by Joel Ross
“He’s awake!” Roz said, from a hundred miles away. “He’s awake, he’s alive!”
Ooooaaah, the groaner replied.
Sally’s fuzzy snout appeared. She looked at Ji with her big, adorable eyes and burst into tears. Which didn’t make sense. Sally never cried.
Ooooaaah, the groaner said.
“Dragons heal,” Roz rumbled, like a prayer. “Dragons heal.”
Oooh, the groaner agreed.
“Stupid boy.” Sally pressed her furry forehead against Ji’s lumpy horns. “Jumping in front of a kumiho.”
“You can’t blame dirt for being heavy,” Chibo said.
Trickles of water glinted with torchlight. A droplet trembled, and Ji trembled too. Shivering and sweating at the same time. The groaner started up again, making a noise like a depressed cow—and Ji realized it was him groaning.
When his sad mooing quieted, he heard voices: Roz’s rumble, Sally’s growl, and Chibo’s fluting. And Nin’s mind-speak: We like shroomfood. It’s not tastybeet, though.
“It’s not tastyrice, either,” Chibo said.
“You’re ant lions, Nin,” Sally said. “Of course you don’t mind mushrooms for the tenth meal in a row.”
“I’m grateful they’re feeding us at all,” Roz said. “Especially considering how unlike the other goblins they are.”
“Unlike?” Sally said. “You mean ‘unfriendly.’”
“They’re not that bad,” Chibo fluted. “At least they’re leading us to the ogres.”
“Yes, that is quite magnanimous of them,” Roz said.
Magnanimous? A fiery rodent?
“No, Nin, you doolally insects,” Sally said. “She doesn’t mean they’re a fiery rodent.”
Magnanimous, Nin said. Magma plus mouse.
Ji blinked at the spiraling designs covering the rock wall in front of him. To his right a lantern illuminated the backpack full of Nin’s ant lions. Roz sat on the ground with her legs tucked to one side, picking at a bowl of soggy leaves. Chibo hugged his knees, four wing tips peeking from his hunchback, and one of Sally’s ears was notched—a cut from a kumiho’s claw.
Sneakyji! An ant lion crept onto Ji’s nose. Cub’s awake! They’re awake, she’s awake!
“He’s awake,” Sally said, a smile splitting her muzzle.
That too! All of them are awake—sillybeet humans!
Sally gave Ji a fierce and fuzzy hug. “Stupid boot boy.”
“What—” he croaked. “Where?”
Roz took his hand. “We reached the goblin pen. We closed the gate—”
“You closed the gate,” Chibo told her. “I mostly fainted.”
“We all did, except Roz,” Sally said. “Well, and Nin.”
“Taking us to oogers?” Ji asked, his voice not quite working. “Orges?”
Roz nodded. “The goblins are leading us to the mountains.”
“That’s where ogres come from!” Chibo fluted, as Ji closed his eyes again.
And barelyrarely leave, Nin said with a note of sadness.
“Shh,” Roz said. “He’s falling back asleep.”
Ji smiled softly, wrapped in a blanket of satisfaction. They’d done it. They’d escaped the kumiho and knights, and were on the way to the Ogrelands to find the Ice Witch. To break the spell at last.
The shamoon say we invaded the human realm long ago, Nin continued, in a muffled sort of mind-speak, to seize more hillfoots and—
“Why?” Chibo whispered to a couple of ant lions carrying dead pill bugs toward the backpack. “Why’d you need more hills?”
Greedy! Greedy ogres! We lost and humans trapsnared us behind the Gravewoods. We cannot freewander, so now only a few of us are left.
Ji didn’t know what Nin was talking about, but that was nothing new. He didn’t understand Nin half the time even when he wasn’t falling asleep.
“That’s why ogres are attacking the Summer Realm?” Sally purred softly. “To get the foothills back?”
Yes. We must backgrab them and stop the evilqueen. You are puresure she is strong again, Missroz?
Sleep swirled around Ji. They were in the goblin tunnels heading for the Ogrelands, he understood that. Something else still nagged at him, though. Something about stealing fire from treasure—emerald, amethyst, malachite—or reshaping souls. He couldn’t quite remember. Had he dreamed of being a full-blooded dragon? Yes. Yes, a dragon who didn’t only fuel his fire with gemstones but fueled his magic with people’s souls.
The darkness swam with the scent of sapphires and rubies, beryl and citrine. . . .
The next time Ji woke, a tunnel wall was sliding past his face and he was wrapped in a cocoon.
No, not a cocoon: a curtain. A threadbare, filthy curtain. Three ant lions untangled themselves from his hair and waggled antennae at him.
Cub’s awake! Nin announced, then told Ji, We’ve been peekseeing you, Sneakyji!
“Muh,” Ji said, which meant, “Good morning.”
You’re the fifth cutemost sleeper we ever peeked!
“Guh,” Ji said, which meant, “I bet Sally’s the top four.”
We don’t really sleep. We dream, though. Did you dream? Are you feeling happystronger? Sallynx drips squeezewater into your mouth for you to lickswallow, and . . .
As Nin nattered on, a shape came into focus: Roz was marching in front of Ji, holding the edges of the curtain.
She smiled over her shoulder. “Good morning!”
Oh. The curtain was a stretcher! He was being carried in a stretcher made of cloth. Ji tilted his head to see who was holding the other side—and almost screamed.
Goblins were ugly enough from a distance, but only one foot away and carrying your stretcher? They were terrifying. They had beady eyes, wrinkly skin, and teeth like beavers. And two pairs of arms: one short, muscular pair with shovel-claws and one spindly pair that sprouted from their bellies.
“Yaa-hi!” He changed his half scream into a greeting. “Hi there! Hello!”
The goblins didn’t answer. Which was weird. Goblins prided themselves on having excellent manners.
Ji cleared his throat. “It’s good to meet you.”
The goblins trooped grimly ahead, not even glancing at him.
“To meet Kultultul again, I mean,” Ji continued, hoping that using the goblin word for “goblins” might help. “We have goblin friends in the city. I know one who collects combs. For a shrine? Very pretty—”
One of the goblins chuffed dismissively.
“Our new friends,” Roz told Ji, in a brittle sort of voice, “prefer extremely . . . distinct shrines.”
Distinctly lumpyboring, Nin said.
Ji peered at the tunnel wall, expecting tidy niches packed with ribbons or feathers or pebbles. Instead, he saw a hole containing what looked like a single misshapen potato.
“What a beautiful shrine!” he lied.
The goblins gargled and scowled.
“Our new ‘friends,’” Sally said, prowling closer, “are full of awe.”
They are awful! Sallynx means they are awful!
“They care,” Roz said with a polite smile, “about more than beauty.”
“They do?” Ji asked. “I mean, that’s good! Nothing’s more important than politeness, after all.”
The goblins glared at him with beady eyes. Sheesh. He must be in pretty bad shape if even goblins saw though his lies.
“Er”—Ji looked at Roz—“how long have I been sleeping?”
“Three days.”
“What?”
“Almost four.” Chibo ambled beside the stretcher, his glowing wings brushing both sides of the tunnel. “You had a fever most of the time.”
“You’re extremely fortunate,” Roz said. “Nothing survives kumiho venom. Except, apparently, half dragons.”
“You’re a lucky lizard,” Sally said.
Resilient reptile!
“Sturdy snake,” Chibo said.
An ant lion on the stretcher shook its mane. Gutsy gecko!
“Sorry,” he said.
“You also saved Sally’s life.”
He snorted. “She’d saved mine two seconds earlier.”
“That’s what I keep telling them,” Sally growled.
“How long before we reach the ogre mountains?”
“Another few days, I think,” Roz rumbled. “I’m not sure. Our new friends are . . .”
Scowl-eyed and closemouthed, Nin said, and Ji was glad once again that nobody could hear Nin’s mind-speak except the five of them.
“. . . quiet and thoughtful,” Roz finished, with a nod to a nearby goblin.
Missroz told us to drop eaves on them when they don’t know we’re listening—
“Drop what?”
Eaves. To listen.
Oh, eavesdrop! “Any luck?”
No. They talk in Goblish, which we don’t standunder.
“Yes!” Roz glanced warningly at the goblins. “Yes, we’re very lucky. They offered to help us. They are eka-stremely ka-ind.”
Sally snorted. “Extremely.”
“Not really,” Chibo whispered to Ji. “Not this bunch. But they’re bringing us to the Ogrelands anyway. We don’t know why.”
The rocking stretcher lulled Ji. He drowsed for hours, rousing occasionally to watch the goblins and sleepily feel the tug of distant gemstones through the tunnel walls. His dragonsenses probed the ground more powerfully than ever. Maybe because he’d lost another chunk of humanity, or maybe because he was underground. Maybe both.
He didn’t wake fully until the goblins stopped to sleep in a cavern with rows of wall shrines. In the torch-lit darkness, he gazed at the misshapen pink potato shapes in the niches. If only they were real potatoes: roasted, boiled, mashed. The thought made his mouth water. He wolfed down a few slimy mushrooms instead, and eyed the goblins across the cavern. Two of them squatted a few feet apart, pushing rocks back and forth on the ground with all four hands.
“What’re they doing?” Ji asked.
“Playing Seven Pebbles,” Roz told him.
“What’s that?”
“A goblin game—but don’t call it a game!”
“When I did,” Sally growled, “they looked like they wanted to gnaw my head off.”
“They claim Seven Pebbles is a contest of pure skill,” Roz told Ji. “A subtle, strategic competition, not a game.”
“Huh,” Ji said around a mouthful of mushroom.
The rules make nonsense, Nin said. It’s a rumblejumble of doolallyness.
“Look who’s talking,” Sally said. “The Kingqueen of Rumblejumb.”
Ant lions climbed the stalagmites to act as sentries, while Ji peered at the goblins. A burly one glowered at Roz, while smaller ones snuck glances at Sally and Chibo. Ji didn’t know much about Kultultul—except that “Kultultul” actually meant “the People,” which was what the goblins called themselves—but he recognized furtive looks and ill-concealed hostility.
Something was wrong.
After most of the goblins fell asleep, Ji finally got up from his stretcher. He held Roz’s rock-hard elbow and walked around the cavern to build his strength. The snakebite throbbed on his shoulder, and he flinched every time he touched it.
So of course he kept touching it.
On his third lap, he murmured, “I don’t trust these goblins.”
“Neither do I,” Roz rumbled. “But how else can we reach the Ogrelands without being seen?”
“There’s no way.” Ji rubbed his aching shoulder. “I need gemstones so I can shoot fire if anything happens.”
“Can you sense any nearby?” Roz asked.
“Just barely. Gems come from underground, right?”
“Of course!”
“Yeah. I thought so.” He leaned more weight on her. “I’ll keep sniffing for them. If I find any, we’ll need Nin—”
We’re right here! Nin said, and an ant lion peeked around Roz’s horn.
“—and Sally to dig them up.”
“Without being seen,” Roz murmured, casting a worried glance toward the goblins.
Ji managed two more laps before flopping down beside Sally. They chatted for a while; then Ji groped with his mind for any trace of gemstones. No luck. But when Chibo and Roz started snoring, he smiled. Sure, they still needed to reach the Ogrelands and find the Ice Witch—and convince her to break the spell—but at least they were alive.
“Stop scratching,” Sally whispered.
Ji dropped his hand from his snakebite. “It itches.”
“That’s what happens when you get chomped by a demon-snake.”
“Yeah.” He looked at the stalactites overhead. “I wonder how far underground we are.”
Sally’s ears drooped. “I’m not thinking about that.”
“At least we’re safe,” he said. “We’ll reach the Ogrelands soon, and find the Ice Witch.”
“How?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Maybe the ogres know where she is.”
“Nin doesn’t,” Sally said. “And these goblins are bad news.”
“Well . . .” Ji lowered his voice. “I’ll keep sniffing for gems, just in case.”
Sally twitched a tufted ear. “The knights think you’re the Winter Snake.”
“That’s doolally.”
“Is it?”
“Of course it is.”
“Don’t you want to be the Winter Snake?”
“What are you talking about? Do I want to be an evil serpent that eats babies? No, Sally—I’ll stick with tamales, you jerk.”
Her ears flattened. “It’s different for you.”
“What is?”
“All this.” Her tail lashed in the firelight. “You still look almost human. I’m turning into an animal.” She looked away. “I keep catching myself walking on all fours like a dog. I won’t stay human much longer. And Chibo’s eyes are big as grapefruits and he’s got two sets of wings. Nin’s a bunch of bugs and Roz is . . . She cries in her sleep.”
Ji looked toward Roz, her broad shoulders rising and falling with her breath. “She does?”
“You didn’t notice?”
“I—” Ji swallowed. “No.”
“Chibo doesn’t even boast about flying anymore. He’s sick of being this way. We all are.”
“That’s why we’re looking for the Ice Witch—so she can change us back to humans once and for all.”
“Except you! You’re not sick of it. You don’t care! You’re happy like this.”
He peered at her. “Is that why you’re mad at me?”
“No!” She shrugged. “Maybe.”
“You’re mad because my face didn’t change much?”
“That should make you mad.”
“Ha ha.”
“Because you’ve still got the same dork face.”
“Yeah, I get it, Sally.” He scratched his snakebite. “You’re mad that I’m not furry or troll-y.”
“Plus, you don’t care about being human.”
“Of course I care!”
“Stop scratching.”
He dropped his hand. “I’m trying break the spell, Sal. What else am I supposed to do?”
“You’re supposed to hate it! Look at your chicken feet!”
He peered at the scales covering his ankles and toes. “Huh. They do look a little like chicken feet. I bet I’d taste delicious in pepper sauce.”
“Shut up,” she grumbled. “You don’t have to sound like you’re okay with it. That’s exactly the problem.”
“We’re going to find the Ice Witch,” he told her. “We’re going to break the spell. I won’t have chicken feet forever, and you won’t have big cute eyes and fluffy ears—”
“I’m serious,” she said, glaring at him.
A flare of anger warmed Ji’s cheeks. “You think I want to be a lizard? All I want is to be free. We escaped Primstone Manor, we escaped the queen, and for what? Look at us. We’re trapp
ed inside our own skin.” He raised one scaly hand. “How do we get free of this? We’re freaks, we’re monsters. If we show our faces, we make children cry and fisherfolk scream. I hate this, Sally, but what else am I supposed to do? We have to keep heading for the Ice Witch, because that’s the only way we’ll ever get our lives back.”
When he stopped talking, the silence felt deep. His breath came fast and hard, like he’d been running. Of course he didn’t want to stay a beast forever. How could he live as a half reptile? How could anyone?
“That’s better,” Sally said.
“I’m glad you’re happy that I’m sad,” he grumbled.
“You’re not that sad.” She rolled away from him. “You don’t even get burrs in your tail.”
14
THE NEXT MORNING, Sally wasn’t angry anymore. Maybe she’d just needed to snap at him. Even better, he didn’t need the stretcher anymore. He trudged along, still weak, but able to stay on his feet.
The tunnels stretched for endless miles. Shrines with pink potato shapes appeared regularly, but everything else changed. Straight tunnels wiggled into crazy curves. Walls rose, then fell; the stone floor felt smooth, then rocky—then dry, then wet.
And Ji felt the tug of gemstones calling him. So softly that he barely noticed it at first. But as the hours passed, he probed deeper into the rock, stretching his dragonsenses farther and farther—yet he still couldn’t pinpoint any gems.
“They’re too far away,” he grumbled. “I can only feel ten feet through the dirt.”
“Keep trying,” Roz said.
Ji stumbled past underground waterfalls, pushing his dragonhunger deeper into the earth. Mushroom-covered walls rose around him and glowing fish splashed in chilly pools. He barely saw them, his attention burrowing through the surrounding rock until he felt the sharp tug of jade.
“Oh!”
Roz glanced at him. “A gem?”
“Jade.” He nodded at the tunnel wall. “Fifteen feet through there.”