A Worry with Warlocks – Episode 3
The last words of the spell left my lips and, for a while, the only sound was the rustling of wind through the spiky clumps of desert grass dotting the landscape. The only thing moving was the blue smoke drifting from the steam car’s chimney.
Grimmon opened his mouth to speak, but stopped at a scraping sound coming from the car. Our eyes were drawn to the metal cap at the top of the magnificent vehicle’s water tank, which was slowly unscrewing all on its own. With a final squeal of metal on metal, it came loose and dropped, to dangle from the short length of chain that stopped it getting lost.
The air above the tank shimmered, and twisted, forming into a man-high, conical cloud of vapour with its point at the bottom. As we watched, the tip of the inverted cone thinned into a rope of water which poured into the tank through the opening. Splashing and gurgling like a giant bartender pouring a beer, water continued streaming into the tank until it splashed out of the top indicating it was full. The flow thinned, slowed, shed a couple of final drops, and the cloud of vapour faded away.
The cap swung up on its chain and screwed itself back into place.
“There! You see?” I yelled, dancing about and waving my arms. “I did it! You really should learn to trust me!”
Grimmon’s mouth shut with a click. “I don’t believe it…”
He looked from the car to me and back to the car. A drop of water ran down the side of the tank and splashed onto the mudguard.
I puffed out my chest, and whistling a jaunty tune, strode towards the car. The polished brass of its bodywork gleamed in the bright sunlight, echoing the triumph swelling my breast.
Before I had taken more than two paces, the car groaned. With its water tank full, steam was hissing from the engine’s vents. The wheels slowly started to turn, and the heavy vehicle lurched forward.
“You didn’t close the steam valve before you got out, did you?” yelled Grimmon.
“No… I didn’t think it mattered…” Wheezing like a politician telling the truth, I ran after the car which was gradually gathering speed as it trundled away along the trail.
Grimmon squeaked. “You didn’t think? That’s exactly–”
Whatever he was about to say was lost when the tourer began to exhibit extremely un-car-like behaviour. The front mudguards bulged outwards, lengthening into a pair of articulated arms whose ends thickened and formed into large nasty-looking pincers. The roof dipped and insect-like legs sprouted from the flattening body. They scuttled along the sandy desert floor while the wheels shrunk and vanished. The bodywork morphed into a low, wide, segmented thorax and abdomen. The chimney flowed to the rear and curved forward over the body. With smoke still pouring from the rear, it became a tail with a viciously spiked tip of polished brass.
I stumbled to a halt. Any thoughts I’d had about catching up with the car and shutting the steam valve, evaporated. My beautiful tourer had transformed into a giant mechanical scorpion.
Steam erupted from the sides of the beast as it slowed and turned to face us, snapping its pincers.
Grimmon sidled up alongside me, and the pair of us stood rooted to the spot.
It was difficult to see if the scorpion had eyes what with all the steel and brass plates covering its body, but I imagined the glass bits at the front, which had probably been the car’s windscreen, were what it saw out of. I definitely had the impression the creature was gazing at us as though deciding what to do.
“I warned you not to use magic,” said Grimmon. “It went wrong just like I thought it would, and now you’ve stranded us in the middle of a desert!”
Ignoring him, I said, “I’m sure it’s friendly. I always treated it well when it was a car.” I shuffled back a step or two. “Ask it if it wouldn’t mind giving us a lift back to the castle. We could sit on its back.”
“If you’re so keen, why don’t you ask it yourself?”
“You’re smaller and less edible than me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, you know… Nothing in its right mind would want to eat you.”
Grimmon shook his head in disbelief. “You say the most hurtful things. In any case, it’s not true. Lots of things eat goblins.”
“Like what?”
“Like the Gruesome Goblin-Eater of… of Gazpacho.”
“You just made that up.” I put my hand on his back and gave him a helpful shove towards the scorpion. “Go on. Ask it.”
Grimmon staggered, waving his arms to keep his balance.
I tensed as twin bursts of steam streamed from the scorpion’s sides. An enormous pincer lifted, and lunged over Grimmon’s head straight at me. I leaped backwards, ducking to avoid my tender flesh being pierced and, quite probably, minced.
The scorpion’s other pincer swept Grimmon out of the way, while the creature’s eight legs churned the desert floor, sending sand flying. With a fierce rattling of the metal plates covering its back, it surged straight for me.
With a yell, I turned tail and ran.
My boots pounded the ground, my breath burned in my throat, while I held onto my hat and I scanned the way ahead for somewhere to hide. The ground was mostly flat and featureless, with little apart from a few small rocks here and there to break the monotony. A range of low hills, which might have offered some kind of concealment, were too far away for comfort.
A fearful glance over my shoulder sent my legs flying even faster. Pincers snapping, legs blurring, the beast was scurrying after me.
And getting closer.
*** Continued in episode 4 ***
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