The magicians reached the bridge, but not without some difficulty. A group of strangers, nearly all dressed in red, did not simply walk through a Spikonian town without being challenged. They were followed by yipping, snapping, dogs who seemed to have no owners. Rick used the silence spell to keep some Spikes from shouting a warning too early, but as they proceeded, a ruckus followed them. By the time they’d reached the bridge, all of South Quits was awake and alerted, followed by men with weapons. Some runners had gone around them in to North Quit, so by the time they reached the middle of the bridge and stopped, Rick’s prediction of being surrounded was fulfilled.
The morning sun glinted off helmets and from the swords the Spikonians carried.
“We ain’t gonna hurt you as long as yous just come quietly with us now,” a large Spikonian soldier said. His visor was up, displaying his black skin, bushy black beard, and black unibrow.
Rick sensed the nervousness of many of the magicians, especially those who had never seen a Spikonian before, which was most of them. This one was particularly large up close, but not nearly as big as their Bob. “I believe you,” Rick responded.
Rogerin started to quietly chant the sleep spell. The magicians closest to him joined in, also beginning quietly, just above a whisper, slowly growing louder than the churning river flowing beneath them.
“Hey! I knows you!” the big man said, pointing his sword at Rick. “You’re that boy magician with the unicorn. I seen you at Nimrock with the Great Alyse. Where you hiding him?” He feigned looking under the bridge. “It’s camouflaged, ain’t it? You made it disappear.” His neck twisted left and right, undoubtedly wondering where Neighbor was hiding, invisible.
“The unicorn’s a she,” Rick yelled. “Not a him, and definitely not an it!”
The man looked up and grinned, probably glad to hear there was no war unicorn around, but maybe glad there might be some fight in these weak-looking strangers. He and those with him started up the bridge.
Rogerin chanted louder.
“Don’t you go using that magic woo-woo stuff on us,” the Spikonian said. “Won’t work, you know. The Great Alyse made us immune to magic.” And to prove his words were true, Spikes from both sides of the bridge started closing in on them.
That was the downside of the plan. If the magic sleep spell didn’t work, they were trapped. Some of the magicians who had never encountered battle before, froze and quit speaking the spell. One even raised her hands above her head as if to surrender.
As the Spikonians neared, Rick snatched his hatchet from his belt, raised it high, and made one large circle over his head.
“Rixete!” he called out over the sleep chanters.
The bridge shook. The Spikonians on and closest to the bridge dropped their weapons as if the handles were made of hot iron. “Not so immune,” Rick said softly, but loud enough that the magicians heard. Rick joined in chanting the sleep spell, but also thinking of using other magic or even physically fighting if need be, Rogerin facing north and him facing south.
The soldiers collected their weapons as the magicians chanted faster, their pitch and volume rising. Some of the swords clanged to the ground. The soldiers bent to retrieve them. The magicians chanted louder. The soldiers dropped to their knees while they reached for their weapons. Then they melted over, at last giving in to the spell, and snored loudly enough to vibrate the bridge.
The magicians continued chanting, then spread out. According to the plan, Rogerin took half with him into North Quit while Rick backtracked with the other half through South Quit, all the while muttering their sleep spell.
Eri flew above the woods, reporting the Spikonians’ collapse in the streets like dominoes to Geoffrey, who marched his troops through the Quits. As soon as Neighbor saw that the magicians were successful, she bowed her head so Hobbie could stuff her ears with itchy clay and sheep’s wool before trotting forward to Rick.
Gaufrid and Jarvis led the Barabook citizens, all with covered ears, quickly through South Quit, over the bridge and westward towards the woods and Brandt beyond.
As soon as the last of the caravan had passed safely beyond the Quits, Rick and the other magicians changed their chant to create a wall of intertwining nettles and thorns taller than two men high. It encircled all of South Quit, from the Red River bank on the east, around the town, to the Red River bank on the west. When Rick was satisfied, they trotted through the sleeping streets to Rogerin and his group, where they joined forces to chant up the nettles spell around North Quit.
When he was satisfied, the chanting stopped. Rick reached out to check the plant wall.
“Ow,” he yelped, sucking his fingers. “That stings.”
“That stupid,” Bob the Giant said, snickering. “But I know who to go to if I have trouble sleeping…but I never do.”
From here, Rick would know the way to the capital if they followed the Red River to Drake’s fishing hut, across the river from his old homestead. But he guessed the most direct route was straight along the road.
Geoffrey and Rick led the companies. Neighbor was in front as well, carrying Eri, so he could quickly scout ahead and report back as needed. He loved his job, and returned each time snickering.
“I don’t know if they spot you coming first and then gallop off towards the capital, but any time I see a Spikonian on horseback on the road heading away from you, I swoop down over his head from behind, land in front of the horse and spread my wings wide. The rider always falls off. Always. And the horse runs away. Then the rider runs away, too, screaming about ghosts.” Later, Bob told them Eri also yelled “boo” whenever he whooshed his wings close to them.
There were no woods between the Quits and the capital to conceal their coming, but there were hills. Before cresting each one, scouts made sure the way was clear. On the occasion when there was a lone enemy or three, they were captured, tied together, and guarded in the evening by Bob the Giant and Eri. Soldiers actually watched and secured the captives, while Bob and Eri stayed nearby to strike fear into their hearts and keep them from escaping.
Rick realized they wouldn’t make the Spike capital until the next day, so the entire cavalcade left the road and made camp. With the mid-summer weather, they didn’t light fires for warmth or for cooking, since they’d already prepared sufficient travelling food. To be prepared to move or fight at a moment’s notice, they didn’t even set up tents. However, Geoffrey tripled the number of night guards watching over the two companies of soldiers, one company of magicians, and the red-clothed Bottoms folk. The silence which hung over them was such that the footsteps of a guard patrolling two camps away could be heard as clearly over dried twigs as though they walked a few feet away from the listener.
The night’s deep silence should have brought quick sleep, but instead, everyone listened to every breath of breeze, aware they were on enemy soil.
The following day was it—the day they would rescue King Segan of Farhner, as well as Rick’s father and sister and the other magicians and citizens of Nimrock. Rick’s only regret was that he wasn’t bringing the promised ghosts with him to scare the woo-woo out of the Spikonians and set them off balance.
Tomorrow, then. Tomorrow.