***
“It’s over, son. Let her go,” said Hinckley.
Murland pulled himself up, and through teary eyes he surveyed the battleground.
“Where is Zuul?”
“He was taken by Kazimir,” said Hinckley as he put away his wand and limped forward to console his apprentice.
Murland turned from him, looked to Ravenwing, and staggered away from them both.
“I have failed.”
“We all fail. But not all failures are final.”
“I was never meant to defeat Zuul,” said Murland, stopping to take in the smoldering battlefield as the hot wind wafted over him with the stench of death. “I don’t have it in me.”
“Murland…”
“NO!” said Murland, spinning around and almost falling. He threw his wand at Hinckley, and his spell book as well. “Take them. Use them. Give them to one more worthy. I don’t care.”
“Apprentice Kadabra!” Hinckley bellowed, seemingly growing taller and darker.
Murland ignored him and turned to leave, but Hinckley was there in front of him in a flash. “I cannot let you do this.”
“What are you going to do, hmm? Force me to be a wizard?” Murland’s rage surprised even himself, but he reveled in it, for it was what he had wanted to say for a long time. “I’m not a great wizard. I never was. Leave me alone,” he said, and he pushed past Hinckley.
“You cannot turn your back on your fate!” Hinckley called behind him.
“Watch me.”
Chapter 29
Stepping out of a Champion’s Shadow
“Day-Day here with Fairy Vision…”
The little pixie looked back at the hundreds of dead littering the battlefield, and she wiped an eye.
“It has been a long-long and terrible battle-battle-fight-fight, but alas, the Mother of Zuul has been defeated-beat-beat. I’m here live with Willow Muckmuck of Fire Swamp. Willow, what can you tell us about the battle?”
“Uh…It sucked,” said Willow, tearing off a piece of jerky and peering into the camera. She found herself wondering, if she looked close enough, could she see the people at home?
“The public is dying to know-know…will the Champions of the Dragon go after Zuul?”
“I guess. Murland is said to be the only one who can defeat him.”
Day-Day glanced at the crystal with a grin, knowing that she had an exclusive story. “Please-please elaborate…”
“Well,” said Willow, pulling an apple from her cleavage and chomping into it thoughtfully. “Murland mended the wand of Kazam, right, and he has Allan’s spell book as well. And the prophecy says that he who can mend the wand will defeat Zuul. So, yeah, I think that you will be seeing more of us.”
Day-Day looked to the camera with eyes ablaze. “Can you tell us any more about the champions’ plans?”
Willow rubbed her stomach. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m ‘bout ready for dinner.”
“Thank you, Willow Muckmuck.” Day-Day turned to the crystal, looking solemn. “With Fairy Vision, I’m Day—”
“Wait!” Willow cried, and she grabbed the speaking stone. “Before we go, I gotta give a shout-out to Ma, Pa, little Fern, and Ray-Ray!” Willow did her best to form an F and an S with her hands, flashing them at the crystal. “Fire Swamp for life, bitches!”
“And…cut.”
“Awe,” said Gibrig, who had come to stand beside her at some point. “I wanted to give a shout-out to Pap, and me sweetheart.”
“Sorry, Gib,” said Willow, rubbing her tummy. “Ye got anything to eat? For Great Turtle’s sake, we won. Where’s the feast?”
“It ain’t no victory to be celebratin’,” said Gibrig, extending his hand out toward the battlefield. “Look at how many we lost.”
“Where’s Murland and Sir Eldrick?”
Gibrig shrugged.
Willow and Gibrig found some elves and put the unconscious Brannon in their care before setting about the camps looking for Sir Eldrick and Murland. Willow entered the ogre camp like she owned the place and grabbed a rack of ribs that were steaming on the spit. She took a bite of meat and bone and glanced around at the awestruck ogres, some green, some red, and some blue.
“Any of you blokes seen Murland or Sir Eldrick?”
A big blue ogre with knotted shoulders larger than Gibrig’s head stood. He was well over ten feet tall, and he looked down on Willow as though she were dessert. “None like that been around here. But you seem to have found the right spot. Come here!” He pulled Willow onto his lap as he fell into a chair.
“Hey now…” said Gibrig.
“It’s alright, Gib,” said Willow, waving him off and seemingly enjoying being devoured by the ogre’s big arms. “You sure you ain’t seen them?” she asked the ogre. “They be Champions of the Dragon. Like me and Gib here.”
“That little snack is a champion?” said one of the ogres, scratching a tusk from which dripped a long bead of drool.
“Aye, I be a champion!” said Gibrig, bringing his golden shield to bear. “And ye best remember that! Now, we be looking for Sir Eldrick, tall knight o’ Vhalovia, might be…might be drunk. And a lanky wizard who probably be lookin’ solemn.”
“I found what I was looking for,” said the ogre who had snatched up Willow as he grabbed her plump backside.
Gibrig offered his best big-eyes at Willow.
She shook her head, excused herself from the ogre’s grip with a long burp that was sure to make the others jealous, and followed Gibrig to the Magestrian camp.
“You know, you’re being a real spagina blocker.”
Gibrig turned to regard her with wide eyes. “A what?”
“Never mind,” she said, rolling her eyes and moving toward the Magestrian table. She helped herself to a bit of lamb and said, “Y’all seen Murland around?”
“Willow, is it?” said a man with shiny armor and a long, twisted mustache that looked to have been given hours of attention.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
“Ha! Good one.”
Gibrig and Willow offered the man a deadpan stare.
“Tough crowd,” he said, animatedly pulling his collar. When they gave no reaction to his antics, he sighed and pointed. “I saw him go that way, and he was followed by that famous Hinckley fellow.”
“Thanks,” said Willow before grabbing half a pheasant and continuing in the direction the man had indicated.
Gibrig ran up beside her then and slapped the food into the dirt.
“Now look what you’ve done,” Willow protested, and she began to bend to pick it up.
“Listen,” said Gibrig sternly. “Ye only eat too much because ye be too worried, but ye ain’t knowin’ how to be dealin’ with it. Rather than stuffin’ yer face with food, just say what be on yer mind. Ye ain’t gotta be actin’ so tough all the time.”
Willow scoffed, but then she bent her head and began to weep.
“It be alright,” said Gibrig, trying to keep it together as well.
Suddenly Willow burst out with laughter and slapped Gibrig in the balls. “Hah! I got you good!”
Gibrig let out a squeak, grabbed his family jewels, and fell over.
“Oh, jeeze.” Willow tried to console him. “Didn’t mean to be so rough.”
Gibrig pulled himself together, swatting away her hand and getting up on his own. “That,” he said painfully, “wasn’t nice at all.”
He glowered at her and stormed off toward the Magestrian camp.
“Awe, Gib, I was just playing around,” said Willow as she raced after him.
But Gibrig wasn’t listening. He had spotted Murland and yelled his name as he limped toward him.
“Hey guys, good to see you made it through the fight. I was worried about you,” said Murland. He sounded quite the opposite of one who had just won a battle.
“What’s wrong with you?” said Willow, biting off a piece of jerky and warily eyeing Gibrig beside her.
�
�Ravenwing died.”
“Awe, I be sorry, Murland,” said Gibrig.
“I killed her.”
“Oh…” Gibrig bowed his head, unsure of what to say to that.
“You had little choice,” said Willow, but that did not seem to do the wizard any good.
Gibrig hugged Murland, patting him on the back. “If ye wanna talk ‘bout it, I—”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I want to make sure that Brannon and Sir Eldrick are alright, then I’m leaving for Magestra. I can’t do this anymore. Every time I try to do good, I screw up. I’m no wizard.”
“What?” said Willow, itching her left tusk. “But you’ve got great magix.”
“Not without the wand and spell book of Kazam I don’t, and I never deserved them in the first place.”
“Murland…ye just be feelin’ bad right now is all. Ye’ll feel different soon, and ye’ll see that ye be one o’ the best wizards in the world.”
“No, I’m done.”
“There you are,” said Sir Eldrick as he and Akitla joined them.
“Eldrick, I heard about the king,” said Murland. “I’m sorry.”
Sir Eldrick gave a deep nod. “I heard about Ravenwing as well. I’m sorry, son. She will be missed. If it hadn’t been for her, we never would have gotten the darklings on our side.”
“Murland says he is quitting questing, quitting being a wizard,” said Willow, waiting expectantly for Sir Eldrick to put the wizard straight.
“If that is his decision, then that is his decision,” said Sir Eldrick, surprising them all.
“That’s it?” said Willow indignantly. “I thought for sure you would have an encouraging speech at the ready.”
Sir Eldrick shrugged. “Sorry, Willow. I can understand all too well Murland’s motives. Come on, Brannon is awake, but he’s very ill. He wants to see you all.”
Chapter 30
Sweet Dreams
Brannon lay on a cot in his tent, thinking about Valkimir. Beside him, a healer was grinding something acrid-smelling with mortar and pestle, but Brannon just wished he would go away. His head was throbbing and his ears rang maddeningly. There was no strength left in his body, and all he wanted was blissful sleep.
“Where is Weaver?” he asked the healer.
“He has been sent for, and he will help you to sleep. But first you must take your medicine.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
The healer peeled his eyes from his work reluctantly and offered Brannon a sympathetic smile—one reserved for the dying. “You greatly overexerted yourself when you created the vine monster…thrice. You are lucky to be alive.”
“Surely it cannot be that bad.”
“Prince Brannon, surely you understand the severity of Dominus Fever.”
“Yes,” said Brannon before going into a coughing fit. He groaned and lay back on his pillow. “But I never thought that I would get it. I have been performing floral magic for decades.”
“Yes, well, we all have our limits, and it seems that you went well beyond yours. Didn’t you recognize the signs? Headaches, ringing in the ears, nosebleeds?”
“I saw the signs. But I had no choice,” said Brannon.
In truth, Brannon hadn’t cared. He had been so consumed by vengeance that he hadn’t been able to stop, even when he knew it was killing him.
The healer put three drops of a sparkling tincture in the pestle and returned to his grinding, which to Brannon sounded like a giant wheel rolling over bones.
“You will need rest, and lots of it. And you must refrain from using floral magic, perhaps forever.”
“Forever?”
“I’m afraid so. Being hit by that wizard’s spell while at the limits of your power should have killed you. And while you are lucky to be alive, I am afraid that there will be permanent damage.”
Brannon’s vision blurred with tears as he stared up at the ceiling. First, he had lost Valkimir, now he had lost his floral magic, possibly forever. What more was there left to lose?
“Open up,” said the healer, spooning his disgusting concoction into Brannon’s mouth. The taste should have repulsed him, but Brannon didn’t care—he didn’t care about anything anymore.
“I will check on Weaver’s location,” said the healer with another of his infuriatingly sympathetic smiles.
Brannon said nothing; he just stared. The pain in his head was only matched by that in his heart, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep—to slip into the void of dreams where he might see Valkimir again.
“Brannon?” came Sir Eldrick’s voice, and Brannon groaned. He didn’t want them to see him like this.
“Heya, buddy,” said Willow as she and Sir Eldrick, Murland, and Gibrig gathered around the bed.
“I’m glad you all made it out alive,” he said weakly.
Gibrig gave a nervous little laugh. “We may be fools, but we be lucky fools.”
“So, what’s wrong with you, eh?” Willow asked.
“I…” Brannon fought the tears welling in his eyes. “I pushed it too far I guess. They say that I have Dominus Fever.”
“What’s that? You break your magix?”
“Something like that.”
“Awe, you’ll get better soon,” said Murland, and he too wore a sympathetic smile.
Brannon said nothing. He wished that they would leave him alone to his misery.
“Witch Hazel is dead,” said Sir Eldrick. “I thought you would want to know that.”
“Yeah,” said Willow with a snort. “Killed by Zuul.”
“I should have been the one to kill her,” Brannon grumbled.
“Well, she be dead,” said Gibrig. “And the jade army be defeated. That’s all that really matters, eh?”
When Brannon did not respond, Willow let out a huff. “What’s wrong with you, Brannon, huh? You took down the Twisted Tower, and you saved our asses from Captain Ripps. We beat the jade army, and sure, Kazimir and Zuul got away, but we won!”
“Valkimir is still dead. I can never use floral magic again. Forgive me for not jumping with joy.”
“Sorry, Brannon,” said Willow, hanging her head. “I’m just trying to look on the bright side.”
“There is no bright side. Not anymore.”
“Ye ain’t meanin’ that,” said Gibrig, getting quite choked up.
“Please, leave me alone,” said Brannon. “I just want to sleep.”
“Sure thing, Brannon,” said Murland, squeezing his hand. “If there’s anything you need, you just give a holler, alright?”
Brannon rolled over to face the wall as tears streamed down his face. He heard the companions leave, and another person entered.
“You called for me?” said Weaver.
Brannon turned to him. He could hardly speak, so tortured was his heart. “I want to sleep forever. I want you to make me dream of Valkimir.”
“Sire…”
“That is an order from your prince!” Brannon screamed, and the effort made him dizzy. “Please, just do as I say.”
“As you wish, my prince,” said Weaver, and he laid a hand on Brannon’s forehead.
Chapter 31
Until Our Roads Meet Again
Sir Eldrick and the others waited outside Brannon’s tent for a half hour. Finally, the strange elf emerged, looking grave.
“How is he?” Sir Eldrick asked.
“I have put him in a deep sleep, per his request,” said Weaver.
“I bet all he be needin’ be some rest,” said Gibrig with a hopeful smile.
Weaver nodded gravely. “Only time will tell.”
“Is there anything that we can do?” Murland asked.
“I am afraid not. I will be monitoring him in the dream world. Rest assured that he is in good hands.”
They all thanked him and left the elven camp. The ogres had already left for the swamps, and the human armies were gearing up as well. The dead had been collected and burned, but there were no jade skeletons to dispose of, as they had
turned to dust shortly after Ravenwing died. King Henry’s wagon was adorned with flowers and set out with an escort of knights.
“My king is being taken home,” said Sir Eldrick. “Akitla and I must go now.”
“But, what about Drak’Noir’s portal?” said Willow, glancing at them all. “We have a responsibility to try to close it.”
“It is beyond our power,” said Sir Eldrick.
“Brannon is the only one who can’t fight,” Willow reminded them. “Murland, you still got your magix. There must be a way.”
“I’ve given up wizardry, you know that.”
“Sure, I know that. You’ve given up. Well, you know what? That’s just great! Brannon’s given up, you’ve given up…for Great Turtle’s sake, what’s wrong with you people?”
“You didn’t lose anyone!” Murland suddenly yelled. “You don’t know what it’s like!”
“Come on now,” said Gibrig. “Ain’t no reason to be fightin’.”
“I’m not the one yelling at people,” said Willow sullenly.
“Look,” said Murland, trying to calm himself. “Hinckley and the others will deal with the portal, like they should have done long ago. It isn’t our responsibility.”
“Sure,” said Willow. “You just keep telling yourself that, bud. And what about the jade tower? We let Kazimir out, and he’s probably already moved into his new lair. I suppose that isn’t our responsibility either.”
Murland said nothing.
Willow kicked the dirt and cursed. “You know that you are destined to defeat Zuul, and you—”
“I tried!” said Murland. “And now Ravenwing is dead! So I guess the prophecy is a crock of shit.”
“Ye ain’t believin’ that,” said Gibrig.
“I do believe it, and I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”
“You got anything to say?” Willow asked Sir Eldrick expectantly.
Sir Eldrick studied Murland before shrugging at Willow. “If Murland is destined to defeat Zuul, then one day, perhaps he will.”
The Mother of Zuul: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 4) Page 23
