“Lady Blackpool!” Ben cried, leaping for joy. “Is there room on that thing for three of us?”
“There is,” Lady Blackpool said, “so long as you don’t thrust me through with that sharp spear of yours.”
Ben and Amber pounded through the grass then climbed on the back of the hawk. The raptor leapt into the air.
As it rose and flapped silently between the trees, Ben and Amber told the wizardess of all that they had heard and seen—the trillions of flies ahead, the governor’s failed plan to kill them, the vast powers of Belle Z. Bug.
When they got to the part about the giant superflies, Lady Blackpool nodded sagely. “As I have seen in my vision. Always in my dreams, one of them is carrying me to my death.”
Lady Blackpool peered forward stoically, as if lost in a nightmare, and then shook her head. “This fly is a great evil. Not since the dimmest times of legend has such a monster been loosed upon the earth. But I am afraid that it pales in comparison to the evils to come.”
Amber fell silent. The hawk was flying low over the orange fields. With the setting of the sun, a fresh wind had begun blowing in from the coast, and as night fell and the air cooled, the flies had all begun going to ground.
Not so the birds. Amber checked over her shoulder and watched them leap from the branches of trees and fly ahead in fits and starts. There were tens of thousands of them—flycatchers and bee-eaters, a fearsome army whisking silently through the night.
But she knew that they would not be enough. Belle Z. Bug had her own army of superflies; these birds were no match for such monsters.
All too soon the birds winged out of the orchards and soared over some fields at the edge of the landfill. The garbage rose up in great hills—noxious mounds of old diapers and moldy strawberries, candy bar wrappers and gutted cars. It was as if this were a graveyard, the last remnants of some fallen civilization.
Considering what the flies had done to mankind with their curse of evil, Amber thought, perhaps it might be the last monument to man.
The flies had grown quiet now, gone to rest for the night. But Amber conjured visions of burning cities and looted banks, a world where people did evil things just because some nasty little fly whispered for them to do it, with the good folks helpless to disobey.
“Take us down,” Lady Blackpool whispered to the hawk, and the great bird soared to the ground and landed without the slightest jolt.
“Get down,” Lady Blackpool told Amber and Ben. “This fight is not for you.”
Amber knew of Lady Blackpool’s destiny. Amber’s eyes brimmed with tears. She dropped safely to the ground, and Ben landed beside her.
“Promise me,” Lady Blackpool asked Amber, “that when this is done, you will go to S.W.A.R.M.”
Amber hesitated. She looked at Ben. She didn’t want to go without him. The thought of taking off across the country alone, finding some school in a strange swamp, and meeting odd new magical animals frightened her. But she had fought great evils in the past two weeks, and she found the courage to say, “Yes, I’ll go.”
Lady Blackpool looked to Ben. “And promise me that when Amber turns you back into a human, you’ll have a long and happy life and that you’ll always be nice to mice—and all other creatures smaller than you!”
“I’ll be nice to mice,” Ben said. “But the flies are going to get what they’ve got coming!”
“Flies are not evil by nature,” Lady Blackpool said. “Icky and disease-ridden, yes, but not evil. Belle Z. Bug has warped their thinking!”
With that, she turned her snout toward the landfill once again, as if she would go do battle. Then she said softly to Amber, “You need to know, Amber, a good wizard only uses magic as a last resort when it comes to resolving disputes. Remember what I said? It is far better to win the hearts of others with reason and gentle persuasion than to use force.”
With that she raised a paw in the air and cast a small spell. When next she spoke, her voice came out as a roar, amplified thousands of times over.
Lady Blackpool shouted, “Flies of the world, Belle Z. Bug has sought to seduce your hearts with a lie: she has told you that you are hated by all of the other creatures of the world because flies are ugly. But that is not true.
“The Great Maker, the Master of Field and Fen, created you! Nothing that he has made is ugly or foul. Flies are a masterpiece of intricacy unequaled in all of creation. The Master made you well, and even flies are beautiful.
“The truth is that you are hated because you land on our food and then mop it. You taste our food and then vomit onto it. When you do this, you spread diseases, and you ruin our food. This is why other animals dislike you.”
Lady Blackpool’s voice boomed and echoed out over the dump, and the flies held still, listening to her attentively. Amber couldn’t tell what the flies might be thinking. They weren’t like mice. They didn’t have any facial expressions. Lady Blackpool continued.
“Stop eating our food!” she pleaded. “Stop being icky, and I’m sure that the rest of the animals will like you better! And for those of you that like to bite: knock it off!
“The truth is that Belle Z. Bug’s makeup doesn’t truly make you beautiful. It might enhance your natural attractiveness, but you don’t need it.
“The truth is that greater beauty can be found within you than upon your surface. Beauty depends more upon what you do than what you look like!”
Lady Blackpool quit her sermon, and her voice boomed out a warning, stern and dangerous. “Flee from Belle Z. Bug!” she roared. “Leave her now, and fly to safety. I give you five minutes, and then the battle begins! All who do not heed my warning: prepare to die!”
Silence fell over the dump. It had not been a stirring speech. It wasn’t a rousing masterpiece of oration. Instead Lady Blackpool had made a simple appeal to reason.
Amber hoped that the flies would depart in a great cloud.
Indeed, the dump filled with buzzing as flies rose into the air and nervously began to leave. But not many left—only a thin haze of them.
The remaining flies shouted, “Cowards!” “Turncoats!”
The birds kept winging in, arranging themselves for battle until they covered the ground behind Amber and Ben.
Lady Blackpool shook her head sadly. “The flies have become too invested in evil,” she said. “They have bought into Belle Z. Bug’s cunning lie, and now they dare not back out.”
The birds sat for the full five minutes, sometimes fluttering up in the air for a second to grab a wayward fly. Overhead, darkness had fallen completely, and now stars were beginning to come out. Amber looked up at one lone star, shining bright and indomitable against the encircling darkness.
“The time has come,” Lady Blackpool said. She turned to her army of birds. “Take to the skies, my feathered warriors! Eat your fill! Death to the evil flies!”
A roaring wind suddenly burst over the land, shaking the grass and making it hiss. It came from behind, and Amber realized that Lady Blackpool had summoned it with a spell.
The birds lifted off in a rush of wings, speeding toward the dump, the tailwind propelling them swiftly. Lady Blackpool’s hawk outraced them all, winging ahead.
A vast cloud of flies rose up to meet them, blotting out the evening stars, blocking the sorceress shrew’s path. But her fierce wind cut through the ranks of the flies that could not fight the headwind.
Amber and Ben could hardly tell what happened next. The storm roared in Amber’s ears, and the humongous cloud blotted out the stars, bringing on an intense night.
A fierce battle ensued. A bolt of purple lightning rained down out of clear skies, and lances of green lightning seemed to rise up from the earth to do battle with it.
The army of birds swept into the clouds of flies, darting this way and that, shrieking with angry cries and gobbling flies by the tens of thousands.
Eerie lights strobed over the dump. Thunder boomed and rumbled, making the ground tremble as it roared. A column of fire-lit s
moke rose up.
“Gosh!” Ben Ravenspell said.
Amber could think of no reply. She’d never been near a battle where two wizards of immense power dueled. She suddenly felt small and insignificant and stupid.
For two weeks she’d been squandering her magical energy, wasting it on frivolous things. But Lady Blackpool had been hoarding her mage dust for decades, growing stronger and stronger, preparing herself to face true evil.
Now the battle was joined, and even from this great distance it was a miracle to behold!
Amber found herself breathless from excitement.
But suddenly the great wind died, and the birds began to chirp in despair. Seconds later, Amber spotted birds whipping overhead in full retreat.
“I think . . .” Ben said, fighting back a sniffle. “I think Lady Blackpool has lost. She’s dead!”
Tears welled up in Amber’s eyes. She fell to the ground and wept in despair, her heart breaking. More birds whistled overhead, flying away.
“Don’t move,” Ben whispered. “Maybe our enemies won’t see us . . .”
Ben and Amber huddled side by side as birds winged past, followed by clouds of flies.
Suddenly a larger shadow arced overhead then wheeled toward them in a flurry. “Flee!” Lady Blackpool shouted from the back of her hawk. “The battle is lost!”
“You’re alive!” Amber cried, jumping up in joy. Ben and Amber hopped to the great hawk and scurried onto its back.
Weary from battle, barely able to cling to the hawk, Lady Blackpool gasped. “Amber,” she said. “I’ve cast my last spell. The wizard wearies are on me, and I can battle no more! Help me hold on, so I don’t faint.”
So Amber clung to the shrew, and the hawk leapt into the air. It flew swift and sure toward the orange groves then dove beneath the protective canopy of leaves. Fast as a bolt it thundered between the dark boles of orange trees. The smell of fruit was strong and cloying in the darkness.
The hawk veered, and by the time it left the orange groves and went winging toward the stars, the landfill was miles away.
Amber glanced down. She couldn’t even see the dump anymore or the cloud of flies. Yet the hawk continued to climb, leaving the danger farther and farther behind.
With every wing-beat, the hawk bore them closer and closer to safety.
Ben began to weep openly. It wasn’t some impersonal battle that he had lost. Yes, human civilization was on the brink of ruin, but Ben had lost his own mother.
Amber had come to realize that she liked Mona Ravenspell; silently Amber mourned too.
But the moment was short-lived, for just as they rose up so high that Amber felt that she could reach out from the hawk’s shoulder and catch a passing star, she heard a terrible buzzing behind her.
She glanced back just in time to see a trio of giant flies racing up behind.
The hawk let out a frightened screech and tried to dive too late.
A giant fly snagged Amber in its paws and then somersaulted in midair. The monster had her in its clutches!
A moment later, she heard Ben screech, and then two more flies came up behind her. Each fly was carrying one mouse-sized package. Lady Blackpool struggled valiantly to bite her captor, but the monster was holding her by the tail, and she was too weak from battle to reach him.
“Our master seeks your company,” Amber’s giant fly grumbled. “Don’t try to get away. I wouldn’t want to drop you!”
“Aaaah,” Lady Blackpool moaned. “This is . . . this is just as I saw it in my vision!”
Chapter 22
BELLE’S VICTORY BALL
The race does not always go to the swiftest or strongest. Sometimes it goes to him who outlasts all others.
—LADY BLACKPOOL
In the gathering darkness, a superfly grasped Benjamin Ravenspell.
Ben stabbed the monster in the abdomen, and it hissed and pulled the needle free then tossed it away. Ben watched longingly as it tumbled away, the steel catching bits of starlight, until it was lost in the darkness.
The flies were taking Ben and his friends back to the junkyard one last time. Though he wriggled and tried to break free, it was no use. The superfly held him tightly, and it had the kind of strength that he would expect from such a monster.
Yet as they neared the landfill, Ben saw that something had changed. Fire lit Belle Z. Bug’s throne. She’d set hundreds of candles in the masts of the yacht so that it was lit like a Christmas tree.
The flies were still airborne. Billions of followers buzzed softly, a deep and throbbing sound, expectant and watchful. They hovered in the air around the ship.
Ben saw his mother and Governor Shortzenbeggar. Both were still alive, and both of them were being held by superflies.
The light surrounded Belle Z. Bug as if she were on a stage. Immediately Ben recognized what was happening. Belle Z. Bug was going to make an example out of all of them.
Ben’s captor landed near Belle and roughly thrust Ben to the deck of the ship. An instant later, Amber and Lady Blackpool were delivered also.
Belle Z. Bug strutted across the deck of her yacht. Her eyes glowed with an evil red light.
“Ah,” Belle gloated, “it is so good of you all to come. After all, what is a victory party without a little entertainment? And, of course, you are all so entertaining.
“You know what I’m going to do with you, don’t you?” Belle Z. Bug asked.
Ben shook his head.
“I’m going to kill you now. Your bodies will be left out to rot for the night. By morning, your stomachs will have begun to bloat and ooze.
“When you are ready, I am going to lay my eggs in you.
“The maggots that hatch in you will be my own children. The next generation of fly wizards will gain their nourishment from you.
“But before I destroy you, I want to thank you . . .”
“Thank us?” Lady Blackpool asked in surprise.
“Yes,” Belle Z. Bug said. “You waged a fine battle and were worthy opponents. You amused me through what would have otherwise been a long and tedious day.
“You made me sharpen my skills, and you forced me to become my best. I only wish that the Ever Shade had been here. I’m sure that he would have been amused by you, too.”
Ben’s mother raised her hand.
“Yes?” Belle Z. Bug asked.
“Uh, I’m just an innocent bystander. Can I just get my money out of the Learjet and go?”
“No,” Belle said. “I happen to like killing innocent bystanders. In fact, I like killing them so much, I think that I’ll execute you first.”
“No!” Governor Shortzenbeggar shouted. “Take me first!”
Belle Z. Bug glared at him. “Stop your whining and wait your turn!” she shouted. Then she told the superflies, “Bring the woman!”
The flies had taken Ben’s mom by the arms, and though she struggled and tried to break free, they dragged her across the deck of the ship. They threw her down in front of the sorceress fly.
Belle Z. Bug strode forward. “Now, we must decide how to kill you,” she said thoughtfully. “It should be something clever, fun . . . something you don’t see every day. Oh, and it should be painful and slow, too.”
The fly studied Ben’s mom and stood above her, absently stroking the charm bracelet around her neck. Once again, Ben noticed it, and felt that it was out of place. Belle Z. Bug was beautiful, with her hot pink carapace color and various forms of makeup. The wing wax on her wings made them glisten like rainbows. The fly-liner and fly-shadow brought out the beauty of her eyes.
But that darned ugly necklace was a puzzle.
Suddenly, Ben got it. The necklace was magic!
He didn’t know what it might do, but he knew that it was important—so important that he decided he had to get it from her if it was the last thing that he did!
Belle Z. Bug finished pondering how to kill Mona Ravenspell. “I know: garbage! You humans are so good at making garbage, I think I’ll have you e
at some. In fact, I’m going to stuff you so full of garbage that it kills you!”
“Oh,” Ben’s mom said, “a little garbage won’t hurt me. I’ve been eating it all of my life. Believe me, if you’d ever tasted my cooking, you’d know!”
So that’s why mom never cooks! Ben realized. She didn’t like the taste of her own cooking. Come to think of it, Ben didn’t like her cooking, either.
“Oh, you’ve never tasted garbage like this,” Belle Z. Bug warned. “Flies, make me a toxic taco!”
At that, the flies above all began to buzz in glee, and tens of thousands of them raced off in every direction. Moments later, a flock of flies came back with the nastiest flour tortilla Ben had ever seen. Mold grew on it in various shades of gray, green, and blue. Maggots dripped from it as it fell to the deck of the ground with a plop.
Next came the beef: bits of putrid hamburger that had never been cooked, all reeking and rancid. It was so slimy that Ben thought that it might crawl away by itself.
Then came the cheese: limburger. It looked like a perfectly fine piece of limburger, but if you’ve ever tasted the stuff, you know that it can’t be fine.
Then came the condiments—salsa from a grungy old jar, a huge ball of earwax, and various funky-smelling things that Ben couldn’t even imagine eating.
The flies gleefully folded the ingredients all together, and they began to chant: “Taco time! Taco time! Taco time!”
The guards that held Ben’s mother had her on her knees. Now they forced her head to the ground, and Belle Z. Bug lifted the deadly taco and drew near.
“Get her mouth open!” Belle Z. Bug shouted. “I don’t want any of this stuff to spill on me.”
The flies began to wrestle with Ben’s mom, sticking their fly legs into her mouth, trying to pry it open. She grunted and strained, fighting them as best she could until at last with a growl of despair they got her mouth open.
Ben’s mother shouted her dying words. “Ben, I love you! Always remember that I love you!”
Belle Z. Bug growled, “Ah, put a taco in it!” The monster fly shoved the ugly end of the taco toward Mona’s mouth.
Freaky Fly Day Page 13
