Once Upon a Quest

by Anthea Sharp

  “Aw, nuts,” said Soot.

  “Stinking brownie,” Forge said as he emerged from behind a nearby rock.

  The brownie snorted. “’Twas your stink that gave you away.”

  “Take us to the treasure,” growled the ogress, “and I’ll let you live to smell another day.”

  “As you wish.” The brownie hopped off the boulder and ran straight for Trench and Forge. The ogress let out a high-pitched shriek. Forge tried to smite it with his ax. The brownie ran in circles around the evil duo before darting through Trench’s legs and off into the white wasteland.

  “Catch that rodent!” Trench growled and sprinted after the brownie.

  “Gladly,” said Kira. “If only to thank him—I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.”

  Rowst gave a few last chuckles. “Brownie did well done.”

  Blind or not, the brownie led them on a merry chase to a cleft in one of the larger peaks. Steam slipped out of the entrance and rolled up the hillside. Icicles rimmed the opening like teeth.

  “This is a cave,” Rowst explained to Soot before leading the way.

  Somehow, the inside of the brownie’s cave was incredibly warm. A short tunnel opened up into a cavern full of pillars and shelves. Mist from multiple hot springs gathered in the high ceiling.

  There were treasures everywhere. Stacks of coins made from varying metals were scattered amongst piles of armor and weaponry. Kira examined a few of the pieces—they were ancient enough to be worthless. This was far more like a goblin’s horde than a dragon’s.

  “Is your treasure here?” asked the brownie.

  Rowst scratched his head beneath his cap. “Don’t know.”

  “Well, you better find it!” Trench growled. Forge was already filling his pockets with coins.

  “Zelwynn didn’t tell us, so he must have wanted us to guess,” Kira told her friends.

  Rowst held up a warped golden cup. “Wizards like gold,” he said.

  “Wizards also like knowledge.” Kira pointed to a shelf of books, high above the piles of junk.

  “That’s it,” Soot breathed. “Kira, you’re brilliant. Zelwynn said the treasure was an instrument of peace and a weapon of ultimate destruction. Books can be both those things…and much more. Rowst, can you lift us up there?”

  Obligingly, the troll placed Soot and then Kira upon the shelf. They carefully searched through the strange and crumbling tomes. “Which one do you think it is?” Kira asked.

  “This one.” Soot held up a giant text bound in purple-gray. Embossed on the cover was a dragon.

  “An excellent selection!” said the brownie. “Now, what will you give me for it?”

  Rowst pulled the magic wool cap from his head.

  “Rowst, no!” Soot cried.

  But the troll nodded. “Remember Wise Rowst,” he said. “Remember that he did well done.”

  Kira spoke before she had time to think about what she was saying. “Take my sword.”

  “Not enough,” said the brownie. “I want your armor, too.”

  Her armor was still in Roust’s sack. How did the brownie know about that? “Fine,” she said with a broken heart.

  “I only have this magic tongue,” said Soot. “For my most prized possessions are my friends, and they are not mine to give.”

  Kira took the goblin’s hand and her heart healed a little bit.

  “And what will you give?” the brownie asked the ogress.

  “Nothing,” said Trench.

  “We will have it all,” said Forge.

  “As you wish,” said the brownie.

  Was he kidding? thought Kira.

  “Am I ever?” the brownie answered her unspoken question. But he was not a brownie anymore, he was the High Wizard Zelwynn. Zelwynn waved his hands at Trench and Forge. The ogress and dwarf screamed in unison, their bodies shrinking into the size and shape of two tailless, ginger-furred rodents.

  “Since they desired the treasure so much, they can now look after it for me,” said the wizard. “As for you three, congratulations. You have passed the test.”

  “Hooray!” Soot cheered.

  “We did well done!” Rowst bellowed.

  “This was all a test?” Kira could feel her cheeks flush with ire.

  “Of course,” Zelwynn said dismissively. “I needed to know which of you would be clever enough to make it to the end. Once here, I needed to know who among you would not betray me.” He shook his finger at them. “One would have sufficed, but three is better. Yes, yes. Three is much better.”

  Kira tried to rein in her fury. If Zelwynn was such a great wizard, shouldn’t he have known who among them would betray him? What had been the point of putting them through this ridiculous game?

  Well, it wasn’t like she hadn’t been warned. Kira’s mind raced back to the moment Zelwynn had bid them farewell. The treasure you seek may not be the treasure you find, he had said to her. The treasure they’d found certainly hadn’t been the one they were ultimately meant to find. And then Kira thought about what Soot had said.

  My most prized possessions are my friends.

  Kira looked from Rowst to Soot. Perhaps she’d stumbled upon a treasure after all.

  “Can we get our gear back?” Kira growled with the false bravado of an ogress.

  “That and more,” said Zelwynn. “You’ll need it where you’re going.”

  “And where is that exactly?” Kira asked.

  “On a quest, of course.” Zelwynn’s beady eyes twinkled. “To find the dragons.”

  * * *

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Hans Christian Andersen wrote several goblin tales, my favorite of which is “The Goblin and the Grocer.” (It’s also “The Pixy and the Grocer” or “The Goblin and the Huckster,” depending on the translation.) The tale was included in Andrew Lang’s Pink Fairy Book. Beyond that, it has been sadly forgotten.

  This beautiful little story explores the importance of fueling both the body and the soul. A goblin lives with a grocer who provides him with regular bowls of milk. A poor student rents the attic room and, for some reason, values the pages of a book above all things. The goblin thinks the student is nuts, so he investigates (aided by the grocer’s wife’s tongue, which he lends to the washtub and a few other items). The goblin becomes enraptured with the book. When the house later catches fire, he risks his life to rescue the book from the flames. But the goblin does not leave the grocer for the student, because regular bowls of milk are still vitally important. The goblin’s loyalties don’t change, but his attitude toward life does, thanks to the magic of books.

  Fans of my Nocturne Falls Universe series will recognize the goblin mythology from the world of When Tinker Met Bell. Fans of Hero will know the true history of Broken Tooth in the White Mountains. But the character of Kira was 100% inspired by this anthology’s gorgeous cover—in my mind, the quest was always hers. Bold, brave Kira may end up with both the goblin and the treasure, but for her, the goblin is the treasure.

  Like Zelwynn says, sometimes the treasure we seek may not be the one we find.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times bestselling author Alethea Kontis is a princess, a voice actress, a force of nature, and a mess. She is responsible for creating the epic fairytale fantasy realm of Arilland, and dabbling in a myriad of other worlds beyond. Her award-winning writing has been published for multiple age groups across all genres. Host of “Princess Alethea's Fairy Tale Rants” and Princess Alethea's Traveling Sideshow every year at Dragon Con, Alethea also narrates for ACX, IGMS, Escape Pod, Pseudopod, and Cast of Wonders. Alethea currently resides on the Space Coast of Florida with her teddy bear, Charlie. Find out more about Princess Alethea and the magic, wonderful world in which she lives here: https://www.patreon.com/princessalethea

  The Ruins of Oz

  Alexia Purdy

  One day, I fell into a mirror in my room and ended up in a whole other world. It happened the same day I returned to my grandmother’s house to assess
if I should sell or keep it after my Aunt Emmi broke her hip and was taken to a group home to recover. She would not be returning to the farm, and now I had to go through three generations’ worth of things which included treasures from my grandmother Dorothy, my mother Odette, and my childhood trinkets.

  I can’t say I’d ever fallen into a mirror before. First time for everything, right? The thing was, I didn’t end up with shards surrounding me or lacerating my skin. Nope. I ended up in a strange land where I knew no one and couldn’t figure out where the heck I was.

  I promptly discovered that the few cuts I had acquired from landing on the rocky ground attracted the most unsavory kinds of beasts, with dark fur, glittery green eyes, and fangs the size of my entire hand. Their voracious appetites for blood made me a target for a tasty meal.

  The first howl had sent me off across the unfamiliar field like a rocket. I stumbled a few times, but somehow I outran whatever creatures were hunting me until I found myself tumbling down a gravel embankment, rolling and sliding down the hill for what felt like eons until I came to a complete and painful stop.

  Gravel crunched against my jacket as I shifted onto my back. Nothing echoed around me; no birds, no demon dogs, chickens, or cows. Nothing. The silence hung like a ringing aftershock as I attempted to sit up, which set the world spinning and the sky dropping.

  Holding my head between my hands, I waited for the ground to stop swinging back and forth as I squeezed my eyes shut. Grasping my side, I peered down at it and my right leg. Blood seeped from two wounds I’d incurred while rolling down the hill. My only pair of jeans were nearly ruined.

  “Great,” I cursed, groaning as I moved. The pain shot up into my head like a spear, darkening my vision as I gritted my teeth, breathing through the agony.

  “I’m okay. It’s over,” I muttered, feeling my stomach roll. There wasn’t much that gave me motion sickness, but this was pushing it. Luckily my head settled enough that I could reopen my eyes and peer at the landscape before me.

  It looked nothing like Kansas. I was lost in a forest, a scraggly one at that, as though it was near winter. The wind-swept landscape held no piles of leaves or any kind of life.

  I ripped scraps of material from my shirt and tied them over my wounds. I hoped there was a town nearby. On all fours, I pushed off the ground, steadying myself against a tree as I scanned the woods around me. A fog clung to the area, wafting between the trees and lingering high above.

  Straightening, I stepped backward to peer around.

  “Hey! Get off my foot!” A voice rang out next to my ear, and I turned to find a man carved from wood.

  His face was painted, and slivers of wood were sticking out of the top of his shirt. He madly stuffed them back down, hopping on one foot as he cursed. Grunting, he picked his remains off the barren forest floor. His appearance was off-putting, like nothing I’d seen before.

  “You scared me!” I gasped, stepping back several feet. “Who—what are you?”

  He shoved the last of his splinters back into his shirt and straightened out his clothes in a huff. “What’s it to you? Watch where you’re going!” He snapped his wooden fingers at me and turned, stomping away, his lips upturned as he muttered even more complaints.

  I swallowed, afraid to upset him, but as I looked around one more time, I could see I had no choice.

  “I’m sorry… sir! Wait. I need to know where I am. Would you happen to know how to get back to Kansas?”

  He abruptly stopped, and I stumbled to keep myself from colliding into his back. He spun and glared at me with two narrow eyes made of buttons. I found it odd that he could move his face the way it was constructed. His carved mouth was painted with a deep crimson red, his teeth a brilliant white. His nose was made of a petrified carrot wedged into the wood while his eyebrows were painted with what looked like charcoal, and his button eyes were nailed on.

  Off-putting was not the word I was looking for. His appearance was darn near frightful, and my heart quivered beneath my chest as my mouth became dry.

  “Um….”

  “Why can’t you leave me alone?” he snapped once more, frowning deeply while eyeing me up and down.

  He was a good three inches taller than me, and as I studied the rest of him, I could that see his legs were large jointed branches while his toes were constructed of smaller twigs. His toes were wired together and flexed as he caught me staring at them. I was glad he wore a worn-out flannel shirt and an even more abused pair of tweed pants.

  “I’m lost.”

  “Not my problem.” He stomped off again, taking wide strides. I almost couldn’t keep up with him.

  “Please, at least tell me where I am. I was caught in a storm and my house was surrounded by a tornado. It shook the whole thing, causing me to lose my footing, and I fell into my mother’s mirror. The next minute I’m here, on the ground, with no memory of how I got here. Please….”

  The wooden man stopped again, and this time I managed to run into his back, slamming into the trunk of a tree making up his middle, sending me flying onto my backside.

  “Oomph!”

  He turned and crossed his branchy arms. “You’re not very coordinated.”

  “I’m not… no, I guess not. I hurt my leg. Are you going to help me?”

  He groaned, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, are you?”

  “No. I’m Thea Jones, by the way.”

  His carrot nose scrunched up as he peered down at me. His distaste was written on his face, and I was sure he was about to ditch me again. “Fine. I’m S.C.”

  “Nice to meet you, S.C.” I held my hand out, but he turned up his nose even more at it, as though I could contaminate him.

  “I don’t shake hands. Keep those filthy things to yourself.” He twirled on his foot once more and began to walk again, but not as swiftly as before. “Do try to keep up. I’m in quite a rush.”

  I hurried behind him, wondering where he was in such a rush to go and hoping it would take me in the general direction of Kansas.

  * * *

  S.C. didn’t talk much as we walked and dodged pretty much every question I asked. Frustrated, I gave up. Maybe wherever he was headed there would be other people who could help me.

  “Hey,” I called out to him. “Are we getting closer to a town? I’m thirsty and starving. Any place I could get some food or medical supplies? I need to change my bandages.”

  He didn’t answer but pointed down from the crest of the hilltop where we were standing. The woods had thinned as we’d walked, and now a green horizon cluttered with bushes, grasses, and streams lay before us. A curly, winding yellow road cut through it.

  “What is this place?”

  “The Minkin’s village. It’s closer than the Gillikin’s village, where I’d rather go, but this’ll do.” He made a face as he spoke. “They’re loud, overly happy, and miniscule in size.”

  “Overly happy? Perfect! They’ll probably help us, then.”

  “Help us?” He lifted a painted eyebrow, repulsed. “I would never ask them for help. Besides, I’m not the one who needs help.” He fiddled with his buttoned-up shirt, rearranging the wood bits inside so that he wasn’t so lumpy. It looked to me like he needed more help than I did if he thought himself better than little people.

  “Forget it. I’ll just go myself. Thanks for getting me this far.” I limped down the hill without a response from S.C., which I didn’t even expect. The huffs and grunts he made as he threw a fit behind me was enough to tell me what he thought.

  Maybe if he’d been nicer, I might have given a smidgen of a thought about him, but since he wasn’t, I tried to keep from tripping as I made my way down the slick grassy hillside without another glance back.

  I failed miserably.

  “Wait! You can’t go that way!” I heard S.C. call out behind me.

  Too late. I was already head-first into a roll dive down the rest of the hill. The blades of grass seemed to thicken like leath
er as they whipped at my face for flattening their neighbors. Whispers and tiny screeches filled my ears as they nipped at my skin, tugged at my hair, and hollered for me to watch where I was going.

  I came to a stop at the bottom of the hill near a creek. Every bone in my body ached, and each muscle screamed from the incessant bruising. Tiny cuts covered every inch of exposed skin, and my clothes looked like they’d been sent through a shredder.

  I moaned, attempting to stand up. This day had gone swirling down the drain so fast, I couldn’t remember a time I’d been cozy, warm, and fed. Tears streamed from my eyes as I remembered home and my Aunt Emmi’s sweet face, a spray of crow’s feet around her eyes and thin, tight lips. Her hair was peppered with gray streaking through her once rich brown hair, and she was no taller than me, but somehow she’d managed to help me move around when I’d broken my leg last year after finding a hole in the field while chasing a loose piglet.

  “I just want to go home,” I wept. Nothing was right, and pain I’d never felt in my life ravaged my body. Blood, sweat, and tears were all I had left now in this desolate place.

  “There, there, don’t cry. Come dear, we’ll get you all bandaged up. And goodness, you look starved near to death! Look how thin she is, Brutus. I do say! Grab your brothers. She’s not a wee one.” I felt fleshy arms envelope me and pat my back in a motherly way. Another pair slipped under my arms on each side and pulled me up to a sitting position. As they tucked me into a makeshift gurney, I felt the world slip from my grasp.

  Right as the light faded and darkness beckoned, I heard S.C.’s voice ring out. “Hey! Where are you taking her?”

  * * *

  I rolled over and tried to assess my injuries but found none. Surprised, I sat up and peered around the miniscule hut I’d been brought to while unconscious.

  “Um….” I coughed, my mouth as dry as scorched earth. “Hello?” My eyes strained to focus.