It was strange for Nick to be in the body of the stagecoach driver. It felt like riding a bike but someone else was doing the steering.
"Get going, you lame muck snipes!" Yeri/Nick cracked the whip like a runaway windmill. The horses kicked dirt and leapt into a gallop. As a rule, Yeri didn't yell at his horses, but now was not the time for rules.
As Yeri swiveled around, Nick could see Lir dressed in clothes that looked like an old Oliver Twist movie. Long, red trench coat with a silver buttoned up vest. His grandfather's clothes were less fancy. Cotton vest and short pants, and a thick woolen coat. He looked like one of the hobbits from Lord of the Rings.
"I'll keep guard while you drive, Lyons," Lir called back to Grand as he lifted a spear into the air. A rope was attached to it.
Something shook the rear of the second stagecoach. Yeri turned to see claws shoved into wood, slowing the coaches down. The merman raised his weapon and whispered something. The spear blazed with fire just as it sprung out of his hand.
Raiiggh! The creature lit into a ball of blue flames and tumbled into the mist.
He retrieved the spear by its thin cord. Several more cries came from everywhere, from nowhere.
"There are more?" Yeri said with fear in his voice. For someone reason, Yeri's fear transferred to Nick. They even shared emotions.
"Do you have anything useful?" Grand's voice competed with the grinding wheels. "A charm or maybe jynn'us?"
"No charms, sir, and no useful weapons …" Yeri's voice trailed off.
"Jynn'us?" Lir cried out from behind Yeri. "Do you have jynn'us?!"
"Well, I—I can make toys come to life," Yeri offered, "which would explain Mum's ban on any and all toys since the age of eight. Lonely years, as you can imagine. I do wonder if things would've turned out different for me and Agatha if Mum had afforded me but a few toys."
"Thank you, Yeri." Lir pounded the roof.
Nia tried her best to lean out the window.
"The door prize," Lir said.
"It was for Mother," Nia contended.
"We are two breaths from death, dear," Lir shouted. "Might we save our domestic disputes for some less life-threatening circumstance?"
Nia disappeared and then leaned out, holding a tin box with an 'L' painted on top. "Here. Do be careful!"
"There you go, Yeri." Grand shoved the box into Yeri's hand. "That's a Ludwig. No better display of toymanship."
"A Ludwig—the famous toymaker? And this is his?" Yeri licked his chops as he slid the top open. "I've always wanted a Ludwig."
"It's a Roc. Very good," Lir said.
Yeri's left eye quivered. "Oh, sir. There must be a better way to rid ourselves of these monsters. It's a Ludwig, for Pete's sa—"
"Yeri," Grand warned.
"Really, sir, Rocs are a beast of burden. It would be cruel to send such a creature into the grips of batt—"
"Yeri!"
"Very well." Yeri resolved himself. He gently unwrapped the toy from its velvet bed. It looked like a horned eagle with tattered wings, and its neck was featherless.
"Simply brilliant," Yeri mourned. He covered the toy with his right hand. Smoky, bluish light sifted between his fingers.
"Ouiwww!" Yeri howled and pulled his hand back. With a leap, the Roc hovered eye level before its audience. "Little troglodyte bit me!"
"Yeri. Aren't they a mite bigger?" Grand said.
"I said I could make a toy come alive, not change its size," Yeri said.
The finger-sized Roc turned its head toward the red-eyed assailants and roared. It leapt into the foggy wall.
Silence.
Aiihh! The foggy monster cried.
Raaishhh! The Roc responded.
Combative cries rang down the cliffside.
Lir held out a hand to Grand. "The whip, Mr. Lyons. The horses know what to do."
Without a word, Grand pushed the whip into Lir's hands. The merman held out the whip in his left, the fiery spear gun in his right, and closed his eyes.
"I could throw a shoe at it."
"Shh. I cannot hear them if you are spea—"
The whip shot into the misty air.
Greeow! A cry came from the mist. Lir reeled in a black mass with hundreds of red eyes. The spear tore through its stomach, and the creature burst into filthy smoke as it tumbled over the cliff, leaving an acrid smell in its wake.
"What are they, Mr. Lyons?" Yeri said. The monster had been so close he could have hugged it, yet the fog hid its shape.
Lir looked ready to speak, but his mouth stayed shut.
"Gorgons, I think," Grand said.
"I doubt that," Lir corrected. "The truth is, we do not know."
Hundreds of eyes appeared before them. Lir cocked the whip. Suddenly, another monster grabbed the whip from behind, and Lir was dragged to the back of the coach. At the last moment, he anchored himself into an exposed ribbing.
"Gaah!" Lir cried. His tail was being shredded by the stony ground.
With the whip still in his hand, the merman's muscles exploded from neck to shoulder as he flung the monster ahead of the stagecoach. An angry scream was cut short by the trunk of a spruce tree.
Yeri returned his gaze forward and bellowed, "Mr. Lyons!"
There, standing in the middle of the road and surrounded in a grey-blue mist was a man wearing a skin tight head piece that covered every part of him, goggles, and a black frock coat.
"It's him, Lir!" Grand yelled over his shoulder. "Sheriff Silas!"