“She’s creating a hurricane!” Brannon’s highest-ranking general yelled over the tumult.
Brannon ignored the general and barked orders into his speaking stone. “Sail with the storm, caterpillar formation. And for gods sakes, will someone shoot that bitch down!”
“Sire, we’re doomed if we try to sail with the hurricane,” said the general.
Brannon whirled around on the elf and was about to give him a pointy earful, when suddenly a fireball buried the general into the deck with a searing streak of green. The explosion sent Brannon end over end. He cartwheeled through the air, over the side of the ship, and into the ocean.
When he broke through to the surface, Witch Hazel streaked by overhead. She blasted the ships with multiple spells, and the elves retaliated, but the return fire fell pathetically short of the witch, and Brannon punched the water with his fist. He thought of his seeds then, and as the ships burned around him and careened into one another, spinning sickeningly with the storm, Brannon fished his seed pouch from his belt. Witch Hazel flew straight down into the water, bringing the storm with her. She spun beneath the water in wide arks, causing it to churn faster and faster, and suddenly, a whirlpool opened beside Brannon and began sucking him in. He frantically emptied his seeds into the water, and mentally took command of their essence. With a force of will powered by desperation, fear, and rage, Brannon commanded the seaweed to GROW. A thick tangle of weeds ten feet wide erupted beneath him, and even as he slipped over the edge and stared down into the swirling abyss, he forced a vine to shoot across the raging sea and take hold of the rail of the closest ship. He surged through the water hard enough to snap his neck back painfully, but he held on, even commanding the weeds to wrap themselves around him. His arms and legs became encased in the slimy vines, and he stood upon a small island of green as it floated atop the water like a barge. The seaweed took him twenty feet into the air, and the vines around his arms grew longer still.
The ship that he had moored to was suddenly sucked into the growing whirlpool, and Brannon grabbed ahold of another with his vine fingers and watched helplessly as the other ship careened to the bottom of the ocean.
Witch Hazel suddenly shot out of the whirlpool and, cackling, began once again blasting the elven ships as they tried desperately to steer away from the swirling surge.
“Hey bitch!” Brannon cried over the violent wind.
He grabbed ahold of a harpoon from the deck of a ship with his long seaweed arms and willed the vine legs to grow faster. Brannon felt his energy draining fast, but he cared not, for a feeling of power unlike anything he had ever experienced coursed through him. He doubled in size, controlling the mammoth seaweed monster from the center of its chest. Witch Hazel blasted one of the long arms, but Brannon felt no pain. He brought the other around as she flew by, clipping the jade fireball and sending her spiraling out of control.
Another ship fell into the raging whirlpool, and more still fought for control on the verge. To the elves’ credit, even those ships that were doomed continued to fire with wizard bane-tipped arrows and harpoons. Witch Hazel regained control, but even as she did, a streaking blue arrow hit the fireball, causing it to explode. Brannon watched with great satisfaction as the witch flailed through the air like a ragdoll and hit the water at the edge of the whirlpool.
“Oh no you don’t!” he yelled, and he extended his seaweed arm across the expanse and snatched her up.
Witch Hazel gave a terrible shriek then, and the right arm of his seaweed monster shriveled and died. The rotting spell followed every vine to the center, and the great beast that Brannon had created turned to ash beneath him. He fell to the ocean as Witch Hazel sped toward him to intercept. She had somehow conjured another fireball and was charging him with her wand leading the way. There was a small flash, and from the wand grew a ten-foot-long jousting spear. Brannon spun in the air, brandishing his wizard bane-laced dagger, and snarled at the witch as she sped to get him before the water did. Below, the ocean surged, ready to swallow him up. He spun again as the lance came in. It grazed him, catching and tearing his leather armor, but as Witch Hazel flew past, he thrust the dagger into her ribs.
The dagger cut through her magical defenses and buried deep.
The impact jarred Brannon, sending him spinning into the ocean. He hit hard and sank fast, but he swam with all his might back to the surface.
When he broke through the water, he found no sign of Witch Hazel. The storm had died down, and the whirlpool had closed. Now the ships, many of them still smoldering and heeling badly, gently spun around in a wide, slow circle.
“Prince overboard!” someone cried, and Brannon lost consciousness.
Chapter 16
Moral Compass
Murland turned the corner and froze, for there on the other side of the room, lying in a glowing green crib, was the Dark Lord reborn.
“Now’s your chance,” said Sir Eldrick.
Murland turned and glanced at his friends, and he found the courage he needed. He walked slowly toward the crib, ready for a trap to be sprung at any moment. But nothing happened. No dark figures reached out from the shadows. No wards flared to life. And Zuul—he remained sleeping, but he did not look like Murland had imagined him. There were no horns, no glowing red eyes. Zuul was as cute a baby as Murland had ever seen, perhaps the cutest. And…he appeared to be a girl.
“Is that…is that a baby girl?” said Murland.
“Why, why, she don’t look evil at all,” said Gibrig.
“It’s an illusion,” said Sir Eldrick. “Do it, Murland.”
Murland blinked. He rubbed his eyes and felt for the presence of magic, but he could sense none. “Guys, I don’t think this is Zuul. I mean, it’s a girl.”
“It is an illusion, Murland,” Sir Eldrick repeated. “Kill him before he uses some other spell on us.”
Murland stood over the crib, brought the wand of Kazam to bear, and aimed it at the baby. He collected his power in his core, envisioned the deadly spell that he had learned from his book, and guided the energy into his wand.
But he could not strike.
“Murland…” said Sir Eldrick from behind him.
“Awe, but she just be a baby,” said Gibrig.
“Not now, Gib,” Sir Eldrick hissed.
Murland wiped his sweaty forehead, focused on his energy and…
“I can’t,” he said, lowering his wand.
“What?” said Sir Eldrick.
“I can’t. We don’t even know if this is really Zuul. What if it’s a decoy or something? If we kill her…”
“And what if it is Zuul? Murland, need I remind you that he killed millions?”
“I know, I know, but…queen’s sake, we can’t take the chance that this is a real human baby. I sense no magic at all, do you?” he said to Akitla.
“Only coming from you,” she said.
“Of course you can’t sense it,” said Sir Eldrick. “Zuul has powers beyond our comprehension. He is toying with your mind.”
“If he be so powerful, eh, then why don’t he do something to us, instead o’ pretendin’ to be a girl?” said Gibrig.
“And why would Hazel leave him here unattended?” said Murland.
“If you can’t do it, then step aside,” said Sir Eldrick as he unsheathed his fae blade.
“Eldrick, no!” cried Gibrig.
“Step aside, Gibrig!”
The baby stirred, and everyone froze and waited. But then she cooed, stuck her thumb in her mouth, and settled in again. Sir Eldrick turned a dangerous glare on Murland and Gibrig.
“I don’t know what spell has gotten ahold of you two, but this is what we came here to do.”
“But, she’s just a baby. It ain’t right,” said Gibrig.
“He’s right,” said Murland. “We cannot murder a baby, not knowing for sure if it is Zuul.”
“Really?” said Sir Eldrick. “And would you not smash the egg of Drak’Noir if you could go back in time to before she atta
cked Fallacetine? Even if there was a shadow of doubt, wouldn’t it be worth the risk? Look, I’m as pro-life as the next person, but this is different.”
“No, it’s not,” said Murland. “We are not assassins, we are heroes. And heroes don’t kill babies on the assumption that they are someone else. It would be murder.”
Sir Eldrick shook his head. “You are mad, step aside!”
“No!” cried Gibrig, and the little girl’s eyes opened wide.
“It’s awake!” said Willow, raising her club to strike, but not before Gibrig gave her a bump with his shield that sent her skidding across the floor.
“Sorry!” said the dwarf.
Sir Eldrick swung his fae blade, but Murland hit him with a spell that paralyzed him.
Akitla produced a long ice spear in a heartbeat and pointed it at Murland, glancing over at Sir Eldrick.
The baby began to cry. It wasn’t a wailing cry, but a soft, helpless kind of whimpering, like she was afraid. The sound broke Murland’s heart.
Akitla’s expression softened, and she began to lower her weapons. Murland reversed the spell he had put on Sir Eldrick, and the knight glared at him.
Murland hurriedly began casting another spell, one that was meant to put the subject in a deep trance-like sleep, and he unleashed it on the infant. The babe closed her eyes and gave a contented coo.
“We are going to bring this child before the council of high wizards,” said Murland. “They will be able to determine whether this is indeed Zuul.”
“Murland, my friend, I beseech you,” said Sir Eldrick. “We cannot in good conscience let this demon live.”
“I cannot let you kill her. Like I said, we are not assassins.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“If we kill babies,” said Gibrig, coming to stand beside Murland with his enchanted shield. “Then we are no better than the bad guys.”
“You are so naïve,” said Sir Eldrick. “The world isn’t black and white!”
“I am the one who is said to defeat Zuul,” said Murland. “Well, then if this is really him, I will be defeating him by bringing him before the council.”
“Then what do we do now? Try to smuggle the child all the way to the College of Kazam?”
“Not the college. We’re going to bring him right to Azkatraz.”
“And how do you expect to do that?”
“With a little help from a friend,” said Murland, and he raised a small gem to his lips. “Ravenwing, I need your help.”
A half hour later, Murland and the others stood waiting by the rocky coast.
“She said that she would be here, just relax,” said Murland.
Sir Eldrick paced the rocky shore of Dark Island, glancing back at the Twisted Tower every other second.
“This is lunacy,” he said for the hundredth time.
Murland held the sack, holding the swaddled baby like a suitcase. She was still asleep, and Murland knew that the spell he had cast was strong. But was it strong enough? Surely if this was Zuul, he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be cast upon.
“Look!” said Akitla, pointing west.
Murland squinted to see what she was pointing at, and he caught a shimmering glimpse of something far out over the water. Suddenly the small sparkle flared to life, and an elliptical portal opened up.
“It’s a bird!” said Willow.
“It be a dragon!” said Gibrig.
“No, it’s Ravenwing.” Murland raced to the edge of the shore as the sorceress soared over the water on wings of black.
“You called?” she said, eyeing the Twisted Tower warily and landing.
“Thank the gods,” said Murland. “Witch Hazel could return at any moment. Please, I need you to whoosh us to Azkatraz Island.”
Ravenwing laughed. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.”
“Oh,” said Ravenwing, looking disappointed. “When you said that you needed me, I thought that you meant…Anyway, let me get this straight. You want me, a wanted sorceress pirate, to voluntarily teleport myself to Azkatraz?” She glanced at the bundle. “Why?”
Murland glanced at the others, wondering if they could trust her. Sir Eldrick slowly shook his head. “Because…Someone is trying to kill Kazimir’s body, and I have important news to tell the high council.”
“So scry them.”
“I can’t. I have to tell them this in person.”
Ravenwing eyed the bundle again. “What’s in the bag?”
Murland shrugged. “Spell ingredients.”
“Show me.”
Murland sighed. “Fine,” he said, and he opened the sack.
“What’s with the baby?” she said, seemingly intrigued.
“She’s—” Murland began, but Sir Eldrick promptly cut him off.
“Do you sense any magic coming from the babe?”
Murland wanted to know the truth as bad as any of them, and he offered Ravenwing the bundle. She didn’t take it, but extended her hand and closed her eyes.
“None,” she said at length. “Why?”
“We think it might be Zuul,” said Willow.
“We told Murland we should kill it, but he refuses,” Sir Eldrick added.
“I’ve got it subdued, whatever it is. But I still want to bring it to Azkatraz to be tested. Please, I have to get her to Azkatraz before Witch Hazel returns.”
“Are you guys out of your mind?” she said, looking at each of them as though they were indeed bonkers. “You were going to kill a baby girl because you thought she was Zuul??”
“Don’t get too worked up, lady, it still could be Zuul.,” said Sir Eldrick.
“You say that you’re wanted?” said Murland, trying another angle. “Well then, imagine how forgiving the high council will feel if you deliver an innocent baby to them, one that was kidnapped by Hazel herself. Better yet, if this baby turns out to be Zuul, I daresay that they’d give you a pardon.”
Ravenwing considered that, and she appeared to be intrigued. “Go on.”
“I’ll tell them that it would have been impossible without your help. I have a lot of pull with the council now, you know, and I will demand that they pardon you of your supposed crimes.”
She pondered the offer, and at length she nodded. “Alright then, you crazy bastard. I’ll do it.”
Murland breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he said and glanced at the others. “You guys with me on this?”
Sir Eldrick shook his head, though he smiled. “I still think you’re crazy, but what choice do we have? We can’t stay here.”
“What about Brannon and the fleet? Witch Hazel went after ‘em near on an hour ago,” said Gibrig.
“They’re on their own for now, buddy,” said Murland. “But once this is all said and done, we’ll find Brannon. I promise.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” said Willow.
“Almost there…” said Ravenwing, waving her hands around and murmuring an intricate spell. “Wait, something isn’t right.” She studied Murland, and then Sir Eldrick. “Is that…are you in possession of wizard bane?”
“Yeah, we needed it to break into the tower.”
Ravenwing took three strides backward, eyeing Murland warily. “You’ve got to get rid of it. I cannot teleport someone carrying wizard bane.”
Murland glanced at Sir Eldrick, and the knight reluctantly shouldered off the quiver and buried it under some rocks. “Could come in handy someday,” he said when the others looked to him quizzically.
“Okay,” said Ravenwing, stepping forward once more. “Join hands.”
The companions clasped hands, and Murland took Ravenwing’s. His body began to tingle all over, and suddenly there was a loud whoosh. Murland felt himself being pulled along by an impossibly powerful force, and he feared that he might be ripped apart by the spell. Streaking colors sped by, and the incredible whooshing sound intensified until it whistled like a boiling kettle. When he thought that surely he couldn’t take anymore, he sud
denly came to a stop.
Murland blinked and was relieved to see that everyone had made it in one piece. He glanced around dizzily, and his mind screamed a warning. They were on the deck of a ship…a pirate ship!
“It’s a trap!” cried Sir Eldrick, and his fae blade sang from its sheath.
Murland went for his wand, but the clever Ravenwing had whooshed them right onto a net. Someone barked an order, and the net sprang upward, bringing the companions with it and hoisting them ten feet into the air. Sir Eldrick sliced the netting and fell through. He landed on his feet and cocked back to strike the closest pirate, but Ravenwing was there with her glowing wand, and she hit him with a spell that left him paralyzed and standing in mid-strike.
“You, backstabbing, bitch,” he struggled to say.
“Well, well, well,” came a voice that Murland remembered all too well.
Murland watched through the ropes as Captain B Ripps strode down the steps from the poop deck. He unsheathed his sword and put it to Sir Eldrick’s neck. “You know the drill,” he said with a grin. “You make one move and the knight bites it.”
“Ravenwing…why?” said Murland, trying to buy them time and think of something.
“The nannywiggins sold us out to Ripps,” said Willow.
“I can see that,” said Murland.
“Drop your weapons,” said Captain Ripps.
“You should just do what he says, Murland,” said Ravenwing. “You have no chance of escape.”
“We can’t be droppin’ nothin’ while we be in this nettin’,” said Gibrig apologetically.
Captain Ripps nodded to the men manning the ropes. “One wrong move, and the knight gets it.”
The net was unceremoniously dropped, and the companions hit the deck with a thud that left the baby screaming.
“What in the seven hells is that?” said Ripps, pressing the blade to Sir Eldrick’s neck.
“That is baby Zuul,” said Ravenwing, and she shot a spell at the bundle.
Murland jumped, surprised by the sudden spell, but then he gasped and dropped the bundle. For the baby had changed. Gone were the rosy cheeks, the tussle of light hair, and the innocent cooing. They were replaced by glowing red eyes, pointed teeth, hooved feet, and an ear-piercing cry.
The Mother of Zuul: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 4) Page 13
