by T C Shelley
Sam peered back at the guard. Its mouth hung open, black liquid pooled on its bottom teeth. The candle on the table next to it died. Ogres had good night-time eyes, but a gargoyle’s eyes were stronger and in this black hole even Sam struggled to see.
He trembled to have the huge brute behind him, but he dashed towards the furthest end of the short corridor and slid down into the dirt.
As he moved he felt a sharp red pain shear up his arm. A splinter stabbed deep into his palm. When he pulled out the jagged stone, he felt a second hot wave of pain, and his blood plopped out on to the filthy floor. In the half-light, the liquid swelled warm and black in his hand. He looked at the broken piece of grey stone sliding between his blood-oiled fingers.
Bellowing laughs came down to the cells. Sam huddled in the corner, hearing his own heartbeat and studying his hand. He’d sliced his palm. Black fluid seeped from the wound. He felt weak, as if his energy was leaking out of the small, pulsing hole. He pressed his other palm over it, and wondered how to slow the leak. When he pushed his hand to the wall, his blood stopped it sticking. He couldn’t climb to the ceiling.
Ogres smell blood better than anything, Sam thought. He wished he didn’t know that. He stared at the ogre sleeping on its labouring stool.
The wheezy mass of the guard snored on as two ugly monsters moved towards it. Sam put his torn hand to his mouth.
‘Grumblebum! You sleeping?’ an ogre voice demanded. It took up the doorway. Sam shuddered when he saw the massive, neckless body, all covered with rigid muscles. There, red-eyed and regal, his stone fist hanging in Sam’s eyeline, stood Thunderguts.
‘Never said I liked coffee,’ Grumblebum the guard muttered.
Thunderguts turned towards Sam.
Sam waited for the ogre king to discover him. He pressed at his hand, slowing the escape of the blood. His head lightened but he held still, his muscles aching.
The king turned back towards the sleeping guard.
‘Wake up, Grumblebum,’ Thunderguts said.
The ogre grunted and opened one bloodshot eye.
‘How’s the torturing going?’ the second ogre demanded. Sam trembled as he saw that it was the ogre from the cathedral.
Grumblebum slurred as he spoke. ‘Broke him three times. He don’t know nothin’, Snide.’
‘Maybe we should get ’Bum here to put the gargoyle back together. Bring it back topside. Use it as leverage.’ Snide’s voice rumbled in his chest.
‘And where will you take it? Our prince is playing fast and loose with some humans right now. The crone says wait till he’s bored,’ Thunderguts said.
‘He sounds a right little monster,’ Snide said. ‘Spoilt brat needs to come home.’
The three ogres laughed.
‘Anywise, you don’t think he’s interested in the gargoyle?’ Grumblebum started.
‘Gargoyles are snivelling, conniving sun-dwellers with no more self-respect than humans,’ Thunderguts said. ‘They run at the first sign of danger. If our little prince is half what I think he is, he won’t spare another thought for that rubbish.’
Snide’s shoulders slumped forward, and Sam stared at the ogre’s lowered back. He burned with the effort to remain still.
‘I’ve waited many years already,’ Thunderguts went on. ‘It’s taught me patience. In the end, he’ll seek us out. If the crone’s right, he’s just trying to find out what he’s here for.’
Sam shivered at the mention of the crone. He thought of her bony hands reaching for him on Hatching Day. Her kiss. And she knew about the Kavanaghs?
‘Like we all done when we was hatched,’ Snide said. ‘Time we nab him, then?’
Thunderguts turned to Snide and put a claw on his back. ‘No talk of nabbing. Let him come back in his own time. He may look a bit odd, but he’s still just a monster.’
‘Tasty-looking, in’he?’
Thunderguts chuckled. ‘I smell blood in here, Grumblebum. You been eating human?’
‘Nah, I’d be off me nut blathering if I did that. Was a cow. I’m not stupid. Always makes me sleepy,’ the guard mumbled.
‘Smells glorious. What breed was that?’
‘Friesian, I think.’
Thunderguts laughed. ‘Come on, ’Bum, tell me more about this delicious-smelling cow and where you got it. Then I can go and find out if there’s any more news of my little monster.’
‘What about the rock?’
‘Fed up with thinking about it,’ Thunderguts said. ‘Leave it to rot.’
Snide dragged Grumblebum up and staggered towards the exit, leaving Thunderguts looking back at the cells. A frown passed over the ogre’s face before he issued a guttural sigh and walked out.
The gate screamed as Thunderguts left.
Sam staggered up. The thick blood was clotting in his palm now. He looked at the sliver of rock that had hurt him. It was gargoyle grey. He studied the ground where it had lain. It must have been flung there from one of the cells.
He had to have another peek at those odd-shaped rocks. As the ogre tread faded into the distance, Sam peered through the bars at them. Pieces of granite spread over the dirt. He squinted, too dark for him, but as he stepped closer, he saw Bladder’s head lying upside down in the corner. The lion’s stone eyes stared at a spot somewhere near Sam’s foot.
Despite the pain in his hand, he raised a quiet cheer.
Sam began.
Bladder’s torso lay twisted. His shoulders faced up, as did his belly and back legs. A fixed howl sat on the gargoyle’s face. Sam wondered what agony Bladder had suffered before splitting apart. He pulled at the head. It was the heaviest piece, but he propped it in the dirt next to the body. He would put it on last. Bladder might start yelling as soon as he was whole. He didn’t need the ogres rushing back.
The cherub wings, ornamental at best, had sheared off. Sam attached those first. A frying-pan sizzle crisped as each fastened, and raised scars formed along the ruptures. Sam liked the sound. He might actually be able to reassemble Bladder.
Sam stopped and listened for footsteps again, for anything slithering or stomping back to the cells. Then he took off his backpack; it was cumbersome and squeaky. Maybe too soft for an ogre’s ears, but Sam didn’t want to risk anything.
He put down his bag, but it wouldn’t sit flat, so he pushed it aside and found a white stone lodged underneath. When he held it up, it looked unlike the other grey pieces. It glowed the gentle white of milk and flecks of bright colour ran through its surface. It created its own light. Sam sniffed. It smelt like Bladder, like gutter water and church roofs and a little like imp boy, as if it had absorbed everything in Bladder’s life. Here was the slight scent of human Sam had followed. It had been his own smell.
It looked like part of a solid egg. One side was smooth and curved, but the other sides were hard angles and rough, still glowing, still white. Thick gold seamed one jagged edge. Sam looked around for more pieces like it. It felt incomplete. He remembered the tiny glow from under the guard’s seat, and scrambled it out from under the bloodstained stool.
He dusted off the new piece, similar in shape to the first, picked it up and put the two parts together. They did not fit, so he turned them twice before he heard – softer than the sizzle of stone on stone but delightful anyway – a shush. The two pieces joined at the gold vein. Half a stone egg now.
Sam crawled back into the cell, hoping for a third piece. He scrambled to the back of the gargoyle and searched in the muck, where Bladder’s poor torso lay in two. When he peered inside he realised where the egg belonged. He could see right into the gargoyle’s innards, and the hollow inside Bladder shimmered in the same pretty tinted white. When Sam put his hand in, a third piece fell into his palm. He turned it twice against the first half before hearing the pleasant sigh of pieces joining.
He sat up, and scanned the ground for the last quarter and saw it under Bladder’s claw in the corner. Sam picked up the segment. It fit first time.
The egg hummed in his hand
. It had joined at the gold, but four thick cracks ran the outer surface. Sam lifted the glowing egg, smearing its surface with a layer of dark blood. It pulsed stronger, throwing light to the walls and casting a golden glow around the cell.
He put the egg inside Bladder’s leonine chest. The egg sighed and nestled inside.
Sam thumped down on the floor, his body deciding it needed to rest. He looked at the gash in his hand. The flood had slowed, but not stopped, and somehow he felt himself leaking out that little hole.
No, can’t stop.
Sam got working. Maybe Grumblebum would come back to rebuild Bladder and break him again or, worse, throw him away. He pushed the two halves of Bladder’s torso together, the pieces fitting with a sputter.
Then the feet. The first locked on with a satisfying hiss, but the second would not fix. The breaks did not match. A thin gap opened between them, and Sam glanced around for the sliver of stone. It lay next to his pack, black with blood. He picked it up and added it to the break; it hissed and fastened. Sam reattached the rest of the leg.
He struggled with Bladder’s weighty head. He felt sleepy. Maybe he would rest before he put on the head. Sam sat down, closed his eyes for a bit, they flickered open, and he saw the great cat staring at him. Its lips pulled back, revealing lion’s teeth and great suffering. He’d rest after Bladder was fixed. Sam grabbed the head. He struggled to put it at the right angle and panted as the scar sizzled.
Bladder sat up, wide-eyed and shaking, untwisting his big cat body.
Sam put a finger to his lips. ‘The guard’s gone, but Thunderguts was just here and there’s ogres wandering up and down out there.’ Sam trembled and his knees felt rubbery.
‘What did you do?’ Bladder nudged his rough snout into Sam’s hand and growled. It hurt so much.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s my fault you got smashed.’
Bladder shook as he raised his paw, all claws extended. Sam raised his arm in a feeble attempt to protect himself, as the stone lion slashed at his belly.
Material fell away from his T-shirt in strips.
‘All right, around the wound, and then up the arm.’ The gargoyle wrapped the fabric about Sam’s hand and it went dark with blood, then Bladder wrapped cloth further up, firm and fast.
‘What are you doing?’ Sam slurred.
‘It’s supposed to stop the blood. If we don’t, you’ll die. I think you will anyway. It’s what happens to humans when they lose blood. Trolls and witches too.’
Sam’s heart throbbed in his arm. He didn’t remember it doing that before. He glanced at his backpack, too weak to reach it. Bladder grabbed it, knocking Sam’s head and sore arm with a solid shoulder, before shoving it on him.
‘Climb on.’ Bladder lowered himself so Sam could get on to his stone back.
Sam fell rather than climbed.
‘You on? Good. Let’s get out of here.’ Bladder ran out of the cell, through the gate and up the dungeon stairs. The sound of the crowd mixed with Sam’s steady heartbeat.
‘Do you know how much blood you lose before you die?’ Bladder asked him.
Sam had no idea.
‘Well, if you’re not nearly dead, really hold on. I’m going up.’
Sam stuck his hands to Bladder’s sides. He could feel how weak he was – if he stopped focusing his hands let go. The gargoyle scaled the corridor wall and took off towards the exit, upside down.
Sam held on with the last of his energy. At the end of the corridor, he saw One-Eye with his back to the door. The brute was focused on something at his feet. Bladder stopped.
One-Eye bent towards the floor.
Getting his head into some poor brownie’s face, Sam thought.
‘Hold on,’ Bladder whispered, and shot forward up the lip of the exit to the wall outside. Below them, the crowd of monsters swept on.
One-Eye raised his body. ‘Mmmm, what is that smell?’ he said.
Bladder ran towards the Great Cavern. Sam looked back. One-Eye stared open-mouthed at the pair. Sam lost sight of the ogre as Bladder raced through the entry. A greater mob moved on the cavern floor. Bladder stepped off the wall on to a ledge.
‘We’ll do this upright from here,’ Bladder said.
Sam relaxed, letting his hands and feet unstick, and slumped forward, drained and weary.
CHAPTER 14
Sam moaned. His head hurt. His sliced hand lay on his chest bound in ragged strips of Elvis purple. Bladder sprang over and pressed boulder-weight paws on to his chest.
‘Bladder …’ Sam gasped. ‘Gotta breathe.’
‘Just checking you’re alive, Imp.’
Sam leaned on the wall and let the dizziness wash away. He could see the rocky ridges of a messy burrow and sighed.
‘It’s a gargoyle hideout. Sometimes we come here when ogres block the exits.’
Sam looked around. There were chocolate wrappers and empty sweet bags everywhere. A neat stack of tins and small boxes leaned against the wall.
‘They been here though,’ Bladder said. ‘Look up.’
Sam stared at the scratches and gouges taken out of the ceiling. Ogre heads had bashed against it.
‘So we can’t stay long, Imp. If someone goes back and sees me missing, and there’s blood all over the place … We got you bottled up, so a little rest and we’re off, alrigh’?’
Sam stared at his hand. Bladder had ripped up more of his T-shirt and a few drops of blood stained the wrapping’s surface. The T-shirt itself barely covered his belly, exposing the dimple Daniel called his belly button.
‘It’s a bandage,’ Bladder said. ‘Humans do them.’
‘How do you know so much about humans?’
Bladder squatted. ‘Films and shows. Like that Accident ’n’ Emergency. Also I spent centuries up there, picked up a thing or two.’
Sam nodded at him, encouraging him to continue.
‘Most important thing to know is, they ain’t nice.’
‘Monsters aren’t nice either.’
‘True enough. It’s a bad world.’
Bladder put his nose up to Sam’s own. Sam patted him. The gargoyle stepped back. ‘I was just sniffing you. Seeing how you’re doing. We gotta go.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Seriously?’
‘And I feel weak.’
‘There’s no chocolate. Best I can do is a tin o’ cold soup or some crackers. Some twit from another pack got it in his head that we should try them.’ Bladder gestured to the stack of tins. ‘Din’t have any myself but I heard about the faces what got pulled. Disgusting stuff.’
Bladder fetched a tin, pulled off the lid and watched Sam use his fingers to scoop out the contents.
Sam took two mouthfuls and his stomach stopped protesting.
Bladder stared at the door, his face set into sad cat lines.
‘Are you OK?’ Sam asked.
‘You shouldna fixed it.’
Sam’s thoughts fogged. He didn’t know what Bladder meant until he remembered the beautiful white egg. ‘I didn’t really. It’s still badly cracked.’
‘Maybe that’s why it hurts.’
‘Sorry,’ Sam said. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing we talk about. It’ll get every gargoyle mashed and pounded. At the mo’ the ogres tease us for fun. If they knew we had …’ Bladder snarled.
Sam remembered the beautiful stone pulsing inside the lion’s chest. ‘Is it a … heart?’ he whispered.
‘Shhhhhh.’ Bladder turned with alarm to the door. ‘Don’t say it out loud.’
‘How’d it get broken?’
‘I s’pose that’s what they do. Hurt to break, hurt to fix.’ Bladder ignored him and shoved his nose into Sam’s soup. ‘Now eat something, so we can go home.’
‘I can’t, Bladder.’
‘What? You must be starving.’
‘I mean I can’t go back up yet.’
‘You can’t stay down here; they’ll sniff you out like you was some high-quality pâté.’
<
br /> ‘Pixies stole the family’s baby.’
‘Family? What family?’
Through slurps of soup, Sam explained about the Kavanaghs and the disappearance of Beatrice from inside a toadstool circle.
‘Well that’s pixies, that is. You know that?’
Sam eyes prickled, and he blinked back their heat. ‘I’ve got to find the baby, Bladder.’
Bladder shuffled and revisited the chocolate wrappers lying all over the floor, nosing each one. He peeped at the boy. ‘You still leaking?’ The gargoyle huddled next him. His face softened. ‘You are a sap, but thanks for coming to get me, Imp.’
‘My name is Samuel. They call me Sam,’ Sam said.
‘You got named. Well done. Hmmm, Samuel? Not musical, is it? Eat now, Imp. I’ll decide when you’re well enough to travel. You’re all emotional. Not thinking.’ Bladder watched him. ‘Come on, shovel in a bit more soup. Eating’s supposed to make you pink things feel better.’
Bladder stood next to the door and stared out on to the cavern below. Sam could hear sniggers carrying up from the floor and swallowed the last of the soup. It hurt going down. ‘You leave first, Bladder. No use waiting for me. I’ll just have a rest and then I’ll go.’
The cat shook its mane.
‘I’ll miss you, Bladder.’
‘I thought if you ate something then you’d stop saying stupid things.’
‘If … If you could just point out where the pixies’ cavern is, before you go. Then I’ll be off.’
Bladder stared at him and snorted. ‘You’ll be mince within hours. And who knows if that baby’s even alive. It don’t take long for humans to give up in The Hole.’
‘I’ve got to try.’
Bladder groaned. ‘You know that flying fluffball Daniel can’t help us down here. He wouldn’t even want to. No souls, no support. We’re on our own.’
Sam stared.
‘Yes, I said “we”. Wheedle’d kill me if I let you go off by yourself.’ Bladder grunted. ‘He’s an idiot.’
‘Bladder, thank you.’
‘I’ll help you if I can, but no more ogres, right?’