Dragon Removal Service Read online

  "Oh come on, they're not supposed to live in caves," Hubward chided. "Once we knock down the fairy nest, they'll go back to the magic oak where they started. I didn't know you were a fan of fairies, Gulch. I didn't know you were a fae-weather fan."

  Hubward held the fairy above him. He twisted the fairy, wringing it out like a wet towel. A single drop of sparkling liquid fell off the fairy and into his mouth.

  His eyes crossed, and Hubward started to huff and puff.

  "What was that? What did you just do?" Gulchima asked him. She punched him on the arm.

  The fairy he'd just twisted had bounced against the wall and was buzzing in slow circles. It was dazed. But it was alive.

  "Fairy Juice," Hubward grunted. "Fairy Juice—Juice—Juiiiiiiiiice."

  Gulchima wanted to ask what "fairy juice" did, but there wasn't time.

  Hubward yanked Gulchima's hair, then pinched her ear and yelled:

  "Fairy Juice makes you fly!"

  ✽✽✽

  "Ow! What was that for?" Gulchima yelled.

  "Because you're such a big, mumbly, cumberpatch!" Hubward shook his head as if clearing it. "Sorry, Fairy Juice makes you mean, too."

  "Then why did you just drink it?"

  Hubward leapt up, and started levitating a few feet above the ground. "Because it also makes you fly." He took off his boot and threw it at Gulchima. "Sorry. I have to do it this way Gulch. I can't help it." His voice rose in pitch.

  "Why?"

  "Because if you want to fly like a fairy, you have to think of the meanest thing you've ever done to someone, the meanest thing you did for no reason."

  "But . . . that's magic."

  Hubward snorted. "It's not magic if you know how it works—you stinkpot. Sorry. Now take some. We'll get rid of the fairy land together and we'll be best friends. Best friends forever!"

  He grabbed her wriggling fairy and shoved it under her nose.

  Gulchima slapped it away. "Don't call me stinkpot! And I'm not going to use stupid magic. And I'm not going to squeeze a thing that looks like a baby with fangs."

  "I'm sorry, did you want to destroy the fairy nest or not?" Hubward yelled. He flipped erratically in the air, crashing against a stitched gas bag. "Why are you being so difficult? Why are stupid girls so difficult? Why don't you drink Fairy Juice and fly and destroy the fairy nest and be my friend. Why won't you notice my cool front-flip haircut? I'm an orphan . . ." Hubward sank to the ground. His face was wet with tears. "I have a cool haircut and I help interesting strangers."

  Hubward started weeping. He was embarrassed to cry in front of his new best friend.

  "I don't hate your haircut," Gulchima said. She put her arm awkwardly around Hubward and patted him exactly twice. "But, did you say nest? I thought it was a fairy land?"

  "Same thing," Hubward muttered.

  He thought she knew about swamp fairies. How could she not know that?

  ✽✽✽

  Now that her eyes had adjusted to the low light, Gulchima saw the nest for what it was: Nothing more than a stinking pile of fairy droppings. It was a huge midden of random junk: bones, bracelets, candy wrappers, and two more sets of wooden false teeth, all encased in a steaming pile of poo.

  "Just a nest," Gulchima said. "So all the stories where people are transported to a fairy land are fake. They're going to that pile of poo?"

  Hubward nodded, wiping the tears from his face. "They're sticking their head in there. Fairy poo causes hallucinations. The other stuff covered with the poo are things they steal. The fairies are like pack rats."

  "What's it like?" Gulchima asked.

  "Did you ever eat so much candy that you threw up?"

  Gulchima shook her head. "I don't like candy that much."

  "Me neither," Hubward said brightly. "We have so much in common Gulch. We should be best friends. Can you put your arm around me again?"

  Gulchima smiled faintly. "Maybe later. But what really happens, Hub. I mean . . . how would you know you were stuck in a fairy land? Say you disappeared for . . . a few years. Could it have been fairies that did it? And maybe you'd never know?"

  "Oh, no chance!" Hubward slapped his knee. "The first thing fairies do is chop off your ears. They make fountains out of them."

  "Actually I can see how that would look nice," Gulchima said quickly. "But most people say fairies are helpful."

  Hubward shrugged. "Most people are dumb."

  Gulchima laughed. That was a mean thing to say. Maybe her and Hubward could become friends after all.

  But with that insult, Hubward started to huff and puff again.

  "Uh oh," he said. "I never should have said that."

  Hubward double over in pain. He pointed up at the ceiling of the cavern and started to cough, and then, to laugh.

  A pack of fairies swarmed around the fairy nest on the cavern ceiling. Gulchima could hear them whispering.

  "They're planning something," Gulchima said. "We'd better get out of here."

  When Hubward didn't respond, she turned to look at him.

  Hubward's eyes had turned a horrible glowing orange. His face was pale, and she watched as he hesitantly put a finger to his mouth.

  Gulchima saw fangs. Hubward was turning into a fairy!

  She jumped away from him.

  "I told you to give me a hug," Hubward said in a strained voice.

  Hubward rocketed into the air. "I told you Gulch. I just wanted to be your frienddddddd . . . ."

  Hubward disappeared, flying up into the depths of the cavern.

  And then, just to make sure Gulchima knew that things had turned worser, the pack of fairies attacked.

  Giggling and screaming, they dove at her, pelting Gulchima with eggs and hot oil and rocks.

  But the real problem wasn't the fairies, or even Hubward.

  The real problem was that suddenly, the cavern had gone dark.

  "It was weird. Five years of adventure and nobody took a potty break."

  -The Collected Lies of Gulchima Brixby

  (50/100: A Biological Impossibility)

  Chapter 20: Gulchima Learns Levitation

  The fairies knocked out the lanterns, either by crashing into them, or smashing them with rocks.

  Gulchima stumbled forward, but somehow was lifted off the ground, and spun around, just as hot oil spattered across her path. The fairies hadn't thought this attack out, and some of the cooking oil ignited when it splashed against one of the sputtering lamps. Fire! At least Gulchima could see by firelight.

  "Hubward!" she yelled. But Hubward was nowhere to be found.

  She could leave him. The flames from the cooking oil raged, but Gulchima could see the exit door. She could see the escape route.

  No. Gulchima wouldn’t do it. She wouldn't leave him. Hubward was a friend. Well, not a friend—but Hubward was an employee. Well, not an employee, because she wasn't paying him. But, anyway, whatever he was, she wouldn't leave him.

  Gulchima grabbed a deflated leather bag, coated it with glue from the bucket, and tossed that into the fire. The material caught instantly, in a whoosh of flame. Now, Gulchima could see much better. At the top of the cavern, a large figure floated near the fairy nest. It was Hubward.

  Was he trying to disable the nest? Trying to use the lavender bombs and bring it down?

  No. Hubward seemed to be talking to the fairies in a giggling whisper. One of the fairies zoomed by his left ear, as if inspecting it. Then, they shook hands.

  He's going into fairy land!

  The fairies dove at Gulchima again, swiping at her head with a pair of cutting shears. Somehow, she felt her arm moving up, felt the bucket of glue clanking into the attacking fairies. That was another stroke of luck.

  How odd. It was almost as if her shadow had come to life and guided her hand. Could you have a guardian shadow, instead of a guardian angel? Or was she hallucinating from all the fairy poo flying around?

  One of the nearby balloons, stretched tight by gas lighter than air, floated toward
her. It had come unattached during the fairy attack. Just as Gulchima reached for it, the last strap broke, then somehow wrapped itself around her wrist. Gulchima was pulled upward.

  The fairies zoomed around her, and Gulchima figured that in her helpless state, hanging from a balloon in mid-air, she was doomed. But she wasn't.

  It seemed as if the fairies were fighting something. Some invisible force—or rather—seven invisible forces. The fairies dove and pelted at shadows, but sometimes they were slapped with torches, or hit with glue, or tossed into the bubbling vents. Had the Fizz-Meister come to her rescue? What was going on?

  Gulchima's balloon floated her to the top of the cavern. Her wrist had started to hurt, but she was only a few feet away from the fairy nest. Hubward was sighing contentedly. He'd shoved his entire head into the fairy nest, and was up to his neck in poo.

  "Yes, more bacon please, thank you minister," Hubward muttered. "Mmm, yes it does go well with the other bacon. An excellent suggestion, if I do say so myself."

  "Hubward, get your head out of that pile of fairy poo!" Gulchima ordered.

  She tugged at him. But with only one free hand, she couldn't budge him.

  "Leave me alone," Hubward pouted. His voice was muffled. "I want to live in fairy land. I can be great there! I can be a king!"

  Two fairies were pulling at Gulchima's legs, a third tried to bite through her rabbit-skin leggings. The balloon bobbed away from the nest, but Gulchima spun around, then grabbed Hubward's foot.

  "Hubward, that's not real. It's just imaginary," Gulchima pleaded. "Would you rather be good in the real world, or great in poo land? Choose real life!"

  "I hate real life!" Hubward said. "Real life is hard. I’m tired of doing everything." He kicked at her.

  The balloon was shoved violently away.

  Gulchima had one last chance. She freed her hand, swung forward on the wrist strap, and then flew into the air. She thudded on top of the fairy nest, but her knees began to sink into the poo.

  Gulchima knew she had only seconds to convince Hubward, before the fairy poo absorbed her too.

  "Hubward please! You have so much to live for! I know you're an orphan and people don't like you very much, and you smell weird. But . . . I understand."

  "No you don't," Hubward said. "Your parents are alive."

  "They're in prison Hubward. My parents are in prison and I don't even know why!"

  She had a sudden urge to confess everything. To tell the truth, for once, about what had happened those five years she was missing. To explain to Hubward why she was really afraid of the dark.

  "I didn't just disappear for five years," Gulchima said. "And it wasn't any of those stupid adventure stories I tell people." Her knees sunk deeper into the fairy nest.

  "So you've been lying this whole time? You told me it was mermaids on horses that stole you away! I thought we were friends!"

  "Hubward, I was lying. But I . . . I don't have any friends either! I don't know how to have friends. I'm not good at it."

  Hubward pulled his head out of the fairy poo nest. "You don't?" he asked.

  "No! Everybody thinks I know what I'm doing, that I have it all together. But if I'm so great and so smart, then why don't I have any friends?" Now Gulchima had started to tear up. "My family hates me. I ruined the company. Now you're going to get your ears cut off, and I'll be alone in the dark. Again."

  "You're not alone," Hubward said quietly. "You've got me."

  "Great, I've got an orphan with fairy poo in his ears."

  Hubward's eyes dimmed to a dull brown. His fangs receded. "Yuck," he said.

  He reached into his pocket and pulled out several lavender bombs. Then he took out a spark-box and lit them.

  "Sure I'll be your friend, but only because you need the practice," Hubward said. "The war messed up a lot of things in Baltica. War has echoes, you know? It doesn't end when the fighting is over."

  Gulchima sobbed. Why was she crying? What was she crying about?

  "C'mon Gulch." He reached out to her. "Grab my hand. I'll fly us back down."

  Gulchima grabbed his hand and together they stepped off the fairy nest, and—

  —Plummeted straight down.

  "Whoops! I thought I could still fly—"

  They splashed into the oily black sludge pool. It was warm, but not too hot, and it smelled worse than Gulchima had imagined. A dead rat floated nearby, inches from her face. They pulled themselves out of the pool, and started to laugh.

  From above them, they heard the crash of the lavender bombs exploding. The fairy nest groaned, tipped sideways, and then fell with a thwump into the sludge pool.

  Gulchima was doused a second time, when a wave of sludge splashed over her.

  "So, you free tomorrow?" Hubward asked.

  "I have a list of things to do," Gulchima said. She squeezed her leggings, trying to dry them. "Why?"

  Hubward pointed at the destroyed gas bags, the fire, the mess. He coughed and waved the smoke from his face.

  "Because after this, I don't think I'll be working here much longer," Hubward said.

  Gulchima wiped at the sludge on her cheek, then tasted it with the tip of her tongue.

  "Hmmm. I think it could use a bit more rat."

  "I didn't just disappear for five years . . . And it wasn't any of those stupid adventure stories I tell people."

  —A Breakthrough! Read the most recent report from our loyal spy. The girl admits to it.

  ". . . Now you're going to get your ears cut off, and I'll be alone in the dark. Again."

  —Our suspicions are correct. She was awake the entire five years she was missing. She must know how to find what we seek. Proceed with the plan.

  -The Collected Lies of Gulchima Brixby

  (100/100: Truth at last)

  Chapter 21: Festival of Rough Peter

  Gulchima toured the burgh alone, and this time she saw progress.

  It was early morning, two days after the fairy fiasco, and the work crews hadn't started yet. The fizz factory fire had been put out, and Hubward was home sick again. They were friends now, whether or not Gulchima wanted them to be. You couldn't go through something like that and not be friends, Gulchima supposed. They were fairy fire friends, and that was forever.

  In Bayadev, the riverside gate was finished, and one of the new loading ramps that she'd envisioned—banked properly to allow proper flow of cargo—was finished too. The oast house was fully repaired, and the stone walls for the new blacksmith shop were already half built. Isolde and Rattbone had done their part.

  Gulchima had done her part too. A few of the red M's, the signs marking magical problems, had been painted over with green G's. Officially, it stood for the word "Good", but Gulchima secretly believed the letter meant that she'd personally taken care of it. As in, we "Gulched" that magic!

  It would be awesome if her name became a verb.

  Even the dragon was half prepared now. The hoists and pulleys and levers were all in place. None of the adults on the houseboat would help her with the work, but she knew she'd eventually find somebody who wanted to get paid. Perhaps Hubward knew some workers at the fizz factory. Or maybe Soltanabad and his crew were interested? They seemed comfortable with danger.

  Things were looking pretty good. Her tour of Bayadev was almost complete, but for the first time that morning, Gulchima came to something that displeased her. Uncle Roog's work on the main burgh wall had stalled out. Actually, it looked like he had not started.

  She decided to have a word with him. Or rather, three words. Those words would be: Get. To. Work.

  As usual, she found Uncle Roog in his newly built sauna, located in a small courtyard near a cluster of abandoned shoe-repair shops.

  There was a line of men waiting their turn. Uncle Roog had built his sauna using stones and mortar that were supposed to be used on the wall. Outside the long rounded stone sauna, a basket of birch branch whisks were being sold, for a very high price. A sign on the sauna read: "Uncle Roog'
s Dragon-Hot Sauna. Entry two thalers, per person, per hour."

  Between the entry price and the cost of the birch branches—which the men slapped against their backs to reduce tight muscles while in sauna—Uncle Roog was making a small fortune.

  Gulchima bypassed the line and banged on the wooden door to the sauna. A wisp of steamy air floated out from the gap at the bottom of the door, but no one answered. She banged again.

  At last, Uncle Roog poked his mass of white hair out from behind the door.

  "What? I'm in sauna," he said in an irritated tone.

  "Uncle Roog, I need to talk to you. Now."

  "You can't come in, you’re a girl," Uncle Roog said. "This is men's sauna time. Women's sauna time is later. Children's sauna time is after that. I don't know if you’re a woman or a child, so I'm giving you your options."

  "I'm not here for sauna!" Gulchima yelled. "I want that wall done."

  Uncle Roog scowled at her. "Well that's nice to hear what you want. Finally you're speaking up! But I don't care what you want today."

  "You should be working," Gulchima warned him.

  "Working? Since when do we work on the Festival of Rough Peter?" Uncle Roog asked. "It's the Seasonal Planting celebration, mumblecrust. Or did you forget? And another thing—I'm not your uncle, but if I were, I'd tell you to stop dithering with that magic."

  A small explosion rocked the sauna, shooting smoke, and not steam, through the cracked door.

  "Roog! Are you using fire medicine in there?"

  "Of course I'm using fire medicine in here. How else could I claim the title of 'Baltica's Hottest Sauna'? You think people will pay for a measly steam bath? This sauna is Dragon-Hot. Dragon-Hot, Gulchima! And another thing—don't think I haven't heard about your plans to replace me with Soltanabad's crew. Sure they work harder and faster and expect less pay. But you owe me. I'm family."

  "You just said you’re not my uncle," Gulchima reminded him.