Eye of the Wizard: A Fantasy Adventure

by Daniel Arenson

  In the shadows of her hood, Romy bit her lip. "We have no money. Can you let us in anyway? We'll pay you back later."

  The guards reached to their swords. "Toll's a copper. Pay or leave."

  The Bullies shifted uncomfortably; they were penniless.

  "Please let us in," Romy begged the guards, but they only scowled. My puppydog eyes would work on them, but I'm not allowed to show my face to strangers.

  "W-what wiww we d-do?" Cobweb said in a meek voice, trembling. The sight of the city across the river seemed to frighten her, and she twisted her fingers.

  A rumbling came from behind, and Romy turned to see a mule pulling a wagon toward the bridge. Old and creaky, the wagon bore pots, pans, kegs of cider, furs, spices, and a hundred other items. Most amazingly, a cage lay atop the wagon, holding a collared leopard. Ooh... pretty animal.

  "Move aside, move aside," demanded the peddler who drove the wagon, a ratty man in a patched cloak, his hat pointy and frayed.

  Romy stood on the road, beckoning the wagon to stop. With a grunt, the peddler reigned his mule, and the wagon rolled to a standstill. The caged leopard growled.

  "What is it, stranger?" the peddler asked Romy, frowning.

  Romy reached into the pockets of Neev's cloak. She pulled out his quill and ink bottle, beautiful pieces that glittered with old silver. "Would you like to buy these?" she asked the ratty peddler, holding them out.

  "Hey, my grandmother gave me those," Neev said, frowning. "They're not for sale."

  Romy scrunched her lips, holding the quill and ink bottle out to the peddler. "Ignore him. I'll sell you these for five coppers." She pointed to the leopard. "And toss in that leopard's collar, too. I need me a good iron collar."

  The peddler raised an eyebrow. "Let me see those. Is that real silver?" He stepped off his wagon, examined the pieces, then raised an eyebrow. "You got a deal, girl."

  Neev grumbled and tried to object, but Jamie kicked him silent.

  Soon the peddler trundled across the bridge, Neev's silver quill and ink bottle in tow, his leopard still caged but collarless. Grinning, Romy brought the collar into the shadows of her hood and placed it around her neck. Fits perfectly.

  "W-why awe you cowwawing youwsewf, Womy?" Cobweb asked, voice trembling, glancing nervously at the humans walking about. Many were staring at her; spiderlings, with their purple skin and glowing white hair, were obviously rare here. Scruff too drew stares, what with his shaggy hair, spiny mace, and freakish size.

  "The collar will be great for our magic show, when Neev can pretend to tame me," Romy said, the collar heavy around her neck. She held the five coppers the peddler had given her. She paid the guards, who moved aside, letting the Bullies onto the bridge.

  "We better win some money here," Neev muttered as they stepped onto the bridge. "We're broke as ever. And now I also need to buy a new quill and ink bottle."

  Romy slipped her hand into his. "We'll win the best magic act," she said. "I promise you. You're a great warlock, and I'm a great sexy assistant."

  Neev looked like he bit a lemon. "A great warlock? I flunked out of the Coven, remember?"

  At a whim, Romy kissed his cheek, his stubble tickling her lips. "Well, for what it's worth, I thought you looked cute with rabbit ears."

  Neev smiled wanly. He looked too thin without his cloak, Romy thought. They had all lost weight over the past few weeks; even Scruff was down two notches in his belt.

  She scratched at her collar and chain. It made her neck itch, and suddenly she regretted buying it. She'd only removed the dog cone yesterday, after the spider wounds had healed, and now she had to wear this!

  Sudden movement below the bridge caught her eye, and Romy winced and clutched Neev's hand so hard, he grunted.

  "What's wrong?" he said.

  Romy pointed down to the water, finger trembling. "Ducklings," she said. The baby birds were swimming below, quacking.

  "So?"

  Romy shuddered. "They want to eat me. Quick, let's get off this bridge."

  Neev rolled his eyes, and Jamie—who walked behind—snorted a laugh. Romy scrunched her lips. Silly humans. If they ever saw the birds of Hell—putrid, towering vultures of evil—they wouldn't snicker so.

  "In all of Heaven, Hell, and Earth," Romy said, sticking up her nose, "there are no creatures as foul as birds. Get it? Foul? Birds?"

  The others stared at her silently. Crickets chirped. A tumbleweed rolled. Romy sighed.

  Soon the Bullies were walking through Queenpool. As always, they let Scruff take the lead, while Jamie brought up the rear. Romy walked beside Neev, hidden in her cloak, while Cobweb walked behind her, gaping at all the buildings and people. This place is more like it, Romy thought, nodding with approval. Queenpool was a city to her liking. Delicious scents of stew and beer wafted from inns, making her drool so much, she almost slipped in it. People of all shapes and sizes bustled around, from limping old men to scampering children. Several peasant women walked around with baskets, hawking eggs, muffins, or dried fish. The smells and sights made Romy sigh with pleasure. Finally, civilization! In one corner, children gathered around a puppet show. In another corner, a joker juggled torches for coppers, the bells on his hat jingling. The buildings were each unique, some four stories tall, some wooden, some stone. Romy saw a barbershop, a cobbler, a blacksmith, and even a candyshop.

  "Can we buy some candy?" she begged Neev, tugging his sleeve.

  He shook his head. "We're broke, remember?"

  Romy pouted. "I want candy. Let's steal some. That baby over there is eating candy, can I take it from him?"

  "No, Romy. You're not in Hell anymore. No stealing."

  A few streets more, and they entered the town square, where the main fair would take place. Three hundred yards wide, the square brimmed with people. Romy had never seen so many humans in one place. The square was split into four parts with ribboned ropes, and an event took place in each section, drawing crowds.

  In one corner, magicians were performing atop a stage, pulling rabbits from hats. In another section of the square, swordsmen were dueling in a ring before cheering crowds. In a third section, musclemen were competing in Feats of Strength, struggling to lift the heaviest barrels. Finally, the fourth event was an archery contest, where archers lined up before bullseyes. Whenever a rabbit was conjured, a sword landed, a barrel was lifted, or an arrow flew, cheers rose.

  Romy, however, was especially smitten not with the acts, but with the maidens who wandered around, selling honeyed cakes. Her stomach growled. She was starving.

  "Is your hometown—Burrfield—anything like this?" she asked Neev, trying to take her mind off her hunger.

  He shook his head. "Burrfield is smaller, maybe five thousand people. Queenpool is several times the size."

  Romy liked it here. Of course, this was a small fair compared to the parties of Hell, where countless demons drank beer, played ear-crushing music, and engaged in all sorts of debauchery. But this place seemed fun enough—for Earth—and Romy couldn't wait to doff her cloak, put on a show, and scare some humans.

  She might have liked to sit in an inn first, sip some ale, and plan the day, but they had no money, not even for a sausage. The Bullies huddled together and decided to start competing at once. Jamie would compete at the swordfights, Scruff at the Feats of Strength, and Cobweb at the archery contest. Neev and Romy, meanwhile, would perform a magic show; the crowd would vote for the best act. Winning any event was worth a gold medal—valuable enough to rent an inn room for a week, complete with all the food, ale, and wine they desired.

  When the other Bullies headed to their events, Neev gave Romy a stern look.

  "I'm going to sign up for the magic contest," he said. "You stay right here and avoid trouble."

  Romy nodded. "I'll be good, Mommy."

  She waited, hidden in the cloak, as Neev talked to several distinguished looking humans by the magic stage. Her tummy kept growling, and Romy tapped her foot, impatient and famished. She surve
yed the crowd. Were there no poodles in this city? Her neck itched, and Romy reached into her hood to scratch around her collar and chain.

  A small girl wandered up to her, and Romy leaned down and smiled. The girl glimpsed her face, blanched, and fled. Romy raised her eyebrows. Silly humans. They should fear ducklings, not demons.

  Suddenly she noticed something odd, and her smile vanished. Figures moved atop the city rooftops, hidden in black robes and hoods. The figures seemed lumpy, almost inhuman, and Romy sniffed the air. The scent was faint, barely detectable, but Romy recognized it at once.

  "Grobblers," she whispered, a chill running from her horns to the tip of her tail.

  Like demons, grobblers lived in underground caverns. Romy hated them. Hated them. One grobbler was nastier than twenty moldmen, and almost as nasty as a duckling. A dachshund seemed to smell them too and cowered behind a barrel, whimpering. Romy frowned, watching the cloaked figures move atop the rooftops like assassins. What were they up to?

  Somebody grabbed her arm, and Romy started, nearly wetting herself. But it was only Neev, returned from his dealings.

  "Come, Romy," he said, pulling her toward the magicians' stage. "The stage is opening in two minutes. I booked us a fifteen minute show."

  "But Neev," she said, dragging behind him, "I saw—"

  "Not now, Romy! Come."

  Romy glanced toward the roofs again, but the bulky, cloaked creatures were gone. Had she imagined the whole thing? She scanned the crowds for the other Bullies, but couldn't see them. Were Jamie, Cobweb, and Scruff okay?

  There was no time to think. Neev pulled her onto the stage, where he attached her chain to a post. Romy suddenly felt dizzy. Standing here upon the wooden stage, she saw the fair from a different perspective, thousands of people crammed together below, banners flying from houses and towers around the square. Romy had never performed on stage, and her head spun from all the colors and people.

  In alarm, she noticed that only a handful of people bothered to look up. Most were drifting away from the stage, wandering toward the other events, food stalls, and alehouses. The other magicians had worn costumes of gold, purple, and blue, all glittering with jewels. Neev and I look dull. She wore Neev's old cloak and hood, while Neev wore black leggings, worn boots, and a brown tunic, all dusty from their trek through the wilderness. We look like peasants, not magicians, Romy thought, biting her lip. No wonder the crowds are leaving.

  "Quick, Neev!" Romy whispered from the shadows of her hood. "Do something."

  Neev nodded. He stepped to the edge of the stage and raised his hands. "People of Queenpool!" he said. "You have seen magicians today, but you have not seen a true warlock."

  "You can say that again," one man called out. "I see two beggars on stage right now."

  As Neev's face flushed, the people laughed, shook their heads, and continued to wander off. A few youths in the crowd were booing, and a couple tossed rotten eggs onto the stage. One egg hit Neev's boot, raising laughs from the crowd.

  Romy clenched her fists. I wish I were rich enough to afford expensive clothes. She vowed to buy a resplendent black gown and strings of rubies once she earned some money.

  "Hurry up, Neev, do something," she pleaded.

  Neev was already summoning a spell, his lips uttering silent words, and Romy saw blue and golden sparks flutter around his fingertips. Neev shouted the last words of the spell, raised his hands, and fireworks shot from his fingertips. Romy and the crowd gasped. The fireworks flew into the sky, twirling in circles like bees making love, then burst with a boom, raining sparks of gold. The crowd oohed. Neev's spell triggered his jinx, giving him hound dog ears, but that only further amazed the crowd.

  "Do it again!" somebody cried below, and Neev obliged. His dog ears vanished, and his eyes turned yellow and feline. He shot more fireworks, these ones green and yellow, taking the forms of firebirds who glided through the sky before bursting. When the fireworks burst, gumdrops rained from the sky, and people rushed to collect them. The oohs were even louder this time, and the people regathered before the stage, clapping. Romy felt dizzy. The cheering of the crowd was intoxicating.

  Neev smiled thinly. Now that he had their attention, it was time for the act they'd been preparing for the past three days.

  "People of Queenpool!" Neev announced, eyes catlike and glowing. "I have before you a creature so dangerous, so fell, so evil, that I caution all women and children to look aside."

  This garnered more interest, especially when Neev punctuated his words with flames he raised from his palms. Even more people gathered around, staring.

  "Once more," Neev thundered, "I beg you, if you are faint of heart, please look away." This gathered even more interest; the people seemed to hold their breath.

  "I display before you," Neev continued, "bound and tamed for your enjoyment, a demon summoned from the depths of Hell!"

  He pulled the cloak off Romy. Finally! That cloak had been so heavy and hot, and Romy took a deep breath of fresh air. The crowd gasped before her. Romy spread out her bat wings, incurring another gasp, and growled, showing her fangs. "Roar!" A few children ran away, and a skinny man fainted. Giddy, Romy rolled her head around, roaring like a lion, her hair of flame crackling.

  "Do not be afraid!" Neev shouted. "I will, as you watch, use magic to tame this demon of evil." He turned toward her and chanted some meaningless words, then snapped his fingers in a prearranged cue.

  Romy dropped to all fours. "Meow," she said, lifted her right hand, and began licking it like a cat. Neev patted her head, and she purred.

  As the crowd gasped, Neev unlocked her collar. Romy crawled around the stage on all fours, feline, her tail flicking lazily. Several people in the crowd ran away, but the rest gaped at the tamed devil. Neev snapped his fingers, and Romy took flight, circling around the square, then flying back to the stage. The crowd cheered, and Romy flew again, somersaulting in midair. For their next trick, Neev conjured flaming hoops, and Romy flew through them as the crowd gasped. For every completed trick, Neev pretended to feed her a treat from his palm. Romy wished he had real treats to give her. She was still famished. I'll bug him later about his gumdrop fireworks; he's been holding out on me!

  She was juggling torches when, with a chill, she saw the bulky robed figures. They stood at the back of the crowd, hidden in black hoods, sucking in all light. Three stood at one spot, and Romy saw three more moving upon the roofs. Romy almost dropped her torches. What were those beings? She still thought she could smell grobblers.

  Romy swallowed, suddenly unable to enjoy the cheers from the crowd. This would not end well.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Skeletal Hand of Doom

  Jamie pushed her way through the crowds, wafer thin and not even five feet tall, but driving forward like a plow, holding her shield before her. Moonclaw clanked across her back, and her vambraces and greaves glimmered despite the dust covering them. Some in the crowds raised eyebrows at her, this slight youth with short black hair, her sword almost as long as she was tall. Most did not spare her a second glance. They think I'm a boy, Jamie knew; her leggings, boots, and armor were squire garb.

  She glimpsed the swordfights ahead, still mostly hidden behind the crowd. Knights in plate armor were slamming at each other with swords, their blows ringing and raising sparks. Other knights stood nearby, their armor dented, their faces sweaty; they must have fought already.

  For a moment, cold doubt flooded Jamie's belly, and she swallowed. She had never fought a knight in plate armor. She was used to beating boys her age, mere squires wearing cumbersome chain mail, fighting with wooden training swords. That was how she fought at Fort Rosethorn. But here were real knights, burly men covered in impenetrable armor, their blades forged from steel. Jamie looked down at her old armor, random pieces that left most of her unprotected. I look so puny in comparison, she thought.

  Then she tightened her lips. But I have my father's blade. Surely that counted for something. Father had been a g
reat knight, and his sword still carried some of his spirit. Father's soul will help my blade land true.

  Swallowing her fear, Jamie elbowed her way closer to the ring where the knights fought. It was hard to see; the cheering crowds surrounded her, blocking her view, most a full foot taller than her. Worming and shoving her way forward, Jamie finally reached the ring and stood at the head of the crowd. There she studied the fight, lips scrunched.

  The two knights before her were slamming their blades, raising cheers from the crowd. One knight wore white plate armor, a star on his helm, and bore the emblem of a charging boar upon his shield. The second knight wore black armor. His helmet was shaped like a vulture's head, complete with a curved beak, and a swooping vulture adorned his shield. The knights' plate armor covered every inch of them, sword-proof. Jamie saw many sword blows slamming into that armor, raising sparks, sometimes leaving scratches and dents, but not harming the men inside.

  They barely know how to parry, Jamie thought. They just rely on their armor to protect them. Could she use this to her advantage?

  Finally the white knight grew tired and slow. The black knight's blows kept falling. A few moments more and the white knight fell, exhausted. The crowd went wild. The black knight waved to the crowd, then slammed his sword once more, for good measure, against the white knight's helm. The white knight moaned but could not rise. The fight was over.

  As the crowds cheered and pounded their feet, singing praises to the victorious knight, Jamie chewed her lip, thinking. I have no helmet, no breastplate, no gauntlets. Her wooden shield would stop some blows, but wouldn't protect all of her, and would crack after too many hits. But I have something these knights don't—speed.

  The black knight roared to the crowd. "I have vanquished all the knights here today! None more dare fight me."

  The crowd cheering, an old judge in a crimson cloak stepped into the ring. He held out a gold metal, and the crowd's cheers grew.

  "I hereby declare," the gray-haired judge announced, "that Sir Veldor is champion of Queenpool's swordfights!"