“To . . . to die for?” Cleric gaped at Dragon, who – in her customary guise of an elf maiden – stood there, pale and shaking. “What does that mean?”
Dragon’s voice was low when she answered, and it cracked several times as emotion constricted the woman’s throat. “It . . . it appears our obnoxious neighbors, Mace and Gloria, plan to . . . to do away with Mistress Writer and Master Miles at the neighborhood get-together. Gloria was gloating over a . . . a dish she is preparing for what she termed a pot-luck, whatever that might be, which will be part of the festivities.” She took a deep breath before concluding. “The dish she spoke of is the stroganoff dish she was discussing with Mace last evening . . . the one laced with poison mushrooms.”
The dwarf stepped forward. “Now will ye be lettin’ me at ’em wit me axe?” He was seething, his bushy eyebrows squished together over his green eyes, and his mouth an angry line between his unkempt mustache and beard. He held his weapon in one hand, slapping the flat of the axe head against his other palm.
Many of the other eight characters nodded and murmured in approval, but Sorceress cut them off, slashing her hand down for emphasis. “No!” She whirled around and faced the dwarf. “I have already explained to you that should Mace and Gloria be found dead at the hands of an apparent axe murderer, Deputy Whitewash and her intrepid partner, Deputy Dawg, will be breaking down the door to get to you. They are sure to remember you brandishing an axe at them when they first encountered you six months ago!”
The dwarf stood there trembling, anger and frustration building. “Bah!” He spat out the expletive before his shoulders slumped in defeat.
Another character spoke. “Then what do you propose we do?” The speaker, the unpopular and annoying elf illusionist, glared at Sorceress, his eyes like slits, and his lips curled with disdain. “If Mistress Writer is killed, what will happen to us?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “We will cease to exist!” Seeing all eyes on him and a few of his companions nodding, the elf pompously drew himself up, rocked back on his heels, and grasped his robes in both hands. “I say, let the dwarf deal with the would-be murderers. Then the authorities can deal with the dwarf.” He sneered with contempt at the dwarf.
Dragon had shape-shifted into her true form before the elf had finished talking. Flames shot from her mouth and the elf’s cohort, the Bounty Hunter, barely had time to push his friend out of the way and prevent the illusionist from becoming elf flambé.
“Do . . . not . . . ever think of allowing anyone to deal with the dwarf!” Dragon bared her teeth at the elf. Dark smoke plumed from her nostrils.
The elf scowled. “Better him than Mistress Writer. Her demise means our demise; do not doubt that for a moment! And it would be better to lose one of our number than for all of us to perish.”
The dwarf nodded, still slapping his open palm with the flat of the axe head. “I be agreein’ with tha elfie.”
“Do not call me elfie!” The illusionist’s face turned beet red with anger and contorted with hatred. His voice reached a register so high, the neighborhood dogs started howling.
“Settle down.” The Bounty Hunter placed a restraining hand on his friend’s arm, then glared at the other characters. “All of you. This is not accomplishing anything.”
The elf pulled away, his eyes flashing in anger. “Then what do you suggest?”
The Bounty Hunter shrugged, then raised an eyebrow. “If Mistress Writer and Master Miles do not attend the neighborhood get-together, they cannot partake of Gloria’s food.”
The Gypsy snorted. “And how do you propose we keep them from going?”
A sly grin spread slowly across the Bounty Hunter’s face. “Mistress Writer is always so eager to go on outings. Several days before the neighborhood event, we could all develop a sudden interest in going somewhere, somewhere that would necessitate us leaving the house early and staying away all day. We could manipulate Mistress Writer into planning the outing for the same day as the event.”
Cleric shook her head. “No!” Her face drained of color and she wrung her hands. “No! Do you not remember the ordeal we suffered on our last outing? We cannot go on another!”
Sorceress scoffed. “We have already discussed this. The chances of a portal to another world opening and us being transported from this world are exceedingly slim, but if it were to happen, it is just as likely to happen here, within this house, as elsewhere.”
“I know. My mind understands but my fear does not.” Cleric hung her head and fidgeted with the cord belt on her robes. Tears welled up in her eyes.
The Foreman of the group stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Cleric’s shoulder. His voice was soft yet commanding. “I do not believe we need to go on an outing right now. If Mistress Writer and Master Miles do not attend the neighborhood event, it will only postpone the inevitable. We need to find a way to prevent Mace and Gloria from committing this murder, not just at the event but at any place or at any time.”
Others nodded, but the Young Hero stroked his chin and frowned. “You are correct – if they do not attend the event, it will only postpone their demise. However, Gloria’s plot makes no sense. If Mace and Gloria want to murder Mistress Writer and Master Miles, why would they do it at a public event, where the poison food could be consumed by any of those in attendance? They could conceivably wipe out the entire neighborhood!”
“The lad has a point.” The Foreman turned back to Dragon. “Are you quite certain you heard them correctly?”
The beast had settled down and had shapeshifted back to the form of an elf maiden. She pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes, I am sure. Mace was complaining about Mistress Writer and Master Miles, and Gloria revealed her plot to eliminate them using poison mushrooms. She said the mushrooms would be in her stroganoff. And just now, she was braying to Mistress Writer about her – and again I quote – to-die-for stroganoff that she will serve at the neighborhood get-together.”
The Foreman nodded. “If we elect to protect the lives of not only Mistress Writer and Master Miles, but the majority of our neighbors as well, we should alert the authorities.”
The dwarf scoffed. “And iffin we even be figurin’ how ta be contactin’ ’em, why would they be believin’ us? I be rememberin’ tha two o ’em been takin’ Mace and Gloria’s word over our lass an’ ’er lad. Nay, we be needin’ ta be takin’ care o this our own selfs!”
“That is not an option!” Sorceress snapped at the dwarf. “Get that through your thick skull!”
Dragon furrowed her brow. “If we need to alert the authorities, we can do it easily enough. The deputies left their cards with our Mistress when last they were here, and I believe several of us have mastered the use of the talking device, the thing called a telephone.”
The dwarf snorted. “So’s we kin be gittin’ ahold o ’em. How, perzactly, do we be gittin’ ’em ta be believin’ us?” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest and tapped a foot impatiently.
“The dwarf is right – they simply would never believe any of us, should we accuse Mace and Gloria. However, mayhap we have no need of the authorities.” The Young Hero quirked an eyebrow, and there was a twinkle of mischief in his green eyes.
“What do you propose?” Dragon looked intrigued.
“Well, you know how clumsy some of us can be.” The lad grinned. “It would be such a shame if Gloria’s stroganoff was to be knocked all over the ground.”
Everyone relaxed and started nodding and smiling; there were even a few impish chuckles from the group.
* * *
“Hi, neighbor!”
I cringed. Before I even looked, I knew who it was. My far-less-than-favorite neighbor, Gloria, had an unmistakable voice. It was full of perk, arrogance, and acid, all mixed together with a Midwestern twang. I turned and watched as she bounced over to our yard, all but dragging her husband, Mace, also one of my far-less-than-favorite neighbors.
“Hello, Gloria, Mace.” I tried to paste a smile on my face, but all I could manage was a thinning of my lips. My husband, Miles, didn’t seem any happier than I to see these two.
If Gloria noticed, she didn’t let it dampen her enthusiasm. She started in, sounding like a high school cheerleader, almost every sentence sounding like it ended with an exclamation point. “It’s a beautiful day! Not a cloud in the sky! Looks like every single person in the whole neighborhood made it to the get-together! And there are a lot of guests, too! You aren’t the only folks who have visiting out-of-town family! I hope we have enough food for everyone! What culinary delight did you contribute?” She said all that in one breath, and never ran out of air.
“Marge made a few of her specialties.” I detected a hint of pride in my husband’s voice. “She made her famous German potato salad, two baked hams, and four cakes – two apple cakes from her Bubbie’s recipe, and two chocolate chip cakes. And I made my famous stew.”
Mace looked impressed, but Gloria seemed annoyed. “You didn’t have to bring all that.”
“Miles and I volunteered to contribute more, since we have so many guests attending the event. Your fellow food-committee member, Joanne, gave me the thumbs-up on the choices. She checked what everyone else had signed up to bring, and she said our stuff wouldn’t be redundant.”
Before Gloria could sputter a reply, Cleric, Sorceress, and the ersatz elf maiden, Dragon, joined us. They nodded politely to Mace and Gloria before Dragon turned to me. “Excuse us, Missy . . .”
Gloria interrupted, her brow furrowed and her hand on her hip. “Why do you always call her Missy? Isn’t her name Marge?”
Dragon blinked. “It’s just a family nickname.”
Yeah, I thought, my family of characters calls me Missy in public because I’ve warned them enough times not to call me Mistress Writer in front of other people.
Dragon turned back to me. “Missy, the lads are taking your food for the pot-luck to the tables that have been set up in the park at the end of our street.”
I nodded. “We should go there now. It’s almost lunchtime.”
“We’ll meet you there!” Gloria waved and headed for the park, still all but dragging Mace along. “Should we save a couple of tables for you?”
Miles shook his head. “We’ll find some seats when we get there.”
Miles and I walked down the street arm-in-arm, with the three companions a few steps behind. We were approaching the park when we heard Gloria above the sounds of the crowd.
“Noooooooo!” Gloria was wailing. We ran the rest of the way to see what had happened. When we drew near, we saw Gloria standing next to one of the picnic tables that had been set up to hold the pot-luck buffet. On the other side of the table, my Young Hero and my Gypsy stood, looking aghast. By their feet, Gloria’s to-die-for vegan/tofu stroganoff was all over the ground.
My red-faced Young Hero was apologizing profusely. “Oh, I am so sorry! It was so clumsy of me! I was just trying to move it over a bit to fit our food onto the table, and the next thing I knew, the whole thing was on the ground.”
Dragon, Cleric, and Sorceress exchanged knowing glances. “Oops.”
Just then, Deputy Whitewash and Deputy Dawg walked up behind the lads. Deputy Dawg placed a beefy hand on my Young Hero’s shoulder. “Son, that didn’t look like an accident to me.”
Dragon, Cleric, and Sorceress exchanged guilty looks. “Oops.”
Be sure to join us next week to see what happens. We’ll leave the porch light on for you.
The dwarf scrunched his bushy eyebrows down and stroked his unkempt gray beard. Suddenly, his green eyes widened, and he nodded. “Eh, those two! Aye, now I be rememberin’ ’em!”
“And I think it safe to say you would not welcome a visit from them, remembering you were brandishing your battle-axe at them the first time they encountered you.” Dragon raised an eyebrow and inclined her head toward the dwarf, who had the grace to blush.
“Wrong?” Cleric’s eyes widened further, almost popping from their sockets.
Dragon tried to elbow cleric without me noticing. She failed. “Nothing is wrong. Why do you ask?” She shrugged, and she wore an expression of pure innocence.
“We are all just tired, and we still need to work with these botanicals tonight, Mistress. After all our hard work procuring them, we must get them preserved them before they start to wilt and spoil.” Sorceress presented a logical discourse, completely at odds with her guilty appearance, as she tugged at her shirt, shifted her weight from foot to foot, and looked everywhere but at me.
“Oh, me tummy! I be eatin’ too many o them apples!” My Old Dwarf’s face contorted with pain and he clutched his stomach. He bulldozed his way past me and scampered down the steps to the conference room, his three companions hot on his heels.
My husband was at the top of the stairs. “We both missed dinner tonight. I was just heading into the kitchen for a snack. Care to join me?”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll find out about it soon enough.” He handed me one of the deli-bought sandwiches he had taken from the refrigerator. I took it and sat down at the table. Miles grabbed another sandwich for himself, and a couple cans of soda.
As he sat down next to me, he grabbed a few napkins from the holder in the middle of the table. “Oh, by the way, while you were in your office this afternoon, I walked out and checked the mailbox. We got the normal pile of junk mail, a few bills, a postcard from your sister, and a reminder about the neighborhood get-together next week.”
“Hi, neighbor!” The perky greeting took me by surprise. The last time I had seen Gloria was more than six months ago. She and her husband, Mace, had been stomping out of our yard after unsuccessfully trying to find a horse they had accused us of keeping on our property. At that time, Miles and I had made it quite clear they were not welcome to return here without an invitation. 
The weeks following our return from our Memorial Day outing were strained. No one wanted to leave the house. We didn’t even go out to celebrate Independence Day on July 4, as we feared another outing might end the way the Memorial Day weekend outing did.
My characters, my husband, and I had gone on a picnic the Saturday before Memorial Day. After lunch, Miles decided to stay in the shade of the trees and take a nap, while my characters and I went on a nature hike. We followed a trail we had never seen before and found ourselves in another world. We embarked on an odyssey that seemed to stretch for days. When we finally found the way back to our own world, we discovered we had been gone only hours.
“We must go out and collect the botanicals we need to restock our spell components.”
“I know we are running low on components, but I just do not want to leave the house.”
I entered the conference room, but before I could say anything, Dragon slammed shut the book she was reading in the corner of the room and stomped over to face her friends. The large beast scowled at the two women, and dark smoke started to drift from her nostrils. “Cleric, a portal to another world could just as easily materialize within this house as without, you know. In fact, it has, on several occasions, if you will remember. And Sorceress, everyone is not as confident as you . . . or as unrelenting. Now, if you two are going to do nothing but argue, please go do it elsewhere!”
“I kin be helpin’ ye, lassie.” My Old Dwarf entered the room and joined the conversation.
“Aw, lassie, there be no need ta be afeared. The beastie an’ me be here ta be protectin’ ye.” The dwarf patted Cleric’s shoulder.
Cleric walked over to some yellow flowers and started examining them. “Be careful! Gently shoo away any bees, butterflies, or other pollinators before collecting the botanicals. I understand from conversations with Mistress that the pollinator populations are declining here. Do not harm any of them.”
We were prepared.
“Sir Jenneseer directed them to a cache of grimoires, potions, and spell components within the castle ruins. Using those items, they have been able to prepare a wide variety of defensive and offensive spells. They have concealed themselves and await now to launch their enchantments when most needed.” Dragon pointed to a nearby copse of trees on a knoll to the southwest of our position. “The dwarf is with them, to keep them safe.”
Dragon and I meandered among the troops, giving an order here, assisting a knight to adjust his armor there, and viewing everyone and everything with a critical eye. When we had finished our inspection, Dragon turned to me. “We are as ready as we will ever be. Now, Mistress, we must find a place for you away from the battle. Your safety must be assured.”
“No!” I waved at her dismissively. “I will stand with all of you and defend this place and these knights. If I don’t, then how can I expect to be allowed to return to our world with the rest of you? The Lord of the Forest said we must help the knights in battle. He didn’t say some of us must help them, while others may place their own safety first.”
Dragon’s eyes narrowed, and a small plume of smoke rose from her nostrils. “You are a stubborn and foolish human.”
My Foreman had been listening to the conversation. He frowned and shook his head. “The beast is right, you know. You are stubborn . . . and foolish, very foolish! There is a great difference between writing about a battle and actually taking part in one. You have no training. You would be placing yourself in mortal danger.”
That gave me pause. My characters and I had disappeared from our world days ago while on a nature walk after our picnic. Miles had remained at our picnic site, to take a nap in the shade of some trees. I knew he must be sick with worry by now. I had to return to my husband safely. I sighed. “Where should I go?”
Dragon swooped down and grabbed one of the little creatures in her talons. The diminutive figure cursed loudly and squirmed mightily, trying to free himself. My Old Dwarf raced to Dragon’s side and snatched the writhing creature as it broke free of Dragon’s claws.
The unicorn pawed the ground. “Evil one, I strip you of your powers. You will no longer be able to pervert the purpose of the wish listeners. Should you ever attempt such an atrocity again, I will allow these good knights to deal with you. Now, be gone!”
The unicorn then beckoned the three good wish listeners. “As you cannot be faulted for recent events, you will be free to return to your duties as wish listeners. Remember to always listen with your hearts to the desires of others.”
The knights saluted us, then turned to claim their new fiefdom. When my companions and I looked back, we saw them on the ramparts of the newly restored castle. I smiled, then turned to Dragon, who nudged me.
The sound of my Old Dwarf chopping through the wall of branches woke me, and I saw my other characters were just waking as well, yawning and stretching. “Are we here already?”
We raced back to the picnic grove. I saw my husband pacing around the tree, frowning and looking at his watch.
Sir Daniver eyed us suspiciously, but he began the tale. “We come from a distant kingdom. Our country has been at peace for many generations. It is a good kingdom in which to live. We enjoy unparalleled prosperity. All in our nation have full bellies, and none want for material goods.”
“Then, with thy help, we will not face defeat and exile?” Sir Hrolf tilted his head and raised his eyebrows in a pleading gesture.
Dragon nodded. “It will be done.”
Sorceress pursed her lips. “Dragon, you and the Arrogant One might be able to cast your illusory magic with no aids, but Cleric, the Gypsy lad, and I need our spell components and paraphernalia to create our enchantments. Without them, we cannot be of much use.”
Something had startled me from a sound sleep. I jumped up and found my characters also scrambling to their feet, yawning and stretching. As we tried to determine what had disturbed our slumber, we realized the feel of the clearing had changed.
My Old Dwarf, who had been standing watch with Dragon, came scurrying over. “Do ye be feelin’ it?” He spoke in a hushed tone. “Tha very air be alive and quivery-like!”
Dragon walked over to us, slowly, almost as if in a trance. Her eyes were hooded. She inhaled deeply, then stuck out her long, reptilian tongue and tasted the air. “Magic.” She barely whispered the word. “Very powerful magic.”
“Is that the purported Lord of the Forest whom the royal mer-child said might help us?” My Arrogant One sneered and looked sidelong at the unicorn standing placidly in the middle of the clearing. “It looks like the second cousin to a donkey.”
Dark smoke poured from Dragon’s nostrils, and she snarled at the annoying elf. “He is the Lord of the Forest, and you would be well advised to keep a civil tongue in your head, twit. In this world, the unicorns are the most ancient of species. They are the supreme wielders of magic, and their incredible power far exceeds your meager abilities. I daresay it is even greater than my own.”
As my Arrogant One started to reply, my Bounty Hunter clapped a hand over the elf’s mouth. He narrowed his eyes and gave Dragon a penetrating look. “Is this beast as beneficent as he is magnificent? Will he assist us in our quest to return to our world?”
My Foreman interrupted. “First, what is this service we must perform?”
Black smoke continued to erupt from Dragon’s snout, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You speak out of ignorance, Gypsy. Like dragons, unicorns are honorable creatures. Do not fear – once we have rendered a service to the knights, we will be able to return home. The Lord of the Forest has given his word.”
My Young Hero moved closer to his friend and placed a reassuring hand on the Gypsy’s shoulder. “We mean no offense, Dragon. We know you are a noble beast because we are familiar with you. But we have no experience with unicorns. How do you know this beast is honorable and will keep his word?”
Cleric fidgeted with the cord on her robe. “How will we find our way back? Mistress is right – we have been on a long and winding path.”
“Wait. You have yet to explain the service we must render to the knights.” Sorceress stood, her arms folded over her chest, her brow furrowed, her mouth a tight slash across her face.
“Oh, is that all?” The petulant whine of my Arrogant One indicated he had finally squirmed free of my Bounty Hunter’s grasp. “Well, as long as it does not involve any danger.” His voice dripped with a double helping of sarcasm and scorn.
I examined the wall of branches, which had already started growing back in the scant few days since my Old Dwarf had reduced it to a pile of kindling. “It looks like there is still enough of an opening for us to squeeze through, although you may have to transform into your alter-ego of an elf maiden, Dragon.”
The sun was flirting with the horizon by the time my characters and I found our way back to the spot where I had encountered the mermaid, Crown Princess Eloise, and her swan friend, King Mēzän. The pool where they had been swimming earlier was empty, and tracks in the mud at the water’s edge looked as if there had been a scuffle.
“Some of these tracks were definitely made by the webbed feet of a large, heavy waterfowl.” My Foreman pointed to a jumble of scalloped-edged tracks in the mud at the water’s edge.
“And others were made by someone with large, bare feet.” My Bounty Hunter frowned. “But the tracks are not deep, so they were made by someone slight, perhaps about the size of Esmie’s henchman, the green one.”
Warily, Eloise peeked around the boulder. When she saw me, she swam slowly over to the shore and sat on a rock.
Dragon, who had changed back into her accustomed form of an elf maiden, stepped forward and spoke gently to the distraught princess. “Child, this is not your fault. You simply made a wish. You meant no harm. The wish listeners contrived the circumstances that allowed this to happen. They are at fault.”
My Gypsy crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at Eloise. “That is most helpful.” His voice dripped with scorn. “If we should find this clearing, what makes you think this forest lord will help us?”
We had barely concealed ourselves when Dyrke appeared on the trail and walked over to the pool. “Eloise? Eloise! Your mother says you are to stop sulking and return to her this instant.” He paused, peering into the orb that floated above his left hand. “Eloise! Now! You do not want to further incur your mother’s wrath.”
Dragon held up a hand to silence us. She mumbled an incantation, then turned to me. “I have once again warded us against prying eyes and ears. We may speak freely.”
My Foreman scoffed. “For once, I agree with the elf. Lord of the Forest indeed! Another creature who will mislead us, to the amusement of all the inhabitants of this land.”
My Bounty Hunter nodded. “Even if the princess is sincere – which I doubt – and there is some forest king who will help us – which I also doubt – how will we ever find him? I still want to know how we are to find one clearing in a forest full of glades.”
My Young Hero shrugged. “While this is most likely another wild goose chase, what other options do we have? We do not know which path will lead us home, so we might as well take the path the young princess recommended. It is as good, or as bad, as any other option.”
My Arrogant One screeched in disagreement. “Surely you do not propose we return to Esmie’s pool? She will most likely have her lackeys waiting for us, and who knows what they might do to us?”
My Bounty Hunter scoffed. “With Dragon’s wards, we can proceed with sufficient stealth to avoid that outcome, for all the good it will do us, trying to find this one particular clearing.”
My Old Dwarf snorted. “Tha scaly lassie be sayin’ tha clearin’ be havin’ a particular feel ta it. Thet be soundin’ liken magic ta me. There be enough magickers among us thet we should na be havin’ any trouble findin’ thet particular clearin’.” He turned to me. “What be ye sayin’, lass?”
I sighed. “I agree with both points of view, but – as my Young Hero pointed out – we have few, if any, other options. Chances are this is a mistake, another wild goose chase, but we will return to the vicinity of Esmie’s pool and try to find the southeast trail. We must remain undetected as we search.”
