Fighting with fire lt-2

  Fighting with fire

  ( Lex Trent - 2 )

  Alex Bell

  Alex Bell

  Fighting with fire

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE PENALTY TASK

  Lex Trent dangled from the tree branch hundreds of feet above the ravine, his tenuous grip the only thing between him and instant death

  … Well, perhaps not instant death, as such. It would probably take a good thirty seconds to fall all the way to the jagged rocks below. He risked a glance down.

  ‘Thirty seconds at least,’ he muttered. ‘Probably more like forty.’

  Not that he had any intention of falling. He couldn’t use his left hand because that would mean dropping the golden egg his arm was clamped around. He was, therefore, dangling from the tree branch one-handed, which explained why he was having some difficulty pulling himself to safety. It was quite a conundrum. If he dropped the egg he’d have his left arm free and then he’d be able to get himself back on to the branch. But the fact was that Lex would sooner cut off his own foot than willingly drop a solid-gold egg. It was not in his nature to voluntarily relinquish treasure? especially treasure he’d had to work so hard to get. There had to be another way…

  He risked another look down. Then he looked at the egg. Then he looked at the branch he was clinging to, noting the fact that it was creaking in rather an ominous way. His hand was getting very tired and his arm felt as if it was about to pop right out of its socket or, quite possibly, had already done so. He didn’t want to let go of the egg, but he didn’t want to fall to a messy, untimely death either. He could feel the weight of the silver whistle tucked beneath his shirt against his chest and a spectacular, horrifying, genius thought occurred to him. But how long would he need for it to work? Twenty seconds? Thirty? Would there be enough time? The smallest miscalculation and he would end up painted on to the rocks below. He ought to think about it very, very carefully before he-

  And then the branch snapped and he was free-falling.

  For such a young person, Lex had done a fair amount of free-falling in his time. But this was the first occasion he’d ever fallen from such a significant height. He may have been the luckiest guy in the world but he would have to be made out of sponge to survive that fall. So as he fell through the air, the wind whipping his hair, struggling to maintain a grip on the egg with one hand, he fumbled desperately for the whistle around his neck. He got it between his lips in a record-breaking five seconds and blew for all he was worth.

  No sound came out, but that was normal. It was such a high frequency that it was undetectable to human ears. A precious ten seconds passed and Lex continued to fall with no sign of rescue. He carried on blowing the whistle? even more desperately now. Surely one of them would hear and come to his aid?

  Ten more seconds slipped past and by that time the jagged rocks were looking uncomfortably close and pointy. Lex didn’t have time to waste on swearing out loud but he swore in his head as he frantically blew on the whistle.

  Fifteen seconds, max. That was all he had left before he was just a smear on a rock. What an undignified end that would be… But then a great monstrous thing wheeled overhead, there was a raucous cry, a flurry of feathers and, just before Lex was impaled on one of the rocks below, two clawed feet wrapped themselves around him, sticking into his ribs rather painfully, and then he was moving away from the ground rather than towards it as the griffin took off with Lex firmly gripped in its talons. He really must teach the griffins to swoop under him so that he’d land on their backs rather than being carried off in such an undignified manner, like a mouse being taken away by an owl. Still, he had the egg and he was still alive, and that was all that really mattered.

  Lex’s great silver ship soon came into view, nestled grandly amongst the clouds. The griffin soared over it and then dropped Lex? slightly prematurely? when they were still about ten feet above the deck.

  He had time for a brief shriek before hitting the wooden boards hard with a loud thumping sound. The egg flew out of his grip, bounced and rolled a little way across the deck. The griffin landed beside it lightly and gracefully a moment later. Lex would have lifted his head to glare at it but he was too preoccupied with the searing pain in his wrists, his arms, his legs… Lex had never broken a bone before but there was a first time for everything and it certainly felt like every bone in his body was now broken.

  ‘You bloody great stupid, blundering, brainless bird!’ he gasped. ‘You’ve practically killed me!’

  ‘Killed you? Lex, really, what a melodramatic exaggeration,’ a familiar voice remarked. ‘There’s hardly a mark on you. Do get up and stop making such an exhibition of yourself.’

  A hand gripped his collar and dragged him to his feet. It was with genuine surprise that Lex found he was able to stand. Lady Luck was quite right: he did not appear to have any broken bones or any bones sticking through his skin or any other ghoulish injury whatsoever. He did, in fact, appear to be fine apart from a few light grazes and one bruise on his right knee.

  ‘And don’t take your bad mood out on the griffins,’ Lady Luck said, running her fingers down the feathers of Monty’s neck.

  ‘I’ll take it out on whoever I like!’ Lex snapped.

  He stomped across the deck to retrieve the golden egg.

  ‘Oh my Gods!’ he exclaimed, horrified. ‘It’s dented! The egg is dented! Just look at it! It’s practically worthless now! All that work for nothing!’

  ‘That is utter nonsense, Lex,’ Lady Luck said calmly.

  Lex glared at her ferociously. There is nothing more irritating to someone who is already in a bad mood than being told that they are talking utter nonsense.

  ‘The dent won’t make a scrap of difference to the value of that egg, as you well know,’ Lady Luck went on, brushing an imaginary fleck of dust off her white toga. ‘And it’s not like you’re going to be allowed to keep it, anyway. How much longer are you going to sulk like this? I have to say it’s getting rather tedious.’

  ‘I’m not sulking!’ Lex said sulkily, dropping the egg carelessly on to the deck. ‘I’m justifiably furious! I’m understandably livid! I’m rightly vexed! I’m validly seething! I’m-’

  ‘Save your silver tongue for someone who cares, my sweet.’

  ‘I hate him!’ Lex spat viciously. ‘I hate that stuck up git!’

  ‘Then beat him,’ Lady Luck replied. ‘Give him a good thrashing in the Game and make sure you win.’

  ‘I will win!’ Lex replied. ‘I’ve never been so determined to win in my life!’

  ‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ the Goddess said sharply. ‘The Game starts in twenty-four hours and you must be ready. I don’t want any more of this nonsense, Lex, I mean it. Hate Jeremiah all you like if it’s going to help you win the Game but don’t let him get the better of you again. You’re lucky you didn’t get disqualified this time.’

  ‘ Lucky?’ Lex spluttered indignantly. He pointed at the golden egg on the deck and said, ‘There was nothing lucky about retrieving that thing; there was just an awful lot of pluck, courage, wit and-’

  ‘Yes, dear, you did very well,’ the Goddess said soothingly. ‘And now that you’ve successfully completed the penalty task, they’ll have to let you back into the Game. Now, give me that egg and I’ll go make sure it’s all smoothed out.’

  Lex picked up the egg and moodily handed it over.

  ‘Thank you. Now you’d better set sail for the Sea Volcanoes straight away. You’re behind the others already and you don’t want to be late for the start of the Game.’

  And with that she disappeared, taking the egg with her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE OUTLAW, JESSE LAYTON

  Four Days Earlier

 
When Lex walked into the Guild of Chroniclers in the heart of the Wither City, he fully intended to do things right this time. He’d just had a little smirk over the Royal Monument and left his old companion, Mr Montgomery Schmidt, standing there. His suggestion that the lawyer tag along on the upcoming Game had been turned down, as Lex had known it would be. He would certainly never have made the offer in a million years if he thought there was even the remotest possibility that the lawyer might accept. He may have come to feel a tiny inkling of liking, and even respect, for Mr Schmidt, but the man was still a doddering old fool and Lex was not going to allow himself to be hampered by him a second time. The first occasion had not been his fault. He hadn’t been aware then that the Binding Bracelets would tie him to someone for the entire course of the Game. Now that he did know, he was going to make his choice very carefully indeed.

  Schmidt had told him that, in light of his previous adventures, Chroniclers were practically clamouring to go on a Game with him. And that was true, so far as it went. The problem was that, once Lex had managed to convince the clerk behind the desk that he really was Lex Trent, the man had showed him the books and Lex had been… well.. not much impressed, to put it frankly.

  Each Chronicler had a photo and a profile and whilst most of them had quite impressive resumes so far as writing was concerned, it was a totally different story where adventuring was concerned. They all had that pale, weedy look of those who never venture outside unless they have to. And over half of them were wearing tweed jackets. Plus, almost all of them seemed to suffer from an interesting variety of allergies. Allergies, tweed, rather anxious-looking expressions on their round, pale faces…

  ‘I might as well take another lawyer and have done with it!’ Lex exclaimed. ‘At least they have quick minds, if nothing else! Is this the best you’ve got?’

  ‘What exactly were you expecting, Mr Trent?’ the clerk asked politely.

  ‘Well… I don’t know… Someone who doesn’t look quite so wet behind the ears! Someone who can have my back and hold their own in a fight and be good under pressure and think on their feet and be cool in a crisis. You know, that sort of thing.’

  The clerk looked quite alarmed. ‘I don’t think we have anyone like that on our list, sir,’ he said. ‘These are writers. But you can look through them all if you like. We have hundreds of names. I’ll go and fetch the other books for you, shall I?’

  Lex sighed. ‘I think you’d better.’

  After a disgruntled few hours spent turning mildewy pages, Lex had a list of five names, but he was scraping the bottom of the barrel even with them. The clerk said they could set up face-to-face meetings with the five he’d picked out and if one of them was suitable then they could take things from there.

  Lex was not at all happy. In his head he had thought that he would stroll into the Chroniclers’ Guild and find a perfect abundance of suitable writers. He had not expected this delay in finding someone and it was making him anxious. The Binding Bracelet on his wrist was a time bomb just waiting to go off. He had put on as much clothing as possible, to the extent that he looked rather like a prophet, but if someone were to have direct skin-to-skin contact with him, even accidentally, then the Binding Bracelets would separate, one would fasten about that person’s wrist and they would be the one Lex was stuck with for the rest of the Game. It had happened once and he did not intend to let it happen again. His companion this time would be his choice, and his choice alone. But he didn’t want to rush it either. He wanted someone who was going to be perfect. You could never have too many advantages when it came to Gaming with the Gods, after all…

  So he left the Chroniclers’ Guild with plans to come back the next day and meet the five he had picked out. All of them were fairly young men, in good health and most definitely not wearing tweed. Nor would they die if they accidentally smelled a peanut from across the room. There had been nothing in their profiles that had ruled them out but then there had been nothing that had particularly recommended them either. Lex was disappointed for he had been hoping one of them would jump out at him. After all, his own grandfather had been a Chronicler and yet he hadn’t been a total weed…

  But it turned out to be quite irrelevant in the end anyway because, that night on the ship, Lex managed to wheedle a little clue out of Lady Luck as to where her round of the Game was going to take place. And as soon as he heard the words Dry Gulch, his eyes lit up and a spectacular, stupendous, stunning plan began to form in his mind.

  ‘Why are you grinning like that, Lex?’ Lady Luck said sharply.

  ‘Oh, I’m just excited about seeing the Wild West, my Lady, that’s all,’ Lex said reassuringly. ‘I’ve never been. And I love seeing new places.’

  It was quite true that he had never been there before, but he most certainly knew about it. He’d read books and heard stories and seen pictures. And he knew all about the legend of Dry Gulch House and would have done even if it hadn’t involved Carey East’s family, for Lex made it his business to know about any legend involving treasure..

  Carey East’s uncle? Nathaniel East? had been the loony of the family. Cracked in the head, so they said. But the Easts had always had money and influence so, rather than sending him to an asylum, they packed him off to conquer the Wild West. One might argue that that was something of a cruel thing to do considering the fact that Nathaniel was, after all, a complete nutter. But it was better than an asylum. And Nathaniel did have moments of lucidity. Which was why the East family were? just about? able to get away with referring to Nathaniel as an eccentric. So he had gone out to the West and, as the East family had no doubt secretly hoped, he eventually came to something of a sticky end there. But not before he built a house in Dry Gulch. It had been constructed to Nathaniel’s own special, secret specifications and was therefore… something of an oddity, to put it mildly.

  Lex had seen drawings of it. He had also, during one of his many visits to the Wither City library, looked at a grand total of five sets of building plans for it. They were all different. Try as they might, no architect seemed able to pin the building down on paper. It was full of secret passages, and it was generally agreed that they probably hadn’t all been discovered yet. There were staircases that led nowhere, and doors on the top floor that opened right out on to nothing. There were windows set into the floor, and corridors that started out a normal size but gradually narrowed to the extent that the only way a grown man could get to the end of them was to crawl on his hands and knees. The furniture was nailed down in practically every room. Even the individual billiard balls were nailed to the snooker table. This may have been an interim measure before Nathaniel found a witch to cast a sticking spell over the contents of the house. After that, almost nothing could be removed from the walls or the floor. The house looked just as it had done for over a hundred years.

  Nathaniel lived alone in the house for five years before, one fateful day, he was ambushed by a savage gang of outlaws. The group killed Nathaniel and took over his house, but not before Nathaniel had time to hide his most precious possession-a magical double-bladed sword known as the Sword of Life that he had supposedly been given as a reward for some service he had done a witch. The sword was said to be capable of cutting any material and killing any creature. It was a hero’s sword, made for noble quests and daring adventures. And? most importantly of all? it could give life, as well as take it away. All the years of life that the sword took from the men it killed were stored within the blade itself? until the day when someone took them out. The sword could not bring people back from the dead. Nor could it heal grievous wounds. But if a person was already alive and healthy then it would extend the natural period of their life. They would still die if they, for example, walked off the edge of a cliff, or had their head chopped off, but the natural period of their life would be extended and some of their youth would be restored.

  Lex wanted that sword. He’d wanted it ever since he first heard of it. It was rumoured to have a hundred years of life stored
within the blade. Just think how invaluable such a thing would be! For the Games and for his thieving and scams. He could extend his own life by a century or more, and carry on adventuring well past the age he would otherwise be able to.

  The problem, however, was that the sword was hidden somewhere inside Dry Gulch House and had not been found in over one hundred years of searching, despite the fact that the house had been combed through from top to bottom. Many people said the sword wasn’t there at all and possibly never had been. They said it was a myth. Lex didn’t believe it. He thought the sword was there and he’d always intended to go and look for it one day. Now that the Game was to take them directly to Dry Gulch, the opportunity was just too good to miss.

  But the problem was that only cowboys and outlaws were allowed inside the house now. After Nathaniel East had been killed, the leader of the gang who’d attacked him? one Elijah Deadwood? had claimed ownership of the house and since then it had been passed down through the Deadwood family to this day. It was a rough, tough sort of place. Not at all the kind where Lex could just stroll in as himself if he didn’t want to get his teeth knocked out. So, if he was going to make it past the front doors, he would have to learn how to be a cowboy? or at least pass himself off as once convincingly? and he had a sneaky feeling that that was probably going to be easier said than done. Some things you can teach yourself, but others you need help for, and Lex was certainly astute enough to know the difference.

  ‘I suppose I absolutely have to have a companion by the time the Game starts, do I?’ he said, without much hope.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ the Goddess said at once. ‘You won’t be allowed to start otherwise.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  The question, therefore, was how on earth was Lex going to find an outlaw from the Wild West in the Wither City within the next few days? Although the odd cowboy passed through from time to time, they were certainly not common for the simple reason that cowboys did not tend to have much money and so could not travel across seas very easily unless they went as stowaways.