The Beasts of Upton Puddle (41 page)

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 the 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.

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 above 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.

“I am so very, very sorry, Joseph.” She wept.

“Why?”

“I have let so many people down, but I think deceiving you to bring you to this island is the worst thing I have ever done.” She finally let him go. “I am so very glad you are still alive.”

Joe looked down at her: a tiny woman, perhaps the oldest he'd ever seen, bursting with so much energy; it was a shame to see her waste it all on regret. And with such celebration happening around him, he could never hold any kind of grudge against her.

“I know why you did it.” He shrugged. “It's okay.”

“It isn't okay. But fate has been kinder to me than it ought to be. I don't deserve to have you forgive me, Joseph Copper.” She touched his cheek.

They turned toward the raucous celebrations, but before Joe could join in, he heard the thrumming engine of a jeep pulling up on the hill behind them. He swung around. The jeep parked, and two figures got out and walked toward them, one tall and stooping, the other short and stout. The tall one spoke. It was a man, and Joe could hardly believe his eyes.

“Ronnie? Joe? I . . . It's me . . . Heinrich.”

And with him stood Aunt Rose.

On the beach, weaving through the wreckage of the
Copper Celt
and heading toward the Nesting Caverns at high speed, another jeep bounced across the sand. Four people sat inside, dressed uncomfortably in camouflage uniforms. Not far behind them, the chatter of gunfire and the whoosh of rocket-propelled grenades rent the air as they fled the scene. Sweating in the driver's seat, Argoyle Redwar throttled the wheel as though it would fly away if he let go. Ms. Burrowdown sat in the passenger seat with an expression so sour she looked like a disgruntled pug sucking splinters through a straw. And being thrown around in the back like puppets in a bouncy castle, Kurt and Scott Duggan fired shots wildly at two dragons chasing them.

“My God, man! Are you planning to hit anything with that, Duggan, or do you just like the sound of gunfire?” Redwar shouted.

“Perhaps if you drove straight for two bloody minutes, I might be able to get a”—whump!—”clear sodding shot!”