Brannon clicked off the crystal projector.
“Hey!” Murland blurted. “I, uh, I wanted to see if Day-Day came back on.”
“Sure, stud,” said Willow, patting him on the back and offering him a sympathetic smile.
“What’s it going to be, Murland?” said Hinckley.
Murland glanced around at the others, knowing that they would follow him to the ends of the earth and thinking that he didn’t deserve such loyalty. “Alright, you crazy bastards, let’s do it.”
“Very well,” said Hinckley, and he cocked a brow at their negligible attire. “But first, let’s do something about those wings and those ridiculous clothes.”
Chapter 26
The Battle of the Jade Army
The companions came out of the portal on a hillside overlooking the battlefield. Thousands of glowing green Wendels marched in a tight formation with the Mother of Zuul leading them on a ball of jade flame. In the twilight, the army glowed so brightly that they illuminated the clouds above. To the east, the unified armies of Fallacetine marched to meet them.
“Oh boy,” said Gibrig. “This is gonna be bad.”
“We’ve got to take out Zuul before anyone else gets hurt,” said Murland, feeling very guilty that he had put so many people in harm’s way.
“Where is Kazimir?” said Brannon, scanning the sky. “I thought for sure he and that bitch would have shown up by now.”
“Yeah, the way he talked, he was worried that the Mother o’ Zuul would destroy the army,” said Gibrig.
Hinckley scoffed at that. “Kazimir’s only concern is for Kazimir.”
Murland stared at the monstrosity that Ravenwing had become, and his guilt only grew. Zuul rode upon her back as she in turn stood upon the rolling green fireball that left the ground beneath it scorched and dead. He wondered if she were in there somewhere, helpless to free herself from the power of Zuul.
“Headmaster, how do we free Ravenwing?” said Murland, dreading the response that he knew he would get.
“I’m sorry, Murland, but they are now one. There is no killing one without the other.”
“There must be a way.”
“If a way exists, we do not have time to figure it out. Behold, the battle has begun.”
Murland had seen it too. The humans had released a volley of stones, launched by massive catapults. The projectiles landed short of the skeleton army, but they bounced and rolled, hitting the front lines and flattening skeletons by the dozens.
“Come, my young apprentice,” said Hinckley. “Now is the time.”
“What about us?” said Brannon, who stood ready with a handful of seeds and a gleam in his eye. “If you think that we’re just going to stand here with our thumbs up our asses, then you’ve got another thing coming.”
“What you do on your own time is none of my business,” said Hinckley.
“Look!” Sir Eldrick pointed at the skeletal army. “The green skeletons are coming from Wendel. If we can take him out of the equation, at least they will stop multiplying.”
“Excellent idea,” said Hinckley. “You take care of the Wendel creature, and we shall deal with Zuul.”
“Ready, Packy?” said Murland, and the backpack’s wings quivered.
“Ye be careful, Murland,” said Gibrig before giving him a hug.
“Give ‘em hell,” said Sir Eldrick.
“I’ll try.” Murland smiled at his friends, hoping that it wasn’t the last time he saw them.
He leapt into the air before he lost his nerve and set his sights on the Mother of Zuul.
***
“The Champions of the Dragon are still alive,” Hazel noted as she watched the crystal projection of the battlefield and handed Kazimir Zuul’s jade water pipe.
“Figures,” he said, taking a big hit and blowing it out slowly. “Those fools are harder to get rid of than crabs.”
“Perhaps you are just losing your touch.”
“Witch please…I wouldn’t talk if I were you, that looks a lot like Aldous Hinckley flying around with Murland.”
Hazel looked closer. “The son of a bitch faked his death.”
Kazimir took another hit, basking in the magical vibrations around him. He was not as strong as he had been before his soul was so unceremoniously torn from his body by the darklings, but he was alive. Being separated from his body had only been a setback, and now it was time to clean up after the foolish champions’ mistakes. First, he would start by getting Zuul back under control.
Hazel clicked off the projector. “I can’t watch that bitch carry my little Zuul around any longer. I’m going to kill her. Are you ready or not?”
“Hold your horses,” said Kazimir, stiffly pushing himself up off the couch. He bent, grabbed his toes, and pulled. His back cracked in a dozen places.
Hazel helped him into his enchanted under armor and robe and handed him his hat. His wand and staff had been confiscated by the high council, but Kazimir didn’t depend on any one single magical weapon, for that was a weakness of the unprepared. He smiled to himself as Hazel handed him one of his old staffs that he hadn’t seen in decades.
“You saved my things,” he said knowingly.
“Don’t get too full of yourself, hotshot. I wasn’t about to toss a magical staff in the trash.”
She had saved many of his wands as well, and he stashed two of them in his robes before checking himself in the mirror. To his surprise, a nondescript face smiled from inside the image.
“Oh, gods. Do you still collect these stupid things?” he said, checking his reflection.
“You only think they are stupid because they never tell you that you are the prettiest in the land,” said Hazel as she too dressed for battle.
“I hope to the hells it doesn’t tell me I’m the prettiest,” said Kazimir with a smirk. He turned to the mirror and thought of a better question. “Mirror, mirror, on the floor, who does Hazel most adore?”
“Don’t answer that!” she yelled from across the room.
“Kazimir is his name,” said the mirror.
“Hah!” Kazimir turned to grin at Hazel. “Just as I thought.”
“That isn’t fair, you know.”
“Hey, you’re the one with the magic mirror.”
She shook her head, smiling, and walked over to him and kissed him on the lips. Kazimir was old…very old, but he felt the old fire in the loins for the first time in decades when Hazel kissed him.
“You know,” he said as she stroked his long gray hair. “When this is over, I might just have to get some of that Erectus we saw on Fairy Vision.”
“Or you could just reverse your age, say, a century and a half.”
He laughed. “You are technically older than me, dear.”
“Yes, but do I look it?” she asked, pushing out her backside, arching her back, and teasingly running a hand down her voluptuous frame.
He reached out a hand and she slapped it away playfully. “No, no. First dinner, then dessert.”
“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” said Kazimir, turning and opening a portal.
***
Sir Eldrick led the charge down the hill as the others raced to keep up. Brannon had fallen behind, but looking back, Sir Eldrick saw that the prince had turned into a forty-foot-tall vine monster.
“Looks like Brannon’s learned a few new tricks,” Sir Eldrick told Gibrig.
“He sure does look scary. Maybe he’ll scare away the green skeletons.”
“I have a feeling that isn’t going to happen. Come on, this way!”
Sir Eldrick cut to the right and down a steep embankment leading to the battlefield, hoping to flank the skeletal army and fight through to Wendel, who was magically birthing a green clone every other second. But then something caught his eye in the Vhalovian ranks. He stopped dead, causing Gibrig to bump into him.
“What is it, Father?” Akitla asked as she stopped beside him.
“You fool,” he said under his breath as he clearly spotted Kin
g Henry leading the Vhalovian charge.
Brannon stomped past them, seemingly unconcerned with what they were doing.
“What’s the holdup?” said Willow, bouncing on her toes and looking more than ready to thump some skulls with her club.
“You guys get to Wendel. My king needs me,” said Sir Eldrick.
“But…” Gibrig began.
“Watch each other’s backs, and have no mercy on those undead abominations. Do you hear me!”
“Yeah, yeah, Sir Eldrick, I be hearin’ ye,” said Gibrig, looking shaken.
“I’m coming with you,” said Akitla.
Sir Eldrick nodded, and without further hesitation, he sprinted off in the direction of the Vhalovian army.
***
Murland followed Hinckley as the old wizard flew around to flank Zuul and Ravenwing. His mind raced with fear and spells and wards and enchantments, and he wished that they had made some sort of a plan. But that didn’t seem to be Hinckley’s style. For as soon as they had gotten around the jade army, Hinckley shot straight at Zuul, his glowing wand leading the way.
Murland urged Packy to keep up and mentally prepared a protective ward. Zuul suddenly snapped his head back and, pointing, let out a terrible infantile screech. Ravenwing turned them around and lashed out with a spell just as Hinckley let one loose as well. The spells collided and exploded with a deafening boom, and Murland found himself flying through smoke. He suddenly came out of the plume and found himself quickly descending on the Dark Lord.
“Ravenwing!” he screamed over the wind, using his wand to amplify his voice. “You’ve got to fight his influence!”
She cocked her head at him and suddenly unleashed a green fireball from the wand of Kazam.
“Packy!” Murland cried, but the backpack was already banking. Murland unleashed his protective ward, which sparked to life all around them seconds before the fireball exploded.
BOOM!
Murland felt as though he had been punched in the face by an ogre. He spun end over end through the air, seemingly in slow motion, as the world twirled around him. He weakly tried to call out to Packy, but all that came out was drool.
THUD.
He hit the ground hard, and there was a loud snap that came from deep inside his left arm.
“Murland!” someone called out to him, but the voice sounded as though it came from the end of a very long tunnel.
He feebly lifted his head in time to see Ravenwing and the demonic Zuul descending on him.
“Ravenwing…no…” he managed to utter.
She lifted her wand, jade eyes glowing with a hellish light to reflect her malicious grin. The spell erupted from the tip of the wand…
Suddenly Hinckley landed in front of Murland and raised his staff. An energy shield blazed to life, spreading out around them like a dome. The writhing strands of magical green energy stabbed and clawed at the energy shield, but somehow Hinckley held strong. He glanced back at Murland, his face twisted with exertion and urgency. “Do it now!” he cried.
Murland pulled himself to his feet. He called upon the power of magic and sent a great surge through his arm and into the wand. “FULGUR!”
Lightning erupted from the end of the wand with an earthshattering boom. In an instant, the lightning traveled through Hinckley’s shield, through the jade flames, and straight at Ravenwing. She absorbed the blast with the wand of Kazam, which glowed bright green as the power gathered. With a gleeful grin, Ravenwing unleashed the spell. It hit Hinkley’s shield and utterly destroyed it, blasting the wizard back a hundred feet. Murland shot a spell at Zuul, but this too was absorbed by Ravenwing. She grinned maliciously at Murland and slowly raised the wand of Kazam. Murland thought it was the end, but then a deep whooshing sound broke like thunder above him, and Ravenwing was battered by spells as Kazimir and Witch Hazel flew out of a portal.
Chapter 27
Revenge of the Vine Monster
Brannon swung his long vine arm and sent twenty skeletons flying back into their brethren. He saw the flash of light, and his eyes narrowed as he watched Kazimir and Witch Hazel fly out of a portal.
“Hazel!” he screamed, and his rage caused his vine appendages to grow twofold.
He charged through the ranks of undead Wendels, his giant vine feet crushing them where they stood. Many of the little beasts clambered up his vine legs and tried to get at Brannon, housed in the center of the monster’s chest, but the smaller vines found the many intruders and squeezed them until bones cracked and skulls caved in. He barely registered Gibrig and Willow, who had climbed up his back and now rode on his shoulders. They were yelling to him, but in his blind rage, he did not hear what they were saying. He saw and heard only Witch Hazel. She who had killed his beloved Valkimir. She who had torn out Brannon’s heart and burnt it in jade flames.
“Hazel!” he screamed as he charged, cocking back a big green fist and quickly closing the distance between them.
The witch must have heard him, for she turned her broom around and came at him with a glowing wand leading the way. He swatted at her like a bug as she flew by, but he missed, and he saw the victorious grin on her face as she unleashed her spell. The writhing black spell snaked toward him, tore through his defensive vine hand, and would have hit him in the chest, but suddenly Gibrig dropped from his shoulder with his shield held aloft and took the hit. The spell ricocheted off the shield and hit Hazel’s broom, disintegrating it and sending Hazel flying toward the ground.
Brannon started toward her, but Kazimir suddenly landed in front of him and unleashed a giant swath of flame. The vines reeled back on their own accord as the fire devoured Brannon’s green legs and climbed up to singe his ponytail. He felt the pain of every dying leaf, every vine, and screamed in agony as the fire crept higher.
Through the flames he saw an aqua dominus cast a spell in his direction, and mercifully cold water covered him and put out the fire. Brannon’s vine monster staggered as his vision blurred, and like a felled tree, he and his vines hit the ground with a thud.
***
“Brannon!” Gibrig screamed as he came out of his roll.
Willow too had leapt off Brannon when he went up in flames, and now the prince lay among scorched and dead vines, looking to be dead himself.
“Brannon?” Willow called as she and Gibrig ran to his side.
The jade skeletons circled them, but they ignored the danger as they tended to their friend. Gibrig bent and listened, and he faintly heard a weak breath.
“He’s still alive!”
Willow swung her club behind her without looking and shattered an approaching skeleton.
“Not for long if these nannywiggins aren’t dealt with,” she said.
“Get him to safety. I’ll take care o’ Wendel.”
“You sure?” said Willow.
“Trust me.”
She nodded and took up Brannon like a fragile infant before rushing off to the west, away from the armies.
Gibrig rose to his feet, glaring at the dozens of skeletons circling him and staring at him with green, hate-filled eyes.
“Now listen. I got me a magic shield here. And I ain’t wantin’ to hurt ye!” he warned.
A skeleton lunged at him with a spear, which shattered against the golden shield.
“Ye see, now back off!”
The skeletons didn’t seem to mind the danger, for they all surged at once. Gibrig gave a war cry and spun in a circle, pushing his shield out before him and shattering every bone of every skeleton that got in his way. He watched as the bones clanked and clamored to the ground, and he spat rather than sniffled.
“I tried to warn ye,” he said, and he charged in the direction of the real Wendel.
***
Sir Eldrick and Akitla fought their way through the jade army, cracking skulls and splintering arms and legs. His fae blade made easy work of the skeletons, and Akitla’s ice magic stopped them dead in their tracks. But they were fighting through to the Vhalovian side of the army, a
nd there were hundreds of the little Wendel beasts between them and the king. The last Sir Eldrick had seen of him, Henry had been dismounted by a half-dozen skeletons, and the knight’s urgency caused him to fight recklessly, gaining him more than one gash from the occasional lucky skeleton’s sword.
“Akitla, can you get us there faster?” he asked in his desperation.
She turned a skeleton to ice and smashed him with a large icy fist. “There is not enough moisture in the air for me to do much more than what I am doing!”
Sir Eldrick ground his teeth and fought on. He swung his fae blade with abandon, for he had no fear for himself, only fear for his king. Skeletal limbs, backbones, and skulls flew with his every strike. He and his daughter charged through the ranks toward the Vhalovian front, she turning those around them to ice, and he chopping through them with his enchanted blade. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Magestrian cavalry charging toward them, and he turned to Akitla and tackled her to the ground as the horses raced past, tearing through the skeletons as if they were made of glass.
To his utter surprise, not one of the horses trampled them. He pulled Akitla up and found the path to his king clear.
“Hurry,” he said, pulling her along.
A waft of smoky air carrying the stench of blood and death blew over them, and Akitla choked, putting her hand over her nose as they charged through the fray. Sir Eldrick, however, reveled in the smell. It was said that shit never smelled good…unless you were on the battlefield. It was a twisted thought, he knew, but then so was war. Sir Eldrick had known war all his life. First with his father—a silent war filled with wordless cries and bruises and the feeling that your world was only as big as a man’s fist, and secondly, real war, blood and guts and men pissing themselves and calling out for their mothers. The truth of war was that it was a disease. But it was a disease that Sir Eldrick had contracted at an early age. And now here he was, charging alongside his daughter, a girl who surely saw him as a mentor. But rather than show her the good things in life, he had dragged her headfirst into the worst.
The Mother of Zuul: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 4) Page 21
