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boys called Jack—’
    â€˜Yuk doesn’t come from the clouds,’ Greta interrupted. ‘He comes out of the forests around Tumber.’
    â€˜Hmm.’ Stickler steepled his hands. ‘Perhaps one of my stronger heroes will be able to simply overpower—’
    â€˜No,’ Greta said. ‘The mayor already tried that. He hired strong heroes from other shops: Heroes for Hire, and As Good As Our Sword, and BestQuest, I think, was the last one.’
    â€˜Hmm, BestQuest,’ Stickler sniffed. ‘Yes, they’re just down the road. Although their heroes aren’t quite as legendary as the ones we offer here, of course…’
    â€˜Good,’ said Greta. ‘Because we already hired the Stone Golem from there.’

    â€˜The Stone Golem? You hired him?’ Stickler’s voice was full of envy. ‘He is the strongest hero BestQuest has to offer!’
    â€˜
Was
their strongest hero,’ Greta corrected. ‘He’s a pile of gravel now.’
    â€˜Gravel?’ Stickler choked on the word. ‘Impossible.’
    â€˜I saw it happen,’ said Greta. ‘I was there.’
    And while the fleas searched the miniature library below, Greta told Stickler about Yuk.

8
    T he night was dark, the moon was new and Yuk was coming. On the edge of Tumber, Greta snuffed her tinderlamp and hid behind some rubble to watch the approaching battle. She stared out into the blackness until she got her night vision. No light but the cold hard shining of the stars. Nothing stirring but the wind, rattling through the empty spaces between the pines. In that silence, her breath seemed too loud in her throat.
    It started in the air. The air trembled. Again. Again. Like a heartbeat. Like a thunderstorm coming closer. Then the forest began to sway. Tall pines were parting like curtains. Two glowing moons the colour of curdled milk rose up into the sky from behind the tree line.
    And
blinked.
    Yuk gazed down at Tumber. Each month he grew a little bigger. With every guzzling he was a little stronger. Now he was at least ten houses high. The tree rooted on the top of his head stood up like a mohican. The bats roosting in the cavern of his bellybutton uttered their eerie screams. Shaggy moss covered his body and a tangled beard of vines trailed down his chest. His mouth was full of grey broken teeth, covered with lichen like tombstones. He ground them together, then roared:
    â€˜YUK WANTS TO GUZZLE!’
    In one stride he reached the river; in another he crossed it. Greta watched him stomp down the dead streets, plunging his hand into houses with roofs already torn off like the tops of sardine tins. Yuk had guzzled them, months ago.
    â€˜WHERE’S YUK’S FOOD?’ he bellowed.
    Enraged, his fists smashed the houses to bits. Bricks and bits of chimney sploshed in the river. When the echoes of his voice faded away, Yuk turned to look up at the Church of Saint Katerina on the Hill, where the last tinderlamps were still lit. Licking his lips, he stepped forward.
    Right into the ambush.
    â€˜I shall protect Tumber!’ boomed a voice, and down the hill charged the Stone Golem of Prais.
    The Stone Golem, chiselled from granite and brought to life by alchemy!
    The Stone Golem, said to be indestructible!
    The Stone Golem, who had once punched the ground so hard with his fist, the Earth wobbled out of orbit and descended into a winter ten years long!

    His charge took Yuk by surprise. He smashed into the giant’s shin, sending Yuk stumbling back down the hill. But the giant was back on his feet at once, towering over the mighty hero.
    The Stone Golem attacked again, but this time Yuk was ready. Raising one enormous foot, he stamped on the hero, grinding him beneath his heel. The Stone Golem’s granite body began to crack and splinter under the pressure. Yuk jumped up and down, pulverising the hero again – again – again – until there was nothing left but