by Ruth Fox
“Hhhaaaaahhhh,” said the Grelgoroth with immense satisfaction. The glow of the Virya had gone into him, spilling from his lips and fading slowly. It rolled his eyes closed in bliss. A shudder ran through its whole body, through the floor beneath their feet, through the whole cavern. “That,” said the Grelgoroth, “was excellent.”
Donovan looked ecstatic. “Do you feel stronger, Master?”
“Very much so,” said the Grelgoroth. “I tasted . . . music. Pretty music. This human played the flute—and very well, too.” His eyes blinked open once more. But it wasn’t Donovan they sought. Instead, the huge milky orbs settled on Zach.
“Excellent!” Donovan chittered. “We will harvest more right away. Master, I have found a human worthy of assisting me. Soon, you’ll be back to your former strength. Beyond it! We have dozens of children to harvest from, and with Zach’s help, I will get more!”
She picked up the empty retainer, gripped Zach’s arm, and began to pull him towards the door. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, Zach.”
“No,” said the Grelgoroth. His voice stopped Donovan in her tracks. “No. The boy stays. I want to talk with him.”
“But—but—” Donovan spluttered. “He is exactly what I’ve been waiting for. He’s the perfect candidate to help me with my work.”
“Do you question me?” the Grelgoroth asked. There was a trace of amusement in his voice, but also a deep, rumbling threat.
“No! No, of course not,” Donovan said hurriedly.
“Then do as I say. There are questions I need to ask this boy. I will return him to you—unharvested, I promise you that—when I am done. Do you have any further objections?”
“No, Master. I will . . . I will go.”
Head hung low, she turned, and walked away, vanishing through the door. Leaving Zach behind.
Chapter Thirty
Zach turned slowly, facing the Grelgoroth and intentionally ignoring Monster-boy. The Grelgoroth was studying him intently. The glow of the Virya was slowly disappearing, and the cavern was darkening as it did so.
“I sense animosity,” he rumbled. “The two of you share a great bond. One that is now quivering with rage and confusion. Your Virya is clearly linked. Yet one of you is human, and one of you is a monster. This intrigues me.”
Zach said nothing.
“Ahhh,” said the Grelgoroth. “You are silent because you are afraid.”
“I’m not afraid! Not at all, master,” burst out Zach. He didn’t know why he’d called the Grelgoroth “master,” except that it seemed right. The words were on his tongue before he knew it, but now that he wasn’t holding the pulsing energy, his boldness was fading. He could feel the cold air, the darkness around him that was slowly growing as the glow from the Virya faded further. “But I am . . . wondering about you, master. I’m wondering about how you’ve lived down here, for all these years. And where you came from.”
“A lie.” The words shocked Zach, and he felt his muscles clench as he tried to decide whether he should bow his head or run. “You seek to turn my thoughts from my own question by asking me these things. An interesting tactic. Devious and crafty. A very . . . human ploy. But it makes me wonder. What are you to one another? A monster and a human? What could possibly form a bond between you?”
“A mistake,” Zach said. Finally, he turned his gaze to Monster-boy, knowing that all the hurt and anger he’d been feeling for the past few hours was burning in his eyes. “We thought he was someone he wasn’t.”
Monster-boy looked back impassively. “Maybe it’s you who wasn’t what you thought you were,” he said.
“Aaahhh,” said the Grelgoroth. He smiled, a hideous sight. “This, I sense, is the truth. But how has this come about? For so many years, humans and monsters have lived apart.”
“We took him in. We gave him a home and food. And other things. But when the time came to pay us back, he turned around and ran right back to his kind. Even though they would have let him starve on the streets!”
“Oh, really?” Monster-boy retorted, and there was real anger in his voice. The cavern was almost completely dark now—except for Monster-boy’s glowing yellow eyes. “I lived my whole life in a world that was shunned and ignored by you humans, locked behind the Wall, left to survive on scraps and rubbish.”
“So, what? Aren’t you even grateful we took you in?”
“I’m supposed to be grateful? For what? For having to wear sunglasses to cover my eyes? For giving me a little yellow card to wear whenever I’m in public? You think you helped me? I never fitted in with you and your cosy little family. You all pretended that I did, but I didn’t. And I never would.”
“That’s not true,” said Zach. “You were my friend. What do I have to do to prove that to you? I mean, yeah, maybe you’re different. Maybe there are no other monsters on the North Side of the Wall. But maybe, if you’d stayed and stuck it out and shown them that it could be done, others would come. It might not have been easy for you, but you would have been the one to change it!”
“You called me Monster-boy,” Monster-boy said very quietly as he stared at Zach, his luminous eyes full of something Zach couldn’t read.
There was a rumbling sound, very deep down in the rock beneath their feet. It slowly grew and grew until the whole cavern began to rumble and shake. Zach felt himself swaying on his feet, trying to keep his balance.
“Ooooh,” said the Grelgoroth. “Ooooohhhhoooohooo. Ohoooohhhhooohhhooo!”
The Grelgoroth was laughing.
“Hhhhhooo! Hhhhhoooo! Listen,” he said. “Just listen to you two. Fighting like this. Fighting like sworn enemies. Fighting like blood-brothers!”
Blood-brothers. The word resounded in Zach’s ears as the rumbling slowly diminished.
“Ah, Morton,” he said. “You remind me so much of your grandfather. He was as stubborn as you. I was pleased to have him wear the Cingulum—the symbol of the powers of the Earth, the ancient powers, the ones that have been forgotten—powers older and greater even than I am! And I was pleased to see you wearing it when you came to me. He was a true son of mine. Just as you are, Morton.”
Monster-boy whirled to stare at the great monster. “What?”
The Grelgoroth’s mouth was still stretched wide in a great smile—but it was an ominous smile, one that spoke of dark secrets that he was about to use as weapons.
“Oh, Morton. Do you not know your own heritage? Do you not know where monsters came from? Have you all forgotten so much? This saddens me!”
“What do you mean?” said Morton, stepping closer, his clawed hands clenched at his sides as if he wanted to wring the answer from the Grelgoroth. “Please. Tell me.”
The Grelgoroth’s voice was mocking. “How do you think the monsters came into being? Why do you think the humans hate you so much—even all these years later, when they’ve forgotten the reason?”
“They don’t like things that are different,” said Morton. “They’re scared of us.”
“You are right, but only in part,” said the Grelgoroth. “Scared is the correct word. But humans are so perfectly imperfect! Yes, they fear what is different. But they fear what is familiar even more. And it’s their own fault that you came into being.
“There was a time of enlightenment, a time long lost in history. The place where you stand now has existed for far longer than you can imagine, and in that time, others walked these caverns and tunnels. They lived here, and they were an intelligent and thoughtful race, very curious about the universe and how to make things work.”
“Did they carve those pictures?” Zach asked, pointing towards the distant walls. Now that he looked, he could make out the forms of people and animals. Men and women wearing long robes, their faces shown in profile; some carried tools, like long sickles, and some led donkeys or rode horses. There were also imag
es of carts with wheels, and great buildings; stepped pyramids and smaller blocky houses with pillars, and winding roads leading between them. There were images of boats on curving ocean waves, and other images of stars and constellations, and, more prominent than all the other pictures, depictions of the moon in its various stages, waxing to full and waning to a thin crescent.
“Clever boy,” the Grelgoroth said. “But that was very, very long ago, a time when I was young, when I was not what I am now.”
“So what happened to them?” Zach asked. His dad had told him of an ancient civilisation that once existed where their city now stood, hundreds, perhaps thousands of years before De Vries had even thought of landing on Silvershine Island, but no one really knew what had happened to them.
“A disaster,” the Grelgoroth replied, shaking its great head. “A great and terrible disaster. I couldn’t save them. The humans who were left were simple and foolish. It was all they could manage just to eke out an existence. The buildings were gone, the fields ravaged. They had no more time for science and art, and so everything was lost.
“And then—then! Some lucky shepherd stumbled upon some of my silver, and realised he could have more if he dug the ground up to find it.
“I saw my chance. Humans wanted my silver. And I wanted humans. I needed them to feed me, yes, but I also wanted them to build again, to bring back what was once here. So I allowed them to mine my silver. Imagine, Zach Morgenstern, someone peeling your veins from your body, tugging them free and carting them away! That is what I let your kind do to me as they stripped the rock of the precious mineral. To some privileged few I gave the gift of an extended life, since they wanted it so badly. I wanted my servants to be happy. But it is human nature to be dissatisfied.
“There was hard work to be done. Unpleasant work—cleaning and toiling and lifting and building. When everyone had power, no one wanted to be on the bottom. And so they came to me.
“‘Just a tiny bit of blood,’ they said. ‘A small amount. It will help us all.’ I was intrigued, I admit, and curious, and most of all, amused to see them trying this new little trick. I have the knowledge of ages within me! The knowledge of the earth, of long lost aeons, of secrets, deep and forgotten. I had the knowledge of the ancient race, and I knew how to make it work, but I wanted to see how the humans would do this without my interference. So I agreed.”
“What did they do?” Zach asked, his voice sounding hushed and eager as he found himself enthralled by the story.
“They couldn’t pierce my hide with their pitiful little steel syringes, so I allowed them to make a small needle from one of my own claws, with which they could take a sample of the genetic material from the roof of my mouth.
“It took a few days for them to create their first specimen. It was a little winged thing. My first child! It died within an hour—for I could not prolong its life. It was not human, and was unable to receive my gift. But while it lived, it moved its useless wings and turned its head on the boneless neck, and it taught them many things.”
“It was a long time ago,” Zach said. It must have been more than eighty years, because the silver mines had been closed for at least that long. “I guess . . . they probably didn’t know enough about genetics and DNA back then . . .”
The Grelgoroth gave a grunt of agreement.
“I was sad to see the little thing die. So I gave to the humans knowledge that they should not yet have had; how to manipulate the tiny pieces that make up a life. I gave them only the most basic and rudimentary knowledge. They learned quickly, as humans always do when power and wealth is at stake.
“They mixed my . . . what you call ‘DNA’ . . . with their own fragile human chromosomes, and their next experiment was much stronger. Now that they had the fundamental knowledge, they drew upon their own brilliant imaginations to form the next batch of creations. Wings, and tails, and claws and beaks—goblins, they called them, griffins, gnomes, and trolls. And they became more adventurous, mixing the traits and characteristics—oh, beautiful, these creations were! So glorious. Like you, Morton. Graceful. Sleek. Intelligent.
“I could not give these creatures extended life, as I gave to the human servants whom I favoured. For some reason, my powers do not work for the monsters, or for other creatures—and they cannot feed me with their energies as humans can. So instead I gave the most loyal of my children Cingulums made of silver and embossed with the symbol of the Open Eye, the symbol of eternal life and power. The Cingulums don’t grant long life, but anyone who carried one was known as my loyal servant, and thus granted privilege. Those who have them still—they are the Old Ones, faithful and trusted from the beginning. Some have handed them down to their children, who have forgotten their true meaning, and sold them for money or food. Few have been granted new ones. I have learned my lesson—even my own children cannot be always depended upon—they have learned greed from the humans!”
“We’re not all greedy,” Zach said, desperately.
“Oh?” The Grelgoroth queried. “Is that so? My experiences say differently. For a long time, humans were happy. The monsters worked the mines, cleaned their houses, lifted the heavy rocks and dug the deep holes. But when their silver ran out, you despaired, you humans. All that was left was what was here in this chamber, and that they could not take, not without facing me. I had given them much. I could not give them this last vestige, not without offering up my own death.
“Some tried to steal it. They tried to hack it away. I had given up all I could, and it still wasn’t enough!”
The Grelgoroth shuddered, reliving his anguish.
“Some of them I killed. I took the Virya from others until they were nothing but husks. The others fled from me in utter terror. The humans began to feel paranoid. They began to hoard what they had, began to be afraid it would be taken from them, began to fear. Those to whom I’d given extended life knew they would be mortal now. What little power they had left they wanted all to themselves.
“There would have been a war. The monsters, my children, sought to protect me, and the humans turned on them. They had weapons, and they had the ability to make such horrible devices that they could destroy not only themselves but everything on Earth. I knew this—I knew them all so well! So I called to one of my children, one of my most loyal and clever children, a strident young monster called Bertram Highborn.”
“Highborn,” Morton repeated.
“Yes,” said the Grelgoroth, smiling slowly. “The monster who would become your grandfather. ‘You must stop this,’ I told him. ‘Or they will tear one another apart.’
“He knew what needed to be done. He devised a means of disabling all of their gadgets and guns. It was a gas, one that he had engineered using vapours drilled from the deepest caverns, where the fires of the inner Earth rage, and he released it from the tall chimney of the smelting plant above us.
“The cloud belched into the sky. It spread slowly but surely. All the humans’ machines, their now-useless mine-drillers and silver-haulers, their presses and grinders and buzzing electronics all failed under the influence of the cloud.
“Humans were in turmoil, panicking without their lights and motors. They closed the mines altogether, and built their Wall to hold the cloud back. To divide themselves from me, and from my children. And, worst of all, they forgot!
“I was saddened. I was betrayed. I’d given them everything, but they had abandoned me in the end, when they could no longer profit from me. Without their Virya to feed me, with only my children to tend me, I went into hibernation. It wasn’t until one lone human stumbled into my Grotto by accident that I was awakened.”
“Donovan,” said Zach.
“My one loyal human servant,” said the Grelgoroth. “At first, I thought she would lead the new way of things. I fostered in her the sense of desire, the ambition that is needed to wipe away the old ways and us
her in the new order. But that was before you, you, my dear Morton, my true son, walked into the Grotto, bold as brass.
“You, Morton, are the one I’ve been waiting for. The one to lead the revolution. You carry the Cingulum I gave to my child Bertram Highborn. I always knew he would make me proud. And he will—through you.
“Humans will remember their place. They will see that they need me, and what I have to give them. It begins now! With my new strength—thanks to the Virya of these children—I will rise again. Already, the humans are setting themselves on the path to becoming my servants once more. They have dared to rise up and attack my children. But they will be taught their proper place. My children will rule. Humans will serve them—and me.”
Here the Grelgoroth heaved a deep sigh, as if he was so weary he couldn’t continue.
“I am tired. The Virya is fading. I must rest,” said the huge beast. “Tomorrow will be an important day.”
“What happens tomorrow?” Zach whispered.
“Tomorrow,” said the Grelgoroth. “It begins.”
Zach felt something rumble beneath his feet, a kind of trembling that ran through the very rock itself. He steadied himself, and it died down slowly, but Zach’s apprehension didn’t.
“This way,” said Monster-boy. Zach jumped as he realised Morton was standing at his elbow. Clenching his hand around Zach’s arm, those sharp claws nicking Zach’s skin through his sleeve. Making it clear that if he didn’t move by himself, Morton would make him walk.
Monster-boy steered Zach back towards the door, and they began the long climb up the staircase. As they climbed, Zach slowly felt the fogginess drain from him, like soapy bathwater running from his fingers and toes. He could think more clearly, and the thoughts he’d had back in the Grotto, of doing anything to please the Grelgoroth, slowly became less urgent. It was like remembering something someone else had thought. He couldn’t believe that he’d actually wanted the Grelgoroth to win, to enslave all humans, to use them and destroy them—but he had. He really, truly had.