Fluff Dragon

by Platte F. Clark

  “We’re surrounded!” Dwight called out, shifting his battle-axe from one hand to the other.

  The group moved closer together as the encircling rot advanced. They didn’t need to be told what would happen if it reached them—they could see what it did when it touched anything living.

  “What do we do?” Max asked, looking at Bellstro.

  “I’ll try to clear a path,” the wizard said. He grabbed a broken branch and began muttering words beneath his breath.

  “We’re running out of time,” Sarah said, stepping closer to the others. The black ring was only a few feet from them.

  The ring of shadow closed more. Max and his friends were pressed together as tightly as they could, watching it advance. Bellstro held the stick high in the air as strange white symbols burned along its length.

  “Back!” he shouted, and Bellstro thrust the branch into the ground. The shadow immediately drew away from the stick as a light exploded from its base and began cutting a path through the sea of black earth.

  “It’s working!” Puff shouted, unable to hide his relief.

  Now, Max thought to himself. Now was the time to find a spell and burn the necromancer into nothing, despite what Bellstro had said about the Tower. Max gathered his will and pressed his mind into the book, searching for the currents he’d felt before. He held on to it, searching . . . anticipating.

  But still there was nothing.

  Max groaned in frustration. The others turned to the small path of light that stretched and parted the blight on either side. “Let’s go!” Dwight commanded, but Bellstro put his hand on his shoulder and stopped the dwarf before he could start.

  “No,” Bellstro said. They turned as one and watched as the path began to waver. Then it collapsed and was gone, the shadow pouring into the space like a river down a canal. The blight reached the stick, and the symbols faded as the wood turned to ash.

  “No!” Sarah shouted in frustration. She looked at her feet and inched backward, the rot less than an inch from her shoe.

  Bellstro collapsed, and Dwight dropped his battle-axe to catch him. Dirk and Sarah grabbed hold and barely managed to keep the wizard from tumbling into the shadow. At their feet, Dwight’s battle-axe disappeared into the black.

  “Max, if you’ve got something in your bag of tricks, you better use it!” Dwight grunted, struggling to hold the wizard. But Max had nothing. He braced himself against the hard truth—he had failed, and now they were about to die because of it.

  “Dangit!” Dirk exclaimed. “What we really need is silver!” Silver had special properties against spiritual monsters and the undead, and Max supposed it was just about as good of a last wish as any. He turned to Sarah, reading the fear in her eyes. He wanted to say something—to at least apologize. He opened his mouth—

  The ground suddenly rumbled around them.

  Max’s jaw snapped shut as the blight paused its advance. Sarah looked at her feet, the rot millimeters from reaching her. Then the remains of the shattered forest began to explode. All around them patches of shadow sizzled and spewed airborne, collapsing like air escaping from a balloon. The ground erupted like a field full of geysers, and Max caught sight of something where the shadow had been. Silver shimmered in the moonlight. Silver!

  All around them the forest was turning to silver, and the advancing blight boiled away at its touch. Even the ground turned to silver, evaporating the shadow in its wake. A great wail of frustration and anger ripped through the air. There was no place for the necromancer to hide, and the creature of shadow shrieked a final time and was gone. Max and his friends found themselves alone, in the midst of a silver forest.

  “I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” Sarah said, looking around her. She helped Dwight lower Bellstro gently to the ground. The ancient wizard’s eyes fluttered open, and he looked around him in disbelief. “Oh my,” he finally said.

  “Is this your doing?” Dwight asked Bellstro. But the wizard shook his head.

  “No. Not me.”

  “And I didn’t do it,” Max added, anticipating the group’s next question.

  “Then one of you got into my things, didn’t you?” Bellstro asked.

  All eyes turned to Dirk.

  “I saw them when I was washing the dishes,” Dirk confessed. “And technically, you did say all that is mine is yours.”

  “Saw what exactly?” Sarah asked.

  “A bunch of magic potions in the spice cabinet.”

  Bellstro frowned. “I never thought anyone would look there.”

  “It’s not like I’m nosey,” Dirk said defensively. “Everyone knows you always explore every location you go to. So I saw a stash of potions hidden in the spice cabinet and I figured we’d probably need them at some point. Then I saw this one cool one.”

  “The dark-blue one?” Bellstro asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Dirk confirmed. “I was going ask you about it, but before I could, the skeleton attacked. So I hurried and drank it.”

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Sarah exclaimed. “You just decided some random liquid in a vial might be a potion and you drank it?”

  “Duh,” Dirk answered. “Like I said, this is how dungeon crawling works. I’m not stupid—it was in a vial, people. A vial! So yeah, I totally drank it because we needed the buff.”

  “Buff?” Puff asked.

  “Gamer term,” Max said. “Like getting extra power or something.”

  Bellstro grunted disapprovingly. “Not even I’m foolish enough to drink the dark-blue one. I’m amazed you’re still alive.”

  “Yeah, people tell me that all the time,” Dirk replied.

  “Well, you might not be for long,” Bellstro said. “You drank the Ergodic Elixir.”

  Puff blinked his eyes in surprise and sat with a thump (it was actually more of a thuwoosh.) “Oh no,” he said.

  “ ‘Ergodic’ means having to do with chance or something, right?” Sarah asked.

  “Indeed,” Bellstro said with a cough. “The potion was mixed by the Eldritch Circle, an ancient pact of magic users comprised of a druid, a necromancer, a warlock, and a sorcerer. It contained unicorn tears, dragon’s blood, shavings from a gracon’s horn, and other things lost over time or too unspeakable to mention. It was given to me to safeguard, deemed too dangerous to ever use.”

  Everyone looked back at Dirk. “It’s not my fault,” Dirk said with a shrug. “It was next to the paprika.”

  “What does this potion do?” Dwight asked.

  Bellstro motioned to the silver forest around them. “I’d say this, for one,” the wizard replied. “And what else? Who’s to say? But it’s as powerful as it is unpredictable.” Bellstro began to cough again, and then the cough turned into a bout of hacking and wheezing. When it passed, the old wizard’s hand fell feebly to his side.

  “I’ve used the last of my magic,” he muttered. “My life is slipping away.” The old wizard struggled to pull a sheet of weathered parchment from a pocket in his robe.

  “Here,” he continued, pressing it into Max’s hand. “Upon this are the names of the Prime Spells and what they do. Know them and be ready.”

  Max looked at the paper in his hands.

  “To defeat Rezormoor, you’ll need more than the Codex,” Bellstro continued. “You’ll need friends—old and new. Now my time is done, children. My next great adventure beckons.”

  A white light started to rise around Bellstro. Max and the others backed away, watching as the light swarmed around him. Then it moved to form a glimmering archway where an even brighter light poured through from the other side. Bellstro frowned.

  “Seriously?” he said. “I didn’t know walking toward the light was so literal. I’m old and tired—can’t you just swoosh me there?”

  The group looked at one another and then back to the wizard.

  “Fine, fine,” Bellstro said. He pulled himself to his feet and walked toward the glowing archway. He paused, turning back. “Mourn me not, young ones.
I go to where I am long overdue . . . and do so in the company of friends. One cannot ask for more. Well, other than not having to walk. You’d think they’d have a better system for this by now.” Bellstro waved and moved through the glowing arch. “Don’t be surprised if I visit you again.” Then both the wizard and the archway disappeared.

  “He’s gone,” Sarah said, her voice heavy.

  “Not gone,” Puff replied. “We must not dishonor him by mourning—it is not the way with one such as him. We came seeking his help and he has told us what we must do.”

  Max looked at the paper in his hands. He had touched the Prime Spells before, but now he had their names. And names had power.

  “What do we do now?” he asked.

  “More important, isn’t this forest worth, like, a fortune or something?” Dirk asked.

  “Yeah, and someday I intend to come back and mine it,” Dwight answered. “Might even make this whole misadventure worthwhile. But next we head north. Once we get out of these woods, we’ll be in the Dwarven Nation. We’ll make for He’ilk.” Dwight moved to one of the silver trees and found the end of a very small branch. He snapped it off and held it up for the others to see. “Silver’s too hard to mine without a pickaxe, but we can break off enough to buy us whatever we need. If we’re going to do this, we’ll need supplies.”

  Max and his friends spent the next few hours gathering as much silver as they could carry before moving to the edge of the forest, where they made camp. That night Max dreamed he was being tossed about on a small boat on a silver sea. And below the waves, watching him with unblinking eyes, a monster bided its time.

  On the fifteen prime spells

  ALL MAGIC IS A REFLECTION of the Fifteen Prime Spells. The origin of the Fifteen Primes are unknown, having not so much been created as found. And of all the great sorcerer’s, only Maximilian Sporazo had enough understanding of them to capture and utilize them in their raw form. It is further admonished the Fifteen Prime Spells not be used in cooking. You’d think that part would be obvious, but it bears repeating.

  The Fifteen Prime Spells, in alphabetical order, include the spells of:

  Captivity

  Density

  Elemenity

  Fixity

  Futurity

  Gallimaufry

  Gravity

  Irony

  Liquidity

  Nimiety

  Panoply

  Parity

  Tutelary

  Unity

  Vacuity

  CHAPTER NINE

  THAT’S A BIG HEAD

  THEY HAD NEVER SEEN A city like He’ilk. The entrance was carved from the skull of some monstrous creature that had died there. Max stood in awe at the great rows of teeth thrust into the ground like the creature was trying to devour the very earth—the white elongated skull the size of a football stadium, the two huge horns rising into the air, and, at their tops, two flags fluttering triumphantly in the wind.

  “Tiamus,” Puff said reverently. “The last DragonVir—the great ancestor to all dragons.”

  “What happened to it?” Sarah asked, her mind trying to get around the size of the thing.

  “It was caught between the realms during the Great Sundering,” Puff continued. “Buried deep in the earth, Tiamus fought to claw its way out. And it almost made it.”

  “It’s said the great mountains of Thoran were formed from the beast’s struggle to push its way to the surface,” Dwight added.

  Puff nodded. “All dragons hold this place sacred.”

  “Which is all well and good so long as you remember the dwarfs were here first,” Dwight added.

  “This is how the enmity between dwarfs and dragons began,” Glenn announced from Max’s belt. “But as I’ve always said, it’s better to have an enemy ahead of you than a manatee behind you.”

  “Huh?” Sarah asked. “What are you even talking about?”

  “Manatees—don’t turn your back on them,” Glenn said. “Consider yourself warned.”

  They were standing on a long road that lead to the city’s entrance. It had taken five days to get clear of the forest and then another three to cross the grass plains.

  “I’m starving,” Dirk announced, voicing exactly what Max was thinking. “Cities have food and we have silver.”

  “Yeah,” Max added. “I don’t think I can stomach another forest berry.”

  “For once we agree. So let’s get going,” Dwight said without moving. The group stood for several moments waiting for the dwarf to start, but he seemed content to stand there and stare at the city in the distance. They all knew Dwight had a problem with tight places—it was a huge disgrace for a dwarf to be claustrophobic. And that had something to do with why he’d opened a gaming store in the Techrus.

  As they continued to stand there (everyone thought better of bringing up the phobia business) an ornate wagon drove toward them. The driver pulled on the reins of two small horses and brought the vehicle to a stop. She looked down and acknowledged them with a tip of her head. She was thin with brownish skin and large almond-shaped eyes, and her long brown hair was pulled back behind her head. Dirk pointed at her, his face breaking out into a wide grin.

  “You’re an elf!” Dirk exclaimed. Sarah quickly stepped in front of him.

  “Please excuse my friend,” she said, lowering Dirk’s arm. “That was extremely rude.”

  The elf offered a good-natured smile. “No offense taken. And if you don’t mind my asking, I noticed you’ve been standing here for some time. Is everything all right?”

  “Fine, fine,” Dwight said. “Just taking everything in. You don’t often see sights like the skull of Tiamus.”

  “A true wonder, yes,” the elf replied. “Perhaps you might be interested in a lift? I’m on my way to pick up a passenger and deliver them to Vail’ik. Many prefer to ride in the comfort of my coach rather than making the journey on foot.”

  Sarah approached the ornately decorated wagon. It was painted with a complex design of overlapping leaves that seemed to move as she turned her head. “Your wagon is beautiful,” she said as she stepped around it.

  “Guys, we totally have to ride in that!” Dirk exclaimed. He walked over and tried to peer through a glass window, but it was stained with a smoky tint.

  “Many of my clients prefer their privacy,” the elf said. “Discretion, comfort, and ease of mind—it’s all part of what I offer.” The whole idea of not being seen appealed to Max. He had no desire to run into another necromancer.

  “Peace of mind, you say?” Dwight repeated, taking a closer look at the carriage. He could see various runes inscribed in the highly polished wood.

  “Indeed,” the elf replied. “This carriage has been in my family for generations. It was built by the finest craftsmen, then imbued with certain . . . enhancements.”

  “Magic,” Dwight said.

  “If you like,” the elf replied. “While the elven nations are not home to the wizards’ towers, we have our own ways with such things. But as to your question, those who ride within find a certain tranquility and easing of their burdens. It makes for a most pleasant journey.”

  “Dude, that might totally help you with your claustro—” Dirk started to say, but Max elbowed him in the ribs before he could get it out.

  “We have silver that needs to be smelted and traded for coin,” the dwarf said. “If you’re willing to wait for payment, we could use a ride about town.”

  “I will take you at your word,” the elf said. “Shall we say ten silver? I’m not due to pick up my client until this evening, and you may have my coach until then.”

  “Done!” Dwight announced, not bothering to ask the others. Max had already decided the coach was a good idea.

  “Ten silver?” Puff said. “You could buy a wagon and horses for that much.”

  Dirk was already stepping up to the carriage’s door and opening it. He paused, looking inside. “Oh man, this is awesome!”

  “Stay here if you want,”
Dwight said to Puff. “But we’re riding in style.”

  Puff shrugged—who was he to argue with how they spent their money? He scampered up the steps and made his way into the carriage. Once they were inside, the elf moved her hand and the door shut behind the group. “Make yourself comfortable,” she said, turning to speak through a small sliding panel near where she sat. “My name is Sumyl. This carriage was first built for my great-great-great-uncle, who found few joys in life.”

  “Nothing sadder than an unhappy elf,” Dirk said from within the wagon.

  “Yes,” Sumyl replied. “He had elf-esteem issues.”

  The inside of the carriage reminded Max of walking into Bellstro’s home: the dimensions were far bigger on the inside than should have been possible. In the center was a long curved bench, covered in thick red velvet and stuffed with soft padding. It was shaped like a crescent moon and was thick enough that one could easily stretch out and sleep on it. The bench was recessed into the floor and surrounded by a walkway big enough to stand on and peer out the windows (of which there were many more on the inside than on the outside). Several stuffed chairs were pressed into the far corners, and at the front a small desk was equipped with parchment and ink. The back wall was crammed with shelves full of books.

  Most important, opposite the writing desk was a pantry stocked with a variety of fruit, breads, and other delicacies. Dirk had even found a square box that functioned like a refrigerator. A sign above it announced, FOOD AND DRINK TO BE CHARGED IN ADDITION TO TRANSPORT FEE. It was probably going to be the most expensive meal they’d ever eaten, but after going without for so long, nobody thought twice about diving in.

  Soon the wagon approached the gaping mouth of Tiamus, and Max and his friends carried handfuls of food to the windows for a better view. Dwarven guards in heavy plate armor watched stoically as they rolled into the city.

  “They’ve all got beards,” Dirk noted, turning to Dwight (who had a couple weeks of stubble going but no real beard as such). “How come you don’t have a beard? I thought it was, like, a dwarf requirement?”