WITH A LOUD GRUNT With a loud grunt he plunged his other hand into the pile ( while pocketing the torn cover ) and withdrew the old , greying parchment ... which was oddly creaseless .
Fred , bewildered , said he remembered screwing it up , which led to a smile and an introduction from the old one .
``I am Gandar , and this is no ordinary parchment . Like the piston ring it once cloaked it will defy destruction until the time is right .’’
He crunched it up in his hand and released it again .
Fred watched with bewilderment , and some apprehension , as it crackled perfectly back into shape .
``I wish we could get aluminium and plastic to do that ,’’ he said quietly before offering Gandar a cup of tea and one of his egg sandwiches .
``Most kind ,’’ Gandar smiled , and set forth explaining to Fred the circumstances he had unknowingly found himself in collision with .
``That old parchment was placed away from sight , at the bottom of that old tool box , 30 years ago by your uncle Billybo . You see , he could not destroy the strange parchment and nor could he escape the irresistible and evil force of the piston ring it once contained ... it ruined him .’’
Indeed , Fred ’ s uncle Billybo had inexplicably allowed the family motorcycle repair business to fall into financial ruin as he apparently walked the earth , mumbling , in search of a couple of ``magical ’’ piston rings . ``We must visit your uncle ,’’ Gandar said as he spat out a fragment of eggshell . ``He ’ s in the loony bin ,’’ Fred replied , as if dismissing the idea .
``Nevertheless ... we must visit the poor fellow for I fear he must still be in possession of the third ring , and if that is the case he could be in mortal danger for I fear the Dark Riders are afoot .’’ ``The Dark Riders ?’’ Fred asked in a whisper . ``A foul brood . A motorcycle gang of dark attire and darker hearts who seek the missing piston ring for Sorceron .’’
Fred leaned forward , and after looking left , then right , then over his shoulder , suggested Gandar illuminate him on what the hell was going on .
For suddenly , it seemed , the simple life of repairing motorcycles and doing part-time shoe soling on the weekends had come asunder .
AN ISANE METALLURGIST Gandar took a deep breath , choked on the foul tea , then told the story of how in the darkest of times some three decades ago an insane metallurgist by the name of Sid Sorceron forged three perfect piston rings using the lavas of hell . He forged them of a metal so rare and evil there was only enough for three rings , and he forged them to create the ultimate engine . An engine which could never fail and which could produce all the power of hell . The rings , when assembled from top to bottom in the order they were forged , would create an engine that could actually think . An engine that could react and could plot and could seduce . Gandar lamented that he once worked as a senior engineer with the evil Sorceron , but after discovering the plot he was hatching , and after a violent confrontation , stormed out ... vowing he would do all he could to put a stop to his dangerous plans .
There was silence for a few seconds before
Fred spoke . ``Another egg sandwich ?’’ he asked . ``Don ’ t mind if I do ,’’ Gandar replied before
continuing .
He told how Sorceron , intoxicated by the power he had created , decided to celebrate with his foul friends and get intoxicated in a more traditional manner .
But the evening spent at Latasha ’ s Lap Dancing Bar proved his undoing , as he lost one of the rings during an energetic mambo on a big lass called Mumbo .
He told how in the bar , at that very time , had been a young mechanic from the ``new lands ’’ of Zeal .
``And you know who that young fellow was don ’ t you Fred ,’’ Gandar inquisitioned . ``Bob Toomey ?’’ Fred replied . ``Are you not listening to anything I ’ m telling you ?’’ he boomed . ``It was your uncle Billybo !’’ ``Oh , yeah , good as gold , I ’ m with you ’’ Fred said nodding furiously .
Gandar rolled his eyes to the ceiling before continuing to tell how young Billybo saw a glow from under a table and reached down to retrieve the object . It was a piston ring ... but one so smooth and so light it drew a gasp of awe from him . It lay on a grey parchment wrapping which had golden lettering upon it . He scooped that up as well and put them both in his back pocket ... and forgot about them until he arrived back home .
Sorceron was enraged at the loss and brought together a dark army of apprentice motorcycle mechanics who had never made it past the second year ... an army he demanded must return him the ring .
As for Billybo , well he was never the same again . He always felt the ring was trying to push him away from his home ... to go to distant lands in search of something ... to take it somewhere . But what , where , how ?
And then , one maudlin evening as the cider took effect , he noticed something he had never
seen before . Inscribed on the inner surface of the ring was a minute , almost invisible inscription ... `` # 3 of 3 ’’.
TWO OTHERS ? That meant there were two others . And the knowledge of that meant he turned his back on his business and his loved ones and set out , not knowing where , to find its two companions and complete the evil treble . He had no idea what would happen if he ever found them , but he figured it must be better than running a two-bit bike business and having to put up with demands for payment from McPhee the Mad ... the collector of monies owed .
``I think we better go and see uncle Billybo ,’’ Fred said quietly .
``There is no time to lose ,’’ Gandar replied as he polished off the last egg sandwich .
The Hobbletown Lunatic Asylum was a desperate place full once promising souls now cast into a limbo of psychological oblivion .
Its dark towers withheld the cries of the deranged , the moans of the demented and the laughter of the men and women who had no idea where or who they were but loved the 4pm daily social dancing lessons .
Gandar and Fred were taken to Room 57 . On the sturdy door was the name B . Bagwind , and after knocking just twice the door opened and
Kiwi Rider – June 2003 27
56 KIWI RIDER