by T C Shelley
Woermann came downstairs, his footfalls vibrating in Sam’s ears.
Sam clambered next to the door and flattened himself against the rough wood.
‘What are you doing?’ Wilfred asked.
‘Shhh,’ hissed Sam.
Woermann came into the kitchen. He gasped and swore. Sam remembered the doors to the outside were wide open. Woermann’s heavy tread sped towards the cellar door and he wrenched it hard and moonlight poured into the cellar. Woermann’s shadow fell in the doorway. He’d only have to look up an inch and he’d be able to see Sam’s face, but the cat man stared at the animals below. The door smacked closed again, and a moment later, Woermann was back. Woermann pushed at the hinge above the door, and Sam heard a mechanism click which jammed the door open. The cat man turned a torch on the dogs, who blinked in the harsh light, and stalked inside the cellar. Woermann’s hair skimmed Sam’s legs.
D.I. Kintamani barked. The other dogs took his lead and growled and snarled at Woermann. The big man took three more steps down into the cellar. He shone the torch around the room. ‘Shut up,’ he said. ‘Stupid dogs.’
The shifters barked louder. D.I. Kintamani yelled, ‘Go, go, go,’ at Sam.
Sam pulled himself out as quietly as he could, and dropped to the floor. He turned to see Woermann’s head in the cellar framed by torchlight.
Sam ran for the open lawn, swerved left and lobbed himself up the wall. The moon throbbed painfully above him, lighting up the bedroom windows.
‘How could they get out? Oh, no, the boy!’ Woermann shouted. Then he swore. Sam heard him drop the torch, and the pantry door slammed shut before Woermann raced to the stairs.
Sam scurried towards the bedroom. Inside the house, Woermann took stairs three and four at a time, up two flights as Sam managed the same on the outside wall. He was still clambering to the open window as Woermann pounded along the corridor outside his room.
He wouldn’t make it in time.
Then Sam heard keys jingle and drop, the carpet swallowing the clatter. Woermann swore at having to pick them up and find the right key again. It gave Sam a couple more seconds.
Sam climbed inside. Closed window. Key rattled in lock. Into bed. Head on pillow. Eyes shut.
The door swung open and Woermann leaped to Sam’s bedside. He leaned right over and put his face next to Sam’s, his hairy cheek brushing the boy’s. Sam pretended to sleep.
Woermann breathed slower. Sam felt a cat’s unblinking stare burn into his cheek; he wished the man would go away.
Finally, Woermann did. Stepping slowly out of the room, this time making less noise. The keys tinkling all the way downstairs again. Talking to himself all the way, trying to understand how the shifters had got out.
An ogre hung Bladder in front of its big nose, studying him; one eye closed, the other eye bugged out and bloodshot.
Bladder groaned. In the open air, he could smell Sam’s scent strong and near. They would never see him again.
The ogre flicked Bladder with a yellowed index finger as long as a man’s arm. ‘What’s iz name?’ it asked Bladder.
‘My name?’ Bladder asked.
‘Who else me is ask? Bit fick, this one,’ the ogre said to two others, who leaned in to study the gargoyle.
‘I’m Bladder.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Bladder, I’m Cob.’ Cob then put Bladder on his shoulder. He was the size of a decent shed, so his shoulder was a comfortable perch. Bladder looked over his own smaller, less sturdy shoulder and saw two pairs of terrified gargoyle eyes peering at him. A goblin cuddled Wheedle, while a young boggart rubbed its face against Spigot’s wing. The stone eagle didn’t make a sound.
‘An’ your pack?’ Cob asked.
‘My pack? You mean the other gargoyles?’
‘At least you cute. Not much for brains, ey, these gumgoyles?’ Cob said.
The other monsters laughed. Bladder frowned. It almost sounded kindly.
‘I’m Wheedle.’ Wheedle’s voice shook. ‘An’ Spigot doesn’t talk.’
The goblin hugged Wheedle harder.
‘My back, my back,’ Wheedle wheezed.
‘Sorry,’ the goblin said.
‘Meetcha, Wheedle. Meetcha, Spigot,’ the boggart said. The trolls, ogres and other goblins echoed the greeting.
A dozen manky hands reached for the gargoyles and stroked and tickled their heads. The ogres were a bit rough, like eager toddlers. Bladder thought they might end up breaking something accidentally. He put his ears back so their heavy hands were flat on his head, to stop any rough affection from cracking him.
Affection? Yes, that was what they seemed to be giving. Bladder and Wheedle stared at each other. These monsters were being nice. Maybe because the brutish creatures were young, maybe because they hadn’t seen any gargoyles in a long time. Even Cob, as large as he was, had a round and open face. Despite his size, Bladder could see the ogre was little more than a baby.
‘Arn’ gumgoyles scary?’ a boggart asked. ‘Din’ the little prince have gumgoyles wiv ’im?’
‘An’ wern it the little prince who got all them ogres kilt?’ a little ogre asked.
‘He was jus’ doin’ wot Funderguts axed ’im,’ a troll replied. ‘Enyways, it ent like ogres ent bin killin’ ogres for centuries themselms.’
‘An’ that’s the truth,’ the goblin said.
The troll nodded eagerly. ‘He jus’ done it better an’ quicker.’
‘Yeah, well we don’ wanna be doin’ that no more. Ent enough of us. Iz a graveyard down there,’ the little ogre said.
All the monsters shuddered.
Standing with his claws on solid muscle, Bladder watched. The smaller monsters leaned against Cob’s sides, childlike and nervous.
‘What’s going on?’ Wheedle asked.
‘You wanna see? Come up, on my udder shoulder,’ Cob said.
Cob put Wheedle on his other shoulder. Spigot squawked but the little boggart didn’t seem to want to let go of him. The eagle looked safe enough, so Bladder peered out at his surroundings.
A gathering of bilious, bulbous monsters encircled the largest of all living ogres in the middle of a natural amphitheatre. The audience spread so far back they had filled the meadows behind the one they were in and even further. Bladder could make out movement of monsters ahead, left, right, even behind them that were so far back they could be insects. Bladder realised there was an end to them, a point where he could see fields empty and spaces between the flesh-eating beasts, but the size of the entire population was quite unnerving and there were enough monsters left to cause humans some big problems. There were thousands upon thousands of them. Ogres, small for their species, packed together with young goblins and trolls. There were fewer larger monsters mixed with them. In this field, only a dozen or so of old goblins and ogres of fighting size, but size wasn’t everything. Cob would have been large enough, but Bladder peered at the eager face; the young ogre did not have the same menacing expression worn by the older beasts. Most of the crowd were young monsters like boggarts, bogies and baby bunyips, and between them, thousands of pixies, sprites and brownies scurried, their faces all as dim and as harmless as Cob’s. Rarer monsters appeared too, a siren in a wine barrel, a three-headed dog, half a dozen giggling tokoloshes wearing AC/DC T-shirts, greeblies, yōkais, bai gu jings, ijiraqs, divs, cucas, and endless monsters Bladder couldn’t name. There was even a knab of large toads wearing pink nail polish and Bladder was sure he’d never seen anything like them before.
‘Good grief, what is that red thing?’ Wheedle asked and then, echoing Bladder’s thought, ‘Maggie must be desperate. She’ll let anyone into this party.’
‘Ent a party,’ Cob said. ‘This is very serious.’
‘Sorry,’ Wheedle replied.
Bladder almost laughed. ‘What’s it for?’
‘Maggie’s got a plan. A plan for us to get more monsters.’
Bladder looked at the crowd. ‘More than this?’
‘It looks a lot,
but back in The Hole, when ebbry-one goes to their own caverns, it’s so empty. I’d ravver live in a car park f’rever than go back there.’
‘I like car parks,’ said Spigot’s boggart, its face pressed up to Spigot’s. The eagle glared at Bladder as if it were his fault. Bladder supposed it was.
Bladder studied the crowd. It was a frightening storm of monster life, but the greater number really were mid-sized or small. Sam’s sword had done a smashing job of … well, smashing the population, which meant even gargoyles and monsters normally left to stink up the swamp were more than welcome, they were expected to show.
‘What’s going on? Is that ogre in charge?’ Wheedle asked, pointing at the huge ogre in the centre of it all.
‘That’s Bombottom,’ Cob said. ‘Her Maggie-stee’s general.’
Spigot’s boggart said, ‘Iz nice to see so many of uz in one place.’
Then Maggie strolled out from behind Bombottom, who put her on his shoulder.
‘Does anyone know what she’s going to talk to us about?’ Bladder asked.
‘She got some job for us,’ Cob said, and smiled at Bladder.
The crowd hushed, waiting for the banshee to speak, but Maggie wasn’t talking yet, she surveyed her army and called down instructions to Nasty Nan. ‘Ready the display!’
Bladder leaned closer as Nasty Nan raced through the crowd, speaking in low whispers to the various monsters and imps.
A drumbeat sounded, hollow and otherworldly. The small ogre swung up so he was sitting in Cob’s elbow, his face next to Bladder’s. ‘Iz exciting?’
Bladder thought ‘horrifying’ was a better word.
He wondered where the humans were. It was well after midnight, that was true. He hoped they were all asleep, because one that wandered into this crowd wouldn’t wander out. He took a good sniff of air. Ah, fairy dust hung lightly at the edges of the gathering. It could do anything. He wondered how much Maggie had used to mask this meeting from the human world. She had been so precious about it.
‘My people! Thank you for coming. It is so good to see you all,’ Maggie called from the shoulders of the ogre.
The crowd cheered. A few pockets burst like thunder in the dry sky. Bladder got it, they were happy to see themselves, to see the monster world wasn’t entirely dead. The violence of the eruption suggested this was their first gathering together as a complete community and the size of it would have been reassuring, despite the young and gormless faces.
‘My people, we have been beaten back, diminished, left for dead, but that does not mean we cannot rise up and rebuild.’
It wasn’t quite as encouraging as the welcome, so the second cheer was half-hearted noise.
Still, Cob raised his arms and Wheedle and Bladder stumbled.
‘Sorry,’ Cob said.
‘Not a problem, not a problem,’ Bladder replied, but he and Wheedle decided to leave the tower of Cob’s generous arms, as did the little ogre.
On the ground, Bladder couldn’t see Maggie between the heads and arms of the other monsters, but he could hear her clearly. She reminded him of Thunderguts before Sam broke the sword, what little Bladder had understood: big ideas and ambition.
‘We are smaller in numbers than before, but that does not make us weak or incapable,’ she said, and Bladder listened as the crowd cheered again, a little more enthusiastically. He remembered what Maggie had said in the Great Cavern about the lack of courage of these monsters. They were going to be a tough crowd to move.
‘To reclaim our place again in this world, the one humans have reigned over too long, we need to frighten them into submission and conquer them again. So we must rebuild our numbers. When we lost Thunderguts, we lost the monsters’ life magic. No one was left to breathe on the hatchlings, to bring forth new menace. But I can tell you where there is a great source of life magic: fairy dust.’ She strained to lift the sack, her thin arms rising only a little. ‘There is enough here to hatch a few more ogres, while those of you already hatched can grow to maturity.’
The ogres cheered.
‘But we need much more.’
Bladder wheezed and looked at Wheedle. At least she hadn’t said anything about the half-fairy she was looking for to make it all happen.
‘We need the right incantation, and one with fairy blood to cast it.’
Oops, spoke too soon, Bladder thought. He turned to Wheedle. ‘Probably time to leave.’ He backed up, getting behind Cob as he ducked other monsters’ large and excited feet.
‘But even before all that, we need more dust. Alone, and decrepit as I am, I can do only so much. I caught these fairies by myself. Imagine if each one here did the same. The tonnes of dust we’d collect,’ Maggie said. ‘Nasty Nan, throw them!’
Bladder couldn’t see Nasty Nan, but he did see scores of solid chunks of shining green and blue and gold fly over the crowd. One twisted in the air. It wasn’t inanimate metal, but a tiny being, glittering and beautiful. A fairy. It fell back to the ground.
‘Here’s a taster. Bring me as many fairy wings as you can,’ Maggie yelled. ‘And you keep the rest for yourself.’
The beasts cheered, really cheered, and thunderous laughs lifted the leaves of trees as the crowd stumbled towards the space where the fairies had fallen.
The beasts surged forward, except the gargoyles, who backed away from the mob. The monsters behind Cob leaped and sailed over them, not in the least interested in the gargoyles, who pulled their hoofs, claws and wings over their heads and lay flat on the ground. When the air above them stilled, Bladder looked up. The lowest point of the gentle valley was in throes as it filled with monsters, and he could see it all without a crowd of tall beasts about him. Pixies grabbed at the fairies, ogres plucked at them, goblins smacked flat, fleshy hands down on to them. Bladder wondered why the tiny creatures didn’t fly. One raced closer to the gargoyle pack and they saw it, all blurring legs, but wingless. Maggie had already taken the fairy’s wings. A boggart snatched it up with hairy fingers. The tiny creature bit at the beast’s hand and the boggart squealed and shook off the fairy. The tiny creature pelted away again, heading in Bladder’s direction.
‘Yum!’ yelled an ogre from the other side of the field. ‘They taste like sherbet.’
This distracted the monsters nearby, who momentarily forgot the fairy heading towards the gargoyles. They applauded the idea of sherbet-flavoured victims. The fairy itself turned to give a horrified sob, and ran straight into Bladder’s mouth.
Bladder snapped his stone jaw down on the creature and sat down, sneering as innocently as he could when the monsters looked behind them, trying to find where the fairy had gone. When they couldn’t see it, they lost interest and gazed around to see where other, prettier, brighter prey was darting. Bladder nodded at Wheedle and Spigot and they wandered off as slowly as their panicked legs would allow.
Spigot pushed past Wheedle, shaking boggart kisses from his feathers. The large crowd of dark beasts could not diminish the dazzling bright lights dashing about. Little blurs of light flickered ahead of the crowd. The ferocious party moved further down the field, following fairies as they fled. Several fairies remained on the loose, and the fairy in Bladder’s mouth squirmed as much as it could. The squirming didn’t bother Bladder, his insides were as stone as his outsides, but its frustrated, frightened screams escaped Bladder’s mouth.
A stagnation of pixies reclining against a stark tree stared at him with the first high-pitched squeak, but the thrill of terrified fairies amongst thousands of monsters was enough to distract them too.
Wheedle looked down the field’s slope. ‘Where’s Maggie gone?’
Bladder looked too. She’d set the pack searching for fairies. That was the first part of her plan. The second part was to collect Sam, and they had to get to him before she could.
‘We’ve gotta find Sam,’ Wheedle said.
‘’Ih I ih a oo a ee eh ow oh ih ee,’ Bladder said.
‘What?’
Spigot squawked.
<
br /> Wheedle looked at Spigot. ‘You understood that? We’ll find him as soon as we get out of this field?’
Bladder nodded.
‘OK, let’s get moving.’
When they came over the rise and found themselves in a smaller bare field, the sound of baying monsters getting more distant, Bladder spat out his passenger.
The fairy sat dazed. A little oxygen deprived, Bladder realised, and winced. He hadn’t meant to suffocate the poor thing.
‘Are you all right?’ Bladder asked.
Wheedle nosed it and it sat up and backed away from them on its hands and feet.
The fairy gazed up to Bladder’s concerned face, dropped his pretty face into his pretty hands and sobbed.
‘Can you walk?’ Bladder asked.
The fairy stood, its tiny legs shaking under it. ‘The others?’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. I was lucky to get you out of there. You won’t help them going back, you know,’ Bladder said when the fairy peered in the direction of the crowd’s noise.
‘I owe you a boon, my friend. Someday it shall be repaid.’ The fairy bowed low. It didn’t have wings, but it ran away at a speed that made all three gargoyles’ heads crack. With such great speed, Bladder had hope for the others. The little chap went in the same direction they were heading.
‘A Boon?’ Bladder asked the other two. ‘Is that like a Bounty bar?’
Neither Wheedle nor Spigot had any idea.
‘Maggie still wants Sam,’ Bladder said. ‘We have to find him before she does.’
‘Of course we do. She’s probably already set off after him. He’s her fairy blood and she won’t stop until she’s got a cavern full of fairy dust and Sam to waken all those ogres,’ Bladder said.
Wheedle sniffed the air. ‘He’s back that way.’ The bull pointed his horns back in the direction of the field they had left. A field covered in myriad monsters.
Bladder moaned. ‘We’ll have to wait till morning then. We can’t afford to lead her straight to him.’
CHAPTER 17
It rained in the early hours, barrels and barrels of the stuff, which relieved Sam. The smell of the escaped shifters would be impossible to follow.
