ETTING   OME   O   LFANDRA

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Anton's Journey chapter 10 - Mock Him Not

 Anton wondered why lessons always had to be learnt the hard way.
 Grunting as he crash-landed on the damp, cold floor after his unwitting entry into this place, he quickly realised that he’d fallen prey to another trap of this structure. He swore loudly and stood to his feet. He could barely see two inches in front of his face, but he could at least make out that there were metal bars across a tiny door, which marked out the only exit to this place. Must be underground, underneath the building now, and this ‘cell’ had been carved right out of the dirt. Fat earthworms wriggled nearly, which Anton squished in frustration.  It wasn’t even a very big room, barely seven feet wide.
 But he fortunately did not have to spend time bored alone trapped within it’s dank confines, as momentarily he heard footfalls coming towards him from outside the doorway, and a light drifting closer in the gloom. Rushing towards the door, Anton strained to see whom it was who was detaining him like this, and perhaps find out what had happened to Mouse.
 He was rewarded instead by another one of Wonderland’s strange sights.
 At first, the shape was nothing more than a silhouette against some light, shuffling towards him down a tunnel-like corridor. Its back was humped, seemingly bent over, large and misshapen, it’s feet made wet slapping noises on the damp, wet floor, big feet, also misshapen. But Anton couldn’t make out any detail in the gloom, as the gnarled form grew closer.
 Then, all of a sudden, it stopped, about fifteen feet from the barred doorway. Anton saw it reach up to grasp hold of something on the wall, before the corridor was thrown into light by the lantern it had just lit. Immediately, Anton flung himself out of the creature’s view, so as to have the element of surprise, should it be foolish enough to open the cell door. He didn’t even get a good look at what it was that was even now moving closer to inspect it’s detained visitor.
 However, he was pretty sure it was ugly.
 A few more paces now, practically at his door – a jangle, as keys were produced to gain access. Anton stood to the side of the door, hidden in the shadows. Ready and waiting. Now a creak, the rusty squeak of hinges as the bars swung open and then…
 Anton was lying in a sprawled heap on the other side of the cramped cell. His head ached. It happened so fast, he didn’t even register – as soon as the door was opened, he’d leapt, aiming to pounce upon his captor – only for his claws to be greeted by hard, impregnable shell. In response, he found himself flung from his victim, to the other wall, where his skull met the dirt wall with a sickening slap.
 Groaning, Anton rolled to his feet, and gazed up at the bizarre creature. It’s body was turtle in origin, from the shell to the fins, glistening with damp air from the tunnel, patchy and raw. But the head… the head was bovine, like a bull might be.  It’s horns were long, and pointed, a bleached bone ivory that reflected the sparse light dully in the room. It’s fur was long, and scraggly, showing signs of considerable age.
 Anton’s head hurt still. As the indomitable beast took a step towards him, he instinctively threw up his hand to ward it off. Before even he or the bovine-turtle could blink, a large section of the ceiling of the cramped cell collapsed, landing straight atop his captor. It gave a muffled cry, before it was buried shallowly from the dirt. It would soon escape, but that was all the time Anton needed.
 Sparing not a further thought, he dashed past the creature, out into the corridor. Foolishly, the keys were still in the door. It creaked shut with a moan, and the lock snapped into place.  Already moving back up the corridor, lantern in hand, Anton breathed a sigh of relief.
 He noted that the pain in his head was subsiding. But just then, back in that room… something had happened. When he flung up his hand, it felt like a static shock left his fingertips, like an energy surged through his blood.
 Like the earth of the ceiling responded to him.
 Shaking these curious thoughts aside, he came to a stairway, not made of earth but solid wood and stone, which he ascended rapidly. He still yet did not know if that…thing which he had captured below was the only one in this place. He didn’t even know if more were lurking nearby, or where even Mouse was. Now he climbed the last few steps and came to a wooden doorway. Due to the damp atmosphere, like the rest of the structure, the wood was rotting slowly away. Steeling himself, Anton paused momentarily at the doorway, before flinging it open.
 What he found was a home.
 The shack let little light in, but enough for Anton to see that this was a living-space. A crude cooker boiled water slowly in one corner. The wooden planking had been swept and kept in good condition, unlike the rest of the building. In another corner there was what appeared to be a workbench, with cogs, assorted wheels, nuts and screws all resting upon it’s clattered surface. And resting on the pristine wooden flooring was Mouse, unconscious.
 Mouse was more likeable this way.
 Sure now that the creature he’d trapped below was the only one living here, he kneeled down to Mouse’s side, and prodded him sharply. Gradually, Mouse started to stir, moaning pitifully. However, Anton was not able to finish resuscitating his ally, as a sudden blow bludgeoned him from behind. Reeling, Anton span, growling.
 Face-to-face with the turtle again.
 “I thought I’d put you away.” He growled, circling his adversary.
 Now the bull-headed creature spoke. It’s voice was thick, and craggy. It was just as tall as Anton, if not taller, and it seemed to grow in stature when it spoke. “I built this place, do you think I do not know all of it’s secrets, fool! I will not be imprisoned in my home.”
 They lunged together, both their blows blocked by the other. Anton drew back; his opponent was skilful. “What kind of a place do you call this for a home anyway?” Anton spat.
 “Welcome to the Mockery.” Snorted the turtle.
 “Mockery? Wait, that must mean that you’re…”
 “Mock Turtle!” A small voice said down beside him. Mouse was awake, as irritating as ever.
 The creature Anton now knew to be Mock Turtle, never took his eyes from his adversary. “Run Mouse, he has tracked me to my home. I’ll not let you be captured by this agent of the Red Queen again!”
 “Agent of the Red Queen?” Anton growled, “I’m no such thing! You’re the one who dragged Mouse off unconscious.”
 Turtle gritted his teeth. “Only so he would not make noise in our departure. Now get out of my home!”
 “Not without Mouse!”
 “Shut up the pair of you!” Mouse squeaked, diplomatic as ever. “We’re not enemies here. Anton, this is Mock Turtle. Mock Turtle, meet Anton. He needs you to take him to see caterpillar.”
 Relaxing somewhat, Turtle stood next to Mouse, and snorted. “What he needs is to learn manners. He broke in here.” He turned to Mouse. “Then again, he has more manners than you, Mouse eh?”
 Mouse grunted. Anton grinned.