Her Ugly Monster (book 1)

by Kaylee Rymer

  No answer.

  “Hunger can make you cranky, I guess.” He laughed, hoping it would lighten the mood.

  “You’re so stupid. She’ll never forgive you.”

  Weegel drowned out Rosemary’s voice and scooted closer. “Ivy... please... talk to me.”

  “Go away,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.

  At least it was better than her silence.

  He sighed and gazed up at the ceiling. Stalactites hung above them. The walls were drab and dirty, but she had tried to brighten them up with flowers and butterflies. Her room really was gloomy.

  “It’s okay if you’ll never be able to shoot deer,” he went on. “I can kill the game and bring it home to you. That way you won’t ever have to kill an innocent animal.”

  She lifted her head, and a pair of swollen eyes stared back. “What would be the point? I’d still be just as guilty, letting someone else do my dirty work.”

  Weegel drummed his fingers against his knees. “You’d also have to rely entirely on me for your survival. If anything happened to me, touch wood,” he knocked one of his horns, “then... you’d starve.”

  Ivy threw her head back on the pillow. “I’m useless.”

  “No... you’re not useless. Just... gentle. The world needs more people like you. Too bad the majority are, well, like me — cold-hearted.”

  She rolled onto her side and faced him. “You’re not cold-hearted.”

  “Well, you’re the first person to say that.”

  Ivy gazed down at the sheets, and sadness glazed her eyes.

  Another second ticked by. Weegel took in her skinny frame. Her face was a little gaunt, and her skin and hair had dulled slightly. He could always take her to the Eastern Market. A two-day trip, but it would be worth it to see her looking healthy again. They still had time before the snow came in.

  “Tomorrow, I’ll take you east,” he said. “There’s a market where you can stock up on all the rations you need. People travel far and wide just to sell there. You can even take your pick from an exotic selection of fruits.”

  He forced a toothy smile, and Ivy stared confused. “Erm... thank you...”

  “Then it’s settled. We go east. You may want to get yourself a good night’s sleep. We’ll be having a four o’clock start.”

  He got up and left the room, stifling a laugh. The shocked look on Ivy’s face would be forever ingrained in his mind.

  16. Ivora

  Ivora woke to a pair of bright yellow eyes the next morning. She screamed, throwing the quilts over her head, but then the sheets were pulled back, and Weegel’s angry face appeared.

  “When you’re done screaming, you can make a start on getting ready. We leave in twenty minutes.”

  Heart pounding, she rubbed her eyes and stared around. “What time is it?”

  “Too early.”

  She groaned and pulled the sheets back over her head. “Can’t I have five more minutes?”

  “No, we have a long day ahead of us. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

  “But it’s too cold.”

  “Well, tough. You want food for winter, you get out of bed.”

  “Ugh, fine.” She tossed the quilts aside and stepped out of bed. Weegel waited in the corner.

  “Well, I can’t get ready with you standing there, can I?” she said.

  His cheeks turned bright red, and he scurried out of the room. “I’ll... just be outside.”

  She rolled her eyes and removed her nightdress. A blast of cold air hit her skin, and she shivered, feeling every hair on her body rise on end. It was like living on a glacier.

  She slipped on a simple cotton dress and tied up the bodice with shaking fingers.

  Feet shuffled outside. “I... erm... think I’ll wait down by the tunnel instead.”

  Ivora jumped at the sound of Weegel’s voice and sighed. “If you must.”

  “You... may want to reposition the lamp slightly. It’s casting your shadow across the wall.”

  Ivora turned. Her lengthened shadow danced along the far wall, and she shrieked, covering her exposed chest. “Weegel! Go! Now!”

  He scampered off down the tunnel, tripping several times until his footsteps faded.

  Outraged, she finished tying up her bodice, then threw on her cloak and a pair of boots, and stomped down the mountain.

  She found him at the bottom, staring out at the snow. Light flurries fell from the sky, silent and peaceful, but they weren’t enough to pacify her rage.

  Fierce breaths escaped her nostrils, and Weegel turned. “Oh... you’re finally ready.”

  She ground her teeth. “Are you really going to pretend as if nothing happened?”

  His face glistened with sweat. “You’ve... you’ve lost me now, c-cottage pie...”

  “You watched me undress!”

  He threw his head back, laughing as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world, and dashed out the cave.

  The blood flushed hot through her veins as she followed him out into the snow. Ice covered the slope, and she lost her footing several times, only to regain her balance by holding her arms out.

  The moon cast a bluish glow along the mountainside, creating glittering sparks everywhere, and she smiled to herself.

  Maybe the day wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  THEY REACHED THEIR destination, a long stretch of road littered with blue and purple stone.

  Ivora sat on a nearby log and tore off her boots. Three hours of endless evergreen forest, rocky trenches, and sore, blistered toes. The Eastern Market couldn’t come sooner.

  “Who said you could sit?”

  She looked up. Weegel wore a stupid grin on his face.

  “No one,” she told him.

  His smile widened. “Get up. We’re not done just yet.”

  “My feet are sore.”

  He bent down, and his yellow eyes hovered before her. “Well, I did tell you to break those boots in, but you didn’t listen to me, did you?”

  She narrowed her eyes. He was right, but she wasn’t going to let him know that.

  “So how are we going to get to this Eastern Market?” she asked.

  Weegel unfurled his map and leaned over her shoulder so she could see. “Here’s the mountain, right in the middle of the lion’s head. Over here,” he moved his finger along to three peninsulas to the eastern shore, “is where we need to go. The lion’s mane or strands. That’s the Eastern Market.”

  Ivora yanked the map from his hands, and her heart rose to her throat. “We’re... going to sea?”

  “Of course.”

  The forest swirled about her, and she took in deep breaths. An image of her seaside mural rushed to mind, and her heart raced. Only now she was going to see the real thing.

  Weegel watched her with interest, a small smile curling his lips. “You’ve never been to sea, have you?”

  She nodded, her heart still racing. A month had passed since she’d seen her parents. Her birthday had come and gone, and all hopes of seeing the ocean had vanished.

  “My... parents were going to take me for my birthday,” she whispered.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you were hoping to see the ocean today?”

  “Yes.”

  “I... hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the road only reaches the main gate of the city. The strands are surrounded by a hundred mile wall. The king has men stationed every ten miles. So you won’t be seeing any blue today, I’m afraid.”

  Ivora’s heart sank, and she closed her eyes. She thought it was too good to be true.

  “I just didn’t want you to get your hopes up,” he said.

  “It’s... all right,” she replied. “At least I’ll still be able to smell the sea air.”

  Weegel opened his mouth to speak, but then he closed it again. He gave her one last sorry look and moved off down the road to investigate a tree.

  Ivora watched him curiously. He rubbed his hand up and down the bark and pulled
out an axe.

  Alarmed, she scrambled to her feet. “And what on earth are you going to do with that?”

  Weegel ran a finger along the axe’s sharp edge. “Chop, of course.”

  She folded her arms. “Chop what?”

  A maddened gleam invaded his eyes, and he swung the axe towards the tree.

  Ivora jumped as the axe ploughed into the bark, scattering pine needles everywhere. She covered her head and watched as he withdrew the axe back and forth.

  His arms were surprisingly strong.

  “What are you cutting that tree for?” she asked.

  Weegel stopped, panting and sweating. “Why? Did you want to say a few words before I chopped it down?”

  “No. I just don’t understand what this has to do with getting us to the strands.”

  He grinned. “You’ll see.”

  With a last swing of the axe, the tree started to fall. It landed in the middle of the road, forming an obstacle.

  Ivora shook her head. “Of course. You’re going to steal a cart off a poor, unsuspecting citizen. The tree’s merely a diversion. Classic.”

  Weegel’s chest heaved as mist escaped his nostrils. “Always thinking the worst of me. Classic."

  She sighed. “Now what?”

  “We wait.”

  Ivora buried her head in her hands, unable to process what she was about to do. Mother and Father would be so proud to know she was taking part in a road heist.

  Weegel positioned himself behind a tree and looked to Ivora to do the same. She took up her place beside him, and they waited.

  An hour passed. Snow dripped under the sun, creating music all around. It was surprisingly hot. Ivora wiped the sweat off her forehead and turned to Weegel.

  Sweat beaded his face too, but otherwise, he seemed cool and relaxed. His eyes were closed in concentration as if he were listening to the sounds of the forest. Water dripped from the branches above, and down the centre of his face.

  Ivora leaned her head back against the tree, hoping for a few drops of snow.

  Weegel tensed beside her, and she looked his way.

  “They’re coming,” he whispered.

  A chill swept through the forest, and all the heat left her body.

  Shouts echoed up the road, and Ivora’s heart beat faster. A horse whinnied, and then the voices grew more pronounced.

  They rounded the bend. There were at least seven or eight men, pulling carts filled with goods. Their cheerful laughter echoed off the trees, a foreign sound after spending so many weeks in the cold, barren north.

  Weegel counted down the seconds until they arrived, and when the first man stopped, his mouth curved into his infamous sneer.

  He looked her way, satisfied.

  Ivora felt nothing but disgust for him then. Having fallen victim to his heartless thievery before, she couldn’t help but sympathise with the men below.

  “What’s goin’ on? Why’ve ya stopped?” a man called up.

  She covered her ears, unable to listen.

  “There’s a bloody big log on the road!”

  “How we suppose to get to the market now?”

  “We move it, of course. Come on, lads!”

  All the riders got off their carts and huddled around the log. Shouts of, “You over there,” and “No, don’t lift it yet,” and then “Ow, me toe!” rang throughout the woods.

  Weegel tapped Ivora’s shoulder, and she met his eyes.

  “Come,” he said.

  “No, I... I can’t.”

  He leaned closer until his face was all she could see. “Trust me.”

  It must have been a look in his honey-toned eyes because Ivora rose to her feet and followed him to the furthest cart.

  Weegel approached the pony, a small brown beauty with a blond mane. “Hello.”

  The pony tensed, trying to pull free from its fastenings. Weegel sighed and looked to Ivora. “Well, work your magic.”

  Ivora inspected the pony. Its ears swivelled back and forth as Weegel moved behind it. The poor thing pawed at the ground, its eyes wild and fierce.

  “Ivy, now, before it alerts its rider!”

  She reached out to stroke the pony’s head and spoke softly into its ear. It relaxed, and for a moment it reminded her of Belle, and of all the times she used to stroke her mane, too.

  “Well, get under.”

  Ivora turned.

  He’d unfastened the canvas at the back of the cart. Apples piled beneath as she stared, confused. “But... I thought you were—?”

  “Inside, quick!”

  Ivora looked to the men. They finally figured out how to lift the log, and without a second thought, she climbed into the cart. She winced as apples dug into her ribs.

  Weegel followed in after and re-fastened the canvas.

  “I’m really not comfortable,” she said.

  He glanced her way. The dim light made his eyes glow like torches. “You’re supposed to hide under the apples.”

  “Under?”

  “The guards check every cart upon entry into the city. If we hide, all they’ll see is apples.”

  He buried himself under the apples, leaving only his face exposed. Next, he rolled the apples over his head, and he disappeared completely.

  Ivora followed his example, and apples poked every part of her body now, but they did smell delicious. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t even had breakfast yet.

  Weegel’s head popped up beside her, a juicy red apple in his mouth. He held one out to her.

  “Apple?” he muttered, his mouth full of juice.

  She stared at the apple, mouth slavering. Never before had she seen one so round.

  He waved the apple under her nose, and she snatched it from his hand. “You really are a bad influence on me.”

  She bit into the apple, and sweet juice filled her mouth. Heaven.

  Weegel vanished again as the cart lurched forward.

  Ivora’s heart thumped. They were off.

  DISTANT VOICES FILLED the night air. Ivora held her breath.

  They’d been travelling all day. She’d hoped to get some shuteye, but with the constant lurching of the cart, it made sleep impossible.

  Weegel lay silent beside her. Not once had he made a sound. Ivora, on the other hand, was terrified. Every time the man stopped, she prayed he would not look inside, and her wishes were granted.

  Rather foolish of the man not to check, but who would expect to find a girl and a worcog hidden amongst their apples?

  The voices picked up. Ivora turned uncomfortably, numb from all the apples digging into her muscles.

  She wouldn’t be able to feel her legs for days.

  The cart wheeled to a halt, and Ivora’s heart tapped against her chest.

  Had they reached the strands?

  Someone started to unfasten the canvas, and her mouth dried.

  The canvas pulled back, and a light washed over the cart. A veiled man appeared, dressed in shining black armour. A torch flickered on a wall behind him, outlining the seal of a hawk on his breastplate. Ivora swallowed. Its bright silver eye regarded her coolly, and it reminded her of the hawk she met in the woods when she first left home; it had stared at her with a similar silver eye.

  The wolf had the same silver eyes, and she shuddered.

  Was there a connection between the two animals?

  She mirrored Weegel beside her and thanked the gods it was dark. If it had been daylight, the guard may have seen them.

  The guard threw the canvas back over the cart and urged the driver onward.

  “Lift the gate!”

  Ivora released a sigh. They were safe.

  A gate screeched upwards, and the cart rolled forward. Everything turned dark once again as they passed beneath what sounded like a tunnel, and then hundreds of voices reached her ears. Ivora’s stomach squirmed. The streets of the strands sounded ten times worse than Chars-town.

  The cart came to a stop, and a strong odour found her nose. It smelled as if they’d stopped by
a tavern.

  “Get ready to run,” Weegel said.

  Her insides tightened. “All right.”

  Weegel popped up and unfastened the canvas. “Run.”

  He disappeared off the side of the cart. Alarmed, she moved out after him, climbing clumsily over a pile of apples, and jumped out onto the street.

  Weegel clasped her hand and dragged her towards an alley.

  “Stop ‘em! Apple thieves!”

  Ivora looked back. The rider of the cart was coming out of the tavern, pushing other punters aside to reach his cart. “Thieves!”

  They dashed down the backstreets of the city, startling poor cats at every turn. In one alley a large white bird took flight, and Ivora gasped as it almost hit her head.

  After a few more twists and bends they stopped before an abandoned door. Weegel peered through the boarded-up window and pushed his way through the door.

  Rats and mice scurried away when moonlight fell across the room. Damp and mould covered the walls, but they had nothing on the smell.

  Weegel shut the door, and darkness swallowed up the room again.

  Ivora panicked. “Weegel?”

  “I’m here.”

  He stepped up beside her. Only his outline was visible, but when her eyes adjusted, she relaxed.

  “Sit by the window if it makes you feel better,” he said.

  Ivora moved to the window and stared at the sky through a slit in the board. More of those white birds hovered in the distance, releasing funny cackles.

  Her heart skipped. “Seagulls.”

  Weegel appeared with a bundle of blankets. “Yes. They tend to live by the sea. Also the fact they’re the biggest scavengers known to bird kind. Where there are people, there are seagulls.”

  He passed her a blanket. It was ragged and covered in cobwebs, but she was grateful for the offering.

  She gazed back up at the white birds and sighed. “I can’t believe I’m this close to the ocean, and I can’t even see it.”

  Weegel’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I understand. Too many guards after all. You don’t want to risk being caught.”

  A seagull cackled in the sky, a mocking sound, and she pulled her knees up to her chin.

  Weegel sat down beside her. A slit of moonlight displayed his reassuring smile. The rest of his face was hidden by shadow. “Look on the bright side. At least you’ll be able to purchase all the goods you want tomorrow.”