Helga: Out of Hedgelands by Rick Johnson (historical books to read TXT) 📕

than the reverse. Its massive size, and greater strength, were generally enough to keep it safe from hunters. The Maggon’s amazing taste, however, and delectable aroma as it sizzled on the grill, made the dangerous challenge hard to resist. Especially for sea-beasts who lived most of their lives on “sea-beasts’ snot” as they called ship’s galley food, the peril of going after the great lizard seemed but an added thrill. So it was that when Sabre Tusk d’Newolf brought his ship to anchor off of Maggon’s Island, and went ashore with his crew, we accidentally discovered the culinary wonders of the Maggon.

When we landed on Maggon’s Island, Sabre Tush dispatched work groups to refill water casks, gather fruit, and hunt for game. It had been a long time since we had seen any food that looked appetizing, and we were almost delirious with excitement at the thought of fresh food, especially meat. I was put in charge of the party sent to replenish our water supplies. Finding a creek flowing down, we followed it upstream for a distance seeking the sweet springs that fed it. For its part, the hunting party set off in a generally similar direction.

The hunting party was moving very quietly through the deep woods, when they caught sight of brush moving ahead of them where the woods opened into a clearing along a creek. Approaching cautiously, their steps froze when they glimpsed a gigantic lizard-like creature resting on the wide bank of the creek. Stretched out to its full length—perhaps fifty feet—the creature seemed to be resting. The lower body of the massive beast was covered with streaks of red mud, as if it had run quickly through muddy ground, giving its normally bright yellow skin a striped look.

As they stood gaping at the beast, it opened its mouth and spit out a gooey glob of crushed bones and fur, apparently the remains of a recent snack. Three rows of sharp teeth glistened in the sunlight. Although the beast was at rest, when it swished its tail, the movement was blindingly fast—a blur. Lifting a foot, the beast lazily picked its teeth clean with its claws. The sickle-shaped claws clearly could slice a beast open with a single swipe.

“I’m telling you, Strummer,” GutCheck, one of the sea-beasts, whispered in an urgent tone. “I know Sabre Tusk put you in charge of this expedition, so I’m respectfully askin’ to be excused from duty—I’m happy eatin’ fruit, ’specially if it means I’m not walkin’ around missin’ arms and legs.”

Before Strummer could reply, the beast suddenly lifted its head, dark red eyes darting here and there.

“It senses danger,” Strummer whispered.

He had barely completed his words, when the beast bounded into the brush lightning-fast.

Stunned at the speed of the massive beast’s movement, Strummer and his comrades exchanged glances of concern. They now understood the dangers of the hunt—perhaps they were now the hunted.

“All right,” GutCheck growled in a low voice, “I hope we’re satisfied—we’ve got a fifty-foot lizzy-monster out there, that’s quicker than anything I’ve ever seen, and we’ve no idea where it is.”

“It’s no safer goin’ back, than it is finishin’ the job,” Strummer replied, pulling his machete out of its holster. “Come on, it’s ten against one.”

GutCheck gave Strummer a disgusted look. “More like eighty against ten, if you ask me,” he said, “and armed better than we are.”

They moved on another thirty yards or so, pushing carefully through dense vegetation, every nerve tingling. Then they saw brush moving, as if blown by a powerful wind. A moment later there was a crashing noise, mingled with splashing mud and water. Though it was invisible, there was no doubt that the Maggon was nearby.

Cold, clammy sweat trickled down Strummer’s neck as his head slowly swiveled, trying to locate the monster. Then, his eyes froze. The huge creature was reared up on its hind legs, towering above their heads, its long wet body glistening where shafts of sun touched it. Watching in weird fascination, Strummer’s eyes watched the green leaves shimmering against the monster’s yellow body.

The Maggon opened its mouth, revealing the rows of razor-sharp teeth. It was clearly preparing to attack. Seeing that Strummer, in the lead, was in extreme danger, GutCheck gave a ferocious cry and leaped forward, swinging his machete.

There was a mad rush, a vicious howling, and GutCheck was thrown hard to the ground. But no jaws were clapped on him, and no claws ripped at him. The action was elsewhere. Racing and thrashing in every direction, the Maggon was matched in a fight to the death that neither GutCheck nor Strummer were part of. Raging and struggling through the grass and brush, the monstrous lizard ran here and there, trying to knock off a Coyote who was firmly fastened to its back!

“BorMane!” GutCheck howled, for indeed it was me.

I had heard the trouble developing and gone to investigate. When I came upon the situation, I saw that desperate action was necessary, and I leaped on the Dragon’s neck, locking my legs around it. With my free paws, I desperately tried to plunge my harpoon into the beast. No matter how the Dragon thrashed and struggled, he couldn’t throw me off, but his lightning-fast movement made it difficult to land a blow.

Savage hissing and snapping continued for many minutes, as the Dragon lashed its body and ran hither-thither through the brush. Now the struggle was hidden, now it burst into sight, as Strummer and the others tried to attack the creature. The Maggon’s fantastic leaping and thrashing, however, made it even harder for those on the ground to land a telling blow, than for me, firmly planted, as I waw, on the beast’s back. As the minutes went by, it became clear that the Dragon’s potent weapons of tooth and claw were useless against me—indeed, at times, I was almost laughing at the wild ride I was taking. Even if I couldn’t land a killing blow with my harpoon, by simply hanging on tightly, I was gradually wearing the frenzied monster down.

The huge beast continued to thrash through the tall grass and trees, but its speed was now only half what it had once been. Then it came to a stop, quivering and gasping for breath. Keeping my grasp grimly around the monster’s neck, I bided by time, while my adversary lashed his head, vainly snapping the air with his vicious teeth. Racing off into the brush again, the Maggon hissed and thrashed. Then the monster screamed, the brush crackled and snapped, and all was quiet.

Strummer, GutCheck, and the others dashed into the bush, and found me standing beside the dead Maggon, breathing hard. My harpoon was buried deep in the ear of the creature.

“You sure arrived in a nick of time,” Strummer said gratefully. “I thought you were supposed to be filling the water casks!”

“We were down the creek doing exactly that,” BorMane replied, “but it sounded like you all were in a spot of trouble, so I came to investigate. When I got here, looked more like that beastie was fixing to make lunch of you.”

“Well, on that cheery note,” GutCheck grinned, “let’s figure out how to get this carcass back to the beach. Looks like it’ll make a great feast!”

“We’ll need help,” I told him, “it’s more than we can handle.”

“You stay here,” Strummer offered, “I’ll go to the beach and bring more of the crew to help.”

Within an hour, Strummer returned with a two dozen more sea-beasts laughing and guffawing with a tremendous noise. When the news of what had happened reached the rest of the crew, so many beasts wanted to help haul the carcass back, that lots were cast for the honor. It was one of those times when hoots, hollers, and general riot sound like an odd sort of music.

“There we go, you famished sea-beasts!” I laughed, as the Maggon carcass was raised into the air, and began to move through the brush.

When we reached the beach, a huge pit was dug in the side of a clayey bank and filled it with stones. In no time a roaring fire was burning in the pit. When it had turned to embers, and the stones glowed red, we hung the Maggon’s carcass from poles just above the pit, with layers of seaweed and bark piled on it. For the rest of the day, the massive chuck of meat roasted slowly in the heat and smoke, and the various scavenging parties contributed what they had found.

The ship’s cook brought out the Sticker Pickles and Guacamole Mollet that had been gathered, and Saber Tusk allowed three day’s ration of Sweeter’s Fiery Zest to be distributed. Such gigantic pots of Wild Salty Rice were never boiled before, nor had any beast seen such platters of Creamed Pineapple and Sweet Potatoes. The Pelting Balls, pulled from the river, broiled, and served on beds of coconut, were perhaps the best of it, except for some kind of broth that no one would own or identify, that was delicious with the Maggon meat.

But the roasted Maggon was the star of the feast. With a wonder-producing smell potent enough to make the strongest beast faint with joy, the meat tasted like the world’s best runny cheesecake spiced with something indescribable. The indescribable part depended on your taste. If you liked it, it was like raspberries soaked in honey-lemon. Those who hated it, claimed it tasted like sweaty socks filled with mushy onions. Truth be known, virtually every beast loved the Maggon. And, as special acknowledgement of its role in the feast, I was given a piece of the Maggon’s tail.

  Notes [←1]

A full account of Helga’s return to O’Fallon’s Bluff is provided in Volume Two of the Wood Cow Chronicles.

[←2]

The traditional fare of unemployed sailors.

[←3]

Prevailing favorable winds.

[←4]

Narrows End Bay term for a ferocious storm.

[←5]

A sea-beast known for exploits of great bravery.