A laugh suddenly escaped him and he turned to the man to his right. “Do you recognize this man?”
The bandit squinted at Sir Eldrick and shook his head. “Should I?” he asked his boss.
“I dare say that you should, for he is a legend. This, my friends, is the queen-shagger himself, the one and only Sir Slursalot.”
“Ain’t the name Slur Sirsalot, boss?” said one of the goons.
The dark-haired man furled his brow in thought. “I thought that it was Sir Slursalot. The other name makes no sense.”
“Oh, but it does,” said his friend, laughing. “You see, he’s a drunk, right? So instead of Sir Slursalot, you say it like you’re drunk, Slur Sirsalot.”
“Ahh,” said the black-haired man. “Now I get it.”
The lot of them laughed with their boss, and Sir Eldrick ground his teeth.
“The name is Sir Eldrick, and if you know me then you know of my accolades. I will offer you this one last chance. Release my companions, and I will let you leave with your lives.”
The leader glanced at his men and grinned. “Let me formally introduce myself, Sir Knight. I am known in these parts as Wild Willy, and these are the Road Warriors. I assume that you’ve heard of us.”
“Wild Willy and the Road Warriors?” said Sir Eldrick with a chuckle. “You can’t be serious.”
Willy’s smile disappeared and he drew his sword. “Well, after today, everyone will know my name, for I will be known as the man who slayed the queen-shagger. I imagine your head will fetch me a pretty penny from the king of Vhalovia.”
Sir Eldrick glanced at the bowmen, who, after a nod from Willy, lowered their weapons.
The two men circled each other, Sir Eldrick with his shield out in front and his sword held loosely to the side at the ready, and Wild Willy with his twin swords. The other man was twenty years his junior, and Sir Eldrick knew better than to take any man for granted in a fight. He paced the younger man slowly and jabbed out his sword, testing Willy’s reach. Around they went, slapping each other’s testing strikes away easily, until Sir Eldrick finally charged, shield leading the way.
Willy hit the shield with both blades, jarring Sir Eldrick momentarily and spinning out of reach of the follow-up sword strike. Willy then came on with an assault of his own that left Sir Eldrick on his toes and put more than one dent in his old shield. The Road Warriors cheered their leader all the while, telling him to “skewer that queen-shagger!” Not to be outdone, Willow, Murland, and Gibrig cheered Sir Eldrick from their precarious positions at the end of guarding swords.
The men exchanged blows for a time in what seemed to be a well-balanced match, but then Willy surprised Sir Eldrick with a flurry of strikes that ended with his shield being skillfully twisted out of his grip by the twin swords. Sir Eldrick composed himself, trying not to show just how winded he already was from the short fight, and used his long sword to his advantage. He kept the smaller, faster man away with long sweeping strikes for a time, but soon Willy found an opening and came in behind a blow, kicking Sir Eldrick behind the knee. The knight went down and brought his sword back around frantically. Willy’s twin blades were there to catch it, however, and with a twist and a thrust, the sword was sent flying through the air. Sir Eldrick had hardly registered what happened when a boot found his face and laid him on his back.
Wild Willy laughed victoriously and roared like a bear as Sir Eldrick struggled to clear his head. He shuffled back on his hands and feet as Willy circled him. Another boot found the side of his face and left him on his belly, sucking dirt in with precious air. He knew that he was doomed, for the blade would soon be at his neck, and Wild Willy would make good on his promise. With effort, Sir Eldrick fished open the small container on his belt, which held his secret flask.
“So, the great Slur Sirsalot has met his match. Let the minstrels sing of it with fervor.” He kicked Sir Eldrick in the ribs and walked behind him.
The cap came off the flask, and Sir Eldrick hurriedly brought it to his lips and guzzled down the extremely potent liquor known as Pirate’s Lass. Fire instantly erupted in his belly. His vision and mind cleared, and he felt power and strength again return to him.
Willy grabbed a handful of Sir Eldrick’s hair from behind, and the former knight exploded into action. He twisted his body and swung his right leg up, hitting Willy hard in the hip. The highwayman staggered to the side. Sir Eldrick spotted his shield and rolled toward it as his opponent recovered. He grabbed the shield and sprang to his feet, meeting Willy’s furious charge with one of his own. The twin blades came down from on high, and Sir Eldrick barreled into them and crashed into Wild Willy, sending the man flying through the air and into the underbrush with a loud “ugh.”
The surprised archers stared in shock as Sir Eldrick charged the closest of them and slammed into him with the force of a bull. The knight spun, catching the next archer in the chin with the edge of the shield and laying him out. The others let loose their arrows, but Sir Eldrick was ready, and brought his shield to bear as four arrows twanged off it. He threw the shield at the closest, hitting the man in the gut and taking him clean off his feet. By the time he landed, Sir Eldrick had rolled again, this time coming up with his sword and slashing the net containing Willow.
***
Murland watched helplessly as Willow came up like a bear roused before spring. The archers drew back and took aim at her, and Murland cried out a warning. It was futile, however, for as the archers let loose, Willow stood her ground. A few arrows stuck in her thick green hide, but the others snapped or twanged off, cracked and useless. Willow grinned, and then charged the men, who dropped their weapons and fled into the woods.
“Get back here, you yellow-bellied toads!” she called tauntingly.
Sir Eldrick had already engaged the last two remaining men, and he stood locked with his sword up high, holding back both men’s weapons.
Willy emerged from the woods at Sir Eldrick’s back, looking furious. And when he saw his men in trouble, he rushed toward them, sword leading and meant for Sir Eldrick’s back. Willow crossed the distance between them with alarming speed and hit Willy with an uppercut that carried so much force that he was taken clean off his feet and landed high in the boughs of an elm tree.
Exhilarated, Murland watched through the ropes as Sir Eldrick overpowered the two men and sent the one’s weapon flying. But just as he gained the upper hand, he swayed drunkenly and passed out face first in the road.
“Willow!” Gibrig cried.
The furious ogre snapped her head toward the two men standing over Sir Eldrick, and she let out a growl so furious, so menacing, and so terrible, the men turned tail and ran for their lives.
Willow gave a laugh, hurried to her raptor, and freed him from the netting. “Your dinner just ran into the woods. Go on, get it!”
Tor gave a high-pitched, ear-piercing cry and shot off into the forest on his thick red hind legs.
Once Murland was freed of his bindings, he hurried over to Sir Eldrick and took his head in his lap. “Sir Eldrick…Sir Knight…wake up,” he said, slapping him lightly on the cheek.
“What in the world is going on here!” came a booming voice that shook the leaves from the trees.
There was a great flash of blinding light, and when it faded, Murland lowered his arm and saw Kazimir standing there on the road leading west.
“Kazimir! Boy, we be glad to see ye!” said Gibrig, who was all kinds of worked up.
“Most High One,” said Murland. “Something has happened to Sir Eldrick. He was fighting the bandits, when suddenly he passed out.”
“Bandits, you say?” said Kazimir, glancing around at the bodies, netting, and flustered companions.
“The scum tried to catch us unawares, but Sir Eldrick drank some kind of special potion and took half of them out. He freed me, and I thumped some heads,” Willow said proudly.
“And where, might I ask, is the elf prince?” said Kazimir, arching an eyebrow.
Everyone glanced around, having completely forgotten about Brannon.
Kazimir sighed. “Must I do everything?” he said to no one in particular. “Stay put, fools. I will be right back.”
***
Brannon spurred his horse on faster when he saw the opening of the forest leading to the rolling hills. He was almost out of the woods. Not a single thought about the others crossed his mind. His only worry was himself. When the bandits attacked, he took the opportunity to rid himself of the idiots and their fool’s quest once and for all. Deal or no deal, Kazimir and Sir Eldrick could not ensure his safety beyond the Wide Wall, and Brannon was in no hurry to die.
No, he would not die today, he would escape. He intended on riding straight into Val’s arms, where he would be safe. To hell with his father, to hell with the kingdom, and to hell with the prophecy. Brannon was done.
His horse had nearly reached the edge of the forest, where glorious daylight shone upon the well-worn road, when suddenly darkness filled the path, and the light beyond winked out and was replaced by a giant shadow.
“Brannon Woodheart!” The voice was deafening, and the wind that accompanied it blew Brannon clean off his horse.
He landed on the road hard, and the wind exploded from his lungs. Darkness was replaced by a flash of light, and suddenly Kazimir stood looking down at him, shaking his head like a stern schoolmaster.
“Brannon the Cowardly, is that what they will call you?” said the wizard.
Brannon could only gasp and thrash like a fish out of water. He couldn’t breathe, let alone respond.
Kazimir rolled his eyes. He grabbed Brannon by his golden belt buckle and lifted him off the ground. Air rushed into the elf’s lungs, and he coughed and spat as he was let down again.
“On your feet then, I haven’t all day,” said the wizard.
Brannon got to his feet weakly. His hair was a mess, full of dirt and grass and twigs, and his clothes were dusty from the road. He wiped a dirty tear from his cheek and glared at Kazimir.
“You might hate me, but I don’t give a frothing mug of crap. You have been chosen as a Champion of the Dragon, and by the gods, you will march your ass to Bad Mountain, or else so help me, I’ll change you into a toad and carry you there myself!”
“I’m sorry,” said Brannon. “But I was so scared—”
“Save your slobbering for Valkimir’s lance,” said Kazimir with a dismissive hand and flourish of robes. He started back east down the road, and Brannon had enough good sense to mount his steed and follow.
***
Two hours had gone by, and still Kazimir had not returned. Being that Sir Eldrick was unconscious, Murland took it upon himself to take charge, and the others seemed not to mind at all. They pulled a still sleeping Sir Eldrick off the road, along with the bandits’ weapons and horses, and into the forest to the nearest clearing. Night was getting on, and so Murland asked Gibrig to find stones and wood for a fire pit. He set Willow to watch over the road so that they might not miss Kazimir, and then took it upon himself to go through the bandits’ saddle bags for any usable supplies.
He was shocked to discover a wealth of gold and jewels on one of the horses, and guessed it to be the booty from Wild Willy and the Road Warriors’ most recent hold-up. Among the bags of food stuffs, weapons, and wine, Murland found an old map that proved to be of the forest in which he stood, with a big X marked in the northwestern edge, near the coast.
Murland folded up the map and put it back with the other things. When Sir Eldrick woke up, he could decide what to do with it all.
“Kazimir has returned!” came Willow’s voice from the woods.
Gibrig came from the other direction just then and dropped his pile of wood by the stone and joined Murland at the edge of camp. Soon Willow came into view, followed by the Most High Wizard and a sullen-looking Brannon leading his horse.
“Boy, I be glad to see you!” said Gibrig tearfully and rushed over to hug Brannon around the waist.
Brannon looked down on the dwarf with disgust and pushed him away. “What happened to Sir Eldrick?” he asked upon seeing the knight lying on the ground beside the makeshift fire pit.
“The fool drank spirits,” said Kazimir. He stood over the knight and waggled his fingers, and suddenly a pail of water appeared in his hands. He then dumped the water on the sleeping knight, who gasped and came up swinging.
***
Moments before, at the top of a hill behind a village, a lad named Jarrick was pulling a heavy pail of water from the well by rope, when suddenly the pail disappeared. Jarrick gave a cry and was pulled backward by his own momentum. He fell end over end down the side of the hill, yelling all the while, and slammed into a girl from the village.
They both went tumbling into a small wagon, and when Jarrick had righted himself and pushed the hay away from his face, he looked upon the most beautiful girl that he had ever seen. She wore a similar expression, and seven years after that fateful day, they were wed upon that same hill.
From their union would come a son named Jack, who would grow up to become one of the greatest heroes Fallacetine had ever known.
***
“What the hell is going on!” Sir Eldrick demanded as he came up swinging, but was easily subdued by Willow.
Kazimir tossed the pail to the side and shook his head at the knight. “You were drunk again,” he said, squaring on the man.
Sir Eldrick blinked, eyes moving this way and that as he tried to remember. Then his face lit up. “I had to! We were attacked by bandits. I would have been killed had I not dra—”
“You wouldn’t have almost died if you hadn’t let yourself be ambushed. A knight of Vhalovia my ass,” the wizard spat. “Have you forgotten all of your training? Or does something of a knight remain in that wet brain of yours?”
Sir Eldrick reined in his temper and forced himself to relax. “You are right. I should never have let that happen.”
“And you,” said Kazimir, pointing at Murland. “What is the point in having a flying backpack if you can’t even keep a proper watch on the road ahead?”
“I…I’m sorry, I guess I should have—”
“What about you, ogre? If you weren’t stuffing your face with takeout, you might have smelled the bandits before you got to them.”
“What’s takeout?” Willow asked.
Kazimir shook his head and leveled his terrible gaze on Sir Eldrick and Brannon. “Come with me,” he said, hooking a boney finger at them.
When they were out of earshot, Kazimir turned on Sir Eldrick and Brannon with a dangerous gaze.
“Listen,” Sir Eldrick began, “I know that I scr—”
“You two are on your last leg,” he said, pointing a crooked finger at them. “I leave for a few days, and you get caught by bandits and nearly killed. And you,” he said to Brannon, “you run off like a scared little girl. Tell me, how does you running away help get those morons to Bad Mountain?”
“I’m sorry,” said Brannon, bowing his head in shame.
“Did I choose the wrong men for this job?” Kazimir asked them.
“No, of course not,” said Sir Eldrick.
“I wish that I could believe you, but…well, your performance today gives me doubt.”
“Look, I did what I had to do. Sure, I didn’t see the attack coming. That’s why they call it an ambush. But we are all alive, and no thanks to you.”
“It is not my job to lead you all to Bad Mountain; that is your job. If you two cannot do the job, I will wipe your memories of our deal and feed you to the dragon. Do you understand?”
Sir Eldrick calmed his growing temper, knowing that he was no match for the wizard. “I understand,” he said with a deep nod. “You can count on me.”
“Me too,” said Brannon, sheepishly.
Kazimir studied them with obvious disdain before turning and walking into the woods. “We’ll see,” he said as he faded into shadow and disappeared. “We’ll see.”
When Sir Eldrick was sure t
hat Kazimir was gone, he whirled on Brannon and slammed him up against a tree. Brannon issued a cry of pain and alarm, and Sir Eldrick covered his mouth with his hand. “Listen to me, you little son of a bitch, you ever pull something like that, and Kazimir will be the least of your worries. Do you understand me?”
Brannon nodded, and Sir Eldrick released him roughly and stormed back to camp.
Chapter 17
Truth Unspoken
Annallia returned from a hunt and found her handmaiden waiting for her.
“Your mother is sick. She has been asking for you. Come, you must hurry,” said the elf maiden with a small bow.
“Where?”
“She is in her quarters in the Oaken Palace.”
Annallia wasted no time and snapped the reins, which the stable master had just taken hold of. But he let go when the stallion reared. It kicked at the air and sped off as soon as its hooves touched earth. Annallia rode hard through the streets of Halala, cutting through a market with many apologies, tipping over more than one table, and spreading the crowd like an arrow. At the winding steps to the great tree palace, she leapt off and sprinted upward. At the third giant branch, she got off and ran its length, stopping before her mother’s quarters of woven branches.
“Where is Mother?” she demanded.
“Inside. She is resting,” said the guard.
“Step aside,” said Annallia, pushing past him and rushing into her mother’s room. She found the queen in bed, being tended to by a healer, and hurried to her side. “Mother, are you alright?”
“Dear Annallia,” said her mother sleepily.
“I have just given her a potion that will help her sleep,” said the old healer as he rose and straightened his ruffled robes. “She has no ailment that I can detect. I think that she had a spell is all. She keeps mumbling on about the prince. It is probably just stress. She will be fine with some sleep.”
Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1) Page 12
