“That’s high enough!” Murland cried, clutching the straps and kicking his legs.
Murland breathed a little easier when the backpack complied and leveled out. “Good…this is good,” he said breathlessly.
No sooner had he said the words than the backpack dove straight down once more.
Murland screamed the whole way down and braced himself for impact as they hurtled toward the road where the other champions stood watching. To Murland’s relief though, the pack straightened out again and flew level with the road.
“Look out!” Murland cried as they came hurtling toward Brannon.
The elf gave a high-pitched yelp and fell back off his horse, landing in a puddle as Murland zipped by overhead.
“Put me down!” Murland urged the pack.
To his surprise, the backpack spread its wings wide and came to a sudden stop. Murland hit the ground running and quickly shed the pack, tossing it in the air and letting it fly off on its own. He stood there panting and blinking his eyes in disbelief. He turned to the group, who—aside from Brannon—was staring at him in shock and adoration. Murland burst into a sudden fit of laughter and raised his fists into the air triumphantly.
Gibrig and Willow cheered joyfully and ran to congratulate him. They patted his back and shook his hand, wanting to know all about what it was like to fly.
Brannon just sat there in the muck, shaking and staring down at his dirty clothes with disgust.
Murland broke from the others and walked over to Brannon and Sir Eldrick. “Sorry about the fly-by,” he said, reaching out a hand to help the pitiful elf prince up.
Brannon ignored the gesture and lifted himself out of the mire with an indignant scoff, huffing in disgust at the state of his clothing.
***
As Murland went back to the others, Sir Eldrick made his way over to Brannon and stared down at him wryly from atop his steed.
“Perhaps that will teach you not to be such a wench. I told you that we need to help them find their confidence,” he said so the others wouldn’t hear.
“You saw how the panic crossed his face when I asked him to show me some magic?” said Brannon, pointing at the celebrating wizard apprentice. “He doesn’t know anything. Have you seen his wand? It’s held together with tape. He’ll never be worth his weight in donkey dung—and I’m supposed to help him find confidence?”
“He can fly,” said Eldrick matter-of-factly. “Can you? Listen, sweetheart, this is going to be a long road, and I don’t have time for your mood swings. Stick to the damned plan and keep your attitude in check.”
Brannon mocked Sir Eldrick as he rode away, silently mimicking the knight behind his back. He then mounted his own horse, snapped the reins, and followed sullenly, wishing all the while that Val was there with him. If there was one elf who could put Sir Eldrick in his place, it was Valkimir.
Chapter 14
Bjorn Tibiwild
That night, the group made camp off the road on the well-worn bank of the trickling Brook of Many Sorrows. Once the hole was dug, the horses watered and fed, and the fire stoked, Murland sat back with the others around the fire. Sir Eldrick had snared a hare, and Willow had found and killed a small snake. Both kills hung from sticks above the fire. While they waited for the meager meal, Gibrig took his flute from his pack and began playing “Ode to the Highland Maiden.”
Oddly enough, the song was familiar to Willow, who sang along with the haunting melody, surprising everyone with her velvety smooth voice.
Even Brannon had nothing bad to say about the night’s entertainment. On the contrary, he was spurred by passion to outdo them, and when they had finished, he took up a golden fiddle from one of his many packs and began playing.
The beautiful song that mournfully issued from his instrument that night left even the stoic Sir Eldrick teary-eyed. The knight had been battling with the urge to drink from the flask going around all night, but every time it was offered to him, he refused, saying that morning would be coming soon.
When the meat was brown and sizzling, he cut it into equal portions and handed it out to the eager companions. Willow stared at her share and glanced around at the others’. “These ain’t equal portions,” she said angrily.
“You are mistaken, my good ogre. They are all the same size, give or take a nibble or two.”
“Yeah, well we ain’t all the same size. I’m four times bigger than most of you, why should I get the same rations?”
“Because you’d still complain that you were hungry, even if you ate it all,” said Brannon.
Sir Eldrick gave him a warning scowl. “We all need to get used to being hungry. Kazimir’s banquet will not be a regular occurrence, I promise you that.”
Willow was not pleased with the dodgy answer. She popped the rabbit leg and bite of snake into her mouth, crunching the bones and eyeing Brannon’s horse hungrily.
“Do you like greens?” Brannon asked her, having followed her eyes and wanting to redirect her attention.
“I could eat just about anything right now.”
“Good. I have a variety of seeds in my saddle bags,” said the elf. “Tomorrow, when the sun is out, I can grow us something more to eat.”
Sir Eldrick offered Brannon an approving nod from across the fire.
“What ya mean, grow us some food?” Willow asked with growing intrigue.
“I am quite skilled at floral magic,” said Brannon with evident pride.
“You know magic?” said Murland, nearly leaping from the stump he sat on.
“Indeed, but it is elven magic, and not something that I could ever teach you,” said Brannon.
“Couldn’t hurt to try,” said Sir Eldrick, offering Brannon a look.
Brannon returned the gesture with a curt nod. “Perhaps I could try,” he told Murland.
Just then, a sound came from the road to the west. Everyone stopped to listen, for the sound was strange, and nothing like any of them had ever heard.
Glurp glurp, clang clang, bizz buzz, the noises sounded in the quiet night.
Sir Eldrick rose first, reaching for his sword but not unsheathing it. With his other hand he indicated for the others to stay back.
Glurp glurp, clang, clang, bizz buzz.
Eldrick took one, two, three steps toward the road and stood tall, pushing out his formidable chest and waiting.
Glurp glurp, clang, clang, bizz buzz.
The sound grew louder, and Murland couldn’t imagine what kind of beast it might be that had found them on the road to the Wide Wall.
Another glurp glurp brought the thing into the firelight; it was no creature, but a contraption of some sort.
“Who goes there?” Sir Eldrick asked in a commanding voice.
There was a dark figure on the contraption, and Murland got up to see better. His fear was forgotten in the face of his intrigue.
The figure, which Murland guessed to be a man, albeit a very large man dressed in dark leather, dismounted from the big clunking contraption and flicked a switch.
With a final glurp glurp, clang, clang, bizz buzz, and a long hiss, the contraption went silent, and steam issued from a pipe at the rear like smoke from a dragon’s snout.
“Who, you ask? Who, I ask,” came a deep, jolly voice.
“I say again, good sir, who are you?” said Sir Eldrick, standing his ground.
Murland crept up and eyed the contraption as the two men stared at each other. It had big wheels, taller than himself; one in the front and one in the back. In the front, above the wheel, was a lantern encased in some sort of mirror box, which reflected the dim light within and amplified it, illuminating the forest beyond. There was a long leather saddle housed above a shiny silver conglomeration of pipes, which was connected by a wooden frame to the rear tire.
“You have already guessed my name, for I am indeed called ‘Good Sir’ by many. Who, may I ask, are you who have decided to camp in my hills?”
“These hills belong to no man,” said Sir Eldrick. �
�This land belongs to the unified kingdoms of Fallacetine.”
“Of course, of course,” said the man. “But I belong to them. As surely as you belong somewhere else. But alas, as your host, I will forego the riddles and speak plainly, for the lot of you look hungry.”
The man stepped forward into the firelight and stuck out a strong-looking hand. “I am Bjorn, Bjorn Tibiwild.”
Sir Eldrick nodded and forsook his hilt for Bjorn’s hand. “Sir Eldrick van Albright. That is one hell of a contraption that you ride upon.”
“That, yes, the making of trinkets and contraptions is a hobby of mine,” said Bjorn.
Murland offered the man a nod when those deep green eyes fell upon him. Bjorn stood well over six feet tall and was stocky about the chest, like a dwarf. But his arms were long like a man, and he gave an air of magic and mystery like that of an elf. His face was burly with a winter beard, and his skin was well weathered, but those bright eyes twinkled beyond the proud nose.
“These are my companions,” said Eldrick, waving a hand back at the group. “We are traveling west, and looking for no trouble.”
“Well,” said Bjorn with a merry chuckle, “the west is certainly the place to find trouble, but you know that, don’t you? What I know is that you are hungry, and I have food. Do you care to join me?”
Sir Eldrick eyed the strange man, taking a good measure of him. “Where is this food you speak of?”
“Why, just over those hills there yonder,” he said, pointing north beyond the camp.
“What kind of foods you got?” Willow asked, coming to stand beside Sir Eldrick and Murland.
“Food fit for an ogre,” said Bjorn, looking her up and down with admiration. He glanced over the group, seeming to sense their apprehension.
Suddenly he burst into song and began colorfully dancing among them, his loud, boisterous voice rolling over the hills.
“You got your horses running, you went out on the highway.
Looking for adventure, and you have come my way.”
He pointed at Willow and added, “Yeah damsel gonna get wings flappin’. Take you up out of this place. Fire all my arrows at once. And explode in your face.”
He moved next to Murland and put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. He spread his other hand across the horizon with eyes of wonder.
“I conjure rain and lightning. Hard rolling thunder.
Mind is racing like the wind. From the wizard leaf I’m under.”
With a laugh he threw a fist into the air and brought it down, pointing right at Brannon.
“Yeah damsel gonna get wings flappin’. Take you up out of this place.
Fire all my arrows at once. And explode in your face.”
Then with a great flourish of his leather robes he spun in a circle and stopped before them, pointing at himself.
“I’m a true nature’s child. I am Bjorn, Bjorn Tibiwild.
We can get so high, never gonna die!”
The companions stared, at a loss for words. Nevertheless, Bjorn took a bow with a flourish and turned back to his wheeled contraption. “Follow me, friends!” he called back, and he kicked a metal bar, which caused the strange wooden mount to roar to life.
Willow wasted no time running to her raptor and leaping onto its back. Brannon just stood and stared at Sir Eldrick, looking worried. Murland and Gibrig waited for the knight’s approval as well. “Come on then, let’s see what he’s got to offer. Seems like a nice enough fellow, if a little…theatrical,” said the knight.
Murland followed close behind Snorts at the rear of the group as they followed Bjorn’s loud and steaming contraption off the road and into the hills. The night was mild, with only a whisper of wind, and the stars were out, unhindered by all but the tiniest of clouds. Glow bugs danced at the tops of those rolling hills, giving the night a magical feel.
They traversed a dozen hills, and all the while Bjorn sang his strange song. Murland began to wonder how far into the northern hills they might have to venture. The mounds rolled on for miles, and Murland was beginning to wonder if they weren’t making a mistake following the strange man into the unknown.
Finally, as they were coming down another of the earthen lumps, Bjorn stopped his contraption and leapt off. He ran, laughing, toward a bolder half buried by the hill that it seemed moored to.
“Come, come my friends,” he said, waving them over happily. “Do tie your mounts off on one of the trees. Don’t want them running off. Come, come, I believe I hear my blessed wife Ling Ling cooking now!”
Sir Eldrick glanced over at Murland with a cocked brow, but the wizard could only shrug. Willow, of course, had already tied off her raptor and was hustling to follow.
Bjorn pushed down a tree branch and lifted another, and the boulder swung out with a creak, as though it were on large iron hinges. Light spilled out of the opening in the hill, as well as the foreign song of a maiden, and the big man soon disappeared inside.
“Come on then, let’s not be rude,” said Sir Eldrick, tying off his horse and following Willow. Murland glanced back at Gibrig and Brannon. The elf sniffed at the air suspiciously. The smell of pie was riding upon it, and it lifted Murland’s heart, for it reminded him of the kitchens back at Abra Tower. “Smells like we’re in luck,” he said to the others.
Gibrig nodded happily, while Brannon remained stone-faced and rigid. “We’ll see,” said the elf ominously. “We’ll see.”
Murland gulped and hesitated, but the elf laughed and followed Gibrig into the earth tunnel.
The song grew louder as the tunnel wound this way and that before them. Murland took up the rear, straining to see past the taller elf.
“I’ve brought company, my beloved!” he heard Bjorn boasting.
The tunnel opened into a room, and Murland scanned it quickly. He took in a quick, shocked breath when he saw the maiden, for her look was most exotic. She had long, straight black hair, a lithe form, a soft, bright face, and large, slanted eyes. Her white dress was sleek and tight fitting, with long sleeves and a high collar. Flower patterns were embroidered down the front.
“Are you an angel?” Murland heard Gibrig ask in a dreamy voice.
“This is my beloved Ling Ling,” said Bjorn, and the exotic maiden bent at the waist in a smart bow.
“Ni hao,” said Ling Ling with a bright smile.
“She says hello,” said Bjorn, beaming.
“Hello, and ni hao to you too,” said Sir Eldrick with a bow.
“Ni hao,” said Murland, grinning. He liked the sound of that.
As the others returned the greeting, Murland took a quick survey of the large room they found themselves in. At the northern end stood Bjorn and Ling Ling beside a large cooking pit, and behind them were many ovens stacked one on top of another between the cabinetry and shelves. A wash basin was off to the side, fed by a spigot in the wall from which poured crystal clear water. The area to the left looked to be a sitting room, for a large fireplace adorned the eastern wall, and beside it were many volumes of old-looking books upon shelves reaching all the way to the high ceiling of earth and roots. Many chairs, couches, and sofas were arranged around the fire, accompanied by stands holding candles and books both opened and closed. To the right, along the western wall, there sat a finely crafted wooden table with a dozen chairs and places set for seven. An elaborate silver candelabra hung above the table, and twelve candles burned within it. Behind the table was a tunnel that stretched off into darkness.
“Come, sit. You must be weary from the road,” said Bjorn, kicking off his huge boots and taking a seat at the head of the table.
Sir Eldrick nodded to the other companions, his quick eyes moving to their own boots, and he took his off before joining Bjorn. The companions followed suit and sat as well, and Ling Ling, obviously well versed in the virtues of a good host, filled their glasses with wine and placed a loaf of steaming bread on the table along with a heaping bowl of butter.
Willow grabbed the loaf before anyone else had a cha
nce to and stuffed it in her mouth. She chewed and chewed with her eyes closed, groaning with pleasure. When she opened them and saw that everyone, even Ling Ling, was staring at her, she gulped the loaf down and tried to muffle a burp.
“I was hungry,” she said self-consciously.
“We’re all hungry, you giant oaf,” said Brannon with disgust.
Ling Ling burst into laughter then and rattled off with a string of strange words. Bjorn laughed as well, in agreement with whatever it was that his wife had said.
“What?” said Willow, wiping her mouth, her eyes wide with obvious paranoia.
“She says that you are a hungry one. And she is pleased. Ling Ling loves to cook, and she says that perhaps she has found a belly that she cannot fill.”
Willow glanced around at the others and sat up straighter. She smiled at Ling Ling. “Challenge accepted,” she said with great satisfaction.
Another loaf of bread was set before her, and one each for the others as well. But just as Willow was about to bite into the sweet-smelling bread, Bjorn raised his chalice in a toast.
“Might I have something else?” Sir Eldrick said before the toast could be made. “I’m, er, trying to kick the habit.”
“But of course!” said Bjorn before conveying to Ling Ling Sir Eldrick’s wish. “She asks if you would like goat’s milk, tea, cider, or water?”
“Cider will do just fine,” said the knight.
When the drink was poured, Sir Eldrick raised his glass with the others.
“To the great wide open, and infinite possibility,” said Bjorn.
“Here here!” said Sir Eldrick, and clanged glasses with them all.
Ling Ling brought the first course, a meat pie with gravy that had Willow drooling with desire. They dined and they supped, and all the while, Bjorn told them of the wider world beyond Fallacetine.
“I knew by your exotic wife that you must be a well-traveled man,” said Sir Eldrick as he pushed his empty plate to the side. “But I had no idea just how well traveled you were.”
Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1) Page 10
