Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2)

by Dave Higgins

  “No, ask,” Yelash said. He paused for a moment. “Ask me if you can succeed in your quest.”

  Edmond sighed. “Can we succeed in our quest?”

  “No,” Yelash said. “There is no way for you to succeed in your quest to rescue Melinda.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk,” Grew said. “Glad we stuck around for it.”

  Yelash bounced up and down, robe fluttering up to reveal knobbly knees. “You’re misunderstanding.” He tried again, speaking each word clearly with a gap between. “It is impossible for you to rescue Melinda.”

  Edmond bustled Daffodil and Grew toward the stairs. He didn’t need to hear that. People had been saying they’d fail ever since he’d started the quest. Hearing it didn’t help; either they’d succeed, or they’d fail, but it wouldn’t be because anyone said so.

  “There’s no way you can rescue her…” Yelash’s words echoed off the stairs as they hurried down them, getting more muffled and indistinct the further they went.

  Chapter 19

  More Mumbo

  Daffodil stopped two steps above the bottom and peered at the dirt-floor below.

  Edmond understood her hesitation—the zombies had been repulsive—but they had nowhere else to go.

  “I’ll handle this.” Grew stepped off the bottom, then shuffled and moved from side to side.

  The scent of rot grew as hands broke the earth, fumbling at the air where Grew’s ankle had been moments before. Half-decayed heads rose, in time to see waves of fire surge over them.

  The stench of corruption boiled away, replaced with the smell of cooking meat. Sinews burning and bones cracking, the zombies collapsed into scorched piles.

  “That was incredible, Grew,” Edmond said.

  Grew shrugged. “My brothers could do that in their sleep.”

  Edmond clapped Grew on the shoulder. “I don’t see them here, facing a horde of zombies.”

  “Well.” Grew studied his boots. “You know…”

  “We need a plan to deal with Mumbo,” Daffodil said. “He’s next.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that too,” Grew said.

  * * *

  The wall had been repaired, leaving no sign there had ever been a hole there.

  Daffodil raced forward, her sword already out. Hammering the hilt into the wall, she sent chunks of barely dry mortar flying. First one, then several blocks tumbled to the floor.

  Mumbo stared at her in shock from the other side. “You again? But the Green Heart killed you.”

  Daffodil grabbed his shoulder and yanked him out, dangling him in front of Edmond and Grew. “It might have, but my friends brought me back.”

  The shaman’s fingers darted into his pockets.

  Edmond leapt forward, but was too slow.

  Mumbo pulled out two dolls, manipulating them as he did. Daffodil lowered Mumbo to the ground, then stepped back.

  “You’re still in my power,” Mumbo said. “Even dying can’t stop that.”

  Edmond and Daffodil stood against the wall, limbs pressed to their sides.

  Then Grew punched Mumbo in the face.

  Mumbo raised his hands to fend off another blow, dropping the dolls. Before he could recover them, Grew scooped them up and stepped back.

  Daffodil lunged forward and grabbed the shaman’s collar in one fist.

  “Let me go,” Mumbo said. “Right this instant.”

  “No,” Daffodil said. “Not until you help us.”

  “I’ll never help you.”

  Daffodil grabbed Mumbo’s arm and twisted it behind his back.

  “Whatever you need.” Mumbo said, squealing and flailing like a younger Grew.

  “First,” Edmond said. “Unhex our dolls.”

  “Sure,” Mumbo said. “Give them to me.”

  Grew moved closer, holding out a doll.

  Mumbo took Edmond’s doll in his free hand and spat on it, before rubbing it for a moment. “Done. The other one.”

  Edmond rested his sword against Mumbo’s throat. Then Daffodil let Mumbo go and backed away down the corridor. Once they were in position, Grew handed over Daffodil’s doll.

  Again, Mumbo spat on the doll and rubbed at it, until he nodded that he was done.

  “Hand them over again.” Edmond held his hand out.

  Grinning like a gambler agreeing to use someone else’s dice, Mumbo placed both dolls in Edmond’s outstretched palm.

  Edmond pushed them deep into a pouch. They might not be unhexed, and—even if they were—he didn’t want them being re-hexed. “Now all the others.”

  “Others?” Mumbo’s eyes opened wide like someone finding several Aces up a sleeve.

  “The people you’re making dance around that fire,” Edmond said. “And anyone else.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking…” Mumbo stared at Daffodil striding up the corridor toward him, then sagged. “Okay, no problem.” Tugging open pockets and reaching into robes, he revealed, then spat on, dozens of dolls.

  Edmond watched him, but he seemed to do the same thing for each doll, before throwing it away. Which suggested he really was unhexing them.

  After hawking for a moment, Mumbo forced a drop of spit onto the last doll and dropped it beside the others. “Now? Can I go?”

  “Not quite,” Grew said. “We’re not going to kill you, but we need you to make a doll for us. One of yourself.”

  “Of me?” Mumbo said. “Never.”

  Daffodil grabbed Mumbo’s left wrist and twisted it until he was forced to bend at the waist.

  “Of me,” Mumbo said. “Of course.”

  Daffodil let Mumbo straighten.

  The shaman retrieved a doll from the dirt nearby. Pulling a needle from yet another pocket, he pricked his finger and rubbed his blood on the doll. After mumbling some words over it, he reached into his robe for a piece of charcoal and wrote a symbol on the doll’s belly. Hand quivering, he handed the doll to Daffodil.

  “This will work?” Daffodil asked. “This will control you?”

  “I wouldn’t try to trick you.”

  Daffodil turned the doll over in her hands. “So how do we do it?”

  “Move it how you want me to move. Anything that happens to the doll happens to me.”

  Daffodil moved the doll’s arm up and Mumbo put his arm in the air.

  “I never thought I’d see the day when you were playing with dolls,” Edmond said.

  With a glare, she passed the doll to Grew. “You figure it out, you’re the wizard.”

  Grew took it and put both hands in the air. Mumbo followed suit. Then Grew made Mumbo hold both arms out and rotate them in small circles.

  “My teacher makes us do this when we don’t do our homework,” Grew said. “It’s torture.”

  Edmond watched Mumbo’s face contort more and more, the longer Grew made him rotate his arms. It looked like torture.

  “Grew, can I talk to you?” Edmond beckoned down the corridor.

  Once they were out of earshot of Mumbo, Edmond turned Grew to face him. “We shouldn’t torture him. We’re better than that. He might be horrible, but we’re not.”

  Grew looked up with wide eyes. “Can’t I make him slap himself in the face?”

  Edmond considered for a moment. Hurting helpless people was wrong. On the other hand, Mumbo would have made him and Daffodil dance around the fire until their legs dropped off. “Fine, one time.”

  Grew moved the doll’s hand, making it slap itself in the face. Mumbo didn’t react. Grew tried again, and Mumbo still didn’t do anything.

  “He’s not hexed at all,” Edmond said.

  Grew nodded. “He’s pretending.”

  Edmond turned to stalk back to Mumbo, but Grew put a hand out to stop him.

  “If he’s not hexed,” Grew said, “this won’t be torture. Just don’t tell him.”

  Grew headed back, the doll held out in front of him. As he got closer, he raised one of the doll’s legs and Mumbo followed suit. Now he knew Mumbo wasn’t hex
ed, Edmond could see him following everything Grew did. He was imitating Grew’s actions without being forced into them.

  Grew hopped the doll up and down on the palm of his hand, and Mumbo hopped along with him. Grew kept that up for a minute, until Mumbo seemed on the verge of collapse. Then he switched legs and did it the other way.

  “This is inhumane,” Mumbo said.

  “As inhumane as you’ve been to those people around the fire?” Edmond asked.

  “That’s different,” Mumbo said. “They’re adventurers. Everyone knows they’re fair game. I’m a denizen.”

  “What’s that mean?” Edmond asked.

  “I’m registered and everything,” Mumbo said. “She’s meant to protect me.”

  “Who?” Edmond waved for Grew to stop. “The witch?”

  “Yes. She protects all the others. She should protect me too. I signed the form the goblins had.”

  “You’ve met the witch?” Edmond asked.

  “No, but I’ve met Tristan Maldorn, her right hand.”

  Edmond’s thought of the too-pale man they’d chased through the corridors. “White as snow and wears a black cloak?”

  “That’s him. Doesn’t say much. He seemed to find the contract funny, though. He laughed for a minute. I think he was surprised I got to sign one. They don’t give them out to anyone, you know.”

  “Sure.” Edmond realised the man might be even crazier than he’d first thought. “Listen, Mumbo, we know the doll isn’t hexed. Grew, hand it back.”

  Grew held the doll out to Mumbo, who took it back in surprise.

  “Now hex it for real,” Edmond said. “We can’t hang around here all day.”

  Mumbo broke right.

  But Daffodil was ready; her hand shot out and grabbed him before he took a second step. She dangled him, watching his feet try to run in mid-air for a moment.

  Mumbo sagged again and turned his attention to the doll. Drawing more symbols on it with charcoal, he handed it to Grew. “There. You happy?”

  “Not happy,” Edmond said. “But we’ll see if I’m satisfied.”

  Grew turned his back on Mumbo, then he slapped the doll’s face with its hand. The crack from the shaman’s hand hitting his face echoed off the walls.

  “Good,” Edmond said. “Now, our wizard friend here will keep that doll. If we hear you’ve been hexing anyone else, ever again, he’s going to throw it on the nearest torch.”

  Mumbo’s eyes widened in shock. “You wouldn’t?”

  “He would,” Edmond said. “You’ve seen how much he likes to torture denizens.”

  Mumbo nodded. “He has the face of true evil.”

  Edmond looked over at Grew’s fresh, innocent face and nodded. “You’d better get out of here before he tortures you some more.”

  “But my contract...? I’m meant to stop adventurers.”

  “Forget the contract,” Edmond said. “Get far away from the dungeon, where the witch can’t enforce it any more.”

  Mumbo nodded. “I will. I’ll get so far, she’ll never find me.”

  “And remember,” Edmond said. “No hexing.”

  Mumbo sprinted along the corridor. This time, Daffodil let him go.

  Once Mumbo was out of sight, Edmond turned to the others. “That’s another level dealt with. We should get going, we don’t have much time.”

  They stepped through the hole in the wall and followed Mumbo’s corridor to his camp. Despite the lack of hexed dolls, four adventurers danced around the campfire. Other than the rogue Edmond had noticed before, there was a ranger, knight, and what seemed to be an acrobat; at least she was dressed like the tumblers Edmond had seen in travelling shows. He walked over to them. “You can stop. Mumbo is gone and your dolls aren’t hexed any more.”

  As one, the four people all stopped dancing and sank to the ground, groaning.

  “Is he really dead?” the rogue asked.

  “Not dead,” Edmond said. “But we have a doll of him. If he tries to hex anyone again, he’ll regret it.”

  “You have a doll of him?” the rogue asked. “Give it here.”

  “No,” Edmond said. “You’ll kill him.”

  “No I won’t,” the rogue said. “...not right away.”

  “Forget Mumbo,” Edmond said. “We could use your help. We’re going down to fight the dragon, and the more people we have, the more likely we are to succeed.”

  “No way,” the knight said. “You won’t even get past the Green Heart. We all tried and were lucky to make it back here alive.”

  “Really?” Daffodil asked. “Don’t you want the gold?”

  “Daffodil,” Edmond said. “There’s no gold. Don’t trick them into coming with us.”

  “There’s no gold?” the rogue asked.

  “No,” Edmond said.

  The rogue clambered to his feet. “Then I need to have a word with that man in the booth above.”

  The other adventurers eased upright, frowns strong even if the rest of them wasn’t.

  “Go easy on him,” Edmond said. “If us rescuing you means anything, you won’t hurt him. He’s our friend.”

  The rogue sighed. “Fine. I suppose I was too eager to believe. You’re right, though: you rescued us.” The rogue took out two knives from his belt and handed them to Edmond. They were made of a metal with a greenish tinge to it. “Take these as my way of saying thank you.”

  Edmond tucked them in his own belt. “Thank you.”

  The adventurers stumbled out the way Edmond, Daffodil, and Grew had come. Once they were out of sight, Grew pointed at Edmond’s belt. “Can I have those? If my magic runs out, I’d like to have something to defend myself with.”

  Edmond shrugged and handed the daggers over. “What are we going to do about the Green Heart? We need a plan.”

  Daffodil’s face shone pale in the firelight. Edmond didn’t blame her; dying was a traumatising experience. One he didn’t intend on going through himself again.

  “I have full mana,” Grew said. “And the fire shield held the roots back last time. I could cast it on all of us, then we could walk to the Green Heart and cut it to bits.”

  “Doesn’t it only last ten breaths or so?” Daffodil asked.

  Grew nodded. “That’s true. And I only have enough to cast it once on each of us.”

  “Or three times on one person,” Daffodil said. “The Green Heart’s a long way off, but not that far. If you cast the flame shield on me three times in a row, I could run across and kill it.”

  “If you don’t,” Edmond said. “You’d be stuck there.”

  “Then I guess I’d better succeed.” Daffodil rested a hand on the hilt of her sword.

  Chapter 20

  Beat the Green Heart

  The same rich, earth smell grew as Edmond led them down to the next level. Reaching the end of the corridor, he stopped. “What are we going to do about the vines? Grew needs to keep his mana for the fire shields.”

  Daffodil drew her sword. “I guess we’ll just have to deal with them the old-fashioned way.”

  Grew pulled out his new knives, but Edmond waved him back and drew his sword. It felt wrong to dull the edge on plants, but the vines that lurked beneath seemed more than plants. He scythed in wide circles around him, only moving on when he could see the dirt underneath in every direction. Daffodil moved at his side, doing the same.

  Halfway across, a vine writhed from the undergrowth toward Edmond’s right leg.

  He slashed at it, the better edge of his new sword leaving sappy gashes. The vine hesitated, then darted again and wrapped around his ankle.

  Edmond tried to cut it, but the tugging threw him off balance. “It’s got me.”

  Daffodil raised her sword in both hands and hacked down, cleaving through the vine. No longer attached, the end of the vine fell away from Edmond’s leg.

  They continued to the far side, clearing a wide swathe of vegetation. Whatever plant the vine had come from seemed to think better of attacking them again.

/>   Edmond glanced at Daffodil as the corridor opened out. Her jaw jutted, but her lower lip was white where she bit it. He could only imagine the effort it took to march toward the thing that had killed you.

  The walls receded on either side, slipping off into the darkness until they couldn’t see anything around them. Then Edmond spotted a pulsing green glow ahead. “We shouldn’t go any further or we’ll get trapped. Daffodil, you need to go on alone from here.”

  Daffodil nodded.

  Edmond couldn’t let her go like that. He grabbed her and, arms stretched uncomfortably around her shield, pulled her into a hug. “Be careful. I can’t do this without you.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t intend on dying. I’ll help rescue your woman for you.”

  “Not that,” Edmond said. “Life. The happily ever after. I can’t do that without you.”

  “Oh.” Daffodil stared into his eyes, breath stuttering.

  “You think I’d want that without my best friend?”

  “Right.” Daffodil pulled away and charged across the dirt, yanking her sword out.

  Beside Edmond, Grew danced, his fluid movements melting into each other. If Edmond’s eyes hadn’t been locked on Daffodil, he was sure it would’ve be the best dance he’d ever seen. But he couldn’t glance away, even for a moment, in case he missed anything.

  Two roots burst from the earth, one either side of her. Fire flowed across Daffodil’s skin just as they jabbed down. Lashing and twisting, they recoiled from the heat of the flames.

  Daffodil ignored them, legs pounding toward the verdant pulse.

  The roots whipped beneath the soil, then reappeared in front of her, blocking the way. When she reached them, they recoiled from the flames, letting her pass.

  As she raced on, Edmond realised how far away the Green Heart had to be. She was two hundred paces away and still seemed a long way from the plant.

  Grew began to dance again, trying to time it so the flame shield would replace the one about to vanish. He got it almost perfect, the flames disappearing and then springing up again within the blink of an eye. “What are those?”

  The light from Daffodil’s flaming skin revealed white balls clustered across her path. She dodged and wove, trying not to slow. Then her foot clipped a ball.