Chapter 10
Basil to the Rescue
Basil rested on his elbows; he sucked in another lungful of thick eucalyptus vapour; his nose ran like a leaky tap. He had a touch of pneumonia; he blew his nose and sipped his over-proof sweet brandy-tea; he felt very weak, and in the spidery light of a warm fire he fell into a deep sleep – at least for a few minutes.
Prince David rushed into the room; he was in a very bad mood. “I’ve got some very bad news to tell you!” he shouted and looked around for Basil.
“The Wartlock know I’m here. And they also know about the tunnel!” Spotting Basil in bed, he jumped on him and shook him as if there was no tomorrow; he didn’t give two hoots about Basil’s poor state of health. “I hope they don't know about the traps, Basil!"
Basil staggered awake and looked about sheepishly. "Oh, hello, Prince David," he said and flapped his heavy eye lids. "I must’ve dozed off; I've got a bad cold, you know." He gave a complimentary sneeze to confirm his diagnosis. "It was those awful wizards; the buggers tossed me into the moat for no reason at all. I suppose they had nothing better to do with their time.” The Prince was speechless.
“Anyway, a bunch of jolly wartlocks saved me just in the nick of time; just as my life flashed before my eyes!”
“The Wartlock know about the tunnel, Basil; and they know Prince David is here.” said Caroline loudly.
"Well, of course they know about the Prince,” said Basil with self-praise. “I told them he was here!”
"Why on earth did you do that, Basil?" asked Caroline; her tone of voice was scathing. Basil felt a cold chill pass over his body. "You think the Wartlock were up to no good then, do you?”
Basil appeared to be on the brink of a nervous breakdown. "Well, I didn’t tell them everything you know," he said. “I only told them I knew the Prince, and he's our guest in the Castle - that's all!"
"I wonder how they found-out about the secret tunnel, then?” said the prince; he squinted accusingly at Basil.
"Beats me!" said Basil; he lied like a seasoned politician. "But we'd better check the tunnel immediately!” He leapt out of bed, and followed very closely by the prince, pelted towards the tunnel.
They slithered to the edged of a stand of young fir trees and peeked through the underbrush, and their eyes bulged: Wartlock were milling at the entrance to the tunnel!
“The wizards were right, after all!” hissed the Prince. “I’m doomed!” he cried with a great deal of passion and tears rolled down his cheeks.
The Wartlock were very twitchy about something in the tunnel; they didn’t know what it was, but it frightened the crappers out of them. Two of their number appeared to be exceptionally frightened; they shrieked and howled and refused point-blank to enter the tunnel.
"They must’ve come across a trap," the Prince whispered. “I may not be doomed after all.”
"I suppose so,” said Basil; he didn’t sound too convincing. “It could also be a snake?” Basil and the Prince slithered a little closer and carefully raised their head above a low-lying blackberry bush.
The two wartlocks were still kicking and screaming and refused to enter the tunnel. Their leader, a captain, wasn’t amused one little bit by their unmilitary-like behaviour.
The first rule of soldiery was to obey instinctively; they had to do or die, either for disobeying orders or getting themselves killed following orders. It was their duty to die! However, most soldiers preferred to defer that eventuality as long as possible.
An officer, a superior being, did all the thinking in the English army. And his brave fighting men had to obey his commands automatically; thinking was actively discouraged in the ranks; after all, thinking could lead to no end of good ideas and that was definitely not on!
The superior being in this case was in a very bad mood; he had the two terrified soldiers dragged before him and gave them a thoroughly good dressing down: he bellowed, snarled, roared, scowled, berated and threatened them till he turned blue in the face; in a blind fit of rage he swung a punch at one of the soldiers, missed by a big margin and connected his senior NCO who just happened to be standing in the wrong place at the wrong time. The NCO, a staff sergeant with a chest full of military campaign medals, staggered back; he shook with anger and his eyes blazed with the red-hot fire of revenge. No one, not even his captain, was going to get away with humiliating him in front of his men! The captain had just signed his own death warrant. The captain continued as though nothing untoward had happened.
“Right then in you go; and be quick about it or I’ll have you both shot for disobeying my order!" The captain knew how to encourage instinctive obedience from his troops.
The two wartlocks, scared shitless, were unceremoniously thrown into the tunnel and their mates provided cover fire to smooth their progress.
“I told you there was nothing to worry about!” the captain shouted after them; he changed his mind almost immediately and bolted for the safety of Deep Wood; he was followed by his brave soldiers.
"What on earth was that?" said Basil as the last Wartlock disappeared into Deep Wood.
"Shhhh!" whispered the prince. ”There's something moving - over there!" He pointed towards a clump of birch trees.
Prince David was right; there was movement in the trees, about nine feet above the ground - far too high for a wartlock.
"What is it?" said the Prince; he sounded worried.
"It's a bloody centaur!" whispered Basil as a blond-haired, blue-eyed, creamy-skinned Apollo from head to waist and a magnificent Palomino horse from waist to luxurious golden tail, crashed out of the undergrowth and galloped towards the cave entrance; he carried a stout club studded with nails. His colleagues appeared moments later and galloped after the fleeing wartlocks. The forest echoed to the sound of gunfire and the screams of dying centaurs and wartlocks alike.
"How did the centaurs know about the tunnel? Asked Prince David; he fixed his eyes on Basil yet again.
"Beats me!” Basil lied again; he avoided eye contact.
The Centaur general trotted over to the tunnel and cautiously examined the entrance.
Basil and Prince David watched his every move; they took short, soft breaths for fear the sound would reveal their position; it’s a well-known fact that centaurs possess acute hearing; and they were clearly in a bloodthirsty mood. All of a sudden the centaur did something totally unexpected; he spun-around and charged straight at them! The prince pissed himself, but an Englishman is made of sterner stuff and wears much stouter underpants.
"No time to waste!" yelled Basil in the heat of the moment and scrambled to his feet. “Hello Neddy!” he sang as the centaur got closer, and pulled the heavy .45 pistol from his belt. “Make my day you lying prick!” he growled and pointed the gun at a spot roughly between the centaur’s eyes. The centaur's powerful legs stiffened immediately and he skidded to a halt before Basil.
"So, Basil, we meet again!" he said with a put-on grin. "I'm sure you remember me, don't you?" Basil sniggered and half-turned his head towards a near-by bush.
"I'd like you to meet somebody,” Basil said grinning; he reached into the bush and extracted the prince. The centaur's jaw dropped and he mouthed wordlessly; his next promotion flashed through his mind. There, bold as brass, stood Prince David.
"I believe you're looking for me?” mumbled the prince like a school boy about to experience corporal punishment. Basil stood next to the Prince and amused himself throwing the loaded pistol from hand to hand - he'd seen John Wayne do it in the movies. The centaur kept moving, just in case!
"Yes, Prince David,” sang the general like a seasoned castrato. “I’ve been looking for you for some time. I was afraid the Lord of Hell may have already found you. Your life and the future of Kingdom are inextricably linked you know; and your safety is foremost on my mind. We centaurs are your servants and protectors of the Royal Throne of Kingdom. So you must take us into your confidence - your life depends upon us!"
The prince wasn’t beguiled; but Basil was, yet again. "You’re lying!" shouted the prince; he demonstrated his courage by sticking out his tongue at the centaur. Sticking out one’s tongue in Eloi culture was the pinnacle of personal insult; it was a common pastime among the aristocracy!
"You’re after the throne for yourself; and you’re in competition with both the Lord of Hell and the Wartlock - you’re all out to get me! Then what? A war of attrition I suppose?" Basil changed his mind; he wasn't beguiled anymore. “Lying prick!” he yelled.
The general’s eyes flashed with the fire of hatred and fury; he glared unblinking from the Prince to Basil and back to the Prince; white flecks of angry sweat blossomed on his flanks; he pranced threateningly on the spot.
"Hold it right there!” Basil shouted and wiped dirt from his pistol; he'd dropped it in the excitement. The centaur, his face twisted with anger, turned on Basil and the Prince.
"How dare you speak to me like that, you feeble parasites?” He roared and charged at them with mayhem and murder on his mind. Basil raised his heavy pistol and pulled the trigger; he didn’t bother taking aim. Bang! He missed. Bang! Again; he missed again. But the centaur wasn't waiting for third time lucky and holding his head low galloped towards the relative safety of Deep Wood.
"That showed him a thing or two!" said Basil and blew a smoke ring from the barrel. "I was only trying to frighten him, you know.”
Prince David nodded but said nothing.
***
Firmly attaching a rope to a nearby tree, the Doctor and Zoë lowered themselves onto the narrow basalt ledge and cautiously made their way towards the gate they’d seen before; but they hadn’t gone more than a dozen paces before they found the first sign of Mathew having been there; it was his Swiss Army pocket knife.
“Thank heavens; he’s still alive!” exclaimed the Doctor. Zoë whooped for joy and peered into the tunnel. However the Doctor wasn’t prepared to follow Mathew into the tunnel; it was far too dangerous. Their best option was to retrace their steps and return with the airship. The Doctor hadn’t mentioned it to the children but the airship was armed with deep ground-penetrating radar that would enable them to see the inside of the tunnel from the safety of the airship.
The Doctor and Zoë quickly retraced their steps to the surface and rushed back towards the beach and the airship. The journey back was considerably faster, so much so they soon found themselves stumbling out of the jungle and onto the soft white sand and their blood froze. They dropped to the sand and slithered back into the cover of the jungle.
The Wartlock had found the airship!
“How on earth did they find the airship?” the Doctor asked; he wore the mask of disbelief. “At least they can’t get inside the airship?” whispered Zoë, but she was dead wrong. “They’re inside!” she cried moments later.
The Wartlock immediately stopped what they were doing and fixed their eyes on the still-smouldering path blasted through the jungle; they seemed to be looking directly at the Doctor and Zoë. One of the wartlocks un-shouldered his gun and began to stride towards where they lay hiding. The Doctor raised his laser and aimed at the approaching figure; but fate intervened just in the nick of time.
A ghostly figure appeared in the sky and threw itself at the wartlock; he screamed for his life as the ghost embraced him and sucked the life out of him. The wartlock’s screams trailed off until there was nothing left but silence. The ghost rose into the air and hurled itself at the remaining wartlocks; they clambered into the airship and slammed the door shut.
The phantom, for want of a better description of the man-mist, wrapped itself around the door and heaved with all its strength, but it couldn’t budge the door open; after that it tried to push itself between the door and the fuselage, but the fit was airtight. Then the unimaginable happened: The Wartlock started the engines!
The doctor instantly set the laser to high power and pulled the trigger; again and again he did that, but to no gain. The radiation defences he’d installed for future interplanetary flight were far too good; the laser beam only vaporised some of the paintwork. The Doctor, Zoë and the phantom watched the airship swiftly lift from the sand and blast-off into the sky.
However, what the Doctor, or anyone else outside of the airship, didn’t know at that time was that onboard the airship were the Fuhrer, the fortune teller, general Regan and a company of his most trusted storm troopers; and last, but definitely not least, the dreadful Tragic-the-Terrible also known throughout the universe as the Lord of Hell - it was he who masterminded the great airship capture!
Tragic roared with laughter as they streaked through the upper atmosphere and set course for Titan, a large orange moon orbiting Saturn. He wrung his hands together with delight – his dream to take over Kingdom and
The Doctor was flabbergasted by what he’d just witnessed; his worst fears were coming true.
The phantom swooped down onto the sand and glided over to where the Doctor stood; they obviously knew one another quite well because they shook hands and smiled with a lot of emotion. After some minutes of animated conversation the visitor turned his attention to Zoë. The Doctor beckoned her over. “Zoë,” the Doctor said proudly, “I’d like you to meet my dear friend Merlin!” Zoë was gob-smacked; before her stood the greatest magician of all time. Merlin extended his arm towards her; she grasped it and they shook hands; but his hand wasn’t human, it was as cold as the coldest ice imaginable.
“We’ve met before, Zoë,” he said, smiling. Zoë nodded, unable to think what to say on the spur of the moment; her thoughts were for Mathew’s safety. Merlin read her mind. “Mathew is safe. And I give you my solemn promise that no harm will ever befall him while I’m still in the land of the living or the dead!” He and the Doctor grinned. Merlin then raised his arm, as if to bid them goodbye, and dissipated as a strong wind over the jungle. The Doctor returned his attention to Zoë.
“The airship has a tracking device,” he said with a determined voice. “And I’ll get it back even if I have to take into custody every Wartlock in it!” These were very harsh words indeed for the Doctor to utter; the Wartlock would definitely put up a stiff fight to prevent their capture – and that meant bloodshed and death! The Doctor had never knowingly killed anything before - except a Dragon that was on its last legs anyway.
Zoë was stunned, not only by what the Doctor had just said but also by what had just transpired; this was fast becoming her worse nightmare. “How can we get the airship back?” she asked.
“We’ll use the Space and Time Modulator to follow the Wartlock through time and space! They’ll never get away from me - I’ll catch them at the speed of imagination! And then I’ll show those thieving Wartlock hounds that I’m very angry indeed!” As he spoke four shooting stars suddenly appeared low on the horizon; they streaked towards them at a very fast speed.
“There they are!” said the Doctor excitedly and pointed in the direction of the approaching objects; he sounded relieved. Moments later four colourful wizards sitting astride broomsticks zoomed overhead, circled swiftly and came in for a controlled landing, except the Dribbler - he lost his grip and fell arse over tit in the sand.
Regrouped, the four wizards, Messer’s Woofer, Howler, Screamer, and Dribbler, approached the Doctor with a look of sheer grit in their eyes and true grit in the Dribbler’s mouth. They had all met the Doctor before; and Zoë had the misfortune of seeing them incinerate Merlin in Deep Wood; but neither she nor the wizards knew that it was Merlin at the time. They got down to business immediately; they didn’t waste time with pleasantries. The Howler was the first to speak:
“Merlin said you need our help urgently, Doctor!” His comrades nodded affirmation.
“Yes, thank you my friends,” he replied. “As it happens the future of Deep Wood and
The wizards did as was requested and within minutes they, with Zoë and the Doctor riding as pillion passengers, soared into the balmy sky and hurtled over the North Sea towards Deep Wood; the Dribbler wasn’t at all happy because nobody wanted to ride behind him.
The flight didn’t take very long and the white cliffs, fringed with a coat of fuzzy green velvet, soon hove into view. The wizards landed in the Castle courtyard without any mishap; Caroline and Violet met them with a pot of tea and a plate of steaming scones.
“Did you see any Wartlock?” asked the Doctor urgently.
“Well not personally,” said Caroline. “But Basil said he was saved from drowning by a group of wartlocks.
The Doctor cast his eyes at the wizards; they avoided eye contact and whistled God Save the Queen as they examined the shrubbery. “I want you two,” he said pointing at Howler and Screamer, “to go into Deep Wood and find Basil and the prince; bring them back here immediately!” He then addressed Woofer and Dribbler. “I want you to go to
The wizards grasped their clappers tightly and pelted down the courtyard like a clutch of constipated drakes; around and around they galloped until they reached escape velocity and shot off into the bright blue yonder.
The Doctor, followed by Zoë, Caroline, and Violet, hurried towards his laboratory; he wanted to ready the Space and Time Modulator Bubble for flight.
***
Basil and Prince David squinted into the tunnel, unsure of what to do next. The two unfortunate wartlocks that had been forced into the tunnel were most likely dead. Basil fired a shot into the darkness; they heard the heavy bullet ricocheting off the walls; otherwise it was silent.
“Hello, Basil!” sang a smarmy voice from behind him; it sounded strangely familiar: “Fancy meeting you again Basil, and so soon too!” Basil spun round and shoved his revolver into the Howler’s gut; he’d never forget that voice as long as he lived. The Howler pushed the gun aside and hitched an insincere smile to his face.
“No need to be like that Basil!” he said; “we need to join our hands in friendship, the fate of
“The Doctor asked Screamer and me to find you and the Prince and return both of you to the Castle without delay; he’ll tell you everything when he sees you. I want you, Basil, to hop onto Screamer’s clapper, and the Prince can attach himself behind me. Have you ever ridden on a clapper before, Basil? Or would you prefer to walk back to the Castle?” Basil rippled his upper lip as if he was about to bite Howler.
“Alright, then,” he said, and rounded on Screamer. “If you as much as fart, I’ll plug you!” Howler and the Prince laughed but Screamer was far from amused and threw a thoroughly disgusting gesture at Basil.
Basil flung a leg over Screamer’s clapper and hung on as tightly as he could; and on a given signal they prepared to launch themselves into the sky.
Howler and the Prince zoomed into the air like seasoned clappernauts, and described lazy circles in the sky above Screamer and Basil as they prepared to taxi for takeoff.
“Alright Basil, on my command I want you to hold onto the clapper and run after me like the clappers! And remember, Basil, left foot forward!”
“I’m ready whenever you are!” Basil shouted impatiently and grabbed hold of his end of the clapper. Then he remembered something very important. “Hang on mate! Where’s the bleeding motor? Or is it fart-propelled?” Screamer ignored his crass remark.
“Now run like the clappers!” he yelled and kicked at the ground like Fred Flintstone; they pelted down the runway until the unthinkable happened: Basil lost his grip and fell off; and the Screamer shot into the air like a sky rocket. The next thing Basil recalled was coming round in the Castle; the Doctor, Zoë, Caroline, Violet, Howler, and a very angry Screamer stood next to him.
“What happened?” he mumbled.
“The wizards strapped you to a clapper and brought you here. How do you feel, Basil?” asked the Doctor. “And are you up to a very important task that may involve life and death?”
“As long as it’s not my death!” said Basil jokily. “What’s been happening?” The Doctor told him the whole story and what he intended to do to get the airship back.
Basil was speechless; the wartlocks would never have pulled a miserable stunt like that. A mist suddenly materialised next to him and moments later Merlin, the greatest magician in the history of mankind, stood before him. Basil’s jaw slumped onto his chest and his eyes bulged from their sockets. “Holy shit, what next?”
The wizards seized their wands and prepared for battle but lowered them when the Doctor accepted the hand of friendship Merlin extended towards him.
And to add to the crowd, Basil’s little mate Goby, the Goblin-fly, suddenly materialised in the room and made a beeline for Basil and gave him a big hug.
“There, there, Goby mate” Basil sang joyfully. Where have you been all this time? I’ve been worried sick about you; I even thought you’d been eaten by an owl; they’re forever flying past with messages and such like. But you’re back now and that’s all that matters!” He wiped away a little happy tear and so did his little mate.
“I’ve got something very important to tell you Baz mate,” he said. “It also involves the Doctor.”
“What is it Goby mate?” The Goblin-fly beamed momentarily and then his face went serious. “Tragic-the-Terrible was the ringleader; he used the wartlocks to get the airship; and they’re going to the moon Titan!”
Merlin stepped forward; he looked very serious. “What Basil’s little friend said is true,” he said. “But I’ve also learned that Tragic is going to use Titan as his base for the invasion of
“He wants to do a lot more than that!” Goby said. “He wants to take over the whole world! He must be stopped Basil. And what’s more he’s headed for the twin spires; it’s sin city Basil! And he’s got lots of friends there who’ll help him for a price!”
“You’re absolutely right, Goby,” said the Doctor. “He must be stopped, somehow. But first of all we must find Mathew!”
Basil cast his eyes over the anxious faces. It was time for him to take charge –
“There’s nothing a determined Englishman cannot do!” he shouted patriotically. “We have the manpower and the means by which we can accomplish both tasks!” He yelled and pouted his lips defiantly. “The wizards and Merlin can spread out and search for Mathew on
“The Doctor must stay at the Castle and coordinate everything; he’ll be the liaison between the wild folk - the forest and water sprites, fairies, elves and suchlike, in Deep Wood and everybody else.”
“Caroline and Violet will monitor events at home and provide backup whenever needed.” He then patted his little mate, smiled and said: “Goby mate; I want you to look after every body!” The Goblin-fly buzzed with enthusiasm. Basil returned his attention to the assembly.
“We mustn’t discount the danger posed by the wartlocks and the centaurs for one single minute! Although Goby will be on the lookout for signs of danger you must not be complacent; you must be vigilant at all times!”
They discussed the advantages and disadvantages of Basil’s proposal and finally agreed with him - Basil was the most dispensable!
***
Mathew was thrown into a cell by a group of grumpy old wartlocks; they slammed the door and waddled off for a cup of sweet tea and buttered scones. Mathew looked around; there were no guards in sight and the door to his cell was hanging partly open. And to add to his surprise his fully-loaded gun lay next to the door. His escape had obviously been planned; but why?
Mathew didn’t know the answer to the question; however, he reasoned that someone at the highest level of the Wartlock military apparatus must have sanctioned his freedom. Truth be known, Mathew’s escape had been planned by the Fuhrer himself! The fortune teller had foretold the imminent destruction of the Wartlock nation and the Fuhrer’s death; and the rise of the Eloi to take over Kingdom. On the strength of that information and in order to cheat fate the Fuhrer decided to commandeer the airship and escape from Kingdom as soon as possible; but he had a major problem - he didn’t know how to fly the airship!
The fortune teller squinted into the swirling mist within the crystal ball and waved his hands above it; he was deeply shocked by what he saw; he waved his hands over the ball again and this time he nodded with certainty and slowly pulled himself back. Ashen-faced he rose from the table and dragged his feet towards the Fuhrer and told him what he’d seen: the Fuhrer was to be accompanied on the exodus by the Lord of Hell! And he could fly the airship!
***
A narrow flight of stairs connected Mathew’s cell with the main chamber, the one containing the Eloi. It was obvious the mysterious disappearance of the guards, the partly open cell door, and the presence of his loaded gun was no coincidence - it meant somebody wanted him to save the Eloi!
Mathew rushed down the stairs two steps at a time and jumped the last four; he hunkered down at the foot of the stairs and cast his eyes around the chamber; there were no wartlocks! He raised himself to a half crouch and dashed over to the closest building and peeked in; it was full of wartlocks – and they’d seen him! Grabbing their guns they opened fire and a fragmentation grenade landed at Mathew’s feet; he instinctively picked it up and hurled it back and bolted for his life amid a storm of whizzing red-hot bullets. Moments later the ground shook with a thunderous explosion and a rain of blood, bone and bits and pieces of uniformed wartlocks fell over everything. Mathew jumped to his feet and ran about unlocking cages. Some of the Eloi were also killed by the explosion; but many more survived to fight the Wartlock in the mother of all battles!
“Does anybody have military experience?” he shouted over the din; there was a lot of urgency in his voice. He was met with a large show of hands: most of the adults had completed national service and were ready to do battle. The men and women were separated according to gender; and then each group according to age and military rank. The Officers and NCOs then arranged the ordinary ranks into companies, platoons, and squads. The older men and women and children busied themselves gathering weapons and munitions for their small army.
The senior officers were told about the looming battle between the Eloi and the Wartlock; the latter advanced from the west through tunnels linked to the surface - they had a virtually unlimited supply of weaponry, ammunition, food, and men. And the Eloi advanced from the east; they were confined to a single tunnel and were packed together like sardines - it was a massacre waiting to happen!
The only hope the Eloi had of victory was to defeat the Wartlock at their first encounter. But how on earth were they going to do that? Many suggestions were thrown about but only one was considered feasible: They had to slow the advance of the Wartlock army and divide and defeat them on the surface; the rest would hopefully crumble. And it might just work; if only they could get to the surface!
Mathew knew the ventilator shafts linked the chamber to the outside world. Scaling ladders were hastily assembled and put in place beneath the shafts and explosive charges fixed to the wall beneath the whirling blades; they were connected one to the other as a ‘daisy-chain’ and readied for ignition. The plan was to blow the generators, scramble to the surface and engage the might of the Wartlock army!
What happened next is hard to believe but true; an electric short circuit set-off the explosive charges beneath the ventilator shafts in the chamber; the ripple of explosions frightened the Eloi advancing from the east in the tunnel into believing they were under fire from the Wartlock advancing in the tunnel from the west and instantly retaliated with a withering barrage of Rocket Propelled Grenades - these tore through the bodies of the wartlocks as though they were made of jelly and exploded in a heavy mist of blood, flesh, bone, and clothing. What followed was even more remarkable: a wall of blood burst forth from the pile of dead Wartlock and rushed at the Eloi like a tsunami; the Eloi were washed off their feet and thrown to the ground where they lay struggling in a lake of slippery blood. This prevented the Eloi from launching another RPG assault but gave the Wartlock enough time to deploy hundreds of multiple-barrel machineguns; the carnage wreaked by these weapons is hard to describe: tens of thousands of Eloi were torn to pieces in seconds; in fact, never in the history of modern warfare have so many people been killed in such a short space of time using conventional weapons. A wave of Eloi blood now swamped the Wartlock and thousands of warriors of both nations drowned in the blood of their enemy!
A field gun was hastily pushed over the bodies of the dead and dying and prepared for firing. A blood-spattered young wartlock captain raised his sword to signal fire. But he never got the chance to complete the command; an RPG took away his head and hit a trailer full of high-explosive artillery shells.
The explosion that followed can only be fully appreciated in the mind of the reader; it was like a nuclear explosion trapped inside a steel vault: an incredibly hot, melting flash, followed by an earth shattering explosion and the last gasp of two great armies as they were instantly reduced to shadows and dust; and in the intense firestorm that followed even the dust burst into nuclear fire and was reduced to molecules, atoms and sub-atomic particles. But worse was to follow: The extreme heat triggered the munitions dumps deep within the earth and set in train the annihilation of the Eloi and Wartlock nations and the destruction of Kingdom. This was just another example of Mutually Assured Destruction, MAD!
Mathew and the Eloi in the chamber had by now clambered to the surface through the disabled ventilator shafts and engaged the Wartlock with heavy gunfire. As expected the Wartlock panicked and scattered in all directions as long as it was away from the gunfire. The Eloi had succeeded and the destruction of the Wartlock army was at hand - or so they thought!
A loud roar of victory filled the air and the Eloi jumped to their feet and danced for joy; then the true horror of their situation struck home: they hadn’t engaged the main army at all! They had mistakenly attacked the tail end of the skirmisher contingent! The Eloi shook with fear as they beheld the might of the Wartlock army, resplendent in their smart uniforms, goose-stepping towards them and pulling their heavy guns behind them. In awe, shock and terror the Eloi dropped their weapons and prepared for the inevitable, their death!
Out of the clear Eastern sky appeared the likeness of four thunderbolts; they streaked through the low sky at a terrifying pace; they were preceded by crisp, blinding flashes of intense lightning and were followed by tremendous claps of thunder. Then they arrived like Gods seated upon heavenly chariots and attacked the evil that stood between life and death and heaven and hell.
With shrieks of Incendo and Incendium the wizards cast great balls of nuclear fire upon the Wartlock multitude; and one and all they ran amuck as pillars of fire until, writhing upon the ground in agony, they were reduced to ashes. A million Wartlocks died that day. The wizards looked down and beheld their handiwork; a job well-done.
“Humanity of humanities where is the humanity?” cried a voice from heaven; no one stopped to listen!
The wizards then sought-out and took-up Mathew into the air and carried him as a breeze back to the Castle.
Some of the Eloi soldiers had remained at the site of the great battle and with a heavy heart they cast their eyes over the scene of death and destruction that lay all around them and stretched out to the horizon. The stench of burning corpses was overpowering; they had all seen death before but never on such an enormous scale.
The ground beneath their feet grew unbearably hot; and it trembled as the intense heat ignited pockets of natural gas deep within the earth. Such a conflagration as that which raged beneath the earth at that time can only be imagined; nothing like it had ever been seen or spoken of before or since; the Eloi ran for their life and the once mighty Kingdom was reduced to dust and shadows. The shadows in their turn would one day be replaced by memory; and memory would fade and die and be replaced by folk lore and legend.
Merlin sought-out Princess Saffron from the stampede of humanity and took her to the Castle; but sadly neither she nor Prince David would ever sit on the Royal Throne of Kingdom.
“What happened today will echo into eternity!” someone cried out loud as in a dream.
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