“Here, let me help you out,” Gramps offered. He and Frieda went over to the Gnome and pulled him out of the garbage.
“Thanks,” he mumbled. “Once I saw the dragon, I froze. I’m sorry that I could not be of any more help, Maria.”
Maria turned to him. “You were great,” she said. “You and Sherlock both.”
Sherlock grinned and wagged his tail.
Thanks, Maria, you were great, too. Can we get the hell outta here? I’d like to live long enough to take Claire to the Dog Prom.
Maria rolled her eyes. She was about to tell him there was no such thing—again—when Gramps shouted, “Watch out!” and threw Maria out of the way.
Maria hit the cobblestones hard, but was able to turn around to see what had tried to attack her.
An Orc with a long, hooked sword was swinging down again. Just as its blade nearly connected with Maria, Gramps’s wand exploded in a flurry of blue. The Orc flew backward across the street, looking as if it had been sucker-punched, and hit a burning buggy full of bales of hay.
“Close one,” Frieda said, dropping to Maria. “Are you all right?”
Maria nodded as Frieda helped her up. “Thank you, Gramps,” she said. “Thank you, too, Frieda.”
“Don’t mention it,” Gramps said. “Come on, we are reunited and now is the time to go.”
Maria’s stomach tightened. “ ‘Go’?”
“Maria…this battle is lost. We have gotten what we came for. Let’s see the Gnome to safety, and be on our way.”
Maria shook her head. “No, I can’t. I can’t leave this town to die.”
Gramps smiled.
Was he just testing me? I’d recognize that sly smile anywhere.
But she didn’t know for sure, so she went on. “I would rather die trying to do the right thing than live safely as a coward.”
Gramps nodded.
“I should expect nothing less from a young woman raised by Ignatius Mangood,” Frieda said. “I’m all for it. We came here to slay a dragon, didn’t we?”
Sherlock barked, the noise barely audible over the sounds of war in the nearby town square.
Maria drew her sword. It seemed to her, and only her, that the blade glowed a violent red. Like the eyes of the Rogue Dragon. “I have a plan,” she said. “Follow me. I’ll need you to watch my back; I’m going for the water tower.”
Because that worked out so well last time, Sherlock said.
“Can it,” Maria snapped.
Sherlock gave her a wink. We’re right behind you. Don’t worry.
Unknowingly echoing Sherlock, Gelbus plucked a garbage can lid from a nearby alley and held it up like a shield, and said, "We can handle this."
Her heart swelled with love and admiration for her family.
“You lead the way, Maria,” Gramps said.
She did.
They had to fight their way back toward the tower. Keeping close in a tight circle, they moved with battalion-like efficiency.
As they broke toward the beach, Gramps urged Maria to go. “We’ll cover you!” His wand zapped a Dragon Tongue, causing the storming soldier to drop to his knees, which tripped some trailing Orcs. They scrambled up, and Frieda sent a wave of white energy in their direction, singeing their backsides as they fled toward the gates, rethinking their decisions to fight.
Now was Maria’s chance to make a beeline toward the tower. Dodging in and out of tipped buggies and wagons, she felt like a mouse trapped in a maze.
She risked a glance back and saw Gelbus on Sherlock’s back again. An arrow sliced through the air toward them, and she froze.
A loud clang rang out in the air as Gelbus raised his makeshift garbage lid shield to block the arrow.
The Gnome is quick, she thought.
Then, with his free hand, Gelbus smacked Sherlock’s hindquarters.
Hey now! What did I say about buying me a drink first? Sherlock’s voice drifted toward her, but he took off as Gelbus pointed to the source of the arrow.
An Orc looked at them, his fingers jittering as he tried to reload his crossbow. Just when he did, Sherlock stopped before he ran into a burning wagon. Gelbus used this sudden halt to his advantage. As Sherlock reeled backward, Gelbus lunged forward. He somersaulted through the air, and landed on top of the Orc, bashing his head in with the garbage lid. The sound rang out over the entire town, even louder than the dragon’s roars—or so it seemed.
Gelbus took the crossbow and the Orc’s arrows, hopped down, and landed on Sherlock’s back again. They took off toward the Orcs and Dragon Tongue currently locked in a bloody battle on the beach.
Can’t go back for them, Maria. They can fend for themselves.
Suddenly the Rogue Dragon, obscured by a building to her left so that she could only see its ridged back and the spikes jutting out along its spine, took flight, beating its wings. The red glow emanated from its belly and moved up its long neck. The dragon’s jaw unhinged, and more fire spewed downward. It swirled until it was lost behind the building. Who the dragon burned, Maria had no idea, but she hoped with all the hope she had left inside of her that it wasn’t any of her family.
Men screamed. Orcs let out guttural growls of pain.
I have to go back—
Go, Maria! Go! We’re all right. We’re holding down the fort. Your grandpa just turned an Orc into a toad. I might eat it…no, on second thought, I won’t. I’m not into toad. Just go and take down that dragon before it picks us for its next barbecue!
Sherlock is right.
Maria turned back toward the road that led straight to the water tower. Fire raged on each side of her, the baking heat drenched her in sweat, but she had to keep going.
The buildings swayed as if they would collapse any moment. She hoped Penelope and the rest of the townspeople were somewhere safe, hidden where the Orcs and Dragon Tongue couldn’t get to them. If they could just hold
