From the author

Hello everyone and thanks for reading!

So we are at the end of Part One. Just to remind you if you would like to send any ideas, photos or pictures that you think might fit with the story so far or drawings of the characters, maybe even short stories of what the characters are doing when we don't see them, you are more than welcome, we may include your contributions on the site and possibly in a published book at the end of the project.

I will take a short break before beginning with Part 2 of the story and will be starting the next step of the journey at the beginning of June. Look forward to seeing you then!

Jill.

End of Part One

George, who had just witnessed the two helpless Boffwunglers evaporate into thin air, figured that she must do something quick before the same fate befell herself. Tolita had her eyes closed and a strange look of intense concentration on her face. The Trungler creature was still staring at her but she knew she must take the chance. She bent down and began to wriggle her feet out of her socks. She promptly succeeded in the task and before long her bare feet came into contact with the ground. She looked pleadingly at the Trungler, who simply continued to gawp at her. He then did something very odd indeed. He pointed away to her right and then winked at her with one of his three eyes. She felt as if he was giving her a chance to escape, she didn’t know why and she wasn’t going to wait to find out. She took one last look at Tolita who was swaying from side to side, hypnotised by her previous spell, before heading into a cluster of bushes to her right, leaving behind nothing but a pair of her favourite socks.

**********

The dust rose like steam from a boiling kettle as five heavy feet shuffled along the sandy path. The afternoon was coming to an end and the light was gradually beginning to fade. In the distance, a cluster of caves were coming into view. The village of Gitwit. Boffwungler territory.

‘Faster!’ ordered Tolita as they approached the final bend.

George was running as fast as her legs would carry her. She was heading for the clearing which she remembered from her journey earlier that day. Unfortunately, she was so busy pinching her arm, slapping her own face and telling herself that if this was a dream, now would be a good time to wake up, that she failed to notice another party travelling towards her in the opposite direction. She raised her head just in time to see a petrified look occupy Umpwiffle’s face before she crashed headlong into him.

George felt slightly concussed. Her first instinct was to glance behind to see if she had been followed. As she had guessed, the two frantic Boffwunglers were bounding towards her at full speed. She felt furious that they had dared to come after her and was about to shout and tell them so when they stopped dead in their tracks. Panic surged through her whole body as she became aware that the two of them were staring at her, their faces masked in horror. Correction, they were staring at something directly behind her.

George sluggishly turned her head. To her left, collapsed in a heap on the ground, was an unusually large creature whose build seemed out of all proportion. It appeared dazed and confused. George, of course, was unaware that Trunglers always looked like that. However, she was all too aware that this thing was three times bigger than herself and did not want to rely on the hope that it was vegetarian. Perhaps it eats Boffwunglers, she thought, that’s why Ponkle and Sigworth are afraid of it. She lifted herself up off the ground and dusted herself off. Her leg ached from the collision.

The creature let out a mighty groan and began to sit, rubbing its head. To George’s amazement, the creature pulled a third leg out from under him and tried to haul himself up. Then another leg appeared, then another. Trungler! she remembered from her discussion with Ponkle. George tested her foot, hoping above all else that she hadn’t twisted an ankle. Then in one swift move she kicked a spray of dust and sand into the surprised animal’s face. As it stumbled backwards rubbing its eyes. George made her getaway, constantly looking behind her to see if the monstrous creature was pursuing her. She didn’t get far. Something stepped out infront of her, blocking her way. George halted and her mouth dropped open. The woman, who had been thrown into a bush by the collision and had used the ensuing period of time to come to terms with the girl’s presence, stood smiling down at her.

Yet the smile brought little reassurance - non infact.

George thought that calmness would be the best option and screamed. She then decided to leg it.

‘Master of Darkness, look what I’ve found...Make this child’s feet one with the ground!’ boomed Tolita, almost deafening anyone within a twenty mile radius.

George’s feet ground to a sudden halt, sending the rest of her body flying forwards, as if a ten ton weight had just been tied to both of her ankles. Not the most comfortable thing in the world.

She recovered her balance and tried to turn the top half of her body, to get Ponkle and Sigworth’s attention. They were both avoiding her gaze. She waived her arms at them in despair, shouting their names over and over until her throat was sore. Then a vivid image popped into her troubled head. Wumple Boffwungler’s exotic dance of the Twing-Twops. She scowled then tried with all her might to move her feet. They would not budge. She began to sweat with fear.

‘I don’t believe we have been introduced,’ said Tolita, coldly.

George urgently looked again to Ponkle for assistance and got none. She also noticed that the giant-like Trungler had now recovered from her little attack and was glaring at her in wonder.

‘What is your name, child?’

‘G-Georgina Hartwell,’ mumbled George, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

‘I don’t think I need ask how you come to be here,’ she bellowed. ‘I believe this sort of behaviour is against our rules?’

George felt the heat lessen as Tolita’s attention miraculously shifted elsewhere.

Ponkle gasped as his eyes suddenly became a lot closer to the dusty path beneath him.

‘Punishment is severe for those that disobey me, Boffwungler.’ She paused for effect. It worked. ‘Oh and you,’ she said, mentally pointing at Sigworth, ‘you can join him!’

‘B-but...b-b-but..w-what h-have I d-d-done?’ he begged, having been the brunt of the Judgess’ anger only once before and the dramatic memories of that were enough to last him for the rest of his life.

‘Since when did that matter?’ she replied and with a click of the fingers, both miserable creatures vanished into the cold air.

Then this happened....

As Sigworth began to come round, he could have sworn that he had seen the most frightening thing, towering over him. The dose must have been wrong. It was not supposed to cause hallucinations.

Ponkle’s voice echoed somewhere in the passages of his brain.

‘Sigworth! Sigworth!’

Ponkle sighed with relief as Sigworth’s large eyes blinked and attempted to focus on him.

‘P-P-Ponkle? Is t-that you?

‘Of course it’s me!’

‘Oh..t-thats good. Was I s-sn-snoring? It’s not r-right you know, for a moment, I th-th-thought I was seeing t-things. T-there w-was an ugly looking c-creature...’

‘I suppose you mean me?’ said George hastily, moving into Sigworth’s field of vision. She had been quite offended by the ‘ugly’ part. Mind you, she thought later, that was exactly what she would have said about them.

Sigworth took one look at George and his eyes opened so wide that they nearly fell out.

‘I’m a human,’ George continued, ‘as a matter-of-fact.’

Sigworth was astonished. He knew what species the girl belonged to. He had seen them asleep often enough. What he was having difficulty grasping was that there was one standing right over him, dressed in a pair of pyjamas, looking as if being here was the most natural thing in the world. He shifted uncomfortably in the hammock and tugged Ponkle’s waistcoat.

‘P-P-Ponkle,’ he began pulling him closer. ‘W-What in goodness n-name have you d-done?’ His face then contorted to form a curious expression, ‘and why, m-might I ask while I’m at it, am I s-s-soaking wet!’

‘It’s alright Sigworth,’ said Ponkle, freeing himself from his friend’s grip and clambering off the soft bunk, sensing a severe telling off was on its way. ‘This here is George!’

Sigworth raised his bushy eyebrows and slowly got up. He was still feeling dizzy from the effects of his experiment. He walked over to Ponkle who was hiding behind George.

‘Excuse m-me, G-George, b-but I th-th-think my companion and I need to have a l-little ch-chat,’ he said, putting an arm over Ponkle’s shoulder.

George moved aside and watched as the two Boffwunglers retreated behind the red curtain.

Before long, she heard a shrieking noise and, scared for Ponkle’s safety, she hurriedly ran over and pulled back the curtain only to find the two creatures excitedly jumping up and down in the kitchen, squealing with delight.

‘What?’ laughed George enthusiastically. ‘You’ve thought of something haven’t you? A plan? Tell me!’

Sigworth made some hot Rushberry juice and the three of them headed back to the main room and congregated in a tight huddle. Then the makings of the plot gradually began to unravel in an inspiring and somewhat jumbled up mess, similar to that of a lively kitten playing with a previously untouched ball of wool. Yet George’s enthusiasm soon began to dwindle.

‘Hang on...’ she interrupted as the other two were whizzing through their ideas. ‘Just stop right there...’

Ponkle and Sigworth paused.

‘I know the original idea was that I told your Judge woman that it was my fault that you are back late but after hearing what she’s like, I don’t think I can go through with it, who knows what she’d do to me. What other impressions does she do apart from snakes?’

‘Plenty,’ said Ponkle. ‘The best one so far was when she transformed herself into a sharp fanged panther and chased Mrs. Fiddlewhip through the Town Square for failing to curtsey before her. Wasn’t her fault though. Left her glasses at home, so she did, blind as a bat without them. Tolita would have ripped her head off if she hadn’t have been in such a hurry to get somewhere else.’

‘G-G-George,’ said Sigworth softly, giving Ponkle a painful nudge in the side to shut him up, ‘our options are limited at the m-moment. If we d-d-don’t go to her, she’s going to c-come to us.’

‘Either way, you’re going to meet her,’ added Ponkle. ‘Yet maybe we don’t have to surrender to her this time.’

‘What do you mean?’ said George warily.

‘We c-could f-f-fight her,’ whispered Sigworth, his eyes blazing with fire. ‘You are our best w-weapon. She w-wont be expecting you! Now if we could j-just g-get some more of us together....’

George stood up. Fighting? She did not like this. She did not like this at all. Perhaps she had mis-heard. Whoever heard such nonsense? Her senses were reeling. What was she doing here? Had she lost her mind? She must get out. Now.

‘When you say I’m your best weapon...what do you mean exactly,’ quivered George, edging nearer and nearer to the door.

‘Exactly that!’ laughed Ponkle, shaking Sigworth’s hand. Neither of them had noticed George’s nervous movements, they were too pre-occupied making plans. ‘She won’t be expecting to fight a human! Once you’ve caught her off guard we’ll join in...she’ll be so baffled she wont know what’s hit her!’

The two of them abruptly stopped laughing and nearly jumped out of their skins when they heard the wind forcefully slam the front door shut. The stool which Ponkle had placed there earlier had been moved and there was no sign of the girl.

Dantor

Over in Dantor, a meeting was taking place. Elphin, a respected citizen, Dorus, his son and Urdoc, an old and extremely wise Molok were huddled around a small table in The Horseshoe, one of the quieter Inns. They were discussing recent events concerning the thefts and had been sat there for over three hours without arriving at a final solution.

‘I wish I’d never set eyes on the child!’ muttered Elphin frustratedly, gulping down another mouthful of dandelion ale.

‘Stop blaming yourself, dad, it’s not your fault,’ said Dorus, looking to Urdoc for encouragement.

‘He’s right,’ Urdoc said sternly. ‘None of us could have predicted that it would come to this. You knew when you found the child in the forest it was your duty to bring it here. None questioned it. She had no home and her father, well the less said about him the better. The blame does not lie with you, only with the one who deserted her.’ Urdoc’s face hardened and he retorted back to his silent composure.

‘If I ever come face to face with....’ Elphin fumed.

‘No!’ Dorus said, throwing down his drink and leaning over the table, grabbing Elphin’s arm. ‘You can’t out-match the old Wizard, you know you can’t. Besides, the moment he knows we exist he would be all over us like a rash. We wouldn’t stand a chance against him!’

Elphin raised his pitiful eyes and gazed into those of his son’s, which glowed with fire. He nodded. They both then turned to Urdoc, who after a long pause, spoke in firm but reassuring tones, without lifting his eyes, as if deep in thought.

‘Tribanon is of no use to us. He left his child to die,’ he said angrily. ‘Let him not concern us...’ The old Molok looked to Elphin who remained unconvinced that this whole episode was not his fault. ‘...Our only mistake,’ Urdoc admitted, ‘lies in keeping the note which he left with her, we should have destroyed it as he intended to destroy his daughter.’

‘And like his daughter succeeded in destroying Biffleworth, the foolish fellow!’ said Dorus, signalling for more drinks.

‘Now, now,’ said Urdoc harshly, ‘never blame someone for falling in love.’ As the drinks arrived, no-one saw the look of sadness and grief which, for a brief moment, swept over Urdoc’s face.