Lord of Monsters

by John Claude Bemis

  “I’m getting to that,” his father said, tapping a finger to the page. “With a palace, Prester John was happy, but he grew lonely. He wanted companionship, and so again he dreamed. Soon the birds and creatures began to speak. He discovered other beings that had not been there before—extraordinary creatures, chimera and all the other races of Abaton.”

  “So am I understanding this right? Prester John made the creatures of Abaton?” Pinocchio asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Maestro said, hopping from one side of the book to the other. “We crickets have many songs celebrating His Great Lordship for bestowing upon us our prodigious virtuosity for music.”

  The cricket seemed ready to launch into a demonstration, but Pinocchio cut him off. “Were there monsters then?”

  His father raised his woolly eyebrows. “It seems odd, doesn’t it, that he would dream of such terrifying creatures. Prester John, in fact, notes how the first manticores and wyverns and other monstrous races frightened him. They seemed born of his nightmares. He later decided they were a sort of test given by Abaton itself, a test of a kingly father’s need to love all his children, no matter how frightening they might have looked.”

  Pinocchio thought about this a moment before saying, “But what happened with the elementals?”

  His father nodded. “Each of the elementals sent envoys to the Moonlit Court to find out who had built such an extraordinary place. They were greatly impressed. But when Prester John asked them to end their disagreements and unite under him, they laughed and were going to leave. So he introduced them to the chimera and talking animals and other creatures he’d made. Again they were impressed, but refused. At last he showed them the monstrous races. At the sight of the creatures, the envoys all fled from the palace back to their people.”

  Pinocchio cupped a hand to his face as his father continued.

  “Prester John was saddened. He thought he’d failed to honor what the primordials had asked of him. He went to bed for many days, disheartened. During that time, storms began to savage Abaton. Earthquakes and volcanoes. The island was nearly ruined. The elementals arrived at the Moonlit Court and woke Prester John. They begged him to save them. But even when Prester John woke, he couldn’t stop the destruction.

  “He went to each of the primordials, asking how he could save Abaton. They told him he was responsible for the wild magic, that it was born of his thoughts. But Prester John didn’t know how to stop what was happening. The Deep One, at last, gave him a means of containing the powers. A vessel, if you will.”

  “The Ancientmost Pearl,” Pinocchio said.

  His father smiled. “Exactly.”

  “But I thought the magic came from the Ancientmost Pearl,” Pinocchio said.

  “So did I!” exclaimed Geppetto, holding the book. “Until I read this. The Ancientmost Pearl became a container for the magic, a means of bending the powers more expressly toward his will—not unlike the way a prism bends and manipulates light. And with the Pearl, Prester John was at last able to stop the storms and ruin. He built Abaton anew. And the elementals, seeing his power, united under him.”

  He set down the book.

  Pinocchio squinted. “Is this all true?”

  His father gave an uncertain smile. “There is truth in every story. But I can’t say how much actually happened and how much was just the interpretation of the gnome scribe who wrote it down.”

  “But…” Pinocchio was struggling to understand what it all meant. “What does this have to do with me turning into wood?”

  His father clasped a hand over Pinocchio’s. “The Pearl was never inside Prester John as it is inside you. When you became human, who knows what transformation the Pearl made?”

  He leaned forward, pressing a hand tenderly to Pinocchio’s chest. “I feel your heart beating, when there was no heart before—where, as an automa, you had a springwork fantom until Prester John replaced it with the Pearl. Is the Pearl still inside you? I can’t say…”

  “But the magic is, right?” Pinocchio said.

  “Yes,” Geppetto said, nodding heartily. “But if the Pearl as a container has transformed, then has the magic begun to go wild again, as it did for Prester John in those earliest days? This might be our best clue to why you are transforming back.”

  Pinocchio knew he had some control over the powers. He’d woken Regolith. He’d summoned fire and water and wind against the manticore. But clearly there were things the Pearl was doing that he had no idea how to stop—namely turning him back to wood.

  Pinocchio asked, “If Prester John wasn’t able to stop the wild magic until he got the Pearl, how am I supposed to?”

  Geppetto frowned, shaking his head. “All I know is that until we fully comprehend what’s taken place with the Pearl, you must not draw on its powers anymore. Not unless it’s life or death. Promise me you won’t! Not until Maestro and I can figure out more.”

  Pinocchio nodded. He had the Sands of Sleep. He had Mezmer and Rion and Lazuli to help him. Sop might come through in a pinch. Hopefully, together, they would be able to handle whatever lay in the prison.

  A knock sounded at the door. “Yes?” Geppetto called.

  Chief Muckamire entered. “Your Majesty. Master Geppetto.” He made a bow. “Forgive my intrusion. Is this a bad time?”

  “No, please come in,” Geppetto said. “What can we do for you?”

  The gnome gave a hesitant smile. “I wanted to say…well, despite my earlier reluctance, I’m glad that we’ll be able to put your…skills to use. In the defense of Abaton.”

  Geppetto looked a little tentative, but said, “I’m glad you feel that way.”

  “I’ll admit, when you first arrived, I was uncertain whether your loyalties were truly with our people.”

  “Chief Muckamire,” Geppetto said with a frown. “My concern is for protecting—”

  The gnome waved his hands. “Yes, I know. Why else would you agree to stay behind while you send Pinocchio off…well, we all well know the danger.”

  Pinocchio swallowed hard. Chief Muckamire didn’t know the half of it.

  The gnome shifted. “So I can appreciate that you might both be feeling anxious about…leaving each other.”

  He came forward, a small silver box clutched in his hands.

  “I wanted to offer something that I hope will ease your worries,” Chief Muckamire said. “Meant to give this to you at the banquet, Your Majesty, but with all the commotion and whatnot…well, here it is.” He thrust the box into Pinocchio’s hands. “Open it, my prester.”

  Pinocchio lifted the lid. The box was filled with dirt.

  “Oh, it’s dirt. Uh, thank you. Is this…some sort of protection?”

  Chief Muckamire gave a jolly laugh and shook his beard. “Not the dirt, Your Majesty. And not protection exactly.” He gestured to the box. “Riggle.”

  Pinocchio wasn’t sure if this was some strange command, but before he could wonder further, a worm, about the size of a baby’s finger, squirmed out from the dirt. Pinocchio had been in Abaton long enough to know a worm like this was surely no ordinary worm and, more likely than not, could speak.

  “Are you Riggle?” he asked, already preparing to feel foolish if he was wrong.

  “He’s a superfluous worm!” Maestro said, tipping his antennae forward curiously. “I’ve never met one.”

  The worm bent his nubby head in what Pinocchio imagined must be the worm equivalent of a bow. “A pleasure to serve you, my prester,” Riggle said in the tiniest voice imaginable.

  “Riggle will allow you to keep in touch with your father and us here in Grootslang,” Chief Muckamire said.

  “Um…how?” Pinocchio asked. He didn’t look like he’d be able to crawl back to Grootslang Hole any faster than they’d be traveling.

  “We gnomes, as you know,” Chief Muckamire said, “can split into a dozen or more smaller versions of ourselves, but we have to stay in the same general proximity to one another. While superfluous worms like Riggle can never fuse b
ack together, they can be separated from their other forms by incalculable distances. Most helpful for communicating from afar. Allow me to demonstrate. It requires a special blade.”

  Chief Muckamire drew a knife of polished jade from his belt and held out his hand for Riggle to squirm from the box into his palm. Then with a quick slice, the gnome severed Riggle in half. Pinocchio winced. He really hoped that didn’t hurt too much.

  One half of Riggle slithered back into the box while the other half remained in Chief Muckamire’s palm. “So you’ll take this Riggle. Master Geppetto will have his. And if you need to speak to your father, you may simply speak to your Riggle.” He handed the box to Pinocchio.

  “And you’ll pass the message along?” Pinocchio asked his Riggle.

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” both Riggles said simultaneously.

  Would the wonders of Abaton ever stop surprising him?

  The following morning, Pinocchio dug through his trunk deciding on the barest necessities for the journey. He wanted to feel brave. He wanted to project confidence. So he dressed in a white tunic and leggings. He put on his gloves and the seven-league boots. He strapped his sword to his belt and tucked the box with Riggle in a satchel with the Sands of Sleep. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself. He was ready.

  Out on the palace steps where they were to depart, Chief Muckamire was overseeing a group of servants strapping bags of supplies onto Quila’s saddle. The griffin endured it with noble patience. Pinocchio wondered why it was that some Abatonian creatures like griffins and the gnomes’ slithersteeds were treated more like beasts of burden than others. Maybe they weren’t as intelligent. Quila didn’t seem to speak, after all. He’d have to ask Lazuli.

  But Lazuli was busy, talking with Rion. He heard Rion say, “But, Your Majesty, this is too dangerous for you. I promised Lady Sapphira I would keep you safe. Stay here in Grootslang, and let me assist Prester Pinocchio.”

  “I’ll remind you I faced extraordinary dangers when I was in the Venetian Empire,” Lazuli said. “Pinocchio as well. We’re both quite capable—”

  “But he has the Ancientmost Pearl to protect him,” Rion said. “You don’t.”

  “I told you I’m going,” Lazuli said. “Enough about it, please, Rion.”

  Pinocchio was just frowning at this exchange when Sop sidled up next to him. “What’s with the outfit?”

  “This?” Pinocchio glanced down casually at what he was wearing. “What about it?”

  Sop’s eye flicked to Rion and his cloud-white clothes before narrowing at Pinocchio.

  “Can’t a prester dress how he wants?” Pinocchio snapped.

  “Of course, Your Majesty.” Sop gave a knowing purr.

  “There you are,” Lazuli called, spotting Pinocchio and coming over. “You’ve got the Sands?”

  Pinocchio patted the satchel at his side.

  She gave an approving nod. Then she narrowed her eyes, looking him up and down. “Why are you dressed like a sylph, anyway?”

  Pinocchio glanced at Rion. Was it too late to change? “I’m not—” he began.

  But the sound of hoofbeats on the steps drew Lazuli’s attention.

  “Here we are, darlings,” Mezmer cried, climbing down from the back of one of the three kirins.

  The creatures pranced in circles before them, throwing high their pearly horns and shaking their flowing silken manes. They weren’t quite as horselike as Pinocchio had imagined they’d be. Their overlarge eyes were much more human. And the silvery fur along their backs became multicolored scales at their haunches.

  “May I introduce Wini, Fini, and Pini,” Mezmer said, throwing out a hand.

  The kirins bowed their heads to their presters. “An honor to escort you, Your Majesties,” one said. The other two giggled.

  Pinocchio was beginning to see what Sop meant.

  Mezmer had gathered several shields from their ship and proceeded to strap them on either side of the kirins. “A little extra protection,” she said, winking at the sisters. “Shall we go?” Mezmer was trembling with excitement.

  Pinocchio felt a tremble as well, but not quite for the same reason. He looked over to Geppetto. Since he’d rescued his father in the Deep One and arriving in Abaton, they hadn’t been parted. In many ways, he was glad his father wasn’t coming. Danger surely lay ahead in the prison, and his father would be safer here in Grootslang Hole.

  The image of Diamancer bloomed in his mind. Diamancer with his eyeless face. Diamancer smiling at Prester John as he refused to repent for his crimes against Abaton.

  If Diamancer escaped, would anywhere in Abaton be safe—for his father, for any of them?

  Pinocchio extended a tentative hand to his father.

  Geppetto didn’t take it. Instead he pulled his son into a great hug. Pinocchio squeezed back. But over his father’s shoulder, he caught the others watching. Reluctantly, he wriggled free. He could tell his father wasn’t ready to let go, and a little lump of guilt seemed to catch in his throat.

  “Yes,” Geppetto said, patting him on the back. “Yes, better get onto…which one are you?”

  “Wini,” the kirin said, kneeling so Pinocchio could climb on. “Don’t worry about holding on to my mane, Your Majesty. I’ll keep you upright.”

  Wini had a pleasant, woodsy smell about her.

  “Thank you,” he murmured, his throat still feeling tight.

  Sop and Mezmer climbed on the other two kirins. Lazuli got onto the saddle behind Rion. Pinocchio felt the slightest pang at being left out, seeing them ride together. But of course, as sylphs, they both weighed nearly nothing, so they must be easy for the griffin to carry along with the supplies.

  Quila took off first, making a few clumsy bounds down the palace steps to gather speed before throwing out her enormous wings.

  “Ready, Your Majesty?” Wini asked.

  Pinocchio looked once to his father before nodding. The kirin sprang so suddenly that he thought for sure he’d fall off her back. But then Wini jerked to a stop, hovering in the air. Pinocchio pitched forward. He had to stop himself from grabbing her mane. This might not be the most relaxing ride.

  “Good-bye, Your Majesties!” Chief Muckamire called from below.

  His father waved to him.

  Gnomes from the palace and along the tiered streets shielded their eyes against the rising sun to watch the presters. Pinocchio noticed that Cinnabar hadn’t come to see them off. No surprise. Then he realized he hadn’t said good-bye to Maestro. But it was too late.

  The kirins shot into the sky, kicking their hooves against empty air. They followed Quila up from the city of Grootslang Hole and out over the jungle. In the distance, the sea of green gave way to golden flatlands. And beyond that—somewhere out there—was the prison Prester John had hidden. But what they’d find inside, none could say.

  Grasslands stretched to the horizon—a cloudless blue sky above, golden sun-dappled flatness below. They passed over scatterings of villages. Some were mere clusters of tidy mud huts, others were larger towns on the banks of picturesque rivers, all places so charming Lazuli longed to go down and explore them. There was still so much to Abaton she had never seen.

  “Someone decided to tag along,” Memzer called from Fini’s back.

  Lazuli turned in the saddle and spied the little aleya bobbing along behind their party.

  “Get back home!” Mezmer barked at her.

  The aleya made a musical tinkle, attempting to hide behind the tail of Pinocchio’s kirin.

  “She says she wants to help her presters,” Rion translated.

  “Tell her she can’t,” Mezmer said. “This is knights’ business.”

  The aleya answered with urgent chiming.

  Rion chuckled and called over to Mezmer, “She says, then make her a knight. I don’t think she’ll be persuaded to leave, General.”

  Mezmer scowled. “Make her a knight? Ridiculous! She can’t even carry a sword. I have high standards for the Celestial Brigade.”

 
; “Clearly,” Sop said.

  “She’s not in the way,” Pinocchio called. “Just let her come if she wants.”

  Mezmer shook her head but made no argument. The aleya flitted up next to Pinocchio, giving him an appreciative chime.

  Lazuli was just thinking how perfectly typical this was of Pinocchio, when Rion looked over his shoulder at her. He said nothing, but she knew what he was thinking. He’d been so insistent that she not join their mission, claiming that her aunt would be furious if anything happened to her under his watch.

  Lazuli shifted back slightly in the saddle, putting more distance between her and Rion. She was glad to have a loyal knight eager to keep his prester safe. But did he have to be so annoying about it?

  The grasslands began to wither into the crimson-colored sands and rock that marked the Caldera Desert. The villages grew fewer, just clusters of tents gathered around the occasional oasis. They saw few travelers as well. Once, later in the morning, a line of colossal tortoises appeared, strung together in a merchant caravan led by jackal-headed chimera drivers, most likely bound for the distant markets of the djinn city of Caldera Keep.

  By the afternoon, all signs of life disappeared entirely. Great, windswept dunes of vermilion red and sunset orange began to fill the landscape below, some as tall as mountains. It was as desolate a place as Lazuli could imagine. Surely the most remote location in all of Abaton.

  Mezmer brought her kirin up beside Quila. Hot wind plastered back the fur from her face. “We’re looking for a river,” she called to Rion and Lazuli. “According to Dr. Nundrum, there’s only one and it’ll lead us to this Upended Forest. Although how there could be a river, much less a forest, out here, I haven’t a clue.”

  “We’ll find it,” Rion said confidently.

  “Have you flown this way before?” Lazuli asked.

  “No, Your Majesty, but Quila has keen eyes.”

  “So does Sop,” Mezmer said, pulling back into formation. “At least the one.”

  They flew for what seemed hours with only endless empty dunes in every direction. Even high in the sky, the air was like an oven. Lazuli was beginning to wonder if Dr. Nundrum might have been mistaken or if the map he was using was so old the river had since dried up.