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The Curse of Greg

Page 27

by Chris Rylander


  No matter where I went, I knew they’d be right behind me.

  “We’re with Greg, too!” Tiki shouted from the seats behind us. “He’s the greatest Dwarf we ever met!”

  The other NOLA Dwarves let out some hoots and hollers to confirm this.

  “Okay, fine,” Dunmor said with a reluctant yet clearly proud grin. “Greg, enlighten us. What does any of this have to do with our current problems?”

  “Can’t you see the connection?” I said. “Stoney’s Rock One is the extinct mineral Corurak that makes up the core of the Faranlegt Amulet of Sahar!”

  Finally some of the Council members and Elders perked up a bit.

  “How can you be sure?” Dunmor asked cautiously.

  “Think about it,” I said. “Stoney said it’s the rarest rock in the world. The last one known to exist. He also said the color changes. He also said it glows. And may I remind you: He used to be imprisoned by Elves. And with some of the same Elves who are now allied with Edwin. Rumors flew all around in those dungeons. And you’re forgetting the most important part: Stoney says he knows where it is!”

  This was met with a murmur of excitement and the beginnings of another chaotic debate. Some, like Ooj, clearly still didn’t think this was relevant. But others, Dunmor included, appeared legitimately intrigued and excited.

  “Stop!” I shouted, silencing them immediately, surprising even myself with how commanding my voice sounded in the chamber. “This time, we will not ignore this Rock Troll or dismiss him as stupid or unreliable. Stoney can save us all. And I, for one, am going to listen to him and follow him!”

  “Yes!” Ari and Glam shouted.

  Froggy patted me on the back encouragingly.

  “We’re in, too!” the NOLA Dwarves added.

  Dunmor pounded on the table with his rock and called for order.

  The Council held a brief debate.

  Then a vote occurred.

  And for once Dwarves were not reduced to inaction by our own pessimism. For once Dwarves voted to do something to try to fix all of this.

  For once, the Council voted yes.

  As soon as the final vote tally was announced, Glam, Eagan, Froggy, Lake, and Ari smothered me in a cheesy group hug. Well, I say cheesy, but of course I mean that in a good way. The NOLA Dwarves rushed down from the stands to join in. Then Stoney moved toward us.

  “STONEY PARTICIPATE GRATITUDE EXHIBITION?”

  We quickly broke up the group hug and encouraged him to celebrate with us verbally—without any of his bone-crushing hugs. This made Stoney laugh, which only made all of us laugh. And the stunned and confused Council watched in silence as ten kids and a huge Rock Troll stood there and laughed giddily, even though we all knew that potentially grave dangers lay in our adventures ahead.

  But we didn’t care, because we’d be on those adventures together.

  The details were planned that evening, since there was no time to waste. Nobody knew just how close Edwin was to obtaining the amulet. To miss catching him by even an hour would be devastating.

  And so we would leave tomorrow: a small band of Dwarven warriors, plus one Rock Troll with an important map in his head. We (sort of) knew where Edwin was headed next. And we knew what he was planning.

  But the real question was: Could we actually beat him there and stop him in time?

  Or would we keep being Dwarves and fail more miserably than Dwarves had ever failed before?

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chris Rylander is the author of The Legend of Greg, the Fourth Stall saga, the Codename Conspiracy series, and co-author of the third book in the New York Times bestselling House of Secrets series, Clash of the Worlds. A fan of berry jams, hornless unicorns, and invisible squirrels, he lives in Chicago.

  * In case you forgot, the return of magic also led to the reemergence of a savage, inexplicable hatred of Dwarves by pretty much all animals. And it’d only gotten worse in the past few months.

  * Not all Separatist Dwarves live in the Underground. In fact, the Council assigned a number of Dwarves to live and work in high places among Humans, such as 911 dispatchers or local government officials.

  * Even though my friendship with Edwin was basically dead and buried, I still loved lame puns. Unfortunately, my new Dwarven friends didn’t find them nearly as funny as Edwin used to.

  * Though, technically, being after midnight, it was now Friday. Which maybe helps explain my gloriously fortunate break.

  * In fact, modern pool and billiards are thought to have been derived from an old Dwarven Separate Earth game called skalleknuser. Except in that game, the pool cues were actually sharpened Dragon tibias and the balls were polished Imp skulls. And you don’t even want to know what the playing table was made from, or what the real rules used to be. Trust me on that.

  * Honestly, I had no idea how she was understanding this thing. He was like a walking thesaurus.

  * Or like a dog hearing the word Dwarf, apparently, these days. As the four healing bite wounds on my ankles from the past few weeks alone could attest.

  * Between my guilt over the untimely demise of Eagan’s dad, the deaths of Edwin’s parents and my lost friendship with him, it was a wonder I ever slept at all these days. Though to be fair, when I did manage to fall asleep for a few hours, it wasn’t exactly a pleasant slumber filled with dreams of cupcakes and rainbows . . .

  * It was easy to see why the Mooncharms were legendary for their powers of persuasion and ability to compromise. And why someone, who’d clearly already known that, had nominated him to fill his father’s vacant Council seat.

  * Perhaps just how much I loved her laugh.

  * Yes, a real Separate Earth creature, believe it or not. They’re essentially sentient vapor particles that operate as a colony, kind of like ants. The technical name for these beasts is Xeneroykwolk, but long ago everyone just started calling them Fart Clouds because they manifest in swarms that look like puffs of green smoke and smell vaguely of sulfur.

  * You should have seen the look the cabdriver shot us as he loaded the trunk with our bags, the contents clanking loudly.

  * A type of Fairy notorious for being finicky neat freaks and positively terrified of germs to the point that they are said to travel around in magical, airtight bubbles.

  * The old Dwarven version of the saying “Should probably be taken with a grain of salt.”

  * I know what you’re thinking: You just helped yourselves!? That’s a little rude. And a few months ago, I’d have agreed. But in Dwarven culture it’s considered rude to not just start eating right away, no matter where you are or who is serving you.

  * That was a common theme among the Elves I met around Alcatraz. All of them seemed fully devoted to Edwin’s cause: ending the return of magic for good.

  * The other day, an Elf who didn’t know he had the Ability must have stepped through a natural release of Galdervatn, because one second he was just walking normally, and then a moment later green lights shot out like laser beams from his ears, nostrils, mouth, and eyes. He got so freaked out he ran, arms flailing in a panic, right into a brick wall. He suffered a nasty bump on the head but otherwise was okay.

  * Over the past few weeks of captivity, I’d come to find out (mostly from witnessing accidental displays of magic) that Elven spells were a little bit different from Dwarven spells. Ours involved earthly elements, like wind and plants and rocks, and theirs were more like psychedelic flashing light shows—almost like futuristic lasers.

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