by Craig Zerf
Plob shrugged, too exhausted to care and anyway, he trusted his master. If Smegly said that he could do it then he was sure that he could.
Smegly wasn’t always right – but this time he was bang on the money. His triple ‘earth, attack, thunderbolt’ combi-spell screamed through the intervening space, superheating the air, singing eyebrows and sucking the moisture from everything around them.
Plob mentally tore the shield wall away from them and hurled it after the searing mega-thunderbolt. Their timing was perfect, the shield arriving a split second after the thunderbolt and, true to Smegly’s plan, the tower seemed to merely cease to exist. The concentrated fire storm inside the shield wall surrounding the tower vaporised everything within.
Plob sank to his knees and then fell forward in a faint of total exhaustion. As he did so the shield wall, no longer being maintained by him, winked out of existence. The mother of all thunderbolts was now free to expand unhindered across the manor house, and this it did in a horrifyingly spectacular way.
Master Smegly fumbled at Plob’s spell pouch as he pulled out an ‘earth, protect’ spell and hurriedly erected a shield wall around them. ‘Quickly,’ he shouted. ‘Get in as close as you can so that I can draw the wall in tighter. The smaller it is, the stronger the protection.’ They all huddled around Plob’s prostrate body as Smegly clasped the protection wall around them and took the strain.
The festival of thunderbolts was busy rampaging across the manor house tearing the roof off and ripping the insides asunder with a huge fiery malignance. Red-hot clay roof tiles and burning beams of wood crashed down on Smegly’s shield wall as the house was literally torn to molten shreds.
Finally, after the house, the stables, the outbuildings, the folly and all of the vegetation within a hundred paces, had been completely eliminated, the ‘earth, attack, thunderbolt’ combi-spell turned on itself and slowly guttered out leaving a huge, sulphuric smelling circle of charred earth as its last will and testament.
Smegly released his hold on the shield wall and drew a deep lungful of air. Plob was still out cold, his head in Dreenee’s lap and his breath coming in short ragged gasps.
Biggest stood up from the crouch that he had assumed when Smegly had told them to huddle together. He stretched and looked at the field of devastation before him. ‘Now that’s what I calls kicking ass.’ He punched his fist in the air and shuffled round in a circle. ‘Who’s the man? Smegly’s the man. He’s bad, he’s mean. Hey, hey. Hey, hey.’ He stopped to take a massive swig of Blutop from his magic flask and then offered it around.
Plob, who was finally coming to, got the first sip. He raised his head from Dreenee’s lap and surveyed the results of their handiwork. ‘Well,’ he said, his voice still hoarse from exhaustion. ‘tha-tha-that’s all, folks.’
Biggest carried the exhausted Plob into his room when they got back and laid him on his bed, Dreenee helped strip him off , covered him with a blanket and stoked the fire up until it was crackling away with a warm merry little blaze. The serving wench slid into the room later that evening but, after taking a look at Plob’s haggard sleeping face, gave him a kiss on the forehead and went off to molest some other lucky patron. (A girl of large and varied appetite our Supreme Breasted lass).
The next morning the team arose at a much later hour than usual. They all met in Plob’s room and were pleased to see that youth and fitness had largely conquered his extreme fatigue and had replaced it with a ravenous hunger.
As they trooped down into the hall, readying themselves for a large breakfast, they were all but bowled over by the humungous round of applause that greeted them. The serving wench, looking like a dead heat in a zeppelin race, rushed up to hug Plob to plant a stupendously sensual kiss on his more than slightly surprised mug.
The quest members were shown to a hugely laden table in the centre of the room and, whilst they were eating, the crowd gathered round, eager to hear exactly what had transpired the evening before. They were not disappointed as Cabbie, breakfast ale in hand, regaled them with an impossibly exaggerated account of stupendous acts of valour, bravery and heroism heretofore never been seen by the likes of man.
The battle was fought against a gathering of master sorcerers from mid afternoon until way past sundown. Legions of enemy knights were put to the sword and vile enemies from other dimensions were slaughtered in their scores before Master Smegly and Plob finally brought down the wrath of the heavens upon the dastardly scourge.
Smegly finally brought a close to Cabbie’s vast imaginings when he stood up and gave a short speech of thanks for the people’s generosity and told them that they would soon be on their way.
As they left the hall, Biggest turned to the crowd with a warning. ‘We has done some good and you’se will now be able to live in peace and prosperity. But if this sort of thing starts up again I want you’se to take care of it your selfs. If you’se don’t then I is gonna think that you have wimped out on us and I’ll come back with a whole can of whip ass which I will apply liberally to you folks. So - stand up for your sorry selves. Death before dishonour, cause if me and my posse has to come back here, then no more Mister Nice Guy. Bye now, you all has a nice day.’ He turned on his heel and left the room.
‘Really, Biggest,’ said Dreenee. ‘Was that entirely necessary?’ she asked.
‘Entirely,’ rumbled Biggest. ‘We won’t always be here for these folks so theys gots to learn to stand up for themselves. Sometimes you gots to be cruel to be kind. Only sometimes though, mainly you’ve got to be kind to be kind. Usually if you’re cruel it’s to be cruel, but dis is different and if I keeps on explaining myself I’s gonna get confused, so stop it.’
They rode out of the town of Flobby to a trio of hip-hoorays and much waving of hankies and strewing of rose petals in the path of. Plob’s waitress waved frantically with both arms and almost knocked herself out in the process.
The team felt great. They felt, as Biggest put it, like righteous sons of bitches. And it was good.
Chapter 14
The land changed abruptly as they left the strip between the sea and the chasm. It flattened out and opened to up reveal hectare upon hectare of rolling grasslands interspaced with the odd wheat field and dissected by lines of fast growing pines and poplars, planted as windbreaks. It was cattle country and cows were everywhere, as was the oddly fresh smell of bovine flatulence and newly chewed grass.
That afternoon they stopped to pitch camp a little early as Master Smegly wanted to forge a new batch of spells to load into Plob’s magic pouch. Plob selected a number five heavy hammer and wielded it with a deftness and skill that both surprised and impressed Smegly. He smiled as he watched Plob work the spells, an assistant who was becoming a master, a boy who was becoming a man.
After they had forged and loaded the enchantments, Horgy and Dreenee prepared supper and Smegly sat down with Plob to discuss spells. Master Smegly could feel the power growing in Plob and now was a time for careful instruction lest Plob become careless through overconfidence.
They discussed the more intricate air spell weaves and Plob put forward the theory of combined weaves, using the power of Earth and the subtlety of Air to create a precision spell that could be cast over long distances. Smegly agreed that, in theory, it could be done but no one had been able to master the combination thus far. If they could, then it would be possible to communicate over long distances with individual people and the mage that could do that could make a fortune selling his services to both businessmen and families. Anyway, Master Smegly argued, when combining Air and Earth a great deal of mental participation was needed and they faced the very real danger of the resultant spell leaching off the caster’s mental capacity or, perhaps, even their physical being. Plob disagreed and thus they talked shop late into the night, long after the others had gone to sleep and Smegly stayed up for longer, even after Plob had fallen to the soft snare of slumber.
The next day brought with it, surprise surprise, more cattle. Even Big
gest got bored looking at them and making yummy sounds whenever he saw a particularly plump one.
Later that afternoon they happened upon the town of Hefereen, a large sprawling cattle market of a town surrounded by acres of fenced-in paddocks. After asking around they were shown to the town’s best inn for, as Master Smegly said as he hefted his stone-filled purse, why bother with the price, it’s only money. (Isn’t it?)
The rooms that they were shown to were magnificent, four-poster beds, silken drapes, thick woollen carpets and, opposite the bed in each room, a large copper bathing tub three quarters filled with steaming lavender-scented water.
They all stayed in the rooms a little longer than necessary, soaking away the grime of the trail and steaming the tension out of cramped muscles. Whilst Plob was bathing, a servant took his clothes away and, a short while later, they arrived back, washed, dried and pressed with any small tears and frays neatly mended. After he had shaved he went downstairs to the drinking lounge (nothing as crass as a taproom here) to meet with the others.
They were all already on their second ale by the time Dreenee arrived. In deference to the surroundings she had taken extra special care in preparing herself for dinner and, as she walked down the stairs, every person in the room was struck dumb by her extravagant sensuality.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and seemed to glide over to the group, her silky soft hair glittered and shimmered like a halo of fine spun golden thread and, as her eyes swept the crowded room igniting fires of passion in all present, every person there seemed convinced that her bold steamy gaze was for them alone.
Cabbie bowed deeply when she reached them and leaned forward to lift her hand to his lips. ‘Princess,’ he greeted her as he kissed her palm. ‘You honour us with your divine presence.’
Dreenee laughed. ‘The last time I asked I definitely wasn’t a royal and I’m hardly a divinity, my good Tarlek, but thanks to you nonetheless.’ She grabbed his ale and downed what remained of it in one go. And with that the spell was broken, conversations were resumed, drinks were drunk and dinners consumed. The quest members showed themselves to a table and sat down.
They were treated to a meal that surpassed everything that they had thus far been served, including their repast at the manifold mastered one’s abode. Platters of small roasted game fowls, smoked sausages, exotic vegetables, honeyed sweetmeats and gallons of wine and ale.
As they settled down to brandy and Master Smegly lit up his ubiquitous cigar, they were approached by a wan young girl dressed in a simple dress of the finest red cotton and a soft tan leather jacket.
She approached Master Smegly and curtsied gracefully. ‘I hope that you will forgive me for my impertinent interruption, good people, but may I, a simple farm girl, trouble you with a question?’
Smegly nodded. ‘Fire away, my girl,’ he answered.
‘Rumour has it that you are the brave saviours of the town of Flobby, if this is true may I be seated and assail you with my poor sad tale?’
Smegly nodded and Plob drew up a chair for the pale faced girl who sat down and smoothed her red dress before beginning. ‘My name is Prado, daughter of Munge the vegetable farmer. I am the chosen representative of a small group of farming folk who are being driven off their land by an unscrupulous landowner who goes by the name of Gordo. He has already taken over most of the farms in the area and if something is not done very soon we, the last small group of farmers in the area that still resist, will be swallowed up by Gordo’s conglomerate. Please, noble sirs, please help my poor family and friends in our dastardly plight.’
Plob stood up. ‘This is outrageous; something must and will be done. Fear not kind Prado your plight is now our own and we…’
‘Sit down, Plob,’ ordered Master Smegly as he pointed at the chair. ‘Now.’ He turned to face the girl and surveyed her beneath hooded eyes. After a moment he seemed to come to a conclusion. He called Horgy over and whispered some instructions in his ear. Horgy nodded, gestured to Biggest and the two of them left the room together. Smegly faced the girl again. ‘Forgive my rudeness, dear child, I had to send our two companions off on an errand of great urgency, but worry not for they shall soon return. Now, my dear, would you like a drink? We have just finished a bottle of the Flobby seventy-three and were about to order some brandy, unless of course you could recommend something a little more sophisticated.’
Prado cocked her head to one side and thought for a while. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I think a bottle of the Chasm Bin Number nineteen would suit your palate, if your purse will stretch that far.’
‘That, my dear, will never be a problem,’ reassured Smegly as he ordered a bottle of same from the waitress.
They waited in uncomfortable silence whilst the waitress went off to the cellar to fetch their wine. Every time Plob, Cabbie or Dreenee attempted to start a conversation they were halted by a stern look from the master. When the waitress returned and opened the bottle, Master Smegly asked Prado to taste it as she was the one most familiar with the region. She did so, swilling the wine in her glass, sniffing it, holding it to the light and then, finally, tasting it. She declared it to be fit and glasses were poured all round.
Smegly held his newly filled glass up. ‘A toast,’ he said. ‘To truth.’
‘To truth,’ repeated all except Cabbie who had downed his glass and was busy refilling.
‘Good bit of muck this,’ he said, slurping noisily from the tankard that he had now substituted for the glass. ‘Better order another.’ He gestured to the hovering waitress, pointed to the bottle, held up two fingers and then made running motions with his arms. The waitress scuttled off at speed to fulfil the order.
Once again they sat in silence waiting for the waitress. After a while she returned and, under Cabbie’s instructions, opened both bottles and left them on the table. Shortly afterwards Horgy and Biggest returned, Horgy nodded at Smegly and they sat down. Cabbie poured some wine for both of them, Horgy sniffed it and then took an appreciative sip. Biggest took out his flask, added a slug of Blutop to his, slurped up a mouthful and nodded in approval.
‘Well, gentlemen and ladies,’ said Smegly. ‘All seated comfortably? Good, good. Now let me begin.’ He stared intently at Prado, his eyes glistening with seldom revealed power, and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. ‘I think that your name probably is Prado,’ Smegly started. ‘But as for the rest of your badly woven tissue of vague half truths I cannot be completely sure.’
‘Master,’ Plob objected. ‘Please, this poor girl has come to us for help.’
Smegly raised an eyebrow at Plob. ‘Girl? Yes, that goes without saying. Poor? I seriously doubt it, my dear Plob. The tailor-made dress, the expensive jacket, the fact that she is obviously quite at home ordering bottles of wine that cost over three golden sovereigns each.’
Cabbie choked violently and Biggest pounded him on the back, knocking him off his chair and driving him to his knees. He held his hands above his head. ‘All right, I surrender. Stop hitting me. Please. I promise not to cough again. Ever.’ He climbed back onto his chair and picked his tankard full of wine back up, staring at it reverently and muttered ‘three’ under his breath a few times before he had another large swig.
‘Truth, as the toast went, my girl. Truth is what we want and we want it all and we want it now.’
Prado flicked her head back and looked at them all disdainfully. ‘I believe I am wasting my time here, gentlemen, I think that it’s my prerogative to leave.’
She made to stand up and, as she did so, Plob wove a quick ‘air, restraint’ spell which held her to her chair. ‘If you scoundrels don’t let me go I shall scream,’ she threatened, causing Plob to follow up with another ‘air, restraint’ around her mouth. Prado sat in silence staring daggers at them all, especially Plob.
‘Well, Horgy,’ said Smegly. ‘What did you manage to find out?’
‘Not a huge amount,’ admitted Horgy, ‘but enough to confirm your suspicions.’
‘What s
uspicions?’ asked Plob. ‘What in the gods’ names is going on? I’ve tied up Prado and I don’t even know why. Will somebody please tell me what’s going on before one of us dies.’
‘From the moment Prado introduced herself I knew that something didn’t ring true,’ explained Smegly. ‘Her bearing, her clothes, her manner. It all smacked of play acting. So I asked our good friend Horgy here to take Biggest and go on a little fact finding mission regarding our well-dressed peasant girl. So, Horgy my good man, tell all.’
Horgy cleared his throat. ‘Her name is Prado; that much is true. Oddly enough her father is actually a vegetable farmer, the largest vegetable farmer this side of the valley of Strange. He also owns the wholesalers, packaging plants and a large number of the retail outlets. In short, he is a man of quite stupendous wealth, or so it would seem.’
Cabbie leant forward. ‘What do you mean, “or so it would seem”?’
‘Well, I spoke to a couple of seed and fertiliser merchants that supply Mister Munge and it seems as if he’s beginning to backslide a bit on his payments. He’s also having some trouble with his labour, mostly peasants who are refusing to work. As well as this he’s offering huge discounts to garner early payments from his customers. Put that all together and you get a financial empire that’s right on the verge of total collapse. If I was an investor I wouldn’t touch him with an eight-foot broadsword.’
Master Smegly turned to Prado. ‘Does that about sum the situation up? Just nod, we’ll allow you to talk later.’
Prado nodded reluctantly and Smegly stood up. ‘Gentle folk, I think we should go upstairs to my suite and continue this discussion in more private surroundings. Plob, support Prado and make sure that she gets up the stairs without coming to any harm.’
They left the room with Cabbie holding the two opened wine bottles and Plob half carrying Prado up the stairs. When they got to Master Smegly’s suite, Plob released the spells that bound the pretend peasant and helped her to a chair.
