Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2)

by Dave Higgins

  “We can get it. We have to!” They could backtrack through the dungeon, searching for treasure. But it could take weeks to find enough; and the moment Melinda died, the quest would end. They didn’t have time to waste. There was only one place all that gold would be concentrated. Somewhere it wouldn’t be easy to get, but it might be fast enough to matter. “We use the town portal.”

  “We’ll have to start from the top again.”

  Edmond glared at him.

  “I’m just saying.” Grew took a step back. “Giving you all the information.”

  “Use it, Grew. I’m not letting Daffodil die because of me.”

  Grew produced the town portal scroll and danced, feet scuffing the dirt in a series of wavy lines.

  Edmond shifted his gaze from the darkness to Daffodil’s bones and back again, waiting for the vines to attack; but nothing happened.

  In a flash of flame, a hole ripped the air in front of them. Through it, Edmond saw the ruin of the junk shop. Moving without thinking, he stumbled straight through the portal and onto the street, Daffodil’s bones hugged tight to him. Charcoal crumbled beneath his feet as he walked through the remains of Humph’s.

  Grew followed, peering around with interest. “Where is everyone?”

  Edmond glanced about; Grew was right. From the height of the sun, it was midday; but no one was in the street. However, someone was sobbing nearby.

  He followed the crying along the street and around a corner. Bess slumped at the foot of a wall, sobs rocking her body.

  “Bess,” Edmond said. “What’s the matter?”

  “They all ran away. Called me a monster.”

  Edmond grinned. His smile faded when Bess’ face crumpled again. “It’s only because they don’t know you. They don’t know you’re not dangerous.”

  “Which is why I’m crying. My dream is ridiculous. How am I meant to be a scholar if everyone who sees me runs away? I can’t study at an academy, the monks there will lock the doors and call for the watch.”

  Edmond crouched down in front her. “Everyone always tells me I can’t be a scholar either. I’m too stupid, so why bother? You know who doesn’t get anywhere? Those people. The people who don’t want you to succeed, because you overcoming challenges means they could too.”

  “I’m a troll,” Bess said.

  “I didn’t say it’d be easy. People will run away, attack you, mistrust you even when they stay long enough to hear you out.”

  Bess wiped the tears from her cheeks and nodded to him. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

  “A town could chase you with pitchforks and torches,” Grew said from nearby.

  “Shut up, Grew,” Edmond said.

  “I need to find the nearest academy,” Bess said.

  “There’s one to the north,” Grew said. “The Order of the Feet in the town of Saltback. It’s only a few days journey away.”

  “Then that’s where I’ll go.” Bess clambered to her feet, the wall behind her shaking. “Do you think the people here will mind if I take things from their stores? I’ll pay them back when I get there.”

  Edmond shook his head, then an idea dawned. “Bess, I could kiss you.”

  “You could?” Bess’ eyebrows jutted like mountain goats.

  “You’ve scared the townspeople away, so the stores are empty. We can take whatever we need for the dungeon and pay them back later.”

  “How?” Grew said. “You said the dragon doesn’t have any gold.”

  “It doesn’t. But if we get rid of it, that has to be worth a reward, doesn’t it? Twenty-five thousand seems fair.”

  “That seems a lot like stealing,” Grew said.

  “We’re doing it for Daffodil.” Edmond would steal to keep her alive.

  Grew thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “For Daffodil.”

  Edmond led them to Madam Bellisandra’s Potions for Every Occasion. From the prices she charged for her concoctions, she was bound to have a lot of money lying around. After all, how much did eye of newt and tongue of toad really cost?

  The door was locked, but a tap from Bess sprung it open. Edmond headed between the shelves of glimmering, colourful potions. He heard a rattle behind him and saw Bess trying her best not to knock anything over.

  Grinning at her, he walked around the counter and searched for where Madam Bellisandra would keep her money. His eyes fell on the colourful rug under his feet. Underneath, a solid safe was built into the floor, a keyhole and handle set in the centre.

  Grew peered over the counter. “How are we going to open that?”

  Bess chuckled, grabbed the handle and yanked the door free, exposing a glittering collection of gold and jewels. Edmond laid Daffodil on the counter, then knelt and counted the treasure into his pack, all ten thousand gold’s worth.

  “Only fifteen to go,” Edmond said, moving to leave.

  “Wait.” Grew pointed to the potions. “If we’re going to borrow that much gold, do you think they’d mind us borrowing a little more?”

  Edmond considered. “They can’t get any angrier than they’ll already be.”

  Grew found two tailored potion belts and handed one to Edmond. Then they put anything they thought might be useful into them: healing potions; cure poison; cure illness.

  Once Edmond was certain they’d got the best they could from the shop, he led the others to Strongarm’s Smithy, on the other side of the town. The furnace still roared merrily, but there was no sign of Strongarm. Edmond made straight for the best equipment. He grabbed a burnished chest-plate from a suit of plate. However, after putting it on, realised he wouldn’t be able to get very far with it—let alone the whole suit: it weighed too much. Instead, he tried a chain-mail shirt made of expensive-looking black metal. Studying the racks, he found another set that looked about right for Daffodil.

  Noticing a sturdy pack hanging from the wall, he transferred everything across, then added pouches to his belt.

  Grew, meanwhile, had found a cloak made of black leather that looked suitably ridiculous. He danced, the cloak flaring out around him like a drunken bat.

  The sound of creaking followed by tearing metal came from the back of the shop. When Edmond peered around the corner, he saw Bess standing over the remains of the safe Strongarm had hidden beneath his bed.

  Edmond counted the eight thousand inside into his pack. “Eighteen thousand. Seven to go and only Planter’s Provisions left.” He didn’t hold out hope that Planter would have that much; the trader had only opened his store a year before, and sold sensible products rather than the swords, armour, and dramatic tat that adventurers craved.

  They found the shop as abandoned as the others had been. This time, Bess gathered provisions for her long walk north. Edmond collected water skins and food for a few days, but they wouldn’t need as much as Bess; with any luck Edmond and Grew would return to High Nocking soon.

  Bess packed up everything edible she could find and tore the door off the last safe. A thin layer of silver and garnets covered the bottom shelf.

  Edmond gathered it up, but there was less than a thousand. “We’re short; and I don’t know what else there might be. The junk shop is a wreck; Mr Winchow must have taken the gold and left already.”

  Grew picked something up from the counter. “What about these?”

  Edmond recognised the Scratchums cards at once. “We don’t have time to wait and collect our winnings.”

  “I know. But, technically, if it’s a winning ticket, it’s worth something. There are four here. With your Luck, you should be able to win something.”

  Edmond wasn’t sure about Grew’s logic, but had nothing to lose. He scratched off the first one. Three pictures of a castle stared back at him. He put it aside and moved on to the next.

  “Wait,” Grew said. “You’ve won a kingdom. That should be easily worth enough.”

  Edmond shook his head. “It’s not. You can have it if you want. It’s filled with dragons.”

  Grew dropped the t
icket back on the counter. “Maybe not.”

  The second ticket didn’t have matching symbols, neither did the third. Edmond took a deep breath as he picked up the last ticket before scratching it. Three pictures of a treasure chest emerged from behind the foil.

  “What’s the treasure chest mean?” Grew asked.

  Edmond turned over the card and read. “Six thousand, six hundred, and sixty-six gold.”

  “How much did we need?” Grew asked.

  “That,” Edmond said. “Exactly that amount.”

  Grew whistled. “Your Luck might be more powerful than any other attribute.”

  “Only if it holds. It took four tickets to get this lucky.” Edmond turned to Bess. “Thank you for your help, Bess. We couldn’t have done it without you.”

  “No problem,” Bess said. “Thank you for your kind words. You know, we might meet again someday.”

  “Maybe,” Edmond said. “If we survive the dragon.”

  “And you survive the mob.” Grew closed his mouth with a clack as Edmond glared at him.

  “We’d better get going,” Edmond said.

  “I should too,” Bess said. “Before the villagers gather their pitchforks.”

  Edmond and Grew waved goodbye to Bess as they made their way to the dungeon. Before stepping into the cave again, Edmond looked up at the blue sky. It had been so long without seeing the sun, he almost didn’t want to leave again. But he would, for Daffodil.

  Chapter 14

  Back into the Dark

  Edmond considered the empty stall next to the cave. Reg would be hiding in the dragon shelter, like the rest of them. Seeing the dungeon from the other side revealed how twisted the village’s scheme was. They lured in unsuspecting heroes and sent them to fight a dragon, despite knowing the hero couldn’t win. Then they sold equipment to each one who returned to the surface, just so they could go down again. Meanwhile, the villagers hid in a shelter at the first sign of trouble.

  Of course, the entire thing started when his parents led the dragon to High Nocking and didn’t warn anyone. Maybe everyone in the world was only motivated by self-interest.

  Except Daffodil. She’d gone into a dungeon filled with certain death to support her friend. He hoped the Scratchum in his pocket counted. It had to, didn’t it? He couldn’t imagine life without her by his side.

  “What are we waiting for?” Grew asked.

  “I’m thinking. If I want to be a scholar, I have to start sometime.”

  Grew frowned, but followed when Edmond walked into the cave. Not hesitating, Edmond headed straight down the stairs to the same empty room as the first time. He glanced at the warning, Brave heroes, dare ye enter this labyrinth and face yon dragon of untold might below? If ye do, thou art more fools than hast ever lived.

  He realised he wasn’t as foolish as he’d been before. He checked the hourglass at his side, even though he knew the time. It was afternoon on the third day, so they had less than two and a half days to reach the dragon and defeat it. Half their time had been spent on the first journey. They had to make it all the way this time, or Melinda would die.

  “For true love, right?” Grew gripped the handle beside the door.

  Edmond drew his new sword. A mystical gleam—or the reflection of the torches—wreathed the blade as he held it up. “True love.”

  A lone chinchilla turned to face them as Grew raised the door. After everything Edmond had faced, it seemed barely worth the effort. Raising his sword and his shield, he waited for the charge. Then the chinchilla exploded in flames.

  Focused on repeating their descent as fast as possible, Edmond hadn’t even seen Grew dancing.

  “Inferno Blast,” Grew said. “It’s the fireball spell I told you about when we first met. I figured I should try it when we’re not in danger. That way, I’ll know what it does when we need it.”

  Seemed as if Edmond wasn’t the only one who was less foolish now. “Good idea.”

  Edmond strolled closer as the pile of burnt chinchilla vanished with a bang. He put the two drumsticks that replaced it in his pack, then sheathed his sword.

  “What was next?” Grew asked.

  “A trap.” Edmond pointed ahead of them. “A wire strung across the corridor that triggers a spike.”

  He found the wire easily now he knew it was there. They stepped over it and kept walking, ignoring the hidden chamber. It was too low level to be worth anything to them.

  At the next door, he didn’t even pause, drawing his sword as he opened it and facing the next chinchilla.

  The chinchilla scampered toward him with its teeth bared, looking as deadly as wet toast. When it got within a few paces of Edmond, his sword seemed to move of its own accord, slicing down into the chinchilla.

  The monster bit Edmond’s shield as he thrust. Then its bite slackened, and the light flickered from its eyes. The body disappeared with a bang before it even hit the ground.

  “This is almost too easy,” Grew said.

  Edmond nodded. The fancy equipment, the extra levels, and—not least—their experience, made it all trivial. Not that the increased speed wasn’t welcome. Sword hanging in one hand, he jogged to the resurrection chamber.

  Apart from a stone table, the alcove was empty. He read the carving above it again: If mortality of fatal and permanent nature thy problem be, rest thy weary bones here and pay for mercy. Twenty-five thousand in diamonds and gold, to thee should grant a chance to be old. As instructions went, it made his parents’ plans look detailed. “How does it work?”

  Grew peered at the alcove, then stepped to Edmond’s other side and peered again. “I think you put it all on the table.”

  Edmond removed Daffodil’s bones from his pack one at a time and laid them on the table. Then he rummaged through the pack and his pouches for every coin and jewel, piling them beside Daffodil’s bones. After holding the winning Scratchum in his hand for a moment, he rested it on the top of the pile with a silent hope it would work.

  Nothing happened.

  They had exactly the right amount. It had to work. He must have—

  An immense rumble filled the tunnel. Edmond pressed his hands over his ears and braced his legs as the dungeon trembled around them.

  The cacophony echoed and shifted, sending dust and small stones tumbling from the ceiling.

  Grew stood on tiptoe until his lips were almost kissing Edmond’s hand. “It’s a voice!”

  He was right; the shifting sounded like a thunderous voice; but the words were impossible to understand. As the torrent of sound surged again, Daffodil’s bones glowed a pale red.

  The voice became more melodious. Orange flickers washed through the glow and the shaking around them lessened.

  Edmond tugged Daffodil’s new equipment from his pack. Even without the shaking, everything seemed blurred. “I have to go. Make sure Daffodil gets back to the surface safely.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To face the dragon. I realised something when Daffodil died: my Luck will save me from almost anything, but it won’t save either of you. If we go back down together, you’ll die. I can’t ask you to do that.”

  Grew frowned. “That’s stupid. We’ve better equipment and more experience; we won’t die so easily this time.”

  Edmond blinked the dampness from his eyes and rested a hand on Grew’s shoulder. “Please, Grew. Take her back to the surface and live long, happy lives.”

  He strode away before Grew could argue further. This time, he skipped the button leading to the giant chinchilla and went straight for the stairs down. At least knowing the dungeon, he wouldn’t have to face anything he didn’t need to. Instead, he could take the fastest way to the stairs every time.

  Free of the need to pay attention, his thoughts returned to Daffodil. He hoped she’d listen to Grew straight away rather than arguing. The shock of dying would have made her rethink fighting by his side.

  Stepping onto the next level, Edmond realised he couldn’t see the door to the ro
om where Grew had been hiding. He smiled. The boy had seemed like such a pain in the neck when they’d first met him, but now he was the only person Edmond trusted to keep Daffodil safe.

  He straightened his shoulders. He needed to focus if he was going to defeat the dragon before it ate Melinda. Readying his sword and shield he approached the far door. The five skeleton pigs on the other side had almost killed the three of them the first time through; and with no one to help him, he wouldn’t be able to fight them one at a time.

  As soon as he yanked the handle, he backed away into a corner. With walls on both sides, they couldn’t all come at him at once.

  The pigs charged through the doorway and across the room, their trotters clacking across the stone floor. Their tusks looked as deadly as before. The lead two whipped their heads as they reached him, one hitting his shield and the other his thigh.

  Edmond’s new armour protected him from the sharp tusks, but not the impact. He winced in pain, flinching away before bringing the pommel of his sword down hard on a pig’s skull. It collapsed, but the next pig was already charging at Edmond’s exposed right side.

  The handle of his shield dug into his palm as the other pig tossed its head, trying to pull free. He gripped harder, but could feel his hand tiring already; the extra point he’d earned in Strength wasn’t enough to make a real difference.

  Focused on keeping his shield, he let his sword droop. The third pig knocked it aside and rammed into his side, then gored his leg.

  His knee bent as the impact jarred it. Distracted, Edmond lost his shield to the pig on his left.

  Sweeping his sword back and forth, he knocked the pigs away. But he couldn’t strike at one well enough to put it down without letting the other attack. And the growing ache in his shoulders made the point droop more with each pass. He couldn’t win. Even if his Luck made one of his swings hit a weak spot, another pig would fill the gap, and another after that.

  Daffodil’s ponytail streamed behind her as she leapt from the bottom of the stairs, her axe cleaving a pig in half before her feet had touched the floor. Knocking the pig next to it away with her shoulder, she drove her axe through its chest.