Free Ravenspell Book 1: Of Mice and Magic by David Farland Page A

“We’re going out west. Where, I don’t know, but I’ll steer you true when we near the spot. Now fly!”
    “Fly?” Sir Sea Foam said. “But I can’t—”
    “We’ve got a couple of thousand miles to go, with lots of crotchety weather in between and no time to get there,” Lady Blackpool shouted.
    “But—” Sea Foam began to say. Before he could muster another word, fire and hot gases came whooshing out of his tail hole, nearly cooking poor Rufus.
    The bullfrog watched the turtle shoot into the air like a rocket and immediately begin to spin out of control. Sea Foam rose like a cannonball, screaming in fear as he spiraled toward oblivion.
    In the distance, Rufus could hear Lady Blackpool shouting, “Steer, dang it! Wave those flippers!”
    Sea Foam held his flippers out experimentally, and the turtle seemed to stop his wild spin.
    In seconds, they were gone from sight, far out over the swamp.
    Rufus Flycatcher just stared at them with big bullfrog eyes, his mouth having fallen wide open. Smoke and steam curled up from the ground beside him.
    “Good-bye, Lady Blackpool,” he croaked, “and vaya con Dios. You’re a good-hearted woman.” That last bit he said softly, not wanting her to hear. But it was true. She was the only shrew that he knew who would gleefully ride a flaming turtle through a lightning storm toward an evil army—all for a couple of Pappa Gumbo’s candied crawdads. What a woman, he mused. What a woman!

Chapter 8
    A GATHERING OF WEAPONS
    Few critters seem to be born to be of great stature.
Instead, they become great as they rise to mee the challenges of a dark season.
—RUFUS FLYCATCHER

The spider leaped down from its web, came close, and stared at Ben with all eight eyes.
    BEN DREAMED THAT he was a mouse running through the morning dew, laughing at the sun, the grass-tops scrubbing his belly clean, when suddenly he realized that some terrible flying monkeys filled the sky overhead while the Wicked Witch of the West—who looked suspiciously like his mother—cackled and shouted, “Bring me Amber, and her little mouse too!”
    Ben startled awake in a sweat. The voles and Amber all lay about the burrow, dead asleep. They’d worn themselves out with their singing and acrobatics.
    Ben felt ravenous. He looked down at his tiny mouse’s tummy. He couldn’t quite figure out how so much hunger could squeeze into such a small space.
    There was still food left from the night before, so Ben scrunched and nibbled a dried blueberry.
    He felt utterly forlorn and wondered why. Then he remembered. He felt bad because Amber didn’t trust him. She’d called him a “poopy human.” He didn’t deserve that. Ben fully intended to keep his part of the bargain and help her free the pet shop mice.
    More than anything in the world, he wanted to help her, if only to win back his humanity.
    He wondered how Amber would react if he shook her awake and urged her to follow him right now. Better yet, he imagined how surprised she’d be if she woke to discover that he’d already rescued the pet shop mice by himself.
    But that sounded too dangerous, so he thought of another plan. He’d go and get his weapons and be all ready by the time that Amber woke.
    Without another thought, Ben hopped to the magic rock, which still glowed brightly, picked it up, and tiptoed to the mouth of the burrow.
    He peered out from beneath the pine needles, sniffing. The air smelled heavy with water, as if it would leave morning dew. Ben smelled pine, mold, grass, and not much more. The sun wouldn’t rise for an hour.
    Everything was dead quiet. No wind whispered in the morning leaves. No cars could be heard rumbling on the road.
    Domino was nowhere in sight, so he scampered from the burrow toward his house. As he ran, he realized that the light that he held would show him up to any cat within a hundred yards. But he wouldn’t be able to find a weapon in the dark, so he just had to tough it out.
    Ben reached his property,