Free The Wrath of the Lizard Lord by Jon Mayhew Page B

was circular and very bare apart from a pile of animal skins that lay in a heap, forming a rough bed. He pressed his palms against the walls. They were solid and thick, offering no chance of escape.
    ‘It looks like we’re prisoners,’ Dakkar said, examining the door. ‘Unless I can cut through the reeds that bind the planks of this door.’
    ‘That shouldn’t be ’ard,’ Mary said. ‘’Ave you got a knife?’
    Dakkar rummaged in his pockets and found a small penknife. He paused. ‘The only trouble is,’ he said, pressing a hand on the door, ‘what do we do if we get free?’
    ‘Go home of course!’ Mary said, her eyes wide.
    ‘Do you know the way?’ Dakkar said, arching his eyebrows at her. ‘And would we survive that deadly jungle if we did find the right route back?’
    ‘You’re right, I suppose,’ Mary said, pouting her bottom lip. ‘What d’you suggest, then?’
    ‘I’m not sure,’ Dakkar said. ‘Maybe we can persuade Gog that we aren’t a threat. He might let us go.’
    ‘’E didn’t seem too fond of us “small ones”, as he put it!’ Mary said. ‘Perhaps we could tell ’im that we’ve buried some treasure back where ’e found us.’
    ‘I don’t think he’s that interested in treasure,’ Dakkar said. ‘Besides, think what he might do once he realised it was a lie.’
    ‘Well, I’m not ’angin’ around ’ere to be eaten – or worse – just cos you can’t think of a plan,’ Mary said, snatching the knife out of his hands. She began sawing at the dry reeds that bound the door together.
    ‘Wait!’ Dakkar said, leaping forward. ‘Look!’
    A pair of dark, gentle eyes peered through the gaps between the planks of the door. They were smaller and younger than Gog’s or the other giants.’
    ‘A youngster!’ Mary said, poking a finger through the gap. ‘Hello, littl’un. What’s your name?’
    ‘Careful,’ Dakkar whispered. ‘It may bite.’
    ‘It’s a boy, I reckon, and only a baby,’ Mary said, laughing as the young giant hooked a finger round hers. ‘’E don’t mean any ’arm.’
    Mary pulled her finger back and the baby giant gave a snort and a giggle. Dakkar pressed his eye to another gap. The child sat outside the door, a small replica of its parents but still equal in height to Dakkar or Mary. His long, matted hair covered his shoulders and his fur wrappings hung a bit looser. He looked up at Dakkar and gave a gap-toothed grin. Dakkar couldn’t help but smile back.
    Dakkar scanned across the clearing. ‘So many women and children,’ he said. ‘Where are all the men?’
    ‘Huntin’, perhaps?’ Mary suggested, reaching out and tickling the baby’s palm.
    ‘How long have we been here?’ Dakkar asked, glancing at the cloudy sky. ‘Shouldn’t it be dark by now?’
    ‘We’re underground,’ Mary said simply. ‘And it never goes dark.’
    ‘But where does the light come from?’ Dakkar said. ‘How can there be a sky with clouds in it?’
    ‘There’s no sky,’ Mary said. ‘Look. It’s just a solid bank of cloud. I reckon it’s a gas of some kind.’
    ‘A gas that glows?’ Dakkar said, curious.
    ‘I once saw a gentleman make an explosion usin’ gas and a flame,’ Mary said, her eyes wide. ‘He was a nat­­ural philosopher. I took ’im some of my petrified shells and he showed me his workshop. Nearly blew it up, ’e did!’
    ‘Explosions I can understand,’ Dakkar muttered. ‘They’re common in mines where underground gas builds up, but to be constantly combusting like this? Amazing!’
    ‘Do you think . . .’ Mary began to say but something stopped her. The child had turned to look behind him and gripped her finger tightly. ‘What’s up, fella?’
    Gunfire crackled from the forest and Mary cried out as the child scurried away, wrenching her finger.
    Dakkar stared out as giants scurried this way and that. Screams filled the air. More gunshots rang out and Dakkar watched in horror as figures began to fall to the