The Last People

By Brian Lambert

Life is tough when you’re a Leprechaun: you’re small enough to be considered part of the food chain and you even have to show cheese who’s the Boss.
Meet Gascard and the Last People. They’ve been hiding under a hill longer than you’ve been alive and they may be the last Leprechauns in the world.
The ancient evil that has been hunting Leprechauns down has now found them and life will never be the same again, especially so because there’s a contract on their heads.
Join Gascard on his adventure and discover the secrets behind Wishing Wells; marvel at the knowledge of the Antarctic penguins; and step back in surprise at the two things octopi are really, really good at.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian Lambert
• Release date: Nov 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465730305

Brian Lambert

Brian Lambert has wanted to be a writer since he was nine and, being a fierce traditionalist, is most eager to know if he’s done this Smashwords thing correctly. He is a serial backpacker, clouder, beach walker who also writes the blog The Sheep Was Here (thesheepwashere.com). He lives in Melbourne, Australia.

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The Last People

A novel by

Brian Lambert

Copyright © Brian Lambert 2011

Published on Smashwords by Brian Lambert

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

All rights reserved.

All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by Bradley Wind.

Dedication.

To my family, friends, and anyone that’s read The Forbidden Tale.

Chapter One

The dawn’s light had barely touched the few clouds that were loafing about in the sky when two figures, one grumbling about sleep, headed out across the short grass. No one wondered why the grass was shorter on this particular hilltop within the ring of ancient trees than that anywhere else; it was just really handy because they were so small.

They stopped by the edge of the trees near the shallow humps of ground smothered with four-leafed clovers and sat down; one lying down with yet more grumbling, and the other opening a book. As he read he ran his fingers along the words trying to commit them to memory. The strange thing was that there was a very faint blue glow around him when he did this.

His reading was interrupted by his larger companion snoring. He looked over at him and a spark of devilment caused him to close the book, stand up and walk ten paces away. He then took a small black object out of his pocket, stuck it in the ground, stood back and started mumbling the word he’d just been reading. A blue glow covered the ground where he’s stuck the poppy seed, as soon as green shoots appeared he called out Minnow! Wake up!

Minnow grumbled to himself and opened his eyes a crack just in time to see a poppy plant zoom towards him. He rolled over with a cry of surprise as it sped past him and headed up into the trees giving an early bird the shock of its life.

The late summer sun rose and shed light on Padre and Minnow doing what they didn’t do best and it was teeing Padre off no end. All he wanted to do was grow a plant. That was all. It didn’t help that the words were nearly worn out of the book he’d got from his dad; it didn’t help that the blasted things were suddenly shooting into the air like unguided missiles and exploding in a silent shower of falling petals; and it most certainly didn’t help that Minnow, his best friend, after calming down after his sudden wake up call, was rolling around on the ground nearly wetting himself with laughter at the sight.

Their names were of course a giveaway – Minnow was the larger of the two, and larger than most in their community; Padre appeared to have been losing the hair on top of his head as soon as he started growing it and strangely resembled the ring of ancient trees around the clearing on the remote hillside they were on. They were part of a community that called themselves ‘The People’ as they believed they were all that was left of their kind.

Their jackets and trousers were green but not a solid shade of green, it looked like they’d been patched up with different shades of cloth, which indirectly helped with their camouflage. In fact their clothes were positively worn-out. It would be only a matter of time before Padre’s left elbow would need patching up, and Minnow’s jacket looked to be made entirely of patches with no original material left in it. Which wasn’t unusual as even new clothes appeared to have been dragged from a demolished house as soon as he’d put them on.

Their hair and beards were green, which admittedly wasn’t so noticeable on Padre of course. They were smaller than the flowers Padre was causing to spring up around them and they knew what they were doing was illegal.

Minnow sat and watched as Padre stuck another poppy seed into the ground, mutter a few words changing the pronunciation slightly and include This time, this time it’ll work, by the Daddy! wave his hands in a peculiar way which seemed to make them go faster and slower at the same time giving his hands a strange blue glow, and stand back. A big grin split his face when it obligingly grew into a flowering plant, but then drop as with a pop! it zinged into the air and gave a passing sparrow, which hadn’t heard the previous warning cries, the fright of its life as it tried to escape into the forest followed by the unguided poppy missile.

Minnow wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and glanced at the sky. They had been outside for a while and the wind had started to pick up causing the clouds to be a cotton-wool armada seeing which of them would be the fastest at invading the East.

Padre had almost dragged him out of bed before dawn. He knew why – there was an important Council meeting that Padre was trying to take his mind off. He hadn’t mentioned it yet but Minnow knew his friend and knew it was only a matter of time before he brought the subject up. In the meantime he was holding his sides and laughing so much at what his friend was doing he was on the verge of forgiving him. His eye caught sight of something on the ground, Hey, that’s strange.

Padre was trying to concentrate, thinking this was a way for his friend to get back at him he asked irritatedly What is?

Minnow picked something and held it up to show Padre. It’s a three-leafed clover, he said in an awed voice, which so surprised Padre that he stopped what he was trying to remember and came nearer.

I thought they all had four leaves.

Evidently not, Minnow said waving it in the air.

Do you think it means anything?

They quietly contemplated it.

Nah, Minnow said as he tossed it away. High above, and completely oblivious to the two friends below, the wind dramatically picked up.

Minnow, as well as laughing at his friend’s efforts, was practicing himself. He was no good with plants – the seeds just lay on the ground doing nothing. He, his current wardrobe not demonstrating the fact, was better with clothes. He screwed up his face trying to visualise the words. Deciding he’d remembered most of it he took a deep breath, muttered strange words which caused a wisp of mist to appear in front of his nose and made his jacket change from a very patchy green to a very patchy sky blue with purple stripes. He stopped, gasping for breath, looking like he’d robbed a deckchair of its cover.

He waved his hands at Padre indicating his creation after a recently launched poppy had just exploded like a silent firework. What do you think? he asked.

Padre contemplated his friend’s jacket, he didn’t want to say anything derogatory - it wasn’t as if his own efforts were any good. Were you meant to do that?

Well… Minnow said. He was hoping for a more favourable outcome. I was just trying some stuff out, keeping it fresh in my mind sort of thing.

Padre sat down with a deep sigh. I loved it when my father made a bouquet of flowers appear in his hand. All sorts of flowers, some I’d never seen before. All I can do is scare the local wildlife. Soon even these mistakes will be the stuff of myth and legend.

In a voice that mimicked the deputy community leader, Minnow said, It is for our own good. There were views either side of this point.

I know, Padre said sadly. I wish we didn’t have to hide when practicing. I feel sorry for Gascard. He’s not even been able to learn the basics and I think Gravin will be over there soon. He indicated the four-leafed clover covered humps which was the community burial ground. Although he did fill his head with silly ideas about a monster.

Look, he’ll take your place in the council once you step down. I’ll never see the day that mine can safely nail two bits of wood together. Minnow was the community carpenter and odd job man; it kept him busy and gave his imagination a workout. They loved their sons but worried about what the future held for them.

But that’s what the meetings about: we may not have a home soon.

What! said Minnow looking at him in surprise.

Padre nodded Yeah, the Moles are upping the quota again and we don’t have enough. They’re sending some people today to meet with us. He glanced at the sun’s position, which was obscured by fast moving clouds. And I think I’m going to be late.

Minnow quietly absorbed this shocking information. As if sensing the change in mood the wind picked up and the birds made themselves scarce.

Last one, and then we’d better go, said Padre with more hope in his voice than his heart. Instead of planting it where the others had been he made a new hole a few feet away, stuck the last poppy seed in, covered it with soil and backed away. Minnow looked on with interest, perhaps this time? The stripes in his jacket slowly faded.

Padre closed his eyes trying to visualise the words. He started mumbling words, even the one that hurt his tongue, and waved his hands around in a blue haze. A green shoot split the ground where the seed had been and quickly grew larger. A red flower appeared at the end. Padre peered through his left eye, trying to see how it was going but not to scare it off. All of a sudden the plant flopped to the floor as if exhausted, the blue glow around Padre’s hands disappeared with a FLUMP! and Minnows jacket suddenly turned back to its patchy green except for the left sleeve which stayed stripy.

Time to get back I reckon, Minnow said and heaved himself up off the ground just as a drop of rain found his face, and they started walking down the slope to home.

A shout came from the edge of the woods behind them. They instinctively stood still, usually this would allow them to blend into the grass more, but a ragged figure about their size was running with a limp directly at them, waving his arms and shouting, Get away! Run! Padre and Minnow looked at the figure in surprise. As far as they knew they were the only People and yet here was this stranger who quite obviously was one of them.

Get away! the stranger continued. Don’t you see it? pointing at the sky.

They looked up and were rooted to the spot. Above them was an inky black funnel-shaped cloud. It was a tornado and it was aimed straight at them. The wind suddenly swirled their clothes around threatening to rip them off. The funnel stabbed towards as if throwing something. The running figure had reached them and threw himself at them to get them to the ground. He bounced off Minnow and went sprawling into Padre in a tangle of arms and legs. An eye-searingly bright light exploded with a noise so loud they didn’t hear it, they felt it.

A stunned Padre peered around; his eyes smarting after the intense light. He peered through his almost closed eyes at Minnow in surprise. Minnow was still standing upright, which was also true for his hair and beard that now resembled an opened dandelion flower, but with wisps of smoke coming from the ends. His green clothes, admittedly not at their best, were now charred as well. He opened his mouth and a smoke-ring came out making an O of surprise. Further rings appeared as he stuttered W, w, w, what?

The wind somehow screamed louder around them as if the tornado was angry it hadn’t finished them off with the lightning bolt. The base of the tornado bounced after them, ripped grass up and threw it into the air wherever it touched. Added to this hailstones were now coming down, peppering the ground around them. Padre knew they had to get to shelter or they’d be pummelled into the ground or ripped apart or possibly both. He got up and grabbed Minnow by his right arm but the sleeve came apart in his fingers. He tried again and managed to drag Minnow into a shambling run down the hill towards the woods and past that to the entrance. The stranger followed.

Rain was soaking them to the skin, the worn clothes not helping them much.

Thank you! Padre shouted even though he was only a few feet away to their rescuer. Rain was running down his face. His hearing still hadn’t come back so he couldn’t tell how loud he was talking. Who are you? he added. He was now able to see him clearly. He looked older than them because he was bald, thin and very gaunt; his face smudged with dirt. His clothes, Padre noted with some surprise looked bad enough to be Minnow’s cast-offs and had rips in them for good measure. He looked exhausted, like he’d just done a gruelling cross-country run before getting to the hilltop. He seemed to have hurt his right leg as he had to swing it round in order to move it forwards.

I’m Langdoc, the stranger shouted back. I’m looking for my sister and saw that, waving up at the tornado, and had to warn you.

The rain and hail lying on the ground was making it slippery and they slid and skidded into the woods exhausted. They weren’t able to pause for breath as the darkness caused by the clouds and trees was ripped apart by a barrage of lightning. Even here they weren’t safe. They fought their way through the undergrowth, with every other heartbeat coinciding with a sun-bright lightning bolt and instantaneous bellow of thunder.

The wind was whipping the branches into a frenzy and the older, brittle ones were being blown down around them.

All Padre could think was to get them all to safety. Minnow had started taking note of their surroundings which was lucky because if he hadn’t he’d be brained by falling branches by now, while Langdoc seemed content to let Padre take the lead. Minnow’s clothing was taking an even greater battering than normal and he lost the jacket and trouser legs as they brushed past branches lying on the ground.

They came to the edge of the woods gasping for breath and peered out at the sky from under a fallen branch. The tornado was still there bouncing on the ground like a psychotic puppy ripping whatever it could to shreds as if waiting for them to show themselves.

The top entrance was hidden from prying eyes by a fold in the ground. The only hope of safety was to reach it, they had to risk it or be killed.

After three, Padre said.

Couldn’t we make it thirteen? gasped Minnow, he was bent over with his hands on his naked knees desperately trying to suck more air into his lungs. His shirt was hanging in shreds around him. Padre would have offered his friend his jacket but knew it wouldn’t fit.

They readied themselves then sprinted for the entrance, Langdoc following behind. The tornado seemed to see them and threw itself at them when all of a sudden it stopped, the base of the funnel drew back up into the clouds and a few seconds later it exploded with an enormous crash that almost blew them to the ground. The last they saw of it was a last lightning bolt not thrown at the three runners but away into the distance. With all that they’d been through Padre couldn’t be sure but he felt this last lightning bolt was, somehow, pink.

They got to the top entrance and went down the short tunnel but there was something wrong with it – there was what looked like a multicoloured sheet covering the whole entrance. Minnow went up to it and poked it. It felt slightly sticky. He pushed harder and it gave slightly but didn’t tear. Padre picked a twig up and tried to tear