《Misfits of Carnt》


 1 - Hickinbottoms Bad Day

    Halder¡¯s Burrow, Summer¡¯s Somnolence


    Henry Hickinbottom pondered the inconvenient fact that a dead body was face down in his vegetable garden. He had planned to unearth some potatoes and cut a few sprigs of rosemary for his wife, who was busy filling the family cauldron with stew, when he had noticed the unfortunate soul who had expired in between the endives and the fennel.


    "Myrtle! Myrtle! Myrtle Hickinbottom! Get out here," he called to his wife. "Someone died in the garden."


    She poked her voluptuous form out of the window and frowned at the scene.


    "Are you sure he''s dead?" Myrtle asked. She was never the one to make assumptions about anything. The hero of the people, Lovantus, could be coming over for dinner, and Myrtle would ask whether he eats mutton.


    "Of course, he''s deceased!" Henry yelled. "He''s face down in the endives!"


    "He could be passed out¡ªtoo much to drink. I warned you about that tavern. Too much ale and not enough women folk, no one to keep their husbands in line."


    "There are plenty of women folk."


    "Are there now?"


    "So, I''m told. They are upstairs in the rooms."


    "So, you have been making eyes with the tavern wenches!"


    "No, no! Strictly playing cards with the fellas. I have never been upstairs."


    "Good, because if I ever caught you..." She brandished a carving knife that glinted in the moonlight and made a chopping motion with the utensil.


    "Could we just focus on the body at hand?" Henry yelped.


    "I''m still not convinced he''s dead."


    "What am I supposed to do? It could have been the plague. Can''t exactly check if he''s breathing if he died of disease. Liable to give it to me. Then I''d be dead in the vegetable garden," Henry ranted.


    "You can poke him with the rake."


    "The rake?"


    "Yeah. Just go do it. Supper is getting cold," Myrtle commanded and went back inside humming the same jaunty tune she always did when she cooked. Henry used to love the melody. Now, he saved his vegetable runs so he wouldn''t have to be in the house while she made the racket.


    "I suppose so. The rake will do nicely. It''s always something. ''Henry, fix the hole in the roof. Henry, dig a new latrine pit. The old one is starting to stink.'' Of course, it''s going to stink. It''s a latrine. I''d like to see her on dead body removal for once." Henry grumbled and stumbled toward the equipment shed in the dark. He was futzing with the lock when he heard a noise. It sounded like something heavy was being dragged.


    He turned around, and the corpse stood right behind him. Other than the apparent mobility, the creature was definitely dead. It had straggly black hair, hollow eye sockets, rotted teeth, and maggots wriggling from its cheek. The beast hissed and gave out a rasp, "L-leeeee-leee-le."


    "Well, spit it out," Henry said. "I don''t have all night. I need to get rosemary for the missus. She''ll have my head on the spit if I don''t get her sprigs."


    "L-leeeee. L-leeee," the thing rasped.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Do you want some water? Help clear the thing in your throat?"


    The creature nodded.


    "Right, follow me."


    A few minutes, several potatoes, and some sprigs of rosemary later, the unlikely pair sat at a table in the Hickinbottom''s hovel. Their abode was the one-room constitutes the entire house variety decorated in the peasant chic style because they were very much peasants and not sheikhs. Mrs. Hickinbottom placed a tankard of water in front of their guest, then turned back to the stew pot.


    The undead drank until the thing was empty. The liquid drained from holes in the creature''s cheeks, throat, and chest as it gulped, but it still seemed satisfied, nonetheless.


    "Now," Hickinbottom said. "What was it you were saying?"


    The creature belched and said, "Thank you. Cleans out the old pipes. Haven''t used them in a while, you see."


    "That still doesn''t explain why you go off dying in my vegetable patch," Henry grumbled.


    Myrtle walloped her husband and said, "The poor thing probably doesn''t know he''s dead. It''s not every day when someone rises from the grave like that."


    "Oh no," the creature responded. "I know I''ve been dead for a long time now. Doing my master''s bidding in the afterlife. Cursed to roam the land for eternity and all."


    "See! He knew what he was doing! He targeted our vegetable patch! Did the Crankshaws summon you? I''m telling you. They''ve been jealous since day one. ''Where''d you get the seeds?'' Mr. Crankshaw had said. What does it matter where? I got them, and this is my farm!"


    "No, no, I am here to deliver a message from my master, LeDuke."


    The name stopped Hickinbottom cold. The trouble with his neighbors, the tune his wife was always humming, even almost being caught about what he really did at the tavern, all seemed trivial now that a servant of the dark lord himself was in his house. He stammered. "I... uh..."


    The creature cut him off and spoke. "LeDuke''s armies will rise again."


    The minion lunged across the table and raked its claws across Hickinbottom. The farmer cried out in fear while he was torn limb from limb. The creature cackled with glee, then paused for a moment. Mrs. Hickinbottom observed the murder of her husband with a rather bored expression on her face.


    "Could you turn around or something?" The undead said. "It''s hard to maim with you watching."


    "It will be hard for Henry to deliver your message when he''s dead," Mrs. Hickinbottom remarked.


    "The dead body is the message."


    "Seems a little vague to me. I could come in here and think wolf attack. How am I supposed to know it''s from LeDuke?"


    "I''ll write in blood on the walls."


    "Suppose a wolf really does come and licks the blood off the walls. I am merely saying that you didn''t think this through."


    "Fine, how would you do it if you were a creature of the night harbingering the return of your evil overlord?"


    "No need to get snippy. I was only trying to help."


    "I wasn''t snippy."


    "Could have fooled me. Apparently, you don''t want my help. I do everything for this household, day in, day out, cooking all the meals, patching the clothes, sweeping. Thatched roofs aren''t for those who don''t like sweeping. Let me tell you, seems like there is a new coating of dirt just about every day!"


    "Your toils will be over soon," the creature said, brandishing its fangs and claws at the mistress of the house. He leaned in to tear her throat when he was whacked on the side of the head with a giant metal spoon for stirring the cauldron.


    "Oh no, you don''t!" Myrtle said. "You are not biting anyone until you wash up that mouth. It''s filthy and has blood all over it. I tell Henry that he keeps getting sick because he doesn''t wash his hands after slaughtering the chickens, but does he listen? Oh no. Look, mister? You have a name?"


    "Ralicuk."


    "Mr. Ralicuk. If you want to proselytize the rise of your king¡ª"


    "Necromancer."


    "Whatever, I''m just saying that what''s a couple of dead peasants going to do for you? People kill us all the time. Barbarians sacked the village last week. The week before, some rotten sheriff ran most of us through looking for an outlaw who wasn''t even here. The point is, a couple of people like us probably won''t even make the town crier. If you really want to send a message, you''ve got to kill Lovantus or any of the heroes from the Battle of the Four Armies. Them are pretty tough folks, I reckon. People will be paying attention then."


    "Lovantus, yes." The undead said, lost in thought. Without another word, he left the residence of the Hickinbottoms.


    Myrtle Hickinbottom surveyed the bloody pulp that was left of her husband and frowned. She yelled out the door at the creature receding into the night, "Not going to clean up after yourself, are you! Just eviscerate and go! Think this place just cleans itself?!"

 2 - Things to Do in Detention When Youre Dead

    2 - Things to Do in Detention When You''re Dead


    Beaverton High School, Mid-October


    Petra couldn''t believe that Principal ''Snorkel'' (Sokol) had seen through her scheme, well mostly. The part that could land her some prison time, he completely missed. The dweeb didn''t know the difference between TikTok and text messaging, yet somehow figured out that she and her customers had been using ''Beavertown'' (Beaverton) High School''s Instagram page to send out coded messages to alert all the kids about the locations of the campus narcs.


    The bust couldn¡¯t have gone better for her considering the circumstances. The principal, who was not a pal, and his cronies burst into the gym and almost caught her selling weed to an underage kid. Sokol hadn¡¯t seen the merchandise because the kid was quick to stash it and said Petra had caught him ditching school to play  Magic the Gathering.  He even had palmed a deck with his other hand. The kid got Saturday cleanup for skipping class. Petra, the upstanding teaching assistant, got to help  Mr. Jackhole (Jackson) with the delinquents on Saturday forced servitude.


    Sokol hadn¡¯t realized that it was all part of Petra¡¯s get out from the thumb of her mother scheme. She was twenty-two and failing most of her community college classes. She figured that she could use her age and her part time teaching assistant job to resell pot to teenagers that would get it laced with fentanyl otherwise. By her estimation, she was doing a public service.


    One weekend day  acting as a role model  with Mr. Jackson was better than what could have happened, considering that she was the mastermind of the student hooliganism at Beaverton High in the first place. Her Instagram alert system was supposed to be her  coup de grace  and earn her a ticket out of her mom¡¯s house. It wasn¡¯t like she had planned to sell pot her entire life. Just long enough to get her out of her crap job at her old high school that was given to her because the high school administrators rightly feared her mother.


    The Instagram scheme was a simple system. Ne''er-do-wells shared a post from the school¡¯s profile about a particular location if they wanted to know about the movements of a teacher, cop, or the jerkwad students who would get them in trouble. Then friends in the know would like the post if the coast was clear and comment if it wasn''t. If ''Baking'' Aiden wanted to smoke weed under the bleachers, he could share a post about the gym and watch for comments.


    It was almost too perfect. Sokol was happy because it looked like people were really engaged in their school. That was, until he realized that it was the derelicts who were the most active on social media. If it wasn''t for that new, young, and good-looking history teacher, Mr. Jackson, Sokol would have gone on believing that people gave a crap about the school. Mr. Jackson had to come in and ruin all their fun by being even more active online than she was, and she had practically grown up with a smartphone clutched in her hand.


    Her mom, Claire, pulled the Lexus up to the front of Beaverton High. The campus looked eerily quiet on a Saturday. It was like the apocalypse had happened and wiped out all the people but left the building intact.


    "You have to make better choices, Petra," Claire said. ¡°The next time you wreck the car, I¡¯m not paying for it.¡±


    "I¡¯ll stop people from running red lights too¡­" Petra muttered.


    "You shouldn¡¯t have even been out in the first place! You have responsibilities now. You can¡¯t keep acting like a teenager," her mother said.


    There was no point in arguing. Her mother was a lawyer and a successful one, at that. However, Petra figured she inherited the proclivity to bend or break the rules whenever the situation called for it. Her mom always defended corporate interests when they wanted to pollute a river or screw over their employees. It was an incredibly unPortland profession, in this metro area that seemed to attract kombucha-drinking, sandal-wearing activists considered too hardcore for San Francisco.


    The worst part about it was that her mom won more cases than she lost and was paid gobs of money to do so. Claire would say that it was to protect companies from frivolous lawsuits, but Petra sometimes saw the briefs. Real people suffered injuries or damages, and her mother safeguarded the people who did it.


    Petra didn''t want anything to do with it, thus her pink, purple and blue hair color choice. If the hair wasn''t enough to send a statement to her mom, then her riot grrrl-inspired clothing themes should do the trick. She didn''t leave the house unless she looked like she was about to be in a roller derby or the post-apocalypse.


    She hopped from the car and slammed the door. She slung her backpack, emblazoned with a comical rabbit with its tongue sticking out and x''s for eyes, over her back and trotted up to the front door. Strangely enough, it was the same one she had when she was a student at the school, now she had used it for her essentials.


    A family sedan pulled up behind her mom, and '' Magic: The Dorkening''  got out of his mommy''s car. He was a thin, little Steve Urkel-type kid who had probably gotten his underpants hung on the flagpole at a summer camp on more than one occasion. If the kid hadn¡¯t taken the heat for her, she would have ignored him entirely when he said, "Hey, Petra. Wait up."


    She didn''t turn, but just stopped in her tracks. He huffed his way up to her and said, "I can''t believe we are here on a Saturday. I don''t know if that''s worse or that my mom grounded me for a month."


    She didn''t even turn her head. "You did me a solid, so I''m going to spell it out for you. There is no '' we'' . I¡¯m getting paid to be here, and you are a dork in your last year of hell. You¡¯ll be much better off keeping your distance from me. Do yourself a favor and go play RPGs in the library or something."


    "But I do play RPGs in the library."


    Before she was forced to be mean, a car roared into view. It was a black Impala with gold trim and a set of speakers in the trunk that would incite rage in elderly people when it rattled their windows as it cruised down the street. The musclebound ''Jock'' (Jack) ''McItch'' (McDougal) and his girl toy Sissy Buttworth (Petra didn''t make that one up) piled out of the car. They must have been caught on the day of the great Instagram reckoning. The janitor closet was apparently no longer a safe place to have premarital sex.


    The final victim in the day that Instagram died was none other than ''Baking'' Aiden himself, her favorite customer. The guy was a living stereotype. If the long hair and perpetually-worn Metallica T-shirt  weren''t enough, the guy actually drove a VW minibus. The smell of pot wafted all the way to the front door of the school when he jumped out of his vehicle.


    If the police needed to fill their minor-in-possession quota for the day, all they needed to do was follow him around. She briefly contemplated asking what Aiden had done to join the ranks of the Saturday-damned but realized any conversation would invite Urkel to join in. She dialed up her perpetual scowl and went for the front door to the school. However, it was locked, and TAs weren¡¯t important enough for a key.


    Before she could figure out what that meant for the students assembling, another car pulled up. It was her dad, Barry. The prick was in his convertible with the top down, and his girlfriend, who Petra could have sworn was going to the same community college as her, was in the front seat. Petra''s three-year-old was strapped in the back. She slung her backpack off and shoved it into Urkel''s hands.


    "Okay, I''ll watch it for¡ª" The kid''s voice trailed off as she stomped over to her father.


    "What the hell are you doing, Dad?!"


    "Your mother didn''t tell you?" Barry asked. "Bets and I are going to rent a cabin for the weekend."


    "No, I''m talking about Jonathan!" She screamed and pointed to the kid in the back seat. "You don''t drive with your top down with a kid in the back!"


    Her father laughed. "What? He likes it!"


    Petra scrambled to remove her son from the car seat. Even though she felt way too young to be the mother of a toddler, she sometimes felt more responsible than her own father. Her dad was an idiot with an idiot girlfriend who always tried to act like the cool mother despite being the same age as his daughter.


    "He''s a three-year-old boy. Little boys need to laugh," Beatty  '' Stupidsalot'' (Schneider) said, but Petra ignored her.


    As soon as Jonathan was safely in her arms and the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, her dad revved the engine.


    "You make sure you feed that boy properly and get him his nap. Got to go. Check-in''s at 3," he said, before speeding off.


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    "I guess you''re not picking us up afterwards." She added under her breath. "Whatever, dick."


    "Dick!" Jonathan said and giggled like he had uttered the funniest thing ever.


    "Don''t you say that," Petra scolded her child.


    "Dick! Dick! Dick!" Jonathan said over and over, laughing with glee.


    "That''s going to make Great-grandma Petra very sad. You don''t want to make her sad, do you?" Petra said, as she brought her kid towards the door. If it weren''t for her namesake grandma, Petra didn''t know what she would have done when she had gotten pregnant. She was lucky that nothing seemed to stop the woman. She was a babysitting machine even at 85 and had practically raised Jonathan from birth.


    The worst part about being a mother with no financial stability because the school system paid TAs like serfs toiling the land was that Petra''s actual parents were useless at parenting. Her mom always had her laptop on and wouldn''t notice if the climbing-obsessed toddler had scaled to the top of the fridge (which he had on more than one occasion). Her dad wasn''t reliable either because he was more concerned with the things a college student should be concerned about, like partying and driving fast cars. That left Grandma Petra, who was happy to watch the kid when Petra went out with her friends. (Which didn''t even involve any drugs or alcohol, even though she had masterminded the scheme that facilitated the buying and selling of it. Her outings were more to feel normal for an hour or two).


    The bottom line was that even though Petra would sell a bag of weed here and there and give her middle finger to the authorities whenever she could, at the end of the day, she knew it wouldn''t be forever. Her grandmother would be dead, and the only person in the world at that point who would give a crap about Jonathan would be herself. That was the thought that kept her up at night.


    By the time she got up to the group assembled at the school''s front door, they were already talking about going home for the day. Jack grabbed the door handle and attempted to muscle it open. When it wouldn''t budge, he turned to the others and said, "Oh, well, fifteen-minute rule. Right?"


    "I don''t think that''s a thing," Urkel ventured.


    Sissy said, in her high-pitched nasally voice, "Come on, Jack. Let''s go. We''re missing the game."


    Petra rolled her eyes and said, "Everyone, just chill out. You obviously don''t know how this works. You cut Saturday detention, and that''s two more Saturdays for you and maybe another for speaking out of turn. Just enjoy the fact that we get to spend it outside on the grass, because the clock is already ticking."


    "That''s right," Mr. Jackson said from the threshold of the school, startling all of them. He must have come from inside while they weren''t paying attention. While the guy was a good-looking twenty-something with longish brown hair and thick hipster glasses, there was something off about him. He looked as if  One Direction  had to kick one of the members out of the band for being a serial killer.


    Usually, Petra would be  Hot for Teacher , but there was something a little too intense about his personality. Maybe it was the way he always seemed to be staring into the distance or how he''d sometimes seem to talk to someone who wasn''t there when he was alone in his room. Regardless, he was disconcerting, at least to Petra. The dumb girls had a crush on him. She was so glad to be outta this place, well kinda. But at least she could quit the job when something better came along.


    That didn''t stop her from attempting to get out of her obligation.


    "Mr. Jackson," she said, while he ushered them into the building, "as you can see, I could not secure daycare. Do you really need a TA for today?"


    Mr. Jackson ignored her. He slammed the door behind them, and Sissy jumped. He strode forward, not even bothering to turn on the lights to the school and led them down a dark hallway. Nothing but emergency lighting illuminated the way.


    "Maybe this is a good opportunity to teach your son about responsibility, Miss Zaslavsky," Mr. Jackson said over his shoulder.


    Petra gave him the middle finger, and Jonathan did the same while shouting with excitement. The others laughed while she tried to get her son to perform some other hand gesture. Mr. Jackson didn''t seem to notice or care. He brought them further into the building until he stopped at the basement stairs.


    "Can''t we just clean a classroom or something?" Sissy squealed. "There are spiders down there!"


    "The custodial staff keeps this place quite clean and pest-free," Mr. Jackson said. "Now, I need you to help me with a little project. It will take an hour of your time, tops. Then you''ll be free to go."


    "But Principal Sokol said it would be six hours!" Urkel said, and Jack kicked him. Petra was pissed too. An hour of pay wasn¡¯t even worth the gas. Not that she paid for her own gas or had driven her own car. However, something wasn¡¯t right, and she¡¯d be happy to leave as soon as possible.


    "I know what the principal  said, but it''s my prerogative to administer punishment as I see fit," Mr. Jackson said.


    "What does this project involve?" Petra asked warily.


    "Nothing," Mr. Jackson replied. "You''ll just need to sit there."


    "Dude!" ''Baking'' Aiden exclaimed. "Sign me up!"


    The others nodded in agreement. Petra didn''t like it, but she didn''t really have a choice. It was either go in a basement with a psycho teacher or spend the following Saturday with Coach ''Justice'' (Justin). His detentions always involved toothbrushes and locker room floors, and the TAs always got stuck with bucket duty. At least there was safety in numbers. If Mr. ''Jack-off'' pulled out a butcher knife, she could throw Urkel in the way and get to safety.


    Mr. Jackson smiled in that weird staring-into-the-void way and said, "Don''t worry. I''ll be with you the whole time."


    That was precisely why she was worried.


    A half hour later, they were all sitting on wooden benches around something that could only be described as a three-dimensional piece of Celtic art, with crisscrossing metal ribbons weaving up to an apex where a crystal ball glowed like the moon. It looked like a mad scientist and a Wiccan had decided to create an apparatus that would make both Gandalf and Nikola Tesla proud. If ''Creepy McCreepson'' hadn''t been the artist, Petra would have found it to be beautiful. Instead, it was a little terrifying.


    "What are we supposed to be doing, again?" Sissy asked, glancing into the darkness at their backs, as the only light source was the object.


    "We wait," Mr. Jackson said, and smiled. Then in a moment of awkwardness, he began to hum. It was a melancholic song that sounded like the soundtrack an ancient evil would play while cruising for souls to devour. The students glanced at her, and she shrugged.


    Jonathan tugged at her sleeve. Her son was getting bored with just sitting around and would want a snack any minute now. Petra hoped her dad packed some applesauce in the diaper bag or there would be hell to pay.


    "Bro," ''Baking'' Aiden said. "Can I go have a smoke?"


    "You know you can''t do that on campus," Mr. Jackson said.


    "But I have a prescription!"


    The globe at the top of the art sparked, and they all jumped back. Mr. Jackson said, "It''s time!" He continued his Creep Folk Fest performance. This time, he sang words in a language Petra had never heard, and she watched a lot of Netflix with subtitles. It sounded like if Satan and Cthulhu decided to sing a terrible 80¡¯s love duet. She could swear someone else was singing¡­


    The crackling intensified, and a draft in the room turned into a breeze.


    "I''m out," Petra said, and grabbed her son. She walked towards where she thought the door was. A thick gray mist had filled the room. Mr. Jackson grasped her arm. He belted out demonic lyrics, and the breeze turned into a gale. The sphere spewed sparks into the air.


    Petra yanked her arm free and made her way through a vortex that engulfed the room.


    "No!" Mr. Jackson yelled between breaths. There definitely was another voice. "The seating arrangement is important!"


    The wind was full hurricane-force now, blowing everything around that wasn''t nailed down. Mr. Jackson could barely take two steps toward her. Sissy held onto Jack with one hand and attempted to keep her skirt from flying up with the other. Urkel held onto the bench. ''Baking'' Aiden giggled and said, "Whoa."


    Petra could barely hold onto her son but attempted to muscle her way through the force. The gale was just shy of sweeping her off her feet. Mr. Jackson belted out the song¡¯s crescendo.


    The cyclone howled with intensity, and right at the peak, lightning shot from the crystal ball and zapped Jack and Sissy. Their eyes glazed over, and they slumped to the ground. The lightning came for Mr. Jackson next, and then Baking Aiden.


    Petra held her son to her chest. Her son clapped and said, "Again! Again!"


    Her legs were about to give out. Urkel was stuck on the bench. He managed to utter, "Please, help me."


    "Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!" Petra said and turned back to get Urkel.


    Jonathan grinned and spouted, "Shit! Shit!"


    A bolt of lightning took out  ''Magic the Dorkening,''  and before she could turn away, one came for her and Jonathan next.


    ?

 3 - Toddler Axe Throwing Competitions and Other Hazards of Babysitting

    3 - Toddler Axe Throwing Competitions and Other Hazards of Babysitting


    A Tavern, Who Knows


    Petra fell into what could only be described as a Dr. Who time tunnel, except that she was being pulled from end to end across an impossible distance. For a moment, she could feel herself in the basement of her high school, and her body felt like it stretched through a wormhole to a distant land. She had heard on a podcast with Neil deGrasse Tyson about a process called spaghettification where, if a person falls into a black hole, the front part of their body will stretch out longer than the back as they are ripped apart by the gravitational forces. The journey from one world to the next felt like she imagined falling into a black hole would feel, except without the pain.


    Once the weird feeling had passed, she looked at her limbs. There was nothing wrong with her hands, if nothing wrong meant that they were smaller than usual and hairy on top. She realized there was something else odd about her body. She felt her breasts. They were about two sizes too big, and for that matter, she was wearing some medieval tunic and cloak. She even had daggers stashed away in just about every location where a person could conceal them. That''s when she noticed the worst part.


    She was barefoot and had large, hairy feet with gnarly toenails.


    That''s when a giant warrior with a broad chest and biceps that would rival an eighties action hero began to cry.


    "Mama! Mama!" he wailed. Petra knew in that instant that even though the man was the size of a truck and had a battle axe slung over his shoulder that could probably fell a tree with one swipe, somewhere within that beefy man was her son.


    "Jonathan!" she yelled, then realized that she was in a tavern at a renaissance festival.


    There was a long wooden table with mugs of ale, goblets of mead, legs of mutton, and other remnants of an epic feast. She stumbled her way onto the tabletop and sent a brass tray of pork products flying off. She pushed past the other befuddled patrons to the beast of a man crying his eyes out.


    She made it to the guy and realized that she was about half his size, maybe less. She reached for the warrior and held him. She whispered, "Mama''s here! Mama''s right here!"


    The man said, in a deep voice, "Hug-a-mama. Hug-a-mama."


    ''Hug-a-mama'' was what Jonathan would say to her when he wanted a hug. Somehow, he also knew that it was her. The cries of the man calmed to sniffles and a quivering lip. It stopped entirely as she held him and hummed  Country Roads . It was a song her mom would always sing to her ¨C back when she was a halfway decent mom, that is.


    She looked at her body once again and realized that she was a hobbit-like  creature. A freaking hobbit, as if she had jumped right into the body of Samwise''s hot hobbit wife from  The Lord of the Rings . She looked up from the gargantuan barbarian who had become her son and noticed the others at the table staring at her. One was a woman with raven black hair and blue eyes like cracked crystal. She had a headdress and a blue and gold staff with a sun symbol at the top. Next to cult leader woman was a Black man with shining armor like Sir Lancelot''s duds from some bad Arthurian movie Petra had seen as a kid. On the side of the table she had been on, there was an elf in red wizard robes and a dwarf with a crossbow slung over his back.


    "I don''t think I''ve ever seen this spell in DnD Beyond," the dwarf said.


    "Urkel?" Petra asked.


    "My name''s Tim," the dwarf responded.


    The elf snorted and, between mouthfuls of mutton, said, "Hah! Like Tiny Tim? Dude¡ªyou''re a dwarf!"


    That accounted for ''Baking'' Aiden. That left Lancelot and Guinevere. She didn''t have to think too hard to see who had jumped into the bodies of that power couple.


    "I''m a chick!" the priestess yelled, as she fondled herself. "Holy crap! I''m a chick."


    "Oh, my god!" Lancelot exclaimed. "How do you deal with that thing down there? It''s getting in the way no matter which way I sit."


    Lancelot shifted and attempted to find a comfortable position.


    "Where''s Mr. Jackson?" Petra asked, and Tim seemed to already be two steps ahead of her.


    "Maybe he died in the wormhole or jumped into that pig carcass." The dwarf pointed to the porker on a tray of vegetables with an apple in its mouth.


    The elf went for a rack of ribs next. "Dude. These king days have wicked food."


    "Don''t you mean medieval?" Tim said. "Where do you think we are? I''m guessing  Dungeons and Dragons, Forgotten Realms."


    "Whoa!" Jack said, as he reached into his robe. "I have a va¡ª"


    Sissy slapped his hand with her gauntleted wrist. "Don''t you touch that!"


    "What? It''s part of my body."


    "That''s not your body!"


    "So, whose bodies are these?" Petra asked.


    Tim continued to muse, "This could be a tavern in Waterdeep, but is it before or after the fall of the gods?"


    "Did you ever see  Game of Thrones ?" Aiden said. "This is like  Game of Thrones ."


    Jonathan found a plate of potatoes. In the spirit of his favorite dinner time activity, he mashed the food. He smeared it everywhere, between shouts of laughter.


    "Would everyone just shut up for a moment?" Petra yelled. Surprisingly, the group quieted down and gave her their full attention. "Look, we know Mr. Jackson cast some sort of spell."


    "Like Harry Potter?" Jack asked.


    "Yeah, like Harry Potter," Petra said, in the deadpan voice she only used for the dumbest of questions, and Jack grinned at the rest of the group like he got a gold medal. "The point is that whatever it was that got us here can probably get us back."


    "What if we don''t want to go back?" Tim said.


    "Are you kidding me?!" Sissy pointed at her shiny metal crotch. "I can''t live with one of these! It''s sweaty and gross!"


    "I''m just saying," Tim retorted, "we really are here. Don''t you see? This is our one chance for an adventure of a lifetime. There might even be a princess that needs saving. We can¡ª"


    "I don''t know what private hell back home you are avoiding," Petra snapped, "but I have a three-year-old trapped in Conan the Barbarian''s body, and unlike the Incredible Hulk, he only gets angry at two things ¨C missing his nap and not getting a snack! And there is a naptime coming up."


    "I wasn''t saying we stay here forever, just have a look around," Tim said, and shied away.


    "Since we don''t even know how we got here or how to get back," Petra said, "I think you''ll get your wish. But we will just look around. We are not going to save any princesses, fight any highway bandits, defeat any evil wizards, and we will run the hell away from any ogres. Got it?! Reality check¡ªeach of us is carrying deadly weapons, and I don''t think you know how to use a crossbow."


    "How hard could it be?" Tim pulled the weapon from his back and promptly shot himself in the foot. He cried out in pain and clutched the wound. Petra swept ale and food off the table and cleared a spot while Jack and Aiden lifted the dwarf up.


    Tim gripped his leg and howled.


    "Oh, my god," Sissy yelled. "He''s bleeding! I can''t stand the sight of blood."


    The woman in Lancelot''s body hid behind the halfling. Petra yanked herself away and ran to stop Aiden, who pulled out the bolt. Tim winced and attempted to stanch the wound, which was now bleeding profusely.


    "Don''t do that," Petra slapped the bloody projectile away. "You never pull it out! Now it might never stop bleeding."


    "You mean I''m going to die?" the dwarf bellowed. "I''m too young to die! I haven''t even kissed a girl yet."


    "There are better things in life than kissing a girl," Petra said. "Trust me. I''ve tried it."


    "Whoa¡ª"  Jack said. "You kissed a girl?"


    Sissy smacked him.


    "What?"


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "I know what you were thinking!" Sissy said.


    "How do you know what I was thinking?"


    Their exchange was interrupted by a resonant male voice. "Milords! Miladies!" A portly innkeeper with a thick red beard and a cockney accent came from the kitchen. "Can I help you with anything?"


    They stepped in front of their wounded companion, and Petra responded, "Nothing, we were just talking about the days of yore."


    "Yeah, dude, those yore days were pretty sweet," Aiden added.


    Tim hissed in pain, and Petra put her hand over his mouth.


    "Methought I heard the sound of a man shrieking as if wounded in battle," the innkeeper said.


    "Nope. Nothing like that here. Just singing and drinking mead," Petra said.


    "I''m wounded!" Tim yelled.


    "Do you want to go to a medieval hospital?!" Petra whisper-yelled into his ear. "They have leeches! Leeches!"


    The innkeeper glanced around the group attempting to hide their wounded companion and inspected the scene. He looked at the wound, then at the blood on his table, frowned, and then asked, "Begging your pardon, but why doesn''t Lady Ameria perform a healing spell?"


    Petra looked at her own halfling body and then at the woman inhabited by Jack. The lady wore a golden headdress that could only be described as fitting someone with a 24-hour hard-on for the sun. Her staff had the same symbol. It looked kind of like the Days Inn logo if the hotel chain were a cult. The blue robe also had enough golden stitching to put a 70''s rock star to shame. In contrast, Petra''s halfling body was wearing light chain armor, a green cloak, and had enough weapons and lockpicks stashed away to rob a bank. If anyone would be expected to cast a healing spell, it would be Jack.


    "Lady America," Petra said, while grabbing Jack''s hand.


    "It''s ''Ameria''," the innkeeper said. "There''s no c."


    "Whatever," Petra said. "What I''m saying is that she''s had too much to drink and couldn''t cast any healing spell right now. Isn''t that right, Lady America?"


    Jack stared blankly at the rest of them, and Petra nodded toward him. After a moment of his vacant expression, she jabbed him in the stomach. "Oh, yeah," Jack said. "I forgot I was a chick."


    He then put on an act that sounded like a Monty Python cast member doing a woman''s voice. "Oh, yes, tsk, tsk, this lady hath drunk too much. Maybe I can get some tea and crumpets."


    "What the hell are you doing?" Petra said. "Use your normal voice! Do I sound like Petra now? No, I''m a freaking hobbit!"


    "Oh, yeah," Jack said. "I do sound like a chick."


    "Maybe I should fetch you all some energy bean brew," the innkeeper said. "Where is that serving wench? She better not be sleeping on the job again, or I''ll have her out on the street!"


    The innkeeper tromped out of the room. Before they could figure out what to do next, Jack said to Tim, "Bro, I think I can do this healing spell because I haven''t had anything to drink!"


    Petra rolled her eyes and said, "It was a lie to get him out of the room."


    "No, seriously, I really think I can cast this spell. It''s, like, in the back of my head. You know, like learning the choreography for  Guys and Dolls  when you were a kid because you were obsessed with it, and then figuring maybe you could bust it out during an audition even though you haven¡¯t done it in ages...I mean, that is...if one were to audition. Football practice conflicts with rehearsal hours, so I wouldn''t know. But it''s kind of like that," Jack said.


    Petra responded, "Maybe it''s better if you show us, but if you start disrobing, I will cut you."


    Jack tore off Tim¡¯s footgear, grabbed a water pitcher from the table, and poured it over the wound.


    Tim hissed and said, "Do you know how filthy the water was back in the  Middle Ages?!  They dumped their sewage in the street."


    "Trust me, bro," Jack said, and the body he was inhabiting must have had a set of pipes because when he began to sing, it was angelic. "Waters   cleanse, the sun shares its bounty, the pain washes away, away."


    While he sang, the wound on Tim''s foot healed. The skin wove itself together, and the blood drained away with the water. The process was so complete that there wasn''t even a scar. It was like nothing had happened at all. Even Tim was shocked by the spellcasting and reached out to touch his own foot where the wound had been.


    They all looked at each other, and Sissy said, "Babe, where did you learn to do that?"


    "I don''t know. It''s like riding a bicycle. You can''t explain how to do it. You just do it," Jack said.


    Before they could tease the thought out further, the innkeeper burst back into the room.


    However, instead of bringing a tray of energy bean brew, he was surrounded by a group of guards. They all had the same crest that was on the head   of her son''s axe. It was an ancient tree with a dragon and lion intertwined on its trunk. Petra realized that she had not been paying close attention to her son, and he had climbed to the top of a hutch that held all the dishes. The large, muscly man that her son inhabited croaked, "I need help! I need help!"


    "You see," the innkeeper told the captain of the guard. "They''ve cast a feeblemind enchantment on our lord."


    "Help! Help!" the burly man cried.


    "Mommy is coming," Petra said, then realized that the cabinet was at least three times her height.


    "Stop right there," the captain of the guard said in the Queen''s English. He ordered one of his men to push Petra aside and help their liege.


    The man went to the crying barbarian tucked away on the top of the cabinet and said, "Milord Lovantus. Allow me to assist!"


    The guard reached for Jonathan, but her kid yelled, "No! No! Momma do it! Momma do it!"


    The flailing of a three-year-old''s tantrum in the body of a man who probably wrestled bulls into submission when gathering meat for the roast was a little more than the guard was prepared to handle. Jonathan whipped his hands in defiance and smacked the unwitting soldier upside the head. The force of the blow sent him toward the fireplace, and his face smashed into an ornamental rock that jutted at just the right angle. The guard rubbed his broken nose.


    Jonathan cried, and Petra jumped to the cabinet and scrambled her way to the top. The captain of the guard got red-faced and yelled, "Sorcery! Sorcery! Kill the witch before she can poison our lord any further!"


    The men pulled out their swords and inched their way towards Jack. He looked back and forth at the approaching threat and said, "What did I do?!"


    "Return our Lord to his right state of mind, and I promise swift deaths for you and all of your friends," the captain of the guard snarled.


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about."


    "You know full well, witch. We know your true master is the necromancer."


    One of the guards whispered to another, "Told you so! Can''t trust them magic users. You owe me an evening of ale."


    "Not all wizards are evil," the other soldier said. "Just the other day, I met a fine fellow who offered to turn a piece of lead into gold, he did. I gave him a gold piece, and he gave me a lump of lead the size of my fist! It will turn into gold any day now, just you watch¡ª"


    "Shut up, you two!" the captain of the guard hissed, then turned back to Jack. "Relinquish our lord or face our steel."


    The captain placed his sword against Jack''s neck. The stress and fear of the situation triggered a response in each of them, allowing the innate skills of their possessed forms to take over. Sissy was the first to move. She pulled a gleaming blade with a bejeweled golden hilt from her scabbard. Quicker than she could even consider what to do with it, she knocked the captain''s weapon out of his hand.


    Tim pulled a smaller mini crossbow loaded with two bolts and fired in quick succession, pinning the sword arms of two of the guards to the wall. Petra jumped from the cabinet with daggers in hand and sunk the blades into the shoulders of two others. Finally, Aiden spread his fingers out and sang  Fuel  by Metallica. Fire leaped from the fireplace and surged through his fingers toward the rest of the soldiers and the innkeeper. They scurried from the room to avoid being scorched.


    The captain of the guard glanced around at his fallen comrades and backed away.


    Jonathan found the giant battle axe strapped to his back and was able to get it loose. He threw it up in the air, and it crashed to the ground, causing wood splinters to fly everywhere. He squealed with delight, jumped down to the floor and tossed the axe again. It landed a little too close to the captain''s feet, and the man turned and ran from the room.


    Jonathan giggled as he grabbed the weapon again, but Petra cut him off, "No, baby, we don''t play with that."


    "Mine!"  Jonathan pouted, as his mom tried to pull the axe from the floor. It was too heavy for her little halfling hands. Sissy saw her struggling and helped her lift it. Jonathan yanked it away and put it on the harness on his back. Petra decided to take the moment as a win.


    Tim was shocked. "Did we just do that! How''d we do that!"


    Tim loaded another crossbow bolt and almost nailed his other foot to the floor in the process.


    "Dude, you are thinking about it too much. It''s like Jack told us. You just go with the flow," Aiden said, and the fire flared up with a wave of his hand as he hummed  Fade to Black .


    ¡°How¡¯s that work with Metallica?¡± Jacks said.


    Aiden shrugged. ¡°I dunno, some French song came to mind, but Metallica seemed cooler.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what it was with me! It was like I knew the song¡ª¡±


    "Come on," Petra said. "We should go before they get backup."


    "Go where?" Jack asked. "We don''t even know where we are."


    "We are going to get to know a dungeon pretty quickly if we can''t figure out how to reverse Mr. Jackson''s spell," Petra said. "Now, come on!"


    They gathered what supplies they could readily carry and scurried out a door in the back of the room.


    ?

 4 - What the Dark Lord Has Been Doing in the Tower All This Time

    4 - What the Dark Lord Has Been Doing in the Tower All This Time


    The Plain of the Dead, Battle of the Four Armies Festival


    The necromancer LeDuke was imprisoned in a tower tall enough to peer over the mountains into the lush green valleys of the Vale. The various races of the idyllic landscape lived in peace and harmony. The wizard hated every stinking moment of it. New Silkweed Vale''s halflings held a festival celebrating the victory of the Four Armies every year with competitions for the best mead, most enormous vegetables, and a particularly irritating corn art event where each artist would submit a scene made entirely from different shades of corn kernels. Of which there would inevitably be a caricature portrait of the grand sorcerer himself, making fun of his long nose or ceremonial headdress. The worst part was that they were callously labeled ''Duke'' and not the proper form of his name ¨C LeDuke.


    While the corn art that took cheap shots at him would never win, they were consistently voted as the audience favorite. One particularly nauseating year, a design featured his bugged eyes as actual bugs and his thick black hair as snakes. He remembered seething with disgust when he viewed the proceedings through the seeing stone. There were countless cackling halflings, and he was helpless to react. Back in the height of his power, he would have had the offending artist dangling by the entrails from the All-Seeing Tower while wearing a resurrection ring, so the nitwit would die over and over after the body healed itself again and again.


    And the halflings weren''t even the most irritating of the Vale races. The elves had their fair share of annoying festivals, too. In the Great Forest Vale, they would climb to the tops of the tallest trees and sing the hymn of the Battle of the Four Armies when humans, halflings, dwarves, and elves, alongside various other magical creatures, formed an alliance to strike down the Sky Lord from the All-Seeing Tower. It was bogus that he had to hear the song of his minor setback in his world domination plans  whenever the elves imbibed too much of their rancid elderfruit wine.


    Especially since he liked being called Sky Lord way better than his given name. The world used to tremble at the mention of LeDuke, Sky Lord of the All-Seeing Tower, Master of Realms, Destroyer of Worlds, Sorcerer Adept, Mixer of Fine Libations, among other nicknames. (Mixer was coined during one of many soirees he''d thrown for nobles loyal to his cause.) Now, only a few lousy minions called him Sky Lord. Most folks called him Duke. He never quite forgave his mother for calling him Duke after she had imbibed a few too many of his libations.


    However, the song and the corn art weren''t the worst. The vilest truth about being stuck in an All-Seeing Tower was the fact that his betrothed, Lady Ameria, was married to Lovantus, the very man who had struck him down at the Battle of the Four Armies with an axe forged in the fires of the ancient dwarf master smiths. If LeDuke had known that the forges weren''t just a myth to give the poor saps of the world hope, he would have murdered every last dwarf in the kingdom. Instead, he had just sent a gargantuan demon to the Underdark to slay anyone trolling around for a master smith. Who would have thought Lovantus and his party of fools could defeat a three-story-tall monster?!


    After the Battle of the Four Armies, he''d had to limp back to his tower and seal himself inside just to keep the masses screaming for his head at bay. Unfortunately, the only minions left in the building were the servants who cleaned lavatories and chipped the gunk from the fireplaces. Even the tower cook died in the battle. LeDuke hadn''t had a decent meal since he sucked the meat off the thigh bone of the last human king to defy him while the man''s family watched in horror.


    LeDuke sighed and poked the love pheasant on his plate. Usually, he''d rejoice in dining on a bird known as a harbinger of fertility. Still, since they were one of the few animals that would fly close enough to the tower for his incompetent minions to hit with an arrow, he ate them at least six times a week. The mage had contemplated eating his servants on more than one occasion, but he enjoyed a clean lavatory.


    "Oh, chin up," His mother said from across the long feasting table. "I was raised on a goat farm and had nothing but goat cheese for most of my life, and I still found ways to love it."


    "It''s not the bird, Mom," the Sky Lord said, irritated by his parent. Even though he had conquered the world, his mother had an uncanny ability to make him feel like a teenager again.


    "You can''t just go about life sulking all the time," his mom, Pip, persisted. "Life is waiting to be lived. You just need to seize the opportunity. The only person between you and your happiness is you."


    "Mom! I won''t be seizing any opportunity from in here!"


    "Then just do your magic."


    "It''s blood magic! I need sacrifices to augment its power."


    "You''ve got servants. You are always complaining about how inept they are."


    "So maybe I kill you and everyone left in this tower. That will probably extend the range of a spell to the borders of my kingdom at most. Then, don''t forget about maintaining it. I was sacrificing at least 750 people a week at the height of my power."


    "Excuse me for trying to remain positive. At least you still have a kingdom. I just had a farm."


    "I know. I was there. And furthermore, I only have a kingdom because Orc feces sterilized the land. The Vale races won''t come here because they can''t grow anything."


    "But it''s a kingdom at least," Pip said, and a silence fell over the room.


    It was magnified by the fact that the table would seat thirty, and there was a giant portrait of the Sky Lord himself, attired in his royal garb and holding a burning scepter, gazing down on them while they ate. It was the painting that was most parodied by the corn art. A particularly loathsome piece had featured him holding a particular male organ instead of a scepter.


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    After a while, Pip broke the silence. "Do you know why I named you LeDuke?"


    "I know, Mom. I''ve heard the story a thousand times," the ex-Slayer of Kings sighed.


    She ignored him and continued, "I named you LeDuke because I knew you''d do something great one day, and duke was the greatest thing I could think of. I added Le because that''s the Elvish word for the, and the elves have such a beautiful language."


    "I know, Ma!"


    "The point is that you didn''t become just a duke, but a king! You far surpassed anything I could dream."


    "I''m going to my room," LeDuke said, and left the love pheasant untouched.


    "Are you going to eat that?" his mom called after him. "Because if you won''t, I will. No use in letting a good bird go to waste."


    Later that night, LeDuke sat in his four-poster bed. He had dumped his dark high-necromancer robe on the chair and wore nothing but his knickers. The room was spacious, nestled on his tower''s forty-seventh floor with furnishings adorned in sharply jagged black lines. There was a mirror he had smashed shortly after he recovered from his defeat. Back in the height of his power, the elven mirror makers would have scrambled to make a replacement. Now the Mirror Makers & Glassworkers Union was busy making likenesses of him for target practice.


    LeDuke reached under his pillow and pulled out the seeing stone. He sung a few incantations and cut his hand. There were scars from way too many uses of the blade on his own skin. Previously, he''d just use the blood of a man slave, but they were all freed by Lovantus and his armies. He squeezed, and a few drops absorbed into the ball.


    ¡° Seeing the stars, a gaze from afar, my true love is out there, we watch the same sky, time passes by, my love knows I¡¯m here, ¡± he sang while the mists stirred inside the crystal. ¡° Seeing stone, I am alone, show me my love, Lady Ameria, ¡± and her form appeared in the haze.


    The raven-haired beauty with cracked crystal blue eyes stood on the grand balcony of the castle Traldalor that overlooked the town of the same name. Lovantus, the lummox, was addressing the crowds gathered for the festival while she stood by his side in a blue gold trimmed ceremonial robe. She was just as beautiful as on the day when LeDuke killed her parents. It was a lovely day. She had agreed to marry him to spare her younger brother, who he ended up killing anyway a year later after they got in a dispute over a lawn game. Her forlorn eyes were all Sky Lord needed to see to convince himself that she secretly missed him. He imagined that she was thinking about her time in the All-Seeing Tower when she looked out to the horizon every night.


    LeDuke slipped his hands into his knickers just as Fweb, a thin grey goblin with warts, sharp teeth, long ears, and scraggly hair, burst into the room. The Sky Lord pulled his hands from his pants and covered the seeing stone and his lower half with a pillow.


    "Don''t you knock?!" LeDuke screamed, while he wrapped himself up in a blanket.


    The creature was out of breath, and panted, "Sorry, but ever since the decanter of endless magic went dry¡ª"


    The decanter of endless magic was a bit of a misnomer. It was filled with the nectar from the fruit of a Treefolk. The juice was a fuel source that powered all the tower''s needs, including the magic mirrors and the central lift itself. A few drops would keep the lights on in the building for an entire week. The last of the magic was squeezed from the decanter a month ago. Now, the only way to send messages throughout the tower was to climb the stairs. It was a shame LeDuke wasn''t a flora mage, or else he would have used the magic in the decanter to get revenge on his enemies long before it had run dry.


    "You''d best have a good reason to be interrupting my study time, or I will hang you by your toes," the necromancer seethed.


    "I''m sorry, Sky Lord. I didn''t see you touching yourself again, sir," the goblin said.


    "Who said I was touching myself? Women used to kill each other just to be with me. Literally. The concubines were always jockeying for power."


    "It''s just that there aren''t any women around, except your mother."


    "What are you implying about my mother?" LeDuke hissed and crawled out of bed.


    "Nothing," Fweb pleaded. "I was just saying. You haven''t been with anyone in a while, and it''s natural to want to touch¡ª"


    The wizard grabbed the goblin by the neck, dragged the creature to the window, and thrust the minion through the grey stained glass. The shards fell to the black soil below. Fweb squealed and shrieked while groping its master''s hand. The sorcerer contemplated dropping the pitiful being to its death, but that would be a waste of some precious blood for his magic. He wouldn''t mind summoning a doppelganger of Lady Ameria, even if it was only for a night.


    "You have a visitor," the goblin croaked, while it clawed at its lord''s iron grip. The minion was sure tonight would be its last. However, death did not come. The mage laughed.


    LeDuke saw a glint on the land below. At the foot of his tower, there was a figure. The Sky Lord pulled the goblin back inside and threw the creature to the ground, too elated by the possibility of human contact to even think about murdering his minion. Fweb heaved and spat and then felt around for the glass pieces that were protruding from its back.


    The Sky Lord stood tall and deepened his voice, "Bring the visitor to the Grand Hall and summon the other servants. And don''t pluck those out here. You''ll get blood on my rug. It''s made from the hide of a Talking Lion. Which makes it one of a kind because I slaughtered all the Talking Lions! So, get out! Git, git!"


    The necromancer put his boot into Fweb''s back and jammed a piece of the glass in farther. The sad thing yelped in pain as it tumbled from his room, and LeDuke turned toward his shattered visage in the mirror. He smiled for the first time since he could remember. Even if the person below was some wayward adventurer seeking to prove himself back home, the mage would, at the very least, have someone new to torture.


    Either way, he would hear the person out. Anyone who would cross the plains of the dead, brave the hellspawn of Mt. Cynid, and cross the wastes of Warth just to seek an audience with him would be interesting indeed.


    ?

 5 - How to Annoy Goblins and Influence Necromancers

    5 - How to Annoy Goblins and Influence Necromancers


    The All-Seeing Tower, Battle of the Four Armies Festival Drinking Games


    Fweb lay on its stomach on a stone bench in the servants'' dining hall. Its mate, a knobby goblin with the most attractive warts in goblinkind, plucked out the glass after the near-death experience with the master. The goblin butler winced every time a piece was yanked out. "I don''t know why we even bother working for this guy anymore," Fweb said. "We should just kill him the next time he sleeps."


    "We''ve been over this a thousand times," Grekka said, as it dug for a piece that was particularly hard to remove. "The tower will collapse on his death."


    "That seems like a raw deal...ow!" Fweb said. "What about all those who faithfully served their master? That''s a rotten retirement plan to have a building fall on your head."


    "It''s the life of a goblin, dear," Grekka said, and plucked out the last one. It then rubbed a concoction of Orc feces on Fweb''s back. The medicine stung like a bite from a giant spider and stunk like a latrine but prevented infection. "We are too lithe and weak to be of any use in combat, and the steel allergy prevents us from being useful for all but the lowest of tasks."


    When steel touched the skin of a goblin, they shriveled into dust. The first great goblin army was also the last great goblin army after a smith decided to upgrade their iron helmets to steel for free. The few survivors scattered and found that serving a master provided a much better life than existing off the scraps of Orcs.


    The steel allergy also meant that goblins couldn''t keep their fingernails sharp like their teeth. Dull nails fit into gloves better. They were rarely seen without their gloves. A goblin with frayed or torn gloves was said to have a wish to ride their ancestors'' winds.


    "I know, I know," Fweb said. "But there has to be something more than this for us."


    "You know what happened the last time the goblins assembled an army." Grekka helped it to its feet and then fetched its clothing.


    "Not that. I don''t care about glory or power; that''s Duke''s thing. I''m just sick of this tower. All I do every day is run up and down the stairs. Fweb, bring me this, Fweb, go do that. I just want to see the world."


    Grekka laughed and helped it back into its clothes. "And be on the wrong end of a knight''s lance?"


    "Not all Traldalorians kill goblins on sight. I even heard that a few goblins work for them."


    "Whether it''s one king or another, a master is still a master."


    Before they said another word, an Orc limped into the room. It was Motar, an Orc who would almost certainly have died in the Battle of the Four Armies if he hadn''t accidentally given himself brain damage during a club throwing competition a month before the battle. After the injury, he lost the ability to wield a sword. He would let it go at the apex of the swing, usually killing some poor lieutenant who happened to be walking by at the moment. However, the cognitive malfunction offered a benefit by turning Motar from a killing machine into a cleaning machine. He became obsessed with eliminating dust in all its forms, which prevented him from becoming meat for the hellhounds, where most of the Orcs wounded in battle would end up.


    "The guest..." Motar began. "The guest..."


    "Yes, the guest is... the guest is..." Fweb said in an attempt to be helpful.


    "The guest is wanting¡ª"


    "A drink? Food? The latrine?"


    "The Sky Lord! The Sky Lord!" Motar said triumphantly.


    "Looks like our visitor is getting impatient," Fweb said, and rolled its eyes. They always got impatient. Even if  Duke  had nothing better to do, he''d always make people wait, sometimes for days. If there was any way to extract a bit of control or power from a situation, the necromancer would take it. The whole display irritated Fweb because it was always the one that had to deal with the irritated guests.


    Fweb climbed from the subbasements of the tower to the waiting room on the fourth floor. Because Duke had sealed the front door to the building to prevent the rampaging armies from sacking the place, they had to devise a makeshift platform system that would hoist people to a window on the fourth floor. It was less for travelers'' benefit and more for the servants'' because, even though the lands around the tower were barren, there were still critters that skittered between the rocks and fungus that grew in caves. Goblin hunting parties would go out and bring the morsels back to their master, who would disparage their efforts while chowing it down because there was nothing else to eat.


    Fweb opened a door that was a good ten feet taller than himself and saw the traveler staring into the fire. The human, or at least what Fweb thought was a human, was wrapped in the garb of the sand people who lived in the land of the Burning Sun. There was cloth wrapped around every part of the body, obscuring any sense of identity. Not that it cared to gaze on the skin of a human. It found them disgustingly smooth. Fweb would never tell its lord that Lady Ameria was so soft and fair that her face sent chills down its spine.


    The goblin was glad when she jumped from the tower into the arms of her lover. One less hideous creature to order it around.


    "Kind goblin," the traveler said. "Would you please express urgency to your master? I have a proposal for him, but it will expire during the witching hour tonight."


    "You have a better chance at finding an Ogre shepherd than getting the Sky Lord to meet with you promptly," Fweb scoffed. Ogres were known for their deep-rooted fear of wool and would pound a flock of sheep into the ground if they came across one. "He made his own mother wait at his father''s funeral."


    "I heard he killed his father," the traveler said.


    "Exactly. Now if you''ll excuse me, I have much to¡ª"


    The traveler grabbed it by the arm. Most goblins hated being touched for fear of steel rings or bracelets. "I have a spell that will return him to his former glory, but I am a moon mage."


    A moon mage?  Fweb thought to itself.  Who ever heard of a moon mage?


    Wizards of Carnt harnessed their magic from the natural world and the harmonies of the universe, ironically exhausting physical material that gave them power. A flora mage could decimate vast swathes of forest with a sufficiently powerful song, which was usually only cast in service of protecting the foliage. Water wizards could siphon an entire lake and cut themselves off from the very source of their power if they weren''t careful while they belted out their melodies. While Fweb didn''t pretend to know all the various iterations of sorcerers, the moon seemed like a resource nearly impossible to use. In both the flora and the water magic users'' cases, they needed to be in proximity to the fuel for their magic. The moon was impossibly distant.


    However, Fweb didn''t want to risk overlooking even the slightest chance that the traveler had something its master could use, because if such an omission came to light, the goblin really would end up hanging by its entrails. Besides, in the far more likely scenario that the visitor turned out to be a charlatan, Duke would forget about Fweb''s transgression of being a nuisance because the necromancer loved torture more than bullying minions.


    The persistence of their unscheduled guest would result in more physical violence against the goblin servant anyway. Fweb was lucky that goblins were a hardy race and bounced back quickly, or it would have been dead long before this self-proclaimed moon mage came calling. Fweb huffed and said, "Well, I can''t take you to my master with you holding me back."


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    The traveler let go and motioned for Fweb to lead the way. The goblin turned towards the door.


    Thirty-five floors later, Fweb was surprised to note that the traveler wasn''t winded by the climb, especially since the wanderer''s backpack appeared to be easily half the weight of an Orcish infantry pack. Even when the lift was functioning, Duke made visitors take the stairs. The grotesque nobles would be gasping for air by the time they reached floor ten. Some would die of a heart attack by floor thirty. If they couldn''t make it to the top, then the Sky Lord didn''t care to hear them out. Fweb was only ever short of breath when it ran up the stairs. Leading a guest up the steps was a fraction of its usual pace.


    "Wait here," Fweb said, and opened a set of double doors five times the height of a human. It slipped through and shut them.


    The room on the other side was a grand hallway with sharp arches and black pillars made to resemble bones. At the very end of the space was a dais made from skulls topped by a bone throne woven from those of elves, humans, halflings and dwarves alike. They were painted black.


    Duke, in his full royal robes and bone headdress, sat at the top. He stared at his lips in a handheld mirror and said, "A tutor who tooted the flute tried to tutor two tooters to toot. Said the two to the tutor, ''Is it easier to toot or to tutor two tooters to toot?''"


    Once Fweb traversed the room''s distance, it stood at the base of the dais and cleared its throat. Duke didn''t notice it at first, so the goblin said, "The visitor is here to see you, my liege."


    The Sky Lord jumped, hid the mirror behind his back, pulled out his scepter, and chided, "I told you never to bother me before I''m ready!"


    "I''m sorry, Sky Lord, but our guest was quite insistent. It claims to have a spell that can return you to your former glory."


    "Does it now?" A grin popped up on Duke''s face.


    "It also claims to be a moon mage."


    "A moon mage? Well, show this miscreant in. Either way, we''ll have our evening''s entertainment." Duke''s grin broadened.


    Fweb bowed and turned back toward the entry chamber, thinking that the exchange had gone better than it could have imagined. At least now, his master could torture someone else for a change. Hopefully, this person would last longer than a day. One guy had died of a stomach bug several days after being forced to eat his own foot. Considering the vigor with which they had ascended the staircase, Fweb was optimistic it might get a week or two off from being slapped around.


    Once it got to the set of double doors, it thrust them open, then proclaimed, "Behold the glory of the Grandmaster of the Seven Realms, the Keeper of the Rings of Fate, Holder of the mighty Seeing Stone, Mighty...um, hello?"


    The visitor was nowhere to be seen. Before Fweb had to turn back and face the wrath of its master, footsteps could be heard from down the stairs. After a few moments, the traveler emerged and said, "Sorry, we passed a window on the way up. I wanted to take a closer look. It''s not every day one finds oneself in the tallest tower of all the land."


    Fweb ignored the remark and began again, "Behold the glory of the Grandmaster of the¡ª"


    The guest pushed past the goblin without a word and made its way to the throne.


    The servant shrugged and muttered, "I don''t know why I bother."


    Sky Lord watched the display with an expression that was either bemusement or hate. Fweb could never tell which.


    The traveler didn''t give anyone time to speak again. "Sky Lord! At last. I have journeyed far to see you¡ª"


    Duke deepened his voice and scolded the impudent display, "And yet, you insult me in my own home with claims of impossible sorcery."


    "Forgive me, sire," the visitor said, "but time is of the essence, and I couldn''t trust that your thick-headed servant would grasp the nuance of magic that only a sophisticated wizard such as yourself would understand."


    Fweb could withstand insults to its intelligence even though it was one of the few goblins who could read and write. Goblin kind weren''t exactly known for their intellect. However, hearing the flattery slung towards its master made its stomach churn. A new torture victim in the house would serve as a diversion from the servants'' needless battery. A friend would just mean a new person to kick them around.


    "My reputation precedes me," Sky Lord said. "However, do not take me for a knave. Tell me of the moon mages. I don''t think I''ve ever heard of them."


    "Probably not, because I am the Mistress of the Moon." The traveler smiled and bowed. The visitor unwrapped its head garments, and a woman was underneath. She had brown hair with grey strands, fair skin, and hazel eyes. She did not look like a human from the land of the Burning Sun, and from the way Fweb''s master shifted his robes and leaned in closer, it could tell that he found her interesting, even though her skin was the exceptionally gross smooth kind. The future was bleak.


    Sky Lord''s voice went up two octaves, "Well..." He coughed and his voice went back down, though not quite to his deep lord-of-ultimate-evil intonation. "If all moon mages look like you, then maybe I studied the wrong type of magic. Just kidding, I love necromancy. Did you know I brought my cat back from the dead when I was only ten? Destined to be a blood mage."


    She ignored his awkwardness and sidestepped his lean into her. She continued, "I have a spell that can bring a hero in from a distant land."


    "Forgive me, it''s the intellect at work again, but don''t we have enough heroes?"


    "What if I were to say that I could get these heroes not only to serve you, but they will inhabit the bodies of Lovantus and his cronies?" She smiled.


    Duke sat up in his chair and said, "What?! You''re saying you can possess Lovantus and the Silent Legion with spirits friendly to me?"


    "Oh, no, not just leaders of the Battle of the Four Armies. I can summon one for Lady Ameria, too."


    Duke was speechless for a moment and then asked, "Is this the moon magic?"


    "Yes, but the reason for my haste is that all five of them must be in proximity for it to work, and it just so happens that they are holding the Alliance Summit tonight in Traldalor."


    The Alliance Summit was the only time of the year when the military leaders of the dwarves, elves, halflings, and humans met in the same place during the Battle of the Four Armies Festival. It started off to keep the peace and prevent the Sky Lord from rising again. However, it quickly devolved into an excuse to swap drinks of fermented fruits and grains while making merry into the wee hours of the morning. Since very little governance happened at what was supposed to be a government function, the heroes of the Silent Legion who led the Four Armies took the night off and found a local tavern to recount stories of the past.


    Duke grinned and laughed.


    If Fweb had thought it could get away with rolling its eyes and surviving, it would have done so. The necromancer''s laugh was sort of a cackle meant to sound demonic. However, he always did this weird thing with his breath that made it sound more like a drowning horse. Luckily, the visitor seemed keen to prevent further guffaws and said, "The moonlight will be lost this morning, so I think we should begin the ritual."


    "Right," Duke said, in his dark lord voice. "Begin at once. Fweb, make sure all the servants are at¡ªI don''t believe I got your name¡ª"


    "Smith...Jennifer Smith," Jennifer Smith said, and removed her backpack. She seemed entirely focused on unloading its contents.


    "Well, Smith Jennifer Smith¡ª"


    "You can call me Jenny."


    "Well, Jenny¡ª"


    "Back in college, I was called Jay, but I hate that name. Sounds too much like a boy."


    "Um...right, Jenny. Fweb, make sure all the servants are at Jenny''s behest."


    She pulled out the pieces of what seemed to be an elaborate apparatus. She looked up and said, "Do you have any coffee? I work better with some caffeine¡ªOh, sorry. I often forget that others aren''t trained in the language of moon mages. It''s a little black bean. You grind them up to make a warm beverage."


    "The energy bean? I do believe we have some in storage. Fweb!" The Sky Lord snapped his fingers.


    Fweb nodded and scurried off. The food stores were in the basement. Fweb hated people who ordered hot beverages. There would be running up the steps with scalding liquid all night. When Fweb was out of earshot, it cursed under its breath.


    ?

 6 - Never Meet Your Heroes

    6 - Never Meet Your Heroes


    Medieval City, After a Raging Party


    Petra and the gang made their way out the backdoor of the inn, which was conveniently located in the same room where they had arrived. It led to a back alley that smelled of raw sewage. The source of the foul odor was made painfully clear when a man dumped a chamber pot from one of the windows on the upper floors. Jonathan giggled and clapped at the rain of sludge and trundled over to inspect the mess.


    Petra attempted to drag him away and realized just how much the tables had turned. She was now half the size of her toddler and could no longer move the kid when he didn''t want to be moved. She settled for singing the  Party Freeze Dance Song  that involved a lot of twirling and hopping to distract him from the mess.


    When they got out into the street, they were amazed by what they saw. It was a medieval city at night. The only lights were the flickerings of fires, lanterns, and candles. The streets glowed in the full moonlight. The entire town was built into a mountainside and the roads crisscrossed up to a castle at the summit.


    There seemed to be evidence of a massive party. It looked like Bourbon Street the day after Mardi Gras. The roads were littered with garbage and drunken people sleeping it off on stair steps and in alleyways. Decorations flickered in the wind. The party had spilled out from every business onto the path as innkeepers and bartenders were busy pushing out the last of the merrymakers and shuttering their doors.


    Petra nodded, and they bolted from the alley into the bustle. They saw a group of guards who seemed to be sober, so they ducked into another alleyway. They dodged revelers, jumped into alcoves, and hid behind carts while evading the night watch. Petra convinced Jonathan that their escape from the city was all a game. She used a trick she had honed at restaurants, where she''d cajoled him to not make loud noises by playing the ''whisper game''. The game would quickly reach its limits when she wouldn¡¯t be able to up the ante with gummy bears in exchange for her son''s good behavior.


    They decided that heading down the mountainside and out of the city was better than up towards the keep. They wove through the cobblestone streets until they made it to a wall that was at least fifty feet high made of solid stone. They looked back and forth and couldn''t see any guards in their immediate vicinity.


    "Okay, definitely not Waterdeep," Tim said. "But maybe Minas Tirith? No, the architecture is all wrong, but then again, what did Peter Jackson know about the real city, am I right, guys?"


    Petra smacked him and barked, "Would you stop that?!"


    Tim rubbed his arm and said, "You could have asked nicely."


    "Yeah, dude," Baking Aiden said. "Corporal punishment has been shown in study after study to cause more behavioral problems down the road. While it might have the effect of stopping the immediate behavior, the long-term effects cause children to lash out rather than learn control over their emotions."


    Everyone stared at Aiden.


    "What?" Aiden said. "I know things."


    "First off, I''d never hit my child," Petra said. "Second, Tim is an adult."


    "Not by society''s standards."


    "AND THIRD, we need to focus on getting the hell out of here before we are sent to the dungeon for wizardry or whatever the hell counts as a burning-at-the-stake offense in this godforsaken time period."


    "I don''t know about you," Sissy said, "but I was a star climber of the month at my rock climbing gym. I can probably scale the wall."


    "But what about the rest of us?"


    "Yeah, babe," Jack said. "What about us?"


    "You always said you wanted to go rock climbing with me!" Sissy said.


    "That was at a gym, with harnesses!"


    "Wait a second, you mean to say that all those times you had to help your dad build the shed you were just avoiding going rock climbing with me?"


    "No, babe, I really wanted to go, but you know how Dad is."


    "There''s a hole in your backyard where you said it was going to be, and it has been like that for the past year!"


    "You gotta make sure the levels are right. Measure once. Cut twice!"


    Petra stepped into the argument. "My three-year-old in that man-body is not scaling the wall, so that leaves us two choices. We look for a storm drain or equivalent, or we try the front gate."


    "There''ll be guards," Tim said.


    "So, we''ll do the storm drain."


    "Why build a fifty-foot castle wall if you let an army sneak in through the sewer system?" Aiden remarked.


    "Ew¡ªI''m not going through the sewer," Sissy said.


    "Yeah, it''s bad for my asthma," Aiden said.


    "Why do you smoke so much?" Tim said.


    "The herb is good for my asthma."


    "That''s the most absurd thing¡ª"


    "We''ll go through the gate," Petra interjected. "I''m not about to lead us through a tunnel where we can''t get out. And besides, chances are we can get the drop on anyone at the gate." She looked at each member of the group. "I don''t know how we did it back there, but we fought off people that are trained in the weapons they are using. I can''t speak for everybody, but I''ve never used a dagger in my life, much less with such precision. Maybe it is the muscle memory of the bodies we are in, but if you don''t think about it too hard, it looks like we can fight like them. Aiden, if you can do that fire trick again, then the battle will be over before it even starts."


    "Yeah, dude," Aiden said. "About that. I think I need a source of fire to do that. There is something inside me that just knows. When the fire was right there, I could feel the magic. Now, I got nothing. Don''t feel a thing."


    "Okay, fine." She turned to Jack and said, "I''m assuming you felt the same way with the water, which is why you knew to use it?"


    "Come to think of it," Jack said, "water does make my nips hard."


    "Come on!" Sissy said and punched him.


    "What? It''s true."


    "Okay, so no magic unless you''ve got a source," Petra said. "We''ve still got weapons. Tim, you seem to be some sort of dwarven archer."


    "Crossbowman."


    "Whatever," Petra responded. "I''m pretty sure I can throw some daggers."


    "You''re not suggesting we murder these dudes?" Aiden said.


    "If they are trying to kill us, I have no problem with that."


    "I don''t either," Jack said.


    "Oh, come on!" Sissy said and walloped him again.


    "Maybe we will just take one of them hostage," Tim said. "Convince them to let us go."


    "Fine," Petra said. "But I''ll slit anyone''s throat who tries to hurt my boy, and at the first sign of anyone calling the cavalry, they are all dead."


    The group walked along the wall until they made it to a set of doors nearly fifty feet tall. There was a giant beam across the exit that must have been carved from a redwood tree. Even if they all worked together, they wouldn''t be able to lift it. However, Petra noticed that the beam was attached to chains, which meant there would be a mechanism to lift the bar.


    Next to the massive gate, there was a regular-sized door leading into a tower. Standing in front of the entrance was a sleepy guard who kept dozing off. She pointed it out to the others and told them to wait for her signal. For the same reason she was able to wield daggers proficiently, she knew that she had the best chance of sneaking up on the guard.


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    She kissed Jonathan on the forehead and explained that he would have to stay back with Uncle Tim. Pretty much any person in Jonathan''s life except the immediate family was an Uncle or an Auntie. When Petra walked off, she heard Jonathan yell, "Mama! Mama!" a couple times. Luckily, they were still far enough away that the guard either didn''t hear them or didn''t take notice.


    Without having to think about it, she crept with light feet and did not make a sound. Petra''s family was very loud and would lumber through the house with heavy footsteps. She was no exception to the rule. However, inside this halfling''s body, she had abilities she would not be able to replicate in her real life. It was almost as if she were in a video game, but she didn''t know what abilities she had until she attempted to use them.


    When she got close to the guard, she crouched down and wrapped her cloak around her body. It wasn''t that she was cold or nervous, it was that it felt right. She noticed in a puddle of water that the cloak had magical properties ¨C she blended into the background like a chameleon. She didn''t spend too much time gawking at herself as the guard woke from one of his dozes and looked around.


    She sprinted and leapt onto the man''s back. Her dagger was out and at the guy''s throat. "I need you to open the gate for me."


    "Lady Sorsha? Is that you?" the guard said, confused.


    "I don''t know who you are talking about," Petra said.


    "I should''ve known it wasn''t Lady Sorsha. She has more honor than the likes of you. Sneaking up on a bloke like that."


    "Why the hell do you all speak with a British accent?"


    "What do you mean, British? I talk like a human, I do," the guard said. "Now, let me get a look at you. Don''t worry, I''m not going to sound the alarm or nothing. I just want to explain it to you because you''re not from around here. There are all sorts of undead, brigands, and nasty beasties that roam those lands at night. It''s suicide to even think about going out. If you are serious about leaving, I''m sure you''ll find a way, but at least do me the courtesy of looking me in the eye when you explain your reasons for going."


    "Fine," Petra said, and jumped off his back. "Turn around. Slowly."


    She held the knife out, ready to strike. Once he turned around, he did a double take. "Blimey, it is you! Lady Sorsha! I can''t believe I''m meeting you."


    He grabbed her by the hand and shook it. In the process, her dagger went limp.


    "Hey, Edwin!" he yelled, and she waved her hands for him to be quiet. "It''s Lady Sorsha! In the flesh!"


    Another guard poked his head from the tower and said, "Enough with that Lady Sorsha business. You think she has time for us peasants? She''s one of the heroes of the Silent Legion, she is, and wouldn''t be talking to the likes of you."


    "No! Look," the first guard pulled the cloak from her head, and Edwin did his own double take.


    "That''s not Lady Sorsha! She''s too tall."


    "What do you mean too tall? She''s a halfling."


    "And she''s tall for a halfling."


    "Of course, she''s tall for a halfling. She''s a hero, after all! Now come down here and meet her proper!" The guard laughed and said, "Sorry, he''s a bit daft."


    Petra put her dagger away and signaled the others to come over. She realized that the only way the gate guards would ever know about their altercation at the inn would be if someone came down here and told them about it. It''s not like they had a radio. For the time being, it looked like they had beaten the news of the  brain washing .


    Edwin burst from the gate tower and looked Petra over. "What have we got here, Blythe? Too short, hair''s not long enough."


    "Oh, come on," Blythe said. "She is absolutely Lady Sorsha!"


    "Yep," Petra chuckled uncomfortably. "That''s me. Sorry about earlier. You know how it is being a celebrity."


    "Oh, no, ma''am," Blythe said. "I should have had the door open and ready for you. The fault is all mine. I''m not sure what happened to the runner."


    "The runner?" Petra said.


    "Yes, ma''am," Blythe said. "The people who tell us when to get the gate ready for a VIP. Got to keep up appearances you know."


    "Well, here I am. You can open the gate now."


    "I''m sorry. Even though you are revered among our people, I follow Lord Lovantus''s rules around here. No runner, no open gate."


    The rest of the group sauntered up to the three and as soon as the guards saw Jonathan, they both knelt and yelled out in unison, "Lord Lovantus!"


    Jonathan squealed with delight and climbed on top of Blythe''s shoulders.


    "Milord. You are too heavy, I¡ª" He toppled over. Jonathan clapped and hopped up and down on the poor man''s back.


    Petra attempted to pull her son off without any luck. "Sorry. My son loves to ride on your shoulders."


    "You see," Edwin said. "These are not the Silent Legion at all. I happen to know that Lovantus and Lady Sorsha are not related."


    "Of course, oohh. Owww," Blythe said, when Jonathan''s jumping turned into a dance. "She''s a halfling, but these are them. Blimey, all the heroes¡ªowww¡ªthe missus isn''t going to believe this one."


    "They are not the heroes. Have you ever even met any members of the Silent Legion?"


    "No¡ªow¡ªoh¡ªexcept Lady Sorsha¡ªin passing¡ªwhen she was on a parade float."


    "So, you haven''t really met her!" Edwin said, and walked over to Aiden and Tim. "That''s exactly my point. Any old elf can say he is the great wizard, Zafosaul, or the dwarf marksman, Bolt."


    "Seriously?" Aiden said. "You''re name''s Bolt?"


    "Shut up," Tim said. "I think it''s kind of cool."


    "But that doesn''t make them the heroes. And what about Percy here? He''s a Paladin, and Paladins don''t scowl." Sissy attempted to turn her perpetually constipated look into a smile with no luck. Edwin continued. "You see, famous people don''t get in the muck with the likes of us folks. They stand on their balconies and parade floats looking down on the peasants like us."


    Petra was finally able to get Jonathan distracted by something else, and Blythe was able to right himself. "So why is Lovantus with them?"


    "He''s an actor in a traveling show like the rest of them, but a very good one, mind you," Edwin said. "The rest of you just don''t look very much like the heroes. I''m sorry. I know that hurts when your livelihood is vested in the retelling of their heroic ventures, but I just don''t buy it."


    "How would you know?" Blythe said. "You said yourself you haven''t seen any of them up close!"


    "See, that''s exactly my point! Most people haven''t seen these people up close! How would you know them when you see them?"


    "Guys, guys!" Petra said. "So maybe we are actors, or the real deal. Who knows, who cares, just open the gate for us."


    "I can''t do it, ma''am," Blythe said. "Not without¡ª"


    "A runner?" A woman walked out of the shadows. She was young and wore the brown dress of a servant. She had blonde  hair in pigtails and was probably in her twenties. She held the severed head of one of the city guard in her hand.


    "Ball!" Jonathan said and went to grab it.


    "That''s not a ball," Petra said, and pulled out a gold coin. Jonathan swiped the coin and quickly lost interest in the severed head.


    The newcomer tossed the body part at the feet of the guards. She sung an incantation, ¡° Dreadlord¡¯s blessing, the death is near, the scraping in the dark, will be the last you hear. ¡± While she sang, a green mist spewed from the decapitation victim''s neck, mouth, eyes,  and ears. It coiled around the feet of the two men. They screamed as it wove up their bodies. Soon, their cries were muffled as it reached the top. The miasma cleared, and two skeletons clad in their metal armor and belongings remained. Without flesh to support the bones, they clattered to the ground.


    The group stared at the woman, and Aiden was the first to speak. "Dude, can you teach me that?!"


    "There is no time," she replied. "I am Annelise. Servant of the Moon. You all are in grave danger."


    "I hope it''s not from you," Tim said.


    "No, the runner had instructions for the gatekeepers to kill you if necessary. The court has never fully accepted Lady Ameria as Lovantus''s bride. Even though she is the queen, many think she is the devil, and the other heroes are her minions who have bewitched our lord."


    "Yeah, about that..." Petra began.


    "No, I know you are travelers from another place, and these bodies are not your own. But this is not the time nor place for lengthy explanations. But suffice it to say that your arrival has turned what were suspicions by some members of the court to full-on battle cries. I am afraid they are convincing the other nobles as we speak."


    "About what?" Tim asked.


    "To use the full might of Traldalor to hunt you down, kill all of you, and return Lovantus."


    "Um," Jack said. "Maybe we can just go talk to them. Tell them we are not us."


    "Yeah, dude," Aiden said. "I bet they want us out of these bodies as much as we do."


    "No," Annelise said. "They will have your heads on the castle wall for what you did to their master."


    "Let''s stop talking about it and get out of here, then!" Petra exclaimed. "I don''t suppose you know how the gate mechanism works.


    Annelise smiled and said, "I do, indeed. Come, I will need a few of you."


    Petra asked Tim to keep a look out and the others scurried into the tower.


    ?

 7 - A Pig Named Lawrence

    7 - A Pig Named Lawrence


    The Sky Lord¡¯s Throne Room, Battle of the Four Armies Festival After Party


    The throne room was a disaster. All the paintings and other adornments had been strewn everywhere by the howling winds that blasted through the area. LeDuke''s headdress and robes were a mess, and his scepter was missing. The moon mage had barely held on to a pillar. Jenny''s apparatus stood at the base of the throne. It was made from metal ribbons that resembled intricate elven weaves and had an orb shaped like the moon at the top.


    Before the dark lord could collect himself, his mother emerged from behind the throne.


    "What was that?" she said, as she inspected the mess.


    "Nothing, Mom," LeDuke said. "I''ve told you not to bother me when I have guests."


    "I''m not going to clean this up, Duke," his mom said, as she helped the moon mage to her feet.


    "Stop calling me that! It''s LeDuke or Sky Lord."


    "Maybe I''ll use ''Dukey Boy''. Like I did when you were a kid."


    "That''s even worse!"


    "I''m still not cleaning this up."


    "Mom, I''ll get one of the goblins to do it!"


    Pip turned to Jenny and said, "That''s what he always says, but you should see his room. Always a mess. Leaves his robes everywhere."


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    "Mom!"


    Pip collected the debris. Although she would grumble and complain about cleaning up after LeDuke, she always tidied the place. It was like she couldn''t help herself.


    "He used to let the family pig inside the house!" Pip said. "A pig! As if thatched roof houses weren''t already hard enough to keep clean. He loved that pig. Called him Lawrence."


    "You had a pet pig named Lawrence?" Jenny snickered.


    "Alright! Enough, Mom!" LeDuke yelled. "I don''t need your help."


    "I cleaned up after him for 35 years and see the thanks I get?" his mom said, as she picked up a painting from the ground. "Doesn''t even invite me to his royal court. I think he''s embarrassed about me. Has a commoner for a mother, unlike all his friends who are the sons and daughters of kings and queens. I think he should be proud of his roots. He had to work hard to get all this. It wasn''t handed to him like¡ª"


    LeDuke''s hand dripped with blood from the silencing charm he had  sung. His mom hated it   when he did that, and he would get an earful at dinner when the spell wore off, but he had more important things to do, like torturing a moon mage. There was no Lady Ameria in his throne room, so the spell had failed. The Sky Lord did not tolerate failure.


    As if sensing his intentions, Jenny was quick to speak. "Before you eviscerate me, please check your seeing stone."


    "I thought you said you''d summon them here to help me," LeDuke snarled.


    "I said I would bring friendly spirits. I didn''t say that they would arrive in this room."


    "What good are possessed heroes if they are not here to do my bidding?"


    "Please, just check your seeing stone. You''ll see that I''m only here to serve!"


    LeDuke cut his hand again with his dagger and sang a dirge in the ancient tongue. Blood dripped from the blade. He was about to cast a spell that would make the moon mage tremble as if a thousand knives were stabbing her stomach, but then brought out the seeing stone at the last moment. He switched to the seeing stone song. The stone¡¯s  mists swirled as his blood was absorbed into the rock. The mist cleared, and he gazed into the sphere.


    He chuckled, and then laughed. Finally, he could not contain himself and let loose in full-on guffaws. Perhaps Smith Jennifer Smith would be worth keeping around after all.


    ?

 8 - The Barbarians Breakfast Club

    8 - The Barbarian''s Breakfast Club


    The City Gates, Wee Hours After the Four Armies Kegger


    Tim stood at the door of the tower and aimed his crossbow in random directions. He muttered to himself and made "pew pew" noises with the weapon. He was surprised how far he could see in his little dwarf body. Back home in Oregon, he wore thick glasses and saw nothing but blur past his arm without them. Here, he could spot the grain of a wooden beam on a balcony several buildings away. He wondered if that''s what made him, or at least the person who inhabited this body normally, such a good marksman.


    Tim had the feeling that he could hit anything in his sight line. He was too busy noodling around with his weapon to notice the detachment of soldiers sauntering down the hill towards him. When they got close, they startled him from his play when the captain said, "Master dwarf."


    Tim jumped and hid his crossbow behind his back. He glanced down to see the pile of bones that was left of the night watchman. He moved in front of them and smiled.


    The captain narrowed his eyes and sidestepped Tim to inspect the bones. "What is the meaning of this?" the captain inquired.


    "Um...they fell off the body cart," Tim said.


    "Dammit, Zachery," the captain said. "He''s always sloppy with those plague victims, but he never just leaves them."


    Tim couldn''t get the scene of Monty Python and the Holy Grail out of his head and said, "Yeah, he came by, ''Bring out your dead. Bring out your dead.'' And this guy claimed that he had one for him, but it turned out he was alive."


    "Happens all the time during festivals. Who hasn''t woken up on a body cart after one too many mugs of ale? Am I right, boys?" the captain said, and the others laughed.


    "Yeah, so the living guy wanted to go for a walk or something," Tim said. "And the bones just fell off when he hopped down. Zachery picked up the cart and moved on."


    "Hold up," the captain said. "You said he was pulling the body cart. Like a mule?"


    "Um, yeah," Tim said.


    "Yeah, boss," a guard said. "His donkey died last season. He''s saving for another one."


    "Right," the captain said. "Well, the story seems to check out. I''m going to run it by Zachery. In the meantime, have you seen a group of adventurers come by?"


    "Nope," Tim said.


    "They are the supposed Silent Legion, heroes of the Battle of the Four Armies. You may have heard of them."


    "Who hasn''t?"


    "Don''t trust everything you hear, master dwarf. They supposedly beat the necromancer in the Battle of the Four Armies, but did anyone see them do it?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "They go storming towards the tower, and back they come with Lady Ameria, not a scratch on any of them. How do we know that she didn''t just enchant our lord, and the other supposed heroes are her servants?"


    "Right, well, I guess we don''t know for sure¡ª"


    "Listen, master dwarf, do you really like being here with humans? I mean, the elves barely say anything to anyone. Halflings are coming in by droves, taking jobs from the decent common folk. Whereas you dwarves almost never leave your caves except to gouge us on ore."


    "Um, I don''t set the prices."


    "Sure, but tell me, is it hard to take food from a farmer''s plate when they can barely afford metal for their plow?"


    "Um¡ªI don''t like where this conversation is going¡ªdoes racism apply to fantasy races?"


    "Oh, come on, man," the captain said. "Just some friendly conversation. You don''t see me walking into your cave, selling the tools you need to survive at egregious prices, master dwarf."


    "Dude! Lay off," Tim said. "I don''t set the prices."


    "What''s a dude?" the captain asked. "No matter. I don''t think this dwarf is hearing me correctly. You see, your master Bolt cast a feeble mind spell on our lord Lovantus. Which is not surprising since you dwarves have been sticking it to us humans for years. So, I think we should send Bolt a message that we don''t like dwarves in these parts. Maybe starting with your head." The captain drew his blade, but one of the guards held his hand high in the air. The captain rolled his eyes and said, "Yes, Corwin. Speak up."


    "Doesn''t he look like master Bolt?" Corwin asked.


    "How would you know what master Bolt looks like? The only way we ever see them is high on that balcony looking down on us common folk. And besides, where are the others? The traitorous elf, that stinky half breed, and the witch, Ameria? Do you see them around?"


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    "Well, no, but I saw Bolt come through the city on horseback once, and I''m pretty sure it''s him!"


    "All dwarves look the same to me."


    "All right. That''s it!" Tim yelled and pulled out his crossbow. The rest of the guards readied their weapons. "You are really starting to piss me off! For starters, I am pretty sure I''m Bolt! But even if I was, say, a high school kid trapped in Bolt''s body, you''d still be pissing me off."


    "How can he be pretty sure he is Bolt? I mean, you either know or you don''t," Corwin said, attempting to puzzle out Tim''s words.


    The captain smacked Corwin and yelled, "Kill him!"


    Tim fired without thinking and struck the captain in the throat. The man gurgled blood and fell to the ground. The rest of the troop charged while Tim fumbled to reload. Their blades were about to gut him when suddenly, all the hilts glowed bright red. The guards yelped and dropped their weapons on the cobblestones. Aiden poked his head from the tower singing  ¡­And Justice for All .


    One of the guards shrugged and punched Tim in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. The rest of the soldiers closed in and began to kick the dwarf with their armored boots. The pain was excruciating, but he could handle it better than he thought he would. He had been floored by a bully in school before and hurt for days afterward. There was something about this body that gave him a better pain tolerance. However, that wouldn''t last for long. The pummeling was taking a toll on him.


    Before the group could finish the job and stomp the fallen dwarf from existence, Petra leapt from the window with two daggers in hand and embedded them in the skulls of the attackers who softened her landing. Jonathan poked his head out from the tower next and said, "Oh, Mommy, fun!"


    "No, baby!" Petra yelled. "Don''t¡ª"


    Before she could finish her sentence, the giant musclebound warrior leapt from the tower, cackling with glee. He swung his battle axe around and laughed as he knocked the men down with the flat part of the weapon. The ones who weren''t crushed when he had landed were clubbed by his twirling.


    Petra held her hands up and said, "Honey, let Mommy have that."


    "No," he yelled, and yanked it away, clobbering one of the men with the handle.


    "Jonathan," she said again. "You need to give that to Mommy."


    "No." Another guard out cold.


    "Jonathan, that''s not a request. Do I need to count to three?"


    "Okay," he said and stomped over to his mom. He handed the weapon over. It clattered to the ground because she was too weak to hold it. She pulled her son away from the pile of guards. Tim was dazed underneath. She helped him to his feet as the gate began to open.


    Corwin was still attempting to puzzle out what had just happened when he finally noticed Jonathan, knelt, and then said, "Lord Lovantus!"


    Jonathan smiled and said, "Ooh, shiny!"


    He patted the man''s head and shoulders with his hands as he explored the cool new material of chain mail armor.


    Corwin flinched and said, "Sire?"


    The gate clanged as it rose to the top of the entryway.


    Petra said, "Jonathan, remember what we talked about. It is not nice to grab people."


    "So, it''s true!" Corwin said. "Lady Ameria cast a feeble mind spell!"


    Petra said, "Look, I know you have no reason to trust me. But it is not what you think it is, and it is too much to explain at the moment."


    "You killed our captain."


    "After attacking me." Tim spat blood from his mouth while he talked.


    Petra kicked Tim and said, "Right, so no one is perfect. I want you to tell them, whoever is in charge, that we want to get Lovantus back just as much as you."


    The others came out of the building and ran towards Petra. Sissy and Jack helped Tim towards the gate while Aiden trailed behind them. Annelise said, "Come. We must flee."


    The sound of soldiers could be heard in the distance. From the rumble, it was a much larger contingent than the one they just had encountered.


    Petra nodded and turned to Corwin. "Please, you''re a sensible guy. Talk to whoever is in charge. Let them know we are trying to fix this."


    "Come on!" Annelise said.


    The others were almost all the way out of the gate. Petra gathered Jonathan and they fled with Annelise. But a second later, the toddler was waddling back to the pile of guards with his mom close behind attempting to drag him back. He slung his battle axe onto his back and said, "I like it. So pretty."


    "You can just leave that here," Petra said.


    "No."


    "Listen to your mother."


    "Come on!" Annelise yelled. They could see an army coming down the hill toward them.


    "Fine, you can have it for now," Petra said, and Jonathan clapped his hands. They scurried away.


    Corwin stood in awe of meeting his Lord in person, looking stunned from the encounter.


    ?

 9 - 867-530...

    9 - 867-530...


    The Sky Lord¡¯s Tower, One Day Later


    Jenny paced back and forth in her room. It was a suite offered only to the necromancer''s personal friends. The furniture resembled H.R. Giger''s design for the Alien movie. Considering the various sharp protrusions from the walls and the drop from the balcony into the wastes below, she shuddered to think what would be reserved for his worst enemies. Either way, this clownbox was the only chance she had of getting back home to her own world. Too bad her lackey had screwed it up. They would both end up in the wizard''s dungeon if they were ever discovered.


    The pocket of her robe buzzed, and she pulled out an iPhone. It was just an Instagram notification. She stuffed it back inside. The smart phone was ancient by cell phone standards, but here, it was the source of her moon magic. The flashlight app had dazzled more than a few villagers before she discovered there were items imbued with magic anyone could wield. She thanked her lucky stars that she had bought a solar powered charging station for her hike up the Pacific Crest Trail. In fact, she probably wouldn''t have survived at all if she hadn''t been fully loaded for days of backpacking in the wilderness.


    On the other hand, she wouldn''t be stuck here if it wasn''t for that stupid movie starring Reese Witherspoon. Either way, since the primary mode of transportation in this land was horses, she had enough backpacking to last a lifetime because she didn''t trust the creatures. In her opinion, any animal that let another being ride on top of it was up to no good. Horses might seem docile and contending for best friend status, but she knew the truth. They were just biding their time, waiting to buck their riders off and leave them in a ditch for dead.


    Her phone buzzed again. Finally, it was that halfwit Mr. Jackson. When she pressed the camera button, she finally got a look at his face. He had jumped into a barmaid''s body. She was thin and petite. Her hair was blond, pulled back in pig tails, and her face smudged from labor. The woman who once inhabited the body was gone, and Mr. Jackson''s creeper stare was behind the eyes.


    The barmaid on the other side of the screen said, "It worked! Can you believe it? Here I am! In Carnt. And my phone! It traveled through just like you said it would!"


    "And you''re wasting battery power fondling yourself," Jenny said. The sigils she had him scrawl on the back of his phone had worked. She hadn''t been sure if they would. Considering this was her first attempt at the spell.


    Mr. Jackson took his hand off his breast. "Sorry, I just never was a woman before."


    "There''ll be plenty of time for that later," Jenny said. "Now, do you mind telling me why I''m not talking to the face of Lady Ameria right now?"


    "I did it exactly as you asked. I collected the requisite number of people, and we all sat around the device. But one of them stood up and tried to leave the room, so we weren''t sitting in the right spots when the portal opened. Oh, yeah, and one of them brought her kid."


    "Brought her kid? Are you kidding me?! How complicated is ''get me five people''?!"


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    "I couldn''t just leave her kid outside the room. They were already suspicious."


    "A text would have been nice! I could have at least adjusted here on my end."


    "I''m sorry, Mistress," Mr. Jackson said, and brushed his golden hair back. "Please don''t feed me to the Beast of Vol."


    "I''ll consider your request," Jenny said. "Now, I don''t care who is inhabiting those bodies. However, that won''t happen if anything should befall Lady Ameria. I don''t care who is in her body, but whoever it is, you need to get them here, unharmed. The others ¨C cut off their legs and drag them here if you have to. I just need their hearts to be beating when they arrive. The rest is up to you."


    "Begging your pardon, Mistress," Mr. Jackson said. "But how do I do that?"


    "The same way you''d do it if you were in Lady Ameria, just pretend like you know what''s going on, and they''ll follow you."


    "But I''m not a high priestess."


    "Neither are any of them. They are scared kids caught in something way over their heads. Take advantage of that."


    ¡°One of them is a TA.¡±


    ¡°Whatever. Get them here!¡±


    "Right, my goddess who travels the realms of the world¡ª"


    "Okay, okay! Enough! Turn off your phone and quit wasting battery!"


    "Yes, sorry, um¡ªbye," Mr. Jackson said, and hung up.


    Jenny knew why the necromancer couldn''t keep his stranglehold on the world. Even as the icon of a secretive religious sect, Jenny couldn''t find good help. She couldn''t believe that she was actually feeling sorry for the odious man, Duke.


    She wasn''t worried yet. The real problem would be after they got here. If Mr. Jackson had been in the body of Lady Ameria, it would have been easy to lure the evil wizard into the trap. The fool would do anything for her. Now she would have to coach a prepubescent boy or whoever was inside the priestess''s mind to do her dirty work.


    Even though she was monumentally prone to worrying about things out of her control (another reason she had gone on the Pacific Crest trip), she decided there was nothing she could do for now. She spent the rest of the evening updating her Instagram. It wasn''t everyday one found oneself in an evil mage''s tower. At least she knew way more now about how this world worked than the day she had arrived. It made for strange reading on her Tumblr because of the turn it took when she got sucked into an alternate dimension, especially since she had never bothered to change the title from "The Pacific Northwest is Cool and Maybe I''ll make it to California One Day: The Story of a Girl, Her Backpack, and an Instagram Account".


    ?

 10 - Its Not the Size that Matters but Whether You Have a Battle Axe

    10 - It''s Not the Size that Matters but Whether You Have a Battle Axe


    A Dark Room, the Alliance Summit


    Lovantus hopped to his feet, whipped around, and reached for his battle axe, but it wasn''t there. He was in a dark room with a strange altar and a glowing orb. There were people around him, dressed in peculiar garb. A squire with a black and orange jacket embroidered with the initials B.H.S. leaned down and said to him, "Hey there, little fella. Are you lost? Is that your mommy?" He was pointing toward an odd woman with tri-colored hair who lay on the ground near to where Lovantus had woken up.


    The barbarian scoffed and said, "I know not this woman, and I suggest you be more courteous when addressing your king!" Lovantus was nonplussed as he realized his normally booming bass voice now sounded like that of a child of no more than three winters.


    The man''s eyes narrowed, and he said, "Lovy?"


    "A-A?" Lovantus said, and somehow,  he knew the boy before him was none other than his queen. They moved in for a passionate kiss but backed away at the last moment.


    "It''s a little weird," Lady Ameria said.


    "Yeah," Lovantus said. "Not that I have a problem with men who lie with other men, but I never kissed a man before. I never had the urge to. It''s just not something I do."


    "You think it''s peculiar for you!" Lady Ameria said. "You are in the body of a child."


    "This is not a halfling body?" Sure enough, after stripping his shoes, his feet lacked any hair. "But I am the High King. The Defender of the Land. The Slayer of Evil. The Friend to all the Horses and the People. The¡ª"


    "We all know your titles, dear," Lady Ameria said. "The Sun Goddess knows that we can''t just sit down and have dinner without some crier belting out all your titles."


    "What?"


    "Nothing, dear."


    "This body switching must be an act of sorcery, and I don''t think we need to concentrate too hard to know who is responsible for such wickedness."


    "Duke," Lady Ameria agreed. "You shouldn''t be surprised. He always has some foul plan to overthrow you and send the realm into chaos every time the sun makes its yearly trot across the sky. Remember the grain gnomes?"


    "How could I forget?" Lovantus held his stomach. Grain gnomes were mischievous little creatures that had given the entire kingdom irritable bowel syndrome, a disease writ about by the famous Helfran scholar, WedMD. Though, how overflowing latrines would give the Sky Lord any better chance at restoring his former glory, Lovantus could not glean. He figured the wizard was grasping at straws now, and this little body switcheroo prank was just another in a long line of failed attempts to destabilize the kingdom.


    "If you ask me," the woman with tri-color hair said, as she jumped to her feet in one graceful move, "we should have burnt down that tower a long time ago."


    Lovantus recognized the maneuver. It was his good friend, Lady Sorsha.


    "Lady Sorsha," Lovantus said. "You are, um, tall..."


    The girl Lady Sorsha inhabited was double the size of his body. The tables had turned on height. There was no question ¨C Duke would pay for his sorcery. They couldn''t afford to ignore the wizard. It was time to bring back The Silent Legion and march upon the fell realm once more.


    The others stirred and began to wake. Lovantus stood on one of the benches and stomped his feet until he had the group''s attention. "My lords and ladies, we are at a precipice. On one hand, we have the bounty and peace that we have fought so hard to protect. Our brothers and sisters in arms have bled so that our children may not know war. That tranquility is threatened by an evil tyrant who ripped us from our homes and loved ones, leaving our kingdoms in chaos without our leadership. The Sky Lord had gone too far. Fifteen years ago on this day, we agreed that he was in a prison of his own making, and that was punishment enough ¨C to forever watch the world that loathed him. Since then, he has become our court jester. His attempts to regain control were futile and laughable. But we had forgotten the danger and our wits were dulled by the merriment from his antics. We must now be on our guard because a fell wind stirs. We must complete what began fifteen years ago and burn down the dark tower. The road ahead will be dangerous, and some may fall. But with our determination and steel, we will prevail. With true aim and the sorcery of the sun, we will prevail! With our fellowship, we will prevail! The Silent Legion rides again!"


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    A gentleman with thick spectacles and long brown hair raised his hand.


    Lovantus nodded. "Yes, you have a question."


    The man spoke with a peasant accent. "Hello, gov. Suzy here. Will we bring our own bows and arrows,  or will you be providing them? Also, do we have to use a sword? I''m no good with hand-to-hand weapons. Shot at some rotten apples I did when I was a girl, but barmaids don''t get in much target practice, eh?"


    "Who is this?" Lovantus turned to his crew.


    A kid with a tunic adorned in skulls spoke with an elvish accent, "I do believe she was our tavern wench. The one that was making eyes at Bolt."


    A thin child from the deserts of the Burning Sun said with a dwarfish intonation, "I thought it was you she was looking at, you elf bastard."


    "The thought of me lying with a human is outrageous. Their scent is not compatible with elves. No offense, milady."


    Lady Ameria shrugged and said, "Elves don''t smell too good to us, either. They smell like the pine scented cleaner we got from that merchant from Helfra a while back."


    "That doesn''t change the fact that I don''t date. Human or dwarf. Zafosaul knows this. Yet every time there''s a single lady..." Bolt said.


    "Loneliness is the most common cause of death for dwarves of a certain age," Zafosaul commented.


    "So is falling in a mineshaft when they are drunk!"


    "Enough," Lovantus bellowed. "It seems as if the dark wizard took one too many souls in his mission to purge us from the realm. Suzy, is it? As ordained by the gods and the fates, Suzy, you shall be the seventh member of the Silent Legion."


    "Why the ''Silent Legion'', eh? You make all sorts of racket with all the armor on your horses, trumpets blaring, and so on," Suzy pondered.


    "The legends of our deeds in combat make our enemies tremble. We have the might of a legion, yet the swiftness of a fellowship. Our foes do not see us coming before it is too late."


    "Why not the ''Swift Legion'' or the ''Really Good Swordpeople''? I mean, you still make noise when you charge into battle."


    "It''s a metaphor."


    "It just makes no sense to me. I mean, since I am a part of this legion, maybe I should get a say in what we name it. Or maybe at least a vote."


    "We''ve been named the Silent Legion since you were suckling on your mother''s teat."


    "See, that''s just it. You aren''t connecting with the youth these days. Battle of the Four Armies? All old people. Yammering on about the past. How do you think the Sky Lord got past your defenses?"


    "So, this is my fault now?"


    "I''m just saying. You think a young wizard wants to sit around in a court with some stuffy old people exchanging war stories?"


    Lovantus lunged at her. "I will have your tongue removed and fed to¡ª"


    Lady Ameria held him back, and said, "What my husband means to say is that he''ll take your ideas into consideration."


    "Well, good! You are lucky to have me. I got ideas. I do. My mum always said I was destined for great things, and it wasn''t collecting from me dad''s nut trees."


    "Great," Lady Ameria said. "I''m sure we''ll hear about them in due time. For now, I suggest that we explore our surroundings. Once we get our bearings, we will begin the quest to reverse this spell. That is, if my Lord Lovantus agrees?"


    "See, there you go!" Suzy said. "That''s why we need to vote! Isn''t it better for everyone if we can decide our own fate, instead of the guy with the biggest battle axe?"


    "Tell me, Lady Ameria," Lovantus said to his true love. "What is the penalty again for murdering one of our citizens?"


    ?

 11 - Alls Well That Ends with a Dagger

    11 - All''s Well That Ends with a Dagger


    The King¡¯s Forest, Morning After the Festival


    Petra walked next to Annelise, who led the group along a forest trail. Everyone was exhausted because they had walked well into the night and some of the next day. Other than a time when Annelise disappeared into the woods to use the bathroom, they kept moving. The only person with the exuberant energy only a three-year-old could muster was Jonathan. He ran ahead, stopping to pick flowers, sticks, and all sorts of wildlife to show to Petra. She would smile and say in a voice with enthusiasm only a mommy could conjure for something so mundane, "Yeah, it''s a stick!"


    The hulking warrior smiled, then hopped on two feet down the trail as if he were a human pogo stick. She was glad that it had been early in the morning her time when this  adventure  began. She didn''t want to deal with a tired barbarian. Or perhaps the kid had the energy reserves of his warrior¡¯s body. Petra thought all the walking on bare feet would make her sore, but she didn¡¯t feel a thing. Petra turned back to Annelise and said, "I don''t get it. If these heroes were the beloved saviors of the land and defeated the necromancer, why would the people be so quick to turn on them?"


    "You have to remember that the war was fifteen years ago. Most people are lucky if they live to see fifteen winters," Annelise said. "At best, the young people don''t know much about the war or the alliance of the races, and at worst, some believe in conspiracies that it was faked."


    "And what do you believe?"


    "As a b-sister of the moon," Annelise said, "I believe in truth above all else. And the reality is that the bickering among the races has always happened and will always happen until some other great evil walks the land to unite them again."


    "That''s a pretty dismal view."


    "This world is a dismal place. It''s easy for a destitute person to blame his plight on the greed of the dwarves, or on elves for lording their magic and knowledge, or even on halflings like you who are happy to work harder than a human for a fraction of the wages because their lands were decimated by the necromancer."


    "I''m not a halfling."


    "You look like one to the rest of the world."


    Annelise froze and held her hand up. The group stopped.


    "What?" Petra said, and unconsciously clutched the hilt of one of her daggers.


    Before Annelise could finish the word "Brigands," a scruffy, ragtag group of men and women stepped out onto the path. They held clubs, swords, and all sorts of gnarly weapons. A woman with a mace slung over her shoulder like she was going to batting practice walked up to them. She wore leather and fur as if she were an extra in a  Conan the Barbarian  movie.


    "Seems like you are walking this path during perilous times. Five gold pieces would go a long way in giving you protection from all the beasties that roam these parts," she said.


    Petra scoffed and said, "We don''t need protection. Now move aside."


    "I don''t think you understand me, lady halfling," she said. "We can''t be held responsible for what happens to people who don''t pay."


    The brigands readied their weapons for a fight.


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    Tim spoke next, "What she was trying to say was that this is Lord Lovantus and, you know, the Silent Legion. I think we can handle anything that will come our way."


    "Oh, a celebrity." The woman grinned. "That means the fee just went up to fifty gold pieces."


    Petra kicked Tim and said, "Look, it''s been a long day, and we don''t really want to kill you or anyone. Even if you could do what the Sky Lord couldn''t, we''d still kill a bunch of you in the process. Then you''d have to lower your rates because there won''t be enough of you to be very intimidating. Not to mention the Traldalorian army will come sniffing around. It sounds like it will be easier if I hand over some of these sweet daggers. I got plenty of them to go around. I mean, who really needs this much weaponry concealed on one person?"


    The thug licked her lips and said, "Okay, we''ll take your daggers and his battle axe."


    "Deal," Petra said, anxious to get rid of the lethal weapon her son swung around like it was a pool noodle. "Hey, baby, could you give the nice lady your battle axe?"


    Petra reached for the weapon, and Jonathan yelled, "No! You do it!"


    He pulled the weapon off his back, and the thug shrugged and reached out for the axe.


    "No, wait!" Petra yelled. "He gets his pronouns confused."


    As soon as the woman touched her son''s beloved axe, he shrieked in rage, "No! You do it."


    He yanked the weapon back and bonked with the blade''s flat on another brigand''s head. The guy went out cold, and the man-kid squealed with delight. A melee broke out between the party and the gang. Jonathan laughed with glee as he twirled around with his battle axe while the thugs backed away, unable to take a swing at him.


    Petra didn''t think. She thrust her dagger into the throat of the woman with the mace and flung another one at a person charging her from behind. Her companions seemed to naturally ease into the fight. Tim nailed the robbers as fast as he could reload and knocked the ones that got too close with a spiked ball at the end of a chain. She later learned that it was called a morning star. Sissy gutted them with a gleaming Arthurian-looking sword. Jack clobbered them with his staff. Meanwhile, Aiden was furiously striking together two rocks to make a spark while singing  Motorbreath .


    It didn''t surprise her that they were all badasses. If they were heroes, it would be like having the muscle memory and the body of Bruce Lee. A few thieves lurking in the woods would be nothing for their alter egos.


    Annelise, on the other hand, was into some dark shit. The petite blond went to the closest dead body she could find while singing a song about fog or something. The girl covered a knife in blood and sang a few words. Her dagger turned green. She turned to the guy approaching with a lustful grin on his face. She shot a putrid green bolt from her weapon, and the man doubled over in pain. His face turned green, and he vomited and gagged. The guy was dead in moments. She sopped up some more blood from another corpse and prepared her attack again.


    The battle turned quickly in their favor. Once most of the brigands were dead, the others dropped their weapons and fled. Jonathan jumped up and down with glee and said, "Again! Again! You do it again!"


    Petra slumped to the ground, as did the others, and she said, "Not now, baby. Mommy is tired."


    Jonathan shrugged and began to strip off all of his clothes, starting with is gauntlet.


    His mom gave him a stern look when moving on to his vest and spoke.  "Remember what we said about clothes outside of the house? You can run around naked at home. But otherwise, we have to wear clothes."


    Luckily, he saw a bird in a tree and ran toward it. He looked up and tweeted at the creature like he was talking to it. Petra was thankful for the moment''s rest. However, Annelise didn''t seem like she would give anyone any sort of break at all.


    "Come on," she said. "The only advantage we have now is that we move faster than the Traldalorian army can mobilize. Trust me when I say they are coming."


    Tim said, "Shouldn''t we loot the bodies? Basic Adventuring Skills 101. Always loot the bodies."


    "If you want an archer to penetrate your skull while you root around for the pittance these ne''er-do-wells most likely spent on drink, then be my guest. All those who would like to live, follow me."


    Annelise walked down the trail without looking back. The others pushed themselves up with groans and followed her. Petra gathered Jonathan with a few promises to see some more birdies, and they were once again fleeing for their lives.


    ?

 12 - Corwins Big Promotion

    12 - Corwin''s Big Promotion


    Keep of Traldalor, One Day After the Festival


    Corwin couldn''t believe the luck he was having. Not only did he get to meet his lord in person, but he got a promotion. All in one night! Sir Grey, one of the highest-ranking knights in all the land, had arrived on the scene to hear about what had happened at the gate. The lone surviving guard had told the truth, expecting to get run through, but instead got promoted to be the squire of Sir Grey himself.


    Most people in the kingdom considered themselves lucky if the spittle of their leaders rained on their heads during a speech or they got a chicken bone tossed from a nobleman''s plate. Corwin''s brother swore that he had chicken bones that were once Lord Lovantus''s. However, there was no way to be sure, and he kicked himself for not asking his king during his brief chance to meet him.


    Corwin had met the most famous person in the land, loved by pretty much everybody, and now he was squire to the second most famous person in the world. Sure, there was Percy, who was a Paladin from the lands of the Burning Sun and warrior of the Holy Light, but both Lovantus and Sir Grey were from Traldalor. They were local, just like him.


    Now he had gone from wading around in the piss pools of the lower city to the castle itself. His mother would have been so proud if she had survived his birth. His dad would be, too, had he survived the troll attack. His sister would be thrilled if she had beaten the plague. His brother would be jealous if he hadn''t choked on the chicken bone.


    Now Corwin was here in a castle full of genuine Lovantus tapestries. One had a scene of Lovantus striking the final blow to the Sky Lord, sending the wizard into retreat. It was right there, on the wall, when Corwin entered the royal court for the first time.


    He followed Sir Grey to a meeting about witchcraft or something. He ignored what was happening because he was too busy dropping his jaw about every tapestry in the room: Zafosaul''s eternal flame ring burning the undead army of Warth, Bolt''s bolt shattering the skull of the bone dragon, and even Percy bringing light to the Woods of Volunar. After much heated discussion, proclaiming, and even yelling, they decided to save Lovantus and murder everyone else. Or maybe it was kill Lovantus and save everyone else. Corwin was too star-struck to really know the outcome of the summit.


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    Afterwards, Sir Grey pulled Corwin to his personal quarters and began outfitting for the road ahead. His new master was going to lead the expedition to recover their lord.


    "Corwin," Sir Grey said. "My armor."


    "Yes, sir. Very good sir," Corwin said, and helped Sir Grey into his breastplate.


    "You know," his master said, "you are quite good at this. My previous buffoon couldn''t even survive a confrontation with one of the lesser races."


    "Previous buffoon, sir?" Corwin asked, while he attached the other pieces of armor.


    "I sent him to spy on their little meeting at the inn. Do you think I don''t know that Lovantus sneaks out at night to be with those half breeds? It would be a shame if they cut his life short, flay him with necromancy by the hand of that filth Elf or that witch."


    "Begging your pardon, sir," Corwin said, "but isn''t Zafosaul a fire mage? And Lady Ameria, a water wizard?"


    Sir Grey laughed. "Oh, my dear boy. What a simple view you have. Do you think that Lady Ameria spent all that time in the dark tower and not learn a bit of necromancy?"


    "I never much thought of it, sir," Corwin said, as he latched on the last piece of armor.


    "Good. A person of your station should not be concerned with matters of the court," Sir Grey said, while he examined himself in the mirror. Once he was satisfied, he ordered, "Fetch me my steed. We will hunt down those who did this to our lord. They will pay in blood for what they have done."


    ?

 13 - The Lady Drains the Lake and Other Magical Missteps

    13 - The Lady Drains the Lake and Other Magical Missteps


    Outskirts of Pelensgrad, Afternoon After the Festival


    After walking the entire night and most of the next day, Petra and her pals made it to a small town closed off by a wall constructed with large logs. The gate was open, and two guards eyed the incoming traffic into town. When the group was about to step out of the tree line, Annelise ushered them back.


    "What?" Petra said. "It''s not like word would have spread this far out here. My son is the king for all they know."


    "There is magic," Annelise responded. "Wind Mages can spread their voice on the winds. Surely, the court would have spread word to all the farthest reaches of the kingdom by now."


    "I was hoping we could stay at the inn," Tim said. "How cool would that be? We can even set up dummies in another room to fake out anyone who is after us."


    He glanced back to Jonathan, who was napping on a floating invisible platform that Aiden had conjured. Jonathan nearly beheaded the dwarf during an incident of droopy eyed tossing of the battle axe and now cradled the weapon while he slept. They all needed sleep.


    "The mattresses at the inn are infested with bugs and disease. They are not good places to stay," Annelise said.


    "Then why take us to the town?" Petra asked.


    "I am not saying we should avoid the town, only that we must take care to disguise ourselves," Annelise explained. "We must rest, for the road ahead will be a long one."


    "Great, so how are we going to disguise ourselves?" Petra said.


    "Lady Ameria...sorry, Jack knows a spell."


    "Huh?" Jack said. "I wasn''t paying attention. I was thinking about dancers."


    Sissy huffed, "Jack!"


    "No, seriously, guys. I think I want to try out for the school musical. I mean, we almost died last night. I may never get a chance."


    "Oh, Jack," Sissy said. "You mean it? But what about your dad? He''d disown you."


    "Just because my dad was an all-State football champion for three years in a row doesn''t mean I have to be. I want to express myself in art, dance, and singing. Is that too much to ask? I mean, what if I died? I''d be just another all-State champion," Jack said in a panic. He was short of breath and pale.


    "All right, all right," Petra said. "Calm down. Head between the knees. Count to three."


    Jack leaned over, and she patted his back.


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    Once his breathing returned to normal, Petra said, "Spell, Jack. Disguise spell. Do you think you can manage that?"


    "Yeah," Jack said. "I think so."


    "I thought I spotted a body of water a while back," Tim said.


    "That will do. He will need more than a puddle for such powerful magic," Annelise added.


    ***


    After a short hike, they were at the banks of a pond. The water was clear and pristine. It was at the base of a waterfall. The trees were thick around the edges, and the forest was still. It might have been relaxing if people weren''t trying to kill them.


    "Does he really have to bathe naked?" Sissy asked.  "Why can''t you cast the spell?"


    "I am a moon mage," Annelise said. "My power draws from the moon, and it is weaker in the daylight."


    "Great," Sissy said. "A lot of good that will do. What about Aiden? He knows magic. We''ll build a fire for him."


    "Water shapes with a gentle flow. Fire scorches with fury."


    "I vote for the gentle flow," Tim said.


    "Yeah, babe," Jack said. "I can get naked."


    "What''s wrong with her...er, him getting naked?" Aiden said.


    "I''m not saying that for him," Sissy said. "But the poor woman whose body he is using!"


    "To change our visage with magic, he needs direct contact with the water," Annelise said.


    "It''s okay," Jack said. "I got this."


    He pulled on his robe straps, and Sissy held her hand out. She coughed, and all the others turned around. Jack finished removing his clothes and stepped into the water. Annelise took off her clothes and followed.


    She held Jack while he floated face up in the water. She gently walked him in as far as she could stand and said, "Now breathe deeply. In and out. Slow, full lungs. Inhale. Exhale. Good. Think of the ocean. Think of the water enveloping you, pulling you down into its depths. There are secrets in the ocean. Hidden from the eyes of the living. Now, harness that energy. Feel the water flow through you."


    "I can feel it," Jack said.


    "Quick, harness the energy! Use the water''s power to hide the truth. Change our visage so none who gazes upon us will recognize us."


    Jack sang, "Hidden in ocean depths. Secrets of years past. In the dark of the ocean. My true love''s last breath."


    Streams of brilliantly sparkling water rose from the pond. They wove intricate patterns in rhythm with the melancholic song. Just as Jack reached a final crescendo, the spouts shot toward everyone in the party. Jonathan woke with a start. For a moment, they were showered with powerful magic. The ancient and endless power of the water washed over them. It evaporated when Jack finished singing.


    When it was over, they all still looked like themselves except they were all wearing Clark Kent glasses.


    ?

 14 - The Silent Legion Rides Again

    14 - The Silent Legion Rides Again


    A Strange Keep, Who Knows


    The members of the Silent Legion made their way through the halls of the strange keep in which they found themselves. They had fashioned makeshift weapons via turning chair legs into clubs and broom handles into quarterstaffs. Lady Sorsha found in her pocket the most peculiar dagger that folded in half. The worst part was that they were cut off from their magical powers.


    When Lady Ameria had attempted to cast a seeing spell with some water they found in a strangely soft, clear bottle, it merely spilled on the ground. At least the body she was inhabiting had a singing voice. Otherwise, it would have been hard to ascertain if the lack of spellcasting was due to the water or the singing.


    The same happened to Zafosaul. He had found Helfran flint and steel and wasn''t able to do anything with it despite his best song. The fire had even burned his hand. Percy was at a disadvantage, too. When he stepped into a sunbeam, there was no way to access the divine light from his deity. Bolt was crippled with poor eyesight and wore spectacles.


    What normally made them an unstoppable force was absent, and it was hard to project an air of stoic invincibility. Lovantus was a good ruler and leader not because he was the strongest, though it would be hard to find anyone who could best him in tests of strength. He could keep calm and rely on the talents of people around him.


    In battle, there were few others he''d prefer to have around him than the Silent Legion, but now he wasn''t so sure. They had flimsy weapons at best and were completely neutered of what made them so formidable. Hopefully, his castle aides were hard at work reversing whatever wizardry had brought them here.


    Just as in his adventuring days, he relied on his court in the governance of the land. Sir Grey was his top man and decided most of the policies of the kingdom. The man was a noble and leader of the house that acted as steward to the throne. He had awaited the true king''s return for ages. Sir Grey must have been delighted to see Lovantus stroll into the city with the Gauntlet of the One True King. The man seemed to be doing an excellent job because the peasants never revolted and came out in droves when Lovantus paraded across the city.


    Truth be told, Lovantus never really cared much for being king, but had to do it to forge the alliance that struck down the Sky Lord. He might never have become king if it weren''t for the necromancer in the first place. An orcish raiding party had slaughtered his village, and a young, evil, upcoming wizard was in their ranks.


    Lovantus had witnessed the fell man drain the life from his parents before he was sold into slavery for the amusement of a lord in his arena games. When the farm boy refused to die and bested some of the tyrant''s best gladiators, he was given proper training in the ways of the axe. He had killed many boys stuck in the same awful situation as himself as he ascended to arena champion. If it weren''t for a young water maiden serving the windy Order of Slyph, he likely would have lost his way and become just another barbarian to live and die by the axe, barely worthy of a footnote in history.


    Inspired by the maiden, Lovantus had plotted his escape from arena life. At the same time, the necromancer who had slaughtered his village was murdering orc chieftains and uniting the tribes for an assault on the Vale. It was as if Lovantus and Duke were intertwined, always destined to cross each other''s path.


    The days Duke will be drawing breath will be coming to an end,  Lovantus now thought. T oday''s mischief has gone too far.  Lovantus realized he shouldn''t have waited to raze the All-Seeing Tower, regardless of the magical wards placed on the fortress. Lady Ameria had insisted that without his armies to gather sacrifices for this blood magic, Duke''s power was broken.


    However, whatever magic had stolen their bodies and transported them to this realm was powerful. Maybe a common threat would be good for the kingdom because the races had grown apart during the years since the great battle. It wouldn''t take much to rally the armies to march once again to ride on the necromancer¡¯s lands.


    It used to be that halflings were welcome in his city, and now they were seen as bottom feeders stealing work from honest folk. Even though Lovantus would give speeches attesting to the equality of all races, he didn''t see it in practice. Halflings were shoved into workhouses, entire families in a space no larger than a horse''s stall.


    When he had asked Sir Grey about it, the man said it was more humane than forcing them to live in the sewers or tents outside the city walls where they were prey to bandits and robbers. When asked if they were given a wage to rent a domicile, Sir Grey had answered the question with complicated measures about what the economy could bear.


    It was terribly complex for Lovantus, who was more comfortable with his axe than matters of the state. A good war with an evil overlord would do everyone good. The halflings could make soldier wages and live like kings. It seemed like a good enough solution, and this dastardly magic was just the excuse he needed to fire up the war machines again.


    The group came across a set of double doors that appeared to lead to the outside world, as evidenced by the daylight streaming through the windows. Percy attempted once more to summon his divine magic with a tune, but nothing happened. They pushed through the doors to the light of day and were greeted by an adolescent running up to them from some giant metal beasts gathered a few meters away.


    Lovantus signaled a battle formation, and they readied their makeshift weapons. The child headed their way had a peculiar, hooded tunic with an emblem comprised of three flower petals or spearheads. It was hard to tell. Lovantus had never seen a family crest like it. Even stranger were the letters ''a d i d a s'' printed across under the seal. It was either a foreign language or a warrior''s credo.


    The kid stopped, and the metal creatures didn''t seem to follow. They were either frozen in time or an extremely docile herd animal. The child seemed to know the bodies they inhabited and said to the barmaid that had inadvertently joined them, "Mr. Jackson, sorry I''m late. Principal Sokol added me at the last minute. Did he even tell you I was coming? I debated not even coming at all. I mean, would you have even noticed? Whoa! Tim, what are you doing here?! I plagiarized my English paper. I mean, I didn''t plagiarize the entire paper. You just can''t quote large amounts of text without attribution to the original author... did you know that? What''s with all the broomsticks? Is it zombies?! Oh, I know ¨C vampires."


    "Fear not, young squire," Lovantus said. "If undead roamed these halls, we would have purged their filth from the kingdom."


    "Holy shit," the kid said. "Petra? Is that your kid? My god, he can speak so well for his age. And getting him into LARPing early, I see. Never too early to LARP!"


    "Me?" Lady Sorsha said, and pulled out her weak dagger, but it seemed to be enough to intimidate the boy. "He is not my child, but your sire, and you should address him as such."


    "Mr. Jackson, a little help here. Are you the storyteller?"


    Suzy tilted her head and said, "What? I''m just the barmaid. No one ever asks me for nothing around here. But since you''re asking me opinion, lords and ladies are overrated. Fall asleep on the table with the rest of the drunkards. If you think lords are better than anyone else, just come to me bar for one night, and I''ll show you they''re bastards like the rest of us. But that''s just me opinion, it is."


    "Wow, you guys are all in. If I knew Saturday detention was this cool, I''d cheat on all my exams!"


    "Sir?" Lady Ameria said. "Do you have a name?"


    "Jack? You''re seriously talking to me, like, acknowledging that I exist? There is something weird going on here. Toby. I''m Toby."


    "Sir Toby."


    "Just Toby."


    "Right, then. Toby the Just, we seem to be under the influence of powerful magic and are unable to recall our lives."


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    "I have perfect clarity¡ª" Lovantus bellowed as much as his three-year-old body would let him.


    "He thinks we are someone else, dear," Ameria cut him off. "A wizard seems to have ensnared our minds."


    "I don''t get it," Toby said. "Oh, wait a second. MY GOD. Mr. Jackson. Did you get into Aiden''s weed?"


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about, love. Wait a moment. Is this the weed you speak of?" Suzy said, pulling out a bag of dried plants from her pocket. "I found it on the ground, I did, in the room where we woke up. Smells like smoker¡¯s weed."


    Zafosaul pulled out a glass pipe from his pocket and said, "I do believe that bag belonged to the person whose body I now inhabit. He had this in his pocket, and it smells suspiciously like smoker¡¯s weed."


    Suzy snatched the pipe from Aiden and said, "Do you still have that Helfran flint and steel? Could use some at the moment. Help clear me head."


    Lady Sorsha smiled. "A halfling never lets good smoker¡¯s weed go to waste. Pass it here when you are done."


    Toby stood with his mouth agape while the pair lit up.


    "I am named Jack, you say?" Lady Ameria asked Toby.


    Toby regarded them for a moment and said, "Yeah, you''re Jack. She''s your girlfriend, Sissy." He pointed at Percy.


    The Paladin blushed and said, "Oh, my, milady. I would never presume."


    "This is Petra." Toby pointed to Lady Sorsha. "And her son, Jonathan."


    The three-year-old''s face turned red as his blood boiled. Lady Ameria placed her hand on his shoulder.


    "You two are Tim and Baking Aiden," Toby said, and he pointed to the dwarf and elf in human teenager bodies.


    "Is baking the reason my mind is in a fog?" Zafosaul questioned.


    Suzy coughed. "I think it''s the smoker¡¯s weed. We don''t have anything like this back home."


    "Good." Lady Ameria locked arms with Percy, whose face turned red for an entirely different reason than the still-smoldering three-year-old. "Now that we know who we are, could you tell us where we are? Is this the kingdom of Helfra?"


    "No," Toby said. "This is Beaverton. We can go driving around if you want. I heard that high people like to cruise when they... I''ve never done drugs myself¡ª"


    "I''m sure this Beaver Town is very nice, but we would like to be directed toward the nearest mages'' guild."


    "Um, I don''t think we have one of those. Tim is so much better at this kind of stuff. I only LARP on weekends. Played some DnD when I was little."


    "Scholars, perhaps? People of learning? Knowledge repositories?"


    "Oh, the library! Yeah, I can take you to the library. It''s not far."


    "Splendid. Take us there."


    "Okay, but first, I''ve got to save my mom."


    "Your mother is in trouble?!" Lovantus exclaimed. "Why didn''t you tell us this? We will make haste to reunite you with your kin!"


    "Can you believe this kid?" Toby said. "Wait. You aren''t letting him smoke that stuff. That''d be messed up."


    "What fool do you take me for, boy?" Lovantus said. "My mind needs to be clear for battle at a moment''s notice. Whether it be drink or smoker¡¯s weed, a warrior''s foes will not wait for the fog to clear!"


    "I still can''t get over it," Toby said. "Are you having fun with this role-playing, kiddo? Anyway, it''s just a work thing. That''s why I was late to detention, to begin with. My mom forgot her laptop. We''re going to Nimbus, not too far away."


    "The Rat King Nimbus has your mother?! The fell creature must have escaped. We should have waited until the dying beast drew its last breath."


    "I should have purged the catacombs with fire," Zafosaul said.


    "You can''t do that," Bolt said. "All the other rats would have fled the sewers. Then we would have more than just giant beasties to consider."


    "Yeah, but then Nimbus wouldn''t be here bothering the folks of Beaver Town."


    "Do you think Nimbus was the one who drew us into this realm?" Percy asked. "Maybe it wasn''t the necromancer."


    "It was the Sky Lord," Lovantus spat. "This has his name all over it. Perhaps he has struck a deal with Nimbus."


    Toby leaned over to Lady Ameria, "Um... should I tell them Nimbus is the name of a street? I''m not good with this stuff. Do you let them know it''s a trip or go along with it?"


    "Nimbus has a street named after him?!" Lovantus roared. "What sort of backward kingdom is this Beaver Town?! I suppose you are going to tell me that a beaver is the king of this land!"


    "I''m pretty sure there are no beavers in City Hall. Though I have never really been there. Maybe there''s a statue."


    "Take us to this Beaver King! We will beseech him for aid in our quest!"


    "City Hall is over on Millikan. Kinda the opposite direction of where we are going."


    "You mean Millikan, the hero of legend?" Zafosaul exclaimed. "He was a sorcerer''s apprentice, rumored to have turned himself into a mouse! The only one, save ourselves, to defeat Nimbus."


    "We must seek his aid if we are to save your mother," Bolt said.


    "My lords and ladies. If you beseech me, thouist might want to...um...er...come to my house," Toby began, "and sleep it off. Because I think you mightest haveth too much of Aiden''s special stuff."


    "He does speak truth," Percy said. "Perhaps we should rest so that our powers might return. Nimbus was a tough battle at full strength. Now, he will have the advantage not only in powers, but also having had the years since our last encounter to prepare for this day."


    "Percy," Lovantus grabbed his thigh when it usually would have been a shoulder, "my years as leader of this fellowship have taught me to seek out the wisdom of my allies. Truly as a Paladin of the Burning Sun, you know all too well the dangers of overextending your reach."


    The man in a three-year-old''s body knelt in front of Toby and added, "I swear by my axe and the swords of my countrymen that we shall return your mother. Worry not, young squire, for the Silent Legion rides again!"


    "Cool, cool, cool," Toby said.  "So, should we take my car or yours? Wait, who am I kidding? None of you are sober enough to drive. We''ll take mine. You''ll have to squish, but I think we can all fit if you sit on each other''s laps."


    Toby pulled out a strange key ring  with a black stone on the end. He clicked it, and one of the metal beasts yelped. The kid walked over to it and opened what seemed to be a door built into the side. It was not a beast, but a war machine that would leave dwarf mastersmiths'' jaws agape with the quality of craftsmanship.


    Lovantus would have to get one of these Hyundai Accents.


    ?

 15 - Superman? More Like Stupidman

    15 - Superman? More Like Stupidman


    Outskirts of Pelensgrad, Afternoon After the Festival


    Petra felt the Clark Kent glasses on her face. She turned around, furious. "Dammit, Jack! Is that the best you could do?"


    "I don''t know," Jack said, as Annelise helped him out of the water. The pond had lost a considerable amount of volume and was now more of a mud puddle. Even the waterfall was at a trickle. Sissy used her cloak to wrap his body. "I was just thinking about how no one seems to know that Kent is Superman."


    "Cast it again!" Petra said and threw her glasses to the ground.


    "I can''t!" Jack said.


    "Do it!"


    "I can''t!"


    "Don''t make me cut your¡ª"


    "He can''t," Annelise said, as she finished putting on her clothes. "The magic is too powerful. We would need to find a new source of water."


    "We''ll follow the stream!" Petra said.


    "We could be walking for miles. The Traldalorian armies will catch us."


    Petra pulled Annelise down by the scruff of the tunic.


    "Dudes," Aiden said. "Why don''t we find a cave and chill out for a day? We are all tired."


    Petra let Annelise go and said, "What good will staying in the town do for us, anyway?"


    "I have an ally," Annelise replied. "They will provide us a place to stay and safe passage from the town, but we must get by the gate guard, and there is a chance, though small, that the magic worked. The magic here works with intent."


    "What?" Tim said. "You''re saying because Jack intended for the glasses to be our disguise, they might actually work as one?"


    "Yes, the water is only how he draws his power. It is up to Jack to shape it with his will."


    "I''m with Aiden," Sissy said. "Let''s just find a cave and hideout."


    "But babe," Jack said. "You don''t trust my willpower?"


    "You can''t drive by a Taco Bell without stopping for their nacho fries."


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    "But they''re nacho fries! They''re limited edition!"


    "I think I''m with Sissy on this one," Tim said.


    "The Traldalorians will have Rangers. They are elite hunters and trackers. They will find us even if we hide away. Unless we want to keep walking without rest, we will need the trail to go cold. The only way to do that is in that town."


    "So, we either die in the town because Jack is an idiot," Petra said, "or we die in a cave because of Ranger Rick and his death squad. Sounds like the town is the  better  option."


    Petra picked up her glasses and dusted them off. She always looked good in glasses and would sometimes wear frames for the look. Of course, if these didn''t work, it would give a whole new meaning to ''die young and leave a good-looking corpse''.


    ***


    A little while later, they approached the gate wearing their Clark Kent glasses, holding their heads low in hopes of going by unnoticed. They had waited until the road going into town was busy with merchants and peasants, thinking they would slip in with the crowd. However, a guard had spotted them and said, "Hey, you there, halfling. Come here."


    Petra glanced around for another halfling on the road, but there weren''t any. She was the only one. Jonathan danced around her while she walked up to the guard. She thought about asking him to stay back with the group, but that would be more suspicious. The guard eyed her and then Jonathan. He called another guard over.


    "Hey, Jawin," he yelled. "Get over here."


    "Do all guard names end with ''win''?" Petra muttered.


    The second guard, Jawin, trotted over and said, "What?"


    Petra smiled. "Oh, it''s just that in the capital, there was another guard named Edwin."


    "That''s me brother. There are six of us. All named a variation of the name ''win''. Of course, then there''s me cousin, Corwin. Not very original of his folks if you ask me, but they are dead now. So is his brother. Choked on a chicken bone."


    "Uncanny," Tim said, as he trotted over to see about the holdup.


    The first guard said, "Remember that wind message we got? About detaining Lord Lovantus and the members of the Silent Legion? Doesn''t he look like him?"


    "That bloke there? It can''t be. Lovantus doesn''t wear glasses," Jawin said.


    "But say he did wear the specs. Would that look like him?"


    "I suppose," Jawin said. "But it''s a moot point because who in their right mind would let the Lord of our realm wear glasses."


    "She looks like Lady Sorsha in glasses. Come to think of it, those folks there are wearing them, too!"


    "You think the Silent Legion wears spectacles? Do you, eh? You think they could take down a necromancer if they couldn''t see him? You think Bolt could hit a button on someone''s jacket from a hundred yards away with specs? Think man!"


    "I''m just saying. Maybe we should call it in."


    "And be the  laughingstock  of the guards'' barracks?" Jawin scoffed. "Sorry, ma''am, you can run along. My friend here needs some serious education about guard duty."


    Jonathan was tugging on her sleeve, asking for a treat. She took the opportunity and gathered her child, then bolted into the town with the others.


    ?

 16 - Murder and Other Perils of Basket Weaving

    16 - Murder and Other Perils of Basket Weaving


    Pelensgrad, Time for Bed


    The town smelled worse than the city. If there was one takeaway from the experience, it was that the Middle Ages were smelly. Between the sewage that flowed through the street, the horse manure on every corner, and the body odor of every person they met, Petra concluded it was even worse than the time she had scrubbed the monkey cage on ''Volunteer for the Zoo'' day. She couldn''t understand why anyone would want to travel to the past.


    Had she not steeled her nostrils by dealing with butt bombs her three-year-old created before she started potty training, she would have been vomiting at every foul odor to waft their way. Most of her compatriots weren''t doing too well either, and Tim actually had vomited on more than one occasion. Jack was pale and could barely walk, so Annelise had to hold him on the other side. The only other person not affected was Aiden. She supposed he had burned out all his olfactory glands with all the pot he smoked. She figured that he was so used to not smelling anything that it probably didn''t even register when he got a new body.


    Annelise wove them through the town until they got to a door with a stylized moon marked on the top. She was about to knock when Petra said, "Wait, I appreciate everything you''ve done for us so far, but why are you helping us?"


    Annelise said, "It is the way of the moon mages. We are hunted and feared, so we know what it is like to be misunderstood. When I heard you talk about what had happened, I knew that we could help."


    Petra didn''t know how to put it gently, so she just went and said it. "To be honest, I have some trust issues with you. Right now, there are way more of us than you. I figured if you tried anything, I could just slit your throat. When we walk through that door, I don''t know if that''s true. How do I know you weren''t the one who cast the spell that got us here?"


    "You saw how challenging the spell was for your friend to make us the glasses of disguise," Annelise said. "Do you think I would have such powerful magic? And if I did, why would I spend my life wenching a tavern? Powerful wizards ascend to great heights in this land."


    "Right, but still, what assurances do I have that you and your moon mage pals aren''t just taking advantage of the situation and plan to ransom us off?"


    "You don''t," Annelise said. "I know our time together has been short, and I may not have earned your trust, but I took an oath to safeguard those who are forced to walk at night. To help the ones who are shunned by society. There''s a mighty sorceress of my order. She will know what to do, and more importantly, she has the magic to do it. I only wish to take you to her."


    "She is here? In this town?" Petra said.


    "Oh, no, she is far away, and the journey will be hard. But if there is a person who can return you to the land where you came from, it is the Mistress of the Moon. But you are free to not choose this path. I can leave you here, bid you good luck, and leave you to walk the night as you will."


    Petra turned to the others. Aiden shrugged and said, "She got us this far."


    "All right," Petra said. "Let''s meet your coven."


    "It''s not a coven. Just Terrance. He weaves baskets, dabbles in a little moon magic at night. Either way, his loft is quite cozy. Can sleep the lot of us if we squeeze, and he knows a shortcut through the woods north of here. Quite deadly to inexperienced travelers, but necessary if we are going to make it to the All-Seeing Tower and to my mistress."


    "Of course," Petra rolled her eyes and knew she would have to figure out some excuse not to spoon with Tim while they slept. However, the attic seemed like a better alternative than being caught by the guards who would inevitably search the town.


    They pushed the door open and filed into the basket weaver''s shop. There were various forms of baskets on display, ranging from large round ones a farmer would use to gather crops to the little rectangular ones where a kid might store their rocks. Sure enough, Jonathan wandered over to the smaller ones muttering about adding them to his collection.


    There was a small table with raw materials where the basket weaver must have worked. However, there was no basket weaver. "Hello?" Annelise called out, but there was no answer.


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    "Where is he?" Tim asked.


    "I was assured he''d be here," Annelise responded.


    "Assured by whom?" Petra questioned.


    "Um...by him. I cast a spell."


    "I didn''t see you cast any spells."


    "It was while you were trying to convince your son to go potty."


    Petra shrugged. It was true that she was distracted a lot by her son. Typically, if he refused to go potty, which he often did, she could lift him up and put him on the toilet. However, a man with tree trunks for arms wasn''t as easy to order around. She had to use all her parenting powers of cajoling to get her son to do anything. If Petra didn''t want to be shepherding a knight in yellow-stained armor, she had to pull out all the stops when the lumbering man held his crotch and danced around.


    What she didn''t understand was why the kid didn''t just go to the bathroom. Even when her son was regular-sized, he''d try to hold it in over going pee. He''d be watching TV, and the hand would go to the crotch as if just pinching it off would keep it in.  Number Blocks ,  Cocomelon , and her child''s favorite YouTube celebrity that Petra dared not mention by name (she called him Voldemort) could be paused. Yet Jonathan would fight going potty as if Petra were handing out edicts that all TVs in the kingdom should be destroyed.


    Now that her kid was giant in child terms, it compounded a problem that she hadn''t thought could get any worse and turned it into an impending disaster. Even though Petra didn''t want to admit it, she finally understood some of the hell she had put her parents through, now that she was a mother herself. Sometimes even putting on clothes would merit her kid screaming as if she had murdered a basket full of puppies, or bath time was sometimes treated as if it were a life sentence in prison. She somehow soldiered on through it all.


    It was hard because she had conflicting feelings tearing her apart about being a mother. On the one hand, she wanted nothing more than to do things like shop for summer dresses rather than scrub human feces from soiled toddler pants. Hang with her friends and talk about video games in the wee hours rather than trying to convince a kid that he should just  go to sleep. A day at the mall without following around a toddler who would find novel ways to break his bones if she averted her eyes for a second.


    Then there were the other feelings inside her too. She would grin when he requested to wear pants by calling them longs. She''d beam with joy when he snuggled up to her while watching  Story Bots . The first time he said, "I love you, Mommy," had made her melt inside. Frustration, joy, pain, sleepless nights, the judgment from others about how she was just another person who had screwed up her life, were all part of the package of motherhood.


    There were times she felt like she was barely keeping it together. There was this nagging feeling that somehow enforcing bedtime was somehow scarring her child for life. Sleepless nights were typical when her kid screamed like a serial killer had broken into the room even though it was merely a misplaced stuffed kitty. She even had to tackle him when he had found a fork and an electric socket.


    It seemed that most of her waking hours were spent attempting to save him from a premature demise. Her mom had rented a cabin near a freeway when he was one, and she had spent most of the time making sure he wouldn''t wander out in traffic. They had gone to Yellowstone, and the kid took off at full speed toward the boiling geyser. There was even an incident at her uncle''s house where he had discovered how to open the oven.


    Petra was surprised that any humans were alive at all. Being a parent of a small child felt like being an always-on-duty air traffic controller. The worst part about it was that when her friends at school would try to sympathize with her, they would say things like, "I know what it''s like. I''m a dog mom."


    Petra would explode at them and say, "You know nothing of what it''s like! You can''t leave your kid locked up for eight hours in a cage and call it parenting!"


    She didn''t make many friends in community college because she couldn''t just do nothing but play video games all day with them. Yet somehow, it was all worth it. Maybe it was the way that Jonathan laughed when she tickled him. He''d cackle with glee when she chased him around this loop between the kitchen and living room. He wanted to show her everything. She could experience life through his eyes when a flower was something new and exciting.


    She''d do anything for that kid, including getting his childhood back. He was a little too young to be pulling a Tom Hanks. They needed to find their way home.


    Unfortunately, home had never seemed farther away because they eventually found Terrance. He was lying behind the counter of his shop. The man''s throat was torn out, and claws had raked across his body. Terrance wouldn''t be helping them anytime soon.


    ?

 17 - Corwins Second Thoughts

    17 - Corwin''s Second Thoughts


    Pelensgrad¡¯s Gate, Two Days After Festival


    "Jawin!"


    "Corwin!"


    The cousins embraced while Sir Grey and thirty men on horseback waited at the gates of Pelensgrad. One of the riders was wrapped in a black cloak. They had ridden into the night after their scout found evidence that the Silent Legion was headed this way. It was time for breakfast, but Sir Grey did not let them stop.


    The everyday hustle of traffic going into town had parted ways for the grand procession that came from the capitol. While nobles weren''t foreign here because they were so close to the big city, it was rare when one wasn''t stuffed away in some carriage, itching to get through the night so they could get out of this no-account town and on to the gates of Traldalor.


    It was rarer still to see a hunting party of such size and skill. Sir Grey and his rangers were the most feared band in the entire kingdom. It was rumored they had tracked the Lich Lord to the underworld itself and not only brought back the fell creature''s head on a pike, but also brought down its steed that had burned an army to cinders with its fire breath.


    The rumors were already being murmured by those who watched, and Sir Grey hadn''t even said anything yet. That task had been delegated to Corwin. The newly promoted  squire was more than happy to do so, especially since his cousin was on duty.


    "It seems like life''s been treating you well," Jawin said, and slapped his relative on the shoulder. "Imagine that¡ªSquire to Sir Grey. Mum''s never going to believe this. Oh...um...sorry about your mum."


    Corwin glanced back at Sir Grey. The lord was stoic, but Corwin could sense the urgency. He said, "Right, cousin. Sir Grey here is looking for the Silent Legion. You know, the warriors of legend."


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    "We got the wind message. We know."


    "So, he wants to know if anyone fitting their description has passed through here."


    Jawin told them about the strange folks with spectacles who had come by. The guard who had been with him on duty yesterday wasn¡¯t supposed to start yet for the day. Those folks had seemed odd but weren¡¯t heroes. He ended his ramble. "Nope, no heroes to come by. Just a couple folks wearing glasses. A whole party of them."


    "They are here," Sir Grey said.


    "Just you hold on a minute!" Jawin said. "You see, Bolt is the best crossbowman in the land. You think he can really see a bird in a tree hundreds of yards away with¡ª"


    Sir Grey stabbed Jawin in the throat. He turned to his men. "Spread out¡ªsearch the town. Burn the place down if you must.  No one comes in or out."


    The riders spurred into action. They flooded the town in grim determination. The only ones to stay behind with Sir Grey were the mystery rider in black and Corwin himself, who sensed that it was awkward to be in the presence of the pair.


    "Sire," Corwin said, and glanced at his cousin''s bleeding form.


    "Yes, Corwin," Sir Grey said.


    The squire chose his words carefully. "Did you have to, um, kill Jawin?"


    "What do you mean? Why wouldn''t I kill him? He clearly let the heroes escape our grasp. Wait, you''re not one of those pacifists, are you?"


    "Oh, no, sire. I like a good chop of the sword as much as the next man, but it seems like a waste of resources. Now you have to train a whole new city guardsman to take his place."


    "Oh, dearest Corwin, your simpleton view of the world is quite endearing. While I know you want what is best for your noblemen, which is only natural for the peasants who serve us, you must know that there are plenty of you. I give a man a pike and some armor, and now he''s a watchman. It''s best to leave matters of the state to me. Now, run along and search the town." Sir Grey dismissively waved his hands.


    "Yes, sire," Corwin said, and mounted his horse. Maybe he had celebrated his promotion a little too soon. At least as a peasant, sitting below the latrines of castle Traldalor, he could see the shit coming.


    ?

 18 - Dont Die and Other Rousing Speeches

    18 - Don''t Die and Other Rousing Speeches


    Ye Olde Dead Basket Weaver¡¯s Shoppe, Two Days After Festival


    The excitement of the last day must have helped Jonathan go to bed without a fuss and sleep most of the night. It was still daylight when the group passed out from exhaustion. Despite the murdered proprietor, they hadn''t any other options but to bed down in the shop. Jonathan had been getting cranky, and if the kid hadn''t gotten to sleep soon, there would be far worse things to deal with than the Tradalorians on their tail.


    They had put a ''Closed'' sign out in front, and Annelise had used the corpse to put a ward on the door just in case. By the time they had gotten enough hay for their bedding, the entire group was out for the count. They had elected to sleep on the floor of the shop rather than the cramped loft. Petra was the only one who couldn''t sleep and somehow didn''t seem to need it as much. It was probably because ever since she had become a mom, a good night''s sleep had seemed like a distant memory.


    It seemed like the moment sleep finally overtook her, she was thrust awake again. At first, she thought it was Jonathan and was convinced that she had heard him wailing about his orange kitty or asking to be wrapped up, his version of being tucked in at night. Petra knew that once the novelty of his new body and this place wore off, there would be hell to pay over the missing kitty and blankies.


    There was a pounding at the door, and she realized that it wasn''t her son that had awakened her but shouting and thumping. Daylight flooded in the cracks of the door, and she remembered it being dark outside when she finally drifted off. Between the thuds, she heard a voice, "By order of the King''s men and the crown of Traldalor, you must open this door!"


    Petra snapped up. The thumps increased in intensity, and Petra could see the door tremble. Without Annelise''s magic, the soldiers would no doubt have been able to kick it in. However, it didn''t seem the spell would last very long.


    She turned to Annelise, who was already heading towards the corner of the room where they had covered the dead body with reeds and basket weaving supplies. "Hold up," Petra said. "They aren''t looking for you. Maybe you should answer. Distract them while we look for a back door. If you kill them, more will come."


    Annelise seemed to consider her words and said, "Let me get some blood. Just in case I need to cast a spell."


    "I thought you said it was the moon that gave you your power," Petra said, confused.


    "Yes, but...I have this necklace." Annelise pulled a piece of carved wood from her blouse that was hanging from her neck with leather straps. "It stores the moon''s powers but requires blood to activate."


    "So why do you need it at night?"


    "It amplifies the magic. Truth be told, I am new to the spellcasting profession. As a neophyte, I need something to boost my abilities, unlike your friends who are in the bodies of potent magic users. I would happily use my own blood, but I''m afraid I wouldn''t have any left with the amount of spellcasting I''ve been doing. Now, please let me gather some before they break down the door."


    It was too late. A green light flashed as the spell was broken, and three mean-looking men burst into the room. The party jumped from their beds in various stages of sleep. The guards were decked out in chain armor with orange tunics featuring a wolf.


    "It''s the rangers," Annelise said, and her dagger began to glow green as she cut into her arm and hummed.


    One of the men, holding a glinting sword, said, "It''s the Silent Legion, but who''s that?"


    "Her?" Petra said. "That''s Annelise! I suggest you back away before she turns you into a pile of bones."


    "No, no," the man said. "That man. With the glasses. It looks like Lovantus."


    Jonathan had awoken and tried to put a basket on Tim''s head while cackling with glee. Her son had grown quite attached to the Clark Kent glasses and had insisted that he sleep with them on last night. Petra hadn''t put up too much of a fight because she had wanted him to go to sleep, so she had acquiesced to his demand. Miraculously, they survived, and he was still wearing them.


    "That can''t be," another one of the guards said. "Lovantus doesn''t wear glasses."


    "Yeah," a third chimed in, "You don''t see many barbarians with glasses, do you? Makes it hard to swing a battle axe."


    The first guy said. "But the rest of the party is here. How can that not be Lovantus?"


    "If it makes you feel any better," the second one said, "we can torture them all to figure out where they are hiding Lovantus. Maybe the bloke with the glasses will know. Oy, you there. Have you seen a man about your height and build? Carries a battle axe a lot like yours?"


    Petra was confused at first, but the realization hit her. The Clark Kent glasses were still functioning, even though Annelise had said the power of the glasses would fade.


    "Everyone!" Petra yelled. "Put on your glasses."


    She rummaged through a belt pouch for her pair.


    "Why?" Jack said.


    "Do it!" she barked and found hers. She put them on, and the others did the same. The expression on the faces of the rangers changed from grim determination to confusion.


    They looked over the crowd, and as if coming out of a haze, the first one said, "Any of you seen the Silent Legion about? I could have sworn they were just here."


    "Nope," Petra said. "Just the Basket Weavers Guild, having our annual convention."


    Annelise''s dagger lost its green glow, and she stowed it away. The man inspected each person''s face in turn and said, "It''s uncanny. You really resemble the Silent Legion, but I suppose if they are not here, we''ll be on our way."


    "Who''s going to fix our door?!" Tim exclaimed. Petra smacked him, and he added, "What? I''m just trying to add some authenticity to the role."


    "You''re lucky we don''t fine you!" the guard said. "There''s no bill with rights or anything protecting you when the nobles'' elite soldiers rifle through your things whenever we come knocking."


    "If you say something bad about Sir Grey, we cut out your tongue!" another said.


    "Yeah, we can sleep in the lady of the house''s bed if we want to!" the third said.


    The first one put his arm out in front of the third and said, "Alright, that''s a little weird, Matias. Come on. We have more places to search."


    While they filed out of the room, Matias defended himself, "I''m just saying if a soldier needs a place to sleep, it''d be nice to sleep in the mistress''s bed."


    "You''re doing it again! It''s coming off as creepy."


    "What? If I want to sleep in a lady''s bed, why can''t I sleep there? I''m only sleeping. She can turn the other way if she doesn''t like it."


    "You''re doing it again!"


    "Maybe we should use the term quartering? Make it sound like a bunch of mates bunking together?" another soldier suggested.


    "Yeah, quartering. Who''d ever object to that?"


    Their voices trailed off as they left.


    "Well," Petra said. "That worked."


    "Fascinating," Tim said, inspecting his glasses. "Jack must have made a permanent enchantment."


    They heard Matias outside, "But Corwin, it''s not them! I''m telling you, it''s just a remarkable resemblance."


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    "That''s what my cousin said, too, and now he''s dead at the gate," Corwin said, right outside the door. He poked his head inside. Corwin glanced around at the party and said, "No, looks like you''re right. It''s not them. Any of you seen the Silent Legion about?"


    "No," Petra shrugged.


    "Right," Corwin said. "Let me know if you do."


    Matias''s and Corwin''s voices grew distant as they walked away.


    "We don''t have much time," Annelise said, while she gathered her things. "They will be back in force."


    Jack raised his hand.


    "Yes, Jack..."


    "I have a question. Can''t we use the glasses and walk out of town?"


    "It may work well on the soldiers," Annelise replied, "but if Sir Grey is here, then he most certainly has a warlock with him. You can''t fool a magic user."


    Aiden poked his head outside and said, "Looks like we are screwed. The entire town is crawling with them."


    "The front door isn''t the only path to follow," Annelise said, and moved a giant basket from its spot on the floor. Underneath was a trapdoor. She pulled it open and ushered them inside.


    Sissy frowned and said, "This isn''t the sewers, is it? I don''t know if I can handle sewers. This place already smells enough."


    "Oh, no," Annelise responded. "These are the tunnels of the dead. Back in the plague, they used to haul the bodies out this way."


    "That''s no better!"


    Petra looked at the faces around her. While they all looked like stoic adventurers, she knew they were terrified. She regarded her son and knew that if he was going to get through this, she needed all the help she could get. "Fine," Petra said. "You need me to make some rousing speech, so here it is. Those assholes out there are going to kill us. They don''t care if it is a sewer or a tunnel of the dead. They will gut us and drop us down there to rot unless we do something about it. Now, we can all pretend like we don''t know each other when we get back to Beaverton, but I have gotten to know you. Jack, you''re a prick, but a prick with an incredible voice. I''ve heard you singing in the closets at school."


    "What are you doing in the closets?" Jack said.


    "I¡¯m the campus pot dealer. What do you think? When we get back, quit trying to impress your buddies by picking on people like Tim and audition for the damn school musical already. Tim, your brother is amazing, but he is not you. You are better than him because even though you don''t make the cut for any team, you get back up and try harder. Do you think your brother is going to do that? The first time in life he gets rejected, it will crush him, and the people who get the farthest in life know how to deal with rejection."


    "I guess you''re right," Tim said. "But I still¡ª"


    "Wah, wah!" Petra said. "We don''t have time to fix your self-esteem issues. Sissy, I thought you were a self-entitled brat who didn''t really care about anything but herself."


    "And now?" Sissy asked.


    "I still do! Get over yourself and think about someone else for a change!"


    "I''ll have you know that  I  organized a Black Lives Matter protest this summer!"


    "I guess that''s something."


    "I know, right? It''s going to look so good on my college apps -- so invested in the community."


    "And Aiden," Petra narrowed her eyes at the elf. "I don''t know anything about you. Other than the fact you''re, like, the only person left who drives a VW mini bus,  you dress like you should be in a Nirvana video, and you smoke more pot than Cypress Hill, can you get any more 90''s stereotype?"


    "I want to sell hand-knit dog sweaters on Etsy," Aiden said, as if he were admitting a dark secret.  "Also, cat sweaters, too. I sell them at the Portland Saturday Market out of the back of my bus. People tell me I should sell them online, but I''m afraid."


    "Okay," Petra said. "Cat and dog sweaters, that''s great. You see, if we get out of here, I''ll help you out. Computers aren''t as scary as you think. We''ll get your Etsy store created."


    "Oh, no, I''m not afraid of that," Aiden said. "I''m afraid that as soon as I go online, BAM! Big Sweater comes in and copies all my designs. Soon there will be cat sweaters in every PetSmart and Petco in America."


    "Do you ever think that you smoke too much weed?"


    "Sometimes not enough. Gotta keep the creative juices flowing somehow."


    "The point is," Petra said, "that we are stronger together than we are apart."


    Petra held out her hand.


    "Stronger together," Tim said, and put his over hers.


    "Stronger together," the others murmured as they put their hands into the ring.


    Jonathan ran and belly-flopped onto the hands, cackling with glee. They were all bowled over by the barbarian. Once they got back on their feet, they jumped into the tunnel. Annelise was the last one inside and closed the door behind her. The darkness closed in around them.


    "Mama!" Jonathan squealed and gripped her shoulder.


    "I''m here, baby," she said.


    "What was that?" Sissy shrieked.


    "It''s just me, babe," Jack said.


    "I think you''re touching me," Aiden said.


    "Everyone, be quiet!" Tim yelled, but the uproar among the group continued until it was broken by a pale green light coming from Annelise''s dagger while she hummed. Jack pulled his hand away from the elf next to him.


    "Uh, guys..." Tim said.


    "Where to next?" Petra asked Annelise.


    Their guide shrugged and said, "I''m not sure."


    "Not sure? What do you mean, not sure?"


    "Terrence was supposed to guide us through the tunnels."


    "Guys!" Tim said, with more urgency. The two continued their argument.


    "You''ve never been here?" Petra berated.


    "I''ve only read about this place." Annelise shrugged.


    "Great, so you never left the capitol?"


    "You try tea-barmaid full time and getting out for an adventure or two. I kept you alive this far!"


    "GUYS!"


    Petra continued. "These tunnels could go anywhere! At least up there, we could take our chances. Maybe we just avoid the warlock. Ever think of that?"


    "GUYS!" Tim screamed.


    "What?!" both Petra and Annelise said at the same time.


    Tim was being held up against the wall by a hideous creature. It was a walking corpse with long, black straggly hair, fangs, and claws. It hissed and ran its nail down Tim''s face.


    "Ralicuk wants to feast on dwarven flesh," it grinned, while maggots wriggled from its jaws.


    "I think we found out what killed Terrance," Tim squeaked.


    Jonathan saw the creature and laughed, "Let''s play Rick Grimes!"


    "No, baby," Petra said, and tried to hold him back. It was her fault. She had a  Walking Dead  bobblehead collection. Jonathan often made her play the role of zombie while he pewed with a wobbly Rick Grimes. Her man-sized toddler pulled out his battle axe and chopped the thing in half.


    Tim fell to the ground, and Jonathan clapped. "Again! Again!"


    As if granting his wish, the maggots swelled from the wound. The wriggling piles pulled the two pieces back together. They wove through the skin, stitching it up. Petra could see the legs twitch and the hands clench while  they were  being restored.


    "Run!" Petra yelled.


    The group bolted and did not look back.


    ?

 19 - Gender Politics and Other Misconceptions of the Ruling Class

    19 - Gender Politics and Other Misconceptions of the Ruling Class


    Pelensgrad¡¯s Square, Nearing Lunch


    "You let them go!" Sir Grey growled at Corwin, who hung upside down on a wall in the village square. The three others who had searched the basket weaver''s shop were dangling next to him. Their throats had been slit, and blood was still oozing onto the cobblestone below. Peasants had gathered to watch the rare time when soldiers were the ones getting gutted.


    "Like I told you before, it wasn''t them. Only people who looked like them. It was uncanny," Corwin pleaded.


    "Did you not think about the simple truth that we are hunting a sorceress?! She bewitched you!"


    "Begging your pardon, sir, but isn''t that the point of magic? So, we don''t know we''ve been had?"


    "That''s why we have a warlock!" Sir Grey yelled.


    The figure in the black cloak nodded. Underneath the hood was a woman with brown hair and a demon tattoo across half her face. Her eyes were cold, and she seemed to stare right through Corwin. Even though there was a good chance he was about to join his parents, siblings, and cousins in the afterlife, it was easier to face the wrath of Sir Grey than look at her. Warlocks were fabled to be the masters of all elements, not just one like most wizards.


    Corwin had been battered by his superior officers his entire career. He couldn''t imagine why he thought being employed by one of the nobles would be anything different. The illusion that they were somehow elevated beyond him was shattered. Now, the best he could hope for was survival.


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    "Begging another pardon, sir, but isn''t she a witch? While I''m sure she could stand up to any sorcerer and has an intimidating demon tattoo, scares the daylights out of me, but aren''t warlocks men?" Corwin asked. His mouth betrayed his will to survive. He wasn''t quite sure why he''d poke at the bear, or in this case, the man with the pointy sword, but he did it anyway.


    "Are you suggesting that warlocks need to use gender normative¡ª" Sir Grey growled, as he pressed his sword against the throat of Corwin.


    "No! No! A warlock can be female. Nothing wrong with that. A witch can be male. Or even non-binary!"


    "Why then did you insist that she had to be a man? Her pronouns are announced properly at every social occasion. The crier says, ''Lady Mordock, of Fuego Clan, she/her'' just as they would belt out for me, ''Sir Grey, Steward to Traldalorian Throne, Keeper of the Shield of Faith, Protector of the Empire, he/him''."


    "I haven''t been to any social occasions yet. I only started this job yesterday, but I''m learning a lot already! There must be a lot of hard-working women warlocks. Do you suppose they get the same pay as a man?"


    "What are you talking about?! Of course, they do. The thought of paying a woman less for doing the same work as a man hurts my soul."


    "Mine too, sir. I think we agree. I just don''t have breeding like you, sir. A commoner like myself doesn''t meet many folks at your level, sir."


    "You have such humble beginnings, and I have a soft spot for the common man of Traldalor." Sir Grey pulled his sword back. "Let this be a lesson to you, for I will only say it once. Traldalorians pride themselves on not supporting patriarchal social structures that favor one gender over another. Nor do we oppress any sexual orientation. Now, tell the men to kill everyone they see who is a dwarf, elf, halfling, or any other nonhuman scum. We will sort out the bodies later. Now go!"


    Sir Grey cut the rope holding Corwin to the wall. After hitting the ground, the squire sat up and felt his neck; it was a minor miracle that his head was still attached. The squire bowed while he backed away. "Yes, yes. Very good, sir!"


    Once Corwin was out of reach of his master''s blade, he ran.


    Sir Grey turned to Lady Mordock and chuckled. "Women can''t be warlocks. Can you believe that?"


    ?

 20 - Vampire Track Meets and Other Events That Dont Happen on a Sunny Day

    20 - Vampire Track Meets and Other Events That Don''t Happen on a Sunny Day


    Pelensgrad¡¯s Tunnel System, Already Too Much for One Day


    Tim''s legs burned, and his heart pounded as they dashed through the tunnels with the creature hot on their heels. Aiden struck a piece of flint on metal he acquired from the basket weaver to create a spark and belted out  For Whom the Bell Tolls . A spout of flame burst from his palm and knocked the creature on its back. Tim pushed as hard as he could to put distance on the thing. The singed undead regained its feet and continued the pursuit, closing the gap.


    It was a new experience for Tim, feeling his body and muscles work through the pain as his lungs struggled for oxygen. Back in school, he couldn''t even finish the mile run without feeling like he was going to die. During soccer matches, he was the last one picked when deciding teams. Even a younger kid brother was likely to be chosen over him.


    Now that he had this fabulous new body instead of the frail one he had back home, he wasn''t sure if he wanted to give it up. It seemed that all his peers blessed with physical ability would receive praise from the faculty, attention from the girls, and be surrounded by friends. Jack was one of those people. The ones Tim called the physical kids. But now he was keeping up with Jack, even if it was because he had to run from a threat to his existence.


    With his higher-than-average reading comprehension, impeccable computer skills, science literacy, and advanced math scores, Tim was never really allowed in the physical kid club, but instead was banished to the library to play DnD and Magic the Gathering. It wasn''t that he hated being a nerd. There were plenty of cute girls who were nerds, even some good friends. He just secretly wanted to be a jock because he never really grew out of competing with his sibling.


    Tim''s older brother, Malcolm, was good at everything and currently enjoyed a full-ride scholarship to Notre Dame via his natural ability to play football. A trophy case right in the front of the school paid homage to Tim''s kin, who had titles in football, basketball, baseball, swimming, wrestling, golf, and tennis. Malcolm could try a sport on a whim and be the best person in the school at it.


    Whatever physical kid genes big bro had, Tim possessed the opposite. Before he was a dwarf, he had tried out for every sport the school had to offer and was rejected for every one of them. He was too weak for the football team. Too uncoordinated for baseball. His asthma was too intense for track or cross country. Soccer was a trip hazard for a boy who had broken his legs one too many times in life. His vision was too poor for tennis. Golf was an allergen fiesta. His body got hives from the chlorine in pools.


    The only sport he hadn''t attempted yet was the basketball team. He was too nervous to even try. He wasn''t the right height. He''d lose control of the ball merely by trying to dribble and run at the same time. However, Tim had practiced his three-point shots ever since he was old enough to hold the ball when his dad took the boys to the YMCA.


    Basketball was the only chance he had at beating his older brother. Malcolm had been on the team for only one year, and while he had set a record number of school records for the sport during that time, there was one record on the list that Tim was sure he could beat ¨C three-pointers made. Tim didn''t need to be a good player, just good at one thing, and maybe then, he''d have a shot at beating his sibling.


    Of course, that was his old body. This dwarven crossbowman was the raw power he had lacked his entire life. The creature in pursuit of them would have already eviscerated poor, weak Tim. If they never found their way back, he could be Bolt.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    The undead thing snarled, and Tim felt a claw bounce off his chain mail armor. He didn''t think twice. He held his crossbow over his shoulder and fired. The sound of a body skidding to a halt on the floor caused him to slow to a stop and turn around. The thing was face down, at least from what he was able to see in the low light.


    The creature twitched and grunted. Tim darted further through the tunnel until he could see light up ahead. It wasn''t the eerie green glow from Annelise''s dagger they had been following, but daylight. Tim charged forward.


    Just when he was about to make it out, the creature leaped and tackled the dwarf. They both rolled end over end into a grassy field. Tim reached for his melee weapon, but it was too late. The creature had him by the throat. Being nervous about trying out for the basketball team seemed trivial compared to having his neck chewed through.


    However, before the creature could bite down, Sissy directed a beam of light from the sun at the creature while singing a Beyonce? tune. Ralicuk hissed and backed away. Her shield glowed, and the strengthening ray caused the creature''s skin to boil, and the maggots popped. It dashed back into the darkness of the tunnel. The light beam was not able to penetrate the shadow.


    For a moment, the party and the beast gauged each other.


    It snarled and said, "Lovantus."


    "What?" Petra yelled. "What do you want with my boy?"


    Tim fired a bolt into its eye. The undead howled and darted farther into the tunnels.


    "What''d you do that for?" Petra yelled.


    "Sorry," Tim said. "I figured if Sissy''s spell doesn''t work in the dark, my bolts would."


    "It was about to tell us something!"


    "Yeah," Aiden said. "Don''t you know how video games work? When you defeat a bad guy, he''ll direct you to the next plot point."


    "This isn''t a video game," Petra said.


    "You don''t know that!"


    "It will only tell us lies," Annelise said. "That was a fell creature of the crypts. I suggest we leave before those soldiers notice we are here."


    Annelise pointed to the town in the distance. A few of the rangers searched the cart of a dwarven merchant by poking holes in the side with their swords. Several dwarves were already dead at their feet, and the last one was stabbed while it knelt begging for its life. There was smoke coming from the town as places were set on fire.


    "It won''t take them long to discover our bodies are not among them," Annelise said.


    Without further words, the party moved out.


    ?


    ?

 21 - Offline Conspiracies

    21 - Offline Conspiracies


    Outskirts of Pelensgrad, After a Day of Murder and Mayhem


    The lieutenant''s head rolled by Corwin''s feet. The rest of the rangers, twenty-six of them now, silently stood while their lord wiped the blood from his blade. The town was an inferno behind them, and the bodies of peasants were heaped in smoldering piles. After all the nonhumans were killed and there was no trace of the Silent Legion, the humans were next. The rangers didn''t rest until there wasn''t a living soul or standing building.


    "Merrick," Sir Grey barked. "You are now lieutenant."


    "Yes, sir," Merrick said. "Very good, sir."


    If the man was as scared as Corwin, he didn''t show it.


    "Fan out. Find their tracks. They couldn''t have gotten far," Sir Grey barked, and the riders jumped on their horses, leaving Sir Grey, Corwin and Lady Mordock standing a little too close to the flame.


    "Do you know what I find amusing?" Sir Grey said to no one in particular.


    Corwin glanced at the warlock, hoping that she might take over this conversation that very well may end in another head rolling. However, she was as stoic and wordless as the day they first rode together. Since the punishment for not answering seemed to be guaranteed decapitation, he threw out a guess. "Small dogs, sir."


    Sir Grey tilted his head. "Small dogs? Why would I ever find small dogs funny?"


    "They do tricks, sir. Balancing a ball on their nose while balancing on top of another larger ball."


    "Where''s the humor in that? Seems like a feat of agility."


    "Oh, I don''t know, sir. Put the dog in a tutu, and I''m sure you get a laugh. There''s a traveling bard in the pubs that are too lowly for the likes of someone of your prestige. His Chihuahua in a tutu gets them every time. Has the whole place roaring with laughter."


    "It seems it''s the tutu that''s generating the comedy. What can you expect from a tavern full of commoners? No, no. What I find amusing is that the head is alive for minutes after decapitation. It''s very possible that our bumbling, recently deceased lieutenant, who despised Merrick and can''t even sack a village properly, is listening to every word we say."


    "I don''t know, sir. He seems dead to me."


    Sir Grey eyed Corwin. After a tense moment, he said, "You say things that most men would fear to utter around me."


    "I don''t know, sir. Seems if you are going to cut my head off, I may as well tell you what I really think."


    Sir Grey paused for a moment to consider and then bellowed with full-bodied guffaws. He slapped Corwin on the back, and they mounted their horses. The warlock said nothing through the entire exchange. Her expression didn''t even change. It was hard to tell if Corwin had sealed his fate or saved his life.


    Either way, Merrick was dead three hours later, leaving only twenty-five riders. They had discovered a tunnel not too far from the town where an elf, dwarf, halfling,  and four humans had escaped on foot. There was also evidence of a scuffle and perhaps the use of fire magic. Sir Grey deduced that there was squabbling within the ranks of the Silent Legion, which confirmed his suspicions of the plot by Lady Ameria and the lesser races to ensnare their lord.


    They set out to track the party but could not catch up by the time the day was over, what with the hours they had lost burning the village and finding the trail again. However, it was only a matter of time before they would catch up again. Their targets were on foot, and the rangers were on horseback.


    Later that night, Sir Grey kicked Corwin awake. They retreated into the woods, well out of earshot of the rangers. While they walked, Sir Grey spoke of his family history. Everyone knew that Sir Grey''s family line had been running the kingdom before Lovantus showed up with the Gauntlet of the One True King. Seemed silly to Corwin, picking a ruler based on a piece of armor. Even he, himself, could be a leader under those circumstances, and he certainly had no business being king.


    "You see, dear, simple Corwin, the Greys have faithfully stewarded the kingdom for generations, but all that is under threat if the witch ever produces an heir to the throne," Sir Grey lamented.


    "Seems like they would have had kids by now, sir, if they were planning to have them," Corwin said.


    "Oh, Corwin, bless you," Sir Grey said. "I don''t know what it''s like down in the peasants'' hovels, but plenty of nobles wait till their thirties, sometimes even forties, to have kids. With mystic birth control, educated women, and fertility magics, all people have is time. ''Got to like your life before you get a bun in the oven,'' my father used to say. My father didn''t understand that it''d be chaos if the Greys weren''t in power. Why do you think I have forty-three children with eight wives? Got to make sure someone''s in charge after I''m gone."


    "Begging your pardon, but isn''t Lovantus in charge?"


    Sir Grey roared with laughter and said, "You have the most peculiar sense of humor! He is a figurehead at best. Just a war hero to parade around the town when people get upset at us for burning down too many villages, taking ninety percent of their crops in taxes, and consummating their marriages by the discretion of the local lords."


    "I know I''m a simple man, sir, but wouldn''t they work a little harder for you if you treat them a little better? I had this captain that bought us extra beer, he did. Always told us what a good job we were doing. Worked twice as hard for him, I did."


    "And you''re not working that hard for me?" Sir Grey scowled.


    "Oh, I''m working very hard! Much harder, sir!"


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    "My case in point. Give them an inch, they''ll take a yard."


    "Who, sir?"


    "The peasants!"


    "Oh, yes, right, sir."


    "All of you are replaceable, but there is only one Grey family line."


    "I thought you said you had forty-three kids, sir."


    "Weren''t you listening?! I''m it. The only one who will do what must be done to keep this kingdom going. All Lovantus can do is prattle on about his adventuring days. I''m the one who makes tough decisions about collecting all the bread in the kingdom for the nobles when a cold snap destroys the harvest. I''m the one who enforces the rules about no one owning gold who isn''t of noble birth, so we don''t disrupt the social order. Lovantus gave a beggar child a gold coin once and told the vagrant to buy a holiday ham! Can you believe that?!"


    "A ham? How''s that dangerous?"


    "It''s not the ham, but what it represents. This kid''s family has a ham, and so you think you can have one, too! Soon the whole entire kingdom will be demanding ham for their holidays, and we''ll be bankrupt within a year. You''ve got to maintain the social order, and while Lovantus is thankfully hands-off with the affairs of the state, the next in line for the throne might want to take control. Right now, it''s easy. Lovantus says, ''Take care of the poor'', so I round up all the beggars and slaughter them."


    "I don''t think that''s what Lovantus meant."


    "Does it matter? If he doesn''t see any more beggars on the street, who cares about the details? What are we supposed to do? Build houses for them? No, you see, it''s the halflings. Ever since their shire burned, they''ve been taking homes and jobs from our citizens."


    "Don''t halflings create more jobs? Seems to me halflings got to eat, so there will be more taverns, and they got to buy goods, so more mercantiles."


    "Oh, dear," Sir Grey sighed. "Who''s been filling your head with such garbage? If we slaughtered all the nonhumans, you''d see a big change. It''d be better for everybody."


    "Not for them."


    "Of course, not for them, but they can go off and make their own kingdom if they don''t like it. I''m not a savage. Banishment is a perfectly reasonable punishment to impose for the crime of being a halfling. Still, Lovantus doesn''t see it that way. Oh, no, some half-breed happens to be good with a dagger, and he invites the whole lot of them to stay. He should stick to swinging his axe around for the public."


    "What do you suppose that you''ll do about it, sir?"


    "You see, this is why I like you. You don''t just accept things the way they are. I daresay we are kindred spirits, and if you''d been a noble birth, we could have even been friends."


    "We''re not friends?"


    "I like you, but can you imagine me bringing a squire to Sunday brunch? You don''t let your milk cow eat at the table with you."


    "Me mum did."


    Sir Grey paused, and then said, "That explains a lot."


    "There was also a turkey in me bedroom. Had to sleep under me blanket so it wouldn''t peck me eyes."


    "A turkey in your bedroom?"


    "Then there were the cats, forty-two of them. There to control the rabbit population. Not sure how many of those there were, but we''d find rabbits everywhere."


    "Right, now that we are finished talking about your childhood pets..."


    "I haven''t told you about the honey badger yet."


    "A honey badger?"


    "Don''t let its name fool you. Quite deadly. Had to control the cat population. It''s what did in me dad, though we told the neighbors it was a cart accident so as not to make them nervous."


    "Would you quit prattling on about your honey badger?! I was about to include you in a conspiracy."


    "Conspiracy, sir?"


    "Now, I''m not sure if I want you to be a part of the plan. Mordock is so much easier to deal with. She doesn''t say a word, just exudes mighty stoicism. But back to the reason I have roused you from your slumber. I need to know, are you with me?"


    "With you for what, sir?"


    "You know...Lovantus...the gauntlet...the throne?"


    "You want me to cut off Lovantus''s arm, so you can pretend the gauntlet is yours and take the throne!"


    "No, but I do like the way you think! How perfectly devious. No...no...the house of Grey may never wear the gauntlet themselves. As stewards to the throne, there is always a higher authority. However, if the gauntlet is lost...if you catch my drift."


    "Oh, you want me to lose the gauntlet. Throw it in the river, I suppose."


    "No, no. That''s how the dread creature Rothlia found it before Lovantus strolled into her lair and bested her for it. No, it needs to be gone, destroyed, and the poor hero who wore it brought back for the funeral of the last King. Only then will the Greys be free to truly rule the kingdom of Traldalor."


    "How do you suppose to destroy it, sir? It was made by dwarven master smiths with divine metal."


    "You let me worry about that." Sir Grey smiled. "All I need you to do is take Lovantus into safekeeping. After all, he is feebleminded. Then Mordock will take care of the rest."


    Sir Grey laughed maniacally.


    "Begging your pardon, sir," Corwin ventured, "but why are you laughing? It wasn''t that funny."


    "Everyone''s a critic. I thought it was funny."


    ?

 22 - A Barbarian Discovers Cheese Puffs

    22 - A Barbarian Discovers Cheese Puffs


    Toby¡¯s Basement, The Next Day


    Lovantus had discovered the most delightful snack, Cheetos. It was an unnatural orange color that had stained his fingers and clothes. Nonetheless, he couldn''t help but lick his fingers. In between mouthfuls, he laid out his plan. "We must assault the Rat Nimbus in his lair. Right here."


    He pointed to a map of the Beaver Town and left an orange stain on the paper. Toby had turned out to be an earth mage capable of creating documents from the light box in his basement. The townsfolk must also possess some degree of magical ability because they were all driving dwarven war machines like the Hyundai Accent that had gotten them to Toby''s house.


    In addition to its magic, the Beaver Town was wealthy. Average citizens lived in houses sized for royalty. Lovantus planned to take advantage of this situation and request an audience with the Beaver King. To seek allies in this place of wonder would genuinely provide a boon to his kingdom, whose subjects always seemed to be mad about something, even though Sir Grey said his approval rating was through the roof, despite no Sky Lord invasion on the horizon.


    However, before he could seek an audience with the Beaver King, he would take care of the rat problem. If he could parade into the Beaver Town city hall with Nimbus''s head on the tip of a spear, he would undoubtedly gain his audience. Luckily, the Beaver King turned out to be human. Last night, when Toby offered them his basement for slumber, he had turned on a magic painting that sprang to life with images of people.


    At first, they thought it was a seeing stone, and Lovantus attempted to throw the magical item across the room, but his cursed small body couldn''t lift the thing. He had ordered Bolt to destroy it, but by that time, Toby had insisted that it wasn''t real, just wizarding cantrips of illusion and light.


    It was on this box they had watched something Toby called a movie. By that time, Lovantus had known that it was merely magic because the peasants running away from these dragon beasts called "dinosaurs" didn''t slay the fell creatures with swords. Any halfway decent knight could slay a dragon. Percy had killed three by the time he was sixteen. Lovantus would have probably killed at least one or two had he gone to proper knight school.


    It was during this movie when Lovantus had first laid eyes on the Beaver King. He was a man of flesh and blood, with a yellow tunic displaying the words "Beaver Motors", and he screamed at his subjects about slashing prices on the dwarven war machines. It was no wonder the Beaver King had such a wondrous kingdom. He sold dwarven artifacts to the common man.


    If Lovantus could just get an idea of where the master smiths were producing such wonders, perhaps he could strike a deal for his kingdom and bring Hyundai Accents to the people. However, before any of that, he had to prove himself as a warrior in this great land. It was time to visit an old nemesis and take down Nimbus once and for all.


    "Do we know that''s where Nimbus is located?" Percy asked.


    "It was where Toby dropped off that satchel for his mom. No doubt a bribe to the guards of that keep to keep her alive,"  Zafosaul  said.


    "Yes, it is sickening indeed when a boy must bring a satchel full of goods worth his life''s earnings to bargain for her life," Lovantus said. "We do this today!"


    "But we don''t have any weapons!" Bolt grumbled. "Not that I think I could hit anything with these dysfunctional eyes."


    "You are still practiced at the crossbow," Suzy said. "More training than I ever got."


    "Lords and Ladies," Lady Ameria interjected. "The Mistress of Water, Lakleria, will provide."


    "My deity is absent from this place," Percy protested.


    "Enough," Lovantus said. "We will strike hard and fast and use the weapons of guards we slay. We have gotten out of worse situations before. Remember the hobgoblin prison."


    "It took me days to get the smell off my clothes," Sorsha said.


    "I burned mine,¡± Zafosaul said.


    "We had no weapons then," Lovantus said, "and insurmountable odds! Legions of enemies. Torturous jailors. Vile wargs hot on our trail. There is nothing we cannot achieve if we work together. Let''s raid this vile keep and save Toby''s mom!"


    They roared with support and were about to charge up the stairs when Toby''s mom came down with a tray of cookies. She smiled and said, "Toby said you all were sleeping here last night, so I thought I''d...oh, my God. Isn''t he adorable? Look at those little cheeks smeared with Cheetos, and those little fingers..."


    She pinched his cheeks and poked his fingers. Lovantus said, "All right. All right. That''s enough, woman!"


    Toby''s mother stepped back and said, "Oh, my. You are articulate for a three-year-old. Petra, is he yours? I heard about you having a kid, but I never imagined...Mr. Jackson! What are you doing here?"


    "You got me, love," Suzy said. "Ain''t nothing happening in my life worth noting. Now, I''m here with the Silent Legion, can you believe that? And me  dad  said I''d never amount to anything."


    "Mom!" Toby said at the top of the stairs. "I told you not to come down here."


    "I''m just bringing this little guy cookies. Yes, I am. That is, if his mommy is okay with that."


    Sorsha shrugged and said, "If my lord wants some, nothing will stop him from having one."


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    "Isn''t that right? Kids just take over your life. Yes, they do. They most certainly do." The woman pinched Lovantus''s cheeks again.


    "If you want to keep your hands, I suggest letting go right now," Lovantus growled.


    "It looks like we have a big boy on our hands. Don''t be so quick to grow up, mister. You''ll miss the days when you can play all day."


    "Mom," Toby said. "It''s okay. I got this. You can go back to knitting."


    "Don''t yell at your mother," she said, and turned to Suzy. "I didn''t even hear you come in, but whatever you have them doing, it''s working. I haven''t seen Toby this excited about a school project since...mmm...actually I''ve never seen him excited about a school project."


    "Thanks, Mom," Toby said, and ushered her back up the stairs.


    Once she was gone, the adventuring companions looked at the plate of cookies. Suzy shrugged and said, "If no one''s going to eat them, then I certainly will."


    "How did you save your mother, boy?" Lovantus said. "What deal did you strike with the vile Rat King Nimbus? What was in that satchel?"


    "I''m telling you; it was her laptop." Toby shrugged. "Now, I''m pretty sure you''re not doing drugs, and since you''ve never seen  Jurassic Park , or even a movie for that matter, I''m guessing you aren''t from around here."


    "You are just now catching on!" Sorsha laughed. "Hear that? He just now figured it out."


    Toby''s face turned red. "Excuse me! Pot''s legal here in Oregon! Not that I''ve tried it."


    "Smoker¡¯s weed cannot conjure such delusions," Zafosaul said. "It was magic. We were transported to these bodies by a sorcerer."


    "So, like DnD shit?" Toby asked. "Man, I wish Tim was here. He knows way more about this kind of stuff than me. I''ve always been more of a science fiction nerd. Tim has been trying to get me to play, but, hello? The Force...light sabers? No comparison, right?"


    "I downed three fiends wielding lightning swords with one shot," Bolt said.


    "Right, okay. That''s cool. Maybe I''ll give DnD a try, but holy crap! How do I know you are the real deal, and not just, like, Petra pretending to be a rogue? I mean¡ª"


    "Because your friend Petra wouldn''t have been willing to slit your throat," Sorsha said, and had the folding knife against the kid''s neck before he could finish his thought.


    "Let him go," Lovantus said, and the weapon seemed to disappear from her hand just as quickly as it had appeared. "While I do not know of this DnD of which you speak, if it helps get us home, then I am willing to listen."


    "What about the Rat Nimbus?" Zafosaul asked. "I am ready to scorch the sewers and purge this city of his menace. I may not be able to wield magical fire, but I can still mix up Flame of the Greeks."


    "Dude, while that sounds cool," Toby said, "it''s liable to get you arrested if you set the sewers on fire."


    "Wait? Is the Beaver King in league with the Rat warlord?!" Lovantus exclaimed.


    "No, it''s just that there is no rat or Beaver King. You are in the real world. You know, taxes, drive-through coffee. Most people''s big decision of the day is whether to swipe right or left."


    "I favor my left hand for my axe," Lovantus nodded.


    "That''s what I mean. You''re out of your element here. Trust me, you can''t solve problems here with knives or axes. Look, maybe I should take you on a tour. We can go to Multnomah Falls, Mount Hood."


    "The executioner''s mountain? Why is it called that? Is it because it is full of undead? I wouldn''t mind slaying some fell creatures. It really clears the head."


    "No, it''s a volcano, east of here, can''t miss it."


    "Sounds like a grim place indeed."


    "It''s actually nice. Fun place for a day trip to get out into the woods for a while. Do some hiking."


    "Why would you want to hike with undead?"


    "I''ll help you guys get back to your world, but you need to learn about ours first. It''s Sunday, and probably your parents are worried about you. I mean, the parents of the people whose bodies you are inhabiting. Now, I got ahold of all of them and let them know you''re with me for a school project. However, school starts on Monday, and all of you will be expected to be there. That gives me one day to make you passable. Mr. Jackson, er, Suzy, I don''t know if you have any family. Do you have your phone?"


    "What''s that?" Suzy asked.


    "Something like this?" Toby pulled a long shiny black stone out of his pocket and showed it to her.


    "Nope, don''t have one of those."


    "Does anyone else have theirs?"


    Sorsha pulled out a sleek white stone and said, "You mean one of these?"


    "Yes, good, you all have one?"


    The others murmured their confirmations.


    "Great," Toby said. "I can cover for you for the weekend, but your parents might need a call from you. I''ll tell you what to say. Meanwhile, you need to follow my instructions. When Monday rolls around, you''d better be ready for high school."


    "We''ve explored the depths of the darkest dungeons," Lovantus said. "I''m sure we will be fine."


    "You haven''t been to high school. It''s a different kind of brutal," Toby said.


    "Very well. Train us to survive this place you call high school."


    ?

 23 - Pride, Prejudice, and Goblins

    23 - Pride, Prejudice, and Goblins


    The All-Seeing Tower, Two Weeks After Festival


    Duke stood in front of the broken mirror in his room, dressed only in his knickers. He held an inky black robe to his neck and then switched it out for a crimson one. Fweb stood in the corner with piles of clothes draped on either arm. Its stomach grumbled and its limbs were tired, as they had been at this for hours.


    "I can''t decide," Duke said. "I like the crimson one, but I always go for a crimson one. Could you get me the maroon one again?"


    For the third time that day, Fweb traded out the crimson for the maroon one.


    "You exude excellence in any color," Fweb said, and wanted to vomit in its mouth.


    "You''re no help," Duke said. "I know I''m the most powerful person to walk the planet, but that doesn''t mean you can''t just talk to me. I''m an approachable guy."


    That''s because you torture anyone who doesn''t agree with everything you say , Fweb didn''t say. Instead, it said, "You are the most approachable dark wizard."


    "Maybe the midnight black or...I know. The blood-red. Oh, hells, give me both of them."


    Fweb dutifully exchanged the garments of clothing. While its own personal beatings were significantly reduced by the presence of the visitor, the nauseating, complicated rituals of human love disgusted it. Goblins were much simpler to court. A suitor would punch their desired mate in the face, and if the potential mate hit back with anything less than steel-knuckled gloves, the making of babies would commence.


    Humans had to dance around the issue with innuendo and pretense. Every moment of human courtship was exhausting. The worst part was that Jenny the Moon Mage didn''t seem to have the slightest bit of interest in the master. While Duke had insisted that he was merely waiting for Lady Ameria to be returned to his loving embrace, the truth was that the man barely thought of his lost love.


    Before Jenny, the necromancer couldn''t last a night without conjuring an image of Ameria in the seeing stone. Now the guy futilely attempted to capture looks at Jenny in her room. However, the sorceress had obfuscation magic, so the man got only mist while cradling the seeing stone in bed.


    Duke''s inability to spy on her was refocused with invitations to dinners, strolls along the tower grounds, and any excuse he could find to be with her. Each time Fweb delivered the message, she almost always found a way to include the Sky Lord''s mom in the planned activities, so they would spend as little time alone together as could be managed. It was a vomitus display in a situation that could be resolved with a swift punch to the face.


    "Maybe the ash black?" the Sky Lord said, and then laughed. "Oh, Fweb, what am I thinking? The abyss black. That is the one, I''m sure of it."


    Once his master was satisfied with the garment woven from the hair of his enemies, he spent the rest of the time on his makeup and hair. Even though the evil overlord''s mother would always chide him about a proper dark wizard not needing makeup, the human sought to make his skin even smoother. People skin was so gross.


    Once Duke was ready, he ordered his servant to fetch the guest. The goblin nodded and quickly departed from the room. The part about the courtship that it didn''t understand was that Jenny had made no attempt to kill the mage king and steal his domain. If she didn''t like the guy, then the best course of action seemed that she should just do away with him and take over the place. A powerful wizard like herself would surely know how to disable the magic that would cause the tower to collapse in the event of his death.


    If Jenny were the mage queen, Fweb was pretty sure it would enjoy its job as goblin servant. Unlike its boss, she listened to him, did tasks for herself, and lacked the need to torture minions to make herself feel better. It had even gotten a  thank you  from her once.


    Earlier that day, it had been talking to its mate. "You know, in my twenty years serving our master, I haven''t gotten one  thank you . Not even a '' good job '' or a '' you did all right ''."


    Grekka had shrugged and plopped the grey globular breakfast on a filthy plate.


    "You were dung scraper for most of those years, and he murdered the first thirty-four butlers before you," Grekka had said, as it slopped another one down for itself. The pair had stuck their hands in and licked the goop from their fingers. Food that didn''t taste like feces was a perk of being the butler. Dung scrapers spent their days chipping the shit splatter from the latrine walls. Orcs and goblins weren''t known for their bathroom manners.


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    "I know," Fweb had said. "But I''ve been running this tower for about a year now, and I''m pretty close to outliving his longest-lived goblin butler."


    Due to Duke''s propensity for murdering the help, Fweb was an elder by goblin standards at thirty-two winters. With the steel allergy, murderous bosses, and substandard working conditions, goblins rarely reached old age, which for them was about mid-forties. If Duke didn''t murder him, Grekka one day would, and if they were lucky enough to ever have children, their offspring would most certainly kill him. Parenticide was a rite of passage for any goblin youth seeking independence from its forebears.


    Grekka was barren as the  soil  around the tower, and goblins needed two fertile partners to impregnate each other. Unless it went to fisticuffs with another mate, there was zero chance that it would fulfill almost every parent''s dream of being offed by their own child. It certainly didn''t want Duke to have the pleasure of doing the deed, so maybe the time for a new master was at hand.


    Even the act of thinking sedition was treason. If full magic were ever restored to the place, the traitorous thought would have brought the wraiths after him. Thankfully, the magic was no longer strong enough to keep the shadowy secret police in Fweb''s plane of existence to drag would-be usurpers to the underworld. Still, Fweb couldn''t help feeling the way it felt.


    After going down several flights of stairs, it finally arrived at the guest quarters. It knocked on a large oak door without the ordinary sense of dread it''d feel about rapping on chamber walls. When there was no answer, it tried something it would never do with Duke. It opened the door to peek inside.


    It saw Moon Mage Jenny only half-dressed. She was wearing only her undergarments, though her hair seemed to be done up even though Fweb didn''t see the appeal. Mangy, stringy hair was how goblins liked the head. The only thing missing was the dress that the master had the servants weave for her. Grekka had been working on the bodice all day. The moon wizard had a white, flat, shiny stone up to her ear, and she was talking into the strange object. Fweb could hear a female voice emitting from the magic rock.


    "What do you mean you''re going around the Woods of Volunar?" Jenny said, in exasperation.


    The voice on the other end replied. "Our guide was murdered, Mistress of the Moon. A Vampire, I reckon."


    "I don''t care what it was. I need you to go through those woods."


    "But no one''s escaped them alive! The detour will only last  a few weeks."


    "If you had to spend one more week with this lusty bastard, you''d go through the woods, too. Now, you said you are in the body of a necromancer. Figure it out."


    "Begging your pardon, but maybe you can teach me some moon magic? One of them almost made me."


    "You are not powerful enough yet. Trust me. In the meantime, I cannot stress how important it is that you get to me as soon as possible. He bought me a dress! A dress! The creeper is ready for me to move into his bed chambers!"


    "A union between the fell realm and¡ª"


    "If you''d like your heart to still be beating when you get here, I suggest you do not finish that thought."


    "I''m just saying, marriages during this time were often political."


    "First off, you''re a history teacher. Earth History. We are in Middle Middle Earth," Jenny said. "I''m not joking either. They call it Middle Middle Earth here."


    "Why?"


    "I don''t know that! I''m only an influencer, not a historian."


    Fweb didn''t know why it spoke. As miserable as a  goblin¡¯s  existence could be, it enjoyed being alive, but it was too late as the words came out of its mouth. "Carnt is Middle Middle Earth because it is located in the middle of the Earth plane and not particularly large or small."


    To Fweb''s surprise, the Moon Mistress did not flay it for speaking out of turn. "Woods of Volunar. Do it," she said, then pressed down on the surface of her stone and shoved it into a hidden pocket on her person.


    Fweb didn''t know why it continued to talk. Goblins weren''t known to be great conversationalists. They were better at following orders and using a minimal amount of speech to get by in life. "The land of the Burning Sun is southeast and vast, so Southeastern Large Earth. Then there¡¯s Earth, the fabled land that¡¯s not thought to exist."


    "Are there secret passages in this tower?" she asked.


    Once again, Fweb tempted fate. "There were whole networks of magic passageways, spies, and creatures from beyond the Earthly realms when the tower was at full power. However, the magic has dwindled away."


    "If a person wanted to move about the tower unnoticed, how would they go about doing that?"


    "I do know of a few ways, but there are stairs. Lots of them."


    "You''re saying that like it''s a bad thing! Are you kidding me? My thighs have never been in better shape in my life!"


    Fweb didn''t know why it kept talking. If the Sky Lord heard any of this, it would be hanging by its entrails for sure. "I suppose I could arrange distractions for you when needed. Careful placement of his mother does the trick. He tries to avoid his mother as much as possible."


    "Why do you think I''ve hung out with her so much since I''ve gotten here? Thank you, Fweb," she said. "I''ll let you know when I need your services. Tell Duke I''m going to be late. Doing my hair or something. You''ll figure it out."


    Hearing thanks followed by its name was all it took. It was now a loyal servant to the Moon Mage. It would kiss her steel ring if she asked it.


    ?

 24 - Enter the Scary Woods? Sure!

    24 - Enter the Scary Woods? Sure!


    The plains of Woad, Two Weeks After the Festival


    Petra and her pals had been on the road for two weeks. It was a grueling journey, especially for Jack and Sissy. Their idea of camping involved renting a yurt in a resort that offers full-service salon packages. But despite their minds'' unwillingness to accept their reality, their acquired bodies were built for the experience. Even though rocky outcroppings and groves of trees were as close to a hotel as they would get, Petra didn''t feel stiff in the morning, like sleeping on the hard ground in her normal body would have done.


    All they had to do to fit into this world involved getting over the mental aspect of using a backpack as a pillow and a cloak as a blanket, which was better for some than others. Aiden seemed to have no trouble falling asleep, whereas Sissy would twist and turn all night, making huffing noises. Petra fantasied on more than one occasion about knifing her in her sleep but ultimately felt bad for the hunky Idris Elba look-alike Sissy was inhabiting.


    Another part of their subsistence-level existence that took some getting used to was culinary options. The food they had yoinked from the inn ran out, and the basket weaver didn''t have much in the way of sustenance. However, Tim had nailed some rabbits and other small game with his crossbow. Once Sissy was hungry enough, even she began to chow down on some squirrel.


    Annelise had taught Aiden to make torches with animal fat, so he had a source of power for his spells. A spark would be suitable for a short burst of flame or lighting small fires. But if he wanted to do real damage, he''d need a more comprehensive source of fire. Jack also was easing into his spell casting and could turn a little puddle into enough pure water for them to drink.


    The only person who wasn''t easing into their new form was Tim. If he didn''t think too hard, he could hit a bird flying in the sky. However, a fair number of his shots went wild, and Jack had to heal him on more than one occasion. Petra tried to give him a pep talk about letting the body he was in take control, and he ended up shooting her in the gut. It was a really good thing that Jack had gotten that healing magic down.


    Being a halfling had some nifty advantages. Petra''s bare feet were as tough as any hiking shoes, and she could scale trees within seconds if they needed a lookout. She had even climbed a rocky cliff with no trouble at all to give them an idea of the nearest landmarks. No one in the party could sneak up on her, and she could pin a person by their ponytail to a tree with one swift toss of a dagger to make a point. Which came in handy when Tim was being Tim.


    Other than the robbing of her child''s youth by inhabiting a full-sized adult man''s body, their local guide who had this strange obsession with dead things, and the murderous band of rangers out to get them, Petra secretly liked a few aspects of their situation that she still desperately wanted to end. Though she would never tell Tim. He had died and gone to nerd heaven the moment they stepped into this world.


    Their strange and off-putting local guide worked her mojo on a few corpses they had found outside the town. The newly risen zombies strolled down a false trail for the rangers to follow. But once the king''s men discovered Annelise''s trick, it wouldn''t be long before they would correct their course and be in hot pursuit again. Still, it was nice to have a moment where death didn''t lurk around every corner.


    Their bit of reprieve wouldn''t last long. The Woods of Volunar were in the distance. Annelise had told them about the place. It should have been named the "You Suckas Are Gonna Die Woods" because most people who enter the woods never returned.


    "Tell me," Petra said to Annelise, who was paying attention to the green glow of her dagger. "Why are we going into these woods again?"


    "It''s the most direct path to my mistress," Annelise said. "It would take weeks to circle the forest, and by that time, the rangers will catch us."


    "What''s to stop them from catching up to us in the woods?"


    "The bravest of captains would not risk the lives of his troops in the Woods of Volunar."


    "And so, we are going to bring a bunch of high schoolers there!" Petra said and glanced toward her son. It was Jonathan''s nap time. Aiden¡¯s invisible platform spell solved the nap/need-to-run-for-their-lives problem. The floating disc would follow Petra around while her hulking three-year-old giant slept. His limbs dangled off the side, but the kid didn''t seem to mind. Petra counted her blessings that he could sleep anywhere. She had seen the horror stories in her Facebook mommy groups about parents with their kids who would be up for days.


    In fact, Petra didn''t really understand why they didn''t just use Facebook mommy groups to scare teenagers into abstinence in the first place. Those craptastic "miracles of life" videos they watched in class felt disconnected from the reality of a tiny little human who treated her request to brush his teeth as if he were being sent to a gulag. From the new baby phase when she had lost so much sleep that she genuinely had a hard time telling if she was awake or in some vaudevillian nightmare, to the toddler phase where life felt like she was cleaning up the set of a disaster movie every single day, Petra had some strong opinions on how to teach Sex Ed.


    Her first reform would be to get rid of the potato sack or creepy doll that the D minus kids would just toss into the back of their pickup truck. She would force them all to work in a real daycare with very young children, wake them up every few hours for months on end, and be sure to toss bodily fluids on them at inopportune times. It was a miracle that people even chose to have children.


    Yet, when she watched Jonathan as he slept or heard him laugh, it was all worth it. She was going to fight like hell to get him back home. Even if it meant going through the Woods that probably wouldn''t have had very good yelp reviews. "One star. Lost my entire party. Half of them were murdered, and the others went insane." Or "If I could give this place zero stars, I would. My flesh was eaten not more than five minutes after entering."


    Annelise shrugged and said, "If there is another way, then please guide us. If not, then I must concentrate on my spell. The dagger will glow when there''s danger."


    "It''s glowing now!"


    "The intensity will increase when the danger is more imminent."


    "Noted," Petra said, and slowed her pace to be at the back of the line where Aiden and Tim were having a heated discussion about whether the orcs would be more like  DnD  or  Lord of the Rings . She immediately regretted her decision and would have preferred to walk in silence with the Queen of the Dead.


    Tim turned to Petra, "What do you think? Are orcs snarling beasts that will run you through like  LotR , or  DnD  where you could have orcs walking among the humans because they are misunderstood, yet brave for sticking to their principles? If I''m going to chronicle our stories when we get home, I want to make sure I get it right."


    "Dude, she''ll eat your face off!" Aiden said. "Put that in your story."


    "She could be an orc princess. Cast out by her father for seeking to make amends with the humans."


    "Is this some secret desire to hook up with an orc?" Petra asked.


    "No... Yeah, okay, but I mean Shrek''s wife. Kinda hot."


    "Whoa! Too much information!" Petra said.


    "I have the soul of a storyteller," Tim said. "It makes me more open to unusual relationships."


    "Look, I know all you males have some Captain Kirk fantasy about hooking up with green women, but this isn''t an episode of  Star Trek . Orcs have blades, and those blades could kill us."


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    "The hottest women in  Star Trek  weren''t green," Tim said. "They were Klingon. So simple. Easy to understand, not like human women."


    "I don''t want to hook up with anyone while I''m here," Aiden said. "I have a girlfriend back home."


    "Aiden?" Petra said. "You? No offense, but I thought you were formed in a VW mini bus in a puff of smoke."


    "Dude, killer imagery! I think you''re the storyteller here!" Aiden said. "But, no, I have a girl in Portland."


    "This girl wouldn''t happen to be your aunt, who doesn''t carefully keep track of her weed chocolate..."


    "Dude, Petra, you can be real mean sometimes. Her name is Mar, and she''s real."


    "Mar, right. Well, if we survive this... when we survive this, I want to meet her."


    "Seriously? You hate everybody."


    "Yeah, I''m just doing it to see if you''re bullshiting me."


    "She''s real!"


    "Then let''s meet her!"


    Tim glanced back toward the sleeping form of Jonathan and said, "Who would have thought there was a use for Tenser''s Floating Disk?"


    "What?" Petra sounded clueless.


    "You know," Tim said, "the  DnD  spell?"


    She continued to give him a blank stare.


    "I thought you were cool," Tim said.


    She shrugged and continued forward.


    Tim pestered her some more. "Do you think we can trust this Annelise?"


    "She''s kept us alive so far."


    "Yeah, but she is into necromancy."


    "What?"


    "Blood magic. You know, spells that require human sacrifice. Generally frowned upon in most cultures. Except for the Mayans, though. It makes you wonder if they would continue to do it if they were in power today. Protestors riot in the streets over dolphins, right?  You figure people would go crazy over human sacrifice?"


    "First off, not every protester is a rioter, and second, dolphin riots? Show me one sea mammal riot."


    "You''re missing the point! She is casting necromancy."


    "She said that it was an amulet that stored the powers of the moon and required blood to activate."


    "Still sounds like necromancy to me."


    "So, what if it is necromancy? She''s so far only used blood from corpses, and what do they care? They''re dead."


    "I just don''t know if she is telling us the whole truth," Tim said. "Think about it. All the magic in this realm requires access to an element. Sissy can''t use her powers unless she is under the sun. Aiden needs fire, and Jack uses water. Annelise uses blood, so how does that make her a moon mage?"


    "I have been through this with her. Brought up the same questions. The truth is, she''s saved us many times. The rangers would have captured and killed us by now if it weren''t for her magic. There were also plenty of ways she could have screwed us over by now. Look, I have trust issues myself. Why do you think the father of Jonathan doesn''t know he is a dad and never will? If you get between my kid and me, I will end you. It doesn''t matter if I''ve known you for ten years or you''re a sassy necromancer with a heart of gold. There is no point in jumping at enemies that may not even be there when we know there are plenty of enemies  who exist ."


    Despite Petra''s emphatic support of Annelise, she knew it would be foolish not to keep her eye on their guide. However, she knew that scared people could very quickly turn into a mob. Until there was proof, Petra couldn''t let the group slide into allegations, or they would unravel as a fellowship.


    "I hope you''re right," Tim said. He sounded unconvinced  that Annelise was an ally to their cause. They approached the Woods of Volunar. It was a vast swath of forest with tall pines, mighty oak trees, and dense vegetation. The grasslands and the occasional craggy hill would soon disappear in the thick foliage.


    "We will kill her if I''m not. In the meantime, let her do her thing. We are not likely to get out of here without her. Speaking of which..." Petra said and trailed off.


    The glow of Annelise''s dagger had increased in intensity when they got to the tree line. Petra pushed her way up front. Annelise inspected her dagger, then turned her gaze to the woods. The party gathered around.


    "So, what''s it saying?" Petra asked.


    Annelise frowned and said, "That there is a great source of danger all around."


    "I''m pretty sure I could have told you that."


    Annelise moved her dagger back and forth. "It doesn''t seem to pinpoint to any specific area."


    "So?"


    "I should be able to discern the least dangerous path by following the direction where the glow is the weakest," she said, as the dagger continued to flare until she pointed it away from the forest entirely.


    "And now it''s saying that everything is going to kill us?"


    "Yeah."


    "So, what do we do?"


    "I vote we go around," Sissy said. "I never really liked the woods anyway. Too many bugs."


    "Deadly people on horseback," Petra countered.


    "How about we set a trap for the rangers?" Aiden suggested. "I''ve gotten pretty good with my spells."


    "There''s an army of them!" Tim said. "They sacked an entire village."


    "Wasn''t there a river further back?" Jack asked. "Maybe I can conjure up a canoe."


    While they discussed what to do next, Jonathan woke from his nap and rolled off the platform. Since his mom was not paying attention, he decided now would be a good time to remove his clothes. Once he was adequately naked, he looked at the group arguing with each other and then towards the woodland. His eyes lit up with excitement.


    "Trees!" he squealed, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. He ran toward the forest. "Mom, trees! So pretty. Let''s pick flowers!"


    Jonathan darted into the thicket. It didn''t take long for Petra to notice something was wrong, but when she did, she roared, "Where''s Jonathan?"


    ?

 25 - A Nobles Guide to Killing Underlings

    25 - A Noble''s Guide to Killing Underlings


    The King¡¯s Road South, Two weeks in the Wrong Direction


    Sir Grey''s rangers gathered around the bodies of a dwarf, elf, halfling, and a couple humans. The riders had been tracking the walking corpses for two weeks. The scouts had finally caught up to the party and slew the creatures. Sir Grey was displeased that they had been following a decoy.


    With a swift swipe of his blade, the two scouts who had discovered the ruse lost their helmets and all the fleshy parts inside. Twenty-three rangers were left. Corwin patted his throat to make sure his head was still attached. Everything seemed to be in the proper order, for now.


    ¡°At least we know how they were moving so fast,¡± Corwin offered. ¡°Undead don¡¯t need to sleep.¡±


    "They''ve gone to the Woods of Volunar," Sir Grey said. "We can get there in half a day if we go through the cliffs of Jagadoom."


    "But, sir," a rider protested, "there are wyverns that patrol the¡ª"


    Another head rolled, and Sir Grey barked, "We ride!"


    The rangers spurred themselves into a gallop. Corwin was about to kick his horse into a run when Sir Grey held his sword out in front of the squire. It didn''t help that Lady Mordock also held back. When the end came, Corwin wasn''t sure which one of them it would be.


    Despite living in the threat of being offed by his employer, he had seen more of the country in the last several days than he had his entire life. It was beautiful. Majestic mountains touching the sky, rolling hills, fertile plains, and verdant forests. They had even stopped one night at a lake so clear; Corwin could see to the bottom.


    Sitting on the water''s edge, relaxing in the sunshine, he had almost concluded that being murdered by his boss would be worth it for the moment of raw connection he felt with nature. Corwin had never thought of the land much, being that he was from the city. But away from the stench and the people packed together, he had found a part of him he never knew existed, and on the off chance he would survive the hunt for Lovantus, he''d take up farming.


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    "Let them ride," Sir Grey said. "Never open yourself to a wyvern attack if you have men that will give their lives for you. Remember, not all lives are considered equal."


    "Equal, sir?"


    "Take the rangers, for example. They are far superior to the average soldier, but do not even come close to one of me. I keep the kingdom operating. Without me, there is no kingdom.  Whereas new rangers can be recruited from anywhere."


    "Doesn''t seem right, sir."


    "It is the natural order."


    "But supposing we change things around. Make a new order."


    "What are you implying? That you should be king?"


    "Oh, no, sir. I would never presume."


    "Lady Mordock then? While talented she may be, she is a commoner like you."


    "I''m merely saying, maybe create a system that values everyone. Seems like people might work harder if they feel valued. Might make the kingdom a pleasant place to live."


    "It''s already the best place in all the realms. We have feasts and riches. The finest clothes. Wood to keep our fires blazing and steel for our armies. I even have halflings sing to me while I eat. That''s about all the grubby little things are good for."


    "Begging your pardon, sir. But not everyone lives like you do," Corwin said.


    "Of course, they don''t. They can''t all be great men like myself. Now, enough talk. Wyverns have keen hearing. The thunder of the soldiers should distract them from our footfalls, but it is still best to keep a watchful eye."


    They spurred their horses forward. Corwin wondered how great his lord really was if the man couldn''t see anything beyond himself.


    ?

 26 - Over-the-Hill and Through the Woods

    26 - Over-the-Hill and Through the Woods


    Outskirts of the Woods of Volunar, Nearing Teatime


    The fellowship of unlikely heroes in likely hero bodies glanced back and forth. Jonathan was nowhere to be seen. They called out, but there was no reply. After a search of the immediate area, they found his clothes discarded near the tree line. Petra gathered the garments and walked toward the edge of the woods. "I''m going in."


    Before anyone could object, Petra moved beyond their sight.


    "But my dagger won''t be able to guide us! No one has made it out of these woods alive!" Annelise called and ran after her.


    Tim pulled his crossbow from his back and headed toward the trees. When he realized no one was following him, he said, "Aren''t you guys coming?"


    "I don''t know, dude," Aiden said. "People get killed in there."


    "You''ll get killed out here too, but at least we would all be together. Stronger together, remember?" Tim said.


    "It only counts if we''re alive, dude."


    "Yeah, it''s like till death do you part. Stronger together, until one of us is dead," Sissy added.


    "We are not getting married. She''s not dead yet!"


    "I don''t know, dude," Aiden said. "You seem to like her."


    Tim''s cheeks turned red. "As a friend. I don''t think I''m ready to be a father."


    "That''s why it''s so hard for mothers with children to date these days."


    "You''re joking around while she could be dying in there!"


    "Isn''t that what this place does? Kill people?" Jack said. "I say we go with the trap idea."


    "The three of us here," Sissy said. "We got some pretty sweet magical powers, so let''s set a trap."


    "Now you''re talking," Aiden said.


    "What about Petra?" Tim anguished.


    "She''s dead, dude. Get over it," Aiden retorted.


    "Some fellowship you turned out to be," Tim murmured, and tromped toward the woods by himself.


    "It''s not  The Hobbit , bro," Aiden yelled after him.


    "That''s  Lord of the Rings ."


    "Whatever. You''re going to get yourself killed."


    "At least I''ll die helping a friend," Tim said, as he crossed into the threshold of the forest with his middle finger raised behind his back.


    ***


    It seemed as if the place was in perpetual twilight. The trees closed in around Tim, and the vegetation seemed impenetrable in places. He could hear the sounds of strange creatures calling out around him. Hopefully, they didn''t eat dwarf.


    He stepped through a patch of silver grass, and it coiled around his legs attempting to drag him to the soil. He chopped at it with a knife from his belt and was eventually able to free himself. He thought all the hype of the woods was overrated when a gecko-shaped creature with yellow scales and streaks of fiery red climbed up a log and cocked its head.


    "Hey, little guy," he said.


    The thing hissed, puffed out a mane of red skin, and spit acid at him, hitting the front of his armor with a hiss. He pulled out his crossbow and missed. The creature hopped towards him. He pulled out his miniature crossbow with two bolts, and the first one missed. The thing''s folds around its neck unfurled, signaling another attack. He breathed deeply and shot a bolt through the critter''s head. The acid continued to burn through his armor. He stripped down and tossed it to the side as it dissolved. He made a mental note to shoot on sight the next time he encountered one of them.


    His trek through the woods involved all sorts of various plants and animals that had it in for him. At one point, when he decided to take a break next to a tree, it attempted to pummel him. Flying rat creatures breathing small flame spouts almost roasted his head. He would have been a goner if it weren''t for the roar of a giant beast panicking the flying critters. They broke off the assault as a substantial green sauropod foot bigger than a tree trunk smashed the ground next to Tim, shaking the earth. It lumbered through the forest, unaware that it had saved and almost squished a dwarf underneath.


    During another break to get his bearings, a red flower clamped down on his hand like a bear trap. It seemed that everything in the woods was genuinely trying to kill him, and it was probably only a matter of time until he stumbled into the final fern or the jaws of a hungry beast. The worst part was that he didn''t even know if he was going the right way. He wasn''t a tracker, nor did he think Bolt had any skills of that nature.


    When he attempted to look for footprints, displaced vegetation, or anything that would clue him in which direction everyone had gone, he didn''t have the slightest idea. Even after he concluded that he was in way over his head, he couldn''t find his way back to the edge of the forest. He was lost and going to die.


    Which was a shame because he really had intended to write a book about their adventures. Tim had always wanted to be an author. Still, he only ended up writing  Magic: the Gathering  fan fiction on the internet. It got started with a website that would give him store credit for writing about  Magic: the Gathering  on their blog and he then found himself deep into writing fan fiction about the red wizard Meathook and his Goblins of Destiny.


    Even though he had made enough of a name for himself that people would call him by his username,  MeathookSmash, at conventions, he was always sitting in the audience watching his favorite writers geek out on stage. He wanted to be in the club but was afraid he wouldn''t be very good at doing it. Instead, he had spent a lot of time posting and answering questions on various writing communities. Still, he could never get past the first page in his novel about an orcish princess.


    Orcwena touched the broad-shouldered human man''s chest. He pulled her closer, and she could feel his arousal.


    "My father would rip out your eyes for even looking at me," Orcwena swooned.


    "Let him come, baby. My sword is bigger than his."


    "Clearly," Orcwena smiled, as she put her hand into his pants.


    That was about as far as he would get. He wanted to name the man Chuck but wasn''t sure if the leader of the Warrior-Roguemage Guild would be named Chuck. Either way, the Warrior-Roguemages were the fiercest fighters in all the land and hunted demons from the Abyss for sport. If Chuck had been in Moria instead of Gandalf, the Balrog would have been dead before they even got to the bridge of Khazad-d?m.


    Tim knew the novel would be game-changing in fantasy literature. He just needed to get it out of his head to words on the page. However, every time he sat down to write, he would start looking up photos of celebrities he thought would make a good Orcwena in the movie version of his novel and waste a good hour of writing time imagining how that love scene would play out.


    One time, his mom had interrupted his creative process. He had barely managed to throw a blanket over his brainstorming session before his mom had burst into the room pestering him about homework.


    "Mom!" he had yelled. "I''m writing my book."


    "It doesn''t look like you''re writing," his mom had said.


    "It''s a creative process! It''s a brainstorming session."


    "Uh-huh. Is this brainstorming session going to write your history paper?"


    "I''ll get to that. I''m going to pound out a few pages of my novel first."


    "Right, well, when you finish pounding, get to that history paper. Don''t make me come in here again. Please, really, don''t."


    Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    And, of course, that''s how it always was with his mom. He''d sit down to write, and she''d bother him about his homework or taking out the trash. It was amazing that he got any words on the page at all. If he could just be a famous writer, he could get his own place and buy his mom a maid. Then maybe he could finish his book, which is why he wanted to chronicle their adventure.


    He was being handed a story. With a few green, snarling love scenes, he''d be ready to publish it on Amazon. All he had to do was survive and make it home to his computer.


    He was beginning to question his decision to follow Petra into the woods. With each step, he felt like he was getting closer to his demise. A reverse griffin creature with the head of a lion and the body of a falcon staring down at him from its perch on a rocky outcropping didn''t help.


    He forged on ahead, knowing that this was his one chance to prove to Petra that he wasn''t some dweeby kid. He''d had a crush on her since his first year in high school when he saw her at the prom. It had taken two full-sized security guards to escort her to the quiet room when she was caught pouring rum into the punch bowl and replacing the cheese snacks with vape cartridges.


    Tim had no idea why he was attracted to such women, though Freud would have had a field day with his mind. When he was seven, he witnessed his mom beat up a postal employee with a rolled-up magazine because she thought the man had stolen their tax refund check. When his mom wasn''t busy fixing the everyday injustices of life with her sassy attitude and the occasional issue of  Sister 2 Sister , she worked two jobs, put his brother through college, and made sure Tim ate a decent meal every day.


    While, like Oedipus, Tim didn''t have a dad. However, unlike Oedipus, it was systemic racism that killed his father. His pop had committed the crime of being Black and reaching for his glove compartment, and Tim''s mom had to pick up the pieces ever since. The lawsuit that followed paid for their move from North Portland to the suburbs, and Tim, who was five at the time of his father''s death, didn''t really know any other way.


    Now, he wished for even a fraction of his mother''s resolve. After hacking his way out of another patch of silver grass and avoiding being pummeled by another tree aiming for his skull, he heard laughter in the distance. It sounded like a giant man had been told the funniest joke he had ever heard in his life.


    It had to be Jonathan. Tim called out but didn''t get any response. He pushed forward, and a badger-looking creature with a beak and a spiked tail hissed at him from the canopy above. He didn''t have time to think. The thing bounded off the trees with surprising grace. Tim had time for one bolt before it was on top of him.


    The bolt embedded in the creature''s thick hide but didn''t seem to slow it down. However, the shot had disrupted the beak attack. It crashed to the ground and whipped its tail, impaling his thigh. He pulled out the morning star from his belt and knocked it back before he went down himself. The critter rolled until it hit a tree. It flipped over and dashed toward Tim. He attempted to crawl backward, but a wave of pain shot through his leg.


    Just as the creature was about to impale Tim with its beak, a hand came down seemingly from nowhere and lifted it by the tail. It was Jonathan. He held the creature while it snarled. He laughed and said, "What''s your name?"


    "No, no!" A small, green creature that looked like a mix between a Roswell alien and a house-elf from  Harry Potter , except with wings, fluttered to Jonathan. It was about two feet tall and had violet eyes. It gently took the critter from Jonathan''s hands and set it on the ground. Instead of charging Tim, it purred and nuzzled up to the flyer.


    "That''s not how you hold a grandorbork. They like it when you scratch their chin like this." The flying house-elf rubbed the creature''s chin, and its leg shook like a puppy. "Yes, that''s a good boy. Who''s a good boy? You''re a good boy. Pulling on their tail like that is liable to get you poked by the poison barbs you see here." It pointed to the spikes that had punctured Tim''s thigh just moments ago.


    "Poison?!" Tim yelped.


    Startled, the grandorbork scampered off, and the flyer took to the sky. It fluttered back down after a moment and eyed him suspiciously. "Who are you?"


    "I''m a friend of Jonathan over there. I mean, Lovantus," Tim said, and raised his hands.


    "Well, which one is it? Lovantus or Jonathan?"


    "Both, kinda. Jonathan''s mind. Lovantus''s body."


    "Is that why the big man is so delightful? Got the mind of a cherub spirit. I have never seen someone so obsessed with colors. And here he had me thinking that humans have finally done away with that silly tradition of clothes! You don''t see us Fae folk wearing clothes. Awfully restrictive."


    "Green!" The naked barbarian pointed to the hovering creature.


    "That''s right!" it said, and Jonathan clapped.


    Tim glanced down at his punctured leg. It was beginning to ooze dark green pus. "Um, so, green guy, about that poison?"


    "My name is Babalador. Not ''green guy''. Do you want me to call you ''dwarf guy''? Or ''pale skin''?" the forest sprite chided.


    Tim was about to object to being called a White guy when he realized that he resembled a miniature Jason Momoa. His black beard was braided into knots, and it was a little strange not to be the Black guy for once. While most of his friends were well-intended, they often treated him like he was Black Wikipedia. He was not the knowledge keeper of all things Black.


    "Okay, Babalador, please tell me about the poison!"


    "What about it?"


    "How do I cure it?"


    "Why would you need to do that?"


    Tim pointed at his leg. The dark green crept through his veins, and the area around the wound had turned black.


    "What''d you go and do that for?" Babalador remarked.


    "That grandorthingy attacked me."


    "Grandorbork, and it''s going to attack you again if you don''t set about learning its name. That''s the problem with the humanoid races. They go about the place like they own it, and they don''t even learn the local names."


    "I learned about colonialism in school! Could we just focus on the problem, please?!" Tim said, as the necrotic tissue expanded around the wound.


    "And impatient, that''s the problem with you. You come in, cut down all the trees in the forest to build a house out of them when you could just wait a couple thousand years for them to grow a nice dwelling."


    "I don''t think I have that long!"


    "Brown!" Jonathan yelled and pointed to a tree trunk.


    "Yes, brown! Very good!" Babalador said, and Jonathan clapped.


    "Please, help me," Tim pleaded, as his leg felt numb and began to shrivel.


    "I can''t."


    "Why? For all I know, I''m the only person that Jonathan has left!"


    "Oh, don''t mistake can''t for won''t. If I were a necromancer, I''d suck the poison right out of you. Makes no difference to me if you live or die, but I don''t have any blood magic, nor water for that matter. In fact, I don''t have any magic at all! Except I can fly. I don''t think the math works out on the body to wing size ratio, so maybe that''s magic."


    "There was a necromancer who came into the forest before me," Tim said, and winced from the pain. It was getting intense. "Blond hair, had a green dagger."


    "Green!" Jonathan said.


    "The green dagger lady? She and the other one were dragged away by lizerdlings. Probably will end up in the stew pot, I suppose."


    "Petra! Annelise! We must save them," Tim exclaimed, and tried to stand. His leg collapsed beneath him, and he fell to the forest floor.


    "You are not doing any saving like that, but I''ll tell you what. Since Jonathan here is the most fun I''ve had in millennia, I''ll help you out." Babalador cleared his throat and hocked a loogie into the wound.


    "Ye-yo!" Jonathan said.


    "Yes, yellow!" Babalador said and gave Jonathan a high five. They both did a little dance.


    "What''d you do that for?" Tim said.


    "Spit from the elder fairy? Never bought a Fae potion? Now you know what''s in them. We call ''em potions because who''d drink a vial of spit? Also works wonders on your complexion. How do you think all those nobles stay young?"


    "You spit in vials and sell it to noblewomen?!" Tim cringed, but then the pain began to recede. The wound was still black and festering, but it stopped expanding.


    "And men use it, too. As well as non-binaries. It''s not a gender thing. And we don''t sell it! Every couple hundred years or so, some noble gets it in their head that Fae potions hold the secret to immortality. So, they quest into these woods and get the lot of themselves killed. If any are lucky enough to survive and capture one of us for our potions, we dutifully make it, so they don''t run us through. Then, when they are old and dying with great-looking skin, we beg for our freedom. The tyrant, softened by the years of smart conversation, lets the fairy go free. Works every time. Happened to me for the seventh time five centuries ago."


    "How old are you?"


    "That''s the fairy secret. You can have nice skin at any age. You''d think I''m ten, but I''m pushing thirteen."


    "Thirteen hundred?!"


    "Millennia. Centuries? Tsk. Can you imagine only getting hundreds of years? Certainly would make waiting for your slave masters to die out a poor option. By the way, the potion won''t save your life, only delays the inevitable. Your necromancer friend will have to drain the poison if you want to survive this. Well, come on. We haven''t got all day. You''ll be dead by morning if you sit around."


    Tim attempted to put weight on his leg, but it was still too weak.


    "I thought you dwarves had wings," Babalador said. "Do any of you have wings? Can''t imagine what that is like. Righto. Jonathan, could you pick your friend up, and we can go find some more flowers."


    "Yeah!" Jonathan squealed with delight. The hulking toddler picked Tim up with one hand and slung him over his shoulder. The three set off through the woods while Babalador identified more colors with Jonathan. The kid pointed at everything he saw, sometimes dropping Tim when something exciting came along.


    ?

 27 - The Five Undead Love Languages

    27 - The Five Undead Love Languages


    The All-Seeing Tower, Around Dinner Time


    LeDuke was ready to make his boldest move since the Battle of the Four Armies. He planned to capture the heart of a woman, and her name was Jennifer, the moon mage, the most powerful person he had ever met besides himself. The funny part about his newfound obsession was that he hadn''t thought of his former lover in weeks.


    Ever since his minor setback when the Four Armies slaughtered his forces, he¡¯d fall asleep thinking about Lady Ameria and wake up every morning with a dream about her still fresh on his mind. He felt as if he had blinders on where he could see nothing but her. She had broken his heart, and somehow, he still couldn''t get her out of his head.


    After retreating into his tower with Lovantus and the Silent Legion on his heels, he had gone straight to Lady Ameria''s quarters. He had planned to run away with her. Use the last of his magic to change their faces and slip into the ranks of the invading army. Maybe they would find an island somewhere and retire.


    However, she wasn''t there. When he had finally found her, she was about to jump from a window into Lovantus''s waiting arms below. LeDuke had begged her to reconsider, which said a lot about what he had felt about her. He wasn''t the begging type. He got what he wanted out of life by flaying people alive.


    Lady Ameria was different. She made LeDuke want to be a better person. Even though she had first agreed to be his bride on the terms that he wouldn''t slaughter her entire family, LeDuke felt they had really formed a relationship. He had even planned to release her uncle from the Dungeon of Despair as a birthday present and maybe as a distraction for his mom.


    However, all that had come to an end when she jumped out of the window. His mom used to tell him that stress was a relationship killer and the reason Lady Ameria had run away.


    "Take your dad," she had once said. "He died when a cart careened out of control and broke every bone in his body."


    "It sounds like the cart ended your relationship, not the stress!" LeDuke had responded.


    "It was a stressful situation ¨C a woman like me, with a 3-year-old boy and a farm, all on me own."


    However, LeDuke could see his way out of the heartbreak haze when he met Jenny. He was free of the shackles of lost love and seeing the world anew for the first time in ages. He wished he had twenty virgins to sacrifice, then he''d really be able to show Jenny a good time.


    There was something about the way the woman carried herself that was powerful and exciting. It was like she could say anything she wanted, and the rules of etiquette and society be damned. It was refreshing to have someone around who wouldn''t grovel at his feet and went for what she wanted.


    After days of trying to sneak a moment alone with her without his mom blundering into all the dates he had carefully planned, he finally realized that all the coy playing around was the antithesis of Jenny. She didn''t care about all the things other women cared about, like wandering into a field of dead bodies shaping the words "I LOVE YOU", or receiving a bouquet of black roses that would only grow from the skull of a living person.


    She needed a clear signal that he was over Lady Ameria and ready to seek her out as his bride. Unfortunately, she had no immediate family members he could threaten to throw into an active volcano, so he would do the next best thing. He''d lie naked on his bed until she entered the chamber door.


    The only question now was how to sit. He tried out several positions, leaning on an elbow, hand aside the head, spread eagle with nothing but a pillow to cover his manhood, lying on his stomach with hands under the chin, standing in repose, but none of them seemed to work. He needed something to show his power.


    In the early days of courting Lady Ameria, when she was still tooling about with her adventuring party, he would send images of his little necromancer to her seeing stone. She had called them "disgusting" and "harassing". Still, he knew that she would be comparing him to Lovantus, who he assumed was very small, almost imperceptible. Wasn''t it always true that the biggest men had the most miniature soldiers?


    His mom would always say, "It''s your thigh that makes it look big. Since you''re only 5'' 4", the thing could be any size and look massive."


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    He really hated it when his mom gave him advice, especially when it was about sex. However, that didn''t seem to stop her at all. She''d speak her mind to the Lord of the Abyss himself if she thought that she had a better way of doing things.


    Tonight, he really needed to get his mom out of the picture, so he had Fweb take her to the Tears of the Sun geyser, the only one to spew both lava and steam in one spectacular show. She couldn''t resist a good show, and as luck would have it, today was a fortnight after the Thunder Moon, which meant it would be erupting any moment now.


    It would have been nice to take Jenny to see it, but it would have been like any other date with his mom in tow. A few days ago, he''d had half of his servants slaughtered to write that "I LOVE YOU" in dead bodies, but his mom was too cold and wanted to go inside. When he had come back the next day with Jenny by herself, scavengers had made off with some of the corpses, and it said, "I O\C OU," which didn''t have the same impact.


    "I overcharged? You owe me?" Jenny had asked, confused.


    But all the bumbling around was behind him now. Jenny would know his feelings as soon as she opened the door, which she did right as he experimented with an embarrassing pose. She hadn''t even knocked. Why do people never knock?


    It was a moment frozen in time. One that if word ever got out, there would be no end to chortling halflings and their damnable corn art. She stood in the doorway to his chamber, her face contorted in shock, disgust, and maybe even confusion. On his hands and knees with the full glory of his butt in the air, LeDuke''s lips contorted into a kiss.


    "Oh, god," Jenny said.


    He leaped from his pose to pull the curtains shut on his four-poster bed.


    "Oh, god," Jenny said again. "I knew it would come to this."


    "It''s not what it looks like," LeDuke lied. "I was practicing for when I would see Lady Ameria again."


    "Uh-huh," Jenny said. "And that''s why Fweb told me to be in your chambers at a particular time?"


    LeDuke wrapped himself in a blanket and threw the curtains open. "Okay, fine. It was my plan all along. I panicked at the last moment when I saw you there. I couldn''t... You just... I get all tongue-tied around you! I have killed countless people and never had a problem giving a lengthy speech before their deaths, but then you come around, and I feel like I''m back in my village again! A poor, no account, good-for-nothing who won''t amount to anything. I''ve conquered the known world! A woman shouldn''t give me a second thought."


    "Well, that''s your problem," Jenny said. "I can''t believe I''m giving you this advice. You''ve been trying to send a dick pic to my seeing stone ever since I came here."


    "It''s a symbol of masculinity and vitality."


    "More like toxic masculinity. Look, conquest is the wrong message to be sending here. I''m not a prize, and any asshole who treats me like one is just going to gaslight me and walk all over my feelings in pursuit of their own. It takes two people to make the magic happen, and there isn''t any on this side. Now, you''re getting over Lady Ameria, that''s good, but maybe you should look inward before you seek out someone else. She left you, remember?"


    "That was to save me from Lovantus. They would have torn the tower down, brick by brick."


    "Right, keep telling yourself that. You''re making so much progress."


    "I should have your head on a pike and displayed for all..."


    "I''m right here," she said. "Now''s as good a time as any to take my head off."


    LeDuke hesitated. He wasn''t sure why. The moon mage must have bewitched him.


    "I didn''t think so," Jenny said. "You can''t kill me because I am telling you the truth, and there is a part of you that wants to hear it. You''ve been locked up in this tower for so many years, I''m sure you''ve had plenty of time to mull over the past."


    "Begone!"


    "You''re not going to get any better until you admit it."


    "BEGONE!"


    Jenny shrugged and turned around. She shut the door behind her and...


    ?

 28 - How to Subjugate Necromancers and Influence World Events

    28 - How to Subjugate Necromancers and Influence World Events


    The All-Seeing Tower, Moment¡¯s Later


    ... grinned from ear to ear. It was all going according to plan. Even though Jenny couldn''t care less about Duke''s personal journey of self-discovery, she needed him if she was going to get out of this world and back to her own. She had considered inciting a revolt with the servants. Fweb had made it abundantly clear whose side it was on if blows were ever traded between the two sorcerers.


    It would probably do Duke good to be tucked away in a dungeon, reminded of what it felt like to be powerless. However, an insurrection was too risky. She needed him alive. Any number of the goblins and the enfeebled orc left in the tower could use his incarceration as an excuse to kill him. One goblin with an axe to grind would mean she''d be stuck in this land the rest of her natural life, and they all had axes to grind.


    Now that Duke would most likely be sobbing in his room all night, the mother was away, and the servants were in the lower levels, she had the rest of the tower to herself. She made her way quickly to the stairwell. She checked her cloak to make sure she was wearing the broach that protected her from seeing stones. The cloudy-eye pin was there.


    She descended several flights of stairs till she was between the throne room and the floor below. Just as Fweb had explained, there was a stone with a chip in it at about waist level. She pressed her thumb in the rock, and the chip glowed with power.


    The seams of the stonework lit up in sequential order and snaked through the curve of the wall to the nearest window. The line of light went over the edge. She rushed over and peered outside. The wind buffeting the tower blasted her, and there was a fleeting moment of vertigo as she realized how far above the ground she was.


    The seam of light stopped halfway down the tower, and one signal stone glowed on its edge. She considered the fact that a fall from this height would mean the end of her existence and shrugged. She was not a wind mage and couldn''t fly. She had a craptacular singing voice and avoided karaoke like a pit of live vipers. From what she knew of magic in the area, people either had the talent, or they didn''t. Even if they did have the ability, most people never discovered it because it took the ability to sing and the element they needed to cast. If a natural-born necromancer never tried to manipulate blood, they would go their whole life unaware of their talent.


    It was pure luck that Mr. Jackson happened to inhabit the body of a woman who possessed the gift of necromancy. Jenny had taught him spellcasting, believing he would be the one in Lady Ameria''s body. He figured out his ability quickly. The woman was cutting vegetables in the next room over from the Silent Legion when he had first arrived, and he had cut himself by accident while he was disoriented from the travel.


    He had cast an incantation that should have healed the wound but instead had made it worse. After wrapping his arm, he had realized the body he possessed had the blood magic affinity. It was easy enough from there to get Duke to teach her a few spells and surreptitiously record him. Later, Jenny took some photos of the spell books in Duke''s library and texted them to Mr. Jackson. His practice for becoming a water wizard helped, and he quickly picked up necromancy.


    Jenny, however, was a non-magical human. She could still use enchanted objects, like the stone she had just used to light the way.  Magic only worked her when she had an item that could perform the function she needed. Wizards of this world could infuse their songs into objects. It was called harmonizing. Jenny had become a collector of harmonized objects over the years.


    After the cabin disappeared, she had assumed the identity of a traveling merchant in a quest to find Danelthor''s medallion and eventually had one of the largest, rare artifact collections in the world. If an object was imbued with magical properties, she sought it out. However, to discourage thieves, Jenny mostly hoarded her treasures in a vault she had converted from an ancient crypt in an ice cave.


    When she first struck out on her own, Jenny had sold potions after she realized that a little bit of science goes a long way in a country of halfwits. She got by for quite some time via the placebo effect. Finally, once she had enough items to fake wizardry, she became a  moon mage . She used the phone''s flashlight feature to "harness the moon''s energies" when a demonstration was needed. She dazzled peasants and kings alike with screen savers and ringtones.


    Jenny eventually figured out how to connect to a WiFi network in her world. She wasn''t quite sure how the signal could bleed through other realms of reality. Still, she had found an ancient elven artifact that was a little chainmail pouch about the size of her phone that amplified her signal for about twenty-four hours after storing her phone in it for the night. She called it her Mithril OtterBox. She had another one stashed away in Traldalor for Mr. Jackson¡¯s phone.


    The stories of the OtterBox artifacts claimed that whatever was stored inside would imbue the object with the ability to  commune  with the gods. Shortly after using the bag  (mainly to prevent her phone from getting smashed), she noticed that it had detected signal. She saw the network  One Wifi to Rule Them All  appear as available. She was lucky the internet connection owner wasn''t very creative and used  RING  as the password, or she would have been stuck in this forsaken place with a connection to her world tantalizingly close.


    Now, not only was she the first person to steal WiFi from a neighboring dimension, but also the first person on this plane of existence to have Instagram influencer status because she decided to post a selfie with an Orc. At first, her pictures were considered to be faked or that she was friends with Hollywood makeup artists. Still, a tiny, yet fanatical cult had formed around her social media success, who seemed to be the only ones who believed that she was trapped in a fantasy realm.


    Most folks thought that the crazy people who practically worshipped her were just part of the gag. After all, many blog posts were about people who  spotted  her on a street corner or had a blurry photograph of a woman with the same build. There was even one person who claimed to know where she lived. Either way, virtually no one believed her.


    Even her mother was mad at her for disappearing and even more upset because her  act  prevented her from visiting. If her dad had been alive, perhaps he would have talked some sense into her mom. He would have listened to her. As it was, the people from her old life dismissed her as taking an online gimmick either too far or too crazy. The only remaining connection to her world was a kooky cult of people like Mr. Jackson, who''d eat a puppy if told to.


    While her weirdo followers cheered her on, she traveled to the four corners of Carnt looking for Danelthor''s medallion because the cabin would shift between her reality and this one regularly. She had been back to the place on many occasions with tricks like a wand of fire to blast the door off, a horn so loud it would shatter glass, and even a staff of the trembling earth that was said to crumble walls and blow up doors. However, nothing worked. The cabin would just shift between worlds like clockwork and leave her behind.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    One of the more frustrating aspects of encountering the cabin was that she had left her car keys inside. It wasn''t that she needed them in this world. It was more that if Danelthor had just turned out to be a creepy rando and not an interdimensional merchant, she would have lost her car keys again. The people at the dealership knew her by name.


    However, she could see the car keys in the same place every time she peered through the window, which meant that no one had gotten in the cabin in her world either. This meant that Danelthor''s business could be hers for the taking. However, rather than selling cheap American crap to the Helfrans, she would sell their crap on eBay.


    She had a dagger that would erupt into flames with a command word, among other things that would keep her wealthy for years to come. She could retire on a beach somewhere in the Caribbean. However, as the years passed and it seemed Danelthor''s medallion would be lost for good, she discovered that the only way to leave this place was through a ritual found in a forgotten tome she had liberated from a lich.


    The ancient magic required the beating hearts of five heroes whose deeds were known throughout the land and the energy of a powerful necromancer. The spell would tear open the fabric of reality long enough for a person to step through to the other side. The only downside was that the necromancer would be "swallowed by madness itself". Jenny interpreted the text to mean that he would be left with a smoothie for a brain, but since Duke already had a smoothie for a brain, there really was no downside. She wasn''t sure what would happen to the heroes, only that they would fuel the traveler with their essence, whatever that meant.


    There was a good chance that the heroes would die, too, considering that ancient texts weren''t known to have footnotes or have happy endings. But they weren''t supposed to be heroes, or even high schoolers, for that matter. The original plan had been to sacrifice her own followers, who said they would die for her. Unfortunately, there were never any more than three followers in any given metro area except the Beaverton Moon Mages of the All-Powerful Jenny Guild (the name wasn''t her idea), which had six members. It was the perfect number to switch minds with the Silent Legion. However, Mr. Jackson had gotten himself banished from the guild for making out with the guild master''s wife.


    Even though the impromptu make-out happened during a LARPing session, and the pair insisted they were under the influence of a mind flayer, the guild master permanently severed ties with Mr. Jackson by banning him from the Facebook group and unfriending him on all social media. The social media shunning happened a week before the realms would be aligned for the once-in-a-lifetime mind switch spell that Mr. Jackson had built in the basement of his work.


    A tiny part of her was a little revolted by the fact that she would sacrifice the high schoolers'' minds. Still, she had to keep reminding herself that they were all kids going to detention, and she was probably saving them from a life in and out of prison. In the end, she had way more to offer the world than they did. Jenny had flaming daggers. She had also survived all this time by choosing herself over anyone else.


    Unfortunately, in all her wanderings, she did not have a single magic item that would help her fly, which surprised her. She figured an entire world full of magic would mean that people would be flying all the time. Instead, all she had witnessed were wind mages who levitated themselves on a whirlwind as a parlor trick.


    What she lacked in flight, she made up for in what she called her  Spider-Man  ring. She placed it on her finger and climbed out of the window. She scaled down the sheer edge of the tower until she reached the point on the wall with the glowing brick. She pressed it, and a door opened. She climbed inside.


    Instead of the spiral staircase, she was in a dark room. She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight. It was a vault, a dragon''s horde worth of treasure stacked around the place. All manner of jewels, scepters,  or crowns could be acquired by an enterprising thief seeking to exploit the riches of a man who probably wouldn''t notice it missing.


    However, she wasn''t here for any of that. Duke could horde all the gold and platinum coins he pilfered from the kingdoms he had crushed during the height of his power. Jenny had no wish to be wealthy in a land that hadn''t invented day spas. She never understood people''s fascination about a time before personal hygiene.


    She crossed the room toward a door. It was the main entryway to the vault from the inside of the tower. Had she come in through the front, traps would have paralyzed her and alerted Duke. However, the back entrance was created for an imp that would fly treasure deliveries to his coffers. Since the magic that safeguarded this tower would deliver bolts of lightning to unfriendly flying creatures and the wall was unclimbable to all but those with a special ring, Duke hadn''t bothered to trap the backdoor.


    She gleaned the knowledge thanks to informative talks with Fweb about the place. Now all she needed was to find a staff that she was convinced was in his collection. There were many tales of Duke slaying the great wizard Greglorak. The artifact previously possessed by the postmortem mage had disappeared after that. It wasn''t much of a leap for her to assume it had made its way into the vault.


    Either way, she needed to get possession of it if she were to find her way home again. It was the last piece of the puzzle that she had been working on for years. She dug through the various items until she came across a rack of staves. She cursed. She hadn''t anticipated there being more than one powerful arcane staff in his collection.


    She knew Greglorak''s had a jewel on top that was famous for disintegration. However, there were three among the selection that fit that description. The three choices were opal, diamond,  and emerald. The wood was slightly different, but the text she had read said, "Greglorak unleashed holy light from a jewel atop a mighty staff that burnt enemies asunder."


    Perhaps the word ''mighty'' was a clue to the wood. The emerald looked like pine; between that and the green stone, she doubted that was the one. The opal was made from what looked like a walnut tree, and the diamond was made of oak. She strained to remember all the hours she had watched HGTV. There was an episode of  Fixer Upper  where they were debating walnut versus oak flooring to pick the more durable floor.


    She laughed out loud. It had been a long time since she had giggled like that. She couldn''t help herself. There was something comical about the fact that Chip and Joanna might help her escape this world. She would have to write them a thank you letter when she finally got back, which made her laugh even more. Now, if she could only remember if it was oak or walnut floors they had used.


    She was so immersed in her flights of fancy that she didn''t see the imp coming. The fierce creature raked its claws across her back. She turned around and thrust a short sword she kept hidden on her person into its stomach, and the beast fluttered backward halfway across the room before turning around.


    She got a good look at the creature, and it was about two feet tall, yellowish grey  in color, with bat-like wings. It snarled and charged her, despite the yellowish puss dripping from the wound. Claws on all four limbs were pointed towards her. She had very little time to think. Was it oak or walnut?


    She appreciated the sheer number of thoughts that managed to flit through her mind as this creature was about to rend her face into a bloody mess. While she could hide the injury on her back and stab the thing to death with her weapon, it would be really hard to explain to Duke why her visage was scratched up by his treasure vault imp in the first place.


    The next thought to cross her mind was Chip and Joanna. Chip had made a dumb joke, and Joanna had rolled her eyes. The team was laying a floor in a brand-new living room. Soon the giant matte picture of the old house would be wheeled away to reveal... walnut floors! They had installed walnut floors!


    She snagged the staff with the opal and had only one chance to get it right. She brandished Greglorak''s iconic weapon.


    The opal shimmered as if lit by the most brilliant sunbeam. Three points of wood held the stone in place. They surged with magical energy that converged in front of the jewel, which glowed more and more intensely. She aimed it at the imp that was almost upon her. A dazzling beam blazed forth from the staff, and the fell creature wailed as it was incinerated.


    She kicked the dust under an armoire and made haste toward the spot on the wall where she had entered. She fastened the staff to her back and put on her  Spider-Man  ring. Luckily, the nearest window was a lot closer than the one she had used to identify the spot. She would be inside in no time. She only hoped that she hadn''t set off any alarm bells.


    ?

 29 - Was It Something I Cast?

    29 - Was It Something I Cast?


    Outskirts of the Woods of Volunar, Crap Time


    Aiden, Sissy, and Jack were in over their heads. After splitting with the group, they decided to walk along the edge of the forest. They were no closer to formulating their plan for an ambush when they saw a rider with an orange wolf tunic on the rise gazing down at them. The rider darted away, and they scrambled to climb the nearest hill to see the lay of the land.


    As far as they could tell, the rider was only a scout, and the main group was still far away, which allowed them to devise a trap. After a while of scouting, they crawled behind some large rocks and conferred.


    "We build a big fire," Aiden said. "And when they get close, boom!"


    "Why would they get close if they know you have fire magic?" Sissy asked.


    "Oh, yeah, I hadn''t thought of that."


    "We can light the fire," Jack said. "Tim can shoot a flaming...uh..."


    After an uncomfortable pause, Aiden said, "What about your sun magic, Sissy? Can we put it through a magnifying glass? You know how we used to burn ants as kids."


    "Yeah, maybe," Sissy replied. "Major ick factor. It''s a cloudy and grey day. I don''t know if my magic will work."


    "Could you just try? Set that bush on fire." Aiden pointed to a bush a couple of feet away.


    Sissy shrugged and pulled out her shield. There was an emblem of a lion and the sun on it that glowed when she sang her magic, for some reason Lorde came to mind.  She concentrated on focusing the sun''s rays into a single point. A beam of light came down from the heavens, bounced off her shield, and hit the bush. It burst into flame.


    The group cheered for a moment, and then a gust of wind spread the flame from the bush to the grass. The fire spread quickly, and they backed away.


    "Put it out!" Sissy yelled, as they were forced down the hill.


    Jack pulled out a waterskin and poured it onto his hand. He sang, "Water pour forth, and quell the flame. Water pour forth and bring an end to the pain."


    The water flowing through his fingertips balled in his hands and grew. He chanted until he could feel it reaching its size limit. The liquid globe was about the size of him when he let it go. It flew towards the fire and got the original bush out, but it was too late. The fire had already spread.


    They were forced to abandon the hilltop, and they ran down back towards the trees. Once they were at the bottom, a large group of riders in orange charged down from the next rise. The three were too far from the tree line to run towards the woods.


    Aiden sang some Megadeth this time around and used the flames from the hill burning behind them to send a tsunami of fire towards the riders, but a warlock in their ranks blocked it with her own wall of flame. The two powerful forces had splashed fireballs in every direction, and now the Woods of Volunar were burning along with the hillside. Trees squealed and shook from the blaze.


    Sissy attempted to use her beam of light trick with some Iggy Azalea. A single ranger¡¯s armor glowed with the light. He removed his armor because it grew too hot, and Sir Grey beheaded the man for taking off his armor. Jack''s magic had just gotten the lot of them wet, which upset Sir Grey, and he killed two more of his men. Finally, once the three were surrounded and had to surrender, Sir Grey offed two more men because Lovantus wasn''t among them.


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    After the few moments of battle, the three all knelt at the feet of Sir Grey with half the countryside burning around them. The freshly chopped head of the soldier rolled to Sissy''s feet.


    "Where is our sovereign, witch?!" Sir Grey pointed the sword at Jack''s head. Even though Jack was a bit of a jerk, he was Sissy''s jerk, and she didn''t appreciate the man waving a sword at him.


    "He''s not with us!" Sissy yelled. "Just deal, okay?"


    "What did you say, knight?" Sir Grey''s eyes narrowed in on her.


    "I''m saying you made the wrong choice. We split up, and he went into the woods."


    "Sissy," Aiden said, "you''re selling out our friends."


    "Says who? This nerd isn''t going to go in after them, or else he would have done it. Instead, he came after us."


    "I would have split up the men to follow both trails if a certain scout hadn''t reported that he had seen the Silent Legion up north," Sir Grey said, and narrowed his eyes on the scout that had seen them earlier.


    The scout backed away, "But I did tell you. I told you I had seen the Silent Legion. How was I supposed to know that¡ª"


    The man''s head popped off with a flick of Sir Grey''s sword and Sir Grey turned back towards the captured trio. "We have no use for you. Though your heads will serve as a reminder for anyone who attempts insurrection again."


    "Excuse me, sir," one of the rangers said, while trying to pick out a fang protruding from his calf.


    "Yes, Corwin. What is it?" Sir Grey rolled his eyes. "You can take care of that later."


    "Sorry, sir, the wyverns of Jagadoom bit me leg, sir. It''s a good thing we had horses, or it would have gotten more than that."


    "Just get on with it!"


    "Wouldn''t Lady Ameria be more useful to us alive, sir?"


    "How? Ameria''s head on a pike would be enough to convince the nobles who has the real power in the city."


    "Begging your pardon, sir, but isn''t Lovantus the one with the true power?"


    Sir Grey turned his sword on Corwin and advanced.


    Corwin scrambled backward and said, "I mean, that is, till we find him, sir. If it''s the gauntlet that decides who will be king, and while he is still out there with it, then that means anyone can be king. Shouldn''t we spare their lives at least until we find Lovantus?"


    Sir Grey lowered his sword. "I once again see why I promoted you. Very well, we will use her as bait."


    He nodded, and two soldiers grabbed Jack and dragged him away. Sir Grey held the sword over Sissy.


    "Won''t they be useful, too?" Corwin said. "I mean, it''s not like we are going to need the extra horses. Might as well keep them around, too."


    "Can I at least kill the elf?" Sir Grey barked. "I hate stinking elves."


    "But then Bolt will get angry, sir. The dwarf and the elf are best mates. It could be useful to use all three of them as bait. That way, we get the jump on the lot of them."


    Sir Grey sighed and said, "You have impeccable logic. Very well, tie them each to a horse. We will track down Lovantus, woods or no woods."


    With the fire spreading around them, it looked as if it would be no woods soon enough.


    ?

 30 - Dictators and Democracy

    30 - Dictators and Democracy


    Inside a tree, Who Knows


    The lizerdlings were a bit of a misnomer. They were neither lizards nor anything that could be misconstrued as a "ling". Usually, fantasy creatures with names ending in ling were dainty miniature versions of another being. Halflings were essentially people about half the size of average people. Orclings were tiny little orcs about the size of a goblin. Dragonlings had a cute way of hopping about, breathing fire with tiny toots. Finally, jerklings were just that, small pixies that were well known to be the biggest assholes in all of Carnt.


    Lizerdlings, however, were massive, one-eyed ogres with yellowing buck teeth and rancid breath that could wilt flowers. They were named after the great couple who ruled the tribe, Liz and Erd. Thus, lizerdlings were all the followers of Liz and Erd. When a pair of said ogres came across this peculiar game meat that walked on two legs instead of four, they decided to take it back to see if it was safe to eat.


    However, before they got two steps towards their prey, another bipedal game meat, slightly taller than the first, but still only a fifth of the size of the lizerdling, stabbed the ogre with a glowing green thorn and caused a tremendous amount of pain for such a tiny little prick. The pair was definitely curious now, so they grabbed the two creatures and stuffed them into their belt pouches while they lumbered their way home.


    The lizerdling village was deep in the forest where the trees were so large that each lizerdling had a home carved into the base of a trunk. Their captor''s abode had a massive bed and a quilting station where the giant would weave huge quilts with very simplistic designs. Petra stood next to a square of cloth as big as her that was meant to be stitched into a more significant piece that was unfinished.


    The ogre sat on his bed, rubbing the spot that Annelise had stabbed. Petra nodded to Annelise and then towards the hulking creature. "Maybe...I don''t know. Offer to help him," she whispered.


    "Why would I do that?" Annelise said. "They abducted us! Remember?"


    "Clearly, your first approach wasn''t helpful, so maybe try something different?"


    "You want me to offer him the cure? I just stabbed him! You don''t poison someone, then offer to sell them the cure!"


    "Clearly, you don''t work in pharmaceuticals."


    "What?"


    "Never mind, it''s a dumb joke! It''s my defense mechanism. Fine, if you don''t want to do anything, I will."


    Petra wandered over to the creature and said, "Hey, excuse me, Mr. guy. We don''t mean to be rude, but we are in a rush. My son is out there in the woods all by himself and¡ª"


    The lizerdling looked back and forth and said, "Who said that?"


    Petra waved at the being, and the one-eyed ogre peered down at her. Then, he pinched her backpack between his fingers and lifted her toward his single eye.


    "What''s this, then? You talk?" the creature said, and Petra gagged from the foul stench.


    "Mouthwash. That''s another thing I''m adding to the list of things that suck about the Middle Ages. It was before the invention of mouthwash."


    "What?"


    "Never mind," Petra said. "Look, we may not have gotten off to the strongest start ¨C my friend stabbed you, and you nearly suffocated us. I say that makes us even."


    "How was I supposed to know you needed to breathe?"


    "You didn''t see the arm waving around from the hole in the top of your belt pouch trying to get your attention?"


    "I thought you were just playing around. You know, like a cat does? Sticks his paws in holes, he does."


    "You have a cat?"


    "I have three. They all live here in me tree. They go outside during the day to play, but at night, they all snuggle with me. It''s adorable, it is."


    Not wanting to meet the cat of such a gargantuan creature, Petra knew it was time to up her game and negotiate a way out of here. "Look, my friend is sorry she stabbed you."


    "No, I''m not," Annelise said.


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    "Either way," Petra gave Annelise a look, "she''ll be happy to provide you the cure in exchange for letting us go."


    "Why would I do that?" The lizerdling pondered.


    "Because it may fester and cause your leg to fall off, for all you know."


    "The poison would have killed a regular man," Annelise said.


    "You''re not helping!"


    The giant chuckled, pointed to a bulbous scar on his leg, and said, "Poison? Is that all it is? Venom doesn''t affect us lizerdlings. See that? That''s the Viperous Venom Snake bite. It will boil a deer alive. Scabbed over in a couple days for me, then itched for maybe a week. That is the Terribly Poisonous Toad. Left a rash, that one. There''s the Tree that Kills People. The Green Eagle of Death. The Fangy Thing¡ª"


    "Okay, okay, we get your point. Your immune system handles poison pretty well."


    "Those aren''t creative names," Annelise said.


    "We lizerdlings aren''t known for naming things. I''m called Clunk because I was clunked in the head by a rock as a kid. My partner is named Wood, after some wood."


    "Well, how about this, Clunk?" Petra said. "You let us go, and we''ll cut you in on a dragon hoard. We are tracking this dragon¡ª"


    "Dragons don¡¯t¡ª" Annelise said in confusion, and Petra shushed her. Most dragons had been hunted to near extinction by treasure hunters and knights seeking glory. However, what the treasure hunters didn''t know about dragons was that they didn''t sit on vast piles of wealth like depicted in the stories.


    Dragons were more performance art collectors than anything. They''d prefer a night out at a small black box theatre featuring various traveling beat poets than collecting vast hoards. However, since avant-garde theatre venues rarely had seating sizable for the creatures, they would amass performance artists to do nightly shows in the dragon''s lair.


    The actors were forced into artistic servitude by a dragon all the way back to the first one who started the rumor about dragons and treasure in hopes of inspiring glory seekers to come to their aid. Unfortunately, their tale was so convincing that knights and treasure seekers alike hunted dragons nearly out of existence for what amounted to comp tickets at a black box show.


    However, Clunk wasn''t aware of the true history of dragons. Still, the myth was powerful enough to have traveled to a lizerdling village deep within the Woods of Volunar. He seemed to be thinking over what a dragon hoard could do for him when he finally said, "The coins are too small for me to spend them."


    "So, melt them down into whatever you use for money," Petra said.


    "We use pig fat," Clunk said. "Trade it for anything. Erd found a whole mess of pigs one day. Raided a whole farm. Got himself a double-wide tree and is the king of the whole village."


    "You do know you can use the money to buy the pigs?"


    Before the brute was able to respond, Wood came home and tromped toward one of the chairs at the table and sat down. The whole place shook when his butt collided with the chair. There was a very normal-sized, fuzzy gray house cat on his shoulder.


    "Fluffy Butter Nupkins III!" Clunk said, dropped Petra, and ran to scoop up the kitty from his partner''s shoulder. She was lucky that the halfling form was agile because she could tuck and roll to simultaneously avoid injuring herself and dodge being crushed by the creature''s foot.


    The cat purred and rubbed its head into Clunk''s palm while he giggled with delight. Wood yawned and put his feet on the table and said, "Liz was busy, and Erd told me that he didn''t know what they were. He said we should just eat them, then report back on what they taste like."


    "They aren''t any hog;  I can assure you. Claims they are dragon hunters."


    "Dragon hunters?!" Wood yelped. "But they are so small!"


    "It''s not the size that counts," Petra said. "A little wit will take you a long way."


    "Blimey," Wood said. "They can talk. Whoever heard of prey that can talk?"


    "I''m telling you," Clunk said, "I''m not so sure they are prey. They are like us, just smaller."


    Wood roared with laughter. "Do you hear that? Clunk is the softy in this relationship. Thinks we should kill the pigs before boiling them."


    "I don''t like hearing their squealing."


    "How else you going to separate the meat from the fat? Now, there won''t be much fat on these two worth saving, but you might as well put the pot on and get it to boiling. I''m mighty hungry."


    "But what about their dragon hoard?"


    "The coin is too small to spend it."


    "That''s what I said, but they said you can buy pigs with it."


    "Think, you clod, who will sell you the pigs? Now just boil the stew. I am getting hungry."


    When it was clear that Petra wouldn''t be negotiating for their release, the pair attempted to slip away. There was a crack in the front door, and they had almost made it out when Wood saw them and scooped Petra and Annelise up with one hand. They were dumped into a cage full of pigs near a massive boiling caldron.


    Wood put a huge pan on top of the enclosure to prevent them from climbing out. Being boiled alive didn''t sound like a fun way to go. At least not while her son was still lost in the woods where there was danger around every corner.


    ?

 31 - The 4-Minute Work Week and Other Advantages of Being a Toddler

    31 - The 4-Minute Work Week and Other Advantages of Being a Toddler


    Deep in the Woods, Around Dinner Time


    Jonathan bounded through the woods gleefully, pointing out all the colors he could spot. Tim bounced on the hulking three-year-old''s back and felt slightly more nauseous with each step. Even though Babalador had slowed the poison, it was still getting more painful with each passing moment. His iron dwarf constitution would only get him so far, and he was hoping to find these lizerdlings soon.


    Meanwhile, Jonathan was having the time of his life with his new playmate. The elder fairy seemed interested in all the things a three-year-old would like, such as colors, shapes, and numbers. So, naturally, numbers were a big hit.


    Thus, at one point, Babalador asked if Jonathan would like him to count while the kid jumped. Jonathan hopped down the path, and Babalador was at 1,432 when Tim couldn''t take it anymore and cried out, "Okay, okay! Please stop before I lose the tiny bit that is left in my stomach."


    The fae one huffed and said, "You have to know how to play with children. They need your constant attention, or they will go wandering into a Willowby Bear''s maw."


    Babalador was correct about the attention part. While they walked, all the plants and animals that seemed threatening to Tim were swiftly dealt with by the fairy. The silver grass that had nearly dragged Tim into the depths let go of the kid with some soft music from their guide. The yellow-scaled gecko was chased away with a stick. The trees that would rumble when they got close were soothed. Even the reverse griffon creature that seemed to be giving Tim the eye nodded at Babalador and said, "Sup."


    "It''s amazing you got him to this age," the elder fairy commented to Tim. "What''s he? Forty-seven? How long do humans live? The last lord had me in servitude for 30 years... Do your minds just evolve late? Seems like there is not a lot of time between youth and death for you folks."


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    "There will be way less time if you don''t get me to that necromancer," Tim said between winces.


    "Always rushing about. Never taking a moment to appreciate life. It''s not the length of time you are given, but how you spend it that counts."


    "You''re not helping."


    "Been around for thirteen millennia, but will anyone listen to my advice? Oh, no, they all think they know better. There, up ahead, the village of the lizerdlings."


    Jonathan dropped Tim and yelled, "Green, they are all green!"


    "That''s right, they are green!"


    Tim forced himself to sit up and observed that they were on the edge of a city built into the forest. All the vegetation had been cleared away except for the trees with trunks the size of a house. In every one, there was a door carved into the base. Mighty one-eyed ogres lumbered through the town, chatting with each other, chewing on pig carcasses, and doing their chores, like cutting new doors or weaving baskets, just about every profession a villager could ever need.


    Tim saw one of the creatures trade a barrel of a white goopy substance with another in exchange for a new leather belt pouch. The tanner opened the barrel and had a taste of what was inside. His significant other smacked him over the head, and the tanner quickly put the barrel cover back on.


    "Right, then," Babalador said. "Here we go. One, two, let''s go. Pick up your friend."


    Jonathan again hefted Tim over his shoulder, and they walked into the village, unaware that lizerdlings were better known for their ability to smash things with clubs than negotiation skills.


    ?

 32 - How to Stop Questing and Start Living

    32 - How to Stop Questing and Start Living


    Petra¡¯s Living Room, Mid-November


    Lovantus hated daycare. All the teachers talked down to him as if he were a drooling, snot-nosed cretin. Then, when Lady Sorsha would pick him up at the end of the day, they would have a chat with her about his behavioral problems, such as when he presented a raised middle finger to a woman asking him to identify a clearly green color. Toby had told him the middle finger (aka the bird) was Beaverton''s signal for "don''t bother me", after a guy gave them the bird after the party had walked out into traffic.


    The rest of the fellowship weren''t doing any better. Zafosaul was forced to speak to a counselor after yelling at a kid punching him in the back for amusement. Apparently, one cannot threaten to blow this school and everyone in it asunder, according to the watchmen who call themselves the FBI. Zafosaul was in jail while the terrorist threat was assessed.


    Percy and Lovantus''s sweet Ameria seemed to have the least trouble at the gauntlet of fortitude and perseverance called high school. The people there worshiped them and assumed that their accents were merely practicing for a senior trip to a faraway land called  England . It was hard, though, for Lovantus to see the bright, shining light of his life in the arms of another.


    Bolt seemed to have it the worst. In prison, Zafosaul could gouge the eyes of his cellmate and be given his own room. Unfortunately, the Dwarven crossbowman not only couldn''t see that well, but apparently was on the lower end of the pecking order. He attempted to say hello to Percy in the hallway, and the gentleman escorting the paladin to class said, "Get away from her, nerd," and stuffed Bolt into a trashcan.


    The Dwarf considered slashing the Achilles tendon of his attacker but thought how swiftly the local authorities had arrived when Zafosaul threatened to blow up the school. So, he wisely kept his weapons at home. But, unfortunately, without crossbows, and having a body too frail to be of any use in combat, he was prey in the den of jackals known as high school.


    The Beaver King of Beaver Town had turned out to be a flimflam man, selling sub-par dwarven battle machines. The Beaver King attempted to sell Sorsha an inferior war cruiser called a Porsche missing a roof. No one of sound mind would willingly expose themself to archers and boiling oil when they drove into battle. It was far inferior to the Hyundai Accent that couldn''t even be penetrated by arrows.


    The hardest part about their plan to integrate with the forsaken society was dealing with their borrowed bodies'' parents. Percy had no idea what  Dancing with the Stars  was, but he had evidently committed a slight on the honor of his household when he had failed to watch it with his  mom . However, Percy, always of impeccable moral character, was ready to pay the price of dishonor with his life and was now enrolled in something called  therapy .


    This so-called therapist was not worth a single gold piece when he clearly did not understand that the real threat to the land was the necromancer and his minions of evil. This quack, called a mental health professional, thought Percy should attempt to reconnect with his inner child and forge new bonds of friendship with his mother. Despite the technological wonder of the clockwork automatons this world had produced, they had a very flimsy understanding of magic.


    Even their mightiest sorceress, named Alexa, didn''t know anything about wizardry and witchcraft. So, based on Toby''s instructions, he had asked, "Sorceress Alexa, will you tell me how to get home?"


    To which she had responded, "You are about 7 minutes and 39 seconds away from home. Would you like me to map you directions?"


    "No, no, home to Carnt."


    "Loading  Cards Against Humanity ."


    "I want to go home! This is the worst place I''ve ever been."


    "Playing '' Sloop John B '' by the Beach Boys on Amazon music."


    The sorceress in the infernal machine would only get worse from there. The only saving grace was that the parents of this Petra that Sorsha inhabited were largely absent most of the day. The mother, Claire, was rarely at home, which meant they could speak freely, except for a few slip-ups while Claire was there when Sorsha would get a glance or be asked, "Is everything okay?"


    She would respond with the answer Toby had given them to say if an adult looked at them funny. "It''s for our game."


    The LARPing excuse seemed to satisfy most people. Like when Zafosaul ate food that was for cats and that he had mistaken to be ground up feline. Elves were famous for their kitty delicacies. Or when Sorsha pulled a knife on playground equipment she mistook to be a dragon swallowing children whole.


    The worst part of their integration into society was the cursed Barry and his infuriating concubine, Beatty. The man would come to "see his grandson", and the inane conversation would be infused with, "My, oh my, somebody''s anxious to grow up." Then they would blow something called a raspberry on his belly and would make him laugh a wee bit, which, of course, he''d turn immediately back to a scowl.


    What irritated Lovantus the most was that no one, save his party, believed he was a man trapped in a kid''s body. People in this Beaver Town never listened to kids. They didn''t even hear what he was saying most of the time. Did they value kids so little that they could not treat him as if he were a person?


    "Ah hah!" Sorsha said and pulled Lovantus out of his pouting. Toby and the others would often come over to Petra''s house after school because the lack of adult figures would let them speak freely. However, tonight, Bolt was stuck at something called choir practice for his church. Percy was at some hedonist jamboree called cheerleading. Ameria was off playing war games in this peculiar ritual called football that involved neither feet nor a ball. So that left Sorsha, Toby, and Suzy.


    The barmaid seemed to have the easiest time of them all fitting in. As a teacher at the school, she would tell stories about drunken tavern patrons or lead the students in rousing sea shanties during class, and they seemed to love her. When they had figured out where her apartment was by using this wizard''s mark called a "driver''s license," Suzy said that she had lived alone, so there was no one to notice her accent. Her students didn''t care as long as they were singing sea shanties.


    They were a little lucky in regards to their accents. Since Ameria and Percy were the most famous people in their school, people began to assume that all their accents were a bit of a trend amongst teenagers ¨C trying to sound like they were from another country. Soon, the whole school was doing it. Which helped them even more because their native accents seemed to parallel the various peoples of this land.


    The Traldalorians spoke with what was regarded as an English accent. Zafosaul was assumed to be French. Bolt was Scottish, and Percy was South African. And the halflings were something called Russian, which also seemed to be the theme of this place Toby liked called the Communist Party, which had exotic food like pizza and burgers. It also had odd games for something called tickets that could be exchanged for stuffed creatures and plush Stalins.


    The people of this world lived for the amusement of themselves. Their heads were tilted downward to these mind control devices called smartphones and didn''t see the trees, the hills, and the mountain of the Hood. They had a zombie-, orc-, and necromancer-free world, yet they seemed to find any way they could to retreat from it.


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    Lovantus almost wished the Rat King Nimbus really had enslaved these people because it would at least explain why everyone seemed so disconnected. It was easier to rally people to fight a foe they could see than a threat they felt was there but couldn''t name. There was something wrong with this world that went beyond daycare or high school, and he couldn''t figure out what.


    "What did you find?" Lovantus asked Sorsha. Toby had taught them to use a magic library called the Google. They had been searching its digital halls for a way home.


    "There is a secret society," Sorsha said.


    "Bah! We found one of those secret orders marked only by Greek letters, and they seemed to be more interested in beer than magic," Lovantus said. Bolt, Percy, and Ameria had showed up at something called a fraternity that seemed to be a secret, ritualistic order with deep roots going way back to the country''s founding, according to their "web page". Bolt got stuffed into another trashcan, and the other two would have been asked to leave if it weren''t for the drunken members of the order making passes at Percy.


    "Or those people with the funny little hats. They were nice old chaps," Suzy said. She had gone to something called a Masonic lodge where they wore these red caps, and many had seen too many winters to be very useful in battle. The kindly, sage people offered no wisdom into the Legion''s predicament, but invited them to something called a potluck.


    "Here me out," Sorsha said. "This group is different. This group claims to be disciples of a moon mage of Carnt."


    "Moon mage?" Lovantus said. "There are no moon mages."


    "But they have gotten other things right. They know about the Frost Giants of Fellhaven."


    The Frost Giants of Fellhaven were a particularly nasty tribe who lived in the Twilight Kingdom. It was one of the only lands that remained neutral to the Sky Lord. The land was unforgiving and brutal to conquer, so all manner of the feared and the hunted, be they human or creature, arrived in Fellhaven. It was rumored that a lich presided as king, and the undead kept the rogues gathered in the city from killing each other. Either way, it was a place where most mortals did not tread.


    Sorsha presented the laptop to Lovantus. He read the description of a moon mage that had traveled to Fellhaven to find the lost Helfran relic. It detailed the account of running afoul of the Frost Giants and almost being killed through the breaking of every bone in her body, one at a time, which was a favored tactic of the cruel beings. There were even pictures of the moon mage, what Lovantus now knew to be selfies, and she displayed what he knew as peace symbols.


    However, what most struck Lovantus was not the story or even the pictures. Reports can be passed around, and a good artist can draw any scenery they''d like. Instead, it was a detail in one of the photos of Fellhaven. The photo featured the moon mage pointing toward the ice wall. Behind her shoulder was the braid of Lovantus''s and Ameria''s hair sealed in ice.


    Since the great ice wall that surrounded Fellhaven was said to have been there before the city was built and would still be there should the city fall, lovers would freeze braids of their hair in the wall to symbolize their love lasting forever. Lovantus knew it was their hair because it was tied with a rare Helfran hair piece called a scrunchie that he had battled the Many Eyes of Death on the Cragolith Mountain summit to obtain.


    This so-called wizard must have known about the time they had eloped, or she wouldn''t have pointed it out in the picture. Lovantus and his love were much younger when they were in Fellhaven before they thought about confronting the Sky Lord and the kingdom. Bards did not sing of their secret wedding in Fellhaven because Lovantus had officially married during a ceremony that was mostly for show after defeating the necromancer.


    Before the Silent Legion existed, Ameria''s order would not see one of their own tromping about with a brute such as himself. She had invented an entire story about needing unique ingredients for a healing spell that could only be gathered in Fellhaven and requiring protection only a sellsword could provide. It would be a dishonor for the king''s men to go there, so get the barbarian from the arena to do it and send in the lowest maid from the order to go.


    It was their first time away and alone with each other. The tale of their trip to Fellhaven was never known to anyone, yet here was a picture to show the moon mage was there. Suppose this moon mage had commissioned an artist to draw a moment in time with such detail. In that case, they must really have been to Fellhaven and also knew that Lovantus and Ameria were there.


    "Who drew these photos?" Lovantus demanded.


    Toby shrugged and said, "No one. I mean, they''re photos. Watch, I can do one right now."


    Toby pulled out his magical phone device to throw his voice long distances with the wind. He clicked a button and flipped it around. It was incredible. A tiny wind wizard inside the object must have drawn not only the room in exact detail, but also the bodies they were inhabiting. Lovantus saw the angelic child''s face that stared back at him in the mirror every day.


    "Incredible," Sorsha said, and grabbed the phone. "Can you imagine if we had one of these when we infiltrated the Spider Queen''s lair? Can my phone do that?"


    "It certainly can!" Toby said, and Sorsha soon began to snap photos with her phone and gazed at them in wonderment.


    "I''m doing magic!" Sorsha said.


    "I wish I had a phone," Suzy pouted. "This Mr. Jackson has a phone bill, but no phone."


    "There will be time for this later," Lovantus scolded. "Obviously, this moon mage is from this world, being that she can cast the same spells as you, Toby. We must find these disciples of hers."


    "Hold on," Suzy said. "Scroll up to the top of the page. See that symbol? It''s in me room where I sleep every night. I have a little shrine to it, I do. Has himself a shrine, but no phone."


    She pointed to a symbol at the top of the page depicting a full moon with a dagger and an arrow on either side. Underneath the mark, it read "Moon Mages Guild".


    "Why didn''t you tell us this before?!" Lovantus squealed.


    "I didn''t know what it was," Suzy replied with a shrug. "Thought it was a place setting. You know, a plate with a fork and spoon, except this was an arrow and a dagger."


    "Who would eat with an arrow and a dagger?!"


    "You''ve never been poor, have you? Sometimes you eat with a dagger because that''s all you got."


    "You mean the poor in my kingdom don''t have forks?"


    "Mostly we use our hands. Makes it gross to eat sometimes after scrubbing the latrines all day."


    "When we return, and oh, yes, we will return, you mark my words, I will ensure that every man, woman and child--"


    "And non-binary genders."


    "Yes, those, too...will have forks. We will be a kingdom of forks! Now, Lady Sorsha, we must make haste and seek out this Moon Mages Guild."


    "Maybe we start with my apartment first?" Suzy said. "Might be a clue there."


    "We will not rest until we turn over every stone in this Beaver Town. We will find this¡ª"


    "Already joined their Facebook group," Toby said, and clicked on his phone. "Hey, guys, new member here. I have some travelers from Carnt. They want to talk to you."


    Toby uploaded the photo he took of the group. His phone dinged a few seconds later.


    "Sweet, they are meeting up at the Communist Party this weekend. Who wants to get some pizza?" Toby said.


    Lovantus buried his head in his hands. He wasn''t sure how much more fun and games he could take.


    ?

 33 - Arena Battles and Other Dangers of Boldly Going Where There Aint No People

    33 - Arena Battles and Other Dangers of Boldly Going Where There Ain''t No People


    The Wrong Place, The Wrong Time


    The lizerdlings gathered around their queen Liz and king Erd. The thick old-growth trees shook as the tribe pounded in unison on the trunks. They chanted, "Challenge! Challenge! Challenge!" as Liz and Erd flexed their muscles and swung big clubs. Tim, who could barely stand at this point, and Jonathan, who danced to the beat, were on the other side of the circle that had formed around them.


    "This was your plan! Challenge the tribal leaders!" Tim cried out to Babalador on the sidelines.


    The fairy shrugged and said, "If you want them to respect you, you need to show them strength."


    "I can''t walk! And my partner is a three-year-old who thinks this is a dance party."


    "You''ll figure it out."


    "Figure it out?! Figure it out?! I was humiliated in my wrestling team tryouts by setting a record for quickest to the mat! I had to go to the hospital during my softball tryouts when I hit myself in the head with a bat! Maybe my brother could save us, but I''m weak, nothing! Do something! If not for me, then for the kid!"


    Babalador pondered for a second and said, "I cannot help you build trust in yourself. Only you can do it."


    "It''s not a matter of self-esteem. It''s physics! I can''t even walk!"


    "Legs are overrated." Babalador displayed his short, stumpy legs. "Look at mine. I get by just fine."


    "You have wings!"


    "Tribal men, women, and nonbinaries! We have a challenge to my leadership!" Liz bellowed. The giants screamed with excitement and pounded on the nearby tree trunks. They stomped their feet on the ground and jeered at the two humanoids. "A true leader is only as effective as their club! And they didn''t even bring one!"


    The gathered lizerdlings roared with laughter, as more packed in around the edges to see what was happening. Liz continued, "Let''s see if they even know how to fight. Erd." She held her hand out for her partner.


    "Erd. Smash!"


    Erd cried out and clomped over to the pair. Jonathan hopped up and down with joy. The hulking creature lifted his club high above his head and brought it down upon the two. Tim closed his eyes and heard a loud clang.


    When he had realized that he wasn''t dead, he opened them again and saw that Jonathan had blocked the club with his axe. Erd lifted his club into the air. Jonathan''s weapon was embedded inside it, and the man-sized toddler went with it.


    "I''m flying!" Jonathan said, and cackled as he went higher and higher. The lizerdling reached for the boy and snarled through its teeth.


    "Oh, no, you don''t!" Tim yelled. He didn''t think. He just reacted. He pulled his crossbow from his back and nailed the hand holding the club. The creature wailed and dropped its weapon, sending Jonathan to the ground. The giant raised its foot to stomp Jonathan, and Tim used the smaller crossbow and hit the little toe.


    Erd gripped his foot and hopped around on the other. Jonathan followed the maneuver and did the same. The crowd roared with laughter as the kid unwittingly mocked their leader, and the ogre bellowed, knocked Jonathan aside, and went for the prone dwarf next.


    Tim loaded another bolt and shot another one into its foot, pinning it to the forest ground. Erd attempted to yank the foot free and toppled over in the process. Tim rolled out of the way and was close to the creature''s head. He scrambled to grab another bolt but dropped it.


    Liz roared and stomped over to them. The crowd was whipped up in a frenzy, and the earth shook while they banged on everything in sight. Tim got the next one loaded and placed his crossbow on Erd''s temple. Then, he called out, "Yield, or I will kill your mate."


    The crowd laughed, and Liz brandished her club. "He is no longer my mate. He has fallen to the likes of you. We are no longer lizerdlings, but lizlings! We will not be called by a shameful leader''s name! I will destroy these usurpers."


    Tim turned his crossbow on her and tried the same tactic. He put a bolt into her foot. She seemed hardier than Erd and wasn''t fazed. Jonathan wandered over. His back was to Liz. The boy saw Tim and a big grin came across his face. The child did not see the creature raising her weapon.


    Just as Tim resigned himself to the fate about to befall the kid, he felt strength return to his legs. On the sideline, Annelise was there with Petra. The erstwhile barmaid had cut Petra''s arm and used the blood to cast the spell that gave strength to his legs.


    Tim may not have been cut out for the track team, but he didn''t think about that now. Instead, he ran towards Jonathan and tackled the barbarian just before the club came down on his head. They rolled several times. When they came to a halt, the toddler grinned and said, "Do it again!"


    "Maybe later," Tim said, and popped up. He pulled out the morning star from his belt and ran into battle with Liz. They clashed, and the crowd screamed and hooted. Clunk and Wood stood behind Petra and Annelise, cheering Tim on. Jonathan saw his mom and ran over to give her a squeeze that turned her face red.


    Despite landing a solid blow on the kneecap of his adversary the creature was unfazed and kicked him away. Tim tumbled end over end until he landed at Annelise¡¯s feet. Babalador fluttered over and said, ¡°Are you a dullwit? Why are you trying to use a mundane weapon? Everyone knows that creatures from Carnt can only be damaged by enchanted weapons!¡±


    ¡°But the crossbow worked,¡± Tim said while Petra and Annelise pulled him up off the ground. Liz waited for him to step back into the ring with a blood thirsty grin.


    ¡°It¡¯s enchanted with Stone magic!¡±


    Tim reached into his backpack and his face went pale. He was out of bolts. He had used them hunting small game. As much as he tried to collect them afterwards, a lot were bent and unusable. Some he couldn¡¯t find. It was a dwindling supply, and he wished he had kept better track of them.


    Annelise took his morning star and turned it over in her hand. She cut her hand and smeared blood over the item while singing  Ziggy Stardust  by David Bowie. The weapon glowed green and faded. She tossed it to Tim.


    ¡°Necromancy,¡± Babalador said. ¡°An interesting choice.¡±


    ¡°Face me!¡± Liz bellowed. ¡°Or forfeit your life!¡±


    Tim gripped his weapon and charged. The battle tested everything about him. He had to have the strength to deflect blows, the agility and speed to run between Liz''s legs, and the tactics to get a hit when he could. Eventually, he wore the creature down. He tossed his morning star for the final blow and crushed in her nose. Liz crashed to the ground on top of her former mate. The lizlings roared and picked Tim up and put him on their shoulders. Petra jumped with Jonathan. Clunk gave Annelise a high five that knocked her over.


    "You did it! You are the new leader!" the crowd cheered.


    "What is your name?" one of the giants asked.  They set him down and patted him on the back.


    "Tim," the tired dwarf said.


    "Timlings! We are now timlings!" the giants screamed. They placed a wreath on his head that was so big, it dropped to his waist like a hula-hoop. The cry of "timlings!" spread throughout the tribe as they boisterously recounted the match.   He made his way through the crowd towards Petra and Annelise. Babalador fluttered around while Jonathan identified more colors.


    "Did Babalador find you guys?" Tim asked.


    "No," Petra said. "He just told us that it was about time we showed up. Clunk here was the one who let us go. I kinda appealed to his fatherhood. Turns out they are unlikely to have kids. Clunk couldn''t let a kid go motherless, you know."


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    "Um..." Tim hesitated. "Aren''t they two males, and you know, can''t have kids?"


    "They are all males here. At least genetically at birth, but some decide to change their gender. It doesn''t stop them from making babies."


    "Are you saying Liz was trans?"


    "What? Are you saying transgender folks can''t be fearsome warlords?"


    "No, no! It wasn''t like they were listing their pronouns on their tunics."


    "They only list pronouns on their tunics to normalize pronoun choices, you know," Clunk volunteered.


    "What? Who?" Tim said, confused.


    "The Helfrans," Clunk said. "Their king is an A in LGBTQ+. As in ally, not asexual. I guess that''s why they do the plus now. The A was kinda vague."


    "He''s only parroting what we Fae folk have known for generations," Babalador said. "We practically coined the term pansexual. Have you been to a Dionysus festival? You don''t see fairy folk getting all twisted up about who you love or how you identify yourself."


    "I still think we should have eaten them. Now, we''ll never know what they taste like," Wood pouted.


    "Oh, come off it. They are our tribal leaders now," Clunk said. "Show them some respect."


    "LGBTQ+ is a term from our world," Petra said. "The Helfrans, they have to know about us. Maybe even how to get back."


    "I must protest," Annelise said. "My mistress is in the opposite direction from Helfra. It may add weeks to our journey."


    "Seems like your mistress has been waiting a long time for us and probably can wait some more. It''s not like we are going anywhere, and if we do make it home, then we won''t need her help."


    "Yes, quite right," Annelise muttered, but clenched her fist behind her back.


    "Now, where are the others?" Petra said. "Let''s get to this Helfra and find a way home."


    "Yeah, about that..." Tim began sheepishly, then told them about the fallout of their fellowship.


    "They didn''t want to follow us because of some scary trees?!" Petra yelled after he was through.


    "Killer trees," Babalador said. "The scary ones live more to the west of here. They are harmless and only like to scare people. Shout ''boo'' at them when they walk by and whatnot."


    "What happened to ''we are stronger together''?"


    Tim shrugged and said, "I''m just not as good at speeches as you."


    "And you want to be a writer."


    "Ouch!"


    "Look, Tim, I''m sorry. I get mean sometimes. I have a dad who thinks that bonding with me means using my son to impress his girlfriend who''s barely older than me, and a mom who wouldn''t know if I ran away to join a satanic sex cult."


    "Hey, I''m sorry, too. If it''s any consolation, my mom is always bragging about my brother at church. Did you know I have a 4.0? Yet my mom acts like that''s what is expected of me and I''m just doing the bare minimum."


    "At least your mom talks to you. I do a lot more than the bare minimum and remain unnoticed."


    "When you are finished one-upping each other, we should get on the road," Annelise said.


    "Why?" Petra said. "Tim is the king of these people. Let''s have one night where something isn''t trying to kill us."


    One of the tribe''s elders spoke up. "The new king now must choose a mate with ritual combat among the strongest single men, women and nonbinaries to sort out a worthy King, Queen, or Queng to rule with you for all eternity or until someone decides to kill you, too, whichever comes first."


    "I demand that our people be timlorlings!" Lor bellowed and tromped towards Tim with a club in hand.


    "Our people will be timguklings," Guk demanded, shoving Lor out of the way.


    "Timbethlings," Beth yelled. She kicked Guk in the gut, and he made a guk noise.


    "Whoa! Whoa!" Tim yelled out, and the horde of single creatures stopped advancing. "As your king, I have a few decrees to make. One, your leader will now be chosen by vote, and the first vote starts now. I vote for Clunk to be in charge. Anyone want to put a name on the ballot?"


    The timlings scratched their heads, picked their noses, and generally looked confused.


    "Great!" Tim said. "Clunk wins by one vote. So, Clunk, you''re in charge."


    Tim hefted up the wreath and handed it to Clunk. The creature put it on his head and said, "I guess we are clunkwoodlings now. Um...my first decree is: no more eating creatures that can talk. It''s not nice, and their bones get stuck in your teeth. We should also think about doing ''throw pillow Thursdays''. There are not enough of them in the village, and it would make it quite lovely around here. I also think we should use this voting thing to decide brunch. It''s always pig. I don''t even like¡ª "


    The group made their way out of the village while the clunkwoodlings were distracted by their new governing system. Tim grinned and said, "Looks like I invented democracy."


    Babalador fluttered his wings and said, "Fairies have been democratic since the dawn of time. The problem is that no one wants the job of Fairy Supreme. You spend a millennium hearing the prattle of fae folk. ''This one broke a branch off my tree, and that tree was my best friend.'' ''The Satyrs are playing their flutes too loud again.'' ''That damned elf is back again, putting us in jars.'' Why do you think playing the color game with your child is such a thrill? His largest expectation is that I cheer when he points out the color green."


    "Wait, are you the fairy king?" Petra said.


    Babalador looked around and said, "Shhh... don''t go telling anyone else that. They think I''ve been abducted by humans again. I only ran for office because I lost a wager. Turns out erosion is much quicker than you think it is, and a lot can happen in a millennium."


    "I don''t get it," Tim said. "How did you know he was Fairy Supreme, or whatever it is?"


    Petra shrugged. "Just attend one of my parents'' parties. You get used to people complaining about what it''s like to be too rich and too powerful."


    "Icky."


    "Tell me about it."


    They walked another couple of days in the forest. Babalador guided them through the wood''s dangers and found them various fae abodes to rest their heads. They were house guests of a centaur who gave them too much mead, and pixies who had acquired a Blu-ray player from Helfra and could not stop watching  High School Musical . They even stayed in a den of trolls who were obsessed with American Girl dolls.


    It wasn''t until they saw many dryads wearing "Gonzalez Family Picnic 2003" shirts that they realized they were on to something here. It was like there was a Goodwill store operating out of Helfra, and the closer they got, the more likely they were to come across Earth artifacts. But, despite how close they were getting, Annelise seemed to be more and more on edge.


    It was as if there was something in Helfra she didn''t want them to discover, yet she did nothing to hinder their progress. When Babalador, Annelise and Jonathan were a little further up the trail, Petra voiced her concerns about Annelise to Tim. "Do you get the sense that something is up with her?"


    "I was going to say, she doesn''t seem too happy with going to Helfra," Tim said.


    "I want to give her the benefit of the doubt. I mean, she was the first to go into the woods after me. She cured you. Yet, every time we stray from the path of going towards her moon mistress, she gets cold. Not to mention she sang David Bowie for that song."


    "Perhaps she is being coerced in some way. Not to mention there does seem to be a fair amount of Earth knowledge in this land."


    "But why doesn''t she tell us? She must trust us by now."


    "Magic," Tim said. "Maybe there is a listening spell or one of those seeing stones."


    "Let''s keep an eye out," Petra suggested. "But keep it between you and me."


    "You''re the halfling in charge."


    "I can''t wait to be a real girl again," Petra said, looking at her hairy feet.


    ?

 34 - Eat, Pray, Lop Off the Head of a Henchman or Two

    34 - Eat, Pray, Lop Off the Head of a Henchman or Two


    Clunkwoodling Village, Eighteen Days after Festival


    Two more heads rolled and landed by Corwin''s feet. This time, it was the two trackers who had followed Lovantus''s trail into the woods to an encampment of clunkwoodlings. Not only had the barbarian  moved through the forest at surprising speed, the brute had defeated the clunkwoodlings leader and installed a strange government in his wake, which led Sir Grey to conclude that Lovantus was not as feebleminded as first reported but was instead playing a long game.


    Sir Grey was so infuriated by the news that after ordering the slaughter of the clunkwoodlings and the burning of their village, he killed three more of the riders, leaving eleven of the original thirty men left. Not a single casualty was caused by anyone they had faced in battle. While the clunkwoodlings were worthy opponents, the rangers of Traldalor were the most elite fighting force around. Therefore, they had little issue defeating the ogres in combat.


    Corwin couldn''t fathom why any of the riders stayed around, knowing that their master would end their lives if he got in one of his moods. Nevertheless, Corwin was determined not to let his recent promotion be his ticket to an early grave. The only way he figured that he''d get out of this alive was by freeing Lady Ameria when the time was right.


    From all the rumors he''d heard from palace guards, she was generally considered the cooler head when those at the top would bicker. The account seemed accurate because even when Sir Grey turned his anger toward the captives and threatened to cut off her head unless she revealed Lovantus''s master plan, she refused to speak of any plot and said, "Dude, bro, I literally don''t know what those nerds are doing! Those geeks are probably planning to buy an escort, so they don''t have to go to prom alone."


    Percy struggled against his bindings and said, "Be nice! Those nerds are helping us."


    "You''re not the one going to get your head chopped off because you don''t play enough  DnD !"


    "Enough!" Sir Grey yelled. "Clearly, these buffoons do not know the nefarious plot, but the evidence is clear. Lovantus means to replace our kingdom with a republic."


    Corwin thought for a moment, then said, "What exactly is that?"


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    "It is a democracy, a truly vile enemy of the people. In democratic governments, people vote for their leaders."


    "If you don''t mind me saying, how is that all bad, sir?"


    Sir Grey chuckled, "Oh Corwin, you are too much. Imagine living in a world where any idiot can be a leader."


    "It doesn''t seem that far off from what we''ve got,¡± Corwin said  and instantly regretted it.


    "What?!" Sir Grey spluttered and drew his blade.


    "That is to say, Lovantus, letting him be king because of the gauntlet."


    Sir Grey lowered his weapon. "You know what? You''re right. Democracy is kind of like that. Just let any old fool rule the place because he has the right arm gear."


    While Sir Grey continued to rant about the folly of a republic, Corwin counted his lucky stars that his head wasn''t yet rolling this day. Then, after rechecking his neck to make sure his head was secure, he noticed that the paladin Percy was staring at him as if the man were formulating a plan.


    Before Sir Grey noticed that Corwin had stopped paying attention, the rangers who were recently promoted to scout arrived with urgency.


    One of them knelt. "We have spied Lovantus, sir!"


    "Let us make haste," Sir Grey said. "We will ride until we have Lovantus on the other end of our lance."


    "Sir, they are headed toward the kingdom of Helfra."


    Sir Grey roared with disapproval and disposed of the two scouts.


    ¡°At the speed he is going, he will make it before us,¡± Sir Grey brooded, which was true. Ever since entering the woods, they had to move slow to avoid the dangers. Something must have been helping him.


    ¡°I know of a shortcut,¡± Lady Mordock said.


    "Come," Sir Grey said and grinned, while wiping his blade. "We will go to Helfra. Perhaps a trade could be arranged. But watch yourself, Corwin. The king of the mystic province is no friend to Traldalor."


    Maybe inside the walls of Helfra would be the time for Corwin to make his move. He only needed to survive a bit longer.


    ?

 35 - Raining Blood and Other Vampire Party Tricks

    35 - Raining Blood and Other Vampire Party Tricks


    The Infestation of Life, Weeks After the Unfortunate Sewer Incident


    Ralicuk slunk through the infernal wilderness of the Woods of Volunar. The abundance of life around the creature was making it ill. As a rule, the undead avoided the forest, but the scent of Lovantus indicated he had come through this way, so Ralicuk had to venture deeper into the lush growth.


    The dangers that would thwart a regular human were of no consequence to his ilk. The silver grass that swallowed creatures whole withered at his feet. Any critters  attempting to make a meal of him were either deterred by the smell or torn apart by its claws. The more intelligent beings saw the path of destruction and wisely left him alone.


    He could pick up the pace in the woods because of the distinctly low amounts of sunlight that reached the forest floor. It wasn''t that the sun would burn him to ashes. It was more that the sun drained his powers and would turn him into an ordinary corpse after a while.


    He operated best in low to no light conditions. Due to the fortunate circumstance of the seasons, there was currently more night than day, and he was closing in on the Traldalorian king ever since encountering him in that sewer.


    It was a chance encounter. Ralicuk had intended to stalk the sewers of the capital city for a while to lure the hero down into a trap, and the town was merely a pit stop on the way. The basket weaver was a snack on the road. Some flesh to keep him going. However, Lovantus had been right there. If the vampire hadn''t been weakened by travel after wasting away deep underground and had been able to hunt until he was full strength, the encounter would have ended in a victory for the Sky Lord.


    It wasn''t easy being a vampire. Unless he feasted on enough flesh and drank enough blood, he would rot away to dust. He was well on his way to becoming dust when a hapless adventuring party attempting to make a name for themselves by following the footsteps of the Silent Legion had disturbed his final resting spot in the Catacombs of Eenewi.


    While searching his bones for treasure, the party''s thief accidentally pricked his finger on Ralicuk''s claws. One drop was all he needed to regenerate his hand enough to slash at whatever was on top of him¡ªthe slash connected to the jugular. The gushing blood kickstarted his rebirth, and he wasted the entire group.


    However, when he finally succeeded in escaping the catacombs where Lovantus himself had struck the death blow all those years ago, the world had changed. The most noticeable difference was that his master, the great necromancer, was no longer in power. All the races who previously feared his name now mocked him with corn art.


    However, the Sky Lord was all-seeing and all-knowing. He had foreseen this day. Ralicuk remembered the conversation as if it were yesterday. Since his consciousness did not return until he had eviscerated the hapless party, it seemed only a week since he last spoke to his master. The dark lord LeDuke called forth the orc and human leaders who were loyal to him. They rallied around his war room table.


    There was a battle map of Carnt, and the halflings had already fallen. The humans, dwarves, and elves were next. The darkness was spreading across the land.


    "Ralicuk," the Sky Lord had said. "Bring a detachment of archers and foot soldiers into the catacombs with you. Honestly, I don''t see what one lousy gauntlet is going to do against my hordes of orcs."


    "Suppose he uses it to rally all the races of Carnt against you," Pip had said from behind a curtain.


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    "Mom! I told you to never listen in on my meetings!"


    Pip popped out from behind the drapes and nodded to an Orc wearing a necklace of humanoid eyes and a helmet made from skulls.


    "I''ll stop listening in when you start taking my ideas seriously. Never wanted to hear my ideas, that one. His mum is only looking out for him," she said to a man with a finger bone necklace and blood face paint.


    "I''ll start listening when your ideas aren''t ludicrous! Elves marching with dwarves, alongside humans and halflings. That''ll be the day."


    "You never know. Your dad never thought you could raise pigs and chickens in the same pen, but that he did."


    "Mom, the Gauntlet of the One True King is not some farm project."


    "Don''t get your knickers in a twist. Farming is like having a kingdom. Only your subjects are chickens and pigs."


    "Mom, you''re embarrassing me in front of my Council of Elder Horrors. How many times have I told you not to spy on me?"


    "How many times have I told you that I''m not spying? I''m only making sure my baby boy is treated right. Remember when the village teacher tried to kick you out of the schoolhouse for ritually sacrificing the class gerbil? I had to watch her, I did."


    "Mom, we are discussing the invasion of Traldalor and the subjection of the known world. Could you leave it alone?"


    "Supposing Lovantus does unite the armies and defeat you with that gauntlet, I don''t want you to come crying to me. I can''t kiss your boo-boos anymore."


    "Fine, whatever. If it will make you happy...Ralicuk."


    "Yes, master," Ralicuk had hissed.


    "On the off chance Lovantus defeats me, I''m talking tiny here, get revenge on my enemies and proselytize my return. Maybe raise an undead army or two. There, happy mother?"


    Ralicuk had no idea what was to come that day he was anointed as the harbinger of the grand return of the Necromancer King. It was an honor. He now fully understood. The races of the living were never meant to walk in the armies. The Sky Lord must have planned to be defeated and have the mortal element of his army walk again as undead.


    It was clear to Ralicuk that if he would ever see his master return to glory and properly kill a bunch of halflings for their corn art, he would have to murder Lovantus. Maybe even raise the man again as a powerful lich lord under the thrall of the vampire''s liege.


    He eventually pushed through the forest until he came to a village of giants that had been recently sacked. The few survivors who had hidden were in the process of putting out the last of the fires and cleaning up the bodies. Ralicuk snuck towards the nearest one and had it drained within an inch of its life in no time. He dragged his prey into the bushes so as not to alert the other giants.


    The creature quivered while some of the wounds on the vampire''s face healed. Ralicuk now looked almost human. With enough blood and flesh, he''d be able to maintain an entirely mortal look for a while. Ralicuk peered at the creature''s eyes and said, "Humans came through here recently. Don''t deny it. I can smell their presence. Where are they going?"


    "Helfra, the human kingdom of Helfra," the being quivered.


    "Good. It looks like I will need a disguise." He brandished his claws and showed his fangs. The creature was too weak to scream.


    ?

 36 - Necromancers Are from Mars, Women Are So Going to Kick Your Ass

    36 - Necromancers Are from Mars, Women Are So Going to Kick Your Ass


    All-Seeing Tower, 28 Days After the Festival


    Jenny inspected the three hard sot magical items on her bed while Fweb stood at her side. From right to left, it was Greglorak''s staff, followed by the Lute of the Dead, made from bones, and finally Jewel''s Jewel, a ring with an enormous yellow sapphire. The Jewel was a magical item associated with 90''s folk sensation Jewel. The Earth version of the singer''s history said that she lacked housing , playing music from the car, but the reality was that she was High Priestess of a soft rock musical secret order caught in a magical explosion that had deposited her on Earth.


    Other artists who had arrived during the disaster were Los del Rio, Donna Lewis, Joan Osborne, Natalie Merchant, the Goo Goo Dolls, Dishwalla, one Gin Blossom, Hootie & two of the Blowfish, the drummer of Collective Soul, and Alanis Morissette. The line "A magical explosion on your initiation day" was cut from the song "Ironic" by Alanis''s producers. The record company also requested rewrites of several potential hit songs like, "What if river trolls walked among us?", "Tell me what you think about river trolls", and "Macarena and killing river trolls". The latter being an instructional song to teach acolytes of the order a collective ritual spell to control the river troll problem constantly plaguing the order.


    "I don''t understand, miss," Fweb asked. "What are these supposed to do?"


    "It''s not what they do individually," Jenny said, "but what they do in conjunction with each other, which I wouldn''t have had to use except my idiot apprentice can''t follow instructions. How hard is it to get a bunch of scared children to follow you around?! Anyway, you already know what the staff does."


    "I figured that out when I disintegrated my mate, Grekka, after you asked me to hide it for you."


    "I''m sorry about that. I should have warned you."


    "You must be joking, mistress. Incineration is a great way for a goblin to go. We are usually disemboweled by our masters. Having your mate be the one to off you in the end, well, there is nothing better, unless it was your child, I suppose."


    "Remind me to put better working conditions for underlings on my to-do list when I take control of this place."


    "You''d really do that for us?"


    "Trust me. I''ve taken Strength-Based Management Workshops, and you can increase productivity by at least 12%. In addition, you''d be six times less likely to leave me for another necromancer in a supportive work environment. So, I''d really be doing it for me."


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    "Well, you have our support, mistress. The other goblins are ready to do your bidding. The distraction you ordered is already underway. We have Motar reading Duke his bedtime story."


    ***


    Meanwhile, in the Dark Lord''s bed chambers, Pip hummed a tune while she rubbed Duke''s back like she did when he was a toddler. Motar had  The Silent Legion Death  picture book opened and was reading it to the drowsy dark lord, "Lo-Lo-Lo-Lovantus impaled on a spike. Percy falls off a¡ªa¡ªa¡ªa d¡ªd¡ªd¡ª"


    "Dike! Percy falls off a dike!" Duke snapped. "Where''s Fweb?"


    "Cut him a break," Pip said. "His partner wandered too close to the magma pit."


    "I know who else I''d like to throw in the magma pit," Duke muttered.


    "Oy! I''m your mother!"


    "I was talking about the orc, Mom!"


    "Dike! Dike! Percy falls off a dike! A rock caves in Bolt''s sk¡ªsk,"


    ***


    Back in Jenny''s room, the pair continued their scheming.


    "So, you have the disintegration staff," Jenny explained. "Then there is the Lute of the Dead, whose song pulls souls from the underworld and puts them under the thrall of any bard who dares to pluck its strings woven from human hair. Then the Ring of the Undying protects you from death once every twenty-four hours."


    "Why twenty-four? Why not all the time?" Fweb asked. He felt more secure asking questions around the Moon Mage Jenny than his previous master. Being hung by his own intestines had been a significant deterrent for any meaningful conversation with his superiors.


    "Maybe it has to charge. I''m not sure. In any case, it will protect me from dying when I combine the power of Jewel''s Jewel with the staff and the lute."


    "What will happen then?"


    Jenny smiled and said, "Just you watch."


    ?

 37 - The Lord of the Things and His Game of King Chairs

    37 - The Lord of the Things and His Game of King Chairs


    Helfra¡¯s Gates, 28 Days After the Festival


    Babalador waved goodbye at the edge of the forest, which was just outside of Helfra''s gates. Jonathan gave the Fae sprite such a big hug that he almost killed the thing. The elder fairy grumbled about taking a few millennia off his life, but "it was worth it for that smile from the oafish toddler."


    Petra, Tim, Annelise, and Jonathan walked from the woods to the main road that skirted the edges of the trees. Humans didn''t enter the woodland if they knew what was good for them, so it was natural for the merchants along the road to eye the four of them warily as they made their way toward the line forming at the gate.


    People whispered and pointed at the group. They either knew it was some of the Silent Legion, or they were gauging just how unhinged the group had to be to have taken a nature stroll in one of the deadliest areas in all of Carnt.


    Either way, they weren''t bothered until they made it to the gate, where a guard said in  an  Irish accent, "Suzy? Is that you?"


    The group looked at each other in confusion.


    The guard pulled Annelise closer and said, "Suzy, it is you! How''s capital life treating ya?! Yer man there. Is he your husband? Is he treating ya right? Are you treating her right?"


    "The hat is silver!" Jonathan yelled and pointed to the guard''s helmet.


    Petra grinned and pulled the toddler''s hands away from the shiny metal object. "They are not married."


    The man regarded the group. "Bah. You didn''t marry a dwarf, did you? You can''t trust them, not an inch."


    "I''m sorry," Annelise said. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."


    The man brushed her hair away and revealed a scar on the base of her neck. "Explain that scar, then. When we were kids, we thought we''d climb one of those trees, the kind that takes a swing at ya. Clobbered you good on the back of the head, it did. Almost smashed in me brains, too. I was lucky it was Poor Day at the local healer."


    "Poor Day? The local healer works on the poor only one day of the week?" Tim said, aghast.


    "What are you talking about? One day of the year. You think healthcare grows on trees? Wait, don''t answer that. It kinda does. Fae medicine and all. But still, the king is nice enough to share his healer once a year with the public."


    "Oh, right," Annelise said. "The injury. Really messed with my memory. I go by Annelise now."


    "You didn''t tell me you were from Helfra," Petra said.


    "Why do you think I didn''t want to go back?" Annelise said. "Bad home life here."


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    "But you loved your mother," the guard said.


    "It was my dad."


    "But he''s the king!"


    "What?!" Petra and Tim exclaimed, almost at once.


    "He''ll be happy to see ya," the guard said. "I''ll get you an escort to the castle. Get some proper clothes for ya, and your lads.¡±


    "Great," Annelise said, "It''s, um, good to be back. I think."


    They were escorted into the city and immediately noticed the stark difference between Helfra and all the other places they had visited. Earth artifacts were everywhere. There was a rickety wooden stall with Tickle Me Elmos, Furbies, and Cabbage Patch kids, answering the age-old question of where those toys went at Christmas time. A man whose wardrobe mainly consisted of burlap was break dancing while wearing headphones attached to an old iPod. Kids were on the street playing with Pogs.


    It was as if a portal had sucked all the discarded consumer crap from American culture and deposited it onto a medieval kingdom. It was like they were walking through a reverse renaissance fair where people from the Middle Ages were selling their trinkets. They were definitely in the right place if they wanted to find a way home.


    However, Petra didn''t understand why Annelise wasn''t very forthcoming about her parents. While she understood parents being awful people too well, she still wouldn''t hesitate if one of her friends needed help that her mother could solve. Not that she really had been in any situation where her friends required legal counsel, but she wouldn''t hesitate to call her mom if the case merited it.


    Petra was determined not to judge the situation. She didn''t really know the dynamic between the runaway princess and the king. Annelise had high-tailed it to another city and changed her name. She had even tried to play dumb at the gate. There was something the woman was hiding, and Petra felt sympathetic.


    When Petra had first discovered that she was pregnant, she had hidden it from her parents for the longest time possible. It wasn''t till the local big box store had sent her a coupon for prenatal vitamins in the mail that her mom went on the warpath to demand the store make an apology to her daughter. Turned out to be Petra''s mom who needed to do the apologizing.


    Estranged parents and secrets were Petra''s MO.  So, she told Annelise not to worry, that they would figure it out. But, in the meantime, she was also excited. Whatever process brought the modern objects to Helfra had to work both ways. Whoever was buying all the Crystal Pepsi and bringing it here had to know how to get them back into their own bodies.


    The nightmare was coming to an end. While tossing daggers that could pin a man''s hand to a tree was fun for a while, sleeping on rocks, being unable to bathe for days on end, eating squirrel, and all the other survivalist crap had gotten to her. She was ready to go back to where the biggest concerns of her life were whether or not Netflix would cancel her favorite show and making sure her son didn''t off himself by sticking a fork in a light socket.


    She had lost count of the times her toddler had tried to do himself in and was amazed that humanity even survived at all. A month before getting sucked into the past, Jonathan had tried to walk into the Willamette River, run onto a busy highway, climb the tallest tree in her yard, eat berries of an unknown species, climb into the oven, and jump from the top of the stairs. She had asked her mom if there was ever an end to the phase of kids doing stupid things to get themselves seriously injured or killed. Her mom had replied, "Just wait till the teenage years."


    Yet, despite everything, it was worth it for the grin when she was about to tickle him or when his mind was blown by the very concept of flowers. The Portland Rose Garden was like Disneyland for her kid. For someone whose joy out of life involved identifying colors, the Rose Garden had an endless bounty across the whole spectrum and the added benefit of no creatures lurking about the place attempting to kill them.


    It was hard enough to keep her normal three-year-old alive, let alone the lumbering giant her son had become. The entire group had to tackle him just so he wouldn''t walk off a cliff when they got too close to a canyon. She had to make a campfire-toasted squirrel dance, so he would eat it. She had to remind the hulking man to go potty every time he started dancing around holding his crotch.


    She was ready to have the size advantage back again, so if she needed to play counselor to a broken princess, she''d do it. At least it explained the necromancy and the general weirdness of Annelise. Being a royal has got to screw a person up, and if Petra had the option to practice blood magic to piss off her parents, she would have done it, too. At least, Petra thought, Annelise was beginning to make sense in this screwed-up world, as they passed a pirate holding a Pound Puppy.


    ?

 38 - Cats in the Cradle and Other Reasons Not to Return Home

    38 - Cat''s in the Cradle and Other Reasons Not to Return Home


    Suzy¡¯s Royal Bed Chambers, An Hour Before Dinner


    A few hours after entering the city, Mr. Jackson paced the main room of a princess''s chambers. It was just his luck to have ended up in the body of the princess about to have dinner with her dad, a king who had his own brother beheaded in an argument over who would pick up the tab at the local tavern. He dialed his iPhone once again, and his Moon Mistress did not pick up. He left her another message, the forty-second one that day.


    There was a dress laid out on the bed for him. He had dismissed the handmaidens, and now the real panic had begun to set in. It wasn''t the fact that he would wear a dress or even present himself in court. Since he had planned to assume the identity of Lady Ameria, he had been practicing his courtly manners, even getting around in mounds of fabric that passed as fashion.


    He was pretty sure he could fool most people into believing that he was Princess Suzy. Even Petra seemed to think that he had run away from home and called himself Annelise. What worried him was that there was no way he could pass as someone else''s kid, and Helfra''s dungeon made the darkest depths of King''s Landing look like a vacation spot. So, he dialed again, and thankfully, this time she picked up.


    "Moon Mistress!" Mr. Jackson cried out.


    "I told you never to call me unless it''s an emergency! I''m busy."


    "It''s an emergency," he said, and told her the backstory of the body he had been inhabiting.


    "So?"


    "So?! The King of Helfra is unreasonable and quick to anger!"


    "That pretty much describes any king. They all think they are fit to lead because the gods command it. I mean, how unhinged is that? Celestial beings, giving a shit about who''s in charge. If I were a supreme being, I wouldn''t be wasting my time on Earth, or Carnt for that matter."


    "Please, milady, I beg you. They will discover me."


    "It sounds like they are giving you a perfectly reasonable excuse why you act a little different. You ran away from home. Changed your name. Now you''re a different person than when you left. Just go with it. It if makes you feel better fake an Irish accent."


    "But¡ª"


    "Can I watch  Numberblocks ?!" Jonathan yelled, pointing at Mr. Jackson''s phone. The barbarian stood in his doorway with a fancy shirt and no pants.


    "I''ve got to go," Mr. Jackson said, and stuffed his phone in his belt pouch just as Petra strolled into the room with a pair of pantaloons.


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    "Do you want to sing the song? Mommy''s gonna put on the pants. Jonathan''s gonna put on the pants," Petra sang with gusto while she put the pants on her head and then offered them to Jonathan.


    Jonathan cracked a smile, but then frowned and said, "I wanted to watch  Numberblocks !"


    "I can sing the  Numberblocks  song," Petra said, and belted out something about a super-secret step squad.


    "No, I want to watch it!"


    "We can''t, baby." Petra shrugged at Mr. Jackson. "You never realize that pants merit the same emotional reaction as sentencing someone to life in prison without parole until you have a kid. You''d think these things have spikes on the inside the way he is reacting."


    "I don''t want to wear longs! I want shorts."


    "This is as close as we got, baby," Petra said.


    Jonathan ignored his mother''s pleas, ran towards the bed, jumped on it, trampled the dress, and cackled with glee. Petra tossed the pantaloons aside and said, "That''s it. I give up. It''s hard enough to put pants on a flailing toddler, much less a grown man."


    The halfling glanced around the room, then back at Mr. Jackson, who smiled and said, "What are number blocks?"


    "It''s a show on Netflix," Petra replied. "I let him watch it once on my phone, when I needed to keep him quiet while I was at the bank, and now every time I pull out my phone, he thinks it''s time to watch it. Wait... do you think they might have a phone here? I mean, I know there are no cell towers, but, hello, magic."


    Mr. Jackson tried to remember what his mistress had said about Helfra. He knew about the cabin and the merchant who was transporting goods across the worlds. His leader had a phone, but he wasn''t sure if it was a Helfran artifact or something she had brought. He decided that ignorance was the best way to go, "I''m sorry. It has been many years since I''ve been here. Most of the objects you see were brought by the merchant."


    "Merchant?" Petra asked.


    "Yes, it was said he could travel between the realms."


    "There is a merchant like that here?! Why didn''t you tell me? Do you think your dad can introduce us?"


    "I''m afraid the merchant is dead, and so is the flow of artifacts."


    "That explains why you don''t see any JJ dolls around," Petra noted.


    "What?"


    "Nothing. It was a thing,  CoComelon . Don''t remind me. I already have the  Numberblocks  tune stuck in my head," Petra said. She glanced at  the dress that the pantless barbarian was trampling on the bed. "Look, I get it. I wouldn''t be in a rush to go home to some place I got the hell out of, either. I''m sure your parents are assholes. If it''s any consolation, mine are too. I''ll buy you some drinks at the pub, and we can lament about it later. If meeting your dad could give us even the slightest chance at going home again..."


    "No, you''re right. Let''s save my gown from your kid," Mr. Jackson said, and gave a weak smile.


    ?

 39 - The Habits of Highly Effective Killing Machines

    39 - The Habits of Highly Effective Killing Machines


    Outskirts of Helfra, 28 Days After the Festival


    Two more scouts died for failing to find a way into Helfra. Another two bit it when they devised boneheaded ideas to get into the city. Sir Grey thought pretending to be a merchant was cowardly. An emissary to bolster Traldalorian and Helfran relations was not an option because orcs and humans would have a better chance at signing a peace treaty, and there weren''t enough men to storm the city.


    "Maybe we just ask to be let in?" another rider said. "I mean, it''s pretty dark outside. Travelers come in all the time at night looking for lodging, I suppose."


    Sir Grey didn''t bother to comment. Instead, he just lopped the guy''s head off and said, "Any other suggestions¡ªno, wait, that one was pretty good, don''t you think, Corwin?"


    Corwin squirmed a little bit, and the leftover riders were glad they were no longer on the hook for brainstorming ideas.


    Sir Grey glanced at his aide and said, "Oh, come now, you''ve always spoken your mind in the past. Is the Helfran keep on the mountain side making you shake in your boots? The tales of artifacts with glorious and wonderful powers scaring you? Most of their trinkets are parlor tricks. Sure, everyone knows Helfran flint is the quickest way to light a fire, but they cannot burn armies like a fire mage."


    "It''s not the Helfrans, sir," Corwin said. The truth was that he didn''t know much about Helfra, other than that his kingdom and theirs were mad at each other about something. It had to do with the Battle of the Four Armies and sounded like it was a part of their past. "It''s just that, supposing the king of Helfra got Lovantus''s gauntlet. Then I suppose he''d be our king."


    "Oh, Corwin, you once again surprise me with your wisdom. And you idiots didn''t think of this when you let Lovantus sneak into the city of Helfra!" Sir Grey screamed and decapitated two more soldiers with one blow.


    One of the remaining riders turned around and said, "That''s it! I quit."


    Sir Grey stabbed the man in the back and said, "No quitting. Come, we enter Helfra with our heads held high. We will claim our right to defend our liege''s honor with whatever dastardly plan they have to relieve him of his gauntlet.   But then, Corwin, you know what happens next."


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Your Warlock friend will destroy the gauntlet."


    "Don''t speak of the plan in front of the men!"


    "Man, sir. There is only one left."


    "Me name''s Jenkins," the last rider said.


    "Still," Sir Grey said. "He''s just a soldier. He doesn''t know what it''s like to be a noble. He might get the wrong impression."


    "Oh, no, sir," Jenkins said. "You''re just shoring up your power, sir. Nothing wrong with a little power grab, sir."


    "It''s not a power grab! My family already has the power. It''s this silly gauntlet rule that''s the problem."


    "Sorry, sir. Don''t cut off me head."


    By some miracle, Sir Grey turned his horse towards the Helfran capital. He said to Corwin, "See, this is what I mean. People below your station just don''t know what it''s like."


    "No, sir," Corwin said. "Can''t say I ever ruled a city, much less a whole country. Me mum left me in charge once when me da was off to war, and she had to go to market. Me siblings bickered and wouldn''t listen to a word I said."


    "It''s authority, Corwin. They listen to you because you are their superior. Take my men, for example."


    "Man, sir," Jenkins said.


    "They do exactly what I say when I say it, or people die."


    "They die when they do what you say..." Corwin said under his breath.


    "What?"


    "Today is the day, nothing like today to get it done. That''s what me mum always used to say," Corwin blurted.


    "You''re weird, Corwin. Really weird, but I suppose your mum is right. Onward!" Sir Grey bellowed and spurred his horse toward the gate.


    His much-diminished entourage followed with a growing sense of  unease, except for the warlock, who knows what she was thinking.


    ?

 40 - Returning the King and Other Reasons to Keep the Receipt

    40 - Returning the King and Other Reasons to Keep the Receipt


    King Ulmond¡¯s Feasting Hall, Dinner Time


    Petra, Tim, Jonathan, and Annelise entered the court of the king. They had finally gotten Jonathan to put on pants, but only because he also got to wear the Clark Kent glasses. Annelise, Tim, and Petra were decked out in their court-supplied gear. Annelise wore a sizable blue dress with pink frills and hair that could have doubled as a home to small woodland creatures. Petra and Tim, by comparison, had been given silk garments and were dressed like the nobility. Even Jonathan''s outfit was befitting a gentleman of the court.


    Before them, a great feast was spread on the long table. Nobles bellied up to the fifty-seater. The food was plentiful. There were pigs, pheasants, mutton, peacock, and a slew of roasted animals. There were nuts, berries, cakes, fruits, and all sorts of desserts. Vegetable dishes were piled high. There were even mugs of milk.


    It looked very much like a medieval feast that was catered by Whole Foods. Even the sweets looked like they could have been zucchini bread, where something healthy lurked beneath the surface. But despite the peculiar food options that seemed like they would be offered at the buffet during a yoga retreat, the nobles were as rowdy and raucous as medieval  party goers could be. There were even minstrels who would hop on the table and play a jaunty tune while milk jugs were clanged together.


    When they entered the hall, a crier met them at the door and said in the Irish accent that everyone in Helfra seemed to have, "Behold, the court of the mighty King Ulmond!"


    Petra snorted. "Your dad''s name is Almond?"


    "No, Ulmond." the crier said. "Tighten your lip. uhl¡ªuhl. Ulmond."


    Petra giggled even more. "King Almond."


    "No!" the crier snapped. "It''s Ulmond! Ulmond, with the largest swath of nut-producing trees."


    "Are you serious?!"


    "Quite so, ma''am, quite so. It is a beautiful patch of forest. But that''s not all. King Ulmond is the provider of milk!"


    "You mean Ulmond milk!" Petra couldn''t hold it in now and howled with laughter. She slapped Tim on the shoulder, and his grin turned into a guffaw. At this point, even Jonathan was laughing.


    "Bestower of flour. His bounty can be used in sweet or savory snacks."


    "King Ulmond believes each person deserves access to healthy fats, protein, and essential vitamins and nutrients."


    The group totally lost it. They were laughing so hard that the feast had stopped. A stern-looking man sat at the most prominent seat at the center of the table. He wore a T-shirt with a drawing of a mushroom holding a cocktail and the words "I''m a  fun  guy" in bold, bright letters. He hushed everyone in the room and bellowed in the Irish accent that they now knew to be Helfran , "Who are these people who defile the sanctity of my house?!"


    The words hung in the air, and the group''s laughter died out when they realized that everyone was staring at them.


    "My apologies, King Ulmond," Petra snickered, while she tried to collect herself. "We have been traveling a long time, and are very weary, but the good news is that we have brought your daughter back."


    "Suzy?" the king said.


    "Um, hi, Dad," Annelise said, and attempted to avoid eye contact. Petra pushed her forward.


    "Come closer, let me get a look at you," the king said.


    The party came to the table where there were four empty seats across from the king. It was strange to see a guy sporting a crown also wear a  T-shirt  and jeans, but the more Petra noticed the other nobles, the more the four from their party seemed like the odd people out. Almost everyone was wearing something from her world.


    However, it was all mismatched with medieval clothing. For example, there was a guy with a tunic and skinny jeans. Another woman in a princess dress with hipster glasses.  T-shirts and pantaloons. Summer dresses and cloaks. It was like the cast of a renaissance festival show out on break. Helfra would take some getting used to.


    Annelise curtseyed and said, "Milord."


    Ulmond tilted his head in confusion. "So formal. My daughter was never that formal. What have those Tradalorians done to my daughter?"


    "Um, I, uh, thought it was boring," Annelise said in her best Irish accent, which wasn¡¯t even remotely good. "So, I figured I''d help out these people and come back here."


    "Egad! Has my daughter lost all ability to speak? Go back to sounding like a Tradalorian lest you grate my ears with your unnatural utterance," Ulmond said.


    "Sorry, Father," Annelise said, sounding more like herself. "I''ve been away a long time."


    "Yes, yes," the king said, and motioned for them to sit down at the table. Once they were seated, he continued. "My daughter never could sit still. Always bouncing around doing whatever she fancied. Did you know she cleaned stables for two weeks once because she wanted to work with horses? I told her I could buy her a thousand horses, but she said she wouldn''t get to know them if she didn''t get up close and personal with them."


    Petra laughed. "Well, she was a barmaid when we met her."


    "Yeah, and now she practices necromancy," Tim added. Petra kicked him under the table.


    "Sounds like my daughter. Forgive my outburst earlier. It''s just that when someone tells a hilarious joke, I want everyone to hear it. I am really trying to  share the laughter . At least that''s what I''m practicing in my  Mindfulness  guide."


    "Oh, it wasn''t that funny," Petra snorted. "Well, it wouldn''t be to anyone else. So, that dude up front said you grow nuts?"


    Ulmond rolled his eyes. "It''s not just almonds. Beauford gets really excited about the nuts. He grew up on the nut farm. I have Carnt''s largest sustainable farm. If serfs are going to toil the land, it might as well be organic. No reason to eat unhealthily. Did you know that trans fats can be just as deadly as a sword? There''s a couple of books that I can recommend that will change your life. There''s one by Michael Pollan...though, who am I kidding? How are you supposed to get the book without the merchant?"


    "The merchant?" Petra asked.


    "Oh, yes, he was a crafty man. He brought artifacts from a distant land. I have sent riders to the furthest regions searching for the wonders he had brought, but they have failed to find where he got his exotic trade goods. So, tell me, what good is the kingdom''s largest PEZ dispenser collection without PEZ to put in it?"


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    "If you don''t mind me asking, your highness," Petra said, "what happened to the merchant?"


    "No one really knows, truth be told. But I have my suspicions. The son of my rival, Danelthor was his name, would cause trouble in town. We''d lock him up in the dungeon, but he''d always escape. The last I saw of him was also the last time the merchant came around. I think the scallywag killed the merchant to steal his business. There was a moon mage who replaced him for a cycle or two, but she had limited supply and seemed more interested in royal heirlooms than profit."


    Petra glanced at Annelise when she heard the woman humming under her breath. The barmaid princess''s dagger began to glow green under the table. Petra put her hand on her friend, and the glow stopped.


    "Perhaps we can be of assistance," Petra said. "Maybe we can investigate the disappearance of this merchant. We are a couple sleuths over here."


    "Yeah, I always win  Clue  on family game night," Tim said, and earned himself another kick under the table.


    "Petra," Annelise said. "Please, we really should¡ª"


    "This is the best lead we''ve gotten since we''ve been here. Besides, if your mistress wants to meet us, she can bring her moon mage butt here."


    "Mistress?" King Ulmond said. "Suzy, is this true? Have you been working with the moon mage guild?"


    "Yes, Father," Annelise said. "This is just another one of those phases I''m going through. Get it? Phases...moon?"


    The king scowled. "I''m not amused."


    "I thought you said you like a good joke."


    "No daughter of mine would dare lower herself as to be associated with that moon mage. Guards! Lock my daughter up and kill her companions."


    "Whoa," Petra said, while the guards surrounded them with swords drawn. "Wait, that''s a little harsh. You let your daughter clean up horse shit! What''s wrong with a little secret mages¡¯ guild?"


    "That brigand abused my trust just to get in the royal treasury. Didn''t even steal much. Just nicked a few amulets and pendants."


    "Don''t you find that odd?"


    "Yes, especially because my  Saved by the Bell  DVD collection was in there. Not that it does any good now. The kingdom''s only functioning DVD player died years ago. But I do like looking at the pictures on the back of each DVD, recalling the episodes in my head. Oh, the shenanigans they would get themselves into," Ulmond chuckled.


    "With all the treasures there, why target such a few, unless it has something to do with the merchant?"


    "You think so?" King Ulmond asked hopefully. "I would like to know how  Lost  ended. Sadly, the merchant disappeared before he was able to provide me the final season."


    "Right. You see, I told you we were good at sleuthing. Your daughter knows this moon mage, so why not let us live? We''ll take a trip on over to her, figure out what happened to your merchant, and there we go," Petra said.


    "Very well," King Ulmond said. "Kill the dwarf and the human manchild."


    "Wait!" Petra yelled. "I need them, too."


    Before the king was able to respond, the doors of the hall banged open. Several people burst into the room on horseback. Sissy, Jack, and Aiden were among them, though they were tied to their horses and gagged, no doubt to prevent spellcasting.


    The other four were a knight, who was obviously their leader, his squire, a warlock, and one of the riders that had been pursuing them. The knight, clad in gleaming armor, strode forward. The guards that had been moving in to detain Petra''s party were now focused on the intruders.


    King Ulmond''s face turned red, and he yelled, "Sir Grey, how dare you intrude? Where are my guards?"


    "I killed them," Sir Grey said. "And my men will kill you, too, if you impede our mission."


    "Man, sir," his squire ventured. "There is only one left."


    "Jenkins, sir," the ranger said.


    "Would you stop that?! Nobles are talking. Now, where was I?"


    "Something about your mission," King Ulmond offered helpfully.


    "That''s right! My mission, to return my lord Lovantus and the power gauntlet...wait, wait! Hold on a moment. Where the hell is the bloody power gauntlet? And Lovantus, for that matter?"


    Ulmond bellowed with laughter. "Do you think if my mortal enemy were in the room with me, we would be breaking bread? His head would be on the end of my lance!"


    Jonathan smeared cake on his face and cackled with glee. "Mmmm...nom! Cake!" He squealed with delight. There was no piece of armor on his arm. The Clark Kent glasses were obscured with frosting, and he attempted to yank them off.


    Petra reached out to stop him, but she was just too slow. He flicked the glasses, and they landed on the cake.


    "Lovantus!" both Sir Grey and Ulmond screamed and yanked out their swords.


    "The Gauntlet of the One True King¡­ He literally never goes anywhere without it! He probably makes love with the damn thing. Where is it?" Sir Grey yelled.


    "Enemies have invaded the throne room! Summon the armies!" Ulmond bellowed.


    "Whoa! Hold on!" Petra shouted, then jumped on the table. "Before we start killing each other, let''s talk it out. Ulmond, does this man look like a threat to you?"


    Jonathan giggled while he smashed his face into a Shepherd''s Pie.


    "No, but he didn''t come to my coronation. Said he was too busy rebuilding the kingdom after ousting the necromancer. Can you believe that?"


    "I''m sure he would have tried to make it."


    "He''s been like that his whole life. Not enough time for the little people. When I was young, before I was the leader of the Helfran rebellion, I tried to get an autograph. He was doing a goodwill tour of Helfra. So, I snuck into his tent, and it wasn''t even him! He hired a body double. Couldn''t even slum it with the rest of us."


    "That''s my bad," Sir Grey said. "I thought I''d hire Lovantus body doubles and do some goodwill tours in the outer kingdoms. Didn''t go over so well."


    "Even I know that''s not cool," Tim said.


    "But that''s not what is important right now," Sir Grey said. "The Gauntlet of the One True King is missing."


    "Gauntlet? That thing?" Petra asked. "We chucked it."


    "Where?!" Sir Grey said in a panic.


    "I don''t know," Petra said. "The forest somewhere, or maybe it was in that town. You try and keep clothes on a three-year-old. The kid was tearing them off every chance he got."


    "You can''t just go about tossing away the most important artifact in the kingdom! Anyone could become king!"


    Being that it was the first time Petra had attempted to talk tyrants out of murdering each other, she thought it was going pretty well. She was confident she could settle things down until she learned the literal interpretation of all hell breaking loose.


    ?

 41 - King Godric Timberloaf III

    41 - King Godric Timberloaf III


    Traladolar¡¯s Throne Room, Eve of the Corn Wars


    Back on the throne of Traldalor, Godric Timberloaf III sat high above the nobles, picking his nose with the Gauntlet of the One True King. He noticed the entire court watching him, and he slowly put the gauntlet down in hopes that maybe they would assume that he was merely scratching it. Unfortunately, a booger was stuck on the tip of the finger.


    As if moving slower meant that no one would notice, he brought his hand down to the bottom of the throne and wiped the snot on the underside of the seat. The first attempt wasn''t successful, so he tried it again. He fruitlessly attempted to clean the artifact, and eventually, a bold servant wiped the gauntlet clean.


    "Thank you," Godric said, and turned back toward the audience watching him with wide eyes. He wasn''t used to people paying so much attention to him. He had never been a man of much consequence before he became the new king of Traldalor. He had grown up in a small farming village that was sacked by orcs, resulting in the death of his mother and the loss of his father''s legs. This meant that Godric had to learn to farm very quickly, while his father barked at him, strapped onto the family mule.


    It wasn''t until his father passed on from an accident involving a mule, the family''s saw, three nails, and a wheat thresher that Godric had decided to act on his dream of seeing the world. He had sold all his worldly possessions and struck out on the open road.


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    He was three months into his travels when he ran out of money and joined a gang of highwaymen to make ends meet. Godric was big and looked intimidating with a club, so most travelers would just give up their goods when they saw him. However, he was a big softy on the inside and didn''t like hurting anyone.


    Several weeks into his bandit career, a group of adventurers had killed most of his gang. Since they hadn''t stopped to loot the bodies (an Adventuring 101 skill he had learned early), he waited until they fled the scene. He had searched through the battlefield and found a gauntlet that had been discarded by the big man who wielded an axe like a play toy.


    The most peculiar aspect of the gauntlet was that it resized itself to fit his arm. Godric had reckoned the item was magical and figured it would fetch a fair price. But, unfortunately, the only place in the kingdom a person could unload an artifact was the capital of Traldalor. So, he had struck out to the big city, figuring he could make a small fortune on the piece of armor.


    The gate guards of the city had taken a different approach. They took one look at the gauntlet and knelt down as if he were their king before whisking him away to the royal palace. That was how no account Godric, who had been told by his legless father many times that he wouldn''t amount to anything, became king of all the land, or at least Traldalor at any rate, which was all the land as far as he was concerned.


    Now, he didn''t have the slightest clue what to do as king, so after a lot of uncomfortable staring, he said, "Anyone want to make some corn art? I do like that halfling corn art. Especially the ones of the Sky Lord. That big nose makes me laugh every time."


    He was unaware that his one and only edict as king would plunge the kingdom into a dark period called the Corn Wars, but that is a tale for another time.


    ?

 42 - The Pantless Barbarian

    42 - The Pantless Barbarian


    Ulmond¡¯s Feasting Hall, Before After Dinner Murder


    "So let me get this straight," King Ulmond said to the crowd of people about to murder each other. He narrowed his eyes at Sir Grey. "You''ve lost the Gauntlet of the One True King. And this man here who is currently taking off his pants¡ª"


    "Jonathan!" Petra scolded. "What did we say about wearing your clothes?!"


    "¡ªis actually Lovantus?" The king regarded Jonathan with skepticism. "I was going to say that he does look like him, but without the gauntlet... how can you be sure? I mean, I have three king body doubles. Gotta have someone to catch those arrows and be there for those assassins. Either way, it seems to me I have the rare chance to eliminate two of my rivals, find the gauntlet before anyone knows it''s missing, and rule two kingdoms."


    "Not if I kill him first, and anyone who stands in my way. I have no quarrel with you, Ulmond, but I will not hesitate to defend the gauntlet that is rightfully mine," Sir Grey said, and pulled out his sword. The nobles seated around the table brandished their battle-axes, swords, and all manner of weaponry.


    "Seems to me," Ulmond said, "you are outnumbered."


    Sir Grey laughed and said, "Have you ever fought a ranger? One of my men¡ª"


    "Man, sir," Jenkins said helpfully.


    "¡ªcan best ten of yours. So, I ask who has the better odds."


    "Let''s carry the ten...add three for good measure...still us," King Ulmond said.


    "That''s right! No, I mean, men attack! Kill every last one of them. No survivors."


    "Man, sir. Man. It''s only one, sir," Corwin said.


    "Corwin, not now. Whatever it is can wait..." Sir Grey glanced back towards Jenkins, who waved cheerily. "What happened to all my riders? We had thirty of them."


    "You beheaded them, sir," Corwin said.


    "Surely, a few, here and there. I mean, how else are you going to keep them in line,  but  all of them?"


    "Well, there was the ones at the village, sure, and don''t forget the scouts."


    "Five at most."


    "Then we caught up to the decoy zombies."


    "Oh, the decoy zombies, I totally forgot about that. Still, thirty of them..."


    "Then the clunkwoodlings..."


    "Oh, yes, nasty creatures, a bit smelly."


    "Then there was the brainstorming session at the gate. Don''t forget about the deserter."


    "I mean, thirty men. You figure thirty rangers would get the job done. They are the most elite soldiers in the entire kingdom, but no, they can''t catch a feebleminded fool who doesn''t even have his power gauntlet. I''ll never hear the end of this. Should have brought sixty. How was I to know that twenty-nine men would be so incompetent?"


    "Thirty now, sir," Corwin said. "You beheaded Jenkins while you were talking to yourself, sir."


    Sir Grey gazed at his bloody sword. Jenkins''s head rolled to a stop near Corwin''s feet. It was uncanny. Sir Grey vaguely remembered doing it. It was just like the old saying goes ¨C time flies when you are having fun. Now it would be nice to soak his sword in the blood of his enemies for a change.


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    "No matter," Sir Grey said, brandishing his sword high. "To the death, men, er, man, I mean, squire and warlock! To the death!"


    ***


    Sir Grey charged. The warlock sucked fire from the hearth with a song, and her hands ignited into flame. Petra used the distraction to back away with Jonathan. Tim followed her and said, "We don''t have any weapons."


    Annelise tore open the giant bell-shaped bottom of her dress. Inside, she had stashed Tim''s crossbow, morning star, a couple of daggers, and Jonathan''s battle axe. Petra pulled the battle axe and tossed it toward her son. "It''s okay to swing that around now."


    Jonathan''s eyes lit up, and the pantless warrior spun around the room swinging the battle axe, knocking down guards and nobles of the king''s court. Two women with sabers were about to run Petra through, but the halfling deflected the first''s blow and stabbed the other in the throat. Tim took out a guard with the crossbow in one hand and knocked another down with the morning star in the other. He reloaded with a flick of the wrist. The kid actually seemed confident and was able to ease into his body''s abilities. Annelise chanted, and her dagger began to glow. She fired a green bolt at a noble charging toward her.


    ***


    On the other side of the battle, Corwin did not follow his master or the warlock into the fray. From the looks of it, they didn''t need his help. The warlock lobbed fireballs and spewed jets of flame at anyone who got close. Sir Grey was a guard-killing machine and tore his way through several men before facing King Ulmond.


    Instead, Corwin used the distraction to cut loose the bonds of Lady Ameria. Once she was free, he said, "Go save your lover. The bonds of true love are more important than any of this."


    Lady Ameria didn''t say a word but turned her horse around and galloped out of the room. When Corwin cut the Paladin free next, he yelled, "Great, just great! Way to go, Jack. Is it too late to pick a new prom king?"


    Corwin wasted no time and cut the elf''s bonds next. No sooner did he cut the last rope when the warlock tossed a jet of fire towards them. The elf channeled the fire from the torches with a strange song and created a barrier just in time to protect them from being incinerated, but not quickly enough to prevent them from being blown back to the other side of the room. The warlock blasted the barrier away, and soon the elf and the woman were engaged in hurling spells back and forth at each other.


    The entire room was engaged in a melee battle. Sir Grey and King Ulmond squared off, and Lovantus twirled around the room with his battle axe, clobbering the nobles and soldiers alike. Sorsha dodged between people while slitting throats, and Bolt and Percy eventually found themselves back-to-back fighting off adversaries. The princess withered people into husks with green bolts of energy and a discordant song.


    The only person who wasn''t in a fight for their life was Corwin. He took in the battle with a calm that could only be attained by avoiding getting one''s head chopped off. Either King Ulmond would kill his master, or his master would kill Ulmond. Either way, he planned to be long gone from the squiring business and had decided to act on that chicken farm. He had never raised a chicken but imagined that his armor and sword could buy him a few. Maybe even a whole farm.


    There were plenty of villagers who''d be willing to give up their life to go seek fame and adventure on the open road. It was all ridiculous. If a person were to ask him. People like Lovantus didn''t come around very often. After seeing the guy''s fighting style, which involved giggling and twirling around a battle axe, Corwin couldn''t even understand how the guy had become famous.


    He concluded that it was all luck, and there were much better odds of living out an entire life if he stuck to chickens over glory-seeking. Either way, he''d be happy to part ways with his armor, something he had thought was the greatest honor of his life when it was bestowed upon him. He was about to sneak out of the raging melee when he noticed another one of his cousins standing at the entrance to the door dressed in a Helfran guard''s uniform.


    "Darwin?" Corwin said.


    "Corwin!" Darwin responded. "I thought you looked familiar. What are you doing here?"


    "Sir Grey is my master."


    "King Ulmond, here."


    "Tell me, Darwin, does Ulmond behead people when he gets mad at them?"


    "All the time. Killed a man the other day. Beat him at  Mario Kart . Everyone knows you always let him win. Sometimes you take a turtle for the team."


    "Sir Grey is the same way! He killed a guy for following his orders. Struck him stone dead."


    "Nobles, eh? You make the tea too hot, and they kill ya. You make it too cold, and they kill ya. You can never win."


    "Makes you want to take up chicken farming."


    "You know, I was just thinking the other day, it''d be nice to start my own¡ªhello, what have we here? Who are you? This is the king''s private chamber, so it makes it the king''s private brawl."


    A man with mangy black hair stepped into the room. He had filthy, tattered clothes, and there was something hollow about his eyes. The man turned to Darwin and hissed. Fangs grew from his mouth and claws from his hands. Darwin screamed, and the creature attacked, tearing the guard limb from limb.


    Corwin decided that he''d better not push his luck, backed away into the corridor, and ran as fast as he could while the vampire shredded its target.


    ?

 43 - The Lion, the Witch, and the Bolshevik Revolution

    43 - The Lion, the Witch, and the Bolshevik Revolution


    Communist Party Bar and Grill, Late November


    A man in a Soviet World War II uniform passed out menus to the Silent Legion. He said, "Welcome to the Communist Party. We have half-price Proletariat Pierogis and three-dollar Moscow Mules."


    "What?" Sorsha said. It was hard to hear the man. They were seated right next to a game called Bolshevik Ball that was a skeeball machine decked out with all sorts of Marxist iconography. A Lenin head would cackle with glee every time a player missed a shot and would declare the player a hero of the people every time they would score.


    Between the noise of the popular machine and the blaring music, it was hard to make out what the waiter was saying. Lovantus grew tired of trying to puzzle out the man''s speech and waved him away. The bewildered guy took the hint and told them he would give them more time with the menu.


    "Who are we meeting here again?" Percy asked.


    "Members of the moon mages guild," Lovantus said. "They have ties to our world. One of their people they refer to as an ''influencer'' walks among our people."


    Before he could elaborate any further, a rotund man in a green robe stood at the end of the table. He had a thick beard and glasses. Before Lovantus could shoo him away, the man turned to Suzy and said, "Mr. Jackson, I knew you would make some weak attempt at creating your own moon mage guild, but using your students, for shame."


    A full-bodied woman in a purple robe walked up to the table and said, "Hi, Mister Jackson."


    "Go to the car, Carol!" the robed man said.


    "Jesus, Jerry. We made a mistake. Got caught up in the heat of the moment. It will never happen again. How long are you going to punish me for this?!"


    Jerry''s face turned red. "I know what this is. It''s a feeble attempt by Mr. Jackson to woo you away from me. It will never work. I still have the most hearts from Jenny on her Instagram comments, and your little troll friends won''t be able to do anything about it."


    "Jesus, Jerry, I didn''t fall in love with you because Jenny likes your comments."


    "But it was a turn-on."


    "Well, yeah, I mean, we did meet on the Carnt subreddit."


    "Okay, fine, just don''t you get any ideas!" Jerry pointed his finger at Suzy.


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about, love," Suzy said. "I don''t like women. But now, you big boy--"


    She put her hand on Jerry''s cheek. He pulled back and said, "Whoa! Okay. This is getting weird..."


    "Would you focus?!" Lovantus squealed. "The necromancer could be ravaging our kingdom as we speak!"


    "The toddler...is like Stewie...from  Family Guy ...the baby can talk...oh, my god...the spell worked! The spell worked! Holy crap, it worked!"


    Jerry hugged Lovantus, and the warrior tot struggled free from the sweaty man''s grasp. Carol was in a state of disbelief. She poked at Suzy to be sure.


    "Stop that, or I''ll cut yer hand off, love," Suzy said.


    "Oh, my god, I can''t believe he did it," Jerry was flabbergasted. "Mr. Jackson, that old fool. He was really able to transfer the minds of the heroes of the Silent Legion.  But wait, I think I got it. You, sir, are Lovantus. Is it true? Did you really kill the Frost Giant king on your wedding day?"


    He shook Jack''s hand.


    Lovantus grunted and said, "That''s Ameria. I''m Lovantus, you twit."


    "I thought you would have been Bolt."


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°That¡¯s Bolt.¡± Lovantus pointed to his comrade.


    Bolt grunted when the man slapped his back. Bolt had wounds a few weeks ago like he had been in a fight and didn¡¯t want to talk about it. "I''m not that short!" The Dwarf protested.


    Ameria said, "I''m sorry. Sir Jerry, Bolt has been having a rough time at what you call high school. You seem to know who we are and exactly how we got here. Could you please enlighten us? We can answer all your questions about our adventures later."


    "I mean, kinda," Jerry said. "Mr. Jackson here claimed that he was DMing with Jenny. Direct messaging, not dungeon mastering."


    Carol rolled her eyes, "I''m sure they know that."


    "He said that Jenny was working on a spell to get the Beaverton chapter of the guild to Carnt. Sort of a mind swap with the Silent Legion. None of us thought he was serious. So, we asked him to prove to us that he was DMing with Jenny by asking her to post a Beaverton chapter inside joke ¨C ''You carnt be serious''," Jerry chuckled. "Sorry, gets me every time. But Mr. Jackson said it was secretive. Jenny made him swear on his life."


    "A blood binding spell," Percy interjected. "Nasty stuff. Boils you from the inside if you go back on your word."


    "About a week before we were going to travel, I caught him making out with Carol."


    "It was nothing," Carol said. "You treat it like we were in a room somewhere hiding away. It was in a park. We were LARPing. Just playing our characters, and they kissed."


    "You didn''t have to witness it!"


    "Please," Ameria said. "Continue your story."


    "Right," Jerry said, and composed himself. "Mr. Jackson was a loose cannon, so we kicked him out of the moon mages guild, Beaverton chapter."


    "You kicked him out," Carol huffed.


    "At any rate, he got outraged and told us that Jenny would cut out our hearts and serve them to the fell realms. We just thought it was more of that DMing with Jenny nonsense, but now, seeing you, do you think she could do something like that?"


    "Zafosaul would know," Ameria said. "Unfortunately, he is in prison."


    "Hang on," Bolt said. "My eyes may be good for nothing, but my memory is intact. I think I remember him talking about it once. There is an ancient ritual where you sacrifice heroes to a demon from the underdark. It''s supposed to give you power so great that you can punch a hole through reality."


    "Or travel to this one," Toby said, and pulled out his phone. Lovantus snagged it and saw a post on Jenny''s feed. "I saw this on Jenny''s Insta. With the number of followers alone, she''s got to be raking in a lot of money for her ads, but what good is all that ad money in Carnt?"


    The Instagram post featured a picture of Jenny taking a selfie with Duke and a goblin . The caption said, "It''s not all necromancers and goblin servants. I''ll be reading from my photo essay book  The Moon Mage of Carnt  at Powell''s Books in Portland."


    "You see!" Lovantus roared. "I knew it was the necromancer! That villainous¡ª"


    "Calm down. There will be time for that soon enough." Lady Ameria tried to puzzle it out. "We must figure out what she intends to do with this ritual magic."


    "I think we have our answer," Lovantus said, and showed the group a photo of Jenny reading from a book so evil, it was said to be the birth of necromancy itself.  The Tome of the First Necromancer  possessed magic so powerful that the Sky Lord had ravaged entire kingdoms and killed countless victims in pursuit of it.


    The color drained from Lady Ameria''s face, and Lovantus held her hand. The news weighed heavily on the group. The noise of the Bolshevik Ball cut through their silence. The voice of Lenin said, "You call yourself a communist? How about a commu-NOT! Hahaha hahaha hahaha!"


    "For the sake of the people whose bodies we inhabit," Lovantus declared, "we must stop this at all costs!"


    "But how?" Bolt asked. "Zafosaul is the only one who''d know what to do!"


    "We will do what we were born to do. We will storm the prison, leave no foe standing until we have freed the lost member of our fellowship. Through the might of steel and steadfast fortitude, we will..."


    Toby raised his hand.


    "Yes, Toby, question?" Lovantus said.


    "Isn''t Petra''s mom a lawyer?" Toby asked. "So, you know, can''t Sorsha arrange a meeting or get him bailed out? I mean, just a thought, before you go storming a federal prison and all."


    "I guess a good king knows when it''s better to seek out a diplomatic solution," Lovantus said. "It''s just, I haven''t gotten to kill anything since I''ve been here. Nary a hobgoblin, troll, or orc in sight."


    "If you want trolls, let me introduce you to online gaming," Toby said.


    "Great," Ameria said. "Now that it''s settled, let''s get these pierogis."


    ?

 44 - Prison and Other Hazards of Being a Teenage Fire Mage

    44 - Prison and Other Hazards of Being a Teenage Fire Mage


    Donald E. Long Juvenile Detention Center, The Next Day


    Sorsha sat with the mother of the body she was inhabiting in the prison visitation room.  Zafosaul sat across the table from them.


    "I don''t think now is the appropriate time to ask about your game," Claire said. "I brought you along as my intern, not so you can socialize with your friend."


    "Claire," Sorsha began. "I mean, Mother. This is important."


    "I know you think this is important," Claire said. "But Aiden''s future is at stake here."


    "The whole world will be at stake if what she says is true," Zafosaul roared. "Demon magic from the fell realms is not a passage into another world. It''s the destruction of it. Punching a hole into the abyss will devour the entire realm. Everything you know and love, gone in an instant. It is the darkest of magic."


    "So, like a black hole?" Claire asked.


    "I thought you weren''t into this," Sorsha said.


    "Your friend," Claire said. "I love his accent. Is that French?"


    "Trust me when I say, fair lady," Zafosaul continued, "that this is an evil that must be stopped. The spell must not come to pass. All the realms will be in danger if the ritual is performed."


    "Jeez, Petra," Claire said. "You didn''t tell me this would be so fun. How do we stop it?"


    "The sorcerer who got us here must have a way to communicate with the moon mage. How else would he have performed the mind transfer magic? We can do the same. Find out the communication wizardry he used to speak with the people of our world. I can inform the one they call Aiden about the magic that can switch us back. Maybe Percy, Ameria, and I can even instruct our counterparts in magic to defeat this Jenny."


    "Suzy''s apartment. There has to be something there she overlooked," Sorsha said. "Something that will connect us to Carnt."


    "If I could only leave this blasted place," Zafosaul said. "I would be able to spot spells that may have been cast from there. While I could not use my elven ability to sense magic, I do have a wide knowledge of the components used to cast them. There must be a clue as to how they are transferring information across worlds."


    "Let''s go to the apartment!" Claire said. "My, this is much more fun than I would have thought, Petra. Why didn''t you tell me your friend was so cute, and, by the way, that he is eighteen?"


    "Yes, this body is eighteen winters," Zafosaul said. "There was something about being held back a year in high school, but I do not know of any spells to reverse aging."


    "No, silly," Claire laughed and tapped Aiden on the shoulder. She was surprised by how muscular it was underneath his prison uniform and squeezed it. "You''re eighteen. This is a juvenile detention center. They screwed up your paperwork. So, what I''m saying is, I''m getting your charges dropped on a technicality. Now, let''s go search this apartment."


    ***


    A few hours later, the group and Petra''s mom were in the apartment searching for clues. Suzy mumbled about how they were wasting their time. "If there was a magic item lying about that could just ring Carnt, do you think I wouldn''t have noticed? Artifacts don''t grow on trees, you know. Except perhaps those pretty lights that grow in the town square. How do you think they do that?"


    "Christmas lights?" Claire asked.


    "Yes, those," Suzy said. "I''ll have to take a few seeds of those back home. Never thought I''d be interested in the family business. But I''d plant those, I would."


    "Is your family a farmer?" asked Percy.


    "He''s the King of Helfra, he is," Suzy said.


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    "The King of Helfra?!" Lovantus bellowed. "That pig-headed oaf!"


    "Lovi!" Ameria scolded.


    "He''s not wrong," said Suzy, sounding less cockney, more Irish. "No need to hide my accent around you. If you were gonna kill me, you''d have done it already. But why do you think I ran all the way to Traldalor? My dad was always pestering me about his almond trees. Swatting food from my hand if I had too much sugar. Did you know there''s no alcohol in the entire kingdom? No wonder I ran away to become a barmaid. Tradalorians hate Helfrans, but at least they know how to party. Not like my dad and all his Pilates classes."


    "Why the bad blood?" Claire asked. "What did Helfra do?"


    "They said the Battle of the Four Armies was a waste of time," Lovantus said. "I even crafted a miniature version of the battle, and Ulmond stomped all over it."


    "He broke your school project?" Claire said. "Kids are mean, but that''s no reason to hold a grudge. When did Jonathan grow up so quickly? It seems like only yesterday he only had a few phrases, but now complete sentences!"


    "He did a lot more than step on it!" Lovantus belly ached. "He peed on it. Tried to start his own union of races. It ended up being a ploy to take over the kingdom of Helfra for himself. He stole my idea, then got his own kingdom."


    "He was just liberating his people," Ameria said.


    "More like copying me. Can''t be his own hero. Just does everything Lovantus does!"


    "I found it!" Toby yelled. He ran over with a phone bill.


    "It''s a cell phone bill," Ameria said. "I had to pay one of those since being in these bodies. Ghastly things. They make no sense."


    "Right but look at it. The call history," Toby said.


    Lovantus grabbed the paper, and people crowded around it. He said, "I don''t see the problem. It looks like he''s just calling different numbers, until..."


    "The day we came to this world!" Ameria said. "After that, his phone has only called the same number."


    "Yeah," Toby said. "And it''s on autopay."


    "Jonathan can read?" Claire exclaimed. "I''m going to have to get the number of his daycare. I have a few friends who''ve been looking. It must be amazing!"


    "And look at the incoming numbers," Toby said. "That''s my number, the day I called all your parents.  When I called Mr. Jackson¡¯s emergency contact, a woman answered, and just said, thanks, then hung up. After that, nothing, just this number here."


    "Are you saying that the number might be his co-conspirator in Helfra? The moon mage Jenny?" Zafosaul said and then winced with pain. Ameria tried to comfort him, but he said he was okay.


    "Oh, my god," Claire said. "That accent. Seems like you all got what you want here. You, Aiden, come with me. I really must try this LARPing thing. I bet I''ll make a fine wench. Don''t keep Jonathan out too late!"


    Claire dragged Zafosaul out the front door and smacked his butt as they turned down the hallway. He winced, and she said something sly about him getting into fights in prison.


    The others shrugged and turned back to the phone bill.


    "We should call this number," Lovantus said. "Use your sorcery, Sir Toby. But first¡­"


    Lovantus nodded to Percy who emptied a backpack full of weapons, daggers, a morning star and crossbow, a sword, staff, and battle axe. Ameria rolled her eyes, ¡°Where did you get those?¡±


    ¡°We may need them for what¡¯s to come,¡± Lovantus said. ¡°Percy bought them with the internet wizardry.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t buy those illegally?¡± Toby paled. ¡°My mom is going to kill me.¡±


    ¡°They may be middling craftmanship, but they are sharp, and they will kill. Perhaps, you can enchant them?¡±


    ¡°You know magic doesn¡¯t work in this realm,¡± Ameria shrugged, but Lovantus gave the look. The one that said that he wouldn¡¯t back down. She found a water bottle and poured it over a dagger and sang a song. The water fused into the blade. It was weak but it worked. Percy immediately sang a hymn to his god. The spell sparked but fizzled out.


    ¡°Good, enchant them all,¡± Lovantus said to Ameria and she got to work. He turned to Toby, ¡°Now call the number.¡±


    "But isn''t that the moon mage''s number?" Toby asked. "Should we tip our hand that we are on to her? Perhaps we should call Mr. Jackson''s number first. Maybe he would have figured out how to transport his phone with him and has been using it to call his master. But that means she¡¯s not there with him. Maybe if we reach him when he isn''t under the gaze of his creepo boss, he¡¯d help us."


    "A wise plan," Lovantus said and patted Toby on the leg, "you are right. Sir Toby, use your magic to call Mr. Jackson."


    Toby dialed the number.


    ?

 45 - From My Cold, Severed Hand

    45 - From My Cold, Severed Hand


    Ulmond¡¯s Feasting Hall, Helfran Murderfest


    The entire room was locked in battle. Ralicuk moved from soldier to soldier, shredding them. Ulmond and Sir Grey fought on top of the table. Petra dodged blades, threw weapons, and struck down foes. Aiden launched fire at the warlock and blocked the flame directed his way. Sissy cleaved her way through the battlefield, her armor covered in blood. Annelise melted the face off a noble wearing a tunic and skinny jeans.


    They seemed to be gaining ground, but then the tide turned, and the Helfrans overwhelmed them. Tim was tackled by a group of guards. Ulmond struck a decisive blow to Sir Grey''s wrist, and his sword went flying out of his grip. Petra fumbled her dagger, and a noble raised his sword for the death blow. The warlock charged her fiery mantle for a beefed-up attack. Ralicuk fought his way to Sissy and grabbed her by the neck.


    Annelise''s phone rang.


    It was the default ring tone on the iPhone. Strangely, the noise distracted everyone in the room, and the battle paused.  All the eyes turned toward Annelise, and she said, "Sorry, forgot to turn off my phone. It could be the boss calling. I have to answer this. Hello... no, this is Annelise... I know this is Mr. Jackson''s phone, but really, I''m called Annelise...  Wait? Who¡¯s this?  You''re Suzy?! Well, I didn''t know it was your body... It''s my first mind transfer... um."


    Mr. Jackson turned toward the Silent Legion, who were giving him an icy stare.


    Sir Grey used the distraction to stab Ulmond with a dagger he grabbed from the king''s belt. The melee resumed. Petra dodged the attack, picked up her weapon, and slit her opponent''s throat. King Ulmond retaliated and stuck his sword in Sir Grey''s gut. The Traldalorian noble cried out in pain.


    The warlock screamed, "No!"


    A massive sheet of flame burst forth, knocking Aiden back because he was closest. The death wave incinerated soldiers as it washed over them, leaving flaming husks. The inferno consumed everything in its path. Jack galloped in, holding a bucket of water. He was chanting a tune, and the water welled up from the bucket and turned into a funnel. Jack cried out the final verse of the spell, and the vortex rushed towards the center of the room.


    The waterspout picked up swords from the fallen while it gained speed and shot weapons in a swordnado, killing the rest of the nobles and guards. The Silent Legion took cover to avoid being impaled themselves. The fire from the warlock surged towards the water. Ralicuk cried out as his body was set ablaze by the unnatural flame, and he dropped the Paladin. Before it burned Sissy, the two forces of nature met in the middle of the room and exploded in a mass of steam that fogged the entire place.


    The warlock attempted to ignite her spells, but there was no more fire left in the room. She twisted a ring on her finger, and with super speed, she ran towards Sir Grey and scooped him up. The pair blinked out of existence.


    Petra was the first to poke her head out of hiding. She saw that, other than Jack, her son was the only one left standing. He was waving his hands in the fog and saying, "So pretty!"


    Sissy popped out from underneath the husk of Ralicuk''s body. She ran to Jack and kissed him multiple times. "I knew you wouldn''t abandon us," she said between breaths.


    Tim was next. He pushed the bodies off him. Three men impaled by one spear toppled to the ground. He ran over to Aiden and saw that he was okay, even though he was bruised and battered from being flung across the room. Aiden smiled weakly and said, "Fire barrier. Used the last of the torchlight for it."


    That left Annelise, or as he should really be called, Mr. Jackson. He stood up from behind the table, his princess dress in tatters. The dagger was still glowing green, and the group turned towards him. Petra pulled out her weapons, Aiden flicked a lighter he had taken from a fallen Helfran merchant, and Sissy brandished her sword and shield. Tim readied his crossbow, and Jack waved the bucket around.


    "What are you doing?" Sissy said out of the corner of her mouth, while they slowly approached Mr. Jackson.


    "I''m trying to see if I can collect water droplets," Jack said. "Fog is just gaseous water, you know."


    Mr. Jackson backed up against the wall and waved his dagger.


    "I got you this far," he said. "You won''t get anywhere without me. I protected you. Saved Jonathan. That''s got to count for something."


    "You lied to us," Petra said. "You did this to us."


    "I was under the thrall of my Moon Mistress," he said. "She needed you."


    "For what?" Petra said, while she inched closer. Mr. Jackson could take out one or two of them, but there was no way he could get them all.


    "A spell, she needed the beating hearts of five heroes. She would never be able to ensnare the heroes on their own, but a bumbling group of her Instagram followers¡ª"


    "She has an Instagram?" Petra said.


    "Yeah, there''s a WiFi signal that blankets all of Carnt. Some sort of magical explosion poked a hole between our worlds. Did you know that Natalie Merchant is from here?"


    "Oh, my god, I love her," Tim said.


    They both sang  Jealousy .


    "All right," Petra waved her arms. "Enough of that! Right, so why us? I''m sure there must be other weirdos like you out there who''d be more than willing to sacrifice themselves."


    "There were," Mr. Jackson said. "But I kind of made out with the guild master''s girl. It was a moment of weakness. She does this thing with her tongue."


    "No geek sex descriptions, please! Okay, so you get desperate and use us instead. But for what?"


    "To get her back to our world. She got trapped here by a merchant with this cabin that phases between our world and here."


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    "Why doesn''t she just use the cabin?"


    "Because I don''t have the key," Jenny said, startling them all. She had materialized, accompanied by a goblin servant holding a large yellow jewel and a staff. The moon mage was precisely what a person would expect of a thirty-something trapped in a far-off fantasy realm for many years.  She wore clothes from Petra''s world that had been patched and sewn back together many times. Her make-up and nails were improvised with pigments from Carnt. She had even fashioned a selfie stick from a bamboo pole.


    The party shifted their attack stance toward their new opponent. Jenny waved her hand with a glove that glowed blue. When she followed with a flick of her wrist, the weapons all popped out of their hands and clattered to the ground. She pulled a piece of rope off her belt and cinched a knot. The Silent Legion''s hands were bound by a magical force.


    "I''ve been here a while," Jenny said. "And in my quest for that god-forsaken key, I''ve amassed quite a few magical items. The real Silent Legion, the people prancing around Beaverton in your bodies, are used to magic. They would never have let me flick my wrist, or use the rope, or this..."


    She grabbed the stone from her goblin servant and tapped it.  Then, a beam of yellow light shot out and hit each member of the party except for Jonathan. The five Jenny had selected rose into the air while they struggled against their bonds.


    Jenny continued. "I''m not a villain, Petra. I''ll let your child live because I only need the five of you. I also needed a royal necromancer to sacrifice, and while it would give me much joy to send Duke to the abyss, I gotta hand it to you, Mr. Jackson. The princess of Helfra? A necromancer? I wouldn''t have believed it. Why do you think this spell is near impossible to cast? Necromancers who obtain royalty status are usually the murderous type and don''t give up their life so easily. You served me a dainty little princess."


    "Thanks," Mr. Jackson blushed. "Wait? What do you mean, served?"


    Jenny snapped her fingers with the same glove she had used to disarm the party. Mr. Jackson''s dagger burst into a puff of smoke. He was too busy clutching his burned hand to notice her whispering into the stone. A beam of light hit him, and he floated into the center of the five members of the Silent Legion. The rays converged into one coming from the jewel to Mr. Jackson, then split from his body into the five on the Silent Legion.


    The beam intensified, and they each felt a shockwave of pain through their body.


    "Mama?" Jonathan said, a worried expression crossing his face.


    "Fweb, the staff," Jenny said, and her goblin companion trundled forward with a walnut staff with an opal on top. He held the artifact above his head in the path of the beam between Mr. Jackson and Jenny.


    The moon mage caressed the yellow sapphire and played  You Were Meant for Me  by Jewel from her phone.


    The nineties pop folk song triggered the staff, and Jenny was engulfed in magical fire. A red bolt shot out towards Fweb. He ducked when it hit the gem and let go of the staff. The walnut magical item hovered in midair, locked into the spell. A fiery orange glow burst from the opal and slammed into Mr. Jackson''s chest, and he cried out in pain. Five more split from his back and went straight to the beating hearts of Petra and her pals.


    Jenny continued to sing, and the phenomenon grew in intensity. The group cried out in agony, and what had been a hum grew to an almost deafening level. A portal opened behind the group into darkness. It increased in size, and orange flaming eyes emerged in the depths of the abyss beyond.


    Jewel belted out the bridge of the song, and a creature appeared in the dark. It was massive, evil, and apparently drawn to the sound of the heroes'' heartbeats. The thumps were amplified through the dark ritual, and a gigantic, clawed fist burst from the void and reached for Petra.


    Corwin wandered back into the room with his sword drawn. "Chicken farming be damned. The king would take half me chickens in taxes. It''s time to stick up for something I believe in, and that''s real heroes. Not some nobles getting rich off¡ªwhat''s this?"


    He surveyed the room and saw the hand coming through the portal. It clutched Petra. She cried out in pain as it pulled her toward the maw, waiting for her on the other side of the portal.


    "On second thought, chicken farming has decent benefits. Even if I have to give half the chickens to the noble. That''s still half for me."


    Corwin backed away.


    Jonathan rammed into the fist with the full force of the enormous barbarian, knocking it just enough to loosen its grip on his mom. The halfling fell to the ground and saw a dagger on the floor she could reach even with her hands bound if she rolled just right. Jenny was too distracted by the spell to notice. Petra dove for the dagger, but Fweb braved the steel and leaped towards her.


    Petra thanked her lucky stars that her son loved kicking a soccer ball around in the backyard and had gotten pretty good for a three-year-old. His foot connected solidly with the goblin and sent the creature flying across the room. She picked up the dagger mid-roll and flung it with a flick of the wrist as she rolled back around.


    The last notes of the song played when the dagger imbedded in Jenny¡¯s throat. She gagged, dropped the phone, and the spell stopped. Everyone fell to the floor.  The portal snapped shut, and the vanishing creature howled as its massive fist was severed from its body. The moon mage pulled the dagger from her throat, and blood gushed out. Fweb ran to her side. She twisted a ring on her finger, and the pair disappeared.


    Once Jenny was out of proximity, the party''s hands were free. They were helping each other to their feet when King Ulmond popped out from behind the table. His mouth was agape. He pointed from the heroes to the severed hand and stammered, "You... that... it..."


    "You''re welcome," Petra said.


    More guards burst into the room and saw their lord was a quivering mess.


    One of the guards said to another, "Um... should we kill them now?"


    Petra nodded at the demon''s clawed hand and said, "Want to try it?"


    Another guard said, "Um... how about we escort them out of the city? You okay with that, boss?"


    "Claw... claw... giant... demon... claw!" King Ulmond gasped.


    "We''ll see ourselves out," Petra said, and the group made a hasty retreat. As they were heading for the door, Mr. Jackson''s phone rang. Petra yanked it from his hand and answered it.


    "Sorsha!" Petra said. "It''s good to finally meet you. Is that what I sound like over the phone? I thought I was less nasally. Right... Jack, Ameria wants to talk to you about a spell. It should transfer our minds back to their right places."


    She tossed him the phone.


    "Hello?" Jack said. "Is that what I sound like? I thought my voice was deeper... right... yeah... I''m pretty sure there is a lake nearby..."


    They all filed out of the room, and guards took the hint and followed.


    King Ulmond sat down next to a few of the charred corpses. After a while of burying his head in his hands, he saw one of the bodies twitch. The king moved over to get a closer look and saw a peculiar sight. One of the nobles who had been impaled by the swordnado was bleeding out. The blood was pooling near a charred corpse, the one that had twitched. However, the volume of blood wasn''t increasing, it was decreasing.


    The blood was being absorbed by the corpse. When Ulmond bent over to inspect, it thrust out a hand and gripped the king''s neck. Then, it pulled him close and grunted, "LeDuke''s armies will rise again."


    It dug its teeth into the king''s flesh.


    ?

 46 - Its Just the Beginning

    46 - It''s Just the Beginning


    Beaverton, Winter Break


    Petra woke up in her own bed, with her three-year-old snuggled at her side. He''d had a scary dream last night. Choosing to not tip her son that he had briefly been a barbarian king, she had told him that the demon wasn''t real.


    He had nonchalantly responded, "I won the demon. My bad dream was about ice cream."


    Not wanting to ponder all the ways she had screwed up her kid by interdimensional body-hopping, she had decided to let him sleep in her bed. It had been a month, and she still couldn''t believe that she was in her own room. She couldn''t remember any other time she had slept so well. No more foul-smelling humans who bathed once in their entire life. Goodbye, sleeping on rocks and eating woodland creatures. Killer rangers, evil undead, hungry trees, and all the things that wanted to do her in could stay in Carnt.


    In fact, even though she had previously been dreading it, she was now looking forward to finishing college. She didn''t fear the life of an unrespected, overworked single mother. It was time to ovary up and take life as if it were a fell realm demon and squeeze it to death, or whatever a person did to be better at living it. She was mommy and had goals. The world would have to deal with it.


    Petra wasn''t the only one who was shaped by the experience. Jack said he would quit football and planned to audition for the spring musical theatre show. Sissy volunteered at the animal shelter, though Petra was still a little suspicious of her motives. Tim, bless his heart, tried out for the school archery team and got in. He was finally in a school sport and better than his brother at it, at least while he was wearing glasses.


    Aiden had woken up in bed with Petra''s mom, which caused some problems with his girlfriend, who turned out to be real. Her mom hooking up with Zafosaul in Aiden''s body wasn''t that big of a surprise to Petra. Daddy dearest wasn''t the best role model for life choices. If her parents wanted to screw around with consenting adults who could have been their children, Petra would just vomit inside her mouth.


    At least Aiden had the gonads to put his animal sweater designs on Etsy. He was branching out to hamsters, mice, and other animals. Though he was still keeping his eye on all the pet stores, watching out for Big Pet.


    Even her son seemed better able to control his bodily functions. He went to the potty more and peed on the couch less.


    Everything was looking up until she got a call from Mr. Jackson. She picked up the phone and said, "I told you never, ever, ever, ever call me again. Did I leave out an ever?"


    "I know, Petra, I''m sorry for everything I''ve done. Really, I am, but you''ve got to come to the school."


    "On a Saturday? Weren''t you fired from there?" Petra asked. "You know, getting high with students on campus, endangering their life?"


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    "That wasn''t me! Besides, what the school doesn''t know can''t hurt them."


    "Sacrificing students to a demon lord really can hurt them."


    "Look, I''m really sorry. Am I going to have to atone for it my entire life?!"


    "Yeah."


    "Fine, right... you''re right... now please, just come to the school. I promise you. No games."


    "Fine, only because we had a life-threatening experience together, and I''ve got some weird Stockholm syndrome for your sorry ass." Petra hung up the phone.


    Jonathan was awake and grinning at her.


    "Momma!" he said and patted her hair.


    As much as she just wanted to spend her Saturday with her boy, it was off to school yet again.


    ***


    A half-hour later, Petra pressed her face into her steering wheel and screamed. Jonathan, strapped to his car seat in the back, giggled and chortled, "Mommy is honking her horn."


    At the steps of her school was a giant rat warlord. He wore an eye patch and had scars across his body. The creature held Principal Sokol''s decapitated head towards the sky. Blood oozed down his arm. More of the same snarling rat folk burst from the school armed with sabers. They jeered and rattled their weapons.


    The vicious leader roared, "I am Nimbus, the rat king. Lovantus''s head will be mounted on my wall. So will the Beaver King''s, if he hides the murderous barbarian!"


    Petra hit the Mom button on her dashboard. The phone rang, and Claire answered, "Hello?"


    "Mom, I need you to watch Jonathan."


    "I''m in Portland, Saturday Market. See if your friend is up for a little role play. Can your dad¡ª"


    "Ew. Ew. That''s stalking, Mom! Just get down here. I''m sharing my location," Petra hung up.


    She pulled up a group chat labeled ''The Silent Legion''.


    She typed, "It''s Buffy the Vampire Slayer time."


    "What?" Tim was the first to respond.


    "Just get to the school," she tapped out, and threw her phone on the passenger seat.


    Petra opened her glove compartment. There was a stash of shiny daggers that Sorsha claimed were enchanted. Hopefully, the magic was powerful enough to do some damage to these rat creatures.


    ?