Here be Monsters

by Christopher Stasheff

  Above the fire, smoke was gathering into a ghostly form—a giant cat with huge tufted ears, each as high and wide as the creature’s head. Lying Sphinx-like in midair with its tail waving, it seemed as tall as a woman’s shoulder. Its purr was a rasp, its eyes glowing coals.

  The people froze, staring. Even Cordelia and Quicksilver felt hollow with fear, and Allouette, staring up at the spirit, had to summon up white-hot anger to counter her panic.

  The apparition opened its mouth, showing far more and far longer teeth than any true feline owned. “Do not let them stop you, Friends of Zonploka! Persevere! Continue the Taghairm! Pay no heed to the voices of cowardice!”

  “Cowardice?” Quicksilver jolted out of her trance. “Vile creature, if you were flesh and blood, you would answer to me for that insult!” Her sword flashed forth.

  Big Ears turned and grinned down at her, drops of saliva glinting in the firelight. “Eagerly will I look forward to that encounter, tender morsel.”

  “Morsel!” Quicksilver cried, outraged. “You shall find me more than you can chew, I promise you!”

  “I shall remember your promise.” Big Ears turned to the villagers. “As I will remember your treachery, if you turn away from me now. Keep on with the Taghairm, for if you do not, another village shall—and my masters, who are far more terrible than myself, will remember your perfidy and descend upon you to pillage and torture and slay!”

  The crowd moaned in terror.

  The man with the knife turned on Allouette, shouting, “See what you have done! Would you make us monsters’ meat, then?” He spun to the crowd. “Hearken not to these women and their squeamish ways! Harden your hearts to do what must be done!” He whirled, kicking one spit off the fire and catching up another. “Big Ears, come for good guesting! Our village is yours! Is it not, neighbors?”

  “It is!” the crowd answered with one single shout.

  “Big Ears, come!” the man shouted, then repeated it again and again. The crowd took it up, making it a chant: “Big Ears, come! Big Ears, come!”

  “You seal your own doom!” Allouette cried, but their voices drowned her out.

  “It wants you only for toys!” Cordelia shrieked, but even her shrilling couldn’t penetrate their chants.

  “Big Ears, come! Big Ears, come!”

  As they chanted, the giant cat grew more and more solid.

  Quicksilver turned to face it, sword in hand, bracing her mare for a charge.

  “Big Ears, come! Big Ears, come!”

  “I accept!” Big Ears yowled in triumph. It leaped down to the ground, its eyes wild and wicked, its teeth showing in a greedy grin.

  The people shouted approval—and as they were still cheering, the monster turned and pounced on the man with the knife, crying, “Learn how your cats felt!”

  The crowd screamed, some turning away sickened, some riveted to the sight in horror.

  Big Ears lifted its huge head from its gruesome meal, blood dripping from its fangs. “Fools, to host one who thirsts for your blood!”

  “But we invited you, we praised you!” one of the cat holders cried in terror. “Will you not favor us for that?”

  “Favor indeed,” Big Ears said, flashing its teeth, “for you shall be the first to be plundered and murdered. Know how my master Zonploka honors you by this favor, for your deaths shall be quick! But he cannot yet come to visit you, nor any more of his host of warriors. Continue the ceremony, fools, or you will die slowly and in agony instead of quickly and cleanly.”

  The people moaned, crowding away from the grisly creature.

  “Do not listen!” Cordelia shouted. “Do not believe the monster! It is your emotions it desires, not your bodies! It will drink in your fear and your pain! It kills and tortures only to arouse them! Turn away from this thing of evil!”

  “Aye, turn away,” Allouette cried, “for it has no power but that which you give it by your fear!”

  “You have lived too long, interfering wench!” Big Ears spat, and crouched to pounce on her. “Disrupt my Taghairm, would you? Seek to deny me entrance to your world? For that you shall be next, you fat and juicy tidbit!”

  “Fat? How dare you!” Allouette cried, outraged. “Suffer the fate you would visit upon me!” She narrowed her eyes in a glare.

  Big Ears twisted around, a sudden pain in its belly. “How dare you, impertinent woman?” it gasped. “Learn now what pain is!” It gathered itself to pounce.

  “Nay!” Quicksilver cried, and her horse darted between them. “She is ours and not for you!”

  Allouette stared, suddenly limp with amazement.

  “She is ours indeed, and who seeks to touch her does so at great peril!” Cordelia sent her horse galloping in, then reared, hooves poised to strike at the monster.

  Big Ears yowled and leaped, claws flashing out to rake across the horse’s belly. It screamed and fell, flailing. Cordelia struggled to rise, but her leg was pinned beneath the animal’s weight.

  “I shall dine on you at leisure,” the monster sneered, and turned to Quicksilver. “First I shall snap up this one, who thinks herself tough but is only a tender morsel.”

  “This morsel shall stick in your craw!” Quicksilver shouted, and stabbed. “Taste Cold Iron, O Greedy One!”

  The sword lanced the creature’s tongue and it shrieked, leaping away. “Cold Iron! For that you shall die most miserably!”

  “She shall die not at all!” Cordelia glared at the monster.

  Big Ears howled with pain. “What . . . what is this?” it panted, and turned toward the pinned woman, eyes wide with confusion. “You cannot! How can so slight a one as you cause me pain?”

  “Suffice it that I can!” Cordelia shouted, pointing a finger.

  Big Ears caterwauled again, then shot through the air, a blurred arc descending on the woman, screaming, “Die, and my pain dies with you!”

  “Nay, it lives as long as I do!” Allouette shook herself out of her trance and hit the monster with every jot of the welter of emotions that boiled within her—guilt, shame, amazement, confusion, and the sudden fierce urge to protect the women she had thought were her enemies.

  Big Ears twisted in midair, screaming with sudden pain. Its back slammed down on the dead horse and Cordelia cried out in pain.

  The sound seemed to pierce Allouette from side to side. She glared at the creature, thinking of tearing, of ripping, of giant crab claws slashing and shredding within. Big Ears howled in agony, curling around its pain, and Quicksilver stabbed again and again, crying, “Leave this carrion to me! Cordelia and I shall hold it while you banish it! Speak to the people, lady! Lead!”

  Allouette stared in surprise a moment, then turned away with determination. Surely a bandit chieftain knew what she spoke of when it came to leading a mob. “People of mine own kind!” Allouette spread her hands towards the crowd, crying, “It is for you to undo what you have done! What you have brought here, you can send away! The door you have opened, you can close again!”

  The cringing people froze in amazement.

  “Think of your anger and pain!” Allouette exhorted them. “Think of your anger at this creature’s betrayal! Do you want it and its kind here among you?”

  “No!” “No, no, of course not!” “Send it away, lady, send it away!”

  “It is for you to send it away, for it is you who brought it in!” Allouette scolded. “What, would you have me clean up your mess for you? Well, then, I shall!” She spun to glare at the fallen feline, caterwauling and lashing out at Quicksilver, who was somehow never where its claws struck, but whose sword found its hide again and again. Pinned beneath it and the horse, Cordelia nonetheless jabbed her fingers deep into its fur to touch its flesh, pouring all her own pain into it.

  Allouette held up her hands, palms out, fingers spread, and called out, “Get thee hence! Flee, creature, fly! Get thee back to thine own place and never come nigh!” She turned back to the people, gesturing for their voices. “Get thee hence!”

  The
y stared at this outlandish Fury, amazed. One or two of them mumbled, “Get thee hence!”

  “Louder!” Allouette cried. “All of you!”

  “Get thee hence!” more people cried.

  “Louder yet! I can scarcely hear you!”

  “Get thee hence!” they all called.

  “Louder and stronger!” Allouette demanded. “So much louder that this fell cat’s master Zonploka shall hear you in his own realm!”

  “Nay, dare not to call out!” Big Ears screamed, galvanized by the name of its master. “I shall rend you, I shall tear you, I shall terrorize you like—”

  Quicksilver rammed her point into its neck and the monster broke off to howl as its whole body convulsed in agony from Cordelia’s channeled pain.

  “It cannot equal two weak maidens in power!” Allouette cried, stretching the truth a little. “Fear it not! Send it home!” She turned to face the monster again, calling, “Get thee hence!”

  “Get thee hence!” the people shouted.

  “Flee and fly!”

  “Flee and fly!”

  “Get thee gone to thine own place!”

  “Get thee gone to thine own place!”

  “And never come nigh!”

  “And never come nigh!”

  “Get thee hence!” Allouette called, beginning the chant once more, and the people echoed her. Line by line, chanting more and more loudly, shouting, bellowing, they followed her, advancing step by step on the very monster they had summoned then feared, and before whom they had cowered. Their shouts were almost loud enough to cover Big Ears’ howls of agony as, little by little, it began to become translucent again, fading to fogginess, then only an outline of itself, before finally fading completely from sight.

  The people fell silent, amazed and astounded by what they had done—and heard, dim and distant, the giant cat’s yowling anger, then sudden howl of pain.

  Allouette stared, realizing that the battle was done, fought and won, by the sheer strength of the emotion she had poured out into the people and felt crashing back upon her—and feeling the first tremors of exhaustion. She thrust it away, though, knowing the importance of appearances to the morale of those she commanded. She turned to them, declaring, “It has found its master again, and claims its reward.”

  “But what if it comes back?” one woman wailed.

  A stifled groan sounded behind her and Allouette whirled and ran to Cordelia.

  The peasant followed, demanding, “Tell us, lady! What if it comes back?”

  “Then you had best hope there are ladies like us here to defend you,” Allouette said between her teeth, “and there will not be, if you let her drown in her own pain! Six of you, come lift this poor dead horse off this woman who has held the monster at bay whilst we sent it packing!”

  Half a dozen villagers came on the run and lifted the horse enough so that Allouette and Quicksilver could drag Cordelia free. She burst into tears.

  “There now, sister, I know,” Quicksilver soothed. “It is agony, yes, but we shall soon have it mended.” She cast Allouette a wild, lost look.

  Allouette nodded with all the assurance she could muster and tried to ignore the weariness creeping up on her.

  “It is not the pain,” Cordelia said through her tears, “though that is horrendous.”

  Allouette stared. “What, then?”

  “Her horse,” Quicksilver said.

  “Aye, my poor, sweet mare!” Cordelia gasped. “So loyal, so fierce to defend, so gentle—and she had not even borne a foal!”

  “Aye, it is a great pity,” Allouette agreed, “but I have greater concern for you, who defended me. Hold your breath and set your teeth, for I must see if the bone is broken.”

  “It is, I know,” Cordelia moaned.

  “Hold her tightly,” Allouette directed Quicksilver, then began to probe Cordelia’s leg. Cordelia screamed once, then set her teeth. Quicksilver held her by the shoulders and squeezed her hand in reassurance.

  “The knee is whole, thank Heaven,” Allouette said. “But here . . .”

  Cordelia screamed again.

  “Lady, do you know this much healing?” a peasant asked nervously.

  “This much and more,” Allouette assured her, for part of her training as a field agent had been first aid and rough-and-ready surgery. She braced herself for one last trial, then had a happy thought and turned to stare into Cordelia’s eyes. The other woman stared back, startled, and Allouette used the moment to send a probe deep into her hindbrain and trigger the sleep reflex. Cordelia’s eyes rolled up; she went limp.

  “What have you done?” Quicksilver demanded, aghast.

  “Put her to sleep, nothing more,” Allouette assured her. “Call it nature’s anesthetic.” Then she turned to straighten the broken pieces of bone with her hands while, with telekinesis, she matched them up like a jigsaw puzzle. Then, satisfied that the break was restored to its proper position, she probed and encouraged, pouring her own waning energy into Cordelia’s fibula, making it grow, making calcium flow and harden. Finally she took her hands away and let out a shaky breath. “It is mended.”

  “If so, it is the quickest healing I’ve ever seen,” Quicksilver said, staring.

  “Ask her.” Allouette turned to gaze at Cordelia’s sleeping face. Eyelids fluttered and opened, and the woman looked back at her, bemused and amazed. “What . . . where . . .”

  “You are in a valley where peasants performed the Taghairm,” Quicksilver reminded her.

  Memory came flooding back. “Aye, and we banished the monster they had summoned!” Cordelia’s gaze snapped down to her leg. “But my poor mare . . . I was trapped . . .”

  “How feels your leg now?” Allouette asked.

  “As it always has.” Cordelia sat up and probed her own flesh in amazement. “Is it whole?”

  “As far as I can tell,” Allouette said. “Test it.”

  “Not so soon!” Quicksilver said angrily, but Allouette nodded inexorably and Cordelia gathered her feet under her, frowning. She leaned on the arm of a protesting Quicksilver and rose in spite of the protests. Allouette was quick to take her other arm and brace her as, very carefully, she put her weight on the healed leg, first a little, then more, then all, then began to walk, eyes wide in amazement. “It is a wonder, lady! My mother herself could not have done better.”

  “I am pleased to see you walk,” Allouette said simply.

  “As pleased as I am by my own steps,” Cordelia said fervently, and turned to embrace her.

  Allouette went stiff with surprise, then relaxed in wonder and let her own arms come up to return the embrace. She drew back, blinking at Quicksilver, who was grinning from ear to ear and saying, “I thank you, lady.”

  “Aye, we are glad indeed to see the lady healed!” cried a peasant. “But what of the monster, lady? How shall you protect us from it?”

  But Allouette had reached the limit of her endurance. With a long shuddering sigh, she fell senseless to the ground.

  “What has befallen her?” the peasant asked in alarm.

  “Exhaustion, nothing more.” Cordelia knelt beside Allouette. “She expended a great deal of energy in fighting the monster you summoned, and more in healing me.”

  The peasant’s face darkened at the reminder of their guilt, but Cordelia paid no attention, merely laid one hand on Allouette’s brow and the other on her breastbone. “A gift for a gift—energy to replace some of that which she lent me for her healing.”

  Quicksilver nodded. “We shall all sleep early this night—or perhaps even this day.”

  Cordelia frowned intently, her gaze on Allouette’s face. After a minute, her patient’s eyelids flickered, then opened. Allouette looked about her, frowning, letting memories surface, then turned to Cordelia with a radiant smile. “I thank you, lady. You have restored me.”

  “Even as you did for me,” Cordelia answered with an affectionate smile of her own. “Rise, companion in arms. We have not yet laid this enemy to rest.”

/>   “Have you not?” the peasant cried with alarm. “Lady, if you have not laid this fell spirit, what shall we do when it comes again?”

  “Oh, they have laid Big Ears to rest,” Quicksilver told her, “but not its masters. Indeed, they may send it against you again—and a hundred more like it, if you dare seek to summon them.”

  “We shall not! But what if Big Ears seeks to come back without our asking?”

  “Do not let it,” Cordelia said simply.

  “How can we keep it away?”

  “Do not perform the Taghairm,” Quicksilver said with great practicality.

  Cordelia nodded. “We think these creatures cannot enter without being asked to come; they can only send the puppets they make out of the witch-moss of our own world.”

  A man stepped up beside the woman, frowning. “Then it is enough that we not perform this ritual again?”

  “No, more is needed,” Cordelia answered. “The core of the Taghairm is cruelty, after all, and any viciousness you show to one another is invitation enough to an evil spirit.”

  The woman pursed her lips. “So if we are cruel to no one, the monster cannot come among us?”

  “Even so.” Cordelia nodded. “Indeed, if you truly wish to keep such monsters away, be friendly and helpful to one another; be merciful even to the animals you slay for food. Be kind and gentle to all and you shall close up even the smallest hole by which such a monster can come among you.”

  The people stared at one another, amazed and thoughtful.

  “Then let kindness begin with these three who have saved us,” the peasant woman said with sudden determination. “The lady has lost her horse in our defense; let us give her another, and a cart to carry the other lady who has spent so much of her strength for us.”

  The villagers looked startled, then chorused agreement.

  “Darby, your cart would be big enough,” one of the men said.

  “My cart? Then how shall I bring my goods to market?” Darby protested.

  “We shall build you another,” a second man said, “new and sound—but the lady needs wheels now.”

  “No, no, friends,” Allouette protested—but the hand that she raised felt heavy as lead. “I—I shall manage quite well with my horse.”