“I don’t think I should try any of these spells until I make a new wand.”
“New wand? What about that one there?”
“Well, I tried using it once, and it didn’t go so great. I don’t want to damage it.”
Willow let out a disappointed sigh and went back to sucking on the others’ spent corn cobs.
Long after the others had fallen asleep, Murland stayed up in his tent, reading the thick tome by candlelight. He couldn’t believe the wealth of magical knowledge at his fingertips. When he found a spell that was said to mend wands, he became utterly giddy. It was an intricate spell, and one that Murland would need another wand for. Luckily, he knew enough about the making of wands to attempt to create one, something that was only allowed once a wizard apprentice had successfully grown their own leaf. The wand didn’t have to be too intricate, just a carved oak branch hardened by fire would likely do.
He wished that Sir Eldrick had been there to see his levitation. He was getting more worried about the knight with every passing minute. Where could he have run off to? Had he been killed by the cyclopes after all? There were a million possibilities, and few of them were good.
Late that night he fell asleep with his face pressed against the pages of the spell book. He dreamt of the first day that he met Caressa, and later, thinking back on it, he wouldn’t be sure if the spell book had something to do with it, for the memories were so vivid, so real, that he felt like he had traveled back in time.
Murland sat with his legs dangling off the finely crafted chair in the antechamber of Castle Roddington. It was Monday. The weekend had been nice—a visit to Aunty Kathrine’s on the coast and sailing with Uncle Charles. But now the week had begun, and his father had been sent for by the king.
To Murland’s delight, Albert Kadabra had decided to bring his only son along. He couldn’t wait to explore the halls, chambers, secret passageways, and gardens that Castle Roddington had to offer. But Murland’s father had expressed absolute seriousness when he told Murland that he must be on his best behavior during the meeting.
Murland was forbidden from speaking to the king unless spoken to, and he hadn’t been spoken to. Instead, his father told him to wait on the chair in the hall outside the king’s chambers until the men were done talking business. Even at the age of seven, Murland had enough sense to know that his father was quite nervous to meet with the king, though the tall, lanky, and proud man would have never admitted such a thing.
He was a lord after all.
Murland waited, as he was told, eyeing the two guards who stood at the end of the hall like statues in full armor. He wondered what it was they thought about all day. It seemed like such a boring job.
Many paintings adorned the walls, and Murland passed some time imagining that he was inside the scenes, fighting off sea monsters or jousting in the grand arena. In another, a couple was locked in the throes of a passionate kiss, he a knight, and she a fair maiden on a steed of white. It looked like a goodbye scene, and Murland wondered why they seemed so serious. The knight was about to go off on an adventure, after all, and that was much more exciting than a maiden, no matter how fair she might be.
After growing tired with the paintings, he shifted in his seat to spy the room opposite his chair. The doorway was a few feet to his right, and he could see only the side wall, but that meager view was enough to perk his interest, for he thought that he saw the tip of a dragon horn mounted there.
He glanced back at the guards, thinking that they must be watching him, for what else was there to look at in the hallway?
Sudden movement caught his eye in the doorway. It was fleeting, and had only been seen peripherally. He leaned further, trying to get a better look into the room. A smiling girl suddenly popped into view. She wore pants like a boy, and her shock of curly red hair jutted out from beneath a sailor’s hat. Strangest of all, strapped to her hip was a toy wooden sword.
“Do you want to go on an adventure?” she asked in a voice soft and sweet and laced with daring.
“Who, me?” said Murland, glancing around.
“No, those two stiff suits of armor guarding my father. Yeah, you.”
“Your father? You mean…you’re a princess?”
“Not today. Today I’m a pirate. Name’s Captain Blacky Nofearson. And I’m looking for a brave pirate to explore this island with me.”
“What island?”
The princess pointed deeper into the room, where Murland could not see.
“Is that a dragon horn on that wall?” he asked.
She glanced back and nodded at him devilishly. “There are all kinds of beasts and dangers lurking in this jungle. Are you brave enough to dare seek out the buried treasure?”
Murland glanced at the guards. “I’m not supposed to…”
She furled her freckled brow. “Pirates don’t give a damn about rules!”
Murland laughed; he had never heard a girl swear before. Especially one with such a sweet voice. “Alright, alright, hold on.” He crept off the chair as slowly as possible, thinking that if he went slowly enough, the guards wouldn’t even see him leaving.
Two minutes into his stealthy retreat, and he had taken only one step toward the door.
“Hurry up already, turtle boy!”
Startled, Murland jumped, glanced at the guards at the end of the hall, and realized that he had just blown his cover. He leapt across the hall and into the room. The princess grabbed him, and together they fell to the floor. She covered his mouth as she lay on top of him, and then put a finger to her lips. Slowly, she shuffled over to the door on her elbows and knees and peeked out.
Murland’s heart hammered in his chest.
She came back from the door slowly, nodding. “They don’t suspect a thing. You have escaped the clutches of the metal men for now.” She held out her hand in greeting. “What’s your name, pirate?”
“Uh, my name’s Murland.”
“Not your real name,” she said, standing. “What’s your pirate name?”
“Well,” he said, getting up as well and dusting off his leather jerkin, “can I be a wizard?”
“Hmm,” she said, scrunching her small nose and furling her auburn brow. At length, she nodded. “A pirate captain can always use a wizard, I suppose. Yes, but what is your wizard name?”
“Uh…Murland the Great?”
“How about Murland the Mighty? Much more intimidating for a pirate wizard.”
“Alright,” he said, liking that.
“But you are going to need a wand,” she said, glancing around at the dark room.
The mounted heads of a variety of beast hung on the walls, and other creatures had been stuffed whole. Murland looked to the wall and found that indeed, what he had seen from the hall had been only the tip of a long horn. So large was it that it spanned the entire twenty-foot wall.
Murland turned and stared, taking in the “island.” The room was deep, at least twice as long as it was wide. Its far outer wall was made of glass, as was the pitched ceiling, and the hundreds of plants told Murland that it was a conservatory.
“Ah, this will do,” said the princess. She broke the gnarled branch from a small corkscrew willow.
Murland took the twisted wand, feeling very much the wizard just then.
“Alright,” she said, unsheathing her wooden sword, “let us see what treasure this island holds!”
Murland and the princess explored the conservatory for the better part of an hour. They fought their way through the island jungle, battling with trolls and goblins and even a giant white bear. Murland froze the bear with a freezing spell, and the princess made quick work of the goblins. The trolls had them cornered at one point in the battle, but were defeated when the sun shone through the trees and suddenly turned them to stone. The plants came alive in their imaginings, but between Murland’s magic wand and the princess’s sword, they managed to fight their way through it all.
Finally, they came to an ancient temple that was said to hold the treasure.
Murland was about to rush into it when the princess warned him of booby traps and held him back with a staying hand to his pounding chest. Carefully, they made their way through the halls and tunnels of the temple, finally coming out into the antechamber, where sat a wooden chest.
“That’s it,” said the princess as she took Murland by the hand.
His stomach fluttered, and the excitement of it all left him exhilarated. They were standing before the chest, about to open it together, when suddenly the king called from behind them.
“Ah, there you are!”
Murland released the princess’s hand as if he had been doing something wrong and turned with a jerk to face his father and the king.
“I thought that I told you to wait in the hallway,” said Murland’s father with an arched brow and a waggle of his curled mustache.
“Sorry, but it was awfully boring sitting there, and the princess needed me for a quest.”
The two men grinned at each other.
“Well,” said the portly king. “Have you completed your quest?”
“Oh yes, Father. It was wonderful. We traveled through the jungle, and we were attacked by wild cats, bears, goblins, trolls, even giants. But Murland is a mighty wizard; he saved me more than once.”
“Very good,” said the king, chuckling.
Murland’s father was laughing as well. “Come now, Murland. We have taken up enough of the king’s time.”
“Aw, do we have to?”
“I am afraid so.”
“Yes, Father.”
Murland and Caressa followed the men out of the trophy room and through the conservatory, and once again Caressa took his hand.
“Thanks for exploring with me today. I had a lot of fun.”
“Me too,” said Murland. He handed her the gnarled piece of wood. “I should give this back.”
“No,” said Caressa, pushing it away. “It’s yours. Besides, I’m not a wizard like you.”
“I’m going to be a real wizard, you know. When I grow up I’m going to study at Abra Tower.”
“I believe it! I bet you will be the best wizard in the world,” she said, smiling.
Murland reluctantly released the princess’s hand and clambered into the carriage as the men said their farewells and made plans to meet again soon. As the carriage pulled away, Murland waved at the princess with a sudden sinking feeling.
“So, you had fun with the princess, eh?” his father remarked, watching him from the opposite bench.
“Yeah, she’s great,” said Murland with a dreamy sigh.
“I imagine that you will see a lot more of her, if you want. For the king has hired me as an advisor,” Albert Kadabra said proudly.
“Wow, really?”
Murland couldn’t contain his smile. He waved jubilantly at the princess as their carriage pulled around the cul-de-sac. She unsheathed her wooden sword and raised it to the heavens triumphantly.
Murland shot his fist out of the carriage window. It was the best day of his life.
Chapter 29
A Wizard’s Warning
The footprints were old, at least a week, but Valkimir thought these must be the prints of the Champions of the Dragon. There were two horses’ prints, as well as those of a large hog, and the largest ones, which belonged to a raptor. Strangely, they were accompanied by a set of boot prints of medium size for a man. By the indentation and gait of the tracks, he put the person at around nineteen years old, one-hundred and fifty pounds, and slightly over six feet tall. The strange part about the man’s tracks was that they suddenly disappeared at one point down the road.
“Perhaps this is the lanky wizard’s apprentice,” said Valkimir.
“What did you say?” Caressa asked from her saddle.
“They made camp here; I’m sure of it.”
“Obviously.” Caressa pointed to the large dining set in the middle of the clearing. “What do you make of that?”
“Kazimir,” said Valkimir, as though the name soured his tongue. “He leaves no tracks, but I am sure that he was here.”
“We should continue,” Caressa told him. “We can make another twenty miles before morning.”
“The sun has yet to set,” he said with a laugh. “You ride like an elven warrior.”
“A princess does enough lying about and resting to quench a weary army. I have had enough of rest. Besides, a lady does not bed down with a stranger the very day that she meets him.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Valkimir. “You’re not my type.”
“What, because I am human?”
“Because you are female,” he said with a wink.
“Oh,” said Caressa, sounding a bit surprised.
They were about to leave, when a loud galloping from the east caught their attention. They looked to find a dwarf riding a mountain ram and a blue fairy coming their way.
“Is that…is that Wendel the skeleton?” Valkimir asked Caressa in disbelief as he moved to stand beside her.
“Whoa, Billy!” said the dwarf, pulling hard on the reins, causing the ram to lock up its legs and skid for ten feet before coming to a stop just in front of the shocked pair.
Valkimir waved his hand through the rising dust as the fairy flew three quick circles around them all and came to a stop on Wendel’s shoulder.
“You!” said Wendel, pointing a shaking finger at the two from behind the dwarf.
“I said that I would do the talking!” said the dwarf, offering the skeleton a scowl.
“Hoy there! Have ye seen—”
“Those two are dirty tricksters!” said Wendel. “Don’t believe a word they say.”
“Shut yer yapper!”
“Good dwarf,” said Valkimir. “You ride with strange company. I must warn you about this character, he—”
“I be knowin’ Wendel’s story. Many thanks. But listen, ye seen or heard o’ any strange folk riding this way, headed west?”
“What kind of strange folk?” Valkimir asked.
“A mismatched group. There be an elf like yerself, a human knight—”
“A wizard apprentice, a dwarf, and an ogre?” Caressa finished for him.
“Aye, the Champions o’ the Dragon,” said the dwarf. “Sorry, sorry. I forget me manners. I be Hagus Hogstead o’ the Iron Mountains. Me lad be one o’ the champions. This be Dingleberry,” he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder.
“Dingleberry the fairy-fairy!” she said, looking proud.
“I am Valkimir of the woodland realm,” he said with a small bow. “Why are you looking for your son? Everyone knows that the champions are venturing to Bad Mountain.”
“I wish to catch them before the Wide Wall.”
“To what end?”
“That be me own damned business, elf,” said Hagus, and he pulled the reins to leave.
“Wait,” said Caressa. “We mean no disrespect. For we too are searching out the champions.”
“Aye?” said Hagus, intrigued.
“Indeed. I am Caressa Roddington, Princess of Magestra.”
“Princess Caressa?” said Hagus, taking off his leather cap and straightening his eyepatch. “Forgive me, me lady, for I knew not that I been in the presence o’ royalty.”
“It is no matter. Please, share your tale with us. There is a camp here that we believe was used by the champions. We have food and drink that has not yet been hardened by the long road.”
“I. Will. Not. Eat with the likes of those two!” said Wendel, leaping off the back of the ram and stomping off down the road. He stopped after only ten feet and turned, hands on hips. “You two coming?” he asked Dingleberry and Hagus.
“We want to hear what they have to say-say,” said the fairy, and Hagus nodded.
“Well that’s just PERFECT,” Wendel yelled.
Hagus shrugged. “Lead the way,” he told Valkimir.
They got a fire going and sat at the long dining table, sharing their stories as the moon relieved the sun of its heavenly patrol.
&nb
sp; “And that is how Dingleberry learned of the lie-lie,” said the sprite, suddenly shooting up into the air and unsheathing her needle. “I set out post-haste. Dingleberry to the rescue!”
“Careful where ye be spreadin’ that fairy dust o’ yers,” said Hagus, scooting back away from her and waving at the sparkling dust in the air. “Stuff’ll make ye act queerer than a damned wood…” he trailed off, quickly glancing at Valkimir. “Stuff makes ye loopy.”
“My dust is the purest around,” said the fairy. “Make big-big loot selling it to pirates.”
“You sold your fairy dust to pirates?” said Caressa, amused by the little sprite.
“Sure did, got me the boot-boot from Faeland. Out-out, said the queen.”
“So how does a fairy dust dealer end up befriending an ogre?” Valkimir asked.
Dingleberry very animatedly told them how she had broken a wing, and how Willow had nursed her back to health.
“Ye be a good friend,” Hagus told her when the tale was through.
“And you are a good father,” Valkimir told him. “Not as much can be said for the king of Halala. I still cannot believe the bastard would send his own son on such a fool’s quest.”
“What gets me,” said Hagus, leaning in and eyeing them all with his one good eye, “is how in the hells did Kazimir keep it a secret all this time?”
“Keep what a secret?” came a voice out of the woods.
They all jerked their heads toward the trees to the left as Kazimir walked out into the firelight.
“Most High Wizard,” said Valkimir breathlessly. He stood but did not bow. Instead, he waited.
“What a strange group this is,” said Kazimir, throwing back his hood to reveal two disapproving eyes. “So far from your homes. What, do tell, are you after?”
“You know damned well what we’re after,” said Caressa. She got right up in the High Wizard’s face. “The great lie is known. This…this epic fallacy of yours has come to an end.”
“Surely I do not know what you are talking about, Princess Caressa.”
“I should flog yer arse right here and now!” said Hagus, taking up his shovel in two tight fists.
Champions of the Dragon: (Humorous Fantasy) (Epic Fallacy Book 1) Page 21