by Jeff Rosen
“You, there.”
They turned to see Coach Mandrake waddling up to Caley. “As the substitute … and now only trapper, I have no choice but to reinstate you onto the team. I know we have had our differences in the past, but I want to make it clear that I have absolutely no faith in you and this will likely end in unparalleled slaughter.”
Mandrake waddled off again.
“Inspiring words, sir!” Kip called after Mandrake; then he turned to Caley. “Back on the team! It’s gonna be great. Hope we don’t die.”
NEIVE was waiting in the stable for Caley when she entered with Kip. The usual jokey banter was replaced with a penetrating silence as players suited up in their armor. It reminded Caley of the patients in the Gunch’s medical dramas who were about to undergo some life-threatening operation.
Ithica Blight fixed Caley and Kip with a mocking look.
“Here comes the Cheetahs. Mutts and subs.”
The Pingintees tried to snigger-snort, but they were so nervous they just choked a bit.
Caley headed into the changing room with Neive. Her hands were shaking as she retrieved the glass jar from her locker.
It was empty.
“Neive … is there more of this?”
Neive shook her head. “That was the last of it.”
Caley instantly turned and ran out of the stable.
“Where are you going?” called Neive. “Caley! The Equidium is starting!”
CALEY raced to the greenhouse on the edge of the palace gardens.
“Master Pim! Master Pim!”
He was nowhere to be seen. Caley heard faint music coming from somewhere and noticed a toadstool-shaped cottage on the edge of the nearby forest. Maybe Pim lived there. She raced to the cottage. A sign above the small round door read:
ERASMUS E. PIM, ESQ. RING BUZZER.
An arrow pointed to a flower with a red button in its middle growing out of the door. It looked suspiciously like the “sunny surprise” flowers in Pim’s greenhouse that gave electric shocks. Caley grabbed a stick and pressed the button with it—and the flower squirted water in her face. The door swung open, and Pim was standing there, giggling merrily.
“That’s a rude way to welcome guests,” said Caley, wiping her face.
“Not as rude as an electric shock. So things are looking up!”
Caley followed Pim into the cottage. It was round and cozy, like a fox’s den. A small rocking chair sat next to a fireplace with a softly boiling teakettle hanging above it. There was a straw bed with a worn flower-patterned quilt covering it. A tidy writing desk sat beneath a window with a view of Castle Erinath in the distance.
“You’re just in time!” Pim shouted above the music. “We’re having a party!”
“We?” asked Caley, peering around. “There’s no one else here.”
“I’m here. And so are you!”
“But … I only just got here.”
“My dear girl, you should stop living in the past. It will only confuse you.”
Pim danced with surprising agility, considering how old he seemed. Caley shuffled around a bit, just to be polite (and to see if there might be some fearfew root lying about). She was surprised to see the music coming from an old record player like people had on Earth. It was powered by some sort of motor attached to a glowing bazkûl-breath gem.
“Major Fogg brings me back things from your world now and then,” said Pim, boogying past the record player. “I don’t think the Council would approve. People often fear what they don’t understand. But I find if you take the time to get to know something, you might discover a lot of good in it. Your music, for example. In Erinath we have a lot of marches and fanfares. Not much fun to dance to.” Pim held up a faded album cover. “Have you heard of the Beatles? I had a cousin who had a beetle baest. Couldn’t hold a tune, mind you …”
Pim danced around some more, singing along with the song—something about a barber showing photographs.
“Master Pim, I need to ask you something!”
“Have you been noticing the squirrels?”
“The … nuts?” said Caley. “Sorry, I haven’t found out anything about that.”
Pim turned off the music and gazed out the window at the castle with a serious expression.
“This is more troubling. Many of them make their home in the castle, and they are leaving.”
“Uh-huh. Do you have any more fearfew?”
“Fearfew?” Pim turned to Caley.
“The root from your greenhouse. I need more.”
“Whatever for?”
Caley took a deep breath, and the words came spilling out.
“I love orocs, but there’s something inside me that makes them want to attack me, which makes me scared of them … but I really wanted to ride one … so I’ve been drinking fearfew tea so I can ride Fearfew—the oroc, not the root—it’s also my oroc’s name … and I need more because I’m on an Equidium team, and it’s starting now—”
Pim held up a hand for Caley to stop.
“I’m sorry, but I composted the last of it last week. Not to mention it was plain old gardener’s bane. Looks very much like fearfew. The root, not the oroc. I really should have my eyes checked.”
“Then … why did it work?”
Pim shrugged. “How should I know? I’m just a gardener.”
Caley slumped into the chair opposite Pim.
“Then I’ll never ride Fearfew again. The oroc, not the root.”
Pim plopped himself down in his rocking chair next to Caley, rubbing his knees gingerly.
“Orocs are fascinating creatures. Once they choose a rider, they never choose another. It would be terribly sad if Fearfew—the oroc, not the root—lost his rider, because despite how wild they appear, they do seem to enjoy being ridden. Although in my opinion, it is the oroc who is really in charge. But that is a discussion for another day. You will be late for your Equidium.”
Pim sprang up and opened the door for Caley, who trudged out with a sigh.
“Oh, and please, have some …” He pulled a few animal crackers from one of the bottomless pockets of his overalls. “For the road.”
Caley shoved the crackers in a pocket and set off from the cottage.
“Are you good?” called Pim.
“Am I … good?” Caley turned back to him. Every time Master Pim looked at her with his piercing orange eyes, she felt like she was getting x-rayed. Was she good? Or was she an evil, dark, planet-eating, apocalypse person?
“A good trapper,” said Pim.
“Oh! I don’t know. Maybe …?”
To her surprise, Pim flung on a Cheetahs’ team scarf.
“Go Cheetahs! Oh, I know it’s just a foolish tournament, but it’s jolly exciting. So long as no one dies. Do let me know if you hear from the squirrels.”
THE stable was empty when Caley returned. The stomping and cheering of the huge crowd in the arena shook the dust from the ceiling. Caley sat dejectedly on a bench beside Fearfew’s stall, her head in her hands.
“Caley!”
Neive was hurrying toward her.
“Where were you? They’re introducing the teams!”
“I went to see Pim. There’s no more fearfew root. It wasn’t even fearfew to begin with.”
“But it worked, didn’t it?” said Neive. “And maybe you don’t need it anymore.”
Caley turned and opened Fearfew’s stall. He immediately began shrieking and snapping at her, and she slammed the door shut.
“Or I one hundred percent do.” Caley shook her head hopelessly.
“Get into your armor,” said Neive. “I’ll lead Fearfew up to the arena. Maybe he’ll calm down. We’ll think of something. You can’t miss the Equidium!”
CALEY entered the arena. The stands were crammed with thousands of spectators. Everyone was waving banners and flags. The teams were marching past the Royal Box, where Chancellor Abbetine, General Roon, Duchess Odeli, and others were seated. Everything was being projected on a giant scr
een floating above everyone, like one of those jumbotrons in sports arenas (except this one was made of about a million electrified bumblebees). The teams were displayed on the jumbotron (or bumbletron, decided Caley) as their supporters sang their song.
Blight Bazkûls, noble, royal,
To our House forever loyal!
We shall win with strife and toil,
Your blood will spill upon this soil!
The other teams trooped past as their songs rang out—all of which basically promised to annihilate or otherwise destroy their opponents. Caley slipped into line with the House Cross Cheetahs.
“Where were you?” asked Kip, looking relieved.
Before Caley could answer, Chancellor Abbetine got up to speak, his face projected over the bumbletron.
“Welcome to the Equidium. To the teams, good luck and may you return victorious. I believe we are set to begin.”
An expectant hush fell across the arena as everyone’s attention turned to the matrix of honeycombed openings above the stands. There was a buzzing sound, faint at first, like mosquitoes in a tent. It grew louder until the entire arena began to vibrate. The players quickly lowered the visors on their helmets.
“Kip … what’s happening?” said Caley.
In answer to her question, Kip pointed wordlessly to the honeycombs. Venowasps began pouring from them; thousands of them, big as birds, hovered above the crowd like a humming, hungry thundercloud.
Caley realized with a sudden shock that the Equidium arena was one gigantic venowasp nest.
From a deep, dark honeycomb opening at the very top flew the biggest, baddest-looking venowasp Caley had ever seen. It was the size of a car, with barbed mandibles that looked like they could tear through a tank, a bulging belly—which Caley supposed was full of nasty little venowasp eggs—and a curved stinger the length of a fire-lance, sparking out zaps of electricity like a downed power line.
“The queen,” breathed Kip, looking awestruck and horrified at the same time.
“She’s a big one this year,” Mandrake said, shaking his head. “Can’t see anyone surviving this.”
“He really needs to work on his leadership skills.” Kip grimaced.
The queen hovered above the arena, staring down at the players like an eagle eyeing mice. She clicked her mandibles with a sound like slashing swords, sending everyone scrambling for their orocs. The venowasp swarm instantly snapped together around the queen like a giant construction set. As they did, their bodies changed to the color of the sky, making the mass of them seem to vanish as they flew off.
“Mount up!” shouted Ben Bruin. The Cheetahs’ bearlike lead defender had been named replacement captain.
Caley craned around and saw Neive holding Fearfew. She began to head over, but her legs seemed to have been turned into chewing gum. Everyone was glued to the bumbletron, where a little weasel-faced man in a bad toupee and loud plaid sportscaster’s blazer began commenting in rapid-fire.
“Good afternoon, Equidium fans, I’m Chuck Clutterbuck! Eight teams, one big bug. The rules: simple … there are none! Catch the queen and stop her from laying her eggs because if she does, better bust out that bug spray! The queen is ready … the players are ready … the fans are ready … so let’s get … BUZZZYYY! A lot of storylines we’re following in this year’s Equidium. Bazkûls with three rookies, an Equidium record. At starting trapper, riding Nightmare, Princess Ithica ‘Terror-in-a-Tiara’ Blight!”
The bumbletron showed Ithica mounting her oroc with her usual “couldn’t care less” look, like she was going shoe shopping.
“Blight looking composed. With her, two first-year defenders: Pansy and Petunia ‘The Poundin’ Pingintees.’”
The Pingintees appeared on the bumbletron as several stable hands struggled to heave them onto their orocs.
“Cheetahs also with their share of rookies,” Clutterbuck continued. “At starting tracker …” he stared down at some notes, “Kipley ‘K-Frog’ Gorsebrooke.”
Kip appeared on the bumbletron, yanking his helmet off and glaring.
“It’s ‘K-Dog!’ Come on!”
“Of course, the big story of this Equidium, Cheetahs’ trapper Ferren Quik a late scratch. Stepping in, from Earth, standing maybe five foot three, weighing … probably not a whole lot, I’m guessing: Princess Caley ‘The Red Menace’ Cross!”
A bee buzzed up in Caley’s face, which was then projected, fifty feet tall, on the bumbletron, as she stood there frozen in place.
“Cross!”
Coach Mandrake was flapping his flipper-like hands frantically at Caley to shoo her along. “What are you waiting for? Mount up!”
The other teams were flying out of the arena after the venowasps. Caley took a deep unhappy breath and headed toward Neive, who was holding Fearfew. As soon as she got near, the oroc started snapping at her. It didn’t help that Mandrake was screaming, “Hesitation is death!” and ten thousand spectators were staring at her.
“Cross … taking some time getting on her oroc … not exactly sure what the holdup is,” Clutterbuck said over the bumbletron. “Coach Mandrake absolutely livid on the sidelines. He’s pretty much livid everywhere. Very passionate individual.”
Kip rode over to Caley. “We have to go!”
“You’re not helping,” Neive told Kip, trying to hold Fearfew from Caley.
“Why is he trying to bite her?” asked Kip.
“I can’t do this,” said Caley. “Maybe one of the defenders can be trapper.”
Kip sniffed the air. “Snacks!”
“You’re thinking about food now?” Neive shook her head. “Unbelievable.”
Kip jumped off Arrow, reached into Caley’s armor, and pulled out a few of Pim’s animal crackers. Fearfew immediately began snapping at them.
“He wants these,” said Kip, tossing a cracker to the oroc, who gobbled it up and immediately seemed to calm down.
Caley and Neive exchanged amazed looks.
“See? I don’t always think with my stomach.” Kip affected an insulted tone—then gobbled a cracker, jumping back on his oroc. “I missed breakfast.” He shrugged. “And probably lunch, at this rate.”
Caley climbed up on Fearfew, and Neive handed over her snagger with a nod of encouragement. She grasped onto Fearfew’s mane, feeling the familiar electric jolt course through her body.
“Can we go now?” Ben Bruin had ridden over.
The Cheetahs flew out of the arena in formation and soon caught up with the other teams. Caley scanned around, trying to catch a glimpse of the venowasp phalanx, which only appeared when a passing cloud was reflected against their scales.
“She’s moving low and slow,” Ben Bruin called around to the team. “Loaded down with all her eggs. That’s the good news.”
“What’s the bad news?” asked Monty Ottley, one of the Cheetahs’ defenders.
No sooner had Monty said this than … BAM! An oroc smacked into him.
Caley saw that opposing teams were trying to knock each other off their orocs, swinging their fire-swords and lances around violently.
“Why is everyone fighting each other?” shouted Caley, ducking as a riderless oroc flew past her head. “Aren’t we trying to catch the queen?”
“The queen’s not going anywhere in a hurry,” replied Ben Bruin, fending off an attacking defender. “She’s smart. She knows we’ll tear each other to pieces before we even get to her!”
“That seems stupid,” said Caley.
“This is the sensible part!” shouted Kip, ducking the firelance of a Bazkûl player. “Fighting the queen is really stupid!”
Caley went zigzagging around on Fearfew, avoiding the other players, most of whom were much slower, especially the defenders, who were all huge and heavily armored and seemed content to just bash each other about. Players were dropping like flies. Caley noticed Ithica had positioned herself safely between the Pingintees. You couldn’t budge a Pingintee off an oroc (once you managed to get one on it). The two ginormous girls wer
e swinging their fire-lances and snigger-snorting every time they sent someone flying.
“Smack him again, Lumpy!” Ithica was barking orders to her cousins. “Come on, Dumpy, you can hit harder than that!”
“She’s heading for the tunnels!” someone yelled.
Caley caught a glimpse of the venowasp swarm headed toward the cliffs beneath the castle. The queen was appearing, bit by bit, as venowasps flew off, like someone peeling an orange.
“They’re leaving the queen,” said Kip.
“Is that good?” asked Caley.
Before Kip could answer, the venowasps appeared, like little jet fighters, bearing down on the players. It was a full-on attack.
“I’m going to say not good!” Kip cried.
“Porcupine formation!” shouted Ben Bruin.
The team quickly got into a defensive formation, Caley in the middle, Kip in front on the “nose,” tracking, and the defenders around the perimeter. There were only three left now: Ben Bruin, Monty Ottley, and a huge fifth-year boy who looked like he had a gorilla for a baest. Their fire-lances poked out from behind their shields, making them all look a bit like a porcupine.
Monty Ottley cried out in pain. Several venowasps had linked together and carried off his helmet while another stung his neck. He slumped over his oroc, shaking and foaming from the mouth.
“Stay together!” cried Ben Bruin. “Hold your positions! Steady! Steady!”
Aside from Monty Ottley, the venowasps had a tough time getting through the players’ armor and started stinging the orocs instead. While the stings didn’t seem to affect orocs the way they did humans, it did make them really angry, and they began bucking and barreling in midair. The team formations quickly fell apart. Players panicked, and more than a few bolted as fast as their orocs would take them.
“Charge!” ordered Ben Bruin.
The other teams all seemed to have the same idea, and everyone charged at once. The venowasps immediately stopped attacking and flew back to protect the queen. The remaining players desperately tried to fight their way through them, flailing their fire-swords, sending venowasps dropping to the ground like flies hitting bug zappers. The queen began to burrow into a cave on the side of the cliffs.