I spun around, twisting the Bloodletter in a low arc—like an uppercut swing of a baseball bat.
And now you’re going to go save Eagan, I thought to him as I released the ax handle.
The Bloodletter pinwheeled up into the sky, blade glowing blue.
If you had told me I could throw an ax hundreds of feet into the air like that I’d have laughed in your face until my cheeks were magenta and streaked with tears. I’d have laughed so loudly, it would have gotten awkward as you just stood there and watched me laugh like a maniac. And then had you added that I would hit two targets at a distance of at least fifty yards, while somehow avoiding a third object right between them, I’d have simply stomped on your toes for mocking me.
But somehow I knew that magic (whatever was left of both mine and the Bloodletter’s) would guide the ax true.
The spinning blue glow disappeared into the stormy dark sky. Lightning was still flashing as rain continued to fall. A second later, there were two horrible shrieks of pain. The Harpies emerged from the clouds, tumbling back toward the ground in pieces.
A flailing Dwarf followed shortly afterward.
I sprinted toward where I expected Eagan to land, summoning the most powerful wind spell I could think of to soften his fall. But I was too far away and the already-gusting winds of the storm weren’t helping. He slammed into the ground with a damp, thick THUMP.
A Human or Elf would have easily died instantly.
But if you recall, Dwarven bones are partially made from granite and diamonds. So instead of breaking, Eagan actually put a small crater into the concrete path down near the pier.
I ran down the incline and knelt next to him; he was bleeding, clearly injured, and unconscious. But he was still breathing. Had I saved him first and let Lixi fend for herself, he surely would have been almost entirely unharmed. The Harpies had taken him significantly higher in those thirty seconds I had used to save my Elven friend first (but, I reminded myself, those were thirty seconds she definitely hadn’t had).
Look what you did, Greg, the Bloodletter called out from somewhere nearby. Some friend you are.
I didn’t argue as I cradled Eagan’s bleeding head.
Because the Bloodletter was right: I had caused this.
CHAPTER 41
It’s an Uncomfortable Favor to Ask a Friend to Help You Drown Another Friend
Eagan lay broken (and maybe dying) down a shallow slope and mostly out of the periphery of the main battle up near the prison buildings.
I crouched there and waited as I saw my friends running toward us. My heart leaped when I saw Stoney trailing them, flinging away a few last Goblins like they were dead leaves. He was okay! Last I saw, he’d been buried alive beneath a collapsed prison wall.
But a quick look back down at Eagan killed whatever relief had swept through me. Ari also immediately saw how grave this was. She had several wounds herself, which looked pretty serious in their own right, but she paid no attention to them.
“We have to get him out of here and to a doctor,” she said. “Our boat is down this way.”
I nodded.
“Stoney, can you carry him?” I motioned toward Eagan.
The Rock Troll, who was also bleeding from a wound on his head, nodded solemnly. His blood was thick and gray like clumpy paint.
“Gently,” Glam said as Stoney knelt down to lift up Eagan, her dirty, bruised face racked with worry.
“STONEY RECOGNIZE WOUND SEVERITY,” the Rock Troll thundered, lifting our motionless friend with one hand like he was politely and properly picking up a hot cup of tea.
Part of me still didn’t want to abandon the fight. To leave Edwin and his people behind to have to take on the VG and their army of monsters all by themselves. But I also knew we had to get out of there. Besides, if we did stay to help, what would happen at the end? Regardless of who won, we’d be facing a pretty awkward situation. Plus, the Council needed an update—I’d discovered a lot about what the future had in store.
And so I stayed quiet and followed Ari, Lake, Glam, Froggy, the four NOLA Dwarves, and Stoney (carrying Eagan) as they climbed down to a hidden spot beneath the huge docks where a large tugboat was tied to a post. Two massive paddles, literally the size of trees, leaned against the cabin walls. Stoney nestled Eagan on a tarp near the back. Then he grabbed the paddles and plopped down in the center of the tugboat, ready to start rowing us out of there.
We couldn’t use the motor because a huge surge of magic had clearly just hit this area, which meant that everything mechanical was now dead.
Just before we cut the line to the dock, a voice called out to me.
Um, aren’t you forgetting something there, Maverick?
I looked up and back toward the shore. A blue glow near the rocks ahead of us caught my eye.
The Bloodletter.
Part of me wanted to just leave it there. But that would be irresponsible. It was too powerful to simply leave discarded on an Elven-occupied island. I hopped off the boat and ran over to the rocks and grabbed it, my hand finding the handle like it belonged there. It almost felt like I’d been missing a limb and hadn’t realized it yet. Which was all the more disappointing and heartbreaking considering what I knew I had to do next.
For a second, I actually thought you were going to leave me behind, Greggdroule! Even after everything I’ve done for you.
I did not respond as I ran back toward the boat, cut the line, and helped my friends push us off from the shore. The large tugboat was basically full to capacity with ten Dwarves and a huge Rock Troll aboard. The water came up to just a few inches shy of the gunwales.
Stoney took up most of the room as he sat right in the center and rowed with the huge, makeshift paddles that appeared to have been made from a disassembled billboard ad for a business called Trick Dog.
As we pulled silently away from the island, the large battle still looming above us came into view. From the water, against the darkened backdrop of the stormy sky, it looked, well, magical. It would have been breathtakingly beautiful had I not known what terrible things were occurring up there.
And so it was simply breathtaking.
The hundreds of Harpies and Wyverns flew like black specks in the sky, their limbs and wings visible only in the flashes of lightning in the clouds behind them. Tracers of yellow and green and blue magic fired from the prison grounds at them, lighting up the sky like an expensive fireworks display.
Even more flashes of magic and fire bloomed on the island itself, visible inside the building through Alcatraz’s few windows. An explosion rocked the back half of the island and I wondered how long it would take for the police of the modern world to arrive. Shouldn’t they have already? The battle had been raging now for at least an hour. Why had there been no Human response?
Was the modern world really already that far gone?
I had been cut off from everything for weeks, so I really had no idea.
But none of that mattered to me then. As Stoney slowly rowed us farther away from the island, and from the epic battle that might be laying waste to my former best friend, I was instead preoccupied with what I knew must be done now, right then and there in that moment. And it was not something I wanted to do. Rather, it needed to happen. For my sake. Maybe even for the sake of the world.
Don’t do it, Greggdroule, the Bloodletter pleaded. You can’t.
I have to, I thought back. I know that now.
But we make such a good team; surely you saw that back there. We were unstoppable together in battle. A powerful force that could change everything. That could win the war. The legends foretold as much. You and I, we are the Legend. The Legend of Greg and Carl. You’re fulfilling my destiny. OUR destiny.
You’re wrong, I thought back. My destiny isn’t in defeating the Elves. I know that now. I don’t even have a destiny. Together, we create only violence and dar
kness. You’re more like a curse.
So what will you do? Huh? Invite them over for tea? Have that army of VG Elves and their monsters come on down to the Underground for a civil dinner party during which you’ll eat avocado toast points and politely discuss your differences with good-natured jokes? Without me, they’ll tear you apart, Greggdroule. All of you. I am supposed to be the savior of all Dwarves in their darkest moment. This feels like that moment, don’t you think?
I didn’t have an answer for my ax. He made a lot of good points, brought up a lot of problems without any obvious solutions. But they were solutions I’d have to figure out on my own.
Without the Bloodletter.
“Ari, I need you to do something for me,” I said, breaking the somber silence. She looked at me, weary and curious. “Take the Bloodletter from my hands, and throw it into the Bay.”
CHAPTER 42
A Boy Says Goodbye to His Magical Talking Ax
Thankfully, I was the only one on the boat who could hear the Bloodletter’s anguished screams of rage and despair.
And perhaps also of terror, which nearly convinced me to change my mind.
If Ari had heard its screams, she probably wouldn’t have stood up uncertainly like she did. But despite standing, she still hesitated.
“Greg . . . are you . . .”
“I’m sure,” I said. “It has to be done. It . . . it corrupts me. It turns me into something I’m not.”
“But you should have seen yourself in battle back there,” Glam said, looking at me in a way I’d never seen before.
I looked around the boat, at all the faces watching me. Respect and admiration dotted everyone’s nervous glances, even in spite of my decision to help out an Elf before Eagan. Or maybe they just didn’t know about that? In the chaos of battle, they likely had no idea that I could have saved him first. They couldn’t have, or else they wouldn’t be looking at me like that.
Like a hero.
“A sight to behold, thee and thy ax,” Lake said with obvious wonder and awe.
“It was incredible,” Boozy Alemaul said. “Never seen anything like it. For a moment you looked like you could take on the whole monster army by yourself.”
“The power you showed was, well . . .” Froggy added, before going silent with amazed wonder.
“You guys were like a superweapon,” Giggles Bitterspine added.
“That monster army was awful,” Ari said. “If that’s our new enemy, our future, then we need you. We’ll need the version of you we saw back there with the Bloodletter.”
I realized what I saw in their eyes when they spoke to me: Deference. Respect. Admiration. Those were things I wasn’t accustomed to seeing on people’s faces when they addressed me. For a split second I was almost intoxicated by how special it made me feel. By the power and confidence that surged through me.
But it wasn’t real.
“Are you sure about that?” I asked. “Because killing creatures so easily, even dangerous and savage ones, didn’t exactly feel helpful to me. In fact, I hated every part of it, even as much as the Bloodletter’s own joy overwhelmed me in the moment. That’s the real problem. That Greg wasn’t me.”
You’re wrong, Greggdroule, the Bloodletter said. You should listen to your friends. Since when could you ever trust yourself over them?
“He’s right,” Froggy said. “I’ve known Greg longer than all of you. As powerful as he was, as remarkable a fighter . . . the look in his eyes wasn’t the look of the same nice kid who befriended a weird loner like me when he didn’t have to.”
Ari nodded slowly, realizing just how right Froggy was. It was almost as if the power of the Bloodletter was so intoxicating that it could distort not only my perception, but my friends’ as well.
The ax pulsed with energy in my hands, like a desperate last attempt to sway me. It felt so at home there that I wasn’t even sure Ari would be able to wrench it from my grip at all.
“The ax corrupts my thinking,” I continued. “Yes, it gives me power, but that’s not who I am.”
“But Stormbellys are destined to become our greatest, fiercest leaders in battle,” Glam said, almost pleading, as if she knew the truth but just didn’t want to accept it. “You’re supposed to be our finest hero.”
“No offense,” I said, “but I don’t care what I’m supposed to be. I’m tired of hearing about my namesake and my destiny. My life is not prewritten based on what my ancestors did thousands and thousands of years ago. I am me, Greg Stormbelly, and that’s all I am. I will do my best to help the Dwarves, to save lives, to save Humans and even Elves from harm. I want the world to be better. But not through violence. The Elves aren’t inherently evil, just as I’m not inherently a great warrior. It was only the Bloodletter’s cursed magic that made me appear that way. It fills my head with blind vengeance instead of empathy and compassion. Edwin is still not a terrible guy; his thinking has just been warped by tragedy. He means well, even if his plan is deeply flawed. Understanding the nature of magic and ourselves is the answer to finding peace; war is not. Peace is not defeating others. I still believe that deep down. My dad was right. The Bloodletter’s power over me will only end in misery. For me, and for all those around me. It has put your lives in danger through me too many times. Please, take it from me, Ari, and throw it into the Bay.”
She looked at me, still standing just a few feet away. At the tears streaming down my face. Then she lunged forward and pulled the ax from my hands.
Stop her, Greggdroule! There’s still time. You’re making a mistake!
I don’t want to do this, I thought back. But it has to be done.
I had to look away as Ari flung the ax overboard. It splashed into the Bay and sank quickly into the murky, green depths. The Bloodletter’s anguished voice trailed up toward me as we drifted away from its watery grave.
I loved you, Greggdroule.
I know, I thought. You were . . . well, you were my friend. In spite of the tragedy you would have brought me, I’ll always appreciate the times you helped me. They’re too many to even list.
Those moments aren’t over, the Bloodletter said, his “voice” so faded now it was more like a whisper in my head. You still need me. You’ll see that in time. I will always forgive you for this. We were meant to bring peace into this world. Someday you’ll know that. I just hope that by then, it’s not too late.
CHAPTER 43
This Time There Are No Ducks Wearing Hiking Boots
The mood was hardly celebratory when we finally made it back to the Underground in Chicago.
For one thing, the world had clearly changed forever. Magic still hadn’t fully returned, confirmed by the fact that we weren’t able to perform much during most of the trip home. But it was likely just days from happening now, not months or weeks. The panicked reports on the radio of dozens of monster sightings and other strange happenings were enough evidence of that.
The semblance of normal society still prevailed, but it was obvious that total chaos was just over the horizon. When we made it to the shore of the Bay, we found Boz Brightfinger (the Swiss cake roll–loving Dwarf from our second MPM in Wisconsin) waiting for us. Behind him was a huge cargo van that was supposed to transport all of us back to Chicago.
It took nearly four days to get there.
Twice during the long drive our vehicle was rendered dead and useless by a surge of magic. The first time was near Henderson, Nevada, and the second happened just outside of Omaha, Nebraska. Each time it delayed us for over a day while we located a new vehicle that still worked and was large enough to accommodate Stoney. The only good news was that we found a Dwarven Healer within a small local branch of Dwarves just outside of Las Vegas on that first night of travel, and he, thankfully, was able to stabilize and treat Eagan.
Eagan was groggy and slept most of the drive back, but the doctor in Vegas told us that he should ultima
tely be okay. He’d suffered a severe concussion and some bruised ribs. Miraculously nothing worse, given how far he’d tumbled back down to earth.
Many grocery stores, restaurants, and gas stations we passed on the drive across America back to Chicago were closed. The owners and employees likely wanted to be home with their families in these uncertain and scary times. Most Humans still had no idea what was happening. Though some of the radio hosts had developed theories that were shockingly accurate. Some callers claimed extraterrestrial interference. Most people, though, were seeing this as some sort of biblical armageddon. Which was, in many ways, more dangerous than the truth.
Looters ran through the streets in some of the cities and towns we passed through. Law enforcement and National Guard units struggled to maintain control. It was clear to me that whatever my dad’s solution was, I needed to figure it out quickly. The world could not keep going in this direction.
During the ride, we mostly stayed quiet, the mood somber. The few times we spoke, we talked about what lay ahead. About what we might find in the next town or city—at one point we even wondered aloud if we’d make it back to Chicago at all. But we also debated what sort of plan the Council might come up with to fight the Verumque Genus, ranging from tepid to extreme:
Me: “Probably nothing, you know, because we’re Dwarves.”
Ari: “Yeah, and then it will be up to us to save the day again.”
Glam: “No, they’ll declare all-out war, I’m sure.”
* * *
– –
When we finally made it home, my dad welcomed me with a tear-filled hug—after all, I had been missing, a captive like he had been, for almost a month.
The Curse of Greg Page 25