Free Not QUITE the Classics by Colin Mochrie Page A

no—”
    â€œGOT IT!” Tyro yelled. “I think we all have the gist here. I’m lowly and will make all good. Yes, I think that is clear. Here is something else that is clear. There is no way in MARKO’S GREAT CAVERN that I am going back there to face that thing.”
    â€œOf course, Tyro, you are under no obligation. You have done what we have asked of you.” Tyro turned to see that Madwyn had joined the group. “If I am to lead, it is up to me to get us past this.”
    Big Brother spoke up. “My Queen, perhaps the original plan of using the wanbucks to—”
    â€œNo, Big Brother,” Madwyn said firmly. “Going through the tunnel is our best chance for success.” She turned to a servant. “Get me my broadsword.”
    â€œWait!” said Tyro. “I’ll go.” This surprised everyone, especially Tyro. “Look, if the old crone is right, then I will somehow get us past this without getting killed.” He looked at the Oracle. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”
    â€œSeventy percent certain. Maybe seventy-three.”
    Tyro’s jaw dropped. “Seventy-three percent?”
    â€œThat is still quite favorable odds.”
    â€œA hundred percent is quite favorable. Seventy percent leaves a lot of room for disaster.”
    Big Brother and Little Brother clasped him by the shoulders.
    â€œWe shall come with you, friend,” said Big Brother, puffing out his chest.
    â€œMay the Fates be kind,” said Little Brother.
    Tears sprang into Tyro’s eyes. “That is very nice of you. No one has ever looked out for me like this. No.” He snuffled. “I will go by myself and take care of the Twavverhackle.”
    The Oracle smiled. “I knew you would.”
    Tyro had never wanted to punch someone more. He buttoned up his coat.
    â€œAre you sure this is all you will need?” asked Big Brother.
    â€œI’m not actually sure of anything,” said Tyro, rolling up his sleeves. “Except that our weapons are useless against the Twavverhackle. Perhaps I can scare it off with a flash strip or a very impressive card trick.”
    â€œGood luck to you,” said Little Brother. “May the Harbinger of Death pass you by today!”
    â€œThanks.” Tyro slowly made his way forward to where the Twavverhackle lay in wait. He had no plan, no weapons, no chance of surviving. Exactly why I hate adventures, he thought bitterly.
    He moved farther into the tunnel, staying close to the wall, hoping to blend in with the shadows. He took a glance around the curved wall. There was no sign of the Twavverhackle. Odd, he thought, it’s very difficult for a sixty-foot creature to be inconspicuous. Tyro moved even deeper into the tunnel. As he reached a precariously rocky part, the Twavverhackle leapt out, roaring ferociously. It was the most terrifying sound Tyro had ever heard. What happened next happened so quickly that Tyro barely had time to register the events. But register them he did.
    Tyro raised his hands to protect himself.
    As he raised his hands, he released the two dovelings that were secreted in his coat, two dovelings he had counted during inventory check at the shop the night before.
    The dovelings, excited at being freed from the confines of the coat, sang lustily and flew right at the Twavverhackle’s beady eyes.
    The only thing a Twavverhackle fears, for reasons known only to it, is a doveling. The only thing a Twavverhackle fears more than one doveling is two. Two dovelings were too much to bear for the Twavverhackle, who immediately had a heart attack and died.
    Tyro stood over the dead Twavverhackle. “That was easy.” He turned and yelled down the tunnel. “You can all come back now! The creature is dead! I killed it.”
    A loud cheer echoed through the tunnel.
    Fifteen minutes later, the rebel army was almost at its destination. The constant questioning of the