Ben and the others stood in the ruins of a village, gazing around at the rubble of houses and shops, and the burnt-out shell of an old wooden tavern. A stone well stood in the centre of the wreckage. It was the only thing that hadn’t been completely and utterly destroyed.
“Dadsbutt must’ve done this,” Wesley said, but Ben and Paradise both shook their heads.
“It was the Shark-Headed Bear-Thing,” Paradise said.
Wesley jumped back in fright. “What, again?”
“No, last time,” Ben said. “This is Paradise’s village. This is what was left of Loosh after the Bear-Thing smashed the place up.”
He looked around at the devastation. “I thought it was being rebuilt. The Mayor had all those building supplies sent over.”
“It is being rebuilt,” said Paradise, defensively. Ever since the Mayor had found her wandering the woods as a baby he had taken care of her. She trusted him with her life, and if he said he was rebuilding Loosh then he was. Admittedly, he seemed to be doing it much more slowly than she would have expected, but still. “These things take time, you know?”
“So … why are we here, exactly?” Wesley asked. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but I don’t see any massive robo-ogres round here.”
“He’s close,” Paradise said. She turned and scanned the trees to the east of the village. The dense forest stretched up the first few hundred metres of Mount Nochance, before the terrain became too steep and the trees decided that enough was enough, thank you very much, and that they were all perfectly happy down on the flat bit anyway.
“Up there,” Paradise said. “Dadsbutt and Scumbo, they’re both up there.”
“Then what are we waiting around here for?” asked Ben.
“When we should be running as fast as we can in the opposite direction!” added Wesley. He smiled hopefully at them. “No? Oh well. Worth a try.”
Ben started towards the trees, but Paradise caught his arm. “Let’s be careful,” she said. “They’re not alone.”
“The trolls are there?”
“I think so,” said Paradise. “And … someone else. I don’t know who, but I can feel them up there.”
“Dadsbutt’s master,” Ben guessed.
“Whoever it is, I think he’s waiting for you, Ben. I think he knows we’re coming.”
Ben nodded. “Good. Then I hope he has my glove ready.”
“I doubt they’ll give it up without a fight,” said Wesley.
“That suits me fine,” said Ben, heading up into the forest.
They found Dadsbutt’s trail almost at once. A wide expanse of grass had been flattened, and dozens of branches lay broken and trampled on the forest floor. Several large trees had been pushed over, their thick trunks snapped in two, their roots ripped free of their soil beds. It was a path of destruction that led straight into the shadowy heart of the woods.
“So … I’m guessing this way?” said Ben.
Paradise nodded. Wesley groaned. Then all three of them followed in Dadsbutt’s footsteps.
They stayed quiet, stayed alert, and stayed close together. The whole forest seemed to be holding its breath and watching them. Not a bird tweeted, not a leaf rustled as they crept on quietly through the woods.
And then, all of a sudden, they spied something through a gap in the trees – a long and narrow wooden hut with no windows and a heavy-looking door. It stood in a clearing all on its own. Ten metres or so beyond it, the rocky face of Mount Nochance rose sharply towards the sky.
Ben and the others ducked down low and scanned the area. Nobody moving. Nobody there.
“I think it’s safe,” Ben said.
“I highly doubt that,” whispered Wesley.
Paradise nodded. “Him … and I think a few others.”
“What about Dadsbutt?”
“No, not there. He’s…” She stopped.
“He’s where?” whimpered Wesley. “And just so we’re clear – if you say ‘standing right behind you’ I will die.”
“No,” said Paradise, shaking her head. “It’s like he’s inside the mountain itself.”
Ben shrugged. “Good enough for me. I’m going to go rescue Scumbo.”
“Are you absolutely sure that’s such a good idea?” Wesley asked. “He does eat people, remember?”
“He only mostly eats them,” Ben corrected.
“That might actually be worse.”
“I promised him,” Ben said. “I promised him he’d be safe.”
“Yes, well,” Wesley stumbled. “Maybe … he’s forgotten. Anyway, I’m sure we’re worrying about nothing. For all we know he’s having the time of his life in there!”
From somewhere nearby there came a muffled scream of pain.
“Although he probably isn’t,” Wesley admitted. He sighed. “Fine. Let’s go get it over with.”
They kept low, scampering across the flattened grass until they reached the back of the hut. Ben listened for any sign that they had been spotted, then sidled around the building until he found the door.
“Locked,” he said, trying the handle.
“Oh well, we did our best,” Wesley offered. He patted Ben on the shoulder. “Can’t win them all, I suppose.”
Stepping back, Ben brought his boot up and slammed it against the door. A jolt of pain shot along his leg and he went sprawling backwards on to the forest floor.
The door, on the other hand, didn’t budge.
“Ouch,” he muttered. He stood up and took aim again. He locked his sights on a spot right by the door handle. He practised his leg swing a couple of times. He took a deep breath.
Before he could kick, Paradise caught him by the belt of his tunic and pulled him around the corner. “What are you—?” he began, but Wesley’s hand clamped over his mouth. With a tilt of his head, Wesley gestured in the direction of Mount Nochance. Ben nodded to say he understood, and Wesley pulled his hand away.
Quietly, Ben leaned over to the corner and peeked out. There, stretching as he emerged from a dark cave in the mountainside, was Dadsbutt. The moonlight reflected off his scarred bald head.
Ben ducked out of sight just as the ogre turned towards the shed. The ground began to shake, louder and louder, as Dadsbutt stomped closer and closer.
The children pressed themselves tightly against the wooden wall. Dadsbutt loomed taller than the building, and for one horrible moment Ben thought the ogre would look down and spot them. Instead, Dadsbutt knelt down at the door. They heard him muttering to himself, then there was a jangling of keys followed by the clunk of a lock.
Ben risked a glance around the corner. Dadsbutt was close enough to touch. The ogre had pushed the door open and had a hand shoved through the doorway all the way up to the elbow. The tip of his tongue stuck out through his metal teeth as he felt around inside the shed. From the other side of the wall came a series of panicky troll-like squeals.
With a grunt of triumph, Dadsbutt yanked his arm back out again. He held three trolls trapped between his limb-like fingers. Ben caught a fleeting glimpse of Scumbo’s frightened-looking face poking out between the ogre’s thumb and forefinger, then Dadsbutt locked the door, stood up, and thundered back in the direction of the cave.
“YOUR TURN LITTLE TROLLS,” the monster said, and there was an even nastier edge to his voice than normal. “MASTER IS READY FOR YOU NOW!”
“What do we do?” asked Paradise.
“All in favour of running away?” said Wesley. He raised his hand into the air and glanced anxiously at the others.
“We need to get Ben’s glove back.”
“And save the trolls,” added Ben.
Wesley thrust his hand higher. “Anyone?” he asked hopefully.
Ben and Paradise both shook their heads. Wesley sighed and lowered his arm. “N-no, thought not,” he stammered, and he stuck close to Ben and Paradise as they hurried after Dadsbutt and in through the dark hole in the side of Mount Nochance.