said Min. âWhat are you waiting for?â
Hercufleas gulped. His brain, the size of a poppy seed, was completely overwhelmed. What should he do? He looked at Greta. Looked at his fleamily. Looked at Ugorâs Bazuka. If he was a true, giant-slaying hero, heâd find a way to save the day.
But he was a flea, and just one day old, and he was afraid.
âI saw who murdered Prince Xin,â he said. âIt was⦠It was Greta.â
Ugor nodded and grinned, his gun moving back towards Artifax. âSee? Is just like Ugor tell you. She thief. She kidnapper. She murderer.â
Greta shot Hercufleas a look of such venom he thought he might die from it. âI believed in you,â she said.
âItâs over,â said Stickler curtly. âEmployfleas, go back inside. Iâve no wish for you to see what happens next.â
Min nodded at the fleamily. They hopped in through the windows and drew the black velvet curtains, but she stayed on the brim of the hat. The clearing was dark again, except for Gretaâs tinderfly, crackling on its sugarstick.
âPlease,â Min begged, âplease give us Hercufleas back.â
âYou can have him.â Greta scowled. âI donât ever want to see him again.â
Balling Hercufleas in her fist, she chucked him at Stickler. He was mid-air when her other hand untied the wick and freed the tinderfly. It flew into the sky like an ember from a bonfire, taking the light with it, plunging them into darkness.
17
S houts and screams in the night. Grunts and squeals. Shrieks and then a
BANG
as Ugor fired his Bazuka. A tiny dynamite stick arced through the air, hissing like a firework.
Then the hissing stopped.
BOOM!
Like a photographerâs flash, the fireball illuminated the woodnât for an instant. The shock wave slammed into Hercufleas, cracking every joint in his armour, knocking the breath from his lungs. He saw Stickler blown off his feet, Ugor flung from his pig, and the trees beside them bursting into splinters. He hit the ground, sucking tiny sips of breath, the explosion ringing in his ears.
âDid Ugor get her?â the barbarian shouted, stomping around the burning trees. âDid Ugor get her?â
Hercufleasâs night vision came back slowly, but Artifax and Greta had vanished from the clearing.
I wanted to help you, he thought, wishing she could hear. But I couldnât sacrifice my fleamily.
âMy employfleas!â Stickler shrieked, hands prodding the top of his head.
Where the house-hat had sat, there was now just a sizzled bald spot, gently smouldering. The blast had blown it clean off Sticklerâs head.
And now there was a second explosion, only this one happened inside Hercufleasâs heart. Where were Min and Pin? Where were Burp, Slurp, Speck, Fleck, Itch, Titch, Tittle, Dot and Jot? He had loved and left and longed for them â he had betrayed Greta to save them â had he now lost them forever?
âIâm ruined!â blubbed Stickler. âHappily Ever Afters is done for! Never mind about my reputation, who will type up my P23 hero forms now? Who will even know what a P23 form is?â
âStop crying,â Ugor told Stickler, giving him a slap. âFleas up there. Look.â He pointed at a steep hill, the shape of a dome, that rose behind them. Hercufleas had not noticed it until now, but the pine trees that had obscured it from sight had been blown to matchsticks. One single tree stood on the top of the hill â the rest was a tangle of vines. The house-hat lay among them, its roof burning. Hercufleas squinted and could just make out the fleamily, passing thimbles of bathtub water to each other as they fought to douse the flames.
Stickler let out a strangled sob. Rushing up to the hill, he gripped the vines and began to climb towards the house-hat. The leaves of the lonely tree on the summit shook. But there was no wind. The air was utterly still.
And yet
Hercufleas gulped. His brain, the size of a poppy seed, was completely overwhelmed. What should he do? He looked at Greta. Looked at his fleamily. Looked at Ugorâs Bazuka. If he was a true, giant-slaying hero, heâd find a way to save the day.
But he was a flea, and just one day old, and he was afraid.
âI saw who murdered Prince Xin,â he said. âIt was⦠It was Greta.â
Ugor nodded and grinned, his gun moving back towards Artifax. âSee? Is just like Ugor tell you. She thief. She kidnapper. She murderer.â
Greta shot Hercufleas a look of such venom he thought he might die from it. âI believed in you,â she said.
âItâs over,â said Stickler curtly. âEmployfleas, go back inside. Iâve no wish for you to see what happens next.â
Min nodded at the fleamily. They hopped in through the windows and drew the black velvet curtains, but she stayed on the brim of the hat. The clearing was dark again, except for Gretaâs tinderfly, crackling on its sugarstick.
âPlease,â Min begged, âplease give us Hercufleas back.â
âYou can have him.â Greta scowled. âI donât ever want to see him again.â
Balling Hercufleas in her fist, she chucked him at Stickler. He was mid-air when her other hand untied the wick and freed the tinderfly. It flew into the sky like an ember from a bonfire, taking the light with it, plunging them into darkness.
17
S houts and screams in the night. Grunts and squeals. Shrieks and then a
BANG
as Ugor fired his Bazuka. A tiny dynamite stick arced through the air, hissing like a firework.
Then the hissing stopped.
BOOM!
Like a photographerâs flash, the fireball illuminated the woodnât for an instant. The shock wave slammed into Hercufleas, cracking every joint in his armour, knocking the breath from his lungs. He saw Stickler blown off his feet, Ugor flung from his pig, and the trees beside them bursting into splinters. He hit the ground, sucking tiny sips of breath, the explosion ringing in his ears.
âDid Ugor get her?â the barbarian shouted, stomping around the burning trees. âDid Ugor get her?â
Hercufleasâs night vision came back slowly, but Artifax and Greta had vanished from the clearing.
I wanted to help you, he thought, wishing she could hear. But I couldnât sacrifice my fleamily.
âMy employfleas!â Stickler shrieked, hands prodding the top of his head.
Where the house-hat had sat, there was now just a sizzled bald spot, gently smouldering. The blast had blown it clean off Sticklerâs head.
And now there was a second explosion, only this one happened inside Hercufleasâs heart. Where were Min and Pin? Where were Burp, Slurp, Speck, Fleck, Itch, Titch, Tittle, Dot and Jot? He had loved and left and longed for them â he had betrayed Greta to save them â had he now lost them forever?
âIâm ruined!â blubbed Stickler. âHappily Ever Afters is done for! Never mind about my reputation, who will type up my P23 hero forms now? Who will even know what a P23 form is?â
âStop crying,â Ugor told Stickler, giving him a slap. âFleas up there. Look.â He pointed at a steep hill, the shape of a dome, that rose behind them. Hercufleas had not noticed it until now, but the pine trees that had obscured it from sight had been blown to matchsticks. One single tree stood on the top of the hill â the rest was a tangle of vines. The house-hat lay among them, its roof burning. Hercufleas squinted and could just make out the fleamily, passing thimbles of bathtub water to each other as they fought to douse the flames.
Stickler let out a strangled sob. Rushing up to the hill, he gripped the vines and began to climb towards the house-hat. The leaves of the lonely tree on the summit shook. But there was no wind. The air was utterly still.
And yet
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