Free A Wild Ride Through The Night by Walter Moers Page B

disappeared into the eye socket. The bony skull’s lament culminated in a long, inarticulate sigh.
    ‘
This really can’t be the Most Monstrous of All Monsters
,’ Gustave told himself, ‘
it’s far too much of a cry-baby. I’m only wasting time here
.’
    ‘You’re only wasting time here, my boy,’ the monster said softly. ‘I’m sure I’m boring you with my tales of woe.’
    Gustave gave a start. He had a nasty feeling that the monster had looked straight into his head.
    ‘But perhaps I can give you something to take on your way,’ the creature went on. ‘It’s nothing much, philosophically speaking, just a piece of sound advice: Make the most of every moment!’
    Gustave had read similar well-meant proverbs on calendars.
    ‘Yes, I know, you’ve read similar well-meant proverbs on calendars, haven’t you? Still, it can’t be repeated too often.’
    ‘I’ll make a note of it,’ Gustave said politely, slowly beginning to back away.
    ‘No, I’m not the Most Monstrous of All Monsters, not any more.’ The monster might have been talking to itself. ‘I’m still pretty monstrous, but only moderately so by local standards. I’m neither as pathetically unmonstrous as those absurd twin-headed giant snails on the hillsides above this valley, nor as humongously monstrous as the
Knight-Eating Giant Saurian of Lake Blue-Blood
. Me, I’m only averagely monstrous.’
    Gustave was suddenly galvanised. He came to a halt.
    ‘The Knight-Eating Giant Saurian of Lake Blue-Blood?’ he said. ‘That sounds interesting. Sounds as if it could really be the Most Monstrous of All Monsters.’
    ‘Well, that’s what it claims to be.’
    ‘Really? Can you tell me where to find the creature?’
    ‘It’s quite simple. At the end of the valley, you must ride up into the hills and under the
Weeping Waterfalls
to
Groaning Glen
. From there you make your way across the
Plain of the Terrible Titans
to the
Malodorous Mountains
. Lake Blue-Blood is situated at their most malodorous point.’ The monster drew a deep, whistling breath.
    ‘Many thanks,’ said Gustave.
    ‘You’re welcome.’ The monster dismissed this expression of gratitude by waving one of its tentacles. ‘But before you go: Didn’t you wonder, while listening to my story, whether there was some kind of point to it?’
    Gustave gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘Oh, I enjoyed it anyway, point or no point.’
    ‘That’s good, because there wasn’t one.’
    Gustave stumbled backwards for a few steps, grinning and waving goodbye. Then he turned, hurried across the ruins to his horse, and climbed into the saddle. Pancho trotted off. As for the monster, it relapsed into its former immobility and became a lonely monument to melancholy once more.

THEY RODE ON through the Valley of the Monsters for a long way yet. Their route took them past more dismal ruins and withered vegetation, over countless skeletons, both animal and human, and through the scuttling, squeaking swarms of rats and insects that seemed to have made the rubble-strewn plain their own. But they encountered no more monstrosities apart from two twin-headed giant snails grazing peacefully in the mist at the end of the valley next morning. Between them lay a steeply ascending track that led out of the valley and into the mountains.
    Once across the first mountain pass, they were confronted by an awe-inspiring sight: a dark ravine, narrower than the first but considerably deeper. It was enclosed by jagged crags above and filled with billowing clouds of vapour below. Dozens of waterfalls cascaded down the sheer walls of rock, thundering like a never-ending storm and pattering like perpetual rain. Blue-black birds circled above the swirling spray, croaking eerily.
    ‘These must be the Weeping Waterfalls,’ said Gustave. ‘Not a very pleasant spot, but we’ve got to get past it somehow.’
    ‘Not very pleasant is putting it mildly,’ remarked Pancho, who hadn’t failed to notice that their route