by Dave Higgins
“There’s still six more level ups before the cap.”
Edmond frowned at Pettigrew.
“You can only level up ten times per quest,” Pettigrew said. “Otherwise, you’d end up too powerful to fight the dragon.”
“That makes no sense,” Edmond said. “I want to be as powerful as possible, so I can win easily.”
“You think any of this is meant to make sense?” Daffodil pointed at the chicken drumsticks that had replaced the pig skeletons.
“There are twelve more points available,” Pettigrew said. “You need to concentrate on using what you want more than getting lucky.”
“I don’t concentrate on getting… fortunate. It just happens.”
“You know,” Pettigrew said. “Maybe your points going into luck is part of your luck?”
“Wonderful,” Edmond said, getting the distinct feeling he was doomed.
The next corridor led to a junction. On one side, a large bronze door had a keyhole on the wall nearby. On the other side, an arch with a large 3 above it revealed steps down into the darkness.
“Unless either of you has a key,” Edmond said. “The only way is down.”
“Level three,” Daffodil said. “Things are going to get harder again.”
“We can take it.” Edmond put his arm around Daffodil’s shoulder. “With you by my side, there’s nothing I can’t do.”
Daffodil blushed. “Aww, Edmond.”
“When I get my true love back,” Edmond said. “I want you there, by my side. This is as much your quest as mine.”
“Wonderful.” Daffodil stomped toward the arch.
“Hey,” Pettigrew said. “I’m here too.”
“I couldn’t do it without you either, Grew,” Edmond said.
Pettigrew grinned wider than Edmond had ever seen.
“What?”
“You called me Grew.”
“I guess so.” Edmond waved him after Daffodil.
Chapter 7
Matrimony
The smell of sulphur wafted up as they descended into the gloom. Instead of the expected square room with torches, the stairs ended in darkness.
Grew did the light dance easily. Edmond couldn’t dance as well as Grew, but created a small flame. Then Daffodil finished her own dance, her mana having recharged according to Grew.
With more light, Edmond saw the walls had changed again. Rather than bricks, they were made of raw earth. After how tidy the other levels had been, such a slipshod job was worrying; it suggested whoever was maintaining the place didn’t come here.
“What are those doors made of?” Daffodil asked.
Three rough wooden doors stood on the far side wall. Instead of iron band and chains, they were held together with mouldy rope. Above each door, someone had mounted a stuffed animal head. The first was a wolf, the second a goat, and the third a deer.
“Weird.” Edmond walked closer. “What do you think it means?”
He staggered back as the three heads opened their eyes and stared at him.
“What does it mean? What does it mean?” the goat said. “That’s all we ever hear.”
“Well,” the wolf said. “It is our job to explain.”
“This lot look smart,” the deer said. “Maybe they’ll figure it out.”
“You explain,” the goat said. “I did it last time.”
“No, you didn’t,” the wolf said. “I did.”
“I’ll explain,” the deer said. “Travellers, welcome to the doors of the animals. Behind one door lies certain death, the second has near certain death, and the third—”
“I know this one,” Edmond said. “One of you lies and one of you always tells the truth.”
“There are three of them,” Grew said.
“So one of them tells half-lies?” Edmond said.
“No,” the deer said. “One of us is a pessimist, one of us a realist, and one of us an optimist. You may ask each of us if you’ll survive one of the doors. The pessimist will say no unless the door is the easiest path. The realist will tell you your chances realistically. And the optimist will always say yes unless the door holds certain death.”
“Interesting,” Grew said. “So we need to figure out who to ask about which door. If two answer yes, then we know that door is safe. If two answer no, then we know that door is unsafe.”
“And if the two give different answers?” Daffodil asked.
“Then we know the last animal is the realist,” Edmond said.
“No,” Grew said. “Because the realist may tell us that something is actually safe, or actually unsafe.”
“So unless we get very lucky,” Edmond said. “We’re going to choose wrong. There’s no way to get past this without a lot of Luck.”
“It looks like you’re up, then,” Daffodil said.
“But then the next time I level up, I’ll get luck again,” Edmond said.
Grew shrugged. “I don’t know any way with only three questions.”
Edmond looked at the animal heads for a moment, thinking. “What do you think of our party?”
“Your party?” the deer asked. “Don’t you want to ask about the doors?”
“You said we can only ask once about doors,” Edmond said. “You didn’t say there was any limit on unrelated questions.”
The deer inclined his antlers to one side. “That’s true.”
“Your party is pathetic,” the goat said.
“It’s the weakest party I’ve ever seen,” the wolf said.
“Sometimes a weakness can be a strength,” the deer said.
Daffodil’s chin jutted. “I’m not weak. I’m the second strongest in the village.”
“And you’ll only get stronger,” the deer said.
“What are my chances of rescuing my true love?” Edmond said.
Daffodil huffed. “Again?”
Edmond ignored her.
“Good,” the deer said. “True love always triumphs.”
“I think pretty good too,” the wolf said. “Considering all the possibilities.”
“Your true love will die before you rescue her,” the goat said. “Only an idiot would think differently.”
“I didn’t say she wouldn’t,” the wolf said. “It can still be a rescue if she dies. You can rescue the body.”
Edmond frowned at that.
“Enough questions,” the goat said. “I’m bored.”
“That’s fine,” Edmond said. “I know you’re the pessimist. The deer is always positive, so he’s the optimist. Which means the wolf is the realist.”
“I knew you’d work it out.” The deer grinned. Which probably wasn’t as reassuring as it expected. “Which doors would you like to ask us about?”
“I’ll ask you about the first door.”
“Then I can tell you, you’ll survive the first door.”
“I’ll ask the goat about the same door.”
“You won’t survive the first door.”
“Then I’ll ask the wolf about the middle door.”
“You won’t survive the middle door.”
“Then we can enter the third door,” Edmond said. “Since the other two are the dangerous ones.” He strode to the third door and threw it open. Not pausing, he marched into the narrow, muddy corridor beyond.
As he walked, the smell of sulphur grew stronger. Glancing back at Daffodil and Grew without slowing, he rounded a corner into a large cavern filled with goblins.
A gasp rippled across the cavern as hundreds of beady black eyes locked on to him. The crowd of small, green-skinned humanoids ripped as they all turned toward him. Their heads were bald, their noses little more than slits, but it was their soulless eyes that sent a chill through Edmond’s heart.
“Back up quickly,” he murmured.
The goblins rushed forward faster than Edmond could have thought possible. In seconds, they had him surrounded. Chattering and whooping in high-pitched voices, they turned toward a door on the far side of the cavern.
A
goblin with a crown of bones emerged. On closer inspection, Edmond realised they were human rib bones.
“Do we fight?” Daffodil asked.
“Not yet,” Edmond said. “They didn’t attack. If we fight them, they’ll overwhelm us.”
The crowd parted for the goblin king. When he got within a few paces, he threw his arms wide. “Welcome, champion. I ne’er thought to see the day one such as you would come.”
“Err, nice to be here,” Edmond said.
“The seers foretold of your coming.” The goblin king looked Edmond up and down. “They might have embellished a little.”
“Edmond,” Daffodil hissed. “It’s your armour.”
He was wearing goblin armour. He glanced at the symbols worked into the metal and wondered what they meant.
“We needs must prepare a feast.” The goblin king waved to the surrounding crowd. Most of the goblins hurried away, leaving Edmond and the others alone with the king and a few guards.
“I’m King Grork. What be you called, champion?”
“I’m Edmond. This is Daffodil and Pettigrew.”
“You are gracious to introduce your servants.” King Grork indicated a tiny goblin behind him. “This is my matrimonial adviser, Manko.”
“Nice to meet you,” Edmond nodded to Manko.
Manko whimpered and wrung his hands.
“This way, Edmond.” King Grork led them to a table near a roaring fire, above which a pig was being roasted.
Edmond’s stomach rumbled as he took a deep draught of porky air. This was how pigs should be.
Grork took a seat at the head of the table and waved Edmond to the place beside him. “Get rid of that pig! Only the best bugs for Edmond!”
“Actually, I like roast pig.”
King Grork drew his chin in, then waved for his people to leave the pig where it was. “Again you’re being gracious. You embarrass me with your generosity.”
Edmond shrugged, happy to help anyone if it meant getting roast pork.
Something tugged on his left sleeve and he turned to find a worried Daffodil beside him. “Edmond, something’s not right here.”
He was distracted by someone pulling at his boots. Two goblins peered up at him from under the table. “What are you doing?”
“Foot massage for the champion, sir?”
“I guess.” Edmond angled his feet and let them tug off his boots. The sensation of tiny fingers pressing his abused feet was paradise.
More goblins approached with fruit. Where they’d found fruit underground, Edmond had no idea, but he popped a grape in his mouth anyway.
Daffodil tugged his sleeve again. “Goblins are evil. Why would they be giving you foot massages and fruit? They’re fattening you up.”
“They’re not going to eat me,” Edmond said, a little too loudly.
“Eat you?” King Grork gave a squeak. “As if I’d eat my future son-in-law. Especially such a strapping champion as yourself.”
“Son-in-law?” Edmond asked.
“You’re right,” Grork said. “You should meet the bride-to-be.”
With a wave, he sent two goblins scurrying off to the door he’d emerged from. They disappeared for a moment, then returned leading a giant troll. It was twice as tall as a human and six times as wide. Even in the smoky darkness, the thick iron collar around its neck clashed with the tattered white gown it wore. It grunted as one of the goblins tugged at a chain attached to the collar around its neck, stumbling forward. From the size of it, Edmond thought it could have snapped the chain with ease, along with the goblin holding it.
“Erm?” Edmond asked.
“Isn’t she magnificent?” Grork said. “You’re a very lucky champion. Sometimes, the bride isn’t even half the size. But my Bess never stopped growing.”
Edmond stared back and forth between Daffodil and Grew. “Help. You’re smart, what’s going on?”
“I think you just got engaged,” Grew said. “And—unless I’m wrong, which I never am—the altar they’re setting up over there means you’ll be married soon.”
Edmond glanced past the troll. Ten goblins were erecting a makeshift altar out of wood and rope. His eyes grew wider. “I can’t marry a troll. I have to marry my one true love.”
Daffodil scowled at him before storming away.
“Is everything to your satisfaction?” Grork asked.
Edmond shrugged. “Servants, eh?”
“Oh, I know what you mean. It’s impossible to find good help. Most days, it would be quicker to do it myself.”
The goblins leading the troll stopped nearby, giving Edmond a better look at her. He struggled to find something pleasant to say. Bess’ massive, sharp tusks were the same length. And her green, warty skin was almost hidden by the thick fur that covered it. “She’s… impressive.”
“She?” Bess said. “I’m right here, and I’m not a piece of meat. You can use my name.”
Edmond stared at Bess. Trolls could talk?
“Don’t mind her,” Grork said. “She’s never respected our ways. Elisabeth, be nice to your future husband.”
“I don’t want a husband.” Bess thumped onto the large chair opposite Edmond. “I told you, I want to be a great scholar, like Prantalos.”
“Wait, Prantalos?” Edmond asked. “I love Prantalos. Did you read his On the Origins of Oranges?”
Bess’ eyebrows bristled. “I did. You can read?”
“I forced myself to learn, even though I don’t have a high Intelligence attribute.”
“Attribute?” Bess asked.
“It’s a human thing.”
Bess’ eyes grew wide. “A human thing? Why would you have a human thing?”
Edmond looked from Bess to Grork. “Because I’m human.”
Grork waved one hand casually. “Don’t mind her. Her eyes aren’t the best without her glasses.”
“Glasses?”
“Oh, right,” Grork said. “We’re all so used to her, we forget sometimes. She invented these things called glasses to help her read. But they make her look ugly, so I told her not to wear them to meet you.”
“Father, I can’t marry a human.”
“You can and you will. Beggars can’t be choosers, Elisabeth.”
“I don’t see why I have to marry anyone. Let alone a human.”
“You want your tribe to die?” Grork asked. “Is that what you want?”
“Of course not. It’s just unfair that I’m the one that has to do it. Can’t you find someone else?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll just ask my other daughter… Wait, I don’t have one.” Grork stood, his chair toppling behind him and stormed off. Edmond could have sworn he was crying.
“Don’t mind him.” The chair creaked as Bess leant forward. “He always gets like this when the subject of daughters comes up. King Framt has seven. Seven? Can you imagine? They’ll have no problem repopulating the tribe.”
“Repopulating?” Edmond peered at the goblins scurrying everywhere.
Someone tugged at his sleeve. He turned to find Daffodil had come back.
“Get your boots on,” Daffodil said.
Edmond waved the foot massaging goblins away and yanked his boots back on.
“We’ve found the exit,” Daffodil said. “It’s on the far side of the cavern, behind the altar. As soon as the ceremony starts, we’ll all make a break for it.”
“Take me with you,” Bess said. “Just to the next level.”
Daffodil’s hand dropped to her sword. “It can talk?”
“Of course, Daffodil, this is Bess.” Edmond looked past Daffodil at the empty table. “Where’s Grew?”
“He refused to come back. He’s waiting in the corridor past the exit. If we can’t make it, he’ll hide and wait for someone to rescue him.”
“Brave,” Edmond said.
“I know the fastest way to the stairs,” Bess said. “If you let me come, I’ll show you.”
Daffodil shook her head. “I’m sorry, we can’t. We need to move
quietly.”
Edmond looked at Bess and saw himself reflected. She was stuck in a society that didn’t think she could be a scholar, just like he was. If Mr Flett had never given him the charm, would Edmond ever have learnt to read? Sometimes it took someone lending a helping hand to get you your dreams. Like Daffodil was doing for him. “She should come with us. At least for a little while.”
Daffodil looked at Edmond as if he’d grown tusks. “You want us to bring a troll? Isn’t it enough that we’re dragging along that petulant child?”
“He’s a year younger than you,” Edmond said. “Without him, we’d have drowned. To be honest, the more the merrier. We all have different skills. Maybe working together, we might add up to one hero?”
“Thank you,” Bess said. “Thank you, thank you. Now hush, father’s coming back.”
King Grork picked his chair up and waved at the roast pig. “Let’s eat. We’ve got a wedding to do.”
After Edmond ate more roast pig than he thought possible, he had to admit defeat. His stomach would take no more without exploding all over the cavern.
“All done?” King Grork asked. “You need to keep your strength up for the repopulating.”
Edmond rubbed his stomach. “If I’m not careful, I’ll be sick.”
“Then it’s time for the ceremony,” Grork said. “Followed by the fertility dance.”
Edmond couldn’t help throwing glances at Daffodil as they followed Grork to the altar. She did her best to smile back at him, but she looked like he felt. “What’s the worst that can happen? I end up married to a troll and live here for the rest of my life.”
“Mm-hmm.” Daffodil nodded.
Manko waited beside the altar. He’d exchanged his loincloth for purple boots that curled at the tip, and gold belt. Edmond averted his gaze, suddenly glad the level didn’t have torches every few paces.
“Welcome, welcome,” Manko muttered into his stomach.
“Louder,” King Grork demanded.
“Welcome, everyone.” Manko mumbled at Edmond’s feet. “Welcome to this union between Elisabeth, daughter of Grork, and Edmond, son of…”
“Dobb,” Edmond said.
“Dobb,” Grork said. “A fine name. A noble name.”