Chapter 6

chapter six I can read that book and help you to master the conjurations inside it. For I am the greatest trainer of conjurers in this dimension. A mentor, Supreme, A counsellor bar. None. Want proof? No thanks. Dirk stalks to a nearby rock, plops down, and immediately slides off its glassy shell. "Stupid slippery rock. Stupid spooky magic," he grumbles. "This whole business gives me the heebie-jeebies. Don't wanna see any magic being done—and definitely not in front of Drooler."

Galamelon flashes Quint an overeager smile, showing way too many teeth. "I'm guessing your journey has left you famished. Might I offer... some sustenance?" With a flick of his wrist, a bag of Cheetos appears in Galamelon's hand! Right out of thin air. "Wow!" Quint's eyebrows shoot up. "That is the sort of conjuring I need to learn. Well, that, and also how to go about teleporting us back to the Mallusk. And maybe, probably, also how to slay a Drakkor and free a queen." But one step at a time, he thinks. "Catch!" Galamelon says, as he drops the bag through the bars. Quint does not catch. The bag falls to the forest floor. "Don't touch it, Quint!" Dirk calls from his spot by the stone. "No touching magic Cheeto bags!" Quint ignores his friend. Tentatively, he picks up the bag. But... "It's empty." Galamelon frowns—but only for an instant. "Course it's empty! It's a two-part conjuring. Didn't I say that at the start? First I conjure the bag, and now... the actual Cheetos!" And as if from thin air, they appear...

impressed. Yet, I mean, I'm not not impressed. Those are Cheeto Puffs. You didn't even conjure the crunchy kind and even Us monsterfolk know those are superior. Dirk suddenly stalks over to Quint, grabs him, and pulls him to the rock. "Quint, this dude is giving me serious used-car-salesman vibes." Quint nods. "I admit, he does seem a little..." "Full of it? Untrustworthy? Full of untrustworthiness?" "I was going to say unpolished," Quint whispers. "But, Dirk, I need the help of a real conjurer—and here one is, offering to mentor me. It's like it was fated! A step on our hero quest! Look, we don't know

what happened at the Mallusk after we left. We don't know what happened to Jack and June..." Quint trails off, not wanting to give words to the worst-case scenario. Dirk's face goes tight. They're both imagining the same horrors. "And we don't know what we'll be facing when we return. So I..." Quint's voice quivers. "I can't fail again... I need to crack this conjuring thing. And I can't do it alone. At a minimum, I need someone to help interpret the book!" Dirk rubs his jaw, thinking. He glances at Drooler. Drooler blinks twice, then sneezes. "Drooler," Dirk says. "You are wise beyond your years." Dirk whips out his sword—so lightning-quick that Quint leaps back. Dirk stomps toward Galamelon, raises the sword, and swings— KLONK! Dirk's blade slams into the living cage and the entire thing snaps open with a wet schlorp! An instant later, Galamelon is falling to the forest floor.

dark. That was dumb. Trusting Quint isn't dumb. There wasn't some way to trust Quint without waking the snareghoul. Great, I got Cheeto dust on my going-out-to dinner slacks, REEARRRAGH! The Snareghul has snapped awake—and is instantly on the attack. "Ah, hamburgers, now we're in for it," Kimmy says. "Carol, time to skedaddle!" "Watch out!" Quint shouts. "Snareghul cage-tail on the attack!"

The monstrous tail whooshs through the air, then there's a loud crunch as the cage slams into a tree. A flash of silver-white erupts from the Snareghul's tail, splattering the tree-trunk with crystal-crust. "Everyone, get on!" Kimmy shouts, as she scrambles into the Wrangler. "Now!" Dirk hoists himself up as Carol starts picking up speed. Galamelon grabs hold of Carol's tail, pulling himself up, hand over hand. "Wait!" Dirk yells. "We don't have Quint!" Dirk spots Quint speeding after them. He's nearly at the Wrangler—until suddenly he trips over Galamelon's conjured Cheeto bag and falls face-first into the brush. The snarling Snareghul stomps toward Quint, tail snapping back! Quint scrambles to his feet and swings his cane like a hockey stick, slapshotting a dozen Cheetos— GOTCHAI HAVE NO fear guy blinded by Cheeto dust, yeah.