Monster School

by Green Dc

  I gulped again. ‘Weepnot the wyvern, I bring news of great import to Kalthazari!’

  ‘My empress is busy.’

  ‘You must request a meeting!’ I tore off my swamp monster head. ‘I am Thomas, King of Monstro City! And I say … “Please?”’

  Weepnot’s body extended until his reptilian eyes hung centimetres from mine. His breath was pure, concentrated gunpowder.

  Don’t cringe. Don’t cringe.

  ‘You are a brash pup.’ The wyvern glowered. ‘What means your petty kingship to the Empress of Dragons? There are dozens of kings and rulers in this city alone who wield more power than you.’

  ‘Scaly’s nailed you there, PT,’ said Bruce. ‘You ain’t zilch compared to the Alpha Werewolf, Head Harpy Sister, the gob clan bosses, Ogre Pope, Minara the Vamp Queen, the demon lords, or even ex-humes like the Cyborg Warlord and Doc Franken. As for my mama, she–’

  ‘I dispense my own rebukes, arachnid.’ Weepnot’s eyes soldered from Bruce back to me. ‘Even in the limited pantheon of human rulers, you are as dust to Kalthazari, human. She has dreamed longer than your species has existed, yawned through the rise and fall of empires and the fleetingly insignificant lives of kings and queens too numerous to tally!’ The wyvern’s breath singed my eyebrows. ‘In cold blood, why am I wasting supper time telling you this? Prepare to bow in shame to your ancestors!’ Weepnot coiled back, inhaling.

  Air whistled past our ears.

  The wyvern staggered. His head whipped, eyes flashing.

  My jaw fell.

  Sleipnir had shoulder-charged Weepnot!

  The wyvern and the legendary horse stood metres apart, eyes locked in silent combat. Seconds stared into minutes. Finally, the wyvern’s head tossed back. Twin jets of flame abolished the stars.

  ‘Bummer we ain’t packing marshmallows,’ whispered Bruce.

  The wyvern coiled tightly, his eyes raking each of us. At last, he hissed, ‘Foolish little creatures. You shall meet Kalthazari. And you shall eternally regret rejecting the warm embrace of Weepnot’s gentler death.’ The wyvern snaked into the brazier-lit cavern. ‘Follow.’

  I turned to thank Sleipnir, but the giant horse had already launched into the night. I faced the Dead Gang instead. ‘Guys, I can’t thank you enough for helping me this far. But the danger levels are off the charts. Please turn back. Erica will pay you what I promised.’ I hope!

  The gang weighed my words, and each other’s reactions.

  Greta folded her arms. ‘Not that I want to, but the wyvern did tell us to follow him. If we don’t, he will doubtless kill us even more hideously.’

  Zorg nodded. ‘Zorg iz ztarving! Zorg’z brain iz burning. Zorg’z zkin, organz, muzclez – all are burning! Rotting. But Zorg iz not zcaring!’

  ‘Yo.’ Bruce sighed at the heavens. ‘We’ve legged this far together. What’s another final strut? I ain’t letting the humie kinglet figure his monster buds are wussy wusses!’

  ‘I am a wuss wussy,’ said Jaak. ‘Although with gob hunters? Skulking back there? You know, to torture and enslave me? Plus, our transport? You know, cremated?’ The shape-shifter sighed, popping air through his ears. ‘I suppose I’m in too.’

  ‘You guys are the coolest,’ I said.

  ‘True dat,’ said Bruce.

  We followed Weepnot into the heart of Fire Mountain, me limping – and grinning absurdly for a kid about to die.

  ‘Youngling king, for the first time in millennia, this one is amused.’

  21: DESTINATIONS

  Lit by a series of braziers, the cavern became a tunnel that snaked like Weepnot’s body.

  Haunting orchestral music somehow emanated from the walls. My neck-hairs stood on end. More bizarrely, the tunnel grew ever warmer. I dripped perspiration, even with my swamp monster noggin under my arm and several new ventilation burn-holes throughout the body of my suit. I yearned to unzip my stifling costume and become my honest self one final time, but knew I mustn’t fall behind the long-striding wyvern.

  A smorgasbord of egg-stinking noxious gases stung my eyes and gnawed my sinuses. The air grew increasingly dry and lacking in oxygen. Apart from our wheezing a dirge-like harmony, the Dead Gang were unusually quiet. None of us had slept since the gang startled me awake in my quarters … was that only a night ago? So much had happened since! No wonder we were mentally and physically exhausted. Even Zorg, who didn’t need sleep, muttered and kicked at loose rocks. At least my broken toes, lancing pain up my leg with every step, distracted me from the whole terror-at-our-impending-ending general vibe.

  Greta elbowed me in the thigh. ‘Let us hope your fatal attraction to dragons hasn’t doomed us all.’

  One of Bruce’s eyes winked my way as he webbed a rat and tossed it over his shoulder.

  Zorg snatched the squirming rodent. ‘Zorg iz thanking zpider!’ Rat skull crunched.

  Bruce sniffled, pretending not to hear.

  My absurd grin widened.

  The tunnel walls glowed eerily. With every step, the brightness levels grew until we were all shading our watery eyes. It felt like we were death-marching towards the sun.

  We rounded a corner into a cavern larger than anything conceived by giant ants. Everyone gawked. A lake of lava bubbled: so wide, the furthest shore was lost in luminous mist; so bright, I had to look away.

  My breath snagged in my throat.

  Kalthazari!

  The dragon lay cat-curled upon a gigantic mound beneath a towering archway of stone, her dragonium scales glittering like 10,000 brilliant rainbows. Her body loomed, dozens of multiples thicker and broader than Weepnot’s – her length, partially hidden in shadow, impossible to judge. While the lava lake glowed, Kalthazari radiated. Her nostrils glowed as if housing great dwarven forges. All adjectives were inadequate for her indescribably gorgeous, celestial and terrifying majesty.

  The lesser dazzle of Kalthazari’s mound caught my attention. Treasure! Golden bars and coins, silver jewellery, precious stones, crowns and tiaras, glittering antiques forged by long-dead craftspeople – hundreds of thousands of plundered tonnes of value incalculable: an alpha dragon’s mattress!

  Weepnot bowed elaborately, a scale-clicking dance. The rest of us feebly imitated the wyvern. ‘Empress Kalthazari, may I introduce–’

  The dragon turned her brilliant, gold-vermilion eyes upon Weepnot.

  The wyvern bowed again, more stiffly this time, and slithered back into his tunnel.

  Each as tall as five of me, Kalthazari’s arched eyes scoured across us.

  I felt as if my soul was being X-rayed.

  Zorg collapsed to the stone floor, trembling.

  ‘Long has this one anticipated this night.’ I registered words, but not with my ears; words like the chiming of the deepest, most resonant of gongs; words beyond sound. Judging by their gasps and cringes, my friends were experiencing the same thing.

  The dragon was speaking into our minds!

  ‘Know that centuries have passed since any mortal has been sufficiently foolhardy to confront this one in her lair.’ The dragon’s silent speech reverberated through my bones, magnetising my marrow. ‘Before she determines your fate, and since it may prove distracting, this one shall grant each of you a boon.’

  ‘A what-now?’ whispered Bruce.

  ‘This one shall read your blood.’

  Air rushed past us.

  Greta stumbled forward. Before I could grab her arm, she crouched to resist the gale-force wind.

  Kalthazari was inhaling! Her rib-cage swelled, filling the cavernous space.

  Jaak flickered, becoming the purple-skinned creature I’d glimpsed in Lord Boron’s office.

  Bruce squeezed his eyeballs shut.

  The dragon paused, her cobra-like tongue savouring the flavours of her breath. ‘Know that one of you commands considerable magical abilities – mostly latent, yet nevertheless, delicious.’ As she exhaled, much more leisurely, the cavern temperature crept higher.

  Kalthazari’s vertical pupils rot
ated my way. ‘You are a youngling human king.’

  Not sure if that was statement or question, I stammered, ‘I – I am.’

  ‘Know that, in your retinue, there–’

  ‘Retinue?’ scoffed Bruce. ‘We’re a gang! And PT ain’t the boss, no way.’ When everyone frowned his way, the spider shrank into a squat. ‘Aheh. Interrupting dragon. Bad, Bruce. Bad.’

  ‘Yet in your … gang … there exists more than one possessing royal blood.’

  ‘No way!’ Bruce exclaimed. ‘Am I the only one here ain’t packing a secret? Aheh.’ He started vibrating. ‘One terrified spider, belting up.’

  ‘Arachnid, cease your vibrating. It is bothersome.’

  Bruce vibrated so fast that he hummed. ‘I ain’t able to quit!’

  ‘Then perish.’

  ‘No!’ I tackled the spider and clutched him so tight his vibrating stopped. ‘Kalthazari, please forgive Bruce. Please?’

  I trembled with relief when the dragon continued with what sounded like a shrug in her tone. ‘Know that each member of your gang carries secrets yet to be divulged,’ her voice danced, ‘though only one has betrayed you all.’

  Betrayed? I flashed on the absent Stoker.

  Bruce and Zorg glared at Greta.

  Jaak blurted, ‘Like we’d trust the world’s bulkiest lizard! Oops.’ His tone rapidly downsized. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. You know, out loud. It’s like the dragon’s vacuuming! You know, my thoughts.’ Jaak cringed. ‘Please. Don’t! You know, turn me into charcoal!’

  ‘This one shall not be so kind. Though she has endured for many thousands of years, this one’s patience is proportionally tiny. Know that, as a dragon never lies, none may lie to a dragon. Moreover, know that were this one to scream inside your minds, you would perish instantly and never be reborn, your lines severed for eternity.’ The air trembled. ‘This one bids you explain the purpose of your sojourn to her mountain.’

  I gulped and released Bruce. This was my moment. ‘We are here to collect a debt.’ I spoke rapidly, fearful my words would freeze if they slackened. ‘Since the founding of Monstro City in 2115, you haven’t paid a single crown in royal taxes. So you owe ten per cent on all your earnings for the last 512 years!’

  ‘Taxing,’ whispered Bruce.

  Was that the barest hint of a smile at the edge of Kalthazari’s mouth?

  ‘Ken I’ll wander outside,’ squeaked Jaak. ‘You know, to the gob hunters? Where it’s safer. Except, my legs? Not working.’

  Kalthazari’s voice twirled. ‘Youngling king, for the first time in millennia, this one is amused. She bids you explain how you propose to claim this debt?’

  ‘I will not fight you, Kalthazari.’ I gulped. ‘Because … I can’t. I appeal instead to your sense of fairness. The massive monthly tributes you demand of us are sending the royal coffers bankrupt.’

  ‘How poetic, that dragons and humans should be reduced to their knees together.’

  ‘No offense, Mega K,’ said Bruce. ‘But you ain’t looking too on-your-kneesy.’

  ‘Yet this one is – metaphorically speaking. Know that magic has been plundered from the world and this one is much reduced. Know that her brethren have already passed beyond, that this one is the last of her kind.’

  A wave of sorrow for Kalthazari washed over me, followed by a tsunami of anger. It dumped, exploding inside me. ‘So you want to take humans down too? While you lie here, with more gold than the rest of the world combined, demanding ever more tribute? With so much wealth, you could solve the world’s problems! If you just moved off your enormous backside!!’

  ‘You are sooo dead,’ whispered Bruce.

  Kalthazari’s expression did not seem enraged, though her next words iced the length of my spine. ‘Do not seek to judge dragon-kind with your minuscule morality. To this one, you are as blind earthworms seeking to fathom the wolf, or the wolf striving to interpret the poetry of the stars. Know that this one is karma. She is nature, as inscrutable and implacable and unstoppable as the volcano that envelops us. Know too that wealth alone has never solved the problems of any world. Nor has this one demanded increased tribute as you falsely claim.’

  Here was the moment I’d been waiting for. I’d trapped a dragon!

  ‘Then explain this!’ I groped inside my swamp monster suit and pulled out the dragon delivery payment schedule. Unfolding the slightly charred and sweat-stained pages, I held them towards Kalthazari. ‘For the last decade, the tribute we pay you has risen every year!’

  ‘It is as you describe,’ Kalthazari replied, though the pages were 50 metres from her eyes. ‘Manifestly, you were deceived. The delivery team presumably fathomed no human would dare sojourn here seeking confirmation. Yet here you stand. Of more relevance, the team has attempted to deceive in this one’s name. Manifestly, their leaders imagined, from their distant quadrant, their manipulations would pass undetected.’ Kalthazari paused. ‘Know that you are witnesses to a crime that insults all dragon-kind. Know that this one should, by ancient custom, obliterate you. Instead, you shall become her dark witnesses.’

  Kalthazari rose majestically, her scales raining tonnes of treasure. Her hind legs, each thicker than Tessa’s torso, sank deep into her glittering heap. Metal shrieked on metal. Her wings unfolded, forked sheets glistening with their own fine armour – large enough to shield villages. The dragon stretched – again, not unlike a monstrous cat. And lunged!

  Arced!

  Dived!

  Into the lava lake!

  We swayed back, gobsmacked.

  Kalthazari’s plunge was so well-timed, not a droplet of lava splashed. The volcano had perfectly consumed her.

  Welcomed her.

  ‘Did the world’s scariest monster just commit suicide?’ asked Bruce.

  ‘My money’s on not,’ said Greta.

  ‘Zorg dying zoon!’ the zombie groaned.

  ‘I really have to change,’ said Jaak. ‘You know, my underpants!’

  ‘FEEL NOW KALTHAZARI’S WRATH!’

  22: COLLISIONS

  ‘Let’s bust outta here,’ whispered Bruce. ‘I own a baaaaad feeling ’bout this.’

  What a stupid, hopeless idea, I thought. Still, even as the lake transfixed our eyes, our feet edged backwards.

  The lava bubbled with extra vigour.

  ‘Look!’ I pointed.

  Glowing orange-hot, Kalthazari’s head emerged from the liquid earth. Her relatively slender neck was followed by her torso and wings, scale by scale, until the dragon seemed to perch atop the lake. She was a molten statue, as much a part of the lava as the lava was of her. Her wings unfolded with the dull whumping of giant theatrical curtains. They flapped – with devastating power! A searing, methane-blast rolled us towards the wyvern’s tunnel.

  By the time we’d picked ourselves up, Kalthazari was gone!

  ‘Did she just sink?’ asked Jaak. ‘You know, again?’

  Bruce’s pincers pointed up. Higher than the distant volcanic rim, Kalthazari blazed across the sky. She had become a living comet, fading rapidly. As sudden as her ascent, the dragon dived back through the volcanic mouth to land beside her treasure mound. No longer glowing, it seemed her scales had dissipated the incredible lava heat in less than half a minute! Or drawn the heat into her? Whatever had happened, Kalthazari seemed more terrible than ever: energised, coiled, ready.

  Behind us, Weepnot cleared his throat. ‘Take these,’ the wyvern ordered, passing each of us a double-looped rubbery belt.

  ‘What’s going down?’ asked Bruce.

  Weepnot retreated into his tunnel, expressionless.

  ‘Approach this one.’ Kalthazari crouched low. A scaled cavity at the base of her throat opened wide. ‘Climb into her treasure pouch. Stragglers shall fry!’

  We sprinted. The pouch was easily large enough to fit us all. It was like climbing into a curved room lined with golden mirrors. My fingers brushed the warm, flawlessly smooth metal of a shield-sized scale. I gaped at my seared swamp monster reflecti
on.

  ‘D-u-u-u-u-u-d-e-s.’ Bruce whistled. ‘There’s enough dragonium in this pouch to buy up halfa Holly Hill!’

  Greta said wonderingly, ‘We stand inside the world’s greatest diamond.’

  I breathed the lingering odours of historic fortunes and adrenalin-quickened fear. Heh. That last odour, of course, was ours.

  ‘Grip the edge of this one’s pouch. With your belts, tie yourselves to one of her scales.’

  Instructions on how to do so formed in our minds. With fumbling hands, I obeyed.

  Before any of us could ask what was happening, Kalthazari answered, ‘Tonight, for the first time in the memory of ancient forests, a dragon flies to battle.’

  My breath snagged. What had I set in motion?

  Kalthazari lunged. Volcanic walls blurred by, giving way to the dark umbrella of sky. My rubber belt dug into my back and between my legs, preventing me from splatting against the rear wall. Clutching scales, we peered over the outer pouch rim. The volcanic lake, already far below, glowed like a single, angry eye.

  ‘Dragon Lady just said “battle”,’ whispered Jaak. ‘Did she mean? You know, metaphorically?’

  No one answered him.

  Kalthazari powered us across the Mythic Quarter at speeds to make Sleipnir’s eyes water.

  ‘Um, Empress?’ I asked, to break the silence. ‘Are you really the last dragon? I mean, what happened to the rest of your kind?’

  The ensuing quiet dragged on for so long I was sure my question had been deemed unworthy – until Kalthazari’s reply branded into our thoughts.

  ‘Know that, even before Monstro City was a collection of villages, we dragons fathomed there was insufficient space on this shrinking world to sustain our numbers. And so it came to be that this one’s brother and sister dragons passed beyond this realm. When only she endured, this one exiled herself to Fire Mountain, accepting tribute in return for her passivity. The world’s magic has subsequently faded, paralleling this one’s impotency. Since the devastating Magic Wars and the slaughter of witches, sorcerers and magical creatures, the few survivors who yet wield magic abide underground, untrained and often ignorant of their birthrights.’