“That’s a terrible idea!” Garit yelped. “It’s a giant, rampaging monster! The obedience mark and Master Siorn’s command might be the only thing keeping it from crushing the city entirely.”
Mayka listened to the monster smashing through the city. He has a point, she thought. Still . . .
“It doesn’t deserve to have the mark any more than any of us do.”
“Yes, but I don’t deserve to be stomped on,” Si-Si said.
Clustering around her, the otters bobbed their heads. One of the mishmash creatures, the half hedgehog, half lizard, had curled into a ball and was rocking back and forth.
“You don’t know it will choose destruction,” Mayka said.
“It has only one story,” Kisonan said. “That is all it can choose.”
Crash—that could have been a building. Crash—or a chunk of a wall. Crash! She heard more screams. He could be crushing people right now, she thought. I have to do something!
“Master Siorn created it to fight and destroy,” Kisonan said. “He intended to present it to the city leaders as a guard, to battle our enemies as the Great Defender of Skye. Without the obedience mark, that is all it is. That is all it knows how to do. That is its story: violence.”
Jacklo piped up from the basket. “So give it more stories!”
“Yes,” Mayka said, seizing on the idea. “I’ll give it a story that isn’t about destruction. Give it choices.”
Garit shook his head. “You won’t even be able to reach his marks—they’re on his neck, near his left shoulder. And even if you do, you won’t have time to carve much of anything before he swats you off.”
“The boy is right,” Kisonan said. “You’ll be caught and broken before you finish.”
“Then I’ll need a story that’s quick to carve but open to interpretation . . .”
It was so hard to think while the monster was careening through the city. Every rock that crashed down made her feel as brittle as a flesh-and-blood creature. She was more aware than she’d ever been of the fact that she could be broken, her friends could be shattered, and they could all be gone. Is this how flesh people feel all the time? How do they do it, face every day knowing they could break? She tried to take deep, even breaths, as if she needed them. The act of breathing like a flesh person calmed her a little. “Anyone have an idea?”
Mayka glanced at Garit. He was blushing so hard that his neck was red. “Um, well, when Master Siorn showed me the monster yesterday, there was a mark that I wanted to add, but he said no. It was simple—”
“What was it?”
He picked a stick off the ground and drew in the dirt. “That’s his name, and then I just wanted to put . . .” He added a few additional lines.
“‘Monster is awesome,’” she read.
Kisonan sighed. “You are such a child.”
Garit squirmed. “I know. It’s just . . . he’s so enormous and powerful, and I wanted . . . I don’t know what I was thinking. Never mind. Bad idea.” He kicked at the dust, blurring the mark.
“It might be enough,” Mayka said. She took the stick, knelt, and redrew the mark. She studied it. Yes, it could work. I could use this.
“Enough to do what?” Jacklo asked.
“Enough to make him more than what Master Siorn thinks he is,” Mayka said. “We make our stories our own. It all depends on how the monster chooses to use its tale.” Standing, she laid her hand on Garit’s shoulder. His flesh felt soft and warm through his shirt, very different from her.
Garit still looked embarrassed, but he nodded as he scuffed his feet on the ground, next to the redrawn mark. He didn’t disturb the lines.
“Only question left is how do I reach it? You said the marks are on its neck. The monster isn’t going to let me get close enough to climb it, at least not willingly.”
“He needs to be distracted,” Kisonan said.
One of the otters scurried forward. “We can bite at his feet! It won’t hurt him much, but it might help.” The other otters bobbed their heads up and down.
The creature with a deer’s head said, “I can poke him with my antlers.”
“I can squeeze him,” the octopus said.
“I can scratch,” the hedgehog-lizard said.
“I can peck his eyes,” Risa offered.
“We both can,” Jacklo piped up.
“But your wing!” Mayka said. “You haven’t even tried it yet. What if the strain of launching yourself is too much?”
“Throw me,” Jacklo said. “Once I’m airborne, it will be easy.”
“Absolutely not,” Risa said to Jacklo. “You stay here. I don’t want to have to worry about you.”
“It’s my choice, not yours,” Jacklo said. “I am the hero of my own story. And I say I help.” He met Mayka and Risa’s astonished gazes unwaveringly, first one then the other.
Mayka wondered how his new story had changed him. Or had he always had this strength, and they were so busy thinking of him as silly Jacklo that they hadn’t seen it?
“We’ll all help,” another of the mishmash creatures said, and the rest raised their voices in agreement.
The octopus unraveled his tentacles and rose up on four of them. “Let us help,” he said. “He’s making a mess of the city. I do not like mess.”
The griffin surveyed Mayka. “You will not be able to climb quickly enough with your puny human hands and feet,” he declared. “You will ride me, and I will take you up to the monster’s marks.”
“What about me?” Garit asked.
“Go to the flesh-and-blood people,” Mayka said. “Tell them we’re trying to stop the monster. Keep them from stopping us.”
“I don’t know if they’ll listen to me, but I’ll try.”
The crashing continued—the monster was still nearby. Mayka peeked out and saw his feet. He was headed toward the Inn District. There was no more time for plans or discussion.
“Now!” Mayka cried. The creatures charged out of the alleyway. Carrying Jacklo, Mayka climbed onto Kisonan and shouted, “Go!”
The griffin ran out of the alley, and Risa flew above them. Behind her, she heard Garit running too. She didn’t look back.
Only ahead.
The monster was tearing off roofs—looking for them. When the first of the stonemason’s creatures reached it, it halted and howled. Kisonan stuck to the shadows, and Mayka clung to his back. She had the hammer and chisel she’d taken from the stonemason’s house.
We have to stop it, she thought. I can do this, she told herself. She’d helped the stonemason’s other creatures—her stories had worked. This was the same. Just larger.
Closer, they ran past the guards, who yelled at them to stay back. The monster began to turn toward them. “Ready,” Jacklo said. He curled tightly into a ball.
Sitting up straight on Kisonan, she hurled Jacklo as high and as hard as she could. He soared toward the monster’s face, then unfurled talons first and slashed at his eyes.
The monster swatted at him, but Jacklo dodged.
Jacklo’s doing it! Mayka thought. He’s flying!
While the monster was distracted with Jacklo, Risa struck, diving for his eyes and pecking. He flailed, swinging at her, and it was Jacklo’s turn to strike again. The otters and lizards swarmed over his feet.
Kisonan sprang up. Higher and higher, from rooftop to rooftop. He ran and jumped over alleys and streets, racing toward the monster, along the roofline of the city.
“Now!” Mayka called.
Kisonan leapt onto the monster, landing on his torso.
The monster cried out.
But the birds both pecked at his eyes, the otters and lizards attacked his feet, the mishmash creatures pounded at his ankles, the octopus squeezed his knee, and the monster didn’t know where to strike. He flailed wildly, knocking his arms into spires and towers, as Kisonan leapt up from boulder to boulder toward the monster’s shoulder.
“He’s distracted,” the griffin said. “Carve quickly!”
Mayka slid off his back and clung to the monster.
She saw the mark in front of her, large and clear.
Kisonan scrambled across the rough-hewn boulders that made up his torso. Whacking at his own body, the monster tried to hit the griffin. The monster stumbled, crushing the side of a building.
Mayka clung to his shoulder, trying to stay on. How could she carve when she was in danger of falling? Hugging the stone, she inched forward, crawling toward the mark.
One thing at a time, she told herself.
Reach it, then carve it.
The monster bent to swipe at an enemy on the ground, and Mayka was flipped off the rock—only holding on by one hand. A scream ripped out of her. Risa and Jacklo called to her:
“Hang on, Mayka! You can do it!”
Struggling, she pulled herself back on.
The monster swiped at his shoulder, and she fell again, this time under his armpit. She pulled out her chisel and dug it into a crack between the boulders. She used it to pull herself up.
Before her was his story. As Kisonan had said, the monster had marks that said he’d been made to defend the city. “Defender of Skye,” the first marks read. “Strong, fierce, and merciless.” And following that was Master Siorn’s obedience mark.
Mayka brought the hammer and chisel up to the mark. She knew what she had to carve. She pictured it in her mind.
She didn’t have time for fancy swirls. Instead, she added simple lines that changed the mark into past tense so that it read “Monster used to obey Master Siorn.” And then she added “And then he was free.” And to that, she added the mark that Garit had drawn: “Free to be awesome.”
In the middle of swinging his massive arm at Kisonan, the monster hesitated.
“That’s right,” Mayka called to him. “You have a new story now. Your story! Once upon a time, a stonemason named Master Siorn wanted to achieve greatness. He believed if he carved the largest, most wondrous creature his city had ever seen, he’d be revered. But he was wrong, because the greatness didn’t belong to him. It’s yours. You’re free to be whatever you want to be! You were made to defend the city—you can still do that! You can stop this destruction and protect the city and save everyone, both flesh and stone, if you choose. You can be the hero of Skye, strong and fierce! It’s up to you to take control of your story and be awesome!”
He turned and began to stomp back through the city.
She saw Kisonan running beside them, on the rooftops. “Jump when I say to jump!” he called.
I can’t! I’ll fall! I’ll break!
“Trust me, as I trusted you!”
She readied herself.
“Now!” he cried. “Aim for the purple!”
She jumped off the monster toward a purple awning—and landed, cradled by the tough fabric. Kisonan leapt down to her, and she scrambled onto his back. She held on as he ran to the next building and up to the peak of its roof, where they could see.
Together, they watched the monster lumber toward the Festival Square. Buildings shook in its wake. Roof tiles tumbled to the street and shattered.
“Did you succeed?” Kisonan asked.
“I think so.”
“What will he do?”
“I don’t know.” She hoped she’d made the right choice. She’d done her best with the story, but now it was up to the monster. Below, she saw a great swarm of flesh-and-blood people had gathered, both guards and ordinary men, women, and children. They were shouting and pointing, both at the stonemason’s creatures and at the monster. Garit was with them.
Standing for a better view, Mayka watched as the monster tromped toward the Stone Quarter. Master Siorn was a tiny figure on top of the building.
The monster approached him.
Stopped.
Picked Master Siorn up in his rock hands.
And then walked out of the city.
As the monster passed, Mayka heard the stonemason screaming, “Stop! Put me down! Obey me!” The people of Skye heard him too, and they watched as the monster did not obey.