Good Ogre

by Platte F. Clark

  Max found what he was looking for. Taking hold of a Prime Spell was always strange, and he felt a part of the universe shift as the power and enormity of it rose around him. He focused on the others: Fluff, Moki, Dwight, and Melvin. He then imagined them united with him in Sydney’s dream. “Unity,” he said under his breath. The whole of the world seemed to fold in on itself, and for a brief moment Max thought he was going to be dragged into some nether region and lost forever. He continued to focus on his companions, imagining them one after the other, each standing at his side.

  When the world righted itself, Max took a breath and opened his eyes. To his delight, his friends were all there! Dwight was sitting on some kind of royal dais, his mouth open as a female dwarf fed him from a silver tray, while Melvin was putting the finishing touches on a long bow he’d been carving. Moki was there too, chasing a ball of yarn around a giant catnip plant. Then the screaming started, and terrified flair bears began running for cover and pointing frantically down the beach.

  Max turned to find a giant dragon perched on the sand. He watched as it opened its wings, casting a shadow over the whole of the dock. But there was something strangely familiar about it.

  “Puff . . . ?” he began.

  “Oh, wow, a real live dragon!” Sydney exclaimed as she ran toward them. A group of terrified flair bears followed her, all eyes locked on the ancient monster. When Sydney noticed the Codex in Max’s hand, however, she began clapping. “And you found my journal! This is like the best day ever!”

  “I had the strangest dream,” the dragon said. “I had been transformed into a fluff dragon.”

  “Puff, that is you . . . right?” Dwight called out. The presence of a dragon had made him forget all about grapes.

  “It is I,” the ancient voice rumbled.

  “Okay, dude,” Dirk added, “I just want to say you might not like what you’re about to hear, so don’t go breathing fire or anything.”

  “What’s going on?” Melvin asked.

  “I can explain,” Max said, waving the others over to join him as he walked to Puff. “We all forgot something important, but the Codex didn’t.” They gathered around and watched as Max flipped through the pages, explaining what had happened. None of them liked the idea that they were all held captive in a dream while their bodies were defenseless. Puff took it especially hard, having to face the truth that he was actually a fluff dragon dreaming he was his old self. But as they stared at the final image, the fog that had obscured their memories lifted. The world jumped and blurred as it had before, and together they fell through the poison of their dreams.

  The Giant Tarantula of Transmogrification was about the size of a fifteen-passenger van, and even upside down it looked threatening. Not that the spider was upside down—Max and his friends were hanging from webbing on the room’s ceiling, wrapped tightly in cocoons that made them look like giant dangling Q-tips. Except for their heads, which were left untouched—presumably so they could breathe.

  “You wake now,” a small voice whispered. Max managed to look over his shoulder and see a small kobold hanging next to him. Or at least it looked like the kobolds from his fantasy games: short, grayish creatures with elongated noses and long, pointed ears. This one also had an explosion of red hair.

  “Who are you?” Max asked, wondering if he was back to reality or not. He squinted against the pounding in his head.

  “Name Broduken. Or you can call me spider dinner.”

  Max frowned, casting another look at the spider.

  “Kobold humor,” Broduken continued. “Not well appreciated. So how come you wake?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Kobolds don’t dream. Wish me could. Me rather be sleeping when spider comes.”

  The room where Max and the others were hanging was long and narrow, and contained a series of columns that ran along each side. There was a door at the far end, opposite the one they had entered through. Max could only remember bits and pieces of what had happened, but it seemed to add up to an ambush.

  “I need to get down,” Max said as he started to push against the web.

  “No!” Broduken whispered as loud as he dared. “Don’t twitch. Spider feels.”

  Max froze as the spider turned. It was multicolored, with brown and black legs, and a black and white body. Max couldn’t see the eyes under the fine hair, but he sensed it was staring at him. He held as still as he could, until the creature turned back around.

  “Max?” he heard Puff whisper.

  “Yeah. Is everyone here? Is everyone okay?”

  Max couldn’t see the others from where he was hanging—only the little kobold. There was a pause before Dwight whispered back: “We’re all here and awake. Everyone’s okay.”

  “Spiders are gross,” Moki added from somewhere in the back.

  “Everyone stay still and be as quiet as possible,” Max warned them.

  “We heard you whispering before,” Melvin added. “We sort of figured that much out.”

  “Max, we need to do something fairly quickly,” Puff said. “That spider is not going to wait very long before it eats one of us.”

  “More humans awake?” Broduken asked. Apparently he couldn’t see the others either. “You must be buffet.”

  “We’re not all humans,” Puff whispered back. “Just for the record.”

  “Hey, that spider might want an appetizer before dinner,” Dirk announced. “We have to save Dwight.”

  “Who you calling an appetizer?” Dwight whispered, a little too loudly for Max’s liking.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Megan warned. “Max, do you have a plan?”

  Max didn’t have a plan, but he could see the Codex lying on the floor below him. He knew he could draw upon the Prime Spells, but he summoned one, there’d be consequences.

  “I think I have to use a Prime Spell,” Max announced to the group. “I don’t think the fire one I have memorized is strong enough.”

  “Web burn good,” the kobold added. “So does everything in it.”

  “I can cast Captivity to enslave the spider,” Max suggested after a moment. “Then Elemenity to carefully burn through the webs.”

  “You’re going to use one of the most powerful spells in the universe to burn through web?” Puff asked, sounding shocked.

  “Yeah, dude,” Dirk added. “That’s like using a nuclear bomb to cook a hot dog.”

  At the sound of “hot dog” Max’s stomach rumbled loudly. Unfortunately, Max’s stomach was loud enough that the spider spun back around to face them. It studied the group a moment before starting toward them.

  “Just do it!” Dwight shouted. “We’re out of time!”

  At the sound of Dwight’s voice the spider sprang into action, suddenly moving much faster than it had any right to. Max narrowed his focus on the Codex, trying not to think about the monster bearing down on him. He found the familiar magic of the book waiting for him, and pressed deeper to where the Prime Spells were hidden. But as before, it felt as if the spells pushed back, refusing to be summoned. He chanced a look at the rushing spider and realized he wasn’t going to make it.

  “Why did you have to say ‘hot dog’!” Sydney exclaimed. “You’ve doomed us all!”

  Max made a clumsy grab for one of the Prime Spells. He no longer cared which one—any one of them would have to do.

  “Hope we die quick,” the kobold said.

  Suddenly there was a sizzling sound and the smell of something burning. Max lost hold of the Codex and tried desperately to twist so he could see what was happening. Then he caught sight of an orange-and-white blur on the ground. It was Moki. The little fire kitten snarled, arching his back as a bright blue flame came to life on the end of his tail.

  “Nasty spider!” Moki called out. Then he began flinging crackling blue balls of fire at the tarantula. They were s
o hot that Max could feel them on his skin even as they traveled across the room. The tarantula didn’t stand a chance: It ignited with a horrible screeching sound, falling from the web as it landed and continued to burn, finally shriveling into black ash.

  “Moki!” Max exclaimed.

  “And you didn’t hit the web!” Melvin shouted. “That’s some sharpshooting there!”

  Moki frowned, the flame on his tail going out with a puff of white smoke. He hadn’t thought about the web at all. “It’s not nice to eat people,” he finally announced. Moki backed up and made a run at Max, leaping into the air and grabbing hold of the webbing with his claws. He used them to cut through the silken layers. Max fell to the floor, landing less than gracefully but without injury. He watched as the fire kitten bounded from person to person, freeing each of them in turn.

  “I’m officially declaring fire kittens the ultimate bane of spiders,” Dirk announced.

  Broduken approached Max, bowing slightly. “Broduken will live now. Thank you.”

  “How did you come to be trapped here, woodland creature?” Melvin asked.

  The kobold shrugged. “Broduken work at Malaspire.”

  Dwight hesitated pulling the last of the spider web from his beard. “Wait, you mean this evil, Shadrus-inspired tower has a staff?”

  Broduken nodded. “Of course. Who do you think does all the work?”

  Megan kneeled down before the kobold. “Were you forced to serve here? Are you a slave?”

  “Yes,” Broduken announced. “Me work for temp agency.”

  “Can you help us, Broduken?” Max asked. “I’m looking for my friend. A girl with auburn hair, wearing a white cloak.”

  “I can help,” the kobold said. “The master take her to temple.”

  Max shared a look with the others—at least Sarah was still alive. “I have to get to her,” he continued. “Do you know the way?”

  Broduken nodded again. “Sure. We on level one. Door to temple on level twenty-seven.”

  “So twenty-six more to go?” Dwight asked, not liking the sound of it.

  “Yes. Level one is spider level.”

  Melvin frowned. “What’s on level two?”

  “Level two Ice Yeti of Boombasa. Very bad. No good level two.”

  “I don’t think I like this spire thing very much,” Sydney said.

  “Just what else do we have to look forward to?” Puff asked. “How many traps and monsters are there?”

  Broduken stroked his chin before answering: “Level three swarming vorpal hornets; level four mechanical spinning wheel of death; level five lava snake pit; level six Theater of Unfathomable Horror—”

  “Unfathomable horror . . . ?” Megan asked.

  The kobold shuddered. “Yes—only plays Jaden Smith movies. No one makes it past level six.”

  “Every level has something horrible in it?” Melvin asked.

  “Monsters and traps till level twelve. That fitness room.”

  “Looks like that’s as far as Max gets,” Glenn chimed in.

  “Me work kitchen. Level sixteen.”

  “Then how’d you get down here?” Dwight asked, sounding suspicious.

  “Dumbwaiter take Broduken to wrong floor,” the kobold replied, motioning to a far wall. “I show you.”

  They followed the little kobold to the far corner where he pointed to the stove. It appeared just like a normal wall, but when Broduken gently knocked a small door swung open, revealing a narrow elevator shaft.

  “Oh, I get it,” Melvin said. “Not a dumb waiter, but an actual dumbwaiter.”

  “A dumb what?” Sydney asked, looking confused.

  “It’s what they used to call these small elevators a long time ago,” Dirk answered. “People used them to carry food and stuff up and down to different floors.”

  “I don’t think that’s a very nice name,” Sydney added.

  “I ride dumbwaiter,” Broduken continued. “Take to wrong floor. Spider waiting. Big mistake.”

  Max scratched his head. “So you’re saying this elevator goes all the way to the top?”

  “Ah, smart human. Now know spire secret.”

  Max turned to the others. “Are you guys thinking what I am?”

  “That there’s still no way you’re getting past the workout room?” Dirk replied.

  “No,” Dwight said, swatting Dirk on the back of the head. “We ride the dumbwaiter all the way to the top.”

  “I like going up,” Moki added.

  “Me show you how to work it,” Broduken continued. “Even now for saving Broduken’s life.”

  Max agreed, happy to accept a bit of good luck for a change. He just hoped it would last.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  BATHROOM BUDDIES

  THEY HAD TO RIDE THE dumbwaiter one at a time. There was a moment when they weren’t sure Max was going to fit, but he sucked his breath in and squeezed. Max wasn’t exactly fond of tight spaces: Once when his Boy Scout troop decided to go hiking, he’d been forced to crawl through a drainage pipe. Three hours, seven firemen, and one industrial winch later, they managed to pull him free. Max tried not to think about that while the elevator made its slow crawl upward.

  They were ultimately deposited in a small alcove on the twenty-seventh floor. They said their farewells to Broduken and moved into a large hallway. The floors and ceilings had lost the random scattering of red brick and gray stone. Instead, the hallway was lined with what looked like black marble. On closer inspection, however, the veins in the stone actually pulsed. It was also free of dust and debris—so much so that the hallway practically glittered under the light of the torches that lined the wall.

  “Looks clean,” Dirk said. “A little too clean.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Melvin asked.

  “Can’t trust anything so spotless,” Dirk continued.

  “What in the world are you talking about?” Megan asked.

  Dirk sighed. “Think about it. . . . Carnivals, zoos, arcades, movie theaters—all basically dirty yet awesome. Hospitals, schools, clothing stores—very clean and to be avoided at all costs.”

  “I like shopping for clothes,” Sydney protested. But Max had long since learned that you shouldn’t always dismiss one of Dirk’s crazy thoughts. There was something suspicious about a place that was too clean.

  Suddenly a figure stepped out ahead of them. “Urinal cakes aren’t really cakes, you know,” the man said. Max recognized the voice—or at least a version of the voice, which had once belonged to the school custodian,

  Mr. Lizar. There wasn’t a kid in the entire middle school who wasn’t already afraid of Mr. Lizar, even before the umbraverse messed everything up. He had wild, thick hair that rose straight up on his head and small lips that stretched across a mouth crammed full of yellow, uneven teeth. He was tall and thin, and wore a threadbare scarf and gray tweed jacket that was decorated with several old army medals. His eyes seemed a little too close and a little too big, and each was topped with a thick brown eyebrow that clung to his forehead like a fuzzy caterpillar. The person standing before them now was essentially the same, with a mop slung over his shoulder and a bucket in his hand—only now he wore an eye patch.

  “Hey, that’s Mr. Lizar,” Melvin noted.

  “Except something happened to his eye,” Megan added.

  “Eye patch—the sure sign of evil,” Dirk announced.

  Max scanned the place for exits: Behind Mr. Lizar was a large door, but just ahead there were two other doors, one pink and one blue, on opposite sides of the hallway. The bright colors seemed especially out of place given the pulsing black marble.

  “Like the patch, do ya?” the former Mr. Lizar called out to them. “See, I’m the Jan Man now. And the Jan Man has the power to wield the one and only mop-dusa!” The Jan Man gave the mop on his shoulder a tw
irl and Max noticed something very strange about the way the mop seemed to keep moving—like it was alive.

  “What’s more,” the Jan Man continued, “I don’t scrub and clean for ungrateful kids. Not no more.”

  “I’m not ungrateful,” Sydney added. “I appreciate all you do to keep our school clean.”

  “Me too,” Megan pointed out. “I thought you did a great job.”

  The Jan Man lowered his bucket to the floor. “You did?”

  “And that time someone wrote about me on the wall, it was gone by the next day,” Melvin said.

  Dirk smiled. “Oh yeah, I remember that one: ‘Melvin is a dork’ written in big letters by the shop-class door. Classic.”

  “If you think we didn’t appreciate you, well, that’s just not true,” Max insisted, building on what the others had said. They seemed to be onto something—maybe they could reach Mr. Lizar with a little kindness? Maybe all he needed was to know that he mattered, and it would break whatever spell he was under?

  “I never knew. Excuse me for just a moment,” the Jan Man said, fighting back a sniffle. He pulled what looked like a long handkerchief from his pocket and then lowered it into the bucket.

  “I think he’s crying,” Sydney said. “I think we touched his heart with our kindness.”

  “He just needed to know we cared,” Melvin noted. “Not all monsters on the outside are monsters on the inside.”

  Max was about to move toward the Jan Man when he heard the sound of muffled laughter. The Jan Man straightened, something about the size of a hockey puck hanging from his handkerchief. The laughter continued to build, filling the hallway until the former Mr. Lizar was practically howling.

  “Oh, how sweet!” the Jan Man mocked. “You actually thought that would work, didn’t you? That your kind words would turn me from my evil ways?”

  “Maybe a little,” Max admitted.