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Arise The Serpent
“Did that sound right to you?” I whisper to Wings as we creep down a corridor, loitering at the back of the group following Anguis. He squints at me in response. “Anguis wants you all to leap on Serpen and hope he’ll listen, instead of turning into a monster? If everyone jumped on me, I’d turn into a monster. This plan is insane.”
“I suppose Anguis ought to know,” Wings replies, after a telling pause.
We stare at each other until a grin appears on both faces.
“I’ve just realised,” I whisper, “none us of us have a clue what we’re doing.”
Wings snorts. “Comes with age. That was kind, by the way; making a promise to the snake princess, but most likely we’re all going to die.”
“Stop being so dramatic,” I tell him. “We’ll be fine.”
“Wait ‘til you see him,” Wings responds, one eyebrow raised. “If Serpen turns serpent. Then tell me we’ll be fine. If either of us are still alive.”
“Cheerful tit, aren’t you?”
“On the other hand, I could feed you to him, since you’re just human. That might delay him squeezing the life out of the rest of us. You’ll stick in his throat.”
“You know what, Wings? I think you like me.”
“Hmm,” he says, glancing at Curt. “You certainly fit right in with this family. Not a twig of sense between us.”
“Thank you. I think.”
If I never see another spiral staircase in my life, I’ll be a happy woman. My knee’s killing me, all my bones ache, the sciatica’s throbbing merry hell down my legs, my lungs grind like a broken hoover, and still the steps keep coming. As bad as it hurts, I’m pretty sure Curt feels worse, judging by the cold sweat he’s breaking into. Wings hovering, ready to catch the invalid when his hip gives out, isn’t helping the proud wolfman. Up front, Anguis leads the line of rebels with Adamo twitching at his shoulder, desperate to break into a sprint. Behind him, snakes a single file procession of bears and wolves.
I let out a silent cheer when we reach the library, despite the wicked stink and the realisation that a battle looms ever closer. Thus far, we’ve managed to avoid running into any eagles or snakes, but that state of affairs can’t continue for much longer, now we’re on this side of the castle.
Anguis halts and Adamo walks straight into the back of him with a muffled thud, receiving a long-suffering scowl in response. He pushes a mop of ginger hair out of his eyes as he backs up a pace, saying nothing.
The line of bears and wolves coalesce into a mixed bundle of teeth and paws, all conflict absolved in their common cause.
“From here on, there may be a few snakes to deal with,” Anguis says, “but there will definitely be eagle guards. Let me handle them quietly. I’ll go ahead, alone, and you stay back until I tell you it’s clear.”
The pounding of blood in my ears makes me strain to hear his whispers, but I’m lucky I’m not having a cardiac arrest after those stairs and the mounting dread. Since Anguis is surrounded by furry friends, noses pointing towards him, my swift glance at the reading table goes unnoticed.
It’s still lying there, the leatherbound book with the strange symbol embossed on the cover. I sidle sideways one step, then another backwards, trying not to look shifty as I zigzag my way through the crowd, scratching and stretching to mask the movement. Thankfully, the animal posse remain too caught up with their own excitements and fears to notice a middle-aged spy whipping out a hand and secreting a hefty tome under her luminous jacket.
How I think I’m going to carry this without being rumbled is anyone’s guess. Mind you, if the worst comes to the worst, I can drop it on Serpen’s head, or his foot, if I can’t reach. The mental image of the king hopping around his quarters, toes throbbing, makes me grin. The smirk disappears when I catch Curt staring straight at me through the crowd, betrayal written all over his face. He must have seen me hide the book and probably guesses what it is, and why I want it. I can deal with his anger, but not his sadness. Not now, anyway.
“I’m going,” Anguis says, poking his head through the doorway to survey the corridor. “Wait for my signal.” He slips through and Adamo slots into the vacated space.
I suppose I could stay back, clutching my possible escape route out of this world, but there’s still a girl in danger and I’m up for a fight, for once in my disappointing life. I didn’t come all this way to wheedle out of the epic finale.
Whispering, “Excuse me. Sorry. Thank you,” I edge my way through the furry crowd, back to the terrible trio, loitering at the door. Adamo, popping his head in and out of the corridor, keeping an eye on Anguis’ progress, notices me and grins. Wings just sniffs and huffs. I can’t bring myself to look at Curt yet. I’m not ready for that conversation.
Apparently, he is. “Is that the book?”
“Maybe. I don’t know for sure,” I reply. “There’s no reason it should be here, in this castle.” It’s a lie, of course. I don’t understand how I know, without opening the book, but I’m sure it’s the same one; my story’s pulsing with the conflicted vibe of its teller.
Anguis reaches the bend in the corridor and peers around the corner. He turns, gesturing for us to follow. “Let’s go.”
A squidged hodgepodge of paws pad quietly down the narrow corridor on tiptoes, like the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy on hairy legs.
“Ambassador?” says a disembodied voice, from around the corner, and the impromptu ballet freezes with nowhere to hide.
“I’m glad I’ve caught you both.” Anguis’ immediate reply sounds confident, without a trace of nervousness. “Word has reached the king that a bear pack may be climbing up to the castle. Head onto the roof. We need eyes on the mountain passes. Take any other eagle you meet with you. Bring word to me the instant you see anything.”
“Yes, Ambassador.”
Boots echo down the corridor and fade away. A collective sigh of relief ripples through the wolves and bears. Anguis pops back into view, gesturing for us to speed up. The Nutcracker resumes, apace.
Astonishingly, Anguis’ ruse works with every eagle he meets, turning them around and pointing them in the direction of the roof.
“There must be a gang of them up there by now,” Curt mutters, creeping along beside me. “How long before they figure out something’s not right?”
My thoughts exactly, but I don’t say as much.
“Not long,” moans a deep voice. Trust the old bird to put a damper on things. “Or one of them comes up behind us.”
“Fire.”
Nothing to do with guns. It’s a great ginger bear whimpering at the firewall, dead ahead.
“At least it’s warm, you big booby,” I quip and a ripple of sniggers passes through the wolves, squashing down the hallway behind me.
“You can laugh,” Curt throws over his shoulder at the pack, “but wait til your tail catches on fire.”
We might be joking freely, but it’s gallows humour. With no real idea what lies ahead, the fear festers inside trembling imaginations, gaining strength with every step.
Anguis halts and turns to face us. “Complete silence from here. He can’t know we’re coming. Do you understand?”
I nod, along with the others, heart hammering.
As the entire zoo creeps down that vertiginous staircase, my knees threaten to dissolve into jelly. A wolf slips, tumbling sideways, and a huge bear paw catches him in mid air, slapping the victim back on the steps, not a sound piercing the silence. Another wolf sneezes, muffling the blast with his own tail.
At the bottom, Anguis waits for the group to assemble, needlessly pointing at a door. We get the idea; our destiny awaits in the form of Serpen. I cling to the bulky leather book as though it’s a weapon and think of Dulcis.
I’m coming for you, little one.
We all psych ourselves up for the big moment, breath coming in short bursts, teeth and claws quivering. Anguis reaches for the handle.
The door flies open. A surprised Broken Beak stares straight into the face of a shocked Anguis. The birdman catches sight of the crowd of animals and slams the door, hollering “Treachery!”
Wings shoves the frozen Anguis to one side and kung fu kicks the door. His foot blasts straight through the rotten woodwork. Curt grabs him beneath the armpits and Adamo yanks his leg free with a shower of splinters. Rusted hinges crack and the ruined door topples into the room. Half a ton of stonework falls from the archway in a cloud of dust.
Choking and coughing sweeps across the rebels. When the dust settles, it reveals a stunned king lounging in his armchair. A blank faced Dulcis sits, bolt upright, in a chair opposite.
The fallen door’s resting at an odd angle, being as a pair of feet stick out from the bottom, toes down. Broken Beak’s still breathing because the door’s going up and down. Multiple feet pound into the room jamming his face into the floor.
So much for a surprise attack.
“Anguis, you traitor,” hollers the king as his ambassador leaps down off the Broken Beak doormat.
“Wait! Your Majesty, please listen to...” Anguis starts, but he’s drowned out by an incensed prince, thundering into the room.
“Dulcis?” roars Adamo.
She doesn’t move. If she didn’t blink, I’d swear she was dead. The honey bear makes a sudden appearance, leaping clear of shredded clothing. Shoes catapult off his hind paws, the right boot missing my face and braining the unlucky wolf behind me. I can still duck with the best of them.
Adamo pounds across the room, claws out in readiness, as Serpen leaps to his feet.
“No, stop!” Anguis shouts. “Let me speak to him.”
“Adamo, don’t,” I yell, clambering over the eagle doorstop, expecting the king to be mauled to death in front of me. “I promised Sospa...”
The words freeze in my mouth, all pretence at bravery gone. The elfin, slimline king is transforming into Satan’s outback cousin.
“Serpen! Don’t change. Talk to me,” Anguis hollers, but he’s too late.
Serpen’s human face rips in half, skin peeling away from his skull as the monster erupts from the man. A shower of blood splashes across my yellow jacket. Furniture splinters as the writhing serpent expands, scraping his scaly head on the ceiling, pebble-dashing this mere mortal with bits of falling rock. More Chinese dragon than snake, his hard spikes and scaled eye ridges zero in on his enemies. The huge body, covered with scales larger than my fist, coils beneath him as he rears up to strike. The mouth opens and opens, wide enough to swallow six of me, fangs like spears dripping green goo.
Now I get why the empire ruled for so long. The king’s discarded human skinsuit flutters to the deck, the sight freezing every rebel with terror.
Every rebel, bar one.
The ginger bear launches himself at the coil, latching his claws onto the slithering target and ripping at scales with abandon. Serpen uncoils with whiplash speed, hurling Adamo across the room. The bear smashes into the mirror above the fireplace, shards crashing down around him. Fangs lunge towards his face.
I scream, “Adamo, move!”
A mangy wolf leaps out of torn clothing and latches his snarling maw onto a fang, biting down hard. Serpen hisses with pain. His rattling tail lifts Curt off his paws, smashing him into the wall. Wolf claws rip a tapestry from top to bottom, slowing his fall and showering the room with yarn confetti.
Wolves and bears thunder into the fray, growling, biting and clawing. Wings’ emerging eagle pecks at the snake’s eyes, his wings and claws a blur of eye-watering speed.
It’s a gigantic snake versus an army of claws and teeth; surely rebel numbers must be enough?
But it’s not.
The serpent’s tail slithers into a coil, sweeping exposed wolves, bears and a flapping old eagle into his trap. Too late they realise the danger as the coil shifts and tightens, crushing its prey. The creaking of compacted bones vies with howls, yelps and one heartrending bird shriek.
“Stop! Stop. Your Majesty. Serpen, please,” Anguis yells.
His king hears nothing, raging against his fate and that of his dying empire. The snake head lunges, knocking Dulcis off her chair and scooping the crawling Adamo into its mouth. The bear latches onto a fang, mashing his feet into the fleshy throat and straining to hang on as Serpen jerks his head, over and over, fighting to dislodge and swallow him whole. The tightening coil undulates, slithering straight for Dulcis, lying beneath. She’ll be crushed or suffocated.
“Dulcis, move!” I yell.
But she can’t.
The book drops from beneath my jacket. I take off running, darting between the shards of glass and pulverised furniture. Snatching her by the wrist, I haul her dead weight clear of the descending wall of scales. Serpen catches the movement, his head plunging towards us at terrifying speed, aiming to smash the captive Adamo into his teenage love, and me.
I’ll never leave you, little girl.
I throw myself over her body, eyes tight shut, and wait to die.
A snarl.
My eyes pop open. The undercarriage of a grey wolf shoots over my head in a wide arc. His maw clamps onto snake nostril. Serpen rises up to his colossal height and whips his head back, smashing my exposed wolf against the stone ceiling and spearing his wounded hip with a fang as he drops. Curt’s howl of agony tears my heart in two.
That crunch against the stone dislodges Adamo. He plummets onto the squeezing coil and slips down the scales, claws flying as he scrambles to get purchase. The enraged snake head swings back to stare straight at Dulcis.
“Dulcis! Dulcis,” I shout into her face, shaking her shoulders. Her gaze remains fixed in some other universe. “Look at me, damn you.” Did I see a flicker of recognition? “Dulcis, if you don’t break out of this, we’re going to die. Adamo’s going to die.” Her gaze fades in and out as she strains to latch hold of reality, and fails. “You listen to me,” I holler. “You are the Alpha Daughter. Get up and lead.”
Her fingers tighten on my forearms as her mind breaks free. A smile spreads across her face. “Edi?” That grin morphs into a scowl. “Where are we?”
The slavering monster looming up behind me answers that question.
“Run,” I yell, but it’s too late. We’ll never make it to the door and those we love are dying in this room. Curt and Adamo are down, Wings caught in the mortal crush with the pack.
We’ve lost.
The thundering of heavy boots echoes down the corridor: the eagles coming to defend their king. As if that beast needs them.
Dulcis bursts out of her tailored black suit, her wolf snarling and clawing at the ground. She means to get herself killed, trying to protect me.
“Serpen! Enough. Please,” Anguis cries out.
“Anguis, we’re going to die!” I scream at him.
It’s then that the commander of snakes, the epitome of dissembling charm and the king’s ambassador decides he’s seen enough. No more words. Anguis’ face tears in half, loosing his snake.
But Serpen’s bloodline has ruled for a reason.
Anguis’ reptile is half the size of his king and missing that dragon head of ridges. Even so, he’s our only hope to avoid a massacre.
Golden scales ripple as he coils and springs up, wrapping around Serpen in a spiral scarf, just beneath his head and out of reach of those fangs, heaving tighter and tighter in a fatal neck hold. Waves of undulations sweep the monster, straining against his attacker. The force splits Anguis’ scales, tearing gaping holes in his body.
“Hold on, Anguis,” I yell. “Please hold on.”
The gigantic tail rattles as the king struggles against strangulation. His coiled body relaxes, partially unravelling. A crowd of wolves and bears haul air into traumatised lungs. A ginger head pops up, scrambling over the loosening scales. Dulcis’ wolf howls a greeting and he roars in reply.
Wings clambers over the back scales, heading to where Curt lies, injured. Adamo arrives at the business end of Serpen and leaps on top of his wavering, suffocating head, soon joined by a tide of furry rebels. The mouth slams shut under their combined weight, cracking into the stone floor.
But the king isn’t giving up that easily.
The rattling tail whips through the air, lashing out at his attackers. His full strength isn’t behind each hit, but those on the receiving end hear their bones crack.
Adamo stretches out, laying across the snake’s head to slap paws over the nostrils. Ripples of deep distress pass through Serpen’s body, his head engorging from the strain. The fight leaches out of the king as his strength fades. Deathly sorrow enters those sapphire eyes.
He’s almost done.
But...
I made a promise, didn’t I?
I made a promise to a little girl.
Was I lying?
He’s a tyrant, torturer and a terrible king. He may have mortally wounded Curt.
Let him die.
But I made a promise. Me. Edith Breaker-Smith. I’m many silly, inconsequential, daft things, but I’m not a coward or a liar.
“Stop!” I holler with every ounce of strength I’ve got.
A sea of sweaty, straining faces peers at me with wide-eyed confusion, including Dulcis’ wolf. Anguis’ head pops out the side of his strangulated king and a forked tongue flickers in and out.
“Don’t kill him,” I cry. “There’s no need for anyone else to die.”
Undeterred by a roaring ginger bear and a circling young wolf, I march up to those covered nostrils and plead with Adamo.
“Take one paw off, please. Let him breathe a little. Please.” Adamo growls his denial. I turn to Dulcis. “I know he took us both, but his people are dying and he’s scared.”
She howls a resounding no.
“Dulcis, please. Trust me.”
A naked young woman reappears, her words morphing from growl to yell. “He did some weird mind thing on me.”
“I know, but did he hurt you?” I almost choke on that, but I made a promise.
“He did a mind thing on me,” she repeats, her tone rising up the scale to shrill.
“Please,” I sigh. “I promised another little girl that we’d try. Please. Just for a moment, so I can speak to him. Just talk. That’s all. He can’t do the mind thing on me.”
Dulcis stares into my eyes for a long moment. The king’s tail collapses with a resounding thud.
“Adamo, one nostril only,” she finally orders.
The bear rumbles. Anguis’ head tips slightly and his forked tongue slaps the bear on the ear. Adamo blows down his nose, showering the ambassador with snot, before shifting one paw. Serpen’s nostril quivers with the intake of air. Those blue eyes settle on me – the one person he can’t mesmerise.
“Your Majesty,” I begin, my brain scrambling for the words which usually come so easily. But then it’s never truly mattered before. “You know the truth, better than anyone, and now your people know it too. Your people are almost gone. The children, including your niece, are sick and this castle is lost to that disease.”
His sapphire eyes fill with tears and I hear the voice of little Sospa, echoing in my memory. Promise me you won’t hurt him. He’s sad and scared too.
“You’ve kept the wolves and bears at each other’s throats, so they wouldn’t question what was happening, but that’s over. It’s time to...”
“Can I get up, please?” whines a muffled voice from under the fallen door. The splintered wood shifts as Broken Beak hauls himself up on his elbows and glares at me, wearing a door for a hat.
A pile of eagle guardsmen thunder into the room and trample straight over him, heading for their captive king. Adamo slaps his paw back over the free nostril and roars so loudly the last shard of broken mirror topples out of its twisted frame. Anguis’ mouth opens wide and sprays a glob of some foul smelling liquid at the eagles. I’ve no idea whether that was a shower of venom, but it stops them in their tracks, not used to being on the receiving end of snake aggression.
“Ambassador?” a guard asks, his gaze switching between his king and ambassador, seemingly locked in mortal combat.
“That is it,” thunders a thoroughly pissed off Broken Beak as he grapples the door off his back and wobbles upright. “I am so finished with this. I’ve been insulted, smashed in the face and trodden on. I’m not fighting or kidnapping another soul. Not for the handful of snakes left coughing up their lungs in this hole.” And with that, he stamps his foot to show he means business. A chunk of stone drops off the ceiling and falls on his head, whereupon he drops like a stone, ironically. The eagles ignore him, gaze locked on Serpen and Anguis.
I clear my throat of dust and snake spit. “King Serpen, the empire is over. Your people will die unless you leave this castle. Please talk to Prince Adamo and Alpha; they’ll help you for the sake of the children. It has to be about them now. Don’t be their last king.”
There’s an almighty crash as a cascade of bears and wolves tumble onto the floor. The serpent shrinks and dissolves in a splash of green syrup. The man Serpen disappears inside a tightly coiled ambassador for a brief moment, until Anguis joins him in the change, unwrapping returning limbs from his hyperventilating king.
True to servant form, two eagle guards strip down to their frilly shirts, handing over luminous jackets and trousers to their emerging royals.
They look as ridiculous as me. Total karma.
“You betrayed... your people,” Serpen hisses at Anguis and points at the pile of bears and wolves. “They’ll make... slaves of us all... Our children... will grow up as...”
“They will grow up,” I interrupt. “That’s the point. Anguis didn’t betray anyone. He’s trying to save their lives, and yours. No wolf or bear will hurt those children. They’ll have to get past me and a pack load of their own people first. You should have asked for help a long time ago, not let it get to this. How many of your people have died needlessly because of your choices?”
Sometimes words come out of your mouth and you immediately wish you could grab them back. The look on Serpen’s face makes me ashamed to have thrust the knife so deeply into his heart. He turns back to his ambassador.
“Anguis, take them away. They’re your responsibility now. I can’t be anybody’s king and I won’t be your slave.”
He darts forward, scoops up a jagged shard of mirror and raises it to his throat.
“Uncle, don’t leave me!”
His hand freezes in mid slash. A little girl stands in the shattered doorway, eyes full of tears.
The king stares at his trembling niece and the empire crumbles inside him. The shard of glass falls from his fingers and smashes on the stone beneath. Princess Sospa races across the room and launches herself into his arms, hooking her legs around his waist and honking a cough in his ear. He hesitates for a moment before wrapping both arms around her and burying his face in her hair.
Adamo’s ginger head pops out of the furry pile, shakes and growls.
“Adamo,” Dulcis calls as she sprints across the room. The prince changes into the ginger teenager and scrambles over grumbling wolves and bears, poking bare toes into eyes and ears. He stands on a wolf’s nose, stumbles sideways, slips on snake skin and lands in a naked heap at her racing feet. She stomps on his chest. Thankfully, he’s solid enough to take the hit, even if he sports a foot shaped red mark.
She drags him to his feet and flings her arms around him. He hugs her back with a contented look on his face, like the bear who got the honey. Then she lands a kiss on his lips with the suction of a hoover and he loses all focus.
“I love you so much,” she gushes, coming up for air.
“I love you too,” he whimpers, knees trembling.
I think I’m going to vomit. Mother Superior kicks in with a vengeance.
“You barely met a day ago and you’re children. Enough. Drop him, right now, and put this on.” I struggle out of the circus jacket and thrust it towards her. She gives me the pouty teenage glare, but I’m up to the challenge and unleash full on mother face. She unwraps herself from her quivering beau and plunges her arms into the jacket, taking her frustration out on the fabric. Good luck, that hideous material would survive cremation.
That leaves naked lover boy dangling in the wind. I check on Broken Beak, whose groans tell me he’s coming round, so I relieve him of his jacket and toss it to Adamo, who misses it, of course.
“Edi.”
That’s Wings’ voice.
Wolves and bears shuffle sideways, revealing Curt’s wolf, lying on his side amidst the debris, eyes closed. Kneeling beside him, Wings peers up at me with a look on his face that reads...
No.
No way.
I refuse to believe it.
He’s not dead.
He can’t be dead.
He can’t be.
Life wouldn’t be that cruel. For me to look my whole life for my Curt and have him die just as I find him.
No way.
It’s so quiet in here.
Why can’t I move? I’ve gone completely numb.
I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Curt...
