by Emily Rodda
‘HELP!’ Clink wails.
‘Puh!’ says Tawny.
Tawny’s right, of course. Clink doesn’t deserve help. Still, Monty feels he should do something before every coin in the treasure chest disappears down the baby’s throat. The trouble is, Bunchy’s the only Islander big enough to handle the creature now, and she’s not in the mood to do Clink any favours.
Then Monty has an idea. ‘The baby’s eating an awful lot, Bunchy,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I hope it doesn’t make itself sick.’
As he’d hoped, Bunchy instantly looks worried. She runs to the treasure chest and picks up the baby.
‘Ickle!’ the baby pipes, struggling to get back to the gold.
‘No, no, little Ickle!’ Bunchy croons. ‘You don’t want a pain in the tummy, do you? You come with Bunchy, and we’ll . . . Oh! What’s that?’
There’s a weird, harsh cry from above. Seagulls squawk and scatter in panic. Everyone looks up, and yells in shock.
Two giant shadows are swooping towards the beach.
Monty sees fierce, glittering eyes as big as dinner plates. He sees sharp, curved pincers snapping the air. He sees a tangle of black, spiny legs and vast, scaly red wings.
He looks wildly around. The trees that line the beach aren’t thick enough to be protection from monsters like this. He knows there’s only one thing to do.
‘The Cafe!’ he yells. ‘Run!’
The flying monsters are only moments away. Monty can hear the beating of their wings, and the air’s filled with their high, whining cries. ‘Hurry!’ he yells to Bunchy, who’s running in front of him.
‘I’m trying!’ Bunchy shrieks. And she is, but she keeps stumbling as she tries to keep hold of the wriggling baby creature. It’s paying no attention to the dangers swooping from the sky. It just wants to get back to the treasure chest.
‘Out o’ me way!’ Clink squawks, pushing roughly past. Clink’s in a panic. He’s looking up, trying to see how close the diving monsters are. And that’s how he crashes into the loaded Pick-up Sled that’s still standing where Monty left it, blocking the Cafe path.
Clink bounces back into Bunchy, bounces forward again and ends up sprawled face down on the Sled. Bunchy falls over, still clutching the struggling baby. Monty runs into her. Tawny runs into him.
They're all together now – Clink on the sled and the others in a groaning heap. The perfect target, Monty thinks in horror. He hears Tawny roar as the monsters plummet down, down …
‘Good grief!’ a voice bellows. And then the Explorer’s pounding towards them, the green canoe held upside down over his head. The whining creatures swerve in the air to attack him, but the bottom of the canoe’s like a sturdy roof they can’t break.
The Explorer looks terrified, but he doesn’t stop. By the time the Islanders have picked themselves up, he’s beside them. ‘Get under here!’ he pants, raising the canoe a little. ‘Quick!’
They crowd under the canoe – Monty in front, Bunchy and the baby in the middle with the Explorer, and Tawny behind. But the Sled’s still blocking the path, with Clink draped over it. Clink seems to have fainted with fright.
‘Leave him!’ the Explorer yells, his voice cracking in panic. ‘Get round him! Run for your lives!’
Monty can’t do that. He can’t leave Clink to be eaten by monsters. He feels the wind from the sea at his back, and it gives him an idea.
Hoping against hope, he hauls up the Sled’s sail, takes off the brake, and pushes as hard as he can.
The sail catches the wind. The Sled shoots forward, picking up speed. Soon it’s pulling Monty along. The others run behind him, only just keeping up. And in no time at all, the Cafe door is in sight.
‘We’re going to make it!’ Bunchy squeals.
‘Ickle!’ the baby shrieks in excitement.
‘Good grief!’ the Explorer whimpers as the monsters swoop, shrieking angrily, over their heads.
Silent Sir Wise is at the table eating his breakfast when the Pick-up Sled bursts through the Cafe door with Monty, Bunchy and Tawny close behind. ‘How do?’ he hoots calmly, and goes on eating. One of the really good things about Sir Wise is that he never panics.
Marigold turns from the stove with a frown. ‘Well, about time!’ she says, snatching the lid off a pan. ‘The sweet-potato cakes have been ready for – ’
Her mouth falls open as she sees Bunchy carrying a strange-looking creature and Clink sprawled on the Sled. She gasps as the Explorer bolts into the Cafe after the others, slamming the door behind him. And when she hears the shrieks of the flying monsters outside and sees giant shadows swoop past the Cafe windows, she drops the pan lid with a clatter.
But one of the really good things about Marigold is that she knows to do the important things first, and ask questions later. ‘Bolt the door, Monty!’ she shouts, and runs to close the shutters.
Monty and the Explorer rush to help Marigold, and soon the Cafe’s locked up tight. It’s also quite dark, so Marigold lights the lantern by the stove and puts a flickering candle on the table.
All this time, Silent Sir Wise has been quietly finishing his breakfast. Now he looks up at the Explorer. ‘Who are you?’ he asks politely.
‘Elvis Eager, Famous Explorer,’ the Explorer puffs. ‘Pleased to meet you!’
‘He saved us!’ cries Bunchy, holding the baby creature tightly as it struggles to get down. ‘He was wonderful!’
‘Oh, it was nothing,’ Elvis Eager says. ‘Any incredibly brave hero would have done the same.’
There’s a horrible whining sound and the clatter of spiny legs landing on the Cafe roof. Clink wakes, rolls over and falls off the Sled. Everyone else looks up nervously.
‘What are those things?’ asks Marigold.
‘No idea,’ Elvis Eager says, tugging at his moustache. ‘Not the faintest. Haven’t got a clue, sorry.’
‘I’ve never seen anything like them around here before,’ says Monty. ‘They must have been blown off-course in the storm.’
‘Never mind about that!’ growls Clink, picking himself up off the floor. ‘Where’s the grub? I got to take me mind off havin’ me gold guzzled. An’ anyhow, I’m starved.’
‘Me too,’ says Bunchy. ‘Being nearly killed has made me awfully hungry.’
Marigold sighs. She goes back to the stove and loads a dish with sweet-potato cakes.
‘Well, I hope they leave soon,’ she mutters, carrying the dish to the table. ‘I can do without monsters today. I hardly got a wink of sleep last night. And the roof leaked where the Signal Tree grows through it. I got soaked bringing in the ladder, but the more I tried to plug the leak, the worse it got.’
‘Never mind,’ says Monty, glancing at the ladder still leaning against the wall. ‘We’ll fix the roof properly as soon as those creatures fly away.’
‘They won’t fly away,’ Elvis Eager says gloomily. ‘They’re waiting.’
‘Waiting?’ asks Bunchy. ‘What for?’
‘Oh, well, you know, for-for one of us to come out,’ Elvis Eager stammers, looking flustered. ‘They’re hungry as well, I suppose.’
‘Hmm,’ says Sir Wise.
In silence, everyone takes a plate and goes to sit down. Shadows dance in the candlelight. Bunchy puts the baby on her knee and gives it a tin bowl of sweet-potato cake cut into small pieces.
‘And who’s this?’ asks Marigold, taking her place at the head of the table and trying to smile cheerfully at the baby.
‘Ickle!’ says the baby, peering suspiciously at the sweet potato.
‘He knows his name already,’ Bunchy says proudly. ‘Isn’t he clever?’
Ickle tips the food on the floor and takes a bite out of the bowl.
‘Puh!’ says Tawny.
‘Ickle, ICKLE!’ The baby spits out a wet lump of chewed tin, wriggles off Bunchy’s knee and starts hunting around the floor, whimpering to himself.
‘Sorry, Marigold,’ Bunchy says, jumping up to follow him. ‘He’s probably looking for gold. That�
�s what he ate on the beach.’
‘Well, there’s no gold in here,’ says Marigold.
Bunchy looks worried. ‘I know an old spell that’s supposed to change things into gold,’ she says. ‘I’ll try it straight after breakfast.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Clink jeers with his mouth full, and she shoots him an angry look.
Claws scrabble on the roof and Bunchy glances up fearfully. So does everyone else except Clink, who seizes his chance to grab the last of the sweet-potato cakes while no one’s looking.
‘If only we knew what those things are!’ says Monty. ‘Then we might be able to work out how to get rid of them.’
‘Book!’ Sir Wise hoots suddenly, making everyone jump.
‘Of course!’ Marigold claps her hands. ‘Strange Beasts!’ She glances over her shoulder at the cluttered shelves behind her. ‘Where’s it gone? Oh, that’s right, I put it in my high cupboard last night, when the roof started leaking. I’ll get it.’ She pushes her chair back.
‘Don’t worry, Marigold, I’ll do it,’ calls Bunchy, reaching up.
Tawny growls warningly. At the same moment, Monty shouts, ‘Bunchy, don’t!’, Marigold cries, ‘Leave it to me, Bunch!’ and Sir Wise hoots, ‘No!’
Too late! Bunchy’s already opened the high cupboard, which is usually forbidden to everyone but Marigold. The thick brown book called Strange Beasts is there, right at the front. Bunchy pulls it out, then gasps as she sees something tucked away behind it.
‘Oh!’ she squeals. ‘The magic wand I lost! The wand that makes my spells work! It’s here! Isn’t that AMAZING?’
Marigold glances despairingly at Monty, Tawny and Sir Wise. A while ago, Monty had found the magic wand washed up on the beach. Bunchy had been thrilled. But the wand had turned out to be very powerful and very hard to control. After a few disasters, Marigold and the others had all agreed that it would be best if Bunchy never got the chance to use it again. So they’d hidden it in the high cupboard. There it had stayed, safely out of Bunchy’s sight.
Till now.
‘Bunchy,’ Monty says carefully, ‘I don’t think the wand’s a good idea. Remember what happened last time you used it? Things went wrong.’
‘Oh, pish!’ Bunchy laughs, reaching for the wand. ‘All I’m going to do is change a few things into gold for poor, hungry little Ickle! What can possibly go wrong?’
‘Puh,’ says Tawny.
‘Don’t touch it, Bunchy,’ Marigold snaps.
‘But it’s come back just when I need it!’ Bunchy wails. ‘It must want to help! And I know how to control it now, Marigold. I just have to think about what I really want while I say the spell, and – ’
‘No!’ cries Marigold. ‘Come away from that cupboard, please! Just bring the book here! I mean it, Bunchy!’
Looking very sulky, Bunchy trails over to the table and slams the book down in front of Monty. With Sir Wise and Tawny watching over his shoulder, Monty pulls the candle closer and starts turning pages, glancing at the pictures as he goes.
‘Ickle!’ moans the baby, spitting out the yellow cup it’s just tried to eat.
‘See that?’ Bunchy cries, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘Little Ickle’s starving!’
‘Bilgewater!’ scoffs Clink. He’s started listening again now he’s finished all the sweet-potato cakes. ‘The greasy swab’s got a bellyful of my treasure, ain’t it? It’s just a guts!’
‘You’re a fine one to talk!’ Bunchy screams.
Elvis Eager gets up and starts prowling restlessly around the table. ‘We’re wasting time here,’ he says loudly. ‘We don’t need books – we need an escape plan. What happens when the – those things up there – get really hungry and start breaking through the roof?’
‘Oh, do you really think they’ll do that?’ Marigold asks in alarm.
‘Go on!’ Sir Wise says quietly to Monty.
Monty hunches over the book, wondering if he’s doing the right thing or if he really is wasting time. So far, he’s seen no pictures that look anything like the monsters on the roof. Then he turns a page and blinks.
Two terrifying creatures loom from a background of trees covered in bright yellow flowers and long yellow seed pods. Monty stares at eyes like huge, glittering mirrors, sharp, curved pincers, spiky legs tipped with claws, vast red wings . . .
The title above the picture reads: Giant Red-Winged Oragoths.
‘Here they are!’ he exclaims, and reads the name aloud.
But before he can look at the writing under the picture, three things happen, one after the other.
The Explorer trips, falls across the table and knocks over the candle, which goes out, plunging the table into darkness.
The monsters on the roof shriek and take off with a loud scrabbling and the clatter of wings.
And suddenly there’s the sound of fists beating on the Cafe door. ‘Let me in!’ a voice outside screams. ‘Let me in, let me in, LET ME IN!’
Marigold jumps up and runs to the door.
‘Don’t open it!’ Elvis Eager yells. But of course Marigold does. Weak daylight streams through the opening door. Elvis Eager dives under the table.
Bunchy’s chanting softly in the shadows. Monty thinks she must be trying another protection spell, but he can’t hear the words.
A small figure hurtles through the doorway and crashes into the Pick-up Sled, knocking all the driftwood and Monty’s Finds onto the floor. The monsters outside shriek and dive. Marigold slams and bolts the door again just in time, shutting them out and plunging the Cafe into dimness once more. She hurries to the stove and comes back with the lantern.
The newcomer pushes herself away from the Sled and stands upright, breathing heavily. Her pointed nose is twitching, and her dark eyes gleam in the light of the lantern. She’s wearing some sort of uniform, and on her back there’s a large bag covered in pockets, straps and buckles.
‘Oragoths!’ she squeaks. ‘Giant Red-Winged Oragoths! But that’s impossible, impossible, impossible!’
‘We think they were blown off-course in the storm,’ says Marigold.
‘No, no, no!’ The stranger shakes her head violently. ‘They never fly out to sea. Their island is the only place they can find their food, so they never leave it. Never, never, never!’
Outside, the Oragoths shriek. There’s a rush of wings and clattering thuds as they land on the roof again.
‘Never?’ Sir Wise murmurs, looking up.
The stranger jumps. She hadn’t noticed the other Islanders sitting at the table in the dark.
‘Well, if they did leave, they must have had a very, very, VERY good reason!’ she snaps. Her eyes narrow suspiciously. She shrugs off her backpack and pulls a torch from one of the pockets. She flicks the torch on and trains its powerful beam on the shadowy figures at the table, inspecting their faces one by one.
‘Who are you?’ she demands, quite rudely.
‘Who be askin’, fungus-face?’ snarls Clink, very rudely indeed.
The newcomer takes out a wallet, flips it open and holds it out to show a shiny silver badge inside. ‘Ranger Katz,’ she says coldly. ‘Rare Beasts Division.’
‘My goodness!’ Marigold exclaims. ‘How did you get here, Ranger Katz?’
‘Trekked through the jungle from the other side. Blown in last night. Boat wrecked. Now . . .’
Monty hears a small chinking noise. He hears what sounds like munching, too. He looks round, squinting through the dimness. To his great surprise, he sees little Ickle sitting on the floor by the shelves, happily chewing on a softly gleaming spoon.
‘Puh!’ says Tawny. He’s looked round, too.
‘Ickle!’ the baby chirrups, taking two more gleaming spoons from a small heap in front of him. ‘Ickle, ickle, ickle!’
‘What’s that?’ squeaks Ranger Katz, swinging her torch towards the sound.
The powerful beam of light falls on Ickle, looking bigger than ever, gulping down spoons that are obviously pure gold. And there beside Ickle is Bunchy,
bright red with guilt and clutching the forbidden magic wand.
‘Bunchy!’ cries Marigold. ‘How could you? I told you not to touch – ’
‘Put the wand down, Bunchy,’ Monty breaks in, trying to sound calm.
‘I won’t!’ Bunchy says defiantly, turning even redder. ‘Poor little Ickle only hatched this morning. He needs me.’
‘But that’s – that’s –’ Ranger Katz stumbles forward, goggling at the baby. Her hands are shaking so much that she can hardly hold the torch.
‘Ickle!’ the baby whimpers. He’s finished all his spoons and is looking round for more. He toddles to the table and grabs Marigold’s fork from her plate. He bites the fork in half, then spits the halves back onto the plate. ‘Ickle, ickle, ickle!’ he wails.
‘Never mind, little one,’ Bunchy coos, rushing to the table. ‘Bunchy will change that nasty old fork for you.’ She raises the wand. Monty, Tawny and Sir Wise hurriedly scramble off their chairs and stand well back. Clink just laughs nastily. He doesn’t know what the wand can do. He saw it for himself, last time. But the shock wiped his memory clean.
‘Bunchy, no!’ Marigold shouts.
‘Stop fussing!’ Bunchy shouts back. ‘I know what I’m doing!’ She points the wand at the fork halves.
‘Listen, you people – ’ Ranger Katz squeaks, but no one pays any attention to her.
‘Paper, scissors, rock andmould,’ Bunchy chants. ‘So my magic maketh gold. . .HEY PRESTO!’
Instantly, the fork halves turn to gold. So does the plate they’re lying on. Even the crumbs of sweet-potato cake sticking to the plate have become tiny golden pebbles.
‘Gold!’ bawls Clink. ‘Thunderin’ crab claws! She done it!’