"Good puppy," she said. "Good puppy."
She doubted the bulldog remembered being human; he now lived for pats, treats, and chasing cats.
"A dog's life is easy," she said to the grunters who filled Fort Rosethorn's hall. "Fed, pampered, and patted all day."
The grunters grunted sympathetically. In truth, Madrila thought grunters had it easy too. All they did was obey, kill, and grunt. They did not bear the yoke of power. They did not have to worry about Bullies who kept escaping and wreaking havoc.
"They killed my sweet devil dogs," she said to Bramblebridge. "Your comrades! And they killed my water spirit."
And they killed my father, she thought, but said nothing. She would not speak of that pain here, to this dog, to these grunting grunters. Yet that pain still lingered inside her every day.
You never saw my power, Dry Bones, she thought. You never even believed I'm your daughter. But I'll show you. I'll show everyone who didn't believe me. I'll show them that Madrila, this outcast orphan, can become the world's terror.
Bramblebridge nudged her with his nose. He whimpered, begging for pats. Madrila sighed and kicked him aside, so that he choked on his chain.
"Go chase your tail," she said to him. He obliged, running around in circles.
She looked upon Fort Rosethorn's hall, her new home. A week ago, tapestries, suits of armor, and trestle tables had filled it. Madrila had tossed out all that junk. Instead of a table, she had built a throne, a great seat of twisted metal. Instead of tapestries and suits of armor, she placed grunters along the walls, each armed with a spear and sword. Outside the walls, she had torn off the roses and burned them; the castle walls now rose bare and cruel.
Finally a home my enemies will fear, she thought.
A knock sounded against the hall's double doors, fifty yards ahead of Madrila's throne.
"My lady!" rose a voice behind them. "My lady Madrila, I beg an audience."
Madrila sighed. She recognized that snivelling voice, and she detested it. Yet the man is useful. He's a toad, a worm, a maggot... but useful.
"Grunters!" she called. "Let him in."
Two grunters pulled the doors open. In walked John Quill, chin held high, chest thrust out. His fingers trembled, but otherwise he put on a fine show, strutting forward with his cap at a jaunty angle.
"My lady," he said and sketched an elaborate bow. His face was pale, but he managed a nervous smile.
"Hello, Swill," she said. "That is your name, right? John Swill?"
"Actually, it's—" She gave him her best glare, and he swallowed. "Yes, my lady. Of course. But... let my swill serve you today. I can help you find the Bullies."
Bramblebridge growled and Madrila patted him.
"How, Swill? How will you succeed where my grunters failed?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of small, metallic letters. "With these, my lady. These magical pieces of metal, when arranged on plates, print my Gazette. They print thousands of copies a day. Thousands for every man, woman, and child in Burrfield!" His eyes shone and his voice gained confidence with each word. "But imagine, my lady... imagine if every man, woman, and child in the kingdom read my words. Imagine it! In the farthest village, fort, and farm... people reading my Burrfield Gazette!"
Madrila cleared her throat. "You're an ambitious worm, but how does this concern me and the Bullies?"
His smile widened. "Ah, my lady. That is the beautiful part. With the distribution I envision, the kingdom will know of the Bullies' crimes. We could announce a reward on their heads, and everyone across the realm will hunt them. The Bullies will have nowhere to hide. All I need is some, well... some help." He cleared his throat. "Just a few grunters—to print the extra papers, to deliver them across the land, and... well, I'd need some money to buy all the parchment, and...." He coughed. "A hundred gold coins and a hundred grunters would be a swimming start."
She shot a bolt from her wand, knocking off his cap. He squealed and jumped. She shot a second bolt, knocking him down. Before he could stand up again, she leaped up and pointed her wand at his throat.
"You are cheeky, Swill," she said. "You will have no money from me. And you will have no grunters. But you will employ the people of this town—every one of them, if you must. And you will find more parchment, if you have to skin every last sheep in these farms, and then the townfolk. You will build more print machines, and you will send your Gazette to every city, village, and town in the kingdom. You will find the Bullies."
He gulped. "And if... if the townfolk refuse to help me?"
"They will help you. They will obey you. My grunters will make sure of that. Now out! Out of my hall, Swill."
He leaped to his feet, sketched a bow, grabbed his cap, and ran off. Bramblebridge barked madly after him.
"Go, boy, chase!" Madrila said and unlocked his collar. The bulldog burst into a run, chasing a squealing John Quill out of the hall. Madrila laughed.
"At least I found one thing the mutt is good for."
* * * * *
"Here we are!" said Romy, gesturing with flourish. "The mighty, terrifying Mount Doom!"
Neev raised an eyebrow. "Romy, it's... not exactly a mountain."
She gestured again with all the gusto she could muster. "Here is the great, legendary Hill of Doom!"
Neev leaned down and squinted. "It's more of an anthill than a hill."
The tiny volcano rose three feet tall, its hole just wide enough for a gopher or two. A fizzle of smoke rose from it.
Romy scrunched her lips. "Well, just pretend it's very far away, and that it's really really big. Now let's jump in! It leads straight to Hell... once you crawl for a couple days, and pass through the kingdom of the molemen, and make a little detour through the crystal caves. But after that—straight to Hell!"
Neev pulled his hair. "Romy! For heaven's sake. This is serious business. Madrila has conquered Burrfield. Quill is still printing rubbish about us. We must summon help to reclaim our town and our reputation. We can't waste time with your jokes. I'm not sure if this is an anthill or a gopher hole, but it's definitely not a portal to eternal damnation. If you're lost, just admit it."
She climbed onto the mini-volcano and began wedging her feet in. "Oh, Neev, when will you learn to trust me? Now be a good wizard and push my head."
"I'm not pushing your head!"
She managed to squeeze one foot into the volcano. Dirt cascaded down its slopes. "Do it! Push me into Mount Doom!"
Neev sighed. He placed his hands on Romy's head and began pushing her down.
"See, Romy? Just a gopher's hole, and you're probably stepping on one."
Yet to his surprise, Romy did sink deeper. Her foot disappeared down to the ankle, and she wedged her second foot in. A goofy grin spread across her face.
"Woo, here we go!"
Neev pushed her head down, and with a pop, Romy disappeared into the volcano. He heard her voice echoing below.
"Woooo! Come on in, Neev!"
His eyebrow firmly raised, Neev looked around him. If anybody sees me stepping into a gopher hole, my reputation as a dreaded warlock is over. Only a few squirrels stood around in the trees, though Neev did think they looked at him as if he were crazy.
"Come on, Neev!" Romy's voice echoed below.
Neev sighed and placed a hesitant foot onto the volcano. Romy's clawed hand emerged from the hole, grabbed his foot, and pulled him in. His foot disappeared into the volcano, then his leg, and soon Neev found himself sliding down a tunnel into darkness. Dirt rained around him and smoke stung his eyes. He slid until he hit solid earth and stood on shaky legs.
"Hey, Mommy Neev!" Romy said. She hugged him and pinched his cheek. "Welcome to the underground."
He looked around him. He saw walls of dirt and glimmering rock. It was a tight squeeze; Romy pressed against him. Her hair of flame crackled against his face, and a strand entered his mouth. He spat it out.
"Romy, are you sure you've come this way before?"
/> She nodded and held his hand. "Come on!"
She led him down a tunnel. The walls were made of smooth, black stone glimmering with crystals. In some places, strange markings appeared upon the walls: pentagrams, devil horns, and a few drawings of teddy bears.
"I drew those last ones," Romy confided. She sketched a bow. "I am an artiste."
"That doesn't mean what you think it means," Neev said, but she seemed not to hear. She was busy skipping down the tunnel, dragging him behind her.
"Just wait until you meet my friends," she said. "Such fierce, tough, warrior friends. RAWR! They'll help us save Burrfield. You'll see. RAWR! RAWWWWRRRR!"
Her roars echoed through the tunnels. The walls trembled.
"Romy, shush."
"Why? There are no baby birds here to threaten us. Here, underground, we are safe. Absolutely nothing to worry about!" She paused and tapped her chin. "Oh... other than tunnel snakes."
"Tunnel... snakes?"
"Well, yeah. Come to think of it, they hate noise. Especially roars." She glared at him, hands on her hips. "You really should be more quiet."
"Me?" he demanded. "Romy, you—"
He paused and listened. Hisses were coming from the tunnel ahead.
Romy grimaced. "Oh dear, now you've done it."
Ten yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, moving closer. Fangs glistened. Neev grunted and mustered lightning bolts; they crackled around his fingertips. Donkey ears sprouted on his head, and five snakes leaped toward them.
Neev grimaced. The snakes were huge, the size of pythons, with blood-red scales and golden horns. Neev shot lightning and hit one snake; the bolts crackled across its scales. Another snake wrapped around him, hissed, and began constricting him.
Neev screamed. The scales cut his cloak. He couldn't breathe.
"Romy!" he managed, voice a mere whisper.
Romy was growling and lashing her pitchfork, keeping two snakes at bay.
"Down, boys!" she said. "Down! Bad snakes!"
Yet they leaped, wrapped around her, and began constricting her too. She screamed.
"Romy!"
Neev struggled wildly, but couldn't free himself. The snake began wrapping around his face. Neev cursed and uttered another spell. His hands were pressed against his sides, but lightning still filled them. The bolts shocked his legs, ran through his chest, and he screamed. The snake hissed and squealed and loosened around him.
Growling, Neev pulled a hand free, summoned a fireball, and shot it toward the snakes encasing Romy. The fire crashed against the snakes, they hissed, but kept constricting Romy.
"They're fireproof," he said. "Great."
The snake around him began constricting him again. Neev cast more lightning, shocked it, and it scurried away. Whiskers now twitched on his face. He cast more lightning (which replaced the whiskers with a duckbill) and shocked the snakes around Romy. The demon girl screamed; she felt the lightning too.
"Romy!"
He began pulling the snakes off her. They hissed, eyes burning. One snake's head lashed forward, fast as the lighting. Pain blazed on Neev's shoulder. He screamed. It bit me! The bite burned like a red poker.
Ignoring the pain, Neev kept tugging the snakes off Romy. Her head emerged from their tangle, and she took a deep breath.
"Bite them, Romy!" he said. "Use your fangs!"
She nodded and began biting the snakes. They squealed and hissed and began to flee.
Neev tried to summon more magic, but his head spun. He tried to grab the snakes, but his hands felt so weak. The bite on his shoulder blazed.
"Romy....," he whispered.
Nausea filled him and he could barely see her. The world blurred. He thought he saw her clawing the snakes, but wasn't sure. He fell. His hands reached up.
"Romy...."
Darkness flowed over his world.
Chapter Fifteen
No Escape
Cobweb's eyes moistened as she walked through Spidersilk Forest. She squeezed Scruff's great, warm hand.
"M-m-my home," she whispered.
The trees twisted around her, their roots crawling across the forest floor. Leaves rustled, wisps of mist floated, and water dripped. Cobwebs hung between the branches, glistening with dew. Flowers bloomed on the forest floor, the size of dinner plates, their pollen purple and sweet scented.
Scruff sneezed, his whole body shaking.
"Scwuff, awe you okay?"
He nodded, then sneezed again. "I think it's the flowers." He approached one and sniffed it. A great sneeze tossed him back, tearing his hand free from Cobweb's. He crashed to the ground and nodded miserably. "Yes, the flowers."
Cobweb loved silkflowers. This time of year, when they bloomed, was special in Spidersilk Forest. Her friends would be celebrating Silkflower Festival soon; it had always been one of Cobweb's favorite days.
"Dey awe pwanted to make human invadews sneeze," she lied. She imagined that Scruff—a warrior—would feel better about sneezing as part of a fight.
"Do your friends live near?" he asked, sniffling.
Cobweb nodded. "Not faw. Gossamew and Webdew have b-b-been my best fwiends since we wewe bown. Dey wiww hewp us fight Madwiwa."
She missed her friends so badly, her heart leaped. To finally see them again! Sweet Gossamer, whose ears were so pointy, who always wore feathers in her hair. And dear Webdew, golden freckles glowing on her purple skin, her eyes sparkling like sapphires. The trouble we would get into! Cobweb remembered. They had spent years frolicking among the trees, stuffing frogs down older spiderlings' dresses, throwing berries at one another, and sometimes eating so many roasted acorns that they could not move all day. I miss those days so much.
A great, twisting oak rose ahead, its leaves dark red and its bark mossy. Its roots twisted and intertwined with the roots of lesser trees. Cobweb smiled and touched the trunk.
"Hewwo, owd fwiend," she whispered. She would spend many hours playing in this tree's branches; it was a wise, old tree.
A few more steps, and she saw the twin birches; their roots molded together, and their trunks rose in a V. Cobweb had spent much of her childhood swinging between these trunks. She hugged the trees.
"I missed you, deaw twins."
Scruff sneezed. "Cobweb, we... SNEEZE... don't have much time for... ACHOO... tree hugging."
She glared at him. "Scwuff, dese awe my fwiends."
"Those are Gossamer and Webdew?"
"Weww... no. But dey awe fwiends t-t-too."
They kept walking. Dragonflies glided around them, leaving wakes of glittering purple powder. Dry leaves glided, and the flowers filled the air with pollen. Scruff's sneezes shook the forest.
"Scwuff, more quietwy, pwease. Wemembew — we can't wet da ewdews c-c-catch us! Dey b-banished me. If dey catch us, dey wiww...." She gulped.
Scruff swallowed a sneeze. "Will what?"
Cobweb twisted her fingers. "Dey wiww tuwn us to stone." She buried her face in her palms. "I've seen it d-d-done befowe! It's howwibwe."
Scruff tried to embrace her, but swallowed another sneeze, which tossed him backward.
"They won't catch us," he said and sniffled.
They walked for several hours through the forest. Cobweb knew the secrets paths the spiderlings normally took, and she avoided them. She led Scruff along streams, and over hills leafy with bushes, and through patches of trees so thick, they could barely squeeze between the trunks. She could have taken a quicker route to her friends' home, but quick paths carried many feet, as the saying went; here she saw only dragonflies, birds, and spiders.
"I'm hungry," Scruff said. He eyed some mushrooms. "Can you eat those?"
Cobweb shook her head. "Bettew not. I know s-s-somebody who ate one of dose mushwooms once. She's stiww convinced dat she's a smaww piece of stwing."
Scruff licked his lips, seemed to be considering, then shook his head.
"Better not."
She patted his shoulder. "Gossamew and Webdew wiww feed us."
F
inally in the evening, Cobweb saw the hill ahead, and her heart twisted. Longlegs Hill. Her home. Tears filled her eyes and she trembled.
"Dis is da pwace."
The hill rose from a ring of white rocks. Oaks and birches grew around and atop it, twisting and rustling. In these trees, she had lived for sixteen years with Gossamer and Webdew, her dearest friends, the only spiderlings who never mocked her twisted tongue.
"Home," she whispered.
"It's beautiful," Scruff said and sneezed. "Aside from all the silk—HOO!—flowers."
They climbed the hill, moving between the twisting trees. Cobweb saw the elm where she'd often sleep at night, nestled between the branches and leaves—the place where she felt most safe. She kissed the tree, her dearest tree in the forest. Beside it grew gnarled beech trees, where Gossamer and Webdew lived.
"Gossamew!" she whispered. "Webdew!"
The trees rustled in the wind, but nobody answered.
Worry clutched Cobweb, but she forced herself to take deep breaths. Her friends were probably at the Silkflower Festival, or gone to swim in Dragonfly Pool, or maybe out patrolling the borders with bow and arrow.
"Fwiends?" she whispered.
Leaves rustled, and two spiderlings leaped down from the branches, holding bamboo shoots. Cobweb gasped; those were not her friends. They gave Cobweb cruel, mocking smiles.
"Welcome home, freak," one said, a young woman with pointy ears and mean blue eyes.
"Never thought we'd see you again, baby lips," said another, a hundred silver braids framing her sharp purple face.
The first one groaned. "I told you, don't call her baby lips, it sounds cute."
The second spiderling glared. "But she talks like a baby! Like a dumb baby!"
Cobweb gasped and trembled. "I'm n-n-not a b-b-ba— a b-b-b—"
Sweat beaded on her brow, and her tongue felt so heavy. She could barely speak at all. The spiderlings laughed mockingly. Scruff's face grew red and his fists clenched.
"Cobweb, are these your friends?" He growled. "I don't like them."
Cobweb shook her head wildly. "N-n-no, Scwuff." She turned to the spiderlings. "W-w-where awe G-g-gossamew a-an-an...." Every syllable felt like climbing a mountain. "...a-a-and W-w-webdew?"
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