

Sacred Wind: Book 2

'Quantum computing is...a distinctively new way of harnessing nature...It will be the first technology that allows useful tasks to be performed in collaboration between parallel universes.'

David Deutsch – Centre for Quantum Computation, University of Oxford.

'There are vibrations of different universes right here, right now. We're just not in tune with them. There are probably other parallel universes in our living room – this is modern physics. This is the modern interpretation of quantum theory, that many worlds represent reality.'

Dr Michio Kaku - Theoretical Physicist and Bestselling Author.

'In infinite space, even the most unlikely events must take place somewhere.'

Professor Max Tegmark - Dept. of Physics, MIT.

'This is a victory for life, a victory for common sense and, ultimately, recognition that consciousness is pervasive in our abundant and wonderful universe.'

Dr Lamb Dopiaza-Pilau Rice – following the 1968 legislation by the Welsh Parliament recognising curries as conscious entities.

Copyright © Andy Coffey 2014

The right of Andy Coffey to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright Designs and Patent Act 1988.

All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

**ISBN:** 9781311334824

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Illustrations by Joe Latham joe@lookhappydesign.com

Copyright © Joe Latham 2014

Other books by Andy Coffey

Sacred Wind: Book 1

Sacred Wind: Book 3

Sacred Wind: The Complete Trilogy

Sacred Wind: The Appendices

Sacred Wind: Songbook

Sacred Wind – The Album

Possibly the finest debut album by a Welsh Viking Flatulence Rock band from an alternative reality... Available at all good download stores!

www.sacredwind.co.uk

Table of Contents

Chapter 17 – Have you looked in the mirror lately?

Chapter 18 – Hello and welcome to 'Rock your Deity'!

Chapter 19 – Do you think they'll put out bunting?

Chapter 20 – I see you've brought your trumpet

Chapter 21 – Has anyone seen the Queen?

Chapter 22 – So it would appear that the outcome is not decided

Chapter 23 – Do you think people will sing songs about us in the future?

Chapter 24 – I had no idea you had such a fondness for old condiments

Chapter 25 – May Odin bless their wind

Chapter 26 – Perhaps you can help me, I'm looking for someone

Chapter 27 – Have you prepared the room for the press conference?

Chapter 28 – Follow that cab!

Chapter 29 – Are the troops ready?

Chapter 30 – It seems our cover is blown

Chapter 31 – Prepare to be boarded

Chapter 32 – I believe I'm feeling slightly peckish

Sacred Wind: Book 3 Preview

About the Author – by Oldfart Olafson

Other books by Andy Coffey

Contact Sacred Wind

#  Chapter 17 – Have you looked in the mirror lately?

'So, now you probably think I'm either mad or inventing the whole thing,' Aiden said, after recounting yesterday's eventful trip to Llangollen.

Cracky looked at him thoughtfully, a wry smile on his lips. Growing up with a wizard for a father had certainly provided him with an open mind. He also paid great heed to his intuition, and at the moment his intuition was telling him that Aiden was telling the truth. 'I must admit it's a pretty amazing story, but I've no reason to disbelieve you. I mean, let's look at the evidence. For a start there's that old car you arrived in, I've never seen one quite like that. It's also obvious that you've not encountered too many sentient sheep, conscious curries, faeries or telepathic cats on your travels. I'm a good judge of character and you can't feign the kind of surprise I've seen on your face on several occasions. And then, of course, there's your scruffy hair style.'

'Why does everyone keep going on about my hair?' Aiden said.

'Have you looked in the mirror lately?'

Cracky poured them both a drink of orange juice and passed a glass to Aiden. 'I am most interested in looking at this phone of yours,' he said. 'That certainly sounds like something that would completely confirm your story.'

'Of course,' Aiden said, as he took the QC Nova phone out of his jacket pocket and passed it to Cracky. 'You just touch the screen,' he added, reaching over and prodding the screen to initialise the phone.

'My, my, now this is something,' Cracky said.

'Yes, it's a cool piece of kit,' Aiden said, proudly. 'You can play games on it, go on the Internet at super-speed bandwidth, download apps by all the major manufacturers, access all the social networking sites and even read eBooks that you already have on your computer at home. It's got the fastest processor on the market and its speed and memory are radically enhanced using quantum computing technology.'

'You lost me after "games",' Cracky said.

'Sorry, Cracky, I should have realised that you probably haven't seen a computer.'

'Oh, I've seen computers,' Cracky said. 'But they're obviously not quite as advanced as those where you hail from. The screens are normally just black and white, or more commonly green and black.'

'That's how ours were about twenty years ago,' Aiden said. 'You know, for all the differences between our two realities there would appear to be a reasonable number of parallels.'

Aiden thought for a second before continuing. He had so many questions. 'What about science,' he said. 'Have you heard of the theory of relativity, for example?'

'Oh, yes,' Cracky replied.

'And it was Albert Einstein who formulated it?'

'Albert Einstein? You mean Alfred Einstein,' Cracky said.

'Alfred Einstein?'

'Yes, his twin brother. Albert Einstein was a charlatan of the highest order. He was a playboy, a gambler and an inveterate cheese sniffer. It was one of the scandals of the century. Albert used to keep his twin brother locked up in a tower, telling him the outside world was controlled by monsters and ogres who tortured anyone who could do quadratic equations. Alfred used to discuss all his ideas and research with Albert, little knowing that Albert was passing these off as his own. Albert was eventually found out by the screen actress Martina Monroe, whom he was having a well-publicised affair with. She began to suspect something was awry when one night, after sex, she quizzed him on the Unified Field Theory and he began to talk about "knocking down fences and letting all the grass mingle together." At first she thought this to be just some clever metaphor... until he explained how this would allow the cows to roam freely. While Albert slept, she found the locked room in the tower and freed Alfred. Albert was thrown in prison for ten years, barred from cheese sniffing for life and was given twenty stern twists of his left ear. Alfred went on to win the Nobbly Peace Prize and marry the luscious Martina. Am I to gather this is not the way things transpired where you're from?'

'Not quite,' Aiden said.

Cracky turned the sign on the diner door so that 'Open' faced outwards. 'You're welcome to hang around for a bit,' he said. 'It may not be that busy today. Sunday's are normally quiet until later in the afternoon.'

'Thanks, Cracky, but I think I'll have a walk around town again. I may drop in for a drink later, if that's okay.'

'Absolutely, my door is always open for you.'

Aiden was just about to leave when a thought popped into his head. 'Cracky, I've been meaning to ask ever since last night, but you obviously have electricity here?'

'Yes, of course.'

'But I've not seen any overhead power cables, so does that mean they're all underground?'

'Well, the electricity does come from underground,' Cracky said. 'Come on, I'll show you.'

They walked out of the back door and Cracky pointed to a silver-coloured pole that was sticking out of the ground. It was about ten feet tall and had a series of small cables that stretched from its top into what appeared to be a fuse box, fitted to the outside wall.

'There you go. That's my EET.'

'EET?' said Aiden.

'Earth Electricity Transducer. You just put it in the ground, attune the frequency and it's ready to go.'

'Are you telling me that you simply get all your electricity from the earth?' Aiden said.

'Yes,' Cracky replied, looking surprised at the question. 'Where do you get yours from?'

'We make it, using large power stations the size of small towns. We have big generators, some of which even use nuclear power.'

'Dear me, that sounds expensive; and a bit impractical, if you don't mind me saying.'

'Well, electricity prices are quite high, so I suppose you're right in that sense.'

'You mean you pay for your electricity? How odd.'

***

As Aiden ambled along one of the quiet country roads that led out of town, he was reminded how extraordinarily clean the air smelled here, and that was something he'd noticed as soon as he'd arrived. On the right hand side of the road, tall hedges provided a jagged barrier to lush, verdant fields that stretched for miles. He also noticed that the grass seemed to be a much darker shade of green here, as if it were also cleaner, more alive.

Managing to work his way through a hole in the hedge without ripping his clothes, he bent down and laid his hand on the grass; it was warm and soft to the touch, its smell fresh and vibrant in his nose. There was a large oak tree nearby and its leafy branches reached out wide from its huge trunk, offering a protective canopy for anything that wished to nestle below.

'That's the beggar, over there,' Half-blind Ron said, from behind the tree. 'He's changed his clothes but I'd recognise that bloody hair anywhere. What's he thinking Your Highness, Princeness, Majesty?'

'Your Highness, are you sure it was a good idea to bring him with us?' Captain Marmaduke said, with a pained expression.

'He's already proven his worth, Captain. And I'm sure if we tell him he can have an extra chicken as a reward, if he keeps quiet, he'll comply completely, won't you Ron?'

'Mmm, mmmm!' said Half-blind Ron, nodding his head and putting his paw over his mouth.

'Right, then,' Theo said, as they peeped around the large oak tree, 'please be still and I'll try and reach into his mind.'

Prince Theo had the rare gift of being able to go beyond simple telepathic conversation and could actually probe deep into the minds of other creatures. He could not only read their thoughts but could also sense their emotions and moods. The gift became apparent when he was a kitten and it was cultivated through teachings by his mother, the sadly departed Queen Tiddles, who had been blessed with the same talent. She had instructed him how to master and control his gift, how to access thoughts without being detected, and how to create permanent connections for short periods of time. The wise Queen also taught him how to protect himself against any malevolent forces that he may encounter when using his gift. Theo loved her very much and always listened, knowing that someday a need may arise where it would be necessary to put those lessons into action.

'His mind is full of strange things,' he said, as he concentrated. 'He's not from this world, and he's not from this time. The place he's from is similar, but also very different. He's a good man, very clever. He likes music and... there are lots of images of females, including one who he met in The Sheep's Stirrup last night. There's something about food... breakfast at the pub and something called "pizza". I'm also picking up images of possessed vacuum cleaners, some very scary men in black and yellow, something called a "Nova phone" and a love of swords. He really is most unusual.'

'But is he the one mentioned in The Prophecy?' the Captain said.

'I do believe that he may be, Captain. Although he's out of place here, he doesn't feel out of place, if that makes sense. His mind is unique... but he has a dog.'

'A dog!' Half-blind Ron exclaimed. 'I told you he was a weirdo. If the bloody thing comes near me I'll scratch its knackers.'

Theo concentrated again and probed a little deeper. 'He's already made quite a few friends, including Cracky, so I think we should pay a visit to the Diner later.'

'Agreed, Your Highness,' said Captain Marmaduke.

'Wait a minute, there's something disturbing here,' Theo said. 'I can see two figures. He met them yesterday in the pub. They were in disguise but I'd recognise them anywhere.'

'Go on,' said the Captain.

'It's Hob and Nob. They were staying in The Sheep's Stirrup yesterday. He had a bad feeling about them.'

'Well, he's a good judge of character,' said the Captain. 'They'll be on Blacktie's business, that's for sure. But what could be so pressing that it called for him to despatch his two top spies to Llangollen?'

'I've no idea, Captain. But I think we better go and find out.'

***

As Aiden made his way back into town he spotted a fallen tree trunk, which lay lifeless near the hedge. He sat down and stared up into the clear sky as a couple of magpies fluttered by, no doubt in search of treasure or perhaps worms. It was now late afternoon and his thoughts began to turn to home once more, mainly because he was missing Humphrey; although the really weird thing was that even after only two days he actually felt he somehow belonged here. What was it Tom had said, 'all this happened because the app selected the most appropriate Llangollen in the Multiverse for you by analysing your subconscious.' He took a deep intake of the crisp afternoon air and then he felt his phone buzzing.

His immediate reaction was that it must be Tom with some news. But when he produced the phone from his pocket the ringtone was distinctly different, almost like heavenly angels singing. He looked at the name being displayed on the screen. It said 'Odin', so he answered it.

'Hello.'

'Oh, hello. Now you'll have to excuse me, as I don't tend to use these things much, but Tom asked me to give you a call.'

Given what he'd witnessed over the past couple of days, Aiden had decided that he'd keep an open mind to anything he encountered from now on. He still needed to ask what seemed to be a perfectly reasonable question, though. 'So you're actually Odin of Asgard?' he said, with a completely straight face.

'You mean you know another Odin?' replied Odin. 'Well, I shouldn't be too surprised. I have a cousin who called his dog Odin. A right feisty little bugger it was. Whenever we'd visit him — that's me and the wife, Frigg — I used to get a bit confused at meal times. "Odin, Odin, din dins" they'd shout, and up I'd get and wander into the kitchen. Don't get me wrong, dog food isn't normally my thing, but to be honest some of the stuff was actually quite tasty.'

'Sorry,' Aiden said. 'I meant are you Odin, King of the Norse Gods.'

'I am indeed, young man. Now, Tom said he's a bit tied up but told me to tell you not to worry and that he'll be back in touch on Thursday.'

'Ah, okay, and thanks for letting me know.'

'My pleasure, young man, I've heard some good things about you. And your wind's been blessed on several occasions already.'

Aiden remembered the tale Cracky had told him when he was on the boat trip yesterday; that the Vikings believe every fart is a blessing. 'So all those "blessings" actually get to you?'

'Oh yes. If a fart is done with feeling and the thoughts that go with it are pure and noble, then it'll find its way up my holy nostrils. It's no different from praying, you know. It's the positive energy that counts. Unfortunately for me, I often receive the positive energy surrounded by the most ungodly smells!' Odin said, with a booming, hearty laugh that was so infectious Aiden couldn't help but join in.

'I will say this, though,' Odin continued. 'One of the biggest pains we gods have is this whole _"freewill"_ thing. I mean, it was our idea and it did make perfect sense at the time _._ Allow life forms the opportunity to make their own decisions and keep interference to a minimum, provide a few basic rules and then just let it roll. That's what we all agreed. Now, don't get me wrong, by and large it works perfectly well, but you do sometimes get a bit frustrated when things get misinterpreted.'

'Misinterpreted?' Aiden said.

'Yeah, it's happened quite a lot. I'll give you an example; I was speaking to God, the big guy, at the last "Bi-Millennial Deity Conference"* and he was talking about this very subject. "Ods," he'd say, as that's his nickname for me, which is much better than some of the other nicknames I have. "Ods," he'd say, "never trust a scribe, because it doesn't matter what you say, they'll make up their own version anyway. Look at what's been written about me in the Bible. One minute I'm a kind and loving god and the next thing I'm smiting this and smiting that. I've never once told anyone to smite bloody anything! I mean, how hypocritical would that be. I set out the Ten Commandments, without caveats bear in mind, and all of a sudden it's as if I've said 'well, yes, but obviously they don't apply to me, particularly if I think that someone needs a bloody good smiting.' What kind of example would that be setting?" He was really miffed about the whole thing.'

'You know, I've never thought about it like that,' Aiden said.

'And the other thing that does get to me, on occasion, is the boredom,' Odin continued. 'Again, don't get me wrong, Asgard is a wonderful place and some of the goddesses do provide very welcome distractions, if you know what I mean. But it can all get a little bit tedious. I mean, you can only create so many planets, stars, mammals, suit-wearing giraffes and four-eyed, fire-breathing, chest-beating gnomes before it starts to feel a bit samey, can you understand?'

'Well, why don't you get yourself a hobby,' Aiden said, 'something completely different.'

'You know, that's really not a bad idea. Have you any suggestions?'

'Oh, er, I don't know. How about hosting a radio show?' It was the first thing that jumped into his head, and he had no idea why.

'Hey, what a great idea, I really like the sound of that! I could do music, interviews, competitions, phone-ins. Brilliant. Thanks very much, young man.'

'You're very welcome,' Aiden said, surprised and slightly relieved.

'Right, then, I must be off. I need to get hold of some deities to interview on my new show. Very exciting. Take care, Aiden Peersey, I reckon I owe you a favour.'

'Thanks. Goodbye, Odin.'

*See appendix 2

#  Chapter 18 – Hello and welcome to 'Rock your Deity'!

'Hello and welcome to Rock Your Deity!'(female choir jingle) 'Rock Your Dei-i-tyyyy'

'Yes, you're listening to Rock Your Deity and I'm your host, Odin. We'll be playing some of your gods' favourite tunes today, and we'll be having a live phone-in later. So, it'll be your chance to get loose with Loki, get down with Dionysus, and get amorous with Aphrodite! I'm also interviewing the big guy himself; yes, God will be here to talk us through his top ten songs of all eternity, including such classics as "Hallelujah", "God Gave Rock 'n' Roll To You", "Let There Be Rock", "Knocking on Heaven's Door" and, perhaps surprisingly, "Bat out of Hell".'

'What's that on the radio?' Aiden said, as he walked up to the bar.

'I'm not sure,' said Maurice. 'I just switched it on for some background music while I'm cleaning up. Has anyone told you the news yet?'

'No, I've been on my own most of the day... apart from one unusual conversation... what's happened?'

'Baron Blacktie is paying a visit to Llangollen tomorrow. He's actually coming to the pub, and he wants to meet with Oldfart and Sacred Wind. Apparently it's something about the Cestrian Music Tournament.'

'I saw a news article about the music tournament on television last night,' Aiden said. 'It mentioned that rock music was banned, from what I can remember.'

'Indeed,' said Maurice, putting down his cleaning cloth. 'The Baron is very fond of "New Romantic" music and can't stand heavy rock or metal. For some reason I'm sure we'll find out about tomorrow, we're told he's had "a change of heart", but it sounds suspicious to me. That man never does anything unless it's in his own interests.'

On the table in the corner, a heated debate was taking place between Vindy, Tikky and Saffy. 'But Your Majesties are supposed to be holding court tomorrow. There are several matters that will require your approval,' Saffy said.

'We're quite aware of that, Saffy, but a visit from Blacktie is something we need to stick around for,' said Vindy. 'He's up to something and I want to hear about it first hand; and, given our new-found alliance with Mold, I believe that we'd be remiss in our commitment if we didn't take a hands-on approach here.'

'Vindy's right,' Tikky said. 'I'm sure that First Minister Prawn Karahi-Onion Rice can look after things in our absence. Kara's a very capable politician and I think we all know we can trust his judgement.'

Saffy bubbled, cracking one of his mini poppadoms in frustration. He knew his king and queen were correct, and that this was too important an opportunity to let pass. 'Very well, I can see that I'm not going to be able to talk you out of this.'

'No you're not, Saffy,' Tikky said, 'and we appreciate your concern. You're our most trusted advisor, and one of our dearest friends. But in this instance the King and I will be staying to find out just what infernal plans the Baron may be hatching that involve Oldfart and Sacred Wind. We wish no harm to come to them and we will do everything in our power to assist where we can.'

'You realise that I'll have to leave some of your armed guard behind,' Saffy insisted.

'I'd expect no less, Saffy,' Vindy said. 'But please ensure that they keep their distance. If Blacktie spots any Tandoori Naans he's bound to get suspicious, particularly as Llangollen doesn't have a curry house. Tikky and I will try to blend in with the background.'

'Are you talking about disguising ourselves? Now that is exciting,' Tikky said, wobbling her plate.

'I could always cover you both in tin foil and we could pretend that you are part of a buffet?' Maurice called over, from the bar.

'Excellent,' said Vindy. 'That sounds absolutely splendid.'

'I can't wait to see you in metal, Vindy. Why, my bay leaves are curling now at the thought,' Tikky said, giggling.

'Now, now, dear, please try and control yourself in front of our friends. But, if we ask nicely, maybe Maurice will let us take the costumes home afterwards!'

'Ooh, Vindy, you saucepot!' Tikky smouldered.

Over at the Diner, Cracky was just about to close for the evening. He enjoyed his quiet Sunday nights, liking nothing better than to get lost in a good book, aided and abetted by a couple of flagons of his home-brewed ale. He was just about to head upstairs when he noticed five little shining eyes looking at him through the window... followed by a voice in his head. 'Nice to see you again, Cracky, it's been a while. If you can spare the time I think a chat may benefit us all.'

'Your Highness, as usual it would be a pleasure,' Cracky said, as he opened the door and the three cats ran in.

'First thing's first,' Half-blind Ron said, sending his thoughts into Cracky's mind, 'have you got any chicken?'

Cracky supplied the cats with some of his special melon chicken and some saucers of milk. Despite the protestations of Captain Marmaduke, Theo insisted that they eat off the floor so as not to arouse suspicion.

'That was excellent, Cracky,' Theo said, washing his paws with his tongue.

'Best chicken I've ever tasted, Mr Crackpot!' exclaimed Half-blind Ron, purring away.

'Actually, it's Crackfoot,' said Cracky, 'although I've been called worse.'

'Can we get down to business, Your Highness?' Captain Marmaduke said. 'Although I must say that the chicken was indeed superlative, Cracky.'

'You're all very welcome,' said Cracky. 'Now what brings Prince Theo of Corwen and his Captain of the Guard to my humble Diner?'

Theo told Cracky about Half-blind Ron's encounter with Aiden and what he discovered when he probed his mind. He also explained his reasons as to why he felt Aiden's sudden appearance was linked to The Prophecy. And this was one piece of the current jigsaw of events that hadn't crossed Cracky's mind, up to this point.

The Prophecy was allegedly written several centuries ago by a personage or personages unknown. It was a book of portents and predictions, many of which had come to pass. Theo, as a student of esoteric literature, was well-versed with its contents and interpretation. Cracky's father had also studied the book.

'It's been many years since I've looked through my father's copy, I must admit,' said Cracky. 'But it would seem that Aiden's appearance in our world does fit some of the criteria.'

'I'm actually convinced, Cracky,' said Theo. 'I've studied this work too closely and I can read the signs. Don't forget, there's a complimentary prophecy supposedly set to occur at the same time which says "Four great warriors will face a challenge from an evil baron in a city far away." Now if we can find some correlation between current events and this section of the book... well, we could really be onto something.'

Cracky poured some more milk into the three saucers on the floor, just as Oldfart knocked on the door. 'Are you coming over to the Stirrup later on, Cracky?' Oldfart said, walking in and completely ignoring the three cats lapping at the milk

'I wasn't going to, why?'

'Because Blacktie's coming here tomorrow.'

Captain Marmaduke spat out some milk on the floor and started to choke. 'Is that cat okay?' asked Oldfart.

'Oh, I'm sure it's just a fur ball,' said Cracky, eyeing the Captain, 'please go on.'

'I received a call from his secretary and she said it's something to do with "a change of heart" and the Cestrian Music Tournament.'

'Blacktie hasn't got a heart to change,' Cracky said. 'So you need to be very careful, here. Without wishing to pre-empt anything he has to say, he either wants something or he wants to use you all for something.

'I'll be willing to bet this is related to whatever Hob and Nob were in town for recently,' Theo said.

Oldfart looked around the Diner trying to find the location of the voice. 'Cracky did you just say that without moving your lips?'

'No,' said Cracky, sighing. 'Can I introduce you to Prince Theo of Corwen, Captain Marmaduke and Half-blind Ron. The voice in your head was Theo's. He can communicate with thought.'

Each of the cats nodded to Oldfart, who stumbled backwards and sat down heavily on a chair. 'Nice to make your acquaintance, Oldfart,' Theo said. 'I've heard a lot of good things about you.'

Oldfart's eyes were wide, although he stood up and managed a clumsy bow. 'And I you, Your Highness, but I must admit to be slightly taken aback. Please accept my apologies.'

'There is no need,' said Theo, waving his paw.

'Unless your apologies come with some more chicken,' Half-blind Ron said.

Cracky passed Oldfart a cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted. 'Your Highness was talking about Hob and Nob,' Oldfart said. 'I've never met them but from what I know they're Blacktie's eyes, and wherever they go trouble tends to follow.'

'You're right on both counts,' Theo replied. 'When I reached into Aiden's mind earlier today I saw them. They were in disguise, but it was definitely them. They were in The Sheep's Stirrup last night, and this morning.'

'Hmm, methinks that perhaps Mr Breezy and Mr Waft were not quite the Vagrant Vacuum Cleaner Exorcists they'd have us believe,' Cracky said. 'It looks like Maurice's hunch about them being spies was correct. But what, in Odin's name, would they be after here, of all places?'

Oldfart stood up and walked to the back of the Diner, cup of tea in one hand and stroking his long beard with the other. 'Last night, after the band had finished, they spent a good deal of time talking to Agnar. At first they were complimenting him on his drumming, which should have aroused suspicion anyway, but I recall overhearing the end of the conversation and it made no sense to me at the time.'

'Go on,' said Captain Marmaduke.

'Well, they were asking him about the old cheese mine that his cousin Angus gave him a few years back; you know, the one that used to belong to Hairy Growler. Agnar said something about a "client" of theirs would be most interested in taking it off his hands. He told them that he couldn't really sell it because he'd be worried about what Angus may say... and do. When he explained who his cousin was they seemed to get very twitchy.'

'There's got to be a correlation here,' Theo said, looking at Cracky.

'I would agree,' Cracky replied. 'But I find it difficult to believe that Blacktie would be interested in that old thing, its cheese veins are virtually empty, from what I know. And, anyway, Red Cheekfizzler wasn't exactly a delicacy, had no special qualities and played havoc with your bowels. If anyone dedicated any farts to Odin after they'd eaten that stuff I reckon they'd have to evacuate Asgard.'

'It could be a coincidence, Your Highness,' Captain Marmaduke said. 'Perhaps Hob and Nob were working for another client. They're not completely beholden to the Baron.'

'True, but I think we all need to be circumspect,' said Theo. 'If Blacktie is after the mine I doubt it's for its previous reservoir of cheese. There must be another reason.'

'Well then, 'said Oldfart. 'I guess we'll just have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.'

***

Ophelia Palace was situated just across the river Dee, near the 'Bridge of Faeries' and was very, very pink. Several local farmers did a roaring trade providing sunglasses for anyone visiting. Word of Baron Blacktie's visit and its potential consequences had been seized upon by Ophelia, Mara and Roisin as an excuse to arrange a party... not that they normally needed one.

'So, who else have you invited?' said Mara, as Ophelia scrolled through the invitation list.

'I've asked most of my aerobics class, they'll definitely be up for it.'

'In more ways than one, from what I've heard,' laughed Roisin. Ophelia gave her a withering look and continued.

'I'm going to invite Mr Kneepatcher, because he's hilarious, and I'm going to ask Cracky to come and bring some nibbles. Then there's that lovely Charles Corriedale and his nephew, Cliff. Oh, and Oriana Oftsheared as well. I think she and Cliff are becoming a bit of an item.'

'And?' said Mara.

'Oh, and I'll ask those nice boys who sing on the farm. I think one of them has his eye on you.'

'Which one?'

'You know, the short one with the mousey hair and the funny nose.'

'Walter Muddywellies? You can't be serious!' Mara said, aghast. 'He picks his nose and eats it. Now, are you absolutely sure there isn't ANYONE else you should be inviting?'

'No, I think that's about it,' Ophelia said, smiling.

'Ophy, you know who I mean!' Mara screeched.

Ophelia pretended to scroll through the invites once more, ticking everyone off on her list. 'Oh my, how could I be so forgetful?'

'At last,' Mara said.

'I'll ask Vindy and Tikky to come along as well, while they're in town.'

Mara looked her straight in the eye and fluttered her wings in a threatening fashion. '... and I'll invite Aiden,' Ophelia sighed.

Mara's smile was both beautiful and very wide. Then the doorbell rang.

'Hello, my name is Mr Ping and this is my assistant, Mr Pong,' the man with the briefcase said, when Roisin opened the door. 'We are Drifting Feng Shui Practitioners seeking to offer our expertise to only the most exclusive households.'

'Yes, no riff raff,' said Mr Pong.

'We are told that there is a need for cleansing in this charming palace, which we will achieve by aromatic furniture arranging, spurious Tai Chi and clandestine Tao Te Ching narrating,' Mr Ping said.

'And don't forget the cushion-puffing,' reminded Mr Pong.

'Of, course,' said Mr Ping. 'Cushion-puffing is a prerequisite of any attuned abode. We puff cushions like you've never seen.'

'We're indeed champion puffers,' added Mr Pong.

Roisin looked closely at the two men, feeling some vague sense of recognition. They both wore large top-hats and had matching round glasses. 'Haven't we met somewhere before?' she said.

Mr Ping showed no sign of concern at this announcement and produced a card, handing it to Roisin. 'It is a possibility, my dear lady. Mr Pong and I have Feng Shui'd quite a bit in this area in the past.'

'Yes, we've been positively rampant,' said Mr Pong. 'Some of clients can't get enough of it.'

Roisin examined the card, eyeing the two of them with more than a hint of suspicion. 'Wait here, please. I need to speak to the Queen,' she said, walking back to the drawing room.

'Ophy, there are two odd-looking men outside claiming to be Drifting Feng Shui Practitioners. Do you know anything about this?'

'Oh, yes. I remember asking Filbert, the accountant, to hire someone to give the place a new look last week. Are they expecting to stay for a few days?'

'I'm not sure, Ophy, I'll ask them. Shall I arrange rooms if they are?'

'Yes, thanks, Roisin,' the Queen said, 'they can make a start first thing in the morning.'

'It appears you are expected,' Roisin said, as she approached the front door. 'The Queen wishes to know how long you will be staying.'

Mr Ping looked at Mr Pong and smiled. 'Our work in a palace of this grandiosity would take at least two days by my reckoning, would you not agree, Mr Pong?'

'Two days? Yes, I would have thought so.'

'Well then, I'll get the butler to arrange appropriate accommodation,' Roisin said, still feeling slightly uneasy. 'Will you be starting first thing in the morning?'

'Why that would be most excellent, dear lady. First thing in the morning is fine by us, isn't that so, Mr Pong?'

'Fine, indeed,' agreed Mr Pong.

'Well, then, I'll go and get Jarvis to show you to your rooms.'

'Oh, we will only require the one room,' said Mr Pong.

Roisin smiled for the first time in the conversation. 'I see,' she said, winking. 'Well I hope you gentlemen have a pleasant night together.'

Mr Ping looked at Mr Pong, as both of their faces reddened appreciably. 'Ah, I think you do not understand our situation, dear lady,' said Mr Ping. 'Ours is a purely professional relationship. Cohabiting simply allows us to discuss the finer arts of our trade. We will often stay awake until the wee hours going through the ups and downs.'

'And the ins and outs,' added Mr Pong.

Jarvis escorted them to one of the more luxurious guest rooms, carried in their bags and bade them goodnight. 'Well, that was easy,' said Nob.

'You have to remember we are dealing with simpletons, way below the level of our intellect,' Hob replied. 'It is indeed child's play to weave our insidious schemes in such circumstances.'

Hob placed his briefcase into a nearby pink wardrobe and went over to the drinks cabinet. 'Shall we indulge in a glass of champagne, as a toast to our skill, endeavour and genius?'

'Why not,' Nob said. 'Tomorrow we shall gain entrance to the mine, obtain the cheese and collect our sizeable fee from the Baron.'

'Although we may have to puff a few cushions first,' Hob said, popping the cork of the bottle.

He poured the champagne into two large flutes and passed one to Nob. 'So, to us, my good Nob,' he said, raising his glass.

'To us,' Nob said, raising his glass to chink with Hob's. 'I am supremely confident that the task ahead will prove to be one of simplicity and minimal effort.'

'Quite,' Hob agreed, drinking the rest of the champagne from his flute. 'I foresee no problems whatsoever.'

***

In the lower levels of the cheese mine of Hairy Growler, Boris and Barry were hanging upside down discussing the poor quality of rat's blood.

'Let's face it, all the good rats have buggered off,' Boris said, stretching out his little black wings. 'This lot that are left have blood as thin as gnats wee.'

'Yeah, and there's hardly any of it,' Barry said. 'You know I drained one dry in less than a minute yesterday.'

'What I wouldn't give for some lovely, thick, human blood,' Boris sighed.

'Oh, yes, that'd be wonderful. You know I can still remember the taste, the texture and the smell.'

'Well, I suppose we can dream, my friend,' said Boris. 'But unless a complete pair of idiots pay a visit to this godforsaken place, we've got no chance.'

#  Chapter 19 – Do you think they'll put out bunting?

The sun was doing its utmost to break through the dense cloud that hung over Llangollen, but was meeting with little success. Aiden checked the time on the little alarm clock on his bedside table. It said 9:20 am. He went downstairs, ate a breakfast to rival the gastronomic delight of yesterday and then wandered into the bar, where Maurice and Oldfart were already deep in conversation.

'Word has spread very quickly, you know,' Oldfart said. 'I think there'll be quite a crowd when he arrives. Although saying that, there's a lot of folk who've told me they're going to shut all their doors and windows and stay inside.'

'Well, I'll be honest, he scares the living jibbery-pibberies out of me,' Maurice said. 'And I've heard he has bad wind. Some say his bottom-burps are so ghastly that they make hardened men weep and cry for their mothers.'

'Where's Vindy and Tikky, I thought they'd be down here already?' Aiden said, joining them at the bar.

'They are,' Maurice said. 'They're over there in disguise.'

Maurice had prepared a long table, adorned with a variety of foodstuffs, including fresh bread, fruit, a mixture of pastries and some cold meats. At the end of the table were two plates covered with tin foil. 'Good morning, Aiden,' said Tikky, rustling the tin foil slightly.

'Yes, good morning my good fellow,' Vindy said, mimicking his wife's rustling. 'Do you think these disguises will fool the Baron? I think Maurice has done a splendid job.'

'Definitely,' Aiden said, with a smile. 'As long as the Baron doesn't try and eat you.'

'Oh, that would be horrid, Vindy. Can you imagine going through that awful man's bowels?'

'It doesn't bear thinking about, my dear.'

'Don't worry, I'll be keeping a close eye out,' Maurice said. 'If anyone is tempted to uncover your tin foil, they'll have a plate of Blanche's sausages pushed under their nose. That'll certainly provide a distraction.'

The large, black carriage moved purposely towards Llangollen centre. Both of its metal doors bore the Blacktie crest of a black crow on a red shield, circled by the Blacktie motto, _'Arcum et cedat aut ventum liberari'_ (Bow and yield or my wind will be freed). Flanking the carriage were two heavily-armed members of the Knights of Flatulence, while in front General Darkblast rode proudly, holding the banner of Blacktie aloft. At the rear were six more knights, swords unsheathed and shields held close to their chest.

Despite the Baron's authority and influence, he was very aware that certain factions may be audacious enough to attempt an assassination. You didn't achieve the level of power and wealth he had without making lots of enemies, so he took no chances when he embarked on any journey outside of the city walls. The entourage surrounding his carriage was backed up by forward reconnaissance troops, crossbows at the ready, and a battalion of infantry brought up the rear.

'Do you think they'll put out bunting?' the Baron said to Pimple, who was sat next to him inside the carriage.

'I wouldn't know, my Lord. Did you order them to?'

'No. I suppose I should have really. I do like bunting.'

'Grunt go get bunting for Baron,' said Grunt, who was sat opposite them, his head pressed against the roof.

'No, that won't be necessary, Grunt,' the Baron sighed. 'And you did go to the toilet before we left, didn't you?'

'Grunt had big plop,' said Grunt. 'All plop gone.'

'No need for details,' said the Baron, with a grimace. 'Just so long as there are no accidents on the way back.'

'Grunt look for more plop in bum before go home,' Grunt said, earnestly.

As the carriage began its slow passage through Llangollen, people and sheep watched silently on the walkways, some averting their eyes as it passed by. Curtains in windows twitched every so often, the eyes of the occupants occasionally visible through the gaps.

Cracky stood by the door of the Diner, with Theo, Captain Marmaduke and Half-blind Ron out of sight under a table, but able to observe through the side window. 'Stop here for a second,' the Baron shouted. The horses whinnied as the driver pulled harshly at the reins.

'Well, well, Merlin Crackfoot. It's been a long time, has it not?' the Baron said, leaning out of the window.

'Not long enough for me,' Cracky replied.

'Ah, so I see you're still not willing to let bygones be bygones.'

'You know I'll never be able to do that, Baron.'

The Baron shrugged and pulled the curtain back across the window. 'Onwards,' he commanded.

'What was that all about, Cracky?' Theo said, emerging from under the table.

'It's a long story, Your Highness. But it's a story for another time.'

The Blacktie entourage stopped outside the front entrance of the pub and General Darkblast swiftly dismounted. He opened the carriage door and the Baron stepped out onto the cobblestones, raising his arms and yawning.

Inside the pub, Oldfart, Sacred Wind and Aiden were stood at the bar. Behind them Maurice was frantically cleaning glasses, trying to stop his hooves from clacking.

General Darkblast entered first, flanked by two Knights of Flatulence. Then the Baron strode in, with Pimple and Grunt in close attendance. 'Olaf,' Darkblast said to Olaf, nodding in recognition.

'Darkblast,' Olaf responded, also nodding his head, but demonstrating disdain as much as respect.

'You two know each other?' Smid whispered to Olaf.

'We go back quite a long way, but let's just say there's no love lost between us.'

The Baron sniffed the air in a haughty manner and walked over to the bar. 'I'd very much like a glass of your finest port, that's assuming you are actually civilised enough to stock it,' he said to Maurice.

'Coming right up, my Lord,' a quivering Maurice said, grabbing a bottle from behind the bar and filling up a large wine glass.

Maurice handed it to the Baron and he sniffed it gingerly. 'Would you like me to taste it first, in case of poison, my Lord?' General Darkblast said.

'No need, General. I think Mr, er, Fluffywool,' he said, reading the sign behind the bar, 'wouldn't attempt anything of that nature. Isn't that right, Mr Fluffywool?'

'Oh, absolutely, my Lord,' Maurice said, nodding while his hooves clacked together.

The Baron took a sip and raised his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. 'This is actually rather good; not quite up the standard in the palace, but perfectly palatable.'

'Thank you, my Lord,' Maurice said, relaxing visibly.

The Baron turned to face the pub, resting both his elbows on the bar behind him. 'So, to business, then; which one of you is Oldfart Olafson?'

'I am he,' Oldfart said, stepping in front of the Baron.

'Ah, delightful to meet you, Oldfart,' the Baron said, extending his hand. 'And I trust that these good folk are Sacred Wind?'

'They are,' Oldfart replied, slowly taking the Baron's hand.

At that moment Ophelia, Roisin and Mara rushed in, followed by two of the Baron's guards. Darkblast and the guards inside the pub unsheathed their swords. 'Keep your filthy hands off me and show some respect,' Ophelia said, pushing away one of the guards who attempted to grab her arm.'

'My apologies my Lord,' the guard said, 'we told them they could not enter but they refused to listen.'

'My, my, and what have we here?' the Baron said, admiring the three beauties. 'I certainly wasn't expecting to see such a pleasant sight on this visit, I can tell you.'

'I am Queen Ophelia and these are my hand maidens,' Ophelia said, running over to Olaf and linking his arm. Mara sidled over to Aiden and Roisin stood next to Agnar.

'Ah, Queen Ophelia, I've heard so much about you,' the Baron said. 'And it would appear it's all true. Your beauty is legendary, and I see not exaggerated.'

Ophelia stared straight at him but said nothing. She tightened her link with Olaf's arm. 'In fact, you and your hand maidens should really pop along to the palace one day,' the Baron continued. 'I host some very extravagant parties and I'm sure you'd thoroughly enjoy yourselves.'

'I'm not sure that the Baron would enjoy our company as much once my knee had connected with his groin,' Ophelia said.

'Ooh, you are a feisty one. I like that!'

'And to be honest, Baron,' she continued 'I'd rather be locked in a dingy cell with rats and deprived of my comb for a week then attend one of your "parties".'

'Well that can easily be arranged,' the Baron said, with a wicked smile that made Olaf reach for his sword.

'Not now, Olaf,' Grundi said, putting his hand on Olaf's sword arm.

'Anyway, enough of pleasurable activities, let us discuss the matters at hand,' the Baron said. 'I'm assuming that my secretary made you aware of the reason for this visit?'

'I was only told you wished to speak me about the Cestrian Music Tournament and that you'd had a "change of heart",' Oldfart said.

'Indeed,' the Baron said, sighing. 'Times are changing, ladies and gentlemen, and even I must acknowledge this, lest I lose touch with the common people.'

Blacktie moved over to the table were the food was displayed and started to look from platter to platter. 'If he even attempts to lift your foil he's going to get an eyeful of chutney,' Vindy whispered to Tikky.

The Baron stopped short of the two disguised curries and picked up a sausage roll. 'Mmm, this is very good too,' he said between bites. 'Anyway, as I was saying, for too long now I have allowed my own musical proclivities to both influence and control matters. It is now time to loosen up, so to speak, and relinquish some of that control. As much as I still cannot abide rock music in any of its deplorable forms, the people should be allowed to make their own minds up. Wouldn't you agree, Oldfart?'

'Absolutely,' Oldfart said.

'To this end, then,' the Baron continued, 'I hereby invite Sacred Wind to take part in the Cestrian Music Tournament, to be held in two days' time in the Grand Gateway Theatre, Chester.'

Agnar punched the air, yelling loudly and Oldfart clapped his hands together. 'Er, there is one proviso, though,' the Baron said, with a cough. 'I cannot be seen to allow this late change without receiving something in return from the entrants. I'm sure you understand; fair play and all that.'

'Here we go,' Grundi said, looking at Smid.

'So,' the Baron continued, 'you will be obliged to pay a bond, which you will get back if you win the competition.'

'What kind of bond?' Oldfart said.

'A bond to the value of £10,000,' the Baron replied.

'£10,000!' Olaf exclaimed. 'We haven't got that kind of money. I knew there'd be a catch.'

'It doesn't have to be money, Gentlemen. It could be a property, say a house or an old cheese mine or something?'

'I've got a cheese mine,' Agnar shouted, putting up his hand as if he'd been asked a question at school.

'Oh, have you now? That is fortuitous,' the Baron said, feigning surprise. 'Which cheese mine is this then?'

'It's the one that used to be owned by Hairy Growler, near the Circle of Wind. The cheese is nearly all gone, and it was bloody rubbish anyway, but it's still a cheese mine.'

'Hmm, you're not doing a very good job of selling this to me, you know,' the Baron said.

'But it does have potential,' Agnar added, thinking quickly. 'You could use it as a tourist attraction for, oh, I don't know, under-privileged Trolls who could wallow in its murkiness, licking the dank water off its walls while singing songs about how wonderful it is to be a troll.'

Grunt smiled and looked at the baron appealingly. 'Grunt like sound of that.'

The Baron shook his head and started to walk towards the door. Then he stopped dead in his tracks, turned around and put his hands out. 'Well, okay. Call me an old softy but it's a deal,' he said. 'Pimple, pass me the contract.'

Pimple produced a sealed scroll from his inside pocket and handed it to the Baron, who unfurled it and placed it on the bar. 'Just sign here,' he said, handing a pen to Agnar.

'Now, wait a second, Agnar,' Smid said. 'Angus will use your innards as cake decorations if you lose that mine. Think about this for a second.'

'I agree,' Aiden said. 'There's more to this than meets the eye, Agnar.'

The Baron seemed to notice Aiden for the first time, and looked him up and down warily. 'And who, pray, might you be?'

'This is Aiden Peersey, he's our sound engineer,' Oldfart said, before Aiden could answer.

'I see,' the Baron said. 'Well I would advise the scruffy-haired fellow that this deal is straight up. If Sacred Wind win the competition, they keep the mine.'

'Pardon me for speaking, my Lord,' Aiden said. 'But this deal appears to be heavily weighted in your favour. Could you not see fit to also grant another concession if the band win?'

'Like what?' the Baron replied, his curiosity piqued.

'Well, like extending the flatulence license so that people can fart freely,' Aiden said, with no idea why that had come into his mind.

The Baron looked Aiden up and down once more and pursed his lips. 'Very well, I agree,' he said. 'If Sacred Wind are successful I hereby declare that The Sheep's Stirrup will be a "no limit fart zone." Now, if you'll just sign here and then we can all be off.'

Agnar scrawled his signature on the parchment, which was then hastily retrieved by the Baron and handed back to Pimple. 'A wise move, my good man,' the Baron said, turning towards the door. 'So, I bid you all farewell and look forward to our next meeting at the tournament on Wednesday.'

Outside, General Darkblast felt it necessary to voice his concern. 'Do you not think you are taking a risk here, my Lord,' he said, as the Baron was about to step back into the carriage. 'What if this band were to actually win the tournament?'

'Well, you have to be in it to win it,' the Baron said. 'And that means they'll have to successfully navigate their way to Chester. That trail can be fraught with danger, General. Who knows what terrors they may encounter.'

The General smiled.

'Now, as soon as we return, get hold of Taffy Tuffy from the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies,' the Baron continued. 'I wish to speak to him as a matter of urgency.'

The General looked shocked. 'My Lord, I would advise you not to deal with those pirates. Do you know anything of their nature?'

'I have heard they roam the seas fuelled by super-strength ale and surrounded by prodigious body odour, and that they mercilessly assail their victims with unrelenting violence and inverse aromatherapy,' the Baron replied.

'Yes, er, that would be accurate,' said the General.

'In which case, they sound ideal. Get word to Taffy that he and his hordes should set sail for Chester immediately. I will make it well worth his while. Tell him he needs to be in the palace by tomorrow morning.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

'Oh, General, one last thing before we depart,' the Baron said, as he stepped onto the carriage steps. 'Have Hob and Nob been successful in their infiltration?'

'I believe so, my Lord. I am told that they will be able to obtain the sample of cheese you require by tomorrow.'

'Good. However, send word to them that there is a slight change of plan. I will be in contact with the details later.'

'As you command, my Lord.'

#  Chapter 20 – I see you've brought your trumpet

'You've done what!' Cracky shouted at Oldfart, putting his flagon of Riggley's Piddle down heavily on the bar.

'We've put Agnar's old cheese mine up as a bond. It was a bit of a no-brainer really.'

'Doesn't this strike you as ever so slightly suspicious, Oldfart?' Cracky continued, his reddened face portraying his annoyance. 'I wish you'd have spoken to me first. Blacktie doesn't do anything unless the outcome favours him. He must want the cheese mine for a reason we have yet to fathom.'

'I would agree with Cracky,' said Tikky, now out of her tin foil disguise. 'There's something not quite right here and we should really try to get to the bottom of it.'

Agnar decided it was time to voice his opinion. 'Look, it's my cheese mine and I've made a decision that it's worth a gamble. This could be our passage to the big time after all.'

Theo had listened long enough and also decided it was time to enter the debate. He knew intuitively that he was with friends. 'Good Agnar,' he said, allowing his thoughts to be heard by all within the immediate circle. 'I have no doubt that you have acted in the best interests of your friends by agreeing to this deal, but you must be aware that there could be forces at work here that have another agenda. I apologise for being silent until this moment, but now is the time for cooperation and openness.'

All eyes looked around to see where the pleasant and sagacious voice was coming from, until Cracky pointed downwards towards Theo. 'I am Prince Theo of Corwen,' he said. 'And my friends and I are at your service, wherever that may now lead.'

'Hello you lanky git,' Half-blind Ron said to Aiden.

'I thought it was you,' Vindy said to Theo. 'I just didn't want to blow your cover. But we have met before, haven't we?'

'Indeed, Your Majesty,' Theo said. 'And it is a delight to see both you and the Queen looking so well. I believe I was a tad younger when we last met in Wrexham.'

'You were,' said Tikky. 'And you were delightful. Have your "gifts" continued to bloom?'

'That would be a true statement, Your Majesty.'

Tikky looked more sombre, her colour fading slightly, as she asked the next question. 'How is your father?'

Theo's head dropped momentarily and then he proudly composed himself. 'He ails, Your Majesty. He is very old and weak. I fear he may not see out the next winter.'

'Please tell him he has the best wishes of the people and curries of Wrexham,' Vindy said.

'Thank you, Your Majesty.'

Tikky turned one of her bay leaves upwards, as if using it as a magnifying glass. 'You've grown into a very wise and royal cat, Theo. Your mother would be so proud. Are you aware that she and I were great friends?'

'Yes, Your Majesty. She spoke of you a lot and with great affection.'

'Well, this is a turn up for the books,' Olaf said. 'Who'd have thought that a simple music tournament could generate so much interest and attract such royal and prestigious guests. I think I speak for the entire band when I say we are very honoured that we have your support.'

'And, of course, you'll all have to come to my party later,' Ophelia added.

***

Ophelia's parties were always one of the highlights of the social calendar, and anyone who was anyone just had to attend. To not be invited was construed by some as tantamount to being ostracised from society. Only last year, Lady Monica Slackpants, who failed to make the cut for Ophelia's birthday party, was so distraught that she dyed her hair maroon, became an persistent clog-wearer and announced that she was taking on a new career as a speech therapist for disadvantaged budgies.

'Hello, oh, I do hope we're not too early. Bless my clacky hooves, I don't think I've been so excited for years.'

'Of course you're not too early, Charles, please come in. And you too, Cliff,' Ophelia said, with a warm smile. 'I see you've brought your trumpet, how splendid. Now, promise me that you'll not have too much to drink before you play for us later. I still remember last year when you lost your balance trying to reach that high note after several glasses of Roisin's special cider.'

'Oh, dear,' said Charles, 'that was embarrassing. But at least I had the pleasure of you and Mara catching me!'

Upstairs, in Ophelia's royal bedroom, Mr Ping and Mr Pong were busy puffing cushions, under Roisin's watchful eye. 'I didn't realise that Feng Shui involved so much cushion-puffing,' she said, still feeling very unsure of the odd pair.

'My dear lady, gratuitous cushion-puffing is a vital part of the preparation process for any successful Feng Shui exercise,' said Mr Ping.

'Indeed,' added Mr Pong, 'we have forged our career and reputation by the level and quality of our puffing.'

'But aren't you suppose to place things strategically to generate positive Qi?' she asked.

'Of course, the essence of Qi is channelled through the puffing of the cushions,' said Mr Ping. 'But, now we have puffed enough and it is time to embark on the serious matter of furniture placement. Mr Pong, please pass me that small ottoman.'

Mr Pong picked up a pink ottoman at the end of Ophelia's luxurious bed and handed it to Mr Ping, who stared up into the air and began to turn his head in a circling motion. 'Ah, I can feel it now. The Qi is strong over here,' he said, placing the ottoman by the window. 'Can you feel the Qi, Mr Pong?'

'It's making my toes curl as you speak. I can feel it going up my trousers.'

'Well, I'll leave you gentlemen to it for a while,' said Roisin. 'The Queen is expecting guests this evening and I should really make an appearance. I'll come and check on your progress shortly.'

And with that she exited the room and made her way downstairs to the party. 'Thank goodness she's gone,' said Nob. 'She's a nosey one.'

'Indeed,' said Hob. 'But once again, our superior thespian skills and improvisational abilities have allowed us to successfully perpetuate our masquerade.'

There was a knock on the bedroom door and Hob and Nob looked at each other with alarm. 'Come in,' said Mr Ping.

'Pardon me, my good sirs, but this letter has just arrived for you,' said Jarvis, holding out the sealed envelope.

'Ah, er, that will no doubt be from our agent, informing us of our next engagement. Thank you so much,' Mr Ping said, as he took the letter from Jarvis.

'Who on earth would be sending us a letter?' Nob said. 'Nobody even knows we are here.'

'It's from the Baron,' Hob replied, unfolding the letter and reading its contents. 'It would seem there is to be a slight change of plan.'

Downstairs, Charles Corriedale was indulging in two of his favourite pastimes; drinking cider and talking music. 'Of course, I'll be playing with the OSO in the tournament,' he said, with a glass of cider between his hooves. 'But I would like to say that I'll still be cheering you fellows on. I'm actually quite a fan.'

'Are you really?' said Grundi. 'I wouldn't have thought our style of music would be your thing at all.'

'Nothing could be further from the truth,' Charles said, between hiccups. 'I adore the power and the passion of your songs. In fact, the musicality and compositional structure isn't that far removed from classical music. I tell you, I've had quite a few evenings when I've just let my fleece down and rocked out. Isn't that right, Cliff?'

'Hah, my uncle speaks the truth,' Cliff said. 'I have borne witness to his uncommonly accurate air guitar playing. However, he shouldn't bang his head so much now that his years are advancing.'

'Fiddlesticks!' Charles retorted, to the laughter of Grundi, Smid and Aiden. 'You're as young as you feel. Or as young as the ewe you are feeling,' he added with a wink.

'Uncle, you are incorrigible,' Cliff said, smiling.

'Oh, yes. I do hope so, my nephew. I do hope so!'

As Charles wandered off in search of another drink, Cliff watched him and shook his head. 'You know he really is one of a kind.'

'Absolutely,' Grundi agreed. 'You obviously love him very much.'

'More than my own life, Grundi; I'd do anything to protect that old sheep.'

Vindy and Tikky were given a starring role on a table in the middle of the ballroom, but far enough away from the buffet to avoid confusion. 'Would you two like anything?' Ophelia said.

'I think I could go for a little lime juice, thank you,' Vindy said, chuckling. 'Not too much, though, it goes straight to my beef these days.'

'Just a touch of pineapple juice for me, please, my dear. If Vindy's going on the lime I better make sure I keep my wits about me in case he starts trying to dance again,' Tikky said.

'What do you mean "trying to dance"? I seem to remember that at the last party we attended I was being praised for my "twirling plate boogie"!'

'Yes, dear, that's true. And then Harold had to intervene before you nearly fell off the table after attempting that pirouette.'

'Ah, yes,' Vindy admitted, 'but it would have looked spectacular if I hadn't have bumped into that large pepper pot.'

The party was now in full swing and Aiden had been introduced to that many people that names were no longer sticking in his memory. He had also met the faeries from Ophelia's aerobics class, who had all flirted with him outrageously, much to Mara's chagrin.

'Are all faeries as beautiful as this?' he'd said to Cracky, who had been smirking away at him in the corner of the room, talking to Mr Kneepatcher.

'Well put it this way,' Cracky had said. 'I've never met one yet that didn't make my knees turn to jelly with a smile.'

In Ophelia's bedroom, Hob and Nob were peering at the contents of the open briefcase. 'I wouldn't recommend that one,' said Nob.

'Why not?'

'It's Yellow Nostrilflarer. It does indeed render a victim immobile, but the common side-effect of increasing the size of the nostrils fivefold can take days to wear off.'

'I see,' said Hob. 'What we need is just a simple tranquilizer cheese that will put a faerie under for, say, two hours. The Baron is sending us a swift carriage so the dose must not be too great.'

'Aha,' Nob said, picking up a small cube, wrapped in pink paper. 'This is what I was looking for. This is Pink Sleepybobos and it has never been known to have any adverse side effects. A couple of crumbs of this in her drink and she'll be out like a light.'

'Perfect,' Hob said, as Roisin knocked on the door. 'Come in,' he said, closing the briefcase, as Nob put the small cube of cheese in his pocket.

'I just thought I'd check and see how you are getting on,' Roisin said.

'My dear lady, we are making excellent progress, but we have hit a stumbling block,' said Hob.

'What kind of stumbling block?'

Mr Ping put his hand to his head, feigning exasperation. Mr Pong followed suit. 'We will need to complete an incantation for the carpet here,' Mr Ping said, pointing at a lush, pink rug near the window. 'We fear it has been subject to undue negative Qi for a considerable period of time, possibly influenced by that particularly recalcitrant chest of drawers. But we will need assistance from the Queen. For we are certain that only her royal and calming nature, amplifying the words we need to speak, will facilitate a successful operation. Would you be so kind as to ask her to join us, if she is free?'

'Does it have to be now?' Roisin said. 'She is in the middle of hosting an important party.'

Hob approached Roisin and adopted the most earnest façade he could muster. 'My dear Roisin, if I may be allowed to call you by name. The stars are aligned at this very moment and I fear that if we delay, this poor carpet could become a permanent victim of "insensitive chest of drawers syndrome". This is a particularly odious negative energy that can cause fraying at the edges and underlay exposure. I have seen it before and it is best to be preventive in these situations.'

'Preventive,' echoed Mr Pong.

'Okay,' Roisin said, reluctantly. 'I'll go and ask her if she can spare you a few minutes and then I'll bring her up.'

Mr Ping shared a quick glance with Mr Pong and they both shook their heads in unison. 'It would be better for the incantation if only the Queen attended,' Mr Ping said. 'The balance we must strike is quite delicate and we must ensure that the flow of Qi is well controlled, else the situation could exacerbate.'

'Indeed,' said Mr Pong. 'We not only wish for a successful outcome, but neither I nor Mr Ping wish to be known as people who exacerbate unnecessarily.'

'Very well,' Roisin said, 'I'll go and speak to her.'

Ophelia was feeling a tad tipsy. She was sat on Olaf's knee having an in-depth conversation with Mr Kneepatcher about cravats. 'Of course you've got to tie them right,' said Mr Kneepatcher. 'Otherwise you just don't get the effect.'

'Do you think Olaf would suit a cravat?' she asked, in a slightly slurred voice.

'Oh, darling, he'd look wonderful!' Mr Kneepatcher gushed. 'I've got a beautiful blue one in stock that would set his eyes off perfectly. I'll bring it around tomorrow.'

'Thanks, but I may give it a miss,' Olaf said.

'Ophy, the two Feng Shui gentlemen have asked if you can pop upstairs for a minute to help them with an incantation or something,' Roisin said, sitting down next to Olaf.

'Will it take long, do you know? Charles is due to play at any minute and we may need to catch him again!'

'I wouldn't have thought so. But they insist on seeing you alone,'

Olaf shifted in his seat uncomfortably. 'Are these "gentlemen" trustworthy, Roisin?'

'They seem harmless enough, even if they are a bit odd,' she replied.

'Oh, I'll be fine, Olaf,' Ophelia said, nearly falling over when she got up off his knee. 'I'll be back shortly.'

Cracky and Oldfart watched as Ophelia staggered up the heavily-carpeted grand staircase, both of them poised to catch her if she fell backwards. 'By the way, where are Theo and the cats?' Oldfart asked Cracky, once Ophelia had safely reached the top of the stairs.

'They stayed back at the Diner. Even though he revealed himself to us today, he still wants to stay behind the scenes for the time being.'

Ophelia managed to successfully navigate her way down the long corridor to the royal bedroom, using the walls for balance on several occasions. She placed her half-full glass of champagne delicately on to the carpet outside the door, telling it to 'shush' as she placed a finger in front of her mouth. 'Yoo hoo,' she said in a high pitched voice, as she leaned against the bedroom door. 'I believe you gentlemen wish to see me.'

Mr Pong opened the door and the Queen fell through and landed at the feet of Mr Ping. 'Well, hello there, how can I be of service,' she said, giggling, as Mr Ping helped her to her feet.

'Your Majesty, thank you for agreeing to see us,' Mr Ping said. 'We are sorry to have to drag you away from your party, but this matter is most urgent.'

'Most urgent,' agreed Mr Pong.

'We are required to perform an incantation to save this beautiful carpet of yours,' Mr Ping continued, pointing at the large pink rug near the window. 'We require you to simply stand on the rug and think positive thoughts.'

'That all? Shouldn't be too hard,' Ophelia said, swaying.

'But first, we must drink this sacred water that Mr Pong has prepared. It will provide balance for our bodies and souls,' he said, passing a goblet of water to the Queen.

'Oh, I could definitely do with something to help my balance at the moment!' Ophelia giggled, as she eventually took the goblet off Mr Ping at the third attempt.

She drank deeply and dropped the goblet unceremoniously on the floor. 'Oops, sorry. Now shall we all sing this incant-, incatash... song of yours...?'

And then her eyes began to close and she fell into the arms of Mr Pong, who was standing behind her. 'Simplicity itself, my good Nob,' Hob said, rubbing his hands.

'How do we get her out of the palace?' Nob asked, laying the Queen on the pink rug.

'Oh, I already have a plan for that,' said Hob. 'Now, roll her up into the carpet and let's be on our way. We will exit via the stairs used by the servants, and hopefully we'll encounter one as we leave.'

'You want us to be seen?' Nob said, with surprise.

'Indeed, I am counting on it.'

The plush, pink rug was easily big enough to accommodate Ophelia's tiny frame completely, and Hob and Nob had little trouble carrying it down the stairs and into the kitchen, where Jarvis was drinking a cup of tea. 'Oh, hello sirs, is everything alright?' he asked.

'Ah, Jarvis, I'm glad we caught you,' Mr Ping said, feigning relief. 'We have just come from the royal bedroom, where Her Majesty has now taken to her rest. She asked us to pass on a message that she is very weary, but that the party should continue in her absence. She also requested that she is not disturbed until morning.'

'Has Her Majesty perhaps had a little too much champagne?' Jarvis said, with a smile.

'Indeed,' replied Mr Pong. 'She has also asked us to help this carpet here by providing our special "Moonlit Feng Shui" treatment. We fear it has been subject to negative forces and, if not dealt with appropriately, may begin to infest other furnishings in the palace.'

As if on cue, the rug let out a small groan. 'See it begins already.' Mr Ping said, shaking his head.

A shocked Jarvis ran to the back door and slid open the bolts. 'Thank you,' said Mr Pong, as Jarvis opened the door. 'I just hope we've not left it too late. We will return, hopefully, within the hour.'

'Good luck, sirs. May the gods be with you,' Jarvis said, as Mr Ping and Mr Pong headed out into the night.

At the end of the dark lane behind the palace, a black carriage was silhouetted in the moonlight and enveloped in silence, save for the occasional snorting of its horses. As Hob and Nob approached, one of the doors swung open.

'Do you have the "cargo"?' Pimple said.

'Let us just say that we do not think the Baron will be displeased,' Hob replied, as they climbed inside with the carpet.

'Driver!' shouted Pimple, and the carriage pulled away at speed.

#  Chapter 21 – Has anyone seen the Queen?

Oriana Oftsheared was a very gifted flautist, even by sheep standards. She had been a member of the OSO for just over a year and had cemented her place due to her technical dexterity and superb musical interpretation. She had also struck up a firm friendship with Cliff Corriedale, often performing flute/cello duets when the occasion arose. Their relationship, though, was now turning into something more.

Cliff was a very handsome sheep, in a rugged-ram kind of way, and attracted the attention of the younger ewes at the OSO's concerts, to the point where many of them would throw their udder-garments at him on stage. Oriana was considered to be his female equivalent and even had her own fan club. There had also been several offers to appear in some of the more racy magazines, such as 'Playsheep' and 'Sheep Parade', but she politely turned them all down. Music was her first love and she was very dedicated to her craft, and she was quite happy to spend her personal time out of the limelight. As Cliff was of a similar mind, their mutual appreciation of each other's talents, complimentary personalities and the fact that they fancied each other to bits meant that the inevitable was only a matter of time.

'Charles is beginning to look very wobbly,' Oriana observed to Cliff, as she linked hooves with him.

'I know. I may have to take him home soon, bless him. He's started to flirt with the faeries, particularly the two that caught him when he lost his balance playing... again. I'm sure he does that on purpose, you know.'

'Hello you two, are you enjoying yourselves?' Roisin asked, finally managing drag herself away from Agnar.

'Oh, we're having a wonderful time,' Oriana said, with a sideways glance at Cliff that made Roisin smile. 'I was hoping to chat to the Queen before we left but I've not seen her for a while.'

'Oh, damn,' Roisin said. 'I completely forgot that I was supposed to call her before Charles played. Although why she's been gone so long, I'm not sure. I better go and see if everything's okay.'

As Roisin was just about to walk up the grand staircase, Jarvis appeared, newspaper tucked under his arm, preparing to retire for the night. 'Have you seen the Queen recently?' Roisin asked.

'No, ma'am, I've not. But I was told she was feeling weary and had retired for the evening. She sent a message that everyone was to continue in her absence.'

'Who passed on the message?'

'Why, it was those two Feng Shui gentlemen. They were on their way out to perform a "Moonlit Feng Shui" treatment on the Queen's pink rug, from the royal bedroom. Actually I thought they'd be back by now. They've been gone for well over an hour.'

Roisin's intuition was something she always relied on and it rarely failed her. She bolted up the stairs, leaving an open-mouthed Jarvis in her wake. The bedroom door was closed. 'Ophy, are you awake?' she shouted, knocking loudly on the door.

Silence was the reply, and Roisin could feel panic welling up inside her. 'Ophy, Ophy, wake up!' she said, increasing the volume of the knocking. 'If you don't come to the door in ten seconds I'll have to enter uninvited. I'm worried about you.'

She was greeted with the same silence as before, or it may have been a different silence, it was difficult to tell. All silence tends to sound the same after a bit.

'One... two... three... four...' And then she burst in, impatience and concern cutting the count short.

The bedroom was empty and the pink rug was gone. She rushed around the room looking for Ophelia in the most improbable of places; under the bed, behind the curtains, in the wardrobe. But the Queen was nowhere to be seen.

Jarvis had made his way up the stairs and appeared at the bedroom door. 'The Queen is gone, Jarvis,' Roisin said.

'Perhaps she's simply gone outside for some fresh air?'

'Maybe, but I've not got a good feeling about this. I'll go and ask if anyone's seen her.' And with that she ran down the stairs, almost tripping on a couple of occasions. 'Has anyone seen the Queen?' she shouted, to the crowded main ballroom.

The response was a mixture of blank stares, a few 'noes' and several shakes of heads. She ran into the drawing room, which was acting as an overspill area by a few of the guests, and repeated the question, but received the same set of responses.

Jarvis had now come downstairs and was looking concerned. 'Jarvis, when you saw the two men with the rug did you see or hear anything unusual?' Roisin said.

'Well, come to think of it, there was something rather odd. As the two gentlemen were taking the rug through the kitchen, it groaned.'

'The rug "groaned"?'

'Yes, ma'am. They said it was because of "negative forces" in the rug and that they had to get it outside as soon as possible before anything else got infested.'

Roisin ran back into the main ballroom and headed straight for Olaf. By now she was almost in tears. 'Olaf, I think Ophy's been kidnapped.'

***

Ophelia was enjoying watching the squirrels in the garden. They were ever so playful and cute, with their big brown eyes and bushy tails. 'Now then, Mr Squirrel, if you come over here I'll tickle your chin and you can have this nut,' she said to one of the more curious squirrels, holding the nut out in her tiny hand.

'Is it a nice nut?' asked the squirrel. 'It's not going to send me to sleep or anything is it?'

'Of course not. These are very fine nuts. Only the best for you because I love you all,' she said, smiling widely.

The squirrel came over to her, took the nut and immediately started nibbling on it. Several other squirrels came over, followed by a little deer and some birds. She was soon surrounded by a loving throng of cute animals.

Then two black rats appeared. 'She's not what she seems, you know,' one of the rats said. 'You animals should be careful.'

'Well you're very rude and completely wrong,' Ophelia said to the rats, as the cute animals started to back away from her.

'I've heard she likes squirrel stew, with deer dumplings and bird fritters,' said the other rat.

'I do not!' Ophelia shouted. But it was too late, the cute animals scattered and the two rats just laughed... and then started to grow. Soon they were bigger than Ophelia and they began to walk towards her, grinning and salivating.

'You're coming with us, my dear Queen,' one of them said as they picked her up, one holding her legs, the other her arms.

'Help! Help! The rats have got me!' she shouted, but there was no-one else around. She could see a black door up ahead, but it was very fuzzy and seemed to have a glow around the edges.

'Let's get her inside,' the rat holding her arms said. 'There's a special room prepared for her.'

'Good idea,' the other rat said. 'The Baron will want to speak to her when she wakes up.'

As consciousness grabbed a machete and began to chop its way through the thick undergrowth of her unconscious mind, Ophelia's eyes opened and closed intermittently. She could see walls and paintings, marble floors and pillars... and a big giant man coming towards her. 'Be careful with nice Queen or Grunt do big whacks on heads,' the giant man said. 'Baron said Queen not to be harmed.'

A door creaked open and she was placed on a comfortable bed. The big giant man looked at her and smiled, his crooked teeth appearing more like huge standing stones, defying the force of gravity by leaning against each other. 'Grunt make sure Queen safe,' he said. Somehow she found this reassuring.

And so, her consciousness dropped its machete and was swallowed by her unconscious undergrowth once more. She drifted off to sleep but this time there were no squirrels.

***

'Any luck yet?' Cracky said, rushing back into the palace after a futile search of the grounds.

'No, nothing at all,' Olaf said, his face etched with worry.

They had been looking for nearly three hours and it was now well after midnight. In the drawing room, Roisin was still tearful and was being consoled by Mara and Agnar. Aiden, Smid and Grundi had just reappeared after an equally futile search of the palace. Vindy and Tikky had been placed on a large, oak sideboard by the wall.

'Who's reported back?' Cracky asked.

'Oriana, Cliff and the lads from Mr Morningmilker's farm did a thorough search of the road from here to the bridge but found nothing. They've taken Charles home now, but they said they'd come back first thing in the morning,' Mara said.

'What about Oldfart and Mr Kneepatcher?'

'We haven't heard anything from them, and they've been gone for quite a while.'

'Harold and Greta?'

'They're still searching the south side of the palace and the grounds. They should be back shortly.'

As if on cue, they appeared at the door. 'I'm sorry, but we can't find a trace of her,' Harold said.

Roisin went to Olaf and embraced him. 'I'm so sorry. If only I'd listened to my inner voice. It was screaming at me that there was something wrong with those two.'

Olaf held her tightly and planted a kiss on top of her head. 'It's not your fault, Roisin; you have no reason to blame yourself. You weren't the only one who was fooled by them, whoever they are.'

'I strongly suspect that I know the identity of the Queen's abductors,' Cracky said. 'But I'll need to bring someone along in the morning to verify my theory.'

'What do you mean?' Aiden said.

'Prince Theo reached into your mind the other day, without you being aware, my friend. It turns out that Mr Breezy and Mr Waft were actually two of Blacktie's spies.'

All eyes turned to Cracky upon hearing Blacktie's name. Grundi drew in a sharp breath and Agnar crossed his arms defiantly. Olaf clenched his big hands into fists. 'So you think that the two "Feng Shui gentlemen" are Mr Breezy and Mr Waft?' Roisin said.

'Well, they aren't their really names, but, yes. If it's the two names mentioned by Theo then they are masters of disguise. We'll need him to probe your mind tomorrow, Roisin. Then at least we'll be able to confirm one way or the other.'

'I'll do whatever is necessary,' said Roisin, wiping the last of today's tears from her eyes.

***

Her Majesty Queen Ophelia Goldendwing had been Queen of all Faeries for just over two years, following the abdication of her mother Queen Hazel Goblinfly.

The race of faeries have no realms as such and just tend to make their homes wherever they are welcome, therefore the Queen's subjects are spread far and wide across the entire country. It should also be said that there is no such thing as a male faerie, so in order for a faerie to mate she must take a human lover. Given that all faeries are invariably stunningly beautiful this has never caused a problem, and in fact the queues are generally very long when a faerie advertises herself as 'available'. Every faerie is born with wings and although they are unable to fly as such, they can use them to hover for short periods of time.

Ophelia was a very popular queen. She was kind and giving and cared deeply for all living creatures. She brought joy and light with her when she entered a room, had a wonderful sense of humour, and also had quite probably the most beautiful smile in the cosmos. Her wings were considered to be flawless (a sign of great purity in faerie lore) and she was wise beyond her years. Like most faeries, however, she was very fond of handbags, shoes and combs.

She had been engaged to Olaf for six months and he had said that he wished to marry her as soon as Sacred Wind landed a major record deal. Although faerie wealth is legendary, as a proud Viking of semi-noble heritage himself, he desired to pay his way... or at least buy the shopping every week.

Ophelia awoke with a start, sitting up and peering into the near-darkness around her. As her eyesight began to grow accustomed to the low light, she went over to the door and turned the handle. It was locked and she wasn't really surprised. She felt around the walls for a light switch and found one.

The room was not unpleasant. The furnishings were clean and of very good quality, indicating that whoever owned this property wasn't short of money. There was a single window with curtains drawn across it at the far end of the room, so she pulled them back. The window was barred, so although her host or hosts wanted her to stay in relative comfort, they obviously didn't want her to leave. As her head began to clear she delved into her memories, trying to bring the most recent ones to the surface.

She remembered feeling tipsy and going upstairs at the palace. She remembered falling through the door of the royal bedroom and chatting to the two Feng Shui practitioners. She remembered the pink carpet and remembered being given a drink. After this everything seemed to be a blur; vague recollections of being carried and a giant man smiling at her.

As she looked out of the barred window she could see the tall spires of a massive cathedral nearby. There was only one cathedral of that size in the vicinity. She was in Chester.

The lock on the door clicked and it swung open. 'Hello there, Queen Ophelia. I hope you had pleasant dreams and find the room to your liking,' said Baron Blacktie, standing in the doorway with Grunt behind him.

'You'll be staying with us for a few days,' the Baron continued. 'I think you'll find I'm an excellent host... well most of the time. But I'm afraid it's past my bedtime now, so I will bid you adieu for this night and we can have a good chat in the morning, after breakfast. I'm sure you'll have lots of questions.'

'I have one now,' Ophelia said.

'Well, as long as it's quick. I really am rather pooped,' the Baron sighed.

'Have you seen my comb?'

***

Mr Kneepatcher and Oldfart were out of breath as they ran into the drawing room and all heads turned automatically in anticipation. 'We've found something,' Mr Kneepatcher said, attempting to get his breath back, bending down with his hands on his knees.

'What is it?' Olaf said, his eyes brightening with a glint of hope.

'This,' said Oldfart, holding out an ornate, pink comb. 'We found it a few hundred yards to the north, on Dark Lane. There were fresh footprints, made by two men, I'd say. And fresh carriage tracks.'

Mara rushed over to Oldfart and he passed her the comb. 'It's Ophy's alright.'

'So she has been abducted,' Smid said. 'And it would appear that Blacktie's spies are responsible.'

'We can confirm that in the morning,' said Cracky. 'What we do know for certain is that we have no idea where she's been taken, and wherever she is she won't be able to comb her hair.'

#  Chapter 22 – So it would appear that the outcome is not decided

As he began the long walk back to Llangollen, Cracky tried to piece together the events so far. Blacktie was obviously interested in the mine, and it did seem a little coincidental that he had a readily-prepared contract waiting for Agnar's signature. Claiming that he wished Sacred Wind to enter the competition for his own altruistic reasons was undoubtedly a lie. It was the mine he was after; but why?

The motive for kidnapping the Queen was less clear. Cracky had been told that she was certainly not overawed by the Baron when they had met at The Sheep's Stirrup. She had been typically courageous and had put in him in his place, following his lewd suggestions towards her and her friends. Blacktie certainly couldn't abide defiance, and there were many who had suffered quite ghastly fates for rubbing him up the wrong way. But this was the Queen of the Faeries we were talking about. No, this was more than simply taking revenge for an act of impertinence. Blacktie would know for certain that the band's plans to travel to Chester for the tournament would be thrown into disarray, with them potentially abandoning the trip. And then the mine would be his. But why take such a risk? Blacktie may have been many things but he wasn't a fool. The mine obviously held a secret of great import.

Theo was still awake when Cracky walked into the Diner, although Captain Marmaduke and Half-blind Ron were curled up fast asleep. 'You don't have to tell me what's happened, Cracky. I've been picking up your thoughts for the last five minutes or so. I hope you're not offended.'

'I thought as much,' said Cracky. 'I am still sensitive on occasions and I noticed your presence, but, no, I'm not offended in the slightest.'

As Cracky slumped wearily into a chair, Theo jumped up on his knee, much to Cracky's surprise. 'I'm still a cat, Cracky. If you stroke me it'll make you feel better, trust me.'

Cracky smiled and did as he was advised. 'We're missing something important and I can't put my finger on it, Theo. The mine is obviously a big part in this, but I sense there's something else.'

'I agree. The Prophecy is coming together and perhaps that is a good place to start, "Four great warriors will face a challenge from an evil Baron in a city far away".'

'What's the next line?'

'From memory I think it was "because he desired their cheese".'

'Well, let's go and confirm that,' said Cracky. 'I've not been in the loft in a long time and there are some very interesting books up there.'

Cracky returned from the loft with two very old books. One was a copy of The Prophecy, which was already open at a particular page, the other he simply placed on the table next to them. 'I think that you'll find this edifying,' he said to Theo, pointing at the page in question. 'Which version of The Prophecy do you have?'

'I believe it was one of the later editions. Why what do you have there?'

'This is THE 1st edition. It was my father's. Look at this paragraph here.'

He placed the book on the floor so both he and Theo could see more clearly in the light. 'It says " _The evil Baron will despatch his spies and capture the faerie queen, who will be betrothed to one of the warriors. He will challenge them to take part in a great tournament, lest she be left to suffer at his hands and be subject to his wind! And, if the warriors lose, the Baron will also win the right to their cheese. And, if this happens, he will gain power beyond imagining_ ".'

'I've never read that section,' said Theo.

'You won't have. For some reason it was removed from the 2nd edition onwards.'

'It's uncanny,' Theo said, scratching behind his ear. 'This passage seems to be describing the very times we are in.'

'Indeed,' replied Cracky. Now I'll read the next bit and then I need to show you something in the other book over there. Right then, " _They_ ", which I think means the four great warriors, " _will gather with them friends willing to join their quest to win the tournament, to win freedom for the land, to save the faerie queen, to be able to fart freely, and to win the right to their cheese. Together they will be known as the Companionship of Wind!_ ".'

'Are you aware that Aiden actually asked the Baron to grant The Sheep's Stirrup an unlimited flatulence license?' Theo said.

'Yes, Oldfart told me. Now, listen, there's more. " _They will gather up supplies and weapons and set sail down the great river in a boat with a mighty dragon at the helm. They will face many dangers on the way, unspeakable terrors and some particularly dodgy curries, yet they will reach the city in time for the great tournament_ ".'

'How does it end?' asked Theo.

'That's it. There's no more.'

'So it would appear that the outcome is not decided,' Theo said. 'This is not the first time the passages in The Prophecy leave fate to write the final chapter.'

'So it would appear. Now, let me show you the other much older book.'

Cracky wiped a considerable layer of dust from the book's cover and put it on the floor. The letters on its ancient, leather cover were barely legible. 'This is possibly the most ancient book on cheese in the world,' he said, carefully turning the parchment pages. 'It once belonged to an evil wizard called Scratchy Crotch, and although there is no signature of authorship it is likely he wrote it. Look at this map here.'

Theo stared at the map, recognising the topography immediately. 'This is a map of North Wales, Chester and the Wirral.'

'It is indeed. Do you see these small circles dotted about?'

'Yes.'

'These are cheese mines. And beneath each mine is written the type of cheese contained within it. This one near Mold is Orange Tummywarmer; this one near Wrexham is Blue Bottomgrabber; this one near Chester is Green Kneetrembler... and this one near Llangollen...'

'That's near the Circle of Wind. It's Agnar's mine.'

'Yes. And can you make out the type of cheese written below it?'

'Does that say "Ceridwen"?' Theo said, turning and looking directly at Cracky.

'It does. You'd expect it to say Red Cheekfizzler, as that was the last known cheese mined there. But it clearly says "Ceridwen".'

'I've heard of that cheese, but I thought it had long since been extinct. I also remember reading that it was called something like "The Cheese of Pleasant Dreams".'

'Your education for one so young is noteworthy, Your Highness,' Cracky said, smiling. 'But, other than having soothing and pleasant properties, it has never been known to be particularly magical.'

'So why would the Baron be after a mine containing Ceridwen's Cheese, if all it's going to give him is a warm glow all over and some calming dreams?'

'He wouldn't,' Cracky replied. 'There's a missing piece of this increasingly enigmatic puzzle that we need to discover. But one thing is for certain, we've got to convince the band that, irrespective of the Queen's untimely abduction, they MUST travel to Chester for the music tournament, and they MUST go in Ethel.'

'Absolutely,' Theo agreed.

'Right,' said Cracky. 'We better get some sleep, Your Highness. There are only a few hours until dawn and I feel we'll need all the rest we can get, given what's likely to be ahead of us.'

***

'Are the eggs the way I like them?'

'Yes, my Lord. Over-easy with added pepper,' quaked Chef Buttonmushroom, the Baron's personal cook.

'And the bacon... crispy but not too crispy?'

'Exactly to your specifications, my Lord.'

The Baron looked around the plate and seemed satisfied. 'That will be all,' he said, waving him away with his hand.

'I don't know how you can eat that garbage,' the voice on the plate next to him said. 'It does not fuel the spirit.'

'It may not fuel the spirit but it fuels my wind,' said the Baron, 'and trust me, Brother, I know where my priorities lie.'

Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice turned one of his tomatoes in contempt, but said nothing.

'Now, onto business,' the Baron said, crunching a piece of crispy bacon between his teeth. 'I require you and your Brotherhood to keep watch on Sacred Wind, whilst they attempt to traverse the hazardous journey they are likely to embark on. I have no desire to see those Viking noise-merchants anywhere near Chester, so I'll be relying on you and some other less-reputable types to ensure they are suitably delayed... or worse. Actually, worse might be better.'

'And what do we get in return, Baron?' Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice asked, his onions moving like snakes swimming on water.

The Baron stuffed a fork-full of egg into his mouth and twirled the fork whilst he chewed. 'I need someone I can trust, or at least someone who understands the rewards of loyalty, to rule both Wrexham and Mold with an iron fist; or in your case a very hard carrot.'

'We think alike, Baron,' Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice said, with a sneer of his shallots. 'I feel there is much we can accomplish together.'

'Well, there's much that I'll be able to accomplish by myself soon. But, I take your point. So do we have a deal?'

Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice bubbled slightly. 'Let me discuss it with my compatriots,' he said, twisting towards the two other plates behind him. After several seconds of whispering and bubbling, he turned back to face the Baron. 'We agree. Do you know how they are travelling?'

'Oh, they'll be coming by boat. Of that I'm certain. But I should tell you that I'll be requiring you to work in tandem with another party, although they will be deployed first.'

As if on cue, Pimple entered the breakfast room with three very dirty and particularly vicious-looking men. 'My Lord, may I present representatives from the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies.'

Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice looked outraged and his tomatoes spat out little yellow seeds. 'You expect us to work with pirates! Perhaps you expect too much, Baron.'

The Baron rose from his chair and passed his stained napkin to Pimple. 'Oh, I think not. As I said, Brother, the rewards of loyalty will be great. But, rest assured, you would not wish the fate of those who are not with me.'

The Brother and his two compatriots wobbled nervously on the breakfast table. 'Now then,' the Baron said, moving closer to the three pirates, 'which one of you uncouth barbarians is Taffy?'

The three looked at each and shrugged their shoulders. 'I am,' they said in unison.

'Hmm,' said the Baron, eyeing each in turn, and then looking over at his Chief Courtier. 'This could be more problematic than I thought, Pimple. Very well, which of you three "Taffies" is Taffy Tuffy?'

Again, the three looked at each other and, again, shrugged their shoulders. 'I am,' they said in unison once more.

'Oh, this is ridiculous!' the Baron shouted. 'Which one of you is in charge?'

'Oh, that'd be me boyo,' said the smallest of the three. He had a large ring through his nose, a black hat that was at least two sizes too big for him and a disproportionately large cutlass.'

'At last,' said the Baron. 'Now, Mr Tuffy, do you know why I've summoned you here on this bright and, dare I say, glorious morning?'

'Is it something to do with mayhem, monstrous torture, murder and mutilation?' Taffy Tuffy enquired.

'Oh, I like your style, Mr Tuffy!' the Baron enthused. 'I can see your mind is so finely attuned that my instructions to you will be minimal.'

Taffy Tuffy smiled. It really wasn't a pleasant sight.

'Has General Darkblast told you of your reward for this edifying venture?' the Baron asked.

'Edif-what! Ay, boyo, he didn't say anything about any kinky stuff, just that you want some people sorted out, like. Good and proper.'

'My apologies for my loquacious verbosity,' the Baron said, holding both hands up. 'Your interpretation is correct. I want "some people sorting out, like. Good and proper".'

'Well that's alright then,' Taffy said, relaxing somewhat. 'We charge double for the kinky stuff, you know.'

#  Chapter 23 – Do you think people will sing songs about us in the future?

It was not long past dawn when guests and party revellers of the night before returned to Ophelia Palace, in a more sombre mood. Cliff, Oriana and Charles had arrived first. Charles had insisted on coming and wished to help in any way he could. Cracky and the cats arrived last, with Cracky and Theo looking very weary from the night's investigations. Naturally, Half-blind Ron had asked if there was any chicken for breakfast, whereas Theo headed straight for Roisin. He was acutely aware of how important the information he may be able to obtain from her mind would prove to be.

'Just be still, Roisin, it won't hurt, I promise you,' he said, his eyes closed tight as he started to enter her mind. 'I can see two men in top hats.'

'That's them!' Roisin cried, 'That's Mr Ping and Mr Pong.'

Theo concentrated harder, trying to focus on the faces in Roisin's memory. He had once described this skill as akin to flicking through a photograph album; once at the desired location, you ceased turning the pages and simply looked at the photo in greater detail. After a protracted silence he turned back to the anxious faces in the palace drawing room. 'It's them alright. It's Hob and Nob.'

'So it is Blacktie's work after all,' Olaf said, smashing his fist on the table containing Vindy and Tikky, causing the plates to jump in the air. 'Sorry, Your Majesties,' he said.

'Yes,' said Cracky. 'We expected as much. Our studies last night threw up some surprising results.'

Cracky told them all what he and Theo had discovered last night; the challenge for the four mighty warriors, the kidnapping of the faerie queen, and the saga of the trip ' _down the great river in a boat with a mighty dragon at the helm_.'

'And it would appear that Aiden is involved.'

'Me?' said Aiden. 'What do you mean, Cracky?'

Cracky had both books with him and he turned to the relevant section in The Prophecy. 'This is what it says. " _One day a stranger will arrive from a land beyond distance and beyond time. He will bring with him strange gadgets and strange ideas. He will tell tales of his home and people will gain strength from his words and his strange ways, although no-one will copy his hairstyle. He will join a group of heroes and set off on a quest that will deliver the people from fear and suppression. Evil will be vanquished and peace among the lands will follow_."

'Well part of that is definitely true,' Smid said. 'No-one will ever copy your hairstyle.'

Olaf looked at him sternly. 'Now is not the time for jokes, Smid.'

'Forgive me, Olaf. I was just trying to lighten a mood which grows increasingly heavy.'

'You are forgiven, old friend,' Olaf said, clutching Smid's shoulder.

'But it says he will come " _from a land beyond distance and beyond time_ ",' Tikky observed. 'Is there something young Aiden should perhaps be telling us?'

Cracky looked over at Aiden and raised an eyebrow, so Aiden told them. Unsurprisingly, Mr Kneepatcher fainted.

'It seems that momentous times are upon us,' Grundi said. 'Well, all I can say is that for someone who has come from beyond distance and time to assist in vanquishing evil from the land, you're a bloody good mixing engineer.'

'One thing we're not sure of, though, is if all the events outlined in this section of The Prophecy are actually in the same time line,' Theo said. 'This "quest" may not even be related to the other events, such as the Queen's kidnap and the great tournament.'

'Agreed,' Vindy noted, 'but you'd have to say that the propinquity would suggest this is likely to be the case.'

'That's a very big word, dear,' Tikky said. 'Don't be overstretching yourself or your meat will get tough.'

'Vindy's got a good point,' Cliff Corriedale said. 'There does appear to be a strong link.'

'So what on earth are we to do?' said Mr Kneepatcher, wiping his brow with his hanky. 'We've got to save Ophelia and give her back her comb.'

'And we have to get to the tournament,' Oldfart said.

The words seemed to come from inside, but Aiden wasn't sure where. In the same way he'd felt compelled to say certain things at certain times for no apparent reason since he'd been here, now it seemed that someone, or something, was feeding him an entire passage. He said it in his voice, and with full cognizance, but a part of him felt like he was being used as a vessel for communication from elsewhere.

'We've got to do both. From what I've seen so far we can't let Blacktie win. Even though we don't know what his endgame is, we can virtually guarantee he'll be seeking to increase his power and control. Nobody wants that. In the short time I've been here I've witnessed nobility of heart, empathy, kindness and friendship, and that is worth fighting for. So, if that means confronting Blacktie to allow these qualities to blossom, then I say we have to confront him. People's minds have been suppressed and controlled for too long. I'm sure there are many, many others that would support us if they see our courage, our conviction and our desire for true freedom.'

Mr Kneepatcher started a round of applause and was quickly joined by everyone else in the room. 'Where did that come from?' an admiring Cracky whispered in his ear.

'I've absolutely no idea,' Aiden said. 'But I actually meant every word.'

'Fine words from a fine fellow,' said Olaf, smacking Aiden on the back and nearly forcing his lungs through his rib cage. 'And he's absolutely right.'

'Fine words indeed, Aiden,' Theo said in his mind. 'And you've convinced me that your place in this is of supreme importance, although I don't think you realise it yet. Well done.'

A mood of hope now replaced despondency and despair. Eyes were brighter, hearts were lifted, and determination was etched on the faces of all... and steam rose from Vindy and Tikky with renewed purpose.

'So, how do we locate Ophy?' Mara said, linking Aiden's arm.

'We need to find Hob and Nob. If we can do that, I would say there's a strong possibility they'll lead us to her,' Cracky said.

'That makes a lot of sense, Cracky,' Oriana Oftsheared agreed. 'But given their penchant for disguise it could be like looking for a needle in a haystack.'

'It could be,' Theo said. 'But there may be a way that I can provide us with some direction, although I've never tried it before.'

Theo walked over to Roisin and rubbed himself affectionately against her legs. 'There's a possibility that I may be able to reach inside the minds of Hob and Nob through Roisin.'

'How does that work?' Agnar said. 'It's not dangerous, is it?'

'Not for Roisin,' Theo answered. 'But I'll have to be careful.'

Theo sat down and all eyes turned to him as he explained the technique he was about to attempt. 'Everything in the universe is connected. Without going into too much detail, these connections aren't always apparent in our conscious state, but our subconscious is aware of them and our unconscious mind actually has complete access to all information. It's a bit complicated, but within our subconscious minds connections are magnified by our emotions and experiences, and they can weaken and strengthen over time depending upon the circumstances. Is this making any sense?'

'I think so,' Roisin said.

'Anyway,' Theo continued, 'it may be possible for me to "jump" into the mind of either Hob or Nob via the connections that Roisin now has in her subconscious. This may only be for a few seconds, I simply don't know. But if I can, and if by doing so we can locate them, or manage to ascertain the whereabouts of the Queen, then I think we should give it a shot.'

'Are you putting yourself at risk?' Cracky asked him.

'I doubt it,' Theo lied. 'It may take a bit out of me, but that's about it.'

Theo asked Roisin to lie down on a couch, close her eyes and continue to think of Mr Ping and Mr Pong. He sat on her chest and closed his eyes, looking like a regular cat simply enjoying a sleep with its owner.

'It may be better if you left us alone for a few minutes,' Theo said. 'It would be easier for me if there's no-one here apart from Roisin.'

Everyone dutifully obeyed and left the room. 'Are you ready?' Theo asked.

'I am, and good luck, Your Highness.'

At first, all Theo could see were various images of Mr Ping and Mr Pong. He delved deeper, trying to draw out the sounds of their voices, their smells, the way they walked and their mannerisms from Roisin's mind. He knew that if he delved too deep there was a possibility that he could suffer from a temporary 'unbalancing.' His mother had taught him the technique and had explained the dangers. 'You won't lose your mind, but you'll need some time to regain your own mind-balance. It's risky, so only use it when absolutely necessary.'

Theo soon had complete recollection of every second that Roisin had spent with Mr Ping and Mr Pong, but he still hadn't made the 'jump'. He started to feel himself losing concentration; the effort of maintaining the connection was putting a strain on him like never before. Then, all of a sudden...

'So, we head to the mine today and get the sample?' Nob said.

'Yes. No messing about, no disguises. We simply get in, get the cheese and get out. And then we can rendezvous with the Baron,' Hob replied.

'What do you think he'll do with the Queen?'

'I'm not at all concerned,' Hob said. 'That's his business. I doubt it will be pleasant though.'

'It's all coming together nicely, isn't it,' said Nob.

'It is indeed, my good Nob. Our artistry and intellectual efficacy is once again ensuring that we will be successful.'

'Do you think people will sing songs about us in the future?'

'How could they not, my dear Nob. How could they not.'

And then it was gone.

Theo jumped wearily onto the floor and lay down in a half slumber. 'Your Highness, are you alright?' Roisin said, as she sat up.

'I'll be fine, Roisin, thanks. Just give me a minute.'

The sound of voices was taken as a signal that the operation had ended, so everyone made their way back into the drawing room. Captain Marmaduke ran over to Theo, who was now motionless on the carpet.

'He asked me to give him a minute, Captain,' Roisin said. 'I think we should do as he wishes.'

'Very well, Roisin. But you can understand my concern.'

Mara went to the kitchen, filled a saucer with milk and placed it on the floor near Theo. He gingerly got to his feet and began to drink, much to the relief of everyone, but especially Captain Marmaduke.

'You had me worried there, Your Highness,' the Captain said.

'Me too, Your Highness, Princeness, Majesty,' agreed Half-blind Ron.

'Thanks, but my head's starting to clear now. Remind me not to attempt that too often.'

'I'm guessing that there was more danger involved in that little exercise than you led us to believe?' Cracky said, with a knowing look. 'I just hope that the effort was worth it.'

'It was,' said Theo, and then he told them all he had seen and heard.

'Then the plan is plain to see,' Olaf said. 'We make our way to the mine and accost them when they arrive. A few well-aimed blows with the flat of this,' he said, brandishing his sword, 'and they'll be squawking like hens.'

'I'm not sure that's the best approach, you know,' Aiden opined. 'Remember what Theo said about The Prophecy. You need to make sure that you reach Chester in time for the tournament.'

'Aiden's right, Olaf,' Tikky said. 'A more subtle approach may ultimately prove to be the right course of action.'

Olaf shook his head, but Smid and Grundi came over to his side and laid their hands on his shoulders. 'Her Majesty speaks sense,' Grundi said. 'If our role in all of this is to make sure we take our music and wind to Chester, then perhaps an alternative plan to ensnare these two sorry excuses for men should be looked at.'

'I suggest we form ourselves into two teams,' Theo said. 'One team will hide out and wait for Hob and Nob to reach the mine. Then we can follow them to their liaison with the Baron –'

'Then that's the team I'll be on,' Olaf interrupted.

'– while the other team travels to Chester in Ethel.'

'And that's the team you must be on, Olaf,' Agnar said, joining his band mates at Olaf's side. 'We have to stick together, you know.'

'Agnar's right, Olaf,' Oldfart said. 'We must put our faith and trust in others. I'm sure they won't let us down. They'll ensure that Ophelia's safe... and that she can comb her hair again.'

'I'd like to make a suggestion,' Cracky said. 'I think it makes sense if the team that travels to the mine is Theo, Captain Marmaduke, Half-blind Ron and me. A man and three cats aren't likely to raise any suspicion wherever we travel. We may also be able to utilise the talents of his highness along the way.'

'I'd like to go with you too,' Oriana said, which surprised everyone, not least Cliff.

'Oriana, I can't let you,' he said. 'It could be far too dangerous.'

'My dear Cliff,' she said, stroking his face with her hoof, 'there is danger everywhere right now from what I can see. But my intuition tells me that my part in this lies with Cracky and the cats, if they'll have me.'

'We'd be delighted,' Theo said, brushing himself against her leg.

'Well you can't go without me,' Roisin said. 'The Queen will need me.'

'That's very true, Roisin,' said Theo. 'But you are known to Hob and Nob. If you were spotted then our cover could be blown, and that's a risk I'm afraid we can't take.'

Roisin's head dropped and Mara put a friendly arm around her shoulders. 'He's right. We've got to think of what's best, you know.'

'Well, that's settled that, then.' Oldfart said. 'Olaf, Grundi, Agnar, Smid and I will travel in Ethel.'

'What about Aiden?' Smid said.

Oldfart looked over at Aiden, his gaze alive with anticipation. 'I'd be honoured,' Aiden said, as Cracky looked over at Theo and winked.

'Well there's no way that Mara and I aren't coming with you,' Roisin said.

'And that goes for me too!' shouted Charles Corriedale.

'Uncle, you cannot. We need to travel with Henry and the rest of the OSO; he's already bought the train tickets. And anyway you're far too delicate these days to be embarking on an escapade like this.'

'Now look,' Charles said, 'I know that you think I'm just an old sheep with clacky hooves and a fleece that needs shearing, but my heart is telling me to go. I've not had an adventure like this for more years than I care to remember. And anyway I can lift everyone's spirits with my trumpet.'

'Well, I'll have to come along as well,' Cliff said, 'You'll just get yourself into trouble otherwise.'

'Good!' Charles chuckled.

'And if you think we're going to let you confront Blacktie without us you'd be sadly mistaken,' said Vindy, puffing up his rice.

'My husband is right,' Tikky agreed. 'Saffy will probably have a fit when he finds out, but I feel we've got a part to play in this too. Harold and Greta can look after us, and there's plenty of room in that big boat of yours.'

Olaf's eyes were filled with tears as he spoke. 'You would all put yourselves at risk to help us? We cannot ask this of you.'

'You're not asking us, we're telling you we're coming with you!' exclaimed Vindy.

'Er, aren't we forgetting someone,' Mr Kneepatcher said, waving his hanky. 'You never know when you may need your clothes repairing.'

'You would also put yourself in danger?' Olaf said to him.

'Danger! I laugh in the face of it, darling,' replied Mr Kneepatcher, straightening his cravat.

'Well, then, Gilbert Kneepatcher, we would be proud if you would fart with us,' Olaf said, smiling.

'Ooh, dear, what an honour, and bless my cravat. I don't think I've ever been so dithered!'

'It looks like the "Companionship of Wind" is complete,' Cracky observed to Theo.

'Right,' said Oldfart, returning to business. 'I'd better get the press conference sorted out. I've already reserved some rooms at "The Pig's Trotters" pub, near the Iron Bridge at Alford. We'll be stopping there tonight.'

And so the mood of optimism gained momentum and the air was light with hope, but no-one was under any illusion that there wouldn't be perilous times ahead. It was unlikely the Baron would afford them safe passage on their journey down the river, but nobody could guess as yet how eventful that journey was to be.

#  Chapter 24 – I had no idea you had such a fondness for old condiments

'So, did Her Majesty sleep well?' the Baron asked, reclining on a plush chaise longue, as Ophelia was led into the palace morning room by Pimple and Grunt.

'As well as can be expected for one who was drugged, abducted and is now comb-less,' she replied, defiantly.

'Ah, I can see that you're not completely smitten with our hospitality yet. But fear not, we have a host of delights that will change your mind over the next couple of days. Ah, and I'm forgetting my manners, would you like some breakfast?'

'I'm not feeling very hungry at the moment, for some reason.'

The Baron waved his hand in a kind of shrugging motion. 'No matter, but do ask Pimple if you start feeling a bit peckish as the day goes on.'

'Look, Baron,' Ophelia said, between gritted teeth, 'would you do me the honour of explaining just exactly why I am here?'

The Baron stood up and straightened his cloak, before walking around behind the tiny queen. Then he stooped slightly and spoke over her shoulder. 'I would love to say that I've chosen you to be my bride and that you are to live here by my side for the rest of your days, forever enamoured and lost in matrimonial bliss.'

'I would rather die, or never see my comb and handbag again, than be at your side, you grotesque monstrosity! You have all the charm of a decrepit snake and all the sex appeal of an unsightly, pink-bottomed baboon.'

'I think that's almost a compliment,' Pimple whispered to Grunt, who nodded his agreement.

'Yes, I anticipated a response of that nature,' the Baron said, with a chuckle. 'Although I will admit that I was impressed by the imagination of the insults. But, as I was saying, I would love that this untimely abduction was perpetrated to whisk you away to be my bride... but I'm afraid I cannot. You will be relieved to know I have no intention of marrying you.'

Ophelia said nothing, but continued to view the Baron with disdain and loathing. 'No, my dear Queen Ophelia, you are here as leverage.'

'Leverage?'

'Oh, yes,' the Baron continued. 'Around about now, I would think, your tall, hairy boyfriend and his band of miscreant metal merchants will begin their voyage down the River Dee to Chester, to take part in the Cestrian Music Tournament tomorrow. Now, I have no intention of allowing them into the city and staining my tournament with that tuneless garbage they purvey as music —'

'That's unfair, they're really good,' Ophelia interrupted.

'— TUNELESS GARBAGE THEY PURVEY AS MUSIC!' the Baron screamed, his face red and contorted with rage.

'But,' he continued, calming down, 'I do wish to appropriate their cheese mine, which will legally be my property if they fail to win the tournament. So you see, if by some miracle they actually manage to get here in time to play, I need to ensure that they do not play to win, if you get my drift.'

'What's so special about this cheese mine that requires you to create this elaborate charade?' Ophelia asked. 'I mean, from what Agnar tells me, there's no cheese of any worth in there anyway.'

The Baron smiled a particularly wicked and knowing smile. Then he walked over to a picture on the wall and removed it. Behind the picture was the door to a safe. The Baron continued speaking whilst he fed in the combination.

'Ah, that's not quite true, you see,' he said, turning the dial and popping open the door. 'That mine contains a very special cheese. It is true that the cheese itself is little more than a pleasant, tasty morsel. But I have good reason to believe that when it is combined with this particular condiment, it will not only create a taste sensation but some of the side effects could be most interesting.'

The Baron reached inside the safe and pulled out a large, dusty jar with a yellow label. 'Have you any idea what this is?' he asked the Queen.

'Not at all, but I'd be surprised if it's still in date,' she replied.

'This is Mathonwy's Chutney, my dear Ophelia. It doesn't need to be in date.'

'Well, if it's full of preservatives you should steer clear of it,' Ophelia said. 'You should try more natural food, like nuts. I love nuts.'

'Grunt like nuts too,' said Grunt, as Ophelia smiled sweetly at him.

The Baron turned his eyes skyward in search of divine inspiration but the ceiling was in the way, so he kicked a well-placed waste basket instead. 'If I didn't need you in one piece, you would find that the reward for your irreverence would be extremely unpleasant,' he growled. 'And I can guarantee you will not be quite so flippant in your remarks two days hence. Now, as I was saying, this is Mathonwy's Chutney and it is, to the best of my considerable knowledge, the only remaining jar in all the land.'

'I apologise, Baron,' Ophelia said with a semblance of sincerity.

'Apology accepted.'

'I had no idea you had such a fondness for old condiments. It explains a lot about your personality, and your smell.'

'Don't push me too far, my little faerie queen,' the Baron said, giving her a stare that would freeze hot coals. 'If my patience wears thin, I may decide to concoct a different approach that finds you surplus to requirements, if you get my meaning.'

The Queen realised that overstepping the mark any further would not be wise, and would greatly diminish the chances of being successfully reunited with her comb. Or she could be killed, which would be nearly as bad. 'Okay,' she said, adopting a more congenial stance. 'Tell me about the chutney, I can see you're very proud of it.'

The Baron stroked the jar with genuine tenderness and held it tight to his chest. 'Many years ago there was a great wizard called Scratchy Crotch. Do you recognise the name?'

'Yes, from my lessons when I was younger. I seem to remember he was an evil wizard from Bala,' the Queen replied.

'Oh, not just any old evil wizard,' the Baron continued. 'He was the most powerful wizard who ever lived. Why if it wasn't for all the embroidery he may still be alive to this day.'

The Queen looked at Pimple and Grunt but they both shrugged, signalling that her ignorance was not singular.

'He never revealed the secret of his power, you know,' the Baron said, hinting that he may be about to do just that. 'Now, bear with me a second, I just need to go and get a book from the throne room,' he said, carefully putting down the jar on a table.

In less than a minute he returned, with a large and very old, leather-bound book, which he placed on the table next to the jar. 'Come over here, my dear. I'd like you to read something,' he said, with a grin that an egotistical and particularly sadistic snake would have been proud of. 'Firstly, can you read the title?'

Ophelia peered at the embossed letters on the front of the book. 'It says "The Cookbook of the Damned".'

'Very good. Now open the cover and read the first page,' the Baron urged, walking into the centre of the room.

The Queen did as she was told, and the large cover threw dust into the air as it smacked heavily down on the table. 'Well?' the Baron quizzed as the Queen studied the text.

'It says "This book belongs to Scratchy Crotch. If found, please return to The Castle of Evil, 26 Darkstain Lane, Bala".'

'Not that page!' the Baron screamed, 'The adjacent page!'

'Oh, it says "Rancorous Recipes for Really, Really Bad People".'

'It does, indeed. Now if you'll be so kind as to turn to page 224 and read aloud.'

Ophelia turned to the relevant page and stared hard at the faded words. 'It's difficult to make out but I'll try. It reads "Wizard's Winkles. Take three freshly prepared testicles, cover in batter, apply a dash of cinnamon, place into an over-proof dish, add two knobs of garlic butter and cook for an hour at gas mark 5, stirring occasionally".'

'Oh, sorry,' said the Baron, 'it's actually 226. I always get the pages mixed up.'

Ophelia turned the page. 'Is this the one, "Cheese and Chutney Surprise"?'

'That's correct, dear Queen. Read it for my pleasure.'

As Ophelia began to read, her eyes grew wide in tandem with the Baron's wicked smile. She finished the passage and closed the book, sending more dust up into the air, which shimmered in the light as it fluttered downwards. 'Th-this cannot be true!' she exclaimed, a look of horror on her beautiful face.

'Actually, I think you'll find it is, Queen Ophelia. And when my hirelings, Hob and Nob, return tomorrow with a piece of Ceridwen's Cheese, I think we can perhaps give this recipe a whirl.'

'You can't! We'll find a way to stop you, you monster!' the Queen screamed, rushing at the Baron, before being held back quite firmly by Pimple.

'I think it's time you went back to your room now, Your Majesty,' the Baron said. 'I'm sure all this excitement has made you weary. Pimple, Grunt, escort Her Majesty back to her quarters. Oh, and give her some nuts when you get there, there's much she needs to chew on.'

#  Chapter 25 – May Odin bless their wind

As morning made a mad dash towards afternoon, a large crowd had gathered outside The Sheep's Stirrup. Word of the Queen's abduction had spread like wildfire and the air was full of murmurings, rumour, wild speculation and some speculation that was much better behaved. The crowd had also heard of the Companionship of Wind's quest to win the Cestrian Music Tournament, to save the faerie queen, to win freedom for the land, to be able to fart freely, and to win the right to their cheese. So they figured that anyone attempting that little lot needed a good send off.

Aiden trotted down the stairs into the bar carrying the black knapsack that Mr Kneepatcher had kindly given him, and he was wearing the leather jacket he had bought. Maurice, as usual, was behind the bar. 'What time is everybody rendezvousing?' he asked Aiden, pouring him an orange juice.

'Thanks, Maurice,' Aiden said, taking a sip from the glass. 'Oldfart said that we'd all meet here at 12:00 pm.'

As if on cue, Oldfart came through the front door. 'The lads will be along in a minute or so. Thankfully, Ethel has agreed to take us, so that's a relief,' he said.

'What would you have done if she'd refused?' Aiden asked.

'Well, generally she has a pretty common sense attitude to things, so I was hoping that the circumstances would make her choice academic. I did promise I'd polish her, though, and she'll probably hold me to that when we get back. Or should I say if we get back.'

'Now, don't be thinking like that!' Maurice cried. 'You've got the will of the people behind you, and I'm sure you'll get plenty of backing if Blacktie tries any rough stuff.'

'Actually, that reminds me,' Oldfart said, rummaging in his jacket pocket and producing a piece of paper, 'Cracky asked me to pass this on. He wants you to contact this person as soon as we've left, but please don't say anything to anyone.'

'Of course,' Maurice said, taking the piece of paper from Oldfart.

Maurice read the name and the message, and then his mouth dropped open. 'Not a word, please Maurice,' Oldfart said.

Harold and Greta appeared from upstairs with Vindy and Tikky. Both curries were steaming nicely, a sign they meant business. 'You have to remember,' Vindy said to Oldfart, 'we have friends in lots of places, including the Chester Stroganoffs, and you don't want to get on the wrong side of them.'

Cracky, Theo and the others had already left for the cheese mine without any fanfare, and all agreed that this particular part of the operation needed to remain as clandestine as possible. However, the members of the Companionship were afforded a reception like heroes when they arrived at the pub... and Charles brought his trumpet, as promised.

'I suggested he pass it over to Henry, to travel with the rest of the OSO, like I've done with my cello, but he was having none of it,' Cliff said to Aiden. 'Henry had an absolute fit when we told him what we were doing, but Uncle Charles just said he should "lighten up and loosen his fleece". His face was a picture.'

Mr Kneepatcher was looking very dapper in his check suit and walking boots, with a matching check holdall. 'I just hope I've not forgotten anything,' he said to Olaf. 'And I've only brought ten cravats, I hope that's enough.'

'Right, then, I think it's about time we made a move,' Oldfart said. 'Did you and Smid load the weapons into Ethel, Agnar?'

'We did. I've even brought the old spiked club along for good luck!'

The Companionship's path to the river was lined with cheering people and sheep. Bunting that had stayed securely indoors for the Baron's visit had been set loose, and messages of good luck constantly filled their ears as Ethel honed into view. There were also several unrepeatable messages about Baron Blacktie that questioned his parentage, and made some lascivious assumptions about his private habits.

'We should probably say something, you know,' Grundi said to Olaf, as they walked up Ethel's gangplank.

Olaf took in a deep breath and turned to face the crowd. 'Good people of Llangollen, we have been christened the "Companionship of Wind", and on behalf of us all I'd like to express our gratitude for your support and good wishes. We travel now, with our loyal and brave companions, to take our music and wind to a tournament that has acquired enormous importance, and we will not let you down.'

Olaf then introduced each of the Companionship and every name was met with cheers and applause. Then someone shouted 'Hail to the Companionship of Wind', which was echoed by the crowd, followed by 'May Odin bless their wind', which was also enthusiastically belted out by the assembled throng.

Charles Corriedale had tears in his eyes as he looked over at Aiden. 'Are you alright, Charles?' Aiden asked.

'Oh, my, yes. I'm fine. It's just that ever since I was a little lamb I've longed to be part of something as important as this; something that could make a real difference to people. Bless my clacky hooves, but I feel like a hero and I don't think I should.'

'You are a hero, Charles,' Aiden said, as his eyes too began to fill with tears. 'And you're not the only one who's always wished to be part of something like this.'

And then Aiden felt compelled to speak. The words flowed true and sure from his lips and his heart beat with passion and pride. 'I am a newcomer here,' he shouted, 'but I have been made to feel as if this is my home. I look out now and I see friends everywhere.'

The crowd cheered again, with fists and hooves pumping in the air. 'But, although this is a land filled with goodness, honesty and respect, there is an evil that sits at its heart. I tell you all now, the days of this evil are numbered. These brave people, sheep and curries that I am so proud to call my friends are about to embark on a quest which could involve great danger. But they are happy to face that danger because they care more for this land, more for the people they love and more for freedom then they do for their own safety.'

The cheers were reaching deafening proportions and the atmosphere was electric. 'And, no matter what dangers they may face, no matter what sacrifices they may have to make, no matter what horrendous smells they may encounter, I will stand with them. Will you stand with us also?' And then he pulled out his pocket knife and raised it into the air.

'We'll have to do something about that, he needs a bigger weapon' Smid said to Grundi, as the crowd roared their approval.

Mara rushed towards Aiden and gave him an enormous kiss. 'That was magnificent,' she said, with a smile as beautiful as anything he had ever seen.

'I tell you what,' Olaf said to Oldfart. 'If his mixing on the night is as good as that speech then we've already won.'

And with that, Agnar blew the horn at the stern and Ethel moved gracefully up the River Dee towards Chester. The sun appeared from behind the clouds, pouring radiant beams of light over the ship and transforming the river in front into a channel of sparkling diamonds. 'How do you feel?' Oldfart said to Aiden.

'I'm not sure I can describe it,' he replied, honestly. 'But I'm struggling to think of a time when I've felt better.'

Oldfart looked up into the sky and sniffed the air. 'We could be in for some stormy tides ahead,' he observed.

He was right.

***

'You know this thing I keep saying we're missing,' Cracky said to Theo, as they lay behind one of the massive stones in the Circle of Wind, keeping a watchful eye on the entrance to the cheese mine of Hairy Growler.

'Yes,' Theo answered.

'I think we've been looking in the wrong place.'

'What do you mean, Cracky?'

'Well,' Cracky said, putting down his copy of The Prophecy, 'we've gone through this book with a fine-tooth comb, and although we've identified and correlated passages with current events, we've still no idea what Blacktie's motivation is. He's going to an awful lot of trouble to get hold of this cheese mine.'

'Yes. For some reason I was expecting the answer to leap out at us at some point, but I must admit I'm at a loss here, Cracky.'

'Maybe it's something to do with chicken?' Half-blind Ron suggested.

'Don't you ever think of anything but chicken?' Captain Marmaduke said, sighing.

'Of course I does. I'm very partial to a bit of beef as well, you know, particularly with some horseradish sauce.'

'Hang on a second, Captain,' Theo said. 'What do you mean, Ron, when you say it may have something to do with chicken?'

Half-blind Ron sat down on his haunches and began to lick his paws. 'Well, maybe he wants this cheese because he fancies a nice cheese and chicken sandwich. This Ceridwen's Cheese may taste great with chicken, or something.'

Cracky stood up as if he'd just been pricked by a particularly vengeful nettle. 'Half-blind Ron, you are a genius!'

'I am? Well I've never been called that before, Mr Cracklingfeet,'

'Crackfoot,' Captain Marmaduke corrected.

'I've been called a git, a gerroffyamangycat, and a gobshi—, er, other not so nice names,' he said, noting that Oriana was present, 'but never a genius before. Does this mean I get a bigger helping of chicken?'

'The next time you visit the Diner you can have a whole chicken to yourself,' Cracky said, tickling Half-blind Ron on the head.

Cracky rummaged in the bag he'd brought with him and took out the second old book. 'This,' he said, 'is my father's copy of the "Cookbook of the Damned". I wasn't sure if there were still any other copies left, but if Blacktie has one we may have found the missing piece in the puzzle.'

'That's the book with the map of cheese mines,' Theo said.

'It is,' Cracky replied. 'And it also contains some very ancient recipes. Recipes created by Scratchy Crotch.

Cracky scanned the table of contents with his finger, mumbling to himself as if he was looking for something very specific. Then, in a movement that made everyone jump, he shouted and stabbed his finger onto the page. 'I think I've found it!'

He rifled through the pages, turning them rapidly until he reached page 226. He read at breakneck speed, navigating the lines of text with his finger. 'By Odin's hairy backside, this is it! Your Highness would you please read the recipe aloud,' he said, placing the book on the ground in front of Theo.

'It reads, "Cheese and Chutney Surprise. Take a thick slice of Ceridwen's Cheese and coat it with a good dollop of Mathonwy's Chutney. Allow one minute for the ingredients to mingle before eating. The crumbly texture, delicate taste and fruity aroma provide the palette with an exquisite experience, giving one a sense of peace and serenity. I cannot recommend this succulent morsel highly enough, and it also has the pleasing side-effect of providing the diner with immortality and power beyond imagining. Eat one portion daily for the rest of eternity".'

'That was the secret of Scratchy Crotch's power,' Cracky said.

'But that would mean that the Baron must already have a jar of the chutney,' Theo said.

'I'd say that's very likely,' Cracky agreed.

'Ssh,' Captain Marmaduke said, suddenly. 'I can see movement by the mine.'

***

'Did you pack the crowbar?' Hob said to Nob, as the two of them moved through the nearby bushes, overgrown by the passage of time and lack of human presence.

'Of course, it is in the utensils bag.'

In front of them the entrance to the mine looked foreboding, and although it was only mid-afternoon the air seemed colder here. An eerie darkness seemed to emanate from behind the jumble of planks of wood nailed to the entrance, designed to keep intruders out... or perhaps something else in. Nob unzipped the utensils bag and took out the crowbar. The planks were firmly attached with large, rusty nails and Nob pulled each plank in turn, looking for weaknesses.

'They all seem very secure. This could take a while,' he said, until he reached one near the bottom. 'Wait, this one appears to be loose.'

He tugged at the plank and it gave way easily, the old iron nails falling onto the grassy earth below. 'I sense someone has been here quite recently, my good Nob,' Hob observed.

'It would seem so.'

'Well, let us tarry not. Our lithe frames should have little trouble getting through that gap.'

Five minutes later, and after much pushing, shoving and pulling, they were inside. 'I fear we may not be as lithe as we once were,' Nob said, dusting himself down.

'Sadly this may be true,' Hob agreed, rubbing his paunch. 'But our fuller figures are simply a sign of our increased experience, wisdom and pulchritude.'

'Indeed,' said Nob, as he switched on the torch.

Deep inside the mine the rumblings above had been detected and things began to stir. 'Can you smell that?' Boris said to Barry, unfurling his wings.

'Yeah, it can't be, can it?'

'Well it smells like it to me. Let's go and check it out, I can feel me fangs twitchin' already.'

The ancient mine of Hairy Growler was a myriad of passages that spiralled downwards until... well no-one knew, as no-one had ever reached the bottom. Water dribbled slowly down the walls and also dripped from the cave's roof, creating tiny splashes in the little pools on the rock-strewn floor. It was cold and dank and smelled of long-dead cheese, the pungency attacking the nostrils of its two latest inhabitants like the smell of the socks of a sailor with very stinky feet... who's been at sea for three months and hasn't changed them.

'This stench is almost unbearable,' Nob said, shining the torch in Hob's face.

'It may ease as we get deeper into the cave. If the Baron is correct, what we have here are purely the remnants of Red Cheekfizzler.'

As they continued down the narrow aisles of rock, the stench in the air lightened considerably. Eventually, after about half-an-hour, the passageway opened into a vast cavern, the ceiling disappearing high into the darkness overhead. 'Let's light the lantern,' Hob suggested.

Nob produced some matches from his pocket and placed a gas lantern on the floor. As he struck the first match he thought he heard the flapping of tiny wings. 'Can you see them yet?' Barry whistled to Boris, who was flying in front of him.

'There's some kind of bright light up ahead. And I can smell 'em now! Fresh blood, fresh human blood!'

Nob placed the lantern on the ground, and as the light filtered out into the vast cavern the walls seemed to become alive, providing a mesmerising display of magnificent greens and golds. 'I-I've never seen anything so beautiful,' he said, his mouth hanging open in awe. 'Is this all Ceridwen's Cheese?'

'I believe that it is, my good Nob,' Hob replied... just before the fangs entered his neck. 'Aaaarrghh, we're under attack!' he shouted, waving his hands in the air.

Boris had a really good grip of Hob's neck and sunk his fangs into his jugular vein. He drank deep, squeaking satisfied little squeaks of pleasure. Nob was just about to come to Hob's aid when Barry performed a similar manoeuvre, his fangs drawing blood as Nob screamed in terror. As the bats clung on, both men ran around the cavern yelping in pain and fear, before colliding head on and waving consciousness farewell in the process. Which was very fortunate, otherwise they would have heard the extremely loud roar.

'Oh, bloody hell, they've woken him up now,' said Boris.

'We'd better scarper,' Barry suggested. And the two bats withdrew their fangs and headed for the safety of the stalactites above.

There are many things that live in the caves and tunnels under the earth's surface. Some are small and harmless, happy to spend their days scurrying about searching for insects. Then there are slightly bigger things that aren't harmless and spend their days hunting the small and harmless things. Then there are big things that can get pretty nasty if there aren't enough of the slightly bigger less harmless things around to eat. Then there are Trolls, who tend to get pretty nasty with absolutely anything. And then there's Dai MacTavish.

'Can you hear singing?' Nob said, rubbing his head and trying to reinvigorate his senses.

'Yes,' Hob replied, 'and it seems to be getting closer'.

Dai MacTavish was a Welsh-Glaswegian hybrid who found it difficult to settle into a normal society. His mother was a Rhyl Trawlerwoman, known for her fierce temper, huge forearms, emerald-encrusted nose-ring and beautiful soprano voice. His father was a Glaswegian football supporter, known for his fierce temper, huge forearms, steel-plated forehead and beautiful tenor voice. Dai left home when he was four years old, after getting into a fight with the bouncers in a crèche in Rhyl and putting six of them in hospital. As he grew up, he tried various jobs that involved fighting, such as bodyguards, nightclub doormen, and, for a short time, the elected Member of Parliament for Rhos-on Sea. However, such was his propensity for violence that he would inevitably upset his employers, usually by breaking them. He did, though, have a magnificent singing voice, which endeared him to some. As a former friend once said 'Dai may break your nose with his forehead and rip out your intestines, but he'll perform a beautiful rendition of "Men of Harlech" while you bleed to death.'

Dai had lived in the cheese mine for the last fifteen years and Trolls scare their children by telling stories about him. His only friend is a lawnmower called Jock. And he takes Jock everywhere with him.

'It sounds like "Green, Green Grass of Home" by that Tam James, you know the singing dwarf,' Nob observed.

'I do believe you're right, Nob. However, irrespective of the potential friendliness of the owner of the voice, may I suggest you grab a piece of cheese of that wall?'

'Of course,' said Nob, pulling a chunk of the golden and green cheese from the wall and placing it in the utilities bag.

In the distance, they could see what appeared to be a bedraggled and very hairy figure walking towards them, pulling something behind him which made a kind of trundling noise.

'Och, then, boyos, I've dinnae seen anywoon doon here for ages. Who are ye and what are ye up tae?' Dai said, pushing his matted hair out of his eyes.

'Oh, hello, my good fellow, I am Mr Yankit and this is my good friend Mr Pullit,' Hob said. 'We are Meandering Mole Exterminators.'

'Moles, eh?' Dai said, scratching his belly. 'I've dinnae seen one o' those little beasties for a good while. Ne'er liked the taste o' them, though. Anyways, the name's Dai, Dai MacTavish.'

'Pleased to meet you, Mr MacTavish,' Mr Yankit said. 'From your words it would appear that we are thankfully succeeding in our task.'

'Aye, it would seem so,' Dai said.

'In which case, it's been charming meeting you and I hope our paths cross again soon,' Mr Yankit said, as he and Mr Pullit began to edge backwards.

So will ye not be stayin' for a bit?' Dai asked. 'I've got some Troll Stew cookin', ye know.'

'Er, sadly, no,' Mr Yankit said. 'We have pressing business up above and must away. After all, our work here would seem to be complete.'

'Och, will ye not sing a little song with me, then, afore ye go?'

Mr Pullit looked at Mr Yankit and shook his head. 'I'm afraid our voices are not quite up to your high standards, Mr MacTavish.'

Dai looked dreadfully disappointed. 'Hoots, mon, I dinnae care. Look, I'll do ye a deal. If ye have a sing I'll not run ye over with Jock. Now I cannae say fairer than that.'

'Jock?' said My Yankit.

'Aye, Jock, me lawnmower here. Didnae I introduce ye?'

Dai pulled Jock around so that he was in front of him and patted the rusted, metal handle with affection. 'This here is Jock.'

'Hello, Jock, we're pleased to make your acquaintance,' said Mr Yankit.

Jock said nothing. He was a lawnmower.

'Anyhow,' Dai continued. 'Jock's really good at strippin' flesh off things when ye push him hard enough. I'd love to let ye go on yer way, but I've got me reputation as a psychopathic, flesh-eating monster tae think o', so I cannae just let ye leave. I'm sure ye understand.'

Mr Pullit nervously sidled over to Mr Yankit and grabbed his arm. 'Are you telling us that we can either attempt to leave and be cut to ribbons by an old lawnmower, or sing a song and leave intact?'

'Aye, pretty much,' Dai said. 'But dinnae let Jock hear ye sayin' he's old. He's a cantankerous bugger at the best o' times.'

Mr Yankit and Mr Pullit exchanged a very brief and animated whispered conversation. 'We'd be delighted, please name your song and we will wholeheartedly join in,' said Mr Yankit.

'Och, that's grand!' Dai said. 'How's about one o' me own tunes. I'll start off and ye can join in on the chorus?'

'That sounds splendid,' Mr Pullit said.

Dai cleared his throat with a few coughs. 'This is about me Mammy. It's called "Smacked Arse".'

When I was just a little lad

Me Mammy went to sea

She used to catch the fishes

And bring them home to me

But if I had been naughty

And killed me uncle Jack

She'd grab me by the ankles

And give me arse a whack

Smacked arse

Me Mammy gave to me

Smacked arse

And raw fishes for tea

Smacked arse

Until me cheeks were red

Smacked arse

Then she'd pack me off to bed

One day when I was playing

With young Jessie Brown

I really needed to have a pee

So I pulled me troosers doon

But me Mammy saw me winkle

As I peed in the sand

So she shouted that she'd tan my hide

And me arse cheeks felt her hand

'Right,' Dai said. 'Ye can sing-along! And ye too Jock!'

Jock didn't join in. He was a lawnmower. Mr Yankit and Mr Pullit did, though.

Smacked arse

Me Mammy gave to me

Smacked arse

And raw fishes for tea

Smacked arse

Until me cheeks were red

Smacked arse

Then she'd pack me off to bed

'Well done, boyos, that was grand!' Dai shouted, clapping his hands together. 'Didnae they do well, Jock.'

Jock didn't say anything. He was a lawnmower.

'Yes, that was most salubrious,' said Mr Yankit. 'But now I fear we really must go. We do have a very pressing appointment that we are already late for.'

'Aye, fair enough,' Dai said, with sadness in his voice. 'But I'll give ye both a quick Glasgow Kiss by way o' thanks to send ye on yer way.'

'Glasgow Kiss?' asked Mr Pullit, just before Dai's forehead met with his nose.

Up above the sound of two bats laughing could be heard.

'Did he break your nose too,' Nob said, wiping it as the two of them ran through the mine back to the surface.

'Thankfully not. His aim was awry, possibly because of my height. I fear I may have several teeth missing, though,' Hob replied, dabbing his mouth with a hankie. 'But, our painful encounter should see us richly rewarded, my dear Nob. Let us make haste back to Chester.'

'Which route shall we take?'

'Let us go via Ruthin,' Hob said. 'It would be wise not to venture anywhere near the vicinity of the Queen's palace. We are undoubtedly being looked for, yet even though we are no longer in disguise it would be circumspect to take the slightly longer route at this time. We can pay a visit to the witches while we're there.'

'Good idea,' said Nob, as the light from the front entrance of the mine appeared before them.

However, as the two spies squeezed through the gap in the mine's entrance, they were unaware that they had already been found. 'Look, they're coming out,' said Oriana.

'Right, then,' said Cracky, 'let's keep on their tale, but we'll stay a good way back. If anyone asks any questions, let me do the talking.'

#  Chapter 26 – Perhaps you can help me, I'm looking for someone

Humphrey was bored. He'd played 'fetch the stick' with Mrs Perriwinkle for the last three days, and even though she was getting very good at it now, he felt this particular amusement had run its course.

'That poor dog's been left on its own since Saturday morning,' Mrs Perriwinkle said to Mr Sparkle, the window cleaner, as he wrung out his chamois leather into his bucket. 'I'll give that Aiden a right rollicking when he gets back. I've a good mind to call the police and get them to send a Black Mary after him.'

'You mean a Black Maria, a police van?' Mr Sparkle asked.

'Yes, that's it. And some of those nice Panda cars.'

'Fat lot of good that would do,' Humphrey thought.

Humphrey had tried explaining to Mrs Perriwinkle that, in all likelihood, Aiden had shifted into another reality, due to his misunderstanding of some of the formulae he'd applied when designing the algorithms to work in the quantum computing world. 'Wuf, wuuf, wuf, woof, wowf, wow, wow, wuf,' he'd said to her. And he couldn't say it any clearer than that.

Sadly, Mrs Perriwinkle misinterpreted this completely and started to tickle his tummy, which was nice but hardly productive under the circumstances. No, it appeared that it was time for Humphrey to take matters into his own paws.

'Right, I'm just popping to the shops, Humphrey. I'll be back soon, don't worry,' Mrs Perriwinkle said, as she closed the door to Aiden's house. And that was his cue to go into action.

Humphrey had watched Aiden closely when he'd been working at home on his initial design for the quantum computing operating system. He'd try to give him a nudge from time to time when he realised that some of the calculations were incorrect, like writing the correct version in dog biscuits on the floor and hoping that Aiden would spot it, which he did once.

'Humphrey, you're the cleverest dog in the world, even if you don't know it!' Aiden had said, as the dog biscuit pattern on the floor inspired him to produce the final part of the equation he was working on.

However, not all Humphrey's attempts at guidance had been successful. The pattern of seemingly random dog food tins he placed on the kitchen floor (which if applied to one of the Navigation app's algorithms would have warned Aiden that he was about to move through dimensions) was completely misinterpreted. All Humphrey got was a scolding for being a 'naughty doggy.' So, it was now up to him to locate Aiden and help him return safely. And he already had an idea.

Humphrey was well-versed in the laws of quantum mechanics; after all he'd been reading Aiden's books for a few years and had thoroughly enjoyed them, even if they were a bit basic. He understood the principles behind quantum connections and the role of the conscious mind, working in tandem with the sub-conscious and the unconscious mind. He wasn't the cleverest dog in the world for nothing.

Humphrey trotted over to the bedside table were Aiden kept his regular phone and tapped through the directory of numbers. Eventually he found a number called 'Work Mobile QC Nova,' so he dialled it.

***

Half-blind Ron hated dogs with a passion, and to be fair they didn't care much for him. He used to tell everyone that he lost his eye after a fight with a Corwen Rottweiler called Fang. Part of this story was true, he did indeed lose his eye after a fight with a dog, but it was with a poodle called Prissy and he started the fight. When Prissy gave him a good whack with her paw he realised she wasn't quite the pushover he thought she'd be, so he turned tail and ran... straight into a rose bush. The rest, as they say, is history.

They'd been walking for a good few miles now and Half-blind Ron was getting hungry. As the sun began to set, with dusk despatching the last remnants of day so that night could arrive unhindered, he was daydreaming about chicken. The others were walking at a faster pace than him and were now a good ten yards or so in front. He could, however, still see them all quite clearly even in the low light. Well, until the English Cocker Spaniel appeared in front of him out of nowhere.

'Hello,' Humphrey said in perfect English. 'Perhaps you can help me, I'm looking for someone; a tall human with scruffy hair. Have you seen him?'

'Aaaarrrggghhhh!' Half-blind Ron cried, transmitting his thoughts in a shout. 'It's a bloody talking dog!'

He raised his hackles and hissed his loudest, hissiest hiss at Humphrey, extending his claws and scratching at the air. 'If you come any closer I'll rip ya piggin' ears off, ya freak!'

'Well, in that case I won't come any closer,' Humphrey said. 'I apologise profusely for scaring you, and please accept my assurance that this wasn't my intention. You must trust me when I attest that our encounter is undoubtedly one of profound serendipity.'

'Aaaarrrggghhhh!' Half-blind Ron shouted in his mind again, 'It's a bloody talking dictionary dog!'

By this time the rest of the group had backtracked, wondering what all the fuss was about. 'What's the problem here, Ron,' Theo said, with a wary eye on Humphrey.

'This bloody pooch appeared out of nowhere right in front of me and then he starts talking. And not only that, I can't understand half of what he's bleedin' sayin'!'

'Forgive me,' Humphrey said to Theo, 'I have travelled across realities and time to get here and I didn't mean to upset your friend. I'm looking for my human friend, you see, and I suspect that he may be in the vicinity.'

'I knew it, he's off his bloody rocker,' Half-blind Ron said to Captain Marmaduke. 'I bet he's one of those geriatric experiments that you read about.'

'Genetic experiments,' Captain Marmaduke corrected.

'Them an' all, I reckon.'

'Hello,' Cracky said, crouching down in front of Humphrey. 'I couldn't help but overhear what you said about "realities and time". Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Merlin Crackfoot, but most folks call me Cracky.'

Humphrey cocked his head to one side. 'I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Cracky. My name is Humphrey and I'm looking for a tall human with scruffy hair.'

'Are you indeed,' Cracky said, with a glance at Theo. 'Well, I have a feeling that we may be able to help you. He wouldn't happen to drive a red automobile and carry what he tells me is a "smart phone"?'

Humphrey wagged his tail. 'It sounds like you've met him.'

'We have indeed,' Cracky said. 'He's made quite a name for himself in the short time he's been here.'

'That doesn't surprise me,' said Humphrey. 'He's a good soul and very friendly. He does have a habit of getting himself into trouble, though. Do you know where he is?'

'Well, we know where he's going,' Theo said. 'At this very moment he's with some other friends of ours, travelling by boat to Chester. They should arrive tomorrow.'

'Hmm,' Humphrey said, 'I deduce that you good people are actually heading in that general direction. Would that be correct?'

'We are,' said Theo, 'but we're taking a somewhat circuitous route.'

'In which case, would it be too much trouble if I travelled with you? I can assure you that I am quite discreet and will certainly not make your presence known to the people you are following.'

'How do you know we're following anyone?' Oriana asked.

'Just call it canine intuition,' Humphrey said. 'And I would suggest that we now continue in pursuit, else we may lose them; they are about to turn onto that main road up ahead.'

'He's right,' Cracky said. 'We'd better get a move on.'

'I'm not sure about this, Your Highness,' Captain Marmaduke said to Theo. 'He could be working for Blacktie.'

Theo concentrated slightly and probed Humphrey's mind, searching his recent memories, many of which included Aiden. 'That's quite a talent you have there,' Humphrey said.

'You can feel me in your mind?' Theo replied, astonished.

'Yes, indeed. I take no offence, though. Our meeting has been most fortuitous and if analysing my thoughts will provide corroboration of my statements then I am perfectly at ease for you to continue.'

'He's telling the truth,' Theo said to Captain Marmaduke. 'And he has quite an extraordinary mind.'

'Thank you,' said Humphrey. 'Now, we really should be continuing. From what I can see up ahead, those two individuals are about to get into a carriage.'

'Damn,' said Cracky. 'They're taking a taxi. We'd better hope we can grab one too before they get out of sight.'

Now, one of the imponderables about traversing dimensions and time is that it isn't an exact science. Once a door is opened between realities, it is possible that other doors can also open, particularly if a cross-dimensional connection already exists. So, in this particular instance, Humphrey wasn't the only one that had shifted into this reality.

#  Chapter 27 – Have you prepared the room for the press conference?

As Ethel drifted peacefully up the River Dee, conversation between the Companionship of Wind was as light and warm as the sun on a particularly sunny day, which, of course, it was.

Aiden thought that he'd take the opportunity to have a chat with Smid. The bass player was amiable enough, but was quieter than the somewhat more extravert Grundi, which wasn't too much of a surprise to Aiden. It didn't seem to matter which universe you were in, the general personalities of musicians seemed to be consistent, and in Aiden's experience bass players were often more thoughtful and reserved. What Aiden was unaware of was Smid's background, which did come as a surprise.

'So you were a pig herder?'

'Indeed, I was. Born and bred, believe it or not,' Smid said.

'If you don't mind me saying, it's a bit of a career change. What prompted that?'

'Well,' Smid explained, 'it reached the point where I felt more like a jailer. Pigs here are nearly as clever as sheep and one day I just felt it was time to let them all go.'

'But were they not happy?' Charles asked, as he and Cliff listened nearby. 'You sound like you were very fond of them.'

'Oh, I was,' Smid said, with a faraway look in his eyes. 'I cared for each and every one of them, raised them all from little piglets. But, I woke up one day and just knew that it was time to give them their freedom. So I opened the gate of the pig pen and just left it open. They didn't all leave straight away, mind. Some thanked me and left on the same day; others felt no immediate obligation to leave but did so over the next couple of weeks. At the end of the month there was only one sow and her piglet left.'

'Why hadn't they left with the others?' Cliff asked.

'I think that Mary, the sow, would have left on the first day. It was her piglet that didn't want to leave. When I asked her why, she said that he'd never known his father and had said that he couldn't imagine anyone being as loving or as kind to him as I had been.' There were tears in his eyes, and Aiden placed a hand on his shoulder.

'Anyway,' Smid continued, 'I sat down with him one day and said that, as much as I loved him, this was a chance for him and his mum to build a new life; a life where they were free to go and do as they pleased. He loved his mum very much and he knew it was the right thing to do. I woke up the next morning and the pig pen was empty, although he'd written a little note for me.'

'What did it say?' Aiden asked.

'I don't know,' replied Smid, pulling an envelope from his inside jacket pocket, 'I've never opened it. I'm not sure that I can.'

A single tear rolled down Smid's cheek and he wiped it with his hand. 'So, I got back into my warrior's clothes, sharpened my axe, bought a bass guitar and joined the greatest Welsh Viking Flatulence Rock band there's ever been,' he said, smiling. 'It just seemed like the sensible thing do.'

'Naturally,' Aiden said, returning the smile.

'I still miss little Crusher, though. I often wonder where he ended up and whether he's alright.'

As Ethel continued her passage unabated, the sound of splashing water providing a soothing sonic accompaniment to the singing of birds, there were things lurking on the bank in the shadows.

'Don't get too close, they may catch sight of us,' Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice hissed at his servant, who was kneeling by the bank holding him aloft*.

'Lieutenant, have your troops arrived yet?' he asked of Lieutenant Saag Bhaji.

'On the other side of the river are a company of your loyal Peshwari Naans, under my command, Brother,' the Lieutenant said. 'They are supported by a company of crack Garlic and Butter Chapattis, led by Major Mushroom Bhaji. I expect Lieutenant Shami Kebab and his Meat and Vegetable Samosas to join with us on this side of the river within the hour.'

'Excellent, Lieutenant,' said Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice, steaming slightly. 'And are our "special guests" still on time to rendezvous with us at The Pig's Trotters?'

'My recent communication indicates that this is the case, but I'm still not sure it is wise to engage with foreigners, Brother.'

'Nonsense, Lieutenant,' Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice said, splashing his carrots. 'I have assurance from General Kung Po Chicken himself that he is with us all the way. Whilst we have not always seen rice to rice with the Chinese, this is an alliance forged upon mutual interests.'

'But the General has despatched his fiercest and most uncontrollable troops, the "Wild Chinese hors d' Oeuvres". They are a mixture of Shaolin Crispy Won Tons, Ninja Vegetable Spring Rolls and, most worryingly of all, a platoon of Samurai Deep Fried Crab's Claws. If they turn on us things could get very messy, Brother.'

'They won't, Lieutenant. I understand your concern, but I can assure you that we are all together as one fighting force. And victory will be ours this night.'

*It should be noted that curries do have the power to move themselves, in a sort of shuffling motion that makes crabs look graceful. They can also jump several feet in the air when the mood takes them, although this manoeuvre can often lead to spillage. However, the more affluent curries, or curries of high standing, generally employ servants to carry them from place to place.

As Charles provided some uplifting trumpeting to accompany Roisin's angelic singing, music and conversation made the time race by, and soon the large iron bridge of Alford came into view. 'It looks like news of our visit has spread fast,' Oldfart said. 'Somebody's put up a banner.'

Draped across the bridge was a huge, white banner with big, red letters that said 'Welcome Sacred Wind, and May Odin Bless Your Wind'. As Ethel moved closer to the bridge, Aiden spotted who was holding it. 'I can see pigs up there,' he said to Smid.

'Aye, well, this is pig country. They don't tend to mingle much as yet, possibly because they haven't been officially recognised in the way sheep have. They're lobbying the Welsh Parliament for formal recognition at the moment, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed.'

Ethel drew to a stop and Agnar jumped onto the bank to take care of mooring duties. A small crowd were congregated outside the pub, fronted by a well-dressed pig. 'A great welcome to you all!' he shouted, with cheers and applause ringing out as the Companionship made their way down the gangplank. 'Allow me to introduce myself; I am Archie Backrasher, the proprietor and your host this evening. If you'd all like to come this way, I'll take you to your rooms. Your ship will be quite safe; we have twenty-four hour security.'

'Much appreciated, Mr Backrasher,' Oldfart said, extending his hand to Archie. 'I'm Oldfart by the way, we spoke on the phone. Have you prepared the room for the press conference?'

'Indeed I have, Mr Olafson. I have set out tables in the Gammon Suite on the ground floor and everything is arranged in the way you requested. Given that it's just before 5:00 pm, I would be expecting the press to be arriving in the next hour.'

'Fantastic,' Oldfart said, patting him on the shoulder. 'It would appear that the legendary hospitality of pigs is well-deserved.'

Oldfart had drawn up an itinerary for the evening, which involved the press conference as 6:00 pm, followed by dinner in the pub's Snout Restaurant. The band had also agreed to play a short 'unplugged' acoustic session in the main bar in the evening, and had asked Charles to join them on trumpet. 'Bless my clacky hooves, what an honour. I'll be blowing like a crazy sheep,' Charles had said, when Oldfart had suggested it.

The Gammon Suite was very plush with a thick, red carpet covering the floor. It had a spectacular chandelier hanging from the ceiling and the walls were adorned with various paintings, some of well-known pigs. A large table, draped with a white tablecloth, had been placed at the far end of the room, facing the rows of chairs that had been set up for the journalists and guests. Oldfart had meticulously arranged everything with a professionalism that somewhat belied his happy-go-lucky persona. He'd also gone to the trouble of preparing 'character profiles' for the band, which he'd asked them all to learn, and which they were expected to relate to the assembled press.

Archie had prepared drinks and snacks for the journalists in the bar, and awaited Oldfart's signal before allowing them into the Gammon Suite. He'd also arranged for some music and sound effects, at Oldfart's request, as well as dry ice machines and lighting. So, as the journalists piled into the room they were greeted by rumblings, thunderclaps, flashing lights and a floor that was knee deep in mist.

'Okay, are you all happy with your profiles?' Oldfart asked, as the band waited in an adjoining room. Nods all round suggested this was the case, but Agnar was still reading his, frantically trying to commit it to memory.

'Are you sure you're alright, Agnar?' Oldfart said.

'Yes, yes. I'll be fine,' he responded, unconvincingly.

'Now, not a word about Ophelia or the Baron,' Oldfart said. 'If we get any questions, deflect them. We need to play this by the book, so it's simply all about the tournament, okay?'

The band nodded, although Olaf's nod was a second or so after the others.

'Right then, I'll go and introduce you.'

Archie pressed a strategically-placed button that set off two large flashbombs and Oldfart marched into the room, carrying a long wooden staff. As he stood in front of the tables and raised it in the air, the flashbulbs of the assembled press competed with the pyrotechnics and light show. Oldfart made a flamboyant gesture with his left hand and the top of the staff caught fire.

'Today, I welcome you all as friends in these dark times,' he boomed. 'Four great warriors have accepted a challenge to test their musical prowess against the best of the best. Tomorrow, at the Cestrian Music Tournament, they enter the arena with their weapons of rock and metal to take on all comers, and they will have the gods on their side!'

A giant thunderclap filled the room.

'So, ladies, gentlemen and sheep of the press, I give you SACRED WIND!!'

The band entered to cheers and more flashbulbs, joining Oldfart at the large table at the end of the room. 'I would now like to take this opportunity to introduce each of these great warriors. Firstly, please put your hands together for the lead vocalist and lead guitarist of Sacred Wind, Olaf the Berserker!' Oldfart roared, as Olaf raised his right fist in the air.

'My weapon is the broadsword and my steed is called Night Shadow,' Olaf said, in a thunderous voice. 'Together we ride into battle, hacking, slashing, growling and bottom belching until our enemies flee into the night, their weapons abandoned and their pants fragrant. I have no fear of the living, the dead, or people from Bangor. I laugh at the dark gods and urge them to attack with power, and then I unleash the force of my wind to strike them down. The skies crack with thunder, lightning illuminates the fields and the rain hammers on the ground... but my wind prevails. My cheeks of power triumph with their mighty roar. Victory for Odin! Victory for Asgard! May your sword stay sharp, may your women be comely, and may your poppadom bowl be full!'

The Companionship all stood and applauded. 'Go for it Olaf, let's give it up for the poppadoms!' shouted Vindy.

'Oh, Vindy, I do love you,' shouted Tikky, over the din, 'but be careful or you'll end up dripping on the carpet.'

As the applause died down, Oldfart continued. 'And now, please let me hear your appreciation for one of the finest drummers in the land. When he plays, the earth shakes, mountains move and the Devil does it in his pants. Put your hands together for Agnar the Hammered!'

Agnar raised his hand in the air rather meekly, his nerves clearly visible on his face. 'My weapon is the hammer and my steed is called Thunder Hoof. I pound the drums and... er...'

Sensing Agnar's failing memory, Oldfart whispered in his ear. 'You splinter your enemy's shields with the force of the storm. Mighty is your hammer as it slams down, crushing sinew, bone and steel...'

'Oh, yes,' Agnar continued with a bit more gusto, 'I splinter my enemy's shields with the force of the storm. Mighty is my axe, sorry, hammer, as it slams down, crushing sinew, bone and steel. Even the dead flee my charge, as I ravage and plunder anything in my path. I also enjoy moonlight walks, butterfly watching and candlelit dinners...'

'You fool,' Oldfart whispered, as the assembled press appeared confused. 'That last sentence is from your "Viking Lonely Hearts" profile.'

With a final flourish of desperation, Agnar rose to his feet and lifted his hammer into the air. 'All hail to mighty Odin! May his beard be free of badgers and may he fart in many directions. Woooarrrggghhhhh!!'

'I'm not letting him do one of these again,' Oldfart whispered to Grundi, as Agnar milked the generous applause.

Next up was Grundi, who gave an impassioned speech about the nobility of rock and metal, the joy of shredding guitar and his unrequited love for Frigg, which resulted in more tears from Mr Kneepatcher.

Smid finished off by speaking about his rumbling bass bottom-end and his fondness for leather, before twirling his axe around his head, accompanied by more pyrotechnics. 'Right,' Oldfart said, as the smoke began to clear, 'if anyone would like to ask any questions, please feel free.'

A small man with a large Fedora hat raised his hand, and Oldfart beckoned him to stand up. 'Sam Hollandaise, Chester Bugle & Gazette,' he said. 'Why do you think that Baron Blacktie has put aside his hatred of rock music and allowed Sacred Wind to enter the tournament?'

'Good question,' Oldfart said. 'The Baron told us that he feels it is time to loosen the shackles of musical bondage and allow people to judge for themselves. Next question, please.'

'Dick Swizzler, from Belting Rock magazine here,' a thin man with enormous hair and a denim jacket shouted. 'Is it true that Sacred Wind have actually sacrificed penguins on stage and ate their brains, while performing unspeakable acts with cauliflowers?'

'No, there is no truth in that,' Oldfart said.

'Oh, maybe it was a just a dream after all,' Dick said, with a glassy-eyed smile.

'Sid Scribbler, North Wales Beacon,' said a short man with a handlebar moustache and protruding forehead. 'I notice that Queen Ophelia is not with your party. I've heard a rumour that she's been kidnapped. Can you verify this, please?'

Olaf looked at Oldfart, who nodded his assent for him to answer. 'The Queen is fine and is resting at present. She will be joining us in time for the tournament tomorrow, and she will be travelling by an alternative, secret route.'

'Well done, that was excellent,' Oldfart whispered.

Questions were then fired from left, right and centre by the enthusiastic throng.

'Are the band really Vikings?'

'Yes.'

'Do they really pray to the gods by farting?'

'Yes.'

'Does Agnar have a girlfriend (asked by a sexy female journalist from the Llandudno for Ladies magazine, who received a very nasty look from Roisin)?'

'Not at the moment, but he does have a special someone in mind,' (which saw Mara smiling at a slightly blushing Roisin).

'Have they ever thought about creating their own fashion line?'

'Not as yet, but we are giving serious consideration to "Blast from my Ass" underpants.'

'Is it true that on every full moon they have a wild party and dance naked around a campfire thrusting their weapons into the air?'

'No... at least not every full moon.'

After around half an hour, Oldfart sensed that the press conference had achieved its aim. 'Right, we have time for one more question before we dine.'

A bearded man with a long, leather coat raised his hand. 'Mike Mosher, from the Chester Musical Tribune. Does the band think they can actually win tomorrow, given the stiff competition and also the lack of familiarity that Chester has with rock music? It will sound very alien to many people in the audience.'

'That's a very good point,' Oldfart said. 'But I believe we can win. I feel the people of Chester will hear the passion and the power of Sacred Wind and that this will touch their souls and nostrils like never before.'

The Companionship roared its approval and a spontaneous round of applause spread throughout the room. 'And with that, ladies, gentlemen and sheep, we bid you farewell for the time being. We hope that we can reconvene in two days for what I'm certain will be our victory celebration.'

However, just as the members of the press began to vacate their seats, there was a small skirmish by the Gammon Suite entrance and three pigs entered the room, holding placards which read 'Equality for Pigs,' 'You Can't Stop the Chops' and 'Hug a Pig Today.'

'I'm sorry, Mr Olafson. I tried to stop them,' Archie said, rushing over to Oldfart, 'but they insisted on being allowed to speak.'

'Good people, we have a message that must be heard,' the smallest of the three pigs said. 'My name is Percy and I speak for the Porcine Order for Recognition and Kinship, more commonly known as P.O.R.K.'

The little pig placed his placard on the ground and raised his trotters aloft. 'Firstly, I would like to wish Sacred Wind well for the tournament tomorrow. You take with you the good wishes of all pigs,' he said, to a generous round of applause.

'Next week,' he continued, 'the Welsh Parliament will debate the "Porcine Equality Bill", and we hope you will give us your support in finally putting a sword to the myth that all we pigs like to do is to have a good wallow in the mud.'

'But we do like a good wallow,' said the larger pig to his left.

'Er, yes,' Percy said. 'As my good friend Chopper has just stated, a good wallow is very important, and its therapeutic powers should not be underestimated. But, we pigs are also keen to be recognised for our love of literature and the fine arts, of sports, of politics and of philosophy. Indeed, as the great George Porkwell said in his acclaimed novel "Beast Ranch", we are all equal!'

Smid led the applause and it was at that point that he caught the eye of the large pig to Percy's right. He studied its face for several seconds, trying to reconcile the features with an image he had in his mind from many years ago. As the pig returned his stare, it too seemed to share the recognition, and then their eyes went wide as the memories fell into place. 'Daddy Smid?' said the pig.

'Crusher?' said Smid.

'Daddy Smid is that really you?' said Crusher.

Smid came from behind the table and headed directly for Crusher, who was nearly as tall as he was. 'You've grown so big. I never thought I would see you again,' Smid said, as tears began to well up in his eyes.

'Me too Daddy Smid,' Crusher said, as his eyes also filled with tears, 'I have missed you so much.' And then they embraced and the crowd cheered.

'I still have your letter,' Smid said. 'I've never even opened it.'

'Why, Daddy Smid?'

'Because I always hoped that one day we would meet again and that you would do me the honour of reading it for me,' Smid said, handing the letter to Crusher.

Crusher hugged Smid again and opened the letter. 'It still has stains from my tears, Daddy Smid,' he said, and then he began to read.

'"Dear Daddy Smid, we are going away now. Mum tells me we will be living with my uncle Tim, who is very nice and kind but farts a lot. I will always think of you, Daddy Smid, and I will miss the way you cuddled me when I was sad and tickled my tummy to make me happy. I love you Daddy Smid and will miss you forever, yours sincerely, Crusher".'

The two embraced once more and there wasn't a dry eye in the house. 'Are you crying, Oldfart,' Grundi said, as he wiped his eyes.

'No, no, of course not,' Oldfart said, defensively. 'It's just all this dry ice making my eyes smart. Anyway, let's go and have something to eat, I'm starving.'

#  Chapter 28 – Follow that cab!

'Look, there they are!' shouted Oriana, as Hob and Nob climbed into a horse-drawn taxi on the side of the main road to Ruthin.

'If we don't find some transport soon we're going to lose them,' Theo said.

'Quite,' agreed Cracky. 'And it could be ages before another cab comes along this early in the evening.'

'Couldn't we try and flag down another carriage?' Captain Marmaduke said.

'On this road, not a chance,' Cracky replied. 'Unfortunately folks are too wrapped up in their business to pick up hitchhikers. And anyway, who's going to stop for a man with three cats, a dog and a sheep?'

'They're nearly over the horizon!' Oriana cried.

Then, without warning, Humphrey strode into the middle of the road, just as a very large carriage hurtled towards him. At the last minute he moved away from the dashing horses and lay prone on the side of the road. The driver pulled on the reins and the carriage came to a juddering halt.

'Oh my, is your dog alright?' a very well-to-do lady said, as she looked out of the carriage window.

Cracky ran over to Humphrey and knelt down beside him. 'Just go with me, Cracky,' Humphrey whispered, before letting out a plaintive cry.

'I think he needs medical attention, my lady!' Cracky shouted.

'Please, allow me to take you to the nearest vet. It's the least I can do.'

'That would be very kind, my lady. But, believe it or not, his vet is actually in the taxi ahead of us. He is returning to Ruthin at this moment to procure special medicine that will treat my poor dog's condition.'

'That was very good,' Theo said, planting the thought into Cracky's mind.

'Well, then. Let us make haste. Please join me inside.'

'You are most kind,' Cracky replied, as they all piled into the rather luxurious carriage.

'Driver,' the lady called out, 'follow that cab!'

The carriage was extremely sumptuous and it seemed highly probable that the owner had never had to choose between kneecapping, severe ear twisting or nostril stretching as a punishment for being overdrawn.

'I'm Lady Regina Poshfrock,' Lady Regina said.

'Er, Arthur Longcloak,' Cracky said, shaking Lady Regina's hand. 'And this little chap is Humphrey.' Humphrey gave out a pitiful little yelp.

Within minutes, Lady Regina's carriage was hot on the tail of Hob and Nob's taxi. 'Shall we try and overtake him?' she suggested. 'We could signal the cab to stop.'

'Actually it would make more sense for us to follow the cab to its destination,' Cracky said, quickly. 'The surgery will be fully equipped, whereas I fear he only has a basic bag of veterinary tranklements with him, and they may not suffice.'

'But of course, you're right,' Lady Regina agreed. 'Driver, follow that cab until it reaches its destination.'

'Yus, m'lady!' shouted the driver.

When they reached Ruthin, night had completely descended and the picturesque town was illuminated by a vast array of street lamps, glowing in the mist. However, the taxi containing Hob and Nob continued onwards, heading away from the town centre.

'I thought you said his surgery was in Ruthin?' Lady Regina said to Cracky.

'Apologies, my lady, it would appear my sense of direction is not what it was. I am sure, though, that it doesn't lie much farther now.'

Fortunately, Cracky's guess was correct and in the distance they could make out a large cottage, its lanterns flickering in the windows. It was situated at the end of a short avenue of trees that arched over the road, casting long shadows that looked like they could contain more than, well, shadows.

'It looks like they are alighting at that house ahead, m'lady,' the driver said. 'Shall I continue to the door?'

'Actually, if you would be so kind as to let us out here, please,' Cracky said, before Lady Regina had a chance to speak. 'We're quite happy to go the short distance on foot. And it will save you the bother of having to turn around.'

'Are you sure?' she responded. 'Your poor dog still looks to be out of sorts.'

'Woof,' said Humphrey, jumping to his feet and licking Cracky vigorously.

'My, my,' said Cracky. 'It would appear that the very sight of the surgery has already prompted a swift recovery. Praise be to Odin!'

'Oh, I am so pleased,' Lady Regina said, patting Humphrey on the head. 'In which case I bid you all farewell, and I do pray that little Humphrey has a full and sustained recovery.'

'Well done, Humphrey,' Cracky said, smiling, as Lady Regina's carriage headed off into the distance.

'Thank you,' said Humphrey. 'It seemed like the logical course of action.'

'So, what next?' asked Captain Marmaduke. 'Do we simply sit out the night here and wait for them to leave in the morning?'

'I was thinking we may be able to monitor them from much closer quarters, and in surroundings that are perhaps warmer,' Cracky said, pointing at the 'Three Witches Bed & Breakfast' sign that swung creakily in the wind.

'That sounds risky, Cracky,' Theo said. 'We could be in danger of exposing ourselves.'

'Not if we're careful,' Cracky continued. 'Have any of you ever actually spoken to Hob and Nob before?'

The question was met with shaking heads.

'In which case, I'm the only person they may recognise, but I've never actually engaged them in conversation, and I'm pretty sure they don't know me by name. So, I'll simply say that I am Arthur Longcloak, travelling to Chester with my menagerie.'

'And I'll obviously remain taciturn and quiescent,' Humphrey said.

'Yeah, and make sure you keep your gob shut, too,' Half-blind Ron added.

The hooting of an owl wrapped-up in a gentle breeze was the only sound that accompanied their footsteps as they walked the short distance to the cottage. Although all the shutters on the windows were closed, they could see slivers of light peeping through the cracks, an indication that the occupants had yet to retire for the evening.

'Let's hope they've got a room for us,' Oriana said, as Cracky rapped the large, iron knocker against the wooden door.

At first they were simply greeted with the same silence Roisin met when knocking on Queen Ophelia's bedroom door (as silence goes this one had a pretty vigorous social life and really spread itself about). However, they soon heard activity behind the door, accompanied by the rattling of keys.

'Who is it that disturbs our peace at this late hour?' a female voice said.

'Hello. My name is Arthur Longcloak and I am seeking a room for the night, for myself and my weary animals,' Cracky said, adopting a slightly thicker welsh brogue. 'We are travelling to Chester on the morrow.'

'Who is in your company?' the female voice asked.

'I am with a sheep, a dog and three cats. They are all well-behaved, house-trained and friendly with strangers.'

'Speak for yourself,' thought Half-blind Ron, before receiving a quick slap from Captain Marmaduke's right paw.

The keys jangled as they were inserted into the lock, then it clicked and the door creaked slowly open. An old lady with matted, grey hair peeped around the door, her piercing gaze examining each of them in turn. Her eyes settled on Theo for an uncomfortable few seconds before moving back to Cracky. 'We have a room,' she said, opening the door wider and beckoning them to enter with a solitary, crooked finger.

The cottage was warm and dimly lit. A large fire crackled away on the far wall next to the bar area, casting a ghostly light on the faces of the three people sat at a table nearby. One of them had a briefcase which he held close to his side. An old radio was providing serene background music, helping to lighten an otherwise sinister ambience.

'My name is Mildred,' the old lady said, as she took a commanding position behind the reception desk. 'The room will be five pounds in advance and ten pounds when you leave. Please, sign here.'

Cracky signed as 'Arthur Longcloak', produced a five-pound note from his pocket and handed the money to Mildred. She closed the book, opened a small wooden drawer on the desk and passed him a single key, with a tag on it that said '4'.

'I am afraid we have finished serving dinner for the evening,' she said, putting the registrar book in the drawer. 'However, I can provide fresh water and some snacks for your cats and dog, but they must stay in their room.'

'That would be much appreciated,' Cracky said.

'You and your sheep —,'

'Blodwyn,' Oriana said to Mildred

'You and Blodwyn are quite welcome to join myself and Agnes, my co-manager, for a drink in the bar, although we close in thirty minutes.'

'You are most kind,' Cracky replied. And with that they made their way to room number 4.

'Did you recognise one of those guests?' Nob said, as Hob took a sip of his drink.

'Vaguely,' Hob replied. 'And you are right to be circumspect in your observations, my dear Nob. It may be nothing, but we should keep our wits about us. Do you not think so, Agnes?'

'Wull pizt macaron, seedy poopy scratch 'n sniff,' said Agnes.

'Yes, I quite agree,' replied Hob.

The room was small but functional and Mildred kept good on her promise to supply snacks and drinks for Theo, Captain Marmaduke, Half-blind Ron and Humphrey. 'Right, Oriana and I will go downstairs for a drink,' Cracky said. 'We'll join our two "friends" and see what we can find out. I can't see them giving much away, but light conversation and a few drinks could loosen their tongues.'

'May we join you, kind sirs and madam?' Cracky asked, as he and Oriana arrived in the bar. 'We have had a long day and would welcome some conversation to go with our drinks.'

'Of course,' Hob said, warily, moving his chair closer to Nob. Cracky and Oriana pulled out the two remaining chairs at the table and sat down.

'What would you like to drink?' Mildred said, from behind the bar.

'Oh, I'll have a pint of your finest ale and Blodwyn here will have —,'

'Just a glass of water, please,' Oriana said.

'And please get these two gentlemen and the lady whatever they are drinking,' Cracky said.

'Thank you, indeed,' Nob said.

'Yes, thank you,' said Hob.

'Split poo,' said Agnes.

The crackling fire's warmth provided a perfect balance to the cool drinks, and Cracky felt obliged to start the conversation proper. 'If I may be so bold as to introduce myself,' he said, 'I am Arthur Longcloak from Llangollen, and this here is Blodwyn. We are travelling to Chester, to the market.'

'I am Mr Starry and my compatriot here is Mr Twinkle,' Hob said. 'We are Peripatetic Astrologers, providing our travelling service to all those in need of a good horoscope.'

'Yes, we do love giving people a good horoscope,' said Mr Twinkle.

'And this here, is Agnes,' continued Mr Starry.

'Muckypup,' said Agnes.

'Ah, you must excuse Agnes,' Mildred said, as she pulled up a chair at the next table. 'She speaks only in Ancient Welsh Witchenese, a long forgotten language passed down from her mother, and her mother's mother, and her mother's mother's mother, and her mother's mother's mother's auntie, and her mother's, mother's mother's, auntie's mad cousin, Flappytrap, who was a high-ranking witch in Ruthin. There are few now who understand its complex tones, words and enunciations.'

'I see,' Cracky said.

'Although Mr Twinkle and I are conversant, so we will translate for you... when appropriate,' said Mr Starry.

'That would be welcomed,' said Oriana.

'Furrypots,' Agnes said, nodding.

The conversation was indeed kept light and not too intrusive. Cracky embellished the story of travelling to Chester Market by explaining his requirement for special herbs for cooking, and Mr Starry and Mr Twinkle waxed lyrical about the planets' influence on various star signs. 'For example,' Mr Starry said, 'an Aquarius should never walk naked outdoors and turn his back when Pluto is rising.'

'Indeed,' added Mr Twinkle. 'The effect can be quite a shock to the system. A fully-risen Pluto is not to be trifled with.'

Agnes said little but nodded in agreement on occasion. She was fascinated by Oriana and gazed at her intently, whilst fiddling with the warts on the end of her long nose. In the end, Oriana felt compelled to speak. 'Excuse me, Agnes, but I notice that you keep looking at me.'

'Willy widdle flumpo smackypants, Oriana Oftsheared, flutytwoot, Ossie Flopsywool Ocksi,' said Agnes.

Cracky cast a quick sideways glance at Oriana and then looked directly at Mr Starry, keenly awaiting translation. 'That's odd,' Mr Starry said. 'Agnes says you are actually Oriana Oftsheared, the flautist with the Oswestry Sheep Orchestra.'

'Ah, I see,' Oriana replied, calmly. 'That happens a lot. I'm her cousin, Blodwyn Oftsheared. We do look remarkably similar, but I'm afraid that my musical talents are not quite up to Oriana's standard.'

'Oh, that would explain it,' said Mr Starry, as he translated for Agnes, who stood up excitedly and shook Oriana's hoof.

'Apparently she's a bit of a fan,' Mr Twinkle said.

'Boodleknees, boodleknees. Iffy ticky gobbyblab,' said Agnes.

'She says that she thinks your cousin's music is beautiful and asks if you will pass on this message,' Mr Starry said.

'Of course,' replied Oriana, as Cracky let out a sigh of relief under his breath.

'Furrypots,' Agnes said, with a big toothy smile.

The clock hit eleven and Mildred rang the little bell on the bar. 'Last orders, please.'

'Not for us, thank you,' said Mr Starry. 'We are headed for an important engagement in Chester tomorrow and our client will be most upset if we do not arrive in a timely fashion.'

'Indeed,' added Mr Twinkle. 'Plus we must make sure we are both fully conscious when things start rising in the morning.'

'Quite,' added Mr Starry. 'When they both rise in conjunction, it's a truly splendid sight. In fact if you'd care to join us, Mr Longcloak, I'm sure you'd find it most uplifting.'

'Er, thank you, gentlemen, but I'll pass on this occasion,' a coughing Cracky replied.

'A pity,' said Mr Twinkle. 'Mars and Jupiter are a joy to behold when they are in conjunction, as they will be just before dawn tomorrow.'

Oriana looked at Cracky and signalled that they too should retire for the night. 'Yes, I believe we will follow your example and take to our rooms also,' Cracky said. 'Thank you once again for the excellent company and fine beverages.'

'You are most welcome,' said Mildred. 'Would you like an early morning call?'

'What time are you gentlemen leaving in the morning?' Cracky asked, as Mr Starry and Mr Twinkle headed for the stairs.

'Oh, we'll be away about 8:00 am, so we'll have breakfast at 7:00 am,' said Mr Twinkle, who received a stern look from Mr Starry.

'In which case we'll join you gentlemen for breakfast, if that's acceptable?' Cracky said.

'Of course, of course,' said Mr Starry, with a look that suggested it was anything but.

Back in the room, Cracky and Oriana were greeted by anxious faces. 'Well, what did you find out?' Theo said, once Cracky had closed the door to the bedroom behind him.

'It would appear they are headed for Chester, and we know what time they're leaving. I strongly feel they are to meet with the Baron.'

'Surely you don't think that Blacktie would be stupid enough to have Ophelia held prisoner in his palace?' Captain Marmaduke said.

'He would if he thinks that when he obtains a piece of Ceridwen's Cheese that it won't matter.'

'That is a good point,' Theo said. 'And in which case we may need to act sooner rather than later to ensure he never receives it.'

'Are you suggesting that we assail these two individuals and purloin this cheese?' Humphrey asked.

'No, stupid,' Half-blind Ron said, with annoyance. 'He's saying we should beat them up and nick it.'

'Anyway, let's get some sleep and make sure we're up early in the morning,' Cracky said, as he climbed into bed. 'We can't afford to lose track of them now.'

#  Chapter 29 – Are the troops ready?

A hearty meal accompanied by a healthy supply of drinks was a perfect end to the day for the Companionship; freeing their minds from worries created in times past and from thoughts of potential threats in times to come.

'You know, Mr Backrasher,' Aiden said, with a mouthful of food, 'these roast potatoes are divine.'

'Why, thank you, Mr Peersey,' Archie replied, with a smile and a delighted oink. 'The secret is to soak them in pigswill for a day before roasting.'

'Really,' Aiden said, stopping in mid chew, 'well they taste delicious.'

'I couldn't agree more,' said Oldfart, who was sitting to his right on the huge banquet table, 'I've had Pigswillian Potatoes before, but never ones with such a delicate texture and sublime aroma. You are to be commended, Archie.'

As tummies began to fill and pallets became whetted, spirits began to rise and it was time for the pre-arranged 'unplugged' gig that Oldfart had promised. Olaf and Grundi sat atop two tall bar-stools, with their acoustic guitars, and Charles proudly raised his trumpet in the air, as the specially-selected guests and local dignitaries gave them a warm round of applause.

'Tonight, we'd like to play you a brand new song,' Olaf announced. 'This is a song about a loved one in danger and in need of rescuing. A valiant companionship sets sail determined to enact a rescue, but their search is stalled because there is no light to guide their way in the dark. So, they call upon the power of their wind and a cigarette lighter to illuminate their path. This is called "Hurricane Ass".

She's been gone

For so long

Held in a tower far away

With a man who smells quite strong

Is she safe?

Oh, I hope that she's OK

Cause I'm missing her so very much

And I want her

I need her

Carry me on through the night

Across stormy tides

Here with my friends

By my side

And we'll save her

'And this is the chorus,' Olaf shouted. 'I want everyone to join in on the next one!'

Hurricane ass

Guide my way in the dark

With your windy light

Hurricane ass

Let your flame burn bright

Like a thousand stars

Hurricane ass

Show me the way to her heart

For in my dreams she lives

She's at my side

For all time

'Right, remember that for next time,' Olaf said, before continuing with the second verse.

I'm so scared

That she's ensnared

She's in city that's so strange

Where the people are quite weird

They won't care

If she doesn't comb her hair

She'll be locked inside a dingy cell

But I'll find her

I'll comb it

Carry me on through the night

Across stormy tides

Here with my friends

By my side

And we'll save her

As the second chorus began, the room was awash with waving arms, lit cigarette lighters and singing pigs. Crusher, Chopper and Percy locked arms and swayed gleefully together, belting out the words and the occasional oink with gusto. Archie Backrasher and his wife, Annabelle, were stood on the banquet table with their arms in the air and were soon joined by Mara and Roisin. Mr Kneepatcher was already in tears and was being comforted by Harold and Greta. 'It's so beautiful,' he cried, 'Bless you Olaf, we'll save her!'

However, outside the window, things were lurking in the night that had little concern for music, singing and dancing. 'Have the security guards been taken care of?' asked Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice.

'Yes, Brother,' replied Lieutenant Saag Bhaji. 'They have been immobilised.'

'How so, Lieutenant?'

'Samurai Deep Fried Crab's Claws have infiltrated their underpants. If they move, or utter a word, they'll get snipped.'

'Excellent. What of our other Chinese friends?'

'They are outside the front entrance waiting for your signal,' the Lieutenant answered. 'On your command, Major Mushroom Bhaji's Garlic and Butter Chapattis will break through the window. This will be the signal for the Chinese to charge the front door. They'll be closely followed by Lieutenant Shami Kebab and his Meat and Vegetable Samosas. Finally my Peshwari Naans will storm the front window. They'll be completely surrounded and unable to escape. I predict that their death will be slow and painful, but tasty.'

'Ha!' laughed Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice. 'I'll show Blacktie he doesn't have to rely on a bunch of pirates to rid him of his enemies. The Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies may as well slither back to their little hidden cove in Colwyn Bay, as there'll be nothing left for them to do when they get here other than clean up the blood.'

'What shall we do with the King and Queen of Wrexham, Brother?'

'Oh, I've already given instruction to our Chinese friends to give them special attention. I'm assured that the Ninja Vegetable Spring Rolls will make mopping them up a priority. Their plates will be that clean by the time they've finished with them, they'll look like they've come fresh from a dishwasher.'

Meanwhile, on the hilltop to the rear of The Pig's Trotters, two lone curries looked down at the pub in silence. 'Do we make our move now?' asked General Lamb Korma-Saffron Rice.

'No,' replied General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice. 'Let's wait until they commit themselves. Are the troops ready?'

'I believe they are, General,' Saffy said, as he looked out over the vast sea of curries and supporting side dishes on the hill slope behind them. 'I think Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice is in for something of a shock.'

Inside, Charles Corriedale was blasting a soaring and emotive trumpet solo. As he reached the crescendo, rapturous applause broke out in the Snout Restaurant and he raised the trumpet in the air triumphantly... then he heard the sound of breaking glass and a vicious Garlic and Butter Chapatti appeared on his head. 'Bless my clacky hooves, what's going on!' he shouted, as Olaf grabbed the Chapatti and hurled it to the floor.

'We're under attack, draw your weapons now!' Olaf screamed, as the Chapattis continued to pour through the broken windows behind him.

The room was a scene of chaos. Pigs, people and sheep were running around with Chapattis clinging to their faces, the smell of garlic causing many to lapse into unconsciousness. Mara and Roisin were like whirling dervishes, hovering in the air and fending off any attack with a swift kick or punch. Then, as the panicking crowd opened the main door, they were met by the hordes of the Wild Chinese hors d' Oeuvres.

Archie Backrasher was quickly felled as three Shaolin Crispy Wantons sliced at his trotters. A fourth hurled itself at his throat, cursing in Crispy Wantonese, before being cut off in mid flow by Aiden's thrusting pocket knife. 'You've saved my life, Aiden,' Archie cried with relief, as Aiden kicked away the Crispy Wantons clinging to his trotters.

A Ninja Vegetable Spring Roll flung itself straight for Archie's wife, before Aiden caught it in the air and crushed it with his hand, its carrots and mushrooms splattering on the floor. Then the Meat and Vegetable Samosas arrived, bouncing through the room at great speed. 'Get back!' screamed Grundi, as he whirled the spiked ball and chain around his head, scattering the Samosas in every direction, until one caught him squarely on the nose, stunning him momentarily.

Finally, the Peshwari Naans crashed through the front window, entering the fray with bloodcurdling screams. Cliff Corriedale quickly shielded Charles, and kicked one Naan so hard it smashed through the mirror behind the bar. Charles bravely fought off a few Naans with his trumpet, but soon got out of breath. 'My, I'm not as young as I used to be,' he puffed.

'Just stay behind me, uncle. Nothing's going to happen to you while my heart is still beating,' Cliff said.

Oldfart managed to grab one of the Peshwari Naans that was heading straight for his neck. He held it tightly in a two-handed grip as it tried to attach itself to his face. 'Oldfart, hold it out, away from your face!' Olaf cried.

With one final push of his will and his muscles, Oldfart managed to push his arms out, stretching the Naan bread wide. Then Olaf's broadsword came sweeping down and cut it into two. 'Thank you, my friend,' Oldfart said, holding the two limp pieces in each hand.

Greta and Harold held Vindy and Tikky above their heads, just out of reach from the bouncing Samosas. However, a swift slash to Harold's ankle from a Samurai Deep Fried Crab's claw saw his right leg buckle. 'Harold!' Greta shouted, as a Peshwari Naan landed on her head and began to crawl onto Tikky's plate.

'So, Queen, it would appear it is I that will get to mop you up,' the Peshwari Naan said.

'Oh, I doubt that,' Tikky replied. 'I've faced far worse than you in my time. You're too doughy to get the better of me.' And then she fired a boiling hot piece of chicken straight into its middle, causing it to scream and fall to the floor. As it tried to recover, Greta ground her foot into it.

'For my Queen!' she shouted, as bits of Naan bread burst out from beneath her shoe.

'Are you alright my dear?' Vindy cried, as he sent a Meat and Vegetable Samosa packing with a well-aimed piece of boiling beef.

'I'm fine, darling. Now do be careful, those Naan breads might be doughy but they're a determined bunch.'

Crusher and Smid fought together, leaning against each other's back. Crusher's huge trotters crushed Crispy Wantons and Meat and Vegetable Samosas indiscriminately, as Smid's axe sliced through Chapattis and Naans. Mr Kneepatcher had removed his cravat and had tied it in a knot, bravely swinging it in front of him with great speed. 'Attack my friends, would you? I'll make pie-filling out of the lot of you!' he cried, as Meat and Vegetable Samosas fled his rage.

However, it was soon becoming apparent that the numbers were too great. Holding them off for a prolonged period of time, at least indoors, was not an option. 'There's too many of them.' Agnar said, as he pounded his hammer onto a Deep Fried Crab's Claw, shattering it into pieces.

'We need to get outside,' Oldfart shouted. 'We'll have more room to move.'

'Agreed,' said Olaf, 'but the Crispy Wantons have the front door blocked, and the Naan breads are bringing up their rear.'

'We've only one chance,' said Oldfart, with a panicked look on his face.

'No, that's far too dangerous to try indoors,' Olaf screamed, as he sliced through a flying Ninja Vegetable Spring Roll.

'I don't think we have a choice,' Oldfart shouted, as he ripped a crazed Garlic and Butter Chapatti off his arm.

Olaf steadied himself and looked over at Grundi, as he battled against four Deep Fried Crab's Claws who were slashing away at his boots. 'Grundi, you're going to have to let loose your wind. I have a cigarette lighter at the ready.'

Grundi nodded solemnly and with three swift strokes and a stomp despatched the Crab's Claws to seafood heaven... or hell.

'Tell everyone to get down,' Oldfart yelled to Aiden, 'and to move away from the door as fast as they can.'

Aiden had no idea what was going to happen as he saw Grundi bend forward, with his bottom pointing at the door, but he had common sense enough to suspect that it was going to be something explosive. 'Everyone move as far away from the door as possible, now!' he yelled.

'Smid, Agnar, you'll need to cover us,' Olaf shouted, as Smid and Agnar ran over to them, hacking at anything that came within reach.

'I'm ready, Olaf, light the flame,' Grundi said, his face the image of determination. Olaf clicked the cigarette lighter switch... it wouldn't light. He tried it again, but still nothing. 'Hurry up, Olaf, the wind is coming. Once it's on its way I can't do anything to stop it!' Grundi cried.

At the third click, the lighter finally ignited and Olaf quickly moved the flame in position in front of Grundi's bottom. 'Aim true, my friend,' he said, covering his eyes.

The front door was knocked outwards off its hinges as the intense jet of flame hit it, with the conflagration blasting through everything in its path. The smell of burnt Chinese Food and charred Naan bread lay heavy in the smoky air and Grundi stood up to survey the damage.

'Right, everyone outside!' Olaf shouted, as pigs, sheep and people bolted through the flaming remains of the door frame, crushing their charred foes with each step.

But, the situation outside was no better. On all three sides they were completely surrounded, and Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice laughed like only a mad, despotic curry can.

'Bravo! Bravo!' he said, clapping his mini poppadoms together. 'I salute your resourcefulness. But now I also salute your death. On my command attack, my hordes, and leave none alive!'

'Er, actually can I make a suggestion,' Vindy said, just as the combined might of Wild Chinese hors d' Oeuvres, Meat and Vegetable Samosas, Garlic and Butter Chapattis and Peshwari Naans were about to start their charge.

'A suggestion? A suggestion?!' Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice screamed. 'You are in no position to make any kind of suggestion, except to suggest what should decorate your plate when your ingredients are scattered to the four winds!'

'Actually, I was going to suggest you surrender,' Vindy said.

Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice let out an insane curry cackle, and the sound of laughing in his ranks soon became an epidemic. 'Oh, my King, you surely cannot be serious. You are truly losing your mind at last. But, I will entertain you for a moment, as I have not laughed so much in a long time. So, then, give me one good reason why we should surrender?'

'Well, if you look up to the hill behind the pub, I'll give you 50,000 reasons,' Vindy said, as 50,000 curries, Naans and Chapattis marched down its slope towards The Pig's Trotters. 'And, if that's not a good enough reason,' Vindy continued, 'can I suggest that the fact you are also surrounded by 1,000 of my Elite Tandoori Naans is also something you should consider.'

The hordes of Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice nervously turned and looked at the ranks of Elite Tandoori Naans. These were not soft and doughy like the Peshwaris; these were crispy, battle-hardened Naans, their fighting skills honed by years of intense training. Anyone who knows anything knows that you don't mess with a crispy Tandoori Naan. If you do, you'll never be the same again.

Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice started to boil profusely, his carrots turning wildly and his incandescent rage causing his rice to puff and pop. 'Give it up, Brother,' Tikky said. 'There's been enough fighting this day.'

But it was too late; the curry madness had already taken him. A high-pitched scream shot through the night like a wolf with its tail on fire, and he gave the order to attack. As his hordes charged forward they were engulfed. Tandoori Naans are not known for their mercy in battle conditions and in only a few short minutes there wasn't a Shaolin Crispy Wanton that wasn't shredded, a Peshwari Naan that wasn't ripped, a Meat and Vegetable Samosa that wasn't squashed, a Samurai Deep Fried Crab's Claw that wasn't crushed, a Garlic and a Butter Chapatti that wasn't splattered, or a Ninja Vegetable Spring Roll that wasn't in pieces. Eventually, Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice found himself completely isolated, apart from his servant.

'You're going to spend a long time in the cellar for this, Brother,' said General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice, as Saffy joined him at his side.

'I will never let you take me, you fools! Do you think I've not made preparations for an event such as this? My time may have ended but there will be others, I can promise you that!'

His servant placed him on the ground and reached into his pocket, producing a large sachet of white powder. 'Everyone back away, he's got baking soda with him!' shouted Saffy, as the servant emptied the contents onto Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice.

The explosion was spectacular, but fortunately had little distance. The bubbling and crackling carrots, rice, mushrooms and onions shot skyward, before limply falling to earth. Once the smoke had cleared, Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice's plate was empty, although in need of a good wash... as was his servant.

'Has anyone received any baking soda wounds?' Vindy shouted, through the smoke, as Saffy and General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice surveyed their troops carefully.

'It looks like we're all clear, Your Majesty,' Saffy shouted.

'Well, that was a turn of events I don't think anyone was expecting,' Oldfart said. 'Are we all okay?'

'It would seem so,' Olaf replied, as the Companionship drew together around him. 'However, I sense there are others in need of some attention. Thankfully, though, their wounds appear mild. There are no casualties.'

'How did you know your troops were coming?' Mara said to Vindy.

'Oh, Saffy got word to us earlier in the day. I think we underestimated the enemy's numbers, but I knew there would only be one winner in this battle.'

And so 'The Battle of The Pig's Trotters' went down in folklore. Many years from now, young curries would sit listening in reverence to their grandparents as they told them the tales of bravery from that night, and how curries, men, sheep and pigs fought together.

Word of the Brother's demise quickly reached the ears of the Baron, who was less than pleased. 'The fool!' Blacktie shouted at Pimple, who cowered at his anger. 'He had strict instructions. He knew the plan and his idiocy has cost us dear.'

'Quite, my Lord,' Pimple agreed, standing up.

'This changes things somewhat,' the Baron continued, his anger hardly abating. 'Bring me Queen Ophelia, now.'

'Yes, my Lord,' Pimple said, and quickly ran out of the throne room.

Within a minute he returned with the Queen, her wings tied behind her back. 'I gather you've had some bad news?' she said, sardonically.

'Oh, I'm afraid it's bad news for both of us, my dear Queen. The time for hospitality is at an end,' the Baron snapped.

'Locking me up in your castle and denying me my comb is what you would consider hospitality, is it?'

'Quite frankly, yes,' he replied. 'Considering how you are going to spend the next twenty-four hours or so. Pimple, what do we have in the way of dingy cells available at the moment?'

'Well, my Lord, we have vacancies in all three types, the Standard dingy cell, the Superior dingy cell and, of course, the Luxury dingy cell.'

'Pray, remind me of each type,' the Baron asked.

'The Standard has a mattress, a toilet and is rat-free; the Superior has a wooden bed with straw, a hole in the floor and a part-time rat; whereas the Luxury has a wooden bed with no straw, a hole in the floor, a very limited supply of toilet paper and two full-time rats, one of which is particularly tetchy.'

'That sounds ideal.' the Baron said.

'You wouldn't dare!' Ophelia yelled.

'Oh, I think I would,' he said, with a smile. 'Pimple, please escort Her Majesty to the Luxury dingy cell.'

'Of course, my Lord,' Pimple said, leading the struggling Queen away.

'Oh, and Pimple,'

'Yes, my Lord,'

'Get word to Taffy Tuffy. Tell him to set sail immediately.'

#  Chapter 30 – It seems our cover is blown

'They're gone,' a startled Oriana said, rushing back into the bedroom. It was 7:30 am.

'Are you sure?' Theo asked.

'Yes, Mildred on reception told me they left before dawn.'

'I smell a rat, here,' Cracky said. 'I don't know how exactly, but it would seem they either suspected something, or someone tipped them off. They'll be halfway to Chester now.'

'We'd better get moving straight away. I suggest we get breakfast to go,' Theo said.

'Hang on,' Half-blind Ron said, with concern, 'breakfast to go' where? I want me breakfast in me bloody tummy.'

'He means to take with us as we travel,' Humphrey said, 'You can put it in your tummy as you walk.'

'Oh, well that's alright then. I reckon we'll be fightin' afterwards and I'll need to be stocked up good and proper so I'll be at me best.'

They hurriedly gathered their belongings and made their way down the stairs, only to see their path blocked by Mildred and Agnes. The two women cackled loudly and were now dressed in black. Worryingly they were carrying broomsticks, even though there was a vacuum cleaner in the corner.

'Now, then, where are we off to so fast, my pretties?' Mildred said, with an evil, toothy grin. 'Best that you stay a while longer with us... and have breakfast, of course.'

'Er, we'd love to,' Cracky said, 'but I'm afraid we're likely to be late for the market in Chester if we do, and that really wouldn't be good.'

'Plib colliwobble wingy, glicky dongle, Oriana pub Millin Cackywacky' said a cackling Agnes.

'Oh, I don't think you'll be making it to the market today,' said Mildred. 'As Agnes just said, it's in our interests and the interests of our friends that you stay put for a bit. I'm sure you understand... Oriana Oftsheared and Merlin Crackfoot, and, I believe, Prince Theo of Corwen, too!'

'Okay,' Cracky said. 'It seems our cover is blown, but I'm afraid if you won't let us leave of our own volition then we'll have to force our way out. I am happy to pay for the room, of course.'

'Why, thank you, Merlin Crackfoot. We appreciate your custom, but I'm afraid that the Three Witches of Ruthin are not to be tangled with. You are going nowhere,' Mildred said, pointing her broom menacingly in Cracky's face.

'Fillip booglie plumpy bot,' Agnes agreed.

'May I point out a slight numerical discrepancy at this juncture,' Humphrey said. 'There appears to be only two of you.'

'Ah, a talking dog that can count. Have you ever seen the like, Agnes?'

'Numpty,' said Agnes.

'Our sister Gertrude is away on business, not that it's any concern of yours. She is raising valuable funds in Llandudno by utilising her gifts of precognition to pass on important messages of future events to the rich and powerful... or anyone with a spare £1.'

'You mean she's fortune telling on Llandudno pier?' Cracky said.

'Er, we prefer to call it Precognitive Services, but yes, she is.'

'However,' Mildred continued, 'we do not need our sister here to deal with the likes of you. It is widely known that you have no real penchant for magic, Crackfoot, so unless a member of your group happens to speak Ancient Welsh Witchenese, you will be powerless against our spells.'

'Actually, I speak Ancient Welsh Witchenese,' Humphrey said.

'Nonsense,' Mildred scoffed, as she cast a worried glance towards Agnes.

'Nobblybits,' Agnes agreed.

'How can a mere dog have learned a language that hasn't been openly taught for nearly 1,000 years, and whose words and meanings are kept a closely-guarded secret by the enlightened few? Those who speak it are sworn to secrecy upon pain of damnation to the Black Place of Our Souls for all eternity. How could you possibly have acquired knowledge such as this; from the back of a tin of dog food?'

'Actually, I read the book that was in our room last night,' Humphrey said.

'Book, what book?' Mildred said, as both she and Agnes stopped cackling abruptly.

'It was called "Teach Yourself Ancient Welsh Witchenese". I found it very enlightening.'

Mildred's face started to change colour; slowly at first, starting with a subtle pink shade, before developing into full-blown scarlet. 'Agnes, what have I told you about leaving your things lying around! You see, this is what happens when you don't tidy up after yourself, you silly, old crone!'

'Viddly Sozzled', apologised Agnes.

'Anyway,' Mildred continued, pointing a bony finger at Humphrey, 'there's no way you'll be able to remember all the incantations and spells after one read. Well, not unless you've got a photographic memory.'

'Actually, I have,' Humphrey said.

'Oh, dear,' said Mildred, moving back towards the reception desk.

'Bolloxicity,' Agnes agreed.

The two witches held their broomsticks at arm's length, pointing directly at Humphrey. 'Let's see what you've got, then,' Mildred hissed.

'I suspect the rest of you should get behind me,' Humphrey said. 'This could get a trifle messy.'

Mildred and Agnes started to twirl their broomsticks in a clockwise motion, their eyes turned upwards as they entered a trance. Then they began to speak in unison. 'Icky wicky, doggfluff, button flappy wappy. Inflamus waggy bum, benotahappychappy!'

They brought their broomsticks together and a ball of fire about six-inches wide appeared in the air. It rotated wildly for a few seconds and then headed straight for Humphrey's tail. However, with dazzling speed, Humphrey raised his paw in the air and said 'Creatchen cooly pooly!' From out of nowhere, a torrent of water cascaded over the fireball sending it crashing to the floor, leaving nothing but a steaming pebble.

Chagrin made a guest appearance on the faces of Mildred and Agnes. They were not used to being thwarted at their own game, not least by an English Cocker Spaniel with an in-depth knowledge of Ancient Welsh Witchenese. 'We must combine our strength more,' Mildred whispered to Agnes. 'We must let loose the Squattybum.'

'Digglypoos,' Agnes said, looking very concerned.

'Yes, I know it's dangerous, but desperate times call for desperate measures.'

And with that, Mildred started the incantation, as both she and Agnes raised their broomsticks. 'Booduddle miffy, clocky wockle squiffy, bendy woo, fiddledy doo, icky wicky wiffy!'

Above the broomsticks the air seemed to go black as coal, swirling intensely. A menacing howl issued from the blackness, which now had the appearance of a tunnel leading to the bowels of a dark and not very nice place.

'I know this spell,' Cracky said. 'They're calling forth the Squattybum.'

'What on earth is a Squattybum?' Oriana asked.

'It's a very dangerous and very, very smelly demon. It would appear you have unnerved them a fair bit, Humphrey.'

'So it would seem. I wonder if they've read the appendix about Squattybums,' Humphrey replied.

As the howl drew ever closer the air as filled with an awful smell. Wisps of putrid smoke began to seep out of the tunnel, tumbling to the floor and swirling like a mad, smelly, swirly thing. 'Concentrate!' Mildred screamed at Agnes.

Then, in a flash from within the acrid smoke, it appeared; a small black, hairy creature with three arms, four legs, three eyes, two noses and an awful lot of very sharp teeth. It jumped up and down, dripping green saliva, and unleashed a hellish scream at the Humphrey.

'As a matter of interest, have you ladies read the appendix on Squattybums?' Humphrey said.

'Appendix?' said Mildred.

'Appledicks?' echoed Agnes.

'Yes, the one that contains the counter-spell.'

'Counter-spell?'

'Cummyrummy-splot?

The Squattybum was poised and ready to pounce. It was waving its arms around rabidly, spitting awful-smelling sputum in every direction. 'Here, let me enlighten you,' Humphrey said, wagging his tail. 'Turny-wurney, Squattybum, pointy-wointy tickletum. Stinkygone smelloposies, nibbly-wibbly wiffy toesy-woesies!'

'No!' Mildred screamed.

'Numpty!' screamed Agnes.

The Squattybum stood stock still, as if someone had given it a really good slapping for being so smelly and rude. Then it started to gnash its teeth together involuntarily, whimpering as it did so. Its horrid smell vanished and was replaced by the tender fragrance of flowers, which really seemed to upset it. And then it started to sniff; one nose after the other, its eyes looking this way and that, as if it were trying to detect the direction of the smell that seemed to be for its nostrils only. The source of the smell was coming from Mildred and Agnes.

It dived on Mildred's feet first, nibbling wildly at her toes before jumping towards Agnes to provide an equal dose of wild nibbling. As both witches screamed and ran around the room in a vain attempt to escape, Humphrey calmly turned to Cracky. 'We should perhaps go now. I suspect our would-be kidnappers will be indisposed for several hours.'

Cracky looked at him and smiled. 'I think your friend Aiden would be very impressed, Master Humphrey.'

'Thank you.'

'Well, I hates to say it, but you're not bad for a dog,' Half-blind Ron said, as they made their way back to the main road. 'Mind you, I'll still scratch your bloody eyes out if you try and nick me breakfast, whenever that's going to be.'

When they reached the main road there was a signpost with an arrow pointing right that read 'Ruthin 2 miles'.

'Can I suggest we walk into town and get a taxi,' Cracky said. 'Hob and Nob will be virtually in Chester by now, so I think our only option is to discard any pretence of being incognito and simply head straight for the palace.'

'But how on earth will we get in?' said Captain Marmaduke. 'Once Blacktie finds out we're trailing them, there'll be guards at every entrance.'

'Well, we could have the advantage of surprise. Hob and Nob may assume that the witches have dealt with us. And we may have some assistance when we get there,' Cracky said, cryptically. 'Let's just hope fortune, and the gods, are on our side.'

#  Chapter 31 – Prepare to be boarded

'Are you sure there's enough room in there?' Aiden said to Archie, as he and some volunteers packed a large bin with the remains of Brother Vegetable Jalfrezi-Basmathi Rice's forces.

'Oh, this lot won't be here long,' Archie replied. 'As soon as the rats get a sniff these bins will be empty quicker than you can say crispy pork bellies.'

The Companionship still felt weary after the exertions of the previous evening. Sleep didn't come easy to most, perhaps due to the adrenalin rush provided by the battle, but also perhaps because of the realisation that their journey may hold further perils. Thankfully the sun was out and the River Dee flowed peacefully by, unaware of the scene of chaos and destruction that took place on its banks only a few hours earlier.

'How long to Chester from here?' Grundi asked Oldfart, as they loaded their travelling bags into Ethel.

'Oh, I'd say about another two hours, no more than that. Assuming we don't get any interruptions.'

'It would seem that Blacktie means to stop us from entering the tournament,' Olaf said, as he sharpened his sword on a nearby rock. 'I think it's a real possibility there'll be other "interruptions" ahead.'

'Of that I have little doubt, my friend,' Smid said. 'Assuming that we make it down the river intact, there's also the small job of getting into the city.'

'Let's just cross one bridge at a time for now,' Oldfart advised. 'I'll just be praying to the gods that our path is clear.'

'Well I say, bring them on,' Agnar said, brandishing his hammer. 'If it's a fight Blacktie wants, then by Odin's bristling beard and farty backside let's give it to him.'

Charles was sitting on a small bench outside the pub, checking his trumpet for damage. Cliff was sat next to him, his body language portraying his protectiveness towards the old sheep. The events of last night had made him realise that although his uncle's spirit was still strong, he was indeed getting on in years, and Cliff's concern was palpable in his face.

'Did you too get any sleep?' Mr Kneepatcher asked, emerging from the pub with a glass of wine in his hand.

'Oh, I was far too excited for sleep... well at least for the first five minutes of lying down and then I slept like a log,' Charles said.

'Not so much, really,' said Cliff. 'I might try and get a quick sheep-nap when we're sailing.'

The rest of the Companionship had started to get all their belongings together in readiness to set sail. Although last night's experiences were still the main topic of conversation, what was going to happen next was also being hotly discussed. 'So, the troops are to advance on Chester this evening?' Mara asked Vindy, as she and Roisin accompanied the King and Queen to the quayside, along with the equally fatigued Harold and Greta.

'They are, but we need our arrival at the city gates to be as incident-free as possible. So it makes eminent sense for Saffy and General Beef Madras-Wholegrain Rice to take up positions close enough to the city to launch an attack, yet remain out of sight until such time as they are needed. Although I'm really hoping it doesn't come to that.'

'Have you asked Saffy to get word to our Russian friends?' Tikky enquired.

'I believe he contacted the Stroganoffs as soon as we left,' Vindy said. 'They've been completely briefed and have said they will give us whatever support we need. Tsar Beef Stroganoff-Sour Cream has no love for Blacktie, particularly after he made them reduce the size of their portions in restaurants and drop their prices. That was a bad move on the Baron's part; you really don't want to go upsetting the Russians.'

As Ethel was readied to sail, a small contingent of pigs stood by to wish them farewell. 'I really hope that last night's fracas hasn't put you off returning to my fine establishment,' Archie said.

'I can honestly say that when this is all over we will come back and complete the acoustic set,' Oldfart said. 'And we really should pay towards some of the damage... particularly the damage caused by Grundi's wind.'

'Nonsense!' Archie exclaimed. 'I reckon if he hadn't taken that course of action we'd have all have been goners.'

Smid and Crusher embraced warmly, and their heartening reunion had provided an emotional uplift for everyone. 'Are you sure you don't want me to come with you, Daddy Smid?'

'I'm sorry, Crusher. As much as I would be proud to have you at my side, I feel the next stage of our trip is one the Companionship must make alone. But try not to worry too much; we'll be back soon, Odin willing.'

As Ethel moved gracefully down the river and around a bend, the waving pigs disappeared from sight. Grundi had decided to take it upon himself to remain on lookout at the prow, his spiked ball and chain at his side. 'You know, where I'm from I've had a few hairy nights mixing with bands, but I can safely say that last night was on a different level,' Aiden said,

Grundi smiled and slapped Aiden's back. 'Well, it was a little unusual for us as well. We've had a couple of situations in the past, don't get me wrong. I remember one gig we played in Wrexham when we were called in as a last minute replacement for an English Folk band, at the local old people's home.'

'That must have been an interesting audience.'

'Interesting isn't a word I'd use. Vicious is more like it. They started to pelt us with vegetables as soon as we started playing. Poor old Agnar got hit with a rotten tomato, right on his nose. It just exploded all over his face. Smid had lettuce leaves between the strings and frets of his bass guitar, Olaf got a piece of broccoli in the eye, and I had a nasty altercation with a particularly large turnip. If I hadn't been holding my guitar in the right place it could have been very painful, and could have also severely affected my chances of becoming a father in the future, if you get my meaning.'

'But you managed to escape relatively unscathed?' Aiden said, smiling.

'Only when we promised that we'd stop playing!' I don't think we've ever stripped down the equipment so fast. They even chased after us on Zimmer frames as we were leaving. And don't be fooled, they can't half move those things when they've got a mind. I had this one old lady trying to stab me in the bottom with a carrot. She really seemed to be enjoying it!'

They laughed heartily together, which provided an immediate antidote for the ever-encroaching tension. 'Mind you, it's one thing having food thrown at you, but it's another thing entirely when it's trying to kill you,' Grundi added.

'Quite,' Aiden agreed.

In the distance the skies began to darken. White, billowy clouds were being bullied out of the way by grey, lumbering monsters. Flashes illuminated the sky near the horizon, and the ground was occasionally strafed by jagged forks of lightning. 'It looks like we're headed straight into that storm,' Aiden said to Grundi.

'Yes, I would say we'll hit it in about half an hour. We'd better make sure all the equipment is safely under cover.'

Olaf came and joined them on the prow. 'We're headed straight for that storm,' Aiden said to him.

'I think we're headed into more than one storm,' Olaf observed, as he squinted into the distance. 'There's a boat up ahead.'

Aiden tried to focus at the distant object in the ever-darkening light. He could just about make out the shape of a large craft, with what appeared to be black sails hanging off its tall masts. 'Any idea what kind of boat that is?' he asked Olaf.

'Difficult to tell at this range,' Olaf replied. 'I'll fetch the spyglass.'

Olaf rummaged through one of the Hessian sacks below deck and came back with a small, brass telescope. He put it to his right eye and pointed it in the direction of the boat ahead, adjusting the length of the tube until it was in focus. 'It looks like we're about to encounter an "interruption",' he said, calmly removing the small telescope from his eye. 'It's a pirate ship.'

'A pirate ship on the River Dee?' Oldfart said, overhearing the conversation. 'Do you mind if I have a look?'

'Be my guest,' Olaf said, handing the telescope to Oldfart.

As Oldfart peered through the spyglass, he realised that Olaf's identification was correct... and worse. 'Yes, it's a pirate ship alright, and unfortunately I recognise the flag it's flying. The only reason that vessel could have for being in these waters is that it's been sent here by Blacktie.'

Grundi gave a sharp intake of breath and Aiden pulled out his pocket knife. The rest of the Companionship had begun to congregate around Ethel's prow. 'Is there a problem?' Roisin asked

'It looks like we're about to encounter the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies,' Oldfart replied. 'And unless they've had a miraculous personality change, we're in trouble.'

'Pirates! The mood I'm in, I'll take them on by myself,' Agnar snarled, moving protectively in front of Roisin.

'Agnar's right,' said Grundi. 'We're more than a match for some run-of-the-mill scurvy sea dogs.'

'These are not "run-of-the-mill" pirates, though,' Oldfart advised. 'The Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies are the most ruthless, maniacal, soulless, merciless, violent, and smelly individuals you will ever meet. Other pirates avoid them like the plague. A competition was started on the Welsh coast a few years back, called the "Nastiest, Scariest, Most Obnoxious, Least Likely to Take Home to Meet Your Mother, Pirate Gang of the Year", and that lot have won it hands down every year.'

'I would have expected them to have some stiff competition in that neck of the woods,' Agnar observed.

'Yes, you would. In the first year they were up against Captain Bedlam and his Bad-Assed Buccaneers.'

'I've heard of them,' said Smid. 'Aren't they the bunch that don't wear shoes and sharpen their toenails?'

'Well, they were,' Oldfart replied, 'but in the final event of the 1984 competition, The Tuffies challenged them to an unarmed bare-fist fight.

'What happened?' Olaf asked.

'Well Captain Bedlam and his crew agreed and they all met at the Colwyn Bay quayside at dawn. A huge crowd had gathered to watch as Bedlam and his Buccaneers roared their battle cry, spat tobacco indiscriminately and brandished their newly-sharpened toenails.'

'It must have been quite a fight,' Aiden said.

'Not really,' Oldfart replied, with a shrug. 'The Tuffies simply shot them all. As Taffy Tuffy said to the competition judge afterwards, "I never mentioned anything about US being unarmed".'

As the pirate ship drew nearer, the sound of maniacal laughter and howling could clearly be heard. At the prow of the ship, a man with a very big hat was waving a cutlass, shouting about blood, entrails and ears being skewered. Behind him, the rest of the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies could be seen readying ropes, and firing the occasional shot.

'They're getting ready to board,' Olaf said. 'I suggest you grab whatever weapons you can, but stay behind us.'

'I promise I won't let anything happen to you, Roisin,' Agnar said, pushing her behind him... and then smiling as she grabbed his hand.

Mr Kneepatcher pushed through to the front and stood next to Olaf. 'I'm standing with you,' he said, brandishing his knotted battle cravat. 'I don't care how big their weapons are, if they get this baby between their legs they're going down.'

As the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies' ship drew closer, the roaring, swearing, growling and nose-picking increased proportionately. They were ready to board Ethel and it didn't look as if it was going to be pretty.

'Prepare to be boarded and prepare for battle!' shouted Taffy Tuffy, waving his cutlass erratically, as the pirate ship came alongside.

Then, as Aiden and Oldfart shared a silent nod, Oldfart started to laugh loudly.

'I don't know what you're laughing for, you old codger,' Taffy shouted, 'Me and the boyos here are going to make mincemeat out of you lot... and we've got some nice potatoes to go with it!'

'Ha!' Oldfart laughed again. 'I was led to believe that the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies were real men.'

'What are you babbling about farty pants?!' Taffy shouted 'We are real men... well, apart from Bethan over there,' he added, pointing to a bearded pirate in a rather fetching floral dress, 'but she's having the operation soon.'

'Then surely you know that real men no longer solve their differences in battle. Why, battle is purely for children, isn't that right, lads?' Oldfart said, urging Sacred Wind to join him in more laughter. 'I'm really surprised that men of your reputation haven't heard this news before.'

'Er, no, it's the first we've heard about it,' Taffy said, scratching his head beneath his huge, black hat.

'Please, do not think we make fun of you because of your ignorance in this matter,' Oldfart continued. 'We would never wish to cast aspersions of stupidity in your direction. For is it not said that the Tan-Y-Lan Tuffies are known as the 'thinking man's pirates'?'

'Are we?' Taffy said, raising his very bushy eyebrows and turning to his men with a questioning look, only to be met with shrugs and coughs.

'Of course you are,' Oldfart continued. 'Why, only last week I read that you are renowned for your perniciousness, unscrupulousness, and imbecility. That must have been high praise indeed.'

'Oh, well, when you put it like that, I guess that'll be right. We is indeed the 'thinking man's pirates',' Taffy said, nodding, with his gesture mimicked by the rest of his men... and Bethan.

'And, as the thinking man's pirates, I would fully expect you to wish to engage us in a contest that befits your status.'

'And what contest would this be that would will allow us to settle our differences like real men?' Taffy asked.

'Charades!' Oldfart announced, lifting his arms in the air.

Taffy Tuffy scratched under his armpits and smelled his fingers. 'Charades, eh? Well, that seems fair enough. What do you think, lads... and Bethan?' he said, turning to his crew, to be greeted by initial surprise and then nods.

'I warn you now, though,' Taffy added, 'that Taffy, Taffy, Taffy, Taffy, Aled, Taffy and Ivor here won a charades competition only recently in our local night club, The Pirate's Privates. Isn't that right, boyos?'

'Aye!' proclaimed Taffy, Taffy, Taffy, Taffy, Aled, Taffy and Ivor.'

'In which case, I would foresee this forthcoming contest as one that will go down in history and be talked about with reverence by all who hear the tale!' Oldfart shouted. 'Can I suggest we moor our ships on the left bank, as we see it, and alight to that pleasant-looking pasture?'

As both the Companionship and the Tuffies moored their ships, Olaf grabbed Oldfart by the arm. 'Have you gone completely mad, you old weasel?'

'Not at all, my friend,' he replied, with a smile. 'I believe I'm buying us some time.'

'For what?' Olaf asked.

'Something unexpected.'

#  Chapter 32 – I believe I'm feeling slightly peckish

Queen Ophelia was sat in her Luxury dingy cell and was not very happy. She'd gotten used to the rats by now, and even the tetchy one proved to be not too bad if you spoke to him nicely. The wooden bed was a tad uncomfortable, but she'd slept on worse, and the raving and singing from the cell next door at least gave her something to listen to. But, the fact that she hadn't been provided her with a comb was really beginning to get on her nerves.

She heard a noise in the corridor and fluttered up to the small, barred window in the door to take a look. It was Grunt.

'Baron ask Grunt to bring Queen to him,' Grunt said, almost apologetically.

'That's okay, Grunt. It'll be nice to get out of the cell for a while,' she said, with a smile.

In his throne room, the Baron was pacing. 'When did they say they'd be here?' he said to Pimple, who was standing attentively near the throne.

'Within the hour, my Lord,'

'And they said they've got the cheese?'

'They did, my Lord.'

The Baron danced a little jig, hopping from one foot to the next and yelping, as if the floor was very hot. 'Ah, Queen Ophelia, how are you finding your new accommodation?' he said, as Grunt brought the Queen into the throne room.

'I found the rats to be better company than that which I presently find myself in,' she said with a sneer.

'Ooh, still feisty, eh?' the Baron said. 'Well, I'm expecting a couple of old friends of yours any minute now, and I thought you'd like to be here when they arrive. By all accounts they have a present for me, and I'm a little giddy about the whole thing!'

'You'll be a lot less giddy when my Olaf arrives this evening,' the Queen said, holding her head high.

'Oh, I'm afraid it's very unlikely that Sacred Wind will be able to make our little party,' the Baron said, feigning disappointment. 'Some of my other friends should be rendezvousing with them around about now, and I strongly suspect their condition at the end of this encounter will mean they'll be unable to travel. I'm so sorry.'

'I think you perhaps underestimate them, Baron,' Ophelia said.

And then the phone in the throne room rang. 'Oh, hi, it's Stacey, Baron Blacktie. Your two guests have arrived.'

'Excellent,' said the Baron, with a hiss. 'Get one of the guards to escort them to the morning room, I'll meet them there.'

As they made their way to the morning room, Grunt held the Queen's arm, albeit gently. 'Grunt will make sure that nice Queen doesn't get hurt,' he said.

'My good friends how are you both?' the Baron beamed, as Hob and Nob entered the room.

'We are well, Baron,' Hob said, with a bow. 'Although we did have some interesting escapades, including having to elude some unwelcome followers.'

'You mean you were followed?!' the Baron exclaimed.

'Oh, they've been taken care of,' Nob said, smugly. 'We left them in the capable hands of the witches, Mildred and Agnes. I doubt very much whether they'll see the light of day again.'

'Did you know who they were?' Pimple asked.

'Well, it was Agnes that spotted them. Apparently it was Merlin Crackfoot, Oriana Oftsheared, three cats and a dog,' Hob replied.

Ophelia took an audible breath at the mention of the names.

'Are you sure they were taken care of?' the Baron quizzed.

'Well, put it this way, it would have taken a genius who was conversant in Ancient Welsh Witchenese to have got the better of those two witches, and I think that rather unlikely,' Nob said.

'Indeed,' the Baron said, with a grin. 'And now, down to business, do you have the cheese?'

'We do, and do you have our fee?' Hob said.

The Baron moved over to the safe, entered the combination and opened the steel door. He took out a large envelope and the jar of Mathonwy's Chutney. 'First my cheese,' he said, holding the envelope to his chest and placing the jar on a nearby desk.

Nob put his hand in his pocket and brought out the large lump of Ceridwen's Cheese. He walked over to the Baron and held out the cheese. The Baron held out the envelope and both men exchanged goods.

'Do you know, I believe I'm feeling slightly peckish,' the Baron said, opening the jar of chutney.

He took a small spoon from one of the desk drawers and dipped it into the jar. As he pulled out the spoon, the orange chutney glimmered and seemed to pulsate. He broke off a small piece of the green and golden cheese and carefully emptied the spoonful of chutney on top it. After only a matter of seconds, the cheese changed colour to a fiery, crimson red, glowing like a hot piece of coal. The Baron gently picked up the cheese between his middle finger and thumb. As he did the glow intensified, lighting up his face in an ethereal light. Ever so slowly he started to move the cheese and chutney towards his mouth.

'Are you ready for this, Queen Ophelia?' he said. 'For you will soon be subjugating yourself before me, as will all creatures.'

Hob and Nob moved back towards the door, Pimple retreated into a corner and Grunt moved protectively in front of the Queen. Everything appeared to have become frozen in time. The dust seemed to hang in the air waiting for the wind to move it onto better things. And a close relative of the silence we've come to know and love descended and everyone held their breath, to the supreme annoyance of the hanging dust.

The Baron's teeth were now millimetres away from gnashing down on the recipe known as 'Cheese and Chutney Surprise'. Grunt covered Queen Ophelia's eyes and Pimple's knees began knocking together.

'Actually, I'm going to save this for later on,' the Baron said, putting the cheese and chutney in a small box on the table. 'It can be the finale of the Cestrian Music Tournament... and what a finale!'

***

The road into Ruthin town centre was thankfully quiet and free of witches. It was no more than two miles' walk and the group were making good progress, even bearing in mind Half-blind Ron's protestations about not having breakfast yet. 'Look, we'll grab some chicken as soon as we get into town,' Theo said to him. 'We're all hungry, Ron.'

'Well we better. I can't be fighting and scratching on an empty tummy.'

The tranquil surroundings and the pleasant chirruping of birds provided some welcome peace of mind, and Theo knew that whatever lay ahead for the rest of the day was unlikely to offer similar opportunities for reflection. Cracky obviously had a plan as to how they were going to enter the palace, although finding the Queen whilst eluding the guards was going to be another matter entirely. Humphrey had said that the best ideas just appear in one's head, as if magically deposited by some unseen guiding force, and Theo hoped that Humphrey's undoubted genius was going to be correct. For all Half-blind Ron's bravado about scratching and fighting, the six of them were not likely to be able to battle their way to Ophelia, rescue her and then battle their way out. No, this operation would be won with brains more than brawn, although Theo felt that it may end up being a mixture of both.

As Humphrey chatted happily with Half-blind Ron and Captain Marmaduke explained cat military tactics to Oriana, Theo remembered the conversation that had taken place between Blacktie and Cracky, outside of the Diner. Although Cracky was reluctant to talk about it then, Theo decided he would bring the subject up when the time felt right.

'Cracky, I've been meaning to ask you about the little verbal spat you had with Blacktie. You said it was a story for another time; is now perhaps that time?'

Cracky sighed and rubbed his long beard, before smiling. 'Ah, yes, I was wondering when you'd get around to asking me about that. Believe it or not, we met at school.'

'School?' Theo said, with astonishment.

'Yes, it was just before my father passed away,' Cracky continued. 'Blacktie's parents were keen that he should receive some "normal" education, so they paid for him to attend one class a week at my school. That class just happened to be History, and it just so happened to be one of the subjects I was taking. We were both sixteen at the time.'

'What was he like?' Theo asked.

'He was as arrogant and unpleasant as he is now, and he was a bully.'

'Did he bully you, then?'

'No, I was one of the taller boys; he'd always look to prey on the weak and vulnerable, so not much has changed there. Given his wealth and influence, he quickly amassed a gang of boys eager to be seen in his company. He was a typical coward, really. Physical combat wasn't his thing, so he always made sure he had a couple of chaps with him for protection. One particular day, he made the mistake of picking on one of my friends as I happened to be passing by. It was a boy called Phil Twizzlewizzle, whose father owned a sweet shop. Unbeknown to me, Blacktie and two of his henchmen had been getting poor Phil to steal sweets from his father's shop for them.'

'What did you do?'

'Well, they had him pinned up against a wall so I intervened, shall we say,' Cracky said.

'What do you mean, "intervened"?'

'Er, you have to understand I was going through some strange days back then. I was growing up fast and, ahem, odd things used to happen when I was around. I've not used magic for a long time now, mainly because I'm not very good at it, but when I was younger things would just happen. I really didn't have any control at all.'

'Go on,' Theo said.

'Well, I was very angry and wanted to turn the two ruffians with Blacktie into toads, only temporarily of course, just to teach them a lesson. The problem was that I was at that age when I used to spend a lot of time thinking about girls, if you know what I mean. So let's just say things didn't quite go to plan.'

'What did you turn them into, then?'

'I didn't turn them into anything, but they both ended up with a lovely pair of breasts.'

Theo chortled in his mind at the image. 'That's wonderful, Cracky. What did they do?'

'Oh, they ran off in terror... although I was told that after a week or so they got quite fond of them!'

'A week! How long did they stay like that for?'

'I think it was about two months in the end, I really can't recall.' Cracky said, laughing.

'So what magic did you use on Blacktie?'

'I didn't. I simply gave him a bloody nose. The snivelling little weasel cried all the way home, and he never bothered Phil again. However, he did swear he'd get his revenge... and he did, unfortunately.'

Cracky's eyes became distant, with past memories making a painful return to his mind, and Theo could sense his discomfort. 'Look, you don't have to tell me the rest if you do not wish to.'

'No, it will probably do me good to talk about it,' Cracky replied.

He composed himself and took a deep breath before continuing. 'It was the day of my father's funeral. I was distraught, but I was equally concerned for my mother, so I was trying to put on a brave face. The procession went through the entire town and the turnout of people was quite extraordinary. He was a very popular and much loved man. Anyway, as the procession reached the church on the outskirts of town, I caught sight of Blacktie and about four or five other boys. They were waiting by the church gates and I just had a feeling they were up to no good. As we got nearer, Blacktie shouted "now" and we were pelted with water bombs.'

'That's awful,' Theo said.

'Indeed. But the worst was that one hit my mother square in the face. Well, I just lost it at that point.'

'I can imagine.'

'So, I flew towards them and they scattered, but I was only interested in getting hold of Blacktie, and let's just say he wasn't the fastest. I caught up with him at the side of the church and pushed him against the wall. He was smiling. So, I looked at him and began to gather my will. The more he looked into my eyes, the less he smiled. I was about to destroy him utterly, and I knew I could have done it. I saw his smiling eyes descend into fear. He became just a scared little boy who knew he'd done something very bad and was about to get punished... more than punished. Anyway, that's when I felt the blow to the back of my head. His friends had come to his aid and ambushed me. I received several kicks and punches before they all ran off again, laughing... except for Blacktie. He looked back once, but he didn't join in the laughter.'

The two walked silently for the next minute or so, Cracky lost in his thoughts and Theo coming to terms with the story. Eventually the Prince broke the silence.

'So did you ever meet him again?'

'Only once; but by that time he was already a Baron and had a vast entourage of people with him. It was many years after the event, at a fair in Mold. Not surprisingly, he never returned to my school.'

'Did he speak to you?'

'Oh, yes. He asked how I was, but he never mentioned my mother. He was full of himself again by this time and he knew I was powerless to enact any kind of revenge. Back then, though, I think I'd have settled for a simple apology, but I don't believe it ever crossed his mind. Now it's gone beyond that.'

'So even if he apologised now, you wouldn't accept it?'

'Oh, I'd accept it alright... and then I'd set fire to his testicles.'

'Look,' Captain Marmaduke said, suddenly. 'There's a taxi coming towards us.'

#  Sacred Wind: Book 3 - Preview

* You'll cheer on the Companionship in their game of charades

* You'll actually be very glad to see Traffic Wardens

* You'll feel sad as a hero passes from this world to the next

* You'll cheer as the Companionship enter Chester, but cry at a noble sacrifice

* Baron Blacktie will really start to get on your nerves

* You'll want to singalong at the Cestrian Music Tournament

* You'll be on the edge of your seats as the battle begins

* You'll fall in love with a Troll

* You'll gnash your teeth at the Knights of Flatulence

* And you'll witness the stunning conclusion to our story...

All this and more awaits you in... Sacred Wind: Book 3.
Thank you for reading my book. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment to leave me a review at your favorite retailer?

May Odin bless your wind!

Andy Coffey

# About the Author – by Oldfart Olafson

Andy Coffey has been called many things; short, bald, barking mad, cute, a creative genius (... actually, I think he calls himself that). But, it is true to say that without Andy, Sacred Wind may never have made it into your particular reality. And we thank him for that.

After a brief foray into music journalism, and an attempt at rock superstardom in the late eighties, Andy eventually carved out a successful career in something called 'IT' for the best part of twenty years, attaining a Senior Management position in a company dealing with software production and IT service management. He tells me that he was a bit of a guru, by all accounts.

However, the music bug never really left him, and in fact he recorded two albums with his band, 'The Quest', in the nineties (he tells me that the second one was really good). Oh, he plays drums, and apparently his drum kit is nearly as big as Agnar's.

He also developed an interest in music technology and composition. This initially caused him some confusion as he had to learn to play keyboards, discovering that hitting them with drumsticks didn't really achieve the desired results... and was more expensive.

We first managed to cross the dimensional barrier to communicate with Andy about Sacred Wind in late 2010 (your time). Having voices in his head was a bit of a shock for him at first, but he soon got used to it. So, after working with him closely for over two years, he's now produced the Sacred Wind books and debut album, for reading and listening pleasure in your reality.

He lives with his partner, Jo, and their cat (Theo) in a little town called Frodsham, in the UK. Apparently they can fart whenever and wherever they like. He has a son, Adam; a step-daughter, Zoë, and a step-son, Johnny.

He's a good lad but he needs a bigger weapon... (that pocket knife will never do).

Yours fartily,

Oldfart Olafson (Manager - Sacred Wind)

#  Other books by Andy Coffey

Sacred Wind: Book 1

Sacred Wind: Book 3

Sacred Wind: The Complete Trilogy

Sacred Wind: The Appendices

Sacred Wind: Songbook

Sacred Wind – The Album

Possibly the finest debut album by a Welsh Viking Flatulence Rock band from an alternative reality... Available at all good download stores!

www.sacredwind.co.uk

# Contact Sacred Wind

Web: <http://www.sacredwind.co.uk/>

Email: sacred.wind@aol.com

Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sacred-Wind/136135083263791>

Twitter: <https://twitter.com/SacredWindBand>

Soundcloud: <https://soundcloud/sacredwind>

