Read Online A Wild Ride Through The Night by Walter Moers - Free Book Online
Authors: Walter Moers
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noses bled.
A copper cauldron filled with seething wine-red liquid was suspended over a blue fire. Everyone danced around this, throwing in herbs and stinging nettles, mushrooms and truffles. The brew gave off gurgling bubbles, some of which detached themselves from the surface and floated up to the canopy of foliage overhead, where they disappeared. Several of the demons beat hollow trees or thick roots with branches and stones, creating a throbbing rhythm to which the others moved convulsively.
The owls joined in, hooting in deep bass voices, and eerie singing issued from knotholes in the trees. The scene was provided with ever-changing illumination by multicoloured will-o’-the-wisps that meandered drunkenly through the air, lighting up and going out in time to the music. A duck-footed gnome with a face like an ecstatic pig cavorted past, hitting himself on the head with a stone. Heavy with the scent of smouldering herbs, swathes of dense green smoke drifted among the revellers. It made Gustave dizzy just to watch.
‘Here, have some!’ called a hunchbacked frog, holding out a beaker filled with the foaming red brew. Gustave thanked him politely and took a reluctant sip. It didn’t taste of much—a hint of iron and tomatoes, perhaps—but it instantly went to his head.
‘Mm, delicious,’ he lied, and downed half the contents of the beaker. His tongue seemed to absorb the liquid like a sponge and convey it straight to his brain. The one-legged bird that had done most of the talking hopped over to him and stood there, swaying.
‘So you’ve passed your test with flying colours,’ the feathered gnome said approvingly. ‘You’ve made yourself conspicuous in a forest full of spirits
and you’re still alive
! No one has ever managed that before. Congratulations!’ It raised a beaker of the red brew with its right wing and toasted Gustave, who took another big swig for courtesy’s sake.
‘Thanks,’ he said, belching faintly. ‘It was easy enough, though.’
‘What’s your next test?’ the bird enquired, slurring the words. Gustave could tell from the creature’s unfocused eyes and huge, dilated pupils that it was already very drunk. ‘A ride on a comet, or something of that order?’
‘No,’ Gustave replied, ‘I have to guess the names of six giants.’ He couldn’t help laughing, not only because the task sounded so absurd, but because the red beverage was inducing such a state of hilarity that almost everything seemed laughable to him, even the prospect of tackling six giants.
‘You’re a courageous young man,’ burbled the bird. ‘Anyone making for the Plain of the Terrible Titans has to pass through the Valley of the Monsters. Your sword’ll come in handy. Know how to use the thing?’
‘I killed a dragon with it.’
‘I take my hat off to you,’ the bird exclaimed, and turned to its companions. ‘Did you hear that?’ it squawked above the din. ‘This youngster here has killed a genuine dragon.’
But the other forest demons, who were growing more and more frenzied, had lost interest in them. They pranced around, twitching and bellowing, waved their arms in the air, or curled up on the ground, groaning, and tore out tufts of grass. Oddly enough, Gustave felt a strong temptation to follow their example.
‘A dragon, eh?’ the one-legged bird went on. It draped a long wing round Gustave’s shoulders and gazed deep into his eyes. ‘Did you also see some, er … naked damsels?’
Gustave felt a cold stab in the heart
.
‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I did.’
‘Whee …’ the bird trilled admiringly. It rolled its bloodshot eyes and shook its wing as if to convey that it had burnt it on something hot.
‘But tell me,’ said Gustave, to change the subject, ‘what was all that about the Valley of the Monsters and the Plain of the Terrible Titans? It sounds as if you know how to get there.’
‘You’re already on the way!’ The bird grinned and raised its beaker
A copper cauldron filled with seething wine-red liquid was suspended over a blue fire. Everyone danced around this, throwing in herbs and stinging nettles, mushrooms and truffles. The brew gave off gurgling bubbles, some of which detached themselves from the surface and floated up to the canopy of foliage overhead, where they disappeared. Several of the demons beat hollow trees or thick roots with branches and stones, creating a throbbing rhythm to which the others moved convulsively.
The owls joined in, hooting in deep bass voices, and eerie singing issued from knotholes in the trees. The scene was provided with ever-changing illumination by multicoloured will-o’-the-wisps that meandered drunkenly through the air, lighting up and going out in time to the music. A duck-footed gnome with a face like an ecstatic pig cavorted past, hitting himself on the head with a stone. Heavy with the scent of smouldering herbs, swathes of dense green smoke drifted among the revellers. It made Gustave dizzy just to watch.
‘Here, have some!’ called a hunchbacked frog, holding out a beaker filled with the foaming red brew. Gustave thanked him politely and took a reluctant sip. It didn’t taste of much—a hint of iron and tomatoes, perhaps—but it instantly went to his head.
‘Mm, delicious,’ he lied, and downed half the contents of the beaker. His tongue seemed to absorb the liquid like a sponge and convey it straight to his brain. The one-legged bird that had done most of the talking hopped over to him and stood there, swaying.
‘So you’ve passed your test with flying colours,’ the feathered gnome said approvingly. ‘You’ve made yourself conspicuous in a forest full of spirits
and you’re still alive
! No one has ever managed that before. Congratulations!’ It raised a beaker of the red brew with its right wing and toasted Gustave, who took another big swig for courtesy’s sake.
‘Thanks,’ he said, belching faintly. ‘It was easy enough, though.’
‘What’s your next test?’ the bird enquired, slurring the words. Gustave could tell from the creature’s unfocused eyes and huge, dilated pupils that it was already very drunk. ‘A ride on a comet, or something of that order?’
‘No,’ Gustave replied, ‘I have to guess the names of six giants.’ He couldn’t help laughing, not only because the task sounded so absurd, but because the red beverage was inducing such a state of hilarity that almost everything seemed laughable to him, even the prospect of tackling six giants.
‘You’re a courageous young man,’ burbled the bird. ‘Anyone making for the Plain of the Terrible Titans has to pass through the Valley of the Monsters. Your sword’ll come in handy. Know how to use the thing?’
‘I killed a dragon with it.’
‘I take my hat off to you,’ the bird exclaimed, and turned to its companions. ‘Did you hear that?’ it squawked above the din. ‘This youngster here has killed a genuine dragon.’
But the other forest demons, who were growing more and more frenzied, had lost interest in them. They pranced around, twitching and bellowing, waved their arms in the air, or curled up on the ground, groaning, and tore out tufts of grass. Oddly enough, Gustave felt a strong temptation to follow their example.
‘A dragon, eh?’ the one-legged bird went on. It draped a long wing round Gustave’s shoulders and gazed deep into his eyes. ‘Did you also see some, er … naked damsels?’
Gustave felt a cold stab in the heart
.
‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘I did.’
‘Whee …’ the bird trilled admiringly. It rolled its bloodshot eyes and shook its wing as if to convey that it had burnt it on something hot.
‘But tell me,’ said Gustave, to change the subject, ‘what was all that about the Valley of the Monsters and the Plain of the Terrible Titans? It sounds as if you know how to get there.’
‘You’re already on the way!’ The bird grinned and raised its beaker
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