The Legend of Drak'Noir: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 3)

by Michael James Ploof

  The crowd cheered, and Hinckley was bathed in applause. He gestured for them to quiet down, and pointed at the exits. “On your way out, do grab a sack of wizard shatter from High Wizard Butters. It is the strongest allowed by the wizarding accords, and will help us all in our endeavor. I beseech you all, however, do not smoke it until we reach Bad Mountain.”

  Chapter 19

  Giving it the old College Scry

  The group’s mood was bleak as they traveled along the coast. The harbor that had so recently housed the camps of those seeking to trade on Atlas was surrounded by high cliffs, and it had only two paths leading out. One was back the way the sand gnomes had brought them, and the other was a path close to the coast that meandered through the rocky terrain. The land had been ravaged by the storm, and it looked as though some of the traders had gotten caught in it, for there were broken tent poles and torn fabric scattered about along with broken pottery and barrels, whose contents had seeped into the ground days ago.

  The companions chose to take the path leading along the coast, though it was slow going, and sometimes so close to the water that sea spray soaked them as they tried to angle through the maze of jutting rocks.

  Murland flew high above the group, unable to think straight. He was so consumed by anger, sorrow, and worry that he didn’t know whether to cry or scream, or both. He felt like such a fool. Here he was thinking that he was becoming a wizard, yet he could hardly cast much more than fire spells. And Kazimir had subdued five people while at the same time making five—or six, if you counted Wendel—disappear. All the while, Murland was in possession of the wand and spell book of Allan Kazam, the greatest wizard in history. Now Caressa was at the dragon’s door, and it was all Murland’s fault. He should have never agreed to letting her tag along. He should have sent her back to Castle Roddington where she belonged.

  Murland laughed weakly. “Not that she would have gone for it,” he said to Packy before breaking down.

  He wept as he glided over the plains, and his tears fell upon the grass below. He quickly got ahold of himself, however, knowing that despair would not help Caressa out of the danger that she was in. Only strength and fortitude would aid him now. He knew this, but it was hard getting over the utter feeling of doom that he now faced.

  Shortly before nightfall, Sir Eldrick signaled for him to land. Murland hadn’t yet found a path that would lead them over the rocky bluff, and so he landed carefully on the slick rocks they had been traversing.

  “There,” said Sir Eldrick, pointing. “We can make camp there for the night.”

  “You think that sleeping in a cave by the sea west of the Wide Wall is a good idea?” Brannon asked skeptically. “Did that yeti drop you on your head too many times?”

  “Murland, you see anywhere else we might find rest on this bloody coast?” said Sir Eldrick, ignoring the elf.

  “No, it’s like this for as far as I can see.”

  “Well then, let’s go see if anything nasty lives in there, shall we?” said Sir Eldrick, unsheathing his blade.

  Willow followed him eagerly up the steep rocks to the mouth of the cave, nestled high above sea level at the foot of the bluff. Murland produced his wand in his good hand and mentally prepared a fire spell while Brannon and Gibrig took up the rear.

  Sir Eldrick had lit a torch with the onset of night, and he now held it high above his head, searching the dark recesses for anything that moved. Willow gave a strong sniff but had nothing to report.

  They soon determined that the cave was uninhabited, though it had a tunnel leading off the back that could have led anywhere. It didn’t smell bad at least, and that was enough for Brannon to give his approval. Sir Eldrick told Willow to block up the back tunnel with a large boulder, and the companions all found a comfortable spot on the smooth stone.

  “I’ll take first watch,” said Sir Eldrick, taking a piece of offered ham shank from Willow as she handed out rations from the bag of food the lady pirates had provided.

  “I sure wish we had the makin’s for a fire,” said Gibrig. He shivered, though the weather was mild and no wind found them in the cave.

  “I can go flying and see what dead wood I can rustle up,” said Murland, rubbing his shoulders where the straps dug in. Just give me a bit. Flying all day isn’t as fun as it looks.”

  “Now, I know what you are all going to say,” said Willow, raising her voice as if to begin a speech. “But I can’t get over it.”

  “Get over what, Willow?” asked Gibrig.

  “Why in the blazes can’t Kazimir just whoosh us to Bad Mountain?”

  “Oh, gods,” said Brannon with a sigh. “I’m going to whoosh my foot up your ass if you keep bringing that up.”

  “Hear me out. He whooshed the others there, right? Boom!” she said, snapping her fingers. “Just like that, they were gone. So why not us? Huh? There’s got to be a reason that he can’t or won’t do it.”

  “I never really thought about it before,” said Murland.

  “Me neither,” said Gibrig.

  “I just thought maybe no one could whoosh to Bad Mountain, like maybe there was an energy field or something around the place,” said Brannon, looking disturbed.

  “I had assumed the same,” said Sir Eldrick from the mouth of the cave. He began pacing and stroking his beard absentmindedly. “But he did whoosh them there.”

  “Exactly,” said Willow. “So we know it is possible. Why can’t he do it to us?”

  They all pondered the question, and it was Gibrig who lit up. “We’re fools!” he said, as though he had figured out a great riddle.

  “What?” said Brannon, looking annoyed that Gibrig had gotten his hopes up.

  “Kazimir is always calling us fools, right?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Well, maybe he needs us to be fools,” said Gibrig, getting more excited by the moment. “Maybe Drak’Noir wants fools.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Brannon, waving him off, though he looked to the others.

  “Is it?” said Murland. “We were all chosen because Kazimir thought us fools, right? And I suppose that anyone who would venture to Bad Mountain on their own accord is a fool.”

  “So, you’re saying that Kazimir can’t whoosh us because we need to be foolish enough to try to get there on our own?” said Willow.

  “Exactly!” said Gibrig.

  “It’s a solid theory,” said Sir Eldrick. “But aside from scratching an itch, what does this knowledge do for us?”

  “Following Gib’s logic,” said Murland, “that means that Drak’Noir, not Kazimir, needs fools brought to her. But why? Can it be that she only dines on fools?”

  “It is true, Kazimir could just bring her anyone to eat,” said Sir Eldrick. “Why go through with this elaborate hoax, unless we are specifically the type of people who must be fed to the dragon, or her whelps.”

  “Let’s not forget who we are dealing with here,” said Brannon. “It is Kazimir who said that we needed to be sacrificed to the dragon. Perhaps we shouldn’t be so quick to believe him. And, he told us that he whooshed them to Bad Mountain. He could be lying.”

  “Murland, can you scry the others? That way we at least know they are there,” said Sir Eldrick.

  “Geeze, I don’t know. But I think I could at least make a compass to guide us to them, like the one I made to find you.”

  “Excellent idea.”

  “I can start looking into it when I get back from gathering firewood.”

  “No need,” said Sir Eldrick, eyeing Packy. “I can do that for you. That is, if you don’t mind me using your backpack.”

  “Have at it,” said Murland, glad to be able to relax instead and not have the straps digging into his raw flesh. “If he’ll carry you, I’m all for it.”

  “Well, Packy. What’ll it be?” said Sir Eldrick, and to the knight’s delight, the backpack rose into the air with a flutter of wings and flew out of the mouth of the cave.

  “Have fun!” said
Murland as Sir Eldrick rushed to follow.

  “Oh, he will,” said Gibrig. “Flyin’ with Packy be amazin’.”

  Murland went to work on a compass that would lead them to the others. He needed only something from one of their friends, like a hair or fingernail, and Brannon happily offered the necklace he wore around his neck. But Murland had heard what was supposed to be inside the pendant, and opted instead to use one of Caressa’s hairs, which he took from a braid that she had given him for good luck while they were at sea.

  Sir Eldrick returned numerous times with armloads of deadwood and even dried grass, which he said he had found where the land transitioned from the desert to the plains. The companions started a fire, quickly warming the little cave. By the time Sir Eldrick returned with the final load, Murland was ready with his magic compass. He used the same bowl and wooden coin as he had used to track down Sir Eldrick, only replacing the hair tacked to the coin. Once the bowl was full of water, he spoke the words and tapped it with his wand.

  To everyone’s surprise, the bowl exploded, and the voice of Kazimir cackled and echoed through the cave.

  “The bastard must have wards around them,” said Sir Eldrick.

  “I wasn’t expecting that,” said Murland, wiping the water from the bowl off his face.

  “I wouldn’t try scrying them,” said Willow, making an animatedly nervous-looking face.

  “Poor Valkimir,” said Brannon. His face, which had been hopeful only a moment before, was now pale and guilt-stricken.

  “Awe, it’ll be alright,” said Gibrig.

  “Will it?” said Brannon, suddenly turning and snapping on the dwarf. “And how exactly will it be alright? I mean, I thought that maybe, just maybe we had a chance with the help of the others. But now…how in the hells is it going to be alright?”

  “That kind of thinking isn’t going to help,” said Sir Eldrick.

  “So, what, should I just shut up and put on a happy face? Follow the pie-eyed piper over the cliff gladly? What are we going to do?”

  “We’re going to defeat Drak’Noir once and for all!” Sir Eldrick bellowed, his big voice booming in the small cave.

  But Brannon did not relent. “I appreciate the gusto, but I need a plan, my friend. The rest of us don’t become great warriors when we get drunk.”

  “That’s not nice,” said Gibrig.

  “You are all great warriors already,” said Sir Eldrick. “I thought that you would have realized that by now.”

  “We got lucky,” said Brannon sullenly.

  “Lucky my ass. I have been questing for over twenty years, and I know a warrior when I see one.”

  Murland, Willow, Gibrig, and Brannon all exchanged hopeful glances.

  “Think of everything we have accomplished together,” Sir Eldrick went on, standing up like a storyteller beside the fire. “We will journey to Bad Mountain and defeat the dragon.”

  “How can you be so sure?” said Brannon.

  Sir Eldrick let out a slow sigh. “I just believe it in my heart. And that is good enough for me.”

  He walked out of the mouth of the cave to begin first watch, leaving the others to ponder their fate.

  Chapter 20

  Yo-ho-ho and a Pocket of Seeds

  Gibrig lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The smoke from the fire was quickly blackening the mineral-rich stone, and he watched dreamily as it snaked across the ceiling in search of a way out, finally disappearing out of the mouth of the cave. He felt safe here in the small cave, for it reminded him of home. He and his father didn’t live inside the mountain like most dwarves, but Gibrig was still a dwarf, and humanism or not, he liked being underground. He thought of his father as he suffered to try and get some sleep. His shift would be starting in a few hours, and he doubted he would get much rest. He felt so bad about his father that it took all his mental fortitude to keep from crying. Sure, Hagus was a grown dwarf and would insist that he could take care of himself, but it was Gibrig’s fault that he was in danger. The other companions had similar guilt about their friends, he knew, but theirs was misguided. They had all been chosen by Kazimir right from the start, unlike Gibrig. The king of dwarves had had a different dwarf in mind. Instead of that poor soul, the king had chosen Gibrig because he’d insulted him by refusing to sell Snorts.

  The thought of his beloved pig finally brought Gibrig over the edge, and in the quiet of the cave, he struggled to stifle his sobs. If it wasn’t for him, his father would be safe in their little house in the valley. Hagus would have never punched the king, and he would still be as welcome as any dwarf of the mountain. But now, because of Gibrig’s stubbornness, Hagus was a prisoner on Bad Mountain.

  Gibrig wished that he had magic like Murland, for he would find a spell that would transport him back to the day before Gillrog had leapt from Ruger’s Ridge. If he could go back, Gibrig would sock those bullies right in their pie holes, and he would show Gill that he didn’t need to be a victim anymore. He would tell him how great he was, and how much he was loved. If he could go back, Gibrig would stay home instead of going to market on that fateful day, and he would tell his father that he couldn’t sell Snorts. They would all live happily ever after, and the problems of the wider world would remain just that.

  But, what would become of Murland, Sir Eldrick, Willow, and Brannon? a voice in his head asked.

  Gibrig instantly felt selfish about his fantasy. He finally had real friends, and here he was wishing he could go back and undo everything that had brought him here. He didn’t know what to think or how to feel. It was as if he could do no right. If he hadn’t insulted the king, his father would be safe, but would the others have made it out of the lair of the cyclopes without him? He found himself wondering what his life might have been like had it been lived out in the valley of the mountain. He knew that he would have likely never married, and would have lived in the little house as a farmer for the rest of his days. Of course, that didn’t sound bad at all. But then again, he never would have met his good friends. He never would have seen so much of the world. And he surely wouldn’t have gone on a dangerous quest.

  A quick laugh escaped him, and it echoed in the small cave much louder than he would have liked. Was he going mad? One minute he was crying, and the next he was giggling like a lass beneath the maypole.

  Gibrig sat up and drank from his water skin. The fire was still burning, and Brannon was sitting on the other side of it, seemingly transfixed by the flickering flames.

  “Can’t sleep either?” said Gibrig, glancing at the snoring Murland and Willow.

  “Not a wink,” said Brannon with a heavy sigh. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, and Gibrig felt like he was intruding by noticing. He turned his gaze to the fire and sat in silence.

  Brannon said no more, but stared at the fire, as though its dancing flames held the answers to his many questions.

  “Brannon, you think they’re alright?”

  Brannon began to speak, but then broke down crying. Gibrig wanted to comfort his friend; he wanted to give him a big hug and tell him that everything would be alright, but he didn’t think Brannon would like that.

  “Val…” Brannon began, and with effort he got control of his emotions. He sniffled and wiped his nose, straightened his back and lifted his chin, looking to the fire all the while. “Valkimir has faced worse, and he has always come out on top.”

  “I bet he did,” came a voice, one that Gibrig knew well, and it filled him with dread.

  He and Brannon jerked their heads to the door, and there, leaning on a cane with two large bears standing next to him, was Captain B Ripps. His face was partially burnt, and his eyes were alight with the wild glee of vengeance.

  Willow awoke with a start, and she was on her feet with club in hand faster than Gibrig would have thought possible. Murland woke much more slowly, but when he saw their old nemesis standing in the mouth of the cave, he too leapt to his feet.

  “Not so fast, magic boy,” said the captain, noticing Murland goi
ng for his wand.

  A bear, who was surely once cute and cuddly, but who was now large and fierce and wild-eyed, strode forth on his hind feet with a bound Sir Eldrick. Captain Ripps smiled a gold-toothed smile and rustled the knight’s hair. “He’s not so great when he’s sober. Never saw us coming, did you?” he asked Sir Eldrick.

  “Run!” Sir Eldrick yelled to the others.

  They stood their ground.

  “That’s an order, don’t worry about me—”

  Captain Ripps hit Sir Eldrick with the butt of the cane, bloodying his nose. “Shut your useless mouth, Slur Sirsalot.”

  Brannon rose to his feet slowly, purposefully, and laid the most hateful glare on the captain that Gibrig had ever seen. “I’ve had just about enough of you,” he said, gritting his teeth and clenching his fists.

  “How brave you have become,” said Captain Ripps, unwavering. “It will be that much more fun to break you.”

  “Let him go, and we will let you go unharmed,” said Brannon.

  The captain gave a sudden, cocky laugh and glanced at his furry enforcers. “You believe this elf?”

  The bears laughed in their deep, unsettling voices.

  “This is your last warning,” said Brannon. He glanced at Murland, opening his palm behind his back to reveal a handful of seeds. Brannon’s eyes went to Gibrig’s water pouch, and then settled on the dwarf.

  Gibrig nodded, as did Murland.

  “You heard him,” said Willow, taking a step forward and slapping her club against her open palm.

  Captain Ripps looked from Brannon to Murland to Gibrig with suspicion. “Are you all mad? There is no way out for you. I’ve a hundred pirates and a dozen rainbow bears at my disposal, not to mention a pirate ship with—”

  “Do what Brannon says,” said Gibrig. “I’ve never seen him like this, and I’d hate to see anything happen to you or the…cute bears.”