CHAPTER FIVE

Jane sat to take her shoes off to rub life back into her ankle.

She peeled the shoe from her left foot. The ankle had turned into a purple and yellow balloon. She put her foot in the air and pain spread up her leg. She rubbed her fingernails over the swelling. There was a feeling of both relief and pain.

She put her sock and shoe back on and took off after Tom, who had left a moment earlier, up the stone stairs cut into the cliff, rising toward the gigantic trees.

Another wild animal call came from behind. The awful scream of a creature that sounded like a distressed pig. A second shriek sounded, then another. There was a group of creatures.

The creek retreated beneath until it became a distant ribbon of blue and green. Ahead, Tom had slowed his pace, and was stepping carefully, looking at the drop just inches from his feet.

A small breeze came funnelling up from the canyon and Tom’s green pants flapped, and his blazer billowed out, and his orange hair lifted and swept around his stick-out ears.

‘Don’t look down,’ said Jane.

Eventually the steps reached the top of the cliff where the path ran onto a narrow plateau between the giant woods and the canyon. Tom took three running steps onto the flat and turned and put two fists in the air like he had just climbed Everest.

The path travelled along the flat for one hundred feet to a giant door between two high fences that ran from one side of the plateau to the other. The door was big enough for a bread van to drive through without scraping its sides or top, made from thick slabs of timber and strapped together with iron bands. In front of the door and slightly to one side was a hut with walls made of pressed dirt, and a roof of matted grass. It had a metal door, perfectly round, and the door opened and out stepped an elf.

He looked like an elf anyway, with green skin and stringy green hair and triangle shaped ears. Although, his eyes were emerald green and slitted like a cat's eyes, and his nose was a moist little button. He wore a green hat that peaked and flopped backwards, a bit like a wizard's hat. He must have been old because his neck skin was rolled up and the skin beneath his eyes hung loosely. He had a flowing beard streaked with grey and green, and there was a distinct stoop in his shoulders.

The fellow put a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun.

‘I think it's an elf,' Jane whispered.

The elf jerked upright as though he had been struck.

‘I am not an elf; I am a thrip. I mean … really. Why would you want to insult me?’’

‘I didn't mean to insult you,’ said Jane.

The thrip scowled.

'I am a the thrip that guards the entrance to the Wisting Woods, and under the authority of the King of Wisting Woods I command you to identify yourselves.’

Tom, standing behind Jane, said 'What is a thrip?'

The thrip scrunched its eyes into the afternoon sun, and tried to see Tom, but couldn’t see around Jane.

Jane said, ‘We are on our way to see the King of Wisting Woods.’

The thrip shook its head and said, ‘I need you to identify yourself or ... ’

Suddenly, the thrip stopped talking.

Tom had taken a step sideways and now stood in plain view. The thrip crooked his head forward, and squinted. ‘Who are you?’

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Tom stepped closer.

‘Oh drawp.’

The thrip dropped to the ground as though his legs had been knocked from under him.

Tom stepped back.

The thrip knelt with his hands forward, like he was praying, and he muttered, ‘Forgive me. Forgive my impertinence.’

‘Who do you think I am?’

The thrip’s eyes rolled up to Tom, but the moment his eyes contacted Tom’s eyes he lost courage and dropped his eyes back to the ground.

Tom stepped in close and leaned over.

‘Do you know me as Elion?’

The thrip raised his eyes again, and he was crying. There were two large crystal teas sliding down his cheeks.

‘Yes my Lord.’

‘How do you know me as Elion? Surely I don’t look like this person you think of as Elion.’

‘You are testing me lord,’ said the thrip and he laughed then stopped laughing abruptly ‘It is your ‘shine’ my Lord. Your ‘shine’ hasn’t changed.’

‘What do you mean ... shine?'

The thrip was confused by this question as though he had been asked to explain something that was so basic to the understanding of life that he had never thought of the words to explain it. He stared at the ground and thought hard then said, ‘It is just the ‘shine’ of you my Lord.’

Jane said, ‘Elf creature. You seem quite overcome by my brother, but we have to hurry. There are wild animals behind and we have to go to the King of the woods to discover my brother’s mission. Are you able to open this large gate to let us onto the path up into the trees?’

The thrip made slow, creaky movements to bring himself up from the prostrated position. He got to his hands and knees, with his beard dragging on the ground. Once again he tried to raise his eyes to Tom but once again he looked away.

The thrip was about to answer when another howl rose up from the canyon the teens had just climbed out of.

‘That is a swamp hog,’ said the thrip.

‘What is a swamp hog?’

The thrip pushed himself up so that he was squatting with his legs apart and the big weave tunic he wore dropped in a large fold between his legs.

He shook his head and his beard made a waving motion.’The swamp hog is a terrible beast. It is half man half pig and all bad. I will open the door, but first I have something for my Lord.’

The thrip reached into the top of his grey tunic and eased a leather strap up over his head, and dangling from the end of the strap was a black key - so black it seemed to suck in light. The thrip held the key for a pensive moment as though hesitant to give it up.

‘As a low wood thrip nobody would think I held one of the three keys.’

Tom took the leather necklace from the thrip and held it up. ‘What does this key do?’

‘It is not for me to say … only that I am glad I am rid of it. That key is dangerous.'

‘It is heavy.’

The key spun slowly on the leather strap that hung below Tom’s hand.

A savage shriek of what Jane now knew was an approaching swamp hog, was followed by the sound of multiple hooves clattering on the stone stairs that rose from the creek.

'Time to leave,’ said the old thrip.

From a pouch in his tunic the thrip brought out a key ring laden with keys and searched amongst them. He found the right key and inserted it into a square lock on the giant door. Something clicked. There was a crunching, groaning sound as some hidden mechanism pushed the door out of its jamb and slowly swung it open.

The sound of beating hooves came closer. The creatures were almost in sight.

Jane grabbed Tom by the arm and pulled him through the door, but the thrip didn't follow. He grinned madly and said, ‘Go on without me. I will be safe in my hut.’

On the far side of the door the teenagers pressed their bodies against the door’s immense weight.

‘Push, push push,’ said Jane as though Tom didn’t get the pushing part.

Another howl.

The door had nearly snapped shut when a creature came into view. Jane got a fast glimpse of a bipedal creature, six feet tall, with greyish/pink skin and bristles and a head like a pig and two eyes that held such malevolence that Jane made a noise of distress without intending to.

Then the door clicked shut.

‘My goodness,’ Tom said.

‘Do you think the door will hold?’

The answer came a second later. The swamp hogs thumped into the door, the sound huge and sickening, like a shot bird thudding into a field.

The teenagers backed away and Tom put his hands up as though he was going to catch the door if it should crash. His eyes were wide and pensive. The swamp hogs hit the door again. And again.

Tom began to relax.

‘The door will hold.’

‘Hallelujah.’

‘We must keep going.’