Trixter Page 7

  “But Papa Gatto—”

  “I have taken Papa Gatto’s advice under consideration. But if the garden path is good enough for the deer, it is good enough for us. We’ll be fine.”

  Lizinia was not so easily convinced. She folded her arms over her chest. “Ask the tooth.”

  Trix rolled his eyes, but complied. He did not trust Papa Gatto as far as he could throw him (not that one could throw a ghost cat anywhere, no matter how hard one might wish it), but Wisdom’s tooth had heretofore provided solid guidance. He pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt and held the tooth up before him.

  “Dear Tooth”—he and Lizinia had decided that this was the best way to address such an important object—“do you think we should go down into the ravine?” Trix pivoted and pointed the tooth in the direction of the dense, green path. “Or should we go this way?”

  The tooth did nothing.

  “Try again,” said Lizinia. “Maybe you’re asking the wrong question.”

  “Or maybe it has no opinion,” said Trix, but he tried again, for trying’s sake. “We need to get to Rose Abbey, dear Tooth, and we’d like to get there soonish, so if you could please…look!” As Trix pointed toward the flower-lined path, the tooth glowed, ever so slightly. It was enough for Trix. “Well, that’s decided. Let’s go!”

  Lizinia harrumphed but followed. Trix walked a little taller. Take that, cat.

  The grass grew thick beneath Trix’s bare feet as they traveled deeper into the lush greenery before them, so thick that the squirrel and chipmunk that accompanied them were nothing but eddies in the sea around them. The flowers, too, seemed to grow larger and more colorful the farther they went. Lizinia flitted excitedly from one to the next like a giant golden hummingbird. An amiable cloud of bees directed them to a honeysuckle vine from which they slaked their thirst on golden nectar. The dense canopy above shaded them from the blistering sun, and they danced and tumbled and laughed in a way that made the journey feel as if it took no time at all. Infinitely more pleasurable than a hike down a dusty ravine, for sure.

  A brook ran through the colorful wilds, babbling and splashing with minnows as they made their journey. The sound was a delightful accompaniment to the sweet smells of the flowers, so powerful at times it was almost overwhelming. The squirrel and the chipmunk challenged their human companions to a game of chase. Trix and Lizinia accepted, tearing through the underbrush with gleeful abandon and howls of laughter.

  It was for this reason that they did not immediately notice the rumble of the ground or the hum until it grew so loudly in their heads that they held their hands over their ears trying to stop the noise.

  “WHAT IS THAT?” Lizinia yelled; Trix only knew because he read her lips. He shrugged, which seemed a silly gesture while both arms were raised. His heart pounded in his ears along with the buzzing—the feel of the earth moving beneath his feet sped his mind back to that earth-shattering, bone-breaking flood. It had been a miracle—several miracles—that he had survived it. He doubted Fate would be willing to roll the dice in his favor again.

  Just as before, clouds covered the bright sun peeking through the colorful leaves and darkness filled the skies. But unlike before, there was no water falling from above or spouting up from below. The drone only grew louder.

  And louder.

  And louder.

  She burst through the foliage and was upon him, her sleek black body toppling Trix with her tremendous weight and the speed of her attack. A multitude of thin, black, furred legs pawed at him, the claws at their ends catching on his clothes and drawing him close. The deafening hum came from her layers of rust-colored wings, and the wings of those in the army behind her. As she arched her strong body above him, all he could think was, Not the stomach. Please, not the stomach. Which was, of course, exactly where she struck.

  There was no more buzzing in his head, though.

  It had been drowned out by the sound of his own screams.

  7

  The Wasp Queen

  Trix needed a new word for pain.

  Pain had been the pointed swords of the poison army in his stomach after consuming the bad stew that had enabled him to flee. Pain had been the cracking of his bones when the earth broke beneath him and chaos had reigned. Pain had been his heart breaking from the guilt of betraying a family who loved him.

  The Wasp Queen’s sting was something beyond pain. It was wildfire, exploding through his body and rendering every muscle inept, every mental command useless. He caught a glimpse of himself in the V of ebony eyes looming above him: his neck muscles tense, the screams tearing his mouth open so wide that he could see his back teeth.

  There was a golden flash, and the crushing weight of the black monster left his chest. Small bundles of fur nudged at the side of his spasming body, first two, then more, pushing him through the thick grass and half-rolling him down a slight incline. He tasted the rich soil that found its way into his screaming mouth. A stone cut his cheek. His arms bent awkwardly beneath him. Trix felt nothing but the fire.

  Suddenly he was in water—the stream they had been following?—too shallow for diving, but deep enough to drown. Something hard—a turtle?—held his head above the water so that Trix could continue breathing. And screaming. Minnows—tadpoles? Undines?—removed the tattered remnants of his shirt, swarmed his wound, sucked out the poison, washed it clean.

  Somewhere, deep down, Trix wished to thank his wild friends for their assistance. The rest of him kept screaming, in tones of every register, until he had no more voice left to scream.

  “You will not have him!”Lizinia’s cry sounded muffled, or far away, or both.

  “I do not know what armor you wear, human,” buzzed the Wasp Queen, “but my warriors will crack you like a nut and suck out your insides all the same.”

  Lizinia would not have understood the Wasp Queen’s rebuttal, but the intent to harm was certainly implied. If only he could get control of himself enough to help his new friend…if anything should happen to her, on top of everything else he had done to hurt people he loved recently, the guilt might very well kill him.

  The small bit of bright gold Trix had glimpsed through the leaves was consumed in black in less than a moment. Trix’s back arched and he cried out in hoarse frustration.

  He needed to stand. He needed to find a weapon with which to beat those giant insects off Lizinia. He needed whatever idiot was screaming to stop so that he could think. Except that he was the idiot.

  “Annoying, isn’t it? The being helpless part?”

  Trix turned his head enough to see Tesera perched on a rock in the stream above him. Her long hair fell in cinnamon waves down to where her blue-green dress of water lilies pooled in the stream about her. Dragonflies lit in a row like a tiara on her brow. A small, colorful tree frog perched upon the large ring on her finger.

  It was just as well that his body could not summon the words to answer her. He did not know whether to address the vision of his birthmother with kindness, curiosity, or anger. Constant, head-splintering squeals seemed as good a response as any.

  “Relax, my boy—for all that you are hardly a boy anymore. Let the waters work their magic.”

  Trix tried to do as the vision bade, managing only to close his eyes. Soon after, he managed to clamp his jaw shut, reveling in the silent skull now free from his screams. He heard commotion in the brush up the hill. Trix hoped it was Lizinia, managing to hold her own.

  “She’s a scrapper, your golden girl,” Tesera confirmed. “I like her. Granted, you probably should have heeded her godfather’s advice.”

  Trix was afraid to open his mouth again, for fear that the shrieking would resume.

  “I never listened to anyone either. You’re much like me in that way.” She smiled beatifically. “Oh, there is so much you should know.”

  Trix did not want to know. He did not want to hear that he was like his birthmother in any way. She had abandoned him, willfully forfeiting
any part in his life. Trix never wanted to abandon anyone, be they animal or human or anything else. His one true desire was to be helpful to those he loved, despite the sometimes disastrous outcomes of his actions. Indeed, this whole journey was at his birthmother’s request, to help her. Why must she plague him so? If he wanted to be pestered, he could get that from his sisters. Right now, he just wanted the use of his arms and legs so that he could help Lizinia.

  “You should be able to walk now. But go quickly. There is still yet so far to go.”

  Trix flipped over in the shallow stream, braced his hands and knees upon the silty bottom, and slowly rose to standing. For a moment, he spotted a strange reflection beneath him. Was that his face?

  With a flick of her ghosty hand, Tesera tossed the frog into the water, distorting the image. “I said ‘quickly.’ Get on with you!”

  The moment Tesera disappeared, something washed over Trix—inside Trix—that took all the pain away. He nodded a thanks to the Water Gods before speeding up the hill. Neither the squirrel nor the chipmunk were fast enough to halt his progress, but a sparrow managed to fly into his face before he reached the clearing where Lizinia fought her attackers. Peeking through the thick leaves, Trix assessed the situation.

  The swarm of wasps was thick. There were dozens—maybe a hundred—of them, blotting out the sun and casting the small clearing in shade. Each were larger than any wasp he’d ever encountered, but none were as big as their queen. Lizinia swatted at her attackers with a broken tree branch. Try as they might, the wasps’ stingers slid off her skin as they would have any suit of armor.

  Trix closed his eyes and summoned good thoughts about cats. Thank you, Papa Gatto!

  His own meager weapon would no doubt be futile against an army this massive, so he decided to save the lingworm’s dagger for a more opportune moment. If he was calculating enough, he might be able to get a drop on the queen. If he could find a way to control her, it was possible he could control her minions as well.

  As if reading his mind, the chipmunk and squirrel scurried up the tree beside him. With a nod, Trix followed them. Thanks, friends.

  In a moment, he was high above the fray—still beneath the cloud cover of wasps, but over Lizinia’s head and the wasp queen’s as she shouted orders. “Steel! Thisbe! There are far more of us than there are of her. Why can no one stop her?”

  “She’s slippery,” a female warrior said.

  “That’s not skin,” buzzed another female. “Our stingers cannot penetrate.”

  “Then stop trying to kill her,” yelled the queen. “Just stop her!”

  Five wasp-warriors flew at Lizinia the moment the queen made her command, toppling the golden girl and overpowering her.

  “NO!” Lizinia cried.

  The Wasp Queen let out a wicked laugh.

  Trix leapt.

  Holding onto the giant Wasp Queen was a bit like riding a wild boar for the first time. She bucked and thrashed beneath him and his hands scrabbled to find purchase anywhere on her ebony carapace. He grasped her antennae and mandibles alternately, maneuvering around enough to wrap his legs around her scrawny neck and lock them there. He drew his golden dagger and pressed it into the base of her head.

  “Order them to let her go!” he commanded in a ruined voice that sounded little like his own.

  Trix gave the queen a moment to recognize the realness of his threat. Her body quieted beneath him, bowing under his weight until her forehead almost touched the ground. Trix could make out Lizinia’s golden hand beneath the press of the wasps. It lay there still, unmoving.

  “Let her go,” the queen said reluctantly.

  “But your majesty,” said one wasp. Her blue-black shell seemed to absorb all the light around it.

  A second wasp clouted the first with a long claw. “You heard Queen Sphex. Step off, Thisbe.”

  The wasps did as asked, moving away from Lizinia’s body…but not far.

  “Lizinia!” Trix called, but she did not move. “Lizinia!”

  “Tsk, tsk.” Queen Sphex clicked her mandibles reproachfully. “What now, youngling? Do you risk my release to see to the health of your maiden fair? Choose quickly.”

  “Why does everyone keep telling me to hurry up?” Trix bellowed. “Can’t I just take a moment to think? Please?”

  “But of course, human-child,” Queen Sphex crooned. “Take all the time that you need. I only urge you to make your decision in the next few moments, before the numbness of my sting sets in.”

  Trix’s left foot had already turned from pins and needles to stone. He lost his hold on the Wasp Queen’s neck and tumbled to the ground beneath her. He managed to keep the golden dagger in his grasp, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he would have the use of his arm.

  She bent over him as she had when she’d attacked him, and once again he saw his distorted face multiplied in her myriad eyes. “Unlike my ruthless warriors, I do not sting to kill,” said the queen. “I sting to preserve. You will stay alive, a nice warm shell to protect the eggs I lay inside you. Together, we will breed a new army. A strong army.” She stepped over his body and loomed above Lizinia. “And when we figure out how to crack the shell of your golden friend—and I assure you, we will—she will be the birthplace of our new queen.” With that, the Wasp Queen threw her head back and laughed mightily.

  It was Trix’s last chance. He had to fling his dagger straight at the Wasp Queen’s head, and his aim had to be true. But which eye would be the most vulnerable? He decided to aim for the larger one on the Wasp Queen’s right side, hoping that if his arm was significantly hampered by the paralytic sting that he’d still hit something vital enough to stop her…and, with luck, her army as well. Trix clenched his stomach muscles in preparation, summoning all of his strength into his throwing arm and…nothing happened.

  Worried that he had lost that limb—and subsequently his fruitful young life—to the Wasp Queen, Trix glanced up at the hand that held the dagger. It was fixed to the ground, completely covered in spider webs. There was no escape—his arm may as well have been encased in glue. But the lingworm had said the golden dagger would cut through anything, so Trix wriggled the blade about inside the trap just the same.

  “Sorry it took us so long to get here,” a small voice said in his ear. “But we have arrived. Don’t move. We’ve got this.” The spider’s legs were but a tickle on his skin as she crawled down the side of his jaw and neck to stand bravely on Trix’s bare chest. There was a shell-like structure on her back that looked as if it had been covered in bird droppings. “AY! SHE-WITCH!” she cried. “LET OUR FRIENDS GO!”

  Trix was taken aback at the powerful voice that emanated from a body no bigger than Wisdom’s Tooth.

  The Wasp Queen stopped mid-cackle to search for the source of the barked order. When she found it she chuckled again, this time in low, evil tones. The buzzing hum of her army started again, vibrating Trix to his core. Their wings stirred up a whirlwind, tossing the leaves and grass about in a malicious tumult. “Brave words, little one,” Queen Sphex said with great condescension, “but I believe I will be keeping my prey this evening, if you don’t mind.”

  “It’s not my mind you need to worry about,” the little spider said curtly.

  For a moment—the smallest, briefest moment—the Wasp Queen looked…worried? Surprised? Not frightened, certainly…

  There was a rustle in the brush. A shadowy figure emerged from the leaves, a furry lump only half as tall as Queen Sphex, but easily twice as wide, and several times again after that had all eight of its legs not been bent quite close to its body. The enormous spider bowed to the Wasp Queen.

  The Wasp Queen did not bow. If anything, she stood taller, head held high, layers of wings beating madly.

  “With respect,” said the spider. His voice was as deep as the sea and old as the mountains.

  The Wasp Queen said nothing, only hummed, louder and louder. In an instant the spider had enveloped the Wasp Q
ueen, jumping on her much in the same way she had jumped on Trix.

  Trix tilted his head down to the small spider perched patiently on his chest. “I did not see that coming.”

  The spider shrugged in the wholly satisfying way that only a creature with eight legs can shrug. “I warned her. Now, have you cut yourself free yet? We should see to your friend.”

  Queen Sphex wrestled out from the Great Spider’s clutches and reared her stinger high, but just as she thought she’d won, the spider flipped her over and trapped her inside the prison of his long legs once more. Trix had just about hacked through the sticky web trap with his blade, but his mind was on other things. Great Spider or not, they were still outnumbered, and by a lot. “What about the rest of her army?”

  “My family will see to them,” the spider said nonchalantly, as if a warring faction of enormous wasps visited themselves upon them every other day. Trix tilted his head back to see the forest around them shifting…moving…a dark layer beneath the leaves and the grass, separate from the ground. Spindly-legged creatures great and small and of varying colors silently spilled over the earth and up the trees like oil spreading across water. In no time at all, Queen Sphex’s army was surrounded. Strands of sticky web shot out from the surrounding trees. Spiders with gossamer nets like Needa’s dropped from the sky in legion. Tiny red spiders slid up the wasp-warriors’ legs, and larger furred spiders—though not quite so large as the Great Spider—made quick work of binding the wasps who were not fast enough.

  Trix freed his hand and sat up, slapping the life back into his legs. The spider that had situated herself on his chest moved to his shoulder, attacking any wasp that came near them with a pasty globule of flying webmatter. Trix managed to sit up, but his lower limbs still wouldn’t respond. Tucking the lingworm’s dagger back into his belt, he used his upper body to drag himself across the clearing to where Lizinia lay. He’d thought the task would be harder than it was—had the Queen’s poison somehow made him stronger?—thankfully, he was at her side in almost no time at all.