Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2)

by Dave Higgins

  “Who’ll catch me when I stumble?” Grew asked.

  “You’re only taking a single step forward,” Daffodil said. “Even you have to be able to manage that.”

  Edmond looked at the floor ahead of them. Each tile was about a pace square; he’d jumped wider streams while playing, but it seemed so far now his life was on the line.

  “On three,” Daffodil said. “One… two… three!”

  They jumped, Daffodil almost carrying him onto the new tile.

  The tile held.

  “It almost fell.” Grew waved his arms around like a panicking teenage bat. “My tile nearly fell.”

  “It must be because we landed a moment after you,” Daffodil said. “Don’t worry, you’ve got a rope.”

  “Sure I do,” Grew said. “But if my tile had fallen, so would yours. And who would have hauled me up again if you were both dead?”

  Edmond nodded. “He has a point. We need to get the timing right from now on.”

  Daffodil scanned the surrounding flowers, then looked around Grew. “The flower in front of you is a violet, like ours. We both just need to step forward.”

  “We must be on the right track,” Edmond said. “If it’s that easy.”

  Daffodil gave him a look, as if he was inviting disaster by being flippant. “On three. One… two… three.”

  Edmond’s breath caught as they stepped forward. They were too far from the edges to leap to solid ground if they were wrong. The tile stayed solid, though. Grew’s theory was still holding.

  “My rope is stretched out.” Grew balanced on one edge of his tile, the rope tight between him and the sconce. With no way to untie the other end, he’d have to undo it at his end.

  “Leave it. We’ll do without,” Daffodil said.

  After a moment, Grew let the rope fall behind him. “All right. Now where?”

  Edmond checked the surrounding tiles. None of them matched Grew’s tiles.

  “That one.” Daffodil indicated a tile two ahead of them; the same distance they’d already made once.

  Grew, however, needed to jump two ahead and one to the side. “That’s pretty far.”

  “After that one the next is a step away,” Daffodil said. “You can do it.”

  Grew nodded. Edmond had to give him credit. He’d come a long way from the shrinking boy they’d first met. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d suggested turning back.

  “On three again,” Daffodil said. “One… two… three.”

  Daffodil and Edmond jumped. Edmond skidded a little as they landed, but Daffodil’s arm around his waist held him steady. Grew’s face was pale, and he swayed, but he stood on his own tile.

  “Good job,” Edmond said. “What’s next?”

  “There.” Daffodil pointed to the tile diagonally in front of them. “Grew, yours is in the same position. On three. One… two… three.”

  They all stepped across and stood on the tile with the lilac flowers on it. Edmond realised he and Daffodil were within a tile of the other side. Grew, however, was still a step behind. Too far for him to jump.

  “There’s only one option,” Daffodil said. “That buttercup is diagonally in front of us. But it’s two tiles diagonally from you, Grew.”

  Grew considered the vast distance between the two tiles. “I barely made the last jump. How can I make that one?”

  “There’s no other one to go for,” Daffodil said. “Sorry, Grew, I should have jumped with you instead. Your jumps are harder.”

  “It’s okay.” Grew drew himself up and swept his arm out. “I’ll do it.”

  “On three again,” Daffodil said. “One last time. One… two… three.”

  Edmond kept his eyes on Grew as they stepped forward, trying to time their step with Grew’s leap. Grew wasn’t going to make it. He was going to land short. His knees hit the painted tile in front of the buttercup and it fell away.

  Cloak flaring, he dropped. At the last moment, his fingers caught the edge of the tile in front.

  “Go,” Edmond said to Daffodil.

  She leapt to solid ground and ran for Grew. Diving flat, she grabbed his wrist. Edmond ached to help; yet knew he couldn’t move or the buttercup tiles would fall, taking his friends with them.

  Daffodil grunted, unable to get leverage in her prone position. Neck bulging, face reddening, she struggled to her knees, and heaved. Grew rose until he fell on the tile. Clambering to her feet, Daffodil gazed at Edmond. “Ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  Daffodil picked Grew up and stepped to solid ground. As her feet left the last tile, Edmond jumped forward. The clatter of breaking ceramic filled the room as all the tiles tumbled into the pit of spikes.

  Edmond saw skeletons scattered among the spikes and wondered how many adventurers had missed their jump.

  “Are you all right?” Daffodil asked Grew.

  “I’m fine,” Grew said, his face pale. “Let’s not do that again.”

  Edmond was about to open the exit, when he heard growls coming from the other side. They had no choice, though. Whatever was behind the next door, they’d have to face it. There was no way back. He readied his sword and shield, and waited for the others to join him.

  Grew swayed on the spot. Daffodil moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Edmond, as he tugged the handle of the door.

  The door ground up, revealing a circular room with dirt walls. Holes ringed the wall at ground level. Dozens of creatures prowled the floor, muscles flowing beneath their sleek, tan fur. They looked almost like cats, but far smaller. Piercing amber eyes targeted Edmond and Daffodil as the door thunked into the roof, and tails twitched.

  “These are lions,” Grew said. “I read about them. I thought they were bigger, though.”

  The tiny lions formed a semi-circle around the doorway, lowering themselves to the ground and creeping forward. Edmond had seen enough cats stalk birds to know what came next. He swept his sword in an arc. “Get back!”

  The lionlets backed away for a moment, then surged at once. They weren’t scared of him or his sword. Behind them, several dozen more lionlets emerged from the holes to join their companions.

  Grew’s feet slapped back-and-forth along the corridor in complex patterns. However, before he could finish the spell, the first wave of tiny lions slipped inside Edmond’s reach.

  Miniscule claws skittered and scratched across his boots and armour. Then, flowing like furry liquids, the lionlets slid inside. Pain needled through Edmond’s shins as the beasts clambered higher.

  Edmond twisted from side-by-side, slapping the flat of his sword against his legs to keep the bumps below his knees.

  A low rumble filled the room. Hindquarters bunching, two lionlets leapt onto the top of Edmond’s shield, then bounced onto his head. Beside him, Daffodil slammed her back into the doorframe, trying to flatten the roaring bulge oozing up her mail shirt.

  Chapter 17

  Rest

  Flame ignited across Edmond’s skin.

  A high-pitched yowl burst from beneath his armour, followed a breath later by a series of tiny explosions. Blood and minute scraps of viscera oozed through the holes in his armour.

  With the flame shield exploding any lionlets that touched them, Edmond and Daffodil could finish off the pride.

  Threat over, Edmond tried to scrape lionlet guts from his shield. He wasn’t sure why the beasts had exploded, or why their guts remained afterward, but decided it was better than the alternative.

  “Here.” Daffodil handed him a healing potion, before drinking one herself.

  Edmond looked down. Blood trickled down his legs from a hundred tiny claw wounds. At least they hadn’t made it to… made it any higher.

  “Grew, you okay?” Daffodil asked.

  “Yeah,” Grew said, a faint smile on his lips. “The flame shields helped?”

  “They did,” Daffodil said. “We’d have been overwhelmed without them.”

  “Good,” Grew said. “Good.”

  While the h
ealing potion closed his wounds, Edmond opened the far door and examined the corridor beyond. “Isn’t this the tunnel we ran down when we were fleeing from the goblins?”

  “Looks like it,” Grew said. “Which way was it to the stairs?”

  Daffodil and Edmond shrugged.

  “Let’s try this way.” Grew pointed right.

  Edmond hung back, letting Grew move ahead. “Notice anything different about Grew?”

  Daffodil nodded. “Ever since he nearly fell into the pit, it’s like he isn’t even mildly concerned by anything.”

  “We need to keep an eye on him.”

  Grew turned left and right seemingly at random, until he came to the steps Bess had led them to. “Ready for level 4?”

  Edmond glanced at his hourglass. The top bulb was empty. He turned it over, then stretched. “Maybe we should camp for the night. We’ve been going all day.”

  “Let’s do it on the next level down,” Daffodil said. “I don’t want to sleep on the same level as the goblins.”

  Edmond couldn’t fault her logic. He led the way down the stairs to the marble walls of level 4. It made for prettier surroundings than the dirt walls of the level above. It was colder somehow, though. “Grew and I can take first watch. You sleep for four hours, then Grew can sleep, then I will.”

  “Four hours?” Grew kicked the wall. “That isn’t much.”

  “If we’re going to have two people on watch, it’s all we can take,” Edmond said. “That’s twelve hours total. Any longer and we’ll only be sitting watching the hourglass count down.”

  “If you think you can resist random beautiful women,” Daffodil said, “we can stand watch one at a time.”

  Grew’s shoulders slumped, and he pulled his cloak closed. “Four hours’ sleep is plenty.”

  Daffodil made herself a bed against the wall from their packs and her shield.

  As soon as she’d curled up, Edmond sat on the stairs and motioned for Grew to join him. “How are you? You almost fell into the tile pit.”

  “I know.” Grew chuckled. “That was close.”

  “You nearly died.”

  “But I didn’t. It was a level 3 trap; there wasn’t a chance of my falling in there. Not with you and Daffodil with me.”

  “You need to be careful. Don’t get overconfident. We got lucky the first time through.”

  “I know. Who would have thought Luck was such an important attribute?”

  Edmond frowned. The risk was obvious to him, but he didn’t have the words to explain it; and his charm was no help with that.

  “I’m glad I met you and Daffodil.” Grew nudged Edmond. “Your relationship is special. I’m glad to be a small part of it.”

  “Not a small part. We couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

  “I can’t wait to meet this Melinda. If she’s even better than Daffodil, she must be incredible.”

  “She’s not better than Daffodil.”

  “Then…?” Grew shook his head. “There’s things I’ll never understand about adult relationships.”

  Edmond wondered what Grew’s half-finished thought had been. Not that it mattered. A dungeon wasn’t the place for relationships; however much he wanted to... He changed the subject. “Where are you from, Grew?”

  “Tipping. It’s in the north.”

  “I’ve heard of it. It’s big.”

  “Pretty big. Not as big as the capital.”

  “You’ve come a long way south on your own.”

  Grew looked embarrassed. “Not on my own. My parents came too. Well, at least as far as Saltback.”

  “And they let you keep going on your own?”

  Grew shook his head. “They were so busy in the academy, they didn’t notice me leave.”

  “I’m guessing they’ve noticed by now— Wait, the academy? Your parents are wizards?”

  “Yeah. So are my five older brothers.”

  Edmond whistled. “I guess you know what you’re going to do with your life.”

  Grew nodded. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, but they all treat me like I’m a baby. My brother Henry was learning shuffle magic by thirteen, but they still have me copying scrolls. How about you? You got any brothers or sisters?”

  “No, fortunately. My parents had trouble feeding me. And I don’t mean affording food, I mean actual trouble with feeding me. I still start doing the breaststroke every time I smell goat’s milk.”

  Edmond studied the floor. His parents had been idiots, but he missed them. If he had the chance to avenge them, he’d take it.

  A few moments later, Grew coughed. “What happens after? When we defeat the dragon and rescue your true love?”

  “Happily ever after. That’s what all the books say.”

  “What’s that involve?”

  “I’m not sure. Whatever it is, I guess we’ll be happy.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  Silence fell again. Edmond considered the quiet of the surrounding dungeon; it was probably night above, but down in the endless torchlight, it all seemed the same. After about four hours of sand had trickled down, he woke Daffodil. Her blood-shot eyes peered up at him for a moment before clearing. With a huge yawn, she clambered to her feet.

  Grew lay down and closed his cloak around him. Almost immediately, snores grumbled and puttered from beneath the bundled leather.

  Daffodil stretched, then looked both ways. “Anything happening?”

  “Nothing. We’ve been struggling to stay awake.”

  “We can walk and talk,” Daffodil said.

  They strolled to the stairs, then turned and paced back. Bouncing gently off a wall, Edmond opened his eyes. The movement helped a little, but he needed sleep. Even if it was only four hours.

  “I’ve been wondering about something,” Daffodil said. “Why didn’t Melinda scream when the dragon took her?”

  “Shock?” Edmond’s temples ached and everything seemed woolly, but he could picture most of the attack. “She froze when it made for her. You’ve seen animals do that. Hell, we’ve done that, faced by the monsters in this place.”

  Daffodil stroked her chin, fingers brushing the firm line of her jaw. “And she was always sneaking off after work.”

  “I noticed that, too. I thought she was going to talk to whichever adventurer was in town.”

  “Sure... Talk. But she disappeared even when there weren’t adventurers around.”

  Edmond shrugged. “She might have just wanted privacy. The village can get cramped sometimes, with everyone’s eyes on everyone else at all times. It’s better since...” Since his father stopped knocking holes in everything by accident. “But, still...”

  “I guess. It just seemed like there might be something going on in that blonde head sometimes.”

  “Mr Willowbane told me sometimes his pigs look like they’re thinking. They stare off into space, brows furrowed.”

  “You’re comparing your true love to a pig?” Daffodil grinned.

  “I’m just saying, sometimes people read into things. They project what they’d be doing in that situation, with no way of knowing if that’s what’s happening.”

  Daffodil inclined her head. “Maybe. There’s a counter risk too. The risk of assuming no one has deep thoughts but you.”

  Edmond smiled. “Do you think anyone in the world has as much fun talking to each other as we do?”

  Daffodil sighed, then scuffed her boot on the floor.

  “What?” Edmond asked. “What did I say?”

  “Nothing.” Daffodil turned and stared the wall.

  Edmond fell silent, unsure what to say. After a while, Daffodil paced again. With nothing better to do, Edmond walked beside her, but she didn’t glance up.

  Hours later, he shook Grew awake. It was even harder than waking Daffodil had been. The wizard’s pupils swam in a sea of red; and if they ran out of pouches, they could use the bags under his eyes.

  * * *

  Edmond’s eyes cracked open. He didn’t feel per
fect, but the ache was gone in his temples. He sat up, stretched and yawned; some of the stiffness was gone from his arms too. Something snorted nearby.

  Daffodil and Grew leant against one another at the foot of the stairs, fast asleep. Edmond sprang to his feet and looked down at his belt. The sand didn’t seem to have moved in the hourglass while he’d slept.

  With a lurch, he realised he hadn’t taken it off to sleep. It had been horizontal the whole time. He had no idea how long they had left. Although, from how well rested he felt, it had to be at least eight hours later.

  “Get up.” He grabbed both of them by the shoulder. “Get up! We’ve slept too long.”

  Grew and Daffodil woke with a start and clambered to their feet. Identical frowns shifted into wide-eyed embarrassment.

  “Forget it.” Edmond raced back to the pile of packs. “It could have happened to any of us. We’re all exhausted. But now we’re behind. We need to hurry or we won’t get there in time.”

  The three of them slung packs and equipment. The moment the last strap hit their bodies, Edmond marched down the corridor.

  It didn’t take long to reach the doors with the pools of water on either side. Edmond paused only long enough to confirm it had been repaired before cutting the wires and throwing the doors open.

  “The trap didn’t change,” Daffodil said.

  “Uh huh.” Edmond yomped on.

  “Strange,” Daffodil said. “All the others changed.”

  Edmond strode on in silence until he came to a branch in the corridor. The dead goblins with metal discs embedded in them still lay to the right; and to the left, the corridor dropped to pitch darkness as before. “Okay, we know there’s nothing dangerous to the left. Just darkness and a pit of feathers. We can hurry through and make up lost time.”

  Grew looked as if he was about to say something, but shook his head when Edmond glanced at him.

  Edmond marched into the darkness, his right hand running along the wall. As he walked, his mind raced ahead to what lay in front of them. The stone ogre was after the dark, although it might have moved. And after that was Yelash. There wasn’t anything dangerous until they’d gone down another two levels.