Gregor and the Curse of the Warmbloods

Page 8

Chapter 8
Gregor hurried back up through the palace and ran into Vikus, his mom, and Boots outside the luxury room. He needed to talk to Vikus about this whole cure thing, but he couldn't do it in front of his mom. Maybe Mareth was wrong and Ripred was right. Maybe they were supposed to find the cure in a lab, not on some dangerous quest somewhere. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding.
"Where on earth have you been?" said his mother. "I thought you just went to the bathroom."
"I did but...I threw up," said Gregor. "And it took some time for my stomach to settle."
"You sick?" His mom's hand was instantly on his forehead.
"No, Mom, I feel fine now," said Gregor.
"Well, that stew was pretty rich. And then all this flying around. You never did have a strong stomach," she said. "He gets carsick on long trips, too," she told Vikus. "We have to travel with a plastic bag."
Okay, this was one of those mom-things Gregor had been worried about. His dad would never tell people how the warrior had to travel with a plastic bag. And she didn't even know what she was talking about because flying on bats didn't upset his stomach. Still, this was better than telling her about seeing Ares. "I'm fine, Mom. So, is it time for the meeting?"
"Yes, let us proceed to the arena," said Vikus.
Nike and Euripedes, Vikus's big gray bat, flew them all to the oval-shaped arena used for sports events and military training. The playing field was covered in a soft, springy moss and seating for a large crowd topped the high walls. The arena was on the edge of Regalia and shut off from the city by towering, stone doors. Across the field from the doors were a few tunnels, some flush with the ground, others high in the air, which led away from the city.
When they flew into the arena, the stands were empty. Most of the creatures attending the meeting were down on the field. All three species — the bats, the cockroaches, and the rats — stood in their own clump. There was no interaction between them. It reminded Gregor of the beginning of a track meet, when the teams were assembled around the field warming up, each in a different-colored jersey.
"Ready to make some new friends?" Gregor said to his mom, trying to sound positive.
She simply pressed her lips together in distaste as she stared down at the menagerie of giant Underland creatures. "Tell me again, who's on whose side?"
Gregor shook his head. "It's kind of complicated. The main thing is that most of the humans and rats hate each other. The bats are tight with the humans. The cockroaches just wish everybody would leave them alone. But they love Boots. So, if she shows up, they show up. The prophecy says they need everybody here to find the cure."
Nike and Euripedes dropped them on the field and joined a group of four bats, including Queen Athena, who perched on short, squat stone cylinders.
Ripred and two other rats sat about ten yards away. All three seemed preoccupied with trying to comb some kind of yellow powder out of their coats with their claws.
"What's that in their fur?" his mom asked Vikus, eyeing the rats with revulsion.
"A powder to kill fleas. Just as a precaution. Their blood was clear of plague, but they all had fleas, and we cannot risk the insects entering the city," said Vikus.
Waiting patiently, a little off to one side, were a half-dozen roaches. The leader had a bent antenna.
"Temp!" Boots cried out. "I see Temp!" She wriggled out of Gregor's arms and ran for the roaches.
"Boots!" His mother started after her but Gregor caught her arm and urgently spoke in her ear in a hushed voice.
"No, Mom, don't! That's Temp! She wouldn't be alive without him! The roaches adore her. Don't mess it up!" said Gregor.
"Excuse me?" said his mother, raising her eyebrows.
"I mean, just be polite," said Gregor sheepishly. He never bossed his mom around that way at home. "Please."
His mother looked back at the roaches and hesitated. She flinched as Temp sat back on his hind legs, and Boots ran straight into his six-leg hug.
"Hi, you! Hi, Temp! You waked up!" she said.
"Temp waked up, Temp did," said the roach.
Boots stepped back and surveyed him curiously. Then she began to count his legs. "One — two — three — four — five — six! All there!"
"Tike you, my new legs, like you?" said Temp.
"Ye-es! You give Boots a ride? We go for a ride now?" said Boots.
Temp dropped to his belly, and Boots climbed right up on his back and they took off running around the field.
"Come on and meet the roaches. They're nice," said Gregor.
His mother gave him a look like he was insane but allowed him to lead her over to the insects. Temp ran up with Boots.
"See? This is Mama!" said Boots, sliding off Temp and running over to swing on her mom's hand.
The roaches seemed rattled by the news. Gregor could hear them whispering to one another. "Be she the swatter, be she? Be she the swatter?" They all bowed low to the ground.
"Welcome, Maker of the Princess and Most Fearsome Swatter," said Temp.
"What is it calling me?" Gregor's mom said to him.
"Um, I think he said 'Maker of the Princess and Most Fearsome Swatter,'" said Gregor.
"What's that mean?" said his mom.
"That you're Boots's mom and...let's face it, Mom, you swat a lot of roaches," said Gregor.
"Well, I'm not planning to swat these giant things!" said his mom, scowling at him.
"Hey, I didn't make up the name!" said Gregor.
"All right, listen up, you roaches," said his mom.
The roaches all sank flatter on the ground, as if being swatted by his mom was inevitable. "Yes, Maker of the Princess and Most Fearsome Swatter," Temp could barely hiss out.
"From now on, you just call me Grace. Okay?" she said. Then she turned to the rest of the creatures in the arena. "Everybody here, just call me Grace!"
She took Boots's hand and stomped back across toward the bats, muttering, "Most Fearsome Swatter. Please."
While Vikus introduced his mother to the bats, Gregor crossed to Ripred. "Oh, look who's here! I guess your mommy let you come visit after all," said the rat.
"You better not have lied to me about how long we have to stay, Ripred," said Gregor under his breath. "You better not be planning to take me and Boots on some road trip to find the cure."
"You've read the prophecy. All it says is to bring you from above," said Ripred. "Now you've made an appearance, it's fine with me if you go home. Trust me, I could do without another quest with your chatty little sister and her six-legged friends."
"Is that what everybody thinks?" asked Gregor. "That I'm just here for the meeting?"
"Well, you'll have to ask around, won't you? I can hardly answer for what goes on in the crawlers' pea brains." Ripred dug at the powder behind his ear and called out, "Can we get this fiasco started, Vikus? Some of us have lives to live. However briefly."
"But where are the nibblers?" Vikus asked.
"I don't know. Lapblood and Mange were supposed to get word to them," said Ripred, indicating the other rats with two flicks of his tail.
"Well, we didn't," snapped Lapblood. "Why would we?"
"She's right," said Mange. "We didn't spend all that effort driving the nibblers out of our land to join up with them now. If they die of the plague, good riddance."
"Who needs them, anyway?" said Lapblood. "The prophecy doesn't even mention the nibblers." She began to scratch frantically at her shoulder. "What is this poison? Does it kill the fleas or just make them extra hungry?!"
"You had very specific orders!" said Ripred, grinding his back into the moss to relieve the itching.
"Well, if you hadn't noticed, we don't take orders from you!" said Mange.
Ripred sprang to his feet and turned on the two rats. They crouched into defensive positions, waiting for his attack, but he only said, "We'll finish this discussion in the tunnels."
"This is not ideal, but if the nibblers are not to be present, then we lack only Doctor Neveeve and Solovet," said Vikus. "Ah, here they are now."
A bat flew in from Regalia and Neveeve and Solovet climbed off its back.
Solovet called the meeting to order and asked Neveeve to speak about the plague. The doctor hoisted a large leather book off the back of the bat. She laid it on the moss and knelt before it. The book was only about a foot tall, but it was at least three feet wide and very thick. When Neveeve opened it, Gregor could hear the crackling of parchment.
"I have been scouring the old records in an attempt to find any similarity between this current plague and one in the past," said Neveeve. "Some two and a half centuries ago there was an epidemic markedly like 'The Curse of the Warmbloods.' Another just over eighty years ago. In both cases, a pestilence brought fever, painful breathing, and large violet buboes on the skin. Thousands died in the Underland."
"Lovely. Do they happen to mention a cure?" said Ripred.
Neveeve turned a page in the book and revealed an ink drawing of a plant that had distinctive star-shaped leaves. "This plant. It is called starshade. Only a single field of it exists."
"I've never seen it," said Lapblood. "It must grow in the Overland."
"No, according to the records, it grows in the same place from which the plague first emerged," said Neveeve.
"'In the cradle find the cure,'" said Vikus, quoting from the prophecy.
"On the island with the mites?" asked Gregor. He didn't see how they'd ever get the cure from there. The mites would devour them in seconds.
"No, Gregor. That is a new island and, as Neveeve said, the plague has been cropping up for centuries. The mites may have carried the plague to the island, but it is not the cradle," said Vikus.
"So, where is it?" said Mange.
"It seems the cradle lies on the floor of the valley in...the Vineyard of Eyes," said Neveeve.
There was dead silence. Finally, Lapblood spoke, "We may as well just slit our throats now, as enter the Vineyard."
"Yet you had no trouble driving the nibblers into it," said Queen Athena.
"The nibblers had the whole of the Underland to choose from," said Mange.
"Where? The Dead Land? The Fire Points?" retorted Solovet.
"You're a fine one to talk, Solovet, given the current circumstances," said Lapblood.
"Please!" said Vikus, cutting off their bickering.
"Remember all of our lives are now at stake. This plant, Neveeve, it grows nowhere else?"
"They attempted.to transplant it to the fields of Regalia, but it died almost immediately. We have no choice but to harvest great quantities of it from the Vineyard and distill it into a medicine."
"You want us to go into the Vineyard and help you find this cure, but what guarantee do we have that we'll ever see it?" said Lapblood. "We gnawers starve now! At your hand! The plague runs like wildfire through our tunnels! Today we learn you have yellow powder to stop the fleas that spread it! But do you send it?"
"You attacked us," said Solovet in a steely voice. "And now whimper when you must suffer the consequences."
"Whimper?" snarled Lapblood. She and Mange crouched to attack. Solovet's hand flew to the hilt of her sword.
Gregor didn't understand exactly what was going on, but he could tell things were about to get ugly.
Ripred stepped between the seething rats and Solovet.
"Tides turn, Solovet," said Ripred quietly. "Remember this moment when your own pups cry with hunger and the plague stills their hearts. Even now, your grandson lies behind glass in the hospital."
"And what of my granddaughter, Luxa? Where lies she, Ripred?" spat out Solovet.
"I don't know! But you must set it aside, Solovet, or go back and tell your people to make their graves. At this moment, we have great mutual need!" said Ripred.
Gregor never knew how Solovet would have responded, because at that moment the horns began to blow. The warning came from the tunnels leading away from Regalia. A dozen humans on bats appeared and headed across the arena for the tunnels.
"What are they blowing that for? No rats are invading," said Ripred in a puzzled tone.
"There must be some threat, or they would not give the signal," said Solovet.
"But who would be attacking Regalia now?" said Vikus.
The answer came out of the tunnels. It was a bat with a bright orange coat that Gregor had never seen before. Something was wrong with it — its wings beat erratically and it was careening around in a bizarre fashion.
"It is Icarus! But what ails him?" said Nike. As Icarus swooped down over them, Gregor saw the purple bumps oozing fresh blood into his orange fur, the white tongue wagging from his mouth, the delirious look in his eyes.
"It's the plague!" he cried. "He looks just like Ares does!"
Icarus twisted in the air, his wings fluttering out of sync, and then lost control. A general cry of alarm went up as the bat plummeted straight down at them.