Monsterland

by James Crowley

  When he turned his attention back to his dinner, Charlie noticed that there was a magpie on the windowsill near the end of the buffet. The magpie was eating what looked to be some sort of dark cookie, and much like the bird that he had seen by the lodge, it seemed to have little interest in Charlie. He tried to scare the bird away but quickly realized his attempts were a distraction to the proceedings and returned to filling his plate.

  Charlie ate as much as he could and then sat sleepily next to Abigail in the corner. He tried to concentrate on what Franklin was saying about the Council’s proposed treaty, but found his eyelids heavy and soon slumped forward in his chair.

  “How is one to think with this oaf snoring in the corner?”

  Charlie woke with a start and looked up at Queen Nuit Khensa Tuya VII, who stood above him.

  “Look at him. So young, so full of life . . .”

  She seemed to examine Charlie enviously, though it was hard to tell with the dead, colorless reflection of her eyes.

  “And whatever is he doing here?” Khensa Tuya asked, turning back to Franklin.

  “Who, me?” Charlie said, wiping some drool from his cheek. “I’m looking for someone. My cousin. I think he got lost. His name is Billy.”

  “Billy?” the queen gasped. “What on earth is a Billy?”

  “Please, time is of the essence. Let us stick to the subject at hand,” Franklin said. He was standing over the table, his charts spread around him. “With the Council’s treaty, you are all but guaranteed to see a dramatic reduction in your loss of production due to the insufficiencies of your workforce—”

  “And thievery,” Khensa Tuya added. She returned to the table and sat in a large chair at its head.

  “Yes, and thievery, and extortion and broken treaties,” Franklin continued impatiently. “We know all this . . .”

  “You can’t be serious,” Khensa Tuya sighed. “You come here expecting me to believe that the marauders could be counted on as some sort of a what? A reliable workforce? Ha!”

  “Not all,” Franklin said. “Of course, some are beyond our control, but others will jump at a chance for peace and a guarantee that their cook pots will be filled come winter.”

  “Half the marauders are werewolves or other creatures of the night. They sleep most of the day and then go traipsing off at dusk, expecting to be excused, and returning only when it suits them!”

  Franklin gripped the thick stone table and took in a deep breath.

  “Then pay them a half day’s wage. Anything is better than your current state. Would you not agree?”

  “But they must be punished for their actions!” Khensa Tuya said, banging her fist down on the armrest of her chair. “The way they pillage the land, why, I should—”

  “We have been through this,” Franklin said wearily. “There must be amnesty. A fresh start . . .”

  “Tucked away in your castle,” Khensa Tuya scoffed. “You don’t live among us. You have not seen the aftermath . . .”

  “That is not the point.”

  “And what is your point?”

  “That you and your brother, Tok, must sit down and negotiate if we are to establish a lasting peace.”

  “I beg your pardon, Your Highness.” An older, stooped mummified servant stepped forward. “But there is urgent news . . .”

  “How dare you interrupt!” Khensa Tuya shouted.

  “B-b-but, Your Highness . . .” The servant’s voice quivered.

  “I am losing my patience,” Franklin growled. “We have been up half the night and are no further along than when we started . . .”

  “You will not take that tone with me!” Khensa Tuya shrieked. “Who do you think you are?”

  The Monster gripped the table tighter, and Charlie thought he could hear the rock crumbling beneath his fingers.

  “Who am I?” Franklin said. “Why, we were just discussing that the other day, weren’t we, boy? Ah, who am I? I have been called all manner of things through the years. Some kinder than others—I am sure you’ve heard a few of them. Would you care to see why?”

  “Is that a threat?” the mummy queen hissed.

  “P-p-please, Your Highness,” the servant stammered, dropping to his knees. “It is a communiqué, from the P-P-Prime Minister . . .”

  “The Prime Minister!” Khensa Tuya stood abruptly, almost knocking her chair over. “Is he here?”

  “I-I-I do not know. But he has sent this,” the cowering servant said, holding the Prime Minister’s message above his lowered head. “Urgent news of troubles that brew in the desert.”

  Khensa Tuya snatched the envelope from her servant’s hand, ripped it open, and read.

  “Well . . . ,” Franklin said.

  “‘Urgent news—Troubles brew in the desert.—P. M.,’” she read aloud.

  “Urgent news? Is that it?” Franklin said. “We are all well aware of the situation—”

  “Yes, as you say, aware of the situation, and yet you have refused to act!”

  “Let us be fair,” Franklin spat back.

  “Fair?” the queen repeated with a snarl.

  Franklin lowered his head. “I knew this was a waste of time and expressed as much to the Prime Minister—”

  “Excuse me,” Charlie interrupted. While he found the news from the desert fascinating, he could barely keep his eyes open after the excitement of the day.

  “What’s that?” Franklin said, turning to Charlie.

  “I’m wondering if I . . . if we . . . Abigail and I . . . can we be excused?”

  “Of course, my apologies, Charlie . . . Abigail, what was I thinking?” Franklin said, looking back at the queen. “We should table this discussion so that I can see the children to bed.”

  “As you wish. They will show you to your quarters,” Khensa Tuya said, motioning to her attendants. She whispered something to one of them and then waved them all to the door.

  This time, they were taken to a different room with more sensible ceilings. It was much more comfortable with two beds and an open door that led to another room with a third bed. There were large windows that overlooked a courtyard below and opened out toward the endless desert. As they entered the second room, they were surprised to find the Prime Minister standing at the open window. There was a magpie perched on his shoulder, which held a half-eaten cookie in its beak. They both stared out at the night sky, seemingly lost in thought.

  “Well, well, well, look who we have here,” Franklin said, interrupting their pensive silence. He stretched his long arms over his head, enjoying the new height of the space. “I see now why our situation has mysteriously improved.”

  “It is a pleasure to see you too,” the Prime Minister said. He seemed to almost share a laugh with the magpie before it flew out the window, and then he approached the group. “And how are you, Charlie? You look well. I trust your travels have been educational.”

  “I’m good, sir. Thank you.”

  “Ah, yessssss,” the Prime Minister continued, turning his attention to Abigail. “I had received word that your party had grown. And who might you be?”

  Abigail extended her hand, which the Prime Minister shook gently. Charlie noticed he did not have the others’ reaction to the coldness of her touch.

  “Abigail Rose. I’m with ’em, as Charlie and Mr. Franklin here rescued me.”

  “Mr. Franklin?” the Prime Minister said, looking at the Monster. “A rescue. I see. Well, we have much to discuss, much to discuss indeed.”

  “I would say there is. What is the meaning of all this? If you could have come here in the first place, what am I doing here?” Franklin bellowed.

  “The situation has worsened,” the Prime Minister said. “There is news of impending raids and I understand the talks are deteriorating rapidly, no thanks to you.”

  “No thanks to me? I told you. I
am not equipped to handle their mummified arrogance. I should have been sent to speak with the banshees or, better yet, the trolls or goblins. These are the negotiations that I am accustomed to. Not so much pomp, let alone circumstance.”

  “I am sure you have done as best you could. And now at least the egg is broken, so to speak. I am confident there will be an agreement by morning.”

  “And then that is it! I will return to Charnel House immediately following. Our agreement is hereby terminated. I am going home.” Franklin pointed his gnarled finger at the Prime Minister. “I knew you were up to something, and this little sideshow is the proof. Her Highness Queen Khensa Tuya will come around now that you are here. There is no need for me. She will do your bidding. But we, we turn back tomorrow.”

  “Turn back?” Charlie cried. “We can’t turn back now! We’ve come so far!”

  “Now, now,” the Prime Minister said, trying to calm them.

  “No, look at the mess we’re in,” Franklin went on. “As I said all along, it is not safe. There is still so far to go, and the boy has already been injured.”

  The Prime Minister turned. “Charlie, are you injured?”

  “I was. But I’m fine now. Franklin and the Ranger saw to it.”

  “See, what was it, Franklin? The boy is fine,” the Prime Minister said, moving toward the door. “Come now. There is no need to cure all that ails us thisss evening. Charlie and Miss Abigail must sleep. We will assess that situation later. For now, Khensa Tuya awaits.”

  “Ah, yes. The queen awaits,” Franklin said angrily, following the Prime Minister out of the room. “The queen awaits . . .”

  They locked the door behind them, leaving Charlie and Abigail standing in front of the immense windows. Looking out over the desert, they could see the sky was clear and dotted with bright stars.

  “It is beautiful,” Abigail said.

  “It is,” Charlie replied, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about what lay beyond the desert. He was thinking of the vast, open plain that haunted his dreams—and of Billy.

  Abigail turned and stared blankly at Charlie. “Strange fellow, this Prime Minister. His hands felt as cold as ice.”

  — chapter 31 —

  Just Past Midnight

  CHARLIE WAS FAST asleep when he felt a heavy hand nudge his shoulder. He slowly opened his eyes to find Franklin standing over him. The Monster held a candle and did not seem to notice the wax that dripped down his hand and onto Charlie’s bedroll.

  “I am sorry, Charlie. I see now we have made a mistake. You should not be here. We have gone too far as it is. It’s too dangerous, plain and simple. This valley is no place for a boy . . .”

  “But, Franklin,” Charlie sputtered, sitting up, “I’ll be good. I’ll do what you say. I can’t go home now.”

  Franklin towered over him, the shadows of his face flickering in and out of the candlelight.

  “The Prime Minister’s plan is too risky. I have been responsible for enough pain and misery in my life. I will not add your name to the list.”

  “But, Franklin—”

  “Enough.”

  “Well, I’m still going. I won’t give up, Franklin, I just won’t.” Charlie rolled over, turning his back to the Monster.

  “No, Charlie, we leave tomorrow. This is not open for debate. Go to sleep.”

  Franklin blew out the candle, and Charlie could hear his heavy steps echo across the darkness of the room. He laid back on his bedroll, pulled out his photo with Billy, and looked at it in the moonlight. No, he thought. We can’t turn back. We’ve come this far. He had to find Billy—he just had to. And there was nothing that Franklin could do or say to change his mind.

  — chapter 32 —

  Out on the Open Plain

  WHEN CHARLIE WOKE up, Abigail was back at the window staring out over the desert. He dragged his tired body out of bed and joined her, looking up at the clouds gathering in the sky above them.

  “Seems a storm is coming,” Abigail said.

  Like the desert in his dreams, the wind from a black cloud blew the dust up, turning the sky a brownish orange.

  “The Prime Minister came by while you were sleeping,” Abigail said. “He left for urgent business in the east but said he would be back this evening, so to call out if you need him. He also said we’re free to come and go as we please, now that the treaty is almost in place. You can wash up down in the courtyard if you like.”

  Charlie gathered his things in his pack, and they left the room, finding their way through the maze back to the main hall. Mummified attendants averted their eyes and bowed before them as they passed now. They found Franklin at the doorway of the stateroom, where he informed them that the talks had gone well in the end, even better than he had imagined.

  “Amazing how receptive a queen can be in the presence of the Prime Minister,” Franklin said. “Do not stray from the courtyard, though. I hope to have this wrapped up in time for us to leave this afternoon.”

  Charlie did not answer and could not look at Franklin. His anger was building, and he was afraid if he did, he might say or do something that he would later regret. Although he couldn’t blame Franklin for wanting to turn back, how could they after they had already come so far? Old Joe wouldn’t, Charlie thought. Billy certainly wouldn’t—

  “Quitter,” he snapped, no longer able to control himself.

  Franklin glanced down at Charlie with a surprised look on his face.

  “What did you say to me?”

  “You heard me,” Charlie said, turning his back on the Monster. “Quitter.”

  “Hey, come back here,” Franklin ordered, but Charlie was already gone.

  He stormed away with Abigail close behind. They wound down another series of passages until they found themselves in the courtyard. As he walked, he counted each step, trying to calm himself and forget the disappointed look he saw on Franklin’s face.

  In the middle of the courtyard, there was a well with a gate that stood directly behind it. While the storm was still in the distance, the dark clouds above told them it had grown closer. There were mummies by the well, who urged them to drink, and then slowly shuffled about the courtyard among themselves. Some filled pitchers with water or attended to odd chores, but for the most part, they just walked this way and that, which left Charlie wondering what they were actually doing. And there were cats and some dogs around the courtyard as well, even a few monkeys, all mummified and lounging about.

  After they had washed and had enough to drink, Charlie and Abigail sat in the shade against the side of one of the low buildings and looked out again at the vast desert beyond the gate.

  “I wonder what’s over there, across on the other side. I suppose it could be something splendid,” Abigail said, lost in her own words. “It almost calls to you, doesn’t it?”

  “Something special, but who cares? We’ll never know. Besides—” Charlie began, but was interrupted by a small mummy who had come right up to them.

  The mummy was so small it looked like it could be a toddler. It stared at them with its dead fish eyes and picked at Charlie’s clothes. At one point, it poked at them with a stick, which Charlie promptly grabbed and broke in half. This sent the little mummy running, and they watched until it disappeared back inside the pyramid.

  “Peculiar behavior,” Abigail said.

  Charlie wondered if she was talking about the mummified child or him. She was sometimes hard to read that way. Then a long shadow fell over them, announcing the appearance of the mummified remains of a girl a little bit taller than Abigail. The girl stood silently, waiting for Charlie and Abigail to stand up. When they did, she stared at them for a moment before speaking.

  “I am Urbi Zalika Khensa Tuya,” the girl said. “Urbi means ‘princess’ in my language.”

  “Yes, uh, Urbi,” Charlie said, cutting her off; he was already a
nnoyed. “I’ve met your mother. I’m Charlie. This is Abigail.”

  “Zalika will suffice,” the princess replied, extending her hand to him. Charlie grasped it in his, opting to shake her hand rather than kiss it.

  “I saw what my younger brother did to you with the stick. I found it amusing when you took the stick from him and broke it in half,” Zalika said without any emotion. “Very amusing. I almost laughed.”

  Charlie felt himself flush a bit and looked over to Abigail, who just stared back at Zalika with her cold blue eyes.

  “You are not from here, are you? I apologize, but the longer I have been here the harder it is to tell,” Zalika said to Charlie.

  “No,” Charlie replied. “I’m not from here.”

  Charlie turned to walk back toward the well, remembering that he had forgotten to brush his teeth. Abigail and Zalika followed.

  “If you are not from here, where do you come from?”

  “I’m from the other side of the mountains. We’re not sure where she’s from,” Charlie said, pointing back to Abigail.

  “Over the mountains? Is that possible?”

  “I suppose. I’m here, aren’t I?” Charlie said.

  Charlie drank from the well but kept his eye on Abigail. She had stopped a few paces away and was staring at the desert again. The skies were getting darker overhead and the wind was growing stronger as it blew in from the plain.