‘I … suppose I could think of worse ways to go,’ I said.
‘I could definitely think of worse ways to go,’ agreed Wilson thoughtfully. ‘Knowing Hotax they would have stripped the car for any tradable spares, too. Look.’
He lifted the bonnet to reveal an empty engine bay.
We stood for a moment, musing upon the Hotax’s odd mix of utter savagery, skilled artistry and business sense in the car spares industry, when the roar of an engine punctuated the silence.
It was the half-track. We both turned, and whoever was driving clunked the vehicle swiftly into gear and it lurched off.
‘Hey!’ I yelled, and ran after it. As it drove away, the driver turned to see how close I was, and I recognised him immediately – Curtis. The half-track was not fast, but Curtis had a head start; I couldn’t catch him.
‘Tell me you didn’t leave the keys in the ignition,’ I said to Wilson as he joined me.
‘Whoops,’ he said, ‘sorry.’
‘Ook,’ said Ralph.
‘This is bad,’ I said, looking around at the empty moorland and wondering what horrors lay hidden just out of sight, ‘really bad,’
‘He’s probably doing it as a stupid joke,’ said Wilson without much conviction. ‘He’ll be back soon.’
‘He’s gone for good,’ I said, realising what was happening, ‘on a journey to the Leviathans’ Graveyard.’
‘Why?’
‘Because he thinks Leviathans’ teeth are key to the magic industry and wants them all for himself, I imagine.’
‘Are they?’
‘Not at all. But,’ I added, ‘it doesn’t explain why he didn’t dump my handmaiden by the side of the road.’
‘I have a theory about that,’ said Wilson. ‘The Cambrian Empire has suffered a servant shortage for the past three decades, and it’s not just handmaidens. Footmen, cooks, pastry chefs and even bootboys are in short supply. He probably wants to sell her in Llangurig and I dare say he’d get a good price.’
‘He’d best be careful,’ I said. ‘Laura was trained in the art of silent assassination.’
‘That might be a relief,’ said Wilson, ‘but if she kills him, can she drive a half-track?’
‘Almost certainly not,’ I said, reasoning that Curtis – who was strong – would not need much effort to overpower the Princess while she was in Laura’s smaller and weaker body.
I sat down on a boulder by the side of the road and rubbed my face with my hands.
‘This trip is getting worse and worse.’
‘We might be able to buy her back,’ added Wilson thoughtfully, ‘unless she’s good at ironing – a well-ironed shirt out here is as valuable as gold.’
‘I’ve got a feeling the Prin— I mean, Laura’s not that good at ironing,’ I said, guessing that she’d not be able to identify an iron in a line-up of fruit. ‘How far is it to Llangurig?’
‘By road, about thirty miles,’ replied Wilson, ‘half that if we cut across country. But one thing’s for certain—’
‘We don’t want to spend a night in the open.’
‘Right.’
I walked to the other side of the road, picked up a stone and chucked it as far into the Empty Quarter as I could in a pointless display of anger and frustration.
I had entrusted the care of the expedition to a twelve-year-old who had lost Perkins to a group of bandits and then failed to rescue him, leaving Perkins at the mercy of Emperor Tharv and a possible – no, probable relaunch of his Thermowizidrical Device project. I had lost the Princess entrusted to my care and then woefully underestimated Curtis’ greed, and given him a reason to abandon us to our deaths in the middle of the Empty Quarter, the most dangerous place in the Cambrian Empire, which is, in turn, the most dangerous place in the unUnited Kingdoms.
Terrific.
I think Ralph and Wilson sensed my anger and frustration, for they held back on the other side of the road for five minutes, then walked over to join me.
‘Well now,’ said Wilson, who seemed to have an overwhelming capacity for optimism in the face of unrelenting failure, ‘I expect a lift may be along soon.’
‘Between when we stopped last night and right now,’ I asked, ‘how many vehicles have passed us?’
‘Well, none,’ said Wilson, ‘but that’s not to say they won’t. And although the Empty Quarter is the most dangerous place to be, we’re not actually in the most dangerous place in it. Or at least, not quite. And we should count our blessings that we’re still alive.’
‘Whoop-de-doo,’ I replied sarcastically, staring at the ground, ‘happy days.’
‘Dan-jer!’ said Ralph in a sharp, urgent tone. I looked around but could not see where the danger lay. But Wilson could.
‘Don’t move,’ he whispered.
‘Hotax?’
‘Sadly, no. Something much worse. Remember a second ago when I said we should count our blessings that we’re still alive?’
‘I remember that, yes.’
‘I … I might have spoken too soon.’
A brush with death
I stared in the direction in which Ralph and Wilson were staring, but could see nothing. The Empty Quarter was living up to the ‘empty’ part of its name surprisingly well.
‘I can’t see anything,’ I whispered.
‘Moribundus carnivorum,’ said Wilson in a low voice, ‘moving in from the north-west.’
‘Mori … what?’ I whispered back.
‘Moribundus carnivorum. A Lifesucker. It is nourished not by the energy and proteins, fats and starches within life forms, but the very essence of life itself.’
I looked again. There was nothing visible in the direction Wilson was pointing except a rabbit, nibbling the grass about thirty feet away, and steadfastly ignoring us.
‘You mean the rabbit?’
‘The rabbit? No, of course not the rabbit. I mean behind the rabbit.’
‘I can’t see anything behind the rabbit. Except …’
My voice trailed off as I saw the Lifesucker. Or at least, I didn’t actually see it, but the effect it had on the grass as it slowly crept up on the rabbit. Where all around us the grass was bright and green and lush, there was a trail of brown and withered grass advancing slowly towards the rabbit like a gravy stain on a tablecloth. The brown stain of death was no more than six inches wide, and as the rabbit stopped nibbling and looked around cautiously, the encroaching area of dead grass stopped and waited.
‘I see it now,’ I whispered, ‘it’s stalking the rabbit.’
‘It usually takes bigger prey than that,’ Wilson whispered back. ‘Must be hungry – it will take one of us if it picks up on our scent.’
‘We can outrun it, surely?’
‘Outrun death?’ said Wilson, eyebrows raised. ‘I think not.’
I turned my attention back to the approaching patch of dead grass behind the rabbit. When the Lifesucker was about a foot away from the unwitting creature, it pounced. The rabbit didn’t know what was happening at first. It seemed shocked and made to run, but then faltered, convulsed for a moment, tipped on its side and twitched a few times before lying still.
‘Sh-ook,’ said Ralph, who, like us, was staring intently at the now-dead rabbit. The Lifesucker didn’t only steal life, though, it seemed to strip away many of life’s associated functions: warmth, moisture and beauty. In less than a minute the rabbit had aged and withered until it was nothing more than patchy fur stretched tautly across a dry skeleton.