Against All Odds: Part Two

     After about four rest stops in the space of ten minutes, Mekoides became infuriated and stomped off to a nearby wood. When he reappeared, he was carrying a long stick, in which he then proceeded to whack the chubby Poogle on the backs of the legs with, when he showed any signs of slowing down.

     By the time they reached Meridell, all Ernie wanted to do was collapse into a soft, comfortable bed (preferably filled with doughnuts) and sleep for days, but Mekoides had other plans.

     "Rest?" the Techo repeated, stunned at the idea, when Ernie suggested they stop at a nearby inn for a while.

     "Why in Moltara's Magma would we do that?" he demanded, looking back at Ernie like he was the crazy one, whilst never once breaking his stride.

     Ernie tried to explain that he was tired; that he wasn't used to this much exercise; that if he didn't stop for a rest soon his legs would give out, but the Techo either wasn't listening or just didn't care, as he kept marching on, expecting Ernie to keep up.

     "Nonsense!" he scoffed, unsympathetically. "We're almost there now! Look, we just need to pass the giant Turmaculus and you'll see it in the distance."

     Ernie heaved a loud sigh, sorry he'd ever agreed to this arrangement, but he didn't dare stop walking for fear of being hit with the stick again – he was already certain that he'd have a few bruises the next day.

     The enormity of the giant petpet made it seem like they were closer than they really were, when in reality, they still had a ways to go in order to reach him.

     After twenty more minutes of walking on increasingly shaky legs, they finally made it to the Turmaculus, and as they rounded the corner, Ernie could see the gloomy Citadel looming in the distance.

     "There it is!" Mekoides said, pointing it out with a long, black fingernail. "Not long now," he mumbled to Ernie, who huffed in annoyance and grumbled in reply,

     "That's what you said the last time!"

      ***

     When they reached the entrance to the Citadel, Ernie was dead on his feet. His legs felt like lead, with every step he took making them feel a little heavier; his pudgy, yellow face was flushed and glistening with sweat and his chest felt tight and constricted, causing his breath to come out in squeaky little wheezes.

     On top of that, his stomach was growling audibly. The last substantial meal he'd eaten was in Faerieland before the race. Since then, all Mekoides had allowed him to eat were handfuls of odd looking berries – pink and furry, and not at all filling.

     He rubbed his stomach, which growled back at him angrily; he would kill for a cheeseburger right now.

     He was so focussed on his empty stomach that he almost didn't notice the imposing Darigan Tonu who stood at the entrance to the Citadel, his beady eyes glaring at them coldly.

     "Citizen's pass!" he snapped, loudly, making Ernie jump.

     Mekoides handed over a dark purple slip of paper and the Tonu scanned it thoroughly, before finally handing it back.

     "And what about him?" he boomed, narrowing his eyes at Ernie suspiciously.

     "He'll need a visitor's pass. I'm enrolling him in my boot camp," the Techo told the guard, who let out a short, bark of laughter.

     He pulled a small, red card from his folder and handed it to Ernie with a foreboding smile.

     "Good luck, kid!" he told him with a wicked glint in his eyes. "You'll need it!" he added, ominously as he let the two Neopets through the entrance.

     A small shiver ran up Ernie's spine, as he rushed to catch up with Mekoides. He did not like the sound of that; not one bit.

     "What was that about?" the Poogle asked, worryingly, glancing up at the Techo beside him.

     "We don't like outsiders in Darigan. That's why everyone who comes through from Meridell needs a pass," he answered briefly. "Can't have anyone infiltrating our city!" he added shiftily, under his breath, sounding more than a little paranoid.

     "No, not that! That thing he said about me needing luck..." he answered, trailing off.

     "Oh, don't listen to old Eiser," he said, gesturing back to the Tonu. "He likes to give the tourists a hard time – frighten them a little, you know? Now, come on, my house is just through here."

     Ernie frowned, not fully believing him, but what could he do now that he was here? Run away? No... Ernie couldn't run anywhere; that's the reason he was here in the first place.

     Ernie looked around the Citadel in wonder. Never having strayed too far from home, Ernie had only ever seen Darigan in pictures and it looked so different seeing it in person.

     The imperial, yet still rather grim looking castle, which took up most of the Citadel, was much bigger than he'd imagined. It towered over everything, creating spooky shadows on the ground and making the rest of the buildings look like toys in comparison.

     Its gothic architecture, with its tall spires and turrets and its arched windows gave the whole place a very commanding (and just a little bit frightening) presence.

     A thick, stifling fog hung in the air and only a sliver of light managed to break through into the Citadel. It was colder here too; not possessing the bright sunshine that constantly bore down on Faerieland and Ernie shivered, his teeth clattering together briefly, as the only thing he was wearing was the blue racing vest that he had donned the day before for the Poogle Racing – and it wasn't very thick.

     "Watch where you're stepping now!" Mekoides called out, warningly. "We're nearing the abyss," he pointed out, gesturing to a spot in the distance, where Ernie could just about see a misshapen crack in the ground. As they got closer, he could see that it wasn't simply a crack, but a huge, gaping opening; an eerie red glow spilling from it, and his mouth dropped in surprise.

     Cautiously, he took a step closer and tentatively peered over the edge. There was a long drop that seemed to go on forever, as far as he could see – it was terrifying. With a loud gulp, he stepped back.

     "What's down there?" he asked Mekoides, curiously, his eyes drifting back to the abyss.

     "No-one knows," he answered with a shrug. "No-one's ever ventured down there, and can you blame them? Some say it's another way down to Moltara – because of the colour, you know? Others think it might be a way to some sort of demonic dimension," he added, with a snort and a roll of his eyes.

     "The things people come up with!" he laughed, mockingly. "Here we are, this is my house," he added, leading Ernie up to a dingy, two story house, situated just past the abyss.

     The inside of the house was just as dreary as the outside; full of thick, dark drapes that were pulled tightly shut, blocking out even the slightest amount of light that made it to the streets of Darigan, and lots of bulky, leather furniture that looked like it hadn't been tended to in a while.

     Ancient portraits of various Techos hung on the walls in gilded frames, each clouded with a thick film of dust, yet their menacing stares and sinister sneers were still as prominent as the day they were painted, and the Skenkuurian rug covering the stone floor in the hallway was worn and threadbare – parts of it nibbled away by petpetpets.

     A magnificent, slate grey fireplace stood in the centre of the living room majestically, dulled somewhat by the dust covered candelabra (holding half burned-down candles) that stood on the mantelpiece, where blobs of hardened wax had formed beneath them, and the corners of the ceilings were filled with spindly cobwebs that someone had been too lazy or too careless to sweep away.

     Mekoides led the Poogle through to the kitchen, which wasn't much better. The hard, stone flooring tiles were chilly underfoot and the mahogany cupboards (some, which were hanging off their hinges) were surprisingly sparse, as though the house hadn't been lived in for years.

     Grateful that he was at long last able to sit down and relax, Ernie sank into one of the hard dining room chairs, which wobbled precariously, under his weight. After a few minutes, Mekoides set a tray down in front of him, the smell of food making his stomach rumble even more and he perked up significantly, ready to gorge on the food that Mekoides had set out for him... only to find that what sat in front of him was nothing more than a cup of water, a bowl of chunky, meaty stew and a loaf of yeasty bread! After all that walking, this was what he was being served?

     Ernie looked up at Mekoides, the disappointment written all over his face.

     "Now, don't go looking at me like that!" he chided. "We don't have the right conditions to grow food in Darigan, so everything has to be imported from Meridell – and the thieving scoundrels have been cheating and overcharging us for years; ever since the Battle for Meridell. And that's without the addition of the Marrow Tax! And they have the gall to call us the villains!" he exclaimed, shaking his head in annoyance.

     "So we can't afford much here, anymore," he told him, grumpily.

     Ernie hung his head in shame, feeling bad for having thought that Mekoides was being stingy with the food, and hastily started spooning the gloopy stew into his mouth, whilst Mekoides continued to grumble about the Marrow Tax.

     "What's it even for, anyway? No-one even likes marrows!"

     After dinner, the Techo showed him upstairs to a cluttered bedroom with a slanting roof; big, wooden shutters; an intimidating looking, spiky armoire; and several Darigan Citadel Altador Cup posters, tacked to the walls.

     "This is usually the junk room," Mekoides told him, as the Poogle manoeuvred his way over a pile of crumpled, unwashed laundry.

     "I haven't had anyone enrolled in my boot camp since the war, so it's a bit of a mess, I'm afraid."

     "It's fine," Ernie told him, insincerely, as he knocked over a tower of books accidentally.

     "Alright then, get some sleep. We start working on your fitness, first thing in the morning! Good night."

     "Night," Ernie mumbled as he stretched out uncomfortably on the rock hard bed, and despite the firmness of the mattress and his growing anxiety about what tomorrow would bring, the exhausted Poogle fell asleep instantly.

To be continued...