Mulrox and the Malcognitos

  “The difference between what?”

  “A malcognito and a logosophilo.”

  Toad-stool-steps looked at Tork. “Are you sure this is Mulrox?”

  Tork nodded.

  Toad-stool-steps looked back at him. “You decide.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you were quite proud when you thought me up, so I’m a logosophilo, not a malcognito. It hardly makes much of a difference. Do you know where we are?”

  “I thought we were in Sounous, but now I don’t know. This looks like my hut, but bigger and weirder. And that garden…”

  “This is Sounous. What do you know of this place?”

  “It’s where you all are from: malcognitos, logosophilos, grinders, figs, dendrools, even the Vaccus. But my hut…”

  “Let me ask you something—have you yet run into any ideas that weren’t your own? Anything that seemed wholly unfamiliar?”

  Mulrox thought. The grinders and the dendrools had been terrifying but not unknown to him, the types of things that lurked in his nightmares just below the surface. It did suddenly seem odd that despite the vast number of zany ideas Yahgurkin came up with, he had yet to run into a single one of her malcognitos. He had understood it before as a symptom of the squirrelmonk curse, but now that he was in Sounous, the home of ideas, why had he still yet to run into a single foreign idea.

  “Right now we are standing in your memory palace,” said Toad-stool-steps. “It’s where you store all your most precious ideas, thoughts, and dreams.”

  “But you’re the first one I’ve run into.”

  “Yes, it’s nearly empty now. You should have seen it a few years ago. It was practically overflowing with noise and commotion. That was all before she showed up.”

  Mulrox had no doubts as to who she was.

  “Are there other palaces nearby? Could we send for help?”

  Toad-stool-steps sighed. “I’m afraid you aren’t quite getting this. There is only one palace here. Only one set of ideas. Only one creator. Sounous is your mind, Mulrox. Yours and yours alone.”

  “My mind?” He could hardly make sense of what the logosophilo was saying. And yet the pieces were starting to snap together. “If this is my mind, how can I be here?”

  “You’re not supposed to be. Everything Tabiyeh’s been up to has been slowly eroding the boundaries between the real world and your imaginings: erasing ideas, setting up her own army of grinders, luring in all sorts of things that have no business setting foot here. The sheep alone have been enough to tear gaping holes between the dimensions.”

  “And the grinders are on her side?”

  No.

  “How is she so powerful? How can she control everything so easily?”

  Tork sent him another image. A grinder scrambling, struggling to get away as a cloud of white powder fell over its many limbs. It fell still. Then the image changed and they were standing in the great hall. A long line of sheep wound through the space. Mulrox watched sheep after sheep transform with only a sprinkle of the white powder from a scruffy mud ball into the pristine fluffy creatures they had faced in the woods.

  “Glamour,” Mulrox said, remembering the feeling of helplessness.

  “Glamour?” the logosophilo said. “But glamour makes things perfect.”

  “And brainless. They’re like wax dolls she moves about at will.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  Mulrox turned to Tork, ignoring the logosophilo. “Where does it come from? Is it fairy dust or something?”

  Don’t know.

  “If we could take away the powder, maybe it would wear off and the grinders would be free and we could all stand against her.”

  “What did it look like?” Toad-stool-steps said, frowning.

  “Sort of white and flaky.”

  “Stand back.”

  Mulrox did as he was told.

  The toadstools began to wriggle, and then all at once a plume of powder shot up around them. Mulrox took several hasty steps backward. No matter how nice it had felt to float down that lavender stream, he had no desire to go back there. The sticky white flakes floated to the floor.

  “Did it look like that?”

  “Exactly.”

  The toadstool caps swung back and forth. “Glamour is meant to make the world more beautiful. It erases imperfections and restores order and cleanliness. To create an army with it…”

  “You can glamour things too?” Mulrox was still trying to understand.

  “It’s logosophilo dander. She must be harvesting it from the ones she captured. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s storing up malcognito saliva too.”

  Then there was no question of her running out of either. She had as much of the stuff as she might need. Mulrox closed his eyes. Why him? Had Tabiyeh looked out at all the possible minds and picked his as the weakest, the easiest to control?

  He shook his head. It had been easy. He quivered as he remembered standing next to Tabiyeh, frozen, unable to say or do anything as the grinders hauled the malcognitos away.

  “Yvwi and the others, do you know where they are?”

  Toad-stool-steps looked down.

  “Where are they?” Mulrox demanded.

  “It’s too late for them,” the logosophilo said sadly. “They’re already in the Vaccus.”

  “Where is the Vaccus?”

  “It doesn’t matter. You have to focus on stopping Tabiyeh. It’s the only thing that matters now.”

  Remember, Tork said.

  Mulrox felt a rumbling in his head and again saw the picture of the dark room, the one with the cage-lined walls.

  It was somewhere in his mind palace. He should know every forgotten corner of this place. Some place cold and wet and dark—the cellar.

  It would be back through the great hall. Somewhere at the end of it would be a red flaking door. He needed to find it.

  “You can’t go down there. Anything that stays down in that dungeon, for too long…” The logosophilo shivered. “I would have been down there myself if it weren’t for Tork.” It tried to hop along after him.

  “I have to save the malcognitos,” Mulrox said over his shoulder.

  “It’s too late. I’m sorry, I really am, but you have to save the rest of Sounous.”

  “No!” Mulrox said. “I remember them. Yvwi and Death-with-a-kiss, Rock-like-skin, Tree-with-frog-legs, Toad-springs-eternal. All of them. I know how it works. They’re not gone yet.”

  “Mulrox! Listen to me. Even if they aren’t gone yet, they will be. There is nothing you can do. You absolutely cannot go down there.”

  “I’m saving my friends.”

  “Anything that goes down there is erased from memory. If you go down there, if you face the Vaccus, you will forget yourself.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does matter! Mulrox, this is your mind. Without you, there is no Sounous. If you forget who you are, all of Sounous and everyone in it will disappear.”

  42

  They had only been following Rodenia for the better part of a day, and Yahgurkin was already growing tired of her two new companions. Geraldine and her cage were strapped to Groxor’s back. The toad kept up a steady chortling, despite Groxor’s frequent requests to pipe down.

  “I’m not sure she can understand you,” Yahgurkin said.

  “She can understand me alright,” Groxor said. “She’s enjoying this.”

  There was answering chortle. Groxor tried to swat the cage, but his stubby arms swung at it ineffectually.

  “I’ve been reading through Mulrox’s notebook.” Yahgurkin pushed aside a branch as she walked. “He’s nowhere near as bad as he makes himself out to be. This thing is full of brilliant ideas, jokes, phrases. There are pages of poems in here too. Good ones. Don’t you agree, Rodenia?”

  “If you like that sort of thing,” Rodenia said.

  “I’m sure it’s not that good. Have you heard the tale of how I took on the dread ship Billibob?”

  “You mea
n the tale of Ikgarax the Insidious?” she said. “Yes, we all have.”

  “It’s not––”

  “Mulrox told me you lifted it word for word from Vroktar. I checked it out. He’s right.”

  “I could see how you might think that. Ikgarax and I have a lot in common and—”

  “It’s weird, don’t you think? I mean it seemed like more than modesty with Mulrox, like he really believes he’s never made anything worthwhile. The malcognitos are great, but he doesn’t see it. And the stuff in this notebook…” She patted it with her hand. “It’s fantastic, but he’s never mentioned any of it. It’s like he doesn’t know it exists.”

  Groxor scowled and turned on Rodenia. “Can’t you hurry this up? I thought you said he was in danger. By the time we get back to Ulgorprog, there’ll be nothing left.”

  Yahgurkin elbowed Groxor in the ribs. He had a point though—if Mulrox was in danger, she didn’t know how long he could hold out.

  “If we don’t get to Mulrox, you can kiss your town goodbye. Tabiyeh’s already far too strong for any of us.” Rodenia didn’t even turn around. “Anyway, we’re almost there.”

  Yahgurkin looked around. Trees surrounded them on all sides, but it was a bright day, and the light that streamed in promised an open sky not far ahead.

  “I thought you said he was on a mountain,” Groxor grumbled.

  “She’s opening portals all over the place. The mountain is one—this one happens to be a lot closer. It’s right through here.” Rodenia came to a stop as the trees abruptly ended in a large open field. The squirrelmonk scampered up the nearest tree and out along a branch until she was hanging several feet above them into the clearing. She held a paw up over her eyes and peered out. Rodenia stiffened. “What’s that… how… nuts and stuffing!”

  “What’s wrong?” Yahgurkin asked. It seemed as though nothing could go right for them.

  “How did she know? Is she watching me?” Rodenia spun around and glared at the two ogres. “Is it one of you? Did you rat me out?”

  “You’re the rat,” Groxor said.

  “Is the portal gone?” Yahgurkin asked.

  “It’s not gone. See for yourselves.” Rodenia pointed.

  Yahgurkin didn’t know what she was supposed to be seeing; before them stretched a sunny field. At the far end, there were a few specks of white, probably some flowering bushes like jasmine or viburnum—nothing at all that warranted the squirrelmonk’s reaction.

  “The portal is there,” Rodenia said. “Right there.”

  “Through those bushes?” Yahgurkin asked. “That’s not that far. What’s the problem?”

  “Those aren’t bushes,” Groxor said. “They’re sheep.”

  * * *

  It took them some time to creep along the tree line around to the far side of the clearing. They were now supposedly only a few feet from the portal, but all Yahgurkin could see was a herd of pristine and bored-looking sheep.

  “I still don’t see a portal,” Yahgurkin whispered.

  “Well, you can’t see through sheep, can you?” Rodenia snapped and then flinched as behind her Groxor stepped on a twig, breaking it in two with a loud crack.

  Yahgurkin put a hand on the squirrelmonk’s back. “It’s okay. The plan will work.”

  “I wish I was crazy again,” Groxor muttered. She saw a look of shock cross Groxor’s face. “I didn’t mean that. It wasn’t me. Mulrox…” He clenched his fist.

  “Mulrox can’t implant ideas in your head. It’s not like you’re glamoured.”

  “They’re not my ideas!”

  Yahgurkin snorted. “You’re finally loosening up a bit.”

  “I’m plenty loose.” Groxor brushed dirt from his shirt.

  Yahgurkin sighed. She missed Yvwi and Mulrox. “Are you still up for this?”

  “I’ve been the brigade leader for three years; I think I can throw a few rocks.”

  She nodded. “Let’s go then.”

  Rodenia went first, shooting straight up the tree.

  Yahgurkin crooked her good arm and braced herself as Groxor set one foot into her waiting hand.

  “Alright” she said. “One, two, three.” She tried not to grunt as she lifted. This would be a lot easier with two hands. With two hands, she would have insisted she climb up after Rodenia, but Yahgurkin wasn’t much of a climber with only one good arm.

  Groxor jumped, caught the lowest branch, and hoisted himself into the tree along with a small sack of rocks. Yahgurkin watched for a moment as Rodenia pointed to the next set of ogre-safe branches and Groxor, grumbling, attempted to follow her instructions. After a few minutes of watching the pair scramble upward, Yahgurkin slunk back behind the tree she had selected as cover, a liquid amber already drooping with the neon-green spiky seed balls. From here, she had a clear view of the sheep and Groxor’s tree while being conveniently screened from view. She had already stashed Geraldine’s cage in the bushes nearby, and the toad looked up at her hopefully as she settled down next to her. Yahgurkin patted the cage but kept her eyes trained on the subtly swaying tree branches above her. All she could do now was wait.

  She didn’t have to wait long. A loud thunk echoed through the trees far off to her left, followed by the screeching moan of splintering wood. Through the branches, Yahgurkin saw the sheep go rigid, listening.

  “What was that?” The sheep bleated at one another, milling about and bumping each other in confusion.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “It was nothing.”

  “Something.”

  Then another shattering noise from off to the right.

  “Come on,” Yahgurkin whispered. “Investigate.”

  “Split up!” a sheep shouted.

  The animals began to disperse following the sounds that now echoed all across the wood until only five sheep remained between them and their goal.

  Yahgurkin smiled. Exactly as planned. She had been worried. It wasn’t the most interesting plan, like disguising themselves as sheep or tunneling underground or challenging the herd to a duel. But she had tried to think of what Mulrox might say and, in the end, had settled on the simplest plan despite its lack of imagination––and it worked.

  She could now see what must have been the portal, a rectangle a foot or two off the ground. There wasn’t much to see. A small waver, like the air over a pot of nearly boiling roktoil. She should be able to squeeze through, but just barely. It should be no problem—out of the corner of her eye, Yahgurkin spotted something hurtling toward her. Without thinking, she dove to the side, grunting as her bad arm hit the dirt, but she managed to pull Geraldine’s cage after her. She was hit with a spray of broken twigs and dirt as a rock slammed to the ground next to her.

  The remaining sheep turned toward her. She pushed herself flat to the earth, hoping the poor light would be enough to hide her. What in Grendel’s name was Groxor doing? The ogre was balanced on a tree limb way up in the tree, hands on his hips, glaring down at the small, hooded figure. Rodenia sat at the far end of the same branch, shaking a fist up at him.

  Were they arguing again? Now? Groxor stepped out toward Rodenia.

  Yahgurkin desperately wanted to shake some sense into the both of them, but the sheep were coming toward her now.

  CRACK.

  Yahgurkin looked up in horror as the branch snapped beneath Groxor’s weight. The ogre and the squirrelmonk tipped into the air, falling only a few feet before they slammed into the next set of branches. Groxor seemed to have a handhold, but the squirrelmonk slid down a branch, pine needles flying every which way, until she fell, landing straight onto Groxor’s face. The ogre tried to shake her off, but Rodenia dug her claws into Groxor’s forehead, trying to find a foothold.

  “Ack!” Groxor bellowed and let loose one hand to pull at the squirrelmonk. His other hand slipped down several feet, and then they both were falling again, tumbling down through the air.

  The two animals landed smack in the middle of the remaining sheep amidst a cloud of dust
and needles.

  The sheep scattered, bleating in protest.

  Yahgurkin held her breath. Groxor and Rodenia were helpless. She could try to face the sheep, but if she lost, it was over. If she stayed hidden, she still had a shot, she might be able to rescue them later.

  The sheep recovered first and closed ranks again around the unmoving figures.

  One of the sheep stepped forward and butted Groxor with its head.

  There was a low groan. But the sheep persisted, nudging the ogre.

  Groxor pushed himself into a sitting position and glared at the sheep. He looked dazed, then angry, then his eyes focused on the sheep in front of him and his mouth dropped open.

  “FLEECEFUZ?”

  The sheep bleated in recognition and butted him again. Groxor threw his arms around the sheep and they embraced. Fleecefuz baaed quietly into Groxor’s ear and then pulled away from the ogre and trotted back to his companions.

  There was stomping and ear waggling as the sheep conferred for several minutes. Then Fleecefuz stepped out from the group and whispered something else to Groxor.

  “A poem? You told them about that?!”

  Fleecefuz looked down and scuffed the ground with his hoof.

  “I could smash something for you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

  Fleecefuz tilted her head back at the other sheep.

  They stomped the ground and began to take slow, menacing steps toward Groxor.

  “Alright, I’ll try, but I…” Groxor looked back toward Yahgurkin, effectively blowing her cover.

  Yahgurkin rolled her eyes. She tucked Geraldine under her arm and stepped out to meet them.

  Groxor’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Yahgurkin, they want me to write a poem about them. Me.”

  “Then do it.”

  “I can’t! It’s so irregular. I…”

  Yahgurkin lost her patience. She cleared her throat and began. “The fluffy, white, and glowing sheep—ow!” She looked down. One of the sheep had rammed its head into her leg.

  “This is absurd.” Yahgurkin shoved the sheep away from her. They were so close now. Yahgurkin could see the portal. If she could only reach out and touch it. She took a step forward.