Nikolas and Company: The Merman and The Moon Forgotten (16 page)

Most said, “Yes.”

“Good, good,” Grand said. “Then we make
for Huron, by way of the Mottle Craw.”

“Wait,” said Caroline. “Shouldn’t we
rest up? Maybe eat or something? We did just crash land, you
know.”

“Impossible, Miss Wendell,” said Grand.
“If we miss this flight, the next won’t be for a month. Huron
cannot wait.”

Grand fisted the shuttle
door button.
Beep, beep.
The air hissed. Harnesses unclicked, and feet
banged through the cabin.

“Why didn’t we just land in Huron in
the first place?” asked Xanthus. “Would’ve saved all the screaming
and flames of death.”

“Couldn’t,” said Grand. “Mon guards its
skies from illegal Earthlings sneaking across. They’d burn us alive
before we touched the clouds.”

They all piled up around the cabin
door, except for Tim. He was white knuckling the back of a
seat.

“Nothing blew up, Tim,” said Nick. “We
made it.”

“Is there a bathroom on this shuttle?”
Tim stood up carefully. “I really hope there’s a bathroom on the
shuttle.”

Nick didn’t bother to answer Tim. He
was too busy gawking. There was mud and fog, everywhere.

“Earth. Epochs ago,” Grand announced,
hopping out into a slab of mud.

Xanthus put a hand to his chest and
took a ceremonial step into the mud. “Oh wow wow wow. Here I step,
Xanthus Kobayashi. The first boy to touch foot upon an ancient and
magical Earth . . . Mr. Grand, I’ve got some questions for yo—cawk!
Cawk! Cawk!”

Before Xanthus could unleash his litany
of questions, everyone started to cough.

“I got some questions, too!” Nick
gagged. “Like, what is that smell?” The air was rank with a filthy,
iron stench.

“That—” Grand’s nostrils whistled.
“—smells like dirt.”

“It smells disgusting!” Brandy covered
her mouth with a black silk handkerchief.

“Come now,” said Grand. “They have dirt
where you’re from.”

“Not in the cities,” Daniel said,
covering his own mouth. “It’s synthetic dirt. Meant to keep the
germs out.”

Mud wasn’t the only invasion to their
senses. Small, little creatures bizzed and buzzed
everywhere.

“Are those?” said Brandy.

“Yes, Brandy.” Daniel steadied himself.
“Insects. I’ve seen them once before, in that museum off of
Rollhill Pass.”

And then came the barrage of
Xanthus-questions.

“First, I gotta ask, Mr. Grand, dude.
Are Furies benevolent or not? I’ve always been partial to the
anti-hero camp, cause, you know, they seek justice, but they’re
pretty psychotic about it. Like Marvel’s The Punisher. Second, and
this is really important. Are any of Tolkein’s creatures actually
real? I hope that’s the case. Maybe an Ent, perhaps? Fimbrethil the
Ent? But I’ll settle for a gollum. Also, are gumnut babies and
chucklebuds the same creature? There’s been a raging debate on the
Myth-us boards for, well . . . as long as I’ve been alive. To give
my two cents, I would say they were the same creature at one point
in history, but a mage or a wizard got involved and created a
second species. I’d say the chucklebuds were the original. Kinda
like mogwai and gremlins.”

Meanwhile, Brandy toed the mud with her
Louboutins, shivered, and then retrieved a small bottle of hand
sanitizer from her black purse. She lathered it all over her neck,
arms and legs. She lifted another glop to her face, squeezed her
eyes shut and—

Whheeeebooom.

Brandy screamed, dropped her sanitizer
into the mud, and shielded herself from a mushroom of fire and
shrapnel. The shuttle blazed white hot.

“Well—” Brandy kept her hand over her
face, “—you didn’t blow us up, Nick. Guess you didn’t break your
promise.”

“My bestiary—” Xanthus said, reaching
into the flames. “My hologlasses!”

Grand grabbed Xanthus by his coat.
“Nothing in there you need.”

“This is unacceptable!” Xanthus
protested. “I have spent the better part of my teen career beating
Magicgeddon. I need my escape, man.”

Grand looked upward. “Well, I suppose
the brother planets will have to do.”

Everyone followed Grand’s gaze to the
sky. They had landed in some bowl-shaped valley. Trees, with no
sense of direction, climbed out of rock face and brackish pools.
Where there weren’t moldy leaves, mud pockmarked the ground. And
where there weren’t moldy leaves and pockmarked mud, there were
small bits of grass pushing out like upside down goatees. Several
winged ships looked like they had been hung out to dry on the cliff
sides. Each ship had a shabby ladder filled with a long line of
odd, malformed looking people.

Still, there was mud.
Everywhere.

“Let’s get moving,” said Grand. “Our
ship waits for no one.”

“Ok,” said Xanthus. “But I still have
some questions for you Mr. Grand. Minotaurs. Are their hooves split
or not, cause . . .”

And so they began the long
march toward the Mottle Craw, escorted by the sound of muddy
footfall. Daniel’s cane
presshed
and
prushed
in the mud while sneakers and black dress
shoes
plopped
. That
is, except for Brandy’s. She insisted Xanthus give her a piggy back
ride because she wouldn’t dare subject her Louboutins to
that
filth. Chattering
voices began to build in the group. They either talked about the
smell, the strange ships off in the distance, or who screamed the
loudest during the landing. But there was only one person who
remained silent. Haley. Not just silent, Nick noticed her unsteady
stride, and that golden blond hair had gone limp and stringy. He
moved closer to her to ask if she was OK. She waved him
off.

h

They walked for at least another hour.
By this time Xanthus had switched from conversations about
mythological body types to a diatribe on why he believed dragon
lore originated in China, and not Europe, which was clearly a
Eurocentric idea. He then began to list off several other creatures
that predated European mythology. That was when Haley lunged for
Nick.

“Haley?!” Nick caught her. “Are you OK?
Haley—your eyes—?”

Dark circles hung under Haley’s blue
eyes, and parts of her skin were covered with a creamy, bluish
film.

“Just—motion sickness. I get it
sometimes.” Haley tried to pull herself up.

“Haley?” Tim turned around.

“I’m OK, Tim. Just need to catch my
breath.” Haley put her hand up, proving she could stand on her
own.

“You need to sit down,” Tim insisted.
“Just for a minute. Let me help you.”

“Seriously, Tim.” Haley’s fingers
formed into a karate defense position. “Back off.”

Unaware of the scene behind him, Grand
continued to march forward.

“Hey!” Xanthus said. “What’s with those
guys?”

“The swayers?” said Brandy.

“Yeah. Look,” said Xanthus. See, over
there. A ton of people standing on that wall, holding their hands
up like they’re praying to the tether or something.”

Brandy slipped off Xanthus’ back to
have a better look, then shrugged. “Probably some religious
stuff.”

“Not religious,” Grand said. “They hope
to breathe in Mon air. Find their inner-air, I’m
certain.”

Everyone turned with a puzzled
expression.

“I’ve got a lot to catch you up on, I
see. Earth has little magic, but Mon is filled with it. Its very
air is rife with magic. The swayers stand on the wall to catch a
bit of Mon air.”

“What’s it doing for them?” Brandy
said.

“To begin with, it will extend your
life tenfold.”

“Tenfold? How old
are
you?” Daniel tilted
over his cane.

“Five-hundred and
twenty-three.”

“Geez,” Nick said. “Holding up well,
Grand.”

“You cannot be that old,” Daniel’s
mouth hung open. “It is . . . impossible.”

“I am, laddie,” Grand chuckled. “One
doesn’t forget five-hundred and twenty-three years. But more
importantly,” Grand continued. “Mon air gives you jynn’us. These
poor souls don’t need to stand so close to the tether and risk
being struck by lightning. This entire valley holds enough deep air
to awaken any power they might have.”

“Oh yeah. That’s another question I
had,” said Xanthus. “Can you give me some of that
jynn’us?”

“Let’s not be hasty, lad,” Grand said.
“You cannot get jynn’us. Magic has a mind of its own. It will
choose you if it so desires. And the jynn’us may not always be to
your liking. There are a variety of powers for a variety of
souls.”

“OK,” nodded Xanthus. “Variety of
powers. I can live with that. So what are my options?”

“There are many options,” Grand said.
“Trinkes, automa, atla—that one is mine by the way. Those are the
conventional ones. There’s also lustratio, transe, ethereal.
Thousands really. And new ones crop up everyday. But this is all
irrelevant at the moment, Xanthus. It will be months before you’d
undergo the transformation.”

Xanthus tilted his head. “Is there any
way to speed up?”

Behind the throng of questions, Nick
noticed Haley looking to the Keranu Wall. Her head swayed
unsteadily, and the blue film had now covered every part of her
skin. She was absolutely disinterested in their conversation on
jynn’us. No, more than that. It looked like she was about
to—

“Eeeewww!” Brandy hopped on one leg.
“Not on the shoes! Uggh! You did not just blow chunks all over my
Louboutins.”

Haley clutched Caroline’s arm, trying
not to collapse again.

Grand moved around Caroline and gently
placed a hand on her shoulder. “Lass. Look at me.”

Her head slowly rose to Grand’s. The
blue film had now covered her hair and teeth.

“I see everything.” She squeezed her
eyes shut. “It hurts to look. I can see it all.”

Grand shook his head and looked to
Xanthus. “Afraid I owe you an apology, Mr. Kobayashi.”

Caroline cooed as she wrapped an arm
around Haley and found a lone boulder. She turned her horn-rimmed
glasses on Grand. “What’s wrong with her, Mr. Lyons?”

“Everything! Everything is wrong with
her, but that will change soon enough,” Grand grinned. “Jynn’us has
found Haley, and within only an hour of our landing . . . quite
extraordinary . . .”

“No way, Haley!” Xanthus cried. “You
got some jynn’us? Already?! I love this place! OK, OK. I gotta
record everything that happens to you. And . . . I need samples.
Lots of samples. Hair. Skin. Urine.”

“That is disgusting, Xanthus,” Caroline
said.

“This is a momentous occasion!” Xanthus
raised his hands in the air. “You’re so lucky, Haley. Oh, wait. You
breathe it in, right? Maybe I just need to breathe deeper. You
know, open up my lung capacity.” Xanthus went bug-eyed, inhaling
like a gorilla suffering from cardiac arrest.

Without warning, Grand began to march
again. “She will be sick over the next few days. Lucky for you, we
have proper quarters on the Mottle Craw. Let’s keep it moving, if
we want to make it by sunset.”

“Ugh.” Brandy smacked her shoes on a
rock. “Sounds just about right. Haley gets a power up, and I’m
scrubbing chunks off my shoes.”

It took another hour of spongy bogs,
unrelenting rocks, and piggy back rides, but they finally made it
to the cliff face. Haley looked at the large airship clinging to
the side of the cliff and the half-mile stairwell leading to
it.

She groaned.

Grand quickly explained that prepaid
passengers didn’t have to wait in line and pointed to a massive
bowl.

“It’s a willy-kirk,” Grand marched to
the bowl. “It’ll take us up to our ship. I’ve never been too good
with these willy-kirks, though. They require a more delicate
touch.” Grand petted the rim of the bowl. It shook like a wet cat,
and then tipped over. “Will you look at that? It responded right
away. Too much of your world’s moisturized soap, I’d
wager.”

They all stepped slowly into the
willy-kirk. When everyone was in, the willy-kirk righted itself and
began to rise skyward toward the Mottle Craw. Xanthus gingerly
leaned out of the bowl to see what mechanism lifted them up. He
looked slowly to Nick, grinned, and then looked back over. Nick
peered over. They weren’t being lifted up by a mechanical lift,
rather a very strong root system.

Xanthus spun around and began reviewing
all the strange creatures walking up the rickety stairs. “Gabans,
Salks . . . Wait, I know that one. I know it . . .” He reached into
his vest, and then remembered his bestiary had gone up in flames
with the shuttle. “A tragedy . . . Mr. Grand, dude. Are they coming
with us?”

“If fate wills it,” Grand shook his
head. “They’re standing in line for the lottery. It is a privilege
to go Monside. You’ll find that people will do all sorts of tricks
to cross the tether. I once met a fell—”