Chapter 5
Luckily for us, the real Hob—not a creepy doppelganger in disguise trying to ruin our lives—ducked out the doorway of the Curiosity Shoppe less than twenty minutes later.
“Why, hello, my friends!” Hob said warmly, looking surprised to see us standing outside his door.
It was almost eight o’clock, but the night had yet to cool off. I felt hot and sticky, and sweat trickled down my back, pasting my T-shirt to me like glue. Following a hunch, we had raced straight for the alley across from the aquatic center, hoping for a miracle. It had to be almost a mile and a half down the road from the pizzeria, but with Mystery’s hourglass rapidly dribbling away, returning to Sunnyside to force Vanessa to rejoin our Band was out of the question. I knew we needed magic to help us out of our horrible predicament. We desperately needed Hob.
The wizard was wearing a pink shirt buttoned all the way up and cream-colored pants covered with an unusual pattern of what might have been clusters of grapes. From inside the shop, I could see candlelight glowing as a cool breeze wafted out from a wobbling oscillating fan. I also caught a whiff of woodsmoke in the air, as though Hob had just stepped away from a campfire.
“It isn’t Saturday already, is it?” Hob asked.
“No,” I panted, trying to catch my breath. “It’s Friday.”
“Well, we have other Bands Questing tonight, I’m afraid. They’re right in the thick of it as we speak,” Hob said. “Weren’t we playing tomorrow night?”
“What do you mean tomorrow?” I demanded. That was news to me! Before Mystery had sent us his tricky letter, there had been absolutely no news from Hob about playing Champion’s Quest whatsoever.
“You got my message, didn’t you?” Hob gave the window a sideways glance to where Garasculous, the feathered eyeball, had returned to his usual perch, his agitated snarls fogging up the glass.
“Here it is,” Hob said, snatching a piece of paper off the window with his bony fingers and holding it out for me to read. “I left it here for you the other day.”
My dearest Wild Crows, the long wait is done.
Please gather your Band and prepare for the fun.
Meet me at the Shoppe this Saturday evening, July 13th.
7:00 p.m. Sharp.
Like a dagger.
Hob
“You see?” Hob asked, his eyes twinkling. “You’ve just arrived a day too early.”
I stared at the message, knowing full well it hadn’t been on the window before, because I would have seen it for sure.
“Mr. Hob, sir? We have a problem,” Miles gasped. “We made a mistake.”
Hob gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t be silly. It’s a wonder you were able to decipher any of this in the first place. I have horrible penmanship.”
“We didn’t make a mistake about coming here,” Jasmine corrected. “We had nowhere else to go.”
As though snagged by an invisible fishhook, one of Hob’s bushy eyebrows stood on end. Without another word, he shifted to one side and ushered us into the shop. The moment we stepped through the doorway, however, Miles let out a yelping cry and scrambled backward, stepping on my toes in the process. I had to catch my balance just to keep from falling over, but it didn’t take long to discover why Miles had panicked. Barry had appeared at the end of a row of bookshelves, nudging along a squeaky, wobbly-wheeled cart.
The Curiosity Shoppe employee looked as though he had been in the process of restocking shelves; tubes of paper were cradled in his arms and a large, copper shield covered in spikes was clasped beneath his armpit. None of that should have been reason enough to panic, but there was one other minor detail.
Barry was a goblin.
Green skin, pointy ears, yellow eyes like a snake. I once thought Barry had been an actor wearing realistic makeup—he had even removed his fake fangs as proof and he wore a name badge like a normal employee. But after being attacked by Barry while on the Goblin Road—along with thousands of his lookalike clones—I refused to believe he was anything but a bloodthirsty monster.
“Keep that thing away from me!” Miles squealed, squirming for the door.
“Take it easy,” I said, snagging him by the sleeve. Miles had always been the most jittery around Barry. “We can’t leave yet.”
“He’s not going to hurt you, Miles,” Jasmine said, stepping out in front to block Miles from the monster. “Are you, Barry?”
“Hurt you?” the goblin’s nostrils flared. “Why? Do you want me to hurt you?”
“Mr. Fitzgal, shouldn’t you be off the clock by now?” Hob asked, walking briskly toward Barry.
Straining to keep hold of his armful of various tubes, Barry glanced at his watch, checking the time. “I’m not off for another four hours,” he said, accidentally dropping the shield with a thunderous clatter. “My shift goes until midnight.”
Hob heaved an impatient sigh. “Well, what do you say you call it a night anyway?”
Sucking back on his fangs hesitantly, Barry’s head bobbled. “Haven’t I had the whole month off already?” he asked. “How am I supposed to pay rent? The refrigerator’s empty. My neighbors keep complaining about the smell—”
“What does the smell have to do with anything?” Hob demanded.
The goblin swallowed. “Nothing I suppose, it’s just that—”
“I will pay you for the entire evening,” Hob interrupted, “if you will be back here first thing in the morning to finish your tasks.”
Barry’s lower lip curled. “A paid night off?”
Hob nodded.
Kicking aside the fallen shield, Barry eagerly crammed the tubes onto an empty shelf and then sidestepped out of the aisle. As he padded past us toward the exit, the goblin gave Miles a quick wink.
“I owe you one for that, Miles,” he said in his slippery voice.
Miles whimpered. “He knows my name.”
“Have a seat. Quickly,” Hob instructed, pointing to an empty table once the goblin had left. “I need you to tell me everything. Tell me about . . . him.”
I had been about to explain, but Hob’s urgency caught me off guard, and I glanced warily at the others. “About him?” I asked.
“About Mystery Waddlewort,” Hob said, with a curt nod. “I’m assuming he gave you a time limit. Pulled out his filthy little hourglass, did he? How long do you have?”
“Less than an hour,” Miles answered. “You know what happened to us?”
“I recognized his handiwork the moment I saw your eyes.” Hob’s chair creaked as he leaned forward. “Do you remember what color he’d turned?”
“Color? Uh . . . he was . . . pink, I guess,” I said, wondering how Mystery’s color had anything to do with our problem.
“Bright pink,” Miles added.
“And was he covered in anything?” Hob pressed. “Sores, perhaps?”
The three of us slowly nodded our heads. This was starting to get weird, even more so than the whole ordeal with the doppelganger at the pizzeria.
“They were more like boils,” Jasmine said.
“Which means he has been dabbling in dark magic, and his allergies have flared up again.” Steepling his fingers beneath his chin, Hob stared pointedly at me. “Listen to me very carefully, children. I need to know everything that has happened this evening. Don’t leave out a single detail.”
I had hoped that once we had finished explaining how Mystery had disguised himself as Hob and had tricked us into rolling his Die of Destiny, we would discover how it hadn’t been that big of a deal after all. That we had blown everything out of proportion, and that there was an easy solution to our problem. Instead, Hob slumped in his chair with his fingertips pressed into the corners of his eyes.
“He said that you and Bogie had a wizarding duel,” Miles said. “Was that a lie too?”
Hob glanced up and released a low groan. “Mystery was there, after all? I knew it! I told Bogie I had felt his presence.”
“Does that mean you really did fight each other?” I asked.
“Yes, it is a part of the game we play,” Hob said. “That’s how crucial playing cards are acquired. But I should have been more careful with covering my tracks.”
“Bogie actually beat you?” Miles gasped in amazement.
“Beat me?” Hob grunted. “He most certainly did not!”
“What I don’t understand is how Mystery had the Die of Destiny in the first place,” Jasmine said. “Did he steal it from you?”
“He has no need for thievery,” Hob replied, lowering his fingers. “He has his own set of dice at his disposal. As do I and Bogie. Each Questmaster has a set that bears the same magic and offers the same consequences to any Champion who dares roll them.”
“So, let me get this straight. There are three sets of dice in Champion’s Quest?” Jasmine asked.
“No, there are four,” Hob answered casually.
“Huh?” I blurted, feeling even more confused. “Who has the fourth set?”
“I have no time to explain that.” Looking over his shoulder, Hob’s eyes glistened as he stared unfocused at a spot near the middle of the room. Lips moving rapidly, he muttered something under his breath. “I fear this is beyond my expertise. Oh, Bogie? Could you break away for a moment?”
While jabbing two fingers into his mouth, Hob produced a sharp whistle. Miles covered his ears, and both Jasmine and I flinched as a large square of light appeared in the air a few feet away. The square shimmered like sunlight reflecting across the surface of a pool, and then, like a squeaky door in need of oiling, it opened, peeling back to reveal a hidden room no bigger than a walk-in closet. Sitting at a table inside the room was none other than Bogie. The younger wizard’s black hair whipped around as he swiveled in his seat, a golden chain jangling out from the top of his silky turquoise shirt.
“Was that obnoxious whistle really necessary?” Bogie asked, glaring disdainfully at Hob.
A smoking bundle of sticks balanced above a bowl of what looked like milk centered on the table. I could see a playing card standing up inside the bowl, twitching about as though trying to escape the liquid. I noticed other cards as well. Dozens of them. Bent, crinkled, and ripped playing cards spread out in front of Bogie. Those empty chairs at his table must have belonged to another Band, and at that moment, I knew Bogie was playing a game of Champion’s Quest.
“I apologize for the intrusion, but there’s nothing else to be done about this,” Hob said. “We are in dire need of your help.”
“We need his help?” The words spewed from my mouth before I could stop myself.
Since when did we need Bogie’s help? Wasn’t he the enemy? During our first Quest, Bogie had been the one trying to stop us. I didn’t care much for the arrogant wizard, and, judging by his annoyed expression, Bogie felt the same way about us.
“I have zero interest in helping you,” Bogie replied. “Now, if you don’t mind, Walter Grey and the Griffons have entered the Kitchen of Needles in the Stone Giant’s Cathedral. They will need my undivided attention, and I don’t want to waste the incense. Oh—please tell me you remembered to put the wet laundry into the dryer this time?” Grabbing hold of the edge of the invisible barrier, Bogie began pulling the door shut.
“It’s Mystery,” Hob called out quickly.
“I agree,” Bogie sneered. “Quite the mystery. Why you always forget the laundry is beyond my understanding. You know how I hate mildewed socks.”
“Mystery Waddlewort,” Hob clarified before Bogie had completely vanished. “He’s up to his old antics again.”
Only a thin golden outline remained of the door. It stayed that way for several seconds, like a window frame, before once again opening.
“What has he done this time?” Bogie asked, his expression changing from annoyance to one of curiosity.
“He has forced these three Wild Crows into playing a game,” Hob said.
Bogie drew out a long breath, and then dug his palm into one of his eyes. “With his dice? You old fool, you do need my help.” He then directed his withering gaze at me. “Don’t tell me. You ate his blasted Astral Stones, didn’t you? And he’s given you a time limit to find a fourth before you forfeit the game?”
“Uh . . . well, I guess—” I started stammering.
“Many seasoned Champions have fallen victim of his trickery before,” Hob said.
“Yes, but the Wild Crows aren’t seasoned Champions now, are they? Only one Quest victory to their name, and now they’ll be facing advanced monsters with non-advanced experience. And why on earth would Mystery Waddlewort want to lure the Wild Crows into a . . . oh, that’s right!” As realization seemed to dawn on Bogie, all Hob could do was nod his head grimly. The curious smile etched across Bogie’s lips morphed into a glowering frown. “Well, then that would mean—”
“Precisely,” Hob answered, before Bogie could finish.
With a snarl of agitation, Bogie tossed a piece of cloth over the bundle of sticks and the bowl of milk, immediately snuffing out the smoke.
“This is because you were so determined to set me off course with your Band of orphans that you made some truly atrocious decisions!” Bogie snarled, marching through the doorway right into the shop. “Then you gave Madge that harebrained idea to bargain with Faylinn. You don’t bargain with that witch. Everyone knows that!”
“There’s no need to start pointing fingers,” Hob said. “We’ve both made our fair share of mistakes in the past.”
“But my mistakes have never resulted in total annihilation.”
“Could one of you please tell us what’s going on?” Jasmine had been sitting quietly during Hob and Bogie’s argument, but she had apparently had enough.
“I would think it’s obvious, isn’t it?” Bogie replied. “You are required to play.”
“We know that. We were going to play anyway,” she said. “If rescuing Madge is our assignment, we just have to find her and slay a bunch of monsters along the way. No big deal, right? What’s the problem?”
“The problem is you have to play on Mystery’s terms now,” Hob explained. “You play with his dice. Unfortunately, due to your consumption of his Astral Stones, the challenges facing you shall be dire.”
“But won’t we be Sapphire Level?” I asked.
“By Advancement Medallion only,” Bogie said. “That’s how Mystery bamboozles you. You will have none of the other attributes that go along with a Sapphire Level Champion, and you will not have unlocked the various components of your Heroes’ Devices that could help you succeed. That takes experience and advancement to achieve. What’s worse, Hob will have no idea what to expect or how to plan to help you.”
Jasmine smirked. “Help us? Aren’t we the ones who go on this Quest by ourselves? I don’t remember Hob helping us out against Foyos.”
“Little girl, do you think we sit around helplessly while we watch your Quest unfold?” Bogie spat. “It takes strategy to do what we do. Laying down certain cards at the precise moments could turn the tide in your favor.”
The game wasn’t only about rolling dice and trying to stay alive as long as possible. There were no chance encounters in Champion’s Quest because Hob and Bogie were the ones putting cards into play. Fawson Bendfollower had crossed my path twice during our last Quest because of one of Bogie’s cleverly played cards, and I had nearly abandoned my friends because of him.
“Why does Mystery even want to play with us?” Miles asked.
“Because, Mr. Maldonado, Mystery Waddlewort is seizing an opportunity,” Hob said. “He must have found out about Madge’s bargain with the witch, and now he’s trying to put a stop to our playing.”
At any moment, I felt like my head could start spinning in circles. “What does that mean? Stop you from playing the game?”
Hob nodded his head bleakly. “That is Mystery’s desire. To end Champion’s Quest for good.”
“Then what does Madge have to do with any of this?” Jasmine asked.
Hob opened his mouth to explain, but instead of words, a strange wheeze escaped from his throat like squeaky air.
Noticing Hob’s discomfort, Bogie released a squawk. “You can’t tell them that!” he said, smacking the table.
“I know, Bogie, I know,” Hob hissed impatiently. “I’m sorry, my friends. There are rules to this game. Binding rules forbidding a Questmaster from revealing too many secrets to their Bands of Champions. Madge’s involvement is one of them. You will have to figure it out on your own, but know this, Mystery is linked to the outcome of the Quest. Rescuing Madge is paramount!”
“Why does Mystery want Champion’s Quest to end?” I asked. Hob may have been forbidden from telling us many of the details, but that was one of the questions that had been gnawing at my insides.
Hob sucked in a deep breath and released a sigh. “Once Bogie or I have successfully finished every possible Quest, we shall finally return to our home, a place neither of us have set foot in for more than three decades, or approximately seven hundred years in the Lower Etchlands.”
“There’s just one problem with that,” Bogie added. “Our pugnacious friend Mystery Waddlewort will return home along with us, and he will stop at nothing to keep that from happening.”
“Why?” Miles asked.
“Because he has nothing going for him in the Lower Etchlands—no power, wealth, or credibility. Here in this world, however, Mystery is feared, respected—even worshipped by some,” Bogie explained. “If he can somehow destroy Champion’s Quest, he will have cut off our pathway home for good. Which means we’re close, Hob. Oh, so very close.”
“It also means we’re going to need to pool our resources,” Hob said.
“Indeed.” Bogie scratched his beard, peering around the shop. “Indeed, we will.”
“And you’ll have to postpone your current campaign,” Hob added.
Pursing his lips, Bogie gazed longingly back at his table, before twirling his finger. “So be it. After the Cathedral, Walter Grey and the Griffons will have at least a few days of travel through the Griphorn Mountains until they reach the Lair. Not much to worry about along their way—a few manticores, a basilisk or two, but they’re well-equipped to survive. Very well, Hob, I will offer my services to this Quest and your Band of Champions. Oh—I do have a solution for their missing Band member as well.”
Hob’s eyebrows crinkled. “There’s no need for that.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Bogie said. “You need a fourth, and it so happens I have an excellent suggestion.”
“No, I think not. I have a few of the Astral Stones myself. I’ll simply force Vanessa to consume one, so she’ll be equal to their level,” Hob insisted. “Where is that girl, anyway?”
“At the summer dance party across the street with her boyfriend,” Miles said.
Bogie snorted. “Fat chance of dragging her away from there. You don’t want to risk Vanessa sabotaging the Wild Crows because of her longing for love. You need Champions who are committed to the task at hand, and, might I add, ones already at the appropriate level for this Quest. Plus, I have one remaining Insertion Token I had been saving for a special occasion. This would seem fitting, don’t you think?”
Hob’s eyes narrowed. “You’re something else, you know that? Whatever happened to your rules? Your so-called principles?”
“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Bogie said, pressing his hand against his chest.
“Weren’t you the one always insisting how Champion’s Quest was no place for children?” Hob asked. “When did you change your mind on that?”
“I stand firmly by that rule,” Bogie said, before cracking a smile, “but I do make an exception every once and while, especially for someone with such talent and imagination. Which, by the way, is something your Band of Champions is certainly lacking. Let’s not forget the matter of time. We’re running out of it.”
Hob waffled on the idea, but after checking the wall clock and letting out a squeal of frustration, he surrendered. “Fine! Make it so.”
“Excellent.” Bogie rubbed his hands together.
“Are you going to tell us what we’re supposed to do?” Jasmine asked.
Swooping his arms around our shoulders, Hob gathered the three of us in close. “Listen carefully, my friends. There is much at stake, but we shall do all that we can to help you.”
“What about Vanessa?” Miles asked.
“There’s no time!” Hob insisted. “Keep your ears open and your eyes peeled and throw all expectations out the window. You’ll be under Mystery’s watch, and I assure you he has been storing up cards in preparation for this moment for quite some time. Good luck, Wild Crows!”
I could feel my pulse quickening. I was nervous and worried, but also thrilled for what was about to happen. We were going to play again, and the air was electric with excitement.
“So, how exactly do we get—” I started to ask, but then the Curiosity Shoppe disappeared right before my eyes, and I dropped into dark, icy water.