Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2)

by Dave Higgins

  Edmond took the opportunity to slice off the head of the distracted pig on his right.

  The remaining skeleton swivelled back and forth, fear obvious despite its permanent rictus. With a hollow squeal, it ran through the far door.

  “Thank you,” Edmond said. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come down.”

  Daffodil stormed toward him. Shoving her axe into her belt, she slapped him across the back of his head. “What were you thinking coming down here alone? You couldn’t wait for me?”

  Edmond lurched to the side. “I didn’t want you to die again.”

  Daffodil slapped him with her other hand, straightening him up. “That’s for not letting me decide.”

  “Sorry.”

  Daffodil leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “And that’s for not letting me die.”

  “I couldn’t. Never. I’d do anything to stop that from happening.”

  “Even dying alone? I feel the same, so don’t run off again!”

  “I won’t,” Edmond said.

  Grew peered out from the stairs. “Is it over?”

  “Yes, Grew,” Edmond said. “The pigs are defeated.”

  “Not that. I meant Daffodil... stuff.”

  “That’s over too,” Daffodil said. “Get down here. We’ve got a vacuous potion girl to rescue and not much time to do it.”

  Chapter 15

  Repeat

  Edmond took the lead, as usual. Although, he wasn’t sure it was necessary. They knew where the traps were this time around. Even the puzzles wouldn’t be difficult now they had the solutions. He scanned the corridor ahead of him.

  A steely grip yanked him to a halt. When he glanced back, Daffodil pointed down.

  A fine wire stretched across the corridor less than a hand’s breadth in front of his shins. “There wasn’t a trap there before.”

  “Are you sure?” Daffodil said.

  “He’s right,” Grew said. “This one is new.”

  Edmond stared at them, realisation dawning. “There could be traps anywhere. Not just where they were last time.”

  “We’ll have to be careful,” Grew said. “Daffodil, you and I have higher perception than Edmond; we need to keep an eye out for him. Edmond, keep walking.”

  Edmond smiled slightly through his new worry. “Blundering into traps and making them misfire?”

  “Something like that,” Grew said.

  Edmond stepped over the wire. “Do you think there’s a hidden closet for this one too? Should we open it?”

  “If there’s a rope,” Daffodil said. “We need a new one. But we’re not likely to find better armour, weapons, or spells than we already have.”

  Once Grew and Daffodil were clear, Grew triggered the trap with his pole. Then Edmond opened the closet and checked it. The contents were identical to the other closet. He retrieved the rope, shrugged, and kept going down the corridor.

  His new armour tugged at him with each step. The strange metal was lighter than steel, but was still heavy enough that his back would ache by the end of the day. His Strength was still only four; not enough to be wearing heavy armour. He wasn’t going to leave it behind, though; an aching back was better than a pierced chest.

  The corridor led to the same junction as before, which led on to the puzzle room. So at least the walls hadn’t moved. Edmond strode in, confident they’d get the puzzle right. The answer was ‘O’, even he could remember that.

  However, as Grew and Daffodil entered, he noticed something strange about the characters written over the door. “It’s not the—”

  The door slammed down.

  “Not what?” Daffodil turned. “Oh.”

  Grew frowned “The puzzle isn’t the same. 1, 3, 4, 8, 15, 27. We’re in trouble. I’m not good with numbers.”

  “What are you talking about?” Daffodil asked. “You’re meant to be the smart one. How can you not be good with numbers?”

  “I studied reading and dancing. There’s no magic in numbers.”

  Edmond disagreed. He’d seen Mr Winchow’s bookkeeping. The way he sucked more money out of his shop than went in seemed pretty magical.

  Water flooded from the grates near the floor.

  “We’re not going anywhere,” Edmond said. “So concentrate. We need to solve this.”

  With a sigh, Grew glanced up at the numbers, his shoulders rounded.

  If he’d given up already, then Edmond would have to solve it. He might not have Grew’s Intelligence, but he’d counted enough gold in his time to know numbers.

  He glared at the figures, feeling the water rise around his ankles. Perhaps there was a common gap between them. The differences between them were 2, 1, 4, 7, and 12; it wasn’t increasing consistently. Multiplication didn’t work either.

  His trousers wrapped around his legs as the water passed his knees. It seemed to be flowing faster than last time.

  Addition. 1 + 3 was equal to 4. However, 3 + 4 was equal to 7 not 8.

  His empty pouches bobbed as the water reached his waist.

  The difference between 7 and 8 was 1, which was also the first number. It could be the sum of the three numbers? He did quick addition in his head. “Give me your stick.”

  Taking the long pole from Grew, he scraped fifty in the blank space.

  The water stopped rising, then receded.

  “In my trousers.” Grew bounced around. “There’s something in my trousers.” He sloshed from foot-to-foot, trying to open the bindings. Daffodil turned away as he pulled his trousers open and reached inside, still jumping and squirming. Triumphantly, he threw an eel against the wall. Then he shimmied to get his trousers fastened again.

  A bolt of fire zapped from Grew’s chest and hit the wall. Several bricks dribbled to the floor before congealing into a small hill of rock.

  “What was that?” Edmond’s gaze flicked around the room. Was there a fire trap as well?

  Grew looked just as confused as Edmond felt, then grinned. “The jumping and hopping. It must have counted as a dance. I just invented a spell.”

  “Congratulations,” Daffodil said. “And you managed to put your trousers on all by yourself. Have you noticed we’re all glowing?”

  “I’m not surprised,” Grew said. “Do you know how difficult it is to invent spells? Master wizards spend months coming up with them. Sometimes years.”

  “Can you remember all the moves?” Edmond asked.

  “Err… Maybe? I’ll need time to figure them out again.”

  “Time we don’t have.” Edmond looked at the hourglass. “You can practice when we stop to camp.”

  Daffodil, meanwhile, stared at them both. “Edmond, you went up in Intelligence and Charisma. Grew, you got Wisdom and Willpower.”

  Edmond felt like dancing too. He’d finally levelled up in Intelligence. He was on his way to becoming a scholar. He just had to keep gaining Intelligence.

  “Well?” Daffodil asked. “What did I get?”

  Grew jiggled and hopped around as if he had an eel in his trousers. Edmond wasn’t sure if he’d even noticed Daffodil speaking.

  Edmond unfocused on Daffodil. “You got Luck and the bottom one that’s blurry.”

  “Luck and something unknown?” Daffodil jerked her shoulders and pouted. “Not more Strength or Dexterity?”

  Edmond shrugged.

  “Put that down,” Daffodil said to Grew, who held the dead eel. “Let’s just keep going.”

  Edmond led the way through the now-visible exit door and along the corridor to the next door. Skeletal pig feet scraped from behind it. “Grew, get ready to close the door.”

  “Do I need to?” Grew asked. “Just open it when I nod.”

  Grew danced around the corridor with an ease Edmond hadn’t seen before. At Grew’s nod, Edmond opened the door.

  A ball of fire rocketed past, sparks spraying the corridor as it clipped the rising door. Edmond swallowed hard and peeked around the doorway.

  The charred remnants of skeletons
toppled to the ground. “Nicely done.”

  “Thanks.” Grew polished his nails on the front of his cloak.

  “Don’t get too full of yourself,” Daffodil said. “This is only level 2.”

  “Speaking of...” Edmond strode along the corridor until they reached the stairs. “Are we ready for level 3?”

  “As we’ll ever be,” Daffodil said.

  Grew swept his cloak over one shoulder. “Level 3 won’t even be a challenge.”

  Edmond walked down the steps, stumbled and caught himself on the banister. Regaining his composure, he cleared his throat and kept walking down. The next puzzle couldn’t be any different; the three animal heads they’d talked to before had seemed permanent. He couldn’t imagine someone replacing them.

  Sure enough, when he got to the room, the wolf, deer, and goat still hung above the three doors.

  “Do we even need to talk to them?” Grew asked. “We already know which door to go through.”

  “The trap and the puzzle changed,” Daffodil said. “Maybe the doors changed too.”

  “It won’t hurt us to talk to them.” Edmond stepped forward until he was looking up at the heads again. “Hello.”

  “You’re back,” the goat said. “It’s great to see you again. Of course, I knew you’d be back.”

  “I didn’t,” the wolf said. “Their chances below were slim.”

  “I never thought I’d see them again,” the deer said.

  Edmond frowned. He could have sworn the goat was pessimistic before. “We ran into some trouble, so we had to start again.”

  “One of you died, didn’t you?” the deer said.

  “I bet it was the skinny boy,” the wolf said. “He doesn’t look like he’d last long. Did you make it to level 5?”

  “We got to level 7.” Grew pulled his cloak closed. “And this time we’re getting all the way to the bottom.”

  “Good,” the wolf said. “The dragon’s getting hungry about now.”

  Edmond turned to Daffodil and Grew. “They’re not acting like they did the last time. They might have switched roles.”

  Grew shrugged. “So you can just solve the puzzle again.”

  “What about the goblins?” Daffodil asked. “We stole the king’s only daughter. If we work this puzzle out, is it going to take us back there?”

  Edmond took a deep breath and let it out. “I need to tell the animals. It might change their judgement.”

  He turned back to the wolf, deer, and goat. “We went through the goblin cavern last time and helped the king’s daughter escape.”

  The three heads looked at him for a moment, their mouths open in surprise.

  “Well, that changes things,” the goat said. “You might be more impressive than we first realised.”

  “Or more foolhardy,” the deer said.

  “Or just plain stupid,” the wolf said.

  “Is this puzzle the same as last time?” Edmond asked. “One door to certain death, one to probable death, and one to probable survival.”

  “Almost,” the deer said. “Only, since the goblins are likely to flay you alive, it’s more certain death, certain death, probable death.”

  “That’s a pessimistic way to look at it,” Edmond said, with a smile.

  “Sounds optimistic,” the wolf said. “I’d say it’s three routes to the grave.”

  “Be fair,” the goat said. “They have a tiny chance through one door. Maybe one of them will survive.”

  “Is this helping?” Daffodil asked.

  “Yes,” Edmond said. “The goat is the optimist, the deer is the realist, and the wolf is the pessimist.”

  “So the realist thinks we’ll die,” Grew said. “And the optimist thinks one of us might survive.”

  Edmond shrugged. “They thought we’d be long dead. Why listen to them now?”

  “Because they’re saying we might die,” Grew said. “I tend to listen when people say that.”

  Edmond ignored him, not wanting to make a mistake with his next question. “Goat, should we go through the first door?”

  “Should?” the goat said. “No. You should go out through the door you came in. However, I have to say the first door is your best chance of survival.”

  Edmond stared for a moment, surprised he’d got it right first time. Still, he supposed, it had to happen sometime. “Thank you.”

  He opened the door, not sure what to expect.

  The corridor beyond looked no more dangerous than the corridor to the goblins had. However, he supposed danger rarely hung signs up.

  Chapter 16

  Flowers

  The corridor led to a large, empty, square room. The only feature of note was the floor, made up of elaborately painted square tiles, each one just big enough to stand on. Edmond looked closer. Each tile had a flower painted on it.

  “I’ve heard of this,” Grew said. “Some of the tiles drop away if you walk on them.”

  “Which ones?” Edmond asked.

  “I can’t remember.”

  “What use is that?” Daffodil asked. “I would have thought memorising which ones would drop was important.”

  “I didn’t think it would be,” Grew said. “But we can work it out. Usually they have letters that spell something out. Is there anything written on the walls?”

  Edmond peered around, but there was nothing insightful written anywhere.

  “What about the flowers?” Grew said. “Daffodil, is there anything important about those particular flowers?”

  “Why are you asking me?” Daffodil asked.

  Grew shrugged. “Because you’re a girl.”

  “And girls like flowers? Do I look like that kind of girl?”

  Grew shook his head.

  “What about your stick?” Edmond pointed at the long pole in Grew’s hand. “You could poke at the tiles and work out which ones are safe.”

  “Good idea.” Grew moved to the edge of the tiles and poked at the first row with his pole. None of them shifted.

  “Are you sure they drop away?” Daffodil asked. “They seem solid.”

  Grew pressed one again, then drew his pole back. “They might only trigger when someone walks on them.”

  “We need to test it.” Edmond pulled the rope out of his pack and handed one end to Grew.

  Grew’s eyes widened. “It can’t be my turn. Daffodil hasn’t had a go yet.”

  Edmond ran his gaze over Daffodil, then stopped and looked at Grew. “You think we could pull her back up if she fell? If you fall, I could even pull you up on my own.”

  “I’m not that light.” Grew swept his cloak out. However, the hint of wings seemed—if anything—to weaken his argument.

  “Don’t worry,” Daffodil said. “I won’t let you fall.”

  Edmond tied the rope around Grew’s waist, then tied the middle around his own waist and the other end around Daffodil. “There. If any of us fall, the others can pull them up. You never know, Grew, maybe it’s the last person to cross a tile that makes it fall.”

  Grew grumbled something about unfairness, but studied the tiles again anyway. “This is a rose. I recognise this one.”

  He stepped forward. The tile dropped from under his feet.

  Edmond struggled not to lose his footing as the rope jerked taut. The soles of his boots skittering, he slid toward the edge.

  Daffodil’s arms wrapped around him. Gradually, the two of them backed away until Grew emerged, white-faced and panting. He grabbed the edge and pulled himself up, rolling onto solid ground. “Pit of spikes. There was a pit of spikes.”

  “You’re fine. Stop being a baby.” Daffodil untied herself from the rope. Frowning, she examined the tiles. “There are two of each. Look there’s a purple one over on the left and another on the right.”

  Edmond considered the tiles again. Some of the matching flowers were near each other, but most were far apart. “What do you think it means?”

  Inching forward, Grew joined them. “Maybe we have to step on two at the sa
me time?”

  “How are we meant to do that?” Edmond asked. “The purple ones are at opposite ends. We’d have to split up, and we’d be too far for the rope to help.”

  Daffodil’s eyes lit up. Untying the rope from around Edmond and Grew, she tied the free end to a sconce. “There. One person has the rope around them, the other two work together.”

  “Without a rope?” Edmond asked. “They’ll fall if we’re not right about this.”

  “I’ll hold their hand while they step onto the tile,” Daffodil said. “If they fall, I’ll pull them back up, then pull the other person up.”

  “I want the rope,” Grew said. “No offence, but hands can get sweaty and slip.”

  “Fine,” Daffodil untied the rope and handed it to Grew, then took Edmond’s hand. “I’ll hold Edmond up if he falls.”

  Edmond’s entire arm felt tingly and his stomach seemed to be trying to cast a spell. He kept his eyes on the tiles to hide the blush that had flooded across it. Focusing on the purple flower, he sidled over to the left wall.

  “You need to land at exactly the same time,” Daffodil said.

  “I’ll count,” Grew called from the far side of the chamber. “One… two… three!”

  Edmond stepped forward, his body braced for the jerk as the tile collapsed.

  It held. A quick glance at Grew showed that his had held up too.

  “Grew was right,” Edmond said to Daffodil. “That was well spotted.”

  “Don’t tell him that or we’ll never hear the end of it.” Daffodil’s eyes sparkled. “What do we do now, though?”

  Edmond looked around and saw what she meant. The tile in front of him didn’t match the one in front of Grew. His was a green plant with a round white flower. Grew had a bright yellow flower in front of him.

  “That one.” Daffodil pointed.

  In front of the green and white flower was another yellow flower. Edmond knew he could make the jump, but if they mistimed it, he’d fall into the pit below the tiles.

  “What about Daffodil?” Grew asked. “If we move on, you’ll be left back at the start. And we won’t be able to come back to fetch you.”

  Daffodil stepped onto the purple flower tile with Edmond and wrapped her arm around his waist. “We’ll have to jump together. It’s better that way, anyway. I can catch Edmond when he stumbles.”