“Do what he says!” the Witch snarled. “Hop to it!”
“The rest of you find the Apprentice and dispose of the Kobolds,” Courtz instructed. “Release the Collembolla before you come back up.”
He glanced round at the Luminorium, then shrugged and moved away from the stack of Storybooks.
Max, they’re not REALLY going to throw Boris into the Grinder?
I think they will. Courtz will do anything if he thinks it’s necessary.
What are you going to do?
I… I don’t know. There’s so many of them.
He peeped through the gap in the Storybooks, just in time to see two of the Forest Folk pushing the Dark Man through the door, followed a moment later by Courtz. The remaining Forest Folk formed a vanguard, facing into the Luminorium with the Witch in the middle.
“Right boys!” she cried. “Let’s get to work. If you zap one that doesn’t frazzle, it’s the Apprentice. And mind you don’t hit me!”
By now many of the Kobolds had taken to the shelves, thinking themselves out of danger. But a contingent had still remained behind, watching and listening. They glanced at each other uneasily and started to back away.
“Where do you think YOU’RE going?” laughed the Witch. “Sneaky little NOSE-MINERS! AT ’EM LADS!”
The flashlights blazed outwards.
Entire rows of Kobolds were incinerated in an instant.
Then there was chaos. Kobolds throwing their arms in the air. Screaming. Fleeing. Falling over Storybooks. Tripping over themselves. Scrabbling up the shelves, before falling back in puffs of ash.
Max! I don’t want to see it. Don’t watch!
I have to! I might get the chance to sneak out.
He saw it all. Kobolds leaping. Storybooks tumbling. Shelves crashing.
New Light.
Burning bright.
The Witch strode towards the shelves, picking the Kobolds off one by one.
“Yoo-hoo! Mr Apprentice? Are you up there?”
POOF!
“Not you!”
POOF!
“Not you!”
POOF!
POOF!
POOF!
POOF!
“Not you! Not you! Not you! Not you!”
Max! Maybe they’ll stop if she sees you!
He hesitated, torn. Forest Folk guarded the doorway, making sure no Kobolds could escape. There would be no way past.
“Not you! Not you! Not you! Hahaha! Which one’s which? WHICH ONE’S WHICH? Haha!”
POOF!
POOFPOOFPOOFPOOF!
MAX PLEASE MAKE HER STOP!
“Stop!” he yelled. He jumped out from his hiding place and ran towards the Witch. “I’m here! I’m here!”
She swung round—three beams of New Light from other Forest Folk converged on the same spot. He stopped in the spotlights, blinking, unharmed. The Witch’s face gleamed with triumph—she’d got him!—then her eyes widened with horror.
“NOT YOU!” she shrieked, falling to her knees. “NOOOOO! NOT YOU! NOT MY LITTLE CHOOKUMS!”
Max looked down.
Beside him was a pile of ash and a small pair of hands still clutching the wooden box.
He jumped back, and Martha squealed.
YEEK!
The Witch had incinerated Kaspar Hauser.
“You KILLED him!” she howled, rushing forwards.
“I… I didn’t kill him… it was you!” Max stammered.
“You KILLED my little Kaspar! My baby! My little snookums!” She fell on the box, sobbing and wailing. Strangely, though, as she sobbed and wailed, she was at the same time checking the box was intact—and then trying to get it open. “My POOR BABY! My POOR DARLING… my little… my little… GrraaaGHHHG! What’s the MATTER with this thing?” She stopped suddenly and stood up, glaring at Kaspar’s tiny hands and his pathetically small pile of ashy remains. “Didn’t you think of your POOR OLD MUM when you BUILT this hunk of junk? You SELFISH LITTLE NOSE-MINER! ALWAYS screwing the lids on the jars too tightly as well! Don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to! Don’t think I didn’t!”
“Um…” said one of the Forest Folk. “Would you like me to try?”
“WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG? Letting an old, arthritic woman struggle! Shame on you!”
She handed the villager the box. It sprung open at once in his hands.
“You had to slide the catch, not press it. See, like this.”
“WHO ASKED YOU Mr Smartypants? Keep hold of the Apprentice while I deal with this.”
The Witch snatched the box off him and strode over to a stack of Storybooks. She opened the one on top and upended the box over its pages. Mud, twigs and leaves tumbled out—nothing more.
“Wake up my little darlings!” said the Witch, stirring it a little with her finger. “Time for din-dins!”
The villager holding Max edged closer to get a better look, so he saw it too. Slowly, the pile of leaves shifted a little, then began sinking into the pages, like acid into metal. Something was eating away at the paper. Within a couple of minutes all the pages were gone, and only an empty wooden cover remained: a Storybook with nothing in it.
“Eugh!” the villager muttered. “What are they? Giant lice?”
Hundreds of bugs were skittering about, looking for more. They soon located the Storybooks below and swarmed down.
“Collembolla,” the Witch announced. “They’re detritivores. This means, Mr Walnut Brain, they eat dead leaves. And guess what Storybooks are made of?”
“Stories? No. Books!”
“Dead leaves, you bumpkin! I made a few adjustments, of course. Principally to their reproductive cycle. Every two minutes, their number doubles. In a few hours this place will be infested. By the time they’re done, there won’t be enough paper down here for a postage stamp.”
Sure enough, the entire stack of Storybooks was beginning to sag and collapse. She picked up a handful of the dirt and blew it towards the shelves like a sprinkling of fairy dust.
“Now let’s go! I don’t want to miss Mr Yule Log going into the Grinder!” She reached forwards and tweaked Max’s cheek. “And I’m sure you don’t either, Mr Apprentice! CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP! Haha!”
Outside, the tunnel was bustling with activity. Forest Folk were uncoiling lengths of cable and hammering light fixtures into the walls.
What are they doing?
Installing lights. I don’t know.
Max, I don’t understand. How did Courtz know to bring all these things? Like these funny long bits of string.
Wires.
Wires. How did he know there was a big tunnel down here? How did he know about the Luminorium?
Maybe the Witch told him about it.
No. He told her. When she saw the Light she said, “Just as you described.”
He can’t have gotten in here. There are too many Kobolds. They would have spotted anyone sneaking in. And nobody knew there was anything under the Cemetery. Not even the Coven. Only the Dragon Hunters knew.
So how did HE know?
They stopped at the door to the Paper Room, but before they went in the Witch grabbed a villager passing with a box of tools.
“Hey! How’s it going up there?”
“We’ll be able to start the generators in an hour or so,” he reported.
“Don’t turn them on until I’ve left. And what about those rooms? Cleared them out yet?”
“That’s not my side of things,” the man said. “Look, I’ve got a schedule to stick to.”
“I was up there a minute ago,” said another villager. “They finished the Skeletons, but they’re still working on the Arboretum.”
“What’s the delay?”
“These Kobolds are tricky little Devils. And that World One is giving them problems. The one with the heavy fists.”
“No, they caught him. He’ll be in the Grinder in a minute.”
“They did? Well, the Kobolds are at home in the Briarbacks, that’s for sure. We could send for some Wood
cutters. Clear the trees out.”
“NO WOODCUTTERS!”
“Oh, and we got that other door open. The funny one with no keyhole. Had to use sledgehammers. Took some doing.”
“He told us not to bother with that.”
“We thought the Apprentice might be hiding in there.”
“Well, he wasn’t. But fair enough. Find anything?”
“An empty bottle.”
“That’s it?”
“Place was just a cupboard.”
“Right,” said the Witch. “Let’s go you.”
An EMPTY bottle?
OK! Who cares about that? They’re going to throw Boris into the Grinder!
THWACK!
“STOP DAWDLING!”
The Witch dealt him one of her blows and he staggered into the Paper Room.
The room was oddly quiet. With no Kobolds to operate it, the Grinder had fallen silent: a group of Forest Folk were investigating its workings. Boris was standing on the platform with his back to the room, looking down into the open mouth of the Grinder.
We’re not too late! He’s still here!
But what are you going to do? They’re just trying to start the thing up.
Mrs Jeffers, Ulla and Mommsen were huddled near the Grinder as well, circled by Forest Folk with flashlights. Porterholse had his own bodyguard. Evidently they knew what the Giant was capable of and had him under close surveillance, ready to incinerate him at the very first sign of inflation.
When Courtz saw Max with the Witch, he beckoned them over.
“So you found your way back here at last?” he said. “How does it feel to be home?”
Max peered at him. There was a strange glint of amusement in Courtz’s eye. “What do you mean?”
“I recognized you at once, of course,” Courtz said. “I did wonder, when I came back here, whether or not the Kobolds would recognize me. But it’s been so long. I was a younger man. The beard helps. Do you know, I’m very sure not one of these Kobolds remembers me.”
“Why would they?” Max asked slowly.
“Because I remember them. And I remember you. Of course, I knew you by another name in those days.” He smiled, and said each word very clearly: “The. One. Who. Cleans. The. Teeth. The. Best.”
Then, right then, at exactly the same moment, both Max and Martha understood.
HhEe’Ss Aa DdRrAaGgOoNn HhUuNnTtEeRr!
“You knew who I was all along?” Max whispered. “You knew I was a Kobold?”
Courtz nodded.
“You knew… this is where I came from?”
Courtz nodded again. “What matters now is that you have the chance to begin again. You can become my Apprentice, as I promised. Remember what the Dragon Fire taught you. Remember how your dreams betrayed you.”
Max’s mind was racing. He looked at Boris on the platform. The villagers surrounding his friends. Then back at Courtz.
“I agree with you,” he said. “You’re right. You were right about everything. I lost everything to my dreams. But I want to talk to Boris. I think I can change his mind.”
“Out of the question. It’s too late for him.”
“You said I have the chance to start again. If that’s a rule, it has to apply to everyone and everything. That’s how science works.”
Courtz pressed his lips together in irritation. “Go,” he said shortly. “I’ll give you a couple of minutes.”
Max quickly climbed the Grinder steps to join Boris on the platform. The Dark Man had both hands on the railing and was looking down into the jaws, which gaped up at him. When Max came near he turned and gave him a faint smile.
“He wants me to go into that machinery. If I don’t, he’ll incinerate our friends.” He frowned, seeming perplexed. “What a violent end!”
Max looked down at the Forest Folk working on the machine. They were out of earshot, if he whispered.
“Listen,” he said. “Courtz is a Dragon Hunter.”
Boris stared at him. “That’s impossible,” he said flatly.
“He just admitted it!”
“I don’t believe it. It must be a trick.”
“It isn’t. He knew how the Luminorium works. He explained it right away.”
Boris frowned. “Did he? When?”
“When he brought you down there! Didn’t you hear?”
“I… wasn’t really paying attention,” said Boris. “I was concentrating on something else.”
“And he’s brought all this equipment for lighting the place. And the Witch has just let these insect things out to destroy the Storybooks. How did they know the Storybooks were down here? We didn’t. We thought it was just a crypt!”
Boris was shaking his head. “There has to be some other explanation.”
“There isn’t! Courtz knew about the Luminorium before any of us. And he survived all that time in the Woods, on his own—just like a Dragon Hunter could. He tracked down Dragons—just like a Dragon Hunter could. He told me all the Apprentices ran away from home when they were small—and it sounds like he did too, just like a Dragon Hunter!”
“No,” said Boris. “He’s a scientist. He was always a scientist.”
“Are you sure? Did you know him when he was a young man?”
“No, but—”
“You went to the Woods before you became a scientist. You went Wild before you became a scientist. Why couldn’t he have become an Apprentice, then a Dragon Hunter, then turned to science?”
“Why would he turn to science? What made him change?”
“I think we just found out.”
“What?”
“The Forest Folk opened that door. With the Unthinkable Idea. And there was nothing there.”
“Nothing?”
“Just an empty bottle.”
“Empty?”
“Yes. Boris, what if Courtz opened the door when he was a Dragon Hunter? And now he’s got it. The Unthinkable Idea. And his mind turned to stone. And he’s doing all this. And the Unthinkable Idea has spread to the others. The Forest Folk. The villagers. They’re all in the grip of it. Martha’s Mother and Father too.”
Max, you don’t need to make up excuses for them.
I’m NOT making up excuses! How could they do that to you? It doesn’t make sense. It’s like something took them over. It’s him. Or IT. The Unthinkable Idea. And Courtz is spreading it around.
The Dark Man was staring at Max, nodding slowly. “Maybe you’re right,” he muttered. “It fits together.”
“We have to stop him!”
“I know,” Boris said. “I know we do.” He glanced furtively towards Courtz. “If only we had… just a little more time.”
But there was no more time.
The Forest Folk had fixed the Grinder. They began to operate the levers. A shudder went through the machine, and below them the jaws began to move, slowly at first, then faster.
SLAM!
SLAM!
SLAM!
“BORIS!” shouted Courtz. “IT’S TIME!”
“What were you dreaming about last night?” Boris asked quickly. “I meant to ask you.”
“What?” Max thought he hadn’t heard him properly above the noise. “What did I dream about?”
“I was there. Beside you. You kept calling out in your sleep. I don’t want to! I don’t want to!”
Max had completely forgotten the dream. But why was the Dark Man bothering about that now? “There was a Dragon,” he explained hastily. “I had to crawl into its mouth. But it was strange, it kept saying I had to do it again. Like it had happened before.”
“It had happened before?” Boris frowned. He seemed mesmerized by the flashing teeth.
“YOU HAVE UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE!”
“I don’t know! It was just a dream.”
“ONE!”
The Forest Folk lifted their flashlights.
Max screamed down above the noise.
“Don’t HURT THEM! He’s GOING TO JOIN US!”
“TWO!”
He spun round. “Just pretend! Just pretend you agree with him!” And even as he said it, he knew it was hopeless, that this was a story Boris could never tell.
“THREE!”
“Max,” the Dark Man said, in a voice that he would never forget. “Listen to your dreams.”
And then he leant backwards and went over the railing, into the Grinder, into the ocean—where sharks were circling, arguing about who was to get what.
SLAM, CHOMP, PLOP
Listen to your dreams…
Max stared at the space where the Dark Man had been, that was now and would for ever be empty.
How could something that had always been there, so solid and sure, suddenly not be there?
Everything just stopped.
He knew the Grinder was still going because he could feel the shake of its SLAM SLAM SLAM. But still, everything stopped. He couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear Martha either. All he could hear was the Dark Man’s final words, repeating themselves over and over in his mind.
Listen to your dreams…
When was the last time someone had told him to do that?
It was all so strange…
Courtz and the Dragon.
Forbes and the Grinder.
His Forever Parents and the sharks.
And now this.
Boris and the Leafgobble 5000.
Listen to your dreams…
So he did.
“Well kid, this is it,” the Dragon’s head had said. “You got to start over.”
“OK.”
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not afraid?”
“I did it once already.”
Done what once already?
Gone into the Dragon?
When?
He looked down through the platform at the Grinder’s flashing teeth.
And then he noticed. The platform. It was made of a metal grille.
A grille of tiny hexagons.
Hexagons…
And then he knew. He understood it all.
Patterns. Everywhere.
The mural round the Grinder.
Just like the mural in his bedroom.
The Wolf that Boris turned into when he got gotten.
Just like the Wolf in the mural.
The Beginning Woods Page 34