“ ‘Gelbie’?”
Yeah, ‘Gelbie,’ Maria. I reserve the right to call the Gnome who saved Ignatius’s ass anything I damn well please.
Gramps stepped away from the body, looking over his shoulder and then looking back at the rest of them, his jaw hanging down near his chest.
“I—”
“ ‘Thank you’ is what you mean,” Frieda told him. She rushed over to Gramps and rubbed his neck, where a faint red line showed in his pale flesh; no blood had been drawn. Maria ran over to him and hugged him.
“I had that under control,” Gramps insisted. “There was no need—”
“Please,” Frieda cut him off. “You were one sneeze away from having your throat cut.”
Gramps was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said, “Thank you, Gelbus. That was quite a nice toss.”
“I, uh, I wasn’t aiming for the bastard’s head. I was just trying to scare him…” Gelbus replied.
Everyone’s face went slack, expressionless.
Yeah, next time maybe just own up to being a badass, Sherlock suggested.
Gramps shuddered. “Imagine if you had been aiming for the man’s head.”
“You’d probably be blind right now…or worse,” Frieda said. “No matter. The Gnome has saved the day.”
“Yes, he has. I am forever grateful, Gelbus,” Gramps said. “I owe you my life.”
Gelbus blushed. He was still on Sherlock’s back, looking like a miniaturized version of a knight in shining armor—albeit a very odd version, given the fact he was on a Bloodhound and not a horse. And he wasn’t wearing armor.
“Are the townspeople safe?” Maria asked.
“They are, for now. A man offered them refuge in his barn. Those who didn’t stay there assured us they’d be safer in the confines of their own homes on the outskirts of town. The Dragon Tongue are mostly toward the lake.”
“Good,” Maria replied. “Speaking of the Dragon Tongue, did you hear what ol’ Bullseye said?”
Gramps nodded gravely. “I feared this. I am not sure I want to know how they figured out the way to raise the Rogue Dragon, but they have figured it out, and it calls for fire. We must stop them.”
“I know the perfect way,” Maria said.
“Come, tell us outside,” Gramps said.
Frieda shivered. “Yes, please. I don’t like being around all this…death.”
They went outside. The courtyard in front of the prison keep was bare; no reinforcements had been sent.
It’s because they have bigger fish to fry than worrying about a prisonbreak. They know once the dragon takes to the sky, we are done for. The beast will burn down the town and devour us all.
“What’s your plan?” Gramps asked.
Maria scanned the horizon. In the distance, not far from the shores of Lake Fever, a large wooden barrel stood higher than most buildings. It seemed that no matter what planet one was on, that was the structure used to hold the town’s water supply.
Whether the Dragon Tongue was using magic or real fuel for the fire, Maria knew their plan involved the lake. Whatever fuel they chose, it wouldn’t be able to withstand thousands of gallons of water being poured onto it. At the very least, they might be able to drown the Dragon Tongue, but that might be wishful thinking.
Gramps followed her gaze and brought a hand up to his chin. “The water tower?"
Maria nodded.
"It’s crazy enough that it may just work," Gramps continued.
“By dousing the flames on a lake?” Frieda said, incredulous. “You know water isn’t supposed to be flammable in the first place, right? Yes, magic and all. I’m just saying it seems like a lot of work for little payoff. Why not just storm the beach and fight?”
“We’re vastly outnumbered.” Gramps looked to Frieda. “Were we at full strength, I may give more thought to that approach. We got lucky once back there,” he pointed to the prison keep. “But I do not wish to test my luck again. At the very least, it will create a much needed distraction and buy us more time.”
Maria nodded.
Sherlock growled, Then we better get a move on.
“Sherlock’s right. We better get going," Maria said.
“We shall split up,” Gramps ordered. “Frieda and I will hold the ground forces off so you can get to the tower, and Gelbus and Sherlock can create a distraction.”
Ruh-roh, Sherlock said.
“That was a pretty good Scooby-Doo impression,” Maria said. “But don’t worry; you’re the master of distractions.” Please, let them be okay. Please, let this work…
That’s true. Sherlock and Gelbus, two natural-born troublemakers!
Maria stepped forward, drawing her sword. It was amazing how comfortable it now was in her hand. “Let’s go. Our time is short—”
Sherlock’s growling cut her off. The Bloodhound looked toward a dark alley between the prison and a guard tower. Shadows danced across the ground, stretching toward them.
It’s never easy, is it? Maria raised her blade. Gramps and Frieda prepared for a battle. Sherlock bared his teeth as Gelbus hunkered down on his back.
But no enemies came out from the shadows. It was the mayor, Penelope; she had left the prison keep. Behind her walked a few of the townspeople Maria recognized. They had come back, and they now held weapons. Nothing great: broomsticks, shovels, picks, small daggers…one man had a bow that looked ancient and close to falling apart.
“We’re not much,” Penelope admitted, “but this is our town. And we aim to take it back.”
Maria smiled. “It will not be an easy battle; the risks are high, and many could lose their lives.”
Gramps looked on the rag-tag group with the same pride as he had done earlier when Maria had done the right thing.
“We know that. We’re prepared to lose our lives for our great town.”
“Very well, then,” Maria said. She stuck her hand out to Penelope; the dirt-streaked older woman took it. A new alliance was forged.
We’re gonna need all the help we can get.
The now-larger group went north, toward the water tower and Lake Fever beyond.
Chapter Seven
After Claire
