“But, I thought this was neutral ground,” said Murland.
“It is, but there are those who do not respect such doctrines. So, watch your backs. I don’t want my investments being spoiled.”
Outside the palace, night had fallen, but the city seemed to have just come alive. From the steps leading to the vast courtyard on the high bluff, one could see the entirety of the city below. Lights lit the low-lying clouds, and the noise was a symphony of merriment. Little was taboo in Atlas, and the pubs, theaters, opium dens, whore houses, and gambling parlors were bustling with activity. The streets were filled with crowds going to and fro, as well as minstrels singing songs of past heroes and villains, and street performers trying to fill their hats with silver.
“This is my kind of town,” said Sir Eldrick, standing at the bottom of the steps with the others and taking in the sights.
“Oh, I’m sure that you could get into plenty of trouble here,” said Brannon. He looked to the grinning knight and added nervously, “Please don’t.”
“None to worry, my party-pooper prince. I’ll be on my best behavior. Nothing but water for me, but I cannot say that I will keep my hands off the women,” said Sir Eldrick, winking at Murland.
The young wizard offered him a smile, still obviously distraught over his backpack.
“Come on, lad,” said Sir Eldrick, putting his arm around Murland’s boney shoulders. “Perhaps we can find a fine lady to make you a man once and for all. Maybe even you too, Gib.”
“Me?” said the dwarf, looking petrified. “Oh, oh no. I be waitin’ ‘till I get married, I be.”
“Of course you are,” said Sir Eldrick, rolling his eyes.
Just then, a shadow swept down out of the night and scooped Murland up without warning. Sir Eldrick unsheathed his fae blade as a harpy descended from on high. In the split second it took him to react to the attack, he saw that the sky was full of the creatures.
“The servants of Zuul!” Eldrick warned the others.
Lyricon yelled to the guards as the other companions took up arms. Gibrig cried out for Murland, but the lad was being whisked away by the harpy, and was quickly being ferried toward the edge of the floating city.
Willow’s club batted the screeching, vile beasts away as she defended Brannon and Gibrig’s back. Arrows twanged from bows as Lyricon’s guards sent a volley into the sky. A few heartbeats later, half a dozen harpies fell to the cobblestone. Sir Eldrick’s enchanted blade cut through the harpies easily, but they came on all the same, mindless of the danger.
***
Murland struggled to unsheathe his blade, but his robes had fallen over his head. He was so disoriented and scared that he was at first unable to find the sheath strapped to his thigh. When he finally retrieved his dagger, he stabbed blindly at the clawed legs that held him.
He felt the blade hit something, and rejoiced when the harpy let out a shriek. But as he was let go and began falling, his joy turned to terror. He fell end over end, and soon found himself falling face first. His robes righted themselves in the wind, and he could finally see. However, he soon wished that he was still blind to his fate, for he was falling fast with Atlas to his right. The harpy had carried him over the city and beyond the edge, and he was now aiming straight for the jagged rocks of the coast.
Time seemed to slow as he fell, and though he knew that he had only seconds before his untimely and messy death, he watched as images flashed before his eyes.
The ground rushed up to squash him. It was not as though he were falling, but as if the world were growing larger at an incredible speed and would soon smoosh him like a bug against a riding knight’s helmet.
Then, to his amazement, he saw something astonishing, something miraculous, and for a terrified moment, he thought that he must be dreaming.
“Packy?” he found himself saying.
Against the light of the pregnant moon he saw the backpack, wings spread and cutting through the air, flying to intercept him.
“Packy!” he cried, and he fought his hands out of his robes to grab hold of the straps as his backpack flew below him.
He thought that surely he was not strong enough to pull off such a feat, but Packy paced his descent, coming in slowly as the jagged rocks sprayed with ocean mist twenty feet below. Murland fumbled on his first attempt, but then stubbornly, and with fear thumping in his heart, he grabbed ahold of the straps firmly and yelled, “Climb, Packy, climb!”
Packy pulled up at the last possible moment, and they barely made it over a jutting stone. Murland had to lift and tuck his legs quickly, else let them be bashed against the slick stone. He gave out a hooting laugh as his backpack sailed over the jagged shore and let Murland down on a long, flat sheet of stone.
As soon as he touched down, Murland gave Packy a big hug and hurriedly retrieved his wand before shouldering the straps.
“Come on, Packy! Let’s clear out those pesky harpies!”
Three running strides brought him to the edge, and he leapt, spreading his arms as the backpack spread its wings, and together they flew toward Atlas.
***
The steps leading to Lyricon’s palace were covered in the blood of harpies. The blood of the guards mingled there as well, pooling in the shallows of the shells on either side of the stairs and running down the hill to the city streets below.
Sir Eldrick stanched his own wound with a cloth and pulled it tight with his teeth. The harpy spear had cut him deep, but his fae blade had taken her head as payment. Lyricon fought together with the companions, laying low any harpy that got too close with his wickedly pointed trident. He spun it around his body masterfully, using arms and tentacles, until it was a blur of motion buzzing out this way and that, batting aside the spears of his attackers.
Gibrig stayed low, well under the thrusting sword of Brannon, and finished off those unlucky harpies with his shovel when they landed at his feet. He cried as he put them out of their misery, but there was power in his swings, and his strikes were sure.
Willow sent harpies shooting off in all directions with her knotted club. She took many hits, but her skin was thick, and she knew how to turn a fatal incoming blow into a glancing one.
More guards were rushing to help, but so too were more harpies appearing from the east. Sir Eldrick knew that if they did not get off the landing and into the palace soon, they would be overrun. He was about to order the retreat when he caught a glimpse of brilliant white wings out of the corner of his eye.
“It can’t be,” he said aloud, and slashed a low-flying harpy.
Suddenly, a fireball erupted from the winged form and exploded over everyone’s head. Seven harpies fell to the stone, dead and smoldering, and many more veered off course, smoke billowing from their useless wings.
“It’s Murland and Packy!” Gibrig cried out, and the companions redoubled their efforts.
Murland swooped down and created a ring of fire around the companions, scorching harpies and sending them screaming into the night. He continued on toward the flock coming from the east, and easily turned them around with an impressive lightshow that sent dozens crashing into the ocean.
He chased off the last of them and circled around to land among his friends.
“Are you guys alright?” said Murland, eyeing the dead littering the steps and surrounding grounds with sympathy.
“A few scratches,” said Willow, before collapsing on the blood-soaked stone.
“Healer!” Gibrig cried as he rushed to her side.
“Send my best healers at once,” Lyricon told one of his guards.
Sir Eldrick lifted Willow’s right arm, and upon seeing the wound, he gave a groan. “Here! She has a spear in her back.”
“My healers will take care of her,” said Lyricon. “I promise you.”
Chapter 37
Too Little, Too Late
Sir Eldrick tapped Brannon on the shoulder as the elf stood, watching Willow sleep.
“Come,” said Sir Eldrick, and he pressed a fi
nger to his lips, glancing at the sleeping Gibrig and Murland.
Brannon followed him onto the balcony. They had been given a room in Lyricon’s palace so that they might wait for Willow to heal in peace.
“What is it?” said Brannon.
Sir Eldrick turned from him, considering his words. He had been mulling over the decision all day. “I…It has been a long road. And I must admit that like you, I have grown to love those fools.”
“Love? I wouldn’t go that far,” said Brannon, though Sir Eldrick could see right through the façade.
“Call it what you will, but they’re our friends. Every one of them has saved our lives at one point or another during this quest, and…well—”
“You’ve had a change of heart?” said Brannon hopefully.
Sir Eldrick let out a sigh. “Call me a damn fool, but I have.”
“It was the jinn, wasn’t it? What did he make you see?”
Sir Eldrick thought of the look on his siblings’ faces; saw the blood on his hands.
“It doesn’t matter. I just…queen’s sake, I feel like a silly lass confessing to her friends at a sleepover. The truth is, Brannon, I used to be a man of honor. I was once the greatest knight in all the land. But then I fell from grace. I stabbed my king in the back, slept with his wife. I drowned myself in the bottle and agreed to this deception, hoping to save my own skin.”
“But, what do we do?”
“I don’t know. We’ve got to come clean. They deserve to know.”
Brannon nodded, looking shameful. “They’re going to hate us.”
“Perhaps they should, but that is for them to decide. All I know is that I want to be the man I once was. If it means losing their friendship, then so be it.”
“Alright, I’m with you.”
“There’s one more thing,” said Sir Eldrick, hoping that Brannon didn’t make a scene. He should have brought him somewhere else to speak about such things.
“What is it?” said Brannon, looking dreadfully concerned.
“Kazimir said from the beginning that you were to be fed to the dragon as well. I, we, were lying to you as well.”
Brannon took in a shocked breath and clutched his chest. “That son of a bitch!”
“Yeah,” said Sir Eldrick with a laugh. “He’s a piece of work.”
“Wait a minute. That means that you were going along with it the entire time. You were prepared to feed me to the dragon as well.”
“Don’t seem so hurt. You were a giant pain in the ass. But you’ve changed. Hell, we all have.” Sir Eldrick stuck out a hand. “No hard feelings?”
Brannon slapped him across the face, but unlike the tap he had given him in Bjorn’s bathroom those weeks ago, this one hurt. “That is for lying to me,” said Brannon, but then his stern face became kind. “No hard feelings. Trust me. I would have made the same deal with Kazimir, the bastard.”
They shook hands and shared a laugh, but the gravity of what they had to do soon returned.
“We’ll wait until Willow is better,” said Sir Eldrick.
“Agreed,” said Brannon. “But the question still remains. What do we do about the dragon? If she is not fed, she’ll wreak havoc over Fallacetine.”
“I don’t know, Brannon. I don’t know.”
Willow’s injury turned out to be less threatening than anyone had at first assumed. And though the spear had stuck, it had barely pierced her thick layer of fat. Still, she enjoyed a day in bed being attended to and eating to her heart’s content before saying that she was fit to go on.
Lyricon assigned guards to the group and assured them that the harpies would not be bothering them again. Sir Eldrick proposed that they all celebrate, and told them all that he wanted to treat them to a good meal before they left Atlas and headed for the Petrified Plains. Willow was all too eager to go along, and Gibrig said that as long as they didn’t have pork, he would be honored. Murland, who was head over heels with excitement for having his wand, spell book, and backpack safely returned, would have agreed to just about anything then.
Lyricon suggested a restaurant that he co-owned on the eastern side of Atlas, a place called The Bountiful Booty. He promised the best seafood this side of the Wide Wall, which was good enough for the companions—though Gibrig noted how weird it was that someone who was half octopus would suggest sea food.
They took a carriage to the restaurant, and to Sir Eldrick’s relief, it wasn’t as posh as he had at first assumed. “This is my kind of place,” he said, admiring the topless mermaids swimming in globes of water hanging from the ceiling of the dimly lit establishment.
Willow looked hopefully to a tank with a merman, but when she saw that the only thing below his waist was scales, she shook her head in disapproval. “Now that’s just not fair.”
“Tell me about it, sister,” said Brannon.
“First things first,” said Sir Eldrick. “Let’s have a drink at the bar.”
“Sir Eldrick,” said Gibrig sheepishly. “You can’t drink.”
“I know, I know. Water or cider for me. But you lot can, and you might as well. Come on.”
“I’m getting cold feet,” said Brannon, leaning in as he and Sir Eldrick led the others toward the shell-shaped bar.
“I’ll do all the talking, don’t worry.”
Sir Eldrick stepped up to the bar, which was fairly crowded, and waved over the bartender. He wanted the others to have a drink before he told them the truth of Drak’Noir.
Before he could order, however, he bumped into someone and began to offer his apologies, but then he recognized the woman, though she was wearing a strange pirate outfit.
“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a closer look to make sure. “Are you…Caressa?”
The woman’s eyes went wide, and she looked past Sir Eldrick at the companions.
“Murland?”
“Caressa?”
“Oh my gods!” she said, pushing past Sir Eldrick and wrapping her arms around Murland.
“Valkimir? Valkimir!” said Brannon, and he rushed to his love.
Sir Eldrick noticed the dwarf and assumed that he was Gibrig’s father. With them was a grinning skeleton in a robe, and a fairy, presumably Dingleberry, who shot over Sir Eldrick’s head and hugged Willow’s face, getting dust everywhere.
“Pap?” said Gibrig as he rushed to his father.
The gruff-looking dwarf gave his son a one-armed hug and put himself between Gibrig and Sir Eldrick. “Ye got a lot o’ nerve!” he said, poking Sir Eldrick in the chest.
“It’s alright,” said Gibrig. “He’s my friend.”
“He ain’t no friend o’ yers,” said his father.
“What do ye mean, Pap?”
“We’ve come here to stop you all from going to Bad Mountain,” said Caressa, releasing Murland from a hug.
“Why would you try to stop us?” said Murland. “We’re the Champions of the Dr—”
“It’s a lie,” said Caressa. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Murland. But it is all a lie. Kazimir wasn’t sending heroes, he was sending food.”
“Food?”
“And this bastard knew ‘bout it all along,” said Hagus, pointing at Sir Eldrick.
“Is this true?” said Willow, though Dingleberry was nodding rigorously in the affirmative.
“Yup-yup. It’s true-true. He’s a big fat lying liar-liar,” said the sprite.
“Listen,” said Sir Eldrick. “You don’t understand. We were about to tell you—”
“WE?” said Brannon, offering the knight his best big-eyes.
Sir Eldrick sighed, offering the elf a withering glare. “I was about to tell you all.”
“That’s rich,” said Caressa. “You were about to come clean right before we showed up?”
“I should gut ye right here and now,” said Hagus, producing a dagger.
“No!” said Gibrig. “Everyone wait a godsdamned minute!”
The music stopped, and everyone in earshot turned for a moment to regard the dwarf before go
ing about their business once again.
Quieter this time, he said, “Sir Eldrick. What are they talking about?”
The knight gave a sigh. “It is true. The Prophecy of the Champions of the Dragon is a lie. We were not meant to fight off Drak’Noir, but to feed her whelps. I was chosen because I bedded the queen of Vhalovia. You, Gibrig, were chosen because you angered the dwarf king, Murland because he was the worst wizard in Abra Tower, Willow ate too much food for her tribe to support, and Brannon, his father wanted to make a man out of him, or else let him die.”
They all looked to the floor in shame and understanding, and Brannon pretended to.
“Listen to me,” said Sir Eldrick, seeing how his words affected them. “I made the deal with Kazimir before I ever met you all. It might not have been right, but it was nothing personal. Once I got to know you, I began to regret my decision. And I swear, I was about to tell you.”
“Yeah, sure, but it took you this long,” said Murland.
“Kazimir threatened to have my mind erased,” said Sir Eldrick.
Willow took a step forward, parting them all. She glared down on the knight and shook her head. “If you were any other knight, I would, I’d…” Her fists shook, but then tears came to her eyes. She turned and headed for the door, and Dingleberry stuck out her tongue at Sir Eldrick as she followed.
“Come on, lad,” said Hagus. “Let’s get the hells out o’ here.”
Gibrig let his father lead him out of the restaurant, but he looked back sympathetically more than once.
Brannon looked to Sir Eldrick, mouthed, I’m sorry, and rushed after them. Valkimir offered Sir Eldrick one final scowl before following.
Murland stood before him, boney shoulders sagging, his face emotionless.
“I swear to you, Murland. I was about to tell you,” said Sir Eldrick.
“I don’t know,” said Murland. “I just don’t know. We’re going to need some time.”
“I understand.”
Beyond the Wide Wall Page 27
