Heroes And Fools totfa-2

by Margaret Weis

  “I am Boojum. You trespass in my demesne. The penalty is death despite the tasty kender!”

  Lifting his face from the cone and the hairy hood from his sweaty face, the mild-featured Solamnic Knight with curly brown hair grinned at the kender and shifted his position, whispering, “Now we’ll see what transpires.”

  More arrows answered his pronouncement. Fortunately they were off target.

  “That was good,” Thistleknot commented, impressed with his friend’s improvisations. “I didn’t know you were going to get all dressed up and everything.”

  “I admit to being truly inspired by counterfeiting the boojum.” The Solamnic Knight scratched. “Yet this weave is vexing. I hope to be rid of it very soon. Ah, they’ve come within range. Prithee, draw on that cordage next your right foot.”

  “This one?” The kender heaved. A number of buckets filled with mud and pea-sized gravel upended, pouring their contents onto the hapless beneath. Curses and howls rose from the squad, along with a few arrows, which fortunately missed by far.

  “Save the fuel!” Thistleknot heard Gunnar holler. “Wait for a good shot!”

  Thistleknot giggled in delight. “This is working out better than I’d hoped.”

  “As long as we can purloin that weapon for study,” grunted the Knight, making his way back to the conical voice expander, “we will have achieved success.”

  “SURRENDER NOW. SAVE YOURSELVES FROM CERTAIN AND PROLONGED DESTRUCTION.”

  “They never will, you know,” stated the kender, watching the scurrying below. “Uh ohhhh. Run!”

  The night filled with a flash brighter than lightning, brighter than day. A massive roar was followed by splintering of branches as a projectile the size of his head ripped past. The iron ball-for that is what it was-eventually struck a substantial tree and lodged there. Only moments after embedding itself, it exploded, blowing the entire crown from the forest patriarch and flinging its woody shards all around and on the ground.

  “Wow!” was all Thistleknot could muster. His ears rang with concussion.

  “By my father’s sword, that weapon has a god’s voice.” The Solamnic Knight sounded very far away to the kender, although the man in the hairy costume stood right beside him.

  “In the name of Her Dark Majesty Takhisis, we demand your immediate surrender, boojum,” called Mennarling in his best indomitable tone.

  Thistleknot looked at his partner. The Knight shrugged, indicating a stalemate. Biting his lip, the kender forced himself to think and preferably to think fast.

  “Yeeeooowwwww!” The branch he stood on suddenly dipped violently, sending Thistleknot plummeting into the midst of the Dark Knights. He landed hard but scrambled out of the way as his tall associate in the hemp costume minus its disguising hood thumped down a moment later, nearly on top of him.

  Although the Solamnic Knight’s expression reflected surprise, he recovered quickly, leaping to his feet to face Gunnar as the rest of the enemy. Looking equally surprised, if not confused, the Dark Knights closed a circle around him and the kender, their weapons bristling. The Solamnic’s hand curled around his cherished ancestor’s sword hilt, and he drew the ancient weapon from its scabbard. The warriors were at a stand-off and took each other’s measure for several heartbeats as the forest maintained silence about them.

  Above, something rustled. Thistleknot looked up and felt his eyes go wider than ever as his muscles jellied. The grinning countenance staring into his appeared to be savoring an excellent joke. His eyes finally tore away from those huge brown ones in the foliage, and he shuffled over to where the Solamnic Knight stood ready for battle.

  “Uh. . uh. .” was all he could stutter, tugging at the Knight’s sagging costume.

  “Not now,” hissed his tall partner. “Can you not see I am engaged?”

  A dark bass laughed, its roar seemingly coming from the bowels of the earth as well as the ceiling of the sky. It filled the forest without aid from the conical voice-enhancer. The Dark Knights froze. Everyone, even the Solamnic Knight, looked up.

  “BOOJUM IMPERSONATOR. PITIFUL PLAYACTOR. NOW ENCOUNTER THE REAL BOOJUM!”

  The sound of a huge bowstring’s thrum capped the end of the monster’s statement. One of the Dark Knights hissed suddenly and folded forward with an overlarge arrow stuck in his chest. Three feet of said arrow appeared to protrude from his back.

  “BUT HERE IS NO SPORT. YOU ARE AS DYNAMIC AS DUCKS FROZEN ON A POND. I WILL MAKE ME SOME FUN.”

  A rope snaked down, dropping over the head of the soldier standing closest to the secret weapon, and pulled tight. This Dark Knight was quickly hoisted into the trees, so fast he couldn’t even raise a weapon. A moment later was heard a yelp and the distinctive sounds of bones cracking.

  A huge arrow struck the ground near Relthas. She moved back a step, then a few more when another arrow followed. The third missile caused her to leap aside. She flailed the air as dirt crumbled beneath her feet and a pit trap yawned to engulf her. Her pitiful moans were heard every few minutes, until eventually they ceased entirely.

  “Come on, fill in there!” Mennarling snapped a command as he stepped bravely to the front, peering up at the trees, finding no trace of the mysterious foe. His voice was sharp, and it brought his soldiers’ concentration back into focus. “Ready that machine!”

  His team bent to the task, fed fuel to the barrel of the cannon, tamped down the ball, and aimed the death machine into the canopy, all with impressive speed and precision. Except for the Dark Knight, who stumbled over Thistleknot, and Gunnar, who was looking daggers at the Solamnic Knight, there was little wasted movement.

  Mennarling shouted, “Fire!”

  Steel slid from two scabbards at the same instant the death weapon roared. Gunnar and the Solamnic Knight staggered from the concussive noise, but still managed to trade slices. Thistleknot was thrown to the ground, hands clapped over his much-abused ears. From flat on his back he noticed movement above him in the trees.

  “WHAT IF I THROW THIS BACK AT YOU? IT IS NO THREAT TO ME,” the boojum’s voice thundered, stirring the leaves.

  “Uuuhhh ohhhhh!” The kender scrambled up and away as the explosive projectile, shooting sparks, thudded back down into the center of the knot of Dark Knights.

  It went off almost immediately, hurling shot, shrapnel, and dirt into the bodies of those soldiers too slow to take cover. Four were wounded. It also dismembered the wheels of the wagon supporting the death machine, tilting it crazily and burying the nose of the barrel among leaves and pine needles. A nearby tree burst into flame as pieces of the cannonball made contact, bringing a lurid light to the darkening scene.

  Clashing steel continued as the explosion faded. Thistleknot saw that his friend in disguise was well matched. The Solamnic Knight’s reach and quickness were balanced by the Dark Knight’s impressive fighting skills. It seemed the two could duel forever.

  As well they might, or at least to exhaustion, unless Mennarling interfered. The troop leader slunk around the edge of the firelight with sword at the ready, angling to come to the aid of his cohort. Crouching, Thistleknot aimed himself in the Dark Knight commander’s direction and poised to take off at a good clip.

  Something clamped over his ankle. Dropping face first, the kender then twisted to see what caught him. A hand belonging to one of the Dark Knights held him in an iron grip. The man’s grin looked spectral in the light from the burning tree.

  “Saw what you intended,” the soldier rasped. “Can’t let you sneak up on my commander.” He lifted a short sword and maneuvered to his knees without letting go of his prisoner. Firelight glinted along his blade. “I confess I’m going to enjoy this.”

  “HUMAN OFFAL.”

  Something huge swept down from the trees and disappeared just as quickly, swatting the Dark Knight away from the kender as if the warrior were a pesky gnat. The man went flying one direction, his sword another. His scream trailed off.

  “THAT TINY BEING IS MY DESSERT!”

/>   Thistleknot didn’t wait to see what would happen next. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he jumped up and ran directly into something warm and unyielding. It grunted. Tangletoe looked up past leather scale armor into the cold eyes of Khedriss Mennarling.

  “Just who I wanted to bump into,” the troop leader said, knotting his fingers over the back of Thistleknot’s leather vest. “Your timing is perfect. I-”

  “CHILDREN SHOULD ESCHEW AMUSING THEMSELVES WITH SHARP OBJECTS. THIS DANCE NO LONGER DELIGHTS ME. I WILL MAKE AN END.”

  Gunnar oofed out air as an arrow buried itself in his chest. He staggered backward until he collided with the death machine, sat down hard, and sighed out his last breath.

  “My friend,” choked out Mennarling, before regaining his martial composure. “I will kill you first, kender, and then the trickster and I will finish this travesty of a battle.”

  “I will finish this!”

  The being that dropped out of the tree and landed lightly despite his enormous frame was as big as his voice. Completely awed, an unusual emotion for a kender, Thistleknot estimated the creature’s height at somewhere around ten feet, possibly more. Thick long brown and sorrel fur covered most of his body. Shorter hair highlighted his facial features, notably dark eyes that gleamed with intelligence. His domed head was topped with two upstanding rounded ears. He carried a huge longbow made from a thick tree branch, with tremendously long arrows riding in a quiver made from bull hide. A club hung opposite the quiver, both dangling from a thick leather belt, the only clothing he wore.

  “The boojum!” Thistleknot whispered loudly, as the Dark Knight closest to him turned and ran into the forest without a word, vanishing in the night.

  “LET US SEE IF THIS COUNTERFEIT CAN SKIRMISH WITH THE AUTHENTIC,” the monster said, hurting everyone’s ears with his thunderous laughter.

  “But you’re putting up no weapon,” protested the Solamnic Knight, trying not to breathe hard and look particularly beleaguered in his unravelling hemp disguise. Mennarling, temporarily ignored and glad for the oversight, inched away from the monster.

  “ ‘TIS YOU WHO NEEDS WEAPONS, NOT I.” The monster reached out a finger and tapped the Solamnic Knight’s outstretched sword. It wavered despite the young man’s best efforts to hold it firmly in place. “COME, MAKE YOUR PLAY.”

  “Very well.” The Solamnic Knight showed granite determination, making him appear much older than his years as he settled into a fighting stance. “Ready.”

  “I’ve got to help him!” Thistleknot muttered to himself. His feet scrabbled forward, as a hand on his leather vest yanked him back. “Ooooofffff!”

  “You’ve got to help me.” Mennarling turned and dragged the kender toward the death machine, signaling to the remaining quartet of his squad with a wave of his sword. “This is our last chance to fulfill the mission. One exploding sphere remains-and if that doesn’t work, there’s always the kender.”

  “But-” Thistleknot began, before choking cut him off.

  “All right, start loading.”

  Thistleknot was enlisted to help as the Knights righted the machine. Mennarling stood over him with threats. The kender was distracted, especially when he heard the Solamnic Knight’s sword crunch against something, followed by a heavy grunt. He managed to spill quite a bit of the fuel before one of the Knights noticed, shoved him away, and added more, tamping the whole mess down the machine’s maw.

  Mennarling exhorted the Dark Knights. Because the wheels were broken, they were going to have to hold the cart up during firing. They swung the machine around and aimed at the Solamnic Knight and the real boojum, who were still skirmishing. Thistleknot didn’t much like being forced to crouch beneath the barrel, helping to hold the metal tube aloft. The Dark Knight standing opposite him looked equally skeptical.

  “I’d almost rather be inside,” said the kender. “I can imagine what it feels like hurtling out of that thing-”

  “Fire!” ordered Mennarling, touching flame to the hole in the top.

  Thistleknot didn’t know when he took off running or what prompted him to do so. The kender only knew that by the time the death weapon had sucked down the flame, coughed, hesitated a moment, and then exploded, he was already in full flight.

  He tripped over something and sprawled, feet flying, as shrapnel whizzed by. The weave beneath his elbows looked familiar. Thistleknot turned, looked, and choked.

  The Solamnic Knight lay in a pool of blood, his face shadowed by bruises and peaceful in death. Strings of hemp were clotted around a gaping wound in his chest. One hand still clutched the hilt of his precious sword, its blade now badly nicked and broken in two.

  Renders don’t cry as a rule, but Thistleknot Tangletoe thought his brave dead partner deserved some tears. He looked at the still-burning tree, hoping its brightness might help his eyes water, and squeezed them half-shut tightly. “We sure had great times,” he sniffed. His friend had been a rare man, strong and gentle, with a sly sense of humor equal to his own. Considering everyone else the kender had met throughout his life had demanded his maps, taken him for granted, beaten him up, or just plain tried to ignore him, Thistleknot gave the Solamnic Knight his highest rating:

  “Having adventures with you was really, really fun.”

  One teardrop dampened the corner of his right eye. He looked around, saw no sign of Mennarling (probably blown to bits) or the other Knights (ditto). No sign either of the real boojum, whom he would have liked to shred slowly. Shrugging, Thistleknot did one of the things kender are best at: He put sorrow behind him.

  “There’s no way I can take even a piece of that death weapon back to the Solamnic enclave,” he mused, looking at the twisted metal. “It’s too bad. I’d like to, it would be the honorable thing to do and all that. But it’s all curled back on itself, like dying flower petals. I’d have to get another cart, and have someone help me hoist it on. That’d slow me down considerably. The Knight commander might just have to do with a description.

  “Hey, that’s it! I can make a drawing-just like a map. I can present the Solamnics with a map of the death machine!” He turned back to the Knight’s body, coaxing forth another sorrowful sniff. “I promise you that I’ll finish our assignment and tell everybody a wonderful story of your death. Your Lord Dulth-what’s-’is-name will really honor your memory after I’m done.” He frowned, chewing on his lip. “Come to think of it, I’d better take something of yours back so they know I’m telling the truth.”

  Thistleknot stepped over to where the Knight’s out-flung fist still gripped his weapon. Grasping the cross-piece, he pulled once, then again. Even in death, the young man wouldn’t (or couldn’t) abandon his grandfather’s legacy. His fingers remained firmly locked about the hilt.

  “And he called me stubborn,” the kender muttered, yanking again. “Ulp!”

  Something snatched him by the back of the vest. Thistleknot found himself confronting the grinning visage of the boojum. “Uh, hello,” he managed without too much tremble in his voice. “My name’s Thistleknot Tangletoe. What’s yours?”

  “Told you I’d leave you for last,” laughed the boojum in a voice that was oddly normal. “Didn’t I, friend Knight?”

  “Dessert was your word precisely,” a familiar voice answered. “Pardon me if I say so, but I don’t know how you abide such furry covering. I may have to drown myself in healing muds for a tenday before I wash away the irritation from that carpet.”

  Thistleknot tried to crane his head over his shoulder. “But you. . you’re-”

  “Sincerely dead,” stated the Solamnic Knight, sitting up and picking loose hemp from his armor, “to which deception I owe gratitude to my friend boojum, a stage natural.” He reached behind a fallen log to replace the broken sword reverently with his own, antique whole one.

  “I followed a traveling theatrical troupe around for a while,” the monster said deprecatingly, “and studied their techniques.” He had a slight lisp, caused, Tangletoe speculated, by his overlon
g canines. “Over time, I’ve practiced and improved upon them.”

  The kender squirmed. “Oh, pardon. I forgot,” said the furry being, setting Thistleknot gently on the ground. “By the way, the expression on your face when you thought your friend here was dead was. . ah. . truly dramatic. I only wish I could master the expression of such delicate emotions. Especially the moment when you tried to squeeze out that tear. Brilliant. It would make inspired stagecraft.”

  “That’s one I’ll treasure long,” the Knight murmured. “Imagine, a kender crying! And over me!”

  Thistleknot felt anger rise from the tips of his toes to the ends of his pointed ears. “You tricked me!”

  “Ah, but ‘twasn’t a hurtful tricking,” consoled the boojum.

  “Certes, only good fun between friends,” stated the Knight, rising to peel off his “wound” and buffing where it had been stuck. “This prevarication allowed me an excellent retribution for your insisting on being the bait, while I was made to suffer in costume.” He patted the boojum on the arm. “Fortunately, this noble beast and I chanced to cross paths and made friends, and the rest is. . well, you know the rest.”

  Thistleknot glared at him unforgivingly.

  “Kender, put away your wounded pride,” said the Solamnic Knight. “Here stands another one such as we. Remember you that ambitious plan that we discussed over our campfire nary a week gone by?”

  “The one about sneaking into the Dragon Highlord’s library and changing all his war maps for new ones with little mistakes dropped into them?”

  “No, the one where. . never mind. The point, little friend, is that if we join with the boojum, we can, in the future, venture much more complicated sorties.”

  The boojum beamed proudly. Thistleknot beamed back, warming up to the fellow.

  “Now the three of us can take the remains of the death machine back to my Lord Dulthan. On the way, we can plot our next operation.” The Knight bowed his head respectfully toward the boojum. “That is, if you are so inclined, friend boojum.”

  “I must admit I did enjoy myself tonight,” said the grinning monster. “Let us do as you say. But first we must adjourn to my cave for some delicious tea and dessert.”