Borgon the Axeboy and the Whispering Temple Page 4

  ‘What IS this?’ he demanded, looking at his fingers.

  ‘The offerings,’ said Hunjah. ‘Do help yourself.’

  ‘I thought it was going to be a pile of treasure,’ said Zaffar.

  ‘Oh no!’ said Hunjah. ‘Maybe there were one or two coins, but that’s not what the Great Conk likes.’

  ‘So what is it?’

  ‘Sandwiches mainly,’ said Hunjah.

  ‘SANDWICHES?’ repeated Zaffar.

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed Grizzy.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ said Hunjah, sounding a bit peeved. ‘The Great Conk likes tomatoes too. And pies and pickled onions and boiled eggs.’

  ‘But it’s all slimy!’ said Zaffar.

  ‘That pile has been there for many years,’ said Hunjah. ‘With the nose dripping on it.’

  Borgon was amazed. Was it possible that Hunjah’s god was even more pathetic than Hunjah was?

  ‘Tell us, Hunjah,’ said Borgon. ‘Exactly what kind of god is the Great Conk?’

  ‘He’s a nice god,’ said Hunjah.

  ‘We know that,’ said Borgon. ‘But is he a war god? Or a river god, or one of the fire gods?’

  ‘Didn’t I say?’ said Hunjah. ‘The Great Conk is the god of picnics.’

  ‘PICNICS?’ they all gasped.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Hunjah. ‘If people were going on a picnic, they would offer the Great Conk a sandwich or something to make sure the weather stayed nice. But if anyone upset the Great Conk, he would send showers of rain out of his nose.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ asked Zaffar.

  ‘Of course,’ said Hunjah. ‘That’s what he does. The Wrath of Conk is mighty.’

  Borgon felt so sorry for Hunjah. His god WAS even more pathetic than he was.

  ‘And was your mother really a priestess for this odd little god?’ asked Zaffar.

  ‘Yes,’ said Hunjah proudly. ‘She used to pour out the orange juice. She even helped with a barbecue once. She loved it.’

  ‘Then she is an idiot!’ cursed Zaffar.

  ‘No she is NOT,’ said Hunjah. ‘So are you going to restore the temple?’

  ‘My dear child,’ said Zaffar. ‘We only came here to see if there was anything worth taking. Do you really believe that we go round the desert restoring disgusting little temples? You must be as daft as your mother.’

  Zaffar and the slaves all laughed. Hunjah tried to look brave, but then he burst into tears and ran out of the temple.

  ‘Come on, men, there’s nothing for us in here, let’s go,’ said Zaffar and they turned away.

  But Borgon was standing in the doorway, and he was holding his axe. He’d been waiting for an excuse for a fight, and now he’d got one!

  ‘You’re going nowhere,’ said the young barbarian. ‘You’ve upset my mate, and what’s more, you made a deal.’

  ‘What deal?’

  ‘He showed you the temple, so you hand over that coin.’

  Zaffar pulled the coin from his robes. The two slaves gathered in front of him with their swords drawn.

  ‘You want it?’ said Zaffar with a wicked grin. ‘Then you come and get it.’

  ‘Thanks!’ said Borgon. ‘I thought you’d never ask. YARGHHHHH!’

  Mushroom and Cucumber Sandwiches

  Borgon attacked so fast the slaves hardly saw him coming. He slipped his axe handle between one slave’s feet. The man spun round and dived head first into the heap of offerings.

  SPLOMPCH!

  A cloud of stink wafted across the temple. The top half of the slave was completely buried, with just his legs sticking out. He kicked and twisted to pull himself free, and slowly it all started to topple over.

  A cascade of squelchy sandwiches came tumbling down, manky pies rolled along the floor and a shower of hard-boiled eggs bounced off the walls. The slave coughed and spluttered and staggered around scraping the mouldy slime from his face.

  ‘That is GROSS!’ exclaimed Grizzy, who had been keeping well out of the way.

  ‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ laughed Borgon, as the other slave’s sword flashed towards him.

  With a flick of his axe, Borgon sent the blade spinning away through the air. The slave slipped on a bunch of gassy grapes and skidded WEEE-BOILCH! straight into a sack of sloppy old tomatoes. Zaffar was furious.

  ‘Come on, you clowns!’ snapped the tall man angrily. ‘He’s only a boy! Get him!’

  The slaves picked up their swords, then they both charged together, but Borgon threw himself to the ground and whacked their knees with the back of his axe.

  ‘YOW!’ they yelped and somersaulted backwards into a slimy pile of old mushroom and cucumber sandwiches.

  PLUMPCH!

  Borgon jumped to his feet. The defeated slaves had crawled off into a corner but Zaffar was aiming a crossbow right at his chest.

  ‘You’re very good with your axe,’ said Zaffar. ‘But the arrow on this crossbow is dipped in red-toad poison and I never miss. You’ve tried to make me look foolish, Axeboy. That was a mistake. Goodbye.’

  Zaffar raised the crossbow to fire, but over in the far darkness of the temple, Grizzy had grabbed something from the ground and threw it.

  SPLOOF!

  A two-hundred-year-old pickled onion hit Zaffar right in the face.

  ‘Good one, Grizzy!’ said Borgon.

  ‘Gugg-gugg-guggah!’ choked Zaffar, as the stinging fumes shot up his nose. He rolled over, wiping his eyes and gasping for air.

  PER-TWANG!

  The tiny arrow shot off across the temple and then …

  THUNG!

  ‘What was that noise?’ asked Grizzy.

  She went over and saw a large black curtain hanging down. She pulled it aside.

  ‘Oh wow!’ said Grizzy. ‘Look at this, Borgon.’

  Hanging from a thick wooden frame was a bell. It shone in the darkness with a strange yellow glow. Sitting on the top with its head raised and his fangs bared was the blue snake.

  Rattle rattle rattle!

  ‘Hello, Bootlace!’ said Borgon. ‘I wondered where you’d got to!’

  He gave the bell a little tap.

  THUNG!

  ‘Nice noise!’ said Grizzy. ‘The arrow must have shot through the curtain and hit it. But what’s it made of?’

  ‘It’s gold, you fools!’ said Zaffar from across the room. ‘It’s a calling bell to summon the gods.’

  ‘So this is what Bootlace has been guarding all the time,’ said Borgon.

  ‘That’s changed the situation!’ said the tall man. ‘You can have your coin after all, if you get rid of the snake and we can take the bell.’

  ‘No way!’ said Borgon. ‘This bell belongs to Hunjah’s god. It stays here.’

  ‘Your friend said I could take what I wanted,’ said Zaffar.

  ‘That’s when he thought you were going to rebuild his temple,’ said Borgon. ‘So keep your little coin and go.’

  Borgon had his axe raised and was forcing Zaffar and the two slaves back towards the doorway.

  ‘You can’t win,’ said Zaffar. ‘You can’t guard this place all the time. We’ll be back for that bell.’

  ‘What if the door’s closed?’ said Grizzy.

  ‘We can smash it down,’ said Zaffar.

  ‘The god won’t let you!’ said Borgon. ‘Don’t forget how he burnt you on the bottom last time! Isn’t that right, Grizzy?’

  ‘Humf!’ said Grizzy, shaking her head crossly.

  ‘Humf?’ said Zaffar suspiciously. ‘Surely it must have been a god … unless it was a very clever trick.’

  ‘Very clever!’ agreed Grizzy excitedly. ‘And making the temple door open would be clever too, wouldn’t you say?’

  ‘Grizzy!’ said Borgon. ‘Be quiet!’

  ‘It would be very clever indeed,’ said Zaffar sounding surprised. ‘But no human could have done it.’

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong!’ said Grizzy, looking very pleased with herself. ‘The door opens with a sun lock.’

 
‘A sun lock?’ repeated Zaffar.

  Grizzy waved her book.

  ‘It’s all in here!’ she said. ‘There’s a hole in the wall with an old strip of leather hanging inside. When the sunlight heats the leather up, it shrinks and pulls a little lever. Then a big heavy weight falls down on a rope and that pulls the door up. See? It was ME all the time!’

  ‘So you mean there’s no god here after all?’ said Zaffar.

  ‘Of course there’s no god!’ said Grizzy. ‘I’ll prove it to you.’

  Before Borgon could stop her, she ran over to the bell and banged it as loudly as she could.

  DONG DANG DUNG …

  ‘HEY, GREAT CONK, THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!’ she shouted. ‘SHOW YOURSELF!’

  The sounds of the bell slowly echoed and died away.

  ‘See?’ said Grizzy. ‘It was me.’

  ‘NO!’ came a huge voice that boomed all around the temple. ‘IT WAS ME!’

  The Wrath of Conk

  Everything in the temple rattled. Loose stones tumbled from the roof, boiled eggs bounced along the floor, and the whispering noise in the walls suddenly got much louder.

  Borgon, Grizzy, Zaffar and his men, and even the blue snake all stared up at the big nose in astonishment.

  ‘What … what was that?’ whispered Grizzy. Her voice was trembling.

  ‘You’ve summoned the Great Conk!’ gasped Borgon.

  ‘SILENCE!’ said the voice. ‘FALL TO YOUR FACES BEFORE ME … OR FEEL THE WRATH OF CONK!’

  They all threw themselves to the ground and lay there face down.

  ‘WHO LIES BEFORE ME?’

  ‘It is I, your servant, Borgon!’ said Borgon.

  ‘And I, your even bigger servant, Grizzy,’ said Grizzy.

  ‘AND WHO HAS COME TO STEAL FROM MY HOUSE?’ cried the voice.

  ‘Not me!’ squealed Grizzy. ‘Please, let me go! I’ll worship you forever.’

  ‘SILENCE,’ said the voice. ‘FOR I KNOW WHO THE THIEF IS!’

  Zaffar was shaking.

  ‘What? Me? Oh no. You’ve got it wrong!’ he said. ‘I came to rebuild your temple.’

  ‘YOU LIE!’ boomed the voice. ‘FOR I KNOW EVERYTHING. I SEE EVERYTHING. I SMELL EVERYTHING … OH NO, I DROPPED MY HAT AGAIN.’

  ‘What?’ said Zaffar suspiciously.

  ‘NOTHING,’ said the voice.

  But then something fluttered down from the great nose and landed on the floor in front of Zaffar.

  A thin arm came out of the nose hole and was feeling around.

  ‘OH NO, MY MUM WILL GO MAD!’ said the great voice.

  Zaffar jumped up, grabbed the arm and pulled as hard as he could. With a squeeze and a plop, a weedy body tumbled out of the huge nose.

  WHUMP!

  Hunjah landed on top of Zaffar, but the tall man rolled him over and grabbed him by the neck. Borgon charged forwards to rescue the weedy savage, but Zaffar snatched up a mouldy hippopotamus pie.

  ‘Stop there, Axeboy!’ commanded Zaffar. He stuck his finger through the crust, then shoved the pie up to Hunjah’s face. The smell of rotting meat filled the temple. Hunjah had his mouth clamped tight shut, and tears were streaming down his cheeks.

  ‘All right, you two,’ said Zaffar. ‘Both of you, get back against the wall. Let my men take that bell or your friend starts eating his last ever meal.’

  ‘I DON’T CARE,’ shouted Grizzy crossly. ‘I HATE him.’

  ‘Just do it, Grizzy,’ said Borgon. ‘Hunjah’s in big danger here. This is no time to be clever.’

  ‘I’m not standing by any wall to save Hunjah,’ said Grizzy. ‘Honestly, Hunjah, I can’t believe you made me fall flat on my face. I feel such an idiot. I’ll NEVER forgive you for this.’

  ‘But I was protecting the Great Conk’s temple,’ gasped Hunjah, then he quickly clamped his mouth shut again.

  ‘For the last time, there is no Great Conk!’ said Grizzy. ‘This is just a big smelly room with a pile of mouldy sandwiches.’

  ‘The girl is right,’ said Zaffar. ‘So you two get out of the way, and let my men out with the bell.’

  ‘NO!’ shouted Hunjah. He struggled to get free but Zaffar pushed the pie closer to his face.

  ‘If you hurt him …’ warned Borgon, waving his axe.

  ‘Throw that axe away NOW, or your friend gets it,’ said Zaffar.

  ‘No, Borgon!’ cried Hunjah. ‘You’ve got to save the bell! It doesn’t matter what happens to me.’

  ‘GRRRR!’ growled Borgon. He was desperate to attack, but he couldn’t bear to think what that stinky hippopotamus pie might do to Hunjah. Maybe Hunjah was pathetic, but he was also one of the bravest savages that had ever lived.

  ‘Sorry, Hunjah,’ said Borgon. He threw his axe away across the room where it landed on a cheese and dungbeetle flan.

  BOILCH!

  The two slaves went to get the bell but the blue snake was still guarding it.

  Rattle rattle rattle!

  ‘You’ve done your job well, Bootlace,’ said Borgon. ‘But we have to let them take it.’

  The snake hissed and all around them the whispering noise got louder again.

  Suddenly a chunky figure charged in from outside.

  ‘Quick!’ shouted Mungoid. ‘All of you, get out! The door is going to close.’

  ‘Who’s he?’ demanded Zaffar.

  ‘He’s supposed to be keeping the light on the sun lock,’ said Grizzy.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Mungoid. ‘There’s a cloud blocking the sun.’

  ‘It’ll soon pass,’ said Zaffar.

  ‘It won’t!’ said Mungoid. ‘It’s just sitting there … and guess what shape it is?’

  ‘It’s a big nose!’ cheered Hunjah.

  RUMBLE RUMBLE!

  The stone slab was slowly coming down from the top of the archway. The slaves ran towards the door, but Zaffar didn’t budge.

  ‘Get back here, you two!’ he ordered. ‘We’re not going without that bell.’

  ‘Well, I am!’ said Grizzy. ‘Borgon, come on.’

  ‘I’m not leaving Hunjah to face that dangerous pie on his own,’ said Borgon.

  ‘If Borgon’s staying, then I’m staying,’ said Mungoid.

  ‘You’re all mad!’ said Grizzy. ‘We could be stuck in here forever!’

  RUMBLE RUMBLE!

  The door had come down as far as shoulder height.

  ‘Let’s go!’ shouted Grizzy, then she ducked underneath and ran out.

  RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE!

  The door had got to knee height when suddenly Grizzy’s head and shoulders appeared back underneath. She scrabbled herself forwards on her elbows, and just pulled her feet through as the stone hit the ground with a soft

  THUDDD!

  Grizzy stood up, flicked the sand out of her hair and stared at them crossly.

  ‘You lot are SO selfish,’ said Grizzy. ‘I can’t believe you’d make me wait outside there all on my own.’

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Mungoid. ‘Are we really stuck here forever?’

  ‘No,’ said Zaffar. He clicked his fingers. The two slaves picked up their swords and faced the three young savages.

  ‘The girl will have to climb out of the nose and get the door open again,’ said Zaffar.

  ‘Not me!’ said Grizzy. ‘I’m not going up a drippy nose. No way.’

  ‘It has to be you,’ said Zaffar. ‘You’re the only one slim enough and clever enough.’

  Grizzy hissed crossly. ‘And what makes you think I won’t just run off and leave you all?’

  ‘Because you came back when the door was closing,’ said Zaffar. ‘You might pretend that you don’t care about the boys, but you do.’

  Grizzy stamped her feet angrily.

  ‘I wish I wasn’t so NICE,’ she shouted. ‘Borgon, Mungoid, come here and give me a lift up.’

  Mungoid stood underneath the nose, then Borgon climbed on to his shoulders. Grizzy climbed all the way up them both then reached up into the hole.

  ‘H
ey Mungoid,’ said Borgon. ‘I never thought we’d get the chance to shove Grizzy into a giant nose.’

  ‘Ha ha ha!’ laughed Mungoid.

  ‘IT’S NOT FUNNY!’ shouted Grizzy.

  ‘Oh yes it is!’ said Borgon. ‘Ha ha ha!’

  The boys started shaking so much that all three of them tumbled down.

  The two slaves leapt forwards waving their swords angrily.

  ‘If you want to live, get back up there NOW!’ said Zaffar.

  ‘No, don’t,’ said Hunjah. ‘It’s better that we all die!’

  ‘Then we’ll all die then,’ said Grizzy. ‘I’m not going up that big nose with those two laughing at me.’

  ‘Then you give me NO CHOICE,’ shouted Zaffar. ‘Kill them! Kill them all!’

  And that’s when the whispering noise grew into a very loud and very angry BUZZZZZ.

  The Deadly Whisper

  The whole temple was echoing with the noise. Borgon ran to the statue’s belly button and put his ear to the hole. The sound coming out was loud enough to make his eyes water.

  ‘There’s something alive in there,’ said Borgon. ‘Do you know what it is, Bootlace?’

  He looked over at the bell, but the blue snake had gone. Borgon just saw the end of the rattlesnake’s tail as it disappeared into a tiny crack in the floor.

  ‘Whatever it is, Bootlace isn’t waiting to see it!’ said Mungoid.

  Suddenly something small and buzzy popped out of the hole and hovered in the air. Borgon carefully closed his hand around it. He peered through his fingers, but when he saw the black and red stripes and the long pointed tail, he quickly let it go. More bugs were popping out, then more and more and even more.

  ‘So that’s what’s making the noise!’ said Mungoid. ‘What are they?’

  ‘Fire wasps,’ said Borgon. ‘The ones with the sparking stings.’

  ‘EEEEK!’ shrieked Grizzy.

  BZzZzzZZZzZzZ!