The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  “As long as we can all understand it.” Joe grinned.

  “You spoke of chance and probability, did you not? The odds of a victory with a ratio of one hundred fifty dragons against five thousand are approximately thirty-three to one. The odds of your being the one human child chosen to be on this island out of two billion others is two billion to one, yet here you stand. By my calculations, surviving this battle will be mere probabilistic trivia compared to the gargantuan leap you have already made. Victory is confidently at hand.”

  Joe eyed Kiyoshi, widening his grin. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  Together they watched the ominous cloud of dragons fly toward them, and Joe wondered how long it would take for the two armies to clash. Five minutes? Fifteen? An hour? How long before the claws of some dark lizard snatched him from the ground to squeeze the life from him? Again Joe tried to distance himself from grim thoughts of death and oblivion—not only his own but all his friends’ as well. It would surely do no good to think about such things.

  A white light flashed somewhere near the beach where the Copper Celt had crashed, shocking Joe from his thoughts. A shuddering boom followed a few seconds later, and he took a step back as the distant concussion thudded against his chest. “What was that?” he asked.

  Danariel shook her head as another white flash lit up close to the first.

  Again, the shock wave came.

  “Look,” said Danariel. She was pointing at the dragon cloud. A sizable portion of it had veered toward the explosions. Streaks of grey curved across the darkening sky, impacting Gnauserous’s army, and a mass of dragons dropped like black rain.

  “That must be Redwar’s army,” said Joe. “He didn’t waste any time picking a fight, did he?”

  “He’s an idiot,” said Danariel as more dragons fell from the sky, lit by another white blast. “He doesn’t stand a chance against so many. All he’ll succeed in doing is enraging Gnauserous. It’s just what we wanted to avoid.”

  “I don’t suppose Redwar knows how big the dragon army is,” Joe said. “On the bright side, it’s keeping them occupied. Gives us a chance to—”

  “To what? We have no way to resist them.”

  Joe shrugged, unsure of an answer.

  Danariel sounded uncharacteristically low, as if her last remnant of hope had been smashed, ground into dust, and blown into the sea. And Joe saw why. Even though much of the dragons’ attention had been diverted to deal with Redwar, the remaining numbers still outmatched their own by at least five to one, and the battle on the beach was sure to fuel Gnauserous’s campaign to go to war against the rest of the world. All was lost, and Joe watched the distant skirmish in despair.

  Could he really be watching the beginning of the end? The end of everything? Surely not.

  “We’re not giving up,” said Joe with a slight lift of his chin. “And you’re not either. Got that? We’ve still got our own dragons and . . . and who knows? Tabariel might still be able to bring the rest of the Conclave round. And we’ve still got a little bit of time to sort out some defenses, haven’t we? Surely we can think of something.”

  Danariel stared at him with a look of such love drowned by defeat.

  “Your optimism may be of little service,” said Kiyoshi. “Observe the trees on the opposite side of the gorge.”

  Joe peered across the chasm, squinting as the light continued to dwindle. Through the dark gaps between the trees, things shuffled. Tall blue-grey things with no necks, flat heads, and broad snotty noses. One by one, they lumbered into sight, lining up at the edge of the rift, gormless grins spread wide over their ugly faces as they hollered abuse at Joe and his companions. “Bluh! Bluh! Bluh!” they chanted.

  Cornelius roared back, pacing the edge of the cliff.

  “Trolls,” said Danariel as if she’d been expecting them from the moment they arrived on the island. “Gnauserous must have sent them hours ago.”

  “Didn’t Mrs. Merrynether go to see the trolls? I thought they’d be on our side.”

  “She went to see the trolls at Hallowbear Tor. These trolls are servants of . . . They are enslaved by the Conclave. Gnauserous only ever brings them together as an army on rare occasions, and they are considered expendable.”

  “Well, at least they can’t get to us from over there.”

  “Don’t underestimate them. They aren’t as stupid as they look.”

  And as if to confirm Danariel’s warning, two of the largest trolls faced each other. One pointed at the trees closest to the edge of the gorge.

  “Bluh?”

  “Bluh, bluh . . . bluh.”

  “Bluh.”

  The first troll loped to one of the tallest trees, the knuckles of one hand dragging along the grass, the other reaching inside the back of his loincloth to scratch his rear end. “Bluh!” it shouted to the other one and started headbutting the tree trunk repeatedly.

  Other trolls, apparently excited by the idea of bashing something, shuffled over and joined in, occasionally headbutting a comrade by accident.

  “Are they doing what I think they’re doing?” Joe asked.

  “We’d better think of something fast,” said Danariel.

  “Bluuuuuuh! Bluuuuuuuuuuuuuh!” shouted one of the trolls.

  Creaking and snapping, the brutalized base of the tree yielded to the pull of gravity. A torrent of melonlike fruit rained from the branches into the gorge as the tree swooned with a deafening crash. The trolls had made their bridge across the gorge.

  Cornelius launched onto the trunk, roaring.

  “Cornelius, no!” called Danariel. “There are too many!”

  But the scarlet beast didn’t listen. A spray of poisonous darts sent many of the trolls running for cover into the woods before the manticore had even reached the other side. With claws raking through the grass as he landed, Cornelius broke into a gallop, chasing the panicked trolls like a sheepdog rounding up sheep. But not all of them ran. Some made for the makeshift bridge.

  “Belliferous obsequious buffoons,” cried Kiyoshi, scuttling toward the tree. By the time he’d disappeared under the branches, four trolls had already stomped onto the trunk, crossing the gorge. Leaves rustled as the kappa pushed the tree away from the edge and it plummeted into the abyss.

  Four cries of “Bluuuuuuuuuuh” echoed from the depths. Across the gorge, the remaining trolls flew into a rage, some thumping and stamping on the grass, some tossing the tree’s fallen fruit across at Kiyoshi.

  “Two can play at that game,” said Joe. “Quickly, Kiyoshi, your kappa juice.”

  Kiyoshi bowed his head and opened the folds on top to reveal the mustard-colored liquid. Flinching as one of the melons exploded near his feet, Joe dipped his fingers into the gloop, stuck them into his mouth, and allowed the burning fluid to do its work.

  “Joe, they’re trying again,” said Danariel, who fluttered around his head.

  Joe stopped only to glance at the trolls as he ran to the tree nearest him, ramming his shoulder into the trunk with a fresh burst of kappa strength. It shuddered, dropping a few of its fruit, and Joe hugged it and began shaking it ferociously. The rewarding sound of many more ripe fruit pounding the grass followed, and Joe hurried to collect as many as he could fit into his arms before running to the edge of the gorge to drop them in a pile.

  By that time four more trees had been felled and a stream of trolls had already begun lolloping across. Screams and shrieks told Joe that Mrs. Merrynether’s animals had abandoned their hiding places in favor of a panicked stampede to no place in particular. For a flash, Joe felt the hysteria almost push him away, but this was no time to lose control.

  “Danariel, try to keep the others calm. Kiyoshi, go for the closest tree.”

  Without question, Danariel darted toward the fleeing crowd, beaming brightly.

  Kiyoshi scuttled away to grasp at the branches of the closest tree bridge.

  Joe scooped up one of the melons and launched it like a yellow cannonball at the trolls on one of t
he other trees. At the same moment that the brutes tumbled off like ninepins, Kiyoshi tossed the other tree into the gorge. Two down, two to go, but three of the monsters had already reached their side, lurching forward with huge grimy hands outstretched. Three more trees were being felled as Kiyoshi trotted to another, but soon he was surrounded by a scrum of trolls.

  “Kiyoshi,” Joe yelled, but already his view was blocked by a grinning duo.

  “Bluh!” they grunted as they lunged for him.

  Still feeling the buzzing sensation of kappa juice in his blood, Joe knocked one of the trolls on his back but did not escape the grasp of another, then another and another. Three trolls had him in their grasps, and even with his kappa strength, Joe could not resist them.

  “Cornelius,” yelled Joe, knowing the manticore was still roaring and battling on the other side of the gorge, but hoping for a miracle.

  A curtain of fire tore across the grass, close enough to singe the edges of Joe’s hair. Among the flames, two enormous winged reptiles thundered into the ground, locked in vicious combat, sending spumes of soil and grass over Joe’s head. The trolls fell over each other in desperation to put distance between them and the dueling dragons.

  Joe was left lying in the dirt, his muscles burning and skull aching.

  The two lizards struggled desperately, their back legs kicking at each other’s undersides and their formidable jaws locked around each other’s necks.

  More dragons came. Those loyal to the Conclave either swooped at the creatures Danariel was trying so hard to conceal or attacked their traitorous kin who had dared to side against Gnauserous. Those opposed to the Conclave dived down to snatch trolls from the ground and throw them kicking and bellowing into the depths of the gorge. More trolls poured across the gorge to replace them, waving clubs and stamping feet, overjoyed at the chaos that had been unleashed around them.

  Amid it all, Joe scrambled toward the trees, expecting some great foot or claw to crush him at any moment. There was no sign of Kiyoshi, Danariel, or Cornelius, and where had Flarp disappeared to? All Joe could see was a blur of fighting, and once again, he considered the fact that he might not live to see the next day.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  It took more courage than Joe believed he had to throw himself back into the thick of the battle, but remembering he still had some of Kiyoshi’s kappa juice flowing through his veins helped a great deal. He could do nothing about the dragons swooping and diving from above, but he decided it was time to send a few of those ugly trolls packing.

  A few well-placed punches incapacitated two of the enemy, and Joe was relieved to see Cornelius rejoin the fray on his side of the gorge, competently dispatching several of the clumsy creatures with combination attacks of claws and poison barbs. Much faster than he expected, Joe realized the trolls were no longer a danger. He wouldn’t have noticed if not for the flash and glare of the warring dragons above his head, but many of the trolls had fled, sensing the carnage in the sky would soon bring havoc to the ground. Other trolls were rolling in the grass, groaning in pain like giant babies, but strangest of all was the crowd that had gathered in a big circle, mesmerized by something at their feet. Stealing a quick glance above him to check for more falling lizards, Joe decided to risk an investigation.

  Cornelius came alongside Joe, proud of his victory, and together they trod carefully to the silent crowd of trolls. Just a few feet away, from the center of the audience, a familiar voice creaked.

  “My dear fellow, forgive my impertinence, but the proportional ratio of your zygomatic bone and maxilla in relation to your mandible suggest to me that you and the rest of these unfortunates are suffering from a condition known as mandibular prognathism. There is, of course, no cure for structural mutations of this nature, but one can be made significantly more comfortable if one endeavors to undergo a course of treatment by a qualified trolluscatherapist.”

  “Bluh!” One of them clapped his hands.

  The others continued to stare in fascination.

  “Indeed! And you,” Kiyoshi said, pointing a suckered digit at another troll. “I watched your abominable technique as you propelled Citrullus lanatus at a forty-five-degree trajectory across the gorge. Greater precision can be achieved if one utilizes spin at a lower angle.”

  Danariel landed gently on Joe’s shoulder.

  “They’re hanging on every word,” whispered Joe.

  “They see him as a child,” she said.

  “A child? Why?”

  “Trolls are very different from humans. They’re born with a sort of race memory that makes them very smart and knowledgeable while they’re young. Unfortunately, they get more and more stupid as they get older until they’re complete imbeciles. They’re very impressionable when they reach full idiocy, which is why Gnauserous is able to control them so easily, but whenever someone like Kiyoshi comes along, they’re fascinated—probably because he reminds them of their youth.”

  “So do you think they’ll be on our side now?”

  “Probably, yes.”

  Joe was about to break into the scrum and say something to Kiyoshi when a fireball exploded into a tree just behind them.

  A wounded dragon slammed into the burning tree, moving in woozy delirium.

  The trolls scattered, shocked out of their infatuation with Kiyoshi, but Joe stayed there, unsure where to run.

  The whole area became a field of fire. Bushes, trees, and grass ignited as the dragons brought their feud to ground level. Streaks of fire tore through the night sky as though the skin of the world had been cut with hot knives.

  The friendly dragons were greatly outnumbered, and Joe was reminded of the futility of their fight. The trolls had been dealt with for now, but the Conclave had too many dragons. Their resistance would be over in a matter of minutes, and he doubted Redwar would be able to stand against the bulk of the Conclave’s forces for long. The enemy had as good as won, and with Mrs. Merrynether’s slightly inconvenient “army” removed and Redwar dealt with, Gnauserous would take her ruthless campaign to the rest of the world.

  Joe crouched and covered his head, squeezing his eyes shut, unable to prevent a scream of terror from bursting forth. Claws scuffled all around, and tongues of heat lapped on all sides. Joe felt too terrified to stay but too terrified to run. He screamed again, waiting for either an agonizing death by fire or a sudden death by a dragon’s bite.

  Joe felt the peculiar sensation of something sticky grasping the top of his head. Wet tendrils clung to his neck, dragging him to his feet and to safety behind a rocky outcrop. Flarp had returned. But at the same moment that Joe thanked the globble for saving his life, another peculiar thing happened. Water surged halfway up his leg, then splashed down again into the grass, pooling into a muddy quagmire a few feet from him.

  Flarp rushed in circles as the pool grew like an unplugged bathtub draining in reverse.

  Joe was just at the point of thinking he was losing his mind. Fire raged around him; dueling monsters shrieked in the night sky; multitudes of beasts, mainly trolls, staggered in confusion; and a murky lake seemed to be forming into a life of its own.

  “What’s going on?” Joe yelled at Flarp, knowing the frantic eyeball could not answer. There would have been no time for a response anyway. The pool of liquid exploded upward, looking remarkably like a giant hand, and fell like a flood against the burning trees, instantly putting out the flames. The water formed again, rising, bubbling, boiling, and twisting into a huge creature the size of a small office block made from a collection of mud balls. The enormous figure stomped on other burning trees, dowsing the flames but only bending the branches as though each stamp of its watery feet were carefully aimed waterfalls. With arms like geysers, it swatted the Conclave dragons from the sky.

  “Squonks,” shouted Joe in sudden elation as he realized what he was seeing. “They all dissolved and joined to get in on the fight. I can’t believe it.”

  But the good news didn’t stop there. A shout came from abo
ve and behind him.

  “Joseph! Don’t move!”

  “Mrs. Merrynether! Is that you?” He whizzed round and looked up, trying to see where she had called from. He was amazed to find her on Snappel’s back, clinging to her neck, as they tore through the night sky. Behind her was a small army of wyverns carrying trolls who brandished clubs, slings, tridents, and various other deadly weapons. Some of the wyverns landed in the mud, running in groups to attack the remaining hostile dragons like packs of scaly turkeys pecking at alarmed crocodiles. The remaining trolls on the other side of the gorge ran when their slightly smaller counterparts, screaming war cries, leapt from the backs of the wyverns.

  Ten minutes later, the battle was over. Kiyoshi hopped in victory as his troll fan club formed a handholding ring around him and danced in jubilation. The last of the dragon rebellion, wounded but very much alive with pride, circled above, snorting fire rings as Snappel led the wyverns in weaving loops around their new allies.

  The brave squonks, still so shy, had returned to their solitary cave. Joe, grateful beyond words at their involvement, sat in the sodden grass hardly believing they had survived.

  It was a huge relief to see that all his friends were safe and sound. Cornelius strutted, roared, and leapt, occasionally looking at Joe and sharing something that he was convinced was a smile. Danariel had also returned, talking to Mrs. Merrynether with great animation while Flarp whizzed in a dizzy figure eight around them.

  “. . . and then he socked two of them in the eye. You should have seen him, Veronica.” Danariel pointed at Joe. “A true leader and a real hero—nobody braver.”

  Mrs. Merrynether looked at Joe with what could be nothing other than love, but Joe saw a terrible guilt mingled with the tears of happiness she wiped from her eyes. “A hero,” she choked out.

  “I wasn’t really. I just ran about hitting things without thinking, and I wouldn’t have done it without Kiyoshi’s kappa—”

  Mrs. Merrynether ran over and hugged him so tightly he couldn’t puff the last word out.