The Puppethead War #1

Issue 2 > >

This series follows on from First Encounter, which you can access from the Puppethead Saga hub page.  Please enjoy and feel free to comment or criticise.

Amongst the charity buildings in the city's western quarter, Irena de Postrem awoke gasping for air. She called to her parents who arrived instantly at her side.

'I had the dream again,' she said. Around her, other sleeping figures groaned or growled at the family for waking them.

Irena's mother spoke softly. 'Did you do what the apothecary said? The herbs to help you sleep?'

'They don't do anything,' her father said, seeing Irena's expression in the dark and frowning. He hugged his daughter, rocking slowly as she sobbed into his woollen coat.

'Why won't it go away?' the girl said, coughing weakly.

'I can't fight them for you,' her father said. She stopped coughing and he held her out by the shoulders. 'You do know that it isn't real, don't you?'

Irena shook her head and tears scattered to both sides. Her father hugged her again.

'There is no such thing as this “underwater city”.' He forced a chuckle. 'And there aren't any lake monsters.'

***

Meanwhile, under the waters of the mountain lake, a man swum into a great submerged city. The place appeared to be writhing as various tentacular shapes glided through glowing doorways in the truly three-dimensional space, each following its own agenda.

Wearing an ancient buoyancy vest, mask and breather pilfered from the village of Yerz, the man approached a gigantic building engulfed by shadow. One of the startling shapes detached itself from the wall and lowered its head towards the nonplussed human, who then began to make noises that were only just audible in the watery gloom.

'Go ahead, look at me like that,' he said. 'Your little mistake nearly cost us the whole operation. The village folk are preparing themselves!'

The figure above him, still half obscured by a massive shadow, bent down in supplication.

'The child was too strong and too dumb for its own good. You know that it could have been worse. If a human escaped with one of us... well, they would certainly stand out on the landscape more.'

'The First didn't seem to mind, and he didn't even research his role, much like our recent dead failure,' said the man. Even in the muffled depths his tone of disappointment was apparent. 'I also went up of my own accord.'

The hidden figure sounded shocked. 'Not everyone is willing to do what you did.'

'Regardless,' snapped the man, 'we must stop using youths as our vanguard. Phase two begins now.'

***

'I was thrown from the boat,' Ferran stopped for dramatic effect. 'I could feel something pulling me down into the dark depths of the lake, when suddenly I woke up in chains, and a body that was not my own.'

The younger children on the floor of the town hall gasped.

'There were others nearby and the same had happened to them,' Ferran continued, 'but the nasty puppetheads had miscalculated. I knew I had to return to warn everyone, so I used all the strength I could and the shackles broke like paper!'

This time they exhaled together. As Ferran pretended to swim through the air, Talon entered the back doors and leaned on the wall. He seemed taller than Ferran recalled, perhaps because since turning fourteen he had been standing straighter.

'I reached the surface, but I couldn't enter the village in case there were other monsters...' the fishing teacher trailed off. 'That's all for today, kids!'

The children sighed despondently and began to disperse, while Ferran stood from his chair and walked towards Talon. The youth had noticed, over the week since their first encounter with the puppethead, that his teacher was moving generally slower than before. Maybe as a side effect of having been refused control over his body, the man was calculating every action carefully.

'Come to report on the voluntary screenings?' he said.

The young fisherman was surprised. 'You don't remember that Daiv's heading off with the riders today?'

Ferran looked puzzled for a moment and then a metaphorical light switched on. 'Yes, of course, the Floating Village.'

Talon's concern was palpable. 'Alright then,' he said. 'As long as you're feeling okay, we'll get out there and see them off.'

'Don't talk nonsense, boy,' Ferran said. 'Man, I mean. Just a brain snap.'

The two of them walked into the sunlight and towards the montiger kennels.

'So how are the screenings going?' said Ferran.

'Slowly. Everyone wants to get quizzed at once, but there are families who haven't come back from the markets yet.'

'You don't have any suspicions?'

'Well the Honch hasn't seen me since the incident.' The youth shrugged. 'From what he said it sounds like he knows something, but why would he bother to save us if he was working for the puppetheads?'

'This is a tangled mess, Talon,' Ferran said. 'We can only hope that the report from the Floating Village will be good news. One last thing; do you remember who it was that found my body that night?'

'Yes,' Talon said. 'It was Darrin. I think that maybe we should –'

Before he could finish speaking, they had come to the marshalling ground beside the kennel building. Four montiger riders including Daiv were packing up trail supplies for the trip around to the Floating Village.

'Almost ready to go,' Daiv said when he saw them approach. 'I wish you guys could come, it's going to be a boring ride.'

The two of the other riders looked at him with barely hidden disdain. The third was Darrin Sasket, who was old enough to remember when Ryndia had been a single country, and didn't pay the others any attention at all.

'These guys don't think I should go,' Daiv said in response to their glares. 'Apparently the Big Honch insisted that I join, since I was there when we got that puppethead out of you.'

'You know I would go with you in an instant,' Talon said, 'but someone needs to warn the Overarchy and we're the only ones with first hand evidence.'

Ferran lowered his voice. 'Do us a favour and keep an eye on Mr Sasket.' His tone of voice was deadly serious.

'Will do,' Daiv said without question. He swung himself into the saddle. 'See you guys in a week.'

The riding party departed, their mounts bounding effortlessly towards the north reaching road.

'I really want this feeling to be wrong,' said Talon.

Ferran raised the corner of his mouth. 'Ignore it for now and pack your things. We need to get going ourselves if we want to reach Arten tonight.'

Search for Dastardly Part 5

Adrian refrained from commenting on the unusual brass hat that his horse was wearing when they left the palace, allowing the gnome to remove it while appearing incredibly guilty. As the others descended the steps, the knight began to strip down.

'What is that?' Renda gasped.

Nuff winced. 'I don't know if it's legal.'

'What?' Adrian said. 'Haven't you seen a guy in casual clothes before?'

Gone was the bulky armour that Renda had become accustomed to seeing. Underneath, the knight wore puffy brown pants and a striped tunic – and that wasn't even the biggest crime. Small ruffs encircled Adrian's neck and sleeves, throwing his sensibly groomed hair into sharp relief.

'Are you supposed to be from the middle ages or something?'

Adrian produced a strained grin. 'Look who's talking, Ms Rogue.'

Renda absent-mindedly brushed the front of her leather one-piece and straightened her greaves. Adrian strapped the armour onto the side of Sal's saddle.

'We need to keep moving, people,' Waory said. He failed to avoid Renda's harsh gaze.

***

Not far from the markets, the streets of the city were eerily quiet. Cobbled spaces echoed every step of the motley group's passage on their way to the library, and Adrian's horse became uneasy.

'Where are all the citizens?' said Renda.

'We've already lost a ruler in the past year,' Waory said, without answering much. 'There's concern and even fear.' They approached the library's columned entrance. 'It sounds ridiculous, but I think a storm is brewing.'

At this the other humans involuntarily looked upwards into the clear sky. A seagull streaked past.

'He's being metaphorical,' said Nuff. The group stopped under the shadow of the tall building, all marble and sand colours.

'You go in with the others,' the knight told Renda. Sal had stopped short of getting too close to the library. 'I need to sort something out and I'll be up in a second.'

Renda nodded and followed Waory through a private gate. After she was out of sight, the knight walked into a side alley that they had passed on the way.

'Who is it?' he shouted. He might have heard a thump before everything else went dark.

***

Inside the maze of shelves that made the first floor of the library, nothing but the sound of a solitary beetle scuttling across the ground reached the ears of Renda, Nuff and Waory. Eventually they found their way to the main librarian's desk on a wall of the huge space, but even Nuff, whose people were used to navigating twisted tunnels underground, could not quite remember in which direction the doors were.

As Renda reached out for the bell on the counter, the advisor shook his head knowingly. Before her hand had come within an inch of it, a tall, gaunt man appeared behind the desk – so quickly he might have risen out of the ground. He put his hand to his lips and hissed, 'shhh.'

'Mr Parch?' Waory said softly. 'We need to look at a special book...'

Nuff jumped up and heaved himself onto the counter. 'The Illuman book. Probably has a creepy eye on the front.'

Mr Parch proceeded to shush the gnome.

'Speak quietly,' whispered Waory. 'There are enough big words in here for everyone without you adding to them.'

Mr Parch tipped his head to the advisor and began to speak. His mouth seemed more to hint at the words than produce them, as if he were projecting his thoughts calmly and precisely to the visitors' ears without vibrating the air in between.

'We called it the Book of Too Much Knowledge.'

Renda, on the other hand, whispered louder than how most men spoke on a regular basis.

'We must use its knowledge.'

Before Mr Parch raised his arm a third time, Waory nodded and waved behind them. 'I'll come with you.'

Waory and the librarian marched around a row of shelves to the group's left without glancing back.

'Where'd our shining knight get off to?' Nuff asked.

'He said that he would follow us in,' Renda said. 'I wouldn't blame him for getting lost in here.'

***

Adrian was woken by a bucket-full of water being dumped on his head. From the feeling in his nose and cheek, he had been flat on the ground for a while. Now his arms were tied around the back of a chair and his legs strapped to the floor.

'This is original,' he muttered.

'Quit yappin',' a high pitched, raspy voice said. Its owner ventured into the knight's vision, and was – rather appropriately – a rat faced man. This one though, as opposed to a recent nuisance in Adrian's past, was not a kobom, just a dirty human.

'What now, Fred?' said Adrian's dust-coloured kidnapper.

'I told you, I'm not Fred,' said another voice, deeper and in some way familiar to the knight.

'Who are you? What do you want?' Adrian said.

The dirty man opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the other stranger who chuckled mirthlessly.

'Don't you recognise me?'

A second man, bigger than the first but not overly so, made his way into Adrian's field of view. The face took a moment to register with the knight because some elements were simply wrong. Overall however, it resembled an odd acquaintance of his, recently deceased.

'I'm called Dastardly, and you're going to tell me why.'

The knight spluttered for a moment, dumbfounded. 'Who are you really? Dastardly is dead, and this is a loco prank.'

The man walked closer to Adrian, who felt the need to punch the not-quite-right visage square between the eyes. 'You are Sir Adrian of the Clockwork City. I am somehow involved with you, commercially, I think...'

'You're insane.'

'Maybe not that far, but certainly a few sticks short.' The man smiled at Adrian. 'I only started remembering all this the other night.'

'Mr Dastardly...' the dirty man said.

“Dastardly” turned back suddenly. 'Just Dastardly,' he said. He continued his unhinged spiel. 'This chump I don't know. Or at least, I don't think I have any ongoing contracts with him...'

***

'You are aware,' the librarian insinuated as the group looked at the twisted script in the Book of Too Much Knowledge, 'that there are parts to a person that aren't physical?'

The others nodded passively as he continued.

'First of all, the book says that someone is hunting this man.'

'We already know that,' said Renda. 'Krotar is mad.'

'But,' Mr Parch intoned, 'to find him, this Krotar will have to get both remnants.'

The halls of the library were silent while the visitors tried to understand.

'Remnants?' said Nuff. 'What remnants?'

'Your friend's face and soul have been separated from his body.'

Renda once again failed at whispering. 'You've lost me. Are you saying that there is more than one part of Dastardly out there?'

'That's what the book says. One part is very close, whereas the other resides in –'

'The Troll Underworld,' Waory read out. The woman and the gnome glanced at him.

'Um,' he said, 'the Land-Regent mentioned the Troll Underworld just before he poisoned Mr Medieval, but there isn't one iota of information about it here in the library.'

'What about in this book?' the gnome said.

Mr Parch closed the Book of Too Much Knowledge without ceremony.

'This book is to be burned,' he susurrated. 'We do not call it The Book of Ooh, Come and Read as Much as You Want.'

'Right now?' Waory said. 'But we need to find where the freelancer went!'

Renda grasped the librarian's arm in a firm, not entirely threatening way.

'If we can't get to Dastardly first, Krotar will turn this land upside down in search of him.'

'I hate to be devil's advocate here, but we haven't even seen this “Krotar”,' said Nuff.

The mercenary turned her head askew, still holding on to Mr Parch.

'Just a minute...' she said. 'One part of Dastardly is close, and Adrian hasn't returned yet.'

First Encounter #4

Out among the shorter trees and mounds of scree, Talon and Daiv clung to the meagre reins of the montiger. This one was called Durga, the fastest in Yerz and more than fast enough to outrun the puppethead. For Talon, the constant rocking was making his work difficult.

'Couldn't we go by a more direct route?' he asked as Daiv handled the creature's ducking and weaving across the mountain side. Talon had almost finished the makeshift trap, a heavy fishing net with sinkers strapped to each side. At one of Durga's leaps Talon dropped the sixth sinker.

'Dammit!' he said. 'This won't work, there's not enough weight.'

Daiv tried to be optimistic, pausing to guide the montiger over a barely visible creek.

'You'll confuse it, right? Maybe that's all we need.'

Talon folded the net several times, trying prepare for when they arrived at the saddle.

'I think we're keeping pace,' said Daiv. 'On the road we'd have caught him back behind the ridge, but we wouldn't –' The montiger growled.

'I think we're just about there.'

Lookout Ridge oversaw most of the southern forest and the foothills before the plains. It was also very exposed to the mountain trail below but the Ferran puppethead had not yet caught up with them. Behind him, through the gaps in the trees, Talon thought he saw the man running along the winding road.

Talon dismounted and slid down the rocky ridge. He crouched behind the larger of several boulders that lined the pass, and before long the puppethead ran past. Just ahead, Talon could hear it slow down. Daiv and Durga had blocked its path.

'You've got to turn around and give my friend his body back,' said Daiv. Durga took several steps forwards but its rider murmured something and the montiger stopped.

'How are you going to stop me?' the thing said in a conceited, condescending tone that reminded Talon of the voice that his father had put on, back when he read tales of the dastardly conquestors before bedtime.

'I only need to touch you and then you'll be trapped here as I run away,' the puppethead gloated.

'I didn't expect monsters to be so verbose,' said Daiv. 'Talon, now!'

The boy leapt from his hollow. He thought of fighting fish on the lake during the best of times – especially when Ferran told him he was the best fisherman of Yerz since his own father. He heaved the net while holding onto the nearer reaches and let it collapse without grace over Ferran's body.

The puppethead fell forward but did not appear to be injured, and Talon backed away quickly so he would not touch it. The thing struggled and rolled over.

'You didn't really think this through, did you?' it said. 'How dumb can you monkeys get?'

Talon growled angrily. 'What is your problem? Why do you things even care about “us monkeys”?'

The puppethead was almost out from under the net when a noise caught both human and monster's attention. The sky behind Talon had begun the pre-glow of dawn and outlined against it was a massive upside-down, tear-drop shape, floating towards them like a jellyfish of the air.

'Step a little to the right, if you please, Talon,' the voice rang over the mountains. At the same time, the inscrutable mound of lake bed that hid Ferran in the puppethead body was approaching along the pass.

The voice from the hot air balloon continued, magnified by a large horn that glinted in a little of the approaching daylight.

'Attached to this rather unassuming craft is a sort of gyroscope-stabilised cannon. For your information, it is aiming directly at you, lake monster.' The voice was of the Big Honch. 'If you don't return to your own body, quickly and without a fuss, I will blast a hole in you.'

'You don't even know how to use it!' yelled the monster. It ventured a lunge at Talon who ran straight for Ferran.

'Ah, no,' said the Honch. 'None of that funny stuff. It's your own body or none at all.'

'You're bluffing, monkey,' the thing yelled back.

'And you somehow think it's worth taking that chance?'

The puppethead appeared to dance, or at least jump around like a nervous child.

'I don't think this is...' Ferran started saying. He was breathing very quickly. 'I'm not going to last.'

Talon watched as his teacher convulsed, trying to suck in air but without the lung capacity to do so.

'You've run out of time, interloper,' said the voice of the Honch.

The puppethead stamped up to Ferran and clasped the beaked head with its hands. Talon jumped backwards in case of – in case of nothing. There was no sound, no bright flash of light. Ferran's body crumpled and the puppethead stumbled to its left and into a tree, shaking the ground as it too collapsed. It exhaled for the last time in an agonised curse.

'Are you alright?' Talon said, kneeling by the body of his teacher as he sat up, rubbing his forehead. Daiv dismounted Durga and joined them.

'How can we be sure?' he asked. Ferran seemed to be shaking.

'I know,' said Talon. 'Where did you find us last night?'

'Ugh... the old tree house?' Ferran stood up.

'Welcome back,' Talon said. He extended a hand. Ferran was still jittery as he shook it.

'Are you all there?' Daiv said.

'You can't believe what it feels like to be... so weak and helpless...' their teacher began. 'That thing,' he pointed to the puppethead, somehow looking less like a mound of dirt and more like a tangled mass of arms, 'it was using me.'

'It doesn't look the same any more.'

'I was ashamed,' Ferran said. 'I made it look like the thing was hidden under a mound of weeds and sand, apart from whole lot of actual weeds and sand.'

'They can do that?' Talon said.

'They can't really change shape but – I guess that's why they do the other thing.'

The hot air balloon was nearly overhead, and amidst the clanking sounds of the Honch trying to keep it level he let down a rope ladder.

'Good to have you back, Ferran,' he said.

The three on the ground climbed into the basket. To Talon's surprise there actually was a kind of cannon attached to the side.

'Boys,' the Big Honch said, 'I'm sorry for acting so ignorantly, I should have seen this coming.'

'How could you have seen it coming? What do you mean?'

The Honch ignored the question and turned to Ferran.

'I don't know how I can ever make it up to you. I would not have lifted a finger to save you from those things.'

'You did a pretty decent job of saving us all just then,' the fishing teacher said. 'Anyway, it's good that you're willing to fight. We're going to need everyone in Yerz to stop this war.'

The Honch adjusted a secondary burner and piloted the balloon back to the village, and fittingly enough, towards the rising sun.

This is the last of the First Encounter series of stories.  Talon, Daiv, the puppetheads and more will return in "The Puppethead War" which (I hope) should start soon.  In the meantime I've been working on Search for Dastardly, the next instalment of which should be ready by this time next week.

First Encounter #3

The dark of the night was punctured only by the occasional cricket. A rustling of grass heralded the two boys' return, and not long afterwards the bulky mass of lake bed that hid Ferran's form scuttled behind them.

Winter would eventually come to the mountains, but for now there were northerly breezes putting the village Yerz within the range of autumn warmth, much the same as on the lower plateaus or the cities by the coast. Talon and Daiv climbed through an open window bare metres from the room where the puppethead was sleeping, dressed in their teacher's skin.

'We have to go in there?' Daiv whispered. 

In response, an absent grunt sounded from the sleeping figure. Talon placed his finger over his mouth and beckoned his friend to follow. The thing in Ferran's body was snoring as they stepped carefully towards the chest of drawers. Like their teacher had said, they found the photograph of Ferran and a younger woman standing on a broad wooden verandah.

'Where – when do you suppose this was...?' Daiv began.

From outside came the same sound of rustling that the boys had made.

'The grass,' Talon whispered. 'Someone is coming.'

'Are you sure that's not Ferran?'

The question was answered by a call from the person that the boys wished to see even less than the body-stealing monster.

'Who goes there?' said the Big Honch. The village owner opened the door of the house and the thing woke up.

'What the hell are you doing in here?' said the thing. The Honch appeared in the doorway.

'I would like to know the very same thing.'

'This isn't Ferran,' Daiv said faster than he could think, pointing an accusatory finger at the body in the bed.

The Honch looked disconcertingly between the invading child and the sleeper whose home had been invaded.

'I think you'll find it is, silly boy. What do you think you are doing? Playing a prank? Is that it?'

As Talon watched the Honch begin to fume, he thought of a diversion.

'If this man is Ferran,' he said after the Honch had finished, 'who is this?'  The boy jabbed the photograph in the thing's face.

'My old girlfriend,' it said without blinking. To the fright of the Honch, a messy mound of lake muck pushed through the bedroom window. In the absence of bright light, the shape could have been anything, which made it all the more terrifying.

'That's my sister, you monster!' growled the obscured face.

'This is a Thing that has taken over Ferran's body!' Talon said.

Through the window, Ferran breathed heavily again to speak to the Honch. 'This imposter is part of a scouting party and they are going to invade our home.'

The Big Honch finally found his voice. 'Preposterous!' he said. 'Preposterous! I'll have none of this!' He reached into a pocket to procure a match. The Honch lit a candle on the dresser and approached the window. 'What are you and why do you accuse a man of our village?'

'Honch, the puppethead!' Daiv said, but too late – Ferran's body lifted a heavy book above the Honch's head and clobbered him. The thing then leaped across the room before either of the boys could catch it. Daiv chased the monster outside as Talon attempted to lift up the Honch's moaning form. On the floor, the candle wavered in the rush of air and illuminated the scene with eerie shadows.

'Are you okay?' Talon said, despite his overwhelming dislike of the man. Behind them, Ferran straightened out and called to Daiv to return.

'The puppethead will probably try to leave the village,' he said weakly. 'Now that its secret is known, it can't hide.'

'We have to head it off,' said Talon, 'force it to go back into its own body.'

Daiv came back, outside near Ferran. 'I can take one of the montigers. If we go over Lookout Ridge we can cut him off.'

The Honch stirred. 'I can't believe that this is happening...'

'Neither did we,' Talon said.

'No,' the Honch said. 'No, what I mean is that it's happening. That Thing is the start of it.'

'Start of what?' said Daiv. The Honch didn't reply.

'Saddle the montiger, I'll go and grab a net,' said Talon. 'Ferran, you've got to try and make it to the southern pass.'

'Do you really think we can catch it with a fishing net?' One look at Talon's face was all he needed. Ferran made another unearthly shudder as he breathed painfully.

'Get going!' Talon said.

New Serial - First Encounter #2

The children's hideout was a tree house, half a kilometre from town. The woods on the south eastern mountain curled down onto the plains below – and clumps of tall conifers prevented the tree house from being seen by anyone on the pass above. When Talon and Daiv arrived late into the night the tree house was empty.

'We can hide here and let the Honch cool down,' Talon murmured as they climbed into the branches surrounding the crude structure.

Daiv gave him a look. 'We have to go and see if Ferran is okay,' he said. 'First thing tomorrow morning.'

The boys discussed their plan to return the next day, all the while fighting tiredness from the frantic rowing and their fight with the Honch. Eventually however, they both succumbed and slept dreamlessly.

***

Four hours after midnight, Talon's rest was disturbed by an insidious creeping noise. Somewhere below the tree, a dragging – or slithering – was coming closer. Trying to make as little sound as possible he woke Daiv, who grunted sleepily.

'Shh!' Talon hissed, putting his finger over his mouth. 'Outside.'

Staring bleary-eyed, Daiv followed his friend to the door of the tree house. Just visible in the starlight that shone on grass and leaf was a large shadow making its way under the branches.

'What do we do?' Daiv whispered.

Talon thought about this for a second. 'We can hide in the next tree along.'

'But, if the thing is tall enough –'

'We don't know if it's even after us,' Talon said. 'It could be some creature of the forest.'

As they climbed out the back of the house, a deep rumble came from below. Fearful but curious, both boys watched as the thing – shaggy and formless in the near absence of light – moved to cover the bottom of the tree house's trunk.

'Is it going to shake it?' Daiv said. Immediately he regretted this, as the thing made a sudden move at the sound of the boy's voice. Emanating from somewhere inside the mass was another rumbling drawl.

'Did that sound like a word to you?' Talon said.

Daiv trembled. 'No. Let's run.'

The thing repeated itself.

'I think I can make it out...'

The third time, Daiv gasped and fell from the tree. Talon was so concerned for his friend that he almost missed what the thing was saying.

'Are you there? Talon? Daiv?'

Talon jumped down from the tree. 'It knows our names!' he said, while helping Daiv to his feet. The boy froze when he looked over Talon's left shoulder.

'C..c..coming towards us!'

'Didn't you hear me?' said Talon. 'Our names!'

Together they faced the creature. Barely a metre from the tree they had hidden under, Talon realised why it had been hard to make out.

'It's covered by a mound of weeds and sand,' he said. Daiv failed to notice as he was currently working through several flavours of nervous breakdown.

The thing was more than two metres in height, though this could have been from the vast amount of junk that obscured its shape. Apart from the hint of a head and parrot-like jaw on the end of a long neck, which was also draped with stinking strands of weed, there were no definable features protruding from the mound.

'I need help,' it said, slowly and somewhat confused. 'The puppethead has returned to the village and this body will not survive forever above the water.' At this point, Talon realised that the long drawl and continuous rumble noise could have been a painstaking attempt at breathing.

'How do you know our names? How did you know where to find us? Who are you?'

The thing wavered its head back and forth. 'Too many questions. We don't have enough time. It's me, Ferran.'

'What?' Talon said.

Daiv broke his silence to sneer at the thing. 'Why would we believe you when you have no proof?' His motion became less stilted now it was clear the thing wouldn't eat him, yet.

The thing took an even deeper breath. 'The puppetheads, as my fellow captives called them, swap minds with the being that they touch. This thing that stands in front of you is currently sleeping in my bed, wearing my body.'

'That makes sense,' Talon said to Daiv. 'The Lake Sickness affected the montigers' minds –'

'There are others of these at the bottom of the lake whose owners were killed with the montigers. Dag, your pet, is down there.'

'How did you escape?' Talon continued to question the thing. 'Who else has been taken?'

Again, a breath that rattled the air around them. 'We don't have the time for this. There is a photograph of my late sister under the chest of drawers in my cabin. That should be enough proof that I am Ferran – I never told anyone else about her.'

'What can we do?'

'The puppetheads are planning a war, as far as we can gather. Their own bodies do not have efficient lungs and cannot live too long outside the water. I already feel like I'm about to pass out.'

'But why?' Talon said as the thing groaned. 'We'll get you into your body somehow, Ferran.'

'You need to get back to the village and warn the Big Honch,' the thing gasped. 'Don't worry about me.'

Daiv shook his head. 'No, you are following us back. We will find the puppethead.'

As Talon and Daiv raced off through the woods, they didn't hear Ferran call from behind them, 'there might be more than one!'