Deep in a cave quarter-way up the sheer cliff-face of Mount Impossible, on the broken moon of Lost Rocks. Constant, Smellsick and Honeycomb sat watching the old ugly witch Crowflaps.

She plucked a long hair off the wee devil’s spine. It yelped dejectedly, self-pityingly, then scuttled away to some private corner in the deep darkness of the cave.

Crowflaps the Ugly dropped the hair into her smoldering cauldron. It bubbled and burped while the flames under the blackened steel suddenly spat and flared.

‘Coolness,’ said Constant.

Smellsick grinned, bobbing his head in agreement. Honeycomb shuddered: a new grimace on her face.

Crowflaps struggled up from the stone floor and dragged her obese ass over to the darkest corner of the cave. She cast light about her and a large cage was revealed.

Honeycomb cried out and made to stand but Constant slapped her arm. She sat back down, a look of pain on the pretty yet strong planes of her face.

The witch thrust a gnarly old hand through the bars and grabbed the angel’s ear, dragging her face close to the bars.

‘Give me some!’ Crowflaps demanded, shaking a tin cup under the angel’s nose. ‘I said give me some!’ screamed the witch in her dying pig’s-squeal. And she twisted the poor angel’s ear so mercilessly the angel began crying.

Constant shifted a bit uncomfortably.

Honeycomb nudged him, whispered: ‘We have to help her, the angel.’

Out the corner of his mouth: ‘You nuts? We’ll all end up in that there cauldron.’

Smellsick grinned nervously.

Crowflaps caught angel tears in the tin cup and squeezed some snot out the tragic angel’s nose.

‘Yes,’ she cackled, landing back down in front of her cauldron. ‘A bit ‘o angel slime now.’ She dumped the contents of the cup in. Bubble, burp, spit and flare. The dark cave flickered a little brighter.

‘Bit ‘o stardust. There!’

Arcane words left the witches hairy mouth. The cave shuddered, burst alight. From the recesses the wee devil screamed. The truth of the universe flickered, freeze-framing rapidly on and off.

As suddenly as it left, the darkness was back. Weak dancing flames were now the only source of light.

Crowflaps the Ugly proffered the steaming tin cup, a mad pride glowing in her eyes. ‘Push this past your lips Adventurers, the strength of ten monkeys to assist you in the climb.’

Honeycomb said, ‘uh-uh. I ain’t drinking that.’

Crowflaps snarled, swung her gaze to Smellsick.

He grinned apologetically: ‘Uhh…monkeys you say? I didn’t see no monkey ingredients go in there.’

The cave darkened ever more. Smellsick coughed. ‘Uh, no thanks.’

Constant sucked a couple teeth. ‘Hmm, ten monkeys you say?’

‘Ten.’

‘Hmm. Alright-‘

‘Constant!’ Honeycomb broke in. ‘How can you? The poor angel-‘

He silenced her with an imperiously raised hand. ‘How much, witch?’

‘Ten hairs off your head.’

‘One.’

The witch cackled. ‘Ten, or join the angel in the cage for wasting me time.’

‘Bloody hell, you’re a sour gob of slime ain’t ya?’ said Constant, ‘fine, ten bloody hairs Crowflaps. But this vileness better work. Or I tell the Queen of Dreams her Thrill Seekers were unable to capture the Angry Wizards mountain goat because of your trickery.’

She plucked the hairs from his head and he struggled not to cry out. Couldn’t – Smellsick had the Queen’s camera on his brooch. And she didn’t much care for edited films.

Constant knocked back the vile liquid. ‘Well spank me sideways!’ He windmilled his arms. ‘Feel strong. Let’s hit it crew. We got a mountain to scale!’

Honeycomb looked back at the poor angel but the enchanted cage was again swallowed in darkness. She wiped a tear and made a vow. I’ll be back for you, I swear.

The wind ripped at them as they climbed. Constant looked down over his shoulder and saw a mighty storm brewing out in the Galaxy, not far from the Three Blind Suns. Looking straight at the brooch he said. ‘Come on crew, there’s a storm a’ coming!’ Honeycomb rolled her eyes.

Smellsick climbed faster. Constant climbed faster so he could stay in front of the camera. Honeycomb climbed faster so she could catch ‘em should they fall.

Suddenly a pack of vampire bats swooped down out of nowhere and began a vicious campaign of ear-snapping fly-bys.

‘Point!’ claimed Constant.

They made a seat for him with clenched arms. He leaned out, masterfully taking out the crazed bats with his fabled Dragon-Tooth slingshot. When the last one exploded in purple fire Honeycomb said, ‘Next time you make the base Constant. If that concoction you drank really works, you could hold us steady enough to use blades as well.’

Constant spat indignant: ‘I got ‘em all and not a scratch on ye’s!’

Smellsick: ‘Aye, but it was close Constant.’

‘Bah!’ said Constant, and continued to climb. The others struggled with his pace, their arms and legs tiring. All the while the huge magnetic storm grew and watched them.

On the third night they found a wide ledge with a bonsai tree and made camp there. Except for a few passing stars, a sleep-floating dragon and the ever growing storm, it was a quiet night.

But when Honeycomb and Smellsick woke on the fourth morning, they found Constant fast asleep, very close to the edge.

They jumped at a small voice off to the side. ‘Aye, well, that one fell asleep nearly instantly.’ Sitting in the branches of the bonsai plant, a little blue birdman nodded toward Constant. A sudden strong gust of wind nearly tipped the Thrill Seeker over the edge. Below, above and behind, the Big Wide Galaxy yawned.

He started awake. He jumped up, sabre waving about in his hand. ‘I’ll swipe ye, ye – ‘

Honeycomb cuffed him. Smellsick checked to make sure the camera was still running.

Constant pointed with his saber. ‘Hell is that thing?’

‘Dunno,’ said Smellsick, ‘think its some kinda genie or sommin.’

Honeycomb added: ‘Or a spy for the Angry Wizard.’

The little blue birdman harrumphed. ‘I’ve a mind to refuse ye’s the chance to pluck from the Big Magic Fig Bowl. You all talk so much.’

‘The Big Magic Fig Bowl, eh?’ Constant cast sly eyes the new comers way, ‘oh, do tell more, little spy. What and where be the thing?’

The little blue birdman waved a feathered hand. There at the side of the bonsai tree a large obsidian bowl appeared. It was filled with figs. ‘There are three hundred and thirty three figs in there,’ he said in a piping voice, ‘three of them are magical.’

The Thrill Seekers stared at him. Honeycomb said, ‘and you expect us to just eat these figs, though they might be poison. Are ye daft?’

Constant: ‘What sorta magic, leprechaun?’

Smellsick: ‘Are you a spy for the Angry Wizard?’

‘I am most certainly not a leprechaun.’ The wee creature was angry they could see. ‘And I am certainly not an affiliate to a mere wizard. Now you try my patience.’

He clapped his tiny hands sharply. Smack… smack… smack. ‘Three magic figs. One a gift of light foot. One to turn all magic aside. The last to find your way home wherever you are.’

Constant snorted. ‘Well, I’m willing to try. And we can dig one up from anywhere in the bowl?’

‘Of course. You can eat as many as you like.’

Constant fell to his knees and started wolfing down figs, hardly chewing at all.

Honeycomb was a’ feared. ‘Constant, are you sure?’

‘I fine,’ he managed between swallows, ‘they taste great too.’

‘But,’ said the little blue birdman. Constant halted. The other two glared at him. ‘Each fig adds a weight to the soul, of five hundred grams. The weight stays with you for one week as long as the fairies fly.’

‘Constant, stop,’ said Honeycomb, ‘you wont be able to climb at all. We’re only half-way up.’

‘I can manage a few more. What with the monkey strength and all.’

The birdman laughed. ‘Haha. Crowflaps still selling that one is she?’

Honeycomb thundered her very own storm. ‘I knew it! It was all a bleeding con!’

‘Bah!’ said Constant, still chewing, ‘I feel strong!’

‘That poor angel!’ Honey sank to her knees, face in her hands.

The little blue birdman flew up sharp. ‘What? She has an angel?’

‘Yes!’ cried Honeycomb, ‘and a devil.’

‘You must return and free those creatures! Father Sky will not forgive you to leave a child of his in the hands of a witch. And Father Death needs those devils for the Great Balance.’

Constant: ‘I feel light! I’ll get that goat!’

‘No! We must save her!’

‘Bah, we pick her up on the way down. Now help me with these damned figs!’

Smellsick: ‘That storms nearing bro, we’ll be lucky to make it to the top before it arrives.’

Honeycomb dropped down and put a fig in her mouth, swallowed. A halo blossomed over her head.

The birdman clapped. ‘Spell Spurner!’

Smellsick dropped down. He popped a fig. A door landed on his back. ‘The Way Home!’

Constant jumped up and it was some seconds before he came down. ‘Lets go, crew! We got all we need now to best the wizard!’

Honeycomb and Smellsick turned away. ‘See you later Constant, if at all’ said Honeycomb, ‘don’t know how many lives you got left but we’re going to save that angel.’

‘Ye pansies,’ he cried, ‘give me that damned brooch, Smellsick. I have a duty to perform.’

Smellsick flung the brooch at him. ‘Farewell, Constant!’

‘Bah!’ growled Constant and leapt up the cliff face. Monkey strength and light-foot ferried him up at speed.

The magnetic storm howled awful close now.

He was nearly at the top when two very ugly sentries materialized swinging on ropes. They looked like the spawn of Crowflaps they did. Hairy mouths and gnarly skin. From their drippy noses Constant knew they had colds all year round.

The ugliest one swung in close wielding a tomahawk.

Constant pushed himself off the wall, drawing his sabre in the same movement. The tomahawk sliced air. Constant’s EverSharp sabre took an ugly head from its shoulders and the would be assassin fell away into the Big Wide Galaxy.

He caught the now free rope in his other hand and ran along the cliff face. The second sentry came in swinging, axe whistling. Constant pushed off the wall, battered the axe aside and relieved another body of its ugly load.

Adrenalin charging through his veins the Thrill Seeker continued up, victory licking his ego something fierce.

On the plateau at the top of the peak, the hellish storm was all around and the light-foot was proving a hindrance – blowing him about and such. He spied the blue goat and ran at it. It saw him coming and charged him, dropped its head and knocked him off his feet.

He went flying off the tip of Mount Impossible. Into the storm. Away from the broken moon Lost Rocks. He saw the Angry Wizard watching him with a mean grin and a raised middle finger.

He heard his name called over the howling winds as he tumbled into the storm eating up the stars in the sky.

Tried to see.

But there was no one to be seen.

All Constant heard amidst the noise of the crackling wind was the slamming of a door.

Far, far away, in a lonely place where very old gods sat playing chess, a voice whispered at his spirit-shoulder: ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk.’

‘Now was that necessary?’ Constant asked Father Death.

Father Death cuddled his little devil. Dark eyes glared at Constant. ‘You little bastard.’

The old gods looked up from their game, – shook their heads.

Constant glared at ‘em. ‘What, for pigs-sake?’

Father Death whispered over and over: ‘The ends, the ends, they don’t justify the means.’

Old gods sagely shook their heads in agreement.

‘Bollocks,’ spat Constant.

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