Unlikely Heroes

 

Chapter 1:  Tap Dancing Is Good For Your Karma

 

It was the best of  times, it was the worst of times.  No, scratch that.

 

It was a dark and stormy night.  Er…no.  More like the opposite, actually.

 

Once upon a time.  Yes, that was it, the pages whispered with delight.  Once upon a time, there was a wizard.  Except he didn't know that he was a wizard, because he could not remember anything, not even his own name.  It was really very annoying.  He could not imagine anything more annoying.  But then he was unconscious, so it was very hard for him to imagine anything at all.

 

A young man woke up beneath a tree and winced.  Everything hurt, especially his head.  What had happened to him?  What was he doing there?  What was his name?  Try as he might, he could not remember.

 

He glanced around.  As he tried to stand up, an acorn fell from the tree above and landed right at his feet.  A gray squirrel darted after it and popped the acorn into its mouth, then dashed away. 

 

"An acorn," the wizard muttered.  "What the bloody hell does an acorn have to do with me?"

 

He groaned as he took a step forward.  His body protested, but still he took a step anyway.  Something about the acorn and the squirrel resonated with him.

 

"Acorn," he said aloud in response.  Yes, it would do for now, until he remembered who he really was, however long that would take.  Hopefully not too long. 

 

He looked around and took another step forward, then another and another.  Soon he was walking, though he did not know where he was walking.  The road ahead of him beckoned.

 

Behind him, the squirrel spit out the acorn and ran to catch up.

 

* * * * *

 

Somewhere else, in a very dark corner along a cobblestone road in the city, Grimlor Leadfoot reached out for a pedestrian's coin purse.  The coins in it jingled, whispering to him of many things -- fortune, the future, and silver and gold.  Sweet, sweet gold.  He stretched out, then suddenly lost his balance and fell, smack dab on the cobblestones and in full view of his mark.  He let out a string of curses.

 

"What the...help, guards," the pedestrian shouted.

 

It was just not his day.  No, scratch that.  It was just not his lifetime.  Grimlor took one look at the oncoming guards and ran for it.  Darting through the long and windy streets, he could not help but bump into people as he passed them.  Most of them cursed and did not give him a second glance. 

 

He finally made it to the sewer entrance, but the guards were coming up behind him very quickly.  He fumbled for the lock.  It was just not his day.  But then again, it never was.  Still, he kept at it.  Finally, he got the sewer entrance open and jumped down into the smelly darkness.

 

Grimlor cursed, having landed face first in the muck.   He got to his feet, wiped the thick, rancid muck off of his face, and then ran.  He heard the guards trying to get the entrance open.  It was only a short time before they came down. 

 

Luckily, he was very good at running, despite his last name.  They called him Leadfoot because he had a tendency to be clumsy.  But he also had a great deal of luck.  It was just that most of it was bad.  Every once in a while, though, the gods cut him a break.  He hoped they were feeling generous today.

 

He hid in the shadows and held his breath as the guards splashed by.  The sewer muck was so stinky that its odor was rumored to haunt the streets of the city.   Sometimes it scared people to death in the night. 

 

The guards splashed on by, and Grimlor hid until he was absolutely sure that they were gone.  He was very good at hiding.  He didn't require moving for that.  Slowly, he crept out of his hiding place and proceeded to trip once again.  It really wasn’t his day.

 

* * * * *

 

Meanwhile, in the middle of a really big battlefield, a fighter in a shining suit of armor looked up as an enemy came at him with a sword.  Alain screamed and ran for it.  He really was not cut out for being a soldier.  He fought because if he didn’t, his mother would hound him to no end when he got home because he didn't have a real job.  Fighting paid the rent, you see.  He was a mercenary, and not a very good mercenary.  But people hired him because he worked cheaply.

 

They called him Doombringer not because he fought well, but because he usually brought doom to whichever side he was fighting on.  It wasn't really his fault.  He always tried hard.  Still, when it came right down to it, Alain was a coward. 

 

He really wanted to go into a different line of work, but his mother wouldn’t let him.  He wanted to be a bard.  But being a bard didn't pay at all unless you got into the royal court.  So he was a mercenary, and he was absolutely terrible at it.

 

As he ran from the enemy fighter, Alain dashed into a tent to hide.  Then he noticed a chest.  He opened it and took out a sword.  It glowed pink.

 

"Hey, what are you doing?" the weapon shouted in a female voice.  "Put me down, you imbecile!  You are not worthy enough to hold me.  I am only for *real* fighters, not nitwits like you.  You are a loser."

 

"A magic sword?" he gasped.  He thought of all the money that would bring when he sold it at the marketplace.  Hopefully it would be enough to move out of his mother's basement. 

 

"I said, PUT ME DOWN," she bellowed.

 

Alain reached for it.  "No.  You are coming with me."

 

"You are a lily-livered coward!  I will make your life a living hell, even more so than your mother does right now.  You will put me down, now, or I will curse you!”

 

His voice trembled slightly.  "You can't do that.  You're bluffing.” 

 

The sword glowed red as she lectured him.  "Am I?  I’m a magic sword.  You have no idea what I could do to you.  I could turn you into an evil villain.  I could turn you into a little girl. I could give you eternal hunger or thirst.  I could kill you slowly with a terrible disease.  I could do anything, and you wouldn’t even know until it was too late."

 

Alain Doombringer looked at the sword dubiously.  It really wasn't worth the risk.  He could always find another way to make money.  He dropped the weapon and ran for it.

 

"You are such a loser," she called after him, then cackled.  "They always fall for it," the sword whispered.  "Stupid men.  Little do they know my true power is for women only.  That is, young women going through a certain monthly…mmmph!"  Her voice was muffled as the tent collapsed amidst all the fighting.

 

* * * * *

 

The next day, a bard named Orrin Songless was wandering around the mercenary camp carrying a drum.  It wasn't any old drum, though.  He'd gotten it from a bunch of troll raiders.  He had crept into the camp to get it.  By the time they knew he was there, he already had the Drum of Dancing.  He’d escaped the trolls with the drum’s magic.

 

Orrin was not just any bard though.  He was called Songless for a reason.  He absolutely hated most music.  Not to mention, he was tone-deaf.  Oh, sure, he could recite a spoken poem or tale just fine, but you would never hear him sing or play any instrument.  The drum he had no problem with, though.  It was most likely the only instrument he would ever play.

 

The drum was made of some sort of leathery hide and there were runes all around it.  They were trollish in origin.  He had no idea what they read.  All he knew was the drum made anyone who he wanted to tap dance, and they would not stop unless he wanted them to.

 

"Hello Orrin,” Alain said, wiping sweat from his brow.

 

"Doombringer," Orrin greeted him.

 

"My name is Alain," he sighed.

 

"You nearly brought us doom the other day, I heard," the bard said.

Alain nodded dejectedly.  "I wish I could go into your line of work."

 

Orrin raised his eyebrows.  "You want to be a bard?”

 

"Yes," he replied.  "I would love to.  The problem is, it doesn't pay very well."

 

The bard laughed.  "That is true.  Still, I don’t mind.  I would much rather do this than a lot of things.  I mean, there are a lot of worse jobs.  You could be scooping out horse dung instead."

 

Alain grimaced.  "Aye.  Hey, why do you play a drum?”

 

“I can’t stand anything that carries a tune,” Orrin replied.

 

“You’re kidding.  Why be a bard then?”

 

“For the adventure.  What else is there?”

 

“I guess,” Alain said with a shrug.

 

"Besides, the drum makes people tap dance when I play it,” Orrin said.

 

Alain looked stunned.  "Tap dance?  Really?"

 

"Sure.  Want to see for yourself?" the bard asked.

 

"No, no, that's okay," he replied.

 

"Come on.  Tap dancing is great.  It's good for your karma," the bard responded.*

 

"How do you know?  Can you tap dance?" Alain inquired.

 

"No," Orrin admitted.  "But if someone else played this drum, I would."

 

"Uh huh.  Thanks.  I think I'll pass."

 

"Suit yourself.”   Orrin waited until Alain left, then looked at a nearby chicken and tapped the Drum of Dancing.

 

The chicken began to tap dance, clucking in time to the drum's rhythm.  The bard chuckled.  Perhaps tap dancing really was good for your karma, whatever karma was.


* * * * *

 

Meanwhile, Acorn had arrived at the entrance of Helmsgate.  The city’s tall marble spires stretched into the sky, casting dark shadows across the land.  He could hear the sounds of merchants advertising their wares, of people sharing the already cramped streets, and of various animals – horses, chickens, and dogs.  The smells of sweat, the salty air, various kinds of roasted meat assailed him.  He wondered if this was really as good of an idea as it seemed.

 

Behind him, the squirrel chittered.

 

He glanced around.  "What?  Oh, hello there."

 

The squirrel chittered again.

 

"You want to come with me?"

 

The squirrel bobbed its head up and down.

 

"All right.  I guess I'll have to name you something.  Um…how about Chip?  Seems like a good name for a squirrel."

 

The squirrel chittered and bobbed its head.

 

"Fine.  Chip it is, then.  Come on."  Acorn bent down and scooped up the animal.

 

Chip the squirrel climbed up Acorn's arm and sat on his shoulder, looking perfectly content as they both entered the city of Helmsgate.

 

"Hey, what's that on your shoulder?" asked a guard.

 

"That?  It's just Chip."

 

The guard seemed to think that was terribly funny.  He grinned, showing his teeth.  "And what is your name?"

 

"I can’t remember.  But you can call me Acorn for now," he replied.

 

"Acorn, eh?  With a chip on your shoulder?" the guard asked with a smirk.

 

He nodded.

 

"I see.  Well, I suppose you can enter," the guard said.  "Just don’t cause any trouble."

 

"We won't," he replied.

 

The guard let them in.  Acorn wondered if he could find anything to jog his memory.  Maybe an herbalist could help.  He wandered off in search of the nearest apothecary.

 

* * * * *
Chapter 2:  When Squirrels Collide

 

Grimlor Leadfoot stumbled across the entrance to the thieves' guild hideout.  It was in the sewers, partly because they stank so much that nobody else would go down there willingly, and partly because the city guards were too lazy to go looking there.

 

He knocked three times on the door, and a previously hidden peephole in the door opened ever so slightly.

 

"What is the password?" asked the thief who was guarding the door.

 

"Come on, Ulthor, you know me," Grimlor said, getting very annoyed.

 

"Aye, Leadfoot, but you still need to give me the password," Ulthor replied.

 

Grimlor sighed.  "Very well.  I am a lumberjack and I’m okay.  I sleep all night and I work all day."

 

"Keep going," the other thief said.

 

"You've got to be kidding me.  I know the bloody password, okay?  Let me in," Grimlor said.

 

"Not until I get the rest of it," Ulthor answered.

 

"Oh, all right."  He sighed.  "I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory.  On Wednesdays I go shopping and have buttered scones for tea.  That enough for you?"

 

"No," Ulthor replied, quite self-assuredly.

 

Grimlor sighed again.  "Fine.  I cut down trees.  I skip and jump.  I like to press wild flowers.  I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars.  Can I come in now?"

 

"Keep going.”

 

"You've got to be kidding me.”

 

"Nope.  You have to tell me the rest of it," Ulthor said.

 

Grimlor sighed yet again and wished for the hundredth time that he wasn't having a very bad day.  "All right.  I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspendies, and a bra."

 

"Keep going.”

 

"That's it!  I've had enough of this.  Let me in!" Grimlor demanded loudly and stamped his foot on the floor.

 

"No, you have to finish it," Ulthor replied.

 

"Do you make anyone else do this?" he asked crossing his arms over his chest.

 

"Of course.  All the time," the other thief replied.

 

"Why?" Grimlor asked.

 

"One, it just happens to be in the thieves' guild rules that we all voted on.  Two, because I can, and three, because I am a really annoying bloke.  Now finish the bloody password," Ulthor said.

 

"All right, all right.  I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear papa," Grimlor replied.  He sighed yet again.  "Now will you please let me in?"

 

There was a click and sliding noise as the door was unlocked.  "Now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Ulthor asked, grinning.

 

Grimlor glared at him sharply and then went inside. 

 

* * * * *

 

Meanwhile, Acorn had stumbled across an herbalist, literally. 

 

"Ow!  Watch where you're going," she snarled at him.

 

"Sorry," he apologized.  "My mistake.  I am looking for the herbalist," he said, gesturing to the sign.

 

"Well, you've found her.  What can I do for you?"

 

"I have amnesia.  Is there anything you can give me to help?" he asked, hoping that she could help him.

 

"Hmm.  Amnesia…let's see…nope, do not think there are any herbs for that.  I could try hitting you on the head again.  That always works in soap operas," she said.

 

"What's a soap opera?" Acorn asked.

 

"Uh…now that I think about it, I do not know.  I imagine someone in an opera gets into a bath tub," she said.

 

"A bath tub?" he repeated.

 

"Are you deaf?  I said a bath tub," she replied in a very annoyed tone of voice.

 

"I heard you just fine.  It's just a bit hard to imagine someone on stage, sitting naked in a bath tub and singing opera," he said.

 

"Right.  Well, I would not do it," she said.  "Unless there was a shower curtain."

 

"What's a shower curtain?" he inquired.

 

"You know, that's a really good question.  That word just popped into my head.  I don’t know where it came from," she responded.

 

"The gods, I imagine," Acorn said.  "Are you sure you don’t have any herbs for amnesia?"

 

"Sorry, I can't help you.  You can try all of the other herbalists in town, but I am willing to bet they'll give you the same answer," she said.

 

He nodded.  "Well, thanks anyway."  Just as he started for the door, the squirrel ran down his shoulder and leapt onto a nearby table.   "No, Chip!" Acorn shouted.

 

"Get your pet squirrel away from my potions!” the herbalist exclaimed, grabbing a broom and trying to shoo it away.

 

Chittering, the squirrel took a great leap and landed on top of the bookshelf, then proceeded to accidentally knock over a really thick, dusty old book.  The pages of that really thick, dusty old book just happened to open to a particular section labeled "Amnesia" in great big old-fashioned script.

 

"Well," said the herbalist, "it seems that your squirrel might have more brains than you do."  She smiled at the furry critter.

 

Chip bobbed his head in agreement, then jumped back onto Acorn's shoulder.

 

The herbalist picked up the book and studied the page carefully, blowing off a cloud of dust that caused Acorn to cough several times.

 

"Ah.  Yes.  It says here that you might be cured from amnesia by finding a familiar place," she said sagely.

 

"Great.  Now if I only know what that might be," Acorn replied.  "I don’t suppose you have any ideas?"

 

"No, sorry.  I am no wizard.  If you were, I suppose you could find out somehow," she said apologetically.

 

Something niggled at Acorn's mind.  It nudged at him a few times, and then fled away into the dark, unswept corners where, he presumed, all of his memories were hidden from him.  "How would I do that?" he asked.  "If I were a wizard?"

 

The herbalist shrugged.  "I know very little about magic, young man."

 

He nodded and moved toward the door again.  "Right.  I am very sorry to take up so much of your time for nothing."

"Not a problem.  I hope you find what you're looking for," she said as he left the shop.

 

Chip chose that moment to leap off his shoulder and run into the street.

 

"Hey, come back here," Acorn shouted.  "I said, come back here!" 

 

He darted after the squirrel, annoying a great many pedestrians in the process. 

 

* * * * *

 

In the meantime, Grimlor Leadfoot emerged from the hideout.  He hoped that his afternoon would be more productive than the morning.  He had spent it arguing with several guild members over whether or not he had made his weekly quota.  He had, in fact, not made it.  So he was out  looking for another mark, when a squirrel suddenly scampered up his leg.

 

"Get off of me, you stupid rodent," he shouted, bending down and trying to grab it.  

 

"Chip!  Where are you?" Acorn yelled.

 

Grimlor pointed to the squirrel, which had now somehow managed to climb onto his shoulder.  "Is this thing yours?"

 

"Sort of.  He's my friend, you see.  It's a bit hard to explain, really.”

 

"Uh huh.  Well, get it off me, now!" Grimlor insisted.

 

"Right.  Here, Chip.  Be a good squirrel, if there is such a thing.”

 

The squirrel clung furiously to the thief's dark brown tunic.

 

"I think he likes you," Acorn said nervously.

 

Grimlor glared at him.  "I don’t give a rat's ass what he likes.  Get that squirrel off of me, now!"

 

Suddenly there was a commotion as city guards appeared behind Grimlor.  "Hey, you!  You're the thief we were chasing earlier!”

"Uh oh," he said, and started to run. 

 

Not knowing what else to do, Acorn ran after him, hoping to rescue Chip.  He followed the thief and the city guards through the twisting streets.   Then suddenly Grimlor tripped.  What he tripped over, Acorn could not see, but Chip went flying backward.  Acorn caught him and the squirrel scampered up his arm.

 

"You," the lead guard said, "why were you chasing that man?"

 

"He stole my squirrel," Acorn replied.

 

"What is your name?" the guard asked.

 

"Acorn," he answered.

 

The guard laughed.  "What kind of a name is that?"

 

"I am only using it until I remember my real name," he replied.

 

"Uh huh.  A flimsy excuse.  More likely, you are in the thieves’ guild as well.  Arrest them," he ordered his companions. 

 

"Yes, sir," the guards responded.

 

Grimlor sighed.  What else could possibly go wrong? 

 

"I am not talking to you," Acorn said.

 

"Then why did you say something?" the thief asked.

 

"I did not," he said.

 

"Yes, you did, just now," Grimlor replied.

 

"Did not," he said.

 

"Did too," the thief replied.

 

"Shut up, both of you," the guards said.  "Or I'll slit your throats."

 

Both of the prisoners glared at each other as they were hauled into the prison and shackled to one another.  None of the guards paid any attention to Chip, who scampered down Acorn's arm and hid in a bale of hay.

 

"We are doomed," Grimlor said.  "All because of your stupid rodent!"

 

"Chip is a squirrel," Acorn said.   "And we are not doomed."

 

"Says you," the thief replied.  "They'll probably let us starve to death in here."

 

"You’re such a pessimist," Acorn replied.

 

Grimlor sighed.  Today was a very bad day.  No doubt about it.

 

 

Chapter 3:  Did I Mention That Tap Dancing Was Good For Your Karma?

 

Alain was not in a very good mood.  He was being chased by a mean-looking orc.  The brutish creature followed him to the center of the battlefield, where he whipped out a particularly spiky mace and bellowed, "You will die now, human!"

 

Alain shuddered.  Then he heard the unmistakable sound of Orrin's Drum of Dancing.  The orc began to tap dance.  Try as he might he could not stop.

 

"Run, you idiot," Orrin shouted.

 

He took off at top speed.  An arrow streaked past him and struck the tap dancing orc, who fell over.

 

Meanwhile, in the center of the battlefield, there was a commotion.  Various soldiers on both sides were being turned to stone.  In the middle of it all, there was a tall, gray-haired wizard wearing unsightly pink robes.*   He was chanting and waving his arms and doing lots of typical wizardly things.  He had long unkempt black hair and a black beard that was not trimmed at all. He was evil.  Why should he trim it?  It would only ruin what was left of his image, which was already marred by those blasted pink robes.

 

Alain gaped as the flesh-to-stone spell radius expanded. He ducked as the wave of magic came closer and closer.  Then he blacked out.  But just before he lost consciousness, he could have sworn that he heard that magic sword laughing at him.

 

"Loser," she said.

 

* * * * *

 

Some time later, Alain woke up in a dank, cold cell.  Was there any other kind?  He supposed that somewhere in the universe, there must be a cozy, sweet-smelling, warm prison cell with a comfy chair just to balance things out, and guards that gave you milk and homemade chocolate-chip cookies instead of gruel and water with mysterious icky things floating in it.  But he had never seen one, and he probably never would.

 

There was a groan in the adjacent cell next to him.  Alain peered through the bars as much as he possibly could.

 

"Orrin?" he asked.

 

"Aye," replied the bard.

 

"Where are we?"

 

"We appear to be in some sort of prison.”

 

"Why is it that there are never any warm, comfortable, and cozy jail cells?" Alain asked.

 

"I don’t know.  Now, do you have any other stupid questions, or are you going to let me rot here in peace?" Orrin retorted.

 

"Do you still have the drum?" Alain asked.

 

"Why, as a matter of fact, the guards around here are as inane as you are, and they let me keep the drum!  Isn’t that smashing?"

 

"There’s no need to be sarcastic.  I was just wondering."

 

"No, of course not," the bard replied.

 

"Hey, you, shut up!" someone shouted.  "Some of us are trying to get some sleep."

 

"Yes please," someone else replied. "I am going to be hanged tomorrow.  I'd like to be awake for it, thank you very much."

 

"Why?" Alain asked.

 

"I want to face my death wide awake."

 

"You're a mad man."

 

"No, I am just really annoyed,” the other prisoner said.

 

Alain sighed and leaned back against the cell wall.  Now what?  How was he going to get out of this?

 

Suddenly a particularly furry squirrel with a penchant for long-distance jumping darted into his cell.  He looked at it.  The rodent looked at him with beady black eyes and scampered to the other end of the cell.  Alain watched it. 

 

“Hey, I don’t suppose you could get me out of here?” he asked hopefully.

 

The squirrel chittered and ran away.  Alain sighed.  So much for hope.

 

* * * * *

 

In one of the rooms above, a guard set down the Drum of Dancing that he had been playing.  He had no idea what it did, of course.  He just thought it was better than twiddling his thumbs.  Perhaps he would start a Band of Rocks.  Yes, he thought.  Or maybe he would call it Music With Rocks In It.  That had a certain ring.  The Drum of Dancing was set on the floor and forgotten as the guard went back on duty.

 

The guard saw a squirrel looking up at him with its beady little eyes, but the guard thought nothing of it.  Chip leapt onto the guard’s leg and climbed up to his arm and then his shoulder and then his head.  The guard screamed in horror as the squirrel clung to his hair. 

 

“Get it off me,” the guard yelled.  “Someone, help!”

 

The poor guard was trying to get Chip off of his head.  He stumbled until he tripped and fell backwards, hitting his head on the floor.  There was a really sickening cracking noise.  Acorn winced.  Then there was a jingle as the fell out of the guard’s pocket.

 

“Chip,” Acorn whispered, “get me the keys!”

 

The squirrel looked up.

 

“I said get me the keys!” he repeated.

 

The squirrel ran away, squeezing through the bars of the cage and running up the stairs in a headlong dash.

 

Acorn sighed.  He was so close to getting out of the prison cell.  He tried to squeeze his arm through the bars of the cage, but it just didn’t fit.  “If only I had a stick,” he muttered.

 

He sighed.  “I wish I could get those keys,” he said.  The keys suddenly moved of their own volition towards him.  He gasped.  They jingled as they moved closer.  He lunged for them, but they leaped away as if to taunt him.

 

“Bloody keys,” he swore.

 

They jingled as he grabbed them, but Acorn missed and banged his head against the cell bars.  Then they jingled again. But it didn’t matter, because one way or another, he would get out of the cell.  He watched them move this way and that.  Finally, he timed their movements and grabbed them.  “Ha!  Got you!”

 

“Let me out!” Grimlor exclaimed.

 

“Wait, why should I?  You’re a thief,” he said.  “As far as I know, I’m the only one here who’s actually innocent.”

 

“Very soon, the other guards will have figured out that something is going on down here,” Grimlor said.  “Not to mention, I wouldn’t be here in the first place if your stupid pet squirrel hadn’t made me trip.”

 

“Oh come on, Leadfoot,” said one of the other prisoners.  “You would have tripped anyway.”

 

“Leadfoot?” Acorn asked.

 

The thief sighed.  “Okay.  I’m not very good at running.  But I have a lot of luck.  You’ll see.”

 

“You’re lucky?”

 

“Aye,” Grimlor said.  “Now let us all out, before the guards come back.”

Acorn sighed.  “All right.”  He let them out.

 

 “Now let’s get out of here,” Grimlor said.  “We’ll have to use the secret exit.”

 

“Secret exit?” he asked.

 

“Aye.  Just knock on that discolored brick three times.  It’s a magic brick.  It requires three jokes,” the thief said.

 

“If it’s so secret, how do you know about it?” Acorn inquired.

 

“I’m a member of the thieves’ guild, remember?  We know these things.”

 

“Oh, all right.”  Acorn bent down and knocked on the brick. 

 

“Who’s there?” the brick replied.

 

“Ach,” he exclaimed.

 

“Ach who?” the brick replied.

 

“Gesundheit,” Acorn said.

 

The brick sighed.  “You have two more jokes.”

 

Acorn knocked again.

 

“Who’s there?” it asked.

 

“Guess.”

 

“Guess who?”

 

“Exactly!” Acorn grinned.

 

The brick yawned.  “That wasn’t very funny.  Try again.”

He knocked once more.

 

“Who’s there?” it asked.

 

“Orange.”

 

“That’s too old,” it said.  “Try something different.”

 

“No, no, it’s not what you think,” Acorn said.

 

“Oh, all right,” it said.  “Orange who?”

 

“Orange you glad this is the last really awful joke?”

 

“Indeed,” it replied with a groan.  The secret entrance opened.  “You may pass.”

 

The prisoners filed through the secret entrance.  At the top of the stairs, the squirrel watched them.  It ran quickly to catch up, and made it just as the secret door closed.

Chapter 4:  The Secret Tunnel

 

“Hey, I need my magic drum,” Orrin exclaimed as they sloshed through the sewer muck.

 

“It’s too late now,” Alain said.  “We have to get out of here.  Besides, you can always buy another musical instrument somewhere.”

 

“You don’t understand,” Orrin said.  “I cannot play any other kind of instrument.”

 

“That’s funny,” Alain replied, “I thought you were supposed to be a bard.”

 

“I am.  But I’m not a very good one.  I’m tone deaf, and I hate music anyway,” Orrin admitted.

 

“Then why’d you go into that line of work?” Alain asked.

 

“My father was a bard, and his father before him.  It was expected of me,” he explained.

 

“We’ll find you another drum, then.  Let’s get out of here before the guards find us.”

 

Orrin sighed and nodded.  “You’re right, after all.”

 

There was a shout and a curse as Grimlor tripped somewhere up ahead and someone ran into him.

 

“Blast it, Leadfoot!” Alain yelled.  “Watch where you’re going.”

 

“Sorry.  It’s dark in here,” the thief replied.

 

“It’s a secret tunnel.  What did you expect?” Alain asked.

 

“Let’s go,” Orrin said.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, the long, dark tunnel finally exited into the sewers.  The stench of sewer muck caused the unlikely heroes to hold their noses. 

 

“Ugh,” Alain said.

“It’s sewers,” Grimlor responded.  “What did you expect, perfume?”

 

“Aren’t there any secret tunnels that exit someplace warm and cozy?” Acorn asked.

 

“Probably not,” Orrin said.  “That would violate all the rules of secret tunnels.  I think the secret tunnel builders must have a union or something.”

 

There was a really uncomfortable silence as the sewer muck decided it, too, wanted to be part of the conversation.  It gurgled loudly.

 

“What was that?” Acorn asked.

 

The sewer muck gurgled again.

 

“Uh, I think that was the sewer muck,” Orrin said.

 

“That’s impossible!”

 

“No, really.   It takes on a life of its own sometimes.  There are stories about it stalking in the streets at night.  Where’s your squirrel?”

 

“Chip?  I don’t know.  I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

 

“Isn’t the thieves’ guild down here?” Alain asked.

 

“Aye,” Grimlor said.  “Just around the next corner.”

 

“Do you think they’ll let us in?”

 

“Probably not.  You have to know the password, and it’s a very long one,” Grimlor said.

 

“Well, tell us.”

 

“I can’t tell you!  If I did, I would get kicked out.  Besides, it’s really embarrassing,” the thief replied.

 

Finally, they found the way out. The escaped prisoners exited out into the city streets, but things were very strange.  Everyone in the city had been turned into stone.  Not to mention, there were pigeons all over the place.

 

“How could this have happened?” Acorn asked.

 

“It had to have been done by magic,” replied Grimlor.  “There is only one person in the entire land with this sort of power.”

 

“Who?” Acorn inquired.

 

“Mordor Blackheart.”

 

“Why, he’s the worst,” Orrin exclaimed.

 

“Aye,” said Alain.  “Legend has it he became evil due to a curse.”  He paused dramatically and waved his hand with a flourish.  “The curse of the pink robes.”

 

“Pink robes?” Acorn asked.

 

“Aye.  Apparently he can’t wear anything without it turning pink, even his underwear.”

 

“That would make me turn evil,” Grimlor said.  “I hate pink.”

 

“You’re already evil, aren’t you?” Orrin asked.  “I mean, you are a thief.  Isn’t that a prerequisite for the profession?”

 

Grimlor squirmed and swallowed a lump in his throat.  “Um…well…kind of.  But…but turning everyone into stone is way over the top!  I’d never do anything like that.”

 

“That’s a relief,” Alain said sarcastically.  “Wouldn’t think you had the brains to learn that kind of magic anyway.”

The thief glared at him.

 

“Well, what are we going to do about it?” Acorn asked.

“I don’t know about you, but I laugh in the face of danger…and then I hide until it goes away,” Grimlor said.*

 

“That sounds like a good plan,” Alain agreed.

 

“Wait,” Acorn said.  “We have to do something.”

 

“What are we supposed to do?  And why us?”

 

“Because there’s nobody else left.”  Acorn gestured to all of the other escaped prisoners, who had turned into stone just as they had left the secret tunnel. 

 

“Ah.  I cannot argue with that line of reasoning.  But why haven’t we been turned into stone as well?”

 

“It must be part of Mordor Blackheart’s evil scheme somehow,” Acorn said.

 

“We’ll need to go back to the jail and get the Drum of Dancing,” Orrin said.

 

“Fine, fine.  We’ll get your drum.”

 

“I really wish now that I had taken that magic sword when I had the chance to,” Alain remarked.

 

“What magic sword?” Grimlor asked as his eyes lit up.

 

“I was fighting on a battlefield the other day, and there was a magic sword.  I tried to grab it, but it…well, it made such a fuss that I just could not take it,” he explained.

 

“How could a sword make a fuss?”

 

“Well, it was a magic sword.  It had a personality.  She…wasn’t very nice,” Alain said.  “To say the least.”

 

 

 

“Oh, one of those swords,” Grimlor said.  “There are some magic swords that can only be used by women, you see.  They were created by the Valkyries over a thousand years ago.  They were lost in the War of Darkness, then found again in the War of Plaid versus Polka Dots, then lost again in the War of Horizontal Stripes versus Vertical Stripes.  Nobody has seen them since.”

 

(Author’s note:  The War of Darkness was fought when King Random the First decreed that black was to be the latest fashion because it made him look slimmer.  The nobles didn’t like black very much.  The war of Plaid versus Polka Dots was fought a hundred years later when King Fred the Stylish declared that plaid was to be the in-thing.  At the time, Polka Dots were in fashion amongst the nobles.  Plaid won, eventually.  About three hundred years later, the War of Horizontal Stripes versus Vertical Stripes broke out when Princess Margaret decided that she wanted Vertical Stripes to be in style because they were more flattering to her figure.  The Vertical Stripes won.)

 

“Okay, so how do we stop Mordor Blackheart?” Alain asked.

 

“Well, first we need my magic drum,” Orrin said. 

 

“What does it do?” Grimlor inquired.

 

“It can force anyone to tap dance,” he replied.

 

“Tap dance?” the thief repeated.

 

“Aye.  Tap dance,” the bard said.

 

Grimlor sighed.  “All right.  I will help you get the drum back, since it appears to be our single advantage at this time.”

 

“Great,” Orrin said.  “I must admit, I’m thrilled.”

 

“As you say,” the thief replied.  “Let’s go back to the prison then.”

 

Chapter 5:  In Which Glances Are Exchanged And The Evil Wizard Laughs

 

Meanwhile, Mordor Blackheart was laughing, as evil villains have a tendency to do.   His really evil laughter echoed throughout the Obsidian Tower, which was his not-so-secret base of operations.  His voice ran away in horror and swore to take a vacation after the laughter faded.

 

Mordor Blackheart’s minions exchanged glances.  Some of the glances decided to form a union, because they were tired of being exchanged without their permission.  Some of them went on vacation.  Some of them wrote protest songs and sang, while others danced and generally became flower-glances. 

 

Still, some of the glances fell in love, then they got married, and then they had lots of little itty bitty baby glances, who grew up to become hippie flower-glances just like their parents.  Some  of them rebelled against their hippie parents and became conservative glances, and then there were politics and elections.  They formed countries, and those countries formed colonies.  Eventually the glances in the colonies revolted and gained their independence of the other glances, and formed the United States of Glances.

 

Then the Congress of the Glances decided to pass a law that no Glances shall be exchanged without their permission, and that there should be no exchanges without representation, and that all Glances had the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  Unfortunately, since humans did not speak Glancese, they thought they were having indigestion and went to go and lie down.

 

Anyway, Mordor was very tall and thin with long black hair and a beard.  He wore pink robes, which was very unusual, but not unusual for him.  You see, Mordor had a very interesting curse.  Once, when he was very young and in the early stages of his career as an evil wizard, he picked up a magical staff.  It was no ordinary magical staff, though.  It had been infused with the spirit of a very pissed-off woman.  The staff could not be used by anyone except a female mage, and it preferred female mages with PMS because only they could understand what it was going through.

 

So, you see, when Mordor picked up the Staff of Really Angry Women Who Would Rather Be Anywhere Else In The Universe Than Where They Were At That Particular Moment, it cursed him permanently.  Now, everything the evil wizard wore turned pink after a few hours of wearing it.  It did not matter what color the clothes were to begin with.  Eventually they would all turn pink.  Even his underwear did, though strangely enough, it was pink with purple hearts.  He couldn’t stand it.

 

In fact, all of this time, Mordor had been working on a way to reverse the Evil Pink Curse, as he thought of it.  He had finally found a way, but it involved turning everyone into stone until true heroes decided to try and stop him.  He needed the essence of the true heroes to remove the curse, and for that, they needed to be dead.

 

He also needed the wing of a vampire bat, the eye of a cyclops, a scale from a red dragon, the heart of a serpent, and a dash of salt and pepper to taste.  He had gotten everything but the spices; they were due to be delivered in a few days.  He’d left the southern continent alone because Crystal Ball Spell Components was located there.

 

One of his servants, Grog, came to him, bowing very low.  He was short and hunched over with beady black eyes.

 

“Massssster,” Grog hissed.  “You wisssshed to see me?”

 

“Grog, there you are.  You really should do something about that speech impediment of yours, you know.   I know a voice instructor.  He helped me with my evil laughter.  Unfortunately, he’s been turned to stone.  You know how that goes,” Mordor said.

 

“Yes, Masssster,” Grog replied.

 

“Have you heard any news yet on the salt and pepper shipment?”

 

“It should be coming soon, Masssster,” the servant replied.

 

“Ah, very good.  Has there been any news of any true heroes coming to stop me?” the evil wizard inquired.

 

“Not yet, Massssster.”

“Perhaps I should have someone put up wanted posters.  Do you think that would work?” the evil wizard in pink robes asked.

 

“Perhapsssss,” Grog answered.

 

Mordor nodded.   “Then have the other servants start making them and put some up in Helmsgate.”

 

“Yes, Masssster,” Grog replied.  “There is a rumor, Massster, that someone has found the Sword of Women Who Get Really Irritated When Men Do Not Put The Toilet Seat Down.”

 

“Ah.  Excellent.  Perhaps that is one of the true heroes coming to find me,” Mordor said.

 

Grog nodded.

 

“You may go now ,” Mordor said.  “Oh, and you might want to think about seeing a speech therapist.”

 

“Thank you, Masssster,” the servant replied, bowing very low.  He skulked out of the evil arcane laboratory.

 

Then Mordor laughed again, just because he felt like it.

 

 

Chapter 6:  Off to See the Wizard

 

Orrin Songless, Acorn the amnesiac with a pet squirrel, Alain Doombringer and Grimlor Leadfoot had finally made it back to the prison in order to retrieve Orrin’s Drum of Dancing. 

 

“I see that all of the guards have been turned into stone,” Alain observed.

 

“Yes.  However, I still need to sneak past them,” Grimlor said.

 

“What on earth for?” Alain asked.

 

“Well, I have to stay in practice,” the thief replied.  So he snuck past the stone guards, without tripping over anything for once in his life.  The others followed because they had nothing better to do.

 

They searched everywhere and finally found the Drum of Dancing in the guard’s break room. 

 

“All right, we have the Drum of Dancing,” Grimlor said.  “Let’s go.”

 

“We need to find Mordor Blackheart and stop him,” Acorn said. 

 

“Agreed,” said Alain.

 

“Good,” Acorn said.  “Let us go to the Obsidian Tower!

 

“So where exactly is the Obsidian Tower?” Alain asked as they left the prison.

 

“It lies to the north,” Grimlor responded.  “No one has ever actually seen the it and lived to tell about it, other than Mordor Blackheart and his evil minions, of course.”

 

“How are we supposed to find it, then?”

 

“It’s a big black tower looming over everything in sight,” Grimlor replied.  “How hard can it be to find?”

 

“That is a good point,” Acorn replied.

“Indeed,” Orrin. 

 

“We should probably find supplies,” Alain said.

 

“Excellent thinking,” said Grimlor. 

 

“There must be a shop around here somewhere,” Acorn said.

 

“Yes, I believe there is one not too far down this very street,” Grimlor replied.  “Everyone, follow me!”

 

They followed him down the statue-filled street of Helmsgate.  They eventually found the shop.  It was called “Ye Old Adventurers’  Shoppe.”  There was a picture of dry goods for those who could not read.  The shopkeeper had been turned into a statue, just like everyone else in Helmsgate.  He was frozen in position over the counter.

 

“What are we going to do?” Acorn asked.  “We can’t just take everything.”

 

“Why not?” Grimlor asked.

 

“Because that would be stealing!” he exclaimed.

 

“Fine. I’m the thief.  I’ll take it. You wait outside,” Grimlor said.  “Or do you want the world to end because of Mordor’s evil plot, whatever that really is?”

 

“No, of course not.  But can’t we at least leave an IOU or something?” Acorn asked.

 

Grimlor looked at the others.  “What do you say?”

 

“Write the bloody IOU,” Orrin said.  “I don’t want to have thievery on my conscience.”

 

“But it won’t be on your conscience.  It will be on mine instead!  That’s why I’m the thief.”

 

“Whatever.  Alain, what about you?” Grimlor asked.  “What do you think?”

 

He shrugged.  “I am no thief.”

Grimlor sighed.  “Bloody hell,” he said.  “All right, we’ll leave an IOU.  But I’m no scribe.  Someone else will have to write the note.”

 

“I’ve already written it,” Acorn said, holding it up. 

 

“Fine, fine.  Just leave it there then,” Grimlor said.

 

Acorn put the IOU into the shopkeeper’s stone hand as the thief grabbed a sack and began filling it with food rations.  On one of the shelves, there was a particularly dusty book, but it had fancy engraved silver lettering that glittered in the light.  He picked it up. 

 

“Book of Spells,” it read.  “Magic for Beginners.”

 

Thinking it might be useful later on, Acorn put it in his bag.  The others had all taken swords, but he tried lifting one and it was far too heavy for him.  Besides, it just didn’t feel right. 

 

There was another option.  A staff was in the corner, leaning against the wall.  It was a perfectly ordinary looking staff, except for one rune that had been carved into the top and looked like a sideways V.  He had no idea what rune it was, but he picked it up anyway.

 

“Acorn, wait,” Orrin said.  “That’s a wizard’s staff…oh,” he trailed off as he realized that Acorn was holding the staff and that he was unharmed.  “Nobody except wizards can use those things.  They’re enchanted so that no one but a wizard can even touch them.  That one is a fire staff.  You can tell by the rune.”

 

“You are a wizard?” Alain asked.

 

“I suppose I must be,” Acorn replied.  “Though I really do not remember anything about magic or that sort of thing.”

 

“Maybe you will remember it later,” Grimlor remarked.

 

“Aye, maybe,” Acorn said.

 

In addition to food, Grimlor grabbed a few daggers and a couple of knives.  Those were  always good to have on hand.

So in total, their supply list was as follows:

 

Enough rations for several weeks

Four water pouches, one per person

Four daggers

Two knives

One wizard’s staff with a rune of fire

One spell book titled Magic For Beginners

Two swords

One bow (Grimlor had grabbed the bow)

Three quivers full of arrows

Clean underwear

Socks

Rope, because a good adventurer always carried rope

An oil lamp

Lamp oil

Eight torches, because you never knew when it was going to be so dark that a grue might show up, and nobody wanted to get eaten by a grue

Flint and steel

Duct Tape (just kidding, it hasn’t been invented yet)

Three wool cloaks, one per person (Grimlor already had one)

Four pairs of padded boots (one pair per person)

Soap, because eventually they would have to bathe

A fishing pole, in case they ran out of rations (that was Alain’s idea, although it had been pointed out to him that the north was mostly frozen and the only fishing they were likely to do would be ice-fishing, but that was better than nothing)

The kitchen sink and a partridge in a pear tree (just kidding)

 

There was also a widget and a box of cracker jacks and several cans of spam.  Nobody knew what the widget was, and nobody had any idea what cracker jacks were, nor did they have any idea what spam was.  There was a plastic white spork, too.  Nobody knew what a spork was, but it looked interesting.*

 

“Hey,” said Orrin, picking up the widget, “the little green doodad by the hot rollie thing is all kiddywhumpus.”*

 

“Could you repeat that in English, please?” Grimlor asked.

 

“It looks very strange,” Orrin said in response in response.

 

“Ah.  Well, of course it looks strange.  It’s a widget.  Widgets are supposed to look strange,” the thief replied.

 

“Aye, but what does it do?” Orrin asked.

 

“Who knows?  It might come in handy sometime,” the thief said.

 

“Against the evil wizard who we have no idea what his evil plan entails?” Alain inquired.  “I guess there’s a certain kind of poetry in that.”

 

“You’re a bard now,” Orrin said.  “You would know.”

 

“Indeed,” Alain said.  “I am.  Now if we only knew what spam was.”

 

“I do not think that anyone actually knows what spam is,” Grimlor said.  “It is probably one of the great mysteries of the universe.”

 

“Says here it’s canned spiced ham,” Orrin said.

 

At the top of his voice, Alain began to sing to the tune of a certain Monty Python song, “Spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam, spam!”

 

Orrin immediately clamped his hands over his ears and made a disgusted face.  “If you’re going to sing, can you at least try not singing like a whale?”*

 

“Well, at least I’m not afraid to sing,” Alain retorted.

 

“I was never afraid to sing!  I just hated it,” Orrin replied.

 

“Can we please get going?” Acorn asked.  “The world is not going to save itself from Mordor’s evil scheme, whatever that may be.”

 

“All right,” Grimlor responded.  “Let’s get moving.  We’ll take the main road north for now,” he said in response.

 

“We’re off to see the wizard,” sang Alain.

 

“Please make him shut up,” Orrin groaned.  “I don’t particularly care how, either.”

 

Along the ground, a particular furry squirrel kept running to catch up.  It finally jumped and landed on Acorn’s leg, climbed all the way up, and sat on his shoulder.

 

“Chip,” Acorn exclaimed.  “Oh, thank the gods you’re all right.”

 

“Great.  We now have a mascot,” Orrin commented.

 

“Hey, if it wasn’t for Chip, we’d still be in jail,” Acorn said.

 

“He has a point,” Alain said. 

 

“Yes,” Acorn said in response.  “Thank you.”

 

And so the journey began.

 

 

Chapter 7:  Otherwise Known As The Chapter With Giant Squirrels

 

A small campfire had been lit.  It was dusk.  The rays of the setting sun cast a reddish hue over everything.  A crisp breeze blew, reminding the unlikely heroes that they would soon be in the frozen north.  They would soon have to go through the Ominous Forest of Ghosts, Goblins, and Lots Of Other Things That Generally Go Bump in the Night.  The trees loomed in the distance, casting dark shadows across the ground.

 

Acorn took out the book that was titled Magic For Beginners and began to flip through the pages.  The parchment was ivory in color and smelled like old parchment.  The ink was mostly black, although there were a few diagrams that had been painted in various colors. 

 

How Many Wizards Does It Take To Change A Candle Wick?  The book titled Magic for Beginners read.  None, because they can cast a light spell!  And so can you.  All you have to do is simply concentrate, then imagine a glowing light, and then say the word luminarius.  This will work for anyone with even the smallest amount of magical talent, we promise. 

 

Acorn closed his eyes and concentrated, imagined a glowing light, and said luminarius.  When he opened his eyes, there was a glowing ball of white light.  It looked rather small. 

 

“Practicing a bit, are we?” Orrin asked.

 

He nodded.  “I decided that since we had the time, I might as well teach myself a few magic spells.”

 

“That is probably a good idea.  Is there anything useful in that book?”

 

“Hmm,” Acorn replied.  He flipped through Magic for Beginners.   “To Create An Arrow Of Flame,” he read, “concentrate and picture a flaming arrow.  The magic words are Flamius Telumius.  To aim it, simply concentrate on where you want it to go.”

 

Acorn concentrated and pictured a flaming arrow.  “Flamius Telumius,” he said.  A flaming arrow appeared in the air.  He sent it into a nearby stream, where it fizzled out.

 

“You seem to have a knack for that sort of thing,” Alain observed.

 

Acorn nodded.  “Thanks.”

 

He flipped through Magic for Beginners.   There was a spell to conjure up a ball of fire, a spell to conjure up a lightning bolt, a spell for making a frozen ball of ice, and a spell for surrounding your enemies with poisonous gas. There was a protection spell also.  And there was a spell for summoning a familiar.  But there were no spells for regaining lost memory.  He sighed.

 

The night went by without incident.  The morning, however, did not.  There was a loud chittering noise as giant squirrels came out of the forest.

 

“Hey,” Grimlor yelled, for he had been on sentry duty and had been the first to see the giant squirrels, “wake up, everyone!”

 

“What….huh?” Groggily, Alain sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Then he noticed them.  His eyes widened in astonishment. 

 

Chip, Acorn’s pet squirrel, woke up with a squeak, and proceeded to squeak quite loudly and frequently.

 

“Friends of yours?” Grimlor asked.

 

Chip glared at him with his beady black eyes.

 

“Fine, sorry I asked,” the thief replied.

 

“What’s happening?” Orrin asked, having been roused.

 

“The giant squirrels are coming!  The giant squirrels are coming,” Alain exclaimed.

 

There were about a dozen of them.  They all looked like normal squirrels, except that they were the size of an average adult human being. 

 

Chip frantically tried to hide behind Acorn’s backpack.

 

“Gods!  I’ve never seen squirrels that big,” Orrin said. 

 

“Someone had better go and wake up the wizard,” Alain said.

 

Grimlor promptly went over and kicked him lightly.

 

“Oof!  Hey,” Acorn protested. 

 

As the giant squirrels approached, the leader said, “Humans, you have one of us with you.  Release him at once, and we will let you go.”

 

Acorn glanced at Chip.  The squirrel ran and hid behind his right leg.  “I don’t think he wants to go with you,” he replied. 

 

“That is irrelevant,” said the leader of the giant squirrels.  “He has been a very bad boy and needs to come home.  His mother has been very worried.”

 

Chip squeaked in protest.

 

“Would you like to tell us something?” Acorn inquired.

 

The squirrel shook his head.

 

He sighed.  “I suppose there is no way he could possibly stay with us?  He has been a great help to us so far.”

 

“Absolutely not,” said the leader of the giant squirrels.  “Unless…”

 

“Unless what?” Acorn inquired questioningly.

 

“Never mind that,” the leader of the giant squirrels replied.  “Squ’ee’k, son of Sq’ue’ek Squ’eek Nutdigger, you will come home now.  Your punishment is to be grounded until adulthood.  You will do nothing but your chores and homework.”

 

Chip squeaked loudly and clung to Acorn’s leg.  He had an idea!  He climbed down and ran for the magic book, which was resting besides the wizard’s bedroll.  He squeaked rather loudly yet again.

 

“Oh, bloody hell, can we just hurry up and get on with this?” Grimlor asked.

 

The others glared at him, even the giant squirrels.

 

“What is it, Chip?” Acorn asked.

 

The squirrel looked at him and squeaked quite loudly.

 

“I think I get it,” he said.  “You want me to bind you to me as a familiar, because then you’ll have to do what I say.”

 

“Finally, the wizard shows some intelligence.  Wait a minute, aren’t all wizards supposed to be intelligent?  Perhaps that wasn’t the best choice of profession,” Grimlor said.

 

Everyone glared at him yet again.

 

As Acorn picked up Magic for Beginners, the squirrel jumped off the book.  He flipped through the pages to the spell for binding a familiar. 

 

“Right, here it is.  You ready?” he asked.

 

“Squeak!” the squirrel replied.

 

“All right.”  Acorn closed his eyes and concentrated, and then he cast the spell.

 

A soft white light glowed around the squirrel for a moment, then faded.

 

“I think it worked,” he said.  “Chip, stand on your head.”

 

The squirrel complied.

 

“Finally,” Grimlor said.  “Now Chip, or whatever his name really is, is Acorn’s familiar.  He has to stay with us.  Do you understand?”

 

“Yes,” said the leader of the giant squirrels.  “You have made a grave mistake.  Do not attempt to enter the forest, or you will be attacked by our people.”

“People?  You’re giant squirrels,” Grimlor said.

 

The squirrel leader glared at him.  Then he squeaked and the other squirrels followed him back into the forest.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8:  In Which The Unlikely Heroes Enter The Ominous Forest of Ghosts, Goblins, and Lots Of Other Things That Generally Go Bump in the Night

 

“We need to think of a way to get past those giant squirrels,” Orrin said.

 

“Oh, come on.  They’re only giant squirrels,” Grimlor replied.  “How dangerous could they possibly be?”

 

“Squeak,” Chip protested.

 

The others all looked at the thief skeptically.

 

“I don’t suppose that there are any invisibility spells in that magical spell book of yours?” Alain asked the wizard.

 

“No,” he said.  “Those are included in Magic For The Slightly More Advanced Wizard.”

 

The thief rolled his eyes.  “Fine.  Then we will just have to be stealthy and sneak past the giant squirrels.”

 

“Oh come on, Leadfoot,” Orrin remarked.  “You couldn’t be stealthy if your entire life depended on it.  Which in this case, it does!”

 

“I’ve been practicing,” he said defensively.  “Why else do you think I was skulking around the site of our camp?”

 

“Maybe we could create a diversion somehow,” Acorn said.

 

“And just how exactly do you propose that we do that?” the thief inquired with his hands on his hips.

 

“Here’s my plan,” the wizard replied.

 

One hour later…

 

“I’m not so sure that this is a very good idea,” Alain whispered.

“Sssssshhhh,” Orrin said.

 

The Ominous Forest of Ghosts, Goblins, and Lots Of Other Things That Generally Go Bump in the Night was dark, cold, and smelled of things that Acorn really did not want to identify.  He was sure that his plan would work, though.  It had to.

 

The unlikely heroes finally got within hearing range of two of the giant squirrel guards.

 

“Did you hear the one about the human who got stuck on a raft with a squirrel?” one of the squirrel guards asked the other,

 

“No,” the second guard said.  “What happened?”

 

“The human went completely nuts,” said the first.

 

The second guard laughed.

 

“Gods, that was an awful joke,” Alain whispered.

 

“Sssssshhhh,” said the former bard.

 

“All right, we should be close enough,” Acorn said.  “I am going to cast the spell now.”

 

“Good,” Grimlor said.  “Get on with it, already.”

 

The wizard concentrated and said, “Luminarius.” 

 

A glowing ball of white light appeared.  He sent it off in the direction of the two giant squirrel guards, who went to check it out.

 

“Let’s go,” said Grimlor.

 

So all of them snuck through the forest, being extremely careful not to trip.  After what seemed like hours, they came upon a small village hidden in a clearing in the woods.

 

“A village in the middle of the forest?” Orrin asked.

“Thank you for stating the obvious,” the thief replied. 

 

“Doesn’t it strike anyone else as unusual that there is a human village in the middle of nowhere?” the former bard asked.

 

“He has a point,” Acorn said.  “Not to mention, why have the villagers not been turned into stone?”

 

Chip squeaked.

 

“That’s a very good question,” Alain said.  “Perhaps we should try to find out.”

 

“Yes, let’s,” said the wizard.

 

“Agreed,” said the former bard.

 

“I think this is a huge mistake,” said the thief as they made their way to the village.

 

“Hello,” Acorn called out.

 

The villagers stared blankly at him.  Finally, one of them stepped forward.

 

“You should really not have come here,” the villager said.  “It is considered unlucky for outsiders to be here.  We have been hidden from the outside world for centuries.   We wish for you to leave.”

 

“Why haven’t you been turned into stone?” Acorn inquired.

 

An old woman came forward.  “The magic of the squirrels protects us,” she said.  “We have never been harmed for as long as we have worshipped them.”

 

Chip quickly ran onto Acorn’s shoulder and climbed into his backpack.  Nobody seemed to notice.

 

“You worship squirrels?” the thief asked in astonishment.  “What are you, completely daft?”

 

“Uh, Grimlor, I don’t think antagonizing the villagers is a good idea,” Alain said.  “There are far more of them than there are of us.”

 

The old woman glared at Grimlor.  “Unbelievers!  Heretics!  Be gone!”

 

The villagers all started walking towards them with fists raised.  Some of them grabbed various rakes and shovels that were lying around.

 

“I think we should get out of here,” Alain said.

 

“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” Grimlor responded.

 

The unlikely heroes ran very quickly through the forest.  Just when they had gotten almost clear of the squirrel-worshipping villagers, the clumsy thief tripped over a fallen tree branch.

 

“By the thirteen hells, Leadfoot,” Orrin swore.  “Watch where you’re fleeing!”

 

“Sorry,” the thief replied, glaring at the former bard.  “I was too busy trying to escape from the insane villagers!”

 

The squirrel-worshipping villagers approached them slowly from behind, wielding their pitchforks and shovels.

 

“Somebody do something,” Alain shouted.

 

As Grimlor scrambled to his feet, the wizard started to cast a spell.  It was an ice arrow spell.  He had cast the spell properly, but something had gone wrong anyway, and his hands were now blue.  They were not frost bitten, just blue. 

 

The ice arrow went flying through the air and hit one of the squirrel-worshipping villagers.  He  was frozen from head to toe, like a human icicle.

 

As the rest of the villagers approached, Alain played the Drum of Dancing.  The villagers all tap danced, even the frozen one.

 

Grimlor chuckled as he watched the spectacle.  “This is the best entertainment I’ve had in a long time,” he remarked.

 

Then suddenly, half a dozen giant squirrels came barreling through the forest.  It was the cavalry.

 

“Stupid humans,” shouted the leader.  “You will pay for this!”

 

“Run,” shouted Orrin.

 

And so they ran through the Ominous Forest of Ghosts, Goblins, and Lots Of Other Things That Generally Go Bump in the Night.

 

Chapter 9:  In Which There Is A Very Deep Hole

 

The unlikely heroes ran through the Ominous Forest of Ghosts, Goblins, and Lots Of Other Things That Generally Go Bump in the Night.  They were being chased by really pissed off squirrel-worshipping villagers and giant squirrels.

 

“Where are we going?” asked Alain as Grimlor tripped.

 

“Nowhere, apparently,” replied Orrin. 

 

The thief limped as they all ran through the forest.  Then an arrow whizzed by his head.

 

“Great, now we’re being shot at,” Grimlor said.

 

Suddenly there was a loud rumble as the earth gave way.  They fell into a deep pit, screaming.  A few minutes later, there was a thud!  They had hit the ground.

 

“My foot,” Grimlor whined.  “I think both my ankles are broken.”

 

“Ow,” said Orrin.  “I think my leg is broken.”

 

Alain groaned.  The wizard didn’t respond.  Chip squeaked loudly.

 

“Acorn,” the former bard gasped.  “Is he…”

 

“He’s still breathing,” Alain said after checking for a pulse.

 

“We’d better wake him up then,” Orrin said.

 

Chip licked Acorn’s face.

 

“Come on,” said Alain worriedly.  “Wake up.”

 

There was a moment of waiting and then finally Acorn opened his eyes.  “Oh, gods, my head is killing me.  I don’t suppose anyone has any willow bark on them?”

 

“You’re alive,” Orrin said, grinning.  “Thank the gods!”

 

“Thank Chip,” Grimlor said.  “He was the one who licked your face.”

 

“Wait a minute,” said Acorn.  “What am I doing here, and who are all of you?  The last thing I remember, I was riding to Helmsgate, when I got thrown off my horse, Whitefoot.  She was a good horse.  My father gave her to me when I entered my apprenticeship with the wizard Mordor.”

 

“Mordor?” gasped Alain.  “You’re his apprentice?  I don’t believe this!”

 

Everyone gaped. 

 

“Who are you?” Grimlor asked.

 

“My name is Yarrow Goldenleaf,” he said.  “I know nothing about Mordor being evil.  All I know is that my father arranged my apprenticeship to him.”

 

“So you haven’t actually started working for him, then?” asked Alain hopefully.

 

“No,” Acorn said.  “I haven’t.  What are we doing here?”

 

“That’s a long story,” the former cowardly fighter said.

 

Just then, without warning, the ground beneath them rumbled and the dirt gave way, and they were falling once again.

Chapter 10:  In Which The Unlikely Heroes Fall Down Another Deep Hole

 

Everyone screamed.

 

Suddenly a deep voice boomed throughout the cavern:  “Let them go, Ilzul.  They have done nothing to deserve this fate.”

 

“But they have, Durengor.  These are the worst heroes I have ever seen, and I have seen a lot of heroes.  They deserve to die,” boomed a second deep voice.

 

“Gods,” Grimlor screamed.

 

“Indeed,” Durengor’s voice boomed.  He was the god of drunk men as well as those who sang off-key.  “Ilzul, if you do not let them go, I will tell the All-Mother that you have been meddling in Her affairs yet again.  She would not be pleased at that.”

 

There was a loud sigh.  “Very well,” said the god of heroes, adventurers, and fools.  “I will let them go, on one condition.”

 

“What’s that?” Durengor asked.

 

“You will stop dating that human woman!  She’ll only wither and die,” said Ilzor.

 

“Uh…what human woman?” Durengor inquired innocently.  “I have no idea what you are talking about, dearest brother.”

 

“Don’t lie to me.  I know you are dating the queen of Hawkshadow,” said Ilzor.  “And have you even told her who you really are, or does she still think you are just a mercenary?” Ilzor asked.

 

“No,” mumbled the other god.

 

“Help us,” Alain screamed.

 

“Aaaaaugh,” the others screamed.

 

“All right,” Durengor said.  “I will stop seeing her.”

“Good,” replied Ilzor. 

 

There was a bright flash of light, and then the heroes were back in the forest on the other side of the big giant hole.  There were lots of screams as some of the not-so-bright squirrel-worshipping villagers who were after them fell into the pit.  The giant squirrels behind them looked really angry and waved their sharp, pointed sticks around a lot.

 

“Run,” Alain shouted.

 

The unlikely heroes ran until they finally reached the edge of the forest, but not without Grimlor tripping a few times.

 

* * * * *

 

Chapter 11:  In Which The Unlikely Heroes Find Themselves Facing Big Furry Things Yet Again

 

The first night of the journey, they stopped along the road side.  It was a pretty night.  Stars glistened in the sapphire sky above them.  A crisp breeze blew.

 

“Who wants to take the first watch?” Orrin asked.

 

“I will,” Yarrow said.  “It’ll give me time to learn some spells.”

 

“Very well,” Orrin said.

 

So he took the first watch.  It was very still and quiet.  Yarrow read Magic For Beginners by the camp fire.  There was not much else he could do, still being a beginning wizard who had not even had his apprenticeship because his would-be master was evil and had turned everyone into stone.  Still, he hoped that maybe it would turn out for the best. 

 

Surely his father would not have sent him to Mordor if his master was evil.  But maybe he had not known.  That would explain it.  He had to give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for now. 

 

Suddenly he caught movement out of the corner of his eye.  Some shadowy forms were  moving toward them.  They were too large to be human.

 

Quickly, he woke his companions.  “Something is coming toward us,” he said.  “And more than one something.”

 

“I see them,” Grimlor said.  “Some sort of beasts, perhaps?”

 

“Hopefully not undead,” Alain said.  “I hate fighting undead.  They always keep getting up and coming after you.”

 

“I don’t see or hear any necromancers,” Yarrow replied. 

 

“Alain, where is the Drum of Dancing?” Orrin asked.

 

“Um…” he looked all over for it, and then looked embarrassed.  “I don’t have it,” he said.  “I must have dropped it in the hole.”

 

“By the thirteen hells,” Grimlor swore.

 

The shadowy forms got closer and closer and closer.  Finally the unlikely heroes could see that they had glowing red eyes.

 

“Monsters,” Alain yelled and ran behind a tree.

 

“Not monsters,” one of them growled.  “Shape shifters.”

 

As the shadowy forms approached, it was easier to see that they resembled giant polar bears, except for the glowing red eyes.

 

“Were bears,” said Grimlor in awe.

 

The squirrel squeaked.

 

“What do you want with us?” Orrin asked.  “Why are you here?”

 

“We were going to ask you the same thing,” said the leader of the were bears.  There was a blur around him, and then a moment later, he looked like a gray-haired man.  “There have been no humans in these parts, save for the occupants of the Obsidian Tower.”

 

“Mordor and his evil henchmen,” he remarked.

 

“Yes,” the leader of the were bears said.  “Mordor has killed many of my people with his magic.  No doubt he will do the same to you if he remains unchecked.”

 

“We are going to stop him,” Orrin said.  “He has turned many people in our land into statues.”

 

“Statues?  Why would he do such a thing?” asked the were bear.

 

“We don’t know, but we’ll find out.  Will you help us?”

 

The leader turned to the other were bears behind him.  They spoke in growls and grunts.  Finally, he turned back.  “We will show you the way.  Do you wish to leave now, or wait until morning?”

 

“I say we wait,” Orrin said.  “We have traveled far and need rest.”

 

“That is the most intelligent thing I’ve heard in days,” Grimlor replied.

 

“Agreed,” Yarrow said.

 

“If we travel at night, surely it would be harder for Mordor and his evil henchmen to find us,” Alain said.

 

“Not necessarily,” the leader replied.  “His magic is powerful.  The lack of sun would not deter him.  In fact, it might encourage him.  Creatures of evil often relish the night’s darkness because it hides their evil deeds.”

 

“I think we should wait too,” replied Yarrow.  “We need to be well-rested before we face him.”

 

“All right,” said the leader of the were bears.  “We will return for you at dawn.”

 

“Until then,” said Alain.

 

“Farewell,” said the leader.  They all turned around and left, disappearing into the darkness.

 

Chapter 12:  In Which Mordor Casts A Spell

 

Meanwhile, in the Obsidian Tower, Herbert was playing with his fantasy figurines.

 

“No, Lord Dagon, I will not do as you say.”  He moved the first figurine threateningly toward the second.  “I will not wear horizontal stripes,” he said in a high-pitched voice.

 

“Then, Lady Eldrya, I must demand that you surrender your holdings to me,” he said in a deeper voice.

 

“Never, Lord Dagon!  I would die first!” he said in a high-pitched voice.

 

“Then so be it,” he said in the deeper voice.  “Attack!”

 

Without warning, Herbert heard Grog snickering in the doorway.

 

“Grog!” he shouted.  “Get out of here!” He picked up a book at random and hurled it at the other evil henchman.

 

“It isssss time for my lunch break,” Grog hissed.  “The Massster is not having a very good day, Herbert,” Grog hissed.

 

“All right, all right,” he said.  “I will go to him.”

 

Grog turned and left.

 

Herbert hid the book “My Really Evil Plans To Take Over The World” under the covers of his bed, and went to find his master.

 

“Yes, Master?” he asked Mordor upon finding him.

 

“Ah, Herbert, there you are.  I was wondering if you had heard anything about my new apprentice yet.”

 

“No, Master,” he replied.

 

“That is such a shame,” Mordor said.  “I was looking forward to meeting him.  He must be on his way here.  After all, I made certain not to turn him into stone like the others.”

 

Herbert shrugged.  “I don’t know what has happened to him, Master.  Is there anything else I can do for you?”

 

“Hmm,” said Mordor.  “Well, I have some potion recipes that need to be filed.  Can you do that?”

 

“Certainly,” he said, bowed low, and left.

 

Meanwhile, Mordor prepared a scrying spell.  He got out a black clay bowl and filled it with water, and then he chanted quite a bit.  The clay bowl shimmered and then showed a scene in the frozen north of Acorn and his companions sleeping beside a campfire.  The image faded away.

 

“So, my son, you are coming to me after all,” Mordor said to nobody in particular.  “Good.  That means we will meet soon.  Then you’ll find out who you really are.”

 

Meanwhile, Herbert came back.  “I have finished filing all of the potion recipes, Master,” he said.

 

“Excellent,” Mordor said, placing his fingers together and grinning evilly.  It was hard for him to look really evil since he was wearing a pink robe, but he managed by making it seem creepy. 

 

Herbert shuddered.  “Is there anything else that I can do for you, Master?” he asked.

 

“Not at the moment.  Go back to your room and play with your fantasy figurines some more or something,” Mordor replied.

 

He gasped.  “How do you know about that?”

 

“I make it a point to know as much as I can about my evil henchmen,” Mordor said.  “Go now, while I still have my temper in control.”

 

“Yes, Master,” he said and went back to his bedroom.

Meanwhile, in the frozen north, Acorn was fast asleep.  He dreamt about digging up lots and lots of nuts, for some bizarre reason.  Then suddenly, he was in a long, dark tunnel.  Something was after him.  He did not know what, but he kept running.  There was light at the end of the tunnel, but it was crimson and not friendly at all.  Acorn knew that he wanted to avoid the crimson light, but he also wanted to avoid whatever was after him.

 

“My son,” a male voice boomed through the tunnel, “you cannot run from your destiny.  You will have to face it eventually.”

 

“And who might you be?” he demanded.  “One of the gods, perhaps?”

 

The voice laughed thunderously.  “No, Yarrow Goldenleaf.  I am your father.  I need you by my side.  That is your rightful place.  Come to me.  Join the dark side!”

 

“Never,” Acorn, shouted.  “I will never join you!”

 

He woke up soaked with sweat.  He glanced around, but all of his companions were still asleep, except for Orrin, who was on guard duty.

 

“You were thrashing a lot,” Orrin said.  “Something wrong?”

 

“Just a nightmare,” Acorn said. 

 

Orrin nodded. 

 

What did the nightmare mean? Acorn wondered.  He was not afraid of his father.  Bernard was a kind man.  Not to mention, that had not been his voice at all in the nightmare.  So whose voice was it?  It was probably just a dream, Acorn thought.  So he went back to sleep.

 

“It is high time we leave,” said Othor the next morning.  “I have brought bows and arrows so that we may hunt along the way.  Good food is scare enough as it is.”

 

“Excellent,” said Grimlor.  “About how long do you think it will take for us to get there?” he asked.

 

“It will take us at least five days to reach the Obsidian Tower,” replied Othor.  “That is, of course, assuming that Mordor does not use his magic to waylay us and we do not run into the more mundane sort of trouble.”

 

“We should leave now then,” the thief said.

 

“Agreed,” Orrin said.  “Let’s go.”

 

And so they left.

 

Chapter 13:  In Which There Is A Lunch Break And A Fight

 

After a long trek through the cold snow and ice, the unlikely heroes were ready to stop and have lunch.

 

“Mmm, I just love these rations,” Grimlor said sarcastically while munching.  “These have got to be the best rations that I have ever had.”

 

Alain rolled his eyes.  “We don’t have anything else,” he said.

 

“I know that,” the thief replied. “I am just sick of eating rations.”

 

“What would you rather be eating?”

 

“Steak,” Grimlor said.  “A nice juicy steak with potatoes and a glass of wine.”

 

“I’d rather have a salad myself,” Orrin said.

 

“Salad?”


“Aye.  Do you have a problem with that?” he asked.

 

“Well  yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” said the thief.  “I can not abide salad eaters.  You are all just a bunch of stuck up twits.”


“Well, I can not abide steak eaters, so there,” said the former bard. 

 

“Do you want to fight me?” Grimlor asked.

 

“You know, I think I do.  It beats walking in the snow and ice, anyway,” said Orrin.  “And I’m  getting bored.”


“Fine,” said the thief and swung a dagger at him.

 

Orrin ducked and tried to kick him.  Grimlor dodged and tripped, falling face down into the snow.

 

“Ha,” said the former bard.  “You are so clumsy!  Why did you ever go into thievery, anyway?”


“I happen to be greedy, all right?  It’s the best profession for that sort of thing,” Grimlor replied  as he got to his feet.

 

“Stop this nonsense,” Yarrow said.  “You’re acting like children.”

 

Everyone ignored him.  Suddenly without warning, the ground trembled.  It stopped and then shook again.  Then it stopped and shook again.

 

“I think something big is coming,” Orrin remarked.

 

“What was your first clue?” Grimlor asked.  He retrieved his daggers.

 

“Frost giants,” Othor said.  “This is bad.  Very bad.”

 

“Just out of curiosity, is there anything big and mean that isn’t very bad?” Grimlor inquired.

 

Othor answered, “No.”

 

There was a shimmer around him as he turned into a polar bear.  Yarrow grabbed his staff.  Alain and Orrin unsheathed their swords.  The ground shook, then stopped, then shook again as the frost giants came closer.  A lot closer, in fact.

 

There were three frost giants.  All of them were male.  They were huge, approximately fifteen feet tall.  They cast long, dark shadows across the snow.  The first two had white hair and long beards and the third had blue hair but no beard.  They wore boots and clothing made from leather and animal fur, as well as long white fur capes.  They looked as though they were not happy.

 

“What are humans doing in the north?” one of the frost giants demanded.

 

“We are searching for the Obsidian Tower,” Yarrow replied.

 

“You,” said the younger frost giant.  “You have the stench of magic about you.”

“It is true that I am a wizard,” Yarrow said, “but if you do not harm us, we will not harm you.”

 

“Why are you searching for the Obsidian Tower?” asked the first of the frost giants.  “Why do you want to go to so terrible a place?”

 

“To stop the wizard who lives there,” replied Yarrow.

 

“I think you are lying,” said the younger frost giant.  “You smell too much like the wizard who lives there.  You must be going there for some foul deed.”

 

“How do you know what he smells like?” Grimlor asked.

 

“He came to our village to steal a crystal from us,” said the third of the frost giants.  “It protected our tribe from harm.  Now, it is gone.  Now, our children die of disease.  We do not have many children.  We value them like diamonds.  But they are dying.”

 

“What if we could get this crystal back for you?” Yarrow asked. 

 

“We would appreciate that.  But we do not think that you tell the truth,” said the first of the first giants.  “You smell like the wizard known as Mordor, and it is not just the magic you stink of.”

 

“I do not know what you are talking about,” Yarrow said.  “Truly.  I grew up in a small village.  My father is a miller.  I have not even laid eyes upon Mordor.”

 

“I think he speaks the truth,” said the younger frost giant.  “He does not know.”

“Know what?” Yarrow asked.

 

The frost giants exchanged glances.

“Mordor had a child,” said the third of the frost giants.  “That child was taken away from him by the midwife after Mordor killed his mother, who had been his servant.  The midwife took the child out of the Obsidian Tower, never to be seen again.”

 

“Gods,” said Yarrow.  “And you think that I am Mordor’s long lost son.”


“Yes,” said the younger frost giant.  “Either that, or you are his father’s brother’s sister’s mother’s cousin’s roommate.”

 

“What?” Yarrow asked.

 

“Never mind,” said the younger frost giant.  “In any case, I think you are not lying.  Return to us with the crystal or proof of Mordor’s destruction, and you will not be harmed when you come back this way again.”

 

Yarrow nodded.  “We will,” he replied.  “Where can we find you?”

 

“We will find you,” the younger frost giant replied.

 

The ground shook as they left.

 

Othor turned back into his human form.  “You did well to avoid a fight with them.”

Yarrow nodded.  “Thank you.”

“I can only say that if you are Mordor’s son, you must be very careful when you confront him.  No doubt, he will try to bring you over to his side,” the were bear said. 


Yarrow nodded again.  “I will be careful.  We should get going.  There are likely more dangerous things than frost giants out here.”

 

“Indeed,” Othor said.

 

Chapter 14:  The Chapter With The Ice Dragon

 

The unlikely heroes traveled through the frozen north once more.  The sun was setting, casting gold and amber hues, making the snow and ice look as though they were on fire due to the reflections from the ice.  It was really quite a spectacular sight. 

 

“We will need to find some place to shelter for the night very soon,” Othor said.  “It will get very cold once the sun dips below the horizon.”

 

“What about that cave?” Alain asked, pointing to a nice big and dark cave up ahead.  “It looks big and roomy.”

 

“It looks very roomy indeed,” Othor said.  “Probably big enough to house a dragon.”

 

“Dragon?”  Alain asked.

 

“Aye.  There are a few ice dragons around these parts,” Othor replied.  “They generally leave us alone, as long as we leave them alone.”

 

So they avoided the nice big and dark cave, but soon it grew colder.

 

“How about that cave?” Alain asked, pointing to another cave up ahead.

 

“Looks fine to me,” said Grimlor.  “I do not think that I can stand the cold for very much longer.  My face feels numb.”

“All right,” said Othor.  “We will take shelter in here for the night.”

 

So they all went into the second cave to take shelter for the night.  There were remains of a campfire.  Apparently, someone else had had the same idea.

 

“Someone has been here before us,” Orrin said.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious,” Grimlor replied.  “I am sure that they will not mind if we sleep here for the night.”

 

Suddenly, a very icy wind blew through the cave.  “Nooooo, but I might,” a very loud and feminine voice said.

 

“Oh dear,” Othor said.

 

“I think we have company,” Orrin added.

 

Grimlor rolled his eyes, but then gasped as he saw two very big, silver eyes in the darkness.  “A dragon!” he gasped.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious,” said the ice dragon.

 

Orrin snickered.

 

“Shut up,” Grimlor said.

 

“My, my.  You two humans certainly do bicker a lot.  Are you married?” the ice dragon asked.

 

Both Grimlor and Orrin looked horrified.  Alain doubled over laughing. 

 

“No,” Orrin said. 

 

“Such a pity,” the ice dragon said.  “You would make such a cute couple.”


Orrin turned bright red and Grimlor looked furious.  Chip the Squirrel squeaked with laughter and nearly fell off Yarrow’s shoulder, but the wizard caught him.

 

“Is it safe to say that you will not eat us?” Yarrow asked.

 

“No,” the ice dragon replied.  “I have not made up my mind yet.  I think you might turn out to be  some very entertaining pets, though.  The last pet I had was a knight who had come here to slay me.  He is no longer here.”

 

“Oh?  May I ask, what happened to him?” the wizard inquired.

 

The ice dragon licked her lips.  “He was crunchy and tasted very good with ketchup.”

Grimlor blanched.  Orrin looked pale.  Alain began to back up very, very slowly.  Yarrow simply nodded.

 

“He had come to slay you.  We only seek shelter from the cold for a night,” the wizard said.  “Will you not let us stay?”

 

“Oh, I will most certainly let you stay here,” she replied. 

 

“Excellent,” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, said.  “Then we will leave in the morning.”

 

“I have not yet decided whether I will let you go,” the ice dragon reminded him.

 

“Uh…forgive my impertinence, your…uh, Iciness.”

“For now,” the ice dragon said.  “And you may call me Silence.”

 

“What a strange name,” said Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn.

 

“It is not my real name, but I use it among humans,” the ice dragon said.  “Unlike you, foolish humans, I am not so idiotic as to give out my real name to everyone I meet.”

 

“Of course,” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, replied. 

 

“Sleep now,” Silence replied.  “While you can.”

 

Grimlor shivered.  “Brrr.  Is it just me or did it get cold in here?”

 

“It is not just you,” Othor said.  “The ice dragons can freeze a man solid with their breath, among other things.”

 

“Great,” the thief replied.  “So we have to worry about turning into human icicles?”

 

“That and being eaten,” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, responded.  “But we are safe enough for now.”

 

“And how do you know?” Grimlor challenged him.

 

“I trust her not to eat us until the morning, at least,” the wizard said.

“Why?   She is a dragon!  She ate that knight, she admitted it,” the thief replied.

 

“We must not panic.  If we panic and flee, she will certainly come after us,” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, said.  “Better to try and reason our way out than run or fight.”

 

“I do not know about the rest of you, but I am for fleeing,” Alain said.


“Objection noted,” Yarrow replied.  He cast a flame arrow spell and lit the campfire.  “Let us rest here for now.  She was right about that, we should get some rest while we still can.”

 

“All right,” Grimlor said.

 

Chapter 15:  In Which The Thief Gets Himself And Everyone Else Into Trouble

 

It was later that night and everyone else was asleep.  Grimlor Leadfoot snuck through the dark ice cave and found the tunnel that the ice dragon must have used.  He shivered and wished that he had brought a torch or something with him, but then that would no doubt alert Silence to his presence, anyway.

 

Carefully, he snuck through the tunnel.  He only slipped once on the ice and managed not to make any more noise than a strangled “Ugh!”  He walked as softly as he could in search of the ice dragon’s horde.

 

“If I was an ice dragon’s horde, where would I be?” the thief whispered, looking around.

 

There was light up ahead.  He headed in the direction of the light and was amazed when the tunnel opened up into a cavern that was filled with glittering gold and gems.

 

“Yes!  I hit the jackpot,” Grimlor whispered eagerly.

 

He jumped down into the cavern and scooped up a handful of sparkling gold.

 

 “Ah, there you are, my old friend.  It has been so long since I have seen you!” The thief smiled greedily and began to fill his pockets with as much gold and gems as he could carry.

 

Suddenly, the voice of Silence boomed throughout the cavern.  “What are you doing?  Human, stop at once!”

“Oh, no,” Grimlor said.  “I uh…was just looking for the uh…the bathroom.”


“You are a fool,” Silence growled.  “You dare to steal from my horde?  Stupid human thief!  You honestly thought I would not know if you had been here?”

 

“Uh…no, not really,” he said, gulping.

 

“Bah!  I will eat you after all,” Silence threatened.

 

“Wait,” exclaimed Yarrow.  “Please.  He uh, he is foolish, that is true.”

 

The ice dragon’s silver eyes bore into him like sharp swords.  “Continue, wizard.”

 

“He is a thief, and it is only his nature to take that which does not belong to him.  I do not think that any less can be expected of him,” Yarrow said.  “But does that mean he really deserves to be eaten?  Surely he would uh…make a most entertaining pet.”


“You bastard,” Grimlor shouted.  “I did not come all this way to be some dragon’s pet!”

 

“I am only trying to save your skin,” Yarrow replied.  “And you are not helping.”

 

“Enough,” Silence bellowed.  “There will be a test, and if all of you survive, I will not eat you.”

 

“A test?  What kind of test?” Grimlor asked.

 

But Silence was not responding.  Instead, she was chanting in another language.  Suddenly there was a blue glow around them, and they found themselves at the beginning of a huge stone maze.  It looked endless.

 

“Survive the Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors, and I will let you live,” Silence’s voice boomed.  “If you die, it means that you are unworthy even to be my pets, let alone be freed.”

 

“Oh great,” Orrin said.  “What happened?”


“Grimlor here decided to go and help himself to the ice dragon’s horde,” Yarrow explained.


“Thanks an awful lot for getting us into this mess,” Alain said sarcastically.  “And here I was  hoping to survive the night.”

 

“Everyone, calm down,” Othor said.  “Surely if we put our heads together, and our swords, we will be able to pass this test.”

 

“Fine,” said Grimlor.  “You go ahead be the optimist.  I, however, shall remain the charming pessimist that I am.”


“Stop it,” Yarrow said.  “Squabbling will not get us anywhere.  Let us simply be cautious and use logic and reason, and we will no doubt survive.”

 

Chip squeaked.

 

“What is it, Chip?” Yarrow asked.

 

“Squeak!”

 

A minotaur was coming straight for them.  It was an awfully big minotaur too, with really big horns and an even bigger battle axe that was glowing red.  Two more minotaurs were behind it.

 

“Uh oh,” Alain groaned.

 

They all ran into the maze, but the minotaurs kept coming.

 

Othor turned into the polar bear, and Grimlor drew his daggers.  Alain and Orrin drew their swords.  Yarrow cast a fire arrow spell.  The fire arrow exploded as it hit the first minotaur.  It growled with fury and swung.  The other two came closer. 

 

Alain trembled as one of the other two minotaurs swung an axe at him.  He closed his eyes and heard the clang as the axe hit his sword.  Amazed, he opened his eyes and then closed them again as he saw the other minotaur getting ready to swing.

 

Orrin aimed his sword at the third minotaur, but it dodged.  The were bear swiped at the second minotaur with his claws and struck it.  The minotaur howled in pain.

 

Grimlor tried to stab the first minotaur with his daggers, but he missed and nearly fell over.

 

The first minotaur swung at Yarrow and hit Chip with the blunt end of the axe, who went flying and landed on the ice.

 

“Chip,” Yarrow exclaimed.

 

He cast another flame arrow spell.  It hit the minotaur in front of him.  The minotaur howled in pain and swung an axe, but missed.

 

Orrin took a swipe at the third minotaur and managed to hit it.  It swiped at him with his axe, and struck his arm.

 

“Aaaaauuugh,” he screamed. 

 

Alain closed his eyes, swung his sword at the minotaur in front of him, and managed to hit something.  He heard the minotaur howl and knew that it had hurt.

 

Grimlor again tried to stab the first minotaur, and tripped just as the minotaur tried to hit him with an axe.  Luckily, he was no longer standing there.  He went sliding on the ice and barely managed to avoid being hit by the other minotaurs as well.

 

The were bear hit the first minotaur with his claws, and it growled at him.  Othor growled back.

 

Yarrow cast yet another flame arrow spell and the first minotaur finally went down with a thud when the arrow hit it.  Flames enveloped the minotaur’s body.

 

“One down, two to go,” the wizard said.

 

Grimlor crawled towards one of the nearby minotaurs, then took out his dagger and planted it firmly in the minotaur’s foot.  It howled in rage.  Grimlor nearly got trampled by it, but Orrin  helped him get out of the way.

 

“Guess that was its Achilles’ heel,” the thief said, grinning.

 

Orrin groaned, then clutched his bleeding arm.  “Ow.”

 

“What?  I thought it was funny,” the thief said.

 

Alain hit the minotaur near him with his sword.  The minotaur went down and he jumped for joy.  “I got one!  Did you all see that?  I got it!”

“Yes, yes, all right,” Grimlor said.  “Calm down before you have an aneurysm.”

 

“What exactly is an aneurysm?” Alain inquired.


The thief rolled his eyes. 

 

“One minotaur left,” he yelled.

 

“All together now,” the thief said.   “On three.  One, two, three.”

 

The minotaur growled and swung at Yarrow with his glowing red axe.  Yarrow dodged it and cast another flame arrow spell.  The arrow hit the minotaur, but the monster was still standing.

 

“Come on, die already,” Grimlor grumbled as he swiped at it with his daggers.  The minotaur howled, clutched at the fatal wound, and finally dropped to the ground.

 

Othor turned back into his human form.  “We should get moving.  Who knows how many more minotaurs there are here?”

 

“Good point,” Yarrow said.  He bent down and picked up the squirrel, who was moving by now.  “Hey, there, little fella.  Are you all right?”

 

Chip squeaked.

 

“Okay.  You had better lie low from now on.  I do not want you getting hurt in a fight,” Yarrow said.

 

Chip climbed into Yarrow’s backpack and found a place to nestle in.

 

“Good, let us keep going,” the wizard said. 

 

The Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors awaited them.

 

Chapter 16:  The Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors Continues

 

Meanwhile, in the Obsidian Tower…

 

“I am getting rather tired of waiting, Grog.  Where are my heroes?” Mordor demanded.  “They should have been here a long time ago.”

 

“Perhapsssss they were turned to ssssstone,” Grog hissed.

 

“No, they could not have been,” Mordor said.  “My son is among them.  Grog, fetch me my bowl of scrying.”


“Assssss you wish,” said Grog.  He slunk over to the shelf and picked up the bowl, then skulked back.  “Here it isssss, Massssster.”

 

“Thank you, Grog,” Mordor said.  “You may go now.  Have a coffee break or something.”

Grog bowed.  “Masssster is mosssst generoussss.”  He skulked out of the room.

 

Mordor cast a spell and chanted.  The water in the scrying bowl shimmered and glowed.  In it, he  saw his son among the heroes, fighting minotaurs in a maze.

 

“So, it would seem that a third party has meddled in my affairs,” the evil wizard said.  “I wonder who that could be.”  He cast another scrying spell and saw Silence, the Ice Dragon, watching the heroes as they battled the monsters in the maze.

 

“An ice dragon,” he noted.  “Very interesting.  I want to see if they survive this.”

 

He watched and waited.

 

Meanwhile, the unlikely heroes had just gotten to the second level of the Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors.

 

“There is a minotaur,” Orrin exclaimed.

 

“And another one,” Alain said.

Othor transformed into the polar bear.  The two minotaurs came forward wielding huge, glowing red axes.

 

The first minotaur swung at Alain.  He got lucky, for it had swung a bit wide.

 

Yarrow cast a flame arrow spell, which hit the second minotaur and exploded.  Othor swiped at the first minotaur with his claws.  It howled in pain.  Grimlor threw daggers at it and missed.

 

Orrin swung at the second minotaur and hit it.  It howled again and tried to swing its axe, but he ducked just in time.  The first minotaur swung at Alain again.  He ducked and then Othor took a swipe at it with his claws.  He hit it again, and the minotaur howled.

 

After much fighting, the minotaurs went down.

 

“Finally,” Alain said.  “I do not know about the rest of you, but I am really getting sick and tired of fighting these stupid minotaurs.”

 

“It could be worse,” Orrin said.  “We could be fighting slimes.”

“Ugh,” Alain replied.  “I hate slimes.  Their stench, their breath, the way their icky goo eats anything metal that touches them…I would rather fight the minotaurs.”

 

“I think we deserve a break,” said Grimlor said, still clutching his wound.

 

“You want to rest for a bit?” Yarrow asked.

 

“Yes.  My feet are killing me.  Surely you need to memorize some spells or something,” Alain replied.

 

“Oh, all right, I guess I could use a break,” Yarrow replied.  “Are you all right?”

 

“Fine,” he grunted.  Grimlor quickly searched the bodies of the minotaurs.  “Anyone want one of these axes?”

 

“I will take one,” Orrin said.

 

“So will I,” Othor said.  “It might provide us with an advantage later on.”

 

Meanwhile, in the Obsidian Tower, Mordor was still watching through his scrying bowl.  “You will come to me, in time.”

“Why is the master talking to himself?” Herbert whispered.

 

“I do not know, but Masssster doessss that quite often,” Grog whispered back.

 

“Maybe it has to do with being an evil wizard?” Herbert whispered.

 

“Perhapsssss,” Grog replied.

 

“Grog, Herbert,” Mordor said.

 

“Yesssss, Massster?” Grog inquired.

 

“Yes?” Herbert asked.

 

Mordor held up an amulet.  “I have a task for the two of you.  I need you to go to the were bear village.  They have a witch there.  I want you to give this to her.  Tell them it is for the one I seek.  She will know who I mean.”

 

 Grog and Herbert nodded.

 

“Yessss, Masssster,” Grog replied.  “I will go.”

“As will I,” Herbert said. 

Mordor levitated the amulet over to the evil hench men, and Herbert caught it.

 

“Go now,” Mordor said.

 

They bowed and left the Obsidian Tower.

 

“Excellent,” Mordor said, putting his fingers together and grinning evilly.  “Excellent.”

 

Chapter 17:  In Which The Heroes Make It To The Center Of The Labyrinth

 

After fighting many minotaurs, the unlikely heroes finally reached the center of the Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors.  Suddenly, Silence’s voice boomed through the cavern.

 

“You have been through much.  Now your final test remains.  Pass this and I will let you live.  Fail, and you will die,” said the ice dragon.

 

“Great.  What now?” Grimlor asked.

 

There was a flash of light, and four extremely beautiful women were standing in the center of the Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors.  One of them was dressed all in pink.

 

“Oh no,” Alain remarked.

 

“Not the Mary Sues,” Orrin added.

 

“Yes,” Silence the ice dragon responded.  “You will have to fight the perfect versions of yourselves.  Defeat them, and you will have passed the test.”


“That is impossible,” Grimlor exclaimed.  “Surely there must be some other way!”

 

“There is no other way,” Silence replied.  “Let the test begin.”

 

The first of the Mary Sues, Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third, chanted as she prepared to cast a magic spell.  She was the most beautiful of the Mary Sues, with long, golden hair in waves that cascaded down her back and turquoise blue eyes.  She wore glittery pink wizard robes and a royal purple cape, and carried a silver staff that sparkled with gems and had a glowing crystal ball on the top of it.

 

The second of the Mary Sues, Ophelia Goldentongue, took out a glowing sword.  She wore gleaming silver chain mail.  Her long, flame red hair flowed like…well, like a Mary Sue’s hair.  She had emerald green eyes.  She was, of course, incredibly beautiful.

 

The third of the Mary Sues, Gabrielle Shadowlurker, withdrew two amazingly sharp, serrated daggers.  They were jet black except for the rubies in their hilts.  They glowed with red auras.  Gabrielle had long raven black hair and sapphire blue eyes and wore leather armor that was blacker than black, as well as a long black cape, that somehow hid her features, yet revealed her extraordinary beauty.  (She was a Mary Sue, after all, and Mary Sues are allowed to have completely contradictory descriptions, even if they break the laws of physics.)

 

The fourth of the Mary Sues, Alana Lionheart, carried a drum.  It was the Drum of Dancing, Alain realized, the same one he had lost in the deep hole.  She had long chocolate brown hair and soft, puppy-dog brown eyes.  She wore brown leather armor and a long red cape with a gold lion emblazoned on it.  Like the other Mary Sues, she was incredibly beautiful, but Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third was still the most beautiful of all of the Mary Sues. 

 

“Uh oh,” Alain said.  “If she has the Drum of Dancing, we are done for.”

 

“Not only that, but look at the daggers on my Mary Sue,” Grimlor said in response. 

 

“And the sword my Mary Sue has,” Orrin replied.

 

“I do not even know what spell my Mary Sue is casting,” Yarrow said in response.

 

“Why does Othor not have a Mary Sue?” Alain questioned.

 

Othor shrugged.

 

“Probably because he is not one of us,” Orrin said.

 

“Good point,” Grimlor said.

 

Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third’s spell went off, and there was scintillating energy everywhere.  Incandescent silver lightning bolts flashed all around them.  Othor went down as one of the lightning bolts hit him.

 

“No!  Othor,” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, shouted.

 

Meanwhile, the second Mary Sue, Ophelia Goldentongue ran towards Orrin and yelled, “For glory and honor!”

 

Orrin gulped nervously and drew his own sword.  “For…um…for getting us out of this stupid place,” he shouted.

 

Meanwhile, Gabrielle Shadowlurker, wielding the sharp, serrated black daggers with rubies in the hilt that were glowing with a red aura, dashed toward Grimlor.

 

“Noooo,” Grimlor yelled.  He dodged out of the way and tripped in the process.  His Mary Sue laughed at him.  It was an annoyingly musical laugh.

 

Alana Lionheart and Alain exchanged glances.  She began to play the Drum of Dancing.  Alain found that his feet wanted to move.  He could not stop himself from dancing, and so he tap danced.  He could not make himself stop tap dancing, but he found out that he could control where he went as he tap danced.  Still, it was really quite annoying.

 

Alain tap danced over to Othor and woke up the were bear, who was quite confused, to say the least. 

 

“I think I have a plan,” he said as he tap danced.  “Only…I need you to help me.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” Othor asked.

 

“Turn into your bear form and help me take the drum away from my Mary Sue.”

 

“I will do so,” the were bear said.

 

The air shimmered around him as he switched to the form of the polar bear.  Alain did his best to distract his Mary Sue by tap dancing.  He stumbled into Grimlor, who was getting up from having tripped.

 

“Ouch,” Grimlor exclaimed.  “Watch where you are going!”

 

“Sorry,” he apologized, wiping the sweat from his brow.

 

“Oh, Alana,” he said, dancing close to her, “you are so beautiful.”

 

“I know,” she replied.  “I am a Mary Sue,  after all.”

“Will you be my wife?” he asked.

 

“I can not,” she said.  “I am bound to serve my kingdom.”

 

“But you can do that and be married!” he said.

 

“Can you?”  And she launched into a long boring philosophical diatribe, which the author will spare the reader from.

 

Meanwhile, while the Mary Sue was distracted, Othor grabbed the Drum of Dancing from her.

 

“Hey,” Alana Lionheart exclaimed.  “That is mine!  Give it back, you foul beast!”

The were bear growled at her.


Alain caught his breath.  “I will take the drum, Othor.  Please.”

 

The enraged Mary Sue began to throw a temper tantrum.  “No!  That was supposed to be my drum!  Mine!”

 

But Alain began to play the Drum of Dancing, and Alana Lionheart began to tap dance.  As Alain beat the drum faster and faster, the Mary Sue was having a hard time keeping up.  Finally, she stumbled.

 

“What?  No!  I am not perfect!   Noooo,” the Mary Sue wailed.  “I must be perfect at everything, or I will no longer be a Mary Sue!”


“If you are no longer a Mary Sue,” Alain said, “does that mean you no longer exist?”

 

The Mary Sue looked shocked and went poof in an implosion of logic.

 

“Well done,” Silence’s voice boomed through the chamber.  “Only three more Mary Sues to go!”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 18:  The Battle Continues

 

Grimlor Leadfoot scrambled to his feet as his Mary Sue lunged at him with serrated daggers.  He attempted to dodge, but she struck him.

 

“Ouch,” he exclaimed.  “That hurt!”

She laughed at him.  “Good.  It was supposed to.”

 

Alain took a step forward with the Drum of Dancing, but was stopped by an invisible wall of some sort.

 

“You cannot help your friends,” Silence’s voice boomed.  “It would not be a fair test if you did.”

 

Alain grimaced.  He watched the battle ensue.

 

Meanwhile, Grimlor swung at his Mary Sue with his own dagger, but he ended up tripping and falling flat on his back.

 

Gabrielle Shadowlurker laughed.  “You’re so clumsy.  What makes you think that you can be a thief?  You can’t even fight without tripping!”

 

He glared at her.  “I have something that you do not have,” he replied.

 

“Oh?  And what is that?” the Mary Sue demanded.

 

“Persistence,” Grimlor replied.  He got up.  “I keep trying, even when I fail.”

 

“That’s nothing.  You are nothing!  You are a loser!”  She swung at him again.

 

This time, Grimlor was patient and did not move until the last possible second.  He stuck out his foot just as the Mary Sue lunged forward.  She tripped.

 

“What?  Nooooooo,” the Mary Sue moaned.  “This can not be!  I am Gabrielle Shadowlurker, the epitome of grace and dexterity.  I can not trip!  I am perfect.  I am a Mary Sue!”

 

“If you tripped,” Grimlor said, “that means that you are not perfect.”

 

“Nooooooo,” Gabrielle Shadowlurker wailed. 

 

“And if you are not perfect, then you are not a Mary Sue,” Grimlor added.

 

She went poof in an implosion of logic.

 

“Excellent!”  Silence’s voice boomed.  “Two more Mary Sues left.”

 

Yarrow’s Mary Sue, Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third, grinned as she cast another spell.  Her voice was perfectly on key as she chanted.  The spell went off, and Yarrow blinked.  He looked very confused.  “What?  Who am I?  Where am I?  What is this place?”

“I am Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third,” his Mary Sue said.  She brushed some locks of curly golden hair out of her eyes, which were now violet and quite sparkly.  Her hair quickly changed to neon pink.  It was really very disturbing.  “You will do as I say.”

 

“Why?” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, asked.

 

“Because I am a Mary Sue, and I have you firmly wrapped around my finger,” she replied matter-of-factly.

 

“Squeak!” Chip exclaimed.

 

“What…a squirrel?” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, inquired.

 

Chip squeaked again.

 

Was it Yarrow’s imagination, or was there a different inflection each time the squirrel squeaked?  No matter.  There was something oddly familiar about the squirrel, but he could not put his finger on it.

 

“Squeak!” Chip stood up and began to tap dance, even though nobody was playing the Drum of Dancing.

 

“A tap dancing squirrel?”

 

“Ignore it,” Annabelle Anastasia Annemarrie the Third said.  “I am the one you should really be paying attention to.  I am the Mary Sue.  Ignore me at your peril.”

 

“Huh?” Yarrow scratched his head.  “What is a Mary Sue?”

 

“A highly perfect being, unlike you,” Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third replied haughtily.

 

“I see.  Who am I again?” Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, asked.

 

“You are my love slave,” Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third replied.

 

“Oh,” said Yarrow.  “I see.  And why am I your love slave, again?”

“Because I am a Mary Sue,” Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third replied impatiently.  “Now, love slave, kiss me!”

 

It was impossible for Yarrow  to resist kissing the Mary Sue.  Her beauty was overwhelming.  He leaned over and touched his lips to hers.

 

Did I mention how stunningly beautiful the Mary Sue was?  Her long, pink hair curled and flowed in waves around her shoulders, and her sparkling violet eyes looked like the night sky.  Galaxies and stars flickered in Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third’s eyes. She had long pink flowing wizard robes and a purple sparkly cape, and a gleaming silver staff with lots of sparkling gemstones and a crystal ball on top.

 

As Yarrow, the wizard formerly known as Acorn kissed Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third, fireworks exploded all around them.  Several doves fluttered nearby.  And mistletoe appeared above them because…well, just because. 

 

Chip the Squirrel was vomiting in the corner.  The strange and bizarre sound of a squirrel vomiting jolted Yarrow out of the love spell.

 

“Why am I kissing you?  This is insane,” he exclaimed.

 

“No,” the Mary Sue said.  “Nobody turns me down!  I am a Mary Sue!”

“You are stunningly beautiful, but…I don’t love you.  I barely know you, and you have only managed to annoy the living daylight out of me since I have known you,” Yarrow said.

 

“Nooooo,” the Mary Sue howled.  “You will love me, wizard!  I command you!”

 

“I think not.”

 

“But…but what about my angst-filled back story?” the Mary Sue asked, sniffling.

 

“Angst-filled back story?” he asked.

 

“Why, yes,” Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third said.  “I was abandoned as a babe.  I was raised by werewolves who bit me and turned me into one of them.  Then, I was cast out of the pack after falling in love with the pack leader’s son.  He was already betrothed, you see.  He tried to follow me, but he died after getting hit by a silver arrow.  I was then captured by orcs and made into a slave.  I tried to escape, but they controlled me with magic.  I finally killed their mage and made my way here, having had to fend for myself the whole entire time.”  She did her best to look pitiful.  “Surely you must feel sorry for me with my angst-filled back story.”

 

“Um…” he began.  “I have to admit, I am really more annoyed than anything else.  If you are a werewolf, why did you let yourself get captured by orcs in the first place?”

 

“I told you already, they controlled me with magic.”  She sounded annoyed.

 

“Then why haven’t seen you turn into a wolf yet?” he asked.

 

“Because I can not control the change,” she said.  “I will no doubt tear you to pieces when I change, and then you would be dead, and you could no longer be my love slave.”

 

“I see,” said Yarrow.  “So you must have me as your love slave?  Why?”

 

“Because I am a Mary Sue, and I always get what I want,” she replied.

 

“Well, I refuse to be your love slave,” said Yarrow.

 

“You can not!” she exclaimed.  “I order you to be my love slave!”’

“No,” said Yarrow.

 

“Please?” asked Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third.  She gave him a puppy-dog-eyed look.  Her eyes were now soft and brown, and her hair was flame red.

 

“No,” said Yarrow.  “I refuse.  I have broken the spell you have over me.  You can not make a person love you if they do not really love you.”

 

“Nooooo,” she howled.  She stamped her feet and pouted.  “I am a Mary Sue!  I always get what I want!!!”

 

“Well, you are not getting me,” said Yarrow. 

 

“No!  I have failed as a Mary Sue!  This can’t be,” Annabelle Anastasia Annemarie the Third screamed.  She went poof in an implosion of logic.

 

Yarrow felt his memories return to him.

 

“Excellent work,” said Silence the ice dragon.  “You have passed your test.  Only one Mary Sue remains.”

 

Ophelia Goldentongue wore shiny bright silver chain mail.  Her long, wavy flame red hair flowed around her shoulders like a river.  She wielded a sharp sword with an emerald in the hilt.

 

“I will strike you down,” Ophelia Goldentongue promised.

 

He clenched his teeth and gripped his sword.  “No, you will not,” he said.

 

“Enough of this,” she exclaimed.  “For honor and glory!”  She raised the weapon and swung.

 

He ducked and brought his sword up.  He was forced back by her blow.  She fought extremely well, he had to admit.  But then, she was a Mary Sue.  There was a chance, he thought…a chance that he might be able to defeat her.

 

He took a deep breath and sang extremely off key, “I’m a lumberjack and I’m okay, I sleep all night and I work all day.  I cut down trees, I eat my lunch, I go to the lavatory.  On Wednesdays I go shopping and have buttered scones for tea.”

 

Ophelia Goldentongue clamped her hands over her ears, although she was somehow able to hold on to her sword at the same time.  “The pain, the pain!”

He grinned and continued to sing very much off key, “I cut down trees.  I skip and jump.  I like to press wild flowers.  I put on women's clothing and hang around in bars.  I cut down trees, I wear high heels, suspendies, and a bra.”

 

“Nooooo,” she wailed.  This time, she dropped her sword.  It clattered to the ground.  Ophelia Goldentongue clenched her teeth.

 

He continued, “I wish I'd been a girlie, just like my dear papa.”

 

Ophelia Goldentongue continued to shriek.  Orrin grabbed her sword and swung, but she imploded just like the other Mary Sues had.

 

“Very good,” Silence’s voice boomed throughout the chamber.  A door opened in the opposite end.  “You have all passed the test.  You may go now.”

 

“Thank the gods,” Grimlor said.  “If I had listened to any more of your terrible singing, I might have had to cut my ears off.”

Orrin laughed.  “Well, you should be happy that I am no longer a bard, then.”

 

“Oh, I am.  Believe me,” Grimlor replied.

 

The unlikely heroes finally walked out of the Labyrinth of Ultimate Horrors and headed back to the ice cavern.

 

Chapter 19:  In Which Yarrow Has A Dream

 

“So, my son, you have defeated the Mary Sues,” Mordor said while peering into his scrying bowl.  “Excellent.  I knew that you could do it.  You have my blood running through your veins, after all.  Now, you shall come to me, and you will join the dark side.” 

 

Meanwhile, the unlikely heroes were in the ice cavern again. 

 

“Will you let us go free, now that we have passed your test?” Yarrow asked.

 

“I will think about it,” Silence responded.  “You should get some rest now.  You have earned it.”

 

And so they went to sleep.

 

Yarrow had an unsettling dream.

 

He heard a voice say, “You are my son.  Together we will rule the world, side by side, as it was meant to be.  Join me and you will have all the power you could ever dream of.”

 

“No,” Yarrow replied.  “I will never join you!”

 

“It is a pity,” the evil voice said.  “A real pity.  Because, you see, that means that I will have to kill you, along with your companions.”

 

Yarrow felt himself falling.  Then he woke up with a start.

 

“You were screaming in your sleep,” Othor said.  “Is everything all right?”

 

“No, I do not think so,” Yarrow said.  “I think that Mordor entered my dream somehow.”

 

The others exchanged glances. 

 

“That is not a good thing,” the were bear said.  “Hopefully, it is only your dreams he is entering.”

 

“Indeed,” Orrin said. 

Yarrow looked at Othor.  “Is there anything I can do to stop him from entering my mind?”

 

“Well, there is a rather potent herb that will help to keep your sleep dreamless,” the were bear said.  “It is also said that that particular herb can help you block unwanted mental intrusions.  It is called Silver Claw, and it can be found growing in a pool known as the Eye of Mirrors inside one of the ice caverns in this area.”

 

“I think we should get some,” Yarrow said.  “It would help a great deal.”

 

“Agreed,” Orrin said. 

 

“I think that would be wise,” Alain said.

 

“As long as we can find some treasure along the way,” Grimlor added.

 

“So be it,” Yarrow said.  “We will look for the Silverclaw, and then we will confront Mordor.”

 

There was a rumble in the air as Silence cleared her throat.  “I see that you have forgotten one little thing.”

 

“Uh oh,” Grimlor said.

 

“Silence, will you not let us go?” Yarrow Goldenleaf, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, asked.  “We passed your test with flying colors.”

 

“Indeed,” Silence the ice dragon replied.  “You have shown intelligence, despite those tiny brains of yours.  I need you to do one more thing for me, and then I will let you go free.”

 

“Uh oh,” Grimlor said again.

 

“I could not help but over hear that you need some Silver Claw.  As it happens, there is a rival of mine guarding that cave.  Defeat her, and your will have your Silver Claw.  And then I will let you go free.”

 

“What about her horde?” Grimlor asked.

 

“You may each take one bauble from her horde, but no more than that.  I will know if you have taken more.  I have set my sights on it for quite some time, you see,” Silence said.

 

Grimlor nodded.

 

“I will even aid you.  Her true name is Sethynxa ar Laneath.  She calls herself Moonflame,” Silence said.  “I would like for her to be gone by the end of this day,” the ice dragon said.

 

“We will do as you wish,” Yarrow Goldenleaf, the wizard formerly known as Acorn, replied.

 

“Good.  If you do not, I will be forced to hunt you down as though you were deer or some other common prey.  Go now,” Silence said.

 

And so the unlikely heroes left Silence’s ice cave and headed toward Moonflame’s ice cave.

 

Chapter 20:  In Which There Is A Flashback

 

“Massster,” Grog hissed as he swept the floor, “why did you decide to become an evil wizard, anyway?”

“It’s a long story Grog,” Mordor said.  “Do you really want to hear it?”

 

“Yesssss, Masssster.”


“All right then.”

 

* * * Flashback* **

 

Approximately 30 years ago…

 

A dark haired youth of approximately fifteen years of age was sneaking around in a cave.  It was not just any cave, though.  He would not have left home for that, although truth be told, to get out of his father’s reach, he would have done almost anything.  His father was a blacksmith and Mordor was his apprentice, though he longed to do other things.

 

When Mordor was about thirteen years of age, he had discovered that he could make things float if he willed them to.  He also found out that he had an odd talent for becoming invisible.  It was a useful talent, to be sure, and neither of his parents knew about it.  His mother would not hear any talk of magic.  It was frivolous, she said.  And his father insisted that he become a blacksmith to learn a practical skill.

 

Anyway, one day he had received one too many beatings from his father.  So he snuck out of his room after supper, turned invisible, and decided to go in search of a nearby cave that was rumored to have part of a dragon’s hoard in it.  More than likely it didn’t, but it was better than staying home.

 

The cave was typical.  It was cold, dark, and damp, and not much else.  Having summoned mage light, Mordor looked around and saw nothing.  He was about to turn around and go home, when the ground beneath him gave way.  He fell screaming and hit the hard ground and blacked out.

 

Some time after that, the boy awoke.  There was a magic sword on the ground nearby.  He was lucky that he had not landed on it, he thought.  It had a pink gem in the hilt that was some type of quartz.  He tried to pick it up, but was immediately shocked by magical energy.

 

“Ouch,” he exclaimed.  “Stupid sword!”  he reached over to pick it up again.

 

“Who is more stupid, a boy who does not learn from his mistakes, or a sword that can not be wielded by him because of its enchantment?” the sword responded.  It had a female voice, and she sounded very irritated.

 

“The sword is more stupid, of course,” he replied.  “Why can’t I pick you up?”

 

“Because you are male, and I can only be wielded by women.  I prefer women who are annoyed, but any women can wield me, as long as she uses me only when she is having PMS.”

 

“PMS?” Mordor repeated, looking confused.

 

“You are young and unschooled in the ways of the world,” the sword said.  “In any case, you can not have me.  Do not try to pick me up again, or you will be cursed.”

 

“I don’t believe in curses,” Mordor said.  “They are only for the superstitious.”

 

He reached for the sword again.  As soon as he touched its hilt, the gem glowed bright pink.  He was surrounded by a pink light, and then he blacked out.

 

Some time after that, several men from the village came.  They had been looking for him, and were going to get him out.

 

“Mordor?” his father asked.  “What are you doing down there?”

“Looking for treasure,” he said.

 

“I see.  Why are you dressed in pink?” his father inquired. 

 

“I…I do not know,” Mordor answered.  “I wasn’t wearing pink before.”

 

“It is no matter,” his father said.  “We will get you out of here, and then you can change clothes at home.”

 

So they tossed a rope down and Mordor climbed up.  His father gave him a look that said “We will talk about this later and you will be in really big trouble then, boy.”

 

Mordor returned his look with a sullen glare.

 

They went home and he tried to change clothes, but after several minutes, his clothes turned pink.

 

“I thought you were going to change clothes,” his father said, giving him a stern look.

 

“I did,” Mordor said.  “They turned pink!”

“You must be joking,” said his father.  “Take them off.”

 

He did.  His father burst out laughing when he saw the pink underwear with purple hearts.  “Where in the world did you get those?”

 

“I wasn’t wearing them before, I swear,” Mordor protested.

 

“Put some new clothes on, now,” said his father.  “Out here.”

So he changed clothes, and sure enough, the clothes that he had put on turned pink.


His father laughed again.  “The gods must have really decided to play a joke on you, boy,” he said.

 

He groaned.  “It was that sword!  It was the cursed sword I touched in the cave!”

“What sword are you talking about?” his father asked.

 

“There was this sword with a pink gem, and it said that it could only be used by women with PMS, and that it would curse me, but I did not believe it.  So I touched it and…”

 

“And it cursed you,” his father finished for him.  “By the gods, I hope this is not permanent.”

 

“Same here,” Mordor said.

 

“We will go to the priest tomorrow and try to get this curse removed.  Until then, I suppose you will have to put up with it.  I would punish you for sneaking out, but it seems that you are being punished enough by the gods for your foolish actions already,” his father said.  “Consider yourself lucky, boy.”

Mordor’s father snickered as he went to bed.

 

The next day, his father said, “We will go to the temple of Ilzul, since you have been a fool, and Ilzul is the god of fools, among other things.”

 

He looked embarrassed.  He put on a cloak to hide his clothes, but the cloak soon turned pink.

 

“Do not bother with that now,” his father said.  “Let us go to the temple.”

So they went.

 

“Welcome to the temple of Ilzul, god of heroes, adventurers, and fools,” the priest said.  “Our god is great.  Our god is good.  What are you here for, anyway?”

 

“We are here because my son has been a fool,” Mordor’s father said.  “I found him in a cave last night.  He said he touched a magic sword, and the sword cursed him.  Now all of the clothes he puts on turn pink, even his underwear.  Is there anything you can do to remove this curse?”

 

“Hmm.  Let me see,” the priest said.  He chanted.

 

He stopped chanting a few moments later and shook his head.  “I am terribly sorry, but there is nothing that I can do.”

 

“What?  Why not?” Mordor’s father asked.

 

“I am afraid that Ilzul has decided that your son must learn from this lesson.  If he learns what he is supposed to learn, then the curse will be removed.  If not, well, I am afraid that he will be wearing pink for a long time to come,” the priest said.

 

His father sighed.  “If that is the will of the gods, then so be it.  Come, Mordor.”


“No!  Father, please.  There must be something I can do.  Please,” he begged.

 

“Ah, but there is,” the priest said.  “If you learn from your mistake, and you have proven yourself in the eyes of Ilzul, then the curse will be removed and your clothes will turn back to normal.”


“All right.  What must I do to prove myself?” Mordor asked.

 

“That is not for me to reveal,” the priest said.  “Ilzul will reveal it to you in his own time.”

 

And so he went back to his home.  Months passed, and still his clothes were pink.  Everyone in the village mocked him constantly, everywhere he went.

 

“There is Mordor the fool,” they said, laughing.

 

Finally, he could take it no longer.  One night, he simply left, but not without leaving a note behind.

 

It read:


Father,

 

I am leaving home for good.  I will prove that I am no fool, and you will all regret ever having laughed at me.

 

Your son,

 

Mordor

 

***End Flashback***

 

“Great sssstory, Massster,” Grog said.  “Why are your clothes still pink?”

 

“Because I haven’t been able to rid myself of this curse, you twit!  Now finish sweeping.”


“Yessss, Masssster.”

 

 

 

Chapter 21:  In Search of The Silver Claw

 

In the meantime, the unlikely heroes entered the cave of Moonflame the ice dragon.  Naturally, it was very cold. 

 

“All right, where is this ice dragon then?” Grimlor asked.

 

“Well, look who we have here,” a female voice boomed through the cavern of ice. 

 

“Um, I think that would be her,” Orrin said.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Obvious,” the thief replied sarcastically.

 

The former bard rolled his eyes.

 

“Let me see you a bit closer.”  Two scintillating blue eyes appeared in the darkness.  They were big, bright, and blue.  “Ah.  Adventurers.  Welcome,” Moonflame the ice dragon said.  “It has been so long since I have had visitors.  Why are you here?”

 

“We are looking for the Silver Claw,” Yarrow replied.

 

“I see.  I am afraid I can not let you have any,” Moonflame said.

 

“Why not?” Yarrow asked.  “Surely a powerful ice dragon such as yourself would not have any need of it.”

 

“I am powerful, it is true,” Moonflame said.  Her voice boomed through the cave.  “But I still need the Silver Claw.  You see, it affects us differently than it does humans.  We use it as a…hmmm, what do you two-legs call it?  An aphrodisiac.”

 

“I was not aware that there were any male ice dragons in this area,” Othor remarked.

 

“Oh, there is one.  His name is Froststone.  He rarely comes out of his cave.  I have been trying to get him to be my mate for a very long time.  He refuses to choose either Silence or I.  He is eccentric, even for one of us,” Moonflame explained.

“I see,” Yarrow replied.  “Is there no way that we can get some of the silver claw?  Even just a little bit?”

 

“No, and that is final,” Moonflame replied. 

 

“What are we going to do now?” Grimlor asked.  “Silence threatened to kill us, or have you forgotten?”

 

“She did?” Moonflame asked.  “I am not surprised.  I would not destroy you, unless you tried to steal from my horde.  But Silence has always been a bit temperamental, shall we say?  I have a proposal for you.”


“And what would that be?”  Yarrow inquired.

 

“Kill her, and I will let you have some of my precious silver claw,” Moonflame replied.

 

“We need to talk this over for a little while,” Yarrow said.

 

“Of course.  Take as long as you want.  Return to me when you have made your decision,” Moonflame responded.  The dragon’s blue eyes disappeared into the darkness.

 

“So,” Yarrow said, “ what does everyone think that we should do?”


“I think we should kill this Moonflame and be done with it,” Grimlor said.

 

“On the contrary, we should go back and kill Silence,” Orrin said.  “It was she who made us go through that horrible maze.  Moonflame has not done anything like that.”

 

“Because our thief has not tried to steal anything from her,” Alain pointed out.  “I think we should honor our bargain with Silence.  What if we kill her and Moonflame goes back on the deal?”

 

“How do we know that we can trust her?” Grimlor asked.

 

“She let us go.  She has been true to her word so far,” Alain replied.

 

Yarrow nodded.  “Othor, what do you say?”


The were bear looked at him.  “It does not matter to me which one we kill, honestly.  The ice dragons have all been a plague on my people for generations.”

 

“Then we will keep our word,” Yarrow replied.

 

“Moonflame, we have come to a consensus,” Orrin shouted.

 

Two blue eyes appeared like beacons shining bright in the darkness.  “And that is?” the ice dragon inquired.

 

“We have decided to keep our word to Silence,” he said.

 

“So be it,” Moonflame said.  “At least you are true to your word, but know that your trust was misplaced.”

 

Othor quickly changed into his were bear form.  Grimlor took out his daggers.  Orrin took out the axe he had gotten from the minotaurs back in the maze.  Alain held up the Drum of Dancing, which he had taken from the Mary Sue earlier.  Yarrow cast a protection spell.  His spell went off.  They were surrounded by a globe of shimmering light.  A blast of freezing air hit them, but did no damage as the protective magic absorbed it.

 

“Attack,” Yarrow shouted.

 

Orrin went forward then and charged.  The axe he wielded glowed bright red.  He swung and struck, and he both heard and felt the axe strike something.  The strong, coppery smell of dragon’s blood filled the air.

 

“You will pay for that,” Moonflame bellowed.

 

Othor lunged forward in were bear form.  His claws struck the ice dragon’s hide.  Moonflame roared and responded by unleashing another icy blast. 

 

Grimlor hurled one of his daggers at the ice dragon.  He heard it strike Moonflame.  The ice dragon roared again.

Yarrow cast a flame arrow spell.  It blazed through the air, leaving behind a trail of glowing embers, and exploded as it hit its target.  Moonflame breathed another icy blast.  Orrin was frozen solid from head to toe, a statue of sparkling ice.  Othor struck the ice dragon again and again, feeling his claws tear at her cold hide.   Yarrow cast another flame arrow spell.  It hit the ice dragon and exploded into flames.

 

Grimlor took his other dagger and lunged ahead, but slipped on the ice and skidded across the cave.  He was now behind Moonflame, and had a very good view of her tail.  She was truly immense, taking up an entire large cave.  Her body was white and shimmering with ice.  There had to be some way he could take advantage of the fact that he was behind her, but what?

 

Meanwhile, Yarrow cast yet another flame arrow spell.  Othor swung with his razor sharp claws and Alain began to play the Drum of Dancing.  Grimlor scrambled to get out of the way as the ice dragon started to tap dance.

 

“No,” she exclaimed.  “What are you doing to me?”

 

The walls of the cavern shook as the ice dragon continued to dance. 

 

“Keep playing,” Yarrow shouted.

 

Grimlor looked up and realized that there was about to be a cave-in.  He stabbed her back foot with his dagger, than ran for it.  Moonflame roared in pain, yet was forced to continue tap dancing.

 

Grimlor made it out of her cave just in time.  The rocks were coming down on top of her.  Snow and ice fell in heaps.  A particularly large stalactite on the ceiling broke off and plummeted down, crushing her neck. 

 

“We did it,” Alain exclaimed triumphantly.  “We actually killed a dragon!  I can not believe it!”

 

“You did it,” Orrin said.  “If it were not for the Drum of Dancing, we would surely be dead.”


“It matters not,” Yarrow remarked.  “What matters is that Moonflame is dead, and that we can get the Silver Claw.”

 

“Where is it?” Grimlor asked.  “It must be around here somewhere.”


“Look,” Orrin said, pointing towards a tunnel they had not seen before because it had been hidden by Moonflame’s large form.  Light glowed at the end of it.

 

“That must be where Moonflame’s horde is,” Grimlor said.

 

“And the Eye of Mirrors,” Othor added, having turned back into his human form after the fight.


“We should go through that tunnel,” Yarrow said.  “Come on.”

 

And so they went through the tunnel.  At the end of it was a glowing light, which turned out to be that the cave with they Eye of Mirrors was lit by crystals all around.  The crystals glowed entirely of their own power. 


The Eye of Mirrors shimmered and sparkled, reflecting the light of the crystals.  At first glance, the silvery water was so calm that everyone thought it was frozen, but Yarrow tested it with his staff.  The water rippled.  All around the Eye of Mirrors were some plants that were silver-blue in color.  They vaguely resembled outstretched claws, which was probably where they got the name from. 

 

“Grimlor, will you lend me your dagger?” Yarrow asked.

 

“What for?” he inquired.

 

“To cut the silver claw plants,” the wizard replied.

 

“Oh, all right,” said the thief and handed the dagger to him.

 

Carefully, Yarrow used Grimlor’s dagger to cut five of the silver claw plants free from their places in the frozen ground.  He put the plants in his back pack, then handed the dagger back to the thief.

 

“Thank you,” Grimlor said.

“What are we going to do with these things?” Orrin inquired.

“You eat the leaves.  They are not poisonous, though it is said that they have an extremely bitter taste,” Yarrow responded.  “Chewing one leaf in its entirety will block any wizard from scrying on you for a period of approximately four hours.  These should last us until we get to the Obsidian Tower.”