Elvis Eager and the Golden Egg: Monty's Island 3

by Emily Rodda

  They move on, creeping at first, then walking, then running. They run till they can run no more, then they push their way off the track and flop down in a tiny clearing behind a clump of tall bushes. Only then do they look up and see, to their relief, that the Oragoths have followed them all the way.

  ‘Well,’ Monty pants, when at last he can speak, ‘we won’t be going back that way!’

  ‘No, indeed,’ Sir Wise agrees.

  ‘We’d have been all right if I hadn’t sneezed,’ says Marigold. ‘I’m so sorry – it’s this wretched moustache! The hairs keep coming loose and getting up my nose. In fact … oh … ah … A-choo!’

  She feels for a handkerchief, but she’s forgotten that she’s wearing Elvis Eager’s jacket. All she can find in the pockets are a couple of peppermints, a few bits of paper, a grubby comb and three odd-looking gold coins.

  ‘Well, he kept very quiet about those when poor little Ickle was starving,’ Bunchy says crossly, frowning at the coins.

  She glances at the statue on the Sled, and her lips tremble. ‘Oh, I hope Ickle will be all right! Do you think they’ll be at sea by now?’

  ‘They should be,’ says Marigold, ‘as long as that Explorer hasn’t lost his nerve. We should never have told him about the Hairy Horrible. He’s an awful coward, I’m afraid.’

  ‘But he isn’t a coward all the time,’ Monty says. ‘He saved us on the beach. And he offered to take Ickle away in his canoe. No one asked him to do it.’

  ‘True . . . ’ Sir Wise murmurs thoughtfully.

  Bunchy sighs. ‘Still,’ she quavers, ‘I wish we knew what was happening.’

  Marigold heaves herself to her feet and goes to the Sled. ‘What useful things you found on the beach this morning, Monty!’ she says brightly.

  She’s trying to take Bunchy’s mind off Ickle, of course, but it’s no use. Bunchy just looks politely at the clogged fishing net, the rusty saw and the big plastic cone, and stays as anxious as ever.

  ‘Food?’ Sir Wise hints.

  Marigold nods, finds the picnic basket and hands out water, celery sticks and blueberry muffins.

  The sky’s cleared at last, and the hot sun beats down, warming the air. Mist has started rising from the wet earth. Butterflies of many colours drift about. On a twig above Monty’s head, a fat striped caterpillar hangs in a patch of sunlight, spinning a cocoon.

  Monty tries to relax, but he can’t. He feels twitchy and restless. The Oragoths have come to rest on a treetop directly overhead. Their monstrous shapes are dark against the sky.

  His plan’s working just as he’d hoped. He should be feeling pleased with himself. And yet . . .

  ‘I wonder what sort of butterfly that caterpillar will be when it comes out of its cocoon?’ Marigold murmurs drowsily. ‘It’s been eating the leaves on that bush – you can see all the little holes . . . Oh, drat!’

  She sits up abruptly. ‘I forgot to take down the breakfast flag before we left! Jinglebees will have chewed it to ribbons by now!’

  ‘Who cares about Jinglebees, Marigold?’ Bunchy whimpers. ‘What about Ickle? What if something’s gone wrong?’

  Wrong, Monty thinks. And all at once he knows why he’s feeling so jumpy.

  Something’s wrong. He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels it in his bones. Something’s terribly wrong.

  Monty jumps up. ‘I’m going to climb a tree and get a view of the water. Then at least we’ll know how far the Explorer’s gone.’

  ‘Oh, Monty, that would be wonderful!’ Bunchy cries gratefully.

  ‘But – the Oragoths!’ Marigold protests.

  ‘I’ll walk on a bit before I climb,’ says Monty. ‘The Oragoths won’t notice me.’

  He’s not as sure about this as he pretends to be, but he’s determined to go. A view of the sea isn’t all he’s after. He wants the chance to do some quiet thinking, with only Tawny for company.

  ‘You haven’t even eaten your muffin!’ Marigold fusses. And she won’t let Monty leave until she’s wrapped up the muffin and seen him push it into his Handy Bag.

  ‘Back soon,’ Monty says, and escapes at last.

  He walks quietly, thinking hard, with Tawny padding behind. Mist drifts in front of them and closes in behind them, but Monty’s not afraid of getting lost. Tawny never loses his way.

  When he feels he’s gone far enough, he stops. ‘I’ve thought and thought, but I still don’t know what’s worrying me,’ he says to Tawny. ‘Have you got any ideas?’

  Tawny hasn’t. So with a sigh Monty chooses a tall tree and starts to climb. Because of the mist, he soon loses sight of Tawny sitting at the foot of the tree, but as he climbs higher the mist thins. He can see that the Oragoths haven’t moved. They’re swaying slightly on their treetop, their wings shining in the sun.

  Monty climbs to the very top of his tree and then looks towards the sea. Close to the ground the Island is shrouded in mist, but the sea is clear. It stretches away into the distance, blue flecked with tiny threads of white. There’s no sign of the green canoe.

  It looks as if the Explorer hasn’t left the Island yet. What could have happened to stop him?

  Frowning, Monty picks out the Cafe. It’s cloaked in mist. He can only see the roof, with the Signal Tree poking through it. A patch of bright yellow is dangling from the top of the Tree.

  So the Jinglebees haven’t eaten the breakfast flag after all, Monty thinks in surprise. I wonder why?

  He squints at the yellow patch. And the longer he stares at it, the less like the coat-sleeve flag it looks. It seems bigger and thicker than it should. It shines too brightly in the sun.

  And the Jinglebees haven’t touched it, though Jinglebees love anything made of cloth. What is it?

  Monty sits back against the trunk of his tree. His heart’s started to thud. Calm down, he tells himself. He feels for the muffin in his Handy Bag, unwraps it and starts to eat it while thoughts whirl round in his mind.

  He thinks about a wooden box with holes in the sides. He thinks about Ranger Katz, and all she said. He thinks about Elvis Eager, who seemed such a coward, but who had come to the rescue on the beach and had also offered to save Ickle. He thinks about the Oragoths, and the picture in Strange Beasts. He remembers the caterpillar in the clearing, spinning its cocoon.

  The paper that’s been wrapped around the muffin crackles in his hands. He looks down and sees to his surprise that he’s eaten all but a few crumbs of the muffin without even tasting it.

  He shakes off the crumbs, then sees something else. Marigold’s wrapped the muffin in one of the papers she found in the Explorer’s pocket. The paper’s covered in writing. It’s a letter.

  Monty stares at the letter. A few words catch his eye. He quickly reads on. And suddenly all the little things that have been niggling at the corners of his mind slide into place.

  He stuffs the paper back into his Handy Bag and climbs down to the ground as fast as he can.

  ‘There is something wrong,’ he tells Tawny. ‘It’s us! We’ve had everything all wrong! Let’s go!’

  They race back the way they’ve come. By the time they burst into the clearing in a flurry of mist, Monty has a plan.

  Marigold and Bunchy are dozing while Sir Wise keeps watch.

  ‘Bunchy! Marigold! Wake up!’ Monty pants. ‘Help me get the Ickle statue off the Sled! If we leave it here, the Oragoths won’t follow us – I hope.’

  ‘What’s doing?’ hoots Sir Wise.

  ‘The Explorer tricked us!’ Monty runs to the Sled and starts untying the statue. ‘We’ve got to get back to the Cafe as fast as we can! We’ll just have to take our chances with the Hairy Horrible. I’ll explain everything on the way. If I’m right, there’s no time to lose!’

  The green canoe is still lying outside the Cafe when Monty finally runs out of the jungle, dragging the empty Pick-up Sled. As he bursts through the Cafe door, slamming it behind him and shutting out the mist, he hears a gasp of shock and looks up.

  Elvis Eager’s gogglin
g at him from the top of Marigold’s tall ladder, which is propped against the trunk of the Signal Tree.

  Sunlight from the blue sky above pours through the big hole that’s been cut in the ceiling.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Elvis Eager gabbles. ‘You’re supposed to be in the jungle!’ In sudden panic, he glances at the open windows, and up at the hole in the roof. ‘Good grief! The Oragoths aren’t back as well, are they?’

  ‘No,’ Monty pants. ‘They stayed with the Ickle statue.’

  With a sigh of relief, the Explorer starts climbing down the ladder. ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m still here,’ he says. ‘Fact is, Ickle gave me the slip. Chewed away the ceiling round the tree trunk, and got out onto the roof. I’ve had to cut a hole big enough to climb through myself. Took ages, but I wasn’t going to risk climbing outside in all this mist. Could have slipped and hurt myself!’

  ‘Where’s Clink?’ Monty asks.

  ‘Oh, he’s somewhere about,’ the Explorer says carelessly. He reaches the ground and turns round. ‘All on your own, Monty?’ he asks softly. ‘Your friend the lion’s not with you?’

  Monty gulps and shakes his head.

  Elvis Eager smiles unpleasantly and takes a step towards him.

  ‘The-the Hairy Horrible!’ Monty bursts out. ‘It-it – ’

  Elvis Eager freezes. ‘Don’t tell me it woke up!’

  Monty nods.

  ‘It got the others? All of them?’

  Monty swallows hard. ‘It was very hungry. I think it still is. It came after me. I ran as fast as I could but I’m afraid . . .’ He looks nervously at the door.

  ‘Good grief!’ Eager shouts. His nasty grin’s vanished. Suddenly he’s shaking in his shoes. ‘Bolt the door! Lock the shutters! Quick!’

  Outside, there’s a tremendous roar. A vast, shambling shadow looms outside the windows, wreathed in mist. Yellow eyes glow. Claws reach out. Sharp teeth gleam.

  ‘It’s out there!’ squeals Elvis Eager.

  ‘FEE FI FO FUM!’ a hollow voice bellows. ‘MEAT! I WANT MORE MEAT!’

  ‘Aagh!’ Panic-stricken, the Explorer runs behind the stove and rushes back with a bundle that turns out to be Clink, gagged and tied up like a parcel. ‘Here, Monster, have this!’ Eager yells, and throws Clink out the window.

  There’s a ferocious growl and a horrible crunching sound. Elvis Eager’s eyes roll. His teeth begin to chatter.

  ‘MORE MEAT!’ booms the monster in the mist. ‘GIVE ME BIGGER MEAT, OR I’LL COME IN, BY MY CHINNY CHIN CHIN!’ Claws rake the Cafe wall and rattle the door.

  Elvis Eager grabs Monty by the shoulders and shakes him. ‘D-did you say the b-beach was safe?’ he stutters.

  Monty nods. Eager swings him off his feet and staggers to the door. He pulls the door open, throws Monty out into the mist, then turns and runs.

  Sprawled on the ground, Monty hears the sounds of Elvis Eager throwing open Marigold’s bedroom shutters and jumping through the window. He hears the pounding of feet running down to the beach. He looks up at the towering monster in the mist.

  ‘FEE FI FO FUM!’ it bellows.

  Then, bit by bit, it falls apart. First, the rusty saw that’s been its scary teeth thuds to the ground. Then the plastic cone that’s made its voice sound so loud and terrible goes flying, and its spiky driftwood claws slide away. Last of all, the monster throws off the seaweed-clogged fishing net that’s been its shaggy skin.

  And there’s Bunchy, with Tawny sitting on her head, Marigold sitting on Tawny’s shoulders, and Sir Wise perched on top.

  ‘Hoo hoo!’ cheers Sir Wise, as Marigold and Tawny jump to the ground.

  ‘We did it!’ Bunchy cries gleefully. ‘He’s gone, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, and he won’t be back anytime soon,’ says Monty, who can’t stop smiling. ‘You scared him half to death. You even scared me!’

  Everyone laughs. Except Clink. He’s still gagged, and can only wriggle furiously among the chewed-up scraps of the celery sticks Marigold had used to make that awful crunching sound.

  They pick up Clink and go inside. They close the shutters and bolt the door. Then they go to the Signal Tree and look up through the hole in the roof.

  There, swinging beside the tattered remains of the Jinglebee-chomped breakfast flag, is a huge, glittering cocoon. It looks as if it’s made of yellow silk, but the friends know it isn’t. Ickle’s cocoon is pure, spun gold.

  ‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ sighs Bunchy. ‘Ickle’s so clever! And just imagine! He only hatched this morning!’

  ‘I don’t suppose it always happens so quickly,’ says Monty. ‘It’s probably because Ickle had so much gold to eat here. That made him grow fast, and speeded everything up.’

  He hears some furious, muffled sounds, and hurries to untie Clink and take off the gag.

  ‘That grinnin’ bilge rat what calls himself an Explorer hornswoggled ye all, ye bunch o’ dimwits!’ Clink explodes, as soon as he can speak. ‘He’d stole that gold egg off its island! It were in that box ye found, afore his canoe went over.’

  ‘I know that now,’ says Monty. ‘I should have realised he was lying about that box. Whoever heard of a food box with holes in the sides?’

  ‘Blabbed about it after he’d trussed me up an’ he were a-cuttin’ away at the roof,’ Clink rages on. ‘Said he were a-goin’ to sell the egg to some rich landlubber with an island and a private zoo. Said it were worth a fortune, an’ the gold-guzzler what hatched out of it were worth an even bigger one!’

  ‘Yes,’ says Monty. ‘And that’s why he came to save us from the Oragoths on the beach. He saw we had Ickle with us. He only cared about getting his hands on Ickle!’

  ‘He nearly did it, too!’ Bunchy says fiercely. ‘If you hadn’t realised what he was up to, Monty, he’d have cut down poor Ickle’s cocoon, and he’d be rowing away with it to the rich man’s island right now! Ooh, I wish I could give him what he deserves!’

  She kicks the pile of driftwood on the floor as if it’s Elvis Eager himself. A smooth black stick with a silver tip rolls from under the pile. With a squeal, Bunchy pounces on it. ‘The magic wand!’ she crows. ‘Just what I need!’

  ‘Arr, I were lookin’ for that!’ growls Clink. ‘What nincompoop hid it under there?’

  ‘I did,’ snaps Marigold. ‘Before we left. To keep it safe from you!’

  Bunchy’s eyes are shut. Her lips are moving, and she’s waving the wand gently from side to side.

  Tawny growls and pulls Monty out of range.

  ‘Bunchy, stop that!’ Marigold cries in fright.

  And to everyone’s surprise, Bunchy does. She opens her eyes and puts the wand into Marigold’s outstretched hand. ‘It’s all right,’ she says. ‘I’ve finished.’

  ‘Puh!’ says Tawny.

  ‘Hmm,’ says Sir Wise.

  Everyone jumps as there’s a sharp knock on the door. ‘Hello?’ calls a familiar, squeaky voice. ‘Is anyone there?’

  Monty runs to open the door, and in strides Ranger Katz.

  ‘Greetings!’ she squeaks. ‘Ranger Katz. Rare Beasts Division. Beautiful day, isn’t it?’

  Everyone gapes at her – everyone except Bunchy, who only smiles.

  ‘Hope I’m in the right place,’ chatters Ranger Katz. ‘Had a bit of a problem in the storm last night, and everything after that’s a complete blank! Bit embarrassing to admit it, but I don’t even know how I got here! Woke up just now, knocking at your door, with the idea I was wanted.’

  Monty, Tawny, Marigold, Clink and Sir Wise all turn to look at Bunchy.

  ‘I thought we needed a Ranger,’ Bunchy murmurs, fluttering her eyelashes. ‘So I called one. I’m sure we’ll have a bit of time before the Oragoths notice the Ickle statue’s gone.’ She raises her voice. ‘Have you brought your handcuffs, Ranger Katz?’

  ‘Certainly!’ says Ranger Katz. ‘Who do you want arrested?’

  ‘He-he’s down on the beach,’ Monty stammers. ‘His name’s Elvis Eager.’

&
nbsp; ‘That scoundrel!’ snorts Ranger Katz. ‘Oh, we know all about him in the Rare Beasts Division! He’s a menace!’

  ‘He certainly is!’ Marigold agrees.

  ‘He’s suspected of selling rare beasts to rich collectors all over the seven seas,’ Ranger Katz goes on. ‘Steals eggs and helpless baby creatures – hasn’t got the guts to tackle anything that can fight back! Trouble is, he’s slippery. Covers his tracks so well that we can never get any proof against him.’

  ‘Well,’ Bunchy begins, looking up through the hole in the roof, ‘there’s something here that might – ’ She breaks off with a gasp. ‘The cocoon!’ she squeals. ‘It’s moving! Ickle’s coming out!’

  They all run outside. The mist’s almost gone. On the roof of the Cafe, the gold cocoon hanging from the Signal Tree swings wildly.

  ‘Oh!’ Ranger Katz squeaks, staring up at the cocoon. ‘That looks like a . . . But that’s impossible, impossible, impossible!’

  ‘It’s not, you know!’ Sir Wise hoots joyfully as the cocoon splits from top to bottom and a huge creature with wiry legs and limp, crumpled wings struggles out.

  The creature looks nothing like Ickle. He looks no more like Ickle than a butterfly looks like a fat, striped caterpillar. But he’s Ickle, just the same. The new Ickle stretches his crumpled wings in the sun, and slowly they grow and change colour till they’re a deep, glorious red.

  ‘A Giant Red-Winged Oragoth coming out of its cocoon!’ whispers Ranger Katz. ‘Oh, never, never, never did I think I’d see a sight like that!’

  ‘Me neither,’ sniffles Bunchy. ‘Little Ickle, all grown up! Do you know, Ranger Katz, that for a long time we didn’t realise he was a baby Oragoth? And we didn’t know his parents were trying to protect him. We thought they wanted to eat him!’

  ‘Parents?’ squeaks Ranger Katz.