The Beasts of Upton Puddle

by Simon West-Bulford

  “You’ll need me to flush her out,” she said eventually, casually. “She may not come at all, but if she does, she won’t be easy to find among so many dragons. I can help to pinpoint her, but it’s all very risky. Even if we succeed, the Conclave might decide her death should be avenged.”

  “But it’s a better chance than no chance, right?”

  The silence fell again, but this time Aunt Rose broke it. “I agree with Joe.”

  Everyone looked at Mrs. Merrynether.

  With terrible regret in her eyes, she was looking at Danariel. “Yes. It would seem to be our only choice. Heinrich? Do you agree?”

  Heinrich gazed at his feet for the longest time before uttering the quietest of agreements.

  “Then we’re all agreed,” said Mrs. Merrynether, lifting her head slightly. “Gnauserous is our target.”

  “It’s the best chance we have,” Danariel said with a philosophical smile.

  As the hour ended, the celebrations died away, replaced by growing solemnity as the dwindling army made preparations for the next battle. Heinrich had brought some provisions from the boat: first aid kits, grenades, land mines, explosives, but most important of all, two crates of cucumbers, which were given to Kiyoshi to replenish his cranial fluid.

  The kappa set to work gobbling up as many as he could until he was fit to burst; then he forced more down until his tired monkey face had turned almost the same color as his amphibious limbs. While he ate, Heinrich siphoned kappa juice from Kiyoshi’s cranial vent and sealed the potent liquid in tiny plastic bottles ready to feed those who would have to fight.

  The trolls buried land mines at regular intervals along the edge of the gorge. Grenades were stacked in piles behind the cover of rocks, and Mrs. Merrynether used the first aid kits to patch up the wounded dragons and trolls. The night passed with grim wordlessness as they all went about their business, counting the cost of their fallen comrades as they buried the dead, hoping by some miracle they might somehow survive what was expected to be another massacre.

  As dawn’s first light glistened gold across the mountaintops, Joe patted down the dirt around the last of his trip wires that would detonate a pack of explosives. He looked at the others, who appeared to feel the same as he did. All he wanted to do was curl up somewhere in a comfy bed and fall fast asleep for a year, but he knew that couldn’t happen, especially not today. An old phrase came to mind that seemed appropriate—”I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

  He smiled ruefully, knowing he was probably not alone in his thoughts, and then he saw Danariel, quiet and mournful as she sat cross-legged at the base of a burnt tree. The look on her face told him she was grieving over all the seraphim who had suffered the loss of their dragons and were now wilting before her in the hollow of the gnarly tree trunk. Joe imagined them bunched together, mourning over the loss of their dragons and beginning their slow journey toward death. Tabariel would be among them now, coming to terms with his own future, and he could see that Danariel was thinking she was already part of that heartbroken group.

  Joe sat next to her.

  She looked at him with a bright but unconvincing smile. “Hello, Joe. Everything ready?”

  “I suppose so. There’s not much else we can do.”

  “No, I don’t suppose there is.”

  Joe stayed quiet, staring at her tiny face and admiring the perfectly formed features. The subtle glow pulsing across her skin reminded Joe of the calming patterns of a lava lamp he used to own. It was hard to believe a creature like this could ever die.

  “How long will you have . . . if we manage to . . . you know, stop Gnauserous.”

  She sighed, looking again at the seraphim Joe could not see. “Difficult to say. Some seraphim can carry on for scores of years before they pass away, but most die sooner.”

  “I wish there was another way.”

  “There isn’t,” she said quickly. “Besides, everyone here must face death today. I’m no worse off than anyone else, and it may be that none of us survive this day.”

  “Well, we’ll soon find out,” said Mrs. Merrynether, who walked toward them. “Flarp has seen them coming.”

  FORTY

  Flarp’s warning of the Conclave’s approach didn’t prepare Joe for the sight over the mountains. As if to herald their coming, the rising sun seared the landscape in a blaze of deep yellow as it peeked over the snowy tips. In the sudden glare, a dark writhing mass spread in the sky like a splash of black ink in a pail of water. Then it shifted. Thousands of tiny dots, each one a powerful dragon, converged into the shape of one almighty dragon with wings outstretched and neck pulled back like a cobra about to strike. It was a deliberate show—an intimidating vision that sent a wave of ice from Joe’s head to his feet.

  “How long before they reach us?” Joe gulped.

  “Twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes,” said Mrs. Merrynether grimly, “but they won’t attack yet. The ground forces will strike first. They’ll be sent in to soften us up, and then when that’s over with, and if we’re still alive, they’ll turn this whole area into an inferno.”

  All Joe could do was nod. He couldn’t take his eyes from the leviathan hovering in the distance.

  “And there they are,” said Danariel, “right on schedule.”

  On the other side of the gorge, two armies marched toward them, one from the east and the other from the west. Just as before, but in far greater number this time, an army of trolls lumbered between the trees on the eastern side. Some were naked apart from tiny loincloths; others were clad in leather armor festooned with chains and wore helmets decorated with crooked spikes. A smaller army came from the western side that looked much more familiar: men. A profound sadness came over Joe as he watched them surge forward, so eager to bring death and destruction, so proud of the weapons they carried. For a fleeting second, he could almost understand the Conclave’s desire to destroy humanity.

  “Get to cover,” yelled Heinrich.

  “And keep our dragons and wyverns out of the way for now,” shouted Mrs. Merrynether. “We’ll need them if those dragons decide to join in.”

  Rocket-propelled grenades screamed across the gorge. They were far louder than Joe had expected, but in a way he was glad of the noise. It drowned out the sound of his own fearful cry as he ran. All but their own brave trolls headed for deeper cover within the woods. In less than a minute, they were safely hiding behind rocky coverings and ledges they had identified earlier, and Joe peeped over the top of his rock, watching through showers of dirt the unfolding battle.

  Half of the trolls, each having drunk a measure of Kiyoshi’s kappa juice, leapt across the length of the gorge as if the chasm was a crack in a pavement. Two were knocked down into the gorge by rockets, but the rest made a rush for the army. Cheering erupted when some of the trolls managed to sweep aside five, then ten, then twenty of the mercenaries, but the celebration quickly stopped as they were gunned down by a line of camouflaged soldiers.

  The rockets stopped, but Joe soon realized the barrage was a diversion so that bridges could be quickly placed across the gorge without any resistance. The larger trolls, hungry for war, stampeded like crazed bulls across to Joe’s side. The ugly behemoths rushed forward unchecked, but there was no sense in running now. Joe had expected this. With a sudden spike of adrenaline, he gulped back a bottle of the kappa juice.

  Two heavy explosions thundered out as a trip wire sent a bunch of the blue-skinned thugs sprawling. Overhead, Joe saw several grenades fly at more of them. A series of blasts echoed across the gorge as Joe waited for the flood of strength to take over his body; then he ran out to meet the rest of them, screaming his own defiance as he swung a troll’s club around his head.

  Heinrich ran alongside him, screaming too, and Cornelius launched into the air, firing barbs.

  One of the trolls actually turned and ran when he saw the trio come at him, but two others didn’t, and Joe had to knock them aside.

  A full forty minutes of chaos dominated th
at small part of the island as the battle took its course. There seemed to be no opportunity to locate Gnauserous among the dragons. All their time was taken up in staying alive. With casualties mounting on both sides, the fighting became more and more desperate.

  Kiyoshi lay exhausted, almost unconscious and hidden inside an old tree trunk, unable to produce any more juice. Mrs. Merrynether and Aunt Rose did their best to get the wounded trolls to safety to be treated, but even Danariel with her soothing tones could offer no words of comfort for the failing troops. Joe could almost sense the despair. Even if they somehow survived the assault, this was just the first and easiest part of the Conclave’s strategy. The real army was above them, a host of dragons brooding like angels of death.

  “We need Snappel and the wyverns,” cried Joe, trembling with the exertion of wrestling a large troll to its knees and knocking it out. He was on his third bottle of kappa juice now, and the burning in his veins had become almost unbearable.

  “We have to hold out,” said Mrs. Merrynether. “No!”

  “Yes! We can’t hold out any longer without help. We need the wyverns.”

  Mrs. Merrynether shook her head and looked at the gorge.

  The enemy trolls had beaten back most of their own, the trip mines were gone, and now the human army jogged across, searching out points of cover.

  Joe saw the dejection in Mrs. Merrynether’s eyes.

  “We’re beaten,” she said. “Beaten.”

  “It isn’t over till the fat lady sings,” said Aunt Rose, tightening a bandage on the knee of a wounded imp. “And I haven’t sung a single note yet.”

  Joe grinned, more out of pride than pleasure, but before he could add his own comment, a roar of water caused everyone to duck. A majestic wall of muddy liquid poured upwards from the gorge, twisting like the cords of a colossal water rope. It searched the air; then individual watery fingers lanced downwards on top of individual trolls, sweeping them away in a violent flood to the gorge.

  “Squonks! They’re back!” Joe whooped and clapped.

  Mrs. Merrynether’s face flinched into a smile.

  At the same moment, another flood erupted from the depths of the gorge, but this one was very different. Joe thought some gargantuan machine had sprayed a stream of slime up onto the island, but soon he realized he had seen an invasion of individual gooey-green eyeballs shooting upward like mushy peas from a fire hose, jostling with each other in rampant excitement.

  As the panicking enemy fled in confusion, the globbles, led by Flarp, picked out their targets and attacked.

  “Clever little fellow,” said Mrs. Merrynether. “So that’s where he’s been disappearing to. He started his own little rebellion and got all the globbles from the Tree of Sanctuary to come with him. They must have been hiding in the caves with the squonks.”

  “Go, Flarp,” yelled Joe, punching the air.

  The remaining trolls on his side of the gorge picked themselves up, renewed by the unexpected reinforcements, and headed back to the fight. Joe felt a strong urge to join in, but there was no more kappa juice and he wouldn’t stand a chance without it.

  Pandemonium continued as soldiers ran around with green cyclops heads, flapping their arms as the globbles sucked at their shoulders, driving the confused men in circles around each other. Some of the men had fainted, and their feet were dragged through the grass. Others had just about managed to escape and were hollering at each other to wipe the gunk from their skin and get to cover. Trolls waded in, soldiers ran for their guns, and Flarp was mowed down by a spray of bullets.

  “No,” screamed Joe.

  The green blob flopped into the dirt, trembling, full of tiny metal lumps.

  Heinrich rushed over, braving the battlefield, and scooped up the eyeball. He sprinted back and handed the wounded hero to Mrs. Merrynether.

  Joe wanted to look, wanted to do something to help, but there was no time: the dragons, seeing that the battle had swayed away from their advantage, chose that moment to launch their own devastating attack.

  A dozen dragons broke from the cloud and corkscrewed down to the fighting mobs, bellowing fire without caring if their own side was scorched. Trees ignited instantly, and the great mass of squonks rose to protect the woods, trying to dowse the flames, but more dragons answered with an inferno that sent the watery creatures tumbling away. The mucky water splashed against the grass and separated into individual squonks that gushed to the safety of the gorge, defeated.

  Even the globbles could not hold their ground for long. One by one, the soldiers managed to rip the green blobs from their heads and rattle off gunfire to send them flying away.

  Joe slumped against one of the few trees that had not been turned to charcoal.

  Cornelius limped toward them, one of his magnificent wings bent awkwardly.

  The land around them was strewn with the bodies of trolls, soldiers, and various other beasts Joe could not recognize. Not even the greenery had escaped. The trees looked like old witches’ hands with twisted black fingers, smoking with the aftermath of a firestorm.

  It was just as Mrs. Merrynether had said. The ground forces had done their job, and now the dragons would sweep down at their leisure, picking off the last survivors like vultures swooping in to tear at an old carcass.

  Even as Snappel led the wyverns in to take on the enemy, Joe could no longer muster the optimism he’d felt earlier. A few of their own dragons and perhaps a hundred wyverns taking on thousands? It was hopeless. They didn’t even see Gnauserous among the myriad of winged lizards, let alone strike her down. Danariel knew she was there but could not pinpoint her.

  They all looked at each other in silence, their future catching up with them. Mrs. Veronica Merrynether, Heinrich Krieger, Rose Ashworth, Kiyoshi, Danariel, Cornelius, and Joseph Copper—RIP. Flarp might already be dead; Joe couldn’t tell, but it certainly looked that way. The helpless eyeball lay on a dirty mat like a punctured green basketball, staring upwards, not moving.

  A cry came from the edge of the gorge.

  “We surrender.” It was a familiar voice that caused them all to look round. Seven figures ran toward them, dodging blasts of fire. One of them had tied a grubby white handkerchief to a stick, waving it furiously.

  “Is that who I think it is?” asked Mrs. Merrynether.

  “Yes,” said Heinrich.

  Joe was unable to read what Heinrich was feeling by that short answer, but his face had darkened.

  “Argoyle Redwar,” said Joe.

  And with the sweating fat man came Ms. Burrowdown, Scott and Kurt Duggan, and three other soldiers struggling with bulging sacks containing who-knew-what.

  “You’ve got a nerve,” said Mrs. Merrynether.

  “My dear woman,” puffed Redwar as he stopped in front of them, hands on knees. “There really is little to be gained by pointing fingers. We are all facing the same threat now.”

  “Struck up a bargain with the Conclave, did you?” she said. “All went terribly wrong, did it?”

  “I suggest we find a way off this island—and quickly,” said Redwar.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” said Joe. “Not until we’ve found a way to stop the Conclave coming after the rest of the world.”

  “Are you mental?” said Kurt Duggan, the words bursting from slimy lips, the green grime a sure sign he’d been violated by a globble only minutes before. “We’re all going to die if we stay here.”

  “Shut up, boy.” Scott Duggan slapped him.

  “The boy’s right,” said Redwar. “We have to leave.”

  A line of fire whooshed behind them as if to underline Redwar’s statement.

  “Why have you come to us?” said Heinrich flatly. “Surely you have your own transport.”

  “All gone. Blown up,” muttered Burrowdown.

  Heinrich smiled mirthlessly.

  “Unfortunately, that’s true,” said Redwar. “We don’t have a single ship we can use, so we need to use your transport, whatever and wherever that is.
”

  “We crashed,” said Mrs. Merrynether smugly. “You’re stuck here just like we are. And you’ll die just like we will.”

  A horrified silence fell among Redwar’s group.

  Another burst of fire startled them as dragons landed nearby, breathing a river of flames above their heads to flush them out from their rocky cover.

  Snappel and several more wyverns tried to come to the rescue, and Cornelius limped forward, but none of them were a match against five hulking dragons. One of the monsters tore chunks of rock away, exposing the terrified group, and the others formed a circle around them.

  This was the end. Joe felt the world around him slip into a dreamy haze as fire rippled the air and curious odors filled his nose—an odd tangy smell like sewage and a sharp but subtle whiff of alcohol. This had to be how the final moments of delirium and hallucination warped the brain of someone who was about to die. Joe even thought he heard a faraway melody of drumbeats and pipes, something like an Irish jig. An angry voice with a harsh accent blasted like a demolition ball through the walls of his confusion and despair.

  “May ya wings torn inta snot rags and arl da devils of hell blow deir filty noses on ya! Get ’em, lads!”

  Like a storm of muddy rain, a waterfall of feces and other unpleasant items shot like hot meteors from above.

  Joe covered his head but could just about see the dragons squirming as the hideous refuse stung their hides and clung to their wings. Redwar fled the scene with Burrowdown and the others right behind him. Joe thought about trying to stop them but reconsidered, believing there to be little point. When the downpour finished, Joe looked up through steaming clouds of stink. He had never been so elated in his life.

  A vast army flew over. Hundreds and hundreds of great ships just like the Copper Celt sailed to meet the dragons hovering over the island, guns blazing. Lowest to the ground, making for a landing, was one of the largest. The enormous boat plowed through a line of trees and churned up the dirt as it slowed to a halt a little way from them. Lilly stood at the helm, a fancy megaphone held to his tiny lips.