Chuck vs the Adventures in Buymoria

Chapter 3 – The little things

“I’m scared!” said Leila, and sank deeper into the blankets.

Morgan immediately lowered his voice to a reassuring whisper, the firelight dancing softly across his face.

“Don’t be, little one. The dark forest ended in a beautiful little meadow, bursting with vibrant wildflowers, with a tiny, thatched-roof house right in the middle.”

Luke poked his head out from under his blanket, his eyes bright. “Was it creepy?”

“Not at all. It was lovely. Which, in hindsight, should have worried us.”

Leila frowned. “Why?”

“Because nothing in Jill County was ever just lovely.” Morgan leaned closer to the candle, its soft warmth flickering between them. “We went to the little house and found Ella there.”

“Who’s Ella?”

“Your Mom!”

“Why are you calling her that?”

“Because the curse’s first victim was Enchanted Ella and every time the curse was used the victim became Ella”

From the kitchen came the unmistakable sound of a wooden cupboard door being opened with a sharp clack. Morgan ignored it without missing a beat.

“Sooo, she was cursed. A very nasty curse that forced her to obey every command. And when we arrived, she was preparing a steaming, savory dinner for seven people.”

Chuckles stopped in the doorway, the warm aroma of stew washing over him. Seven porcelain plates sat on the long oak table. Seven steaming bowls. Seven polished forks. And seven suspiciously small wooden chairs.

Chuckles counted them twice. “Okay,” he whispered. “That feels like a clue.”

Sarah looked around the spotless cottage, her hand resting near her weapon. “Where is Ella?”

“Here,” said a woman’s voice from the kitchen.

She appeared carrying a heavy, steaming iron pot. Her smile was perfectly pleasant. Too pleasant. Unnaturally stiff. “Welcome. Please sit down.”

Chuckles immediately sat. Sarah remained standing, every muscle coiled. Casey narrowed his eyes, scanning the rafters, while young Morgan slid nervously into a seat as well.

“Actually,” Chuckles said, looking at the empty seventh chair, “I’m beginning to think we should maybe not eat anything.”

Sarah glanced down at him. “Why?”

“Because we’re in a magical forest, there’s a cursed woman, seven chairs, and Casey is the only person here who looks like he could survive poisoned stew.”

Casey grunted, taking in the compliment. “Finally, someone appreciates me.”

Chuckles stepped toward Ella, his eyes glowing with sudden realization. “I think I can break the curse.”

Sarah grabbed his arm in a vise grip. “Do you know how?”

“No.”

“Then don’t.”

“I have a spell for this.”

“You’ve had the spell for thirty seconds.”

“Technically, I’ve had it in my head longer.”

“Chuckles.”

He gave her an apologetic smile. “Right. Experimental magic. Very dangerous. Probably shouldn’t.” He raised his hand anyway.

Sarah sighed heavily. “Of course.”

Chuckles concentrated, shutting his eyes as golden runes from the Older Scroll flashed behind his eyelids. He remembered the spell—mostly. “Okay… remove enchantment, reverse magical compulsion, restore free will…”

The cottage instantly filled with a blinding, crackling blue light. Ella gasped as the air hummed with raw energy.

Chuckles grinned. “I think it’s working!”

The blue light suddenly snapped backward with a sharp, static crack—straight into Sarah. Sarah’s eyes widened in sheer shock.

Chuckles froze. “Oh.”

Sarah turned slowly to look at him, electric blue sparks lingering in her hair. “Chuckles.”

“Yes?”

“What did you do?”

“I may have transferred the curse.”

Sarah’s face went completely blank. Then, driven by an irresistible, mystical compulsion, she turned toward the kitchen wall where a straw broom leaned in the corner. She picked it up.

Chuckles stared. “Sarah?”

She began sweeping the stone floor with furious efficiency.

“Sarah, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” She swept faster, clouds of dust swirling around her boots.

“You really don’t have to.”

“I know.”

Casey watched the furious display for several quiet seconds. “She’ll kill you.”

“I know.”

Young Morgan nodded thoughtfully. “Good instincts.”

Chuckles began pacing, pulling frantically at his hair. “There has to be a way to reverse it. Magic has rules. Every curse has a loophole. A counterspell. A magical technicality.”

Sarah dusted a wooden shelf, her knuckles white on the rag. “Chuckles.”

“Yes?”

“Find it.”

“I am finding it!” He started flipping frantically through a dusty leather tome on the sideboard. “Curse reversal… curse breaking… magical compulsion… True Love’s Kiss…” He stopped dead. His eyes widened. “Wait.”

Sarah looked over, a feather duster clamped in her hand. “What?”

Chuckles stared at the yellowed page. “That’s it.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “What’s it?”

“The curse can only be broken by the kiss of true love.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. Casey slowly put down his mug. Morgan slowly put down his mug. Even Ella stopped stirring her empty pot.

Sarah stared at Chuckles. Chuckles stared at Sarah.

“Oh,” Chuckles breathed.

Sarah’s eyes narrowed into terrifying daggers. “Don’t.”

Chuckles blinked. “Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking.”

“That’s worse.”

Chuckles stepped forward. Sarah took one guarded step back. “Chuckles.” He didn’t stop. “Chuckles!”

Before Bryce could step in or Sarah evade him, Chuckles leaned in—and kissed her directly on the lips.

For one suspended heartbeat, Sarah stood completely frozen, her eyes wide with shock. Then, the ambient magic exploded around them in a warm, shimmering wave. The curse shattered like thin glass. The straw broom dropped from Sarah’s numb fingers, clattering against the hearth, and the electric blue glow vanished entirely.

Silence filled the cottage. Chuckles slowly opened his eyes, taking a step back. Sarah stared at him, completely blown away.

“You…” she breathed.

Chuckles swallowed hard. “Hey.”

“You kissed me!”

“I know.”

“You actually kissed me!”

“I was trying to break the curse!”

“You could have warned me!”

“I didn’t really have time!”

“You had time to say duck when Casey threw a chair at the goblin yesterday!”

“That was different!”

Sarah pointed a trembling finger at him, her face flushed red. “YOU KISSED ME!”

In the cozy living room, Morgan leaned toward his children with a theatrical grin. “Yeeaay! A kiss!”

Leila immediately sat upright. “Will there be more?”

“Sure, munchkin.” Morgan smiled softly. “But this was the kiss of true love.”

Back in the tale, Sarah was still staring at Chuckles. There was something strange blooming in her chest—something warm, fierce, and entirely unfamiliar. She had never felt anything like it before, and she absolutely hated it. Or at least, she thought she did.

Then—BOOM!

The thick oak front door flew completely off its hinges, crashing onto the stone floor. Seven stout, heavily armored figures stormed into the cottage, brandishing iron axes and wooden spoons.

Casey stood up, his hand dropping to his broadsword. “Seven.”

Chuckles looked at the seven angry dwarves. Then at the seven tiny chairs. Then back at Casey. “The chairs.”

Casey nodded gravely. “The chairs.”

Sarah’s stunned expression instantly hardened into lethal focus. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

The seven dwarves charged with a collective battle cry—and that was when Sarah started berserking up the place.

Morgan paused his narration. “Berserking. Is that even a word?”

He looked toward the dark kitchen. Alexis’s voice called out sharply: “It is now!”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Sarah grabbed the lead dwarf by his iron collar and threw him bodily through a pine table, wood splinters flying everywhere. Another came at her from the flank; she ducked smoothly, and his momentum carried him headfirst into the cold fireplace ash.

Chuckles ducked wildly beneath a flying iron frying pan. “Sarah!”

“What?!” she yelled, ducking a swung club.

“You just threw a dwarf!”

“He attacked me!”

“He was holding a spoon!”

“He was still attacking me!”

Casey casually kicked another dwarf into a pile of fluffy velvet cushions, sending him sprawling. Young Morgan grabbed a heavy dining chair, holding it up like a lion tamer. “Why am I always the one holding furniture?!”

The chaotic battle lasted less than a single minute. By the end, the cozy cottage looked as though a localized tornado had developed a deeply personal grudge against interior decoration. Sarah stood smack in the middle of the wreckage, her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed heavily. Chuckles cautiously approached her through the debris.

“Are you okay?”

Sarah looked at him, her eyes fierce. Then she surveyed the ruined cottage, and finally met his gaze again. “I’m fine.” She reached down and calmly picked up her fallen spear.

Chuckles nodded weakly. “Good.”

Sarah walked past him toward the doorway. She stopped for just a split second, and her fingers brushed softly against his knuckles. Neither of them said a word. Then, she stepped outside into the sunlight.

Morgan turned back to his rapt audience. “And we rescued your Mom, who had been cursed by Jill himself.”

“Why?” Luke asked.

Morgan smiled softly. “Because she was pretty.”

Leila frowned thoughtfully. “Why would that make Jill curse her?”

“Because she was the fairest maiden of them all.”

Leila thought about this for a moment. “Prettier than Sarah?”

Morgan leaned toward her, glancing nervously toward the doorway. “Well…” He looked around conspiratorially. “Yes. Much prettier.”

“I can hear that,” said Alexis from the kitchen, her tone laced with amused warning.

Morgan immediately straightened his back. “Good choice of words.” He cleared his throat loudly. “So we adventured farther into Jill County.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Sarah was still mad about Chuckles’ kiss.”

Leila interrupted, leaning forward. “Because she didn’t like him?”

Morgan shook his head. “No. That was the real problem.” He stared into the quiet candle flame. “It wasn’t the kiss itself that bothered her. Sarah had kissed other men before. She had even… Well, let’s just say Sarah had never been afraid of complicated relationships.” He paused. “But this felt different.”

Sarah walked beside Chuckles down the winding forest path, her boots pressing silently into the moss. She kept her chin up and her eyes fixed straight ahead, yet every few seconds, her gaze involuntarily flicked to the wizard’s apprentice beside her. And every single time she looked, that strange, tingling sensation returned to her chest.

She had never felt anything like it. Diane, the formidable Amazon Matriarch, had drilled into her from childhood that feelings were weakness. Feelings made warriors hesitate on the battlefield. Feelings made them vulnerable to blade and magic alike. Feelings were the inevitable downfall of their power.

Sarah had believed her completely. So she did what her training demanded: she buried the feeling deep down. Conceal it. Don't feel it.

Unfortunately, nobody at the Amazon academy had ever taught her what to do when Chuckles smiled at her.

Morgan slowly closed the old leather storybook on his lap.

“What happened next, Dad?” Luke demanded, sitting up.

Morgan offered a mysterious smile. “The party went to Toshy Station to find some power converters.”

Leila’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Nope.” Morgan gently blew out the candle, plunging the room into the soft, warm glow of the dying hearth. “We were thrown straight into prison.”

“What?!” both children cried out in unison.

“But that’s tomorrow’s story.” He stood up, tucking the heavy blankets snugly around their shoulders. “Sleep well, little ones.”

Leila groaned into her pillow. “You can’t stop there!”

Morgan smiled warmly down at them. “Of course I can.”

From the kitchen, Alexis’s soft voice called out: “Morgan!”

“Yes, Dear?”

“Bed.”

Morgan turned back to the kids with a wry wink. “See? The Queen has spoken.”