The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  “So is that it? That’s the plan? To fight with no chance of winning?”

  “The time for war has not yet come. We have made our plea before the Conclave for representatives from each side to meet. They must first try for a peaceful solution before war is announced.”

  “So that’s good news, right?”

  “No. It is merely for show. She will call the meeting. If she wins, she will go to war. If she loses, I suspect she will find a way to manipulate the law and start hostilities anyway.”

  “So what’s the point in even trying?”

  “We can buy some time to plan,” said Danariel. “It’s all we have. If we’re really lucky, the rest of the Conclave might even persuade Gnauserous that war is a bad idea, but that would depend on the skill of our representative . . .”

  Mrs. Merrynether, who had quietly joined them, broke the silence. “Then take me to the Conclave. I brought this calamity here. I should be the one to represent us.”

  “No,” said Tabariel. “You know it cannot be you. You are a sentenced criminal in the eyes of the Conclave and would not be heard. No, surely this is the real reason you brought the boy.”

  Joe’s stomach leapt as he turned toward Mrs. Merrynether. Her eyes betrayed the pain of guilt before she looked away.

  “Joseph Copper,” said Tabariel, “as the only other representative of the human race on this island, will you come with us?”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  A strange feeling of destiny sent thrills across Joe’s skin as he traveled to meet the Conclave. Dawn came with a stormy sky, but the sun shone through the clouds, as if to expose the dread he had been trying to conceal in the dark of the night. Mrs. Merrynether had insisted he be allowed to sleep before being taken to the Conclave, but Joe could not even close his eyes when the time came to rest.

  From the moment he accepted his role as humanity’s representative to meet Gnauserous, he experienced feelings that threatened to overwhelm him. He remembered the heaviness of responsibility when he’d found out about Heinrich, and he recalled the twisting and turning inside his belly when Mrs. Merrynether had gone missing, but none of that had prepared him for this. What lay before him now was quite different, and he wondered how many other people in the long-forgotten ages of the world had been burdened with the knowledge that their actions could change the course of history. All at once, he felt like the unexpected hero of the hour but also the most insignificant speck of dust, swept along in a cyclone of events over which he had no control.

  In a curious way, Joe’s journey to the Conclave mirrored his feelings exactly. There he was, the brave knight fastened into a saddle, riding on the back of a giant reptile, the cold wind stinging his eyes and numbing his face as they swooped through the clouds toward his destiny. Or was he the speck, manipulated into being just another disposable pawn of a war he knew nothing about, clinging in sheer terror to the back of a monster leading him to his death?

  Below, the beach had turned to dense forests and then to bony mountains as they raced onward. To his left and right, a host of twenty dragons flew in majestic harmony, perfectly aligned in order of size, each beating its wings in time with the others. Joe felt a cascade of emotions. Whether they would be expressed in tears, cheers, or screams, he had no clue, but as the confusion rattled his thoughts like marbles in a tin box, he clutched at the leather handles, fighting to keep a calm mind, staring at the green mountains below.

  “You will need to quiet your soul before you face Queen Gnauserous.”

  Joe turned, startled from his thoughts. Tabariel had drawn alongside him, his delicate wings flickering as he matched their speed.

  “Easy for you to say.”

  “But true nonetheless.”

  “It doesn’t make it any easier. I don’t have a clue what to do or say. And anyway, I can’t just switch off how I’m feeling, can I?”

  Joe studied the seraph’s face and envied what he saw. Old and stern but softened by ethereal green light, the seraph had the face of a warlord who had seen a thousand battles. Tabariel’s face twitched into a scowl; then he shook his head. “Merrynether has taught you nothing.”

  “There hasn’t been much opportunity.”

  Tabariel hovered closer, his intense gaze burrowing deep, and Joe felt prickly indignation at the sudden intrusion. He allowed the seed of emotion to have a foothold and quickly felt it sprout into anger, believing that to be far better than the fear and despair he might have felt otherwise. The resulting outburst was a little more aggressive than he had planned.

  “Get out of my head,” Joe shouted. “I’m done being controlled and . . . and told what to think and feel. I’m done with people tricking me, and most of all, I’m done being used. Just leave me alone!”

  “I am trying to help you calm your thoughts.”

  “I don’t want your help. You’re the one who wants mine, so if you want me to be a representative, you’d better let me deal with how I feel, all right?”

  “Your anger is directed at those you love. I can feel that.”

  Joe stared directly ahead, focusing on the slow rhythmic movement of the dragon’s shoulder blades, hating the seraph for being right and still wanting to hold on to his anger. Anger at Heinrich for betraying everyone, anger at Mrs. Merrynether for not telling him all the truth, and anger at Danariel—she surely must have known too, yet she persuaded him to come to Pyronesia to fulfill his destiny. Joe’s pulse quickened, and his breathing grew harsher with each stinging thought.

  “I trusted them,” he said.

  “And they have let you down?” Tabariel said.

  “Mrs. Merrynether didn’t tell me I might die when I agreed to come with her to Pyronesia.”

  “Nobody is going to let you die. I will protect you.”

  “Now you’re doing the same. You can’t make promises like that. You don’t know what’s going to happen. But that’s not why I’m angry anyway. She didn’t give me the opportunity to choose this. None of them did.”

  “Perhaps you are missing a greater point, Joseph.”

  “Like what?”

  “I know Merrynether’s mind. There is no deception in her thoughts, only the torment one finds when faced with impossible decisions. Merrynether is a skilled surgeon, not a great leader or tactician, but she has a heart filled with good intent, and that is what you must trust.”

  Joe was about to mutter a phrase he’d heard somewhere about the road to hell but was interrupted by a call from his right.

  “The Tree of Sanctuary signals our approach.” The voice came from Alariel, whose dragon had broken formation to push ahead.

  Joe edged forward, straining to peer around the neck of his dragon. Shock surged through him when, straight from the dream that had invaded his sleep, a gargantuan tower loomed from the peak of the tallest mountain into the clouds. Seemingly carved out of wood, it stood like a tree uprooted from a planet of giants and thrust into the island. The gnarled trunk, wider than an office block, weaved and twisted up out of sight. Its wild branches, each the size of a runway, extended in all directions. Its rootlike foundations clutched at the mountainside. Joe knew what he would see next as they drew closer. True to his dream, the branches ended with clusters of pea-green orbs that could be mistaken as leaves from a distance, but closer up, Joe recognized them as families of swiveling eyes restrained by long fibrous cords.

  “Globbles.” Joe gasped. “The eyes are globbles.”

  “Of course,” said Tabariel. “They are the eyes of the island. Day and night they observe everything everywhere. If anything threatens to come close to the island, the Conclave sense their fervor and investigate.”

  The group of globbles leashed to the closest branch strained toward them like excited puppies pulling on leads to greet their master, but the dragons flew below, heading for the base of the tree with an archway as large as the entrance to a castle. Joe wondered what lay in wait within. It was with some relief that he realized a newfound awe had overwhelmed his anger—for
the moment anyway.

  “Magic beans,” Joe mused as their dragon extended his legs like the undercarriage of an aircraft.

  “Beans?” Tabariel asked.

  “Just an old fairy tale my mum used to read to me when I was younger.”

  Joe’s face met hard scales as the dragon thudded onto the mountain rocks. A moment later, a flurry of dark wings rustled all around as each of the other dragons landed.

  “I sense great unease among the Conclave,” said Tabariel as they began a slow march toward the archway. “The pains of civil war are upon them, and each of them knows deaths will be unavoidable. Only one of them remains confident of the future.”

  “Gnauserous,” said Joe.

  “Yes. She alone is looking forward to the war.”

  “She’s actually looking forward to it? Surely the other seraphim can sense she’s evil, and if none of the others agree with her, why don’t they just get rid of her?”

  “Understand this, Joseph Copper—she is not evil,” snapped Tabariel, halting the dragon. “She looks forward to the war because she sees it as a final end to the division on Pyronesia and a decisive step forward to cleansing the earth. Unlike the others, she is true to her convictions and is confident of her judgment.”

  “You’re starting to sound like you agree with her.”

  “I do not, but that does not mean I think she is evil. She has always been a fair and righteous leader, but in this matter, I believe her to be mistaken and so I have made my stand.”

  “How can you think she’s fair and righteous if she wants to destroy every human being?”

  “Enough. Save your words for Gnauserous. It is she you need to convince, not I.”

  Joe fell silent as they reached the arch. He looked over his shoulder to take in the view one last time. The tree’s shadow stretched across the land like an open claw. He wondered how far its reach would extend after today.

  Prepared or not, Joe was about to face his destiny. Entering the Tree of Sanctuary was a moment of awe Joe knew would stay with him for the rest of his life. The floor alone was a breathtaking sight. Its polished slabs, encrusted with gold and diamonds, were interlocked to create a mammoth mosaic. Joe could not see properly from his viewpoint, but it seemed to portray a story, much like tapestries he’d seen in a stately home once. But the floor was only the beginning.

  The craftsmanship of no cathedral, stadium, or palace would ever compare to what had been performed on the inside of this tower. It looked like the inside of a giant walnut, every ridge and wrinkle a sweeping arc or gilded column. Golden fittings at every node and junction gleamed in the firelight of a thousand torches, which lined the circumference a hundred feet above.

  Between the torches at regular intervals, twelve enormous forked tongues carved from dark wood stretched out like pathways from the wall. Directly above each one, a circular mouth, decorated with ivory fangs large enough to fit a tube train inside, faded into murky tunnels apparently to chambers deep within the mountain. The tunnel opposite the entrance was much larger than the rest, and the tongue was far longer, sweeping down to ground level like some sort of medieval death slide. Above each opening, seraphim names were engraved in gold.

  “The Conclave are coming,” said Tabariel.

  Nervous anticipation tormented Joe as they all gathered at the bottom of this vast hall. Joe’s dragon settled into a seated position at the center, and the others held back, waiting near the entrance.

  “Stay exactly as you are. Do not dismount,” Tabariel whispered.

  Joe craned his neck, looking upward, and felt as if he were at the bottom of a gigantic well waiting for water to engulf him. But instead of water, flames came. From each of the mouth-like tunnels, a jet of fire roared above to meet at the center like a miniature sun of churning flame.

  Joe pressed himself into his dragon’s hide, the intense heat beating down, and then it was gone, vaporized into a sooty mass that dispersed into floating ash.

  A low rumbling followed, soon becoming the distinct marching thump of heavy claws on thick wood. With the simultaneous precision of practiced ceremony, eleven reptilian, age-mottled heads appeared inside the hall, each protruding from a different tunnel. The dragons marched forward with exact timing and solemn grace and halted at the center of the tongues, stretching their old necks upward as if reaching for something in the heavens. It was time for the twelfth dragon to appear.

  From the largest tunnel, Gnauserous came. Her bloodred scales rippled as she slid from the opening and eased her bloated belly onto the wood like an aged monarch waiting to be entertained after a heavy feast. For a moment, her cold green eyes settled on Joe before she stretched her neck upward in unison with the others.

  Joe waited, feeling his muscles tremble now, but the ceremonial entrance was not over. A hot wind rushed through the tunnels, howling with power, meeting in the center just as the fire had. The sooty remnants of the ball of flame scattered like confetti, swirling in torrents around the hall, and Joe shielded his eyes until the storm died down. Through gaps in his fingers, he saw seraphim fly from the tunnels with the same meticulous ritual as the dragons but faster. Each hovered directly in front of its respective dragon, arms and wings stretched out and heads tilted upward.

  At once, a flash of recognition came to Joe and his mind rushed back to Mrs. Merrynether’s garden, to the magnificent statue of the dragon. The stone had been sculpted in the same positions that these dragons and seraphim now assumed. But something was missing here. There were other stone creatures surrounding the dragon and seraphim in Mrs. Merrynether’s garden. He remembered the weeping squonks at the base of the plinth.

  A loud grinding of stone directly ahead disturbed his thoughts. A door had opened at the back of the hall. Two lumbering beasts, wearing brown rags and vaguely resembling oversized humans, stepped out. They struggled beneath the weight of an enormous glass ball that contained a swirling mass of milky-green fog, eventually lowering it to the ground directly beneath Gnauserous. Once the glass had been steadied, they slouched back through the doorway.

  “It’s a Speaking Glass,” Tabariel whispered. “Since her separation from Danariel, she has to use one of these to talk.”

  Joe looked up again at Gnauserous and saw that she was the only dragon that did not have a seraph.

  “Oh. Should I speak to the dragon or to the glass?”

  “Say nothing until I tell you. Let me do the talking for now. We need to buy time for Merrynether and the others.”

  At that moment, each of the dragons spat another jet of fire upward. Once the air had cooled again, they stretched their wings to form a giant umbrella. The seraphim, including Tabariel, spoke in unison. Booming in accord with the others, a clear female voice rang out from the glass ball.

  “May the light of understanding call The Four.

  “May the unity of The Four bring us wisdom.

  “May the joy of wisdom bring us peace. So may it be.”

  As the dragons folded their wings against their bodies, Gnauserous lowered her head to look at Joe. Her voice vibrated loudly from the glass sphere. “This is the human representative, Joseph Copper?”

  “It is,” said Tabariel, fluttering in front of Joe. “I had hoped, Majesty, that as a common courtesy, you would allow us to show him the hospitality of our city and refresh him before engaging in discussions of war.”

  “No,” she hissed. “The hour is late, and it would be unwise of me to allow our opponents the luxury of time to form a strategy against us.”

  “You would deny this boy the chance to rest and prepare a defense? Such attitude defies the spirit of our laws and ignores the precepts declared by our ancestors. I beg that Your Majesty—”

  “Do not lecture me on loyalty to authority, Tabariel. You who have deserted the Conclave to stand with these miserable creatures. You who have spurned those who gave you power.”

  A muttering of agreement from the other seraphim echoed around the cavernous hall.

  �
�I would spurn any power that seeks only to serve itself,” Danariel said. “We ask—”

  “Enough! Too many have died even today because they defied the wisdom of the Conclave. There must be no further delay in resolving this conflict, so let the formalities be dispensed with. The human child will present his case before the Conclave. If he cannot provide adequate defense for his kind, he and all who support him will be eradicated and peace will be restored before the end of the coming cycle.”

  The seraph belonging to a pale dragon two places away from Gnauserous glided into the center to address the others.

  “I agree with Gnauserous in that there must be an end to hostilities, but Tabariel is right. This is only a boy. If we are to commit ourselves fully to the law, should we not seek a more appropriate representative?”

  The seraph returned to her dragon and was replaced by another, slightly larger and shining in a darker hue.

  “The laws do not state any restrictions to age. The only requirements are that a representative must be a willing participant and must also be unanimously chosen by all the defendants who seek a peaceful resolution to a declaration of war.”

  “Then the requirements are met,” said Gnauserous. “The boy’s presence with us indicates his willingness, and Veronica Merrynether has clearly brought the boy to fulfill this purpose. I presume there are no other humans present on the island who are aware of the war declaration?”

  There was a brief silence before Tabariel replied. “No, Majesty—no other humans are present on the island.”

  “Then let the boy come forward to provide his defense.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Joe had never felt so small. He climbed off the dragon’s back and stood at the center of the hall. He wished Danariel could be with him, offering words of wisdom. Or perhaps Kiyoshi, who would confuse the Conclave with discourse so complicated it would take a hundred dragon scientists a year to work out what had been said before passing judgment. Or perhaps Cornelius and Snappel, who could storm in and clear a path for him to escape while they fought against the bewildered Conclave. Even Flarp’s excited presence whizzing around the hall, sliming his accusers, would have helped.