Chuck vs the Adventures in Buymoria

Chapter 2: Bewitched or something

Morgan leaned closer to the sputtering candle, casting long, dancing shadows across the cozy room.

“So,” he continued, his voice dropping into a thrilling whisper, “the newly assembled party packed their gear and headed east.”

“The five of them?” Luke asked, leaning in.

Morgan nodded solemnly. “Chuckles, Sarah, Bryce, Sir Casey… and me.”

Luke grinned. “Did you fight the dragon?”

“Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

Morgan smiled, his eyes glinting in the firelight. “You’re learning.”

The old road east of Buymoria stretched through sunlit, rolling green hills and crumbling, ancient stone ruins. For the first few hours, everything was surprisingly peaceful.

Bryce walked at the front, his polished sword clinking rhythmically at his belt, every step oozing heroic confidence. Casey followed a few paces behind, scanning the tall grass with the suspicious, narrow-eyed expression of a man who fully expected the scenery to attack him. Young Morgan trudged behind, sweating profusely beneath the crushing weight of Casey’s heavy spare shield.

Chuckles walked beside Sarah, looking increasingly like a man marched toward his own execution. And Sarah… Sarah walked as though she owned every single stone along the way.

Suddenly, Chuckles stopped dead in his tracks.

Sarah took two more fluid steps before noticing the sudden silence and turning around. “Chuckles?”

He was pale as a sheet, staring intently toward the tree line. Beyond the sunny path stood an enormous, suffocating forest. The trees were ancient, twisted things, their gnarled branches intertwining so tightly above that almost no sunlight touched the leaf-littered floor. Beside the dirt path, a weathered, moldy wooden sign creaked in the chill breeze:

JILL COUNTY

Chuckles let out a faint squeak. “Oh, no.”

Sarah walked over, following his gaze. “What?”

“That.” He pointed a trembling finger. “I don’t want to go through there.”

Sarah looked at the dark forest, then consulted the parchment map in her hands. “It’s the shortest way east.”

“I’m aware.”

“So we go through.”

Chuckles shook his head vigorously. “No. We absolutely, under no circumstances, go through.”

Casey trudged up beside them, resting a heavy hand on the pommel of his sword. “Why?”

Chuckles pointed at the ominous woods again. “Because that’s Jill County.”

Casey stared at him with flat exhaustion. “That’s your explanation?”

“It’s a very good explanation!”

Sarah folded her arms across her leather breastplate. “Who is Jill?”

Chuckles swallowed hard. “My ex.”

Sarah’s left eyebrow rose a fraction. “Your ex?”

“Yes.”

“And that is the reason you won’t go?”

Chuckles looked toward the dark canopy with pure dread. “She is a witch.”

Sarah waited. “And?”

“And she tore my heart out!”

Sarah glanced critically at his chest, then back at his face. “You seem to still have it.”

Chuckles looked down, blinking. “Oh.” He patted his chest tentatively. “Well… apparently she gave it back.”

In the living room, Morgan groaned aloud. “Oh, my. That was something. Chuckles was down after Jill for months, eating cinnamon buns without end. But back to the story.”

Back in the tale, Casey glanced toward Bryce. “This is going to end badly.”

Bryce nodded solemnly. “I agree.”

Chuckles pointed at both of them in triumph. “Thank you! Finally, some reasonable people!”

Sarah ignored all of them. “How dangerous is she?”

Chuckles opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “She once turned an entire wedding party into frogs.”

Morgan frowned from beneath his heavy shield. “Were they frogs before?”

“No!”

“Then that’s pretty bad.”

“She also cursed an entire village so everyone spoke in rhyming couplets for three days!”

Casey considered that for a moment. “That sounds extremely annoying.”

“It was!”

“And she tore out your heart?”

Chuckles nodded gravely. “Literally.”

Casey looked over at Sarah. “I vote we take the long way around.”

Sarah studied the gloomy forest, then the map, and finally Chuckles. “No.”

Chuckles stared at her in disbelief. “No?”

“The dragon is east. This road takes us east.”

“But Jill is there!”

Sarah shrugged carelessly. “Then don’t annoy Jill.”

Chuckles blinked. “That’s your plan?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not a plan!”

“It is if you’re not annoying.”

Young Morgan covered his face with his free hand. “Oh, this is going to end so badly.”

Chuckles looked around at the rest of the party. Bryce had already started marching into the shade. Casey rolled his shoulders and followed. Young Morgan reluctantly trudged after Casey.

Sarah waited by the tree line. Chuckles remained firmly planted on the sunny road. For several seconds, he stared at the dark forest, then back at Sarah’s calm face.

“You’re really not afraid?” he whispered.

“No.”

“Of the witch?”

“No.”

“The cursed forest?”

“No.”

“Chaos Hydra Pond or a Demogorgon?”

Sarah’s mouth twitched—just barely. “No.”

“If it bleeds, we can kill it,” chimed in Casey.

Chuckles let out a long, defeated sigh. “Fine.” He hurried after her. “I just want it officially noted for the record that I strongly object to this.”

Sarah glanced sideways at him. “Noted.”

“And if Jill appears—”

“Chuckles, don’t freak out.”

“Right.” He lowered his voice. “No freaking out.”

Sarah nodded smoothly. “Exactly.”

They stepped beneath the thick, suffocating canopy. Sunlight instantly vanished behind them, replaced by a cold, whispering wind that drifted through the gnarled branches. Somewhere deep in the shadows, a strange bird screamed.

Chuckles froze in place. Sarah kept walking without missing a beat.

He scrambled to catch up. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Everything is fine.”

A twig snapped sharply behind them. Chuckles spun around, hands raised, eyes wide. Nothing was there. He swallowed hard. “Everything is completely fine.”

Sarah stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. “Chuckles.”

“Yes?”

“You’re holding my cloak.”

He looked down. His hand was indeed tightly clutching the embroidered edge of her green traveling cloak. He instantly let go, cheeks flushing crimson. “Sorry.”

Sarah’s lips almost curved into the smallest, genuine smile. “It’s okay.”

Chuckles looked at her, and for a quiet moment—despite the dark forest, the terrifying witch, and the very real possibility of being killed or transformed into an amphibian—he smiled at her.

Then, something shifted between the ancient trees. Both stopped dead. Casey slowly reached for his broadsword. Bryce quietly drew his blade. Sarah lowered her spear into a low, deadly stance.

Chuckles whispered under his breath: “Okay.”

Young Morgan sighed quietly. “Here we go.”

And somewhere deeper in the gloom of Jill County… a woman’s dark, musical laughter echoed through the woods.

XXXXXXXXXX

Something dark and heavy moved between the ancient, moss-draped trees.

Sir Casey froze mid-stride, his iron-soled boots halting on the damp earth without making a sound. His hand instantly disappeared beneath the heavy folds of his traveling cloak.

“Stay back,” he growled, his voice dropping an octave into pure, battle-hardened gravity.

Chuckles went instantly pale, his jaw slacking as he took two involuntary steps backward. Sarah’s knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on her spear, her balance shifting effortlessly into a low combat stance. Beside her, Bryce silently drew his broadsword, letting the polished steel catch what little pale light filtered through the dense canopy above.

Young Morgan, carrying Casey’s massive spare shield like an oversized iron sled, quietly scrambled behind the knight’s broad shoulders, using him as a human barricade.

From behind a tangled thicket of black briars, a small shape hopped out onto the muddy path.

Casey’s eyes narrowed into razor-thin slits. With a dramatic, practiced motion, he pulled a strange, spherical object crafted from polished brass and glittering silver straight from beneath his cloak. It was ornate, dangerously shiny, and topped with a tiny golden cross.

Chuckles stared at the metallic orb, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Is that…?”

“My Holy Hand Grenade,” Casey said flatly, thumbing a brass pin at the top.

Young Morgan blinked from behind the shield. “You actually carry one of those around in your coat?”

“I carry two,” Casey replied without breaking eye contact with the brush.

The mysterious creature hopped another inch closer into the gloom. Casey dramatically raised the grenade above his head, ready to unleash divine ordinance upon the forest floor.

The animal stopped.

For five excruciating seconds, nobody breathed. The wind held its breath. The trees stood still.

It was a rabbit.

A completely ordinary, hopelessly fluffy, snow-white rabbit with slightly lopsided ears. It twitched its pink nose, sniffed the damp autumn air, and blinked up at the armored knight with utter indifference.

Casey stared at the rabbit. The rabbit stared at Casey.

With a dismissive twitch of its tail, the rabbit hopped casually past the knight’s boots, crossed the path, and disappeared into the ferns on the other side.

Silence descended over the forest once more.

Casey slowly lowered the glowing brass sphere, reinserted the safety pin with a soft click, and slipped it back into his coat pockets. “False alarm.”

Chuckles stared after the vanishing white tail in sheer disbelief. “You were seriously going to Holy Hand Grenade a rabbit? 

“I wasn’t sure,” Casey muttered, adjusting his sword belt.

“It was a rabbit!”

“That’s what they want you to think,” Casey grumbled, stepping forward again. “Could have been shape-shifters.”

Sarah shook her head, letting out a long, exasperated breath as she unstrung her tension and resumed her stride. Chuckles hurried after her, keeping as close to her green cloak as humanly possible without actually tripping over her heels.

For a long while, the only sounds filling the oppressive gloom of Jill County were the crunch of their boots over rotting leaves, the rhythmic clinking of armaments, and the soft sighing of the wind through the high, twisted canopy.

Sarah glanced sideways at the apprentice. “So.”

Chuckles looked up at her, startled. “What?”

“How did you end up with Jill?”

Chuckles let out a long, tortured sigh that seemed to drain six inches from his height. “It was back at the Mage Academy. She was in Advanced Transmutation; I was failing Basic Arcane Geometry. She offered to tutor me; one thing led to another, and suddenly we were sharing enchanted pastries by the fountain and later something else.”

Sarah nodded with deep, empathetic comprehension. “Yeah. I understand making colossal mistakes.”

Chuckles looked at her, blinking. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Sarah casually pointed a leather-clad finger ahead. A few paces down the trail, Bryce was marching proudly along the path, chest puffed out, shoulders squared, completely and blissfully unaware that he was the subject of conversation.

“Mine is leading the way,” Sarah said smoothly.

Chuckles stared at Bryce’s broad back. Then he looked at Sarah. Then back at Bryce again. A sudden, unstoppable grin broke across his face. “No way.”

“Unfortunately.”

Behind them, young Morgan suddenly trotted up, his stomach making a noise like a trapped badger. “Speaking of important matters…”

Casey glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. “What?”

“Can we have breakfast?”

Casey stopped dead in his tracks and turned around completely. “You already had breakfast.”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you asking for breakfast?”

Young Morgan looked genuinely confused, his arms spread wide over the heavy iron shield. “Because I’m hungry.”

“You ate an entire plate of scrambled eggs back at the inn!”

“And toast,” Morgan added helpfully.

“And three large pork sausages!”

Morgan nodded proudly. “Correct.”

Casey stared at the boy with absolute, unadulterated exhaustion. “So?”

Morgan shrugged, his stomach roaring again. “I could eat again. 

Casey let out a heavy groan, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “There is no food until we reach the next village.”

Young Morgan looked utterly devastated, as though he’d just been informed the sun was never coming up again. “But…”

In the warm, firelit living room, old Morgan suddenly paused his narration. He stared blankly into the distance, his hand hovering mid-gesture over his squeaky velvet armchair.

Leila looked up from her blanket fort, pulling the wool down past her chin. “What?”

Morgan frowned, his brow furrowing with decades-old resentment. “I never had second breakfast.”

Luke immediately rolled his eyes, slapping his forehead. “Dad! You’re telling the story!”

Morgan blinked, snapping out of his culinary trance, and offered his children an apologetic grin. “Right. Of course.” He leaned back toward the warm glow of the three candles. “Anyway…”

“Shhh.”

Bryce abruptly raised a gauntleted hand, freezing mid-step.

Everyone stopped instantly. Young Morgan froze halfway through drawing another breath to complain about his empty stomach, his mouth left hanging wide open.

“What?” Morgan squeaked softly.

Bryce pointed directly ahead.

The forest around them had grown strangely, unnaturally quiet. The rustling wind in the high branches had died away to nothing. The distant caw of crows had vanished. Even the tiny chirping insects in the undergrowth had fallen utterly silent. It was as if the woods themselves were holding a terrified breath.

Sarah slowly lowered the tip of her spear, her eyes darting through the thick gloom. Casey’s hand glided silently back toward the pommel of his broadsword, his boots shifting into a defensive stance.

Chuckles swallowed hard, the sound absurdly loud in the dead stillness.

Young Morgan leaned toward the knight and whispered softly: “I would just like to point out that the rabbit was much less frightening.”

Casey shot the boy a sharp, lethal warning look. Morgan immediately snapped his mouth shut.

The five travelers stood frozen beneath the gnarled, ancient trees, surrounded by an oppressive, suffocating shadow.

Then, somewhere deep in the dark brush ahead…

Crack.

A heavy branch snapped violently.

Chuckles slowly, agonizingly turned his head toward Sarah, his face pale as chalk. “Please tell me that was another rabbit.”

Sarah didn’t answer. She simply narrowed her eyes and tightened her white-knuckled grip on the shaft of her spear.

And the party took their first hesitant steps deeper into the dark heart of the woods.