Book 2: Chapter 78 (1/2)

Tafel hummed as she approached a deep pit in the ground. It was ringed by pointy red rocks, looking much like a gaping maw. As she got closer, wailing sounds crept into her mind, but she dismissed it as the sounds of the wind. The baby phoenix standing on her horns peered over her head, blinking at the abyss below. It opened its mouth and chirped. “Um. Scary.”

“Scary?” Tafel asked, rolling her eyes up to look at the phoenix. Its body was as round as a ball, engorged with as much lava as it wanted to drink. “I think it’s quite relaxing, no?” She crouched by the edge of the pit, and a glowing red eye stared back up at her. A deep growling sound sent chills down the baby phoenix’s spine. It shivered as Tafel extended her arm towards the bottom of the pit. “How was it, Spitty? Did the tears taste good?”

“Good!” a raspy voice replied.

Tafel flinched and nearly dropped the blade she had just picked up. “Did…, did you say something?” she asked the phoenix on her head. The phoenix rapidly shook its head back and forth before burying itself underneath strands of her hair. Tafel bit her lower lip as she drew the purple sword out of the pit. “Spitty?”

The eye on the sword blinked. “Yes?”

Tafel furrowed her brow. “The book said you’d see an improvement after consuming the tears of those in despair,” she said and tilted her head. “It never said anything about you learning to speak.”

The sword let out a strange grunting noise. “Improvement. I can chant your spells for you,” Spitty said. Tafel tried to find the source of the sound, but she couldn’t. Perhaps it was similar to Mr. Skelly’s ability to talk without his skull. “Can also chant the same spell as you to double cast.”

“Oh, that’s pretty neat,” Tafel said with a nod. “Did anything else change?”

“No,” Spitty said, its eye half-closing. “But, please, change my name.”

Tafel tilted her head. “You don’t like Spitty?” she asked. “Then how about Sharpy?”

“Dangerous copyrights,” Spitty said. “Something else.”

“Dangerous what?” Tafel asked, raising an eyebrow. “Then … Swordy?”

“Something that doesn’t start with S and end with Y,” Spitty said and sighed. “I am not a pet.”

“You’re awfully picky, aren’t you?” Tafel asked with a scowl. “Picky?”

“Ends with a Y.”

Tafel sighed, and she prodded the phoenix hiding in her hair with a finger. “What’s a good name for this sword?”

The phoenix popped its head out of her hair. “Is it male or female?”

Tafel’s expression darkened. “It’s a sword.”

“Then name it Chi’Rururp,” the phoenix said. “It means sword in phoenix.”

“Huh,” Tafel said and blinked. “I guess it makes sense for phoenixes to have their own language. So why do you know this one?”

The phoenix shuddered. “Percy taught it to me.”

“Percy? Who’s that?”

“A bad person! She tried to drown me, so I ran away!”

“Chi’Rururp sounds nice,” Spitty said. “Address me as such from now on.”

“Alright, Chi’Rururp,” Tafel said as she strapped the sword to her back. “The next step is to shave a red-headed elf. The longer the hair, the better the effects.”

“Percy has red hair!” the phoenix said. “Shave her. She’s always hanging around Mom like a sticky piece of poop.”

“You really don’t like this Percy fellow, huh?” Tafel asked, tickling the phoenix’s belly with her finger. “But if she’s always hanging around your mom, won’t your mom get angry at me?”

“No.” The phoenix wiggled its body and shook its head. “Percy annoys Mom too.”