6 Tales Of The Neworld - Written By Stephanie Poppins

Tales of the New World by S.

D.

Hudson This audiobook is read by the author.

The Perfectus Root Chapter 1 It was another wet day in the land of autumn,

And the trees donned brazen halos as the ground was littered with tokens of times past.

Over in the great hollow,

Two of Jasper's oldest friends were busy sowing seeds.

This they'd done every day since he'd been appointed Master in Training.

It was a huge responsibility,

Especially as they were so lazy.

But the meadow needed kettles,

Cups,

Knives and forks,

So who better than Jasper's friends to grow them?

Things always grew fast in their great hollow,

Because it was warm and wet all year round.

This is hard work,

Sighed Portus as he stopped for the hundredth time.

I'm tired already,

Agreed Chevalian.

But they wouldn't be moaning for long.

What's that?

Asked Portus as he spotted something at his feet.

It can't be.

Yes,

It is!

Chevalian,

This is the answer to all our prayers.

Chevalian looked in disbelief.

Shh,

Someone might see.

He checked to the left,

Then he checked to the right.

There was no one there,

Good.

They would have to be careful.

This was the Everlife Seed,

A seed so powerful,

Whoever ate it could return to their healthiest self,

No matter which illness they suffered from.

Many far-land folk would give their eye teeth for that.

But how could the Everlife Seed make their life easier?

Well,

Portus and Chevalian didn't want the seed for themselves.

No,

They wanted to trade it.

According to Jasper,

The Everlife Seed was the only thing equal to the perfectus root,

And it was the perfectus root they wanted.

If they had that,

They'd be able to fly,

And that would make their job a breeze.

With fur coats as opposed to waterproof skins or feathers,

Portus and Chevalian were land folk.

To be land folk,

Their parents had to be land folk,

And their parents before that.

It's the same for air folk and water folk.

If you're a mixture of both,

You're a meld.

The water folk,

However,

Keep themselves to themselves.

The only way Portus and Chevalian could fly was to eat a perfectus root,

Unless they used magic.

They had thought Caliban broth might work,

But that made them so sick they couldn't walk for three days.

Then they tried pepper's wire pipes,

But those things made them slither on their bellies like snakes.

But this time was different.

They knew the folk in East Cairn keep grew the perfectus root.

All they'd have to do was go there and trade for it.

Simple.

What did they care that the keep was in the land of winter?

They were getting wings,

That was all that mattered.

They hauled themselves up from their bed,

Bagged up the seas and put on their water boots.

Then they made their way to the winding canal that twisted from one end of the land to the other.

This would take them to the border where they could cross to the land of winter and climb the winter mountains.

And as long as they kept their mission a secret,

They should have no trouble at all.

But Portas and Javalion weren't used to going on missions.

In fact,

They rarely ventured outside the Great Hollow.

So when at last they got to the canal,

The midday barge was long gone.

Let's have a rest by the water's edge,

Said Portas.

The next barge will come along soon enough,

I'm certain of it.

They sat down and began to snooze.

But when at last it arrived with a beep and a thrust,

The sun was much lower in the sky than they were happy with it being.

Come on,

Said Javalion,

Boarding is rickety stern,

We'd better hurry up.

Portas followed.

Then all at once they realised the huge task ahead of them.

They'd heard bad stories about crossing the border.

Some folks had been ambushed and held to ransom.

But to their great relief there was no one about when they got there.

This must be a good omen,

They agreed.

They thanked the barge folk and made their way to a nearby tree to make plans.

The ground was hard and cold,

But they sat down anyway.

A line of dark clouds framed the unforgiving horizon ahead.

Maybe this wasn't to be as easy as they first thought it was.

They'd never been to the land of winter before,

And they'd no clue about how to get to Isca and keep.

They'd better think fast,

Though.

The Everlife seed would only be good for one day.

Chapter Two Portas scratched his long nose and Javalion did the same.

This was a challenge,

And they didn't like challenges.

But they had no choice.

They'd have to pretend they were Winterfolk.

That way they could find out how to get to the castle.

It wasn't going to be easy,

Though.

Winterfolk were known to attack first and ask questions later.

But Portas and Javalion were stubborn at the best of times.

Come on,

Said Portas,

We'd better get going.

They made ready to leave.

But not before a dark voice said,

And where might you two be going?

They looked up defiantly.

This was a tree-dweller,

And he wanted answers.

Nowhere,

They lied,

Crossing their fingers behind their backs.

But secretly they were shaking from their head to their clues.

This creature was a ghastly sight.

There was no denying it.

He had spindly limbs,

And the knees of his bridges had been patched more than once.

His hair was long and straggly,

And the nails of his large clues were grown to such an extent they protruded out of the holes in his thick,

Hessian socks.

We were just here visiting,

Stuttered Portas,

Eager to get away as soon as possible.

He'd heard all about tree-dwellers,

And none of it was good.

We've just come to see some folk who live here.

You're strangers,

The tree-dweller persisted.

Exactly how will you find the way?

Portas and Jovallion swallowed hard.

The last thing they wanted to do was tell this creature their plans.

We'll manage.

We know the way.

I know what you're here for,

Said the tree-dweller,

Tugging at his long-limbed sleeves.

Portas and Jovallion stared in disbelief.

They dared to look away in case he thought they were weak.

But it didn't make for pleasant viewing.

His face had a kind of squareness to it,

And the skin around his eyes was thick and dark,

As though he was hiding something.

Was he bluffing?

It was hard to tell.

Somehow they doubted it.

Tree-dwellers could speak to the winds just like the meadow-folk.

But unlike the meadow-folk,

They used what they learned to poke their noses into other people's business.

They were bitter fellows bound to the trees with a curse as punishment for their past misdeeds.

These Cairn folk bid me speak to you,

The tree-dweller continued.

They know you've got the seed and want to trade as soon as possible.

They have a ridiculous notion they can grow more in the castle grounds.

But if the north wind blows his seasonal gust,

The seed won't take.

He's agreed to hold off for a while,

Though.

He owes them a favor.

But you're very late.

It's got to the point he's about to burst.

The tree-dweller leaned in slyly.

Why don't you let me take the seed to the castle?

He said.

I'm much faster than you,

And I know the password.

Then,

Once the seed's planted safely,

I'll bring you the perfectus root back in exchange.

No,

That won't be necessary,

Said Chevalian quickly.

Well-aware tree-dwellers never do anything without expecting something in return.

Then you'd best follow me,

Said the tree-dweller,

And I'll show you the way.

He wasn't about to give up that easily.

With the perfectus root,

He could break the curse upon him and leave the trees behind for good.

Portus and Chevalian looked at each other.

They had no choice.

They must take the tree-dweller up on his offer.

He knew the way,

And they didn't.

If they went with him,

They'd get there fast.

If they tried to find their way alone,

They would never get there on time.

Chapter Three Hmm,

Portus took a long pause.

We want to do the right thing,

Of course,

He said.

No one wants to be at odds with the north wind.

The tree-dweller smiled.

He knew these cantillacs were less worried about doing the right thing and more concerned with being able to fly.

But he didn't tell them that.

They must think the trade would take place.

Then he could snatch the perfectus root,

Rid himself of the curse and grow wings to escape once and for all.

So he led them up the hill and through the secret passage,

Running under the twisted villages.

They arrived at the gates of East Cairn Keep to see fine snowflakes collected in fluffy clumps on the battlements above.

Portus and Chevalian were thankful for the shortcut.

The last thing they wanted to do was get trapped in the twisted villages.

Maybe that tree-dweller's not so bad after all,

They said to themselves.

But they couldn't have been more wrong.

It was only minutes before the guards arrived,

But it seemed like hours.

Usually,

The cantillacs would have fallen asleep.

But it was so cold and they were terrified the north wind would start up.

If that happened,

The trade would be lost forever.

They needn't have concerned themselves though.

Marching towards them across the drawbridge came the guards.

Suited,

Booted and ready for action.

Attention!

They yelled,

Making their tall fur hats wobble like drunken cats.

What's the password?

What?

Stuttered Portus.

I mean,

Pardon?

Portus and Chevalian were beginning to feel very uncomfortable indeed.

Password?

Added Chevalian.

They looked around for the tree-dweller,

But he'd long since disappeared.

What were they going to do now?

If they got the password wrong,

They would be branded traitors and thrown into the dungeons to rot.

There was nothing for it.

They must rely upon their wits.

Everlife seed!

They declared at the same time.

This was their one chance to get it right.

If they got it wrong,

All their efforts would be for nothing.

And they'd never be able to fly.

The guards looked at each other.

Then they looked back at the two brave but ridiculously undersized creatures in front of them.

Portus and Chevalian were shaking in their boots.

They should have known better than to trust that tree-dweller.

He was nothing more than a fair-weather friend who left as soon as the going got tough.

But why did he help them in the first place?

What did he get out of it?

Then suddenly,

Right before their eyes,

A large purple sack materialized.

The password had worked!

Who cared about that tree-dweller anyway?

Hooray!

Chevalian cheered and Portus jumped for joy.

They looked inside.

And there it was,

One very shriveled but very large perfectus root.

The answer to all their prayers.

Chapter 4 Portus tugged at the drawstring and pulled the root out of the sack.

Then he replaced it with the Everlife seed.

The guards took it and disappeared.

With any luck,

The seed would multiply once they planted it in the courtyard.

Then the whole regiment would become invincible.

Yes!

Chevalian cried,

We've got the root at last!

But it was never going to be as straightforward as that.

The tree-dweller had been watching from his hideout and was waiting to make his move.

Gotcha!

Now give me what's mine!

He screamed as his arms and legs stretched out like a Venus flytrap.

There was no way out.

His limbs were as strong as Old World snakes and his determination was twice as fierce.

You're not having it!

Spat Portus.

But the tree-dweller's fingers had already wrapped themselves around the hard,

Craggy root.

Take that!

Swiped Chevalian,

Going for his face.

But he cared little for any marks an Autumn Fellow could make.

Don't make me laugh!

He spat.

The North Wind's coming and soon you'll be blown to kingdom come,

Like the pathetic little creatures you are.

Then so will you!

Cried Portus and Chevalian.

Oh no,

Not me!

Laughed the tree-dweller.

That North Wind won't bother me.

Once I eat this root,

The curse binding me to the trees will be broken and I'll escape with my new wings.

And much to the Cantillac's horror,

He broke the huge root in two and swallowed down as much as his mean mouth could before releasing them.

He had no need of them now.

Within seconds he would be free.

Yes!

The tree-dweller screamed as two feathered lumps emerged on his back.

It's just not fair!

Portus and Chevalian whined.

But the tree-dweller wasn't in the business of fair trade.

He preferred to deal in deceit.

I'm free!

He cried.

At last I'm free!

Hearing this,

The North Wind rushed in.

Whoosh!

It had held its breath for long enough.

Quick!

Screamed Portus and he dragged Chevalian to the safety of the castle walls as a high-powered gust lifted the tree-dweller up into its tunnel of air.

I'm flying!

The gangly beast declared.

Portus and Chevalian watched in disbelief as the other half of the perfectus root dropped from his clove.

Not that the tree-dweller cared.

His beautiful wings were growing at last.

He was no longer bound by the age-old curse.

Little did he realise it would take much more than half a perfectus root to grow wings large enough to support his gangly oversized body.

Portus and Chevalian were gobsmacked.

It wasn't fair!

The tree-dweller could fly and soon the rest of the root would be lost forever.

It was spinning round and round in a fierce gust.

There was no way they could rescue it.

The North Wind was far too fierce.

They'd had their chance and they'd blown it.

And to top it all,

They were stuck in the land of winter with little hope of escape.

We're doomed!

Sobbed Chevalian.

It was all for nothing.

But all at once,

In a sudden twist of fate,

The wind changed direction.

Grab the root!

Shouted Portus.

It's coming this way!

Chevalian held on to Portus with one clove and stretched himself out as far as he could.

Then,

With one painful stretch,

He snatched hold of its end.

The two chubby fellows hunkered down against the wall to swallow what was left.

And in no time at all,

The finely feathered wings they had only ever dreamt of emerged from the blades in their backs.

Hooray!

They cried as they sailed beyond the wintry gusts.

Meanwhile,

The tree-dweller was spinning round and round like a wooden top.

Help me!

He demanded.

But Portus and Chevalian could think of nothing worse.

The trees are the only ones who'll save you now!

They bellowed.

Better go back to where you belong!

They grabbed each other's cloves and shot over East Cairn Keep.

And there,

In the courtyard,

The soil was beaming with a fiery golden glow,

Where the Everlife seed had been planted.

Thank you!

The guards yelled before dashing for cover.

You're welcome!

Portus and Chevalian replied.

And they fired through the air with the force of an ancient arrow.

He's a miserable fellow,

That nasty tree-dweller!

What a horrible fellow,

That ugly tree-dweller!

They sang as they went.

What did they care?

They had their wings.

And they'd been braver than they had ever been before.

Now,

They could go back to the Great Hollow,

And grow everything the meadow needed,

With hardly any effort.

And to top it all,

They would never have to return to the land of winter,

Ever again.