Darkmouth (18 page)

“S
top doing that!” screamed Broonie, before collapsing to the floor.

Fifty-three seemingly endless seconds later, Broonie's intolerable tsunami of pain had receded into an almost bearable buzz of pins and needles through his small gnarled body. Some energy had seeped back into him, from the knotted knuckles of his toes to the drooping ends of his ears, and he had returned to a healthier, greener pallor.

Nevertheless, he steeled himself for disaster at any moment. This trip to the Promised World had not exactly gone well so far. Any journey that begins with having your finger cut off is never bound to be much of a vacation. But the way these humans kept destroying and remaking his body over and over made even the Fomorians look softer than the mud that pooled outside his hovel back home.

He really missed his hovel right now.

When he looked up again, the boy was pointing a weapon at him nervously.

“That was
brilliant
!” squealed the girl. “Let's shrink him and do it again.”

“No, please,” Broonie begged. “It feels like someone's pulled my brain out through my backside and then stuffed it in again.”

Then Broonie's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Where are the others? The adults?”

“Where does it hurt exactly?” asked the boy. “I've read a bit about animals, you know, medical stuff. I might be able to help.”

“Animals!” Broonie said, horribly insulted. “I am not an animal. You're the animals. If you think I look strange, you should know you don't look too good yourselves, with your tiny ears, square teeth, strange-colored skin, and those pathetic little nostrils. You'd never find a mate with a nose that small.”

“He's so cute,” said the girl. “I wonder if he's met any Gorgons.”

“Excuse me?” said Broonie.

“Or a Cyclops. Or any giants really. I'd love to meet one of those.”

“I'm sure one could find space in its stomach if you really want to meet one that badly,” said Broonie.

“Sorry about the whole shriveling-you-and-blowing-you-up-again thing,” said the boy, with a politeness that surprised Broonie. He'd been expecting to be hanging by his guts from a hook by now. That's the kind of thing he'd been told humans did. Apologizing wasn't supposed to be in their character.

The boy continued talking. “My name is Finn. I live here. Her name is Emmie and you're better off ignoring her. Do you have a name?”

“
Do I have a name?
Honestly. What do you take me for?” The young humans kept staring at him until he gave in. “Brooniathon Elgin Astrophor Fleriphus.” He registered their blank faces. “Broonie.”

“I don't want to hurt you, Broonie,” said Finn. “I just need to know what you meant, when you spoke to me.”

“What I . . . what I meant?”

“You said something to me. The other day. Just before . . .”

The other
day
? How long had it been since they had last conducted their magic on him? Evidently even longer than it had felt. Still, Broonie had to think back to that moment, to recall just what it was he had uttered. Then
it all came back to him.

“I'm not sure,” he lied. “Maybe it was important. Maybe it wasn't. I'm finding it hard to remember.”

“Oh, he's adorable,” squealed Emmie. “A real Legend! You should keep him as a pet, Finn.”

Broonie's eyes widened in disgust.

“But you said something to me,” Finn pleaded. “I heard you.”

“Did I? I don't know. It's hard to think clearly in this cage. So claustrophobic.” He crouched, hands over his head. “Maybe I could breathe a little better if you let me out of here.”

“No,” said the boy.

“Then send me back into that half death. If you cannot let me out, then I am of no use to you.”

Finn hesitated, then moved forward, pulling a key from his pocket. “If you promise you won't do anything dangerous, then I will let you out. But
only
if you tell me what I need to know.”

Broonie peeked out from behind his remaining fingers. He pitied these ugly humans with their ridiculous hairless ears.

“I promise,” he said.

F
inn opened the cage. The Legend that called itself Broonie stepped out and stood to its full height, which was still well short of Finn's.

“So?” enquired Finn.

“I'm thirsty,” said the Hogboon.

There was a bottle of water on the desk and Finn motioned for Emmie to grab it. She handed it to Broonie.

He guzzled so that it ran down his cheeks and chin. “Extraordinary. I've never tasted anything like it,” he gasped. “How did you get the taste of carcasses out of this water?”

“So?” Finn repeated, ignoring Broonie's question.

“So?”

“What did you mean earlier?”

“Oh yes, I'm having difficulty recalling it,” said Broonie. “That shrinking device must have scrambled me a bit.”

Emmie jerked forward. “You promised him! He let you out and you said you'd talk.”

“But he hasn't let me out, has he?” said Broonie, looking toward the door, a gleam in his eye.

Finn's face fell in defeat.

“Okay,” he said, after a pause.

Emmie looked surprised. “If you want my advice, Finn . . .”

“I don't.” Finn put his Desiccator down and stood over Broonie. “I need you to tell me what you know. If you do that, I'll help you leave. I'll help you escape.”

Broonie licked the edge of his hand, savoring the last clinging drops of his water. “Then I will tell you what I know, which is that he is coming. It may already be too late.”

“Who's coming?” asked Finn.

“Gantrua.” He registered Finn's blank look. “Gantrua? Big, violent type? Scars on top of scars? Rules over many Legends? Collects teeth? Owes me a finger?” Broonie held up his mutilated hand. “You haven't heard of Gantrua? Well, him. And his army. To be honest, I don't think I've got across just how terrible Gantrua is. He once used his bare hands to pull the head from—”

“Don't,” interrupted Finn.

“Pulled the head off what?” asked Emmie.

Finn lifted a hand for silence. “Just tell me, what does that have to do with me?”

“I was getting to that,” said Broonie. “There's a prophecy, a warning. I was sent here to give it to you.”

“A prophecy about me?” asked Finn, his mind clogged as he tried to process the information.

“A child of the last Legend Hunter. They say he will be key to the closing of worlds.”

“What does the prophecy say exactly?”

Broonie drew a breath in through his nose, his nostrils flaring like tiny green parachutes catching the wind. Then he recited what he knew.
“The Legends are rising, the boy shall fall.”

“What?” asked Emmie. “Like, he'll fall over? That doesn't sound—”

“No,” said Broonie testily. “The boy shall
fall
. Die.”

T
he word sat there between them for a few moments, foreboding and horrible.

Die.

“That's probably just a threat,” Emmie insisted.

“No,” said Broonie. “The prophecy is quite clear really.
The boy shall fall
.”

“I . . . ,” started Finn, but he didn't really know what to say.

“But maybe it's not even about Finn,” Emmie said. “It's a bit vague.”

“No, it's quite detailed actually,” said Broonie. “There's more, you see:

“Out of the dark mouth shall come the last child of the last Legend Hunter.

He shall end the war and open up the Promised Land.

His death on the Infested Side will be greater than any other
.”

“Oh,” said Emmie.

“It's quite specific in fact,” added Broonie.

Finn was breaking it down in his head, trying to put it back together in a way that might reassure him it was about something else or nothing at all. “I'm not even Complete yet,” he said. “How do I know I'm even the last? It could mean someone else entirely.”

He looked at Emmie, who realized she was supposed to be reassuring him. “Yeah, Finn. Could be anyone.”

“Except,” said Finn, “you said the Twelve sent you here to watch me, Emmie. Do you think they know something? I'm pretty sure my dad does.”

“Could be,” said Emmie.

There was a long pause.

“You going to be okay about it?” asked Emmie.

“About which bit? The whole finding-out-I'm-going-to-die thing? Or the Legends-rising-up part?”

Emmie dropped her head. “Oh.”

Finn looked at the Hogboon standing beside him and recalled something. A little giddiness skipped through him. “It can't happen yet, though, can it?”

“What can't happen?” replied Broonie.

“You said my death will be the greatest, but ‘on the Infested Side.' Unless I travel there, I'm not going to die.”

“Well, if that makes you feel better, then why not?”

“As long as I'm here,” said Finn, “I'm safe.”

“Maybe you'll be fine,” said Broonie. “I mean, to start with you have to end the war, that's the first part of the prophecy. And how hard can it be to close off the gateways between two worlds and end thousands of years of war between humans and our kind?”

The Hogboon coughed up a forced laugh. Finn and Emmie stared at him.

“Ahem,” said Broonie. “Anyway, I've told you what I know. Now it's your turn to hold up your end of the bargain.”

“What a load of rubbish,” said Emmie. “Give me the Desiccator. I'll shoot him.”

“No!” shouted Broonie. “You're not blasting me with that thing again. I gave you what you needed, now give me what I was promised.”

Finn grabbed Broonie by the arm and dragged him toward the back of the room.

“If you work that evil shrinking trick on me again,” said Broonie, “I swear by my mother's feet I'll haunt you until the day your skin turns to soil.”

Finn pulled Broonie through the dusty space, onto the street, and released him.

“Run,” said Finn.

Broonie looked around. “Run where?”

“Anywhere,” said Finn. “Just don't come back.”

But before the Hogboon could move, orange flashed against the night sky, a splash of fire from somewhere deep in Darkmouth. It was quickly followed by the crack of an explosion.

“What was that?” asked Emmie.

Finn's eyes told him one thing, but his heart confirmed it. He knew immediately the blast could only have come from one building.

B
roonie ran from the house, dashing as fast as he could up the street and away. But Finn and Emmie didn't move, didn't speak, didn't flinch, even as a flash of lightning threw their silhouettes against the wall and thunder cracked hard against the sky. For a few moments, they felt their world burn in that fire, saw their worst fears engulfed in the smoke now pouring upward into the black sky. When they finally spoke, they said the same word, at the same time.

“Dad.”

Then, from the library, they heard a radio crackle into life and Finn's father coughing out an inaudible message.

Finn ran back inside to the radio, picked up the receiver, and shouted, “Dad? You're alive!”

“Just about. Booby trap. Shop destroyed.” He coughed again through waves of static. The radio cut out briefly.
“. . . only just made it out in time. Bad news about Steve, though.”

Emmie looked at the radio, her dread clear.

“He's alive too,” said Hugo, followed by an audible and angry protest from Steve. Emmie slumped in relief.

A crackle of interference bit through the radio static. A second later, a peal of thunder rumbled across Darkmouth. Rain began to hammer down.

“Finn!” shouted Hugo. “That sky. Get your suit on. Something big is . . .”

The rest was lost in white noise.

The alarm began to wail.

Lightning tore through the sky, shocking a realization into Finn. “When my dad finds out about all of this, about me letting a Hogboon go, it won't matter whether I'm on this side or the Infested Side. He's going to kill me first.”

 

From
A Concise Guide to the
Legend Hunter World, vol. 6,
chapter 13:
“Prophecies—Past,
Present and Future”