DJ cast Ironflesh right before the first blow fell. The Harpygriff swatted him like a bug, flinging him against a far wall. DJ’s mage robes flapped through the air before he slammed into the stone, kicking up a mess of rubble and dust. He fell to the floor and shook the mist from his eyes. A blow that should have killed him only dazed him.
Think fast, but pace yourself, he told himself. Can’t use magic too quickly.
The Harpygriff stomped toward him, weapon raised. DJ noticed the beast approaching a large puddle. He jumped to his feet. “Glaci-talum!”
A three-foot Ice Spike shot up from the puddle and impaled the Harpygriff’s leg. The beast gave a shallow moan of displeasure, then snapped its leg free and continued stomping. The sweat thickened on DJ’s brow.
“A mage knight!” the Harpygriff mused. “Very few I’ve seen of you, very few indeed!”
The Harpygriff lifted a boulder with its free hand and launched it. DJ dove out of the way just as it smashed into the wall behind him, sending out more rock fragments. DJ breathed harder, thinking, desperately forming a plan.
He flipped through the list of spells in his head: Flamefist, Ice Spike, Evercloak—
Evercloak!
DJ cast it. As his body vanished, he darted away. But the Harpygriff’s eyes followed him.
“Clever, but not clever enough,” the Harpygriff said. “You might be invisible, but your footsteps are thunderous!”
The beast swung its sword and DJ had to collapse to dodge it. He felt the massive blade pass inches above his nose. On the ground, laying flat, he tried to still his breathing—to lie totally motionless. But the Harpygriff knew his vicinity, and it was dangerously close.
The Harpygriff used its wings to leap into the air, then flapped downward to give a mighty stomp. DJ saw the talons plummeting. His heart rate spiked. He rolled out of the way just in time. The ground cratered under the Harpygriff’s legs.
Turning on his back, DJ used one of Steve’s signature spells. “Fulgyr-fylum!”
With a bang, bolt of blue lightning shot from DJ’s pointed finger. It made the Harpygriff buckle, and for a moment, it fell to its knees and shuddered. In that expanse, DJ got up and sprinted away.
His head throbbed. His eyes watered. He needed that Magic Waffle Bite. He fumbled in his pocket for one, but a quick look over his shoulder saw the blurry image of the Harpygriff getting up and spreading its wings.
“Enough!” the beast bellowed.
It leaped higher, kicking gusts of wind. It flapped its wings and ascended, becoming a blurry blob against a snowy sky. DJ kept very still, but the Waffle Bite was pinched in his fingers and his head seared with pain. He could barely see the outline of the Harpygriff against the clouds. He couldn’t tell what was more dangerous—moving and revealing his location, or staying still with skewed vision.
With methodical slowness, he moved the Bite to his mouth.
Not slow enough enough. The Harpygriff cawed and dove like a spear. DJ pushed the Bite into his cheek. As soon as it passed his lips, his magic restored.
With a half-full mouth, he spat magetongue and cast Barrier. The transparent blue sheet appeared before him, blocking most of the blow. But the Harpygriff’s blade tore through Barrier like an arrow, and it found its mark deep in DJ’s shoulder.
DJ howled and grabbed the wound. Blood oozed between his fingers. Trembling, still chewing his Waffle Bite, he muttered the words for Healing Hand. The skin and muscles stitched up, but it wasn’t enough to fully heal it. Blood still sopped around his shoulder.
I never should have left Beregond, he despaired.
The Harpygriff extracted its sword and cut down the Barrier in a blue rain of glass. DJ’s shoulder protested, but there was no time to mind the pain. With the Harpygriff so close, he resorted to his very first spell. “Mynus-ignys!”
A jet of fire assaulted the Harpygriff. The beast growled and shielded its eyes. While it recoiled, DJ ripped the sword from his sheath and sliced the beast’s legs. His strike was true. As he stumbled away, the monster buckled and roared with pain.
DJ sheathed his weapon and cast Ironflesh one more time. His skin and bones hardened. But his mind was starting to weaken again, along with his aching body.
A heartbeat later, the Harpygriff flipped around and grabbed DJ’s arm. The monster spun and flung DJ against a wall. Another slam. This time, DJ coughed up blood. And as he fell to the ground, he tried to push himself up, but couldn’t. The arm the Harpygriff grabbed was a mangled mess of flesh and bone, bloody and useless.
Panic set in. There was no way Healing Hand could repair the shattered arm. And with one arm, he couldn’t perform his magic. Breaths came in frenzied bursts. And through stinging, misty eyes, he watched the Harpygriff advance.
Not knowing what else to do, he frantically spoke the words for Healing Hand, but his broken bones only twitched. The more he tried, the more his head hurt, and pitiful whimpers left his bloody lips.
A wash of regret fell over him. This whole quest—this stupid, stupid quest—was all for nothing. It would have been better to stay a nobody back home. Now, death literally approached. His friends would die with him and no one would know their fate.
I’m never seeing dad again, DJ thought. That’s what made the tears slide down his cheeks.
“Pathetic,” the Harpygriff growled.
It grabbed DJ by the throat and lifted him up. DJ sputtered and coughed, clawing at the Harpygriff’s hand, but it was no use. The Harpygriff lifted its sword.
“The Brassiere stays protected,” the Harpygriff said. “Die now, Knight of Beregond.”
The thrust. The sword ripped through bones and flesh. More blood spilled between DJ’s teeth.
His last thought before everything went dark was, I’m sorry, dad.
*
DJ felt water lapping by his ears. Then he felt movement in his fingers and toes. He was laying down on something equally firm and soft. The gentle lap of water reached halfway up his prone body—it couldn’t be more than a few inches deep.
His eyes stirred and opened. Above him, soft, fluffy clouds drifted through a brilliant blue sky. But there was no harsh sun on his face.
He planted his hands and forced himself to sit up. The water came up to his wrists. But as he sat, the water dripped off his back and didn’t linger on his clothes. He was completely dry.
My clothes, DJ thought. He was wearing everything he had just moments before. His purple mage robes were torn and bloodstained around his shoulder and stomach. But the wounds were gone. His body was completely whole.
DJ squatted and stood. That’s when he noticed the surface beneath him. Fine sand—like that from the Westfall beaches—with water coming just up to his ankles, but as he looked down, what should have been sand was an inky black expanse dotted with stars.
He turned all around. The blue sky and the night sky stretched to the horizon in every direction—the meeting of two heavens. A blue sky above, a night sky below. And he stood between them.
DJ scratched his dry hair, then let his hand flop to his side. “This is death is like?”
“Why do you seek the Brassiere?”
The voice came from all around him—powerful, authoritative, but not frightening. It could have been a woman’s voice, but it was hard to tell.
“Why do you seek it?” the Voice asked again.
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DJ swallowed. “I don’t. I never did.”
“Lies.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then why were you at its Temple?”
“My friends and I were misled. My destination was the Temple of the Amulet. I never wanted the Brassiere.”
The Voice was silent for a moment. “Many have sought the Brassiere. All have perished in the pursuit. You have no desire to behold it? To become a legend?”
“No.”
“A boy untempted by glory? More lies.”
“Look,” DJ said, lifting his hands, “I don’t know how to convince you, but I’m telling you, I don’t care. I’ve seen too much in the past few months to care about glory quests. They’re stupid.”
Another pause from the Voice. “Explain.”
DJ took a long breath. “I have a famous dad. Everyone expected me to be like him, but I’m not. I went on this quest to prove to everyone that I’m worthy of being a knight like him, but along the way, I stopped caring what they think. I’m not my dad—I don’t slay dragons and save maidens. At first, I hated that. But in the last few months, I learned that I’m actually okay as I am.
“That’s why I don’t want the Brassiere. I don’t even care about the Amulet. I think what I really wanted was respect, and I had to find that myself.” DJ’s tone grew dark. “What sucks is that this whole thing put my best friends in danger. They’re probably going to die. And I’ll never get to see my dad again. He’ll probably never know what happened to me.” DJ forced down his rising emotions. “I wish I could have at least said goodbye first.”
DJ plopped into a sitting position. He stared at the stars that rippled under the water’s surface.
The Voice spoke up again. “With the Brassiere, history would remember you. Not a soul would disrespect you. I can grant you your wish. I can grant you that power.”
DJ looked up. “Were you listening to me? I don’t care! Keep your crummy bra! I’d give all of that power and respect in the world for just five minutes with my dad again. And Riley. And Francis. And Steve.” DJ’s throat started to get tight again.
When the Voice spoke, it was laced with a smile. “Very good, young knight. Farewell.”
DJ squinted at the sky. “Farewell? Where am I supposed to g…?”
Sleep fell on him hard and fast. The daylight and starlight faded away. He fell through the water, submerged, but only for a moment’s fraction.
When he opened his eyes, he was back at the Temple. His clothes were still damaged from battle, but his body was restored. No broken arm, no throbbing head. He sat with his back against the wall. The Harpygriff towered above him, sword in hand.
DJ gulped, awaiting the final strike again, but the Harpygriff didn’t attack. As a matter of fact, it backpedaled.
“At last,” the beast marveled. “After thousands of years, She has chosen one worthy. Well done, sir knight. I relent this battle to you.”
The beast knelt on one knee, faced the ground, and offered its sword.
DJ didn’t move. He just sat there blinking. “Um… what just happened?”
“The Goddess has deemed you worthy,” the Harpygriff said, still offering its sword out. “You passed the final test, and with it, you have been restored to life. You may see and handle the Brassiere.”
DJ replaying that last sentence in his head to make sure he didn’t misunderstand. “The… the Brassiere? Are you serious?”
The Harpygriff nodded.
“But, hey, listen,” DJ stammered. “I’m really not that special. I haven’t slain monsters or rescued maidens or anything. Why would the Goddess pick me to see it?”
“Because you have no thirst for glory,” the Harpygriff said. “All who have set foot here yearn to be remembered. To become legends, lauded and envied through the halls of history. The Goddess saw your soul—your pure soul, untethered to your mortal body—and offered you that glory, but you denied it. That is what makes you worthy of the Brassiere.”
DJ nodded stiffly, coughed, then stood. “Wow. Okay then. Um… do I have to see it? Or is it optional?”
“You must.”
“Alright,” DJ said as he dusted himself off. “Let’s do this, I guess. Where is it? You’re going to bring my friends back, right?”
“Your friends will remain safe,” the Harpygriff said, “but you must first see the Brassiere. They shall return once you’ve handled it for yourself. Until then, they shall remain hidden.”
The Harpygriff pointed to a pedestal that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the Temple. DJ breathed deep and moved toward it, stepping over the broken stone and growing moss.
The Brassiere of Uh. The Artifact that had eluded adventurers since the beginning of time. It stood on a pedestal facing him, cups out, straps placed delicately on hooks, fully displayed in its feminine glory.
DJ swallowed before he picked it up and explored it. He had to admit it was a pretty thing—dark purple with lacey edges, built for comfort and support with a little sass. As he turned it about, he realized this held up the Goddess’s gazongas as she crafted the territory. The thought made him blush and he put the Brassiere back, hanging the straps back on their hooks.
“Are you finished, sir knight?” the Harpygriff asked.
“Yeah, definitely.”
Thought my first time handling a bra would be a little different, he thought as he wiped his hands.
“It is well,” the Harpygriff said. “The Brassiere shall return to its resting place, and your friends shall rejoin you.”
In a flash of light, Riley, Francis, and Steve all appeared inside the Temple’s door, rubbing their eyes as if awakening from a dream. DJ’s heart leapt and he sprinted toward them. They were just getting their bearings when DJ hugged them tightly one by one.
“What happened?” Riley asked as DJ let her go. “First we were outside, and then”—she noticed the Harpygriff—“Hundred Hells!”
“Language!” Steve cried through DJ’s squeeze. “This place is most sacred, Miss Riley!”
“What is…?” Francis pointed awe-stricken at the Harpygriff.
“That’s, uh, the Harpygriff.” DJ said. “It killed me a few minutes ago. But then I talked to the Goddess (I think), I passed some sort of test (I guess), and she brought me back to life and let me see her Brassiere. So yeah, I’m the only one who’s ever seen it, and we got the wrong Temple. This is the Temple of the Brassiere, not the Amulet. That about sums it up.”
Everyone stared as if he had goblins crawling out of his ears.
The Harpygriff bowed. “It is true. The Goddess offered him great power and prestige, and he denied both. Instead, he said he would trade it all to see you three again. And his father.”
Riley’s eyes grew large and shiny. “Really DJ? You said that?”
DJ nodded sheepishly. Without warning, Francis scooped him up in a back-breaking hug. DJ could barely breathe, but Francis clutched him as if would never have another chance.
“Thank you, young knight,” he whispered with a shaking voice. “Thank you.”
When Francis released him, DJ coughed thickly. Steve put his arm around DJ. The friar smiled wide. “I am most honored to know you, Sir DJ! I’m glad you are my friend!”
DJ put his arm around Friar Steve and squeezed his shoulder. The friar turned a little pink.
Dad’s never gonna believe this one either, DJ thought. After fearing that he’d never see Sir Dashing again, the thought of returning home put a lump in DJ’s throat.
“Now that your mission is complete,” the Harpygriff concluded, “I have been instructed to send you home.”
“Send us home?” DJ repeated. “You can do that?”
The Harpygriff nodded.
“Wow,” DJ said. “Well… no time like the present, I guess. Are you guys ready?” Everyone gave their affirmative. He turned to the Harpygriff. “I don’t know if I should thank you or not. You killed me.”
“Trading blows with you was an honor,” the Harpygriff said with a bow. “Perhaps we shall meet again, Knight of Beregond. Until then, I wish you a plentiful bounty of peace and prosperity. Farewell.”
Sparkles enveloped the crew. They grew so thick that they couldn’t see anything around them. Their feet left the ground. For a short moment, they couldn’t breathe. But when the sparkles faded, they were no longer in the Temple of the Goddess.
All around them, they heard the buzzing of busy townspeople. Stone buildings towered over them. A wafting breeze rich with sea salt licked at their weathered clothing. And not far away, a clock tower stretched to the sky. DJ held his hand against the sun and the realization hit him.
They were back in Beregond.
“Well, I’ll be…” Francis muttered as he looked all around.
Glee swelled in DJ’s chest. There was still one face he needed to see. He said, “I’ll be right back!” Then he dug his feet into the cobblestone and peeled away.
Riley called after him, but he didn’t listen. DJ sprinted through the plaza, headed for the upper district. As he went, townspeople gave him odd looks. Most ignored him, but others offhandedly asked if that was Sir Dashing’s son back from his quest.
When he reached home, DJ ran for the door and slammed it open. There it was—the dining table and the dragon heads. The light streaming in from tall windows. And not far away, Sir Dashing stood with free weights scattered at his feet. The veins bulged on his arms from a fresh workout.
He dropped two dumbbells as soon as DJ barged in. The old knight’s face slackened like he saw the Goddess herself.
“DJ!” he cried. “How did you get back so soon? I only read the ravenpost about the dragon yester—”
Sir Dashing didn’t get to finish. DJ tackled him with a hug, burying his face in Sir Dashing’s chest. The old knight held him tightly, stroking his dark hair. DJ’s voice was shaky and tender when he finally brought himself to speak.
“I missed you, dad,” he said.
“I missed you too, my son. Very much.” Sir Dashing let the moment hang, then sniffed loudly. “Not to ruin the moment, but… you’re in desperate need of a bath.”