Monster School
Page 13
Her Goblin eyebrows arched. ‘That’s not what I meant. Sacred forest,’ Greta sighed. ‘Haven’t you deduced what’s happening yet?’
‘Deduced what?’ Face flushed, I turned away.
Greta sighed again. ‘Your brother and father were abducted by vampires ten years ago. You told us your brother was ten years older than you–’
‘His name was Robert,’ I snapped. ‘Is Robert.’
‘The point is: your brother would have been the same age then as Stoker is now. Have you not noticed Stoker is an ageless vampire who has the same hair colour and unpleasant human features as you. Coincidence?’
‘Gnarly!’ Bruce whooped. ‘But all humes and hume-type monsters sorta peep the same to me.’
‘You reckon Stoker is my missing brother?’ I tried to chuckle, and failed. ‘You’re crazy!’
Unusually, and creepily, the forest goblin smiled. Could she possibly be right? Or was she just trying to rattle me? If so, brilliant job!
A tiny movement caught my eye: a red bead swelled on Greta’s earlobe. Blood was trickling out of her pointy ear! ‘Don’t move!’ I grabbed her head and groped inside her ear canal.
Tiny fists pummelled my chest with surprising power. ‘Do you possess a death wish?’
I fell back on the seat, winded. Between my fingers, a twisting, bloated mosquito buzzed angrily, its spiral drill dripping blood.
‘Some myth.’ I closed my fist. The alkuntane exploded.
Zorg seized my hand, lapping at Greta’s blood like a one-eyed tunnel cat at cream.
Greta opened her mouth as if about to apologise, paused and whinged instead, ‘Does Sleipnir never sleep? I must visit the little ladies’ tree.’
The great horse skidded to a halt, raining stones upon our carriage. The sudden deceleration tossed Greta and I into the monsters opposite.
‘How come the mega nag quits running when the gob gripes?’ griped Bruce.
‘Haven’t you heard?’ mumbled Jaak. ‘Goblins rule.’
Greta reclaimed her seat and swung back one arm, poised to karate chop.
The spider recoiled, vibrating.
I slid to the window. We were in a clearing, crowded on all sides by trees silhouetted against a star-sprayed sky, the scent of sap and ancient darkness heavy in the air. ‘Could Sleipnir have picked a creepier place to park?’
The surviving hippocows mooed.
Greta elbowed past me, lowered herself to the ground and squirmed for the nearest tree.
‘Be careful,’ I called.
A nearby stream tinkled musically. This seemed the perfect place for an ambush.
Something hooted.
I jumped.
‘That ain’t no owl.’ Bruce’s eyes darted. ‘That was a yannig.’
‘What’s a yannig?’ asked Jaak.
‘What’s an owl?’ I asked. ‘Never mind. My brain’s overloaded with monster facts. Just tell me this: if I step out of this carriage, will the yannig tear off my noggin?’
‘No, it–’
‘Cool.’ I stepped out of the carriage. ‘Who wants to help me fetch water for the hippocows? They look pretty thirsty. Well, the ones that aren’t dead.’
‘Getting out?’ Jaak motor-mouthed. ‘I’m staying put. You know, to enlarge my bladder. And re-absorb my dung.’
‘Uh. Good luck with that.’
‘Zorg iz liking hippocowz.’ Zorg hobbled to the trailer and touched the bars. ‘Long time ago, when Zorg iz hooman, Zorg working on farm. Fave-rit dayz.’ He hefted down the water trough attached to the side of the carriage. ‘Not like theze dayz.’
We lugged the trough towards the stream. ‘What’s up, Zorg? You seem kind of down, even by your standards.’
‘Nothing.’ Zorg trudged. ‘Zorg juzt zad.’
‘Sad?’
Words blurted from the zombie’s lipless mouth. ‘Zorg iz loving Zcarab!’
‘I kind of noticed,’ I said. ‘Yet shouldn’t love make you happy?’
‘Zcarab iz never loving Zorg! Never being girlfriend of Zorg! Iz all fault of PT!’
‘My fault?’
‘PT iz loving Zcarab!’
‘What?’ I blushed hot beneath my swamp mask. ‘Scarab’s cool. She’s just, well, dead. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but I don’t love her!’
We dipped the trough into the stream. Water swirled mysteriously.
‘Maybz PT iz not loving Zcarab.’ Zorg loomed over me. ‘But Zcarab iz loving PT! Zorg iz zeeing! And hating. Coz PT iz hooman!’ Zorg’s mouth creaked open. ‘Zorg zo hungry … head burning … wanting to tear out PT’z brainz!’
My bionic hand curled into a fist. One by one, I forced the fingers apart. ‘Listen, Zorg. Scarab’s been sweet to me, but she’s sweet to everyone – including you. Do you actually reckon chewing through my skull will make Scarab love you?’
‘No.’ Zorg slumped by the stream. ‘Zcarab will never be loving Zorg. Other monzterz are being more fazt and more ztrong. Even PT iz being more zmart.’
‘Well, Zorg … you’re the best-looking zombie I’ve ever seen.’ I coughed. ‘What lady corpse could resist your handsome, um … eyeball?’
‘Zorg waz having plan to become more like Zcarab.’ Zorg’s voice fell like a dry and brittle autumn leaf. ‘But Zorg iz thinking now plan will never be working.’
‘Don’t give up on school so easily.’
‘Not zchool. Zorg’z plan iz …’ Zorg punched his head with such force his neck bones cracked. ‘Zorg iz dezerving hunger!’
‘Zorg, please don’t!’ I grabbed his arm. Scabs crumbled. ‘We need your strength!’
‘Zorg is thinking PT iz lying.’ Zorg wrenched back his arm. ‘Zorg iz … thanking PT.’
‘Now you’re thanking me?’
‘Other monzterz alwayz ignoring Zorg. Zaying, “Zhuttup Zorg” and “Munch maggotz Zorg”. But PT iz liztening. Iz trying dumb lie to make Zorg feeling more good.’ Zorg tucked his tongue back into his cheek. ‘Zorg and PT never be friendz. But Zorg iz again ztopping need to bite PT.’
‘Thank you.’ I smiled. ‘For sharing your … zombie world view. And for the whole not-biting-PT thing. Let’s lug this trough back to the carriage.’
The zombie’s eye glazed. His jaw dangled.
‘Zorg?’ I blinked. Tiny hands seemed to touch the underside of the stream, stretching the water taut as if struggling to break through into the world of air. I fought the urge to leap to their rescue.
A twig snapped on the opposite bank. My eyes darted up, expecting an elk monster or khimaira to spring from behind a tree, jaws raining blood.
Yet all I saw was a gaunt boy, dressed in rags.
‘Are you lost?’ I asked.
No answer.
‘Would you like to come with us?’
The boy pointed at me. My spine frosted. ‘King Thomas. Where you venture, blood will follow. So much blood in your footsteps!’
I reeled back from the boy’s accusing finger.
A pine-scented breeze ruffled my swamp reeds. The forest just exhaled.
I blinked. The opposite bank lay empty, the grass undisturbed. ‘Zorg, did you see where the boy went?’
‘What boy?’ Zorg’s head jerked upright as if he’d just awoken. ‘PT iz being zilly. And trough iz being full.’
‘You didn’t see him? Hear him?’
‘Zorg iz biting PT if PT iz not zhut upping!’
We dragged the trough back to the hippocows. ‘You two took your time.’ Bruce made his slurpy kissy face as he helped us raise the water to the trailer.
I watched the pistoning tongues of the hippocows and wondered if this would be their last drink before they became dragon-burger patties.
Floating lights boogied deep in the forest. So inviting. I felt an overwhelming desire to investigate.
‘Peep elsewhere.’ Bruce seized my shoulders. ‘They’re gandaspati – will-o’-the-wisps – nasty spirits that lure unwary dumb-asses like you unwary dumb-asses. You touch ’em, you die.’
‘Voices … calling,’ uttered Zorg in an even more zombified than usual voice. ‘Zorg … iz … coming.’ Arms outstretched, the zombie lurched towards the forest lights.
‘Dumb-ass dead dudes. Always getting their butts mind-controlled.’ Bruce struggled to drag Zorg back to the carriage. ‘Yo, someone gimme a leg here with Maggot Grommet!’
Jaak called, ‘I scope lights! Above the road behind us. You know, closing in!’ He peered out the window through the field glasses. ‘Morpho’s nostrils! It’s the gob hunters! You know, again. With reinforcements! Lots of reinforcements. Riding a giant bird!’
My heart clenched. ‘Everyone – in the carriage!’ Bruce spun Zorg into a web cocoon and swung him over Kalthazari’s tribute chest. The rest of us scrambled in.
‘Zorg … muzt … be … going …’
Bruce fired web into the zombie’s mouth.
‘Whoopity, Sleipnir!’ yelled Jaak.
Nothing happened.
‘Sleipnir – whoopity! Haa!’
Bruce gaped out the window. ‘Webbing hell. The gobs’re riding an anka! You could fit half a village on the butt of that monstrosity!’
‘They’re shooting arrows!’ Jaak screamed. ‘You know, the flaming variety?’ The shape-shifter jumped onto my lap, shrinking before my eyes.
Thwack.
An arrow penetrated the roof. Flames licked our heads.
‘No way!’ cried Bruce, cringing.
I splashed my drink bottle on the burning rafters. No effect. ‘Web the flames, Bruce!’
‘Yo, that’ll work.’ The spider squirted webbing at the flames. ‘Or not.’
Greta’s lips pursed. ‘Salamander flame.’
Thwack.
An arrow hit the door. It burst into flames.
Still Sleipnir did not budge.
Thwack.
I dived out the opposite door and groped along the reins to Sleipnir.
‘Please go, big guy,’ I pleaded. ‘Forward. Mush! Ahead. Yo!’
Thwack.
A blazing arrow jutted from Sleipnir’s thigh. The great horse reared. I dangled from the reins, a swamp boy ornament. Sleipnir shot forward.
And up, into the sky!
Speed and air pressure pulled my arms taut. The reins bit my palms. I knew if I fell, I’d splatter. If I held on, my shoulders would wrench from their sockets. Eyes watering, hand bleeding, I watched goblins launch from the anka’s back. The leering bird-goblins they rode wore black coats and hats.
‘Tengu!’ shouted Bruce. ‘How much more can this day suck?’
The air twinkled with arrows.
‘Sorry, big guy. This will hurt. Please don’t kick me to death.’
20: COMBUSTIONS
Sleipnir’s speed increased.
My feet whipped against the carriage. Thump! I winced at the crunch of my toes fracturing. My grip on the reins, slick with blood, slipped from my palms to my fingertips.
I whipped again. Thump!
Pain strobed from my feet up my legs. My left hand slipped free. My bionic right hand could hold on for hours, for all the good that would do. My right shoulder would be torn from my body within breaths.
I flashed to Erica’s fighting lessons – anticipating the shift in my bodyguard’s weight as she strode, so I could perfectly time my dive through her legs.
Moving with my breathing.
As I whipped again, I released the reins.
Tha-crump! My body slammed into the carriage. My head cracked. Stars twirled from the night sky through my mind.
I’d made it!
Sleipnir flew at such incredible speed, I was pinned and unable to rise. Quivering with shock, my bloody hand groped. My fingertips informed me I lay on the driver’s bench seat. My head, toes and hand throbbed. My right shoulder ached dully.
None of that mattered.
Flames rose from the carriage. It seemed even the gale-force winds generated by our dash across the sky could not extinguish salamander flame.
Sleipnir slowed. I struggled upright. My hands clutched the seat. I knew I must be ready for the monster horse’s radical deceleration, or I’d be hurled forward.
A massive darkness loomed, as if the horizon itself was bubbling up and blacking out the sky.
I quaked. I was staring at Fire Mountain!
Behind us, the lights of the goblin hunters faded to almost benign twinkles.
Whoa! Sleipnir angled sharply towards the ground. My bionic fingers bored into the seat. The mythic horse banked to horizontal.
WHUMP!
The carriage bounced.
Whump!
The carriage jolted.
Whump.
The carriage shuddered with the familiar sensation of hurtling over road. We’d landed! Wooden joints creak-screaming, the carriage decelerated, and stopped.
Braziers glowed on the mountain, lighting a cave entrance. I was more worried about the blazing arrow poking from Sleipnir’s flank. His huge head twisted, mouth snapping at the arrow, but it was too far back.
Shouts rose from the burning carriage, and grew fainter. The others were alive! And running away!
I slid to the rocky ground, patting Sleipnir’s rump. Sweat rivulets poured from us both. His were dark with blood.
‘Sorry, big guy,’ I said. ‘This will hurt. Please don’t kick me to death.’ I grabbed the arrow, breathed deeply and pulled.
Sleipnir tensed and twitched, his muscles unyielding.
‘Relax!’ I shouted. ‘Please?’
Sleipnir’s twitching settled somewhat.
With my every reserve of strength, I wrenched again. The arrow-head tore free. Monster horse blood sprayed my face.
‘Whoa!’ I toppled backwards, the arrow clenched in my fist. I hurled it towards a pile of rocks, and winced. Painful heat radiated from along my arm to my cyborg hand.
The carriage and trailer blazed like twin bonfires. Out of the darkness, my friends stepped towards me.
‘PT!’ Bruce whooped. ‘You ain’t dead!’
I grimaced. ‘Not for lack of trying.’
The giant spider seized my arm and poured canteen water on my glowing hand. It hissed steam.
‘The hippocows,’ I croaked. ‘Can you save them?’
Bruce covered his eyes. ‘Too late for those poor suckers.’
He was right. The scent of well-done roast beef clogged the air.
Despite my horror, I salivated, until I remembered livestock was just one part of Kalthazari’s tribute. ‘The dragon gold!’
‘Is in better shape than you,’ said Greta. ‘Did you grasp we’d be so moronic to come to Fire Mountain and abandon the dragon’s gold-filled chest to an inferno? That, and other useful items?’
I noticed her goblin cloak bulging mysteriously.
Looking like a wax goblin who has stood too near a radiator, Jaak smiled lopsidedly, dangling my backpack.
‘Thanks, guys.’ I slumped upon rocks and rebounded straight back up at what I saw.
The blaze crept along the carriage struts towards Sleipnir! Reflecting fury, his eyes blazed too. He stamped uselessly, trapped.
‘Don’t!’ cried Bruce, laying a pincer on my shoulder. ‘My eyeballs are frying just peeping at that fire!’
Sleipnir had delivered us. He’d kept us alive. I blundered towards the carriage struts. The heat, a living wall, thrust me back. My lungs choked with charring timber. I leaned forward, eyes closed, and groped at the shaft reins and bolt until I felt the carriage unhitch.
‘Go!’
With a piercing whinny, the great horse launched skyward.
I hobbled backwards, my monster costume oozing smoke.
The carriage collapsed into blazing chunks.
Only when I reached the side of the road did I fall to my knees and allow myself to loo
k at my fingers. I swore. Salamander flame had seared away the forearms and hands of my swamp monster suit and scalded the skin off my bionic hand. I wriggled my dull red metal fingers. ‘I’m a half-baked, half-swamp monster cyborg.’ I chuckled deliriously, rolling my human hand into a fist to staunch the bleeding.
‘We’re all a bit toasted,’ said Jaak. ‘You bet. Although not in a handy way.’
I dragged myself to my feet and patted each of the gang members on the back. ‘Ow. Well done, guys. We actually made it.’
Zorg tilted his head like a begging, half-dead puppy. ‘Can Zorg be licking bloody nom-nom fingerz of PT?’
‘Maybe later.’ I glanced up. ‘Um, not that I mind, but why aren’t we being shot at with more blazing death arrows?’
‘When Sleipnir hit top speed, our pursuers’ arrows fell short,’ Greta answered. ‘Once we entered the airspace of Fire Mountain, the hunters stopped, floated for a while and retreated. They evidently grasped it wouldn’t be polite to attack the dragon’s delivery team above the dragon’s stronghold.’
From somewhere behind us, a hippocow lowed.
‘Dragon iz already having many cowz in penz,’ said Zorg. ‘Dragon not be missing a few.’
‘In cold blood, but the dragon would!’ The new voice was pitched high, low and every note in-between, a mixed choir chanting the same words in perfect harmony. We spun. My eyes twisted along the serpentine body of a scaly monster as tall as Tessa!
The gang stepped back.
I bowed. ‘G-Great Kalthazari, Empress of Fire Mountain, I have travelled far to speak with you.’
The dragon cackled sulphurously.
‘Foolish errand youth,’ the monster hissed. ‘I am not Kalthazari. I am Weepnot the wyvern. One may say I am Kalthazari’s butler. Before I incinerate you all, tell me why Kalthazari’s tribute hippocattle are dead on arrival. Unlike humans, dragons do not devour dead flesh!’
I gulped. Yeah, this was a wyvern. Two legs, no arms, slender body, hooked wings, mouth ridged with horns–
‘Don’t stir fry us!’ wailed Bruce. ‘We’re just the delivery team. The cattle were killed by a gob air force!’
‘Your duty was to protect said cattle.’ The wyvern’s spiked tail swooshed like an angry tabby’s. ‘I note you are not the usual, more efficient, delivery team.’