Burning Road

The Cooking Pot- Part I

Mimi kicked the rickety chair as she drew her dagger. The old wood exploded in a shower of splinters, spilling the imp to the ground. Cyril came to her side, quarterstaff spinning. DotPrince checked on Golan. The blow would have killed the rest of them, but the resilience of trolls was remarkable. Mimi silently thanked The Under. It would be stupid for Golan to die now, after surviving the fires of The Burning Road.

"Wait! You can see me! I didn't know!" The imp was terrified, and rightly so.

"Keep screaming," Mimi hissed. "It makes it more fun."

"Creepers? There goes the neighborhood."

Despite her anger Miminda was flattered by the compliment.

"Thanks," she said and kicked the imp between the legs.

His wooden pegs flew wide and the darkling squealed like a boar piglet.

"Why?" he cried.

"Why'd you attack us if you didn't want a beating?"

"The Road had just spit you out, I assumed your minds was broken," he whined. "I give you a little bop on the head and we both win. You get put out of your misery and I get your valuables."

"A scavenger," Cyril mumbled.

"Not a bad scam... too bad you've picked the wrong creepers." To emphasize her point, she kicked him again.

The shadows shook violently and Pan fell on the imp like a possessed blanket. The imp struggled with slithering patches of darkness like a creeper in a pit beset by rats, a scene Mimi had seen more than once and didn't wish on anyone. He screamed, first for help and then for mercy, until even the often cruel creepers couldn't take it anymore. Mimi grabbed him by a peg and tried to pull him from his tormentor.

"Pan, stop!"

"No!"

"Pan!"

The shadow released a wild bellow, unintelligible and full of rage. A tendril of shadow lashed out at Mimi, who jumped aside. The imp sat up and wrapped his fingers around his own neck, squeezing and squeezing until his eyes bulged in their sockets. Mimi moved to help him and Cyril barred her way.

"That's not the Pan we know, I suspect that's Peter," Cyril said over his shoulder.

It was at that moment it occurred to Mimi they might not have all escaped The Burning Road unscathed. Some of her friends might have suffered lasting damage to their minds. Cyril put his back to her and used his staff to ease her away from the darkling whose face had turned a dark red and whose pegs kicked wildly.

"I have questions, the imp has answers."

"I'd have to kill Pan to free him."

"You do like killing."

"Not now, Miminda."

"Fair enough. I'll give it some time."

DotPrince moved past them and threw a handful of white dust on the convulsing body. Pan screamed and fled off into the hillside, leaving the imp desperate for air. Tears spilled down his eyes and his skin was missing some of its color. His shadow was a tiny thing, most of it left with the creeper who'd tried to kill him.

"What was that?" Mimi asked. She was surprised and determined to get some.

"Processed salt. Works on ghost too," DotPrince explained.

"Oh, you horrible creatures, I hate you so much," moaned the imp. "First you took my legs, now you try to kill me," cried the imp. "Horrible, horrible creature-"