This threat was met with monstrous cheers from the others.
Pinocchio looked back to Khora. “But Prester Lazuli…you can’t attack her! You can’t—”
A fierce wind rose, whipping the mist into a whirlpool turned on its side. An opening formed at the center, bathing the gloomy prison with golden sunlight and a dizzying view of the jungle near the Moonlit Court, although from a vantage high in the sky.
“To battle!” Khora cried, throwing out her wings and charging toward the portal. She sailed through, disappearing into the sunlight beyond.
The rest of the ninety-eight monsters bellowed great growls and cackles and cheers. The ones with wings took flight. The ones without leaped onto the backs of those who could fly. A drake swept down to grab the monstrous toad’s thick folds in its talons before soaring out.
Pinocchio ran to the portal and looked down. Wherever this opened, it was unbelievably high in the air. If he jumped through, he’d come to a horrible, wood-splintering end.
“What are we going to do?” he asked Maestro.
“What do you think?” the cricket chirped. “We’re stuck here. Besides, I have absolutely no wish to see the Moonlit Court decimated, nor to see those monsters devour Prester Lazuli.”
“But we have to—”
A raspy croak sounded behind them. Pinocchio spun around. Azi was lumbering to his feet, his crimson eyes blinking from his dark serpentlike face. He was alive! Pinocchio gaped in amazement. Azi turned his gaze down at the stitched wound on his side. Pinocchio spied tiny white flowers blooming from the jasmine vine.
The wyvern threw out his leathery wings and rose into the air. He circled around the mists before launching himself toward the portal.
“Wait!” Pinocchio cried.
The wyvern’s claws clamped around his shoulders, jerking Pinocchio off his feet and rocketing him and Maestro through the opening.
He looked first down past his wildly kicking legs at the jungle far, far below. Then he snapped his head around to peer at the wyvern’s shiny beetle-black underbelly.
Azi stretched out his neck and pumped his great wings as he flew.
“He’s going to drop you to your doom!” Maestro shrieked.
With a squawk, Azi cut a ruby eye at them. There was a hint of something playful in the wyvern’s look.
“I don’t think he is,” Pinocchio said.
Azi let go of Pinocchio. He and Maestro plummeted straight down. Pinocchio screamed and flailed, but an instant later, the wyvern swooped beneath them, catching Pinocchio squarely on his back.
Pinocchio sat in disbelief half a moment before adjusting his legs around the wyvern’s shoulders to give him room to flap.
“I…I told you he wouldn’t drop me,” he said.
“He did drop you!” Maestro protested.
“Not to my doom,” Pinocchio said. “He’s carrying us.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Azi turned his head and rasped, “Just tell me where, my prester.”
So wyverns spoke! One of these days, Pinocchio was determined to figure out which Abatonians did and which didn’t.
“Look for Lazuli’s ship!” he said, leaning forward to find a better grip on Azi’s scaly neck.
The wyvern banked sideways in a stomach-lurching twirl. The rest of the monsters were scattered across the sky, searching for the flying ship. Faint cries of panic carried on the wind. Down at the Moonlit Court, tiny figures were emerging into the gardens, pointing at the sky. The streets of the Crescent Port around the harbor began to swell with curious and then alarmed citizens.
“They’ve seen the monsters,” Pinocchio said. “They think they’re under attack.”
“Aren’t they?” Maestro said.
“Not if I can help it.”
Pinocchio scanned the skies, looking for any sign of Lazuli’s ship. He wasn’t sure what Sapphira had meant by a nearly invisible ship. Was it translucent or painted a sky-blue color? Or was it cloaked in some way so that it was almost impossible to spot? He hoped the latter. Maybe Lazuli could slip past Khora’s monsters.
Some of the monsters were getting impatient with the search and swooping nearer to the towering Moonlit Court. Pinocchio heard squawks of pain as a few were hit by arrows from the Sky Hunters. Archers were appearing from balconies and windows to defend the palace. Others mounted griffins and took to the skies.
Cries of panic rose as those outside began flooding back toward the safety of the palace or into their homes and shops down by the harbor.
A sharp voice rang through the mayhem. Sapphira emerged on the palace steps, calling out orders to her archers. Dr. Nundrum, the djinn lord Smoldrin, and the undine lord Raya Piscus huddled in the palace doorway watching. The captain of her Sky Hunters came down to stand in front of Sapphira, defending her.
Pinocchio almost fell from Azi when he saw the captain. Over his suit of white, he wore gleaming armor and a helmet covering his long blue hair.
Pinocchio couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Rion was alive.
The shock wave of understanding made Pinocchio dizzy. Rion hadn’t merely survived the destruction of the pyramid, he’d escaped. Sapphira might have gotten Dr. Nundrum to convince them that the prison was in the pyramid, but Rion had been the one who led them there, knowing it was a trap, knowing he’d escape and thinking they wouldn’t. The explosions—had Rion caused them? Of course he had. Why else would Rion have been so insistent that Lazuli not go to the Upended Forest, not enter the prison? He’d known what waited there for them.
Lady Sapphira had sent Rion to join their mission to protect Lazuli. She hadn’t wanted harm to come to her niece. But she had for Pinocchio. To get the Ancientmost Pearl from him. To declare herself the prester.
Pinocchio narrowed his eyes at Rion. He’d thought Rion was their friend. He’d admired Rion, trusted him! Pinocchio cursed himself for being such a trusting fool.
But all the people of Abaton were trusting too. They trusted Lady Sapphira. As she stood on the palace steps holding the Ancientmost Pearl high, Pinocchio knew they believed only she could save them from this threat. This false threat. This deception.
The monsters—as dangerous as they might be—were not the real enemies here. Sapphira was.
Pinocchio shored up his grip on the wyvern. Time to set things straight.
“Azi,” he called. “How good are you at dodging arrows?”
The wyvern gave an assuring croak. Giving another glance around, Pinocchio saw no signs that the monsters had spotted Lazuli’s ship.
“Bring me down to those steps.”
Azi flattened his barbed head and fell into a steep dive. As they sped nearer to the Moonlit Court, shocked, terrified faces watched them. Rion shouted orders to the Sky Hunters. Volleys of arrows were released. Azi turned out to be quite skilled at evading them. He tucked his wings and spun sideways in wild curlicues that might have sent Pinocchio flying if he hadn’t gotten his knees locked tightly beneath the base of the wyvern’s wings.
But as they streaked closer to Sapphira, the close-range shots were hard to avoid. Most of the arrows broke against Azi’s thick hide, but a few embedded themselves with sharp thwacks. Azi reared back as he landed, beating his wings to blow aside the attacks. Pinocchio leaped off, landing at the bottom of the palace steps.
Half a dozen arrows thudded into his wooden chest and arms. More concerned for Azi’s safety than his own—being wood had its advantages at such a moment—Pinocchio roared for the wyvern to get away. Reluctantly, Azi took back to the air.
“Lower your bows!” Pinocchio shouted, raising his hands. “I’m here to talk. I mean you no harm.”
Maestro huddled at the back of Pinocchio’s neck, shaking with terror.
Sapphira stood behind Rion, who had his bow drawn, shielding his mistress. Lord Smoldrin huddled back, the green seaweedy face of Raya Piscus and the wide eyes of Dr. Nundrum peering out from behind him. Frightened servants stared from the pa
lace door and windows.
“M-mean us no harm?” Raya Piscus managed. “But you and your monsters are…Wait, who are you?”
Lord Smoldrin’s eyes flamed as they took in the wooden boy. “Prester Pinocchio? But you’re…alive?”
“He’s not alive!” Sapphira said, from behind Rion. “Can’t you see? He was never alive. He’s some sort of wooden device—built by the alchemist Geppetto to allow Venice to claim the throne. We’ve been tricked! And now he’s gained control of the imprisoned monsters as his army.”
“This is a lie,” Pinocchio said. “Sapphira is the one who tricked you…tricked us all!”
Lord Smoldrin rose to his feet, his yellow face contorting in confusion. “But at the Opaque Palace…everyone there said the monsters killed the presters.”
“My dear niece…Her Majesty, our Prester Lazuli, she was killed,” Sapphira said. “But not this thing masquerading as our prester. See my archers’ arrows in him. He is made of wood. Wood enhanced by alchemy. Wood that cannot be broken or destroyed. This is a machine of murder, and it killed my niece!”
“I didn’t kill Lazuli,” Pinocchio said. “She’s not dead. Lady Sapphira made it look like we were killed. She’s the one who commands these monsters.”
“How can you say that when you rode down on one of them?” Dr. Nundrum cried, pointing to Azi, who was circling out of range of the Sky Hunters’ arrows.
“I saved that wyvern’s life,” Pinocchio hurried to explain. “He’s helping me. But I don’t control the others. Sapphira has been the warden of the prison all along. She’s the one who’s been releasing them to make you afraid, to trick you into crowning her the prester so she can save you from their attack.”
“Then where is Prester Lazuli?” Raya Piscus bubbled.
“She’s on the way,” Pinocchio said. “But Sapphira’s monsters are waiting up there to stop her. That’s why they aren’t attacking the Moonlit Court yet.”
Dr. Nundrum and the noble lords threw up their hands and flinched as a shadow passed over the balcony. Pinocchio turned to see one of the skeletal birds with a ghoul rider sweep down before being driven back by a volley of arrows.
“But they are attacking!” Lord Smoldrin growled.
It was true—more than half of the monsters had begun to descend on the palace, their patience stretched thin as they longed to destroy something.
“We’ve heard enough of the automa’s lies,” Sapphira said. “He lied about what he was to get on the throne. And now he lies about his involvement with these monsters. Captain Rion, stop this contraption.”
Pinocchio looked Rion in the eye, hoping to see some hint of the old Rion who he’d believed was his friend.
Rion drew back his bow and launched an arrow. It sank with a crack into Pinocchio’s shoulder. The arrow couldn’t hurt him as an automa, but Pinocchio felt wounded all the same.
Other archers began firing. This was hopeless. His attempts to convince any of them that Sapphira was the traitor had utterly failed.
He turned to find Azi, but as he did, Maestro gave a squeak of alarm. Rion’s griffin, Quila, stood behind Pinocchio, blocking his retreat. All at once the griffin pounced, knocking Pinocchio to the palace steps and pinning his arms with her powerful talons.
“Azi!” he started to call.
But up above, he saw griffins descend on the wyvern, locking him by the wings. They fought and snapped at one another, all the while tumbling from the sky until they disappeared into the gardens below.
“Now,” Sapphira said, standing over Pinocchio. Her eyes flashed. “What to do about you…”
Cinnabar cut off the Lionslayer’s engines out over the ocean. They had followed the coast up to the capital and now that the Moonlit Court was in sight, he sailed the ship inland across the sparkling lagoon.
Lazuli watched from the sun-drenched decks. Monsters swarmed thickly in the skies around the palace, unleashing flames and howls and thunderous blows against the white marble walls. Cries of terror echoed all around. Whether inside the palace or trapped out on the grounds, her people were in danger, including her aunt.
Lazuli touched the pouch that held the Sands of Sleep. She hadn’t used much on the guards at the Opaque Palace. But was there enough for all these monsters? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was protecting her people as best she could. But to do that…
“If you’re ready, Your Majesty,” Chief Muckamire said. He looked a little queasy as he stared at the battle. Many of the gnomes around him were visibly shaking.
“I’ll sail us down swiftly,” Cinnabar said from the helm.
“Very good, darling,” Mezmer said. “We’ll have the element of surprise as we—”
“We can’t,” Lazuli said.
Cinnabar cocked his head like he’d misheard. “Can’t, Your Majesty? Can’t what?”
“Attack,” Lazuli said. “Not down there. Not with so many of our people in harm’s way.”
“But what else is there to do?” the djinni asked.
As dangerous as the monsters were, Lazuli knew they were her people too. Her aunt might have been willing to kill, but Lazuli wasn’t. She might not be the prester, but she couldn’t do that to a child of Abaton. She just needed a way to trap the monsters so she could put them back to sleep. And the best way to do that was to draw them all to one spot.
“Fire the alchemical cannons,” Lazuli said.
Cinnabar scowled. “But that will alert them to us.”
“Exactly,” Lazuli said.
Cinnabar and Mezmer exchanged confused glances.
“B-but…” Chief Muckamire blinked rapidly. “If the monsters attack us here, we won’t have the sylph archers to help us. We’ll have…we’ll have to…”
“Face the monsters alone,” Lazuli finished for him. “Yes, I’m afraid so, Chief Muckamire. We need to draw the monsters to our ship—get them all in one place so we can bind them, capture them, whatever we can do to stop them long enough to get the Sands of Sleep on them.”
She turned to Cinnabar. “Do you have nets? Snares?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said. “We’ve got billow-nets that can be fired from the cannons, but—”
“Load them,” Lazuli said. “Nothing lethal.”
“Your Majesty,” Chief Muckamire pleaded. “Are you sure about this approach?”
She turned to the gnome lord, doing her best to keep her uncertainty and worry from showing. “It has to be this way, my lord. You’ve helped us bravely, and I thank you. If you and your gnomes wish, I can have Cinnabar bring the ship down to the harbor so you can be let off.”
Chief Muckamire looked around at his gnomes, furrowing his brow as he thought. “We are historians. Scholars and protectors of ancient knowledge. But we gnomes helped with the Lionslayer and I hope we will be remembered now as great builders too. What say you, my gnomes? Should we also go down as valiant warriors?”
“By go down,” one gnome squeaked, “d-do you m-mean—?”
But already the expressions on the rest of Chief Muckamire’s gnomes were changing one by one from apprehension to scowls of determination.
“For Abaton,” one barked.
The others took up the rallying cry, even the gnome who hadn’t been sure whether he was committing himself to going down in the history books or dying some horrible, heroic death—or possibly both.
“Very well,” Mezmer said, giving a twirl to her spear. “Glorious battle it is. Cinnabar, the cannons.”
The djinni raced down belowdecks, followed by several of the gnomes.
Geppetto stepped up next to Lazuli. He’d been quiet throughout the journey from the Mist Cities, lost in a fog of mourning for Pinocchio.
She reached out to touch his hand. “It’s not too late for us to take you down, Master Geppetto. You have nothing left to hold you here to Abaton. You could find a way to return to Venice. You could carry on Pinocchio’s wish to help those enslaved to the empire.”
Geppetto’s eyes were rimmed with
misery as he stared out. “I’ve been a hunted traitor. I know that life. I have no wish for it again. I don’t wish it for you either, Prester Lazuli. That might still be your fate here.”
She winced at the title, uncertain she still deserved to be called prester.
“It’s not too late for all of us to escape,” he said. “We could leave Abaton and go where we would never fear—”
Lazuli shook her head. “I can’t. This is my home. If we ever hope to rescue our people from the Venetian Empire, we need a home—a safe homeland—for them. For all of us.”
Geppetto nodded. “Pinocchio wanted many things that have not come to pass. But he was your loyal friend, and he would not want me to abandon you now. I am with you to whatever end finds us.”
An eruption sounded from belowdecks. The ship rocked as a fountain of fire shot out from a hatch. The aleya made a nervous chime as she spun several circles around the deck.
Lazuli gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white. The swarm of monsters attacking the palace grew still.
Cinnabar fired another cannon. The noise echoed across the jungle.
The swarm rose from the palace, gathering in a dark mass. The monsters had discovered them. And now they were coming.
Mezmer took Geppetto’s shoulder. “Cinnabar will need your help belowdecks, darling.”
He nodded and headed for the gangway.
Mezmer remained at Lazuli’s side, watching the monsters’ approach. “How will we get them back to the prison?” the fox asked.
“After we capture them—if we capture them—we’ll deal with discovering who the warden is.” Lazuli nodded to the Moonlit Court. “He’s down there. I’m certain.”
Cries and shrieks were already reaching the ship. The mass of charging monsters grew larger.
Lazuli called to Chief Muckamire. “Have your gnomes gather the ropes. Any that land on deck, we’ll drive your way. Bind them.”
Chief Muckamire barked orders at his gnomes as they scattered to get ready.
Lazuli drew her sword. The knights and gnomes took positions across the deck. Wini and her kirin sisters stomped their hooves against the boards. The aleya started to bob up and down. Goliath pounded his fists against his mushroom cap, talking to himself under his breath with little “Come on, beasties! You want a taste of Goliath? You don’t know who you’re dealing with here.” Kataton blinked his extended eyes, looking more like someone about to take a nap than a warrior facing a horde of bloodthirsty monsters.
Lord of Monsters Page 21
