Gordok Alternate Ending

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Chewing a Little Fat with the Mind Readers

An assortment of pathways led up and into the mountain. Some were dead ends, riddled with monsters that roamed in hordes amid the shadows, channeling Gordok’s magic and drawing so deeply on his power that I could feel it like a brewing storm preparing to lash out with lightning and howling gusts of wind. Others were misleading routes that continued into nothingness. But Aragon knew the winding trails and carefully guided us around the tight, dizzying loops, clear of the wild windswept shrubs and lanky trees that looked more like torture victims with gaping lesions.
As we scrambled up, at least half a dozen battles raged on the hill. Winged beasts circled through the smoky air, snatching up unsuspecting creatures and hauling them away. A cyclops wearing a

brown leather duster swung a club in one hand and a bloody sword in the other. The giant bopped a troll sprawled in the clotted mud on the head, and then poked an imp in the rump.
Two ancient ogres in smoldering tie-dyed bathrobes were hobbling around, tossing fireballs into the sky and cremating flying yellow swine. One of the old duffers kept screaming, “My walker! I need my walker!”
We crested a ridge and the smoke parted just long enough to reveal the top of the mountain. Standing at the summit was the dragon we’d met in the marsh, her red scales rippling like ants marching across the sand. Then the snaking smoke became dense again, so dense it was like stepping into another world. I could imagine ghosts in gauzy linens soaring past in shushed silence. As we ascended the mountain it only seemed to thicken. The sun faded to a blood-red bloom. Moisture clung to everything, beading on my skin and dampening my clothes. The temperature dropped. I lost sight of Aragon and Mason for a moment and then the path flattened and I came upon them standing at the top next to the dragon.
She beamed when she saw me. “Aiden!” she called. “Oh sweet boy we meet again.”
Normally, I wouldn’t have stood still as a gigantic grinning female dragon charged toward me for a hug, but I was cornered, on a bare mountaintop with no trees to hide behind.
She’d traded in her green polka-dotted dress and flip-flops for desert combat fatigues—beige, brown, and ochre—and leather boots.

Several knives hung from her belt. A quiver was strapped to her back, and her bow looked like a serious weapon with its gleaming carved wood.
She embraced me without crushing me, until I groaned, “Crushing me.”
“Sorry,” she said, giggling while wiping a tear from her eye. “Aragon, I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”
“Matilda.” Aragon smiled. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I’m a part-time commando, and I teach baton and tambourine on the weekends. Anyway, enough about me. I’m oh so desperate to hear what’s happening in your life. You must stay for tea so we can catch up.”
“Sorry, Matilda,” I sighed. “We have no time for tea we’re on quest.”
“We won’t allow Gordok to destroy everything that’s worth living for,” Mason explained. “We’d rather have our eyes plucked out by a thousand vultures than see him triumph.”
Yeah, right, I thought. Easy for him. I was the one the goblin wanted to kill.
“Oh, dear.” Matilda mashed her scaly paws together. “Doomsday and destruction . . . how

soon?”
I told her about our travels, Gordok’s attempts on my life, and our madcap search for the centaur mind readers.
“But this idea of yours,” Matilda quivered, creating a landslide of jiggling red dragon flesh, “is it possible?”
“Like a doubled-over commando dragon loping through mountain laurel?” I raised my eyebrows questioningly. “Or a monster twirling a baton?”
She shrugged. “Touché, sweetie. I’ll admit there’s no such thing as the impossible. Well then, Aiden, I wish you both good luck.”
Aragon bent down, brushing my cheek with his long snout, and drew me into his armored chest. “Here we are. I’ve taken you this far, but I can’t go any farther. It’s forbidden by the dragons’ decree. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
Then he hugged Mason and we left him on the summit, standing beside Matilda as if the two were spending a dreamy afternoon together.
Down the other side I saw a meadow swathed in white mist, just as Seth had described. But that was at least a half mile away and, with a three-foot-tall dwarf dressed in a Western shirt, a tiny pair of jeans and a floppy brown cowboy hat, frolicking across the path, we were probably never going to make it.
My jaw came unhinged. All I could think to say was, “We’re dead.”
“I think . . .” Mason moistened his lips. “If we use some of our fancy foot work we can fool him.”
We came up with quick plan then moved toward the dwarf. Mason faked a left, I dodged right, did a quick about-face, and headed for the bottom. But I slipped and would have slid all the way down the mountain if the dwarf hadn’t grabbed my neck with his icy claws and held me in place.
“Aiden Greene,” he said, his tone far more birdlike than you’d expect from such a ghastly creature. “You are relentless.”
I recognized his lidless eyes, the size of my fists, gleaming like polished red diamonds and his claws which he’d used to hacked at the unicorn’s muzzle.
“It’s you the turkey vulture from my nightmare,” I croaked.
“Yes,” the dwarf sniggered and gnashed his fangs in a deadly grin. “It’s me all right.” His ice-cold grip tightening around my throat. I tried to shake him loose, but I could barely move. The coldness was spreading. My whole chest was starting to feel numb.
Leathery wings sprouted from his back. He fluttered up and straddled me with bowed legs, his hands digging into my windpipe. His breath smelled like tobacco juice and cow manure.
“I could kill you now,” he rasped. “But you fascinate me, Mr. Greene. I had a Chihuahua once. She was interesting too, until I became bored to tears with her endless chatter and lashed a poisonous weed around her neck.”
I struggled to break free, but my legs had turned to blocks of ice.
The sounds of battle around us—ogres roaring, steel clanging against steel, sizzling elves, the beating of dragon wings—faded as did Mason’s footsteps as he retreated slowly downhill, trying to lead the creature away from me.
“I can sense your confusion,” the dwarf told me. “You’re torn between saving the frayed kingdom and retreat because dear old Grandpa said it’s your duty, entrusted with virtues and all that other nonsense. Why do you grapple? Just give up and flee. Otherwise, you’ll suffer eternal torment.”
A series of images flashed through my mind. I saw a scene of shifting hills and rivers of fire. Winged dragons whirling in the sulfurous sky. Trolls and elves skittered across the plains, weeping and sobbing in desperation. They were all being pulled in the same direction—toward a splotch of darkness on the horizon. Whatever it was, its pull was as powerful as a black hole. It sucked the creatures in, bending the hills, yanking at the lilac tides, and drawing columns of smoke and dirt toward it. Even the firebirds struggled to stay adrift on the air currents.
Hunched in the refuge of a sea cliff, the form of a man was trying to anchor himself against the rock. I wanted to cry. The man was my grandpa. Other dragons flew past, lunging at him and raking their talons across his arms. He screamed and tumbled backward over the edge, his legs flailing as he fell into a bottomless pit.
The scene changed. I saw the jungle under a scorching sun. Suddenly the ground exploded. A giant green goblin rose from the dirt. He pounced at the sky and somehow, incredibly, swallowed the planets in a single gulp. The kingdom dimmed. Frost spread across the forest. The ground cracked like brittle bones in the chill. Soon there was nothing left but a boiling purple sea.
“No one can help you, Aiden.” The dwarf sounded almost compassionate. “This doom has been decreed since time began. Because your gift opened a gateway between the worlds, his curse can now draw your land in. Give in to me, and I’ll show mercy to you and to those you love. You’ll be the ruler of your own fate.”
I seized back my thoughts, carefully arranging my mind like a fisherman sorting his tackle. For a moment, I wondered if he was right—was it too late? Had the worlds collided? No way. I’ll find the centaurs and thwart your nefarious forecast.
The dwarf’s frosty grip loosened for an instant. I felt him invade my thoughts again and saw the Captain’s ship suspended above the boiling ocean—a small patch of cinnamon-colored lumber and tattered sails—like a refuge. My family and I could be together on the vessel. We could have anything we wanted just by picturing it. Death would mean nothing.
Suddenly there was a bone-crushing crash and the dwarf’s features contorted in pain. I turned, and saw Mason holding a tree branch the size of an Ogre’s club.
“Duck!” he yelled.
I tried but my body was frozen solid, and I knew I was losing consciousness—that I was probably going to die. It was like all the life had been plucked out of me.
Whack! Mason slammed his club into the beast’s chest so hard that his eyes rattled in his head. Then he struck again. The dwarf left go of my neck and fell forward landing on his belly like a turtle on its shell—arms and legs straight out—suspended two feet off the ground by his enormous protrusion.
“You miserable kids,” he howled, trying to kick himself upright. “Just wait. I’ll sprinkle you with a bash of paprika, and voilá chicken paprikash.”