"Neev, oh Neev, you're alive," Romy said. "I love you so much."
He looked over her shoulder and gasped. "Jamie!"
His little sister ran there. Three elves stood at her sides, one with a wand, the other with a dagger, and the third with a bow. They were fighting grunters in an alleyway. Neev ran to help them, cast fireballs, and soon the grunters lay dead. More howled across the town, filling every street.
"Jamie, we're leaving!" Neev said. "To Barley Gate. Come on!"
Blood splashed Jamie's armor and blade. "We can't abandoned the town!" she said.
Neev gestured around him. Hundreds of grunters covered the roofs and filled every street. "If we stay, we die! We'll continue the fight in the forest. Now run!"
The five Bullies ran, reunited at last, and the three elflings ran with them. Fire burned all around, and grunters leaped from every alley and doorway. The companions' blades, arrows, and magic flew. Grunters fell dead before them.
When Neev looked back toward the hill, he saw Madrila standing again, laughing and shouting. Her voice rang over the town.
"Run and hide, Bullies!" she shouted and laughed. "You cannot escape me. Your town is mine! Your people are my slaves! And I am coming for you. You will die, Bullies. You will die in pain."
Romy growled and made to run toward the hill. Neev held her shoulder.
"Not now, Romy. She's got hundreds of monsters here. Into the forest! We'll find another way."
They ran through the streets until they reached the south gate. Ten grunters waited there, growling and grunting and howling for blood. Arrows flew, blades swung, and the grunters died. The Bullies raced into the forest, the fire and screams rising behind them.
As he ran between the trees, Neev's eyes stung; from tears or smoke, he did not know. They ran for an hour, maybe more. They ran until the roar of fire, the smell of blood, and the screams of death faded behind. Finally they collapsed in a forest clearing, shivering, wounded, and frightened.
Neev lay in the grass, his robes seared and torn, his body aching and blistering. Romy curled up against him, embraced him, and cried against his chest. Scruff, Cobweb, and Jamie huddled together, as did the elflings.
It began to rain and wind howled. The night stretched into a nightmare of pain, cold, and darkness.
Chapter Eleven
Bulldog
Madrila walked through Burrfield, fingers tingling.
I'm home, she thought. For the first time in my life, I'm home. Here is where I was born. Here is where my mother abandoned me. Burrfield. Her breath shuddered in her lungs, and her eyes stung.
She looked at all the shops, the tavern, the church, the cozy houses. The town smoldered now, and blood splashed its streets, but Madrila could see its former beauty; Burrfield had been a storybook town.
I could have grown up here, she thought. I could have been raised happy, in a warm house, surrounded with family and friends. Her belly ached and she could barely breathe. She thought of all her years of pain—cowering from Friar Robert, living in the forest, wandering the world scared and alone. Meanwhile, her siblings—the freakish giant Scruff, the smug twerp Neev, and the runt Jamie—grew up in this perfect place, happy and protected.
I suffered while they lived in comfort. And now they suffer. She clenched her fists. Now everyone in Burrfield will suffer like I did.
"It's beautiful," she whispered, looking around her. She took a deep breath and nodded. "Beautiful."
Willow scurried by her side, struggling to keep up on shorter legs. Her purple robes swirled around her. Their pots, pans, blankets, and other belongings rattled over her back.
"Indeed, my lady!" the apprentice panted. "This is much better than living in the forest. Burrfield is a beautiful, quaint little town. Ooh, look, they have a toy shop!"
Madrila spun toward her, snarling. She clutched Willow's cheeks and squeezed them, digging her fingernails into the flesh.
"Do you think I care about toy shops? Do you think I care about quaint beauty?" She gestured at a few smoldering houses, their roofs burnt and their walls blackened, and to fresh graves at the church down the road. "This fire, and this death, and this fear... these are beautiful. Do you understand, Willow?"
Willow nodded, eyes wide with fear. She attempted a weak cackle. "I love seeing fire and... uhm, graves." She sneaked a yearning glance at the toy shop, then quickly looked at her feet.
Madrila sighed and shoved her apprentice aside. "I don't know why I bother with you, Willow. If you weren't so good at cleaning, laundry, and cooking, I'd have gotten rid of you ages ago."
They kept walking through the town. Fifty grunters marched around them, armed with spears and swords from Burrfield's armory. Helmets wobbled on their warty heads. More grunters manned every street corner, standing at attention. No humans walked outside. They either hid indoors in what houses still stood, or lay buried in the graveyard.
When they reached Friar Hill, Madrila looked up at the cottage that rose there. She smiled. It was a large house, the largest in town. The Bullies' house. Grunters lived there now; she could hear their cacophony of grunting all the way down here. Madrila had considered moving into the house herself—the ultimate insult for the Bullies—but she craved more than clay walls and a vegetable garden. Why settle for a house, when she could live in a castle? They kept walking.
"Ooh, pretty!" Willow said when they saw Fort Rosethorn ahead. "Roses! I mean—" She swallowed when Madrila glared. "I mean, look at those strong towers, and uhm... evil bricks."
The fortress rose atop a hill, roses growing over its crumbling walls. It wasn't much of a castle, Madrila thought. She had seen castles that would dwarf this place. But its walls were stone. Its towers could view the entire town. Its parapets could hold a small army.
"Our new home," Madrila said. She laughed evilly. Willow tried a cackle too, though it sounded more like a giggle.
They climbed the hill, robes swishing, until they reached the fort. Dozens of grunters manned the fortress walls and gates. They bowed to Madrila, grunted profusely, and pulled open the portcullis. Inside the courtyard, a hundred more of the warty beasts sat playing dice and chewing on bones.
"Grunters!" Madrila shrieked.
The green, lumpy creatures grunted and scrambled to their feet. They kicked their dice and bones aside and struggled to form rank. It seemed to take them ages, Madrila thought as she stood, hands on her hips. Finally they stood in formation, the odd grunt rising from them.
"Better," she said. "But not good enough."
She drew her wand and pointed at a random grunter. Lightning bolts flew, and the grunter screamed and crumpled up; it looked like an invisible hand crumpling green paper. Soon nothing remained of the grunter but a wrinkly green ball. Madrila kicked it aside.
"You will stand at attention faster next time!" she said. "Or more will die."
"Yeah!" Willow added.
Inside the main hall, grunters stood along the walls, holding swords. Blood still stained the floor. The doors leading underground were barred.
"How are the prisoners?" Madrila asked her chief grunter.
The beast stood seven feet tall, his skin a landscape of green warts. His red eyes blinked, and when he spoke, Madrila saw rows of serrated teeth.
"A few tried to break out," he said. "A few died."
Madrila nodded. "Excellent. Keep the rest alive, but keep them underground."
She had converted the cellars, armory, and other underground rooms into a great dungeon. Over a hundred men lay there, the defenders of Burrfield. She could hear their muffled screams.
"Let us out, witch!" one shouted, voice deep. "I'll break you apart, woman! Come fight me!"
Madrila smiled. "Lord Bramblebridge is a loud one. Bring him to me. I will teach him a thing or two."
The grunter nodded and barked a couple orders. Two more grunters unlocked the door and stepped underground. They screeched and Bramblebridge bellowed.
"Let me out, foul beasts! Unchain me! Fi
ght me like men!"
Standing behind her, Willow peeked into the cellar and gulped. "My lady, is it wise to let him out?"
Madrila snorted. "Surely you're not afraid of him, are you?"
The apprentice shivered and shook her head wildly. She was pale, and her bottom lip trembled.
The grunters emerged from the dungeon, dragging Bramblebridge. The burly lord stood shorter than Madrila, but twice as wide. His chest was like a wheelbarrow. His cheeks were puffed and red. His orange mustache bristled, and sweat glistened on his bald head. His arms were all muscle, made for swinging swords, and now chained behind his back. He wore armor splashed with blood.
"I'll kill the lot of you!" he bellowed, spattering saliva. "I'll tear you all apart!" He saw Madrila and his eyes widened. "The witch!"
Steam rose from his ears. He lowered his head, broke free from the grunters holding him, and charged toward her.
Willow squeaked in fright. Madrila pointed her wand and magic flew.
Her magic hit Bramblebridge. It swirled around him, raising smoke and light.
"What the blazes!" Bramblebridge bellowed from inside the swirling ball of light and smoke. "Damn you, witch!"
The magic raised him, spun him around, and knocked him down. The smoke dispersed. Where a burly man had stood, a bulldog now barked. The dog looked remarkably like Bramblebridge, with the same broad chest, jowly cheeks, and even the same orange mustache.
Madrila uttered another spell, and a collar appeared on the bulldog, then a chain that bound him to the wall. The dog kept barking wildly, but could not free himself.
"Ooh, puppy!" Willow whispered, then saw Madrila glare and looked away. "Evil puppy?"
Leaving the bulldog and grunters in the craggy hall, Madrila walked upstairs into the tower. The staircase spiralled and finally reached a round chamber. Madrila stepped inside and found a bed, table, and shelves.
"Bramblebridge lived here," she said. "Willow! Go find fresh sheets for the bed, fetch a broom, and bring me some supper."
Willow gazed at the large bed; it was a good seven feet wide, large enough for several people.
"Do I sleep here too?" she asked.
Madrila laughed. "But you loved the bulldog so much, didn't you? I think, Willow, you would be much happier sleeping in the kennels." She pointed out the window at the kennels below; barking rose from them.
Willow sighed and left the room, head low. Madrila stood by the window and looked over the town. Houses still smoldered. Bodies were still being buried. The Bullies were nowhere in sight. Madrila took a deep breath, nodded, and smiled.
Run, Bullies, she thought. Hide and suffer. I will find you... and you will die.
* * * * *
"I'm hungreeee," Scruff said and rubbed his belly.
"I'm booooored," Romy whined and stamped her feet.
"I'm pissed off!" Jamie shouted and swung her sword.
"I am da vewy m-m-modew of a modewn m-m-majow—" Cobweb said, blew out her breath, and gave up. "Tongue twistews awe hawd!"
Neev clutched his aching head and groaned. "You guys are driving me crazy. Enough! Quiet! I'm trying to think, and I can't with this racket."
Nobody seemed to hear him. Scruff's stomach grumbled as loud as a thunderstorm. Romy whined, pouted, and kept trying to tug Neev's monkey tail (a remnant of his last spell). Cobweb was practicing her tongue twisters ("P-p-petew peppew p-p-picked a peppew... see, Scwuff, I'm getting bettew!"). Jamie was grumbling and swinging her sword, cursing Madrila and vowing to slice her into ribbons. The only quiet ones were the three elflings; they huddled by a tree, watching the Bullies with wide eyes.
Neev paced the forest floor. Trees rustled around him, their leaves falling, their branches holding squirrels and robins. His body still ached from Madrila's lightning; his skin sported bruises and blisters.
"What do we do now?" he asked himself. "Madrila has hundreds of grunters. She probably rules in Fort Rosethorn now, protected behind stone walls. How do we defeat her?"
Scruff had begun to nibble a leaf, but wrinkled his face and spat it out. "Blech! Horrible stuff." He sighed. "Look, Neev. Why do we have to deal with everything? Let the king take care of Madrila. That's why we have a king, no? To bring order and justice to the land?"
Neev snorted. "That king of yours has been on the Crusades for the past decade. Why do you think monsters, warlocks, and witches crawl over the realm? No, Scruff, we'd find no help there."
Jamie swung her sword, chopping imaginary monsters. "The elflings gave us some help. Rowyn, Ellywyn, and Noelyn are brave warriors, but they're not an army. We need an army now."
Romy piped up. "Hell has an army."
Neev glared at her. "Not now, Romy! And let go of my tail."
She pouted, crossed her arms, and plopped herself down under a tree.
"Can't you ask your wizard friends for help?" Scruff said. "Go to the Coven. Find us a wizard army."
Neev sighed. "There are powerful wizards there, but they're mostly old, ancient professors. They take no part in wars. They care only for knowledge and magic." He shook his head. "We'd find no help there, for all the Coven's power."
Romy jumped up and began to hop. "Hell is powerful!"
"Romy, please, be quiet!" Neev said. "Go find some acorns to play with."
She blew him a raspberry and turned away.
Neev turned to Cobweb. The spiderling stared back, eyes solemn. Her purple skin, gossamer dress, and silvery hair glowed.
"Cobweb," Neev said, "would we find help among the spiderlings? Your people are great archers and powerful warriors; would they fight against Madrila?"
Cobweb lowered her head. A tear streamed down her cheek. "D-d-dey hate witches, but... dey banished me, Neev. Dey b-b-banished me because I can't t-t-tawk so g-g-good. Dey towd me I can nevew come b-b-back." She sniffed. Scruff embraced her and glared at Neev.
"The tribe elders banished you," Neev persisted, ignoring Scruff's venomous stare. "But do you still have friends there? Fellow spiderlings who'll fight with us?"
Her eyes lit up. "Yes! I... I miss my fwiends der. B-b-but I'm scawed to go back. What if da ewdews attack me?"
Scruff tightened his arms around her. "What if I went with you?" he said softly. "They'd think me a giant! Nobody will mess with you when I'm around, Cobweb." He kissed her.
"Nobody messes with demons!" Romy said hopefully, but fled when Neev glared and pointed at her.
Cobweb sniffed, hugged Scruff tight, and nodded. "Okay, Scwuff. We'ww go der togetew. We'ww sneak in, witout da ewdews seeing, and see if m-m-my fwiends can hewp." She blew out her breath and wiped her brow, struggling with the words. "Even if onwy t-t-two or twee spidewwings hewp, it's b-b-bettew den nuting, wight?"
For the first time, one of the elflings spoke. The wizard Rowyn stood up. He brushed his woodland clothes, cleared his throat, and said in a soft and clear voice: "And we can summon Grumbledook the dragon."
Jamie's eyes widened. "You have a dragon?"
Rowyn sighed. "He's not an impressive dragon—at least not as far as dragons go. Don't tell him I said that. He's very old and very cranky. His wings have a few holes in them, and his teeth aren't as sharp as they used to be. Ask him to blow fire, and he's like to cough up some smoke. But a dragon is still a dragon, and even Grumbledook still has some fight in him."
Ellywyn raised her dagger and spoke too. "And he doesn't always help when we ask him. Most often, he'll grumble and sometimes try to roast you. We haven't spoken to him in years; they say that the last elflings to visit him now lie as charred bones in his lair."
Noelyn, the elfling archer, added, "But if you feed him treats, he will sometimes serve you. Sometimes. That's what my dear old Uncle Loryn used to say, may he rest in peace."
"One of those elflings who lies as charred bones," Rowyn whispered. The Bullies nodded sympathetically.
Neev considered. Flying a dragon to war sounded impressive indeed. Even Madrila would not expect that. A dragon could bear them to the top of Fo
rt Rosethorn and blow fire—or at least smoke—upon their enemies. Yet did he dare send these elflings to summon the beast?
"I'll go with you," Jamie said. She nodded, eyes determined, and held her sword high. "A dragon! A real dragon to ride. We'll tame him, dear elflings. And if he tries to burn us, he'll meet my blade."
Neev approached his little sister. Jamie, only fifteen years old and so small, looked up at him with blazing eyes. Her lips were scrunched and freckles covered her nose. Sometimes Neev forgot how young she was. He held her shoulders.
"Are you sure, sister? Dragons are nothing to trifle with."
She nodded. "I'm sure. I'm a warrior, Neev. A warrior like Father. I faced Dry Bones. I can face a dragon. Imagine us riding Grumbledook to battle!" Her eyes shone.
"Demons can fly too," Romy said. "Demons are tougher than spiderlings, tougher than dragons, tougher than witches." As if to demonstrate, she roared and stabbed the air with her pitchfork.
Neev sighed. "Romy, what are you on about?"
She approached him, grabbed him, and stared into his eyes. "Neev, my dear, you and I are going to Hell."
"No thank you."
She snorted. "Oh, don't be a scaredy cat, Neev. You're a warlock! Warlocks love demons, and fire, and Hell, and all those things."
Neev glared at her. "Romy, because I am a warlock, I know how dangerous Hell is. Demons are not to be trifled with either."
"Oh, but I am?" she said. "You trifle with me all the time. At least, I think you do. I'm not sure what trifle means, but I think it has something to do with socks. In any case, you're coming with me. I want you to see my home! Oh, we'll have so much fun there, with the lava, and the fire, and the—"
"Romy, this is no time for a vacation!" Neev said.
"But I want to go on vacation." She pouted.
Cobweb approached them. Gently, she touched Neev's arm and said, "Neev, I... I tink Womy wants to b-b-bwing some demon fwiends to fight wit us."
Romy's eyes widened. She gasped. "That's a perfect idea, Cobweb! I mean...." She cleared her throat. "I mean, that's exactly where I was going. Yes. Summon demon friends to help. Of course—that's what I mean. What do you think, Neev?"
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