Chapter 19: The Ladder Versus the Trapdoor

“Kastchey himself cannot be killed by mortal means, since he carries his life not in his body, but in a secret place that is known only to himself.”

--George Post Wheeler, “Tzarevich Petr and the Wizard”

In a certain field in Kansas, surrounded by miles of land too flat to describe, there exists the most fertile soil in the world. It does not look out-of-the-ordinary: brown, gritty, liable to stain things. Yet, it somehow possessed the property that anything (even inorganic matter) planted in it invariably produced a crop. A metal tree exists where a farmer forgot a hoe in a rush for his lunchtime. By the time he came to collect it, the tool had already taken root.

Similarly, a jellybean produced a stalk just as well as any regular bean’s seed. The extra fertility caused the stalk to grow until it reached the heavens. Not the physical sky, which past a certain point runs out of the carbon dioxide plants need, but the Astral version. Like the hall of doors Grace traversed her first night from of the Ambrosius Institute, this magical acre linked many dreamscapes.

Getting to a place as absurd as Nephelokokkygia naturally required an equally absurd method. Luckily, Bennu knew to steer his party to the proper (rather, improper) solution—founded on nursery rhyme logic rather than physics.

Schrodinger did the actual work of shadowboxing them there. It proved bumpy, as he navigated to a place he had never been.

“I can travel to any part of the world,” he explained. “Though I’m disinclined to oceans. The sky, however, is literally my limit. Grimalkins belong on land. Merely thinking about air travel fizzles my powers. Shadowboxing requires a firm, but relaxed attitude.”

Being thin and light, Bennu could not personally courier Ridil or any ingredients not already attached to him. Grace and Goldtalon knew they could help. The others, however, had no obligations. Grace figured Fox and Diana were still part of the quest because—despite their general negativity—neither wanted to be left alone. For her part, Grace felt better for their company. Even when their behavior annoyed her.

“How is something this ridiculous even possible?” asked Fox.

Bennu chuckled. “It only takes a fertile imagination.”

“Agh, what’s everyone else seeing?” asked Diana. “Is it amazing?”

Fox snorted. “Amazingly stupid.”

Bennu fidgeted. “I led us here because this is the absolute quickest way for us to reach the sky. But somewhere on this acre is the nest of a monstrous spider called the Djieien. In my centuries circling the globe, I’ve never had to encounter it myself, but survivors say it’s pointless to fight. Long ago, the Djieien cut out its own heart. Now nothing can injure it.”

“If it cut out its heart, shouldn’t it have just died?” asked Fox.

“I’m no expert in arachnid anatomy,” Bennu admitted.

“The Djieien is not a creature of flesh,” Schrodinger added. “It’s a class of nightmare dreaded by our earliest mammal ancestors. Mammals were the first dreamers, subsisting in a world of big bugs and even bigger reptiles. They wished for a time where they’d be on top… which, naturally, came true. A small asteroid helped. But nothing Astral is ever forgotten. Memories may be buried. But like fossils, they can be dug up. Bad dreams sometimes resurface on their own.”

“Our only method,” finished Bennu, “is speed. If it appears, we can only evade it till we’re high enough on this jellybean stalk. Just think of it as a ladder. Of candy.”

“Can candy support our weight?” asked Diana.

“Trust me, Di, this thing’s huge.” Fox arched her head back, failing to spot the top. “How’ll we keep from sliding off?”

“We help each other,” said Grace. After the Silent Forest, she was just thankful they would not have to climb a tree. The sugary stalk was all the colors in a rainbow, plus browns, whites, and blacks. Any flavor of jellybean she ever tasted was represented. “Stick together. Take it slow when we have to.”

Goldtalon wanted to sample some of the available crops first. He steered clear of a cactus made of black licorice, however. Diana almost wandered into it, but Fox ushered her to safety.

Whoever set off the alarm matters little. A trapdoor large enough to swallow even the Aniwye swung open. Rather than hinges, like the door into Fort Stone, it opened on a line of silk.

Even knowing most spiders presented no danger to humans (and, in fact, served useful roles in the environment) Grace feared them more than anything. Her phobia existed because of the Djieien. It truly was a nightmare: bloated, armored, with altogether too many legs, eyes, and teeth.

‘Come near, would-be travelers, and face the awesome, terrible might of Djieien, slayer of warriors.’ No sound actually came from its mouth. Instead, a wave of mental electricity hit their minds. Suddenly, they understood the monster’s thoughts. None were pleasant.

‘All manner objects pass this way, but nothing goes up this beanstalk without my specific permission! Which is to say, Mistress Ostara’s permission. Machine parts abandoned on battlefields are on the list, as are select reading materials taken from the Croatoan Archives without checking them out first.’

“You monster!” screeched Schrodinger.

‘None of you are on Ostara’s list.’ The Djieien sprung from its den. Its bulk was eight times greater than all companions combined. ‘But I’ll gladly add you to my grocery list!’

Grace thought of Goldtalon carrying them up the stalk. The fat spider could not possibly support its weight if it tried to follow. But even with Bennu flying himself, the griffin would need to ferry three girls, a cat, and a bag of supplies. Strength was not an issue, but Goldtalon lacked enough space on his shoulders and back. Perhaps three companions at once, but the fourth would be left alone with the Djieien.

A rain of stones fell around Fox. Flints, not pebbles. Wanting something heavier, she plucked a hoe from its branch, heaving it at one of the spider’s eight eyes. While her aim was accurate enough to hit, before making contact, it bounced off it.

Bennu flew to the Djieien’s face, barely avoiding great, venomous mandibles. The phoenix wreathed himself in smoke, trying the same distraction that worked on the Aniwye. Twisting his long neck, he gestured for the others to start climbing. Problem was, the yawning trapdoor opened directly before the jellybean. The companions would have to circle around to find a place, and the stalk was thick as a silo.

While Fox fought, Diana had nobody guiding her. In the shouting ruckus, she tumbled face-first into the black licorice cactus. “Ew, what’s this crusty thing?”

Eight eyes, it seems, are not as easy to blind as two, because the Djieien had no problem seeing past Bennu’s smoke, and batted him away with a leg like a scythe blade. Goldtalon raced to protect his hatchmate, even briefly knocking the monstrous spider off all its feet. It sprung back up in seconds.

Furious, Grace drew Ridil and ran straight for her greatest fear. She struck the sword to the monster’s naturally armored chest. She felt like a brave knight in one of her Grandmam’s books. But the dull sword bounced off the carapace. Grace was thrown backwards, right into the black licorice cactus and Diana’s prone form.

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From this angle, Grace made out a jagged, uneven line across the Djieien’s chest, stitched closed with silk. “If losing its heart means the spider can’t be hurt,” she mumbled to herself, “if someone put it back in its chest, it should be vulnerable again, right? Would it throw its heart away, or hide it somewhere?”

Diana garbled something beneath Grace. The squonk held an ugly, irregular-shaped object.

Grace got a closer look. “Diana, you’re perfect!”

“I am?” was what Diana tried to say. Face down in licorice, it came out “Erh-rahmm?”

“This sword can’t do any harm.” Grace took the gross object from a relieved Diana and stood. It was marred by disuse. Even fragile, and weighed next to nothing. “But Ridil can heal! Why not a broken heart?”

Grace touched the blade to the heart Diana discovered. A pink spark flew to it. Spontaneously, the organ began beating. Veins and arteries tried pumping nonexistent blood. “Goldtalon,” she shouted, “I need you to fly me now!”

Her griffin came, but his orange eyes bugged with worry. He asked “We’re not leaving friends, are we, mommy?” as Grace climbed on his back. Instantly, he knew the answer. They flew to where the battle continued.

After stepping back and observing for a time, Schrodinger joined the fray, scrambling onto the Djieien’s back. The monster twisted, but with no neck, could not bite the cat. Fox threw flints from one side. Bennu blasted violet flames from the other. None put so much as a dint in its armor. It was distracted, though.

Goldtalon crossed the field. In one hand, Grace gripped Ridil. In the other, she cradled the Djieien’s heart, neither tightly nor gently.

‘You tried this already, you know.’ The Djieien’s mocking thoughts sounded in her mind as its mandibles gnashed silently. ‘What can a child accomplish with a glorified letter-opener? I’ve slaughtered heroes much older and more skilled. Little girls have such weak, delicate arms. Your friends will barely satisfy my thirst, but a mere sip of life’s blood is appreciated, nonetheless.’

Thoughts of cackling rang in her ears. Rows of fangs perpetually dripped yellow-green venom which hissed and burnt ground where it hit. Grace refused to pay attention to the maw, or meet what must be eight terrifying eyes. Her focus stayed on the spider’s chest.

When the Djieien moved to devour her, Goldtalon raked his claws against its lower face.

Dripped venom dyed his talons in pink, purple, blue polka-dots. Schrodinger said griffin claws changed color in the presence of poisons. (But never elaborated if there were any meaning to the colors.)

Leaving the heart in her lap, Grace swung Ridil with the full force of both hands, nicking through the gossamer threads keeping the chest halves together. The gap was a mere crack, not wide enough to squeeze the long-forgotten organ through. By imprint, Goldtalon knew what she required, and stuck his dyed claws into the slit.

His arm muscles strained to their limits just to open a thumb’s width. All the while, Goldtalon was forced to use his beak to keep the Djieien from chomping into him.

One sickle-leg arched down, aiming to impale both griffin and rider. A flaming Bennu slammed into the spider’s side. Schrodinger hurled insulted from its opposite shoulder. The sickle speared the ground, casting Schrodinger and Bennu away and nearly unseating Grace.

The girl held onto the heart, having traded it with the sword now laying in her lap. She pried her fingers into the aperture, trying to pull it just wide enough to fit. It really was a small thing! The carapace was cold, hard, and covered with spiky, disgusting hair. Just touching it made Grace so ill she nearly passed out. A burst of stale air from the hollow chest kept her awake.

There! The gap was wide enough. Grace’s sweaty palms slipped, but she finally pushed the shriveled heart back into the vacuous torso. Two slicing legs came at her and her griffin, but Goldtalon was fast enough to dodge. They still were not done with healing.

Goldtalon barreled back into the Djieien. Sparks exploded off Ridil’s blade as Grace touched it to the cavity: first scarlet, then crimson, until settling on maroon.

When the light died, the crack in the torso had sealed shut, without the slightest hint of a scar. The monster spider thrashed and threatened, swearing vengeance and the like, but of eight pointed legs that could have speared them, the Djieien wound up stabbing itself.

It was not much of an injury—hardly mortal—but the Djieien howled in agony, rolling about the dirt. The change in demeanor was absolute. Eyes rolled in their sockets. Eight uncertain feet tangled around a fat torso. Its trapdoor seemed very far away.

Any blood it had likely dried up ages ago, but the restored heart pumped something. In addition to the wave of pained thoughts made public, there was the out-of-practice, at first irregular beating like a drum. The spider lost itself in a full-body quiver, while also trying to back away from Grace’s friends, who gathered together.

“So, mortality,” drolled Bennu, “what’s that like, exactly?”

The Djieien gulped, swallowing its own venom. Its mandibles parted; its jaws hung slack. What passed for lungs heaved, but never managed to take in enough air.

“Ha, all the sudden, you’re a coward!” Fox cheered. “You forgot how to be hurt. Now you’ll remember.” To prove her point, she levitated a flint before its face. The spider flinched away.

“We can bear pain because we’re used to suffering.” Diana tried pointing in the trembling monster’s direction, but actually gestured toward the North Pole. Nobody had the heart to tell her otherwise.

“Just another bully,” accused Schrodinger, his voice distorted by a purr. “I wonder if you’ll behave in that same shameful manner when a single papercut will likely do you in!”

Grace smiled. “You still want to keep me and my friends away from the beanstalk?”

“Don’t seem like fair fight, mommy.” Goldtalon was sore and panting, but not significantly wounded.

A plethora of arachnid eyes appraised the remnants of old scars along its carapace. The Djieien had gotten so used to dealing out torment, it forgot how much it hated receiving it, the very reason it went to the trouble of removing its heart in the first place. Quicker than any saw, the trapdoor swung closed, and the huge spider—who now seemed much smaller—skittered down his dark hole.

Fox laughed. “Didn’t realize it still had the advantage. Bigger, stronger, and a natural arsenal…” She bent to help Diana out of the licorice cactus, where she had fallen a second time. Bits of what can still legally be called “candy” stuck to their new clothes. “You think I should call a boulder out of the sky to weigh the trap down?”

“Would that work?” asked Diana, prompting Fox to push her into the licorice a third time.

Grace shook her head. “I doubt the Djieien will come back.” While exhausted, she smiled. She had faced her worst fear and lived. Even better, without throwing up.

“It’d be fantastic if you could do that, Might Chucker of Stones!” shouted Bennu.

“‘Mighty Chucker of Stones,’” responded Fox. “I actually like that. But I don’t feel like dropping boulders right now.”

“Nails different colors.” Goldtalon was transfixed by the polka-dots on his claws.

Grace remembered the recipe on the scroll mentioned something about spiders. Goldtalon let her trim some of those multicolored nails off with Ridil, which she placed in a glass container.

“‘Delight can be found in the smiles of spiders (40 gills serve for base),’” Schrodinger recited.

“This Djieien doesn’t sound very delightful,” said Diana.

“I couldn’t make an exact translation,” Schrodinger conceded. “A bit of the Djieien’s venom could be exactly the thing needed to cure Radixomniummalorum bokor. Granted, it calls for more than what’s on Goldtalon’s claws.”

“Can we collect venom from where it burnt the ground?” asked Bennu. “I wonder if the soil will grow poison plants…”

Climbing the jellybean stalk went slow, especially for Diana. “At least I don’t have to worry about looking down.” She sounded upbeat for once. Maybe because Grace called her “perfect.”

“The real trouble,” Bennu said while flitting above them, “will be keeping out of the moon’s line-of-sight. That’s her domain. Only new moons or heavy clouds prevent her from spying on the world. Nephelokokkygia is always covered by clouds, so she never knows what we’re up to.”

“Why didn’t she come down to destroy us herself?” asked Fox. “I mean, she’s the Easter Bunny, but she’s also a goddess.”

“The rabbit doesn’t visit Earth personally,” answered Schrodinger, “except on her holiday, where vanity compels her to put in appearances. The library’s unclear why. Maybe another god cursed her so she’s stuck up there against her will. Perhaps she’s afraid the effects of Ragnarök will creep up on her if she ever strays from her sanctuary too long.”

“Maybe she’s just lazy,” interjected Bennu, “and lets her mercenaries do the dirty work. The Aniwye and Djieien are done for, but sadly, there are plenty others willing to kill and steal for gold.”

“Then we won’t be safe anywhere.” Grace sat on a blueberry branch. “Okay, we help the birds complete their cure. The world isn’t filled with zombies. Then what? The bunny will still be powerful, and angry we stopped her plan. I go home, what’s to stop her from sending more monsters? The Director’s gone, but…” Grace worried she sounded bratty, but every word was true.

“Don’t worry mommy. I’ll protect you.” Goldtalon leaned into her, brushing the back of his downy neck against her moistening eyes.

“You don’t think I’ve had my share of black dogs crossing my path, Grace Grey?” Schrodinger paused. “I’ve died seven-to-eight times, and felt it! Even while waiting in darkness for my Astral body to reform.”

“Humans…and changelings only get one life.” Fox sat on an orange leaf. She took a morsel and tasted it. “Not terrible, actually. How long’ll it take to get this spiel with the bird city done?”

“Time’s a tricky subject in the Astral,” said Bennu. “It passed slower in Vinland than the waking world.” He waited patiently for the others to catch up to him.

“Long enough on Earth for people to notice.” Grace considered her parents, trying to engage with her emotionless cloud clone. Now they lacked even that connection to her. Mrs. Tatters would know how to provide comfort now, but the mother crow was far away, with her own chicks to worry about.

Diana sniffed. “I suppose some of us are missed.”

“Hey, careful where you step, Diana,” called Bennu. “We were this close to losing you.”

“Don’t be stupid, Di.” A mass of pebbles danced in Fox’s palm. “Think anyone wants you to fall down this beanstalk?”