Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2)

by Dave Higgins

  Ahead of him, something scratched. “Don’t get too far ahead, Grew.”

  “I’m behind you.”

  Something stabbed Edmond’s leg, making him wince. Only the chain mail protecting his thighs prevented whatever it was from sinking deep. “Aargh!”

  “What is it?” Daffodil asked.

  “Something stabbed me.” Edmond yanked out his sword and swung it in front of him, but didn’t hit anything.

  The thing in his leg withdrew and stabbed again, then again.

  Hearing scratching on the floor, Edmond swung his sword lower.

  His sword whooshed through empty air, but something flapped nearby. “A bird. But walking on the floor. It’s attacking me.”

  “Ow,” Grew said. “Something stabbed me. Should I shoot it with a fireball?”

  Edmond thought for a split second. “No. You might hit one of us. Jump into the pit. The feathers will break our fall.”

  Edmond sprinted. His left foot hit nothing, and he toppled forward. With effort, he turned onto his back and threw his sword aside. It wouldn’t do any good to land on it and run himself through.

  Breath exploded from him as his back hit the ground harder than expected. Then something heavy landed on top of him with a loud snap, driving the rest of the air from him.

  As his lungs grabbed for air, pain lanced through his chest and icy tingles rushed across his skin. One of his ribs was broken.

  “Sorry.” Grew clambered off Edmond.

  The icy prickles boiled across him at every movement, but Edmond struggled over as fast as he could. Fingers clawing for grip, he hit stone. The feathers beneath him were thinner than before, as if someone—or something—had taken most of them away.

  Air wafted over him as Daffodil slammed down where he’d been.

  Scratching noises came from all around them.

  Edmond crawled forward, each breath and most movements sending burning stabs through his chest. His hands brushed something warm and feathery.

  He jerked away as the thing stabbed into his shoulder.

  Bellowing, he surged to his feet. Spots flickered across his vision. Sweat clinging to him, he kicked his foot out, but hit nothing. “Get up the ladder.”

  “Have to find it first,” Daffodil said.

  “Then look.” Edmond staggered right. “I need to find my sword.”

  “Forget it,” Daffodil said. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Find the ladder.” Edmond scuffed his feet across the floor, feeling for the sword. Arguing would mean loud talking, which would mean more breathing.

  Something stabbed him in the back of the leg. Then another stabbed his knee.

  Edmond clutched his injured knee. Swaying in place, he unslung his shield and swung it around him with both hands, trying to clear a space.

  “I found the ladder,” Daffodil called.

  “Go up it. Grew, you too. I’ll be there in a second.” He couldn’t look for his sword much longer. His armour could only protect him for so long. Finally, his right foot sent something skittering across the ground. Now he knew where to search, he slung his shield and fumbled with his hands.

  Lines of fire sliced across his fingers and palm as they closed around the razor-sharp blade. He jammed the sword into his scabbard, too angry to give in to yet more pain. “Where?”

  “Here,” Daffodil called from a little above him.

  Edmond stumbled toward her voice, colliding with small bodies. With a jolt of relief, his hands found the rungs of the ladder. Too late to matter, a seam of light opened in the wall above.

  Before he could get more than a few rungs up, something stabbed into his left calf. Edmond bit back a curse and pulled himself higher. His leg wouldn’t respond, so he had to drag himself up by his injured hand. Something grinding with each movement, he hauled himself level with the opening.

  Daffodil grabbed him and pulled him into the corridor. Laying him on the floor, she forced a healing potion to his mouth.

  The pain ebbed away with each gulp, until he could think again. He eased himself to his feet and looked back. “What were those things?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Daffodil said. “But they haven’t followed us. I think they like the dark.”

  “Then let’s get into the light.” Edmond shoved her and Grew forward. “Are you both all right?”

  “Fine,” Daffodil said. “Grew had some cuts, but he drank a potion.”

  Edmond took a proper look at Grew. His skin was pale, even for him. “Grew, you with us?”

  Grew shuffled along, eyes focused on nothing in particular.

  “Grew!” Edmond shouted.

  Grew blinked at him. “Huh?”

  “Are you still with us?” Edmond asked.

  “I am.” Grew frowned. “I’m right here.”

  “The stairs are ahead.” Edmond strode on. “Hang back and I’ll take the lead again.”

  “Edmond,” Daffodil said. “Stop hurrying. We can’t save her if we die on the way.”

  He stopped in his tracks, biting back the harsh reply he’d been about to give. He took a deep breath, then another, letting his panic ebb away until he could think clearly again. “You’re right. We’ll take it slowly, but we need to keep moving.”

  This time, he crept along keeping an eye out for traps. Just because there hadn’t been any last time didn’t mean there couldn’t be some now. Eventually, he rounded a corner and saw the stairs ahead of them.

  And the stone ogre inching up the last one.

  Chapter 18

  Riddles

  No matter how Edmond danced and shouted at it, the ogre never varied its pace. It kept grinding forward, the stone club in its hand held ready. After quarter of an hour staring at the ogre, then at the hourglass, then at the ogre again, there was finally enough space to squeeze onto the stairs.

  As soon as they were past, Daffodil grabbed Edmond’s shoulder. “The steps are about to turn into a slide, remember.”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  “So what’s the plan?” Daffodil asked.

  Edmond looked around. Touching the railing hadn’t hurt them the last time, but he still didn’t trust the intertwined metal. The stairs were barely wide enough to stand two astride. “We jam up together. Grew goes in the middle and we push against each wall. If we squeeze enough, we won’t slide down too quickly.”

  “Wait, what?” Grew asked. “I wasn’t paying attention. What’s the plan?”

  “Just stand here between us.” Daffodil stepped on the same step as Edmond. Grew squished into the gap between them. There was barely enough room for all three of them. Turning sideways, Edmond rested his hands against the wall, then pushed.

  “I can’t breathe,” Grew wheezed as Daffodil did the same.

  “Stop complaining,” Daffodil said. “You’re fine.”

  They crabbed their way down, step by step. After a short distance, the stairs tipped, turning into a slide. Edmond put more pressure on his hands. Moving was difficult now, but the walls were rough enough he didn’t slip.

  Grew wheezed and gurgled, but Edmond ignored him. All he had to do was stay still, Edmond and Daffodil were doing the difficult bit.

  After an age, they crept level with the lever. Edmond tugged it down, then kept hold until they reached solid ground.

  “That worked perfectly,” Daffodil said. “Right, Grew?”

  Grew swayed into a wall, huffing and gasping. After flapping his mouth a few times without speaking, he waved a fist at Edmond.

  “Don’t mind him, Edmond. It was a good plan.”

  Edmond nodded absently, already thinking about the next problem. “There are hideobeasts through there; they almost killed you, Daffodil.”

  “Then I’ll have to pay them back,” Daffodil said.

  “Their stingers are poisoned,” Edmond said. “And we only have two more healing potions each. We can’t afford to get stung.”

  Grew exhaled sharply. “I’ll take care of it. If you control the door, I’ll take th
em out one at a time.”

  “Daffodil, guard him in case anything gets through.” Edmond gripped the handle. As Grew started dancing, he pulled lightly. This time, the handle didn’t fall off. Instead, the door ground up out of the way.

  The three hideobeasts beyond probed the air with their mouth tentacles before dashing for the open doorway. For a moment, Edmond thought all three would try to get through at once and end up wedged; but two held back, letting the third pull ahead.

  Edmond yanked on the handle. The door ground down as the hideobeast cleared the lintel.

  As it did, a fireball roared across the room and slammed into the hideobeast. Gobs of monster spattered Edmond’s face as the beast exploded.

  Edmond wiped the mess from his face, wondering if anything in the dungeon wasn’t either flameproof or explosive. Glancing at Grew to check he was dancing again, he reopened the door.

  Both hideobeasts lurked inside the doorway. Instead of racing forward across the room, one of them lunged at Edmond.

  Too late, he realised he should have had his shield out. A stinger lanced into his chest and everything went black.

  * * *

  “Edmond!”

  His brain shook in his skull as if the world itself was spinning.

  “Edmond, open your eyes!”

  He didn’t want to do anything, but he recognised that voice. It was Daffodil’s voice. Wonderful, strong Daffodil. He opened his eyes for her and gazed up into her worried face. He didn’t want her to be worried.

  “It’s okay.” Edmond reached up and stroked her hair. “It was all a dream.”

  “He’s delirious,” Grew said. “You could have killed him with all those potions. They’re not meant to be taken at once.”

  “Without them, he’d be dead. He’s alive.”

  The world felt warm and furry. He was a little confused, though. Weren’t they meant to be fighting a dragon, not bathing in kittens? Maybe Daffodil had been so busy being awesome, she’d forgotten the plan. “We have to bury the dragon in the sand. Then I can tell my true love how I feel.”

  “Sure.” Daffodil lifted Edmond’s hand off her face. “Try to sleep.”

  Edmond started crying, but couldn’t remember why. So he fell asleep instead.

  * * *

  When he woke up, he could feel the remnants of a headache testing his forehead for secret passages. He eased himself into a sitting position. Someone had taken off his armour and put Grew’s cloak over him.

  Grew and Daffodil were nowhere in sight, but his equipment sat in a neat pile next to the wall. The sands in his hourglass had run out, which meant there was—at most—a day left. Between their long sleep the night before and his unconsciousness, he had no idea how much time was left. He just knew it was less than a day.

  Turning the hourglass over, he marked halfway down it with a smudge of dirt. They couldn’t have wasted more than a half a day. So there were twelve hours to rescue Melinda. It didn’t seem like enough time, but it wouldn’t get longer sitting there.

  He got to his feet and pulled his armour on, then gathered up Grew’s cloak and set off walking to find the others. “Hello?”

  The sound of running footsteps echoed along the corridor toward him.

  Edmond drew his sword just in case, then sheathed it again when he saw Grew and Daffodil. “I didn’t know where you were.”

  “We were leading the hideobeasts away,” Daffodil said. “They regenerated, and we didn’t want to move you. So we led them in circles for a few hours. How do you feel?”

  “Fine,” Edmond said. “Just a headache.”

  “Good,” Daffodil said. “Let’s get moving. They’ll find their way back here in a while.”

  Edmond followed Daffodil through a maze of corridors until they came to the door of Yelash’s hermitage. On the far side, Yelash sat cross-legged with his eyes closed.

  “Hello again,” Edmond said.

  Yelash looked up sharply enough to almost tip himself backward. “It’s you.”

  “It’s us,” Edmond closed the door. He didn’t know if it would hold back hideobeasts, but it was better than leaving it open.

  “I didn’t expect to see you again,” Yelash said.

  “We had a minor setback,” Daffodil said. “But we’re going to kill the dragon this time.”

  “And rescue his one true love.” Grew pointed at Edmond.

  Yelash nodded, his brow furrowed.

  “They’re right,” Edmond said. “We’re going to reach the bottom, kill the dragon, and rescue Melinda this time. The first time through was only a trial run.”

  Yelash peered at each of them, then tilted his head. “You’re better armed and armoured than before.” He pointed to Daffodil. “I bet she’ll never need rescuing.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Daffodil asked.

  Edmond put his hand on her arm. “He means you’re stronger than other women. You’re right, Yelash. Daffodil’s not like other women.”

  “Damn straight,” Daffodil said. “I wouldn’t be waiting around for someone to rescue me from a dragon.”

  Yelash chuckled. “I’ll bet. But it’s not only muscles that set you apart; it’s the person inside as well. Don’t you think?”

  Edmond gazed at Daffodil. Yelash was right; he’d never met anyone like her. “Sure.”

  “Sometimes people are different inside than they look outside,” Yelash said. “You need to look closer to see it.”

  Edmond frowned in confusion. “This is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had. Don’t you have riddles for us?”

  “I do,” Yelash said. “And I have new rules: you get three things from me, provided you answer my riddles correctly. For the first riddle you answer, you’ll get the answer to a single question. For the second riddle you answer, you’ll get a scroll allowing you to return to the town. The third riddle answered correctly will give you access to the stairs behind me.”

  “Sounds good,” Edmond said. “Go for it.”

  Yelash took a breath. “All right. The person who makes me doesn’t want me. The person who buys me doesn’t use me. The person who uses me doesn’t see me.”

  “It’s a human,” Grew said.

  “Wait, what?” Edmond asked. “Are you sure, Grew?”

  “That’s incorrect,” Yelash said. “The answer was a coffin.”

  “No,” Grew said. “That wasn’t the riddle I was answering. I was answering the riddle from the first time we came through: what walks on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?”

  Yelash’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “You didn’t specify which riddle we should answer,” Grew said. “So our next two answers are eyes and coffin. Which means we’ve answered three riddles correctly.”

  Yelash turned a deep shade of purple. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.”

  “Hey,” Grew said. “I’m following your rules.”

  “I spend all day on these riddles,” Yelash said. “And you three always ruin them.”

  “Pay up.” Grew held out his hand.

  Yelash muttered into his beard, then produced a scroll from his robes. Grumbling into his moustache, he waved behind him. As before, the wall melted away to reveal stairs. “Get out of here, I need to work on the rules some more.”

  Edmond turned to the steps, then paused. “What were the other two riddles?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “We’ll answer them—if we can. Not for scrolls or stairs; for fun.”

  “For fun?” Yelash asked.

  “Sure.” Edmond glanced at Grew and Daffodil. The two of them stared back at him with raised eyebrows.

  “All right,” Yelash said. “It might be fun to see if you can answer them. The second riddle is: step on me and I won’t flinch. Hit me and I feel no pain. But if you left me, you’d die.”

  Edmond bit his lip, thinking. “Hmm. That’s a tricky one.”

  “Only something inanimate wouldn’t fee
l any pain,” Grew said. “Like a rock.”

  “You can leave a rock, though,” Daffodil said. “You wouldn’t die if you left a rock, or we’d all be long dead.”

  Edmond closed his eyes, trying to force his low-Intelligence brain to work. “What about… a big rock?”

  “That’s it,” Grew said. “The world. The world is the big rock you can’t leave, or you’d die.”

  “It is,” Yelash said, smiling. “That’s the right answer. You want to try the last one?”

  “Go on,” Grew said. “Let’s see if we can get it.”

  “My arms keep you warm,” Yelash said. “You can shelter in my stomach. And my flesh will make you smarter.”

  “Animal skins keep you warm,” Edmond said. “And if you hollow out—”

  “It’s not an animal,” Grew said. “Animal flesh doesn’t make you smarter.”

  “Teachers make you smarter,” Daffodil said. “So do friends. You’re always telling me things, Edmond.”

  “From books,” Edmond said. “And books are made from the flesh of trees.”

  “Who have arms that can be burnt to keep you warm,” Daffodil said.

  “And you can build a house from them to shelter in,” Grew said. “The answer is trees.”

  Yelash seemed genuinely impressed this time. “That’s correct. You know, you could have played my game and you would have won anyway.”

  “They were excellent riddles,” Edmond said. “You should write them down in a book. People might like to read them.”

  “Ah, well,” Yelash said. “I thought about it, but I’m not good enough for that.”

  “Nonsense,” Edmond said. “I’d read it.”

  “He would,” Daffodil said. “He reads everything. I once found him reading Mr Winchow’s price list.”

  “Why’s that strange?”

  “Because he wrote it.” Daffodil rolled her eyes.

  Yelash thought for a moment. “Fine. I will. I’ll write them down.”

  “Now, we need to go,” Edmond said, making for the stairs.

  “Wait,” Yelash said. “You haven’t asked your question. I owe you an answer.”

  “It’s fine,” Edmond said. “We don’t need to ask anything.”