Willow let go of his hand and stormed off after the chief. Dingleberry offered Gryll two thumbs up—the rudest gesture in ogre society—before sticking out her tongue and buzzing after her friend.
“Willow!” Gryll called, but she ignored him and followed on the chief’s heels to the bamboo wagon that would bring them up to the arena. When they boarded, Dingleberry slipped in through the bamboo cage, but the door closed on a confused-looking Gryll.
The chief waved a hand, and the carriage driver snapped the reins. With a jerk, the team of six alligators began to move. Willow was seething, but she tried to hide it from the chief. Thankfully, he was an ogre of few words and did not speak during the short ride to the arena.
When the carriage came to a halt, Willow followed the chief out and stopped dead when she saw the size of the arena. At least one hundred yards long and made with high stone walls, the arena stood on a tall mound of earth that kept it safe from flooding. It was rumored that the blue ogres knew how to move the boulders of Stone Forest, but few believed it.
A horde of blue ogres hurriedly made their way into the arena, but the chief needn’t worry about the crowds, for a dozen guards cleared the way to a secondary entrance, and Willow followed Fangmore through the door into a long tunnel.
“Please, just follow Fargentooga here, and he will show you to the champions’ quarters, where you will be made ready for battle,” said the chief before hurrying off down the hall.
Fargentooga gestured toward another tunnel, and Willow followed. All the while she thought of what she was going to do to Gryll.
“This is bogus!” said Dingleberry, who flew beside her. “Why you gotta fight-fight anyway?”
“Moonswamp tradition,” said Willow.
“Well, I got your back-back!” said the sprite, unsheathing her needle.
“Thanks, but I think I should handle this one on my own.”
Willow was led into a small room where a dozen blue ogre females waited. She was dressed in fine crocodile armor and given a choice of weapons. In the end, she settled on a big spiked club that weighed nearly two hundred pounds.
She could hear the clamor of the crowd as she was led down a hall toward an iron gate. Peering through the holes, she saw that the arena was packed with at least a thousand blue ogres, all cheering and burping and shaking the stands with their big stomping feet.
“I have waited for years to unveil my most treasured beast, one that was gotten at great cost from the Swamp of Doom, far to the west of the Wide Wall!” the chief was saying. Willow wondered for the first time what the prized beast might be. But she needn’t wait long, for the chief gestured toward her, and the gate was lifted.
Willow walked through proudly with Dingleberry on her shoulder.
“Behold!” said the chief. “Willow Muckmuck, Champion of the Dragon of Fire Swamp!”
The crowd cheered her name, and she forgot her anger toward Gryll for a time.
“And now, I give to you, my most prized beast, Tiny Hands!”
The opposite gate opened, and to Willow’s shock, a Tyrannosaurus rex charged out onto the sand. The beast was at least twenty feet tall and forty feet long. Its scales were a brownish shade of orange, with a strip of peach coloring that streaked from the corner of its eyes to the back of its big head, upon which sat a small crop of blond hair that flipped over in the breeze. The tiny arms ended in minute hands, which were miniature compared to the thick legs and long, clawed feet. The dinosaur roared a high-pitched challenge and eyed Willow like she was lunch.
Dingleberry cried out and zipped behind Willow, peeking over her shoulder at the monster. But Willow wasn’t looking at the dinosaur, she was scanning the crowd for Gryll. She found him finally, and her anger rose when she saw him sitting with two attractive blue ogres, presumably his wives.
“Fight!” the chief yelled, and the T. rex gave another roar and began to charge.
Willow just stood there, staring at Gryll and his two whores. Even as the ground beneath her feet vibrated with the shockwave from the beast, she stared. It wasn’t until the beast lunged for her with its huge mouth full of razor-sharp teeth that she reacted. When it struck, she leapt to the side, cocked back her club and, imagining it was Gryll’s face, swung for the cheap seats. The club connected, its spikes burying deep into the beast’s face, and sent the T. rex staggering to the side. The club went with it, but Willow cared not for the loss. She sped into a charge as the beast was shaking its stunned head and ran right up its tail. Her opponent tried to shake her, but too late. Willow climbed right up to the head and grabbed ahold of its eyelid. Pulling with all her might, she ripped the flap of skin clean off.
The T. rex cried out in outrage and pain and tried to buck her off, but she had grabbed ahold of the other eyelid and held on tight. To her surprise, the T. rex barreled for the closest wall, and she leapt just in time before it collided face first, dislodging her club. Willow rushed toward it, but the creature quickly swiped its tail, taking her in the back and launching her fifty feet across the arena to land five bleachers up from the sand. Willow grabbed the closest ogre’s drink, shot it back in one giant gulp, and charged back into the arena.
The T. rex was going wild, its handlers scrambling to keep it away from the stands by poking it with spears. As Willow landed back on the sand, the bottom torso and legs of one unfortunate handler whizzed by, spraying her with blood. Willow wiped the blood from her eyes, smearing it across her face, and took up the discarded spear as she charged. The T. rex tossed the other half of the handler into the stands, to the delight of the crowd, and squared on Willow. She threw the spear out in front of her, scoring a hit to the beast’s neck and causing it to reel back, giving her the distraction she needed to reach her heavy club, which was directly behind the beast. As the T. rex tried to grab ahold of the spear with its tiny hands, Willow maneuvered between its stomping feet, ducked into a slide to avoid the sweeping tail, and came up with the club in hand. The T. rex lunged at her, gleaming teeth leading. Willow side-stepped the attack once again and smashed more than one tooth with a heavy blow. Her foe recovered quickly and struck again, this time clamping down on the club. Willow tugged, but the giant beast was too powerful. With a quick jerk of its head, the T. rex sent her sailing end over end into the hard stone wall separating the fighting pit from the rest of the arena. She felt the wind blast out of her and knew that she was in trouble.
The T. rex snapped the club in half and stalked her slowly, its little fingers twitching. Willow tried to stand, but her head swooned. She tried desperately to catch her breath, and stars began to dance in the corners of her vision. The T. rex struck, but Willow managed to roll out of the way just in time. The beast struck again and again as Willow rolled, narrowly missing those long, pointed teeth. A roar of pain issued from the T. rex as it reeled back, and Willow noticed that the spear had inadvertently pushed deep into its shoulder by its furious strikes. She felt blessed air begin to fill her lungs once more and scrambled to her feet. Her club was gone, but the spear was sticking out the back of the T. rex’s neck, and Willow saw a handhold.
As the crowd cheered her on, Willow gave a roar and charged right at the T. rex; its great height and weight made it too slow to catch her as she changed course and sped toward the wall. With a great leap, she grabbed ahold of the top of the wall and pulled herself up. Wicked jaws snapped at her heels and she took off at a run along the high wall. She timed the strikes, and when the T. rex leapt up and snapped at her again, she suddenly changed course, leaping over its open maw and landing on top of its head. She slid as he reared and grabbed ahold of the spear tip protruding from the back of its neck. The T. rex thrashed and tried to buck her off, turning its neck to snap at her. But through it all she held on, and squeezing her legs around the wild creature’s neck for balance, she snapped the spear tip and began repeatedly stabbing the beast. The scales were thick, but Willow was strong, and the spear was high quality. She cracked scales and drew blood, riding and stabbing the b
east as it tried desperately to unseat her. When it lunged toward the wall to crush her, Willow leapt off and rolled away. The T. rex stormed toward her, its great weight shaking the ground beneath her. She tripped and slid on her stomach across the sand as the T. rex barreled in. To her surprise, Dingleberry streaked past in a blur of blue sparkles. Willow rolled over just in time to see the fearless sprite slam needle first into the T. rex’s lidless eye.
“Dingleberry!” Willow cried. “Get out of there!”
The sprite shot across the sand in the other direction, and the T. rex lost all interest in Willow and gave chase. Willow got to her feet, desperately trying to think of a way to dispatch the dinosaur. But she was beaten and bloody, and the fight had taken a lot out of her. She wasn’t going to defeat the beast with brawn, for it was far too big for her to inflict damage without a weapon. Instead, she would have to use its size against it.
The splintered club lay on the ground ten feet away, and the largest of the pieces was nearly six feet long. As Dingleberry zipped around the arena, Willow took up the shard and whistled to her. “Bring it to me!” she cried, and the sprite turned her way.
Willow planted the fat end of the club in the sand and held it firm in the middle. “Come and get me, you big fat nannywiggins!” she yelled.
Dingleberry zipped by her, and the T. rex barreled in.
“Over here, stupid!” Willow taunted.
The T. rex’s eyes widened with rage, and it gave an ear-piercing cry. Willow braced herself, praying to the Great Turtle as the beast lunged forward. She held the splintered shaft tight, and the T. rex struck.
Everything went black.
When Willow awoke, it was to the cheers of the roaring crowd. She was covered in blood and, remembering the T. rex, frantically looked around. To her surprise, she saw the beast lying dead beside her, the splintered wood protruding from the back of its head.
Willow stared at herself in the mirror: her left eye was swollen shut, and her nose was twice the size that it had been. It was most likely broken, but Willow didn’t care; her only concern was seeing her daughter.
Chief Fangmore and the other ogres were quite impressed by her performance in the arena, and they had insisted on having a feast. Now, three hours later, Willow stood in Gryll’s bathroom shaking, for Fern waited for her in the other room.
“Come-come, you look fine. Come meet your baby-babe,” said Dingleberry, pulling on one of her braids and trying to fly toward the door.
“What if…” Willow began, but then she let go of her fear and apprehension and determinedly moved to the door.
Gryll was waiting just outside and smiled at her apologetically. “Willow—”
“I don’t want to hear it. I just want to see Fern.”
He nodded and turned to open the door behind him. Willow gulped and followed him inside. The nursery was quiet and dimly lit, but when Gryll opened the curtains, letting in the foggy glow of the swamp beyond, Willow caught sight of little Fern sleeping in a tiny bed against the wall.
“Oh, my…she’s so beautiful,” said Willow, slowly walking toward the bed.
Just then, the toddler stirred and blinked sleepy eyes at Willow as she came to stand beside her.
“Hello little Fern,” said Willow, her voice quivering with emotion.
Fern was plump, with cheeks so fat that they left her big blue eyes squinting. Her skin was blue like her father’s, but her hair was green like Willow’s. Their eyes met, and Willow couldn’t help but smile. Fern, however, suddenly looked terrified, and her face twisted into a violent cry.
“Oh, no, no. It’s alright. I’m your momma,” said Willow, hoping to sooth her, but Fern only cried harder.
Willow looked back at Gryll desperately.
“It’s not you,” he said, moving to the bed and picking up Fern. “She’s tusking, that’s all, and she’s been cranky a lot lately.”
“She hates me,” said Willow, tears welling in her eyes.
“No, no, she doesn’t,” said Gryll, rocking the babe. “Look Ferny, it’s your mother.”
The baby wailed.
“Here, take her.”
Willow rubbed her hands together nervously, but Gryll only smiled and offered her Fern. Reluctantly, Willow took her, and how the child wailed.
“It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you,” said Willow, hardly able to hear herself over the crying. Fern squirmed, kicked, and pushed, trying desperately to get away.
“Here, take her,” she said to Gryll before rushing out of the room, crying uncontrollably.
“Willow!” Gryll yelled pleadingly, but she couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to.
“Willow, come back-back!” said Dingleberry behind her.
Ignoring them both, Willow rushed out of the hut and pushed through the crowd, who cheered when she emerged. She found her raptor near the gate and rode him as fast as she could out of the village.
Chapter 5
Off-White Wedding
Brannon paced the balcony, glancing at the door every few seconds. His wedding planner, Philly Sheo, was ten minutes late, and Brannon needed desperately to speak with him, for the enchanted napkins the fae had delivered earlier in the morning were all wrong.
“Where could he be?” Brannon yelled, shaking out his hands nervously.
“Calm down,” said Annallia from the other room.
“Really, my love, you are overreacting a bit,” said Valkimir. He sat at the small table by the balcony, reading the news scroll and sipping tea.
“How can you be so calm?” said Brannon, holding up one of the napkins and shaking it violently. “The idiots added a male and female in silhouette!”
“I’m sure it will be an easy fix,” said Valkimir, absently scrolling the news.
“Easy? Are you mad? I had to order these a week ago just to get them today, and the wedding is in two days! Not to mention that the champions aren’t even here yet.”
Brannon paced, unable to catch his breath.
“Brannon? Love?” said Valkimir, sounding concerned.
“Oh, you just sit there,” said Brannon. He was getting dizzy now.
“Brannon, breathe,” said Valkimir, walking toward him.
The room spun, and Brannon passed out.
Brannon awoke to someone lightly slapping his face. When he opened his eyes, he thought that he must be dreaming, for Sir Eldrick, Murland, Gibrig, and Willow surrounded him, staring down at him with big smiles on their faces. Caressa, Akitla, Dingleberry, and even Wendel had come as well.
“You came!” said Brannon.
“That’s what she s—” Wendel began, but got an elbow in the ribs from Caressa.
“Of course we came, you nannywiggins!” said Willow, scooping Brannon up and planting him on his feet.
Brannon hugged the group and stared in disbelief. But then he looked to Murland curiously. “Is…is that a tail?”
“Yeah, it’s a long story.”
“Don’t you mean, it’s a long tale?” said Sir Eldrick, and everyone shared a laugh.
“You guys are way too cheesy,” said Wendel.
“I’m sooo glad to see you,” said Brannon, ignoring Wendel as always. “This wedding has been a nightmare right from the beginning. My gods! You don’t know the headaches I’ve had.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” came the voice of Lyricon, and everyone turned to regard the cecaelia.
“Who invited that guy?” said Wendel. “He smells like fish!”
“And you smell like a rotting corpse,” said Lyricon as he slid toward them on his slippery tentacles. “I thought that the princess was going to have a talk with her father about you.”
“Roddingtons,” said Wendel, spitting on the floor. “Looks like they gave me the shaft twice!”
“The truth is,” said Caressa, “my father could not help Wendel, for the spell cannot be reversed.”
“Who cares about Wendel?” said Brannon. “I’ve got a wedding planned for the day after tomorrow, and
nothing is ready!”
“So,” said Sir Eldrick, shaking Lyricon’s hand. “I suppose that you want us to start the tour after the wedding.”
Lyricon winked. “Right you are, good man. We’ve got twenty-five villages and four cities lined up. And the first stop is…” he said, glancing around with excitement. “Halala!”
“What!” said Brannon, biting his thumbnail. “No way. Valkimir and I intend on spending a week in the Golden Gulf for our honeymoon. We’re already put the deposit down on an ocean-front cabana!”
Lyricon’s eyes darkened. “You were told that the tour would begin on the last day of summer.”
“Well, it’s just going to have to wait.”
“It’s alright, my love,” said Valkimir. “How many days can you really spend lathering lotion on my pecs at the beach?”
Wendel gagged.
“Uh…EVERY day!” said Brannon, quite seriously.
“Be a good little wife now,” said Lyricon, “and listen to your husband.”
“Wife!” said Brannon.
“Listen, Brannon,” said Valkimir. “Perhaps we can all come to an agreement. He wants you to start the tour after the wedding, and you want to act your own part in it…”
Brannon’s face lit up. “Yes!” he said, striding over to Lyricon and cocking a hip. “I’ll go on the tour after the wedding on one…two conditions. First, I play the part of me. I mean seriously, do you think anyone else could pull this off? Second, we will be performing the play that I wrote.”
“Impossible,” said Lyricon. “The actors have been rehearsing for weeks.”
“But, who wrote it?” said Brannon.
“I did,” he said proudly. “I heard most of the story right from the horse’s mouth, and I was there for some of it.”
“You have heard my terms,” said Brannon. “Besides, I was actually there. Who better to write it than me?”
“You all owe me a great deal of money,” said Lyricon, and his face lost all joviality. “I am not here to make a deal. I am here to begin the tour that you all signed on for.”
The Mother of Zuul: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 4) Page 5
