A Worry with Warlocks – Episode 7
I’m not fond of surprises, but Trewla appearing at that moment – in fact, at any moment – was…
Well, suffice to say the sight of her sent my pulse into orbit.
But I couldn’t help myself blurting out, “What in the worlds are you doing?”
I mean, I have my ego to maintain, right?
Her eyes narrowed. “Like I said, I’m here to save you.”
“I don’t need saving. I was doing quite well before you came along.” I looked meaningfully at the bent grille lying on the floor under a sizeable chunk of dragon meat. Wisps of smoke curled from the sizzling flesh.
Grimmon came out of the shadows, the points of his ears waving about as he lurched into view.
“You didn’t save us,” he said. “I did. If I hadn’t thrown my rat into the dragon’s gullet, you’d have been roasted and chewed into little bits. The creature would be deep into an after dinner nap by now if it weren’t for me.”
“A mere detail,” I said, waving my hand at him to shut him up. I turned back to Trewla. “What made you think we needed saving, anyway?”
She put her hands on her hips. “It was the sight of a large scorpion scuttling across the viaduct into the castle and morphing into the tourer – without the pair of you in it – once it had parked itself in the garage, that made me think you just might be in a teeny bit trouble.”
“Me in trouble? Nonsense.” I gazed down my nose at her. “Your help is not required. I’ve taken care of everything. The danger is over. We can leave at our leisure, return to the castle, and put this nasty business behind us.”
“Oh, really?” Trewla raised an eyebrow. “What about the warlock?”
“The warlock?” I coughed to give myself time to think. “Well… He’s… um, you know… I mean, what I’m actually saying is–”
I was interrupted by a voice thundering from the darkness at the end of the corridor. “I’m right here.”
With a dramatic flourish of one arm, Akalemmo stepped into the light. His other arm was holding a wet cloth to the side of his head.
“Damn!” said Trewla. “I should have hit you harder.”
“Yes, you should have!” yelled Akalemmo. “You’ll pay for this! Taking advantage of my good nature by pretending to be a mender of pots!”
I gave Trewla a puzzled look. “Eh? What’s he talking about?”
“When I came to rescue you, I disguised myself as a tinker.”
At my still puzzled expression, she continued, “Tinkers can go anywhere. Nobody ever suspects them of anything. And my disguise came in useful. I whacked him on the head with a saucepan.”
“And that’s why you’re going to die horribly,” screeched the warlock. “All of you!”
He began weaving his free hand in the air while muttering words of power. I felt magic building up. A glowing ball of fire took shape in his hand.
I looked around for somewhere to run. The trouble was, the only way out was past Akalemmo, and he didn’t look like he would stand aside to let us pass.
I grabbed Grimmon and thrust him in front of me.
“Let me and the elf go, and I’ll give you the goblin,” I said.
“What?” said Grimmon.
I held him tighter to prevent him squirming out of my grip. “Keep still. I have a plan,” I whispered, keeping my gaze on the warlock.
“Why would I possibly want a goblin?” said Akalemmo. “Especially one so badly in need of a bath.”
“He can cook,” I said. “Well, as long you’re partial to rats. And he can do housework.”
The ball of fire taking shape in Akalemmo’s hand faltered. I could see I had piqued his interest, so I plunged ahead. “It must be difficult to find staff out here in the middle of the desert. I bet you haven’t had the place properly cleaned in years.”
Akalemmo frowned. “That’s true…” His chin lifted, and the fireball steadied. “But you can’t win me over that easily!”
The fireball in his palm was burning like a tiny sun. He raised his arm and drew it back, ready to throw. I flinched and ducked behind Grimmon.
Trewla grunted, whipped a saucepan from her outfit and hurled it at the warlock.
With a loud clonk, it smacked into his forehead. The fireball winked out and he crumpled to the floor, groaning.
“Run!” shouted Trewla, surging forwards and leaping over Akalemmo’s recumbent body.
Holding on to my hat, I ran after her, my legs flying. I heard Grimmon scurrying along behind me.
We hurried up the stairs, Trewla clanking like a knight in armour with the kitchenware attached to her coat swinging like overexcited pendulums.
“This way!” she said, when we came to a fork in the corridor. She charged into the righthand passage and raced up a spiral staircase.
“Are you sure?” I said, my breath sawing in my throat. “We’ve climbed an awful lot of steps. We must be at ground level by now, surely?”
“Stop doubting me! I came down this way minutes ago, remember?”
I kept my mouth shut, and pushed myself up the stairs in her wake. My legs were already tiring. I was panting, and weak from having missed lunch. Briefly, I considered going back for the celery.
Up and up the spiral we climbed. I could barely see my feet in the dimness.
My spirits lifted when it dawned on me there was light ahead. It grew brighter with each turn of the spiral until I was almost blinded by sunlight which was streaming through a doorway at the top of the stairs.
“The front door at last,” I gasped, as Trewla stepped outside.
On shaking legs I dragged myself upwards. Grimmon wriggled past me, impatient as ever, and rushed after Trewla.
Squinting in the brightness, I stumbled out onto paving stones.
My eyes adjusted, and my spirits sank into my boots.
We weren’t at ground level.
A balustrade curved around the edge of the circular paved area on which we stood.
We were at the top of the tower.
And worse, Akalemmo was there, grinning from ear to ear despite the nasty bruise purpling on his forehead.
Trewla and Grimmon were like soldiers standing to attention, their arms pinned to their sides, and their legs held unmoving by bands of blue magic energy.
Before I could take another step, the warlock gestured, and my own tender body was trussed in a similar fashion.
“So foolish of you to think I wouldn’t catch you,” said Akalemmo. “I simply used a spell to make you choose the route to the roof, and another to convey myself here to greet you when you arrived.”
“Let us go, you madman!” I said, sweat trickling down my brow.
“Oh, don’t worry, I will.” His eyes hardened. “Because it will be far more fun to hunt you down and tear you to shreds, rather than merely burning you to death with a fireball.” His beard jiggled up and down with his chuckling.
Arcane words streamed from his lips, and he waved his arms in a flapping motion. There was a bright blue flash and suddenly I was free.
And, I realised as my eyes cleared, a great deal shorter. I looked at my feet. They were pink and three toed. I lifted my arms. They were covered in grey feathers.
I was a pigeon.
I looked at Trewla and Grimmon. She had become a small, dark bird perched on the balustrade. A swift, I realised when she spread her wings. Grimmon was a rather grubby specimen of greenfinch.
“Fly!” screeched Akalemmo. “Flee if you can!”
He threw back his head and a deep, belly-shaking, less-than-comforting laugh coursed from his throat.
As one, Trewla and Grimmon flapped their wings and took to the sky.
I slowly turned my gaze back to Akalemmo.
He had changed too. A large hawk gazed back at me from yellow, hate-filled eyes.
I squawked, lumbered into the air with a noisy clattering of wings, and took off across the desert after the swift and greenfinch.
“Wait for me!” I shrieked.
*** Continued in episode 8 ***