Lex Trent: Fighting With Fire Read online

  Lex Trent: Fighting With Fire

  ALEX BELL

  headline

  www.headline.co.uk

  Copyright © 2011 Alex Bell

  The right of Alex Bell to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publishers or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.

  First published as an Ebook by Headline Publishing Group in 2011

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cataloguing in Publication Data is available from the British Library

  eISBN : 978 0 7553 7317 8

  This Ebook produced by Jouve Digitalisation des Informations

  HEADLINE PUBLISHING GROUP

  An Hachette UK Company

  338 Euston Road

  London NW1 3BH

  www.headline.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  CHAPTER ONE - THE PENALTY TASK

  CHAPTER TWO - THE OUTLAW, JESSE LAYTON

  CHAPTER THREE - JEREMIAH EAST

  CHAPTER FOUR - THE MORNING AFTER

  CHAPTER FIVE - THE SEA VOLCANOES

  CHAPTER SIX - THE DEAD SHIPS

  CHAPTER SEVEN - THE SQUEALING BLUE-RINGED OCTOPII OF SCURLYSHOO

  CHAPTER EIGHT - THE CURSE OF THE SUNKEN SHIP

  CHAPTER NINE - GLORIA

  CHAPTER TEN - THE DEATH TWITCH

  CHAPTER ELEVEN - THE MAJESTIC

  CHAPTER TWELVE - GREY PEARLS AND VANILLA CUPCAKES

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN - THE WISHING DRAGONS OF DESARETH

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - JAILHOUSE JESSE AND SID THE KID

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN - THE LIBRARY TREE

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN - THE VULTURES AND THE FLYING TREE SNAKE

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - I WISH MY HANDS WERE ORANGES

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - SLOW SID

  CHAPTER NINETEEN - PLANTAGENET THE DREAM-FOX

  CHAPTER TWENTY - THE BLACK SWANN AND THE SECRET TEA PARLOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - LUMPY BUMPY CAKE AND TWO SMOKED TROUT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - THE HANGING

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - THE GREAT ESCAPE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - THE GOLD-DUST MINES

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - THE DRAGON

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - A PAIR OF DOUBLE-CROSSERS

  Alex Bell was born in 1986 in Hampshire. She studied Law on and off for six long years before the boredom became so overwhelming that she had to throw down the textbooks and run madly from the building. Since then she has never looked back. She has travelled widely, is a ferociously strict vegetarian and generally prefers cats to people.

  For Trevor Bell − father, friend and Sam-I-Am.

  ‘There are two routes to happiness . . .’

  Thanks for always helping me get more!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Many thanks to my agent, Carolyn Whitaker, and my editor, Hannah Sheppard, for all their hard work, comments and feedback on this book. Thanks also to Sam Eades, Celine Kelly, and, indeed, everyone at Headline for making the second Lex Trent book a reality rather than just a fantasy in my head.

  My family, as ever, have supported me throughout the writing process, and been appropriately enthusiastic about the end result.

  And, as always, I duly acknowledge my pets − my three cats, Cindy, Chloe and Suki, and new addition to the menagerie, my Great Dane, Moose − who all keep me company whilst I write. And I would also like to acknowledge my skeleton, Erin, invaluable writing aide, friend and confidant.

  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 résumés 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 h
e 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 . . .