Chapter 2
Far away, and blissfully unaware of the approaching terror, Will carried a chair out of a tunnel and into the ruins that used to be the Goblin City. The wood chair was beautifully carved and sturdy, a gift from a king he’d helped the previous year. Will set it down on a patch of relatively flat ground next to Vial and Domo.

“Table coming through!” London and Brooklyn the trolls exited the same tunnel with an ornate wood table. The trolls stood over six feet tall and had green scales, serious under-bites and ears that looked like fish fins, and they wore only cotton trousers. They also had incredible strength and endurance. London was a tad taller and a darker shade of green than his brother, but otherwise they were identical.

The trolls had wandered into the kingdom years ago and volunteered to act as enforcers for numerous men who’d been King of the Goblins. With personalities like rugby players or soccer hooligans, they’d raised unnecessary force to an art form. For all the brothers’ faults, they were loyal and wouldn’t back down no matter the odds, and had saved Will’s life on many occasions.

Following them was Hugh Timbers the dwarf and Milo the minotaur, both carrying chairs. Hugh stood a head shorter than Will, but was heavier and had broad shoulders, powerful muscles, thick brown hair and wore simple leather clothes. Hugh had lost his home and business to the Eternal Army last winter and had settled in Will’s kingdom. The dwarf was polite and helped when he could, but Will could tell that he was still hurting.

Milo was a thoroughly modern minotaur dressed in a black frock coat, white dress shirt, black pants, briefcase and glasses. His fine clothes and refined speech made him slightly less intimidating, but couldn’t change the fact he was seven feet tall, had short brown fur and a bull’s head with long horns. He’d come to the kingdom last year to develop the goblin’s maze into a moneymaking venture.

London and Brooklyn set down the table and the others pulled their chairs around it. Domo and Vial climbed onto the table and the rest sat down.

“Gentlemen,” Will began with a smile, “I’ve been thinking we should have regular meetings to keep everyone up to date on what’s going on in the kingdom.”

“You mean like who’s invading us this week?” Domo asked.

“Ideally no,” Will replied.

“We have been invaded a lot,” London said.

“Not that we’re complaining,” Brooklyn added. “You get lots of exercise roughing people up in an invasion.”

Will frowned and put a hand over his face. “I’d like to know how everyone is doing, and if there’s anything important I should know about.”

“Why are we doing this outside?” Domo asked.

Vial raised a hand and said, “The American cheese and Pepper Jack factions are fighting in the tunnels. I’m told the battle is quite fierce, with much doily related violence.”

“Out here we’re close to the maze, so the civil war won’t interfere with our meeting,” Will said. “We should have the place to ourselves for now. I’m opening the floor to anyone and all topics.”

Milo opened his briefcase and spread papers on the table. “Since you were kind enough to ask, I have a report on maze profitability and expansion plans.”

Will waved his hand. “Go on.”

“I’m afraid maze revenues have been disappointing,” Milo said. He handed out papers with pie charts and bar graphs, but Domo and Vial ate the pages. “After an exhaustive statistical analysis, I’ve determined that in the last three months we have had zero visitors, plus or minus ten.”

“How do you get minus ten visitors?” Domo asked Milo.

“They thought about coming but decided against it.” Milo handed out more papers, this time making sure they went nowhere near the goblins. “This has had an unfortunate effect on sales of maps, and deluxe maps detailing trap locations. I believe the problem is marketing. People know the maze is here, but they don’t see a reason to enter it.”

“I don’t go in if I can help it,” Will admitted.

“That is a common response from people I’ve chased down and interviewed,” Milo replied. “There are two traditional reasons for entering a maze, to test one’s mental abilities or because there is treasure worth having in the maze, a tangible reward for completion.”

Will held out his empty hands. “We’re broke, Milo. The kingdom has a net worth measured in negative numbers. People don’t want anything we have. If we gave it to them, or forced it on them, they’d have to pay to get rid of it.”

“I could donate an exploding outhouse,” Vial offered.

“Hey, Will, we could get rid of those turnips you grew,” Domo suggested.

“How about a coupon for a free beating?” London offered. “One coupon gets one of your enemies beaten up.”

Brooklyn perked up. “I like that one.”

Milo scribbled notes on his papers. “Those are all good suggestions.”

“No they’re not,” Will said.

Milo pointed at the second stack of papers he’d handed out. “At the moment our best bet to attract visitors is to represent the maze as a challenge. I’ve come up with a marketing plan that makes the best use of our limited resources. With your approval, I can begin spreading these publicly.”

Will looked at the papers. The first read ‘The Maze of the Goblins: There’s got to be something in there’. This was followed by ‘The Maze of the Goblins: A challenge that probably won’t result in cannibalism’. The last suggestion was ‘The Maze of the Goblins: Like you’ve got something better to do’. Will handed Milo back the papers and asked, “You think this is going to draw visitors?”

“Definitely,” Milo said. “Our target audience includes adventurers, treasure hunters and the bored rich. We need to appeal to their greed and vanity while making the maze seem more dangerous than it really is.”

“And once they’re here we take them for all they’re worth,” Domo said.

Milo nodded. “Exactly! I have plans for a string of outrageously overpriced concession stands, with guaranteed business since they’ll be the only source of food for miles. Between that and poorly made souvenirs we’ll be swimming in gold.”

Will stared at Milo. “That sounds appallingly close to the amusement parks back home. I can’t see people coming here voluntarily, much less to spend money, but you’re the expert. If you think this might bring tourists then go for it.”

“Excellent!” Milo shook Will’s hand before leaving. “I expect to have good news within the month.”

When no one else volunteered to share concerns or problems, Will took a deep breath and addressed an issue that had been on his mind for months. “Hugh, I was wondering what it would cost to get you back in business again.”

Hugh Timbers looked surprised. “Sir William?”

“How much money would you need for a new home and blacksmith shop?”

Hugh bit his lower lip. “Building and furnishing a house wouldn’t be expensive when I could make most of it myself. The blacksmith shop would cost fifty gold coins for tools and raw materials. The cost is a moot point, though, for I would need customers and nearby people are already served by a competent blacksmith.”

Will scratched his head. “It would take a while for us to get that much money.”

“Us?” Hugh’s expression turned to a look of shock. “Sir William, no!”

“I want to help,” he said.

Hugh’s face showed surprise quickly changing to sorrow. “Sir, you have already done much by giving me refuge. The caves beneath this land are much like my ancestral home and most comfortable. You’ve requested few services and no money in return. You also granted me the privilege to avenge my loss by fighting at your side against the Eternal Army. I am grateful in ways words can’t express.

“But my home, my forge, this must be made or earned by my own hands. I can’t accept help or it wouldn’t be mine. I know my ways are different from yours, and I know you have only the best of intentions, but I must do this task alone.”

“You don’t have any money,” Will said. “It would take years to earn the cash you need to rebuild.”

Hugh frowned. “I did so once before when my people cast me out. It could take years to do it again. But honor demands a worker own his tools and workshop, paid for with neither gift nor loan, and that I must do.”

Will was curious why the dwarfs had exiled Hugh, but he didn’t ask. It was clear that even bringing up the topic hurt Hugh deeply. “If there’s any help you can accept, all you have to do is ask.”

Hugh bowed. “Your kindness is gift enough.”

“Boss!” Will looked over to see Mr. Niff running through the gatehouse. Mr. Niff dodged a barrage of doilies and throw pillows coming from outside. He turned only long enough to shout, “Your aim stinks!”

“Hey, keep it outside!” London yelled.

Mr. Niff scurried over piles of broken bricks until he reached Will. “A purple puppet person just came through the goblin gate. He said he needs to talk to you about super scary stuff, so I went ahead to let you know he’s coming.”

“This is new,” Will said. He got up and waved for the others to follow. “Niff, can you take us to him? I don’t want the poor guy to get caught in the fighting.”

“No sweat.” Mr. Niff led Will, the trolls, Domo, Vial and Hugh out of the ruined city. A band of goblins were waiting with pillows in hand for Mr. Niff, but they paused when they saw Will. Mr. Niff explained, “I’m helping the boss. We’ll fight to the death after I’m done.”

“Promise?” a gangly goblin asked.

Mr. Niff pushed the other goblins aside and led his friends on. They left the city and entered a young forest growing nearby. Narrow trails wound through the woods, most of which were trapped, but Mr. Niff picked his way around snares, pie throwers and concealed pits.

“I’m curious why a purple puppet person came to us for help,” Will said as they walked. “I thought they lived far away.”

“They do,” Domo told him. “They have a couple small communities scattered around the wilderness, but their homeland is seven hundred miles to the east.”

“They still manage to send people to say hello a couple times a year,” Mr. Niff volunteered.

Will glanced at him. “That’s a long way to go for hello.”

“Not really,” Mr. Niff replied. “We’re the only friends they have.”

Puzzled, Will asked, “Why is that?”

Domo shrugged. “No idea. They’re nice people, and they never get mad at us no matter how many stupid things we do. It’s not like they smell or anything. For some reason we’re the only ones who get along with them.”

“I’d think the trolls would be nice to them,” Will said. “All the trolls I’ve met were good people.”

“Wrong direction,” Domo explained. “Trolls live far to our west. I doubt they’ve met. It doesn’t help that puppet people are a new race. There aren’t many of them and they haven’t been around for long.”

On their way they saw Will’s garden. It wasn’t much to look at, just a patch of dirt surrounded by a rickety wood fence. Most plants in the garden had died weeks ago, but a few root crops and cucumber vines were growing. There was also what looked like a lifeguard tower manned by warrior goblins next to the fence.

One of the goblins saw movement in the forest and leaped off the tower before running screaming into the woods. He came back carrying a live rabbit by its hind legs.

“I got him! I got the long eared thieving bunny!” the goblin shouted triumphantly while dancing around in a circle.

“Hold on,” Will began, but the goblin was too taken with his victory to notice.

“He thought he’d ruin the boss’ garden, but I showed him!”

“What’s this about?” Domo asked.

Feeling faintly embarrassed, Will said, “An animal got in my garden last month and did some damage. When the warrior goblins found out they assigned guards to watch over it, which would be a really nice gesture if they didn’t keep attacking innocent animals and salesmen.”

“Animals are guilty until proven innocent!” the warrior goblin shouted. “And even then they’re guilty!”

“The rabbit wasn’t anywhere near my garden,” Will told him.

“He was thinking about it!” The goblin poked the rabbit in the belly. “You were conspiring! Confess!”

Will said, “Just take it a few miles away and let it go.”

The warrior poked the rabbit again before he marched into the woods. “The King’s going easy on you, but this is still going on your record! You have the right to remain silent! Anything you say will be ignored or misinterpreted!”

Will watched the warrior long enough to be sure he wasn’t going to hurt the rabbit before gesturing for Mr. Niff to lead them on. Unfortunately Domo had wandered off to inspect the garden.

“Your weed pile is still alive,” Domo said. He poked a cucumber vine with mildewed leaves. “I figured your plants would have given up and died by now, or that you’d have killed them.”

“The garden should be done for the year pretty soon, but I can still squeeze a bit more out of it for the innkeeper,” Will replied.

Domo looked quizzically at Will. “I thought you grew this green stuff to eat. Why do you keep giving it away?”

Will surveyed his garden and said, “I learned an important fact about myself since I started this: I’m a fair gardener and a terrible cook. None of the meals I made were poisonous, I think, but I ended up feeding a lot of them to passing goblins. It doesn’t help that there’s not much you can do with the plants I could pick from. I did eat some of it, but one more day of vegetable soup would have been the death of me. Can we get back to finding the puppet person? I don’t want him out here alone, especially after I saw the guys using catapults yesterday.”

“Goblin catapults aren’t too dangerous when we load them with sponges,” Mr. Niff said. “Except to goblins using them. People get excited, accidents happen, guys go airborne, but they heal up after a while. Workplace safety rules aren’t what they should be.”

They continued through the woods, going around trenches, small forts and more traps. A few goblins saw them and tagged along, apparently bored with their civil war. In a few minutes they were close enough to see the cave where the goblin gate was. What they didn’t see was the puppet person, which surprised Will. They should have met him by now if he was heading in the right direction.

“Hello!” an echoing voice called out. It took Will a few seconds to spot a pit dug into the trail. It had been covered with a thin wood board coated with dirt, blending in perfectly until some unwitting person stepped on it and broke through. Whoever was trapped in the pit called out again, “Is anyone there?”

“We hear you,” Will replied. He thought about who could be trapped in the pit, and then covered his face with his hand. “Excuse me, but are you the puppet person who came to warn us?”

“Yes, that’s me,” the puppet person replied. He had an echoing voice, like he was speaking inside a box, but he still sounded friendly. “I don’t wish to be a bother, but I was wondering if you could lend a hand. This pit is proving a tad inconvenient.”

“See, this is why I don’t like you guys making so many traps,” Will told the goblins. “We get an ambassador—”

“President,” the puppet person corrected him from inside the pit.

“A president comes to visit and he ends up in a pit!” Will shouted. “We either need to cut back on the traps or have someone around to keep them from catching innocent bystanders.”

“It’s not like we killed the guy,” Mr. Niff protested. He leaned over the pit and asked, “You’re alive, right?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Exasperated, Will said, “Just help me get him out.”

Will and the trolls reached down and grabbed the puppet person by his arms. Pulling him up took some work given his considerable weight, made worse by his fully packed bags and a small goblin clinging to his leg, but they managed.

Once they freed the puppet person, Will got a good look at him. Their guest was six feet tall and looked like a man in armor, but he was made entirely of expertly carved wood and molded steel plates. His features weren’t quite human, with shoulders a bit too wide, forearms a bit too thick and his waist a bit too narrow. The puppet person was painted purple with blue stripes on his legs and arms. His face was carved from wood but his mouth and eyes opened and closed, and he had wooden eyebrows that could move. In spite of such rough features the puppet person looked friendly, even sincere.

Hugh studied the puppet person and nodded approvingly. “Good craftsmanship.”

“Thank you,” the puppet person said cheerfully. Holding out his hand to Will, he said, “Allow me to introduce myself. I am President Percy of the purple puppet people. I assume from your clothes and scepter that you are William Bradshaw?”

Will shook his hand. “Yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry if this sounds rude, but I didn’t think anyone on Other Place had invented democracy. How is it you’re a president?”

This didn’t seem to bother Percy. “A common question, often followed by ‘what is a president’, and ‘are you kidding?’ Not long ago a group of humans formed an organization called the Barrel Wrights and developed the revolutionary concept that followers should have a say in government. When my people heard about it, we were so excited that we sent an ambassador to them for details. Two months later we had elections, and I’m proud to say I was selected to lead my people.”

“That’s impressive,” Will said. “Congratulations, and I hope you and your people do well.”

“We’re not, and neither are you,” Percy replied. “Our lives and good fortunes are about to come to a grinding halt.”

“I don’t understand,” Will said.

Percy frowned. “I’m sorry, I’m new at speech writing. It sounded good when I came up with the appeal. Let me try again. I recently learned that we’re all going to die in an extremely painful and messy fashion, turning us into mush and our cities into rubble.”

“I see,” Will replied. He paused a moment before asking, “So, is this a ‘kiss your loved ones goodbye’ kind of situation, or can we prevent it?”

“I don’t want to get kissed,” London said quickly. He and his brother backed away from Will.

“That’s a fascinating question I have no answer to,” Percy replied. “My people learned of this catastrophe only recently. We knew it was coming, but we thought we had decades longer to prepare. Sadly that assumption has proven untrue, and we are unready. Faced with this dire portent, I spoke with my advisers and we developed a plan.”

“Break down and cry?” Mr. Niff asked.

“That’s option two,” Percy replied. “Option one was to seek help. We sent ambassadors to neighboring kingdoms but they were turned away. Some were even attacked. Given the limited time remaining, I personally undertook a mission to our best and most powerful allies, the goblins.”

Domo stared at Percy. “We’re the best you could do?”

“We call only goblins friend,” Percy replied. “Even if that weren’t so, your deeds bring hope to many. We heard how time and again you did the impossible. Armies fought you and lost. The Staff of Skulls, said to be immortal, died at your hands. You imprisoned the Eternal Army in a tomb of rock. Even the richest man alive couldn’t best you.”

“We have been beating the odds lately,” Vial said.

Percy pointed at the small goblin with him. “Goblin gates were the only way to reach you in time, so I enlisted the aid of a goblin living in our land to provide the stupidity and craziness to power the gates.”

“The gates aren’t a reliable way of getting around,” Will said.

“Indeed, it took days to reach you, and we visited many distant lands in the process,” Percy replied. “I dispatched other puppet people with the same goal, but it seems I arrived first. Time consuming and dangerous as it was, the trip was worth the effort. My people need help, but aiding us helps both friends and strangers you have yet to meet. The lives of countless millions are at stake.”

“We’ll do whatever we can, but you’ve been kind of vague on details,” Will told Percy. “Exactly what are we dealing with? If we knew more we’d have a better idea of what we could do about it.”

Percy shook Will’s hand again. “Thank you! Your support means much to us, but then again we’ve always been able to count on our goblin friends in times of need.”

Will looked at Domo, who shrugged and said, “I don’t know what he’s talking about, either.”

Percy continued speaking before Will could ask for details. “Your request for information is natural, but I fear there is little I can provide. A people long since gone created a grave threat. They were a secretive group who lived on an island in the sea, and they were enemies to the men who created the first purple puppet people. Those who made this threat allowed no visitors of any kind to their island, even attacking merchants under the assumption they were spies.”

“Ah, good old-fashioned paranoia,” Domo said.

Percy looked down and spoke in a hushed voice. “They made a being capable of terrible destruction. None save his makers knew exactly what he could do, but all fear the worst. His creators are long dead yet he survived. Witnesses saw him howl in rage for his lost creators before marching into the sea. Many thought him lost, drowned or crushed by the intense pressure of the deep ocean. My people knew better. He is not dead, nor has he forgotten the loss of his makers. He has crossed the ocean floor and shall soon emerge to reap a terrible vengeance.”

“Can you at least tell me what this thing is called?” Will asked.

“His name is Sarcamusaad, the Walking City,” Percy told him, “and I fear he is the doom of us all.”

Will remembered hearing the name before, but knew nothing more. If he had any doubts of how serious the threat was, it was dispelled when the trolls and goblins gasped at the news. “It’s that bad?”

Domo gulped nervously. “Not end of the world bad, but a close second.”

“Okay, we’ve got a poorly understood threat that everyone agrees is big,” Will said. “That’s a start, but if we’re going to fight back we need more facts, more friends and weapons to stop this thing.”

“Does that include making ridiculously large bombs?” Vial asked hopefully.

Will patted him on the head. “I don’t know where I’d be without them. But those take a while to build. How long do we have to prepare?”

“I wish I knew,” Percy replied. “Sarcamusaad approaches land, that much we know, but he hasn’t set foot on solid ground. He should reach it soon, and when he does destruction is assured.”

“Well let’s get you back to our city, or the ruins of our city, and we’ll talk more about it,” Will said.

“Again, thank you,” Percy replied. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am. This has been a—” Percy froze in place. He looked to the south and cupped his hand to his ear. “No, not yet.”

Will grabbed his scepter. “What is it?”

“I hear something.” Percy scanned the horizon. “More than that, there’s a taste to the air I’m not familiar with. Magic approaches. It’s strong, but connected to…oh no. He found me.”

“Who found you?” Will asked. “Who’s looking for you?”

Percy stepped back and raised his arms. Short blades slid from each forearm, and he announced, “The shadow of Sarcamusaad falls upon us. Make ready for battle!”

“Spread out!” Will ordered. His friends took cover, with Mr. Niff drawing his knife while Vial gleefully plucked bombs from inside his lab coat. Will scanned the horizon for the danger Percy already seemed aware of. He saw nothing, and as the seconds rolled by he wondered if Percy was mistaken. Then he heard a faint buzzing from the south, like cicadas only more constant. The noise grew louder, but with dense tree cover Will couldn’t spot its source. He turned to Percy and asked, “What are we looking for?”

Percy didn’t have time to answer before a monster cast in bronze flew over the tops of the trees. Will only got a passing look at it, which was bad enough. It had a bronze body as big as a pickup truck and a long tail trailing behind it. There was a blur of motion along its side, wings moving too fast to be seen. It went over them like a shot before making a wide turn and coming back. The bronze monstrosity landed on the trail with a splat as its six legs sunk deep into the muddy ground. It needed a few seconds to pull itself free, offering Will a chance to see it clearly.

It was an entomologist’s nightmare. The body resembled a huge dragonfly with a hunched back sporting four long wings. But the head had a long horn on the nose and two coming from the side of its head like a rhinoceros beetle. There was also a scorpion’s tail as long as its body, ending in a wickedly barbed blade as long as a sword. It also had scorpion arms with man-sized pincers. Now that it wasn’t flying the buzzing noise was gone, replaced with a harsh metallic clanking.

“This is new and unpleasant,” Vial said.

Percy stepped forward and lowered his arms. “Sarcamusaad, mighty one, I beseech you to hear my pleas! We are not your enemies. We are friends made by the same magic. My people and I seek only peace. There is no need for violence.”

The monster disagreed. The insect horror raised its tail, and to Will’s amazement it fired its stinger at Percy. The blade was attached by a bronze chain and aimed straight for Percy’s chest. Will grabbed Percy and pulled him aside a fraction of a second before the blade struck. It flew on fifty feet to stab into the ground. The monster whipped its tail backwards, and the chain and blade flew back.

Thinking fast, Will aimed his fire scepter at the chain as it retracted. The salamander inside the scepter’s largest fire opal scowled as Will turned the scepter on. FOOM! A blast of white-hot fire shot into the air and melted the chain. The blade landed in front of the monster, useless to it.

“Flank it!” Will ordered. “All its weapons are on the front!”

The monstrous contraption lumbered forward swinging its pincers and horns. London and Brooklyn went to its left while Vial and Mr. Niff went right. Domo and Hugh led nearby goblins around the monster’s back. The bronze monster tried to catch London in its pincers but missed.

“Stop!” Percy cried out. “Sarcamusaad, your fight isn’t with us!”

The bronze horror charged Percy and tried to gore him with its horns. Percy and Will ran, leaving the monster to trample young trees and tear up the ground. Vial threw bombs at the monster, doing little damage, while Mr. Niff climbed up its legs and onto its back. The little goblin slid his knife between armor plates and cut vulnerable parts inside.

It was the trolls who did the most to hurt the monster. They grabbed one of its long wings and pulled for all they were worth. The monster shrieked, making a noise like a chainsaw as they ripped the wing off. It turned to face them, only to have Hugh, Domo and the goblins pile on.

“Guys, I need a clear shot!” Will shouted, but no one heard him over the noise of battle. Goblins hammered at the monster with their fists and Hugh pried up an armor plate near the back. The monster shook itself like a wet dog and threw them off, but Vial spotted the opening Hugh had made in its armor and threw his next bomb there. The monster buckled when the bomb went off inside it, and its tail went slack.

Far from defeated, the monster charged Percy again. Percy jumped out of its way and drove both his forearm blades where the monster’s right arm met its body. The blades cut through the thinner armor at the joint. The monster grabbed for him again, but Will was ready. He had a clear shot at the arm and fired his scepter. FOOM! The pincer melted under the intense flames and fell off.

London, Brooklyn and Hugh grabbed the monster’s limp tail and pulled hard. Between the three of them they slowed the beast down while goblins scurried over its legs and hammered at the joints. That wasn’t enough. It twisted its head and struck Percy with a horn, knocking him to the ground. The puppet person rolled away before the monster could catch him on its horns again.

Will pulled Percy away as the monster tried to trample them both. It attacked with its other pincer, but Will swept his cape in front of him. The pincer disappeared into the shimmering cape instead of striking him, coming out of the cape of a goblin scarecrow thirty yards away.

“Fascinating!” Percy told Will. “You must tell me how you did it!”

“Bigger problems at the moment!” Will answered. The monster pulled its claw back through the cape and tried again. Will grabbed Percy and wrapped his cape around them both. They disappeared with a whoosh, trading places with the nearby scarecrow. The monster snapped the empty uniform in half and then shook off the trolls and goblins. It flapped its remaining three wings, and to Will’s surprise it managed to lift five inches off the ground with no sign of stopping.

“Narrow,” Will told his scepter as he aimed it at the wings. FOOM! White-hot flames burned off half a wing and the monster fell to the ground. FOOM! He sent another blast at the monster’s head and burned off one of its horns. This didn’t seem to bother it in the least. “What does it take to stop this thing?”

Vial threw more bombs, blowing gaping holes in the remaining wings. London and Brooklyn scrambled to their feet. London grabbed the tail blade Will had removed with his first attack while his brother grabbed the severed horn. They drove the weapons through the monster’s armored hide to the sound of metal screaming as it tore. Mr. Niff climbed back onto the monster, but this time he crawled into the hole Hugh had made when he’d pulled up the armor plate.

“Niff, get out of there!” Will yelled. He didn’t dare fire again with Mr. Niff inside. Even if he didn’t hit the little goblin, the fire could cook him alive inside the metal monster. Mr. Niff didn’t leave.

The monster swung its remaining pincer at the trolls and knocked them to the ground before it charged Percy and Will again. It covered the distance in seconds and made a credible attempt to run them through with its two remaining horns, but at the last moment its legs buckled. The monster hit the ground and dug a deep furrow in the grass. It went into spasms, kicking its legs and swinging its pincer wildly before falling silent. Smoke rose from its armored carcass.

Covered in grime and smiling, Mr. Niff climbed out of the hole in the mechanical monster’s back and tossed a handful of cables and wires on the ground. “You guys got to see this! There’s lots of cool stuff in here!”

Will and his friends gathered around the steaming metal body. They stared at the strange monster that was so hard to defeat.

“Tough bug,” London said. “I actually broke a sweat.”

“That’s Sarcamusaad?” Will asked Percy.

Percy shook his head. “This is one of his scouts, his eyes and ears when he is still far away. Now he knows we are preparing for him, and our task is that much harder.”