The Wrath of Mulgarath

by Holly Black

  “You say you captured both?”

  “I caught the humans,” Hogsqueal called. “No thanks to you trash hounds!”

  A large goblin scuttled closer. His teeth were made of bottle glass, and they shimmered in the sunlight—brown, green, and clear. He was dressed in a ragged coat with tarnished buttons and a frayed tricornered hat. The hat in particular caught Jared’s eye because it was dyed a strange ruddy brown. Flies buzzed close. “You say you captured both?”

  “Easily, O large Wormrat,” Hogsqueal bragged. “There they were, the girl swinging around this sword right here—sharp, isn’t it?—but I was too fast for them! I . . . ” Wormrat eyed him, and the hobgoblin’s words trailed off. “Okay,” he started again. “They were sleeping and I—”

  The goblins began to bark loudly. Whether it was laughter or something else, Jared wasn’t sure.

  “I still caught the scallywags! They’re my prisoners,” Hogsqueal said, raising Mallory’s sword. It looked huge in his small hands and was wobbling slightly.

  Wormrat barked, and the tip of the sword drooped. Jared glanced upward to see if Simon and Byron were nearby, but they were either well hidden or gone. Jared hoped for what seemed like the millionth time that Simon would be able to control the griffin.

  “We do what I say,” said Wormrat. “Bring them!”

  Mallory and Jared were pushed and pulled through the junkyard by a barking mass of goblins. They had to be careful not to step on the jagged pieces of metal that stuck up from the dry dirt at odd angles. Whenever Mallory and Jared slowed, the goblins shoved them and poked them with weapons. Rust from the cars streaked Jared’s jeans as he squeezed through the narrow passageways between them. Finally they were led into a clearing where a dozen more goblins were lazing around a fire. Smallish bones were scattered among the debris.

  Wormrat grunted and pointed toward a blue car close to the fire. “Tie the prisoners there.”

  “We should take them to the Palace of Trash,” Hogsqueal said, but he sounded halfhearted.

  “Quiet!” barked the big goblin. “I give commands.”

  A grinning goblin used a coil of rusty wire to attach Jared and Mallory’s tether to the car. As the goblin wrapped the cord around the side mirror, Jared could smell his rotten breath and could see his strange, mottled skin, the hair tufting from his ears, the dead white of his eyes, and the long, quivering whiskers that stuck up from his face. The other goblins stood in a circle, leering and waiting.

  “Back to your posts, lazy dogs!” bellowed the large goblin. Then, turning to the goblins that had already been there when he arrived, he scowled. “And the prisoners had better be where I leave them! I go report them to Mulgarath!” Barking, most of his goblins trickled back to their patrols as he left, but a few remained behind to sit around the fire.

  Jared wriggled his hands. He was sure the knots were still loose enough for him to get free, but he was less sure they were going to be able to get past all of those goblins.

  Jared and Mallory sat in the cold, sandy dirt for what felt like hours, watching the goblins pick up small lizards and toss them into the fire. The sky began to darken, the sun lighting slashes of gold across the waning day.

  “Maybe this wasn’t such a great plan after all,” Mallory said softly. “We’re nowhere near Mom, and I don’t know where Simon is.”

  “But we’re almost there,” Jared whispered back. Their hands were close enough that he could take one of hers and squeeze it.

  “What are they waiting for?” she asked with a groan.

  “Maybe for the big one to come back,” Jared replied.

  Across the fire one of the goblins threw a wriggling black thing into the flames. “They never burn,” the goblin said. “I wish they would burn.”

  “You still couldn’t eat ’em,” said another.

  A soft voice from Jared’s hood reminded him that Thimbletack was still with them. “Take a gander,” whispered the brownie, “salamander.”

  Jared looked near his legs. One of the lizardlike things was next to his shoe. It was an opalescent black, with front legs and a long body that tapered to a tail. It was swallowing what appeared to be the tail of another.

  “Jared,” Mallory said. “Look in the fire. What are they?”

  He leaned forward as far as his bonds would let him. There in the flames were all of the salamanders he’d seen the goblins toss. But instead of being scorched, they were sitting calmly as the blaze burned around them. As Jared stared, a few of the creatures moved slightly, one twisting its head and another scuttling deeper into the blaze. They really were immune to the fire.

  He tried to think back to Arthur’s Guide. He thought there was something on salamanders, but the images blurred in his mind. These little creatures looked like another illustration, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He was too nervous to concentrate—too full of thoughts of his mother and brother and of the goblins so close by.

  A few moments later one of the goblins scurried over and poked Jared’s stomach with a dirty claw. “They look so tasty. I could bite off one whole rosy cheek. I bet it would be sweet as candy.” A long line of drool hit the dirt next to Jared.

  Jared swallowed and looked over at Hogsqueal. The hobgoblin was using the dwarven sword to poke at the fire. He didn’t look up, and that made Jared even more nervous.

  Another goblin followed Jared’s glance. “Wormrat will think he did it,” the goblin said, pointing to Hogsqueal. “He was making a fuss before.”

  Hogsqueal stood up. “Of all the monkey-toasted, cracker-jack-headed . . . ”

  A third goblin approached, running its tongue over jagged teeth. “So much meat.”

  “Get away from him!” Mallory said. She pulled her hand out of Jared’s. Only then did Jared realize he’d been clutching Mallory so tightly that his fingernails had dug into her skin.

  “Would you rather we ate you instead?” asked the goblin sweetly. “Sugar and spice and everything nice. If that’s what little girls are made of . . . sounds tasty to me!”

  “Eat this!” Mallory said. She pulled her hands free and punched him in the face.

  “The sword!” Jared yelled to Hogsqueal, trying to work his wrists out of the rope. The hobgoblin glanced at Jared once, then dropped the dwarven sword and ran from the clearing.

  “Coward!” Jared yelled furiously. Free of his bindings, he ran toward the fire, but two goblins grabbed hold of his legs and toppled him into the dirt. Crawling forward until his hand could reach the blade, Jared swung the sword hilt-first to his sister. His hand stung, and he realized with dazed fascination that he had cut himself. More goblins jumped onto his back, pinning him in the dirt.

  “Get away from him!” Mallory advanced, sword flashing as she swung it through the air. The goblins backed away from her. She whipped the blade at them. The goblins leaped off Jared and scrambled for their own weapons.

  “Go! Run!” she yelled. A goblin jumped on her back, biting her shoulder.

  “Get away from him!”

  Jared grabbed the goblin’s arm and tugged it off his sister. Mallory kicked another that was approaching. One of the goblins picked up a dwarf-forged pike and swung it at Mallory. She parried it and then lunged, stabbing the goblin with her blade. As the creature howled, Mallory froze, realizing what she’d done. Blood stained the silver sword. The goblin fell, but others were rushing up fast and Mallory was still staring.

  A screech above them broke her trance. Byron swooped toward the clearing and the goblins scattered, diving underneath trash for cover. The griffin’s wings beat heavily, making the dirt dance.

  “Come on,” Jared said, grabbing at Mallory’s arm. Together they leaped onto the rusted hood of a station wagon and then jumped down into a narrow path of corroded fencing. They ran past an overturned bathtub and a stack of tires. A series of doors were leaned up against a refrigerator, and as they passed them, Jared stopped abruptly. There, lying on a carpet of corrugated metal, was a cow.

&n
bsp; It was a massive structure.

  Chapter Five

  IN WHICH They Find the Meaning of “Here There Be Dragons”

  By reflex, Jared looked behind him, but the goblins were no longer there. The griffin landed with a clatter of claws on top of a car, denting it, and immediately began to groom himself like a cat. Simon grinned from Byron’s back.

  Jared turned to Mallory, but she was staring at the cow. It was chained to the ground, lowing softly, eyes wide enough to show the whites. Her udder was covered in what appeared to be writhing black snakes jostling for a position at her reddened teats. They blackened the metal sheeting on the ground beneath her like a squirming carpet. After a moment Jared realized the creatures were larger salamanders.

  “What are those things doing?” Mallory asked. The bloodstained sword hung limply from her hand, and Jared was overwhelmed with the impulse to take it from her and clean it before she’d have a chance to notice.

  He stepped closer to the cow instead. “Drinking the milk, I think.”

  “Ugh,” Simon said, squinting down from Byron’s back. “Weird.”

  Several more salamanders were lying in the dirt, their scales dull and their bodies wriggling. They were far larger than the tiny finger-length ones Jared and Mallory had seen in the fire.

  “They’re shedding their skin,” Simon said. “What are they?”

  Jared shook his head. “Fire-resistant salamanders. But they aren’t supposed to get big like this. They look almost like . . . ” But he wasn’t quite sure what it was they reminded him of. Something nagged at the back of his mind.

  At that moment Byron darted forward and seized one of the wriggling black creatures in his beak, tossed it into the air, and gulped it down. Then he seized another and another.

  Greedily he went for an even larger one, as long as Jared’s arm, curled up in the sun. It turned and hissed, and suddenly Jared knew what he was looking at.

  “They’re dragons,” he said. “They’re all dragons.”

  Out of the corner of his eye Jared saw something moving toward them, fast as a whip. He whirled, but the black thing hit him hard in the chest. Falling backward, he only had time to throw his hands up over his face before the thick body of a dragon as long as a couch scrabbled over him. Jared’s head struck the ground, and for a moment everything went hazy.

  “Jared!” Mallory howled. The dragon opened its mouth to show hundreds of teeth, thin as needles. Jared froze. He was too terrified to move. His skin burned where the slick body had touched him.

  Mallory chopped hard with her sword, catching the dragon’s tail. Black blood spurted as the dragon turned toward her.

  Jared got to his feet, dizzy and shivering. His skin was reddened, and the cut he’d gotten earlier throbbed angrily. “Watch out,” he called. “It’s poisonous!”

  “Byron!” Simon yelled, pointing toward the black shape that was hurtling after Mallory. “Byron! Get it!”

  The griffin swung up into the air with a screech. Jared looked after Byron and Simon desperately. How would Mallory escape the dragon now? She was cutting and thrusting as best as she could, but the dragon was too fast. Its body coiled and leaped like a snake, small forearms clutching and gripping, mouth so wide it seemed like it could swallow her whole. Mallory couldn’t last. Jared had to do something.

  Jared grabbed the nearest thing—a piece of metal—and hurled it at the dragon. The creature spun again and started toward him, lightning fast, jaws open. It hissed.

  The dragon coiled around Byron.

  The griffin streaked down from the sky, talons reaching for the dragon, beak ripping at its back. The dragon coiled around Byron, wrapping its tail tight enough to choke. Simon hung on desperately as the griffin’s wings pushed them back up into the air. The dragon twisted, teeth sinking into Byron’s feathered and furred body. Then the griffin’s wings missed a beat, and in the sudden drop, Simon slipped off.

  Jared ran toward his twin as he plummeted toward the junkyard. Simon fell onto a pile of screen windows and his left arm twisted at an odd angle.

  “Simon?” Jared knelt down beside him.

  Simon moaned softly and used his other arm to push himself into a sitting position. His left cheek and neck were red from dragon poison, but the rest of his skin looked far too pale.

  “Are you okay?” Jared whispered. Mallory touched Simon’s arm gingerly.

  Simon winced and stood up shakily. Above them the dragon and griffin were locked together, a writhing, looping knot of scales and skin. The dragon’s teeth were embedded deep in Byron’s neck, and the griffin was flying erratically.

  “He’s going to die.” Simon limped toward the cow with her mass of dragon fingerlings.

  “What are you doing?” Jared called after him.

  When Simon turned back to them, tears were running down his face. As Jared watched him, Simon—who had never killed anything, who always carried spiders outside—stepped on the head of one of the baby dragons, crushing it into a smear under his shoe. It squealed. Dragon blood stained the ground and melted the edge of Simon’s heel.

  “Look!” he screamed. “Look what I’m doing to your babies!

  The dragon turned in midair, and Byron seized the opportunity. Plunging his beak into the creature’s neck, he rent it wide. The dragon went limp in Byron’s claws.

  “Simon! You did it!” Mallory said.

  Simon watched Byron land near them. His feathers were smeared with blood, and he shook himself. Then, dropping the body of the large dragon, Byron resumed eating the babies.

  “This isn’t going the way we planned,” Simon said.

  “But we’re closer to the palace now,” Jared said. “Mom has to be there.”

  “Do you think you can make it, Simon?” Mallory asked, although she didn’t look very well herself, with her cheek cut and her jacket slashed at the shoulder.

  Simon nodded, his face grim. “I can, but I don’t know about Byron.”

  “We have to leave him here,” Jared said. “I think he’ll be okay. The poison doesn’t seem to affect him.”

  Byron gulped down another squirming black salamander and regarded the Grace kids with his strange golden eyes. Simon petted him carefully on the nose. “Yeah, he seems to like these dragons more than anything I used to feed him.”

  “Let me see if I can do something about your arm,” Mallory said. “I think it’s broken.” She used her undershirt to tie Simon’s arm neatly against his side.

  “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Simon asked, wincing.

  “Sure I’m sure,” Mallory said, tying the white fabric tight.

  They marched in the direction of the palace. It was a massive structure made of what looked like cement or stucco, mixed with gravel, glass, and aluminum cans. It looked less molded than poured and in some places resembled dried lava. The windows were strangely shaped, as though the creator had fitted the house around whatever refuse he had found. Lights flickered inside. Several spires came to delicate points off the main roof, which was black with tar and covered in overlapping layers of glass and tin that looked like fish scales. As Jared got closer, he noticed that the main gate was made of old brass headboards. Beyond the gate was a deep trench dug in the earth, studded with jagged, rusty metal and chunks of broken glass. The drawbridge was down.

  “Shouldn’t there be goblins guarding it or something?” Mallory asked.

  Jared looked around. In the distance he could see tendrils of smoke coming from what he guessed were goblin camps.

  The drawbridge was down.

  “It’s going to be dark soon,” Simon said.

  “It just seems too easy,” Jared said. “Like a trap.”

  “Trap or not, we’re going to have to keep going,” Mallory said.

  Simon nodded. Jared still thought that Simon looked a little too pale and wondered how much pain he was in. At least the red skin had faded somewhat.

  Stepping onto the drawbridge cautiously, Jared braced himself for somethi
ng to happen. He kept glancing at the jagged glass jutting up out of the moat. Then he raced across. Mallory and Simon paused a moment, then ran after him.

  As they entered the palace, they found themselves in a large hall constructed from salvaged materials and what seemed to be cement. The archways were trimmed with bent chrome fenders. Hubcaps hung from the ceiling on rusted chains, flickering with the uncertain light of dozens of yellowed candles and dripping with wax. Set inside one wall was a fireplace large enough to roast Jared in.

  It was eerily quiet. Their footsteps echoed in the dim rooms, and their shadows loomed along the walls.

  They walked farther, passing musty-smelling couches covered in threadbare throws.

  “Do we have anything even remotely resembling a plan?” Mallory asked.

  “Nope,” Jared said.

  “No,” Simon echoed.

  “Hush,” said Thimbletack. “Have a care. I hear something over there.”

  They paused a moment, listening. There was a faint noise that sounded almost like music.

  “I think it’s coming from here,” Jared said, pushing open a door that had been decorated with more than a dozen knobs. Inside the room was a tall, long table made from a plank of wood on top of three sawhorses. Thick candles that smelled of burning hair covered most of the table. Rivulets of melted wax ran down the sides. Also set on the table were platters of food—long, greasy trays of roasted frogs, half-eaten apples, the tail and bones of a large fish. Flies buzzed greedily around the remains. From somewhere in the room came a series of high-pitched notes.

  “What is that?” Simon asked, squeezing past a single large chair. Then he stopped, looking at something Jared and Mallory couldn’t see. They scrambled over to him.