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The Aimless Quest of Bungston Shag
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.
Chapter 5
Actually, it turned out there was no one in the throne room except a fairy who was mopping the floor. He looked up in surprise, then resumed the standard fairy scowl. Just then Robigus burst panting in the door behind them, his normally gray face almost pink from exertion. His armor, formerly new and shiny, now bore stains, scrapes and several deep dents, one of them an unmistakable fistprint. His hair was matted with beer and grease and he was barefoot. "It is fortunate you two escaped unscathed!", he gasped. "I was worried for you, but I was unable to cross the room to ensure your safety." Napoleon was about to say something to this, but received a surreptitious stomp on the instep and held his tongue.
"Yeah, we made it out alright. Looks like you weren't `unscathed' though; that's a nasty shiner." Bungston indicated the puffing warrior's purpling cheekbone with a cautious pinky.
"I am fortunate to have escaped at all," replied Robigus. "It would have been calamitous had I not worn my armor to dinner; although it pains me to flee from a fight, I must admit that there are many men here who could easily best me. And some are such barbarians, they think nothing of killing outright a man who has done them no harm, merely because he chances to be present when a fight begins." Robigus suddenly regained his old sternness. "But I waste your time with stories when I should be bringing you to the Queen's reception room now, so she may tell you why you are here in Avalon." He immediately set off at a brisk pace, his bare feet slapping moistly on the flagstones, and Bungston and Napoleon followed.
As they walked, the disheveled warrior spoke over his shoulder. "That was an impressive meal you ate, Napoleon. I have rarely seen so much consumed at a sitting, and neither had many in that hall."
"Yeah, well, it was nothing" mumbled Napoleon. "I was just really hungry. Too bad that little monkey in the skins was such a sore loser."
"HORSEHAIR TIMESHARE STANDING THERE WET AND BARE HEADCOLD BREADMOLD OVERBOILED AND POISON OILY FOILED BY SMOKEY DOPE NO FAIR!" Robigus screeched to a halt and spun when he heard Bungston begin to shout, confronting the wizard with an alarmed look on his face. Bungston, however, had already finished the spell, and was cradling a beautiful chromed helmet with a tall stiff horsehair crest, dyed crimson. "Thought you might not want to appear before the Queen with your hair all greased down like that. Here you go, Bob, try this on."Astonished, Robigus accepted the handsome helmet and settled it on his head, where it fit perfectly. He gasped a bit at Bungston, then finally thanked him heartily. "I was told that you often used your sorcerous skills to play evil tricks on innocents nearby, and that I was to treat you with courtesy but caution. Perhaps I was misled."
Napoleon shook his head vehemently. "No, you were absolutely right," he ground, sounding like an impassioned chainsaw. "This sack of shit is always playing pranks on everybody. But now and then he comes up with something like brownies or your helmet there. Best to just keep on your toes."
It didn't look like Robigus had completely understood Napoleon's tirade, but he nodded polite assent, sending the horsehair crest sweeping up and down. Then he wheeled and began striding along the hall again, holding his torso straighter than ever. The other two did their best to imitate him, Bungston coming up with a reasonable facsimile but Napoleon eventually lapsing back into his comfortable shamble.
A pair of the teenage blondes which seemed to abound in Avalon was standing guard at the door, dressed in red and white soldierly uniforms and holding scaled-down halberds. One of them recognized Napoleon and beamed, then opened the door, allowing a little gentle guitar music to escape. Tight white trousers stretched tighter as she leaned in the door, and Bungston slyly elbowed Napoleon. "Those martial uniforms sure are something, eh?"
Napoleon bulged his eyes in confusion. "What? Martial? Who's getting married? Not me!" Bungston reached up to give the mutant a cuff on the back of the head for his terrible and perhaps unintentional pun, and then the guards ushered all three of them in.
The crest of Robigus' helmet snagged on the lintel as he walked in, but it was dexterously caught by the guard behind him before it could clang on the floor. He scrambled to put it back on as Bungston and Napoleon surveyed the reception room. The room was comfy indeed, with shelves of books along the wall and thickly stuffed furniture in abundance. Bungston raised his opinion of the Queen a few notches. The Queen and her consort were sitting behind solid-looking desks, and the court magician was seated in an armchair nearby. In the center of the room a priest in long black robes and a wide brimmed hat reclined in a little beanbag with his guitar, playing a waltz adaptation of a slow Hendrix tune. He played uninterrupted as the small group entered, but looked up and gave a courteous nod to Bungston. After all had entered, the Queen addressed her holy musician. "That will be all for now, Father Ignatius. Thank you." The priest stood and bowed, then strutted out through a side door. The two guards returned to their posts and Robigus walked up to the Queen. He remembered himself at the last moment and snatched the helmet back off, revealing his goofy coiffure after all. "My lords, I present to you Bungston and his companion Napoleon."
The Queen didn't look quite as good close up. He face was drawn and tired looking, and she had eyebags rivaling Napoleon's. She was staring at Bungston almost hungrily. The wizard had expected something of the sort; anyone who stocks her island with nubile young blondes is probably the stereotypical lust-crazed wench queen as well. However, this was not "sloe-eyed scrog-starved concubine" hungry; it was "dog wants sandwich on counter" hungry. Bungston noticed that Prince Charming in his desk nearby also thought the Queen was acting strange; after his initial smile of greeting his eyes swiveled to watch her carefully. She took a first appraising look a little too long for comfort, and then the Queen addressed Robigus.
"Thank you for bringing them here, Robigus; I am sure it was no easy feat. And thank you for escorting them safely from the feast hall. I apologize for the brawl that broke out, but sometimes blood runs hot and things get out of hand." She sounded quite regal, but her eyes shifted from Robigus to Bungston and back like a cornered ferret. Robigus bowed, then took his leave and left the room, leaving the Queen, her consort, Napoleon and Bungston. And the court magician.
Napoleon, his attention rambling freely about the room, noticed that the magician too was looking strangely at Bungston as he fiddled with some small object. However, his feelings weren't quite as indecipherable as the Queen's. The magician simply hated Bungston. He took no pain to conceal it either; the potbellied old man openly sneered and wrinkled his brow in the other wizard's direction. Bungston didn't notice this since his attention focused on the Queen, but Napoleon flashed his front teeth at the man in the silly robes to keep him in line. It worked; the mutant St. Bernard's choppers were nothing to sneeze at.
The Queen motioned for Bungston and Napoleon to take seats. Bungston moved fast and flopped down in the beanbag vacated by the musician, leaving Napoleon to squeeze his bulk into one of the armchairs. The Queen walked around from behind her desk, eyes on Bungston the whole time.
"We are sure you wonder why you are in Avalon, Mr. Schagg. In truth, we are ashamed to have had to resort to force to insure you arrived here, but our situation is most perilous. We urgently need your services."
"You want me to service you?" Napoleon clapped a paw to his nose to muffle his laughter at this, but wound up yelping instead when he hit the bruise Fionn mac Coul had left there. The yelp served to distract the Queen from trying to figure out what Bungston meant, and after a pause she continued.
"Your reputation precedes you, Bungston. The island realm of Avalon is in grave danger, and we believe that only a wizard and adventurer of your capabilities is qualified to save it." The Queen paced around nervously as she spoke. "My own sorcerous abilities have dwindled somewhat in the years since I first took control of this island and created the wondrous devices by which it may be reached. And we are sorry to have found that neither have the skills of Angar Firestorm, our court wizard, proved equal to this awesome task." She indicated the fat little man in the corner, who seemed about to explode from strong emotion. "Thus it is we come to you, Bungston."
Bungston spread his palms above the beanbag. "Why me? You have loads of mighty heroes here who just live for quests and adventures and stuff like that. I'm not mighty or anything; I just like to lie around on the beach. How did you pick me?" Bungston did not add that it seemed rather strange that someone not responsible enough to eat candy would be called upon to save the country, but he was getting the idea that the Queen herself was a more than little strange.
A spooky look came into the Queen's eyes. "We have been told you handle yourself well," she intoned ominously.
"I quit doing that when I was fifteen!" Napoleon could not contain himself and snorted in uncontrollable glee. Prince Charming leapt to the rescue.
"What the Queen means, of course, is that you are capable of dealing with situations in any period of history, with many different sorts of people, without resorting to mayhem and murder as I am afraid many of our heroes here are wont."
"Wont?", murmured Napoleon. "Wont's that mean?" He was ignored by all except perhaps Angar Firestorm, the court wizard.
Bungston absorbed the compliments like a sponge. "Well, since you put it that way, I guess I am quite a skillful operator. Yes indeed." Insufferably smug, the wizard hooked his thumbs into his jacket and reclined into the beanbag. "Now what is it exactly that you want me to do?"
Queen Z moved closer to the lounging wizard. It was difficult to take one's eyes off of the Queen as she moved about the room. Aside from the fact that she was a handsome woman, her every action screamed strangeness. Her audience watched her like they might have watched a raccoon out in the bright sun trying to gnaw one of its legs off. She fidgeted and twitched, moved too rapidly from place to place, and had started to hunch menacingly as she got excited. Prince Charming was obviously concerned, and Bungston himself seemed less at ease as the Queen approached him.
"We want you to find an item of great power, known as the Chazberglath. Only with this mighty artifact can we save the happy kingdom of Avalon, and only you can find this item for us."
Bungston furrowed his brow. "Chazberglath... chazberglath?" The wizard tilted his head back to look at Napoleon, who shrugged. "No disrespect intended, Queen Z, but I can't say that I've heard of such a thing. Is it a magic ring, or a great sword, or what?"
The Queen seemed to snap. She leaned close to the wizard and spoke softly and intensely. "It is an item of great power! It has tremendous magic imbued in it, and only through use of this power shall Avalon be saved! You must find the Chazberglath! You must!"
Bungston shrank into the beanbag in an effort to escape the Queen. He held up his hands in pacification. "Alright, alright. I'll find it. Do you have any idea where it might be?" The Queen's eyes flashed, and Bungston hastened to cut her off before she could speak again. "Ok, that's cool, no problem. Now my fee..."
The Queen whirled and paced away from the wizard, distracted. "You shall be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams,"
Bungston raised one half of his monobrow. "I'm not sure you know how wild my dreams get. I'd like to know a little more specifically..."
"You shall receive riches and power. What more could you want?" Napoleon leaned closer to Bungston and muttered something.
"Ah, food," said Bungston. "How about guaranteed meals delivered to our door for... ah, forever."
The Queen spun on a heel, her long hair flying out in a semicircle as prescribed by centrifugal force. Once again she pinned the wizard with her stare like a junebug under a pushpin. "Yes. Just as you say, so shall it be done. My consort Prince Charming will discuss further details with you now." With that, the Queen strode out of the room.
Bungston let out a long low whistle. "Quite a woman, Queen Z." Everyone in the room was visibly relieved that the Queen had left. Prince Charming might be a tad vapid, but at least he didn't march around and glare. "So, Prince Charming, what do you know about this...ah, did you catch that name Nap?" The shaggy mutant shrugged. Surprisingly, Prince Charming himself was unsure.
Angar Firestorm piped up from his corner. "Chazberglath."
Bungston smiled his thanks to the potbellied purple man. "Could you write that down for me?" Prince Charming nodded vigorously and quickly fished out a pen and paper from his desk and passed it to Firestorm, who wrote out the name in elaborate calligraphy. Being of some use seemed to calm the fat man a bit, and he passed the paper to Napoleon, who examined the paper then gave it to Bungston, who folded it into a pocket. "Firestorm, do you know anything about this artifact? I've got to admit, I've never heard of it."
Firestorm removed his dunce cap and scratched at his pate, then settled back. "I was regrettably unable to locate the Chazberglath in my scrying glass," he said, revealing the object in his hand as being a crystal sphere about two inches in diameter. "although it was a simple feat to locate you," indicating Bungston. "So," he spat, "the Queen has decided to dispense with my services and instead contract with you to find the Chazberglath." Firestorm had resumed his angry scowl.
Bungston nodded slowly. "Yes, but what is this Chazberglath? Do you know what it looks like? What are its powers? In fact, what is the problem that the Queen wants so badly to solve?"
Prince Charming cleared his throat with dignity and nodded. "I believe that the Queen is of the opinion that the realm of Avalon is sinking beneath the sea, or that the sea in this area is rising to cover Avalon, or something of the sort." The graying Prince turned to Angar Firestorm for confirmation, then turned back after receiving a sullen nod. "The Queen believes that the fairy magic which first lifted the island from below the waves is fading, and as it fades, so fades our domain. The Chazberglath is the only item whose power is sufficient to stabilize the island, presumably by enhancing somehow the fading fairy magic. But in truth, I myself know little of magic. Perhaps Wizard Firestorm may add to what I have said."
Firestorm looked peeved that the prince was passing the buck back to him, but he did his best. "Ah, yes, as I have said, I failed to locate this artifact, and I suspect that you will have the greatest difficulty in doing so, if indeed you are able. From what the Queen has said to me, I deduce that the Chazberglath is a small object... perhaps a piece of jewelry or a small statue. Perhaps a gem or an amulet."
"Perhaps an earspoon or a summer sausage?", suggested Napoleon.
Bungston was deep in thought, and did not respond to the mutant's helpful hints. "Ok. And no idea where it is." The potbellied magician slowly shook his head. "How about the time frame? When was the last period it surfaced?" Again the other magician shook his head. "Man. Ok. Prince Charming, what sort of support can you give us in this quest? We'll need funds, and transportation." Napoleon again leaned to mutter in Bungston's ear, but this time he was ignored.
Prince Charming was relieved to get back on familiar territory. "Yes, of course. You shall have at your disposal one of our most comfortable wrapped carriages -- much more pleasant than the one I am told you arrived in. You shall be given a quantity of gold sufficient to meet any eventualities you may run into. And also, you may choose any one of the heroes here in Avalon to accompany you on your mission."
Bungston was surprised at this, although he probably shouldn't have been, considering his location. He was used to working alone or with Napoleon; he didn't look forward to having a stranger getting in the way. But how often did one get the chance to hobnob with the likes of Davy Crockett or Hector of Troy? The wizard thought a while. "I choose Robigus, the guy who brought us here,"
It was the Prince's turn to be astonished. "But Mr. Schagg, I do not want to demean the worthy Robigus, but here at Avalon we have many heroes who surpass him in valor and deeds. Consider, for example, Gawaine, whose questing..."
Bungston cut him off. "Yes, yes, I know. Some of the guys here are really awesome. That's why I don't want them. I want to run the show, and there's no way someone like Gawaine is going follow around a scrawny little guy like me. Guys like him are too used to being in charge and doing what they want, and like Robigus told me, a lot of times what they want is to slash and mince and cave in heads. Robigus is pretty mellow, he doesn't have a monster ego, and I've dealt with him before." Also, Bungston was fascinated by the mildew god's molding powers, but he kept this to himself.
The Prince was royalty at its finest, and he had already composed himself before Bungston had finished. "Of course, Mr. Schagg, you know best what companions suit you. Robigus it shall be. I am sure he will be happy to go with you. Will you be ready to leave in the morning?"
Bungston retired to his chambers, leaving Napoleon in the rec room with a bevy of admirers. The wizard was rather troubled, and popped a fresh nutmeg in his mouth, rolling it from tooth to tooth in frustration. Search for a magic item he knew nothing about except the name? Where was he even supposed to start? The wizard threw himself across the room face down onto his bed. What a bizarre lady that Queen Z was! Maybe he could end this whole deal now and just summon up the merchandise here from his bed; summoning was his specialty. "RAZZ BATH - FLASHING CHAFF - CHAZBERGLATH - ACID WRATH - FLACCID BRASSY RASCAL GNATS! CASPER PROSPER LAST SHALL DROP LOP HOP AHEAD CRAB SLAPPER HASTUR! BITE YOUR TIME AND FLOSS YOUR SPATS RIGHT TYLER BOILER BANDIED MATH! " Nothing happened. Bungston looked around, disgruntled. "MATH!" There was a brilliant flash, and when Bungston could see again the walls of his room were metallic blue with delicate geometrical etchings. Later he also discovered a rather sleazy swimsuit calendar in his bathtub covered with a pile of cedar chips. Not too shabby for a spell of sheer desperation, but it didn't summon up the chazberglath doohickey either. The wizard finally concluded he needed help, so he gathered an armful of bubble-plastic packing sheets and left his chambers.
After a brief interrogation of the girls hanging around Napoleon, Bungston learned that Angar Firestorm did not live in the lodge where Bungston and Napoleon were staying; like many court magicians he had a private tower off in the woods. This meant that if Bungston wanted to talk to Firestorm, he would have to go outside, where the wind had picked up and it was spitting flecks of rain. He contented himself with the fact that with a name like Firestorm, the other magician probably kept his tower well heated. Bungston's several attempts at summoning a coat obtained a mink stole, a pink ski vest, and a sombrero decorated with wax fruit. The pink vest was a little too small for him, but Bungston decided to wear it anyway; after some thought he decided against the stole, figuring it would get all matted by the rain. Finally he summoned an army surplus rain poncho, and he bundled up and struck out into the woods.
It was a dark and stormy night. Bungston sort of liked the sound of that phrase, and repeated it to himself in various dramatic voices. "It was a dark and stormy night. It was a dark and stormy night!" The flashlight Napoleon had accidentally brought from the cabana came in handy; one less thing he had to conjure up. Avalon was a creepy place by night. The trees swayed and moaned in the high wind, and now and then Bungston could swear he saw tiny figures racing between the pines. They moved too fast for him to get a bead on them with the flashlight, but they seemed harmless enough. After he had been walking about five minutes a terrible shout rang through the forest. Bungston hid himself behind a tree seconds before a huge brute with a thick beard and a bloody mace in one hand came stalking down the path. Some guys enjoy a warm companion and a snifter of brandy at night, thought Bungston, and some go skull bashing. Each to his own. And some truck through the forest to visit weird fat men, he added as an afterthought. The wizard set out again, and it wasn't too long before he found the tower.
Firestorm's tower was located in a glade similar to the one Robigus, Napoleon and he had walked through after their arrival on the beach. Tall sinister standing stones delineated a rough circle, and the tower, of newer construction, stood in the center. This glade was more overgrown though; brambles and scrubby pines penetrated the bounds of the circle, and the long grass of the glade whipped frantically in the wind. As Bungston got closer to one of the fanglike menhirs, he noticed that the surface of the rock was shifting with the wind. He spotlighted it with the flashlight and immediately regretted his action. The stone was swarming with tiny monkeylike black sprites, silently and aimlessly clambering over each other. Two and three deep in some places, all of them stopped and looked at the wizard. A myriad of bulging yellow eyes reflected the light as if the stone was studded with jewels. Bungston mumbled an apology and backed away, fighting off an attack of the heebie-jeebies. Slowly the loathsome little beasts crawled down from the stone and made their way toward Bungston, gaping mindlessly at the flashlight. The wizard circled around the growing black pool of sprites pouring from the stone. They seemed to want the light, and Bungston was happy to let them have it. He threw his flashlight at the monolith and ran for the tower, leaving the horde to slowly turn about and form a heap on top of the light.
He pounded the thick wooden door and listened carefully, both for the mandatory echoes that occur when a stone tower's door is pounded and also for telltale rustling that might mean the spiderlike imps had decided he was tastier than the flashlight. He heard neither, so he pounded again, adding a side thrust kick for good measure. A thin voice called from within the tower, but Bungston couldn't figure out what it said. He took a guess. "Bungston Schagg here! Can I come in?" The door opened a crack and Angar Firestorm's beard protruded a little way out into the night, then the door opened further and Bungston ducked into the tower.
It wasn't all that warm inside, and in fact the tower was pretty decrepit and ill-kept. The fat old magician had shucked his purple robes of office and was wearing a bathrobe and thick slippers. He didn't look very welcoming. "So, come to gloat about your victory? Come to rub a little salt in the old man's wounds?", he spat bitterly. Bungston was baffled. "Victory? I haven't won anything! I just got saddled with this quest, and its looking pretty bleak to me..."
Firestorm literally did spit now, although it was into a nearby spittoon and not at Bungston. It looked like the magician might have a dip of tobacco in. "You have won this task from me. The Queen decided that I wasn't worthy or that I was too inferior for this or something of the sort. Well, perhaps you are the more powerful magician and perhaps you are younger, but I have a few tricks left in my sleeve!"
Bungston had to feel a little sorry for the poor old magician, striving to please his crazy queen. Bungston also had to feel a little scared of this poor old magician, who was pissed as hell and on his home turf. The wise wizard withdrew a swath of the bubble packing material from under his poncho and proffered it to Firestorm, who looked at it suspiciously. "Come on, Angar man, this is fun stuff. A little gifty for you. Check this out." Bungston squeezed a pod between his fingers until it burst with a subdued pop. "Here, give it a try,"
Firestorm gingerly snatched the plastic, then put pressure on a bubble. It popped. He popped a few more then chuckled. "Well, this is somewhat amusing. Thank you. Now come in and sit and tell me why you are here." The old magician shuffled off into his tower and Bungston followed, eventually winding up in a dingy little kitchen. There was a table with the little crystal ball nestled in among the remains of a meal. Bungston pulled up a chair.
"I'm really in a fix about this... er," He searched his pockets, eventually finding the piece of paper. "Chazberglath. I've never heard of it, I don't know where it is or what it does, and I have no idea how to begin searching for it. I'm asking your help."
Angar Firestorm looked pretty satisfied. "So, the great Bungston needs my help. Well, if I knew where it was, you wouldn't be here. As I said, my scrying glass showed me next to nothing, although it is my specialty."
Bungston nodded. "Yeah, I was wondering how anyone could have found me on a no name island in Ancient Greece. That was a nice bit of work." Couldn't hurt to butter up the old monkey's ass, figured Bungston. Like Bungston, Firestorm enjoyed having his ego petted, and he puffed up a little at this compliment. "I was tracking you from the minute you hit the water," he boasted. "But then again, I had a fairly accurate description of you and the time period in which you ordinarily live, so it was not all that difficult. But this Chazberglath..." Firestorm tugged at his beard distractedly. "...I have no clue. I mean no insult to my Queen, but she has not helped as much as I had would have liked."
Bungston was beginning to make a picture in his mind. "Any chance she herself might not know what it is?"
The potbellied wizard glared for a moment, then growled some phlegm around and slumped back into the chair. "From what I have learned, the Chazberglath is a small item, but very potent. I believe that for most of its history it has been located in inhabited regions. Obviously, as history shows, it has not been used to any great extent, unless it has been to prop up existing powers in the same way my Queen hopes to use it.
Bungston sat for a while and looked absently at the little crystal where it sat next to a few scraps of cabbage. It seemed to display an empty pink locker room. The little wizard popped a nutmeg into his mouth a sucked on it for a little bit, then turned to Firestorm. "Hey, now, much as I hate the critters, what do you think of the idea of sending a demon after this Chazbugger? Some of those demons are pretty persistent."
The potbellied magician stroked his beard and looked at Bungston condescendingly. "I am a step ahead of you, Bungston. Several months ago I dispatched a demon, the most powerful I dare summon. It was a tracker and a biter, very cunning, but not too intelligent, if you understand." Bungston knew very little about demons, so he pursed his lips and nodded sympathetically. Firestorm indicated his crystal ball and continued to speak. "The problem is that demons are most difficult to locate in the glass - they are transplanar and do not move as normal things, and lately I can get no new picture of it at all."
Bungston chewed carefully on his lower lip. "Well, would you mind showing me whatever you got? I'd appreciate it."
The bearded magician looked suspicious and mean, and Bungston was pretty sure he would refuse. His eyes shifted from Bungston, to his little crystal ball, back to Bungston, then back to the ball. Apparently his pleasure at demonstrating his toy won out over any professional jealousy, and he grunted something and made a few magic passes, then grabbed the ball and turned so his back was to Bungston. The little wizard tried to peep over the old man's shoulder to see what he was doing, but Firestorm had arranged his belly over the crystal. After a few minutes he turned and set the ball back on the table. "There. This is the best I can find."
Bungston squinted at the two-inch crystal. It was only a little bigger than a golf ball. "Man, how do you see anything in this? It's so tiny,"
"Well, then get closer!", expostulated Firestorm. Bungston made some pacific gestures and then followed Firestorm's advice, pushing one eye up almost flush against the curved surface.
The crystal displayed two figures facing one another, almost obscured in a field of slowly shifting gray-green vapor. One creature was tall and basically humanoid, with long arms and a tremendous head. The other was short, with a weird sort of snout and some stubby feathers and tassels enshrouding its head. Occasionally a reptilian face moved up from near the smaller figure, only to dart away into the mist again; these snakes looked as if they were attached to the feathered one somehow. Bungston turned the crystal, trying to make out some of the surroundings. There might be some sort of mound in the background but the mist made it tough to tell. Bungston picked up the scrying glass and shook it, hoping to disperse the cloudiness like one of those snowy landscape globes.
Firestorm grabbed it out of his hand. "You're not supposed to do that!" he cried.
"Sorry, sorry. The big one was your demon?" Firestorm nodded. "Hmmm. Mighty weird. All that smoke, I could hardly see a thing. You know, I think I have a mask a lot like the head of that thing your demon was talking to. My mask is a lot nicer. Maybe it has some sort of label on it to say where it's from. You can't tell from the scene there where it is?"
"No better than you. I homed in on my demon, and know nothing except that."
"How about books? Did you do any bookwork? Any old scrolls or anything?"
"I have researched, but I have found no likely looking references in any writings. I completely exhausted all of my resources before she called you. In truth, this is an impossible task."
This was said as a challenge. Bungston pursed his lips. "Oh, I don't know. If it's out there, I think I can get it."
Firestorm was now irked again, a seemingly habitual state for him. "Well, go on then and find it," he snapped. "Go on and be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams." He turned away, having lost interest in Bungston, and in truth, the feeling was mutual; the doddering wizard had nothing else of use to offer Bungston. The wayward wizard thanked the old man then jogged out into the night, giving a wide berth to the standing stones.
NEXT CHAPTER (6)
Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13. Chapter 14. Chapter 15. Chapter 16. Chapter 17. Chapter 18. Chapter 19. Chapter 20. Epilogue.