Sydney
“We have to rescue Katie our cousin and Mikono says you can take us to the Fozy Fruit and then to Bazalob who will eat it and die so we can take Katie home.”
Silence. Then Sydney says, “Do not go near Bazalob. He will skewer and eat you. And he has probably eaten your cousin long ago. Anyway I can’t get out of this ring and if I do the fire might come into the cave and then where would I be?”
“Do you know how we can get you out of the ring - just for a while? We’ll be sure you get back in again,” says Derry.
Now they can see the creature clearly. As Gingali said, he is small and black with an elephant’s trunk and tusks, short legs and gossamer wings.
“Huh! You will need the magic words to get me out of the ring and different ones to get me back in,” says Sydney.
“What are they?” asks Jude.
“Now if I knew, do you think I wouldn’t take a walk occasionally between fires?” snaps Sydney.
“Bungaloomooma!” whispers Mikono.
“BUNGALOOMOOMA!” repeats Derry loudly.
Sydney jumps. And the ring of moonstones and diamonds shivers and breaks; the stones rolling silently across the floor of the cave.
Sydney blinks and staggers to his feet.
“How did you know that?” he asks.
“Never mind. Will you take us to the Fozy Fruit. Why is it called that by the way?”
“Because it’s soft and messy - that’s what fozy means. All right I’ll take you, but I’m not going anywhere near Bazalob.”
“It’s a deal. Let’s go!” says Jude.
Sydney stumbles on his short legs, stiff from lying so long in the ring, and follows the children out of the cave. Derry points to the Travelling Pot. Sydney should just about fit with them inside.
He blinks at its brightness but asks no questions. Before he was confined to the magic ring, he saw many wonders and one more does not surprise him.
The pot lifts from the red earth, where a fire instantly springs, burning nearby bushes for the umpteenth time. Soon all is ablaze beneath them but the pot flies higher, gliding smoothly above the smoke, until it thins and they are in the Land of Lairs.
“How can we find Bazalob in this jungle?” asks Derry, looking at the climbing vines, hunched green bushes and thick-leaved trees interlinked as though in deep discussion.
“First we must find the Fozy Fruit,” says Sydney. “Look for a hill of berry bushes and fruit trees. There’s only one, so it should be easy.”
The children look hard through the pot and at last they spot a slight rise with bushes of red and yellow berries and in the centre a huddle of fruit trees. Each has a different fruit; silver, pink, purple.
“Which is the Fozy Fruit?” asks Jude.
“The purple one, the size of a beach ball!” replies Sydney.
Wondering how he knows about beach balls, the children feel the pot descend and land on the light brown soil of the hillock. They all climb out and approach the Fozy Fruit. As though it can see them coming, the tree shudders and dips its heavy branches.
Derry reaches and pulls at a low lying fruit. It squawks like a seabird but comes off. Jude helps him carry it back to the pot. Wondering why he got out, Sydney squeezes back in and the children follow. But how can they fit in the fruit?
“Balance it on top. The pot will not let it fall!” The voice of Mikono. So they place the Fozy Fruit on the pot’s rim and, sure enough, as it lifts once more, the fruit balances without falling.
“Now where is Bazalob?” asks Derry.
“If the fruit wasn’t on top of the pot we’d probably smell him!” says Sydney.
They peer at the bushes and trees which are motionless under a grey sky. Then a bush with leaves as big as dinner plates, stirs. Stiff black spikes shoot out. Beneath them is a fierce, stripy face. It lifts blood red eyes to look at the Travelling Pot.
Bazalob. The beast drags his body out of the bush. It is hideous with fins, the head of a bird and thin red arms and legs, ending in long black claws. The pot floats higher. The beast smells of rotten meat. It lumbers through the trees and disappears under a veil of dark green ivy.
The pot lands behind an enormous tree. Derry pushes the Fozy Fruit which bounces into the grass. He climbs out, followed by Jude. Sydney curls up tightly at the bottom of the pot.
The children carry the Fozy Fruit between them. They reach the ivy entrance to Bazalob’s lair and Derry bravely calls, “Bazalob. Come, see what we have for you!”
There is a scuffle inside and Katie’s frightened voice pipes, “Derry, is that you? Help me!”
So she is still alive. Bazalob’s huge head pokes out of the cave. He sniffs and his red eyes peer at the Fozy Fruit. Saliva drips from his great mouth which he opens to show his sharp white teeth.
“Give it to me!” he growls.
He stretches his skinny arms to seize it. He drops it in the grass and sinks his teeth deep into its squelchy flesh. The juice squirts all over Jude and Derry as they watch Bazalob munch every morsel, his great cheeks and eyes bulging.
Then he belches - a horrible sound that echoes through the trees. His face turns white, the stripes fading as though rubbed away, his red eyes so swollen they seem about to drop out. He crumples, arms and legs collapsing, as his hideous body folds under him and his head droops. Then he is sick.
Bazalob heaves three times and his eyes close, covered with blotchy grey lids. He is still. Carefully Derry steps up to him and prods his leathery skin. No response. “He’s dead!” he announces.
Jude moves with him around the body and into the lair. Katie is huddled in one corner.
“Derry, Jude - you found me!” she cries. She is covered in brown earth and ivy leaves cling to her black hair. “He was going to eat me, but he licked my fingers and decided he didn’t like the taste.”
They help her to her feet. She is trembling and can barely walk, but stumbles with them towards the waiting pot.
“We’ll tell you all about it later,” promises Derry, “First we must take Sydney home and put him back inside his magic ring. Now how are we all going to fit inside?” As though understanding, the pot begins to swell, until there is room for them all. Katie looks with alarm at Sydney, uncurling now danger is past.
“He’s all right - a friend. Without him we couldn’t have rescued you,” says Jude.
The pot lifts from the ground, above the trees and back to the land of Burnt Bushes. It lands by Sydney’s cave and everyone gets out with Sydney squirming out last over the rim.
Inside the cave Derry gathers the moonstones and diamonds and places them round Sydney who sinks to the ground, exhausted.
“What is the magic word?” Derry asks the empty air.
No one answers. Has Mikono deserted them? Then, faintly from far away, he utters, “Zimbalumbio!”
“ZIMBALUMBIO!” cry Derry and Jude.
Sydney gets up and tries to leave the circle. He cannot move outside.
“What do you live on?” asks Derry, thinking how long ago it was since they ate the fish.
“I’m never hungry, which is just as well!” replies Sydney and, closing his eyes, falls fast asleep.
The children leave the cave and climb into the pot as more fires start to burn among the bushes. The pot floats high through the smoky sky, until at last it clears and the red roofs of Brackleham appear.
“We’re home!” cries Jude. And to Katie says, “By the way how did you get to that jungle?”
“I really don’t know,” admits Katie.
The children wake under the spreading plum tree. A plum drops into Derry’s lap. For a moment he thinks it is a Fozy Fruit before its ripens to the size of a beach ball. Then he looks around. Jude rubs her eyes and looks at the summer garden. It is late afternoon. Katie sits up, the book of monsters lying on the grass by her side.
“Where have we been?” she asks.
Jude and Derry look puzzled.
“We must have shared the same dream. How extraordinary
!” says Derry. But as we know, with imagination, there is no limit to where we may go and whom we may meet.