Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1)

by Michael James Ploof

  Brannon snapped his reins and pulled ahead of the group. Sir Eldrick eyed the others. The elf’s words had cast a shadow of doubt over them.

  “Never mind him—he’s just scared,” he told them.

  “Ye think he be right?” Gibrig asked. “About us not being heroes and all?”

  “That little princess doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” said Sir Eldrick. “Kazimir always chooses who he thinks can defeat the dragon, and he’s never wrong.”

  “But…if he’s never wrong, why does the dragon always come back?” Murland asked.

  Gibrig furled his brow in thought, and Willow scratched her head.

  “Well,” said Sir Eldrick, glancing at the others. “No one has ever been able to actually kill the beast. We’ve just got to…scare her off.”

  “And then we can go home?” said Gibrig.

  “Of course,” said Sir Eldrick with gusto. “And we will return victorious like all the other champions, and, like them, we will enjoy a lifetime of parades and celebration. We will be treated like heroes. You are all too young to remember the celebration tours of the champions, but mark my words, it will be grand.”

  “You hear that, Snorts?” said Gibrig, grinning. “All we gotta do is scare off the monster and we can return home heroes.”

  Snorts…well, he gave a snort.

  Sir Eldrick was relieved that they didn’t ask any more about it. He took some time to formulate answers for any future questions, knowing that the elf in particular was going to be a bit of trouble. Being highly educated, the prince was sure to be the smartest of the lot, and might have already put two and two together.

  Sir Eldrick had considered killing him for a moment—or perhaps just cutting out his tongue—but one way or another, he had to keep the little weasel quiet. Or…perhaps he could strike a deal with the stuck-up prince.

  Of course, if there was one thing Sir Eldrick knew about royals, it was that they thought of only themselves. Queen Elzabethalynn had taught him that much.

  He gave the reins a smart snap and rode to catch up with Brannon, who was getting a bit too far ahead.

  “Maintain the distance,” he yelled over his shoulder to the others. “I’ll go talk to him.”

  “Tell him I’m sorry I said he was mean,” Gibrig called back.

  ***

  “You don’t need to apologize to that stuck-up prince,” said Murland as he watched Sir Eldrick riding to catch up with Brannon. “He was being a jerk.”

  “Sure,” said Gibrig. “But he only be a jerk ‘cause someone done been a jerk to him. Me pap says it be like a sickness, like givin’ someone a cold when ye breathe on ‘em. Says that if ye let meanness die with ye, rather than passin’ it off to someone else like, ye can really make the world a better place. And maybe someday, after ye’ve swallowed up all the meanness, well, maybe then no one will call ye tall no more.”

  Willow regarded him with puzzlement. “No one gives someone a cold. Everybody knows they’re caused by angry spirits.”

  “Your pap sounds like a really nice man,” said Murland.

  Gibrig laughed. “He is, but he ain’t a man—he be a dwarf.” But then his face became slack, and he bit on his lip nervously. “Ye think Brannon’s right?”

  “I don’t know…to tell you the truth, I’ve never felt like the champion of anything.”

  “Me neither,” said Gibrig with a frown.

  “I’ve been the champion mud pie eater since I was twelve,” Willow proudly proclaimed.

  Murland offered a small laugh, but he felt all bound up inside.

  What if Brannon was right? he couldn’t help but wonder.

  Chapter 12

  A Secret Kept is a Thorn in the Paw

  “Brannon!” Sir Eldrick called to the elf, but if Brannon heard him, he gave no indication.

  “Are you deaf?” the knight called again as his horse caught up to the elf prince’s white steed.

  “You will address me as Prince, or Your Highness, or My Liege, or—”

  “What’s your problem?” said Sir Eldrick.

  Brannon looked as though he had been slapped. “Excuse me?”

  “You were pretty rude to the other champions back there. I think that you owe them an apology.”

  Brannon laid his hands on his hips and cocked his head, looking the knight up and down as he spoke. “I don’t know how things work where you’re from, Sir Knight, but in Halala, a prince does not apologize to commoners.”

  “This isn’t Halala, this is the road. And we aren’t commoners, we’re companions,” said Sir Eldrick.

  Brannon rolled his eyes and gave a long, slow sigh. “You bore me, Sir Knight. Let me know when you have found a suitable camp,” he said before spurring his white steed to quicken.

  Sir Eldrick wanted to slap the stuck-up prince right off his horse, but he buried his anger and let him go for the time being.

  The road leading west from King’s Crossing cut through a dense forest of pine and birch trees, dotted here and there with majestic oaks. The forest was quiet but for the trickle of a stream that followed it for a few miles before snaking south and away to the lowlands north of Fire Swamp.

  “We’ll make camp here for the night,” said Sir Eldrick when they came to a clearing beside a brook.

  Murland dropped to his knees and fell on his face, exhausted.

  “You gonna be alright?” Willow asked as she dismounted from her raptor.

  Murland could only groan.

  “Alright,” said Sir Eldrick. “Let’s get something straight. While Kazimir’s away, I’m the leader of this group. And as such, I—”

  “Excuse me?” said Brannon. “If there is to be a leader, then that leader will be me, of course.”

  “You know nothing of survival in the wild,” said Sir Eldrick.

  “Ah, but you do?” Brannon retorted. “It is a quite simple matter, even for a human to understand. I am a prince, and therefore, I will lead as I am meant to. But do not fret, Sir Knight,” he said, waving him off like a servant. “You will be my second in command.”

  Sir Eldrick gave a laugh. “Second? We are not in Halala, my pampered prince. Here, on the road to Bad Mountain, you are not a prince, but a champion—one of five. I have trained my entire life for a moment such as this.”

  He regarded each in the group one at a time. “Tell me, have any of you ever slain a monster? Do you know how to spot and avoid ambush sites? Do you know how to set watch detail, or assign duties that best utilizes everyone’s skill sets?”

  The four exchanged empty glances.

  “I didn’t think so,” said Sir Eldrick. “I should be the leader of this group. But alas! I am not a tyrant. I would call a vote. Who here would like me to blaze a trail through the wilds beyond the Wide Wall?”

  Murland was the first to raise his hand. Willow quickly followed suit, but Gibrig kept his down and stared at the dirt, looking quite flummoxed at having to take sides.

  “Uh huh,” said Sir Eldrick, raising his own hand as well. “And how many would like Prince Brannon here to lead?”

  Brannon raised his hand for himself and eyed the hog farmer dangerously. At length, Gibrig raised his hand halfheartedly.

  “Well then,” said Sir Eldrick. “It is three to two in favor of me. I accept your votes. I will do my best to see us all to Bad Mountain and home again. First things first. We need the hog farmer to dig us a shit hole.”

  Gibrig was already grabbing the shovel strapped to Snorts. “I’m on it, sir,” he said with much enthusiasm.

  Sir Eldrick pointed at Murland. “How much magic do you know?”

  “Uh…some?” Murland offered with a boney shrug.

  “What does that mean?” Sir Eldrick asked. “Can you do anything that would speed up making camp?”

  Murland shook his head. “Truth is…I don’t—”

  “Of course you do! For now, just set up the tents,” Sir Eldrick told him, glancing at the others.

  He then turned to Willow. �
�You—be a good ogre and find us a nice lot of firewood to burn. Good and dry now, none of that stinking mossy stuff your kind fancies.”

  Finally, he came to Brannon and hooked a summoning finger at him. “You and I shall water the horses.”

  Sir Eldrick took his black stallion and led it to the riverbank, and, reluctantly, Brannon followed close behind. When the horses found the stream, the two champions squared on each other.

  “If you expect me to follow you,” Brannon began, “well, good sir, you are out of your mind.”

  “Are you quite as stupid as you sound?” Sir Eldrick asked dryly.

  Brannon was taken aback. He clutched his chest and huffed dramatically. “Why…I NEVER!”

  “Of course you haven’t. You’re a spoiled little bitch who’s never been told no.”

  “I…I’ve been told no,” Brannon stammered.

  “Listen, twinkle toes, I’m not your enemy. You seem rather smart, truth be told. And that is the only reason I’m talking to you.” Sir Eldrick leaned in a little closer and glanced around. “I can see you know that something strange is going on here…You do, don’t you?”

  Brannon forgot his indignation in a flash but regarded Sir Eldrick cautiously. “Yes…I do.”

  “Of course,” said Sir Eldrick. “Now, because you’re smart, and because you’re a highborn—and above the rest of that ridiculous lot—Kazimir and I have decided to bring you into the fold.”

  “Tell me the truth then, Sir Knight.”

  Sir Eldrick glanced back at the camp. “The truth is…this lot is doomed. And you with it, until I decided to bring you in on the plan, of course.

  “You see; this whole champion business is a big lie. We’re no prophetic champions of the dragon. We are dragon food. But, if you help me get those idiots unwittingly to the mountain, you and I shall both return home victors—and without ever even lifting a blade against the dragon.”

  Brannon choked up and began fanning himself with his hand. “Oh, thank the gods!”

  “Shhh—you rainbow cake,” snapped Sir Eldrick. “They’ll hear.”

  Brannon sat on the bank of the river and rocked himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just that…you don’t know how scared I was. I thought I was doomed.”

  Sir Eldrick wanted to push him in.

  “Listen, flower petal, I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this before, but you need to start acting like a man. If you’re going to just go through life in fear, I can slit your throat here and now and toss your frail body in the river. That’s about all your life will be worth anyway. But if you want to prove your father wrong, if you want to show him that not only do you love men, but you are a man, then get up off your pretty ass and let’s do this.”

  Brannon took in a shocked breath, and it seemed to Sir Eldrick that the prince might cry. But the elf soon stood tall and threw back his padded shoulders with overdramatic flair. “I am with you, Sir Knight!”

  Sir Eldrick studied Brannon’s sincerity and finally nodded.

  “Good. First things first—quit being such a little prick to the others. We’ve still got to get them to Bad Mountain, which means actually going beyond the Wide Wall. We need them to be confident. We need to bring out the best in them, else it’ll be our necks, and we’re not going to do that with you treating them like a bunch of simpletons.”

  “What about Kazimir?” Brannon asked, looking concerned.

  Sir Eldrick waved off the notion. “You can only count on wizards when they can’t be counted on. They’re a queer lot.”

  Brannon raised a brow.

  “Anyway,” Sir Eldrick went on. “We’ve got to give them some confidence. You think you can do that?”

  “I’ll try,” said Brannon.

  When they returned to camp, they found a small fire going and all the tents set up. Murland and the others were sitting around the fire pit on large stones, chatting like old friends.

  “Well,” said Sir Eldrick cheerily, “I see you’ve all found seats. But what about dinner?”

  The three eyed each other.

  “Right then,” he continued. “Let’s take an inventory of what we’ve got.”

  They all went for their packs and spilled the contents on the ground in the firelight. There were a few loaves of bread, some smoked meat, a rolled-up wheel of stinky cheese that Willow swore was delicious—and of course, Brannon’s dried nuts and berries—but it would not be enough to see them all the way to Bad Mountain.

  “This will need to be remedied,” said Sir Eldrick.

  Just then, there was a flash of light, and when the smoke cleared, Kazimir was standing in front of them on the other side of the fire.

  “Kazimir!” cried Willow.

  “Ancient One!” said Gibrig excitedly.

  “Ah, so I see you’ve all made camp for the night,” said the wizard jovially. “Now, what’s this I hear about food?”

  “We’re hungry,” said Willow.

  “Hmm,” replied Kazimir, tapping his bearded chin. “I suppose that your first night together calls for celebration…yes, I think I might have just the spell.”

  He waggled his fingers while reciting strange words, and just like that, a long table set for a king’s banquet appeared before them.

  ***

  A moment before, far to the east, King Nimrod of Magestra was standing at the head of a long table, about to give a toast. Seated before him were dignitaries from the far eastern island of Icebite. The peace negotiations had been going well, and now the king needed only to seal the deal with a dinner—the most respected of Icebithian customs.

  The king raised his glass. “To the good people of Icebite. May your sails ever catch the wind, and may our alliance flourish. Let this fine dinner be a token of my respect for your people, and a symbol of our undying—”

  Before he could finish, the table suddenly vanished into thin air.

  “What is the meaning of this!” cried one of the dignitaries as he shot to his feet, bone necklaces chattering. “You insult us with devilry?”

  “No…I…I,” the king stammered, staring in wonder at the empty space where the table had been.

  “This means WAR!” the islander cried.

  ***

  The champions ate merrily that night. There were dishes of roasted duck, fish, chicken, beef—and to Gibrig’s dismay—pig head cheese. Many bottles of wine had come with the table as well, and before the midnight hour had arrived, the lot of them were right drunk—surprisingly, all but Sir Eldrick.

  “Here is to the Champions of Drak’Noir,” said Kazimir, raising his goblet.

  Everyone joined in, even Brannon, whose demeanor had changed dramatically since his talk with Sir Eldrick.

  “Does this mean ye’re going to be traveling with us the rest of the way?” Gibrig asked hopefully.

  “Don’t be a fool,” said Kazimir. “I’ve already made myself quite clear in that regard.”

  “Well,” said Gibrig, scratching his head. “Why can’t ye just whoosh us off to Bad Mountain like ye brought this table here?”

  The group went silent and eyed the wizard curiously.

  “Yeah,” said Willow with a mouthful of food. “Jush whoosh us.”

  “It can’t be as easy as that,” said Brannon, eyeing the wizard. “Can it?”

  “Of course it’s not that easy, else I would have done it already,” said Kazimir, waving them off and sipping his wine.

  “But why can’t you?” asked Willow, confused.

  “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to ask a wizard about his craft?” said an increasingly agitated Kazimir. “It’s considered rude.”

  Willow shrugged.

  Kazimir shook his head and emptied his glass before wiping his mouth with the end of his beard. Abruptly, he stood and jerked his robe back from his hand to check the small clock strapped to his wrist. “Yes, it is getting late—I must be off.”

  “So soon?” said Murland.

  “Can’t ye at least just stay for a song?”
Gibrig asked.

  Kazimir looked at him with mild disgust. “A song? What do you take me for—a wizard or a bumbling bard? No, my dear champions, you go on and sing till the pigs come home. I have people to be and places to see.” He walked toward the road, waving to the drunken fools halfheartedly over his shoulder.

  “Ancient One,” called Sir Eldrick, running to catch up with the grumpy wizard. “I would have a word.”

  When they were out of earshot and walking beneath the boughs of some drooping willows, Kazimir said, “Speak your mind, knight, but make it quick. I have much to do.”

  “I had to bring the elf in on the secret,” said Sir Eldrick conspiratorially. “He knows the true nature of this quest.”

  “Yes, I know. I could see it in his eyes. He was practically winking at me…I am surprised that you didn’t just toss him in a river and be done with it. But I must say, this shows good judgment on your part. And you didn’t drink a drop of spirits at dinner. This is good as well. You just might get through this alive yet. But the elf will still be fed to the dragon. It is bad enough I will only have four fools for her. You just keep leading him on and let him believe whatever fantasies he needs to get him through the journey.”

  Kazimir turned from Sir Eldrick and whistled. Around a distant bend in the road came a black unicorn with a horn like an onyx saber. The beast stopped and knelt before the wizard, and Kazimir climbed up onto its back.

  “Continue on to the west,” he said to Sir Eldrick. “I will see you again before the Wide Wall.”

  The knight watched him go, wondering as always where it was that he went off to.

  Just then Murland came running up, all in a huff.

  “Damn! He’s gone already? But I needed to speak with him about my wand.”

  “What is this that you are so worked up about, son?” Sir Eldrick asked. He rested a gentle hand on Murland’s shoulder, like a father or a big brother, and started leading him back toward the camp.