Dragon Removal Service Read online

  Gulchima poked it with a stick. Squish.

  "So we know that much at least," Gulchima said. Squish. Squish.

  The lunker squirmed away from her.

  In addition to fire, it seemed a lunker didn't like being poked in the eye with a stick.

  Squish.

  Interesting.

  Uncle Rattbone stared down at it. "Must have been three or four pulling on that rope," he said. "It doesn't seem that strong."

  "Maybe the sunlight weakens it somehow," Gulchima said.

  "Oh that's almost never true, about the sunlight hurting magical things," Uncle Rattbone said. "Back in the war we had a saying, 'Sunlight will hurt it, when you put a new hole through its head.'" He sniffed. "Of course, that one was hard to test."

  "Should we try the torches again?" Gulchima asked. She held one up near the lunker, and with a flap of a finger, it blew the torch out.

  "They just run away to the other side of the bridge," Uncle Rattbone said. "And if we put a person at either end, the lunkers just run to the middle, or splash out our torches. I think we're beat Gulch, I really do."

  "Then we'll just burn the whole bridge down," Gulchima said.

  Besides, she didn't want to go under the bridge anyway. It was dark. She wasn't exactly afraid of the dark. Not as long as she had a torch. And a sharp knife. And a few candles, just in case. Gulchima wasn't afraid. It was just that she'd strongly prefer never to go there. Ever.

  Five years, alone in the dark was enough for one lifetime.

  Uncle Rattbone pulled at a bone in his beard. "Probably not going to hold up in a contract dispute . . . ."

  His words trailed off. On the opposite side of the bridge stood two young soldiers, one woman, one man, both dressed in ragged uniforms. They nodded as a third soldier, a tall female warrior dressed in overlapping scale armor, gestured at the bridge.

  "Debt-collectors," Uncle Rattbone said. "Professionals."

  "So? We'll just bribe them again," Gulchima said, distractedly.

  "Not Brunhild, that big one with scale armor. I knew her from the war," Uncle Rattbone said. "She's the toughest debt-collector in all of Baltica. She won't take a bribe."

  Gulchima wished the soldiers were ugly or gross in some way, but they weren't. They just looked like people doing a job, maybe one they didn't enjoy.

  Brunhild herself was outwardly beautiful in that proud way of warriors. Rippling muscles, careless blond-hair, calm eyes that seemed to know what you were going to do. But a permanent scowl ruined her face. Her armor, made of overlapping scales, was dull and stained. It wasn't for show.

  "I see you Rattbone! You Lordly Beast!" Brunhild shrieked. She started to laugh, but it curdled into a cackle. No one joined in. The Egg-Meister sidled a few paces to his left, away from her. The two young soldiers covered their ears.

  "She's a little crazy," Uncle Rattbone said. He waved at Brunhild, now doubled over in laughter to the extent her armor would allow. "Maybe more than a little."

  "What happened to her?" Gulchima asked. "Something in the war?"

  "Crazy grows slow, usually," Uncle Rattbone said. "But she finally lost it when . . . Well, it seems I put a sword through her chest."

  "She's undead? But her skin isn't blue." As far as Gulchima knew, magic had rules. Undead equals blue skin.

  "Brunhild? Undead?" Uncle Rattbone exclaimed. "Naw, to be undead, you'd have to be killed first. But the stabbing stirred her up a bit. After our wedding, she—"

  "Wait! You married her?"

  "Well we thought we were going to die, you see," Uncle Rattbone said. "We were surrounded. Besides I owed her that much. I mean, I did stab her through the chest." Uncle Rattbone leaned in and whispered, "I think it's time we get away, while we have a river between us. If Brunhild owns all our debts, she could—"

  "She can't do anything right now, we're under contract," Gulchima said.

  But he was right. They still had a chance of running away. Baltica was a big country. Maybe the next town—but no, Gulchima hadn't told him about the next town.

  Uncle Rattbone didn't know about the letter she'd received. The Outfit had a big construction contract waiting for them at the town of Bayadev. But they had to get there soon. That meant finding enough money to pay off their local debts, so they could unchain their houseboats.

  It was simple. She'd catch these lunkers, then use the thalers she earned to pay off the Outfit's local debts. They'd be free to travel to Bayadev, where they'd make enough to pay off Brunhild. Once under contract, they were safe. And Gulchima was technically the leader of the Outfit wasn't she? She was eleven-years-old, she could handle the finances.

  Gulchima stared hard at the lunker. There was a way, she knew it. She just had to figure it out. What would her mom do, if she was here?

  "The Egg-Meister and his wagons are getting restless." Uncle Rattbone looked up at the sky, held up one hand between the sun and the horizon. "You've got four fingers to figure it out. Or it's eels again for dinner. Even if you can't do it, we'll find another way to pay the debts. If you're worried—"

  "I'm not," Gulchima said.

  She bit her lower lip and tried not to look at the three soldiers talking to the Egg-Meister. They had exchanged paperwork. Something was up.

  "No, this is the plan," Gulchima said. "If it was easy, somebody else would have done it by now."

  What was her plan really? What was her plan for after they defeated the lunkers? Once they got to Bayadev, they'd make such a huge profit that Gulchima could pay off her parents' debts and get them out of prison too. Then her parents could run the Outfit again, and Gulchima could go back to being eleven (technically sixteen) and annoying her younger (technically older) sister and her (previously non-existent) brother. It was simple, but not easy.

  All that stood in Gulchima's way was stupid magic, from a stupid war that was over. As usual.

  "So what we know is that the lunkers are not too strong, and they hate fire, and they don't swim too good," Gulchima said. "Oh and if you poke them in the eye like this—Squish—they don't like it."

  Brunhild barked something to the two young soldiers and they started to march across the bridge. They slowed as a flurry of hands swiped at them, then retreated back across the bridge.

  "Little Mouse, I've bought your debt from the Egg-Meister," Brunhild taunted. "And your other debts too. Now you owe me all of it. If this bridge is not repaired, you'll default. It'll be three years of service in the King's army, Rattbone. You and all your workers. The girl can dig ditches!"

  "Got some work here, Brunhild," Uncle Rattbone said, with false cheerfulness.

  "I am a Lordly Beast! Remember Rattbone?" Brunhild screamed. "You'll pay your debt to me. 'To dream of iron, is to dream of fire'!"

  Uncle Rattbone cleared his throat, then spoke loudly. "I'm going to head over to that smashed wagon, see if I can make a deal for eggs. Seems like a man that'd be looking to make a quick sale." He waved at Brunhild, then whispered to Gulchima. "It's time for us to go. Now! Forget the contract."

  "Wait!" The plan formed in Gulchima's mind. She'd need more help, but it could—no, it would—work. "I'm going to need you to get my sister, all the carpenters, and five or six roof thatchers in skin-boats. Do not tell Uncle Roog. And bring lots of torches and tar."

  "I said we're not burning down this bridge," Uncle Rattbone said. "You're as crazy as your father sometimes."

  "If I'm in charge of the Outfit, then I'm in charge, period," Gulchima said. The lines between Uncle Rattbone's eyes deepened, and she softened her tone. "But you're right Uncle Rattbone, burning down the bridge isn't going to work."

  This wasn't exactly true. But you could only tell adults so much. Once they got upset, it took a few days for them to calm down.

  She looked at the soldiers. They were arguing with the Egg-Meister. That would give her time.

  The true-truth was that burning the bridge was only part of Gulchima's plan. They'd still burn it, of course. But they were going to build a
bridge too.

  They had almost four hours. How hard could it be?

  Chapter 4: Hubward Meets the Bully

  Hubward's face was full and wobbly, and his gentle gait caused his belly to sway in front of him. This showed the world—he hoped—how un-dangerous he really was. Hubward loved being un-dangerous. Besides the bullies, no one bothered him. And he could get on with his job of saving the world.

  He scurried down the alley behind the candy shop, meek as mouse droppings. His hands were covered with chocolate, and Hubward carefully smeared some of it over his face. If an adult passed by, he'd give them a vague grin, pretend not to notice how messy he was.

  Hubward fussed with the rolled up parchment beneath his arm. Maybe it would happen today. Maybe this week. He was close, he could tell, and it was only a matter—

  "Hey frog-face, back for more?"

  Hubward looked up, irritated by the interruption. But then he remembered where he was. Who he was. Actually, the interruption was right on schedule.

  Hubward adopted a neutral expression. His default state was dull. Who was it this time? Crusher? Thumper? Oh my, it was Ani. Oddly, he was alone.

  A large boy stepped out from behind the corner. All towns had large bullies like this, but Ani was something special. He loved his job. He was an artist. He didn't just hit you, he grabbed your skin and twisted. He didn't just insult you, he found the one flaw you couldn't admit to yourself. Then he made you sing about it.

  A boy like Ani wouldn't rob and beat you, not for serious, not really. He smiled the whole time, like it was just a joke between pals. A game. Hubward had known people like that in the war. They'd died horribly.

  In his ten years of life, Hubward had endured many insults about his cheeks, which were naturally chubby and round. Chipmunk was obvious. Frog-face, bee sting, hamster, were all pretty common insults too. Hubward's favorite had been two towns ago, when a bully called him "pudding pouch". He liked the sound of it.

  "Frog-face" wasn't exactly Ani's best work, but he seemed preoccupied today. He should have started pummeling Hubward already.

  Hubward wondered again, why he was alone. Ani had a crew of other boys to hold arms, and say things like "Yeah Ani," or "Can I hurt him real bad this time?" But the crew was absent today.

  "Wh-what do you want Ani?" Hubward stammered. He'd been practicing his stammer. It lended a certain realism to the encounter. As if he really were afraid.

  "Give me your thalers. All of them."

  All of them? That was new.

  "Here take it," Hubward held out his small cloth money pouch. "I have two thalers left over—"

  "Two?" Ani asked. He grabbed Hubward by his tunic. "Not two. I want all your thalers. Now."

  Ani shoved him against the stone wall. Hubward's head snapped back, and he saw stars.

  A little rough for the first blow, Hubward thought. He started to feel the first pangs of fear, like a cold fire running up and down his arms. Not now, he thought. Not today. He was just about to find—

  Hubward shook his head, trying to clear it. "I can't do that. I need them. For the delicious candy which I so love to eat." Hubward smiled weakly. "Yum?"

  Ani tugged at a rolled up parchment from beneath Hubward's arm. "What's this, a treasure map?"

  "You don't touch that!" Hubward yelled. The meekness evaporated from his voice, and he realized he'd just clenched his fist. No, he can't do that right now. He relaxed his spine, curved in his shoulders. He had to be the victim. He was stuck.

  Ani held out the parchment, then read in a halting voice, "My New Play: Scene 2. Dialog-Butler, Bald: 'As you know, Madam Pills is allergic to lemons'. Dialog-Young Maid, Pretty Like Mom: 'Which is why when I served her the lemonade, I took out the peels' dot dot dot, wait for laughs." Ani's brow furrowed. "'Wait for laughs?' What's this supposed to be?"

  "Um, I was going for funny?"

  Ani grinned. "Well as you know, nobody talks like that. And nobody is coming to rescue you." He rapped his fist on Hubward's forehead. "Dot dot dot."

  Hubward's eyes teared up. He hoped Ani would think he was crying.

  "You're taking it too far," Hubward said. "Give me back my—"

  Ani handed the parchment back, then slammed his fist into Hubward's stomach. He frowned. "What are you wearing?"

  "Clothes. Normal boy's clothes." Hubward started to tear up again. Water leaked from his eyes like rain off a roof. Ani had gone too far. He'd backed Hubward into a corner. Stolen his manuscript. Hubward didn't want to lose his temper. Not now. He was tremendously close to saving the world. At the last town he'd failed because of that enchanted pig oinking its alarm, but before that was just bad luck. Well, that and the problem with the misapplied lightning. Usually it came down to pumpkins. But to fail now, because of a stupid bully? Because Hubward couldn't hold his temper?

  Ani grinned, the fine sheen of oil on his nose glistened in the afternoon sunlight. "You've been holding out on me. I see you buy candy every day. Where's the rest of the money?"

  "I love candy," Hubward said. "Yummy." The sweat poured out of him. His shirt was damp, the chocolate ring around his mouth had faded.

  Ani looked puzzled. "No. You're hiding something." His hands padded along Hubward's stomach. "You're hiding the money in here aren't you? You have a money pouch beneath your—"

  Ani stepped back. His face whitened. "It's fake. Your stomach is . . . oh sweet sorcerer, I didn't know. I didn't—"

  Hubward smiled, but now it was a wolfish grin. The anxiety faded. Sweat dripped from his body, forming a puddle on the ground beneath him. To an outside observer, it would appear Hubward had wet his pants. But of course, Ani was the boy in trouble.

  Hubward's cheeks deflated. They looked hollow. "Couldn't just leave me alone, could you?"

  Hubward ate the candy because he was allergic. He hated the stuff, how it made him swell, how it kept him running to the toilet. But the candy kept him thin.

  Ani shook his head, took a step back.

  "You got greedy," Hubward said. "That's why your crew isn't here. You wanted all the money for yourself."

  "I was just trying to rob you, honest," Ani said.

  Hubward removed his false belly and let it drop to the ground. It was just a sackcloth filled with flour and water. Magical camouflage would have been detected. He twisted his neck, cracking it. It felt wonderful not to have that weight on his shoulders.

  Above them, a dark mass flitted across the sun, painting shadows on Ani's face. Hubward's target was gone. The creature had sensed his magic, and gotten spooked. Again. He'd been so close, had almost caught it. He could have been done with all this saving the world nonsense, and gotten back to what mattered.

  But Hubward knew where to go next: Bayadev. There was nowhere else the creature could go. He'd track it there, and finish the job.

  "You're so skinny." Ani cringed away. "I didn't know. I saw you eat candy. I saw—"

  "Not just skinny," Hubward said. "Scrawny." He ran his finger across the bold protuberance of his rib cage. "Dangerously thin."

  Ani started to weep. "If I'd known you were such a weakling, I would never have tried to fight you."

  "I know. I tried to warn you," Hubward said.

  "I can go . . . ."

  "No, you can't," Hubward said. "You've insulted me. That means we have a relationship." He tapped a thin finger on Ani's forehead. "You backed me into a corner. You hit me. That causes panic. You know what happens when you back someone into a corner, when you scare them too much. Do you know what happens, Ani? Do you?"

  "They get desperate?" Ani's lower lip trembled.

  "They get desperate," Hubward agreed. "And when someone as dangerously scrawny as me gets desperate and scared, what happens? What happens when you push weak, starving people too far?"

  "They . . . please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone."

  "Can't do it. I've blown my cover and what I was tracking has flown off. It knows I can do magic now. Magic senses magic. And somebody has to p
ay the price. So what happens, Ani? Tell me and I'll let you live."

  "They do . . . magic," Ani blubbered. "And the more desperate they are, the stronger the . . . the stronger the . . . ."

  "The stronger the magic," Hubward finished.

  Hubward reached down and grabbed Ani's shadow, pulling it upward, stretching it out into seven separate shadows, revealing them like paper dolls.

  The magical shadows closed in around the big boy.

  "Please, don't," Ani mumbled.

  Hubward smiled, cleaned the nougat from between his teeth. He wouldn't hurt Ani too bad. But bullies always cried at the end.

  "What's the matter?" Hubward taunted. "Are you afraid of your own shadow?"

  "The true-truth? Okay, I admit the fairy story was a lie. The truth is that five years passed for everyone else, but not me. When I came back, my bratty younger sister was now my bratty older sister, and the war was over. Where did I go? Hard to say where I was really, because of all the apostrophes. Every place I went to had these apostrophes in its name. It's hard to pr'nounce ap'str'phes, have you noticed? You never quite c'n say them. So where did I go? It's hard to say."

  -The Collected Lies of Gulchima Brixby

  (40/100: Another Lie!)

  Chapter 5: Gulchima Starts a Fire

  "If you don't want to work, then who needs ya!" Uncle Rattbone roared. He picked up the carpenter and threw her over the side of the bridge.

  The sun had fallen below the treeline, and a cold spring wind blew across the water. The carpenter, a steady worker named 'Anya from the Black Sea', had landed well outside the reach of the floating lunkers. She paddled efficiently, her braided liripipe swishing in the water behind her.

  "You said it was honest work," the carpenter sputtered from the water below. "Nothing about magic."

  Brunhild roared laughter from across the river. Sweet Sorcerer, that woman had a loud voice.

  "We're getting rid of the magic," Uncle Rattbone yelled. "Nothing dishonest about that."