Adventure (Dragons & Magic Book 2) Read online

  Adventure

  Dragons & Magic Book 2

  Higgins & Cantan

  Adventure is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the authors’ imaginations or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  Published November 2016.

  Copyright ©2016 Simon Cantan & Dave Higgins.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book shall be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval system without permission of the publisher. The moral right of the contributors to be identified as the authors of their work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs, and Patents Act 1988.

  Cover by MickeyMik (99designs.co.uk/profiles/mickeyart).

  Published by Dave Higgins, Bristol.

  Contents

  Chapter 1 - Lucky

  Chapter 2 - The Dragon Emerges

  Chapter 3 - Enter the Dungeon

  Chapter 4 - Progress

  Chapter 5 - Pettigrew

  Chapter 6 - Hidden

  Chapter 7 - Matrimony

  Chapter 8 - In the Dark

  Chapter 9 - Camp

  Chapter 10 - The Question

  Chapter 11 - Hermit

  Chapter 12 - Mumbo

  Chapter 13 - The Green Heart

  Chapter 14 - Back into the Dark

  Chapter 15 - Repeat

  Chapter 16 - Flowers

  Chapter 17 - Rest

  Chapter 18 - Riddles

  Chapter 19 - More Mumbo

  Chapter 20 - Beat the Green Heart

  Chapter 21 - Faceless

  Chapter 22 - On a Bed of Feathers

  Chapter 23 - The Witch

  Chapter 24 - Oh, Goblins!

  Chapter 25 - A Bit Tied Up

  Chapter 26 - The Economics of Success

  Simon’s Afterword

  Dave’s Afterword

  About Simon Cantan

  About Dave Higgins

  Chapter 1

  Lucky

  Edmond leaned on his stall and stared longingly at Melinda. Humph’s World of Used Goods, where he worked, faced Madam Bellisandra’s Potions for Every Occasion. If it hadn’t, Edmond would have changed jobs to look at Melinda. She was perfect, from her golden hair to her tiny feet, and he loved her. Every second of every day, he imagined walking over and telling her how he felt; hearing her say she felt the same way.

  She noticed him watching her and stared back, so he glanced off at a pile of mud. When he looked again, she was coming toward him.

  He ran through all the excuses he could have for staring, then cursed his parents when he couldn’t come up with any.

  She stopped in front of his stall. “Edmond.”

  “Yeah.” He did his best to meet her gaze; it was like looking directly at the sun.

  “Can you help me? Madam Bellisandra went out looking for eye of newt. I’m meant to lift the cauldron off the fire, but it’s too heavy. I need a strong man to do it for me.”

  “Okay,” he said. “You want me to find one?”

  “No, silly, I meant you.”

  He looked over his shoulder, then realised Melinda was already walking back to her own stall. He scurried after her.

  She paused at the entrance to Madam Bellisandra’s and smiled back at him, making him feel warm and tingly inside. “It’s in there.”

  He nodded and went inside. A cauldron was bubbled over a fire against one wall. All around, shelves held an endless supply of potions, which glowed all the colours of the rainbow and some other colours besides.

  Moving to the cauldron, he picked up a cloth from beside the fire and wrapped it around the handle. The contents bubbled and roiled, things bobbing to the surface that he did his best not to recognise. He bent his knees and tried to lift it.

  It rose the breadth of a hair before settling back with a clunk. He turned and saw Melinda watching him, her eyes crinkled in encouragement.

  He couldn’t let her down. He was going to be her hero and move the cauldron. He just needed to believe in himself. That’s what the heroes in his books always did right before they succeeded. With a grunt, he heaved at the handle of the cauldron.

  It didn’t move. It weighed more than he did. He closed his eyes and pulled with all his might. It just needed willpower. If only he had some.

  Then, all at once, the cauldron lifted off the fire with ease. It pivoted and then dropped to the ground beside him.

  Edmond opened his eyes and looked up at a lunk of a barbarian grinning down at him.

  “You’re welcome,” the barbarian said.

  Edmond let go of the handle. He blushed and couldn’t meet Melinda’s eyes as he hurried past her out of the store.

  He only risked a glance back when he got to the safety of his stall. She was back at her own booth, talking and giggling with the barbarian.

  Edmond couldn’t help replaying it in his head. His Strength points were too low to have helped, his Intelligence too low to have thought of another approach. His parents had chosen to put all his points into Luck at birth, leaving him unable to help his damsel whenever she was in distress.

  There had to be a way to impress Melinda and get her to love him back, but he didn’t know what it was. It probably didn’t involve winning coin flips, though.

  The barbarian broke away from Melinda’s stall, putting potions into his belt pouch, and headed for Edmond.

  Edmond looked the other way when the barbarian stopped in front of his stall.

  “Edmond, customer!” Mr Winchow’s shout snapped him back to reality. He couldn’t just ignore the man, no matter how much he might want to.

  “Found goblins in the forest,” the barbarian said. “I hadn’t even reached the dungeon yet.”

  “Put it all on the counter.”

  The man pulled off his backpack and dumped miscellaneous metal trash out.

  It was low-level stuff: a bronze axe, well used; some goblin armour with ichor still clinging to it; half a dozen torches. “Three silver pieces.”

  The man loomed over Edmond, brows casting the stall further into shadow. “Three? It’s worth at least ten.”

  Edmond stared back at the man for a moment. He was too sore to give the barbarian a deal. “Two pieces. We’re the only place in town that buys this stuff.”

  The man held his hand out. “Fine, but you’re robbing me.”

  Edmond shook the man’s hand, trying not to scream as his finger-bones ground together. They were robbing the man. They robbed everyone who came through the town. Every warrior and wizard that dumped a heap of junk on his stall got the same deal: pathetic prices and mediocre service. Edmond bent his knees, gathered the junk into his arms, and carried it inside.

  Tables and shelves filled the shop, all holding teetering piles of miscellaneous garbage. Most of it did little more than gather dust, but somehow Mr Winchow sold enough to keep the shop open.

  Mr Winchow at a desk near the back with his feet up. Sitting in shadows that made his frown all the more severe, his bald head still managed to shine through the dark. He was one of the oldest people in the village, and age hadn’t mellowed him.

  He pointed at the giant hourglass sitting on his desk. He never went anywhere without it, or missed an opportunity to point at it; it was his way of reminding Edmond he was on Mr Winchow’s time while he worked there. “The corner.”

  Edmond took the heap over to the only corner not filled with junk and set it down.

  “Now, search it.”

  With a sigh, Edmond pi
cked through the pile. Sure enough, he found a hidden pocket in the armour containing five silver pieces. That was one of the reasons Mr Winchow had hired him: Edmond’s luck was so high that they rarely had to open the cash chest to pay customers.

  At least Mr Winchow didn’t scream at him for not being even luckier – unlike his parents had.

  “Wake up!” Mr Winchow shouted.

  Edmond shook off the memories of his childhood and slouched back out to the waiting barbarian. After handing over two of the five silver, he pocketed the rest to pay the next adventurer to pass by.

  “Thanks.” The barbarian stomped down the road.

  Melinda’s eyes sparkled as she watched him go, gaze caressing his muscles. Edmond basked in the overspill of her Charisma. The barbarian was a strong man to resist her charms. She tried to persuade every adventurer to stay out of the dungeon, remain in the village with her, but they all went. It seemed they loved dungeons and dragons more than beautiful women. Edmond knew which choice he’d make though.

  Blue light seared across Edmond’s vision, interrupting his mooning. When the glare faded, a thin man dressed in leather and knife belts stood before the stall, his loot in a sack on his back. Edmond haggled over the rogue’s haul of rusty daggers and old leather armour without taking his eyes off Melinda.

  After giving the rogue a scandalously bad deal, Edmond devoted his attention to re-cataloguing Melinda’s perfect freckles.

  “Hi, Edmond.”

  “Hello, Daffodil.” Somehow, Daffodil had reached the stall without him noticing.

  She grinned at him from under a mop of blonde hair, her blue eyes sparkling. She was only fourteen, but—like the barbarian—had muscles that scared heavy objects without trying. Her father had been drunk when the mid-wizard had asked how they should allocate her points. Thinking she was a boy, her father’d put everything into Strength and Dexterity. She didn’t seem to mind, though. And as best friends went, someone who doubled as a portable wall was always good for getting out of trouble; admittedly trouble she got him into in the first place.

  The stall creaked as Daffodil leant toward him. “Whatcha doing?”

  “The same as every other day. Buying junk.”

  “Wanna come fight wights with me?”

  “Nope.”

  “Want me to bring you back a trophy?”

  “Nope.”

  “All right.” She tilted her head “Maybe I’ll just stay here with you, then.”

  Edmond watched the barbarian walk back down the road, as if searching for something.

  “That lunk will be heading to Strongarm’s Smithy.”

  “He can wait. Strongarm can’t fire me. There’s no-one else in the village strong enough to be his apprentice.”

  That was true. Most of the farmers had their points in Constitution—the ones that hadn’t fled from the dragon. Strength was a secondary concern.

  “You can’t stand there mooning over your true love all afternoon.” The way Daffodil said ‘true love’ sounded like a curse.

  He glanced at her, heat creeping up his neck. “What?”

  She straightened and tapped him on the shoulder, sending him stumbling. “You’re lucky in most things, but you’ll never get lucky there.”

  “Daffodil!”

  “What? What did I say? Something rude?”

  “Never mind.” It was only her lack of Charisma and his lack of Wisdom again.

  Fink and Peter, the town’s official bullies, sauntered by. Pointing at Edmond and Daffodil, they nudged one another. Fink made a gesture like someone planting swedes.

  “Just ignore them,” Daffodil said.

  “It’s hard to ignore them when they pin me down and shove mud in my mouth.” Even though both boys were three years younger than Edmond, they were far stronger. Which wasn’t surprising; his Strength was almost the lowest possible.

  “What do you think of that hulk?” Daffodil pointed at the huge warrior, who was still wandering aimlessly.

  “Last time we’ll see him,” Edmond said. “He’s got Strength, but the first puzzle will flummox him.”

  “Flummox the lummox.” Daffodil chortled.

  “Be careful he doesn’t hear you.”

  Fink and Peter sprinted back the other way, hurling eggs as they passed.

  One egg bounced off Edmond’s chest and dropped into his hand. After checking it for cracks, he put it under the counter for later.

  “I’ll kill them.” Daffodil’s neck bulged, diverting the river of egg that trickled down her face. Chin cleaving the air, she powered after Fink and Peter as they disappeared around a corner.

  Edmond moved around the counter and jogged after her, but had to stop at the corner to catch his breath. By the time he had, he couldn’t even hear the others.

  Chapter 2

  The Dragon Emerges

  Edmond snapped awake as a roar cleft the air, his head filled with fears of the barn around him collapsing. For a moment, he thought it had been a dream, but the panicked eyes of Daisy the cow beside him told him otherwise. His pile of straw shook as another deep roar, the kind huge monsters with no natural predators make, thundered around him. “The dragon’s back!?”

  Daisy lowed, her brown eyes wide with fear.

  Running to the doors of the barn, he stared out. The moon smiled down from a clear sky. Why wouldn’t it? It was far enough away that rampaging dragons weren’t a threat. Not to mention it was made of turnip. So, assuming Mr Winchow was right about dragons not eating turnips, it would be fine even if it were closer.

  A few candles appeared in windows around him, as people came to see what the noise was.

  As the silence stretched with no sign of imminent flaming doom, Edmond wondered if the dragon was a long way off. Perhaps it had only emerged to watch the night sky. Mr Ashbane said it did that sometimes. Edmond sidled along the street, looking for smoke or something brighter than candle flames. Nothing.

  He turned a corner and froze.

  Instead of a rutted track, the space ahead contained a stubby tail with razor-sharp talon on one end and a dragon on the other. The beast was a storey high and as long as the barn. Its squat claws dug into the dirt, each one as long as a barbarian’s forearm.

  Edmond held his breath as he retreated around the corner before peeking back.

  The dragon shuffled around, nostrils flaring. It was hunting for food, and—if he didn’t run—it would find him.

  He studied it from his hiding spot. It had six legs, all armoured with the same shiny scales as its body. Vicious teeth jutted from a head with giant horns curling above it. Wings trembled in the night air, flaring with the breeze.

  Edmond stumbled backward, then fled. His adrenaline gave out by his barn, leaving him half-collapsed behind a corner. The dragon bunker was down the street, too far to reach before the beast caught him.

  As he watched, the dragon lumbered into the road. Its diamond-shaped eyes flickered left and right, seeking a midnight snack. One ear twitched toward the barn.

  Edmond stuck his fist in his mouth. It didn’t stop his teeth from chattering, but it muffled the sound.

  The dragon raised its snout and jetted fire into the night sky. Lowering its head, it sent a second jet into Humph’s World of Used Goods. A breath later, flames wreathed the entire store. Edmond hoped Mr Winchow had made it to the bunker in time.

  The dragon advanced, the ground trembling with each step. Then it stopped, its eyes fixed on something further up the street. Sneaking forward a pace, Edmond noticed two figures at the end of the street. One was unmistakable—even in the dark—as the barbarian, now clutching a gigantic sword in his right hand. His left arm shielded a willowy figure with perfect elbows.

  Edmond’s heart hammered as he realised it was Melinda. He wasn’t sure why the two of them were together in the middle of the night, but it didn’t matter right now. He willed Melinda to break and run. The barbarian wouldn’t last more than a second against the dragon, but his heroic death by eating might
distract the monster long enough for her to get away.

  The dragon lumbered into a trot. Edmond clamped his hands over his ears as it gave a barn-shaking roar. Torn between gazing at Melinda and not watching her death, he covered one eye.

  With a snap of its jaws, the dragon swallowed the barbarian whole. Flicking its head, it spat the sword through the front of Mr Ashbane’s house.

  Melinda didn’t even move, seeming to be frozen in fear.

  Edmond couldn’t watch her die at the talons of the same dragon that had killed his parents. He had to do something. He dashed from his hiding spot and along the shadows of the buildings, his eyes on Melinda and the dragon.

  The beast stalked forward, picking out each spot to place its feet. It must be playing with her. It could out-pace her, kill her in moments, but it was letting her think she had a chance. Melinda still hadn’t even moved. Edmond thought she might even be holding her breath.

  The dragon inched toward her, then rose on its hind legs and grabbed her with its front right foot. Its talons closed around her, but she wasn’t dead yet. Edmond heard her mumbling as the dragon clutched her to it.

  Ten paces away, and moving faster than he ever had, he realised he had no idea what to do.

  The dragon sniffed the air.

  His lack of Willpower overcoming the bonus for the circumstances, Edmond skidded to a stop, heart thundering in his ears and legs aching. It had smelled him. The same Goodman scent that had led the dragon to the village. Image after image of the dragon pursuing him across the land filled his mind. He couldn’t stop himself from bolting in the opposite direction.

  The ground beneath him remained level and his back remained clammy with sweat. Diving around the corner of a house, he risked a glance back. The dragon was lumbering away, Melinda still clutched in its claws.

  He tried to stagger back around the corner, but his legs wouldn’t work. Knees folding, he watched his one true love carried off by a dragon.

  The flames from Mr Winchow’s shop flickered and danced over the muddy road, forcing him to watch the dragon’s leisurely departure for longer. He wasn’t sure how long it was before the rest of the villagers emerged again. Long enough that the blaze in Mr Winchow’s shop was well established. No amount of standing around pointing out the problem and sucking air through their teeth would put it out now.