered in all directions.
‘That will teach them, good for nothing plant filth,’ he muttered in disgust.
He braced himself, watching the wild fig trees approach, with the last few trampling what was left of the sticky Indian plants’ remains, just to make certain of a job well done.
‘Hurry up! Help! Help!’ Frank screamed, shaking his body around as if it would assist in moving them along.
The smoke had died down and the fire was really starting to flare into a raging furnace. Philip inhaled deeply, looking across at the approaching fig trees. Even though he didn’t trust them, he really didn’t care who helped him; he was absolutely desperate. Too bad if the boys wanted a burial service, a cremation would just have to do.
‘Help! Help! Help!’
The fig trees divided into two separate groups like a troop of fire fighters performing a drill. One of the teams headed towards Frank and the other towards Philip, marching in an orderly fashion, short of firemen’s hats and a hosepipe. They jogged towards the campfires with feisty determination as if an entire building was set ablaze.
The boys couldn’t believe their eyes when they saw the multicoloured trees approachin
g with speed. They shook their bushy tops like a group of schoolgirl cheerleaders shaking pompoms for the final match. The boys always found the pompom girls wonderful to look at, but these multicoloured trees were absolutely heaven-sent.The trees couldn’t have cared less about the boys; their only concern was the fire which they had to extinguish at any cost. The first tree in line came marching towards Frank, stomping the ground with its heavy roots, causing the earth to tremble like a small earthquake.
‘Hurry up!’ Frank yelled in desperation. The fire was so hot that he was on the verge of having his trousers catching fire.
Suddenly four thick vines shot out from the forest and wrapped themselves neatly around the eager firefighting tree, dragging it off into the woods. Frank was horrified as he watched the fig tree being carted off into the forest. The forest was very angry about the fig tree protest and the killing of so many innocent Indian plants, and helping the boys was totally unacceptable.
The trees were very determined though and believed firmly in their cause. As a group of protestors they would do their absolute best to kill the fire.
Fortunately for Frank the sixth tree was successful at quenching the vicious blaze, before it got hauled off into the forest by the powerful vines. The wild tree stomped out the fire, brushing Frank slightly with its soft leaves, but causing him no harm.
Unfortunately for Philip, only the ninth tree succeeded in its attempt at extinguishing the fire. The poor boy nearly had heart failure as he watched all the precious fire stamping trees being hauled into the forest.
Philip and Frank relaxed their stiff legs and breathed a big sigh of relief as they watched a tiny vapour of smoke rise from the crushed pile of wood below. The wild fig trees had all been dragged off into the forest and there wasn’t a single one in sight. They must have received a suitable punishment for their unlawful protest. On the other hand, Frank and Philip could have kissed their trunks for saving their lives.
The boys swayed gently from their tree, taking several deep breaths of fresh air. They soon felt a lot better after their near asphyxiation, although the horror of the traumatic experience would not be quite so easily forgotten. They stared across at the squashed remains of the Indian plant tribe, longing to be on solid ground again, and free from the nasty piercing vines that bound them.