Here's Looking For You, Grim (Tales From a Second-Hand Wand Shop Book 3)

by Robert P. Wills

  “But I can’t cure his other problem.” Maca interrupted. “It’s just too difficult and would most likely end up killing him if I tried. Permanently.”

  “What other problem?” Akita took a step forward. Her lack of a genuine answer was beginning to annoy him. “What problem?” He asked tersely.

  Maca silently turned Grimbledung’s head to the side. There were two arcing white scars on his neck where his throat had been ripped open. “It’s bound to him much like Vampirism.”

  “Vampirism?” Akita asked, unbelievingly.

  “Yes, they are similar, the two conditions.”

  “Vampirism.” Akita shook his head. “You’re just making that up. That’s an old wife’s tale.”

  “Said the Werewolf.”

  Akita considered that for a moment. Then another disturbing thought came to mind. “Well hell. Drimblerod’s not going to be happy.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  When Good Orcs Make Bad Puns

  Or Bad Orcs Make Good Puns?

  The Halfling scout - Pachydermis - continued to jog ahead of the group of Halflings. The slow-turning windmill had been in view for several minutes now- every time he ran down a hill and made it to the next crest, it was larger. Finally, he crested a hill that brought the town itself into view. He stopped to catch his breath and appraise the town. There were quite a few buildings under construction but even so, it was a good-sized town. He rubbed his hands together. It would burn beautifully!

  He spotted a group at the edge of town, off to his left. There were at most twenty of them of various sizes and races. Most were human-sized with several a full head taller. He shaded his eyes with his hand as he squinted. Four war dogs? Large dogs at that. That was never a good thing! One of the dogs stood upright and shoved a human-sized person. Or perhaps hit him in the head. Werewolf? Gnoll? Either was worse than just a war dog. “We’ll have to kill those things first,” he said matter-of-factly. “Nothing personal.”

  The Halfling watched the group interact for a few minutes. They didn’t seem to really be in any sort of formation – it was more like groups standing near each other. Occasionally an individual would move from one group to another, or an entire group would move over to another. “Disorganized amateurs. Killing you is going to be like...” He thought for a moment. Nothing came to mind. “Killing disorganized amateurs.”

  He shrugged as he turned away from the soon-to-be-destroyed town. Even the Gnolls or Werewolves were no matter to him; they were assured absurdly overwhelming success. He just needed to get back to his Corporal and relay the excellent news. He turned and looked the way he came. Several steep hills made seeing the other Halflings impossible. “Piece of Pie,” he said aloud. “With clotted cream on top.” He started down the hill, running quickly as it pulled him along. When he got to the bottom, he slowed but only slightly as he made his way to the top. When he got to the top of it he stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Wot’re you doin’ out ‘ere?” A deep, gravelly voice asked him. Several grunts of approval followed the question.

  “Minding my own business is what I’m doing. I hope it’s contagious,” snapped the Halfling.

  The Orc looked left and right to his compatriots. “Suppose we’re immune?” He snorted. “We gots our shots n’ everything.”

  “Listen up, Orc,” began the Halfling as he crossed his arms defiantly. “In just a few moments, an entire company of Halflings is gonna come over that hill behind you, and you and your immune Orcs are going to have a really bad day.”

  The Orcs eyes got large. “An entire comp’ny?”

  “And entire company,” assured the Halfling. He moved his hands to his hips in hopes it was even more defiant.

  “Well, that changes ev’rythin’.” The Orc smiled a jagged smile. “Cause you know what?”

  “What’s that, Orc?”

  “That’s not my name,” offered the Orc.

  Several other Orcs snickered. It was one of their favorite jokes.

  “All right, Orc. I’ll bite. What’s your name?”

  “Well, not my real name ‘course. I don’t give that out to just anyone.” The Orc shrugged. “It’s a nickname, really. Somethin’ I’s picked up on the playin’ field.”

  The Halfling exhaled loudly. “Fine, what’s your nickname?”

  The Orc reached out and grabbed the Halfling by the throat. “Misery.”

  “Urp!” Said the Halfling.

  “An’ ya know what they say....”

  All the Orcs snickered now.

  “Misery sure do love comp’ny.” He loosened his grip so that the Halfling’s color became less purple. “So I’lls ask you again.” He narrowed his eyes. “Wot’re you doin’ out ‘ere? Up to ‘alflin’ mischief?”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The Julesville Defense Force:

  Being All They Can Be

  A group of five young Humans approached the crowd that had gathered at the edge of town. They brought the total number up to twenty. “You sure about this?” Asked one in dark brown robes. He was holding a large staff in his hand and a spell book in the other. “Better Trees and Gardens’ - Druid Spells for All Occasions” was emblazoned on it in large gold lettering.

  “Yes, I told you already. I’m sure. I’m sure this is a good idea. I’m sure this will work out. I’m sure that we’ll be completely safe.” The lanky human put his hand on his sword, “I am sure.”

  “If you say so, Zoddious,” said another young man- this one was dressed in all green and was holding a longbow. He looked at the group gathered at the edge of town nervously. “I mean, I just...” His voice trailed off.

  The lad beside him wearing black robes and holding a crystal ball patted him on the shoulder. “It will work out. Don’t worry, Ambler.”

  “Quiet, or they’ll hear us,” snapped Zoddious. He eyed the townsfolk who had gathered. The majority that were there were Humans, with two Half-Orcs, several Dwarves, a lone Elf, and one large Trolless rounding out the rest. He didn’t know it, but twice again that many invisible people milled about, but because of their transparency, weren’t counted in the total. Obviously.

  ‘So we need to make a plan’, the group of youths heard the Trolless say as they approached.

  “Because if those Halflings show up, they’ll sure have a plan,” said Nulu. She stuck her please stick in the ground and stalked away from it. “I have a ba-ad feeling about this.” She said to no one in particular. She spotted Akita approaching with Drimblerod. Finally some backup! “Akita!” She called. She moved to the Constable, pulling her weapon from the ground as she went. “We need your help.”

  Akita nodded as he approached. “What seems to be the trouble?”

  “Let me guess. We’re a disorganized mob and the Halflings are going to crush us when they get here,” said Drimblerod.

  “Akita,” Nulu pleaded.

  “Nulu’s rrrright. We need to have some sort of plan.” He looked around. “We’ve got what, not barely twenty of us?” He looked at the two score invisible persons milling around. They were furiously not making eye contact with the Constable. “Do we know how many Halflings are coming?”

  Nulu looked out on the Great Shambler Plains. “We’ve no idea. Could be ten. Could be a standard group of a hundred.”

  “You know, I’m really hoping for the lower part of that estimate,” offered Drimblerod. “So this is all that would come out to support the very town they live in?” Drimblerod shook his head. “Disgraceful.”

  “Well, in their defense, these are the ones that didn’t get picked to go to the main battle,” said Nulu. “Still, it’s better than I expected.”

  “Rrrright. For them it’s not a job.” He smiled. “Or even an adventure.” He eyed the lanky youth and his cohorts as they approached. “What’s this then?”

  Nulu looked around. “Where’s Grimbledung? I’d figured he be here to deal with these Halflings. Settle a grudge, or something.”

  Akita shuffled his feet.
<
br />   “He’s laid up at... well, I’m not really sure what she is, or what her shop offers, but he’s laid up there right now. He hasn’t recovered from his episode yet, right Akita?”

  “Sure. We’ll go with that.”

  Drimblerod gave the Werewolf a double take. “What?”

  Akita ignored the question. “Well, I’ll see if we can get this rabble to at least act like they know what they’re doing.” He looked at the group- they had all begun to mill closer to the trio to hear what was going on. “I mean, some of them have to have some sort of military trainin’ rrrright?”

  Nulu shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.” She turned to look at the group of youngish-looking Humans that had just arrived. “Well, at least we have a few more within our ranks.” She smiled. I might as well ask. “Say, any of you young men have any sort of military training?”

  “What?” Tried Drimblerod again.

  “ ‘Course we do,” said Zoddious. “What do you take us for?”

  “Don’t even open that door.” Said Nulu. “What sort of training do you...ahhh... you...”

  The youth put his hand on his sword. “These are my guild mates. We campaign together. I’m Zoddious, Zoddious Halfdead. Blood Death Knight. I’m their leader.”

  “Now, hold on there, Akita,” interjected Drimblerod.

  “Right. And the door opens. So you... folks have military experience?” Nulu wasn’t convinced.

  “Yes.”

  “Akita!?”

  “And might I ask what sort of experience you have, ahh...” Akita offered, hoping to get Drimblerod to forget his line of questioning..

  “Zoddious Halfdead, Blood Death Knight,” Zoddious reminded the Werewolf. “Weren’t you listening?”

  The youth holding the large book opened it and began to flip through pages, trying to look magically competent.

  “Military experience.” Nulu said flatly. She tightened her grip on her please stick. “Where is it from?”

  “We play World of Warring Dragons and Dungeons,” offered Zoddious.

  “Dragons and Dungeons?” Nulu shook her head.

  “Advanced World of Warring Dragons and Dungeons” corrected the youth. He tightened his grip on his sword. “I’m a Warrior. This is my guild. We’re here to join this quest.” He gestured to his four companions.

  “Gads.”

  Akita shook his head. “Balls...” His voice trailed off. “This aren’t no quest. We’re here to fight off a horde of Halflings,” said Akita.

  The youths all nodded. “Right,” said the one dressed in green. “That’s why we’re here.” He looked to the horizon in what he hoped was a Rangerish fashion. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

  “I hate to interrupt, but there seems to be yet another unusual turn of events approaching. A double helping even.” Drimblerod pointed behind Nulu towards town. “I wonder how this will go over.”

  Nulu turned to look. Mon and Ton were marching towards them. Ton seemed to have a leash in his hand. There was no dog in it, but it seemed to be stiff enough material that it hovered over the ground ahead of him. It moved back and forth in front of him as he walked. They were both smiling as they came. Mon waved.

  “And they brought a pet,” said Drimblerod. “Nice. I don’t see how this could get any worse.” He glanced at the group of Human youths. “And I’m willing to wager those two don’t even play regular Dragons and Dungeons.”

  A loud murmur rose from the rest of the group.

  “Whose side are they on?” The Elf asked over the talk.

  “I think they’re on their own side,” offered another.

  “Everyone just relax,” said Nulu. “They’ve been nothing but friendly and helpful the entire time they’ve been around. Let’s just see what they have to say.” She paused. “Metaphorically speaking, that is.”

  Everyone turned to watch the two Mimes approach. When they were a mere twenty feet away, they encountered an unseen wall. Mon groped along it until he found the edge, then led Ton to it. Ton made sure to have his leash take a wide birth so that his invisible pet avoided the invisible wall.

  “These two can’t be stable enough to help fight.”

  Akita leveled his eyes on the Human. “Do not insult the Mimes.” He looked back at the pair as they approached. They were both now waving amicably. Then he looked at the creature on the end of Ton’s leash. It drooled excessively and eyed everyone in turn. It looked like a cross between a small war dog and a spiny lizard. The two foot tall creature (at the shoulder) had short dark fur and black glowing eyes. A row of black bony spikes ran from its snout to the back of its head. They started up again at its shoulders and ended at its rump. Large fangs stuck out from its top and bottom jaw, clearing each other by the smallest of gaps. It opened and closed its mouth as it panted, tongue running over the fangs as it moved from side to side. Its tail seemed to end after just barely getting started- whether it was bobbed or had been lost in a previous battle was anyone’s guess. Akita assumed it was bobbed as he couldn’t imagine anything getting the better of such a fearsome looking little creature. It looked at Akita, bared its teeth and barked a silent bark. The menacing spiked collar it wore seemed to be the friendliest part of the beast.

  Ton noticed Akita staring at his pet and winked at the Constable.

  “Hello, brothers Dieu,” said Nulu. “Are you here to watch the battle, or partake?”

  Mon feigned offence. He raised his hands in a boxer’s pose and tossed a couple of jabs. He then removed what could have been a large bow from his back, pulled a nonexistent arrow from a quiver that wasn’t there, notched the arrow and drew an invisible string back and forth. He smiled.

  “Here to fight, huh? That’s good to hear,” said Drimblerod. “I’d like nothing better than to see a couple of professionals in action.” He glanced at the lanky youths. They ignored him.

  “I’m a Warrior.” Insisted the youth.

  Ton gave the lad a thumb’s up. The beast on the leash sat down and began to scratch behind its ear with a rear paw.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re here as well. The more armed folks we have, the better our chances.”

  Drimblerod prodded Akita. “Armed?? Armed with what?”

  Akita looked at Mon’s exquisite longbow. It seemed to be of Elvish construction, as were the two overstuffed quiver of arrows that crossed his back. The highly polished head of the one he currently had notched in his bow gleamed in the sun and seemed razor sharp. “Don’t you worry about that, Drimblerod.” Akita assured the Gnome.

  Mon nodded at the Gnome and gave the Constable a wink.

  Ton bent down and undid the unseen strap on his war dog. It stopped scratching and proceeded to lick itself. Ton folded up the leash and put it in a pocket.

  “What did you bring to the fight, Ton?” Drimblerod asked. He was looking where the creature that was until recently on the leash, should have been. He only saw clear air. “If you don’t mind me asking.” He glanced at Akita.

  Ton showed both sides of his hands as if he were doing a magic trick.

  “Empty.” Agreed Drimblerod.

  Ton nodded then reached into the bandoliers that crisscrossed his chest and drew two of the dozen long daggers. He stabbed the air with both of them quickly and repeatedly, then he flipped one over in his hand and pretended to throw it.

  Drimblerod saw nothing. He glanced at Akita again. “Very nice. Daggers of imminent death.”

  A Human crowded Drimblerod. “I don’t see nothing” he whispered.

  Drimblerod looked up at the man. “Join the club.”

  “Listen. You two seem like completely nice folk. Friendly and all, and I’m glad you’re here to help but I just don’t see...” began the Human who had never heard of the Dieu Brothers.

  “What was that?” Asked Akita. He raised an ear to the air. “You hear that?” He looked over at the Gnoll Brothers. They were standing off by themselves looking into the distance. All in the same direction.

  Akita barked to ca
tch Crash’s eye.

  Crash loped over. “Ya hear that too Akita? They’re getting closer. Whoever they are.”

  “Hear what?” Asked Drimblerod. Even with the size ears they had, Gnomes were no match for Gnolls or Werewolves. ‘Purely for aesthetics’ was the reason Gnomes gave for the size of their ears.

  Ton sheathed his “daggers” and cupped his hands to his ears. He shrugged.

  “I hear them. Sounds like a pretty good sized group and they’re coming this way,” said Akita. “Listen up! We’ve got company and there’s not much time to decide what to do.”

  The group began to spread out as they drew their weapons.

  “No, no! Stick close to one another. Form a circle if you have to. Don’t let whoever it is behind you or you’re through,” said Crash. “We’ll move around the outside and try to keep ‘em off balance. You folks need to stay together. The four of us...”

  “Five.”

  Crash nodded at Akita, “Five of us will move around and try to keep them corralled close by.”

  “I’ll stick with the main force,” offered Nulu. “Drimblerod, stick with me.”

  “Hey! Now I hear it too!’ Said Drimblerod.

  “Shhhh!” Said the lanky youth. “Listen...”

  Everyone fell silent as they strained their ears.

  The Ranger knelt down and put his ear to the ground. “Sounds like a song,” he said.

  “No way I’m fighting any minstrels. No way!” Said Drimblerod.

  Ton nodded his head in approval. To be sure, the things that intimidated the Mimes were on a short list. A very short list. Minstrels however, were at the top of that list. In bold.

  “Sounds like a pretty big group.” Zoddious drew his sword. “I hope we get the initiative.”

  Akita shook his head. “Gads,” he said to the boy. He turned to address the rest of the townsfolk. “Don’t worry. Troops always sing a cadence when they’re going someplace. It makes sure they get to where they’re supposed to be in one group and on time,” he said.

  “Listen. You can hear what they’re saying!”

  Everyone grew still; many had their ears tilted toward the hill. A song wafted over it on deep, throaty voices: