Caressa pulled Valkimir away and leaned in to whisper. “I have given my word to the wretch that I will free him. And I cannot break my word, for a Roddington never gives anyone the shaft. But we cannot in good conscience have the undead fiend running around the countryside. Once I have let him out of his cage, you should put him back in.”
Valkimir scowled. “That sounds a lot like giving him the shaft.”
“Technically, I will be keeping my promise. Besides, we have to find out what he knows about this…thing following our friends.”
“Why are you interested in catching up to them?”
She studied his eyes, gauging whether to trust him. “Let me just say that my friend Murland has gotten himself in over his head.”
“So has my friend as well.”
A silent understanding passed between them.
“What’s so secret, eh?” Wendel yelled, banging on the bars of the crow’s nest.
“I have come to a decision,” said Caressa, turning from Valkimir and walking up to the cage. “You tell me what was following the champions, and I let you out.”
Wendel glanced at Valkimir with suspicion. “They flew through in the dark of night. It was the witching hour. The moon was high. Like shadows they were. Black as a demon’s heart. Rags tattered and torn. Faceless. Soundless. Evil!”
“He speaks of the darklings,” said Valkimir, his face suddenly ashen.
“Yes, yessss, darklings they were. Black as—”
“But why would they be after the champions?” Caressa asked Valkimir.
“Only the gods know for sure.”
“I sing, now you free me!” said Wendel behind them.
“We’re wasting our time,” said Caressa. “We have to catch up to them.”
“We?”
“You are looking for Prince Brannon, Dragon Champion of Halala, are you not?”
“Well, yes. But all due respect, I don’t need you slowing me down.”
“Oh, really? I will slow you down?”
“My stallion is of the Verennian breed.”
“And mine has enchanted horseshoes,” said Caressa.
“Very well then.”
“A deal is a deal,” Wendel sang. “Break a deal, and your skin will peel.”
“Hold your rotting bones!” Caressa suddenly yelled. She turned back to Valkimir with a soft smile. “Let’s get this over with.”
Wendel shook with anticipation as Caressa approached, but when she drew her blade, he gave a shriek and flew to the other side of the small cage. She brought back the sword and swung hard, hitting the lock and breaking it. After pulling the chains out of the bars, she opened the door and extended her hand.
The skeleton shot out of the cage with a gleeful laugh and started down the eastern road toward Magestra. Valkimir was ready for him, however, and began swinging a lasso made of elven rope over his head. He let the spinning ring fly, and it soared through the air, coming down around the skeleton’s body. Valkimir gave a yank, and Wendel was taken off his feet and pulled backward.
“It burns, it burns!” Wendel cried, writhing and smoking.
Valkimir wrestled the screaming skeleton back into the cage, and all the while Wendel assaulted him with insults and curses. When he finally slammed the cage shut, Valkimir tied the door tightly with the rope.
“This is enchanted rope,” he said as he tightened the last knot. “That is why it burns your undead bones. I would suggest not touching it, or you will surely lose your fingers.”
“Your mother was a pig!” Wendel screamed. He grabbed ahold of the rope in a rage and cried out in anguish.
“I told you not to touch it,” said Valkimir, shaking his head.
“Come, I cannot stand the sound of his voice any longer,” Caressa called to him.
“You cannot keep Wendel here like this!” the skeleton pleaded.
Valkimir stopped before mounting his horse and regarded the skeleton. “You are right. When I come back this way I shall bring with me a wizard. One who might give your spirit rest. Until then, sit tight.”
Wendel thrashed and kicked and sputtered and spat as Caressa and Valkimir steered their horses west toward the setting sun.
Chapter 25
Shelter from the Storm
“This is the last time,” said the queen as Sir Eldrick slowly pulled her blouse down from her shoulder, exposing the smooth skin and kissing it softly.
“You said that last time,” he said, trailing kisses up to her neck. “And the time before that.”
“This time I am serious,” said the queen breathlessly. “Henry is getting suspicious.”
Sir Eldrick turned her around, took her up in his arms and, spinning, set her down on the four-poster bed. She took his face in her hands and kissed him deeply.
“I love you,” he whispered.
She kissed him again, and he knew that it was to silence him.
“I mean it,” he said, pulling away.
She sighed, and slowly pulled her blouse down, teasingly exposing her large bosom. “Do you want to talk? Or do you want to…”
Sir Eldrick was awakened by Willow’s deep snoring. Cursing the ogre, he squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to return to the dream. After many minutes with no success, he resigned himself to reality and rose to meet the day.
He found that Kazimir had disappeared at some point in the night, and he hadn’t even had the decency to stoke the fire. He sat up and took a drink from his water skin before pouring some on his face. The night had been mostly sleepless, due to the strange, moaning noises that haunted the hill all night. Eldrick had gotten a few hours at least, which was more than enough for the seasoned knight.
The dream still haunted him, but he shook off his melancholy and put on a stoic face for the others.
“Wake up, my fearless champions. For the sun is bright, and the night is behind us. Let the spirits return to their unmarked graves, and let us get back to the road.”
“I thought the morning would never come,” said Brannon, glancing around the tower wearily.
“What’s for breakfast?” Willow asked as she snuggled up to her raptor, which she had in a tight headlock.
“Whatever you can eat before we get going,” said Sir Eldrick. He hooked a finger at Brannon and walked around to the back of the tower.
The elf came along a few seconds later, looking to have shaken sleep quite quickly. “I hope you have some good news, because I’m just about sick and tired of this quest,” he hissed.
Sir Eldrick was taken aback. “Please, you have dragon breath,” he said, waving a hand before his face.
“What?” said Brannon. He cupped his hand in front of his mouth and huffed into it before sniffing. “Ugh. Well no wonder. Living out here in the wild like homeless dwarves. I haven’t had a proper bath in over a week. My hair is in knots, and—”
“Save it, princess. I was just going to congratulate you on your bravery last night. Kazimir was impressed. You know, he said he was this close to giving up on you. Was going to feed you to the dragon after you fled from the bandits. But he has changed his mind.”
“Oh. My. Gods,” said Brannon, sliding down the side of the tower with a look of shock.
“What got into you last night anyway? You acted like a man for once. I saw how you fought the darkling.”
“The beast snatched Val’s necklace,” said Brannon, pulling the gold chain from beneath his blouse. “Inside the pendent is his blood, sweat, tears, and—”
“I get it!” said Sir Eldrick, holding up a hand. “Whatever gave you courage, I implore you to summon the same thoughts the next time we run into trouble. We aren’t even beyond the Wide Wall yet. Trust me, the fun has only started.”
“Great.”
“Come on. A warrior deserves his breakfast,” said Sir Eldrick, extending a hand.
Brannon put on a determined face that almost made the knight laugh, and took his hand.
***
Murland finished hemming his u
nderwear and hurriedly wolfed down his breakfast. “Go on, I’ll catch up!” he yelled to the others, who were all mounted and waiting for him to get his things together.
He quickly took off his pants when their backs were turned and pulled on his repaired underpants. After tugging on his trousers and putting away his things, he swung the backpack over his shoulder and started off after the other champions at a sprint.
“Fly, backpack. Fly!” he said, leaping into the air.
To his delight, the pack extended its wings and brought him high over the heads of the others. He waved down at them, laughing with glee.
Murland was in good spirits this morning, for his wizard leaf was drying out well, and he would soon be able to try it out. Finally, the veil that had separated him from his magical calling would be lifted. He refused to think of the darklings and how close he and his friends had all come to death. He thought only of the magic that he would soon be able to wield. He knew dozens of small spells by heart. Not being able to perform any of them left him with nothing much to excel at besides memorizing the ancient incantations.
He still couldn’t believe that someone, likely Lance Lancer, had been killing his wizard leaf. But he wasn’t so mad at Lance as he was at himself. He should have known something was wrong. Growing the plant was hard, there was no doubt about that. But Murland had done everything right and he knew it. His only mistake had been letting it get poisoned in the first place. Surely the elder wizards had realized the reason. Why, then, had they not intervened?
Murland realized that it was likely because they thought that if he couldn’t get to the bottom of that small mystery, he wouldn’t be much use as a wizard anyway.
“Well, just wait until we return victorious from Bad Mountain,” he said over his shoulder to his backpack. “I’ll bring back one of Drak’Noir’s teeth and shove it right up Lance’s butt, that’ll show him, eh?”
Murland laughed to himself and thought of Caressa. His dreams of winning over her father with his victory had seemed like a pleasant fantasy up until now. Once his wizard leaf was ready, however, he would finally be on his way to becoming a real wizard.
Around midday, Murland noticed a particularly dreadful-looking storm brewing in the south. He watched it grow for a while until he had determined its direction.
“Bring me down, Packy.”
The backpack glided down to the rocky hillside that the companions were traversing, and Murland came to a running stop before the knight. “Bad storm coming this way from the south. Dark black clouds. Looks nasty,” he said.
Sir Eldrick glanced south and blocked the sun with a hand to his forehead. He looked west as well. “What’s over that way?”
“Some big rock formations and cliffs mostly. Looks pretty barren.”
“We’re going to have to find a place to wait out this storm if it’s as bad as you say it is. Come on,” he bade them all.
It took the storm less than a half hour to find them. The angry black clouds blocked out the sun, and a suddenly frigid wind howled over the hills. Thunder growled and barked overhead, and lightning flashed in huge arcing webs. A colossal boom shook the ground and the sky broke. The rain came down hard and fast, and soon reduced visibility to a few feet.
“Over here!” said Murland over the tumult. “I saw a cave over here!”
He led the others, who led their terrified mounts by the reins, to the huge rock formations where he had seen the cave entrance. Lightning cracked the ground less than fifty feet away, and Murland jumped with a cry that was drowned out by the crackling surge.
“Here it is, hurry!” he said, spotting the cave.
The rain turned to hail the size of acorns, one of which hit Murland in the back of the head. He saw a flash of dancing stars and went down as he was pummeled by the frozen projectiles. Strong hands took him up, and soon the onslaught stopped.
He opened his eyes groggily and found himself being cradled like a baby by Willow.
“The mounts!” Brannon screamed, and Gibrig gave an alarmed cry.
“What have you done, you moron!” Brannon continued, and Murland raised his head enough to see Sir Eldrick get between the elf and the dwarf.
“They were so scared, they…they slipped out o’ me hands. Oh, no, no, no. Snorts!” he yelled into the flashing storm. To Murland’s shock, Gibrig ran out into the storm, screaming to his hog.
“Gibrig, No!” Sir Eldrick cried. The knight started after him, but just then, lightning erupted in the entrance, shaking the cave and loosening the stone around the threshold. Sir Eldrick jumped out of the way as the entrance crumbled and darkness filled the chamber.
***
“Gibrig!”
The voice calling to him was suddenly devoured by the raging storm. Gibrig called to Snorts, yelling at the top of his lungs. But it was as if a witch had cast a spell on him and taken his words. For he heard not his own voice. The ghostly outlines of the fleeing mounts bloomed fully in a flash of lightning, but then they disappeared, swallowed up by the storm.
“Snorts!” Gibrig called again.
A rock-hard hail stone hit him in the shoulder, causing him to cry out mutely. He continued after the mounts blindly, tripping and falling hard on the slick mounds of ice that littered the ground. Hail pummeled his back and legs, and he covered his head with his hands to protect it, taking more than one stinging blow to the fingers as he drunkenly got to his feet and, crying, turned back for the shelter of the cave.
Chapter 26
Margi & Egbert
The deep moan and muffled pounding of the storm vibrated through the stone, and Murland envisioned an army of giants trying to smash their way through the cave. In the thunderous tumult, he heard nothing else. He felt his way around the stone floor of the cave, reaching blindly for Brannon, whom he thought was right beside him. His hand found flesh in the darkness and he nearly recoiled, for it was leathery, bumpy skin.
“Willow,” he said over the racket of the storm. “Willow…is that you?”
Somewhere in the cave, a torch blazed to life, and Murland looked around, trying to get used to the sudden light. Sir Eldrick was raising the torch above his head, and Willow was standing to his right, along with a terrified-looking Brannon.
Murland gulped, not wanting to look at what it was that he was touching. He pulled his hand back quickly and looked up to find a fifteen-foot-tall, blue-skinned cyclops standing over him, grinning.
Sir Eldrick’s torch suddenly went out, and the knight gave a cry of alarm. A net fell over Murland, and he felt himself scooped up off the floor. The sounds of battle echoed throughout the cave, and Murland hoped for a fleeting moment that Sir Eldrick and Willow might be able to defeat the cyclops. But soon their battle cries turned to angered protest.
Murland swung in the net and felt himself being carried. Soon a faint light began to illuminate a tunnel, and he found that Sir Eldrick, Willow, and Brannon had also been caught in nets. The knight dangled beside him and, glancing back, Murland saw that Willow and Brannon were being carried by another of the creatures.
“Are you guys alright?” Murland whispered.
“Do we look alright?” said Brannon in a panic.
“Let me out of here, you big ugly toads!” said Willow, fighting to free herself from the net.
The cyclops carrying her and Brannon swatted them with his free hand.
“Quiet, you!” said the cyclops, eyeing them dangerously with the one giant orb set in the middle of its face. “Lively dinner we got, eh Margi,” he said to the other cyclops.
Margi turned out to be a twelve-foot tall, red-skinned female cyclops. She wore a loincloth like her husband, but also a swath of ragged cloth over her huge bosom.
“Only need one for dinner, Egbert,” she said with annoyance in a deep and even voice.
The companions were brought into a wide circular alcove, where a large iron cauldron sat bubbling at the center. Bones littered the floor, most of which had been ground to dust by the two cyclopes
’ gargantuan feet.
“Try to stay calm,” Sir Eldrick told Murland as he fished a dagger from its sheath.
The cyclopes hung the companions’ nets from hooked chains moored to the ceiling before turning and hugging each other and dancing in a circle triumphantly.
“We got foods!” Egbert cheered. “Told you storm would chase something in!”
“We do good,” said Margi. “Pretty elf will make good jam.”
“Jam? I says we eat her now.”
“I’m not a her,” said Brannon haughtily. “I’m the prince of Halala. Release me and my friends, or you will pay dearly!”
“Hmm?” Margi hummed, bending to eyeball the elf. She poked him with a fat finger. “She’s a lively one.”
“Stop that!” he yelled, squirming in his net.
“Shut up!” Sir Eldrick warned him.
“Next one to talk gets squished for jam!” Margi told them all.
“You and jam,” said Egbert. “I’m hungry now. Let’s cook ‘em all up and suck the marrow from their bones.”
“Think, Egbert. Use your horn,” she said, tapping her head. “We need food to last. I say we make jam out of the prince, pickle two others, and eat one now.”
Murland tried to retrieve his knife from his back pocket beneath his robe, but the way he was caught and twisted in the netting, there was no way he could get to it. He worriedly glanced at Sir Eldrick, who was quietly sawing away at the net with his dagger.
***
Gibrig finally found the cave, but to his dismay he found that a cave-in had blocked the entrance. He climbed the rubble, slipping on the wet boulders, and began carefully heaving the smaller stones away. Gibrig might have looked like a human, but he had always had the strength of a dwarf. Hail pummeled him as he worked, but he kept at it, fighting through the pain and finally freeing enough stone to see into the dark cave.
Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1) Page 18
