Knappler's Burden

S.D. Birkbeck

Description

There is a land beneath our feet, a land of giant caves, simmering lakes, strange creatures and people. For centuries our two worlds - Goneunderland and Upoverland - have co-existed, together but apart. But the discovery of a legendary blue crystal of immense power threatens to put the two worlds on a collision course. Goneunderland's king, his rebellious nobles, the Luxian priests, and the scheming Lady Euphansia Fish all covet the stone, and a powerful Upoverland energy magnate will stop at nothing to get his hands on this unrivalled source of power. The Knappler, the miner who found the crystal, flees with his treasure to Upoverland hoping for sanctuary. The chase is on.

Sujets

• Fantasy (canción de Mariah Carey)
• Fantasy

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 15 juillet 2015
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785382659
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
THE KNAPPLER’S BURDEN
A Goneunderland Adventure
S.D. Birkbeck



Publisher Information
Published in 2015 by
Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
The right of S.D. Birkbeck to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1998
Copyright © 2015 S.D. Birkbeck
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Any person who does so may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.



Part 1
By The Way Of A Beginning
Standing at the mouth of the tunnel and frightened by the overwhelming size of his new environment the Knappler, all 7 foot 5 inches of him shivered with fear. Above him and all around him was a vast nothingness. On and on it went, up and out, never-ending. He was used to the confined spaces of his own world, of the plunging chasms, the stone-strewn plains and the towering mountains that reached up and up, moulding themselves onto the roof of the earth above. He was used to horizons of cliffs and rocks, of dark but warm spaces. Here the cold slithered around him like a cold blade. It was a cold that sought him out and found its way through his scrag of long hair and torn clothes. Then there were the noises. Clanging, whirring, screeching, slamming and banging sounds that hurt his ears. These were not the muffled sounds of his world like the dull thud of his pick as it bit into the earth or the faraway cry of the mazzurai as its fiery red feathers alerted a potential mate.
It had been almost a week since he’d fled and two since he’d made the discovery that changed his life and threatened to change his world. He’d kept it hidden, out of sight from the other miners and the whole village. But its hunger for light was insatiable and it was only a matter of time when an accident or a forgetful moment would set it free and cast them all in its light.
He had been told to leave the village and head for Artobia, the great city. Along roads and through villages he’d walked with the priest, trying his best not to attract attention. He was just a Knappler on his way to the cutters to sell his stones. But all the time, the stone in his pouch kept him alert and suspicious eyes gazed keenly out from under his hanging mop of hair and his bare feet were always ready to flee and his large, knobbled hands always ready to punch.
Once in the city, the secrecy had begun. He was told what he must do and how he must do it. They had gone over the directions several times until the Knappler had committed them to memory. They had told him not to deviate, to stay true to his task, to find the room with the green star where he would find sanctuary.
And so he had left. Only once had things gone wrong, when the tentacles of a lurking er-yuk dragged him from his rowing boat into Lake Artobactl. He’d cut himself free and had managed to haul himself back into the boat before the beast tried again. On the far shore he made a meal of the tentacle before resuming his journey.
Nothing had been written down, no map handed over. It was all in his large, shaggy head. After the lake, there had been the underwater wall with the grotesque figures, the well, the great climb and then the long, slow trek upwards. For days he climbed and squirmed his way in the damp darkness, his only light coming from the friendly lizard that purred on his shoulder. He had been told about the lizards and, as instructed, waited till this one had stepped forward and offered him its service. As soon as it was on his shoulder, a small round bulb on the end of a thin filament that protruded from the centre of the creature’s head began to shine. Up endless flights of steps, across paths carved into the side of cliffs, under waterfalls and through countless caves the lizard sat patiently, its filament bobbing with each of the Knappler’s large strides. There had been other sources of light, but these were brief and, to the Knappler’s inquiring glances, frustrating. Small bugs, swift water creatures and even tubular plants would tease him with pulsing or blinking shows of illumination. Should he peer down or try and find the source, he would get nothing but shy darkness.
After five days, a short set of steps had brought him to a man-made wall. He took the lizard from his shoulder and bid it farewell. His large fingers traced the outline of the wall and an edge at the end took him into a narrow passage. Two zig-zags brought him to the entrance of a train tunnel. A miner by trade nature, the Knappler felt at home in this long, dark stretch of warmth and mustiness. But the smell was different. There was no earthy smell of soil or mud. Something acrid, unworldly and unpleasant entered his nostrils.
He was getting used to this smell when a warm wind wafted from deep inside the tunnel. The wind grew stronger blowing his hair, drying his eyes. Suddenly a great roar filled the tunnel. A bright light blinded the Knappler. A train rushed by scaring the Knappler out of his wits. He pressed his body against the tunnel’s dirty wall until the roar and wind was gone. Frightened, he stepped back into the wall.
For almost an hour he’d stood at the end of the short zig-zag, too afraid to venture out. Like a nervous mouse sticking its nose out of a warm, comfy hole, he dared not step into the vastness that faced him. But he knew sanctuary was in front of him, not behind, and time was running out. Others were sure to follow, for the secret he carried was too great to stay concealed. He had to find the room with the green star. At least then he could share his burden.
Out he ventured and onto the tracks. A few steps and he could see the mouth of the tunnel. Another train approached. He was too far from the hole in the wall. As it sped by, the Knappler threw himself against the foot of the tunnel. There he stayed, a tight bundle of rags, not daring to move. Another train came. Four more. Eight more. Twelve more. When the gaps between the trains finally lengthened, the Knappler unfurled himself and walked to the end of the tunnel where he felt the cold and heard the sounds of this new world.
It was late evening and the sky was a dirty blue with smudges of windswept cloud threatening to paint the canvas grey. In the blue the Knappler could just make out a small dot of twinkling light and the fears of all his kind came upon him. His head swam with the stories of his youth and the teachings of the elders and of the priests, known as the luxians, that lived amongst his people. Would he be swept away by a great wind or be swallowed up by one of the great seas? Would the ball of heat that baked the ground dry wither him as well? Was there really water that fell from the roof so hard that it could knock a man’s eyes out? And what of the great streaks of blinding hot light that could burn a man to ashes in less time than it took to blink an eye? Did the people grow noses under their chins? Did they sleep standing up and did they carry their young around in sacks of skin that grew from their bellies?
Hearing another train, the Knappler made his move. With great strides he bounded along the train track. Every so often he reached down to feel the leather pouch that bounced from a rope belt around his waist, his hand feeling the hard object inside, reassuring him that the reason for his adventure was still safe.
Remembering the instructions, he ran to the station just outside the tunnel. Crouching low, he bounded up some steps and turned left across an over bridge. He was at a T-junction at the bottom of a small hill. He crossed the road and ran up the hill. The street was lined with houses on one side and shops on the other. He ran as fast as his dirty bare feet could take him. A dog barked. Television screens flickered blue. A bus wheezed to a stop. All this was new to the Knappler, they said it would be, but he knew he had to keep going as it was just as dangerous to be caught here as it was in his own world.
At the end of the road he saw a rectangular park defined by a high pointed railing. The gate was locked. The Knappler looked left and right. He tried to see through the park but the buildings on the other side were too far away. His eyes strained for a glimpse of the green star. Then came the sound of running footsteps. Quick, soft steps. The Knappler closed his eyes and concentrated. He sensed six of them, about twelve feet away.
“Knappler, you are not where you should be. By the order of the luxians of Artobia and in the name of King Longwiff we demand you return with us.”
Many thoughts went through the creature’s mind, none of them quickly for Knapplers aren’t prone to quick thoughts. But if his would-be escorts were who he thought they were, then he’d need to act fast.
“Come, Knappler,” the voice said with practiced authority. “You will not be harmed.”
His big eyes shifted left and right. The fence ran at least a hundred feet in both directions, too far for him to run. He could take three or four of them easily, but six would be difficult.
“Are you listening, Knappler?”
The fence suddenly appeared like a large stubborn bolder stopping him and his pick from advancing and since no boulder had ever stopped a Knappler, his thoughts narrowed to a single option. Without looking at the threat behind him, he took several slow steps backwards before leaping at the fence.