Yahgurkin hurried out of the cave squinting against the glare and hoping he wouldn’t be too annoyed. As her eyes adjusted, she took in the clear blue sky, gnarled trees, sprawling ferns, and empty stretch of moss. It was a beautiful morning, but Mulrox was nowhere in sight.
Yahgurkin frowned, walking back to the cave. It was then that she took in the silence. Every moment since they had started this quest had been filled with sound. It was part of what she loved about it. Not a moment of boredom or loneliness: Geraldine nestled tightly by her side, Yvwi prattling on, Death-with-a-kiss and Spinakle-rex wrestling, Tree-with-frog-legs investigating, Rock-like-skin sulking. They had grown particularly fond of pulling her hair, grabbing hold of a curl and stretching it out as far as it would reach, and then whooping with glee as it sprang back into place. By now the malcognitos should have swooped down to jabber at her. But the cave was still. No sound. No movement.
The malcognitos, too, were gone.
Yahgurkin cast about for any signs of where they had gone, and her eyes fell on Geraldine’s cage, pushed up against the cave wall. Could she have gotten out? Was that where the others were?
Yahgurkin crept up to the cage. There was no movement or sound from within.
“Geraldine?” Yahgurkin asked. “Are you—”
The cage lurched forward. Yahgurkin yelped and scrambled backward, tripping over her feet as the cage tilted and then crashed onto its side. A golden eye appeared through the bars.
Yahgurkin let out a puff of air and began to laugh. “It’s just you,” she said. “Of course it is. Who else could it be?”
Geraldine chortled and then started up her eerie singing. Normally Yahgurkin liked Geraldine’s songs, but ever since the malcognitus, the sound set Yahgurkin on edge. She tried to shrug it off now as she set about preparing breakfast. They would be back any moment now. Mulrox would never leave Geraldine.
Breakfast was made and eaten, and the fire was dowsed, and still no one had returned. Yahgurkin stood up, pushing back the thoughts that threatened to drown out everything else. No matter what had happened, they hadn’t just disappeared.
“Don’t worry, Geraldine. Mulrox can’t brush his teeth without leaving a trail. I’ll find them.”
It only took a few moments of scanning the forest floor before she was rewarded with the sight of Mulrox’s footprints heading out into the woods.
She followed the tracks, keeping her head down as she wound through the trees. She came to a halt at the bank of the river. There before her lay a long line of Mulrox’s footprints leading south along its bank.
There were no signs of a struggle. No other footprints to show that anyone else had been there. He had not been attacked. They hadn’t gone on a supply trip.
Yahgurkin stared at the river. The roar of the water melded with the noise in her head, and her eyes unfocused to a blur of gray and white. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there like that.
Something buzzed by her ear, and she ducked instinctively. As she brought her arm up to her head, Yahgurkin realized her face was wet and puffy. She wiped at it and then straightened up.
Hovering in front of her was a brilliant blue dragonfly. She watched the light glint off its wings before it zoomed toward the river. The insect darted over the rapids, through the spray, maneuvering along until it landed on a cluster of bright purple lupins that were growing out of a small island in the middle of the water. It turned twice, then leapt up again, speeding off to the other side of the water and disappearing into the dark woods.
She had to get back. Yahgurkin scrambled to her feet and tried to steady her trembling hands. There were things to be done. Geraldine would be wondering where she was. She didn’t deserve to be left alone.
38
Mulrox lounged against a wall of pillows on a thick shag rug. He didn’t know where he was, how he had gotten there, but the pillows were soft and the rug comforting. His brain felt like it had been wrapped in several layers of thick wool.
There was something about this room. The soft, luxurious bed, the sulfurous yellow satin curtains, the enormous bone collection, and the three-tiered toad stand. It was like his bedroom but better. It was how he had always dreamed it could be.
Mulrox was staring at the empty toad stand, a thought prickling at the back of his mind, when a knock on the door broke his concentration.
“Come in,” he said.
The door opened, and three creatures, like many-limbed crabs with tools for legs, scuttled toward him. Grinders, he remembered.
Each of the creatures balanced a tray on its back. Thick curls of steam wafted up from their contents. It smelled delicious. As his mouth began to water, he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten a proper meal.
The grinders scuttled forward until they reached the side of his bed and then stopped. One held a carafe of ox-bone tea, another a gooseberry pie, and the third was covered by a metal dome. Mulrox stared at the line of grinders, unsure what came next, but then a voice rumbled in his mind.
Take.
Mulrox hesitated for only a moment before scooping the trays from their backs. “Thank you,” he said.
They made a series of quick bobs and then fled the room.
Mulrox lifted the cover and almost yelped with delight. A sliced and steaming yam with thick pats of butter oozing into its orange sides, a mountain of perfectly round peas, a hunk of crusty bread, and best of all, two giant legs of boar, the skin still glistening and crackling.
Mulrox fell on the food, tearing into it with his hands, scooping up great mouthfuls of peas and pie and gulping down the rich, tangy tea. He wasn’t sure he had ever been so hungry or that food had ever tasted quite so good.
When he had eaten everything, he fell back against the pillows, feeling perfectly at ease. He was starting to doze off when there was another knock and the door opened, revealing a spiral of purple light flanked on either side by a grinder.
“Tabiyeh,” Mulrox said. Her name came back to him easily.
“Are you enjoying your stay so far?” she asked.
Mulrox nodded.
“I’m glad you like it. You’ve earned a little reward after all you’ve been through. You’ve impressed me, Mulrox. Thanks to you, your friends are safe and everyone is back where they belong.”
Mulrox blushed and looked down. “I had help,” he mumbled. Even as he said it, he wasn’t sure what he meant. He had memories of walking through the woods, up a mountain, but even in those glimpses, he was alone.
“Nonsense. It was all you. You have abilities far greater than any other ogre. I told you that you had a destiny, didn’t I?”
“Yes,” Mulrox said. That he did remember. “To come up with the greatest idea there ever was. Is that what I’m supposed to do now?” Mulrox asked and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of something wonderful. Instead, there was a numb, cloudy feeling behind his eyes.
Tabiyeh laughed. “No, not now. But we are very, very close. I want you to get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“Why? What’s tomorrow?” He was drifting off again, his head so heavy.
“The competition, of course.”
That sparked something. “The Beatific Behemoth…” His effort over the many months to craft the perfect poem, the possibility of meeting the famed poet Vroktar, his deal with Griselda. “But I can’t compete. I never finished my poem and my notebook—”
“Shh, the poems never mattered. I’ve taken care of everything. They’ve ignored and belittled you for far too long. Tomorrow everyone in Ulgorprog will finally recognize your greatness.”
Mulrox pictured it and smiled. “Will Svenn?”
“Yes.”
“Trolzor and Griselda?”
“Everyone is going to know the name of Mulrox and his greatest idea. It will be exactly as you envisioned.”
Mulrox stared at the purple light. Something was nagging him. It felt off, like a piece was missing. “Yvwi,” he whispered. The name had come to him, but he
wasn’t sure what it meant.
He saw a net descending, wriggling shapes trapped beneath it. He turned to Tabiyeh. “But you…” He was supposed to remember something. To do something.
Tabiyeh looked to the grinders. They waggled their arms menacingly.
“It can’t be,” she said. “It doesn’t wear off. Not unless he’s a malcognito. He’s confused, that’s all.”
But this wasn’t right. He tried to roll out of bed, but a metal crowbar clanged down over his right leg. He tried to jerk the other free, but it was penned down by a C-Clamp.
“What are you doing? Let me go!” Mulrox shouted.
“Please, you need to rest. It’s all being taken care of. There’s nothing you need to do.”
“No.”
A level slammed down flat against his chest, forcing the air out his lungs. He swung his arms, trying to push himself up, but a whiplike cord shot out from either side of the bed and snagged his wrists.
“Right,” she said.
The light quivered, and a spray of white dust puffed out and settled along the backs of his arms and hands. Mulrox felt the now-familiar tingling spread as though he were easing into a warm bath, anxiety leaking away.
The grinders were soothing him now, easing him back against the pillow. He smiled. Everyone was finally going to know they were wrong about him. He would show them all.
Mulrox yawned and turned back to the cushions and the thick rug. “I think I’ll rest here for a bit.”
“What an excellent idea.”
Mulrox heard a familiar pop, and behind the grinders, a translucent shape appeared.
Without warning, one of the grinders vaulted up and slammed the shape mercilessly into the wall. It hung there for a moment before it slipped to the floor. Before he could get a good look, another grinder snatched the thing up and scurried out of the room.
“What was that?” Mulrox asked.
“Pests,” Tabiyeh said.
Mulrox nodded. Unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he slipped back into sleep.
39
Yahgurkin wanted a basket. She was struggling to balance a growing mountain of witches’ butter, buckeyes, and ferns in her sling as she continued to forage for more food. She had even grabbed a few grubs and snails for Geraldine. These were tucked safely in a pouch on her left, and she could feel them squirming about. She was sweating, but it felt good to be doing something. She’d had enough thinking for one day and decided to enjoy being in the woods. It was easy to let go when you were surrounded by the thick, musty smell of trees.
Yahgurkin was leaning over to pick some gooseberries from a large, dense bush when she heard the distinct sound of branches snapping. She stopped. Nothing. She must have imagined it; things like that happened when you were alone in the woods. She grabbed another handful of berries.
There it was again. This time louder. It was definitely coming toward her.
Yahgurkin dashed behind the shrub. She dropped the food in a pile and cast about for anything to defend herself. There were twigs and downed trees everywhere, but neither was going to do her any good. Rocks? The ground was covered in a thick layer of pine needles with sprouts of moss poking up through it. Why were there no rocks? She took several deep breaths. Her eyes lighted on the dozen or so buckeyes. They weren’t ideal, but they’d have to do.
Whatever was making the sound was big and clumsy and blundering through the undergrowth. It would have been nice to have two arms in working order or to have someone to guard her back. She thought briefly of Mulrox—he wouldn’t have been that much help anyway.
“You’re the biggest thing in the forest,” she whispered to herself. “It will be more scared than you.” Images of elk and bears and mountain lions, sprang to mind. She was shaking. “Okay, you might not be the biggest thing in the forest, but you’re the smartest.”
At that moment, she had to hope that it was true, for the creature burst through the trees.
Yahgurkin took a breath and then bolted to her feet, bellowing as loudly as she knew how. The creature turned toward the noise, but before it got halfway round, Yahgurkin chucked a buckeye at its head. Her injured arm twinged at the sudden movement, but she gritted her teeth and threw another, and another.
“Hey!” a voice bellowed.
It was angry now. She couldn’t stop. She had the advantage. She brought her good arm up before her face and charged straight at the beast. When she saw the thing’s green feet, she launched herself. As her elbow connected with its midsection, she wondered at finding a green bear this deep in the woods. But anything was possible in the Woods Mercurial.
They were both falling. They landed hard on the ground. Yahgurkin scrambled upright and then kneeled on its chest, pinning it to the ground.
She’d done it. She smiled and then realized her eyes were closed. She opened one eye at a time and peered down at her captive. A confused green face blinked up at her, its bottle-cap ears wriggling.
“Groxor!” Yahgurkin yelled, thumping him on the chest in her excitement. “You’re here!”
“Oof,” Groxor moaned. He looked stunned. “Yahgur––”
Yahgurkin tilted her head. What was wrong with him? Had he somehow gotten himself remalcognitused?
He gasped again. “Air…”
“Oh!” She slid off his chest and helped him to his feet. “Sorry about that,” she said. “But you can’t be too careful. It turns out the Woods Mercurial is dangerous after all. Who would have guessed?”
For the first time in memory, Groxor didn’t seem angry or frustrated with her. He hardly even seemed to have registered what she said. He was standing there with a look of relief written all over his face.
He put his right hand on her shoulder. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
Yahgurkin nodded.
“How do you feel about sheep? Or the Behemoth?”
“Groxor, are you okay?”
“Definitely not.” He rubbed his chest. “But that’s why I’m here. You’ll fix it.”
Yahgurkin frowned. She had never fixed anything in her entire life; all she had ever done was make things worse.
“You are never going to believe the stuff that’s been happening. Ulgorprog has gone completely bonkers. Oogin and Broxli hardly recognize a good story anymore and—”
There was something squirming in his left hand.
“What’s that?” Yahgurkin pointed.
“Ahh, I found this snooping around.” Groxor held up his hand. Hanging upside down, her cloak down around her shoulders, was a bedraggled and miserable-looking squirrelmonk, a bit of moss shoved in her mouth.
“Rodenia?” Yahgurkin looked up at Groxor. “Where did you find her? How long has she been like this?”
“I’ll explain later. For now, take me to Mulrox. He’s got some explaining to do.”
Yahgurkin shook her head. “You have no idea.”
40
Groxor, Yahgurkin, Rodenia, and Geraldine sat inside the cave around a small fire. It was a bright night; the moon was nearly full. It was warm, but they had needed the comfort of something familiar, so Yahgurkin had set about arranging the kindling and striking the first sparks. Groxor had positioned himself as far away from the toad as possible, eyeing her cage warily as she gurgled away.
When Groxor set the squirrelmonk down and removed the moss from her mouth, the animal coughed and hacked for several moments. When Yahgurkin finally got a good look at the squirrelmonk, she couldn’t help but shiver.
Rodenia was almost unrecognizable: her once-glossy fur was dull and matted; a deep gash ran along one side of her face; and worst of all, her tail, which had been as full and fluffy as a feather duster the day before, now looked like a dried-up worm.
“Rodenia!” Yahgurkin gasped. “What happened? Did Groxor do this to you?” She glared at the green ogre.
“It was like that when I found it!”
Yahgurkin very much doubted that. She had seen the way he was holding her.
“Yo
u’re here.” Rodenia’s voice was dry and broken, but she sounded relieved.
Yahgurkin reached for the canteen at her side with her good arm and handed it to the squirrelmonk. Rodenia struggled with it until Yahgurkin held the bottle up for her and helped her to drink her fill.
Rodenia swallowed appreciatively and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. “Thank you,” she said. “Where’s Mulrox?”
“Yes, that’s what I would like to know too,” Groxor said.
“He’s gone.”
The squirrelmonk went still.
“Well, when is he coming back?” Groxor asked.
“He’s not,” Yahgurkin said. “At least I don’t think he is.”
“That blumbergut!”
Yahgurkin couldn’t say she disagreed.
“He goes and brainwashes all of Ulgorprog, infects me with his brain disease, and then up and leaves.”
“I don’t think Mulrox—”
“No, it’s his fault alright.”
Groxor told Yahgurkin everything that had happened: the sheep, Griselda, the uncontrollable poems that kept popping out of his mouth. How he had followed Broxli and Wertol to Mulrox’s hut and seen the transformation. All the while, the squirrelmonk said nothing, looking glumly into the fire.
“They’re after him, I’ll tell you that much. They’re after me too, but I got away. He’s lucky I didn’t turn him into Griselda and whatever that thing was.” Groxor shivered.
“Griselda’s working for something else?”
“And it’s not happy about the all the malcognitos. Griselda was pretty sure having the notebook would fix it, but it was not pleased.”
“This is bad.”
“I know!” Groxor said. “What are you going to do?”
Mulrox and the Malcognitos Page 25