Murland wet himself and whimpered when the spell mercifully ended, but then he saw that the wand was turning on Gibrig. He screamed a curse at the wizard that was drowned out by Gibrig’s cries of anguish.
“Dad?” said Akitla with a voice laced in fear as the spell afflicting Gibrig turned to Willow, who was on the ice elf’s left.
“Stay strong,” said Sir Eldrick.
They all got a taste of the wizard’s spell of pain, and the captain grinned at them all. “What, no cocky comebacks?” he said, looking very pleased with himself.
“Your mother screws goats,” said Willow as her body shuddered from the effects of the spell.
The companions all laughed weakly.
“Ye be a…a…” Gibrig strained to think of something mean to say. “Ye be a no-good, rotten, low-down p-p-panty sniffer!”
The group erupted in maniacal laughter then, and Gibrig, teary-eyed and shaking, smiled shyly at the captain.
“What I be, my tall friend, is Captain B Ripps. Do you know what the R-I-P-P stands for? Rest in peace-peace. The name was given to me by the pixies of the first Dippy Revolution. Do you know why?” he asked, glancing at them all. “Because I killed ev—”
“Ripps means ‘rest in puss pockets,’” said Willow, to the amusement of her chained comrades.
“Shut up!” the captain roared, but the group only laughed harder.
“No,” said Akitla. “It means ‘rotten imbecile pulling peckers.’”
“Silence them!” the captain commanded his dark wizard.
The wizard hit Akitla with an agony spell, and Murland picked up where she left off, trying to take the attention off her.
“Regurgitated insect puke picker!”
The beam of pain turned on him, and he tried to turn his screams of agony into laughter.
“Really inbred pipe puffer!” yelled Sir Eldrick, and he took the brunt of the wizard’s wrath.
“Rabid icky panty pilferer!” said Willow.
“Rude, inconsiderate, pirate…er, papa!” said Gibrig before the beam fell upon him.
“Resting in pungent poonanny!” Willow screamed.
“Hit them all!” yelled the captain, and the wizard turned the one beam into five.
The companions screamed and writhed in their chains for a full two minutes before the captain told his minion to end the spell.
“Have anything more to say?” he asked.
The companions all remained silent.
“I didn’t think so.” Captain Ripps straightened his blouse and turned up his collar. “I will be in my quarters counting money. Give them a taste every five minutes…and do not let them sleep.”
***
Kazimir wiped Hazel’s forehead with a damp cloth as she slowly roused. She blinked at him with long lashes caked with makeup, most of which had run down the sides of her face to create a strangely attractive look.
“You’re a hot mess,” he said.
“And you’re still a flirt,” she said dreamily.
“No, really,” said Kazimir, pulling the thermometer from her mouth. “You’re running hot, and you’re a damned mess.”
Hazel tried to sit up, but her eyes suddenly shot wide open and she gave a stifled groan.
“You’ve been stabbed in the liver by a blade laced with wizard bane. I wouldn’t try getting up just yet,” said Kazimir.
She glanced around, and recognition sparkled in her green eyes. “You brought me home…but what about the Twisted—”
“It has been destroyed by that impetuous little shit, Brannon Woodheart.”
“Destroyed?”
Kazimir nodded and clicked the small crystal beside the bed, aiming it at the wall. A seeing crystal mounted behind them suddenly flared to life, and the voice of Rye-Rye Oceancrest filled the room.
“…here at the scene-scene of the fight-fight, where only hours ago-go, Brannon Woodheart and his fleet-fleet of elven ships laid low-low the Twisted Tower. But-but,” said the fairy on the wall as she pointed a tiny finger to the sky, “conspiracy theory-theories have already begun to clog-clog the fairy beams. With me is conspiracy theory theorist, Jalex Owns-Owns.”
“Thanks, Rye-Rye,” said the wild-eyed and balding man beside her as he turned to the seeing crystal. “Let me show you a couple of clips. This first one is of the fairy palace being demolished two years ago to make way for a new one.”
On the wall, the scene switched to a sparkling palace being razed to the ground.
“And this next one,” Jalex went on, “is Castle Pyke, taken down only three months ago by a controlled wizard spell.”
In this clip, the castle pancaked like the fairy palace.
“Now, this is the clip of the Twisted Tower.” The tower pancaked into itself, and Jalex’s eyebrow shot up as he turned to the camera. “Look familiar? If you watch all three together, you will see an eerie similarity.”
Kazimir glanced at Hazel as the three clips played side by side.
“What are you saying-saying?” Rye-Rye asked.
“What I’m saying, is that the Twisted Tower was an inside job!” said Jalex.
Rye-Rye acted shocked, slapping his hands to his cheeks.
“You get the idea,” said Kazimir, grabbing the small crystal.
“Wait!” said Hazel.
“Watch the footage of the destruction of the twisted tower closely,” said Jalex. “You will see a small spark…there!” he said, pointing as the frame froze.
Kazimir looked closer, noticing that it was indeed he and Hazel slipping through the veil.
“Right before the tower comes down, this strange…dare I say magical streak appears,” Jalex went on.
“So-So, what are you saying-saying?” Rye-Rye asked.
“I’m saying that Witch Hazel never existed. Zuul never existed. And the high council and the leaders of our kingdoms are behind it all.” Rye-Rye smiled kindly at the man and began to speak, but Jalex grabbed the speaking crystal and began yelling, “Seven seventy-six! Seven seventy-six! The powers that be cannot keep us in line unless there is a common enemy to distract us from their greed, their tyranny, their endless fallacy! Open your minds, sheeple!”
“Thank you, Jalex Owns-Owns,” said Rye-Rye, swiping the speaking crystal away.
“The Twisted Tower was an inside job!” Jalex howled in the background.
Rye-Rye plugged one ear as the elven guard upon the ship tried to wrestle the madman away. “You heard it here-here first-first,” said Rye-Rye. “The Twisted Tower-Tower was an inside job-job! With Fairy Vision, I’m Rye-Rye Oceancre—”
Kazimir clicked off the projection and chuckled. “What a bunch of morons.”
“Kaz,” said Hazel weakly. “What has become of Zuul?”
“He’s fine. A second-rate sorceress named Ravenwing has her. He is safe for now.”
“Thank the devils.”
“You rest up. I’ve administered a potion that I found in one of your books.”
“Was it bound in moss?” she said fearfully, clutching his arm.
“What? No, it is the silver-trimmed one with the seven-horned stag on the cover.”
“Thank the gods.” She lay back. “I was quite drunk when I wrote the other one. It is for thieves. All the potions do something horrible.”
“Rest assured,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I was thorough.”
“Thank you, Kaz. But what do we do now?”
“You must rest. And then we can rescue my body from Azkatraz Prison.”
“What? But what about Zuul? Surely—”
“Our first priority is freeing me from this godsforsaken darkling curse. Once I am back in my true form, we shall take back Zuul and make everyone who ever crossed us regret the day they were conceived. Starting with the fools of the dragon.”
“That sounds wonderful, Kaz.”
“I know. Rest now, Haze. Let the healing take its course. Kazimir will take care of everything.”
Chapter 19
Dominus Fever
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Brannon slapped away the hand of his healer. “King’s sake, elf! I’m trying to sleep,” he said annoyedly.
“Sire,” said the healer, who went by the name of Averick. “You are on the verge of Dominus Fever. Your temperature is through the roof. Your tongue is black, and your eyes, nose, and ears are bleeding…not to mention other orifices.”
“Dominus Fever?” said Brannon, knowing that if one with the affliction did not instantly stop performing his magical craft, they would die. “Are you sure?”
“But like I said, you are on the verge. I have administered medicines that will help you, and there are many domini who can help.”
“Thank you,” said Brannon as he tried to sit up.
“I wouldn’t do that right now.”
“You’re not me,” said Brannon, clutching the elf’s robes. “Help me to stand!”
The general suddenly burst in the door. “Sire, Somnium Dominus Weaver is here to see you.”
“Let him in,” said Brannon, settling on the edge of the bed and waving off his frowning healer.
Averick left the room as Weaver entered.
“Good morning, Sire,” said the old silver-haired elf, blind eyes settling slightly to the left of Brannon.
“Have you found them?” said Brannon.
“Yes, Sire, just a few minutes ago I found the champions in the dream world. They have been captured by one Captain B Ripps, and are now sailing east toward Icebite.”
“Dammit. That is nearly five hundred miles from here,” said Brannon, turning to his general. “Tell the captains of the three fastest ships to prepare to sail to Icebite, and have the others return to Halala. I want the most powerful domini that we have on those three ships in ten minutes.”
“As you wish, Sire,” said the general, turning on his heel and leaving.
“Would you like a drink, Weaver?” said Brannon, moving to the bar stiffly.
“I drink alone,” said the blind man.
“You do?”
“Yes, with nobody else.”
“But, why?”
“Because, when I drink alone, I prefer to be by myself.”
Brannon shrugged, though he knew the gesture was lost to the blind elf. “So, did you speak with Murland?”
“No, it was a miracle that I saw him when I did. How to explain…” said Weaver. He tapped his chin. “The dream world is nothing like the waking world. Imagine, if you will, an ocean full of stars. Non-somnium domini cannot see outside of their own stars, and so they are not aware of the ocean around them, that space between dreams. But I can go outside of my star. I can swim the ocean of dreams, peering into whichever star I choose. Murland’s star shone briefly, and I suspect that his captors are using sleep deprivation, for his dream star was dark and faded quickly.”
“That son of a bitch,” said Brannon, pacing.
“Murland?”
“No, Captain Ripps. I want you to find the captain’s star, and I want you to create a nightmare from which he cannot wake, one in which he is being torn apart by a monster of writhing vines.”
“Sire…”
“Speak your mind.”
“I have sworn a pact as a somnium dominus, and it is one of non-harm.”
“It’s just a nightmare, you won’t really be harming him.”
“Creating nightmares is a form of torture, and I cannot—”
“Don’t you even begin to lecture me on the somnium opposition to torture. When my father was trying to cure me of my love for others of the same sex, he ordered the somnium domini to torture me with nightmares, and I still have them to this day. And if you could do it on my father’s orders, then you can do it on mine.”
Weaver looked to have more to say. Instead, he respectfully bowed his head. “As you wish, Sire. I will prepare.”
Brannon poured himself another drink, shaking from the memories of the dreams that the somnium domini had forced him to endure.
“Sire,” said the general as he came to the doorway. “The ships are ready, and the fastest awaits you.”
“I’ll be right there,” said Brannon, turning to hide his eyes. He shot back the dwarven whiskey, noticed his nose had started bleeding again…and broke down crying.
***
Kazimir floated beside Hazel, anxiously waiting for her crystal ball to begin working. Without his body, he could not perform the magic of a wizard. He was stuck with the strange powers of a darkling, which included excellent night vision, the ability to walk between the veil, and the power to rip out and devour souls, among others. And as fun as all those things were, they did not help any in locating Ravenwing or the tiny Dark Lord. For that, he needed Hazel.
“Stop pacing,” she said annoyedly.
“I’m not pacing, I’m floating back and forth.”
“Just stop hovering over my shoulder.”
They had been at it for hours, but Hazel seemed to be no closer to getting the crystal ball to work than she was when she began. Kazimir was beginning to think that they were wasting their time—perhaps the tainted dagger had taken her magic for good. He moved to the window of the hovel that looked out over the misty marsh. Hazel’s hut was in the deep south of Fire Swamp, near the ocean. It was a place where a witch might practice her craft in piece, and it offered abundant spell ingredients as well. Kazimir had always hated the swamp, a fact that had caused more than one argument for the young couple. He thought back on those days with a smile and, nearly laughing, glanced back at Hazel. Sick from the wizard bane poisoning as she was, she still looked every bit as beautiful as she had when they met. For a time, they had been happy. Together they had been a force to be reckoned with. But Kazimir had always felt like Hazel was holding him back. It was no secret that he was more powerful than her, for he was more powerful than any wizard or witch alive. And he knew that deep down she had always been jealous. That seemed to be apparent in her trying to kill his body once she got a taste of the power of Zuul. How quickly she had forgotten the love that she now professed once she had gained an upper hand.
Of course, the power of Zuul was known to corrupt.
Kazimir had dealt with that himself in the beginning. But unlike Hazel, and surely Ravenwing, Kazimir did not easily become consumed with the thought of absolute power. He had not killed Zuul when he had the chance, this was true, but his reasons had been academic. What a waste it would be to destroy the Dark Lord without first learning the secret of his power. It was a mistake that Allan Kazam had made, and it was a mistake that the high wizards had tried to make, but Kazimir was no fool. Zuul was weak, and there was still time to safely learn his secrets. But not for long, Kazimir reminded himself. For Zuul was growing much faster than a normal child, at least twelve times as fast. Kazimir had determined this the first month after the witch birthed him, a month in which Zuul had grown from a newborn to the size of a one-year-old. In less than two years, Zuul would be full grown, and his true power would be realized. That, of course, could not be allowed to happen.
“Kaz!” Hazel yelled.
He floated over to her and smiled. The crystal ball glowed with the faint twinkle of magic.
“Well it’s about time. I thought you had lost your touch.”
“Screw you,” she said. She began waving her hands over the crystal ball and chanting.
Kazimir watched with growing anticipation as slowly, a scene began to come together in the swirling mist.
“There,” said Hazel victoriously. But to her dismay, the image became clear, and the view zoomed in on a scarecrow with an erect middle finger.
Kazimir couldn’t help but laugh, and Hazel offered him a withering glare as the crystal ball went out. “What?” he said. “It was funny. Look at the bright side, at least your magic is returning.”
“It isn’t returning fast enough. You don’t know what it’s like, and your teasing doesn’t—”
“I don’t know what it’s like?” he said, darkling arms spread wide. “Believe me, sister, I know all too well what you ar
e going through. I have been turned into a frigging darkling, and my body lies half dead in frigging Azkatraz. Do you see me throwing a fit?”
“You’re such a dick!”
“I know, you used to remind me all the time.”
“Screw this!” she said, feebly trying to get to her feet.
“What are you doing now?”
“Don’t talk down to me. Don’t you dare.” She lost her balance and fell hard, and as Kazimir moved to help her, she swiped at him, crying, “Get away from me!”
“Zuul’s sake, Hazel, that time of the month or what? I mean, I understand reversing your age, but why in the hell would you want to have your period again?”
“You’re such a pig.”
“At least I’m not an insufferable nag.”
“Nag? Nag! You piss and moan more than anyone I have ever met!”
“Oh yeah? I think you’ve forgotten your mother then.”
“Don’t. You. Dare…”
“Oh, I dare. She was the biggest bitch I have ever met, and you are really starting to remind me of her again.”
Hazel leapt from the floor and flew straight through Kazimir, knocking over the crystal ball and crashing into the wall. Kazimir laughed, and in her fury, Hazel shot a spell at him from the palm of her hand. The spell went through him and burned a large hole in the wall as it shot through.
“Now, that’s the Hazel I remember!” said Kazimir, grinning.
Hazel looked to her hand and then to Kazimir, and realization struck her. “You were trying to get me going, knowing that my magic would answer my anger.”
“What?” he said, confused. “Er, yeah, yeah, that’s what I was doing.”
She studied his earnestness, and he coughed awkwardly.
“Well,” he said, “best get back at it. I do not doubt that Ravenwing has many decoys to get through yet.”
***
Murland squeezed his eyes shut, praying that when he opened them, the terrible image would go away. He thought of Caressa, trying to focus his mind on something pleasant. But when he again opened his eyes, Gram was still there. His skin was charred, and one eye was white and cloudy. The other eye, this one bloodshot and bulging, held Murland in a terrified gaze.
The Mother of Zuul: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 4) Page 15