by Angus Watson
“It doesn’t matter how much they hate them, they can’t bite them.”
Erik’s eyes twinkled. “Not on the outside …”
“Come on, Erik, out with it.”
“The spiders know they can’t bite through the skin. They also know that the lizard kings have stupidly big mouths. They know they have to leap onto its feet, run up its body, get into those big mouths, run down into the dark, look for a soft bit, and bite.”
“Really, all the spiders know this?”
“… I’m not sure. I don’t know if all of them are persuaded. I’m working on it.”
“Can anyone help?”
“Finnbogi, I should think, but he’s—”
“Anybody else?”
“No.”
“Here.” It was Yoki Choppa. “Eat this.” He held out what looked like three plant buds.
“What is it?”
“Focuses the mind. It might help.”
Erik opened his mouth, presumably to ask why Yoki Choppa hadn’t given him the concoction way back in the Badlands.
“Found it when we fought the Badlander owls,” Yoki Choppa said before Erik had the words.
Erik did as he was told, then sat and closed his eyes.
They reached the base of the notch in the bluff and the Plains Sprinter slowed as the crowd pigeons towed it up and out of the valley. The lizard kings were halfway across the valley behind them, splashing through a shallow lake, sending up great waves of water and birdlife.
Sofi could see Beaver Man now, clasped round the neck of the rearmost lizard.
“You shouldn’t have fled, Sofi,” he said sadly. “I had plans for you. With you and Chippaminka at my side, we could have so enriched the world. It’s a shame that—”
Sofi stopped listening to him.
The Plains Sprinter crested a rise and accelerated. The Black Mountains were ahead, a low line of dark bumps. The scenery to the west of the valley had reverted a little to dispiriting grassland, but there were enough wooded hillocks and tree-lined ridges to promise more interesting landscape to come. It had been a while since Sofi had been in the mountains. She liked mountains. She hoped she’d get to see these ones.
The Swan Empress Ayanna watched the Wootah children watching the dinosaurs. The boy was open-mouthed, staring in wonder. Freydis, holding his hand, looked sad and sensible.
Why oh why had she fallen for Chippaminka? She’d been weak. She could produce plenty of excuses, she could blame others, but the fact was she should have been stronger. Luby Zephyr had managed to break the enchantment to save her and now Luby was dead.
Freydis said something to Ottar and the boy nodded. Ayanna simply could not bear the idea of watching the Wootah children die, let alone her own baby. She would do whatever she could to save them.
Paloma Pronghorn ran back eastwards. She’d been west to the foothills of the Black Mountains to check the path. Bar the odd herd of deer, which Paloma had scattered just for the distraction of it, the way was unimpeded. The buffalo trail led directly to a valley which cut upwards into the mountains and, apparently, safety. She didn’t know why they’d be safe in the mountains, but Sitsi Kestrel said they would be and Sitsi knew everything.
She was running even faster than usual, trying to pound away the sorrow of Luby Zephyr’s death, and keen to get back before the rest were eaten by the lizard kings.
Over a rise, and the flock of crowd pigeons pulling the Plains Sprinter came into view. She couldn’t see the craft itself yet. The pigeons could be pulling a mangled platform of half-chewed corpses for all Paloma knew.
Finally, she saw the vehicle, with Calnians and Wootah safely aboard. The lizard kings had closed the gap to about a hundred paces, however, so it didn’t look like they were going to stay safe for long.
By Innowak, the monsters were amazing, so much larger than any animal Paloma had even imagined before. Although … their enormous thighs were awesome, their huge jaws looked fearsomely powerful, but their weird little weedy arms bounced as they ran, like the limp limbs of an effete boy forced to do sport for the first time.
Paloma sprinted down the hill and leapt aboard. The Wootah and Calnians nodded grim greetings, apart from Finnbogi, who stood at the front, flapping like an exhausted bird that had been flapping far too long and was about to fall from the sky. All of them would probably die very soon. It was a shame. Paloma wasn’t going to die herself if she could help it. If it all went completely to shit and there was really no chance left, she would piss off very quickly, dragging Sofi and Sitsi with her. She wouldn’t be able to save Chogolisa, Yoki Choppa or any of the Wootah. Sad, but there you go.
“All good ahead, path is clear to the mountains!” she called to Sofi. “Shame about behind!”
Sofi nodded, then turned to Erik. “Now, do you think?”
The beasts were ninety paces away.
“What are you going to do?” asked Paloma.
“Let’s give it a crack,” said Erik. “Chogolisa?”
Chogolisa Earthquake picked up one of the spider barrels. It was big, nearly as tall as Paloma; big enough, indeed, to hold half the spiders needed to attach silk to all those crowd pigeons.
Paloma saw their plan, but didn’t see its point. There was no way their little teeth were going to trouble the lizards.
“High as you can,” called Erik.
“No,” said Sofi, “just throw it so it smashes.”
Chogolisa did as she was bid.
The barrel burst behind the craft in an explosion of shattered wood and orange spiders.
Moments later the first lizard ran over them. The rest followed.
They watched.
The lizards kept coming.
What had they expected?
“Sitsi?” asked Sofi.
“A good number of spiders are on the first lizard and one of the others. They’re heading upwards.”
Paloma peered. There were little orange things scurrying up the legs of the foremost lizard.
“Are they going to crawl up their arses?” she asked.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” Erik sounded disappointed. “But, then again, I guess their arses are clenched pretty tight. I’m not even sure where their arseholes are.”
“Sitsi?” asked Sofi.
“They’re only on two of them.”
“Pigfuckers.”
The front-running lizard king realised that it had hundreds of spiders crawling up its body. It roared and scrabbled with those funny little arms, knocking spiders from its chest. It was pretty much, Paloma realised, exactly what she would have done.
“A good number went into its mouth on that roar,” said Sitsi.
The monster shook its head, opened its mouth and made an extraordinary CAAAH! sound, retching like a cat with a fur ball in an attempt to force the invaders from its mouth. Instead, more spiders rushed in.
“Throw the other barrel, Chogolisa,” said Sofi. “Ten paces past the lead lizard.”
The barrel sailed through the air and smashed on the ground. The foremost monster gave up trying to regurgitate the spiders and refocused all its roaring, stomping energies on chasing the Plains Sprinter. It looked like swallowing half a hundred spiders had done it no harm whatsoever at all. It ran through a tree, splintering trunk and branches without slackening its pace.
“It’s possible, of course,” opined Erik, “that beeba spider venom has no effect on lizard kings. Some animals are immune to venom that’s harmful to humans.”
The lizards thundered closer, roar-screaming the joys of a chase nearly ended. The second spider-swallowing monster went through the same process as the first; panic, hacking like a pipe addict for a few heartbeats, then resumption of the chase.
“All the other lizards have spiders on them now,” said Sitsi after a while, as if it mattered, “bar the one Beaver Man is riding. His ran wide when Chogolisa threw the second barrel.”
“Calnians, to me,” said Sofi, “Wootah, too.”
Everyone g
athered round Sofi.
“Are we all agreed that our goal is for Ottar to live, to get to The Meadows?”
Most people nodded grimly. Paloma didn’t. Her goal was to live a long and happy life.
“Right. The only person who can run the boy to safety in the Black Mountains and beyond is Paloma. So, when the lizards reach the Plains Sprinter, she will run westwards with him on her shoulders.”
“Suits me!” Paloma smiled, “But what about the rest of you?”
“There are six lizards and Beaver Man. We have all of us, a few dozen wolves and a shitload of pigeons. Erik, start communicating with the wolves now. Tell them they hate giant lizards, got it?”
“Got it.”
“Wulf, I want you, Thryri and Keef to—”
A scream tore the very air apart.
The lead lizard king yowled like a thousand tortured dogs as it tumbled. It hit the ground with a shuddering boom, then rolled, kicking huge talons skywards. One of its legs kicked harder and faster than the other, crazily fast, then shot vertical. There was a crack like the snapping of a tree trunk and the leg flapped uselessly to the ground.
“On the other hand,” said Erik, “it’s possible that the spiders need to get quite a long way into the beasts before they find a soft bit. Sofi? Sofi? Are you all right?”
Sofi was crouched on the deck, hands pressed to her ears.
A second thunder lizard scream rent the air, followed almost immediately by another. One by one, the lizards screamed and went down.
Paloma glanced to the prow. Sassa was watching, mouth open, but Finnbogi was still facing west, flapping wearily for the mountains. Shame, thought Paloma, that he’d missed the death of the lizard kings. He’d have appreciated the spectacle.
Soon five huge corpses were strewn in the wake of the Plains Sprinter, carrion birds already flapping down.
Good luck pecking your way into those fuckers, thought Paloma.
One great beast still pounded after them, Beaver Man’s relatively tiny head craning round its neck. They’d won five little battles, thought Paloma, but this one animal was still more than capable of winning the war.
Deviating around its falling herd mates cost it some ground, so it was now about a hundred and fifty paces back. However, it was gaining, if anything, faster than before.
Wulf the Fat tapped Sofi Tornado on the shoulder. “Screaming’s over!”
Sofi rose and blinked. The death roars of the lizard kings had felt like two knives pushed into her ears and twisted.
Five monsters down, one left. A good start, but Beaver Man needed only the one thunder lizard to kill them all.
“How far to the mountains, Paloma?”
“Fourteen miles, give or take a half.”
Sofi jogged to the prow.
“Can we go any faster, Sassa?”
“No.”
“Could you—”
“He’s giving it all he’s got.”
Sofi jogged back. The lizard king was a hundred paces behind.
“I don’t suppose we have any more spiders?” she asked nobody in particular.
“We don’t,” said Wulf.
“Apart from those ones,” said Paloma, pointing to where two boards met at the rear right-hand corner of the Sprinter. Six large pale orange spiders were crushed into the darkest place they could find, writhing over each other to escape the light.
“Only six left,” said Sofi.
“They’re willing to help,” said Erik. “But this time ALL of them need to get inside the lizard.”
“Paloma, hands out.” Sofi took out the leather alchemy pouch that Gunnhild had made for her and poured desiccated burrowing owl meat into Paloma’s hands. Paloma made a face. “Put that somewhere safe,” Sofi added.
She squatted above the spiders and flicked them into her bag with the point of her dagger-tooth knife. She worked carefully, bouncing on her heels and ready to leap aside at any moment, but the nasty little animals gave her no trouble.
She stood, a bag containing half a dozen spiders in one hand.
“Anyone got any ideas how we get this deep into a thunder lizard, then open it?” she yelled. She didn’t like asking advice, but she could think of only one method that might work. It did not appeal.
“Chogolisa could toss me onto its head?” suggested Sitsi. “I could open the bag and pour the spiders down its throat?”
“That won’t get them far enough down, they’ll probably be crushed before they get out of the bag, and Beaver Man would kill you before you could act. Anyone else?”
She looked at all the adults in turn and they all shook their heads, apart from Bodil Gooseface who smiled nervously and said: “What is it you’re after?”
Yoki Choppa came to stand next to her. The monster was fifty paces back.
“If you stop and leave my craft intact,” said Beaver Man so only Sofi could hear, “I’ll spare the children.”
“If you head back to the Badlands now,” called Sofi, “we’ll spare your pet.”
“No matter, another Plains Sprinter is already under construc—”
He was cut off by a scream-roar from the monster. Sofi covered her ears.
“There is one way,” said Ayanna, walking over from her place by the rail when the roar was over, “but you’ve already thought of it.”
Sofi nodded.
“You don’t have to do it.” The empress smiled sadly. “I will.”
“No.”
“It’s not a request, Sofi Tornado.”
“I don’t take orders from anyone during a battle, even you.”
“Then it is a request.”
“The answer is no. Do you doubt your best warrior, Empress?”
“And you’re doubting the ability of a woman driven by love for her son and desperate to atone for the disgrace of slaughtering a tribe that didn’t deserve it? Not to forget leading twenty thousand of her own warriors to a senseless death, and leaving an empire weak and ripe for decades of tyranny and misery?”
The empress held Sofi’s gaze.
The craft joggled along and the beast thundered ever closer. Ayanna was not nearly as physically strong as Sofi, but the job didn’t require super-strength.
“Are you sure?”
“I am,” nodded Ayanna. “Give me the bag and one of Luby’s moon blades.” Then, louder, “Chogolisa! You’re needed over here.”
Erik shifted from foot to foot. They were so nearly clear, they’d come through so much, but this one remaining monster could ruin it all.
Hate the lizard, hate the lizard, he told the wolves again.
We dooo hate it. We want to bite it and kill it.
And you will, but you must wait until you’re released.
We will, we will, we will hooowl and run and jump and bite. We want to do it nooooooow.
Sofi’s idea was that the wolves would attack the lizard. While it was distracted, Chogolisa would throw Sofi onto its head. She’d blind it with Sassa’s iron knife, while dodging Beaver Man’s attacks. It wasn’t a great plan and Erik felt bad, persuading the wolves into attacking a beast that would kill them.
Hate the lizard, hate the lizard, he told them.
“Erik,” said Sofi, pinching his arm to drag his attention away from the wolves, “We’re going to try something else that doesn’t need the wolves. But keep them ready. We will probably still need them.”
“What are you going to do?”
Sofi sighed. “You’ll see.”
The Swan Empress Ayanna wasn’t sure. Of course she wasn’t. You’d have to be pretty thick to be certain about a decision like this one. The trick had to be to get on with it before you changed your mind, she guessed. It wasn’t like people who’d made decisions like this before had been around afterwards to explain their thought processes.
She stood alone. Gunnhild held Calnian. She couldn’t bear to look at him. She already knew every crinkle of his skin, his every expression, his smell. She’d try her best to take those memories to her nex
t life. She’d eaten so many people that she was going to return as something amazing, so she shouldn’t be scared of death, she told herself.
She was, however, terrified.
She hoped Calnian lived long enough to be told what she’d done and to understand it. She hoped he lived much, much longer than that, and hoped he would never forget her—or never, at least, forget the memory of what she’d done. She hoped that her son would look at his own children one day and tell them that they were alive because of Ayanna. She hoped that he’d see her looking with love out of the eyes of her descendants.
The lizard stormed ever closer. The foul Beaver Man peered around its neck like a loathsome boil.
She gripped the bag of spiders in one hand and the moon blade in the other.
“I’m ready, Chogolisa,” she said to the huge woman. “Pick our moment well, please.”
The lizard king reached the rear of the Plains Sprinter, towering above them like a tree over a shrub. Its enormous, three-toed feet slammed down within an arm’s reach of the rear rail. There was a doggy squeal. Blood sprayed up from the rank of wolves.
The monster saw death at its feet, roared to the sky, then bent, opened its vast, gaping, tooth-fringed maw and screamed hot, stinking hatred at the Wootah and Calnians.
Chogolisa heaved and Ayanna was flying. She soared between rows of giant lizard teeth and crashed into harsh wetness. She felt the skin rasp from her face—rough tongue like a dog, she thought—then everything turned turtle and she was slithering down and down into dark, pulsing, crushing wetness.
She sucked in a gulp of putrid air, thinking this is my final breath.
They’d hoped that if Chogolisa tossed her far enough, the lizard would swallow her without chewing. So far so good. What Ayanna had wondered, but not discussed, was whether she’d drown or be boiled alive by the monster’s stomach juices before she could act.
Its neck convulsed around her, forcing her downwards. She clutched the spider bag in her left hand, between her legs, trying to hold it lightly but securely at the same time, while gripping onto Luby Zephyr’s moon blade in her right hand.