Magic and Misrule (Mishap's Heroes Book 1)

by KM Merritt

  When Vola turned back to break down the tent, she found Sorrel rubbing the back of her neck and Lillie glancing at the forest where Talon had disappeared.

  “What is it?” Vola asked.

  “It’s just...” Lillie said. “Do you think Talon is male? Or female?”

  “That’s pretty rude,” Sorrel said.

  Lillie flushed scarlet. “I’m sorry. I must have missed some clue then. Maybe this is common where you come from, but I’ve never met…anyone like Talon before.”

  Vola sighed. “Don’t worry. We don’t know either.”

  Lillie’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh good. I thought it was just me.”

  “And you didn’t know how to be polite about it,” Vola said. She hadn’t missed the way Lillie had carefully addressed each of them.

  “That’s why I am asking. I don’t know what to call…them. Miss? Mister? Sir Talon? Madame Talon?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t just ask,” Sorrel said.

  “Why not?” Lillie asked. “Isn’t that more polite than guessing and getting it wrong—”

  Without a sound or even a hint of movement, Talon appeared at the edge of the clearing in front of them.

  Lillie gulped down whatever she was about to say. “Hi!” she said instead.

  Talon’s hood turned toward her and Vola could almost imagine the look that would be on the invisible face. “Head east,” Talon growled. “When you’re ready. I’ve marked the trail.”

  Then the figure was off.Lillie leaned toward Sorrel. “I don’t even know if they’re human,” she whispered.

  “I think that’s species-ist,” Sorrel said.

  “That’s not a word.”

  “Well, it should be.”

  Vola finished folding up the tent and shoved it as far into the pack as it would go.

  Henri stood beside the tree where he’d hung Sorrel’s clothes, gazing at them with his mouth twisted into a grimace.

  “What’s wrong?” Vola asked.

  “They’re still wet,” he said. Then his shoulders drooped with a big sigh. “It’s this humid air. And look at these stains.” He pulled them from the branch. “If anything, they got bigger.” He tsked between his teeth like a disgruntled housewife.

  “It’s probably mold,” Vola said under her breath. Then she called out, “Sorrel, you’ll have to wait another day for your clothes. Unless you want to wear them damp.”

  “That’s all right,” Sorrel said. “I’m liking my new outfit. It’s roomy.” She flapped her arms so the loose fabric around her middle waved like a banner. She looked even more child-like than usual.

  Vola tried not to laugh.

  As Henri gathered the clothes and folded them, the light from the sun finally made it over the distant tor, and streams of gold speared toward their clearing.

  “Time to move,” Vola said.

  One of the beams of light hit the big ugly flower bud directly beside her, and with an audible creak, the plant shivered.

  “Uh,” Vola said.

  The bud snapped open, revealing crimson petals. Orange veins sprinkled with black plunged toward the center of the blossom where they converged into a thick spiral. The thing clicked and surged upward until it stood face to face with Vola.

  “Whoa.” She stumbled back a few paces.

  Henri had already drawn his sword.

  Was she really running from a plant? Vola shook her head. The thing had startled her. That’s all. It was a flower, right? How bad could it be?

  All around the clearing, blossoms opened in response to the sun’s beams, some of them hissing and stretching like they were waking up from a good night’s sleep.

  “I think we should get out of here,” Sorrel whispered.

  “I agree with Miss Sorrel,” Lillie said.

  The pit in Vola’s gut was the deciding vote.

  “East,” she said. “Make your way east. Talon marked a dry path.” She shifted her feet and backed toward the others.

  The movement made the nearest blossom rear back, and with a menacing hiss, it spat a stream of liquid.

  Vola’s instincts took over, and she dove to the side, rolling and coming up with her sword drawn and on guard. The liquid, a foul, orange viscous solution, hit the grass and sizzled. The brown blades shrank and turned black.

  “Well…poop on a stick,” Sorrel said.

  Vola had been thinking of something decidedly stronger.

  “Pro tip,” she called. “Don’t let them spit at you.”

  “You think?” Sorrel said.

  Vola darted for an opening on the east side of the clearing but two blossoms leaned toward each other, effectively closing the gap. They were trapped. At least until they could do some weed whacking.

  Vola growled and rushed the nearest plant, drawing back her sword. Then with two fists, she swung down as hard as she could.

  The plant…dodged. That’s the only way she could think to describe it, except that plants didn’t dodge.

  “You’re not supposed to be sentient, dammit,” she said as the blossom jerked back and spit. Vola ducked and spun, swinging again. This time, she managed to take off the tip of a petal.

  “Talon,” Vola called. “Talon, we need you.”

  The plant reared back and the spiral at its center unwound and opened onto a chasm, looking horribly like a mouth. It screamed at her.

  Vola grimaced. Then she opened her mouth and roared back.

  The plant jerked and straightened as if surprised. Then whipped around and knocked Vola off her feet.

  Suddenly flat on her back, Vola had a great view of the rest of her party.

  Sorrel spun wildly, her staff a blur above her head. Unfortunately, her shirt-gown billowed just as wildly. As Sorrel planted her feet and struck out toward the blossom nearest her, she caught the hem of her shirt under her foot. Her eyes went wide, and she face planted into the soggy ground.

  Beside her, Lillie flipped through her spell book muttering to herself.

  “Just pick something,” Sorrel yelled.

  “Yes, but what?” Lillie went back to muttering. “What is the most efficient? Do they have any weaknesses? Any resiliencies?”

  A second blossom reared back and aimed a spit stream at Lillie.

  She ducked, covering her head with a scream.

  Suddenly, a blur of brown and silver darted in front of her, becoming Henri. His raised shield took the brunt of the spit attack, the rest falling to singe and sear the grass at his feet.

  “What are they?” Sorrel called.

  Lillie’s mouth fell open, and she reached for the botany book she’d taken from the orphanage. The nearest blossom shot another stream of spit at her, and she yanked her hand back.

  “The crimson swamp blossom,” Lillie said.

  “What?”

  “These are the crimson swamp blossoms the shopkeeper wanted.”

  “I don’t care about the name,” Vola yelled. “How do we get rid of them?”

  “I don’t know!” Lillie clutched the sides of her head. “The book didn’t say anything about that.”

  “Why would it leave that out?” Sorrel asked, whacking at a nearby flower with her stem.

  “Because the author was stupid! That seems like very important information right now!”

  “Cut them off at the roots,” Henri said.

  A menacing click made Vola roll back over to find her own personal blossom hanging over her, its orange spiral mouth wide open. Like it was about to eat her. Did carnivorous plants like orc? Liquid dripped from its petals, making her armor hiss and spark where it hit.

  Vola winced. That was going to leave a mark.

  She reached for her sword, but her fingers closed on empty air. It had fallen too far.

  The blossom reared back to deal the final death blow, and she threw up her hand to protect her face.

  An arrow whistled and thunked into the center of the flower. A rumbling growl told Vola that Talon and Gruff had entered the fray.

  Vola rolled
, and this time, her fingers clenched around the hilt of her sword. As the blossom jerked and flinched, she rose to her knees and swung her sword in a wide arc, catching the plant at the base.

  It screamed again, a high shriek that made the hair along her arms stand up, before it fell over and thrashed across the ground, severed from its stem.

  Vola stumbled back a few steps to avoid its death throes. After an unnecessary amount of drama, it finally lay still, its petals limp against the grass.

  Vola turned, lips pulled back, to find Sorrel pummeling one of the blossoms with her staff. Every time it lunged for her, she danced out of the way.

  Lillie cast little bolts of fire at another blossom from behind Henri’s back as he fought against another plant, his sword darting like he was fencing the damn thing. His shield smoked from his other arm.

  Sorrel darted away from her plant yet again. But this time, the thing shuddered as if frustrated. Then all its petals curled inward for a split second before snapping back out again. And when the petals snapped out, so did a rope-like vine that wrapped around Sorrel’s leg before dragging her inexorably toward the gaping spiral mouth.

  Sorrel cried out.

  Vola started forward, sword raised.

  Lillie heard her scream and spun. “Miss Sorrel!” she called. Then she brought her hands together and murmured a spell.

  Fire burst from Lillie’s palms in a wide arc, catching Sorrel’s plant but also singing Sorrel and Vola in the process.

  “Whoa!” Vola dove for the ground.

  “Lillie!” Sorrel cried. The plant hadn’t even twitched at the fire and still dragged Sorrel toward its mouth. “I’d rather you didn’t cook me before it eats me.”

  “Keep the pyrotechnics down,” Vola said.

  “I’m sorry,” Lillie called, hands covering her cheeks. “You were in my way.”

  “Of course I’m in the way. I’m fighting the damn thing.” A little lightning bolt struck the ground at her feet.

  Another arrow shot from the foliage and buried itself about a foot to the left of the vine wrapped around Sorrel’s leg. Which happened to be two inches from Sorrel’s hand.

  “Talon!” Sorrel yelled.

  Vola’s teeth clenched on a growl but before the frustration could do more than sting, Henri’s voice spoke in her memory.

  “One, two, duck and swing.”

  She knew that. She’d followed his instruction for years. How could a little panic have made her forget so quickly?

  Vola lunged forward and brought her blade down on the vine dragging Sorrel across the ground. Then as if all her training finally showed up, she cut the plant off at the stem with a graceful upswing. It thrashed around on the ground while Sorrel untangled herself and crawled away.

  Across the clearing, Gruff growled and shook his head, an entire severed blossom hanging from his jaws. Another one lay hacked to pieces where Henri had defended Lillie and one more lay with half a dozen arrows sticking out of it, looking like the florid pin cushion of an overzealous quilter.

  Vola braced her hands on her knees and panted, sending up a quick thanks to her goddess that everyone had made it through in one piece.

  With her nose inches from her chest, she noticed the little blackened pockmarks decorating her chain mail. Her nostrils stung with the acrid scent, and she lifted the edge to peek underneath to make sure none of the plant poison had seeped through.

  Her shirt was a little singed, but her skin looked okay. It was the same shade of gray-green it always was.

  Talon stepped into the clearing, looking as unruffled as they had when they’d left, and placed a calming hand on Gruff’s shoulder. The wolf immediately stopped shaking the dead plant and dropped it with a wet thud.

  “Glad you got here when you did, Talon,” Vola said, straightening.

  “It’s been too long since I’ve gotten to murder something trying to eat me.”

  Vola blinked. Was that a joke? From the hooded mystery? Or were they serious?

  “Well, you can always murder the thing trying to eat us,” Vola said. “I don’t think you’ll hear anyone complain.”

  Lillie knelt beside one of the decapitated blossoms and viciously pulled the thing apart with her hands, stuffing petals into her belt pouch. She seemed to take way more pleasure in it than the collection really warranted.

  Talon jerked their head. “The other party from town is nearby. They need help.”

  Vola’s shoulders sagged. “Ugh, Braydon?” The last person in the world she wanted to see right now was Braydon. Their narrow escape was written in the damage to Vola’s armor, the twigs in Sorrel’s hair, and the half-empty quiver on Talon’s back.

  “Yes,” Talon said.

  Vola glanced at her party. Sorrel brushed green slime from her shirt-gown while Lillie flipped through her spell book. Second-guessing her decisions?

  Henri stood, wiping down his sword with a damp cloth. He’d slung his shield back over his shoulder where it still smoked. The poison spit had left a blackened scar across the metal. Henri didn’t glance up, but Vola knew the sort of look he’d be giving her if he had.

  She sighed, her shoulders drooping. “Let’s go help them, then,” she said. Help them off a cliff, she didn’t add.

  Twelve

  Talon trotted along, sure-footed on the boggy ground. Vola lumbered after them, boots squelching and slipping on the slick grass. There was a splash behind her, but Vola didn’t turn to look.

  A couple of screams in the distance made them pick up their pace. Geez, had they encountered some sort of predator? Maybe like that giant crocodile Talon had been chasing.

  Talon led them to another clearing that looked remarkably like the one they’d spent the night in. Complete with a circle of blood-red blossoms.

  Ah. That made sense.

  The clearing had to be some sort of trap set by the carnivorous plants. Lure in travelers like them with the prospect of a safe, comfortable-looking campsite. Then bam. Hit them with poison the moment the sun rose.

  Vola skidded to a stop at the clearing’s edge, her boots leaving furrows in the moss and grass underfoot. It looked like Braydon’s party hadn’t been quite awake yet when the blossoms attacked.

  Braydon’s spell caster swung by his ankles where a bright orange vine had caught him, his hands busy casting bright sprays of fire and lightning. Somehow, he’d got the vine wrapped around a branch above their campsite and every time the blossom on the other end of the vine yanked, he bobbed up and down.

  The woman with the hand axes had one leg down the gullet of another blossom while she hacked its petals apart, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  The other party’s ranger stood off to the side next to a dead blossom. “The stems!” he cried, his hands buried in his short black curls. “Cut them off at the stems!”

  Braydon himself was half-dressed in his plate armor and wrapped in a choke hold by an orange vine. His sword lay three feet away from his grasping hand.

  Vola glanced back at her party, who had just caught up. They looked on the scene with varying expressions of horror and amusement. Except for Talon. Their hood hid their expression as always.

  “Um, charge?” Vola said.

  “Very inspiring,” Talon said.

  Sorrel shrugged, grinned, and took Vola at face value, charging into the fray with a wild cry of, “For Maxim!”

  This time she’d hiked her shirt-gown up and tucked it under a belt made from one of Lillie’s stockings so she could run freely, swinging her staff over her head. Halfway across the clearing, she took a flying leap at the blossom holding the wizard up. She clung to the flower making it jerk and bob.

  The wizard swung wildly, spraying the ground with a blast of flame.

  “Hey, watch it,” Sorrel called. “That’s the second time today someone’s tried to set me on fire.” She ducked and swung her staff at the vine where it attached to the flower.

  Vola charged across the clearing to the woman being eaten by a blossom.
>
  “Leave her alone, you monster!” Braydon cried, voice strangled by the vine around his neck.

  “That’s not very nice, sir,” Lillie called.

  Vola just rolled her eyes, then she slid the rest of the way on her knees, swung her sword, and cut the blossom off above the root. She rose to her feet, slipped her toe under Braydon’s sword, and kicked it to him.

  “You’re welcome,” she said as he caught it.

  He scowled but reached back and cut himself free of the vine. Lillie stepped up beside him as he struggled free from its coils and raised her hands. Flames burst from her fingers, concentrated on the stem.

  The blossom shrieked that high-pitched scream, but Lillie held her ground just beyond its thrashing petals. Finally, it shuddered and keeled over, its stem blackened and smoking.

  Henri, Talon, and Braydon’s ranger circled the clearing, taking care of any other blossoms that had escaped the carnage.

  Vola glanced around to find Sorrel yelling, “Ha, ha, hiyah,” while punching the blossom’s stem, her tiny fists making the whole plant shudder with each hit. Since the vine wrapped over the branch, pinning the plant in place, it couldn’t dodge out of the way far enough.

  The upside-down wizard closed one eye and pointed at the blossom. Fire streamed toward Sorrel and the pinned plant.

  “Sorrel!” Vola called.

  But the fire split and arced around the halfling, hitting the plant without hurting her.

  Both Sorrel and the flower froze.

  “Oh my gosh, can you teach me that?” Lillie cried.

  Sorrel recovered first and brought both fists down on top of the plant with a smack that echoed across the clearing.

  It moaned and slumped forward, yanking on the vine, making the wizard at the other end bob.

  He made a noise in the back of his throat. “Oh my,” he said, and his robe fell down over his face.

  “Ah!” Sorrel said, covering her eyes.

  Lillie winced. “And that’s why robes went out of fashion years ago.”

  Vola ignored the spectacle on display above her and helped the sobbing woman free her leg from the dead plant beside them. Her leather armor smelled like overcooked meat, and it peeled back revealing raw pink skin.