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  To the silent but deadly Connie Hsu

  The Wisdom of a monk

  The Strength of a warrior

  The Intelligence of a mage

  This quest would never have started without you

  And

  To Steve, Susi, Damian, Jake, and Steph

  Mighty Heroes All

  CHAPTER ONE

  My name is Fart.

  Of course, that’s not my real name.

  My real name is Bartok. Someday I plan on going by “BARTOK THE BRILLIANT”!

  Only try telling that to my master.

  “Fart! Take my spellbook! Hurry up and be quick about it!”

  That’s Elmore the Impressive. He’s a mage. A wizard. A sorcerer. A warlock.

  Don’t know what a mage is?

  This is a mage.

  Mages do impressive deeds of daring. Cast powerful spells. Slay dragons. Rescue helpless villagers. That sort of thing.

  I am not a mage. I’m just a Level 1 apprentice mage.

  Someday, though, I’ll be the most powerful mage you’ve ever seen. I’ll do heroic deeds that will knock your socks off! The more heroic deeds I do, the more experience points I earn!! The more experience points I earn, the higher level I’ll become!!! THEN YOU’LL SEE SOME IMPRESSIVE DEEDS OF DARING … OH BOY, LET ME TELL YOU WHAT!!!!

  But for now … I do not do impressive deeds of daring. I do unimpressive deeds of drudgery. I carry my master’s impressive spellbook. I iron my master’s impressive robes. I wash my master’s impressive dishes.

  There was a time when Elmore the Impressive used to call me Bartok. Not Fart. But that all changed on my spell-picking day, the day a young mage picks his first spell and can actually use magic. It’s kind of a big deal.

  On my spell-picking day, Master Elmore opened his enormous spellbook to page one. “Today is your spell-picking day, boy! You can tell much about the mage an apprentice will become by the first spell they choose.”

  He held the book out to me. “Look carefully. Consider well. And then choose any first-level spell on the page.”

  I looked carefully. I considered well.

  I could have chosen Magic Missile, which makes a blazing arrow shoot from your fingertips. Super cool.

  I could have chosen Frozen Cone, a fun incantation that sends a deadly freezing beam flying from your fist.

  I could have chosen Blinding Sparkle. That’s a fantastic bit of wizardry that shoots colorful bedazzling lights into the eyes of monsters. Wicked creatures everywhere pee their pants in fear of the Blinding Sparkle.

  Nope. I chose Gas Attack.

  Gas Attack allows you to turn anybody, even yourself, into a smelly gas cloud.

  The downside with Gas Attack is that you must be touching your victim. This can be slightly tricky when a black dragon is breathing scalding acid all over you and your closest friends. But with that little drawback aside, Gas Attack can occasionally be a fairly handy spell.

  But let’s be honest. I didn’t choose Gas Attack because it’s handy.

  “Gas Attack?” said Master Elmore. “Hmmm. That’s not what I would have suggested. Speak up, boy! Why have you chosen this spell?”

  “Well,” I said. “You can turn your enemy into a smelly gas cloud.”

  “That’s right,” said Elmore the Impressive.

  “Basically … a fart.”

  “I … suppose,” said Elmore the Impressive.

  “Come on!” I proclaimed. “That’s hilarious!” And I giggled so hard I almost wet myself.

  Elmore the Impressive did not find this impressive.

  I’ve been Fart ever since.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I keep reminding Master Elmore that my name is Bartok. Like right now. We’re hiding behind a boulder, peeking out at a yawning cave mouth. We can just see two scruffy goblins guarding the entrance.

  “Fart!” Master Elmore hisses. “I said take my spellbook! Quit dillydallying! I have goblins to fight!”

  “Sure, Master,” I say. “I got your spellbook. Not a problem. And my name is Bartok, remember?”

  “What does it matter?” Master Elmore whispers. “You’re a useless little assistant!”

  I’m not gonna lie, that stings. Right in the feels. “I’m not useless,” I mutter.

  Master Elmore rolls his eyes. “Oh, my mistake! Perhaps you could flick a booger at the goblins! What a useful contribution that would make to our little group!” Elmore the Impressive can also be Elmore the Super-Sarcastic when he wants to be. “Now SHHH!” he hisses.

  “No respect,” I grumble.

  “It’s your own fault,” mumbles Pan, polishing her bo staff.

  That’s Pan Silversnow. An apprentice like me. But an apprentice monk, not an apprentice mage. What’s a monk, you ask? Good question. I’m not 100 percent sure. I think it means she fights monsters with only a stick, her fists, and a very serious expression on her face.

  Pan looks up from polishing her staff. “How can you expect your master to take you seriously? The first spell you chose was Gas Attack.”

  I giggle. It’s an involuntary reaction. Like breathing. I basically have no choice.

  “It’s a funny spell!” I say. I poke Moxie in the arm. “Am I right?”

  Moxie gives me a playful nudge back. And by “playful nudge” I mean she sends me flying nostrils-first into the dirt. She turns to Pan. “You gotta admit, it’s a funny spell.”

  Pan shrugs. “Well, now he’s a funny boy with a funny spell and a funny name.”

  “I said SHHH!” growls Elmore the Impressive.

  I turn my attention back to the business at hand. And by “business” I mean the goblin-slaying, adventure-seeking, treasure-collecting business.

  Rumor has it this cave is home to a rampaging pack of about three dozen goblins.

  Which is one metric buttload of goblins. Obviously.

  That’s where me, Pan, Moxie, and our masters—Elmore, Redmane, and Oonah—come in. Our quest? Charge in. Take ’em out. Emerge triumphant.

  For the past three months, we’ve been in the wild with our masters. We’ve taken notes while they slayed a cockatrice and thwarted a roving band of bugbears. We’ve obeyed. We’ve trained. We’ve studied.

  But we never get to fight.

  Which stinks like poo. Obviously.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “You three will hide behind this big boulder,” says Master Redmane.

  “They’re just goblins, Master!” hisses Moxie, yanking a big book from her backpack. Buzzlock’s Big Book of Beasts. Moxie is never without it. Even back at school, she was the only warrior I ever saw lugging a book around with her everywhere.

  “No back talk, ya little guttersnipes!” Master Redmane growls. “A goblin arrow can kill ya just as quick as a dragon!”

  Moxie flips to the page on goblins. “Buzzlock’s Big Book of Beasts says goblins are sup
er easy!”

  “You three aren’t ready to battle goblins!” snarls Master Elmore. “You’re still inexperienced little nobodies!”

  Master Oonah holds up her hand. “Take care from a safe distance and that safe distance will take care of you.”

  An obedient nod from Pan. Blank stares from me and Moxie. Master Oonah gets a lot of blank stares.

  “She means stay here and watch,” explains Master Elmore.

  “Articulate your observations,” says Master Oonah. “Then your observations will be articulate.”

  “She means we’ll quiz you afterward,” explains Master Redmane. “If ya answer well, maybe we’ll let ya fight in the next battle.”

  “That’s what you said before the last battle,” Moxie groans. “It’s been three months! When are we going to get to fight?”

  But the masters are already gone.

  There they are, scuttling like sneaky spiders toward the cave. Creeping. Inching. Almost there. And then, Master Redmane’s war hammer clanks against the rocks.

  SPOTTED!

  The first goblin snarls. But it turns into a whimper as he gets a flaming dart to the face, courtesy of Master Elmore.

  The second goblin grabs a rusty chain that hangs near the entrance. But Master Redmane’s enormous hammer flies through the air.

  KLONK!

  The goblin hits the ground. Pulling with him … the chain.

  The three masters spread out as goblins stream from the cave like ants pouring from an anthill. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.

  “Crud on a cracker,” I mutter.

  “That’s not helpful, Fart,” Pan scolds me. “Articulate your observations.”

  “I observe that there are a ton more goblins than we thought,” I say.

  “I’m going to help them!” Moxie lunges from our hiding spot.

  But Pan places a calming hand on her shoulder. “No,” she says. “We were told to wait here.”

  Moxie grips the handle of her sword anxiously. But she stays put.

  The fight is in full swing. Master Elmore and Master Redmane are doing some nice goblin zapping and hammer whacking. But Master Oonah is moving like a mini tornado. Goblins drop right and left before her lightning-fast fists of fury.

  And then I spot her.

  “Crud on a cracker,” I mutter.

  “Fart,” says Pan sternly. “Articulate your observations.”

  “Sorry,” I say, breathing deeply. “I observe that the goblin in the black robe is a mage.”

  “Jiminy-Pippity!” screeches the black-robed goblin. The air around her sparks with red electricity. Her wand starts to glow red. Cracks form along the length of it.

  “Stupid goblin,” I say. “Something’s gone wrong with her spell.”

  She shakes the wand. Smacks the wand. Whacks the wand against a rock. And that’s when—

  KA-BLAMMO!

  We hit the dirt as an explosion of magical energy fills the air.

  Slowly, one by one, Moxie, Pan, and I peek out.

  The goblins have been zapped into nothingness! Only their armor and weapons are left.

  Yes!

  But that’s not all. The cave entrance has been blown to bits.

  And Master Elmore, Master Redmane, and Master Oonah. They’re gone.

  Vaporized.

  Obliterated.

  Disintegrated.

  “Cr … cr … cr…” Pan stutters.

  “Articulate your observations,” I hear myself whisper.

  “Crud on a cracker,” says Pan.

  For once, I agree with the elf.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I still remember the first day of school. Headmistress Verbina gathered us all on the Cliffs of Krakentop.

  “Welcome to your first day at Krakentop Academy for Heroes,” she said. “You are here because you all have the potential to become great heroes.”

  She said all the usual stuff. Obey your masters. Play nice with the other kids. Blah-blah-blah. But then she explained wilderness training. “At the end of five years of apprenticeship and study, you and your master will be grouped for Hero Wilderness Training. For one year, your group will journey through the wilds of the Fourteen Realms, righting wrongs, doing daring deeds, and vanquishing evil. Only by completing this year in the wilds … and surviving … will you graduate from Krakentop and become true heroes.”

  And so here we are. Three months into our hero wilderness training. We haven’t gotten to do much. But it’s better than school.

  And now … our masters are dead. I can’t believe it.

  We creep out of hiding. There’s char and soot everywhere.

  “Master Oonah is gone,” Pan says, and whispers a chant to the elements.

  Moxie mutters a dwarvish prayer of mourning. “Kreorx kaan kladaah.” Tears stream from her eyes.

  I stare, stunned, at the dark crystal gleaming from the end of Master Elmore’s staff. My master is gone. I feel an unexpected tear running down my cheek. All he ever did was call me names, smack me on the ear, and make me trim his toenails. But he was my teacher.

  Time passes. Still we stare. Finally, I grit my teeth, bend down, and pick up my master’s staff. The crystal pulses purple in response to my touch. Then it fades to darkness.

  I clear my throat. “At least the goblins are dead too.”

  “What are we supposed to do now?” cries Moxie.

  Pan lets out a slow breath and shoulders her pack. She grips her bo staff. “If we start now, we can still make some progress before nightfall.” She starts walking.

  “Where are we going?” asks Moxie.

  “Back to Krakentop,” says Pan.

  “You want to go back to school?” I cry. Yikes. I feel a shiver go down my spine.

  I didn’t always study magic with Master Elmore. I used to be a farmer’s kid. But let’s be honest, I wasn’t exactly built for farmwork.

  My dad’s farmworkers used to call me Porkchop instead of Bartok. I was very average at farming. And you know what average gets you in this world? Thrown away. Like garbage.

  I think my parents realized that if I were left to take over the farm, we’d probably all starve. So my dad took me to the gates of Krakentop Academy for Heroes. And left me.

  Maybe they thought they were doing a good thing. After all, Krakentop Academy is where nobodies go to become somebodies.

  Some students had prepared for entry into Krakentop Academy since birth, like Pan. Most were orphans, like Moxie. Nobody else had been given away by their parents. Just me.

  Would-be warriors like Moxie trained at the Krakentop Battle School, one of the specialized schools within the academy. That wasn’t for me.

  Apprentice monks like Pan studied meditation and martial arts at the Krakentop Monastery. No good either.

  I thought Krakentop was going to throw me out like my parents did. But Master Elmore took a chance on me. “I guess I shall take the round one,” he said, pointing at me.

  I couldn’t believe it. I was going to become a powerful and mysterious hero! No muscles required!

  So I began my studies at the Krakentop High Sanctum of Sorcery.

  Guess what I found out—most mages are tall, skinny, and serious. And none of those stick-insect apprentices thought a chubby, short, goofy kid had any business becoming a mage.

  The other students were no better. Monks always ate lunch together, looking down their noses at everyone else. Warriors and paladins were even worse. They’d trip you in the hall. Or they sat at the jock table and shot spit wads at the clerics and mages.

  Moxie was different … She at least nodded when we passed in the halls. Even so, I don’t think Pan and Moxie ever said three words to me before we got grouped together for Hero Wilderness Training.

  Turns out you can be surrounded by kids your own age and still be totally alone.

  For five years, I trained with Master Elmore. I got mostly C-pluses. Guess what a C-plus is?

  You got it. Average.

  When we left Krakentop
Academy for our year of Hero Wilderness Training, I swore to never return. I decided that Bartok the Brilliant would become the most heroic above-average mage who ever lived.

  And now Pan wants to go back? Forget it.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Go back to Krakentop?” I exclaim.

  Pan sighs deeply. “Isn’t it obvious? We need new masters. We need to complete our training.”

  The thought of stumbling back to Krakentop as a total loser hits me hard. A failure. The thought of those other skinny apprentices laughing at my non-triumphant return.

  No way.

  A new thought hits me. “What if we didn’t go back to Krakentop?” I suggest. “What if we just did this hero thing on our own?”

  “That’s ridiculous.” Pan doesn’t even stop walking.

  “Okay,” I say. I put on my most super-serious voice. “I just surmised that in your austere wisdom, you would discern the benefits of our current predicament.”

  This stops her. Big words? Businesslike tone? Calling her “wise” and “austere” and stuff? I’m speaking her language.

  “Benefits?” She turns back. “Explain, Fart.”

  I groan. “Now that Master Elmore is gone, can we please call me Bartok instead of Fart?”

  Moxie grimaces. “Gee, Fart. I’m not sure I can get used to that.”

  Pan raises an eyebrow. “Benefits. Explain.”

  “Freedom!” I cry, waving my arms in excitement. “We can become the heroes we were always meant to be! No more grades. Nobody holding us back!”

  I turn to Moxie. “Do you really want to limp back to school with our tails between our legs? Back to sitting in class? Back to cafeteria food? Everyone will think we couldn’t hack it in the wild.”

  Pan clears her throat. “But the rules…”