Kit and the Good Wizard Vs. The Forest of Thorns

Kit and the Good Wizard Vs. The Forest of Thorns

“Well,” the Good Wizard said as he stared at the conundrum of spikes before them. “Do you have a sword that matches your armor?”

“Not with me,” Kit replied with a grimace. Since she’d taken off the helmet, her expressions could actually be seen, which was an oddly gratifying experience.

“Hm, let me see if I have one,” the wizard said, throwing his left arm out so that his sleeve flared and fluttered in the wind. He fumbled around in it with his right hand, pulling out various objects, examining them for useful qualities, then stuffing them back into his sleeve. “Magic lamp, fairy dust, seven-league boots—I’d been wondering where those were!—veil of the goddess of beauty, no, no, none of this will work.” Switching arms, he began rifling in the right sleeve instead. “Endless wine cask, gauntlet of strength—”

“That would probably work,” Kit said.

The wizard scowled at her. “I am looking for a sword, not a fancy glove.”

“But—”

“Aha!” He pulled out a sword longer than he was tall, holding it up triumphantly so the moonlight glimmered on the blade. “The Sword of the Last King of the Old Kingdom! Chosen One, who ascended to the throne after defeating—”

“Do I need to understand the history to use it correctly?”

The wizard blinked, coming out of the storyteller’s daze. “Well, no, but it’s rude to interrupt.”

She took the sword from him and hacked at the nearest vine, freeing the tree it had wrapped itself around. The blade was sharp, the cut swift and smooth—all she could ask of a sword. Glancing back at the Good Wizard, she asked, “What will you use?”

“My good knight,” the wizard began with a haughty sniff, “your own strength should be all that is required to defeat this evil.”

Kit pursed her lips. “I’d rather have some additional assistance, if you don’t mind.”

He looked like he did mind, but he didn’t say as much. Instead, he curled his hand around the air and a wooden staff appeared in his grip, topped with a glowing sapphire gem. “Very well. It will speed things along. But I must warn you that my role in this story is as a simple adviser and helpful side-character. If there are evil beings in these woods, I am only allowed to assist you with level three and below.”

Not knowing the ways of the wizards, she chose not to question him. But she did ask: “What are level one and two evils? So I know what I may be up against on my own.”

“Level One covers all sentient creatures capable of crafting their own plans and hiring their own minions. This mostly means evil mages but could also include dragons and other crafty creatures. Level Two is the higher-level demons. They are still bound to another’s will, but they are quite formidable opponents.”

“What’s the likelihood we could encounter any of those in this forest?”

“Before today, I would say it was impossible. The Kingdom Defense Spell keeps out anything above a Level Four.” At Kit’s blank look, he muttered, “What do they teach knights these days? Level Four covers malicious fae who have murdered at least two people in the span of a year. Honestly, the system isn’t foolproof, but it did work.”

Ignoring his grumblings, Kit asked, “And after today, what would you say the odds are?”

“Good knight, we are standing in a forest of thorns where previously there were perfectly good trees. This happened in less than a day, probably within the last few hours, as I assume Prince Frederick would have warned us if he’d stumbled upon it. The odds that an evil mage is behind this transformation are one hundred percent.”

“Wonderful.”

“However,” the wizard hedged, pursing his lips, “they have, perhaps, left the forest to be guarded by something a little less sinister. A Level Two demon or monstrosity.”

As long as Kit didn’t suddenly have to take on the role of Chosen One to defeat an evil mage, she could handle one toothy forest. Hefting her sword, she sliced through a wall of vines and plunged into the unknown.

Kit had first picked up a sword when she was two years old. She didn’t actually remember the event, but she’d heard it retold often enough. Her father beamed with pride whenever he told the story. Her mother simmered with rage and scowled about his carelessness for leaving weapons around a toddler. Life was much more peaceful after they had acquired separate households.

Fighting a forest, as it turned out, was similar to slashing at targets. Some of the vines moved to attack her, but in the end, plants stood no chance against her sharpened blade. Like the practice dummies, their defeat was silent and a little disappointing. After fifteen minutes of monotonous swinging, she grew bored, and made-up little voices in her head for each vine.

No, no, please!one wailed, high pitched and pathetic. I have a wife and three sprouts at home!

I’ll take you down with me! another bravely announced, wrapping tightly around her upper arm. The thorns snapped off when they tried to puncture her armor. One day, I will get my revenge—ahhhhhhh!

“Must you?” the Good Wizard asked, pausing after blasting a path through a particularly thick bramble.

Kit realized she’d been narrating out loud and snapped her mouth shut. “I was just having a bit of fun,” she muttered as she swung the blade again, less animatedly this time.

“This is not the time for fun, good knight, this is a mission. Please treat it with the gravitas it deserves.”

Good gods, he was worse than her mother. As soon as he turned his back, Kit stuck her tongue out at him, then returned to hacking and slashing.

A roar stopped her mid-swing, the sound echoing through the forest. Excitement thrummed through her, and she turned to the wizard. “Is that a dragon?”

The wizard frowned. “If it is, I cannot help you with it.”

“That’s fine!” she shouted, rushing forward into the forest. She’d never seen a real dragon before. Though not all of them were evil, the good ones were often hermits—too sick of humanity’s shenanigans to pay a friendly visit. Fighting one would be a real challenge.

She burst through the trees and finally saw the tower, covered in thorny vines. A great shadow prowled around the base, flared wings making it look even bigger. It turned toward Kit, opened its pitch-black maw, and roared. Its breath rustled her hair and almost pushed her back a step.

But there was no fire, no brimstone smell, no treasure hoard. Not even a single scale. All of her excitement faded as she realized that it wasn’t a real dragon, only a shadow of one.

“I’ll just sit here, shall I?” the Good Wizard suggested as he found an overturned log. He blasted it with magic to clear it of vines, then gathered his robes and plopped down. A few vines tried to creep up behind him to ensnare him with their thorns, only to be repelled by the blue aura of his staff. He looked comfortable and ready to be entertained.

Kit rolled her neck and shoulders, then swished her sword in a few practice swings. “Alright, shadow beast, come at me.”

The great beast stepped forward, claws gouging the dirt. “You dare face me, puny mortal?” it demanded, voice echoing around them.

“Yup.” Kit stopped playing around and ran toward the shadow creature with a full-chested battle cry.

Enormous wings flared, blocking out the moonlight and the canopy above them, drenching Kit in shadow. “I am darkness!” it roared. “I am death! Fear me! Bow before—”

Kit stabbed her sword straight into its unprotected chest, putting all of her force behind the maneuver. Then stumbled and almost fell flat on her face when she met no resistance. The shadows barely had a presence—a brush of thickened air, then nothing.

She caught herself and swung around to face the creature again. Though she’d run right through it, its form remained intact. “Good Wizard?” she called. The shadow’s serpentine head lunged at her, its teeth snapping on empty air. She couldn’t touch it, but the scarred dirt beneath its feet said it could still touch her. Could her armor withstand shadows, or would they slash right through it?

“Yes, good knight?” the wizard asked, his voice a bit muffled.

When she glanced at him, she saw him hurriedly wiping crumbs from his face. The bastard had been snacking while she was fighting!

She dodged another attack from the not-dragon. “How do I defeat a shadow creature if I can’t touch it?”

“You don’t even know that?” he demanded.

“Why would I? We haven’t had to fight these things since my grandfather’s time!”

“You know, sometimes I wonder if this defense spell hasn’t done your kingdom a great disservice. You’ve become so vulnerable the second it fails.”

The claws barely missed her this time. She slashed through the extended wrist with no effect. “Just tell me!”

“Alright, alright. Give the sword to your shadow and let her do the work for you.”

Teeth snapped shut an inch from her exposed head as Kit dropped to the ground. She searched the area around her frantically before shouting, “I don’t have a shadow! There’s no goddamn light!”

“Ah, that I can help you with,” the wizard said. Then he banged his staff on the ground once and the blue light expanded in a sphere large enough to encase the whole clearing.

Kit saw her own black outline in the dirt and shoved the sword at what vaguely looked like her hand. She expected the sword to lie unmoving on the ground, because it was an utterly stupid idea. Instead, her own shadow fingers wrapped around the hilt, and the blade lifted into the air.

“Act quickly!” the Good Wizard warned. “I can only hold this for another thirty seconds, and then your shadow will disappear!”

“Fools!” the shadow dragon snarled, lunging for Kit again. “Fools, all of you! I will devour you! I will consume your meat and bones and souls!”

Not sure what else to do, Kit closed her own hand like she still held the sword’s hilt, then swung for the not-dragon’s neck. The sword flew through the air, guided by her shadow hand. She could barely see the outline, the creature’s darkness almost swallowing the silhouette.

That time, the sword met flesh—or something like it. Black blood spurted onto Kit’s face as the sword sliced through the long neck and came out the other side.

Everything came to a standstill. The blue light faded, and the sword clattered to the ground. Kit waited to see if it worked, or if the shadow creature would somehow repair itself. A second passed, then two, then seventeen.

Until finally the shadow slowly disbursed, the shape fading away as it joined the darkness surrounding them.

The wizard clapped politely. “Well done.”

Kit wiped her brow and picked the sword back up. She didn’t have a way to sheathe it, but she didn’t give it back to the wizard either.

She walked up to the door and saw that the vines had conveniently wilted away once the shadow guardian had been defeated. Since it was Rick’s private tower, even though she wanted to burst in and check on everyone, she knocked and patiently waited.

No answer.

She tried the door handle, but it wouldn’t budge, locked tight.

“Rick? Brendon?” No answer. “Something’s wrong,” she muttered. “What if the vines got in and they’re both unconscious? Or dying? We’ve got to find some way inside!”

“Allow me,” the wizard said, brushing her aside. Clearing his throat, he raised his staff, mumbled some nonsense words, and then cried, “Open!”

The door exploded off its hinges and flew to the other side of the room. Kit brandished her sword and rushed into the tower, a knight ready to save her prince.

She skidded to a halt when she found Brendon pushing Rick down into the couch, both of their mouths streaked with red, their expressions shocked and guilty.

Somehow, instead of rescuing her best friend, she had ended up cockblocking him.