An Unwelcome Quest (Magic 2.0 Book 3)

by Scott Meyer

  Gary said, “I’m curious. I want to see where this is going.”

  “Have you been listening?” Phillip asked. “Have you looked at those women? It’s perfectly obvious where this is going.”

  They all glanced back at the women. The redhead and the brunette had gone back to slowly churning the butter and scrubbing the laundry. The blond was watching the men talk while absentmindedly putting the end of one of her knitting needles in her mouth.

  “Yes,” Gary said. “And I want to see it.”

  Jimmy spoke up. “Look, I agree it’s a trap, but maybe we should go in.”

  Phillip let out a long groan, then said, “You desperate, lonely old—”

  “No. Phillip, that’s not . . . that’s not why we should go in,” Jimmy said. “Look, they have food. Food that isn’t wolf jerky.”

  “Food that’s probably poisoned,” Phillip said.

  “No,” Tyler said. “If Todd wanted to just poison us, he’d have probably done it by now.”

  “Right,” Jimmy agreed. “And they have a roof and a nice warm fire, and probably a place where we can get cleaned up.”

  Phillip said, “Oh, I don’t doubt it. I’m sure the bathtub is the very center of their decor in there. That or a big bearskin rug.”

  “And we’ll be able to figure out what their plan is,” Tyler said.

  “We know what their plan is,” Phillip said. “Enough of it at least. Tyler, Jimmy, I expect this kind of thing out of Gary, but I can’t believe that this is what’s finally brought you two together. You really think this is the smart move, spending the evening with Zoot, Dingo, and Piglet there?”

  Tyler muttered, “Holy Grail,” then asked, “Piglet?”

  Phillip said, “Yeah, she was one of the doctors who examined Michael Palin. The other was named Winston.”

  “Look,” Jimmy said. “We know it’s a trap, right? So that means we have the advantage. All we have to do is keep our eyes open and be ready for it when the trap springs.”

  Tyler added, “Besides, pretty much everything here is a trap. At least this one looks like fun.”

  Phillip knew he was defeated. “Okay, we’ll go in. I guess there’s no harm in having a look. There’s only harm in Martin finding out about this later. Or even worse, Gwen.”

  14.

  Roy was leaning heavily on the canyon wall, muttering to himself and looking ruefully around the corner at the fortifications of Castle Cragganmore. Brit and Gwen were leaning on the wall, looking ruefully at Roy.

  Roy could see the castle, the soldiers in front of it, the raging river surrounding it, the steep canyon walls containing the river, and a third of the way up the canyon wall, he could see a lone figure emerging from behind the castle, making his way back toward his position.

  “I can see Martin,” Roy said. “Let’s hope he found a back way into the castle, ’cause I don’t like our chances in a frontal assault.”

  Gwen and Brit thanked him for the information, and Roy went back to analyzing the castle’s defenses.

  “Soldiers,” Roy muttered. “Four groups, standing eight abreast, eight rows deep. Classic phalanx formation. They look well trained and in good condition. I don’t see how we could possibly fight our way through them to the castle, even if we didn’t have the women to worry about.”

  Gwen shook her head and laughed. Brit did not.

  “What women are you worried about, Roy?” Brit asked. “I didn’t see any standing in front of the castle. Do you think the soldiers’ girlfriends are hiding inside the castle?”

  Roy groaned.

  Gwen said, “He thinks they’re in there cooking dinner, and when he and Martin kill all the big, scary men, they’ll come running out with their frying pans and rolling pins, and he and Martin will be defenseless, because they could never hit a lady.”

  Roy turned to face Brit and Gwen. He rubbed his face with his hand and said, “Look, girls . . .”

  Brit and Gwen stared at him.

  “Sorry. Gals,” Roy tried.

  Brit continued to stare. Gwen shook her head.

  “Ladies?”

  Gwen shook her head again.

  Roy gritted his teeth and said, “Look, you two . . .”

  Brit continued to stare, but Gwen subtly nodded her head.

  “All I meant,” Roy continued, “was that getting past those soldiers will be more difficult because we’ll want to keep you safe. That’s all, I assure you.”

  Brit smiled mirthlessly. “That’s enough, I assure you.”

  Roy grimaced and turned his back to continue peering at the soldiers. He hoped this would end the argument. He was disappointed.

  “What makes you think it’s your duty to keep us safe?” Brit asked.

  Roy said, “Hundreds of years of tradition.”

  Gwen said, “Roy, come on. The whole reason Brit and I are here is to try to help keep our male friends safe. Besides, haven’t Brit and I proven that we’re just as good at killing the wolves as you and Martin?”

  Roy squinted at the soldiers in the distance. “Yeah, well, killing a man is very different from killing a wolf. Men are smarter.”

  Brit said, “I’m not so sure of that.”

  Roy scowled over his shoulder at her.

  Brit cocked her head to the side and looked Roy in the eye. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I didn’t mind insulting you, but that’s not the point I was trying to make. These wolves we’ve been fighting, they’re not real wolves, right? They’re all exactly the same. They always attack the same way. They show up in groups of two or more, attack one at a time, and die instantly, then dissolve, leaving behind some jerky. Then a while later, two wolves will pop up for every one we’ve killed. That’s not natural wolf behavior, is it?”

  “No,” Roy admitted. “We’ve been through this. The wolves are artificial, set up as part of the quest.”

  “And so were the miners, and so are the soldiers,” Brit said. “So I see no reason to believe that they’ll be smarter or harder to kill than the wolves are.”

  Roy furrowed his brow and turned back to look at the soldiers. “They do all seem to be the same height and build. It’s hard to tell from this distance, what with them all wearing armor, but they may be identical.”

  The prospect of having to hack and slash their way through all of those soldiers, even one at a time, gave them plenty to think about while Martin worked his way around the far cliff wall. Happily, he had stopped wearing his silver robe and hat. Unlike Roy’s trench coat, Martin’s robe was not practical attire for wilderness survival and would have made him far too visible. Since he had no powers here regardless of whether he wore his robes or not, that was three strikes. Instead, his robe was folded neatly in his backpack, in case they needed to use it as a blanket or a signal. When he was directly across the river from the others, they all headed back upstream to meet him at the narrow spot where he had crossed the river, leaping from rock to rock.

  Martin rejoined them, sharing what he’d learned as they walked back toward the castle. It was not good news.

  “There are no rocks at all on the far side of the castle.”

  Gwen asked, “Could we swim it?”

  Martin shook his head. “No way. The current’s way too fast. You could get into the water, and you might be able to keep your head above water, but by the time you swam to the other side of the river, you’d be half a mile downstream, and the banks look to be nothing but rock walls. You’d just leave a streak of claw marks if you tried to climb out.”

  “Okay,” Roy said. “So we know they didn’t get in that way.”

  “Yeah,” Martin said, “but we aren’t sure that they didn’t try. There were footprints, lots of them, leading all the way around back, down to the riverbank and back up. If they didn’t try to cross back there, they at least seriously considered it.”

/>   Brit said, “Well, I’m sure they thought about it, but they wouldn’t have actually gotten into that river. They’re not idiots.”

  After a moment, she corrected herself. “They’re not all idiots.”

  After another moment, she said, “Of course they’re all capable of idiocy, we all are, but they wouldn’t risk their lives over it. Probably.”

  Roy said, “Getting down to brass tacks, we can’t get in the back way, so the main road and through those soldiers is the only way we’re going to get in there and get that canary.”

  “Which the miners already have,” Martin added.

  “Well,” Roy said, “we’ll see.”

  “We already saw,” Martin said. “We all saw the canary. The miners already have it.”

  Brit said, “Yes, but we have to go through the motions to get credit for retrieving it so we can get our next instructions. Honestly, Martin, you know this.”

  “Yeah,” Martin said. “I just wanted to hear someone say it out loud again. It’s fun listening to intelligent people talk nonsense as if it’s perfectly reasonable. Speaking of which, Roy, what’s the plan once we get back to the castle?”

  Roy said, “I figure you and I will leave the ladies back on the path, hidden around the corner; then we’ll walk up to the soldiers, ask them to let us in, then fight our way through them if they don’t.”

  Martin turned to Brit, smiling. “See? He said that as if it were perfectly reasonable. Isn’t that amazing?”

  Brit said, “Amazing. Roy, why do you think you should leave half of the team behind before you go into battle?”

  Roy said, “Division of labor. We do our job, you do yours.”

  “And what, pray tell, is our job in this situation?”

  Roy said, “I don’t know. I’m not your boss. I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

  Brit said, “You’re just going to tell us what not to do, and when not to do it, and where to stand while we don’t do it.”

  Roy said, “You can look at it that way if you want to. I know I’m not trying to order you around. We’ll discuss it later. Wait here.”

  Roy walked around the corner, into view of the soldiers guarding the castle entrance. Martin shared a meaningful look with Gwen, then nodded to Brit, who shook her head. Martin walked quickly to catch up with Roy.

  They were walking along a couple hundred yards of narrow path on a precariously narrow strip of land, bordered on each side by raging torrents of water, toward a small army of heavily armed men. They had good reason to walk slowly.

  “I swear,” Roy muttered, “that girl’s gonna drive me nuts.”

  Martin said, “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

  Roy said, “I’m just trying to keep them safe. That’s what a man does, isn’t it? Try to keep the women and the children safe?”

  Martin nodded. “Yes. Historically speaking, that’s what men do.”

  “Then why are they fighting me?”

  “Because they resent it. Historically speaking, that’s what women do when you treat them like children.”

  “I’m not treating them like children. I’m treating them like ladies.”

  “Yeah,” Martin said. “I noticed. You even keep calling them that. ‘Ladies.’ Sometimes even ‘young ladies.’ ”

  “So what’s wrong with that?” Roy asked. “That’s a compliment.”

  “Not coming from you.”

  “Why not?”

  Martin sighed. “Because they think that you think you’re better than them, so coming from you, ‘ladies’ is an insult, and ‘young ladies’ is a condescending insult.”

  “That’s a bunch of hooey,” Roy groaned.

  Martin decided to try a different approach. “Have you ever had someone in a position of power over you call you a lady?”

  “Yeah. My drill sergeant used to call us ladies all the time.”

  “Did he mean it as a compliment?”

  “No, of course not, Martin, but that was different. We were—”

  “Men, Roy? You find being called a lady insulting. How do you think it sounds when you call someone else one?”

  “Okay,” Roy said. “I get it. Everything I’m doing is wrong. What do you suggest?”

  “You’re overthinking this. Just treat them like equals.”

  Roy said, “I don’t treat my equals well.”

  “Okay, yeah,” Martin agreed. “Point taken. Look. Don’t suck up to them or anything. It’ll just seem insincere. Give them credit where it’s due. Don’t compliment them for no reason. Just try to stop insulting them for no reason.”

  They walked in silence. Martin thought, Poor Roy. What a terrible situation he’s gotten himself into. A few steps later, Martin thought, And I’m following him. Things aren’t looking so good for me either, are they?

  Martin looked to the side, downriver. As he’d described earlier, the river got still narrower and faster, squeezing itself between two vertical rock walls before disappearing around a bend in the distance. To fall in the river off either side of the path would mean being swept down there to whatever waited around that bend. He shuddered at the thought.

  They had closed half the distance to the soldiers, and it was already clear that they were indeed many copies of the same person. The same large, menacing, angry person.

  Martin said, “Man, I hope this works.”

  “You hope what works?” Roy asked.

  “Your plan,” Martin explained.

  Roy said, “I don’t have a plan.”

  “Then why am I following you?” Martin asked.

  “Because you don’t have a plan either.”

  “Well,” Martin said, looking at the looming soldiers, “I guess we still have a few seconds to come up with one.”

  They walked, both locked in thought as they closed the remaining gap between them and the motionless soldiers. At the last possible moment, Martin whispered, “Okay. I’ve got something. Follow my lead, and be ready to run.”

  Roy doubted that any of the great plans in military history had included the phrase “Be ready to run,” but he didn’t have any better ideas, which was all the more reason to be ready to run.

  Martin strode purposefully toward the front row of soldiers, stopping barely two feet in front of one in the middle of the row. Martin looked the clone in the eye (having to look up at a fairly sharp angle to do so), and said, “We’ve come to enter the castle, free the canary, Oban is his name, I think, and then we’ll be on our way.”

  The soldier looked down at Martin and said, “None shall pass.”

  Martin smirked over his shoulder at Roy, nodded, then turned back to the soldier. Martin set his jaw, gave the guard a look of steely determination, then kicked the guard in the crotch and shouted, “Run, Roy, run!”

  Martin turned to sprint away and was surprised to see that Roy was already several steps ahead of him. Clearly, Roy had been ready to run. Good to know he can follow directions, Martin thought.

  Roy shouted back over his shoulder, “Okay, what now?”

  Martin glanced behind them and saw just enough to be sure they were being chased. “Keep running!” Martin yelled.

  “That’s your plan?!” Roy shrieked. “Keep running?!”

  “Would you rather stop?” Martin asked.

  Martin risked a longer look over his shoulder and was delighted by what he saw. “Good news! Like, eight of them are chasing us.”

  “That’s good news?”

  “Yes!” Martin gasped, beginning to run out of wind. “It means that when we get them over to where the girls are, we can gang up on them.”

  Roy wheezed, “Four of us ganging up on eight of them?”

  “Yes. They’re running identically, like the wolves do,” Martin said between gulps of breath. “Odds are they’ll take turns fighting. Just l
ike the wolves. We won’t.”

  “Yeah,” Roy barked. “I get it. Hope the girls are ready.”

  Martin gasped, “Gwen knows me. She’s probably . . . been ready for this . . . since we walked away.”

  The path widened; then a ridge formed to Martin and Roy’s left that grew quickly into a canyon wall as they ran. They could see the point up ahead where the wall seemed to end, but actually turned left, hiding what was waiting around the bend. From a distance, Martin had seen the tops of Gwen’s and Brit’s heads as they looked around the corner, but as they got closer, the heads had vanished. Martin told Roy to take the corner wide. Roy waved a hand dismissively rather than wasting his breath saying “way ahead of you.”

  Roy shot past the corner of the canyon wall, almost to the edge of the path before turning left and continuing down the trail. Martin followed suit, and as he rounded the corner, he could see that Gwen was waiting with her back to the canyon wall and her sword poised like a baseball bat. Brit was beside her, slightly farther down the trail, holding her sword almost like a pitchfork.

  Martin skidded to a stop, barely avoiding running into Roy, who had also slid to a disorganized halt. They looked back. For a panicked moment Martin thought that Gwen and Brit had misjudged how close behind them the soldiers were, but, as was often the case when Martin thought that Gwen had made a mistake, she had simply thought things through a little more fully than he had.

  The eight soldiers were running in a single-file line. The first soldier ran straight past Gwen without ever seeing her. He did notice Brit, even before she ran him through with her sword. He let out a pained scream that harmonized sickeningly with the yelp of surprise that came from the second soldier in line as Gwen chopped him in half at the navel.

  The two halves of the bisected soldier fell to the ground around the first soldier’s feet as Brit pulled her sword from his gut. The first soldier fell to his knees among the parts of his comrade before slumping to the ground and being covered by the body of the third soldier in line, whom Gwen had nearly decapitated with her next swing. There was little blood and no gore, but the pile of dead fake soldier parts was still not a pretty sight.