Out-and-Out Liars, Part 2; Swen Gnillor, Swen Gnikaerb and Other Monsters; Chapter 2, Part 8

                                                                             8.

Just as Aissur Yadot, the multi-storey steely-knived beast was about to grind Mary Mary, Mitzy and Chovihani into the ice, all froze as a wind picked up from somewhere beyond the frozen shelves of pack ice. Out to sea a procession of what looked to Mary Mary like the horns of unicorns, hundreds, one behind the other forming a gigantic circle. Each horn 10  feet long, nine inches thick at the cork-screwed base spiralling up golden from somewhere beneath the sea and sharply tapering off at right and left-angles, like the arms and elegantly poised fingers of synchronized swimmers. The clock-wise motion of the unicorns, moving ever faster and faster caused the water at the circles’ centre to become turbulent and dip suddenly, collapsing at it were in one deep groaning vortex while the wind above rung like Tebetan Singing-bowls.

Chovihani noticed that the bloated mottled greyish-blue bodies that had strewn the area, staring up through the ice like drowned sailors, had disappeared. Meanwhile, Aissur Yadot was compelled toward the circular golden vision the centre of which was obscured by the prismatic play of light through sea spray. The whirling horns were accompanied by a percussion of clicks, whistles and knocks.
The ripple-effect from the golden sea unicorns caused not only a cold gyre of air to whip and lash around Aissur Yadot whose articulated parts began to jam and freeze, but the wave-machine effect of the dance caused the ice-field to split apart until Mary Mary and company found themselves drifting out of harm’s reach on their own pancake of snow. The articulated Rubik’s Cube that was Aissur Yadot twisted and screeched rusting in the briny onslaught with the din of a thousand working scrap-metal yards. The fragile ledge, upon which it shifted and frantically jammed, tilted and bobbed precariously. Pulled toward the golden ring shot through with iridescent shards, like rainbow banners above an Olympic Stadium, a magical chorus of paralysing chatter concealed its treacherous centre, a conspiratorial song directed the whole.

Mary Mary, Chovihani and Mitzy saw themselves reflected in two giant knives of shiny steel as Aissur Yadot dug in. The rest of his armour rendered useless, its slatternly eyes fixed on Chovihani conveying a final vengeful promise of pogroms as it was dragged closer to the edge of the terrible whirlpool. The clicks, whistles and knocks intensified then, of a sudden the circle of gilt tusks broke rank, obliterating the boundary between Aissur Yadot and the howling vortex as the monster was dashed against the monstrous funnel’s sheer walls.

As the synchronized swimmers disappeared beneath the waves, a mass of water rushed in to fill the yawning chasm and levelling out, the wind abated and the briny sea settled.

Mary Mary, Chovihani and Mitzy drifted in the calm waters on their polar raft wondering how they would make it across the inky black avenues and lanes opening up before them; they were in shock. It was at this point that Mary Mary began to unravel.

Unbeknown to Mary Mary a perpendicular golden horn had broken through the water and had pierced through a loop in one of the outer layers of her knit-ware. Before she could disentangle herself, the aquatic knitting needle was moving beside the raft of ice tugging yards of insulating wool in its wake. Before she could alert Chovihani to her plight, another tapered horn was about to counter- cross the first needles line of flight; behind yet more needles were approaching; Mary Mary realized to her horror that she was about to be crocheted to death!

“Quick, jump on!”  Chovihani shouted as he gently pushed his beloved forward.

Mary Mary, Chovihanis and Mitzy stepped onto the greyish-blue mottled back of the first in a long line of Narwhals heading out along meandering leads towards their summering grounds.