The Beasts of Upton Puddle (32 page)

A vivid image of this titanic machine, steered by those massive wings, hurtling through stormy clouds and leaving a fiery jet stream in its wake, burst into his mind's eye. But how could this behemoth even get off the ground? Joe found his answer when he looked farther behind the ship. Extending from the back, almost reaching the trees bordering one part of Ringwood Forest, a tangle of ropes led to the deflated form of the largest air balloon he'd ever seen. As if to remind everyone who had built this amazing piece of workmanship, the canvas had been dyed in green, white, and orange stripes, ready to proudly reveal the Irish flag once it had been inflated.

“Awesome,” Joe shouted as he ran up a ramp to the quarterdeck. A huge cabin, almost the size of Mrs. Merrynether's vault, had been built into the stern with barred windows that revealed tentacles and bulbous eyes from within. The familiar odors of Mrs. Merrynether's vault wafted on the breeze from the cabin, and Joe realized all the animals had been moved into this enormous sky boat while he'd been asleep in the mansion.

“Awesome,” Joe said again.

For a fleeting moment, he glimpsed movement just behind him to his left. He spun round, convinced he'd spotted a sleeping cluricaun using a beer bottle as a pillow, but all he could see was the empty container spinning slowly in a small puddle.

“Lilly?” said Joe. “Where are you? This is . . . This is . . . awesome! I know you're good, but how did you build it so fast?”

Mrs. Merrynether climbed onto the deck to join Joe. Archy the pig trotted out from behind a coil of rope to receive an ear-scratching from his keeper.

“I think you'll find Lilly had a little help from his drinking friends,” Mrs. Merrynether said with a cheeky smile. “They did have a good incentive, though.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing much. Danariel told him that the world's oldest brewery and distillery was in danger of destruction and that if he helped out, the owners would make sure he had all the whiskey he could ever drink in ten lifetimes. It's not so far from the truth. They make a very interesting drink on Pyronesia that is a lot like whiskey, and if a war does break out, nowhere on the island will be safe—including the distillery.”

Taking in the spectacle, Joe said, “It's like a modern-day Noah's ark.”

Mrs. Merrynether walked toward the cabin. A sailor's wheel had been positioned on a platform just in front of
it. Directly in the center of the large wheel, an envelope had been attached.

“What's this?” she said, opening the envelope and pulling out a letter. She read it and handed it to Joe. “A parting message from you-know-who.”

Joe read it, imagining the little red face and the angry eyes.

“Have you seen the name plate?” said Mrs. Merrynether. “I think it's in honor of you.”

Joe walked to the cabin door to read the brass plaque nailed above:
The Copper Celt
.

“Me?” He brushed his fingers across the shiny finish. “He's put my name on it?”

“I told you he liked you, didn't I?”

“I didn't think he liked anyone.”

“Well, I think this proves otherwise. Are you ready to take her on her maiden voyage?”

“Do cluricauns like to drink?” Joe grinned. “What are we waiting for?”

“Well, one or two things,” she said, pointing down into the opposite side of the field.

Joe had been wondering where the others were. Now he knew what two of them were doing. Cornelius, the fearless manticore, was galloping like a frightened kitten away from Snappel, the wyvern.

“What's going on?”

“Just watch. It's been quite entertaining.”

The great reptile bounded awkwardly after Cornelius, half hopping on her claws and half flying, her wings raking through the air. After a few skips, the wyvern stopped, belched fire, and splayed her wings outward, the black skin stretching taut between the bones. Like a blanket trapped in a powerful gust of wind, the wings fluttered and made a loud ruffling noise. Cornelius had stopped to watch and catch his breath as Snappel strutted like the dominant rooster in a farmyard, roaring and flapping, but the manticore only had a few moments to rest. After another flourish of her wings, the huge lizard strode after Cornelius again, gathering pace with each heavy thump of her claws, and the manticore galloped away, bellowing as the chase began again.

“That's been going on all afternoon,” said Mrs. Merrynether. “I think she's feeling a little amorous.”

“She fancies Cornelius?” Joe laughed.

“He is rather a magnificent beast, though, don't you think?”

“But she's a wyvern.”

“There are some cases where different species can breed, you know. Tigers and lions, for example.”

“Yeah, but they're both cats. That's . . . that's a reptile.” Joe motioned to Snappel who had again settled into her extravagant courting display. “How long will it go on?”

“Oh, not for much longer. Danariel will be out in a minute to put a stop to it. She's been getting the last of our occupants settled into the ship. Sorry, she has a name now, doesn't she? The
Copper Celt
.”

“Are Kiyoshi, Flarp, and his friend already on board?”

“Present and accounted for,” came the squeaky voice of Kiyoshi as he waddled in from the cabin doorway. “Our cycloptic friends will be making our acquaintance shortly.”

“Good,” said Mrs. Merrynether. “And is Danariel nearly finished? We need her to deal with Snappel. I don't want them too worn out. We need both of them to drive the wings.”

“She sent me to inform you that all preparations are now complete. We may begin our quest.”

“So when Cornelius and Snappel are on board, we can leave?” Joe asked.

“Absolutely,” said Mrs. Merrynether. “Look. There she goes now.”

Joe looked back toward the insane courting ritual. Danariel had entered the scene with a flood of silver-blue light, flitting between the exasperated manticore and the lovesick wyvern. The seraph weaved a hypnotic spiral in front of Snappel until the distraction lured her in the direction of the
Copper Celt
. Cornelius took cautious steps a few paces behind.

A minute later, all three had stepped onto the deck. Snappel had apparently curbed her affection for the time being and was now more interested in the ropes attached to the balloon.

Joe dropped to his knees and stretched his arms toward the shaggy red beast. “Come here, Cornelius.”

Cornelius trotted to bash his great head into Joe's cheek and receive a hug. Joe scratched behind one of his ears, and as he dug his fingers into the soft fur, he saw Flarp rush out of nowhere. The slimy globble whipped around in a tight circle, with even more childish excitement than usual, sending rivulets of green grunge outward like a lawn sprinkler.

“Welcome aboard.” Danariel beamed at Joe and landed gracefully on the tip of the sailor's wheel. “Ready to go?”

“Whenever you are.” Joe let the manticore go and got to his feet. “How do we get this thing moving?”

“Lilly left a few instructions, which I read this
morning. Snappel is dealing with the first part of takeoff. Flarp here will help me with navigation . . . Flarp?”

Flarp rushed to the very tip of the
Copper Celt
, followed by his companion globble, and plopped onto the end of a long pole that stretched out ahead. It was the most bizarre figurehead Joe had ever seen.

Claws scraped the deck behind him, and Joe turned to see Snappel stooping over Kiyoshi. Her long black tongue reached into the kappa's cranial vent and scooped out a generous dollop of kappa juice.

“Kiyoshi will need to rest awhile to recover,” Danariel told the rest of them, “but it will make Snappel's job far easier.”

Snappel reeled as if she'd been hit by an avalanche, then thundered over the edge of the boat to land on the grass next to the open end of the deflated balloon. With a rush, she flew inside, lifting the vast canvas high above the
Copper Celt
. There was a moment of thrashing and maneuvering inside before a bright flash of flame illuminated the interior. There was another blast and another until the balloon expanded and rose, driven by the heated air inside it. Soon the Irish flag, stretched in a huge pear shape, dominated the horizon, and the ropes groaned against their fastenings as the
Copper Celt
struggled against gravity.

“She needs a little help,” Mrs. Merrynether told Cornelius.

The red giant bounded to a section directly behind
Flarp's figurehead pole where two lion-sized treadwheels waited. He leapt inside and charged, turning the wheel. Belowdecks, the thunk and clank of machinery fired into action.

Snappel flew to the manticore's side, landing inside the other wheel and turning it with her kappa-powered muscles. Responding with the yawn of stretched wood, the six wings lurched, beating the ground and air with a ferocity that grew as Cornelius and Snappel increased their speed.

Joe jumped and whooped as the huge ark drifted gracefully from the field. Somewhere belowdecks toward the back of the ship, excited animals howled and hooted as a thunderous bang fired up the cannons, propelling the
Copper Celt
with a burst of speed. Soon he could see the whole of Mrs. Merrynether's vast estate and the huge wooded area of Ringwood Forest below them.

“Flarp has seen Pyronesia,” Danariel called above the roar of cogs and pulleys. “Take the wheel, Joe, and I will give you instructions. I can feel which direction Flarp is pulling.”

“Me? Take the wheel?” Joe felt such a rush of excitement he could barely stand.

“Of course. Lead the way. Steady as she goes, sou' by southwest . . . Two turns of the wheel, Cap'n.”

Joe grasped the wheel. The cool breeze swept across his face and ruffled his hair as the sun sank behind the trees. He knew he was heading into dangers even his
dreams could not conjure, yet he had never been so happy in his life.

“Let's go and get Redwar,” he shouted as he spun the wheel.

Night came quickly. A full moon bathed the deck with velvet white, and the faint but rhythmic creak of the wooden beams of the
Copper Celt
made Joe feel as though he had sailed into a monotone dream. Even the wind seemed reluctant to convince Joe he was awake. He felt only the faintest of breezes as he rested his chin on the edge of the stern, gazing below at what he believed must be the Mediterranean Sea. He had no idea how high or fast they were flying, but occasionally the silken carpets of cloud far below broke to reveal dark expanses of water.

Behind him, the others slept. Mrs. Merrynether had said the balloon would keep them on course until morning. Flarp had remained steadily focused in the same direction as the gentle air currents, and so it was an opportunity for all of them to rest. Cornelius lay curled up next to his treadwheel, purring in rhythm
with Snappel's smoky snorts as she lay on her back, claws stretched upright. Kiyoshi, now able to control the flap in the top of his head, lay close to the cabin entrance, dozing and muttering what sounded like algebraic equations as his sticky feet twitched.

Even Danariel had fallen asleep. Joe had never seen her that way before, and it fascinated him to watch the gentle pulses of light radiate in rippling patches in time with her breathing.

Joe sighed. This was a time of tranquility, a pause in time granted by the gods before he was plunged into a war he knew almost nothing about. The prospect should have terrified him, but here in the sky, caressed by cool, pure air with an atmosphere of serenity warming him, ugly thoughts seemed too distant to disturb him.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Mrs. Merrynether drew up beside him, peeping over the edge and folding her arms under her chin.

A moment later, Archy trotted over to her side.

Joe cocked his head. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Me? Oh, no. I can't sleep for longer than four hours a day.”

“Four hours? I'd be dead on my feet.”

“It's been even less than that since . . . Heinrich left.”

Joe fell silent. He studied the clouds, noticing every pattern as they churned in slow motion, melting into saddened faces that soon became unrecognizable before slipping from view.

“Mrs. Merrynether.” Joe pursed his lips as he considered his question. “Why do you think Heinrich betrayed us?”

She stared at the sky for a long time.

“Truly, Joseph”—she released a long sigh—“I simply don't know. I thought I knew him better.”

“Has he ever done anything like this before?”

“Never. I sometimes sensed a feeling of guilt from him, but in all those years, Heinrich never once gave me cause to mistrust him.”

“Sounds like you've known him a long time.”

“More than fifty years. We met on an expedition to the North Pole in 1950, and I remember how he held the team together when we lost contact with our base camp. The rest of the team stayed confident for a while, but it was Heinrich who had the real survivor's instinct. He kept us going, kept us focused.” She nodded, clenching her teeth as a tear shone in one eye.

“We didn't stay lost for long, but I knew back then that I would always want that man to be on my team wherever I went . . . Always.”

“That doesn't sound like Heinrich to me, Mrs. Merrynether. He always seemed so . . .”

“Defeated?”

“Yes, defeated. That's it.”

She stared through Joe and smiled, but there was no humor there. “He was never the same after Pyronesia.”