CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Just Desserts
Having come to her senses, the Contessa flung herself back into the litter which, unable to withstand the sudden strain, collapsed beneath her, along with its bearers. For once the accident sparked no reaction from her assistants, who just rolled their eyes and continued their conversation. Gummy Grumbleguts took this opportunity to saunter casually past the Contessa sprawled on the ground. There was an eruption of sound and volley of curses when the full brunt of his weapon took effect. Tangled in the wreckage of her litter, Bombasta could not even crawl to safety. Much thrashing and gurgling followed and the Contessa broke out in a sweat. With her nostrils flaring, she was spared no layer of the fetid and stomach-turning scent. Gummy grinned sheepishly at her.
‘You disgusting boy!’ she managed to say in between gasps.
‘What can I say—it’s a gift’ he shrugged.
The traitorous Muffy-Boo, unaccustomed to seeing his mistress in a discombobulated state (which you must agree is a wonderful word to indicate feeling out of sorts) trotted disdainfully over to Milli and Ernest, who immediately released him from the torture of the breastplate. Fidelis conjured him a dish of minced steak, which was a welcome relief after the diet of caviar and chicken liver pâté he had been fed for years.
The opportunistic Mr Ledger took advantage of Bombasta’s distracted state by sidling up to Fidelis and discreetly offering his services. As the slimy Ledger was busy marketing himself, the children saw the bull-sentinel snort and begin to paw the ground. A few moments later, a yelping Mr Ledger was sailing across the battlefield like a soccer ball. He was catapulted almost as far as the Wood of Tartar where some clowns in lab coats found him calculating how much he could claim in damages.
In due course Fidelis saw fit to release Oslo from the enchantment. The gladiator had traded making daisy chains for a game of Patter Cakes with Harrietta Hapless and now stared around him in a dazed sort of way before looking extremely embarrassed. He made a growling sound at Milli and Ernest before whistling for his stallion, Fiend, and galloping away, presumably to find new troops to torment.
The stragglers that remained traipsed miserably back to Rune to drown their sorrows at the Drunken Admiral. The children had the feeling that the power of the Fada would not be underestimated again in a hurry.
Nonna Luna was the last person to scuttle across to the Queen on her stumpy legs, wheeling her precious cart and tugging a mulish Lampo by the ear. They were both warmly welcomed by the Fada, whom Nonna immediately pronounced (with a solicitous shaking of her head) as seriously undernourished or, to use her words, ‘very, very skinny’. Fortunately, she’d had the foresight to pack a basket of her plaited milk biscuits, one of which was substantial enough to constitute a meal for a fairy, and promised she would have them fattened up in no time.
A great weight lifted from everyone’s minds as they stepped through the shimmering gates of Mirth. For a moment each child was rid of their memories of Battalion Minor and the hardships endured there. When their recollections did return, they felt lighter and less troubled by them.
Milli struggled to believe all they had been through was real. She thought her last adventure to the Shreckal Caverns to save the shadows had been enough to go through. Now she could claim not only to have visited another world but also to have fought alongside fairies to preserve childhood and all it encompassed. Like the others, all Milli wanted at that moment was the freedom to laugh and be a child again. Battalion Minor may have tested them but it had not succeeded in crushing them. With the Fada’s help they had managed to remain true to themselves even when faced with the prospect of annihilation. This was an important lesson. They knew now that life without nonsense and play could not be much of a life at all. Milli, herself, decided to safeguard her imagination against any future assaults. The consequences of losing it were just far too dire.
Ernest was engaged in similar thoughts. After Battalion Minor he would never think of his home as regimented again. In fact, he missed the structure and safety of it. If there was one thing he had learned during his visit to the Conjurors’ Realm it was that he was not quite ready for independence. It had never occurred to him before to consider the vulnerability of children. What would be the long-term effects on those that had seen too much for their young years? Would they ever look at games in the same way again? How long would it take before their dreams were no longer troubled and would they approach all new experiences with fear and mistrust? Innocence once lost could not be re-captured. He looked across and exchanged glances with Milli. They both knew that after this last episode, there would not be much they could not tackle together.
Although there might be disquiet in the Conjurors’ Realm again, Milli and Ernest felt that the province of Mirth was at least safe for the time being and, therefore, so too was the world of boys and girls. As for the twins, for the first time Finn’s scowl had disappeared and Fennel’s eyes were not watchful or afraid. No longer slaves of the Lampo Circus, the twins had been given choice for the first time in their lives. They had never had the freedom to decide even the smallest of things like what to wear or eat, and were very much looking forward to it. Perhaps with the help of their new friends they would be able to put past sadness behind them.
While they contemplated their future, the twins could not know that Milli had already decided she could not possibly leave them behind. They must come with them to Drabville where children were valued and protected. They could visit Peppercorn Place and see if they liked it.
To commemorate their victory over Lord Aldor, a sumptuous feast was prepared for the children at the toadstool palace. It needed only a flourish of Fidelis’s wand for them to find themselves bathed and changed into clean clothes. They were seated at tables laden with each child’s favourite treats. When they had all eaten their fill and were on the dance floor learning the steps of a fairy jig, Milli chanced to look outside where she spied a fleet of carriages made of upturned mushrooms, high in the clouds. They had silky interiors and at the end of each stalk was a spinning silver propeller. Milli guessed this was to be their transport home.
As she stood to watch the carriages land, a girl with violet eyes approached her. She was followed by a handful of the youngest children in the group. They looked up at Milli, expectation on their faces.
‘That was a good game,’ the girl observed.
‘We gave the dragon cough medicine but he didn’t like it,’ her friend said with the air of someone delivering vital information.
‘I’m sure he didn’t,’ Milli agreed.
‘Is the game over now?’ the first child persisted.
‘It is,’ replied Milli with a certainty she had not felt in some time, ‘and congratulations—we won.’