Barf of the Bedazzler Page 4

“TickTock knows!” chirps the phibling. “Fart-boy can be using Gas Attack on it!”

  “Brilliant idea, TickTock.” Pan nods. “Great plan.”

  “How is that a great plan?” I hiss. “I’d have to be touching him. I’m a terrible climber! There’s no way I can get up there.”

  Bizzy nuzzles me nervously. I look at her, fluttering noiselessly beside me.

  Or can I?

  I have never ridden a giant bumblebee. I’m guessing you haven’t either. Allow me to be the first to tell you … it’s a wobbly ride.

  We’re twenty feet from SquishRabble. Ten feet. Five.

  All I have to do is reach out and touch the muck man, say the magic incantation, and POOF! He’ll be a harmless gas cloud.

  SNICK!

  And then his eyes pop open. He snorts, spots us, and snatches us right out of the air. Being in his mucky veggie fist is not how I envisioned touching him, but it’ll do. I open my mouth to say the words of my Gas Attack spell—

  And vines shoot from his hand, entwining my head. My throat. And my mouth.

  Crud on a cracker. I’m gagged. If I can’t spit words out of my word hole, I can’t do magic.

  SquishRabble leaps from the treetop, landing with a mighty squelch. He glares at my friends. And he lets out a silent roar from his many monstrous mouths.

  Pan crumples to the floor.

  “What’s wrong?” Moxie cries, eyeing the muck man.

  “TickTock is hearing nothing,” the phibling shouts. “But TickTock is seeing a giant muck-man fist coming our way!”

  Moxie, Pan, and TickTock scatter as the muck man beats the earth with his free fist.

  “It must be an elf thing!” Pan yells. She’s trying to grit through it. But it’s clear that her pain is excruciating. “I can’t stay. I’m sorry!” Hands over ears, she dashes into the mist.

  Moxie and TickTock turn back to see me and Bizzy trapped in SquishRabble’s fist of fronds. Without hesitation they bravely charge to our rescue, swinging their weapons heroically.

  But it’s like trying to beat up a veggie stir-fry.

  SQUELCH! SQUISH! SQUASH!

  Small glowing puffballs leak from his body and float to the swampy ground. At first I think maybe he’s bleeding plant-man puffball blood. But then I realize.

  He’s releasing spores.

  Moxie swings. TickTock stabs.

  It does nothing but annoy the muck man. Which makes him squeeze Bizzy and me even harder.

  The tightening vines cut off my air. I’m starting to see stars. And I realize this is how things end for me.

  Squashed to death by a salad.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Things are going dark. It’s all over. I’m done for.

  And that’s when I see Peat Blossom. And Jethro. And Boondoggle. Flying.

  The muck elves seem caught up in an invisible tornado. They spiral through the air, sending a shower of arrows at me. No. At SquishRabble.

  THWICK! THWACK! THWUCK!

  Arrows squelch into SquishRabble’s face. Their furious barrage of arrows is definitely distracting him. He holds out his hands to shield his face and drops me and my bee. We crash to the ground with a squelch.

  As I gasp for breath, I spot Pan. She stands before the tree in full monk mode, spiraling her hands before her. She’s the one making the muck elves cyclone through the air! I had no idea she could propel actual people with nothing but wind power. She has grown more powerful than I realized.

  The muck elves fire. SquishRabble roars. But this dance can only go on so long. Peat Blossom and gang are going to run out of arrows any second. And then we’re in deep doo-doo.

  “Moxie,” cries Pan. “Get ready.”

  “Get ready for what?” Moxie yells over the sound of the muck man’s angry roars.

  “To do what you do,” Pan says.

  Pan flings her arms up, sending the muck elves shooting into the air. They effortlessly land on the upper branches of the tree.

  Pan concentrates hard and begins to make a slurping sound, like she’s sucking through a straw.

  SquishRabble shudders. A stream of water gushes from the muck man, flowing straight toward Pan.

  She’s sucking all the water out of SquishRabble. Leaving him an empty, dry husk.

  The muck man shambles toward Pan, eager to reach his precious water. Desperate to get back to his old, squishy self. But he doesn’t squelch when he walks now. He crunches. Like brittle branches.

  “Now, Moxie!” Pan cries through gritted teeth.

  When I open my eyes, SquishRabble is just a pile of kindling. And even a baby knows what to do with kindling.

  “Flimmity-flamesh,” I mutter, sending sparks to the nearest pile. They flare into flame.

  * * *

  SUPERHEROIC ACHIEVEMENT!

  Defeat a Muck Man!

  (275 Experience Points Awarded)

  * * *

  Pan wobbles, steadying herself against a mucky boulder. The elves drop nimbly to the ground.

  “You guys saved me and Bizzy,” I cry. Bizzy waggles her bumbly butt in agreement.

  “What?” says Peat Blossom.

  “Thank you!” I say. “You saved me.”

  “What?” Peat Blossom says again.

  Maybe Peat Blossom took a muck-man bonk to the head. Suddenly she draws her bow. At Pan.

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” says Moxie, holding up her hands.

  But Jethro and Boondoggle follow Peat Blossom’s lead. They all aim straight for Pan’s heart. And open fire.

  “The spores!” cries Moxie. “We forgot about the spores!”

  The arrows fly fast and true. Straight into the baby muck men that have risen from the sludge behind Pan. The teensy muck men crumble into tiny piles of leaves and vines. TickTock lights them up with a burning twig.

  Pan plucks something from her left ear. The muck elves do the same. “Now,” she says, “what were you guys blabbering about?”

  “That was some impressive wind power, Pan!” crows Moxie.

  “Not wind power,” says Pan. “I could never lift three elves with just the wind.”

  “So how did you create an elf-nado?” I ask.

  Pan smirks. “Peat Blossom’s idea. Remember? She said the muck covering them is just water and earth. I was able to manipulate all the muck on their bodies and send them soaring through the air.”

  “And you sucked water out of SquishRabble the same way!” TickTock says, grinning. “Good elf brain!”

  “But I’m confused about one thing,” I say. I turn to Peat Blossom and the muck elves. “You couldn’t fight him because of his high-pitched roaring.”

  “Yep,” says Peat Blossom, nodding. “That there screechin’ is a menace to elf ears, that’s fer sure.”

  I turn back to Pan. “So how were you able to come back and help us?”

  Pan digs out a grayish-green blob from her right ear. “Muck moss,” she says.

  “Pan’s idea,” says Peat Blossom. “We’ve tried every which way of covering up our ears. Never thought about shoving muck moss in ’em. The stuff must be super gloppy for blocking out sound!”

  Pan wipes out her ears. “And super disgusting as well.”

  “Hooray!” TickTock jumps up and down. “Muck is saving the day!”

  Moxie joins us, something in her hands. “I don’t think SquishRabble cared much about treasure,” she says. “But I found a few things near the roots of that tree. Must be from some of his former victims.” She tosses me a dirty pouch.

  I dump out the contents. Several gems and at least fifty gold pieces.

  “And this,” says Moxie, holding up a dirty piece of cloth. “It’s a cloak. It’s filthy, but you can tell the material is good.”

  “Not just good,” I say. The ring on my finger tingles and the cloak glows with a familiar blue aura. “That’s a magic cloak.”

  * * *

  SUPERHEROIC ACHIEVEMENT!

  Find a Magic Item!

  (200 Experience Points Awarded)
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  * * *

  Moxie ties it around her shoulders.

  “Gah!” I screech in horror. “Why do you guys always drink the magic potion or put on the magic cloak?! Not all magic is good, you know!”

  “Ah,” says Moxie sheepishly. “Sorry. But I’m still alive, so it must be okay.” She strikes a dashing pose. “How do I look?”

  TickTock makes a face. “Very mucky.”

  Peat Blossom walks over and pats Pan on the back. “A little muck ain’t so bad. Is it, princess?”

  Pan grins at her. “No, it ain’t,” she says. “No, it ain’t.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Meemaw is pleased. She opens her purse and passes out peppermints to all of us for a job well done.

  “You are sure, Peat Blossom?” asks Meemaw. “SquishRabble is no more?”

  “Gone fer good, Meemaw,” confirms Peat Blossom. “Shot full of arrows, freshly squeezed, and burned to a crisp.” She nods at our group. “These city folk done real good.”

  “Well, that’s a relief, and no mistake!” says Meemaw, rubbing her hands together in satisfaction. “And now it’s time for us to hold up our end of the bargain. Because muck elves are true to their word.”

  Elves come in bearing the rest of our belongings. Pan bows gratefully as they return her mother’s necklace. But Moxie already has what matters most to her: her hammer.

  “You are free to go,” says Meemaw. “But more than that, you are our friends.” She looks at Pan. “If that is something you desire.”

  Pan steps forward. “It is, Meemaw. Meeting you and your people has given me a lot to think about.”

  * * *

  SUPERHEROIC ACHIEVEMENT!

  Make Some New Friends!

  (300 Experience Points Awarded)

  * * *

  Meemaw’s smile lights up the room. “Well, that’s all any of us can ask for. Lots to think about.” She turns to the rest of us. “It is still your desire to travel to Wetwater?”

  Moxie nods. “Yes, ma’am. We have business that takes us there.”

  “Mm-mm-mm,” she hums, shaking her head. “Well, I don’t envy you that business. But we can help you on your way. Peat Blossom!”

  Boondoggle and Jethro clap their hands excitedly. “Meemaw!” says Boondoggle. “Can we take ’em in the snot rockets?”

  Meemaw rolls her eyes. “You boys know I don’t like that phrase,” she says firmly. Then her eyes sparkle down at Boondoggle. “But yes, Boondoggle. Take ’em in the snot rockets.”

  I step forward timidly. “Meemaw,” I say. “Before we go, I have one more request.”

  Meemaw chuckles. “Well, request away, child! Be bold!”

  I bite my lip nervously. “Can I have another peppermint?”

  Meemaw hoots out a laugh. She reaches into her purse. “Honey. You take the whole bag.”

  * * *

  We are zipping through Blight Bog Funk at roughly the speed of snot.

  TickTock is geeking out over the snot rockets. He’s peppering Jethro with suggestions for mechanical gizmos that would make the mud sleds go faster.

  As the wind whips through my hair, I realize I’ve learned a lot during our time in the swamp.

  Muck moss works nicely as earplugs.

  Pan can tornado-spin people, as long as they’re filthy.

  But most important … I want a snot rocket.

  Before long, the city of Wetwater takes over the entire horizon.

  I never imagined such a big place could exist.

  Peat Blossom pulls up to a patch of firm ground. A road in the distance runs right to the gates of Wetwater.

  “This is where we leave y’all,” says Peat Blossom.

  We unload and face the muck elves. “Thanks, guys,” I say. “I never knew many elves, other than Pan. Now I know there are elves that aren’t nearly as uptight as she is.”

  Jethro and Boondoggle guffaw at that. Pan grins and whacks me with her bo staff.

  “Farewell, Panalathalasas,” says Peat Blossom.

  “Farewell, Haselfathselas,” says Pan.

  Peat Blossom squints. “What’s that jibber-jabber, runt?”

  Pan smirks. “That is ‘Peat Blossom’ in High Elvish.”

  Peat Blossom shoots Pan a grin. “Hear that, boys?” she calls over her shoulder. “Haselfathselas! I’m all fancy!”

  The muck elves zip away and are soon lost in the mists of Blight Bog Funk.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The city of Wetwater looms before us.

  As we approach the massive gates, the guards barely shoot us a look. I was worried we would attract too much attention. After all, we are an odd-looking group. But they barely give us a passing glance.

  And then we enter the city. And I see why.

  Creatures of every shape and size bustle down the streets before us.

  “Is that being an ogre?” asks TickTock, pointing at a massive creature strolling down the street.

  “Don’t point,” says Pan, lowering TickTock’s arm. “And yes. That is an ogre.”

  We retreat under the awning of a nearby tattoo shop, nearly getting stampeded by three turtlemen riding enormous fuzzy beasts.

  I turn to Pan. “What do we do?”

  Her eyes are as wide as Moxie’s shield. But, as usual, her voice is calm. “Kevin said to find his friend.”

  “That’s right,” says Moxie. “Magda something. At the Fried Phoenix Inn.”

  “Hey! You kids looking to get inked?” says a voice. I turn and see a burly guy with an orange goatee, covered in tattoos.

  “Inked?” I ask the man, terrified.

  “Tattooed!” he clarifies. “Look, bumpkins. I don’t got all day. You looking to commemorate your trip to the big city with a little body art, or what? A dragon, maybe? Or a banshee?”

  “No thank you,” says Pan.

  “That’s cool. That’s cool,” says goatee guy. “Then do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “GET OFF MY FRONT STOOP!” he roars. “You’re driving away legitimate customers with your gawking faces and your country mouse vibe!” He blusters back into the shop.

  We walk down the road, ducking around carts being pulled by weird creatures with horns and trunks and multiple tails. We weave between giant lizardmen and tiny gnomes.

  We wander for a couple hours. And then, just when my feet are starting to kill me, Pan spots it.

  “Look.” She points at a large red sign.

  “That’s the place,” I say with a sigh of relief. We push past a band of short birdmen and enter the Fried Phoenix Inn.

  Rowdy laughter and gruff talk comes from every corner. Behind a long bar stands a stout lady with purple hair.

  “All right,” says Pan firmly. “Stay together and let me do the talking.”

  We squeeze up to the bar, between a surly-looking barbarian and a bugbear who smells like baloney sandwich.

  “Is that bee housebroken?” the purple-haired woman demands.

  Bizzy looks insulted at the very thought. I pet her comfortingly. “Don’t worry,” I reassure the woman. “She won’t pee on your floors.”

  “Fair enough,” she says. “What’ll you lot have?”

  “Are you Magda Rumrunner?” Pan asks.

  “Owner and proprietor,” she growls. “Who be asking?”

  “We’re friends of the Great and Powerful Kevin,” Pan says.

  Magda scowls. “That no-good bearded troll? He cost me a lot of money last time he was here!”

  Uh-oh. I’m starting to think we’ve made a terrible mistake. Kevin has fed us bad information before. It almost cost us our lives.

  She leans in close. “He’s the only one alive who can beat me at jinni stones!” She lets out a hooting laugh, and her face splits into a lopsided smile. “How is old GPK? Has he found himself a nice lady friend to settle down with yet?”

  “There is a lady there,” pipes in TickTock. “But Kevin is keeping her hidden always. Only hearing her yelling and waili
ng all the time.”

  “I can’t blame him for that,” Pan says, tucking her necklace into her tunic. “I’d hide her too if I were a forty-year-old man living with my mother.”

  Magda cringes. “Eek. That’s too bad.” She pulls out a filthy dishrag and starts wiping down the bar. “So! You guys got a place to stay while you’re in Wetwater?”

  Pan tucks some stray hair-wispies behind her ear. “We were hoping you could help us with that.”

  “Well, I’m full up at the moment,” says Magda. “However, I always keep some special accommodations open for unexpected friends.” She winks. “Or friends of friends.”

  “It’s a broom closet, isn’t it?” says Moxie.

  Magda winks at her. “You know it, sweetheart. But we’ll set up some cots, make it all comfy-cozy for you.”

  She whistles over her shoulder, and a grizzled troll appears.

  “Beezle, go get the VIP room ready for my friends,” she says. “And when I say ready, I mean take the outhouse-unclogging stick out of there!” Beezle ambles away.

  “Go grab yourselves a table,” Magda tells us. “I’ll get some grub sent over to you. You’re probably tired and hungry.”

  “Thank you, Magda,” says Pan with a small bow.

  “Don’t mention it, you lot!” she says. “Any friend of that dung-scented, chicken-livered cow of a mage is a friend of mine!”

  The inn is packed. But after much scooching, we make it to a tiny empty table in the corner.

  “So?” says Moxie, pulling up a stool. “We made it this far. What’s the plan?”

  Pan fidgets with her hair thoughtfully. “Our strategy is critical now. No improvising. Somehow we must get the location of a bedazzler from the deadly pirate Diremaw the Dread.”

  “A pirate who nobody but his crew has ever seen,” Moxie points out.

  “True,” says Pan. “Perhaps we can sneak aboard the ship and search his cabin. It is possible that he’s recorded the bedazzler’s location in a journal.”