“This is all in the past,” said Sir Eldrick, and Brannon seemed relieved to hear it. “We won the day, but we could have done better. From now on, we have to be more careful. There are far more dangerous things besides bandits awaiting us on the other side of the Wide Wall.”
“What are we going to do about the map I found?” Murland asked, having been unable to stop thinking of the treasure that they might find.
“We have no time for such things now,” said Sir Eldrick. “But when we return this way after we defeat Drak’Noir, we could swing north and find out what it is all about. I wouldn’t get too excited though. Knowing highwaymen, it’s just a trap. For now, you should focus on practicing your magic.”
“With that broken wand of his? Please,” said Brannon, who was in a sour mood.
“Your kind have magic,” said Sir Eldrick. “Perhaps you could show young Murland a thing or two.”
Brannon glanced at Murland with doubtful eyes. “If the high wizards of Abra Tower couldn’t teach him anything, I don’t know how I could.”
Sir Eldrick said nothing, but his hard eyes spoke volumes.
“Fine,” said Brannon, and he turned to Murland, who glided beside him. “I can tell you one thing; magic is all about confidence. If you don’t have any, it doesn’t matter how much wizard leaf you smoke.”
“Truth be told, I don’t have either one of those things.”
“What?” said Sir Eldrick. “You don’t have any wizard leaf?”
Murland shook his head. “Part of being an apprentice is learning how to grow it, but I have never been able to grow a good plant. Mine always die before they flower.”
“But that makes no sense,” said the knight. “You have told us how you tend the gardens every year. The way you made it sound, you have quite a green thumb.”
Murland shrugged.
“Sounds like you’ve got enemies. Someone is killing your plants to keep you from getting any good at wizardry,” said Brannon, and beside him Sir Eldrick nodded agreement.
Murland was dumbstruck. “You think so?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” said Brannon, none too kindly.
“Sorry someone was killin’ yer plants,” said Gibrig, sounding choked up. “That wasn’t very nice o’ them at all.”
Murland wondered who might have done such a thing, and then he thought of Lance Lancer. But rather than be angered by the revelation, he was excited to know that he hadn’t failed after all. “Brannon, you are so good with growing things. Do you think you could help me to grow wizard leaf?”
Sir Eldrick glanced at the elf with a raised brow, and Brannon sighed. “I guess I could try. But I will need seeds.”
“I’ve got some in my pack,” said Murland excitedly. “You know what they say, ‘a wizard should never leave home without it.’”
Brannon looked to the quickly setting sun. “Very well, we will plant the seeds in the morning.”
“Thank you, Brannon. Thank you so much!”
Chapter 19
On Wings of Blue-Blue
Dingleberry zipped through Fire Swamp Village, making her morning rounds. Her first stop was the baker’s hut, where fresh loaves of pussy willow bread were being taken out of one of the large ovens. Dingleberry wasn’t interested in the bread, and easily flew past the busy ogre baker, into the supply cellar through the gap in the door. To her delight, she found a new bag of sugar from Magestra among the stacked barrels and crates. She glanced at the door as she pulled out a tiny knife and carefully made a small incision in the top of the bag. After filling her small sack with the sugar, she dined on the sweet crystals until her wings were quivering.
The door suddenly opened, and Dingleberry shot into the air, her little heart beating furiously.
“You little thief!” the baker cried upon seeing the sprite with a face full of sugar.
Dingleberry blew past him as he swatted at her like one might a pesky mosquito. She easily dodged the swipes of the slow ogre and shot out of the cellar, into the foggy morning once again. At a fruit stand, she swiped a grape and gobbled it down as she flew. Another stand boasted nuts and berries, and she stuffed her sack with the rare treats. The human traders from Vhalovia had come to market, and Dingleberry was pleased to see a plethora of exotic food.
She retired to the safety of a rooftop and ate leisurely as she watched the ogres go about their day. It had been nearly three weeks since Willow left, and Dingleberry was beginning to get lonely. She had considered exploring the wider world, but Fallacetine was a dangerous place for a six-inch sprite. On Faeland Island, the wildlife knew that fairies were off-limits, but here in the untamed swamp, with its crocodiles, bats, snakes, spiders, lizards, frogs, and other dangerous creatures, Dingleberry had to constantly be on guard.
After being exiled from Faeland by the queen for selling fairy dust to foreign merchants in the fairy underground market, Dingleberry had made her way across the ocean to Fire Swamp. She had been attacked by a bullfrog, and would have died had Willow not rescued her. The ogre had helped Dingleberry back to health, feeding her milk and honey for a month straight until her broken wing healed. Ever since that fateful day, they had been best friends. Life without Willow in Fire Swamp had proven difficult.
From her perch on top of the blacksmith’s shack, Dingleberry spotted Merrick Bricksburg, one of Willow’s favorite merchants. Willow was always the first one to market on the days that the human, dwarf, and elf merchants came to town, and the ogre was loved by them all. Her great appetite seemed to have no limit, and her favorite foods were those that came from the wider world. A great lover of cheese, Willow had taken a quick liking to Merrick, who was recognized by the humans of Magestra as the foremost authority on the subject.
Dingleberry landed on the corner post of his cart and was overcome by the poignant aroma of his wares. “Your cart smells like an ogre’s bellybutton,” said Dingleberry with a musical chuckle.
Merrick, a squat man with a portly belly, bald head, and white, pointed mustache, glanced around both high and low, his busy gray eyebrows furled and a merry glint found his eyes. “Now I would recognize that sweet little voice anywhere,” he said before spotting her sitting there on his cart. He smiled brightly. “Ah, there you are, Dingleberry. Where is your hungry friend? I expected her hours ago.”
Dingleberry’s smile disappeared and she hung her head low. “Gone, gone, gone. Off to Bad Mountain with the champions.”
“What’s that?” said Merrick, cupping a hand behind his hairy ear. “You didn’t say Bad Mountain, did you?”
“Yup, yup,” she said in her high-pitched, sing-song voice. “Dingleberry all alone, all alone.”
Merrick’s smile slowly morphed into a frown.
“Cheese man, give me a sample of marble cheese,” said an ogre female behind him. But the merchant didn’t seem to hear. He stared off at nothing, pondering.
“Cheese man!”
“What do you want!” he suddenly snapped. But he quickly regained his composure. “I mean, yes, yes, here, try this.”
The ogre scowled at him and ground her teeth, causing her tusks to slide back and forth across her face. She nevertheless took the sample and popped it in her mouth before turning and storming off.
Merrick turned back to Dingleberry with worry-filled eyes. “You cannot mean…Willow was chosen as the Fire Swamp Champion?”
“Yup, yup,” said Dingleberry.
Merrick looked to the sky, suddenly exasperated. He kicked a crate and swore, growling with pain and dancing around on one foot. Dingleberry didn’t know whether to be amused or confused.
“Those bastards!” said Merrick, kicking the crate again.
“You’re funny-funny,” said Dingleberry. She lifted a blanket covering a brick of cheese in the back of the wagon and broke off a crumbly chunk.
“Funny? My dear little blue friend, you don’t understand.”
“What you mean?”
Merrick didn’t answer her, but began pacing the length o
f his wide cheese stand. “Hey, Meggleson!” he called to another human two stands down. “Did you hear about Willow?”
“Aye,” said the younger man, a trader of salted meats and fine furs. “Damn shame too. I dare say that a quarter of my profits come from that ogre. I swear she must eat more than half the village.”
“That’s it,” Merrick said to himself as he went back to pacing. “They couldn’t afford to feed her anymore.”
“Funny, funny cheese man,” said Dingleberry, munching on her cheese.
“You don’t understand,” said Merrick, but then he caught himself and glanced around conspiratorially. He moved closer to her and said out of the corner of his mouth, “Willow was not chosen to defeat the dragon. Has she ever told you about the quest she went on two years ago?”
“Yup, yup,” said Dingleberry with much enthusiasm. The story of Willow’s great accomplishment always made her excited. “She traveled deep-deep into Fire Swamp, looking for the legendary gator, Snaggletooth. Then she found him sleeping away the day-day in the tall weeds.” Dingleberry hovered in the air, crouching like a predator. “She jumped on his back, and he thrash, thrash, thrash about. Deep-deep into murky water he took her, but she hold on tight-tight. She use big strength to choke-choke the gator. He roll, twist, squirm and snap-snap, but Willow hold on till he was dead, dead, dead.”
“Yes,” said Merrick with a grim nod that Dingleberry did not understand. “And as promised by the chief, she was awarded food for life, as much as she could eat, which, I think, proved too much for the village’s coffers.”
“Hmm?” said Dingleberry absently, having grown bored with the strange man. She absently broke off another piece of cheese and glanced around at the trader’s booths, wondering what she should try next.
“Listen, sprite,” said Merrick, suddenly very close to her.
She scrunched up her nose at his strong cheese breath as it wafted over her.
“It is little known, and speaking of it can get a man killed, but the Champions of the Dragon are no champions at all. They are chosen by their people because they are a nuisance in one way or another.”
Dingleberry forgot her cheese and listened with growing apprehension and dread.
“Do you understand? Your friend is marching to her death.”
“No, no,” said Dingleberry with a nervous little laugh. “You are wrong-wrong. Willow is big and strong. She is a champ-champ.”
“That may be, but Fire Swamp has greater champions. The truth is that the village can no longer support her eating habit. But they cannot just go against their word now, can they? No, that dastardly weasel, Chief Gnarlytooth, made a deal with Kazimir, the Most High Wizard, or I’m a lizard monkey’s cousin.”
“Kazimir the wiz-wiz?” said Dingleberry, not liking the cheese man’s story one bit. “No-no, you are wrong—”
“Listen to me,” said Merrick, eyes wide and voice stinky and scary. “Willow is in grave danger. What I say is true. She eats and eats and eats, and the village pays for it. Don’t you see? This was the perfect way to be rid of her.”
Dingleberry was overcome with dread. “Oh no-no,” she said, eyes tearing.
“I’m sorry, it is true. But alas, you can help. You must.”
“What-what? Dingleberry is only little, not strong-strong, like Willow.”
“No, but you are fast. If anyone can catch up to Willow before she reaches Bad Mountain, then it is you. Go, Dingleberry, warn Willow of the danger that she is in.”
Dingleberry bit the end of her fingers nervously. “You think-think?”
“I do.”
Thoughts of the dangers that lurked out there in the wide world made Dingleberry’s little heart flutter, but then she thought of her dearest friend, walking to her death. She straightened and put on a determined face. “Then I go-go,” she said, putting hands on hips and standing tall.
“Yes, very good. But you will need to prepare, for it is a dangerous world out there,” said Merrick before turning to his supplies determinedly. He rummaged through his bags, and Dingleberry watched with interest from over his shoulder.
“Ah-ha,” he said, finding what he was looking for. He turned and presented Dingleberry with a thimble and needle. “An adventurer on a quest needs a good sword and a good helmet.”
He placed the thimble on her head and handed her the needle. She swung it around with fervor, becoming increasingly excited by the prospect of going on a quest.
“I have no other armor for you, so this will have to do. Now go, little sprite, save your friend.”
“Yes-yes. I fly fast-fast, save Willow, save the day-day,” she said, hovering beside him and raising her little needle.
“Go now, brave Dingleberry. Take the road to King’s Crossing. Go west from there. Stay out of the forests, for they are filled with danger for those big and small.”
“I will not let you down-down,” said Dingleberry with all seriousness. She beat her tiny wings and flew high above the village, heading north toward King’s Crossing.
Chapter 20
A Haunting of Darklings
Murland awoke with the dawn, eager to plant his seeds with Brannon. He threw off his bedroll and went straight to his winged backpack to retrieve the precious seeds. The other companions were still sleeping soundly, all but Sir Eldrick, who had taken the last watch. He was likely out there among the oaks and birches surrounding the glen that they had made camp in the night before.
The fire burned low, but had been fed less than an hour before by the looks of it. Murland found some fresh meat that they had taken from the highwaymen’s packs and threw it in Willow’s iron pan. He wanted to do everything possible to ensure that Brannon awoke in a good mood. While the meat cooked, Murland walked to a nearby brook and filled Brannon’s water skins, and even picked him a few dandywood flowers, which he knew to be quite fragrant.
When he returned to the camp, he found Willow hunched over the iron pan on the fire.
“Hey!” he yelled, rushing over to her. “Don’t eat that, it’s for Brannon.”
Willow licked the tips of her fingers and chewed the half-cooked meat. “Since when are you Brannon’s cook?”
“Since I want him to help me grow my wizard leaf. Ah, you ate half of it already,” said Murland, scooping the remaining food onto a wide leaf.
Their voices had awoken Gibrig, who came to with a smile and rubbed his eyes. “Mornin’,” he said and sniffed at the air. “Smells good.”
“Well it ain’t for you,” said Willow haughtily. “But don’t you worry about that. I’ll cook some more, and I’ll share.”
“Will you all just shut up?” said Brannon, rolling over and pulling his blanket over his head.
“I made you some breakfast.” Murland put the leaf with the meat by his side and poured some water into Brannon’s mug. “Here, have a drink.”
Brannon threw back the blanket and looked at the food and drink suspiciously. “What are you up to?” he asked Murland.
“Me? Nothing. I’m just excited to plant my wizard leaf. Thought I would get breakfast out of the way.”
“Ah, that,” said Brannon, sitting up and taking a drink of water. “Fine, let me eat in peace and then we will begin. In the meantime, you go find some good dark soil and something to put it in.”
“Excellent!” said Murland, leaping to his feet and running off into the woods.
“Whoa!” Sir Eldrick called from the other side of camp where he had just emerged. “Do not go into those woods alone.”
“But, I have to find soil for my—”
“No. There is no time. We must leave as quickly as possible.”
“Why? What did you see?” said Brannon, glancing at the trees.
“I believe they are darklings. Hurry now, everyone. Pack up and let us get to the open road. The sunlight will protect us from those creatures of shadow.”
“Darklings?” said Murland.
“They are the servants of Zuul, hurry now!”
“Oh boy, oh boy,” said Gibrig, shaking out his hands and walking a tight circle, seemingly unsure where to start, though he only had his bedroll to worry about.
Brannon shot to his feet and packed his things in less than a minute. He was on his horse and ready before Willow had even moved from the fire pit. Murland quite forgot about the soil at the mention of the strange darklings. He imagined all kinds of horrors befitting such a name, and he was right behind Brannon in packing up. Soon, he was hovering over the ground with his backpack.
“Come on, Willow,” said Gibrig as he mounted Snorts.
Sir Eldrick and Brannon turned in their saddles as well, waiting for the ogre.
“Hold your pigs, hog farmer. Ain’t no dark whatsits making me abandon my breakfast.” She popped a chunk of meat in her mouth and brought the pan with her—straight from the fire, in her bare hand—and climbed up on her raptor’s back. “Come on, Tor,” she said, kicking his sides.
The group moved hurriedly through the woods, back toward the road, and Murland flew high overhead, searching the forest for any sign of the creatures that Sir Eldrick had mentioned.
The sun had been up for a half hour. Still, the clouds upon the horizon glowed with orange and pink streaks of light, which slowly pushed back the last remaining stars in the dark-blue western sky. The sun did little to illuminate the forest, which was abundant with dark pines and shady, fern-filled fens. The companions had made camp near the high ground, and Murland could still see their smoking fire pit.
Suddenly his eyes caught movement in the glen. It was a dark, fleeting, shapeless thing, like the shadow of a bird flying overhead. But nothing flew in the morning sky with Murland. He looked closely, his heart hammering in his ears, and saw another shape, and then two more. Quick as black wolves they shot across the camp, headed toward the companions below.
“Hurry!” Murland cried, but the companions seemed not to hear him. “Down, down backpack, bring me down,” he said, tugging on the straps about his shoulders.
Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1) Page 14
