Barf of the Bedazzler Read online

  A huge grin splits her face. She twists the cloak around to cover her chest instead of her back. And with tongs in one hand and spoon in the other, she charges the archer like a rabid crab.

  Pan is pummeling the half-orc in the eyes with orbs of salt water.

  Bucket is locked in club-to-club combat with the barbarian.

  TickTock is finishing off the weakened dwarf.

  And the gnoll is charging right at me.

  This is it. My chance is here! My time is now! It’s time for Mind Control. This flea-bitten mutt will be putty in my hand!

  I see murder in his wild eyes. Slobber froths from his mouth in anticipation of the kill. I choke. Panic. I can’t recall the complex words to the spell! My hands start to shake. He’s almost on me.

  So I do what I do best.

  I run.

  Back to the entrance. Back to the sunlight. Back … to the seagulls.

  They still scream and squabble in an unruly crowd. Luckily, I speak their language.

  “Pfeatherfax-pfuffernutter.” The Feather Friend spell settles over my vocal cords. The gnoll is hot on my heels, but I try to focus on the birds.

  “Hey! Birdbrains!” I shout at them. Only instead of words, squealing caws erupt from my mouth. Yep. I’m speaking seagull.

  They turn my way.

  “Want more fish?” I screech.

  “More fish! Yes! More fish!” they yammer.

  I point to the gnoll. “That dogman has lots of fish in his pockets!”

  The seagulls turn their heads hungrily toward the gnoll. This stops him in his tracks.

  He tries to flee. But the birds are on him, all flapping feathers and jabbing beaks. And there’s no escape when seagulls attack.

  I dash back to my friends.

  TickTock has completely web-wrapped the unconscious dwarf.

  The archer’s bow lies snapped on the ground. Her arms fly furiously at Moxie with two cruelly pointed daggers. But she cannot penetrate Moxie’s cloak.

  Moxie grabs the archer by the nose with her kitchen tongs.

  But Moxie doesn’t stob it. She drags her by the nose. Back to the cave entrance. And chucks her into the pounding surf.

  The half-orc and the barbarian are cornered and outnumbered. But they don’t seem to care. The scorched half-orc snarls with hate. The barbarian quivers with fury.

  “Just hold on,” says Pan calmly. “It doesn’t have to end like this.”

  “Feh,” the half-orc spits. “You heard Diremaw. There can only be one winning team.”

  That’s enough for the barbarian. He screams and barrels forward, club raised for a death blow.

  “Plaintanitar au musa,” I say. Banana peels shoot from my palms, showering the ground in front of him.

  His foot hits a banana peel. He slides recklessly forward, arms swinging like pinwheels. Moxie leaps, arm out, clotheslining the barbarian across the neck. He crashes to the floor, sending his club soaring into the air behind him. He skids across the chamber on a sea of banana peels, crumpling against the far wall.

  We turn to face the half-orc.

  But she has caught the barbarian’s club. Right in the noggin.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  The Fluffy Unicorn Gang is kaput.

  * * *

  SUPERHEROIC ACHIEVEMENT!

  Defeat Some Sneaky Sailors!

  (250 Experience Points Awarded)

  * * *

  Only us and the Bad-Breath Bandits are left.

  We all breathe a sigh. “I just love that banana spell, Fart!” Moxie tells me. “It’s so adorable!”

  Adorable. Just what I was going for.

  Bucket scratches his rear end with his club. “Not done yet,” he says. “Still don’t got the kraken’s fathead.”

  Moxie laughs and shoves the ogre. “Flatbread, not fathead,” she says. “You’re the fathead.”

  Bucket smiles. “No. You fathead.” He playfully shoves Moxie back.

  “Bucket is being right,” says TickTock, lighting a torch. “Heroes not out of this yet.”

  It’s impossible to see what creepy-crawlies lie in wait in this ankle-deep water. We make our way down the dark tunnel, wreckage littering the cavern before us. Cargo and equipment from the Tangerine.

  Timbers jut from the waters like rotten teeth. Pieces of sail flap like long-dead ghosts. I see a corroded frying pan. A pasta strainer. A set of kitchen tongs.

  “What’s with all the cooking supplies?” I whisper.

  “Don’t forget,” says Pan softly. “Juliette Kidd was a chef. Her ship was basically a floating kitchen.”

  The utensils are rusted and crusty from their long sleep in this watery tomb. But something sparkles in the torchlight. Moxie reaches into the murky water, pulling a shiny object from beneath a torn sail.

  “It is being a hammer!” cries TickTock.

  “It’s not a hammer,” says Moxie. “It’s a silver meat tenderizer. A really nice one!”

  “Look,” says Pan, her sharp eyes piercing the dark tunnel before us.

  TickTock hoists the torch higher, the light glimmering off rows of gigantic stalagmites. They stretch from the floor, clawing toward the ceiling far above.

  But as we creep closer, my eyes adjust.

  They’re not stalagmites. They’re bones.

  Moxie rushes forward to examine them. Tucking the silver meat tenderizer into her belt, she reaches into her pack and yanks out a thick book. Buzzlock’s Big Book of Beasts.

  “TickTock is thinking this whole quest is being a bad idea,” the phibling says with a gulp. “Lots of big bones here. If the kraken is eating all these creatures, he is swallowing TickTock in one gulp.”

  “These aren’t creatures,” says Moxie, eyeing the bones closely. “It’s one big creature.”

  She’s right. A single spine, thick as a tree trunk, connects the jutting ribs. But it’s been snapped in half like a twig.

  Whatever this sea creature was, it was truly massive. Bigger than the Death Knell herself. Walking the length of the skeleton, I find Moxie crouched near a skull the size of a boulder.

  “Do you know what this is?” she whispers, looking up from her book in awe.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I ask fearfully. “Leftovers from the kraken’s dinner. And we’re next.”

  Moxie closes the book. “This isn’t the skeleton of the kraken’s dinner.”

  Pan shakes her head, confused. “Then what is it?”

  Moxie gulps. “This is the skeleton of the kraken.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  We gawk at the bones in terrified silence. The click-clacking of spider crabs echoes eerily in the darkness around us. Finally TickTock asks the question we’re all wondering.

  “What could be snapping a kraken in half like this?”

  There’s no answer.

  My head is spinning. I feel light-headed. I bend down and tuck my head between my knees to stop myself from passing out. Or to kiss my butt goodbye. Whichever is needed first.

  “I don’t think we can do this,” I say.

  “What choice do we have?” says Pan calmly. “We either come out with the Kraken’s Flatbread or we don’t come out at all.”

  “Well, that’s a depressing thought,” I mutter.

  “No,” she says, her voice echoing in the gloom. “What is truly depressing is that we are enduring all of this not for any worthwhile cause … but for the sake of Kevin.”

  We turn to her. “What do you mean?” asks Moxie.

  Pan takes a deep breath and faces us, her pointy eyebrows looming large. “What loyalty do we owe him?” she asks. “He snaps his fingers, gives us a pile of sketchy information, and sends us off into untold danger, hurtling our well-ordered lives into chaos.”

  Moxie snickers. “I’m not so sure how well-ordered our lives were.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask Pan.

  “I’ve simply been thinking,” Pan says, smoothing her hair into place. “Perhaps we should forget about Kevin
’s quest.”

  “Forgetting Kevin’s quest?” asks TickTock.

  “Are you kidding me?” I ask.

  Pan cocks an eyebrow at us. “We helped Ephemera rid the Sparkly Glade of spindernots. That was a worthwhile quest. We had a plan and executed it with aplomb.”

  “So this quest isn’t worthwhile?” I ask.

  Pan bites her lip.

  “Kevin is paying us a fat sack of cash,” Moxie weighs in. “That seems pretty worthwhile to me.”

  “Exactly!” I cry. “Plus we told him we’d do it!”

  The elf grimaces. “I do not trust the Great and Powerful Kevin.”

  TickTock wrings his hands nervously. But says nothing.

  “If we’re not going to trust Kevin, then who should we trust?” I ask in annoyance. “Every pixie that knocks on our door? A bunch of filthy, unruly pirates?”

  Pan purses her lips thoughtfully. “I did not say that. Though they are not as unruly as one might think. They are obedient and well organized. There is order beneath the chaos that works in unison to run a tight ship.”

  “You’re defending the pirates?” I cry.

  “I am not defending them,” Pan clarifies. “I am just hesitant to make the same mistake I made with the muck elves. We should not judge them prematurely.”

  “I think you hit your head when we fell overboard,” I tell her.

  “You have to admit,” she says calmly, “there is something to be said for a well-ordered, shipshape life. Perhaps something like that holds promise for us.”

  It’s official … the world has gone loco. Maybe it’s the fear of facing the kraken. But I feel like everything is spinning out of control.

  Suddenly the words are in my mind. And before I know it, they’re on my tongue.

  “El sila erin lu e-govaned vin.

  Avo garo am man theled!”

  Pan’s face goes slack. She stares blankly at me.

  “You think you’re a pirate, Pan?” I cry, shaking. “You’re not! We’re going to get the Kraken’s Flatbread. Get the bedazzler’s barf. And take them back to Kevin like we planned. No improvising!”

  I can’t believe it. I did it. I cast Mind Control.

  Pan’s pupils swell, filling her eyes. Like black pools. Like shark eyes.

  She turns to me. “Avast, me hearties!” she cries. Her voice sounds gravelly and coarse, not at all like Pan. More like … First Mate Tidepool. More like … a pirate.

  “We’ll be plundering this cave and getting that kraken’s booty!” she roars. “Or me name isn’t Pan the Perilous!”

  Moxie grips my shoulder tightly. “What have you done?” she whispers.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “What have you done?” Moxie hisses again.

  I think I’ve turned Pan into a pirate. That’s what I’ve done.

  “I … I … I … didn’t mean to,” I sputter. “She was talking crazy talk. She was … I was … I was trying to stop her.”

  “Stop her? How?” demands Moxie. “By using your magic on her? By using your powers on your friend?”

  Okay, I have to admit … when you say it out loud, it sounds really bad. “It … it … it was an accident!” I cry, trying to explain. “I just got upset!”

  Moxie pushes past me angrily, grabbing Pan by the shoulders. “Pan?” she calls to her. “Pan?”

  “That be Pan the Perilous to you, ye cockle-eyed lubber!” Pan roars.

  Maybe I misfired the spell. Maybe I misspoke the incantation. Maybe this magic is just too powerful for me. Whatever I did, I’ve really botched this up. I’m pretty sure things can’t get any worse.

  Wrong.

  Because that’s when the screaming starts.

  We all turn, weapons drawn.

  Screams of panic echo up to us from farther down the tunnel.

  There’s an eerie green glow down there, flickering off the slick walls. Suddenly a figure emerges, feet sloshing through ankle-deep water. Coming right at us.

  It’s Weasel. And he’s fleeing for his life.

  “Run, you idiots!” he cries. “It’s down there!”

  He dashes past us, back toward the entrance.

  “What’s down there?” Bucket yells.

  But Weasel doesn’t stop to share. “It has them!” he screams. And he disappears into the darkness.

  Our heads swivel to peer back down the tunnel. Sloping fifty more feet, the passage rounds a bend. There’s something down there, waiting for us. Something glow-y.

  The screaming has stopped abruptly. The silence is more terrifying than the screams.

  “Arrggg!” roars Pan. “Methinks our quarry be dead ahead! Unto the breach, me hearties!” She grips her staff and charges down the tunnel.

  Moxie shoots me a frosty glare. “This is not over,” she says. And chases after Pan, the ogre and phibling right behind her.

  I’m petrified. Whatever is down there snapped a kraken in half. Whatever is down there sent Weasel running for his life. Whatever is down there has probably killed the rest of the Bad-Breath Bandits.

  And yet I’d rather face ten of whatever is down there than see Moxie look at me like that again. I force myself to put one soggy foot in front of the other and run after my friends.

  Pan has halted at the opening to a huge chamber. Pools fill the wide cavern, leftovers from the retreating tide. The entire chamber flickers with that ghostly green light. We immediately spot the source of the light. My blood turns cold in my veins.

  The broken hull of a ship stands looming before us like a watchtower.

  Yep. I said STANDS. Because this shipwreck has legs. It has arms. It even seems to have a face. Green ghost light pulses from two porthole eyes. And there, high across one of the splintered boards, I see a word written in faded gold lettering.

  Tangerine.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The wreck shifts its position, staring at us like some giant wooden zombie. Raising its barnacle-encrusted arms, it lets out a deafening roar.

  ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAR!

  We scatter in terror behind the nearest rock. Echoes of the bone-chilling roar bounce off the cavern walls. “I think there might be some pee leaking out of me right now,” I say softly. “I can’t tell for sure. My pants are still wet.”

  “Well blow me down!” whispers Pan the Perilous, peeking out at the creature in awe. “That there beastie be Juliette Kidd’s ship! The Tangerine! What scurvy witchcraft be this?”

  Moxie quickly opens the book that’s still in her hand. “I think I know,” Moxie says. She looks up nervously from the pages. “It’s a golem.”

  I risk a peek. The shipwreck creature just stands there. But something tells me that could change any moment. “How did Juliette Kidd’s ship turn into a golem?”

  TickTock tugs on my robes. “Remember Diremaw’s story? Right before being pulled down into the deep, Juliette Kidd was casting a powerful spell to preserve her flatbread.”

  Moxie nods. “Maybe her spell didn’t just preserve the flatbread. Maybe it preserved the whole ship.”

  “Not just that,” says Bucket. “It made ship come alive!”

  “Well I’ll be a fluffy narwhal!” nods Pan. “That it did!”

  Her face splits into a crooked grin. She excitedly spins her staff overhead. I can see the recklessness in her eyes.

  I’ve created a monster.

  ROOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAR!

  And so did Juliette Kidd. The Magician of the Kitchen’s evil creation bellows a challenge to us.

  In that moment, time seems to stop. And everything is clear.

  Magic is great. But it’s also an uncontrollable force of nature. Even a powerful mage like Juliette Kidd can accidentally create a monster if they’re not careful.

  Pan the Perilous shoots me a jaunty wink and does something the real Pan would never do.

  She doesn’t assess the situation. She doesn’t make a plan. She screams, “DEATH OR GLORY, ME BUCKOS!” and starts to launch herself into battle.

  Fo
r once, I know exactly what to do. I grab Pan’s bola and spin it around her arm, binding her temporarily to Moxie. Then I grit my teeth, willing myself to action.

  “Distract it for me,” I tell Moxie. “I need to get close.”

  “Fart!” Moxie cries, reaching for me. “No! That thing will pulverize you!”

  But I’m already gone. I splish-splash softly through the pools to the edge of the cavern, skirting the horrific creature.

  My last bit of magic was a major screwup. I’m determined that this next spell won’t be. I’m sticking with a nice simple one that I know by heart.

  Gas Attack.

  TINK! TINK! TINK!

  It’s Moxie, banging on the stone with her new meat tenderizer, trying to keep the golem focused on them.

  “HEY!” yells Bucket, waving his arms. “Over here!”

  “YOO-HOO!” says TickTock. He waves his butt at the thing.

  The creature raises its arms and lets loose another bellow.

  I’m close enough to see the texture of the creature’s splintered wooden legs.

  I reach out. I have to touch it. That’s what sometimes makes this spell so useless. But not today.

  I place my hand on the rough wood and utter the words that will turn this creature into a cloud of gas.

  “Flatulencia.”

  And suddenly … nothing happens.

  Well, I shouldn’t say nothing.

  The creature peers down at me with its glowing porthole eyes.

  And it kicks me.

  “Fart!” Moxie gasps, dashing over to me. “Are you okay?”

  I crack my neck, feeling for broken bones. But I seem to be in one piece. Everyone turns toward the shipwreck golem, expecting it to smash us flat. But it holds its position. Maybe it can’t attack until we come into the chamber.

  “Why didn’t that work?” I ask. “It should turn any living creature I touch into a fart!”

  “Ship not alive,” suggests Bucket.

  “He’s right,” says Moxie. “It’s just been magically animated.”

  Oh. Well, crud on a cracker.