The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  “You’d better lie low for a bit,” said Danariel, now hovering beside him. “They’re not exactly happy to see us.”

  “Why?” whispered Joe. “What have we done? What was all that about up there?”

  Danariel flew down to face Joe, but then she twitched her head as if hearing something behind her. Joe caught a glimpse of a scowl on her face as she turned on the dragons.

  “And if you so much as try and touch him, I’ll make sure you regret it.” She paused, then spoke again. “I may be separated from Gnauserous, but don’t presume my influence over her is gone. I meant what I said. If you hurt this boy, you will regret it.”

  The lead dragon bellowed and puffed a huge ball of smoke.

  Joe stared at the tiny seraph. He had never seen her act so aggressively before. “Danariel,” he whispered, “what’s going on?”

  She turned, her face now apologetic. “So sorry. I forgot you can’t see or hear them. It seems they didn’t think about that either.”

  “See who? And who’s . . . Gnauserous?”

  “Do you remember why I came to Merrynether Mansion? Do you remember what my ailment was?”

  Joe scratched the bump on his head. “No, remind me.”

  “You shouldn’t be able to see me, remember? Everybody can see me, but nobody should be able to see a seraph unless two things happen.”

  “Right,” said Joe. “I remember now. You have to believe the seraphim exist, and you have to know the seraph’s name.”

  “Exactly. Now, I know you believe in the seraphim, but you don’t know the names of three seraphim that happen to be in our presence right now.”

  “There are three here? Now?”

  “Oh, yes. There were five earlier, but the other two fled. Of the remaining three, one is unconscious and the other two are mourning over the fallen, alongside their kin-ties.”

  “What’s a kin-tie?”

  “I’ll explain in a moment. First, I think it’s best to make sure you can see and hear them.” She pointed at each dragon in turn. “Alariel, Semeriel, and Tabariel.”

  As Danariel spoke each name, a flash of light appeared near each dragon, revealing beings similar to Danariel but each with its own subtle difference in color. The one identified as Semeriel lay next to the dead dragon, her eyes closed and her violet-blue pulse very weak. Tabariel, the seraph closest to the leading dragon, had a faintly apple-green glow, and so did the other, though his was a fraction deeper.

  “Amazing,” said Joe. “I can see them now. Are the seraphim connected to the dragons somehow?”

  “That’s right, but it’s actually a lot stronger than a simple connection. You could say each dragon has a spirit and its spirit is the seraph. The dragon and the seraph are separate, but they are also one.”

  “Oh,” said Joe, nodding and pretending to understand. “How did they . . . Has it always been like that?”

  “No. There was a time when seraph and dragon were united as a single being. Nobody really knows how or why that changed, but there’s an old legend about it. It tells of an ancient Pyronesian king who lost his queen to a terrible illness. The physicians did all they could to save her, but when they failed, the king became so angry that he ordered every doctor to be executed.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “Absolutely. Even the king thought so when he finally came to his senses. He grew so distraught at what he’d done that he decided he never wanted to be angry again, and so he went to the highest mountain on the farthest land to be alone for twenty years. At the end of that time, he vomited the rage from his spirit, which created the first dragon. He himself became the first of the seraphim.”

  “Weird. It sounds a bit like the story Mrs. Merrynether told me about the squonks.”

  “Ah, yes, about how the oceans of the world were created when the dragons wanted to get rid of their ugliness.”

  “That’s the one. Do you think any of them are true?”

  “They’re just old myths.” She laughed. “Like the ones the Greeks invented when they wanted to explain the laws of nature through metaphor.”

  A seraph drifted to Danariel and grabbed her arm. “I told you to remove that human from my sight. I might not agree with Gnauserous and her plans, but that does not mean I have any love for these . . . abominations of nature.”

  “Well, Tabariel, you’d better get used to this one,” she replied, pointing at Joe. “He might be our best hope for a peaceful solution.”

  “Was he worth the death of three dragons?”

  “Are you blaming him for their deaths? Surely you can’t hold this small boy responsible for that ugly display in the sky. Are you going to tell me what that was about?”

  Tabariel’s lips thinned as he looked down at Joe, then back to Danariel. “I’ll tell you but not here. We need to find somewhere safer for everyone to stay . . . if there is anywhere.”

  “The old Nesting Caverns.”

  Tabariel looked at the sky. “Yes, the Nesting Caverns will be adequate for the time being, but we must move quickly. It’s dusk already, and it will be dark within the hour. Gnauserous will likely send a larger contingent to deal with you now that you have managed to survive. I cannot believe you came, Danariel. What did you think you could achieve by coming here with—?”

  “As you said, we should discuss this in a better place.” Danariel turned back, then faced Joe. “Come on. We need to get everyone gathered, including the wounded. We have to make a trip along the beach before we’re attacked again.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  The journey from the ruined ark to the Nesting Caverns was mercifully short. Once the wounded had been gathered, makeshift stretchers were fashioned out of the remaining balloon canvas, and a generous dose of Kiyoshi’s kappa juice enabled the others to transport everyone to safety. Passed out from supplying so many, Kiyoshi had been carried in one of the stretchers, mumbling in his sleep about the joys of eating cucumber.

  Twilight brought the chirruping of a thousand insects. The sky darkened to a murky blue, a cold wind following. Joe entered the caverns, grateful for the rocky shelter. He carried one end of a stretcher that held an animal resembling a rabbit but the size of a husky. Several dozen oil lamps lit the cavern, the stuttering flames creating an orange glow against the glittering walls. Joe guessed this was the very same place Mrs. Merrynether had spoken about.

  The cavern was huge. At some time in the past, volcanic activity had formed a tall mountain, but much of its interior had been gouged out and burned away by the nesting dragons who had clearly returned year after year for millennia to nurture their young. Joe stood in one of the hub areas, a vast chamber with scores of tunnels leading away from it. Clusters of sparkling diamonds lined every surface except the floor, which was carpeted with the broken shells of countless dragon eggs.

  Joe looked around for Mrs. Merrynether as he lowered the stretcher. Flarp and his friend hovered by the entrance as lookout. Snappel waited underneath, her right leg bandaged by Mrs. Merrynether’s expert hand. Kiyoshi lay asleep nearby, his limbs neatly tucked inside his shell. Danariel hovered with the other seraphim, engaged in a heated discussion. Deeper into the cavern, the various animals had been rounded up by Cornelius, who paced the crowd, growling and swishing his barbed tail to keep them in order.

  Joe thanked the long-legged animal that had taken the other end of the stretcher as he lowered it near the herded group. Then he continued to look around for Mrs. Merrynether. He spotted her sitting on a wooden crate by herself in a darkened part of the cave, Archy curled up by her feet, asleep. Mrs. Merrynether seemed unconcerned by the needs of the creatures around her. Her brow even more wrinkly than usual, she stared ahead in dreamy thought.

  Joe sat on the floor next to her. “Hello. You all right?”

  She continued to stare ahead. “No.”

  Joe waited a moment. “Want to talk about it?”

  She let out a long sigh and scanned the rocky surface of the cave floor.

  Joe hel
d one of her hands. “There are still some wounded animals. They’re all over there.” He pointed toward Cornelius, who was thumping the ground beside a group of boisterous imps. “Will you show me how to help them?”

  She squinted through her glasses at the group. “Of course I will help, Joseph. I was just taking a minute to think things through. That’s all.”

  “Okay. I’ll be over there when you’re ready.”

  He went to pull away, but Mrs. Merrynether tightened her grip and looked at him with a curious sadness in her eyes. “You’re a good lad, Joseph Copper.”

  Joe smiled. “Thanks. Will you tell them that?” He nodded toward the two dragons standing side by side in another part of the cavern. Their fallen comrade lay stretched out behind them next to a line of six other creatures killed in the crash. At the far end was the tiny body of Thumbler, the young troll, neatly tied up in what looked like a ceremonial cloak.

  Joe immediately regretted drawing Mrs. Merrynether’s attention to that area of the cave.

  “We’re lucky there weren’t more deaths,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” said Joe, looking down.

  “Right where Thumbler is now—that’s where Gloria and Donald Merson were burned alive all those years ago.” She motioned to the left. “I found my husband’s body right over there. And just beyond that tunnel—that’s where I watched four more of my team die . . . Now I’m afraid it will happen all over again when the Conclave get here. I have made such a terrible mess of things and put you right in the middle of it all.”

  “None of this is your fault, Mrs. Merrynether.”

  “I should never have come.”

  “But you had to.”

  “Did I? Where is Redwar? He isn’t here, is he?”

  Joe stopped to think about that. She was right. So far they had not seen or heard any sign of him or his army.

  “And look at my army!” Mrs. Merrynether waved at the crowd of animals around her. “My task was to amass a force that could overthrow the Conclave and keep the world from being thrown into a war it could never win. I’ve had all these years to do that, and I’ve done nothing . . . Nothing!”

  “That’s not true. You’ve—”

  “And now I’ve brought us all here, ready to be—” She stopped, horror in her eyes.

  Joe hunted for the right thing to say, but before he could think of anything useful, Tabariel, the green-hued seraph belonging to the largest dragon, drifted to them and faced Mrs. Merrynether.

  “Veronica Merrynether. The years have not been kind to you.”

  She looked up and huffed, as if the greeting was exactly as she expected. “Hello to you too.”

  “Danariel assures me your presence on this island is necessary, but she has yet to offer us a good enough reason for your arrival.”

  “Then am I to understand Argoyle Redwar has not come to Pyronesia threatening to destroy you all?”

  “Danariel also mentioned this man, but you are the first outsiders to come to Pyronesia for decades. Am I expected to believe this Redwar has a way of detecting us and even threatening us?”

  “I heard from a reliable source this was the case”—Mrs. Merrynether let her eyes fall on Thumbler’s body—“though I seriously doubt Redwar has the means to endanger any of you, even with an army.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  “Our intention was to stop him and his army before he made any contact with the Conclave. We were afraid he would precipitate an all-out attack on the rest of the world.”

  “And so he would have. Gnauserous has been growing restless these last few years, and when Danariel eventually left to see you, all Gnauserous has been discussing with the rest of the Conclave is when to begin the attack. The arrival of someone like Redwar would give Gnauserous the perfect excuse to begin the war, as it was with your arrival.”

  “Our arrival?” Joe interrupted.

  “Yes, yours. How do you think Gnauserous reacted when the globbles saw an enormous ark heading toward Pyronesia? She sent me out to destroy you. For years I have managed to conceal my support of the rebellion, but now my involvement is plain. I had to kill two of my kin to keep you safe, only to find this pathetic gathering you came up with to oppose the Conclave. What have you been doing all this time? Is this the best you could do?”

  Mrs. Merrynether had never looked so downcast. “We . . . I thought the Conclave had . . . mellowed.”

  “Mellowed. Do you think a thousand years of hatred and paranoia could be calmed in such a small span of time?”

  “Well, what have you been doing, then?” Joe said, feeling a righteous anger bubbling within. “Why should it be up to Mrs. Merrynether to stop one of your own? If you don’t have the courage to stand up to her, that’s your own problem, isn’t it?”

  The lead dragon, deeper in the cave, stamped a claw and roared a ball of fire.

  Tabariel’s glow deepened to indigo.

  “Thank you, Joseph,” said Mrs. Merrynether, “but Tabariel is right. The Conclave’s hatred for humanity was inflamed when I brought the team here all those years ago. I have a responsibility, and I have not fulfilled my part in this.”

  “No,” insisted Joe, eyeing the seraph. “He can stamp and complain all he likes. What happened all those years ago was a big misunderstanding, and even if there were a couple of greedy people on the team, you can hardly hold the whole of humanity responsible for what they did.”

  The seraph stared back at him, and Joe thought he saw a flash of a smile. “Brave words, boy. I happen to agree with you, which is why I am part of the rebellion, but don’t ever accuse me of cowardice again. There are too few of us in opposition to Gnauserous to make a stand at this time. Acts of bravery will most certainly result in our destruction.”

  “But what about earlier on? Didn’t you say what you did would make your involvement with the rebellion plain?”

  “Exactly. And now perhaps you understand my anger. I have risked everything and”—he waved a tiny hand—“gained nothing.”

  Joe looked at Mrs. Merrynether.

  She looked back but said nothing.

  “Who is this Gnauserous anyway?” Joe asked. “I heard Danariel say something earlier about being separated from her but still having some influence.”

  “The boy doesn’t know?” said Tabariel, staring incredulously at Joe. “I thought his presence on this island meant you had chosen him as the—”

  “Stop!” said Mrs. Merrynether.

  “The what? What have I been chosen as? I thought you said you wanted me as your successor for your practice? What’s going on?”

  Mrs. Merrynether shot an angry glance at Tabariel before resting her tearful gaze on Joe. “I do want you as my successor, Joseph, but . . . that role carries a dreadful responsibility—something I wanted to tell you when you were older so that you could decide for yourself whether—”

  “What responsibility?”

  She sighed. “I told you only a portion of the truth earlier. You remember when I told you about the boy James Merson and how I showed him to the dragon to beg for mercy?”

  “Yes.”

  “That dragon was Gnauserous, the Queen of Pyronesia and the head of the Conclave. She wanted to destroy mankind even before the catastrophe that killed most of my team and led to the death of one of her young. But by pleading my case to her, I unknowingly invoked an ancient Pyronesian law. Before war is announced, a chosen representative from each side must meet to see if a peaceful resolution can be found.

  “I was taken to the Conclave, but when I made my plea, Gnauserous would not accept it and still wanted to go to war. Fortunately, her kin-tie did not agree, and after a bitter dispute among the Conclave, war was avoided and Gnauserous’s seraph separated from her that day.”

  “Danariel.”

  “Yes, Danariel.”

  “But where do I fit into—?”

  A minor commotion broke out near the entrance to the cave as Flarp zoomed inside, tendrils wriggling. Snappel wa
s hopping, flapping her wings.

  “What’s up?” asked Joe. “Is something coming?”

  Flarp backed toward the entrance.

  Joe and Mrs. Merrynether followed, Tabariel zipping beside them. Night had fallen like a dark cloak across the island. Joe marveled at the moon lighting Pyronesia’s landscape—until a cloud of V shapes blotted out the white disc.

  “Is it the Conclave?” Joe asked, wondering if he really wanted to hear the answer.

  “I will find out,” said Tabariel.

  A gale almost knocked Joe over as the enormous dragon leader flew overhead and into the night, Tabariel on its back. A small crowd had gathered at the entrance, tensely anticipating the confrontation.

  There was a moment of shared fear, nervous growls, and high-pitched chirps as the other dragons formed a ring around the rebel; then relief settled as their dragon joined the rest and headed down toward the Nesting Cavern.

  Joe counted eighty-seven dragons when they landed on the beach. None of them were quite as large as Tabariel’s dragon, but each of them looked formidable. It was hard to see properly in the moonlight, but Joe noted that they all had different colorings and markings. Ranging from the deepest black to the palest blue, each of them had slightly different scaly growths on their hides, which Joe thought might be an indication of age or rank.

  From the peak of the crowd, Tabariel fluttered toward Joe and hovered before him, looking grave.

  “Who are they?” Joe asked.

  “The time has come to make a stand. The gathering you see is the full force of those who will resist Gnauserous and the Conclave.”

  “There are loads of you. Surely you can easily take over.”

  Danariel came to rest on Joe’s shoulder. “You underestimate the size of the Conclave. They have ten thousand dragons at their disposal, and they aren’t the only creatures populating Pyronesia.”

  “So why is it time to make a stand? We’re outnumbered a hundred to one.”

  “We have no choice,” said Tabariel. “Your arrival on this island started a chain of events, and now we are all exposed. If we do not resist or make a plea, Gnauserous will have all of us destroyed anyway and begin her campaign against the world unhampered.”