The Secret Mountain Read online

  Contents

  1 Lock, Stock (But No Barrel)

  2 Something Smells Fishy . . .

  3 No ANYTHING!

  4 The Campsite

  5 Mr In-Boots

  6 A New Discovery

  7 Deathrock-Skullgrind

  8 Marshmallow Mountain

  9 A Cold Night

  10 When the Going Gets Tough . . .

  11 A Victory (But for Who?)

  12 Betrayed?

  13 Home Again

  Jack’s foot slipped as he scrambled up the Story Tree which grew at the centre of Tale Town. Some trees are incredibly big, some are especially old, but the Story Tree was special in a different way. Every time a story was told near it, a new shoot would grow. A small story might grow into one leaf, but a long exciting story could turn into a whole branch covered in leaves.

  If you ran your finger along the branch, the story would happen inside your head. It was an amazing thing to experience and the reason Tale Town had first got its name.

  ‘It’s got to be somewhere up here,’ Jack muttered.

  squawked Betsy, Jack’s magical talking hen. The only word Betsy could actually say was ‘what’, but even so, Jack and his friends always knew what she meant.

  ‘You know, the story about the adventure we had last night?’ Jack replied. ‘When we were trapped on that boat, and the captain, who was a dog, was sailing us towards an island made out of bones?’

  Betsy rolled her eyes.

  ‘Of course it wasn’t a dream!’ insisted Jack. ‘Anyway . . . when we got to the island it turned into a giant cake, and then . . .’

  clucked Betsy doubtfully.

  Jack stopped climbing. ‘OK. Maybe last night’s adventure was a dream. But I’m sure other stories have been going missing from the Story Tree.

  Like the one about when Anansi first arrived here. You remember . . . I thought that he was a troll spy because his uncle and mum are cursed to look like trolls, and I stole all those spells and, you know. . . I wasn’t very nice . . .’ he trailed off, embarrassed.

  Betsy nodded. She knew that story very well.

  ‘Well it’s gone!’ said Jack dramatically. ‘And a whole load more as well!’

  ‘Of course I’m looking in the right place, but all that’s here is a freshly cut branch.’

  ‘Hey, Jack!’ came a voice from below them.

  Jack peered down to see his friends Red, Anansi and Rapunzel, as well as Ella and Cole, her Fairy Godbrother.

  ‘Hey, guys!’ called Jack. ‘Listen, I was just telling Betsy that stories are going missing from the Story Tree.’

  ‘No way!’ exclaimed Red.

  ‘Yes way!’ replied Jack.

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked Rapunzel.

  Jack sighed. ‘Come up and have a look for yourself if you don’t believe me.’

  It wasn’t long before everyone was perched on different branches.

  ‘Jack’s right!’ said Ella. ‘I can’t find the story about how Cole and I first met you all when we rescued Anansi’s mum from that evil witch.’

  ‘Awww!’ complained Cole. ‘That was the only one with me in!’

  ‘I doubt it’s anything personal,’ said Red, smiling at Cole. ‘But what I don’t understand is how these stories have gone missing. The spell of protection on the Story Tree means that the only way to trim off a story is using the Sacred Shiny Story-Snipping Shears, and Mayor Fitch only ever does that once a year. Plus, it’s usually the oldest stories that get taken off and stored to stop the Story Tree getting overgrown. These missing stories are really recent . . .’

  ‘And they’re all about us!’ muttered Rapunzel angrily. ‘The story where I was cursed by a genie is gone too.’

  ‘Fitch is up to something,’ said Anansi. ‘He must have been trimming stories off in secret – but why?’

  ‘I don’t know?’ said Jack. ‘But I’ll bet he’s up to no good.’

  squawked Betsy, her beady eyes flashing angrily.

  ‘Betsy!’ gasped Jack.

  added Betsy quietly.

  ‘I don’t like Mayor Fitch either,’ protested Jack. ‘But please, mind your language! Anyway, at least we’ve still got our secret cutting from the Story Tree down in Lily’s underwater cave. There’s no way Fitch could have got to that.’

  ‘Perhaps we should go and check it . . .’ began Ella, but she was distracted by a loud commotion. Several of Mayor Fitch’s armed guards were dragging someone into the town square.

  The group watched silently from up in the Story Tree as a small, hooded figure was dragged over to the ancient wooden stocks in the middle of the square, kicking and struggling.

  Sometimes Jack and his friends would pretend to be locked in the stocks, but only for fun – none of them thought they were ever actually used.

  ‘See how you like that!’ barked one of Mayor Fitch’s guards as she roughly secured the prisoner’s small wrists, making the hooded figure cry out.

  ‘Let’s see if Mummy and Daddy come to get you!’ added another with a mean grin. ‘If they do . . . we’ll be waiting!’

  A third guard yanked the hood off the prisoner’s head and then they all turned and walked away. Jack looked over at Red; her eyes were wide with shock. Locked up in the stocks below them was a child.

  A troll child.

  ‘Did you see that?’ whispered Jack from up in the branches of the tree.

  ‘See what?’ asked Rapunzel.

  ‘Fitch’s guards locking up the . . .’ He paused as he noticed Rapunzel rolling her eyes. ‘Oh, right,’ he added. ‘You did see.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asked Anansi. ‘I mean, I know everyone says Trolls mean Trouble, but he’s only a child. He can’t be older than us!’

  ‘I can’t believe they actually use those stocks,’ said Ella. ‘It’s totally mean!’

  ‘Do you think we should get him some water or something?’ asked Cole, flitting around the Story Tree nervously. ‘I’d hate it, being locked up like that – I mean, I know the wicked witch kept me and Ella locked up in her castle, but at least we could move about, and there was always water to drink – even if it was dripping down the walls of the room we slept in . . .’

  ‘You’re right!’ said Red. ‘We’ve got to do something – but what?’

  squawked Betsy, as quietly as she could.

  ‘That’s a good idea, Betsy . . .’ said Red. ‘But if we did find a dragon, there’s no guarantee that it wouldn’t eat everyone here and then set fire to the whole town instead of just scaring the guards into setting him free.’

  suggested Betsy. Anansi shook his head. ‘Even if we could invent a machine to freeze time and unlock him before the guards saw us – I don’t know where we’d be able to find the equipment to make one.’

  Betsy flapped angrily and squawked ‘WhAaaat?’ once more.

  ‘A secret meeting with the rest of the gang at the tree house in my garden?’ exclaimed Red. ‘Brilliant, Betsy! I’m sure someone will come up with a good idea.’

  ‘Whaaat’ muttered Betsy crossly.

  Everyone scrambled down from the Story Tree and slipped out of the town square, taking worried looks back at the small troll prisoner. Jack asked Betsy to go and find Hansel, Gretel and as many of their other friends as she could, which she did, but she was still in a bad mood, so she did it a bit grumpily.

  Red, Jack, Anansi, Ella, Cole and Rapunzel were running through town towards Red’s house when a voice rang out that sent shivers down their spines. Well . . . the voice didn’t so much ‘ring out’ as wheeze unpleasantly.

  ‘Now, now, Miss Red!’ called the seafood-snack salesman, Old Bert, as he pushed his wooden cart along the dusty street. ‘What’s the ’urry?’

  ‘Oh, er, nothi
ng . . . we were just . . .’ Red looked around to see if any of her friends could help her out, but they all seemed to have vanished. Then she spotted Jack, who had wrapped himself in a nightie that was hanging up to dry on a washing line, and Anansi, who had climbed up a spider’s web to hide underneath a dusty rooftop. Cole had somehow managed to turn himself, Ella and Rapunzel into hamsters. His fairy magic never really worked properly . . . He’d probably been trying to make them invisible.

  Red sighed. ‘Listen, Bert,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not buying any of your seafood snacks, OK? I don’t like seafood, I never have and I never will!’

  ‘Oh, I ain’t sellin’ that stuff any more,’ said Bert, wrinkling his nose. ‘No, I’m out of the snack game for good.’

  ‘Then what’s in your cart?’ asked Red suspiciously as the three hamsters scuttled around her feet.

  ‘Stationery.’

  ‘Stationery? Really?’ Red loved drawing, and the one thing that she couldn’t resist was a notebook or new set of pens.

  ‘Fancy a look?’ asked Old Bert, grinning his gap-toothed grin.

  ‘Go on then,’ replied Red, lifting up the lid of the cart. Even though the word ‘Snacks’ had been painted over and replaced with the word ‘Stationary’, it smelt just as fishy as it always had done.

  Red wrinkled her nose. ‘Er, Bert . . .’ she said. ‘Firstly that’s not how you spell “stationery”, and secondly, this isn’t stationery – your cart’s still filled with stinky old fish!’

  ‘It ain’t!’ barked Bert, pulling out a large swordfish. ‘Look, ’ere’s a pencil.’

  ‘That’s a swordfish,’ protested Red, ‘with a grey bit painted on the end of its nose to make it look like a pencil.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ replied Bert, looking offended. He pulled out a flattened piece of dried seaweed, picked up the swordfish and started trying to write his name, but nothing happened.

  ‘Stupid pencil . . .’ muttered Bert. ‘Must’ve run out of ink.’

  Red grinned. ‘Now I really have seen everything.’

  ‘Oh, really?’ asked Bert crossly, spinning around to face her. ‘You ever seen a rat on a ship so hungry it’ll eat itself? It starts with its tail . . .’

  Red’s eyes went wide and she shook her head.

  ‘Then you haven’t seen everything, have you?’ said Bert triumphantly. ‘Now if you don’t mind, I’m a busy man.’ He turned and hobbled off, pushing his squeaky old cart in front of him.

  ‘It’s OK – he’s gone now!’ Red called out as Bert walked away. One by one, her friends came out of hiding – apart from Cole, Ella and Rapunzel who were still hamsters.

  ‘I can’t work out how to undo the spell,’ squeaked the hamster with blue fur that must have been Cole. ‘Sorry . . .’

  ‘Typical!’ squeaked a hamster with long, blonde plaits.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure Cole will work it out,’ replied the third hamster, who was worriedly inspecting a small hole in the toe of one of Red’s shoes.

  ‘Let’s sort it out back at mine,’ Red said as she scooped them all up. ‘Come on, we’ve got a secret meeting to attend.’

  Rapunzel and Ella sat on the floor of Red’s tree house stuffing peanuts into their cheeks as fast as they could. Cole had managed to make them look human again, but a few hamster traits still remained.

  ‘This is so embarrassing,’ mumbled Rapunzel, shovelling in peanuts as she glared at the small blue fairy. ‘I mean, I’m the royal princess! If anyone saw me like this I’d be a laughing stock!’

  ‘But we’ve seen you,’ said Jack.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Rapunzel. ‘Anyone important.’

  Jack looked over at Red who raised one eyebrow.

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll fix it soon,’ said Cole.

  ‘Well, just as soon as you can would be good . . .’ said Ella, spraying a mouthful of nuts all over the floor. Without hesitating she scooped them up and started stuffing them all back into her cheeks. Just then a small green monkey swung in through the door of the tree house and landed in front of them.

  ‘Hey, guys!’ said Alphege, stroking his shiny green fur as he watched Ella and Rapunzel. ‘Er, what’s going on here?’

  ‘Two words,’ said Anansi. ‘Well, three actually . . . Cole and magic.’

  The monkey nodded. ‘I see . . .’ Alphege knew all about Cole’s magic. It was after one of Cole’s spells had gone wrong that Alphege and his super-intelligent gorilla friends had first met the Tale Town gang – although it wasn’t Cole’s unpredictable fairy magic that made Alphege look like a small green monkey. That was a whole other story.

  ‘What’s the hurry?’ he asked. ‘Betsy told me to “shift my furry green butt” – she can be so rude!’

  Jack shuffled his feet awkwardly. ‘She’s probably just a bit tired – it puts her in a bad mood.’

  ‘She’s always in a –’

  ‘– bad mood!’ said Hansel and Gretel as they poked their heads up over the top of the ladder into the tree house. Hansel and Gretel were twins who were so alike that they often finished each other’s sentences.

  ‘Yeah!’ added Wolfie as he scampered up behind them, bringing with him the smell of coconut shampoo. ‘She was totally mean to me just now. She told me to stop preening and get over here as soon as I could – but if I don’t wash my tail with lavender water and blow dry it –’ he wafted his tail around and the silky fur on it drifted gently through the air – ‘it gets into the most terrible knots!’ He sat down and adjusted his cap until it sat at just the right angle.

  Wolfie was the Big Bad Wolf’s son, but he was neither big nor bad – much to his dad’s annoyance. The young wolf crossed his legs neatly and looked around at his friends. ‘So, we’re all here now. What’s the mad rush?’

  It wasn’t long before everybody knew about the young troll prisoner and the friends had come up with a plan.

  ‘And you’re sure your gorilla friends will help?’ asked Ella.

  Alphege nodded his head. ‘Absolutely! They’d do anything for me. I’m their King! Besides, I pay them loads of bananas each week . . .’ He paused for a moment. ‘Even if I didn’t, I’m sure they’d still help.’ He paused again. ‘Probably.’

  Cole had finally managed to completely reverse his hamster spell, and after spitting out huge mouthfuls of peanuts, Ella and Rapunzel were busy describing what they had seen when they had sneaked into a troll festival a few weeks before.

  ‘So . . .’ said Jack thoughtfully when they had finished. ‘The trolls were just wandering around, eating food, listening to music and selling goatskins and stuff? That just sounds like a normal festival.’

  ‘Exactly!’ said Ella. ‘Trolls are just like us – I mean, sure, they got mad when they realized we were there, but before they saw us, they were all just having a nice time.’

  ‘But what about that one that tried to eat me!’ protested Alphege, ‘He didn’t seem very nice.’

  ‘Well, no . . .’ agreed Ella. ‘But remember that old woman who lived in the gingerbread house? She tried to fatten up Hansel and eat him?’

  Everybody nodded.

  ‘Well she wasn’t very nice either, was she? You get good people and bad people – why would it be any different with trolls?’

  ‘Good point.’ Jack nodded. ‘But even if our plan works and we manage to free the troll boy from the stocks, what then? Mayor Fitch’s guards are all over the place – they’ll catch him in no time.’

  ‘Our camping trip!’ exclaimed Anansi suddenly, looking round at Red and Jack. ‘My parents are taking us camping at the weekend – we can hide him away in one of the tent bags and he can come with us. Nobody will know anything! Well, not until we need to put up the tent.’

  ‘That’s settled then,’ said Red. ‘All we need now is a little bit of magic, and a lot of luck.’

  ‘Oh that’s no problem,’ said Cole, ‘I’ll just—’

  ‘No!’ yelled Ella and Rapunzel at the same time.

  ‘Thanks for t
he offer, Cole,’ said Red. ‘But maybe Jack should go and see Lily the Sea Witch for a spell – just this time. OK?’

  The next morning, everything had been sorted out. The sun was rising on a clear fresh day as Hansel and Wolfie walked into the centre of Tale Town. The square was deserted apart from the young troll who was still in the stocks and three bored-looking guards. Wolfie carried a football under one arm as Hansel ran right up to a sign, which read:

  then yelled, ‘Pass it over here, Wolfie!’

  Wolfie made a good effort at kicking the ball to Hansel, but it sliced off at an angle and hit one of the guards square on the head. The guard glared at them, pointed at the sign with his sword and then jabbed the sword into the ball, which deflated with a hiss.

  ‘Hey! That was my best ball!’ protested Hansel as the other guards laughed.

  A moment later Gretel rode into the town square on a unicycle and wobbled around in front of the sign.

  ‘Cut it out!’ shouted the first guard, who was trying to dislodge Hansel’s football from the end of his sword. ‘Can’t you read? No bikes!’

  ‘It’s not a bike,’ said Gretel. ‘It’s a unicycle! So I can ride it wherever I like!’

  Another guard, a burly woman with curly red hair, heaved herself up, headed over to the sign, pulled out a pot of paint and added:

  at the bottom. Then she yanked Gretel’s unicycle out from under her and threw it over a nearby fence.

  ‘Hey!’ protested Gretel, ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘Tough!’ replied the guard.

  That was when Ella came hopping past on a pogo stick.

  ‘What are you playing at?’ asked the guard crossly.

  ‘Trying to see how many bounces I can do,’ replied Ella, puffing. ‘Seven thousand, three hundred and one, seven thousand, three hundred and two, seven thousa—’

  ‘Stop it!’ barked the red-haired guard. She added: