by Kim M Watt
The side of the house that the cat sent them down was dark, the downstairs windows boarded over and no light coming from above, and Miriam had to admit that the horrible animal had figured out the best way for them to pass unnoticed. She wasn’t looking forward to what might happen when they did get noticed. Given the scorched vans and exploding baubles and unpleasant Audi drivers, she wasn’t even sure if they were expecting to encounter a who or a what.
They paused at the back corner of the house, Alice peering into the yard beyond while Miriam peeked over her shoulder. The patchy lawn at the back of the house was washed with yellow light, and Miriam could hear a TV playing inside. It sounded like Strictly, and she wished with a sudden, hot fervour that she was home right now, curled up in front of her TV, warm and dry and, most importantly, safe. Because she felt a long way from all those things right now. The drive had been almost surreal, guided through the night by the green-eyed cat, but now all she could think of was Alice’s burning door and the scream of the bauble before it exploded. She felt a hiccough-y tightness in her chest and swallowed against it. That was the last thing she needed right now.
Alice leaned in close so she could whisper in Miriam’s ear, and Miriam dragged her attention back to all the cold, damp unsafeness around her.
“Keep against the walls. I’m going to go first and get as close to a window as I can, so we can see what we’re dealing with. Do what I do, and for God’s sake, be quiet.” Alice’s voice was a hiss in Miriam’s ear, and she nodded violently, flattening herself against the wall and bumping it with the cricket bat. There was just enough light for her to see Alice close her eyes and shake her head slightly, then the older woman was gone.
Miriam followed Alice around the corner to the back of the house, holding down the hiccoughs and concentrating on not walking into any shutters, or dropping the bat, or tripping over. Alice eased herself up to the closest window, then peered cautiously around the sill. She stayed there for a moment, then looked back at Miriam, shook her head, and crouched to squat-walk under the frame. Miriam decided that she didn’t need to see inside, and after a moment’s thought dropped to her hands and knees and crawled after Alice. Dignity be damned – she didn’t trust herself not to have the top of her head showing over the sill at the exact moment the bauble thieves walked into the room beyond.
Alice had stopped at the next window, stealing a look inside. She was there for longer this time, and when she looked back at Miriam her mouth was a hard line and her eyes were wider than normal. She beckoned. Miriam, still on her hands and knees, shook her head. She definitely didn’t need to see anything that made Alice look alarmed. Alice beckoned again. Miriam shook her head again, and this time Alice grabbed the collar of her coat and hauled her to her feet. Miriam swallowed a whimper as the older woman pressed her to the wall next to the window, then forced her to lean forward until, like it or not, she was peering into a cavernous kitchen.
There was a long wooden table in the centre of the floor, and it was piled with baubles and boats, some of them still in Miriam’s packaging. There were other baubles there too, with clumsy designs like the one that had been tearing around Jasmine’s house. There were also open cans of sugary drinks and torn packets of sweets, crushed ice cream tubs and empty chocolate wrappers, dirty plates piled anywhere that seemed handy, and drifts of newspaper and dead leaves on the floor. But Miriam registered all that only on the very periphery of her attention. The rest of it was focused on the – the figures around the table.
There were three of them, all with heavy broad shoulders and long skinny legs in filthy jeans. One was eating slices of cake and fruit tarts off a huge catering tray, his hard, pale fingers swamping them. Each morsel vanished in a single bite, and he immediately reached for another, exposing broken teeth that crowded his overlarge mouth as he chewed. That mouth seemed to wrap halfway around his skull, as if he could flip the whole top of his head open like a cartoon character. His teeth were sharp, too. The ones that weren’t broken came to nasty, shark-like points, and his round chin was scarred where he’d bitten it. As Miriam watched, he narrowed bright blue eyes and threw an empty drink can at another creature that was hunched over the baubles. She snarled at him (Miriam decided she was a she, as she was wearing a summer dress as a blouse, her muscular chest stretching the material alarmingly), and her long ears flattened against her bald skull.
“George hungry,” the first creature growled, the words deep and phlegmy. “You get George food.”
“George eat all sweet things. George idiot. Hazel working.”
“Hazel lady goblin. Hazel get George food!”
“Hazel break George head!”
The third creature turned around in his seat, where he had his pointy nose almost touching an old-fashioned TV, and screamed at them both, “Idiot goblins shut up! Clever Sam goblin watching dancy show!” Spittle flew from his mouth, raining merrily down over the table and floor, and Miriam pulled slowly back from the window, the hiccoughs scared into submission, and stared at Alice with horrified eyes. She didn’t think she could ever watch Strictly again. Not while knowing that things like that enjoyed it.
What do we do? she mouthed, and Alice shrugged, then twiddled her thumbs.
Wait.
They waited.
Miriam wondered how long they were going to be waiting out here. And what the cat was going to do for that matter. Was it going to do anything? Or was it just going to lead the goblins out the door to them? You could never tell with cats. He might be an enemy agent.
Her feet were freezing. She was pretty sure one of her boots was leaking, and she just hoped it wasn’t the one she’d trod in a cow pat with. At least she hadn’t worn her clogs this time. It had been a near thing, but at the last moment she’d remembered the alarming regularity with which they seemed to have unexpected excursions. She was hungry, too. She thought longingly of the curry, now sadly cold on Alice’s stove top. Or at least she hoped it was cold. Had she switched it off? It was that cat again, he’d been rushing them. She couldn’t remember. She—
An unearthly shriek split the night, jolting her out of her thoughts, and she slapped her hand over her mouth to hold in a scream. What was out here? What was that? Was it a banshee? Oh, God, not a banshee, they were meant to only come before a death. Was one of them going to die? Was it going to be her?
Alice grabbed her arm and hauled her forward, not bothering to duck under the window this time, and Miriam gave a hic of alarm. What if they were still in there? Those things, those goblins, because that’s what they’d called themselves, and she supposed they’d know. Miriam couldn’t believe she was even thinking that. Goblins. Even the word was scary, never mind those long claw-like nails, and the shark’s teeth, and the arms that looked like they could tear your head off. Not that she’d really thought about it, thankfully, but if she had ever thought of goblins, she’d have thought of something like these—
“Miriam,” Alice hissed in her ear. “Either pull yourself together or I’ll leave you out here. Focus.”
Another one of those terrible screams went up on the other side of the house, and Miriam clutched Alice’s jacket. “What – hicc – is that? Is it a banshee?”
“It’s the cat, Miriam. He’s got them out of the kitchen, and we need to get in there before they come back.”
“I don’t want to go in there!”
“I know, but those postmen might be tied up downstairs. I saw one of them go down to the cellar with some chocolate and crisps. We have to find them if we can.”
Miriam stared at Alice, wondering if she was going to cry, then thought of the bauble screaming around Jasmine’s living room, and the cheerful young DHL man who had been so grateful for his mince pies and Christmas cake. She hiccoughed and nodded. Her legs were shaking, and she was suddenly glad they hadn’t eaten the curry. She was pretty sure she’d be throwing it up right now otherwise. “Okay. Yes. You’re right.”
“Then let’s go.”
The ki
tchen door was unlocked, and Alice led the way in. Thompson was still yowling, so Miriam supposed he was holding up his end of the bargain. The mud and chocolate-smeared room stank of wood smoke and stale milk and festering food as they hurried across it, and Alice tried the cellar door. It wasn’t locked either. The goblins evidently weren’t too worried about anyone escaping. Alice hit the light switch, and they scurried down creaking steps lit by one bleak yellow bulb at the bottom.
“Oh, sugar,” Miriam whispered, peering over Alice’s shoulder as they arrived on a stone floor covered with a thick wash of mud and dirt. A man and a woman in Royal Mail uniform, the nice DHL driver, and another, older man in a black polo shirt were sat on the floor, heavy chains running from thick iron bands at their waists to heavy rings set in the walls. The woman had a cut on her cheek, and the DHL man had a black eye, but otherwise they seemed unharmed. They stared at the newcomers in astonishment.
“Are you hurt?” Alice asked. “Can you stand?”
“What does it matter?” the woman said. “We can’t get out. We’re chained.” She spoke the way people sometimes do when they’re overseas, and think over-enunciating will magically make everyone speak English.
Alice frowned as her. “That is not the way to look at things.”
“Look, I don’t know how you got in, but you should leave now,” the Royal Mail man said. “That bloody thing that stole my name and goes around calling himself Goblin Sam has the keys. He’s the only one.”
“We’ve tried breaking them,” the DHL man said. “They won’t budge.”
“I’m not surprised,” Alice said, examining the rings on the wall. “These are old, but they’re solid. Driven right into the foundations.”
Miriam wasted a moment wondering why anyone would have old chains in their basement, and was just deciding that she didn’t really want to know when she realised Alice had said something. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, let’s go.”
“Are we leaving?”
“No, we’re getting the keys.”
“What? How?”
“We’re going to catch a goblin.” Alice turned away without waiting for Miriam’s response, not that Miriam could come up with anything more coherent than another hic. Goblin-catching seemed like a very bad idea in a night that was already full of them. She opened her mouth to try and make some sort of protest as Alice started up the stairs, cane swinging casually in her hand.
Then the light went out and the screams started.
19
Mortimer
There was a moment of utter stillness following Gilbert’s announcement, broken only by the gasps of horrified dragons, while everyone waited for something to happen. Then, with a thunder of wings and panicked growls, Rockford, Lucille, and three other dragons broke for the cavern exit. They launched themselves off the ground in powerful leaps, knocking smaller dragons out of their way and fighting to be the first to get out, colliding with each other in their headlong flight.
“Them!” Gilbert shrieked, rather unnecessarily. “Them! Well, him! Rockford! Stop him!”
The big dragon was almost at the tunnel mouth, his wings tucking into a dive that would carry him straight through to freedom. Behind him, skirmishes broke out as the dragons recovered from their astonishment and tackled the escapees. Mortimer was shoved unceremoniously sideways as Lord Walter charged past him, creased wings creaking, waving the broken remnants of an old sword. One of Rockford’s younger recruits had been knocked out of the air and shoved to the floor by Lucille as she fled, and before he could escape Lord Walter started slapping him about the face with the broken sword, his stentorian voice rising above the melee.
“Bad dragon! You’re a disgrace! A dishonour! A bad, bad dragon!”
The young dragon, whose name was Alex, took one horrified look at the old Lord and hunkered down with his paws over his head, trying to keep his wings out of reach of the rusty sword.
Mortimer started to fight his way to Beaufort again, not entirely certain what he should be doing in the middle of what was rapidly descending into a free-for-all. A couple of the recluses were ignoring the current drama entirely and had come to blows over the moral implications of kitten blankets, while Lord Pamela and Wendy had tackled a small male dragon from Rockford’s group. They were sitting on him, chortling and taking turns to tweak his tail as he desperately tried to wriggle free, and Mortimer ducked as a young female dragon shot over him, rolling from side to side and barely in control. She was a panicked, hiding grey, and was trying to dislodge Rupert and Josie from her wings. They clung on fiercely, and Mortimer winced. Baby dragon teeth are sharp. Violet just watched in amusement.
“Finally,” Mortimer heard her say to Harriet. “Our hatchlings are useful for something. Should keep them amused for ten minutes at least.”
Harriet nuzzled her cheek, and said, “I think they’re entirely wonderful.”
Mortimer looked up in time to see Amelia launch herself from the ledge and throw herself at Lucille. The burly dragon had been circling high above the melee, looking for her moment to escape, and she gave a startled roar as Amelia crashed into her with a clamour of clashing scales and fury.
“Amelia!” Mortimer shouted. The two dragons plunged to the cavern floor, grappling with each other, snapping and growling and spitting little balls of flame. They bounced off the High Lord’s seat, sending the Weber flying, and tumbled across the hard ground, wings flaring and tails snapping while other dragons scrambled out of the way. Mortimer scampered after them, still shouting Amelia’s name, and flung himself on top of Lucille, landing between her wings and flailing about wildly with his paws. He hoped that this fighting thing was instinctual, because he’d never actually tried it before.
Lucille threw her head back and smacked him in the snout, sending black spots swimming across his vision. He fell backward, catching her a slap across the jaw with his tail that did absolutely nothing but make her growl furiously. She let go of Amelia and lunged at him, and he stuck his legs out stiffly with the vague idea that one of them might hit her before she got her teeth in his neck.
“Hey!” Amelia bellowed, and tackled Lucille just as she pounced on Mortimer. She took the burly dragon into another roll that ended with her standing on Lucille’s belly with her front paws clamped tightly around the other’s snout. “Don’t you touch him! He has very! Delicate! Paws!” She punctuated each of the last three words with a headbutt that made Mortimer’s eyes water, the ringing sound of colliding dragon skulls echoing about them. Amelia stopped, took two staggering steps backward, then sat down abruptly. Lucille didn’t move, just stayed where she was with her wings flung wide and two of her piercings ripped out. “Good,” Amelia said blearily. “And stay down.” Then she fell over on her side.
Mortimer stayed where he was for a moment longer, still seeing Lucille’s teeth coming at him. She seemed to have far more teeth than anyone had any need for. His heart was beating wildly, and he could see his scales flashing through half a dozen different colours without settling on one. Then he realised that he could see his scales because his legs were still sticking straight out in front of him, so he dropped them hurriedly and scrambled to his feet, rushing to Amelia. She was still conscious, but looked a little cross-eyed.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I think so.” She pushed herself up to sitting. “Ooh. Maybe. Where’s Gilbert? Is he okay? Did we get everyone?”
Mortimer looked up. Rockford was the only dragon of the five who was still free, and he was on the ground near the mouth of the tunnel. There were dragons all around him, but no one was approaching him. They all stood back as if waiting to see what would happen next. Mortimer frowned. They could easily all tackle him together, but dragons love the sight of a good fight, and it looked like there was one coming. Beaufort, the only dragon in the clan bigger than Rockford, stood between him and freedom.
“Move, Beaufort,” Rockford said, and Mortimer growled at the insolence in his voice. “You c
an’t keep me here.”
“Sit down, lad. Take what’s coming to you.”
“I don’t want to fight an old dragon, but I will. Let me go.”
“Rockford, I’ve known for a long time that you were sneaking the odd sheep, but I turned a blind eye. Young dragons need some freedom. This, however, I can not let go. You’ve endangered us all.”
“I have not! You did! You did that, hanging out with humans, and going to village fetes, and all your stupid barbecues! That was you!”
“We are very lucky to have in our clan some very clever dragons who can see a new way into the future for us. Not one thing has been done that endangers us. I would never risk that.”
The entire cavern was silent, except for a few whimpers from the young dragon that was still trying to shake off Josie and Rupert, and the steady slap, slap of Lord Walter hitting Alex, interspersed with the odd bad dragon. Everyone else was watching Rockford and the High Lord.
“A new future as what?” Rockford demanded. “Crafters? Like bloody dwarfs? All those stupid baubles, and trading with humans like they’re our equals. What next, we dress up and give pony rides to children?”
“What would your idea be, then, lad? What were you hoping for?”
“To be dragons! To have people fear us again! To be proud again! Destroy this stupid trade thing and be dragons!”
Beaufort smiled slightly. “So you think we’ve become lesser dragons, do you?”
“Yes! And it’s your fault! You’ve made us lesser! You! All I wanted was for us to be real dragons again!” Rockford hulked himself up, flashing with furious purples and reds, his wings wide, and Mortimer prepared himself to probably get quite hurt. If Rockford attacked Beaufort, he was going to have to try this whole fighting thing again, and he didn’t expect it to go any better this time around. But he’d do it anyway.
“By kidnapping humans and stealing?” Beaufort asked. “What version of real dragons is that, lad? Because it’s none I recognise.”
