Tabiyeh flushed a sickly salmon color.
Groxor joined Yahgurkin, stepping up next to her. “You stink!” he yelled. “This whole thing is highly irregular.”
“These are the people you risk everything for,” Tabiyeh spat. “They can’t even let you have one moment. Remove them!” she commanded.
A group of sheep began to close in on Yahgurkin and Groxor.
Tabiyeh turned her back on Mulrox and addressed the crowd again.
“Only the weak misunderstand genius.” She waved back at Yahgurkin and Groxor, who were battling with the sheep. “They can’t stop us. Ulgorprog is only the beginning.”
He would beat this. He’d think of something. Mulrox tried to flex his fingers. They twitched but felt too big, as though he wore giant mittens.
Out in the crowd, Yahgurkin spun, knocking over one of the ogres before shoving him into the oncoming sheep. Groxor was trying to fend them off with a bucket.
“Soon all of Veralby will know of us.” Tabiyeh’s flush was fading, she was gaining confidence. “Mulrox the brilliant. The ogre who stunned the world with the greatest idea of all time: me.”
His friends were slowing. Two ogres now had Yahgurkin by the arms and were pulling her away from the square. Groxor had sheep attached to both legs. It was over. They were going to lose.
“EXSPRESSO!” Yahgurkin yelled.
A ripple spread from the perimeter of the square. Ogres all along it were grabbing their heads, stumbling. Looks of disgust spread through the crowd as globs of sparkly saliva flew through the air.
In a sudden flurry of movement, the ogres holding Yahgurkin went down in a flash of metallic legs. A moment later, Tork appeared in their place with Yvwi riding atop of her. “EXSPRESSO!” he shouted.
They were doing it. Mulrox’s toes wriggled in delight. Wriggled… he could move his toes! The glamour was wearing off.
Amidst clangs and scraping, three more grinders appeared from the crowd, each with a malcognito seated on top of their backs. Yahgurkin stumbled back to her feet. She turned and saluted the malcognitos as the chaos spread through the crowd.
“Gah!” Tabiyeh yelled, shaking with rage. “Make them stop.”
“I don’t control them,” Mulrox said
Tabiyeh stormed over to Mulrox and shoved him as hard as she could.
He stumbled. With his arms still heavy with the glamour he was too slow and fell hard against the stage. He heard a crack from inside his front pocket. Mulrox shifted onto his side and saw a small wooden ball roll forward. He looked closer. It wasn’t a ball at all but a carefully carved head. An ogre head. It was the statue that Tork had carved before the birds had attacked. She must have slipped it into his pocket when she had hugged him. It was the one of him among a host of small, malformed shapes. The malcognitos.
Of course.
“Eyes-like-eels,” Mulrox mumbled. “Rock-like-skin.”
“Shh! Quiet!” Tabiyeh said.
He had tried reason, he had tried pleading, he had even tried force, but none of that had worked.
He got to his hands and knees.
“Spinakle-rex.” His voice was coming back to him. “Tree-with-frog-legs.”
It was what she had been afraid of all along. Why she was after the malcognitos, after any idea that detracted from her and her prominence.
“They’ll hear. Stop.”
Mulrox pushed to his feet and looked up to see that Tabiyeh had retreated several feet away from him, her hands held up before her.
“Dinner-bell-of-destruction!”
Tabiyeh was looking behind him now, motioning at him.
“Toad-stool-steps,” he said. “Tilting-tadpole. Trap-the-grinder.”
“Get him,” she said.
Mulrox turned. The ogres that had attacked him before were now out in the crowd dealing with the chaos below. But one had remained. Great-Aunt Griselda was barreling toward him, her sinewy, old muscles flexing and unflexing, her faces a mask of disgust.
Mulrox tried to run, but his feet were not his own. They were heavy and slow. She was closing in on him.
“Raid Brigade, charge!”
Groxor, Oogin, and Broxli rushed up the stairs and onto the stage. Ahead of them flew a single menacing malcognito. Death-with-a-kiss flew straight into Griselda’s face and with one great heave covered it in a wash of sparkly blue saliva.
Mulrox saw the look of confusion in Griselda’s eyes before the three ogres caught up with her. In one movement, they tackled her, piling up in an enormous dog pile and pinning her to the stage floor.
Out in the crowd, it was chaos. Ogres were diving, fleeing from the grinders as malcognito saliva rained down on everyone in the square
“Mulrox, the notebook!” Groxor shouted.
The notebook?
“Hurry,” Groxor said. He rolled free from the pile. “Read the notebook, you mumble mouth, read!”
Of course. There were endless ideas listed there. Mulrox fished the notebook out of his pocket and flipped to the first dog-eared page. The writing had been studiously crossed out by a hand other than his own, though he had done similar things many times before. He could barely make out the words. He looked at the title, then back up at the crowd. Mulrox swallowed then began to read.
“To Geraldine,” he shouted.
“The greatest toad,
I’ve ever chanced to meet.
Two great big eyes and bumpy skin,
Four webby, bouncing feet.”
As he read from the notebook, his head began to clear.
“That’s a bunch of nonsense,” Tabiyeh said. She was panting and glancing about wildly.
“Not two weeks old we caught you up,
And took you from the shore.
A wee young tad, a pollywog,
A friend for ever more.”
There was a rush of air, and Mulrox looked up to see Tabiyeh charging at him like a lunatic. “Stop! You’re embarrassing yourself!”
He could hear chuckles amidst the crowd now. The ogres were waking up. The glamour was fading. It was working. He couldn’t believe how afraid he had been of this very thing.
He continued reading.
“We go a-raiding through the rising light
To smash and break and tear it all apart.
For joy, what glee, our faces shining bright,
With banging drums, an echo of the heart.”
As Mulrox turned the pages, he realized something appalling. He liked the poems. The ogres out in the crowd were heckling him now, but it no longer mattered to him.
“Why are you doing this?” Tabiyeh pleaded. She was in front of him now. “I set everything up for you. I made it perfect. I don’t understand.”
He could feel more of the glamour falling against him, but as the ideas surged from his mind, it filled him with a fire of energy and enthusiasm, burning away the numbing glamour. He was free.
“Though bruised and near broken,
Your brain split wide open,
You still long for someone to get
That though hope may not find you
And dreams won’t become true,
Toad-springs-eternal yet.”
Mulrox chanced a glance up at Tabiyeh. She was huddled in on herself, shrinking. There were tears running down her face. She was becoming muddier, less distinct.
“I found Geraldine!” Mulrox heard Yahgurkin’s voice from somewhere behind him. “Mulrox, she’s alright!”
Mulrox turned, but a hand fell against his shoulder.
“Keep reading!” Groxor shouted.
Mulrox turned back to the notebook. He had come to the end of the marked passages, so he started flipping through the pages at random.
“Pickle-jelly toast! Peanut-butter-and-ketchup sandwiches!”
As he turned each page, Mulrox felt a little jolt as the words swam up to him.
“Crash, bang, bop, Groxor looks like a mop.”
“That’s unnecessary,” Groxor shouted from behind him as he fought
off the glamoured ogres that were still trying to make their way onto the stage. “If anything, I’m more of a rake.”
“Umbrella-boats, Rooftop-concerts, Fried-eggs-and-licorice, Starlight-dusting.”
Had he really come up with all these ideas? There were so many! Some good, some bad, some ridiculous, but all just ideas. Tabiyeh had wanted to destroy them all.
Mulrox stopped. The entire crowd was heckling him. Mulrox ignored them and turned to Tabiyeh. “You tried to destroy them all. Not just the bad ones but the good ones too.”
She had shrunk down to the size of Tork, and though most of the medals had shrank with her, a single golden, glowing bead around her neck looked almost larger. “I couldn’t let anything get in our way.”
Mulrox thought back to everything that had happened. The dreams, the sheep, the birds, the illusions and smokescreens. And then he remembered. Remembered what it used to feel like in Ulgorprog when he was alone and unwanted. “You were afraid.”
Tabiyeh said nothing.
“You were scared of being embarrassed, scared of being replaced.”
“I could never be replaced. I’m perfect.”
“No,” Mulrox said. “That’s not possible.”
“I will live on forever.”
“Nothing does.”
“I am your favorite.”
Mulrox shook his head. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“You lie!”
He could hear the insults from the crowd, and the shame rolled back to him all at once. He closed his eyes. It was different now. He felt it. The fear was there, but it wasn’t in control. “I’m afraid, but I’m done letting you stop me. This is who I am.”
Mulrox opened his eyes. Tabiyeh was still there, but she was smaller than the smallest malcognito, not much bigger than a grapefruit. Even poor Tree-with-frog-legs would tower over her now. She was fumbling with the piece of twine around her neck and the golden ball that hung around it like a millstone. Mulrox thought he saw the air in front of her begin to waver.
“Get your grubby hands off that, you mangy cur!” Rodenia shot across the stage toward Tabiyeh. The squirrelmonk careened straight into her. They were a blur of arms and fur, but a moment later Rodenia pulled away, holding what was now clearly a golden walnut.
“Don’t worry,” Rodenia whispered to the walnut, cradling it to her. “You’re safe now.”
A wracking sob sounded from the little miserable shape. She was so small and wrinkled she looked like a paper doll.
“Stop that,” Mulrox said.
“I… I can’t.” Tabiyeh cowered, trying to cover her face with her hands. “I’m horrible. Don’t look at me.”
Mulrox grabbed the scruff of her neck. “Stand up,” he said as he set her on her feet.
She closed her eyes and whimpered.
“That’s enough,” Mulrox said. “You’re not perfect. Nothing is.”
Tabiyeh let out a long, miserable sob.
Something nudged Mulrox’s leg from behind. He turned and then almost fell over as something large and warty leapt into his arms.
Mulrox looked down into the familiar golden eyes of his best friend. “Geraldine!” He wrapped his arms about her and rocked back and forth.
She slapped him playfully across the nose with her bright pink tongue.
The others had gathered around him now. Groxor, Tork, Yahgurkin, Yvwi, and the malcognitos, even Broxli and Oogin stood looking down at the two of them.
“That wasn’t terrible,” Groxor said.
“I thought it went well,” Yahgurkin said.
“Yes, way to lose,” Yvwi said.
Mulrox looked up at the cloud of terrible ideas. There were so many malcognitos now that they filled the entire stage. He smiled. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
49
“I was bonkers. Completely out of my noggin. Jumbled up in the jelly hole. And all I knew was that there were a lot of large, fluffy white things in front of me, begging me to chase after them.”
Groxor was up on the stage at the Slobber and Snore going through his now-very-familiar tale, “Groxor and the Scourge of Sheep.”
Several months had passed since the disastrous competition, but Groxor and the rest of Ulgorprog had not tired of talking about it. Mulrox watched him, smiling at the green ogre’s enthusiasm.
They weren’t friends exactly, but there was an understanding and respect between them now. Mulrox kept quiet about a certain sheep that lived with Groxor. And Groxor, in return, did his best to let Mulrox be, though he still saw Groxor’s eyes twitch in frustration whenever he did anything irregular. Despite that, the two of them met every week for “Terrible Ideas and Other Things You’d Rather Forget” at the Slobber and Snore. Mulrox had come up with the idea—Groxor, the name.
It had started off as a sort of therapy for Groxor, who still complained of suffering from malcognitus. Instead of bottling up his ideas and having them tumble out at embarrassing intervals, he had found that if he got them out all at once, it was more manageable. As they met week after week, they gathered a small group of spectators. These spectators soon became participants, which gathered more viewers, and so on, until now there was an established group of ogres who met to tell stories, read poetry, and discuss ideas otherwise too outlandish to be mentioned. Mulrox didn’t do much talking himself, but he liked to be there to support the others. It wasn’t something Mulrox could have ever imagined taking place in Ulgorprog before, but being enslaved by an ogre’s idea come to life and a flock of irate sheep could change a place.
* * *
The morning after the Behemoth, Griselda had summoned him to the Slobber and Snore. She was lying low after her involvement in the coup.
When he walked in, she was sitting at her usual table, the hip brace was back, and she had her suitcases tucked into the seat next to her.
Mulrox swallowed and stepped forward.
“Great-Aunt.”
She inclined her head. “Sit.”
He took a seat. They were both silent for several moments.
“What you did… at the Behemoth.”
“I know, I’m sorry—”
She waved him silent. “What you did was truly terrible.” She was looking into her tea. “To take over the whole town.”
He hung his head. He deserved whatever was coming.
“Downright despicable.” There was something with her voice. Was she smiling?
“I was right about you. I knew you would make something of yourself. Do you know what they are calling you?”
Mulrox’s mouth fell open.
“Mulrox the Malevolent.” She snorted with laughter.
“The Malevolent? They gave me a title?”
“Yes. And me, nothing more than a mindless puppet. Griselda the Gruesome indeed.” She glared into her cup of liquidized bean sprouts. “The hip, of course, is even worse. That cyclone fixed nothing, only hid the pain. Anyway, I say we call things even.”
“I can stay in Ulgorprog?”
The door to the Slobber and Snore banged open, and Griselda glanced over her shoulder. Two ogres, the tailor and the blacksmith, cast angry glares over at them but moved off to their own table.
“Yes. And it’s best that I return to Raggok sooner rather than later. I’m leaving on the first cart out of here.” She rapped the table with her knuckles. “Before I go, I have something for you.” Griselda dug around in one of her carpet bags and produced a large stack of folded papers.
Mulrox reached for them, but she held up a hand. “I did it to protect you,” she said. “I couldn’t have you turning out like them. Not after they got themselves banned from Ulgorprog.”
Banned…
She slid them across the table toward him. “I’ll leave you to it,” she said and pushed up from the table.
Mulrox picked up the first sheet. It was addressed to him.
Dearest Mulrox,
The boat ride was an enormous adventure. You wouldn’t believe the salty squalls and h
ammering sun, but it’s been an agony to be without you…
Mulrox skimmed to the bottom of the letter.
Love forever,
Mom & Dad
He grabbed the next one.
Mulberry,
It’s been two days and we think of you every moment.
And the next.
Son,
You won’t believe what happened today.
Mulrox grasped the letters to him, fighting against the water gathering at his eyes.
“What are these?!” he demanded.
There was no reply. He looked up.
Griselda was gone.
* * *
Mulrox was sitting at the same table now. The letters occupied his thoughts more often than he would like to admit. His mind wandered out to sea with them, roaming over the words his parents had written. He couldn’t help but wonder where they might be now. How he might find them.
“Mulrox!” a voice called from the bar.
He looked up to see Trolzor waving him over. Mulrox got up from the table, bringing his mug with him, and made his way over to Trolzor. Svenn was lying across three stools next to Trolzor.
“How come we never hear you read anymore?” Svenn asked. “I liked what I heard.”
Mulrox blushed. “I think it’s best I take a break from the limelight, after you know, almost destroying Ulgorprog.”
“It’s too bad. I admired your honesty. Wish I could bring more of that to my music.”
“Me?” Mulrox asked. “You’re the artist. I don’t know how many times I’ve sat here listening to you, overcome––”
Svenn smiled and stood. He smacked Mulrox across the shoulder. “Take the compliment. After everything, I think you earned it.” He slithered toward the stage. “Trust me, I know. You’re not the only one who has had to weather a visit from Rodenia.”
Mulrox’s mouth hung open.
Svenn chuckled. “Things never shake out the way you’d expect. Like this new tune I’m trying out. I like it, but Trolzor says it makes the hairs on his knuckles stand straight up.”
Mulrox and the Malcognitos Page 32