Mulrox and the Malcognitos

by Kerelyn Smith

Back in Ulgorprog Mulrox had spent so much time worrying that people would associate him with Yahgurkin. Mistake his eccentricity with hers. Now he knew he was nothing like her. Yahgurkin had traveled all this way, not for herself but because she had sensed someone needed her help. Batty, absentminded Yahgurkin. Mulrox had always railed against Groxor’s selfishness and bravado, but if there were anyone he was in danger of becoming, it was the ogre who had abandoned them at the first opportunity.

  Mulrox dug in his pack and pulled out his notebook. He flipped through the pages, running his hands over the markings and trying to listen for that inner voice inside of him, to let it pour out onto the paper, but the lines swarmed blurrily in front of his eyes. There was nothing he could say here that would make things better. He closed the notebook and set it beside him.

  The heaviness that had settled in his stomach like an irate cat tightened its hold.

  He turned back to his pack, digging out the old sock in which he had wrapped the two figurines from his mobile. Mulrox unwrapped them now and held them up––the sheep in one hand, the cedar waxwing in the other. He felt the grainy weight of them in his palms and took a deep breath. He would have to be better.

  The dream had told him to go home. He had been so caught up in his own concerns that he had taken her literally. Of course Tabiyeh hadn’t meant go home. It was simpler than that. He needed to return to who he had once been, back to the start. Before all the teasing and mocking. Before he had become the shadow that lurked behind the others. Before they had left.

  Mulrox wasn’t sure if he could. He’d been hiding for so long, trying to be someone else. But for the first time, he was a part of something. He’d spent the whole journey trying to tear the group apart, but it hadn’t mattered. They had stayed. Tabiyeh believed in him. Yahgurkin and Geraldine believed in him. The malcognitos had wanted to believe.

  If he stayed, he could fail. He’d be putting Geraldine and Yahgurkin at risk. The Vaccus might turn him and the malcognitos into dendrools. He’d never make it back in time for the Behemoth, and he’d lose his house to Griselda for sure. But what was the alternative? Wait for the sheep to come find them and stomp them to bits? Sacrifice Yvwi and Tree-with-frog-legs and Toad-springs-eternal and all the others? It didn’t matter that the portal was gone. Mulrox couldn’t leave them. They were his ideas. His friends. With Groxor gone, there were no more excuses.

  Mulrox knew he wasn’t who he needed to be to defeat the Vaccus—the well of creativity and inventiveness was not there—but for the first time, Mulrox was able to admit that he wanted to be. He wanted to be the malcognitos’ hero.

  The water was boiling now, and the sun had fully set. The only light came from the flickering circle of firelight and the faint blue glow of the mushroom necklaces they each still wore round their necks. He rubbed the heads of the wooden figurines and then stood, wrapping them back in the worn sock and slipping them back in his pack.

  “Yahgurkin,” Mulrox began.

  She looked up but said nothing.

  “Yahgurkin, I—”

  “You don’t have to say I told you so, Mulrox. I get it,” she snapped.

  “But I wasn’t—”

  “You were right,” she said. “You were right about the woods. Right about Groxor.” Her voice stretched high and tight as it cracked. “And you were right about me.”

  “But I didn’t say anything.”

  “What was that?” Yvwi said and floated to the edge of light, slipping over into the darkness beyond.

  Yahgurkin ignored them both. “I thought I could help. That I could keep you on course.” She wiped at her eyes. “But I don’t know anything about ideas, and I made you go after Groxor, and all I’ve done is slow you down. Now the portal is gone, and it’s all my fa—”

  “Shh!” Yvwi said. “Did you hear that?”

  There was something scuffling about in the darkness.

  Mulrox froze, and his skin prickled from his toes to the tip of his head. “What is it?” Mulrox whispered.

  “Let’s find out,” Yahgurkin said. She moved to stand up, but Yvwi stopped her.

  “Keep talking,” Yvwi said. “Be normal.”

  But Mulrox and Yahgurkin looked at each other wide-eyed, hardly daring to breathe.

  They strained their eyes into the darkness, but not only could they no longer hear whatever had been moving, but the woods had gone silent too––there were no crickets or owls. No creaking of trees. The only sound Mulrox could hear was the crackling of the fire and his own pounding heartbeat.

  “Is it gone?” Mulrox asked hopefully.

  “Something’s off,” Yahgurkin whispered.

  Then out from the underbrush came a blur of movement, a mass of arms and gears barreling across the campsite. It dodged around the malcognitos and Geraldine and then reached out its hook arm, running straight at Mulrox. He dove to the side and felt the beast graze him. He sprang to his feet arms ready, but the grinder—he was sure that was what it was—must have kept going, for it was nowhere in sight.

  “Your pack!” Yahgurkin said.

  Mulrox looked down, expecting to see it hanging from his arm, but there was nothing there.

  “After it!” Yvwi said. The malcognitos blew by Mulrox, diving into the trees after the grinder.

  Yvwi and Yahgurkin followed. Mulrox was about to go too when he heard an angry gurgle from across the fire. Geraldine was glaring at him.

  “Can’t you stay here?” he asked the griping toad.

  A series of thuds and cracks and moans bounced through the trees.

  Mulrox turned to leave, but Geraldine started such a ruckus that Mulrox darted to her side and scooped up the complaining toad before she could say any more.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  The light from the mushroom necklace only illuminated a few inches in front of him. The blanket of needles at his feet and the dark hollows looked particularly ominous in the blue light, almost as though he had stepped through a portal into another world.

  When Mulrox caught up to the rest of the group, they were ringed in a circle and looking down at the ground. Mulrox took the necklace of mushrooms from around his neck and held them over the ground to get a better look. The eerie blue light revealed a mass of footprints, scrape marks, wheel tracks, and broken twigs. He looked back at the others.

  Spinakle-rex had his spinakles crossed and was facing away from the group, but Death-with-a-kiss was buzzing about, waving her limbs wildly.

  “It was the grinder—no question about it.” Yvwi said.

  “I saw it,” Yahgurkin said. “All those limbs.” She shook her head, frowning. “I didn’t really get a look before.”

  Mulrox saw the fear in Yahgurkin’s eyes and remembered the first time he had seen the grinder coming out of the sea of sheep. It had rattled him to the core. And now—now that thing was after him.

  Mulrox set Geraldine down. “What happened?”

  “Spinakle-rex tried to go after your pack but it grabbed him. Death-with-a-kiss jumped it from behind and gave Spinakle a chance to escape, but it took off with the pack.”

  “Oh,” Mulrox said, his heart sinking. “Which way did it go?”

  Yahgurkin pointed into the darkness. “Do you think it will come back?” she asked. Her voice was very quiet.

  Death-with-a-kiss made a threatening motion.

  “Yes,” Yvwi said. “But maybe not tonight.”

  24

  The group trudged back to their camp. Mulrox found his notebook on the ground where he had left it, but the pack, its supplies, and the figurines were gone.

  “Is it bad?” Yahgurkin asked. “Did we lose much?”

  Mulrox looked at her worried face and swallowed. “We’ll be fine,” he said. “There’s always nubler.”

  Yahgurkin grimaced.

  “You don’t like it either?” Mulrox asked.

  “Not really,” she admitted.

  “Well, let’s enjoy what we have then.”

  Mulrox trudged o
ver the fire and fished out the potatoes. They looked a little more charred than he would have liked. He passed one down to Yahgurkin and then broke off a piece of his own for Geraldine. He was not forgiven. The toad turned up her nose and huddled in closer to Yahgurkin, who hardly seemed to notice. Yahgurkin stared at her potato with a watery, faraway look.

  He would be better.

  His mother’s face swam before him. She was sitting at the edge of his bed as he stared up at the mobile of slowly spinning animals. Mulrox closed his eyes and tried to remember how the words had gone. Every time he was sad or lonely, she had told him the same story.

  “Long, long ago,” Mulrox said, “before there were cities or humans, or ox-bone tea, the world was divided in half.”

  “What is this?” Yvwi asked “Is he okay? I didn’t sneeze on him, did I?”

  “Shh,” Yahgurkin said, grabbing Yvwi and pulling him to her side. “Go on, Mulrox.”

  “The world was divided in half,” he continued. “One-half of the world was ruled by the wise moon, who kept her land ever in darkness. The other half by the brave sun, who shone ceaselessly down on his land.” The words felt rusty at first, stiff, but the more he spoke, the faster the phrases came back to him. He looked about the campfire, but no one mocked him. There were only faces eager to hear more.

  “The creatures of earth spent their waking hours on the sun’s side of the world and then crawled back to moon when it was time to sleep.

  The moon watched this migration, and every time the animals turned their backs on her, she was sad and sighed.

  ‘Oh why, why do you leave me? It is cool and peaceful here. Why would you leave?’

  The sun laughed at his sister. ‘They prefer me. They come to you to sleep, but it is on my side where things are done.’

  The jealous moon did not like this one bit. Every day as she watched the animals leave, she thought to herself, I must find a way to keep them with me on my side. She thought and she schemed until one day she could take it no longer and she stopped the animals on their way across the border.

  ‘Children. Wait. I have a task for you. It is a small thing. You need only bring me a single ray of the sun. Do that, and my blessing will fall on you for all the days to come.’

  Without thought or hesitation, a small bird hopped forward. ‘Do not worry, Moon. I will bring you a ray of the sun.’

  The bird reached down and streaked two lines of mud about its eyes to defend it from the glare and leapt up into the sky to start her task.

  As the bird flew, the air grew warmer and the glare brighter, and she was glad for the mask about her eyes.

  ‘Little Bird, why have you come?’ The sun boomed so loudly that the feathers on the bird’s head shot straight up.

  ‘Sun!’ the bird shouted as she drew closer. ‘I am here for one of your rays. Give one to me, the finest of all your children.’

  The sun laughed. ‘My rays are far too bright for the likes of you.’ Drops of fire and molten rock splashed onto the bird’s wings, singeing the tips a bright red.

  The bird tried to dash forward to evade the sun, but he reached out and smacked the little bird out of the sky. ‘Go back where you belong!’”

  Mulrox looked up in time to see Tree-with-frog-legs bat Spinakle-rex over a fern and into a pile of dust. Mulrox continued.

  “The moon groaned at the waxwing’s failure. ‘Who will get the ray for me now?’

  A flock of sheep stepped forward. ‘Moon, we will get you your ray. We have a plan,” they said as one. ‘We will distract the sun while one of us takes the ray.’

  ‘Go then,’ the moon said.

  The sheep lifted their heads and took a big, gulping mouthful of air. And then another and another. As they swallowed, their sides began to swell until their great barrel ribs were like balloons and their hooves lifted off the ground. A wind swept the sheep up into the sky.

  The sheep looked so much like a bank of fluffy white clouds that even the sun did not recognize the animals as they floated higher and higher. They stopped under the sun’s nose. But though they were within inches of several of the rays, the sheep did not move. In their haste, they had forgotten to designate who would risk the actual theft.

  ‘You go.’

  ‘No, you,’ they bleated to one another, but not a single sheep would risk stepping out from the flock. The sheep argued with one another even as the air leaked from their bellies. And before long, they had sunk back to earth empty-handed.

  The moon was distraught. ‘Can no one get me a ray?’

  ‘I will try,’ said a voice, and the moon looked up and saw an ogre step toward her. She could not see how the ogre could succeed where her brave bird and agreeable sheep had failed, but she nodded.

  The ogre could not fly or float, but he knew that there was a path that led up to the peak of the highest mountain where the sun often frequented.

  It was a long, slow journey, but the ogre made it to the peak. Rather than speak to the sun, he sat down on the tip of the mountain and waited. After some time, the sun spotted the ogre. The ogre had traveled a long way, surely to see him, and yet here he was, but the ogre did not speak and did not move. This puzzled the sun.

  ‘Ogre, you are far from home. Why have you come?’

  ‘I have a problem, for which there is no solution.’

  The sun looked down on the ogre, growing more interested by the moment. ‘What is it? I will solve it.’

  ‘You cannot,’ said the ogre. ‘No one can.’

  ‘I can,’ said the sun, growing impatient. ‘Tell me.’

  The ogre sighed as though he felt hopeless. ‘Each night we must cross from one side of the earth to the other, and each morning go back again. Light to darkness, and darkness back to light.’

  ‘Yes, that is the way for all creatures.’

  ‘But, Sun, I do not like the darkness. The moon’s side of the world is cold and miserable. When I am there, it seems like darkness is all there is, like the sun has never been. Sometimes I think I will not even have the strength to return.’

  ‘But you must.’

  ‘I fear there will be a day when the darkness is so great that I may not be able to.’

  The sun was appalled. ‘Moon’s side of the world is a terrible place. Your situation is indeed desperate. Here.’ The sun reached down and plucked a single ray of sunlight from his head and passed it down to the ogre. ‘Take this light with you and always be reminded of what is to come.’

  The ogre thanked the sun and started the long journey down the mountain. The ray was so bright and hot that his skin blistered and thickened. By the time he arrived at the dark side of the world, he was a brilliant red, and his skin was so tough he could barely uncurl his fingers.

  ‘You’ve done it!’ the moon said. ‘Give it here.’ She grabbed the ray and held it up before for her. Its light lit up her round silver face like a beacon in the darkness. ‘It’s perfect!’ She laughed.

  “Mother Moon?” the ogre said.

  “Yes, my child. You will have all you seek.” And down from the heavens poured moondust, glowing and glittering and more overflowing with luck than a bucketful of clovers or a wagon of horseshoes.

  But even as the ogre collected his reward, the earth gave a great rumble and the ogre and all the creatures of the world were thrown to the ground as an earsplitting shout broke out across the land. The darkness that had surrounded them gave way to a brilliant light. The creatures looked up and saw Sun rushing toward them, his face contorted with rage.

  Before the ogre could thank her, the moon fled, holding the ray before her as the sun pursued her across the dark sky.

  The animals were thrown into darkness and then light as the two whirled around and around.

  The siblings never tire, never win or lose. But every month, the moon gets a little ahead. Her face is full and peaceful, and she stops for a moment to repay her debt to the ogre and start the race anew.

  When Mulrox looked up, they were all staring at him. T
he darkness and the night forgotten.

  “Did you make that up?” Yahgurkin asked.

  “My mother used to tell it to me.”

  “Before the expedition?”

  Mulrox nodded. That was what they had told anyone young enough to believe it. Gone on an expedition. Missing.

  “You must miss them.”

  He couldn’t say anything. He missed them with all his heart, but what was worse was knowing that he was the reason they’d been sent away. They’d never have been on that ship if it weren’t for him.

  “I can’t believe the ogre outsmarts the sun,” Yahgurkin continued. “He doesn’t wrestle him, or fight him, or destroy his things. How come we never hear stories like this?”

  “They’re not Griselda approved,” Mulrox said.

  “Oh, her.” Yahgurkin scowled. “Don’t remind me.”

  Mulrox laughed. It was so absurd given their situation.

  “Also, not to nitpick, but the sun doesn’t shadow the moon—the earth does.”

  “It’s a story. You also can’t talk to the sun or the moon.”

  “I talk to them all the time! So how are we going to outwit the sun?”

  Mulrox shook his head. “We don’t even have a sun to outwit, let alone a path to it.”

  “Is there really nothing left of the portal?” Yahgurkin asked.

  “Not nothing,” Yvwi said. “Before it was a gateway—now it’s like a cat scratched through the barrier of worlds.”

  “A cat? What are you talking about?” Mulrox said.

  “See for yourself.” Yvwi floated over to where the portal should have been.

  Mulrox stood and followed the malcognito. It looked like a bit of air. He squinted, trying to imagine what he should be seeing. And then the air wavered as though someone had tugged at an invisible piece of gauze draped over the world. Mulrox reached out and stuck his finger through the glimmer. To his shock, it disappeared to the knuckle.

  “Woah!” Yahgurkin said. “I want to try!” She nudged Mulrox out of the way and tried, but her fingers were bigger than his and she could only wedge the tip of her nail through the portal. “It kind of tingles. Is that Sounous?”