TO ANYONE WHO'S WORKED ON THE KULIPARI SERIES IN ANY WAY. THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART.
—T.P.
TO MY WIFE, LESLI, AND OUR SONS, MALCOLM AND MASON.
—S.G.
COMMANDER PIGO SKITTERED BESIDE Lord Marmoo as they trekked through the outback toward the Amphibilands. His main eyes scanned the darkness for threats, but his side eyes kept drifting toward Lord Marmoo's face.
Toward Lord Marmoo's ruined face, scarred from the frog chief's attack.
Pigo had to admit that he almost admired the frog's cunning. Even after the spider queen's magic had made his lordship nearly invincible, the frog still managed to trick Lord Marmoo into swallowing the burning pepperbush.
Now Lord Marmoo's mouthparts were twisted, his jaw was half-melted, and two of his side eyes were a cloudy white. He looked more like a nightmare than a warrior. He seemed to be losing his mind, too, but Pigo didn't say anything—a scorpion always obeyed his commander.
So while Lord Marmoo ranted in the darkness, Pigo just murmured, "Yes, my lord" and "Of course, your lordship."
"They think they've won?" Lord Marmoo said now, slashing a bush with his pincers. "They haven't won …"
"No, my lord."
"I don't need an army." He gestured to the empty hillside behind him. "I am an army. I don't need a spider to tear down the Veil. All I need is a rip large enough for me to enter … And that much still remains."
"Yes, Lord Marmoo."
They approached the peak of the first of the Outback Hills, and a damp breeze washed away the harsh scent of desert. Pigo's mouth watered, and Lord Marmoo made a hungry noise in his throat.
"Recognize this?" Lord Marmoo asked when they came to a rocky outcropping with only a few trees.
Pigo looked at a boulder and then at the branches of a crooked tree. "This is where the spider queen wove her web."
"And beyond is where the frogs defeated us," Lord Marmoo said, an edge of hatred in his voice.
"The Kulipari are strong, Lord Marmoo. They're a powerful enemy—"
"They are nothing! They're pond scum! It's that pathetic, mud-stinking grub Darel, who's defeated me twice now. This time, I will crush him in my pincers."
"Yes, m'lord."
Lord Marmoo gestured in front of them toward the moonlit hillside. "And the path is still open, the Veil is still torn. I'll have him soon."
"But the frogs have been building defenses for weeks."
"Nothing can defend against me," Lord Marmoo snarled.
The faint ribbiting of sleepy frog guards sounded in the darkness, and Pigo gazed toward the sound and saw the tear in the Veil. A wide, jagged shape like a cave mouth opened among the shrubs on the hilltop, and the night seemed sharper and more vivid beyond. When Pigo looked through it, he saw moist, leafy foliage in the moonlight—as well as sharpened logs, lined up like fence posts, and tangle-vines draping across branches.
Lord Marmoo stalked forward, through the tear and into the Amphibilands itself, and Pigo followed dutifully along. The croaking stopped when the frog guards spotted his lordship—then Lord Marmoo smashed a sharpened log in half with a swipe of one pincer.
Frogs gasped and shouted, and a dozen dark shapes sprang at Lord Marmoo—bullfrogs in reed armor, swinging curved swords. "For the Amphibilands!" a female shouted. "For the—"
Lord Marmoo smashed her with a pincer, then knocked the others away with swipes of his segmented tail. "Throw yourselves at me, croakers, and I'll tear you apart! Or hide and I'll hunt you down. Those are your only two choices."
"I hate to be disagreeable," a mellow voice said in the dark night. "Especially on such a lovely evening. I mean to say, with the moon glowing and the owls hooting—"
"Yabber!" Lord Marmoo roared. "Show yourself!"
Torches burst into flame in the darkness, revealing Yabber, the long-necked turtle dreamcaster. He peered at Marmoo and said, "The pepperbush has left its mark. I'll try to heal you, Marmoo, if you stop all this—"
With a growl, Marmoo sprang toward Yabber. Tangle-vines whipped at him from the trees, entangling his legs and tail and pincers—but Marmoo simply flexed his carapace, unconcerned. A dozen tree frogs shot at him from the cover of trees, holding the other ends of the vines.
Lord Marmoo's stinger flicked and his pincers flashed. "You should thank me for such easy deaths! I had plans for you that aren't so kind as my stinger."
"Plans change," Yabber said, and his eyes started glowing golden.
"No dreamcasting!" Marmoo bellowed.
He leaped at Yabber over a hole full of burrowing frogs, snapping the vines entwined around his legs and tail. The frogs' spearheads sparked against Lord Marmoo's underbelly, but couldn't pierce his carapace as he sprang closer to the turtle.
Yabber's eyes suddenly glowed brighter, and the air shimmered with a rainbow sheen. A swell of power thrummed through the night and blasted Lord Marmoo backward, past Pigo. A moment later, the dreamcast explosion hit Pigo, shoving him through the tear.
He landed on four knees, with his other legs splayed, and stood unsteadily. "M-m-my lord!" he stammered, dizzy and disoriented. "He's fixing the Veil …"
The turtle's voice echoed from all around. "What is torn apart can be woven back together."
Pigo shifted all his eyes toward the turtle, but he couldn't see him. The frogs were gone, too. Completely vanished. The pointed spikes, the dangling vines—even the scent of torch smoke was gone.
"He did it," Pigo gasped. "He closed the tear."
For a long moment, Marmoo stared into the darkness, his eyes glinting with madness. Then he spun and marched past Pigo, toward the outback. "The spiders tore the Veil once," he snapped. "They can do it again."
"But Queen Jarrah is dead," Pigo said, his voice soft. He knew better than to mention that Lord Marmoo himself had killed her.
"So they need a new queen." A tattered sneer spread across Marmoo's face. "Or a king."
