by Green Dc
The contents dazzled.
Bruce scowled my way. ‘FYI, any dumb-ass could figure those’re hume eyes peeping through the eye-holes of that reeky-assed seaweed head.’
‘Fooled you for a week.’ I smiled. ‘Still, thanks for the reminder.’ I opened my pack and put on my anti-mesmerism sunglasses, anti-abiku necklace and anti-wokolo hat.
Bruce exhaled noisily. ‘You peep like such a tourist.’
Sleipnir’s walk set the carriage rocking. Entering a wide, straight highway that sliced through Border Town, the mythic horse broke into a trot, effortlessly towing our carriage and the hippocow trailer. Other traffic veered from our path. New scents swirled giddyingly through the carriage.
I tried to make conversation. ‘Seems dragon deliveries even own the best road.’
‘Belt up,’ Bruce grumbled. ‘I’m still bummed you ain’t Swampy Grom. He was my top-notch bud.’
‘Zcarab iz bezt friend of Zorg,’ said Zorg.
‘You belt up too, Worm-breath,’ snarled Bruce. ‘You’re a one-note song, always off key.’
I tried to cheer the zombie. ‘I miss Scarab too, Zorg.’
Zorg growled, ‘PT iz enemy of Zorg.’
‘O–kay.’ I turned to Bruce, determined to try to make the trip less awkward. ‘You and Jaak seem to be getting on pretty well.’
‘I s’pose,’ the spider mumbled. ‘But Jaak looks all gobliny now. And he’s up top with a girrrl.’ Bruce made slurpy kissy sounds.
‘Zorg iz hating gobbin girl,’ muttered Zorg. ‘Hating all gobbinz.’
‘I warned you.’ Bruce squirted webbing into Zorg’s mouth, nose-cavity and ears. The zombie plucked weakly at the webs before sinking into his seat, defeated. As if nothing had just happened, the spider turned to glare my way. ‘I keep waiting for you to bust out something evil or wussy or butt-reeky like humes are s’posed to, but you ain’t done zilch. All your dumb-assed worthiness is messing with my established prejudices and disappointing me totally!’ Bruce’s pincers massaged his temples like he had a migraine.
‘I guess I’m sorry. Should I litter out the window or say something mean?’
‘That’d help. Or kneecap Zorg, while he’s still picking web outta his sinuses.’
‘I … can’t.’
‘Typical.’ Bruce’s voice dropped to a mutter. ‘I dig you figure I’m a wuss, but I ain’t.’
So that’s what this was about. ‘I know you think I’m a bad friend, but I’m not.’
‘LOL. Not. I ain’t joking.’
‘Me neither. And I know you’re not a wuss. I’ve seen you stand up to a gang of goblins.’
‘Pfff,’ Bruce scoffed. ‘Being the school bad-ass is easy with Scarab, Stoker and Tessa backing my ass. But they ain’t around now.’
‘Who needs them when we have you?’
‘I’m digging you.’ Bruce gazed out the window. ‘But the thing is, us giant spiders are sorta ambush fighters. That means we spend a lot of time hiding. And, you dig, fighting is wayyy easier with the scary mojo butt-kick factor.’
‘Are you kidding? My first day at school, I thought you were the scariest monster in that whole class full of monsters. Well, apart from Stoker. But you know I have a vampire phobia.’
Bruce sat straighter. ‘You ain’t just pulling my legs?’
‘King’s honour. You’re one gnarly, killer-peeping, bad-backsided, kick-bottomed, poison-vomiting monster. Yo!’
The giant spider stroked his hairy abdomen. ‘So you’re implying I should act totally confident? I mean, natch, I AM top-notch confident. It’s just … I grew up with a lotta … fear. You might figure I look gnarly, but you should peep my mama.’ Bruce’s cheeks puffed. ‘She’s ten times my size! Seriously. She’s the gnarliest mythic on our block. If some mega-tough basilisk even peeped sideways at Mama, she’d spin him into a web coffin before he could blink.’
‘Wow. And your father?’
‘That’s the killer.’ Bruce kicked the dragon’s chest. Gold crunched inside. ‘There’s this dumb-ass spider tradition that freaks me even more than Mama does. When a dude-spider becomes a papa-spider, the mama-spider, she …’ Bruce gulped. ‘She tears off his head and feeds his butt to the spiderlets!’
‘Wow. That’s some horror honeymoon.’ I whistled, finally realising why a certain eight-pincered monster made me swear not to research giant spiders.
‘Web, yo.’ Bruce’s legs slumped like string-cut puppets. ‘That’s why I totally studied at junior school. I needed to flee to Monstro Central School. To bust the web outta Webville. Outta the Mythic Lands. I didn’t wanna be a teen groom chowed by my own rug-brats. Even when I’m twenty-something, that concept will suck.’ Bruce bared his fang rows. ‘Yo! Don’t you dare blab that. I ain’t being mocked! That goes double for you, No-lips!’ Bruce glared at the web-picking zombie and sighed. ‘Awww, why stress? His memories are bacteria-chow.’
‘Tell you what.’ I picked one of Bruce’s eyes and met it steadily. ‘I’ll treat you like someone who has no fear if you treat me like someone who’s your friend.’
‘Yo. Did that even make sense? I–’
Jaak yelled, ‘Everyone strapped in? We have elite gob hunters! You know, closing in! Whoopity, Sleipnir!
We thundered through the outer suburbs of Border Town.
18: PREPARATIONS
The carriage jerked forward. My body pressed into the leather behind me. Bruce and Zorg tumbled towards me in a tangle of rotting arms and hairy legs.
‘Bust your maggoty butt outta my face!’ Bruce spluttered.
As the acceleration eased, I poked my noggin out the window. We thundered through the outer suburbs of Border Town where the buildings became more widely spaced. Faun kids gaped and dived out of our path. A giant centipede waved 50 fists.
A horrendous screeching sounded – part trumpet, part flute. I twisted my head. A dozen goblin hunters rode behind us, waving crossbows. Their lion-bodied mounts had red-faced noggins bigger than an ogre’s, mouths bristling with multiple rows of teeth. The lead beast flicked his tail. A line of barbs curved towards us. I jerked my head back into the carriage. Three barbs whizzed past the window.
Hippocows shrieked in the trailer behind us.
I gulped. ‘Are those lion creatures … manticores?’
‘Yo to that.’ Bruce squeezed part of his head through the opposite window. ‘They’re killer nasties that– Gnarly!’ He ducked back inside. ‘A barb almost skewered my brain! Why ain’t we ever scoring an easy quest? Like chowing a finely putrefied sandwich?’
‘I’m over this!’ wailed Jaak. ‘You know, riding shotgun!’ He crawled in through my window and wedged himself between Bruce and Zorg.
Scenery blurred past.
Greta swung through the opposite window. She frowned, muttered, took a deep breath and sat beside me. ‘For the record, troll vomit smells less hideous than your moronic costume.’
‘Hey to you too,’ I replied.
‘Yo.’ Bruce folded his upper legs. ‘If you gob impersonators ain’t out there, who the web’s driving this butt-carriage?’
‘Truth?’ Jaak wailed. ‘Who cares?’
Greta gazed into a hand-held mirror and patted her hair down. ‘I am reasonably positive Sleipnir does not require a driver. When I even touched the reins, he growled.’
‘May I borrow your looking glass?’ I asked.
Greta tossed me her mirror. I angled it outside the carriage so I could see the goblin hunters and manticores chasing us. ‘They’ve lost ground.’ I smiled uneasily. ‘Sleipnir’s clearly faster. I just hope he knows the way.’
‘The hunters’ll be back.’ Jaak’s goblin features blurred. ‘You know, they always come back! They never give up.’ The shape-shifter raised his hands. His fingers sagged like melting candles and smelt like the plastic man in a bat-suit I slipped into the royal ovens when I was seven. ‘Morpho’s nostrils! I could murder a drink. You better bet!’
I opened my backpack and handed a canteen to Jaak and nerve
-calming peanut butter sandwiches to everyone else. The shape-shifter sculled thirstily and immediately spat out the window. ‘Water?’ he coughed. ‘You trying? You know, to kill me??’
‘Sorry.’ I struck a flint, lit a candle, rolled two balls of freshly dripped wax and packed them into my ears.
Bruce coughed. ‘Tourist.’
‘What are you doing?’ asked Greta.
‘Wax is the best protection against alkuntanes – mosquito vampires. Anyone else want some?’
‘Alkuntanes,’ Greta cackled. ‘They’re just myths!’
‘Yo,’ said Bruce. ‘I’m a myth.’
‘You’re a myth … Ick!’ said Greta.
‘Was that a joke?’ I asked. ‘Did grim Greta Farbranch just crack a joke?’
We thundered on through the outer outer suburbs of Border Town. I shook my head at the sheer scale of everything.
Bruce acted like a tour guide after ten cups of coffee. ‘Say “Yo” to the ’burb of Hus Palim.’ His lanky limbs pointed out both windows. ‘Here you can score the finest lymph toffees in the Mythic Quarter. Well, you can if you ain’t hurtling at 120 clicks an hour!’
I gawked at the street stalls manned by giant marmots with bald noggins and round, curious monkey faces, and they gawked back.
Bruce pulled his legs in. ‘Coming up on our right’s the Sisiutl ’burb, home of the gnarliest multi-headed reptiles this side of the ex-hume crater.’
Remembering Erica’s warning about sisiutls (they can travel through any substance and turn humans to stone!), I sank back into my seat. What was I doing, pretending to be a king? Without the protection of travelling on Kalthazari’s business, I’d be lucky to last half a minute outside this carriage!
I breathed deeply. As terrifying as the monsters outside were (and fascinating!), I was safe(ish) now. I needed to focus on the one species crucial to this mission. That meant … research time! I wrestled the Monster Guide (35th Edition) from my pack and turned to the most-thumbed page.
DRAGONS
One rare fact that monster experts agree on is this: dragons are the most ancient and brawny species of all. There are numerous lesser or ‘false’ dragons related to true dragons and often mistaken for them. These include amphipteres, wyrms, wyverns, lungs, knuckers, juriks, water dragons and rainbow serpents. Though here we shall discuss only ‘true’ dragons: the legendary lovers of plunder, riddles and flame-grilled princesses dipped in super-spicy chilli sauce!
I read on through the first three dragon phases: egg, hatchling and dragling. Halfway through my page-turn, Bruce jabbed my book, pinning it to my lap.
‘Call yourself a student?’ Before I could reply, the spider continued in an agitated tone, ‘With your assreeky sniffer stuck in a book? That gob-penned drivel ain’t packing zilch on the monster school of real life! Read the next bit out loud so we can all peep my spiderly wisdom.’
‘Fair enough.’ I cleared my throat and did my best Professor Vemrin impersonation: ‘Phase Four. A dragling officially becomes a draglet when his back and side scales harden into dragonite. This super-light metal, strong as tempered steel, is easily recognised by its purple lustre. Draglets can breathe smoke and hunt creatures to the size of were-bears. They have budding wings though cannot yet fly. With the comparative bulk of a horse, draglets weigh between fifty to 100 kilograms. Approximate time in phase: 20 years.’
‘That was more boring than your artificial ass!’ Bruce shook his head, spraying Zorg with saliva. ‘But I gotta admit: that dragon description ain’t sounding so bad-ass. I figure we could even take down ole Kaltha-whatsi, long as we were sneaky.’
‘And you’re the spider who won a scholarship?’ Greta looked incredulous. ‘How moronic must the moronic spiders be?’
Zorg gurgled with laughter until Bruce drove a kneecap into the zombie’s spleen.
‘Greta’s kind of right,’ I muttered. ‘Not about spiders being morons, of course. But that was just the description of a draglet, which is basically a toddler dragon. Kalthazari’s passed through that phase, and through the dragonet and classic dragon phases, to become, well–’
‘Okay, okay,’ Bruce grumbled. ‘Read on, two-eyes. Trash my holiday from school with more school.’
‘I have a tricky feeling,’ said Jaak. ‘In my stomachs. You know, about this.’ His right ear lobe began to melt.
‘Phase Seven,’ I read. ‘With the comparative bulk of a multi-storey block of units, the alpha dragon is immeasurably brawnier than any known or extinct monster species. Their dragonite scales harden into dragonium, the lightest, strongest and most precious metal in the world, easily recognisable by its shimmering golden sheen. Previously exposed body sections, such as the wings, grow protective scales.
By developing see-through armoured eyelids, Alpha dragons’ eyes cannot be shot or speared. As with classic dragons, it is impossible to lie to an alpha. They reputedly have numerous supernatural skills: resistance to spells and enchanted weapons; understanding all languages; communicating with any type of creature without the use of speech; burning words on parchment at incredible speeds using only their eyes; reading minds; travelling through the earth; flying around the world without rest; drawing energy from the earth and breathing sustained white-hot flames for up to 500 metres.’ I paused.
Jaak’s eyes were glazed and his ears had now completely melted, covering his earholes.
‘You sure that book ain’t fiction, dude?’ Bruce squeaked.
‘Professor Greengoblin was the greatest dragon scholar,’ said Greta, lips pursed. ‘The world mourned when Kalthazari incinerated him.’
‘She incin …’ Bruce’s words evaporated.
The dragon killed my favourite goblin author?
‘There’s more.’ My own voice wavered as I read on. ‘Note: not all of these abilities have been confirmed. It is generally agreed that Kalthazari, the world’s only known true dragon, is an alpha. Approximate time in phase: millennia.’
I gulped and looked up.
All 128 of Bruce’s eyes bulged, an expression I’d never seen before. Greta’s lips were clenched tighter than my bionic fist. Jaak hummed deafly. Only Zorg seemed unaffected, happily squeezing maggot juice onto his blackened tongue.
I could relate – well, not so much to the maggot juice. Reading about dragons made my mission seem crazy. Kalthazari was an alpha! An ancient monster of immeasurable power and wisdom. I couldn’t lie to her, or hope to deceive her. I couldn’t defeat her in my wildest dreams.
There was one flicker of hope, one single offer I could make to such a powerful creature. Though the offering would almost surely cost me my life, I knew my father and brother would do no less.
To distract myself, I continued reading.
Phase Eight. There is much dispute amongst scholars over the abilities or even the existence of this phase. Planetary dragons are reputedly so large, they exist curled inside hollowed mountains and, when roused, can devastate empires and reshape landscapes. In addition to their outer bodies, the inside of their throats and their skeletal systems become coated with dragonium. The supposed abilities of this super-advanced dragon include: reading the mind of the planet, travelling through time and space, and opening portals into other dimensions. Approximate time in phase: unknown.
Phase Nine. A level of dragon more arguable than the last, cosmic dragons are supposedly so evolved, they cannot exist in our four-dimensional space-time continuum. Able to read the thoughts of the universe, these immortal, omnipotent and omniscient creatures possess immaterial bodies that dwarf planets.
Wow. And whoa.
Heart pounding, I packed away my Monster Guide.
‘Where you venture, blood will follow. So much blood in your footsteps!’
19: VISIONS
The Mythic Quarter landscape became a series of distinctive towns and villages. The air was so rich and oxygenated my every sense buzzed. Expecting all of Monstro City to be densely populated, I was surprised at the open spaces and fields grazed by hippoc
ows and herds of herbivorous monsters like unicorns and naras. Running parallel with our road, out the right window, mountainous vertebrae jagged the sky.
Noticing my gaze, Bruce chortled. ‘That’s the Dead Zone border. Don’t mountain-climb there, dude, unless you dig were-goats, were-bears, yetis, big red rock-eaters, fung hwang, tengu with attitude problems, wind demons with wind problems, gigage, Mayan mountain monsters, Georgia Devils, inbred dwarf clans or yuppie gobs! As for what lurks on the other side, you so don’t wanna figure!’
Nodding dumbly, I turned to the opposite window. And recoiled! Though we were hurtling across the landscape several times faster than I could sprint, the head of a lion leered through the window! Mane whipping, nostrils glowing from an internal flame, the creature ogled each of us in turn. It broke eye contact with Greta only when Sleipnir whinnied. Snake tail writhing, the beast loped towards a grove of trees. Sprouting from its back, a goat’s head shot us a final glare before bursting into laughter and vanishing into the trees.
‘Khimaira,’ Bruce breathed. ‘Fine thing he didn’t invite us to his barbecue!’
Even as the sun slunk behind Castle Mount, Sleipnir’s pace never slackened.
‘Doesn’t that mega nag take loo breaks?’ asked Bruce, six of his legs crossed. ‘Becoz I figure some of us are busting.’
‘Zorg iz juzt wanting nom-nom din-dinz.’ Zorg and his stomach growled. ‘Wanting brainz.’
I wished Bruce would web the zombie again.
Greta bumped her leg against mine. ‘So, great hope of humanity – I trust you possess a quasi-intelligent plan for dealing with the dragon.’
‘Sure thing,’ I lied.
‘I bet you wish Stoker was here,’ said Greta pointedly.
‘His strength would be useful.’