Monster Age

by GR Griffin

  The birdie in golden yellow peered down at the audience and whistled a melody that warmed the human’s heart. Watching the flock sing and dance in tandem with such collaboration and elegance brought a much needed smile to the young one’s face. Fleck’s head swayed side-to-side, in rhythm with the melody, encapsulated in the ecstasy. Fleck returned with a hum, one they remembered from their past life, long before they meet their new family. The golden bird repeated the song it had heard, duplicating it with an artisan’s timing while adding some innocent flair.

  All of a sudden, hidden in one of the trees, the loud, shrill screech of an egg timer went off.

  The yellow bird slouched and heaved a laboured sigh. “Oh, thank god…” he spoke with the dialect of a gruff Boston local. He jerked his head sideways, crackling the bones in his long neck. “It’s break time. I thought this session would never end.”

  The indigo bird stopped singing and shouted from the neighbouring tree, “I keep telling you that timer is busted! Get the screwdriver and just open it up already!”

  The orange bird flew over to the yellow one. “We checked it last week… and the week before that… and the week before that one. It’s not broken.” Indigo Bird went to retort, but Orange raised a wing. “And don’t say it might’ve broke from last week, you say that every week!”

  Yellow Bird reached down into a secret compartment in the trunk and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. He drew out a smoke with his beak before holding the pack out to the other. “Let’s just enjoy our last break before the final stretch, guys,” he said as Orange pulled a cigarette out. Indigo, along with Red Bird and Violet Bird, shot over and helped themselves to white sticks. After igniting the zippo on the third strike, Yellow Bird lit the smokes for his colleagues before tending to his own. The first puff is dead smoke, the second is where it kicks in.

  Yellow Bird glanced down. The funny looking thing was still there. “You expectin’ an encore, cherry pie?” he said disparagingly. The cigarette bounced around as he spoke. “Get outta here already.”

  Fleck shrugged.

  “Look at you. You’re lucky, aren’t ya?” Yellow Bird continued. He pulled the stick from his beak. “You get to travel and walk around and be whatever you wanna be.” He jabbed the smoking cigarette in the human’s direction, drawing smoke lines of gray around himself. “Meanwhile, we’re stuck here pretending to be flying rats for an old coot for a lousy two cloud coins an hour.”

  The green bird, filling a cup from a bird sized watercooler within a sweet chestnut tree, replied, “Oh, lay off ‘em. You don’t need to be so grouchy.”

  The cigarette butt found its place in Yellow Bird’s mouth. He took a long and forceful drag that went on for five solid seconds, reducing half the stick to ashes, his chest expanding like a balloon. The capacity in his lungs reached their peak in smoke. Yellow Bird held it all in for a second, savouring the taste before letting it go. With a satisfying sigh, the smoke escaped. “It’s been a long day. I have the right to be a little grouchy.”

  Fleck asked if they were close to a town called ‘Parfocorse’.

  Yellow Bird raised the edge of his beak to form a sly grin and gestured across the ways. “Why don’t you look over there and find out?”

  All of a sudden, the house’s top window burst open. “Are you slacking off again?” the old coot of the household yelled, shaking a fist. Ironically, he was a bird himself; a bald eagle that had inherited the balding gene. He had all the tact of an old man telling those darned kids to get off his property. “Get back to work, you lazy good-for-nothings!”

  Indigo Bird retorted, “We’re on break. Go annoy someone else, ya slave driver.”

  “Don’t you backtalk me like that,” the old bird shouted back, “I write your checks!”

  “You pay us two coins an hour,” the red one said. “You can’t make it one coin an hour.” It was here where Fleck decided to make their exit.

  “Oh yes I can.”

  “In that case, you can expect half the work then!”

  “Then maybe you can take less breaks and get your butts into gear, for once!”

  “Why don’t you fire us and hire some doggies instead?”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Good! You can have fun cleaning up after them too!”

  Nearing the hill beyond the grove, the shouting behind the human was much quieter. Those guys were probably going to be arguing all the way until dawn. Fleck cleared the bump in the land and there it was, a town not too far away. Parfocorse was there.

  * * *

  As the clouds on the horizon – below the Outerworld – turned dark in the late evening. The land of bumpy white, which could be mistaken for the frozen wastelands of the Antarctic, now looked more like the surface of Mars. Emperor Zeus peered down at his war table, an exact replica of the seven islands of the Outerworld: Highkeep Enclave, the Plain-plain, Ice Island, the Forest, Rocklyn, Bob, and the Oasis, all finely crafted with brilliant detail. He had his troops – symbolised by pawn pieces – stationed around the river, the bulk in the centre, guarding his precious fort, and a few wayward pieces positioned around.

  Zeus ran his finger across the brim of the Plain-plain, feeling the grainy texture of powdered grass. Hundreds of square miles of land, one measly waste of skin running around, unchecked, left to whatever devices. “Where did it go…?” he hissed. The day was drawing to an end, and still the human remained elusive. Not one single sighting from anyone. It could not have just vanished into thin air, humans do not function like that. Zeus should be out there, he should be hunting the human with his own two eyes – it would have been all over by now – yet his duties forbade his leave. He had to rule his lands, and he cannot do that outside the perimeter of his fortress.

  From across the room, the door creaked opened. Zeus expected it to be either his royal advisor or his scribe, there to pester at his feet once more, but found the striking figure of his general entering, head to shoulders in a fine suit worthy of his position, complete with his stripes. General Leigh, a tiger monster, was only slightly shorter, slightly weaker, and slightly less scary that Emperor Zeus… slightly. It had become a rule of thumb across the land that the larger you were, the higher your position of authority. Not a coward by any means but the subtlety of his entrance hinted what was about to be said.

  “My lord, the men have searched the entire length of the river…” General Leigh paused, then dropped down on one knee with a groan. In a time long forgotten, he was among the fittest to serve in battle, until the scars and wounds took their toll to the point where the one place he could carry out his duties was from behind a polished desk. A fancy one, crafted from mahogany, but the rush of exhilaration felt as artificial as everything in the Outerworld – including the desk itself. “Forgive me, but we have failed to locate the human. We have come to a solid conclusion that they had not perished in the water, and must be on the run.”

  Zeus’s hand tightened around the brim of the Plain-plain. There were a million lines Leigh could have spoken, and he chose the last one Zeus wanted to hear. “I should have known…” There was a longer list of things Zeus wanted to scream and shout. He restrained himself, feeling his anger twitch in his bicep, and faced his general. “Your men have a new assignment. As of this moment, there is a bounty out on the human. Report to Master Scribe Rickard, he will issue you with wanted posters. Tell him to use every available contact we have. I want every unit, noble, and anyone we can hire outside the walls distributing them across all the islands, and I want it done before sunrise.”

  “Before sunrise?” the general blurted. He moved his head too fast and pulled a muscle in his neck, reigniting an old wound. Hiding the discomfort, he continued, “But, sir, the men in the plains have been on the move all day without rest. They’re exhausted…” A snapping sound cut off his words. Without realising it, Zeus had gripped the miniature island so tightly that he had crushed a section of it into powder. No words were spoken by his superior, bu
t Leigh interpreted this as a warning. “They… will have it done on time, my lord.”

  Zeus waited until General Leigh had clicked the door shut behind himself before slamming his fist into the Plain-plain, breaking in in two down the centre. He punched it several more times, reducing the flourishing emerald pastures into a desolate wasteland. He did not stop there. Taking hold of Ice Island, he torn the entire replica off its foundation, turned it upside-down, and impaled what was left of the Plain-plain with Black Ice Mountain.

  And then the furious emperor stood there, taking slow, deep breaths. If he could, he would crush the entire island as easily as he just demonstrated. He could have told his general to focus their efforts on the Plain-plain, but he needed to expand his search. There was a good chance he would rake in some additional hands – monsters looking for some easy money and extra adoration – from the other islands. However, even with the prospect of every citizen in the lands searching for one human, Zeus still felt that it was not fast enough. He needed more. He needed…

  Words could not describe how much he did not want to resort to this, but he found no alternatives.

  He barged out of the war room. As usual, two guardsmen remained posted outside.

  “You two,” Zeus said, and they stood straighter at attention. “I have an order to carry out…”

  * * *

  Zeus stomped his way through the great halls of his domain, the floor threatening to crack under him. He marched alone through the halls, down the steps, out the main entrance and between the alleys of his fortress. No need for an escort, given his size the likelihood of an assassination attempt was significantly low. All of his subjects, men and women alike, stepped aside to allow him passage. The sky went from burnt embers to dark blue. From the outside, every window of Castle Highkeep came to life. The men outside lighted their torches. Zeus climbed the spiral steps to the top of the north-eastern tower, where four armed guards watched the perimeter with hawk eyes.

  The Forest appeared almost surreal. The treetops illuminated in the glow of many lights, coming and going among the trunks as if they were playing hide-and-seek with each other.

  “What did you do, take a detour, Geoffrey?” One archer said sarcastically before turning around. “Why does it take you so long to get the coffe—my liege!” He almost went dead upon realising that the guy he thought was Geoffrey, wasn’t. All the archers, upon hearing the drastic change in tone, swung around and dropped to their knees. “I’m deeply sorry, my lord!”

  Zeus pointed to the three other archers. “You three. Downstairs.” Then to the blabbermouth. “You. Stay.”

  Without uttering a word, those chosen hurried off the platform as quickly and as quietly as they could, keeping a wide enough gap from the Emperor as if he were an unexploded A-bomb. They glimpsed back at Jeremy, the one ordered to stay, and a small piece of them believed that this was the last time they would see him alive. Jeremy tried his hardest to keep his composure under his tremoring muscles and the cold sweat breaking on his forehead. This archer was not a wishing monster, however, at that moment, he had just one wishful thought: Please don’t hurt me…

  Zeus kept his voice low. “Get up,” he ordered. The archer obeyed. “You have your fire arrow, yes?”

  Jeremy nodded without a second to think. “Yes, my lord.”

  Emperor Zeus traced his finger upwards to the dark sky. His silver eyes remained locked on his subject’s. “One shot. That way.” His head leaned forward, his gaze grew darker. “Now.”

  The archer span around and held one arm forward while pulling the other back. With an electric buzz, a bow and loaded arrow of blue energy materialised into his hands. Jeremy blew on the arrowhead and it burst to life with a great flame. The archer aimed high, pulled the string back as far as he could and let it rip, sending the flaming arrow soaring into the black, starlit sky. Its departure accompanied by the snap of the string.

  As the arrow was mid-flight, Zeus said, “Report to the Master Scribe and bring me one poster he’s been working on.”

  The archer said one last “yes, sir,” and disappeared down the steps.

  The flame drifted for seconds in the black like the light of a lone ship, nomadic on the sleeping ocean. It reached its peak and hovered where it could be mistaken for a star, the brightest among a pockmarked dome of muted grey dots. As it fell, the flame died and the arrow fizzled out, vanishing into the night.

  Zeus counted with the fingers on his left hand. One… Two… Three… Four… Five… He raised the other and extended the thumb. Six… He stopped and said, “Getting slow in your old age?”

  To his left, atop one of the merlons – who was not there ten seconds ago – was a young figure drabbed in all black. She sat nonchalantly, one leg bent on the top with the other hanging down and gently resting on the crenel. She had shimmering dark grey fur against a tight, black leather vest with the collars up, black leather gloves that reached her elbows, skin-tight black leather pants, and black leather high heel boots. A pair of mesmerising, green eyes with long lashes locked onto Zeus, like she was attempting to spellbind him. Her features – a soft pointed nose, low cheekbones and dark red lips with two overhanging, small white fangs – were framed by her long, wavy black hair that fell softly upon her shoulders. Two triangular ears poked out at the top of her head. A pair of dark wings lay dormant on her back. She had the body and spirit of someone in their early twenties, yet the wits and experience of someone ten times her age.

  The bat monster chuckled. “Now that’s a clever question coming from the oldest monster in all the lands.” Coolly, she twirled her arm around in a mocking version of a courteous bow. “You called me, the number one bounty number of the Outerworld, so here I am. Barb is at your service… Maxie.”

  Not only was Barb the number one bounty hunter in all the lands, but she was the only one. One-hundred-and-eighty years of age, Barb had missed the civil war by two decades. However, it would not be for many, many, many years until the unrest between both parties died down, leading to a spike in crime. Barb, who had stayed neutral in the quarrelling, took it upon herself to capitalise on the opportunity, becoming a bounty hunter. She started small, her guarantee easy to understand: your target or targets captured alive or double your money back, guaranteed. She never failed, not once, and made both a name and a hefty fortune in the process. Barb had captured so many targets that it was speculated that she could have been wealthier than the empire itself. She collected cloud coins as fast as she collected phone numbers.

  Just hearing her voice now made Zeus cringe. He would rather be listening to nails running down a chalkboard than be conversing with this girl. “You still haven’t dropped that nickname…”

  Barb giggled. “I knew you wouldn’t like it, that’s why I kept it.” Her chin was jutted up in smug satisfaction.

  “Even after fifty years?”

  “When it concerns you, Maxie, time has no meaning.”

  “Then perhaps I shall start calling you Barbie, bounty hunter.”

  Barb’s grin remained unchanged. “Yeah, I bet that’ll last long, what with you hating that nickname and all.”

  Barb was a highly trained professional, and the worst part about it was that Zeus only had himself to blame. Zeus met Barb, the daughter of a soldier and a handmaid, on the day of her birth and watched her grow within the security of Castle Highkeep. It became apparent at a young age that her destiny lay not in weaving robes or scrubbing floors or playing harps, but with a weapon in her hands. A small percentage of her training came from the masters and teachers, the rest from Zeus himself. In the years growing up, Barb grew to love the big guy as an even bigger brother.

  Unfortunately for Zeus, Barb had no patience for the life in the Monster Military. When the time came for her to pledge her allegiance to the Empire – swearing an oath that she would do whatever, fight whoever, and kill whoever to protect Castle Highkeep – she ran away. As rigorous as her training was, she could never find it in her soul to take an
other life. She forged her own path as a freelancer, and Zeus, her mentor, never forgave her from turning away from the cause, not after everything they went through. All the years of training and hardship, all the time and energy he poured into honing her potential, moulding her to be the very best the Outerworld had to offer… and she squandered it all in one day.

  This was the first time in decades they were meeting face to face. Unknown to the Emperor, however, Barb secretly sneaks into the enclave every now and then to visit her mother and father who still serve the Empire.

  Barb pushed herself up with her legs, rising upright atop the wall. She stood five and a half foot tall, yet from her vantage point, she dwarfed the Emperor. “How ya doing, you old geezer?” she hollered in a cheerful way. “It’s been way too long. I haven’t seen you since…” The sour look on Maxie’s face said it all. Her happy tone dropped. “Oh, I heard about what happened to your dad. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  Zeus folded his tree trunk arms, his expressions unchanging. “Save your sympathies for someone foolish enough to believe them.”

  Barb stretched her arms out in front of herself in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you’re still sore over that.”

  “You abandoned your allegiance to pursue your own wayward wishes!”