Ben looked down at the glove. Even in the darkness it seemed to shine. “But … it’s my gauntlet.”
This time it was Mr Nuttendudge who stopped. He turned to Ben and shrugged. “Then keep it. Do as you wish.” He leaned in closer and his wide eyes narrowed. “But it is your only hope. Without the circle, without my help, this … here…” He gestured at the forest around him. “This is home. Goonderslarg is where you will spend the remainder of your days.”
“I don’t fancy that,” said Wesley.
Paradise looked at the glove, then up at Ben. “We don’t have any choice, Ben,” she said. “We can’t stay here.”
They all trudged on, leaving Ben behind. He flexed his fingers inside the glove. It was the most magical thing Uncle Tavish had ever seen. It was one of the very few connections he had to his parents.
And he was going to lose it. Forever.
Ben pushed through the trees and caught up with Mr Nuttendudge and the others at a point where the trees came to an abrupt stop. The tangle of grass and weeds became dry, barren sand. A wide desert stretched off into the distance, until it eventually met a load of angry-looking mountains coming the other way.
About the length of a good stone’s throw away stood nine tall rocks, positioned in a circle. Mr Nuttendudge set off towards them and the children followed quickly behind.
Overhead, an oblong-shaped sun beamed down at them, and by the time they reached the stones they were all slick with sweat.
“Here we are, here we are,” breathed Mr Nuttendudge. He gestured for Wesley and Paradise to step into the stone circle, then held out a hand to Ben. “The gauntlet. Hurry. There isn’t much time. Your wizard friend may explode at any moment.”
“What?” spluttered Wesley. “No one told me this!”
Paradise pulled him into the space between the stones, explaining as they went. The air around the circle gave a shimmer as they stepped through.
Ben peered down at his gauntlet and was surprised to find tears misting his eyes. He had got his friends into this, and if giving up his most prized possession was the only way to get them back out of it … well then, he had no choice.
“Give me the glove, boy,” said Mr Nuttendudge. Ben blinked. The goblin was shifting nervously from foot to foot. His gaze darted hungrily from Ben’s face to the gauntlet and back again. “Give it to me. Now.”
Slowly, Ben took a step back. “I don’t think I want to,” he said. There was something about Mr Nuttendudge’s expression that made him uneasy.
“Ben, look out!”
Paradise’s warning came just in time. Ben spun, ducked and rolled, and barely avoided the swiping leg of the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing.
“Not yet, not yet!” wailed Mr Nuttendudge. “The glove, he hasn’t given me the glove!”
Ben backed away from the ghoul-thing. “You set us up,” he said, stabbing a finger towards Mr Nuttendudge. “You lured us here. Why?”
Wesley and Paradise raced over to join Ben, but as they reached the edge of the stone circle the air in front of them turned solid, forcing them back. Paradise hammered on the invisible barrier but they were trapped.
“Perhaps I can answer that,” boomed a voice from within the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing’s cloak. An armour-clad leg emerged, then Lord Scarrabus was unfolding himself from the swirling portal within the cape.
The demon-lord drew himself up to his full height, put his hands in the small of his back and straightened his spine with a crick. “Oh, that’s better,” he groaned. “That cape is such an uncomfortable way to travel.”
Ben looked back at Mr Nuttendudge. The goblin was down on one knee, his head lowered. “A thousand welcomes, Lord Scarrabus,” he said. “My worthless existence is made all the more bearable by your presence.”
“As you were, goblin,” Scarrabus sighed.
“You betrayed us,” snapped Ben.
Mr Nuttendudge blinked his wide eyes.
“Of course. The servant of Scarrabus and I are old friends. I arranged all this while you made your escape from my house. You’d only just met me. Whatever made you think I’d be trustworthy?” He opened and closed his big hands like they were flashing lights. “Stranger danger, stranger danger! Never trust a goblin you don’t know.” He thought about this for a moment. “Or one you do know. We’re not to be trusted generally.”
“Good work, Mr Nutty … thing.”
“Nuttendudge.”
“Whatever,” said Scarrabus. “Bringing the children here was a stroke of genius.”
“Why?” asked Ben.
Scarrabus smirked.
“Because back at my castle I was merely going to imprison you,” he said. “Here, I can use you.”
“Use us?” asked Paradise.
“Use us f-for what?” Wesley stuttered.
“To tear open the dimensions. To rip asunder the very fabric of reality. To allow me access to your insignificant little world where everyone you have ever known will – at last – bear witness to a true Feast of Scarrabus.”
“Yes! Yes!” sniggered Mr Nuttendudge.
Ben looked at the grinning Scarrabus and saw madness flash behind the demon-lord’s eyes.
“It’s going to be Hell on Earth!”
For a few long moments, nobody spoke. The silence was eventually broken by Lord Scarrabus letting out a surprisingly high-pitched giggle.
“Sorry, I can’t do it. Your faces! You should see your faces!”
“What?” said Ben. “What are you on about?”
“I’m not actually going to do those things, obviously,” said Scarrabus.
“You’re not?” said Paradise and Mr Nuttendudge at the same time.
“Why?” asked Ben, confused.
Inside the circle, Wesley threw up his hands in despair. “Well, don’t make him think about it,” he groaned. “He might change his mind again.”
“Relax,” laughed Scarrabus. “I was winding you up. I’m teasing. I’m not really going to tear open dimensions or that stuff. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“I would,” said Mr Nuttendudge under his breath. His wide eyes darted to Ben’s gauntlet.
“But, but … you’re evil,” said Ben. “Aren’t you?”
Scarrabus shrugged. “Well, I’m definitely mean. Aren’t I?” He turned to the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing, who continued to stare eerily back. “Yeah, I’m definitely pretty mean, but I’m not evil as such. I was never going to hurt you really. This was all just a prank. It’s what the feast is about. You leave a treat or you get tricked.” Scarrabus laughed. “And I tricked you good!”
“A prank?” snapped Paradise. “You call this a prank?”
“I wasn’t the one who jumped out of the window on the back of a dragon, love,” Scarrabus reminded her. “If it had been up to me you’d have been home ages ago. Why do you think I had your clothes brought through? If I was going to keep you prisoner would I really have tried to make you more comfortable?”
He gestured towards the ghoul-thing. “Now, come on, let’s get you home. You’ve had enough adventure for one night.”
“I second that,” said Wesley.
The Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing didn’t move.
“Come on, open the cape,” Scarrabus commanded. “Send them back.”
“Please,” added Wesley.
The ghoul-thing’s eyes darkened. Its cloak stayed firmly closed.
“Ah yes, how silly of me. Now I remember,” sniggered Mr Nuttendudge. “This was the second part of my plan. My friend here is sick of being bossed around by the great and terrible Lord Scarrabus. We’ve been looking for a way to get rid of you for years.”
With a flying grab, the goblin caught hold of Ben’s gauntlet and tugged. Ben yelped in surprise as the glove slipped off and Mr Nuttendudge scurried with it out of reach.
“And now we have one,” Nuttendudge cried.
“Give that back,” Ben barked, making a dive for the little goblin. Mr Nuttendudge’s mouth moved as he muttered an incantation. The
glove flashed purple and Ben was sent flailing backwards through the air. He slammed hard against one of the standing stones and landed in a crumpled pile on the sand.
By the time he got to his feet, all nine stones were lit up with the same purple glow. A bubble of indigo light was forming in the air above the circle. Paradise and Wesley backed away towards the centre.
Mr Nuttendudge squashed his oversized hand inside the gauntlet and his eyes lit up a violent shade of violet.
“That’s enough, goblin,” barked Scarrabus, stomping towards Mr Nuttendudge. The Luck Goblin muttered another enchantment. There was a flash and a pop and Scarrabus’s golden armour fell to the ground as the demon-lord disappeared.
A moment later, a plump white rabbit hopped out from within the armour and blinked its glassy eyes in surprise.
“That was quite impressive,” Wesley was forced to admit.
“There’s more than one wizard around here,” said Mr Nuttendudge.
“Why are you doing this?” Ben demanded.
The goblin’s face twisted in rage. “Because I’m sick of it. Fed up. Taken all I can stand, and I can’t stand no more. Five long decades living in Goonderslarg with only monsters and bad luck for company. Five long decades stuck in a Monstrous Realm while you and all the other humans party it up in the dimension next door. It’s not fair!”
He placed his bare hand against the closest stone. The energy bubble glowed brighter and Wesley screamed in pain.
“Stop it!” Paradise cried. “You’re hurting him.”
“What are you doing?” Ben demanded.
“I’m draining his magic. I’m draining every last drop.”
Ben made a run for the goblin again, but the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing caught him in its long spider arms.
“Thank you, old friend,” said Mr Nuttendudge. “Our time has come at last!”
Ben struggled against the creature’s grip but he didn’t have the strength to break free.
He glanced sideways at Wesley, who was thrashing around on the ground.
“Why are you draining him? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to crash you humans’ party,” sniggered the goblin. He raised the gauntlet above his head and lightning exploded from the fingertips. “And I’m going to bring some friends.”
Wesley cried out again as the lightning from the gauntlet became a spray of purple fire that stretched all the way up into the clouds. Far overhead, Ben heard the rumble of thunder as the clouds began to bubble and boil.
“Stop,” howled Paradise. “You’re hurting him. Stop!”
Ben wrestled against the grip of the ghoul-thing as seven holes tore open in the sky above them. Through the holes he saw thousands of dark, twisting shapes. They wriggled and fought and squirmed. It would surely be just moments before they came flooding through.
“The Monstrous Realms,” Mr Nuttendudge announced. “Ooh, aren’t they horrible!”
“Why are you bringing those things here?” asked Ben.
“Oh, I’m not. No, sir.” The goblin nodded in the direction of an eighth hole as it opened like a shutter in the sky. Through it, Ben could just make out the village of Lump. Home. It was so close and yet so impossibly far away.
“You can’t,” Ben pleaded. “You can’t send them there. They’ll destroy everything.”
Mr Nuttendudge winked. “Yes,” he said. “I know. That’s the point. They’ll swarm over there, clear it out, destroy each other, then we’ll swoop in and rule what’s left.”
Ben tore his eyes away from the portal to home. He looked at the other seven, heaving and swarming with monsters and beasts and furious demons. He looked at Wesley, still writhing on the ground as Mr Nuttendudge used Ben’s own gauntlet to bring about the end of the world.
Tears welled up at the corners of Ben’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he shouted. “Wes, Paradise … everyone. I’m sorry. This was my fault. I caused this. You’re right, I was an idiot.”
Somewhere, in an attic room in another world, metal slid against stone.
“I … I thought it was a game. I thought it was all a bit of fun.” He looked around, trying to blink back the tears. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I never meant for anyone to get hurt. I put everyone in danger. It’s all my fault.”
Above the sound of thunder there came another noise. It was a low whumming, like something spinning round and round at high speed. Mr Nuttendudge and Ben looked up, searching for the source of the sound.
Mr Nuttendudge squinted at a small black dot hurtling through the sky towards them. “What in Goonderslarg is that?” he said.
Ben’s arm moved all on its own, with a strength that caught both him and the ghoulthing by surprise. It broke the monster’s grip and stretched up high, palm open, just as the hilt of a shimmering silver sword slapped against it.
Ben’s fingers tightened around the handle. He recognised the monstrous carving on the hilt at once.
“My sword. This is my sword,” Ben whispered. His hand and the sword moved as one, swiping and swishing in a blur of speed. The ghoul-thing squealed as its spider-like legs fell to the ground.
Ben spun round. The sword flourished in a figure of eight in front of him, slicing the very air itself to pieces.
“This is my sword,” he said again, fixing Mr Nuttendudge with a stern glare. “And I am ready.”
Mr Nuttendudge muttered an incantation below his breath and a ball of green flame shot from the palm of his bare hand. Ben’s sword immediately moved to block, and the fireball ricocheted off into the sky.
“More wyrdanium!” gasped the goblin. “Give it to me. I want it. I want.”
“Come and get it,” Ben said.
Mr Nuttendudge’s face twisted in anger. He launched two more fireballs, but Ben twirled and knocked them away. The goblin was still pointing the gauntlet to the sky, but the purple energy flowing from it spluttered, then stopped. Mr Nuttendudge looked at his hand and remembered he was supposed to be draining Wesley’s magic.
The Luck Goblin reached for the stone. Ben leaped forwards, sword scything swiftly through the air.
Too late! Mr Nuttendudge’s fingers found the stone. Wesley howled once more and an eruption of purple flame exploded from the gauntlet’s fingertips.
It hit Ben full in the chest, sending him skidding backwards across the sand. He caught a glimpse of the creatures swarming within the Monstrous Realms above, then Mr Nuttendudge hit him with another bolt of concentrated magic.
Ben felt as if his body was turning inside out and his head was about to pop. He saw shadows creeping behind his eyes and realised he was going to pass out. A big part of him wanted to. Everything would stop hurting if he just gave up and fell unconscious.
But his friends were in danger, and giving up wasn’t an option.
Ben gritted his teeth. He dug the sword into the ground and leaned on the handle. Slowly, surely, fighting against the pain, Ben stood up.
“What? Impossible,” spat Mr Nuttendudge. “Stay down. I order you to stay down!”
“Not … going … to happen,” Ben grimaced. He took a faltering step towards the goblin. Then another. Then another. The pain was immense, but nothing was going to stop him getting his glove back and saving his friends.
Or so he thought.
“Behind you!” Paradise yelped, but Ben turned too late. The Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing hit him with a shoulder-barge, knocking him over and sending the sword sliding from his grip.
Keeping his hand on the magical barrier, Mr Nuttendudge hobbled closer. He sneered down at Ben. “Good try, boy,” the goblin said. “Almost had me.” He pointed the gauntlet towards Ben’s head, palm open. “But now your time is up.”
Mr Nuttendudge giggled. His eyes narrowed. His fingers spread wide.
And then, with a ping, his trousers fell down.
Instinctively, the goblin bent to pull them up, breaking his contact with the barrier. Ben swept with his foot, kicking Mr Nuttendudge’s legs
out from under him. The goblin flipped over in the air and landed on his long nose.
Ben scrabbled across the sand and grabbed for his sword, just as Mr Nuttendudge spat out a spell along with a mouthful of sand. The sword came up and deflected something Ben couldn’t even see. There was a pop and the Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing seemed to become a thousand different shapes all at the same time.
A second later, where the ghoul-thing had been, there was now a large frog in a tiny robe. It hung in the air for a moment looking really quite surprised, and then gravity took hold and it landed with a splot on the sand.
Mr Nuttendudge kicked backwards along the ground. Before Ben could reach him, he slapped a hand against another of the standing stones and grinned triumphantly.
Nothing happened. He adjusted his fingers, splaying them flat against the stone. The goblin stared at it in disbelief. “It’s not working. Why isn’t it working?”
“Like you said,” called Paradise. “There’s more than one wizard around here.”
Ben turned to see Wesley floating towards them, a metre or so above the ground. Wes giggled as he skimmed along above the sand, wobbling unsteadily. Paradise ran behind him, her little legs struggling to keep up.
“Magic,” Wesley said. “Look at me … I’m doing magic.”
“Looking good, Wes,” Ben told him.
Mr Nuttendudge scowled. “You’ll never get the gauntlet. It’s mine now. All mine!”
He held up his hand. The gauntlet was no longer there. “Oh, trollfarts,” he cursed.
“It fell off when you were talking,” said Ben, stooping to pick up the glove.
Paradise smirked. “How unlucky.”
Ben looked up at the holes in the sky above them. Shapes were now swarming through, making their way from the other Monstrous Realms into this one. Soon they’d find a way back to the human world. There was no time to lose.
Moon-Faced Ghoul-Thing Page 6