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

by Michael James Ploof

  “And it does not. We are behind you,” said Sir Eldrick.

  Murland laughed. “I thought that it was we who were behind you. You are a legendary knight. Questing is what you do.”

  “Indeed. And I have never quested with a braver or more talented group, and I have never quested with a more powerful wizard.”

  “I can barely cast more than a fire spell,” said Murland.

  “Son,” said Sir Eldrick, leveling him with a stern gaze. “I like a humble person as much as anyone else, but you are wasting your breath. Two months ago you couldn’t light a candle with magic, now you are wielding flame like a sun god, and you have performed many spells. Hells, you mended the most famous wand ever. One that has not been mended in a thousand years!”

  Murland looked to the pocket holding the wand of Kazam, and he wondered. He realized that he was afraid of the insinuation that he was a great wizard. He thought it ironic, but now that it was more than a childish daydream, he found that he wanted nothing to do with greatness. He yearned for his simple life shoveling dung, and he laughed despite himself, wiping his watering eyes.

  “Aww, don’t be scared,” said Gibrig. “Ye got us on yer side.”

  “I am scared,” said Murland, and he said it without shame. “But I am glad that you are with me.”

  “We’ll figure this out,” said Sir Eldrick. “You’ll see. And speaking of figuring it out, where were we?”

  “Kazimir must be dealt with,” said Murland.

  “Ah, yes. And then there is the issue of our captive friends and family. We should secure their escape before we even entertain the idea of entering the dragon’s lair.”

  “Yes,” said Brannon. “Valkimir is a renowned hero. He will help us, if we can help him.”

  “What if Kazimir was lying about whooshing them to Bad Mountain?” said Gibrig.

  “We’ll just have to wait and see on that one, my friend,” said Sir Eldrick.

  “How do we defeat Kazimir?” said Brannon. “Like Murland said, he probably can’t do it alone.”

  “Then we will do it together,” said Sir Eldrick. “We have gotten this far together. No point in changing it up now.”

  Chapter 27

  Benjamin Rimizak

  A knock came at the door, and Caressa pulled herself up from the pillow, wondering for a moment where she was. She remembered with a sigh and yelled, “Just a moment.”

  She hurried to the vanity and combed out her ruffled hair.

  “Today you will gain his trust, no matter what you have to do. Their lives depend on it,” she said to the mirror.

  She had been trying to get on Benjamin’s good side for days, but the shy boy always avoided conversation and hurried out of the room once his duty had been served.

  Caressa changed into a loose gown and draped a lace shawl over her shoulders. “Come in,” she said in a sweet voice.

  Benjamin came through the door with a tray of tea. She offered him a smile, but he refused to look at her and placed the tray on the table before turning swiftly on his heel.

  “Won’t you stay with me for a while?” said Caressa.

  “I have things to d—”

  Caressa began to fake a cry, and she buried her head in her arms as she leaned and whimpered on the tabletop. She peeked between her arms and saw Benjamin slowly dancing on his toes, trying to decide whether to console her or flee.

  She put more into it, sobbing and wailing as if uncontrollably. She raised her head and feigned shock that he was still there and looking at her.

  “I’m sorry…I’ll go,” he stammered.

  “Don’t leave me alone!” she wailed. “I have been alone so long…I feel as if…as if…no one even knows that I exist!”

  Benjamin turned toward her, his eyes darting from the floor to Caressa. “I guess I could stay a little while.”

  Caressa fanned herself and let her sobbing turn to laughter. With practiced allure, she clipped her laugh and blinked heavy lashes at him. “You must think me a fool,” she said, sniffling.

  “I don’t think you’re a fool, my lady.”

  My lady. Finally we’re getting somewhere, she thought, and she began dabbing—and secretly pinching—her wet cheeks. She pushed down the fabric off her right shoulder and turned it toward Benjamin as she dabbed her eyes as well.

  “Would you sit with me and have tea?” she asked, trying to look fragile and desperate. “It has been so long since I had tea with a gentleman.”

  “I’m not…er, alright,” he said and awkwardly ambled over to the table and sat across from her.

  Caressa pressed her arms together as she reached for the tea pot and a cup, knowing that his eyes were locked on her humble cleavage. “Do you take sugar?” she said, eyes suddenly darting to his in an attempt to catch him staring.

  His eyes jerked to hers, and then at the wall, and back to hers again. “Uh, good, and you?”

  “Sorry?” she said in a musical voice.

  “I mean, yes, sugar, yes, I’ll take, er, one—two, I’ll take two.”

  “You seem so nervous,” she acknowledged. “If I didn’t know better, I would think that you were the one being held captive.”

  He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, and seemingly without thinking about it, he took a drink of the steaming tea. His eyes went wide, and he gave a cry as he nearly dropped the tea cup.

  “Oh my!” said Caressa. “Are you alright?”

  Benjamin huffed and puffed, but nodded. “Hotter than I expected,” he said, blushing.

  “You’re right,” said Caressa, putting her cup down as well. “I’m not in the mood for hot drinks. Got anything cold, like ale or spirits?”

  Benjamin was still recovering from his burnt mouth, but nodded. “Actually, Gramp—I mean, Kazimir, stores valuable vintages here in Bad Mountain.”

  “Would you be a dear and get us something rare, and smooth, and…strong?”

  He looked disturbed by the idea, but he nodded and headed for the door.

  “You will come back, won’t you?” said Caressa.

  “I will,” he said, smiling at her from the doorway.

  Gramps.

  Was he about to admit that Kazimir was his grandfather? Caressa wondered.

  Fifteen minutes later, he returned with a dark bottle of wine that he cradled in his arms as though it were an infant. He closed the door behind him and hurried across the room looking quite proud of himself.

  “If Kazimir knew that I had taken this, he would have my head,” said Benjamin, panting with excitement.

  “Nonsense. I asked for it, and he said that a princess should be treated right. Come, sit, have a drink with me.”

  Caressa poured two glasses halfway to the top and held hers aloft. “To not being alone,” she said, winking at him.

  Benjamin pursed his lips, as though daring to think that he had found a friend. It broke Caressa’s heart, but she kept up the ruse. Besides, it wasn’t so much of a ruse. She liked him, it was true.

  “To not feeling alone,” he said, and then clanged glasses.

  Caressa tilted her cup, watching Benjamin. He took a hearty drink, and from the face that he made afterward, she knew it had been his first.

  He coughed and blushed at her. “Sorry.”

  She ignored the apology and raised her glass. “To new friends.”

  “To new friends,” he said, and drank again.

  A third time she toasted to health, and he was helpless but to oblige such a prophetic cheer.

  When Caressa saw that his face had grown rosy and warm from the spirits, she leaned in, once again exposing her cleavage. She twirled a ringlet with her finger and sighed. “You know, you are the nicest person that I have met west of the Wide Wall.”

  “Really?”

  “Indeed. So, tell me, were you about to call Kazimir your grandfather earlier?”

  He blanched and glanced at the door, but Caressa took his hand from across the table.

  “It’s alright,” she said, �
�you can tell me.”

  Benjamin downed another drink and burped, obviously tipsy. “It is true, he is my grandfather.”

  “And you said that you don’t have any magic,” she pressed.

  He nodded. “Grampa Kazimir has hidden me away here on Bad Mountain since I was born. He’s ashamed of me because I don’t have any magical abilities.”

  “You poor, poor young man,” said Caressa, truly feeling sorry for him.

  “It isn’t all bad. He takes me around the world sometimes. Calls me Jack, his assistant.”

  “But, Benji—do you mind if I call you Benji?”

  He shook his head.

  “Benji, there is so much more to life. You shouldn’t have to spend your days locked away here in the middle of nowhere like some freak. You’re not a freak. So what, you don’t have any magic. Neither do most people. I tell you, if I had my way, you would live with me in the royal palace of Magestra. Hells, you could be my top advisor.”

  “Do you mean that?” he asked, eyes alight with hope and wonder.

  “I do,” she said solemnly. “But alas, I am a prisoner of the mighty Kazimir, and there is no way for me to be set free.”

  “There may be a way,” Benjamin blurted, but then he shrunk in stature and glanced at the door.

  “Oh, please,” she said, reaching across the table for his hands, which were warm yet clammy in hers. “If there is a way, I would be eternally grateful.”

  “I cannot betray my grandfather. No,” he said. Standing, he glanced at the door.

  He almost went to it again, but Caressa began crying in earnest. “Please, good Benjamin. I beseech you. I am the princess of Magestra, I can help you. But first you must help me.”

  “I don’t know,” he said, daring to look at her.

  She captured him in her steely gaze, took three steps forward, and kissed him on the mouth.

  Benjamin’s eyes went wide before he closed them, savoring the kiss.

  “Will you help me, good Benji?” she asked, her lips an inch away from his.

  He nodded, drunk with love and liquor and lust.

  Chapter 28

  Into the Petrified Plains

  Sir Eldrick took first watch that night, and he spent the hours patrolling the perimeter, looking east in search of mole men and glancing west now and again in the direction of Bad Mountain. He questioned his own words to the group in the long, dark hours, wondering as he had a hundred times whether he was leading his friends to their doom. He believed that they would come out of it all victorious, but he didn’t know how. It was just a feeling. Or course, he always thought that he would make it through everything, and he had been right every time. So why not now? Then again, he knew that you only had to fail once, and you were done. Still, there was something about the group that made him believe, which made him laugh as he walked his lonely trail around the camp.

  Belief; it was something that he had always shunned. Up until now he had only ever believed in himself. He believed in none of the dozens of religions that a man with one good ear might become aware of, and he knew he never would. Real people, real monsters, that is what Sir Eldrick believed in. Everyone was capable of being either good or evil, and some who did evil thought they were doing good. “Everyone is a hero in their own story,” he said aloud, quoting the adage.

  Sir Eldrick wanted a drink, and he wanted one bad. He hadn’t drank since nearly getting himself killed in the yeti cave. That bender had been particularly enjoyable, for it had given him the daughter he never knew. He supposed that not all his drunken rampages were bad; he had gotten the fae blade during one such episode, and it had proven invaluable. In the back of his mind, Sir Eldrick knew that he would have to be right drunk to defeat Drak’Noir, and he had already procured a flask of Dragon’s Breath, a dwarven liquor, just for the occasion.

  He thought of Akitla, trapped as Kazimir’s prisoner on Bad Mountain, and his blood boiled. No sooner had he gained a daughter than he had lost her. It was all quite ironic to Sir Eldrick.

  “Don’t be afraid, it just be me,” came the voice of Gibrig, and Sir Eldrick was impressed that the dwarf had caught him unawares.

  “I’m over here,” said Sir Eldrick, and Gibrig appeared over the small earthen hill shortly after.

  “Thought I would find ye on the high ground,” said Gibrig, glancing back at the valley.

  “I was making my rounds. The mole men will be coming from this, the east side, after all.”

  “Ah, good thinkin’,” said Gibrig. “But if I was a mole man, and I was wonderin’ where we might be thinkin’ they be comin’ from, I would dig under and come from the west.”

  Sir Eldrick laughed at the dwarf’s cleverness. “Then let us thank the gods that the mole men are not as smart as you, or let us at least hope.”

  Gibrig blushed and looked to the moon. “It be a beautiful night. This tall grass reminds me o’ the valley o’ the mountains in springtime.”

  “You miss home, eh?” said Sir Eldrick, realizing that unlike Gibrig, he had no home to miss.

  “Aye, and it be a shame me and me pap ain’t never gonna be allowed to return.”

  “Bah,” said Sir Eldrick. “Once we return heroes, what is the dwarf king going to do? Surely he will not admit that your father knocked him out, and what you did is likely already forgotten. You will be the people’s champion, a hero among dwarves.”

  “Wow, ye really think so?”

  Sir Eldrick nodded. “Indeed.”

  They shared a silent moment, Gibrig dreaming of grandeur and Sir Eldrick thinking of the queen of Vhalovia, and both staring at the moon.

  “I guess you’ll return to Vhalovia a hero as well, eh?” said Gibrig, so joyfully and innocently that Sir Eldrick felt a lump form in his throat.

  He patted the tall young dwarf on the back. “No, Gib. I can never return to Vhalovia. But I have another home to return to, and it is long overdue.”

  “Ye going to search out yer brother and sister?”

  Sir Eldrick looked to Gibrig, surprised at what he knew.

  Gibrig blushed and said softly, “Ye talk in yer sleep.”

  “Do I now? I wasn’t aware.”

  “Yeah, so does Murland. And boy, does he have a thing for Caressa.”

  “Ah,” said Sir Eldrick. “Now that I have heard. He is quite the poet in his sleep, eh?”

  Gibrig and Sir Eldrick shared a laugh, and the knight gave the dwarf a one-armed hug. “Have a good watch, Master Hogstead. Watch out for mole men, and…stones that move in the night.”

  “Goodnight, Sir Eldrick.”

  ***

  The morning came like a summertime melody. The plains, which were not so petrifying as their name might suggest, were full of life come the rising of the sun. Bugs leapt from grass blade to flower petal, croaking and chirping the glory of the sun. Birds flew in the sky, some as lone hawks and others in flocks. There was other wildlife as well. A curious fox kept a keen eye on their camp that morning, as spotted by Brannon, and a few wild dogs had taken an interest in the group. Purple buffalo had been spotted by Murland during his morning squat, and Gibrig swore he had seen a painted face in the tall grass while cooking breakfast.

  The companions all sat around the smoldering fire, eating with vigor, like a condemned squadron allowed one last meal. Their spirits were high, however, for the plains gave them a feeling of familiarity. They could have been anywhere east of the Wide Wall, just five friends enjoying an excursion. None of them thought of the Backbone Mountains, or Drak’Noir, or the dastardly Kazimir, they thought only of their next step, which was crossing the plains in one piece.

  “The plains don’t seem so bad,” Willow noted as she lazily gnawed on a bone. With Brannon’s floral magic, she had snagged a large hare early in the morning.

  Sir Eldrick sipped the bland rabbit stew—for they had not the time to cook a proper stew—and regarded her with a face of warning. “As was true with the Forest of the Dead, the Petrified Plains are not to be taken lightly
.”

  “You have traveled west of the Wall before,” said Brannon. “What do you know?”

  “Well, the Petrified Plains are quite aptly named, or so it is said. They say that at night, everything within the plains turns to stone.”

  “What?” said Gibrig, looking quite alarmed. “I ain’t wantin’ to be turned to stone.”

  “Not you, Master Hogstead,” said Sir Eldrick. “But those creatures who were here when it first happened, and those who are descendants, they are said to be afflicted with the curse.”

  “Curse by who?” said Murland.

  “Drak’Noir. Who else?” said Sir Eldrick.

  “Ye mean…” said Gibrig, glancing at them all worriedly, “that Drak’Noir did that? I mean, turned everyone to stone?”

  “No,” said Sir Eldrick. “I mean that looking upon her turned them to stone. Or so says legend.”

  “What?” said Brannon, quite taken aback. “Are you telling us that just looking at her will turn us to stone?”

  Sir Eldrick waved him off. “I have never spoken to anyone who has seen these stone creatures turned to life. Relax. Many things are legend, and many legends are false.”

  “So, what?” said Gibrig with a stiff upper lip. “Ye tryin’ to scare us or somethin’? With yer warnin’s and such?”

  “No, I am trying to prepare you. Mole men surely still pursue us. And do not forget, Captain Ripps still has Willow’s finger, and his wizards can track us. On top of that,” he said evenly, “there are real and imagined dangers that are said to lurk in these fields, so as always, be on guard.”

  The companions set out after their meal and made seven miles easily across the grassy plains by noon. They saw little wildlife, and there was no sign of the mole men from the east, west, north, or south. With the sun high in the middle of the sky, Willow and the others plopped down on the tall grass, which by its thickness and length, offered extremely comfortable bedding.

  “Let’s make it a quick one,” said Sir Eldrick before drinking heartily from his water skin. “We can still make another ten miles by sundown.”