“What if Kazimir made a mistake,” said Murland, as though he were uttering sacrilege.
Hinckley took another puff and blew it out slowly. “One thing I know about the ever elusive Kazimir is that he rarely makes mistakes.”
Murland considered that.
“I will tell you this. A wizard’s ability to perform magic depends greatly on his confidence. You may want to work on yours. Try to believe in yourself.”
“Yes, Headmaster.”
“You are dismissed,” said Hinckley suddenly, and though he had more he would like to ask, Murland knew better than to disobey a high wizard.
“Thank you for seeing me, Headmaster.”
“We shall speak again if you like. I imagine that you will be here for a few days at least. And I should like to see that backpack of yours in action.”
Chapter 41
Looking Westward and Beyond
Murland rejoined the other champions in their quarters, which proved to be a barracks bunkhouse situated beneath the battlements that ran north to south for hundreds of miles. There was a common room with a fire and spit, along with a window looking west, and more than enough cots to keep even Willow comfortable.
“There he is,” said Sir Eldrick cheerfully.
He sat with Brannon and Willow at a table in the center of the room, enjoying a meal of stew and bread. Gibrig, however, seemed not to have an appetite, and lay facing the wall on one of the cots.
Murland joined them and nodded over toward Gibrig. “He still being quiet?” he asked in a whisper.
“Aye,” said Sir Eldrick between bites of bread. “The violence of last night seems to have really gotten to him. But no matter. He will be fine.”
“Eat up,” said Willow happily as she ladled a heaping helping of stew into a bowl and slid it to Murland.
“Thanks.”
“So, what did the headmaster want?” Brannon asked.
“He wanted to see Kazam’s wand. He said that he was glad to see that we had all made it to the Wall.”
“Did he say anything else?”
Murland thought of the Prophecy of Zuul, but decided against telling them. He still wasn’t sure what it all meant.
“Nothing important.”
Sir Eldrick and Brannon shared a glance, and Murland watched them, wondering what it was that they were always silently communicating.
“How long you thinking we should rest up?” Willow asked through a mouthful of stew. “A few weeks?”
“Hah, you wish,” said Sir Eldrick with a laugh. “No, just a few days. It is better to get right back into it. Too much comfort will make setting out again that much harder.”
Willow scoffed at that and resumed stuffing her face with stew and bread.
“Well,” said Murland. “I’m going to use the down time to start on a new wand.”
“That is a good idea,” said Sir Eldrick.
Gibrig rolled over, and he looked to have been crying.
“You alright, Gib?” Sir Eldrick asked.
“I…it’s just. How do ye stop from seein’ the faces o’ the poor harpies? I been tryin’ to think o’ somethin’ else, but I keep seein’ the ones I killed.”
Sir Eldrick gave a slow sigh. “I am sorry. But that is a burden that all warriors must carry with them all of their days. Take heart in knowing that what you did was right. Sometimes there is no other way but that of the sword.”
Gibrig nodded understanding, though the knight’s words did nothing to alter his bleak mood, which seemed to have leeched all joy out of the room.
“Are we going to make it?” Gibrig asked suddenly, and all eyes turned to Sir Eldrick.
“I believe that we will,” said the knight.
“We’ll show that dragon who’s boss,” said Willow. “You just wait and see.”
Murland took heart in Willow’s confidence and looked to Brannon. But the elf just gave a halfhearted smile and, glancing at Sir Eldrick sheepishly, returned to listlessly stirring his stew around with his wooden spoon.
Sir Eldrick pushed his bowl away and moved to the window. To Murland, the knight seemed tired and weighed down by the burden of the quest.
“I’m very proud of all of you,” said Sir Eldrick as he stared west out the window. “I just wanted you to know that. No matter what happens on Bad Mountain, I am proud of you all.”
***
Headmaster Zorromon,
You will be heartened to know that young Murland and the other champions have made it to the Wide Wall. As requested, I have met with the lad, and I have considered your words. Murland has finally managed to grow wizard leaf, and he has also constructed a functioning wand, which he used with success against a flock of harpies.
I have given much thought to your theory that Murland is the one mentioned in the Prophecy of Kazam, but I must admit, I am very much undecided in this matter. Of course, the fact that I do not believe in him only reiterates the details of the prophecy. His eyes are indeed kind, he comes from the far east, and he does not believe in himself. Of course, this could be said about a great many apprentices.
As you said, these things are tricky.
I have not stripped him of the wand or the tome; I have chosen to let fate decide. If indeed he is the one named in the prophecy, then he shall be successful in mending the wand that was broken. I will watch this unfold closely, and if he fails, then I will retrieve Kazam’s relics. However, if he is successful, he cannot be allowed to continue to Bad Mountain. Another fool must be found to feed Drak’Noir and her whelps.
For now, we shall wait and see how things unfold.
Yours in Magic,
Headmaster Aldous Hinckley
Kazam College
To be continued in Book 2
Beyond the Wide Wall…
Letter to the Reader
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Champions of the Dragon, I hope that you enjoyed it. I would be honored if you would leave a review on Amazon. I read every single one (it is usually part of my morning coffee routine), so good or bad, I would love to hear what you thought of the story. You can leave an Amazon review HERE.
I began this book back in 2014, somewhere between Whill of Agora 5 and Sea Queen. I was daydreaming, as I often do, and was thinking about heroes and prophecies and how much the fantasy genre depends on these tropes. I began to envision a story in which the heroes were no heroes at all, but fools, and the prophecy spoken of so reverently was a flat out lie. Soon, Murland Kadabra popped into my head. He was a lanky nineteen-year-old wizard apprentice with no talent to speak of and too much heart, and I liked him from the beginning. Next came Brannon, the gay elf prince. I was instantly intrigued by Brannon’s character, for he leapt off the page with his diamond studded cup and a haughty air, and demanded to be noticed. Then my group of non-heroes expanded. After nearly thirteen years of writing about bad ass dwarf warriors, I thought that a sensitive, pacifist dwarf would be interesting, and so Gibrig Hogstead was born. Willow was an easy addition to the group, and brought with her one of my favorites, Dingleberry Fairy-Fairy. Lastly, I envisioned the archetypical knight in shining armor, but he had to be rough, gritty, and a total screw-up. That was the moment when I was introduced to Sir Aldrick van Albright, fallen hero of Vhalovia, and legendary drunk. Non-heroes in place, all the story needed was a lead wizard. Kazimir whooshed himself onto the page, and the story began to take form.
As I write this in early March 2017, I have just finished book 2, and will soon begin book 3. All three books will be released back to back, so you needn’t worry about a long wait. The trilogy will be completely self-contained, but I have a hunch that there are many more stories to tell about Fallacetine.
Yours in Magic,
Michael James Ploof
ive.
Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1) Page 29
