Authors: Daniel Arenson
When they reached Friar Hill, Madrila looked up at the cottage that rose there. She smiled. It was a large house, the largest in town. The Bullies' house. Grunters lived there now; she could hear their cacophony of grunting all the way down here. Madrila had considered moving into the house herself—the ultimate insult for the Bullies—but she craved more than clay walls and a vegetable garden. Why settle for a house, when she could live in a castle? They kept walking.
"Ooh, pretty!" Willow said when they saw Fort Rosethorn ahead. "Roses! I mean—" She swallowed when Madrila glared. "I mean, look at those strong towers, and uhm... evil bricks."
The fortress rose atop a hill, roses growing over its crumbling walls. It wasn't much of a castle, Madrila thought. She had seen castles that would dwarf this place. But its walls were stone. Its towers could view the entire town. Its parapets could hold a small army.
"Our new home," Madrila said. She laughed evilly. Willow tried a cackle too, though it sounded more like a giggle.
They climbed the hill, robes swishing, until they reached the fort. Dozens of grunters manned the fortress walls and gates. They bowed to Madrila, grunted profusely, and pulled open the portcullis. Inside the courtyard, a hundred more of the warty beasts sat playing dice and chewing on bones.
"Grunters!" Madrila shrieked.
The green, lumpy creatures grunted and scrambled to their feet. They kicked their dice and bones aside and struggled to form rank. It seemed to take them ages, Madrila thought as she stood, hands on her hips. Finally they stood in formation, the odd grunt rising from them.
"Better," she said. "But not good enough."
She drew her wand and pointed at a random grunter. Lightning bolts flew, and the grunter screamed and crumpled up; it looked like an invisible hand crumpling green paper. Soon nothing remained of the grunter but a wrinkly green ball. Madrila kicked it aside.
"You will stand at attention faster next time!" she said. "Or more will die."
"Yeah!" Willow added.
Inside the main hall, grunters stood along the walls, holding swords. Blood still stained the floor. The doors leading underground were barred.
"How are the prisoners?" Madrila asked her chief grunter.
The beast stood seven feet tall, his skin a landscape of green warts. His red eyes blinked, and when he spoke, Madrila saw rows of serrated teeth.
"A few tried to break out," he said. "A few died."
Madrila nodded. "Excellent. Keep the rest alive, but keep them underground."
She had converted the cellars, armory, and other underground rooms into a great dungeon. Over a hundred men lay there, the defenders of Burrfield. She could hear their muffled screams.
"Let us out, witch!" one shouted, voice deep. "I'll break you apart, woman! Come fight me!"
Madrila smiled. "Lord Bramblebridge is a loud one. Bring him to me. I will teach him a thing or two."
The grunter nodded and barked a couple orders. Two more grunters unlocked the door and stepped underground. They screeched and Bramblebridge bellowed.
"Let me out, foul beasts! Unchain me! Fight me like men!"
Standing behind her, Willow peeked into the cellar and gulped. "My lady, is it wise to let him out?"
Madrila snorted. "Surely you're not afraid of him, are you?"
The apprentice shivered and shook her head wildly. She was pale, and her bottom lip trembled.
The grunters emerged from the dungeon, dragging Bramblebridge. The burly lord stood shorter than Madrila, but twice as wide. His chest was like a wheelbarrow. His cheeks were puffed and red. His orange mustache bristled, and sweat glistened on his bald head. His arms were all muscle, made for swinging swords, and now chained behind his back. He wore armor splashed with blood.
"I'll kill the lot of you!" he bellowed, spattering saliva. "I'll tear you all apart!" He saw Madrila and his eyes widened. "The witch!"
Steam rose from his ears. He lowered his head, broke free from the grunters holding him, and charged toward her.
Willow squeaked in fright. Madrila pointed her wand and magic flew.
Her magic hit Bramblebridge. It swirled around him, raising smoke and light.
"What the blazes!" Bramblebridge bellowed from inside the swirling ball of light and smoke. "Damn you, witch!"
The magic raised him, spun him around, and knocked him down. The smoke dispersed. Where a burly man had stood, a bulldog now barked. The dog looked remarkably like Bramblebridge, with the same broad chest, jowly cheeks, and even the same orange mustache.
Madrila uttered another spell, and a collar appeared on the bulldog, then a chain that bound him to the wall. The dog kept barking wildly, but could not free himself.
"Ooh, puppy!" Willow whispered, then saw Madrila glare and looked away. "Evil puppy?"
Leaving the bulldog and grunters in the craggy hall, Madrila walked upstairs into the tower. The staircase spiralled and finally reached a round chamber. Madrila stepped inside and found a bed, table, and shelves.
"Bramblebridge lived here," she said. "Willow! Go find fresh sheets for the bed, fetch a broom, and bring me some supper."
Willow gazed at the large bed; it was a good seven feet wide, large enough for several people.
"Do I sleep here too?" she asked.
Madrila laughed. "But you loved the bulldog so much, didn't you? I think, Willow, you would be much happier sleeping in the kennels." She pointed out the window at the kennels below; barking rose from them.
Willow sighed and left the room, head low. Madrila stood by the window and looked over the town. Houses still smoldered. Bodies were still being buried. The Bullies were nowhere in sight. Madrila took a deep breath, nodded, and smiled.
Run, Bullies,
she thought.
Hide and suffer. I will find you... and you will die.
* * * * *
"I'm hungreeee," Scruff said and rubbed his belly.
"I'm booooored," Romy whined and stamped her feet.
"I'm pissed off!" Jamie shouted and swung her sword.
"I am da vewy m-m-modew of a modewn m-m-majow—" Cobweb said, blew out her breath, and gave up. "Tongue twistews awe hawd!"
Neev clutched his aching head and groaned. "You guys are driving me crazy. Enough! Quiet! I'm trying to think, and I can't with this racket."
Nobody seemed to hear him. Scruff's stomach grumbled as loud as a thunderstorm. Romy whined, pouted, and kept trying to tug Neev's monkey tail (a remnant of his last spell). Cobweb was practicing her tongue twisters ("P-p-petew peppew p-p-picked a peppew... see, Scwuff, I'm getting bettew!"). Jamie was grumbling and swinging her sword, cursing Madrila and vowing to slice her into ribbons. The only quiet ones were the three elflings; they huddled by a tree, watching the Bullies with wide eyes.
Neev paced the forest floor. Trees rustled around him, their leaves falling, their branches holding squirrels and robins. His body still ached from Madrila's lightning; his skin sported bruises and blisters.
"What do we do now?" he asked himself. "Madrila has hundreds of grunters. She probably rules in Fort Rosethorn now, protected behind stone walls. How do we defeat her?"
Scruff had begun to nibble a leaf, but wrinkled his face and spat it out. "Blech! Horrible stuff." He sighed. "Look, Neev. Why do we have to deal with everything? Let the king take care of Madrila. That's why we have a king, no? To bring order and justice to the land?"
Neev snorted. "That king of yours has been on the Crusades for the past decade. Why do you think monsters, warlocks, and witches crawl over the realm? No, Scruff, we'd find no help there."
Jamie swung her sword, chopping imaginary monsters. "The elflings gave us some help. Rowyn, Ellywyn, and Noelyn are brave warriors, but they're not an army. We need an army now."
Romy piped up. "Hell has an army."
Neev glared at her. "Not now, Romy! And let go of my tail."
She pouted, crossed her arms, and plopped herself down under a tree.
"Can't you ask your wizard friends for help?" Scruff said. "Go to the Coven. Find us a wizard army."
Neev sighed. "There are powerful wizards there, but they're mostly old, ancient professors. They take no part in wars. They care only for knowledge and magic." He shook his head. "We'd find no help there, for all the Coven's power."
Romy jumped up and began to hop. "Hell is powerful!"
"Romy, please, be quiet!" Neev said. "Go find some acorns to play with."
She blew him a raspberry and turned away.
Neev turned to Cobweb. The spiderling stared back, eyes solemn. Her purple skin, gossamer dress, and silvery hair glowed.
"Cobweb," Neev said, "would we find help among the spiderlings? Your people are great archers and powerful warriors; would they fight against Madrila?"
Cobweb lowered her head. A tear streamed down her cheek. "D-d-dey hate witches, but... dey banished me, Neev. Dey b-b-banished me because I can't t-t-tawk so g-g-good. Dey towd me I can nevew come b-b-back." She sniffed. Scruff embraced her and glared at Neev.
"The tribe elders banished you," Neev persisted, ignoring Scruff's venomous stare. "But do you still have friends there? Fellow spiderlings who'll fight with us?"
Her eyes lit up. "Yes! I... I miss my fwiends der. B-b-but I'm scawed to go back. What if da ewdews attack me?"
Scruff tightened his arms around her. "What if I went with you?" he said softly. "They'd think me a giant! Nobody will mess with you when I'm around, Cobweb." He kissed her.
"Nobody messes with demons!" Romy said hopefully, but fled when Neev glared and pointed at her.
Cobweb sniffed, hugged Scruff tight, and nodded. "Okay, Scwuff. We'ww go der togetew. We'ww sneak in, witout da ewdews seeing, and see if m-m-my fwiends can hewp." She blew out her breath and wiped her brow, struggling with the words. "Even if onwy t-t-two or twee spidewwings hewp, it's b-b-bettew den nuting, wight?"
For the first time, one of the elflings spoke. The wizard Rowyn stood up. He brushed his woodland clothes, cleared his throat, and said in a soft and clear voice: "And we can summon Grumbledook the dragon."
Jamie's eyes widened. "You have a dragon?"
Rowyn sighed. "He's not an impressive dragon—at least not as far as dragons go. Don't tell him I said that. He's very old and very cranky. His wings have a few holes in them, and his teeth aren't as sharp as they used to be. Ask him to blow fire, and he's like to cough up some smoke. But a dragon is still a dragon, and even Grumbledook still has some fight in him."
Ellywyn raised her dagger and spoke too. "And he doesn't always help when we ask him. Most often, he'll grumble and sometimes try to roast you. We haven't spoken to him in years; they say that the last elflings to visit him now lie as charred bones in his lair."
Noelyn, the elfling archer, added, "But if you feed him treats, he will sometimes serve you. Sometimes. That's what my dear old Uncle Loryn used to say, may he rest in peace."
"One of those elflings who lies as charred bones," Rowyn whispered. The Bullies nodded sympathetically.
Neev considered. Flying a dragon to war sounded impressive indeed. Even Madrila would not expect that. A dragon could bear them to the top of Fort Rosethorn and blow fire—or at least smoke—upon their enemies. Yet did he dare send these elflings to summon the beast?
"I'll go with you," Jamie said. She nodded, eyes determined, and held her sword high. "A dragon! A real dragon to ride. We'll tame him, dear elflings. And if he tries to burn us, he'll meet my blade."
Neev approached his little sister. Jamie, only fifteen years old and so small, looked up at him with blazing eyes. Her lips were scrunched and freckles covered her nose. Sometimes Neev forgot how young she was. He held her shoulders.
"Are you sure, sister? Dragons are nothing to trifle with."
She nodded. "I'm sure. I'm a warrior, Neev. A warrior like Father. I faced Dry Bones. I can face a dragon. Imagine us riding Grumbledook to battle!" Her eyes shone.
"Demons can fly too," Romy said. "Demons are tougher than spiderlings, tougher than dragons, tougher than witches." As if to demonstrate, she roared and stabbed the air with her pitchfork.
Neev sighed. "Romy, what are you on about?"
She approached him, grabbed him, and stared into his eyes. "Neev, my dear, you and I are going to Hell."
"No thank you."
She snorted. "Oh, don't be a scaredy cat, Neev. You're a warlock! Warlocks love demons, and fire, and Hell, and all those things."
Neev glared at her. "Romy,
because
I am a warlock, I know how dangerous Hell is. Demons are not to be trifled with either."
"Oh, but I am?" she said. "You trifle with me all the time. At least, I think you do. I'm not sure what trifle means, but I think it has something to do with socks. In any case, you're coming with me. I want you to see my home! Oh, we'll have so much fun there, with the lava, and the fire, and the—"
"Romy, this is no time for a vacation!" Neev said.
"But I want to go on vacation." She pouted.
Cobweb approached them. Gently, she touched Neev's arm and said, "Neev, I... I tink Womy wants to b-b-bwing some demon fwiends to fight wit us."
Romy's eyes widened. She gasped. "That's a perfect idea, Cobweb! I mean...." She cleared her throat. "I mean, that's
exactly
where I was going. Yes. Summon demon friends to help. Of course—that's what I mean. What do you think, Neev?"
He scrunched his lips. In truth, he was curious. As a warlock, a wielder of dark magic, he had spent countless hours studying Hell, gazing into its pits, even summoning Romy from its depths. But to actually visit Hell.... Only the greatest warlocks did that. It was a feat of legend. He
was
a little afraid, but if he wanted to become a great warlock, how could he turn this down? He imagined leading a host of fiery demons to war; he could almost feel their heat.
"Very well," he said. He clutched his hands behind his back to hide their tremble. "We'll go to Hell, Romy. You and me. We'll bring your friends here to fight with us."