Monsterland

by James Crowley

  “Now, Charlie, now!” Franklin cried, aiming the crossbow at the closest beast. “Run! Get to the rocks!”

  It was a race. Charlie put his head down and rode Goliath hard, but the hounds were close behind, forcing them into a shallow alcove at the base of the rock formation. Franklin drove the horses to a narrow crevice and pulled them around so they faced the small opening.

  “May be able to defend this,” he said as he surveyed their position, though Charlie could sense the hesitation in his voice.

  “They’re almost here!” Zalika screamed.

  Franklin pointed to the slick rock above them. “Charlie, there, the ledge . . .”

  “I see it!” Charlie shouted as loud as he could.

  “Climb up, all of you, and stay there,” Franklin ordered. Then he looked Charlie in the eye. “Promise me, boy. You’re no good to me down here.”

  Charlie nodded as Franklin lifted Abigail from the front of his saddle and set her on the ledge. “Take the dog, Abigail, and hold him,” he said, handing Ringo to her before helping Zalika up as well. “Climb, and then climb higher!”

  Franklin caught hold of Goliath’s reins.

  “Go on, Charlie, you too, now. Just leave the horses. Unfortunately, they have seen this before—” Franklin began, but he was cut short as a large werewolf leapt at him. He managed to knock the first wolf back just as another took its place, pouncing onto Faust and ripping into his flesh. The horse spun wildly and fell, but Franklin leapt out of the saddle and, in a single fluid motion, brought his heavy battle-ax down on the creature. Still it was no use; the moment he struck down that wolf, two more mongrels were already upon him, snapping at the Monster and sinking their teeth into Faust.

  “Franklin!” Charlie screamed. Ignoring his promise, he pulled his sword and turned Goliath away from the rock to face the snarling beasts.

  “No, Charlie!” Franklin cried, but the boy rode forward in a blind rage, slashing down at the dogs that now surrounded them. Screaming and shouting, Charlie hacked at the fiends, but it did little good as more and more mongrels joined the pack from the darkness of the desert.

  In the chaos, Franklin fought his way to Charlie and forced him down from Goliath, who had already been set upon by the wolves.

  “No, Charlie. You will listen to me,” Franklin said, grabbing the boy by the shoulders. “You promised. Please, you must go.”

  With tears in his eyes, Charlie shook his head. He tried to throw his arms around Franklin’s sutured neck, but the Monster pushed him up to the ledge.

  “Climb, Charlie, climb!” Franklin ordered, just as the wolves came at him again.

  Charlie watched as the beasts pulled Franklin to the ground below. Looking out into the darkness, he could see the marauders coming closer, riding forward with more hellhounds at their feet and torches in their hands.

  Franklin saw them too, but holding his ground, he stood in front of the remaining horses with his back to the rock wall. The Monster let out a furious roar, and with the battle-ax in one hand and the sword in the other, he fought off the horde as best he could.

  “Franklin!” Charlie cried, feeling helpless.

  Franklin swung his battle-ax and fought the pack back, but as the last of the rabid dogs lay dead at his feet, the marauders arrived and they attacked the Monster in a fury of claws and fangs, heavy clubs and blades. Franklin punished the ones in the front, but there were too many. As he drove a hobgoblin back on one side, an ogre would bring down a heavy fist from his front. And witches flew in and out from the darkness, dropping low to pull at Franklin’s hair or to hit him with their clubs.

  “Charlie . . .” A cold hand touched his shoulder. “Franklin told us to climb,” Abigail said softly, pulling Charlie up. Turning away, Charlie felt himself stand and follow her. They climbed until they found Zalika huddled with Ringo in a crevice of rock.

  “I thought they had you!” Zalika bawled, forcing Charlie into an embrace.

  Over her shoulder, Charlie looked down from the ledge and could see that Franklin was hurt. An arrow stuck out from his back, and one of his wrists was dangling from its torn stitching, leaving the bone exposed. But Franklin fought on and no matter what they tried, the marauders could not bring down the Monster of all Monsters.

  Charlie stepped forward, but Abigail and Zalika held him back.

  “They’re killing him,” he cried. “We have to do something!”

  “What are you going to do?” Zalika yelled, tears soaking the wrappings around her eyes. “You are just a boy.”

  “But look what they’re doing. They’re ripping him to pieces!”

  Charlie stood up from their hiding place on the ledge. No, he thought. It can’t end like this. Franklin deserved more. Not to die out here all alone, not after all they had been through. And it wasn’t even his fault. Charlie knew that he was the one who had gotten Franklin into this . . . and the Prime Minister. Charlie’s mind was racing . . . The Prime Minister . . . He looked down at the hilt of the sword . . . The Vampire . . .

  Charlie took a deep breath and held the sword out in front of him. The firelight of the marauders’ torches below shone bright off its blade.

  “Stop!” Charlie shouted. Tears stung the corners of his eyes.

  “Charlie, what are you doing? They will see us!” Zalika cried, but Charlie continued.

  “Stop, I said! We travel under the protection of the Prime Minister!” Charlie shouted as loud as he could. A few of the marauders looked up at him while the rest continued their attack on Franklin and the horses.

  Charlie held the sword high over his head and brought the blade down against the rock with a heavy clang.

  “I—SAID—STOP!”

  Sparks shot out when the metal hit the stone, and the sound, which was louder than Charlie expected, echoed against the rock, reverberating down into the mayhem.

  Stunned, the mob, if only for a moment, did as they were told and stopped.

  “We travel under the protection of the Prime Minister!” Charlie shouted again, this time gasping for breath.

  The mob burst out in laughter mocking him, and a witch, torch in hand, flew up toward the ledge. Charlie raised the blade, readying himself for an attack.

  “Aye, it’s the boy, the Monster’s boy,” the witch cackled. “And the princess, the queen Khensa Tuya’s child!”

  “No, Charlie! Climb!” Franklin growled from below.

  The witch lifted her torch to the ledge, illuminating the children. The mob continued to mock them, their calls and screams growing into shrieks of laughter.

  “We travel under the protection of the Prime Minister!” Charlie shouted again with more conviction. He pulled the documents from his coat. “I have papers! Signed papers! Papers with the Prime Minister’s official seal!”

  “Ha!” the witch cackled.

  She swooped down and snatched the documents from Charlie’s hand.

  “He has papers!” the witch screamed.

  “He has papers!” the mob roared back.

  The witch flew down and dropped the papers to a tall, cloaked figure who sat on his horse near the front of the mob. A mummified hand reached out from the long robe and caught the roll.

  “The Prime Minister’s seal!” the figure scoffed. “His powers granted from a fraudulent Council!”

  The crowd cheered enthusiastically as the figure stepped his horse forward, holding the papers over his head.

  “I am Tok and these are my lands!” he roared. “The lands that, with the Council’s blessing, Nuit Khensa Tuya stole! Your papers are worthless here in the desert! As worthless as the government that gave away what rightfully belongs to me!”

  Charlie could barely see Franklin through the mob below, but he could tell that he had dropped his heavy ax and was having trouble holding his sword out to keep the circle of beasts at bay. A troll and a gobl
in skirted around him and were already climbing the smooth stone toward their ledge. They did not have much longer.

  “They are papers of safe transit!” Charlie shouted.

  “Worthless!” Tok hissed. “I do not honor the Council, nor their empty words and promises!” The marauders jeered and howled their approval as Tok spun his horse in a triumphant circle.

  “Kill them!” he ordered with a wave of his arm. “Kill all of them!”

  “No!” Charlie screamed as the beasts converged again on Franklin. He tried to climb down, but Zalika and Abigail pulled him back.

  “Wait, Charlie,” Abigail said, her voice just above a whisper. “Look . . .”

  Flapping its wings out in the distance, there appeared to be a single bird, just one, a black bird with white markings. Then there were two, then three, four, five, until soon there were hundreds and the sky was covered in a dark cloud of them, fluid almost as they swept down just over the marauders’ heads.

  “They’re magpies!” Zalika shouted.

  The flock descended upon the mob, beating the hideous creatures back with their wings and sharp beaks until the marauders were forced to stoop, kneeling on the ground with their arms raised in defense. Then, just like that, the flock swirled into a whirling vortex, and with a deafening screech that sounded like an explosion, the magpies were gone.

  As an eerie hush fell over the stupefied crowd, all the marauders were now focused on a single figure draped in a long, hooded cape who walked casually through their midst, humming the final verses of an old nursery rhyme.

  “Eight for a wish,

  Nine for a kiss,

  Ten a surprise you should not miss,

  Eleven for health,

  Twelve for wealth,

  Thirteen beware it’s the devil himself . . .”

  The figure paused to pull back the hood of his cape. It was the Prime Minister, and never had Charlie been so happy to see someone so dead.

  “The boy speaks the truth,” the Prime Minister said, dropping his lyrical tone. “He does have my safe conduct. And therefore you all have borne your trespasses against me.”

  The Prime Minister passed Tok and, without even looking at him, plucked the papers from his hand.

  “Trespassessss,” the Prime Minister continued, “that I do not take lightly.”

  “Who are you to dictate what goes on out here?” Tok shouted. “Out here, a place you have forgotten, a place that even your maps label a wasteland?”

  “Who am I?” the Prime Minister asked. “Shall I remind you?” The Prime Minister turned back to the mob, pulling his long cloak around him. “Shall I remind all of you?”

  Tok stepped his horse back and lowered his head. The rest of the marauders followed, giving the Prime Minister a wide path.

  “Is this the only rule you know? Fear?” the Prime Minister yelled at the crowd with a flourish of his cape.

  The marauders edged farther away from the Prime Minister, averting their eyes from his icy gaze.

  “I pity you,” the Prime Minister said. “Your only answer is violence. After all that we have suffered . . . this your response . . . pathetic.”

  The crowd shuddered, cowering in shame.

  “Disgraceful.” The Prime Minister shook his head. “Make no mistake, we will deal with your lack of civility at a later date, as I have more pressing matters to attend to. You,” he said, his stare fixed on Tok. “You will leave. And you will leave now. You will give thanks to whomever you give thanks to and you will remember the kindness I have shown you . . .” The Prime Minister turned back to the mob. “Shown all of you!”

  “This is not right!” Tok cried. “It is not fair what you and your government have done here!”

  “Then it is a matter to be brought up before the Council,” the Prime Minister said. “As their elected representative, I will see to it personally that your grievances are heard, but I promise you—all of you—it will not be settled here, not now, with claw, club, nor blade.” The Prime Minister smiled, exposing his long white fangs. “This, I guarantee.”

  “Then we will speak again,” Tok said.

  “Of that much I am sure,” the Prime Minister answered. “Do we have an understanding?”

  The marauders looked to Tok, who answered by bowing low and swinging his horse around to retreat.

  “Now. Be gone with you, all of you, before I lose my patience,” the Prime Minister snapped.

  “There are others who will hear of this, and you know of whom I speak,” Tok replied coolly as he rode past the Prime Minister. “Those who do not fear your ravenous kind.”

  The Prime Minister stood completely still, unfazed by Tok’s words.

  “And to you,” Tok added, his glare turning back to Franklin. “This is not over, Monster! Do you hear me? If you make it through this night, we will also see each other again. And next time, your beloved Prime Minister may not be there to protect you!”

  Spurring his horse forward, Tok let out a bloodcurdling screech and rode off into the night. The rest of the marauders gathered their wounded and followed, disappearing into the darkness as quickly as they had come.

  The Prime Minister watched as they left, then turned and walked toward the rock formations and Franklin. “Now, what have you gotten yourself into, my fine friend?”

  “Friend? Friend indeed,” Franklin said. His voice was cracked and weak. He dropped his sword and fell back against the rock.

  “Come now, what kind of talk is that?” The Prime Minister knelt down beside him to survey the damage.

  “That was quite the entrance,” Franklin gasped. “Tok’s rabble seemed impressed.”

  Charlie dropped down from the ledge and landed in the sand, rushing over to Franklin’s side.

  “Franklin . . . ,” he said, kneeling next to the Prime Minister.

  “Charlie.” Franklin coughed, barely able to hold his head up. He struggled to pull the knotted rope that he prayed with from his coat. “Abigail and Zalika, are they safe?”

  “Yes, they’re safe. See, here they are,” Charlie said, pointing over to where Abigail stood at the base of the rock, helping Zalika down. Ringo whimpered nervously at their feet.

  “Ah, good . . . good. Well done, Charlie, well done,” Franklin said.

  “But I didn’t do anything,” Charlie said, his words catching in his throat.

  “Sure you did, boy, sure you did.” The Monster’s voice now barely a whisper. “And the horses . . . how are the horses?”

  Charlie’s heart sank. Without looking over, he knew that Faust, Franklin’s big black Clydesdale, was dead. Goliath and the horses they had taken from the marauders were pinned back against the rock. Wild-eyed, they stamped in place nervously, some cut and still bleeding, but thanks to Franklin they had survived.

  Charlie gestured to the other horses first. “And where is Faust?” Franklin tried to sit up, but dropped back against the stone when he saw his horse lying still where he had fallen.

  “Such a magnificent creature,” he said with a gasp. Then his head rolled back, and he let out a long, labored breath.

  “Franklin,” Charlie said. But the Monster didn’t move. His breathing was faint.

  “Come now. There is work to do.” The Prime Minister put his arm around Charlie. “And we must work fast.”

  The Prime Minister instructed Charlie to get the sewing kit from Franklin’s saddle. With some difficulty, they managed to move the Monster to a flat stone, laying him out with a saddle blanket rolled under his head. They relit some of the marauders’ discarded torches, and Charlie watched as the Prime Minister, assisted by Zalika, went about stitching and repairing Franklin’s torn and ripped flesh. They used Zalika’s blue potion to mummify what they could, sewing up his other joints by following the jagged edges of his seams. They continued to work as a storm with thunder and lightning blew
in; the rain that followed fell in large droplets, washing the blood from Franklin’s wounds. Near dawn, the rain moved on, and the Prime Minister and Zalika wrapped Franklin’s remaining cuts with strips of her borrowed linen, and then covered him with a tattered blanket.

  “Now we wait. Unlike mine, his blood will cherish the sun,” the Prime Minister said, looking out at what remained of the night. “We will see what tomorrow brings, but I think you will be surprised as to what a day of rest will do. His creator had the foresight to inlay remarkable properties of regeneration.”

  Charlie nodded, unable to take his eyes away from Franklin.

  The Prime Minister stood, gesturing to the approaching dawn. “After I see to the horses, I will find a cave up above. You will not be bothered, I promise, and I will rejoin you at sunset.” He turned to the rocks. “Keep watch over him. If he regains consciousness, see that he rests.”

  Charlie looked up to watch the Prime Minister go, then shoved his plastic fangs into his mouth and went back to sit with the Monster. With Ringo curled up in the sand at his feet, he bit down on the fangs and held his picture with Billy like a talisman while he waited.

  — chapter 35 —

  The Monster of All Monsters

  AT DAWN THE sun rose, casting odd shadows on the aftermath of the attack. Broken spears and turned carts dotted the landscape, and vultures descended to see what the marauders had left in their hasty retreat. Charlie watched the Monster closely, but throughout the long morning his breathing was still faint. The only improvement was that his fingers would twitch from time to time. As the day wore on and the sun rose higher in the sky, Zalika urged Charlie to join them in the shade, where they could still watch over Franklin yet were shielded from the harshness of the desert. But Charlie refused. With Ringo at his feet, he continued to sit at the Monster’s side, sometimes staring at his picture of Billy for hours on end.

  At midday, Abigail joined him with wreaths that she made from the wildflowers that grew in the pockets of rock. She strung them around the Monster’s head as he slept. The sun dropped as the afternoon labored on, and Franklin seemed to be gaining strength. He groaned from time to time, and his breathing became more pronounced. The Prime Minister joined Charlie just after dusk and seemed pleased with Franklin’s progress.